This Nimphall of delights doth treat,Choice beauties, and proportions neat,Of curious shapes, and dainty featuresDescribd in two most perfect creatures.WhenPhœbuswith a face of mirth,Had flong abroad his beames,To blanch the bosome of the earth,And glaze the gliding streames.Within a goodly Mertle groue,Vpon that hallowed dayThe Nimphes to the bright Queene of loueTheir vowes were vsde to pay.FaireRodopeandDorida10Met in those sacred shades,Then whom the Sunne in all his way,Nere saw two daintier Maids.And through the thickets thrild his fires,Supposing to haue seeneThe soueraigneGoddesse of desires,OrIoves Emperious Queene:Both of so wondrous beauties were,In shape both so excell,That to be paraleld elsewhere,20No iudging eye could tell.And their affections so surpasse,As well it might be deemd,That th' one of them the other was,And but themselues they seem'd.And whilst the Nimphes that neare this place,Disposed were to playAt Barly-breake and Prison-base,Doe passe the time away:This peerlesse payre together set,30The other at their sport,None neare their free discourse to let,Each other thus they court,Dorida.My sweet, my soueraigneRodope,My deare delight, my loue,That Locke of hayre thou sentst to me,I to this Bracelet woue;Which brighter euery day doth growThe longer it is worne,As its delicious fellowes doe,40Thy Temples that adorne.Rodope.Nay had I thine myDorida,I would them so bestow,As that the winde vpon my way,Might backward make them flow,So should it in its greatst excesseTurne to becalmed ayre,And quite forget all boistrousnesseTo play with euery hayre.Dorida.To me like thine had nature giuen,50A Brow, so Archt, so cleere,A Front, wherein so much of heauenDoth to each eye appeare,The world should see, I would strike deadThe Milky Way that's now,And say that NectarHebeshedFell all vpon my Brow.Rodope.O had I eyes likeDoridaes,I would inchant the dayAnd make the Sunne to stand at gaze,60Till he forget his way:And cause his SisterQueene of Streames,When so I list by night;By her much blushing at my BeamesT' eclipse her borrowed light.Dorida.Had I a Cheeke likeRodopes,In midst of which doth stand,A Groue of Roses, such as these,In such a snowy land:I would then make the Lilly which we now70So much for whitenesse name,As drooping downe the head to bow,And die for very shame.Rodope.Had I a bosome like to thine,When I it pleas'd to show,T' what part o' th' Skie I would inclineI would make th' Etheriall bowe,My swannish breast brancht all with blew,In brauery like the spring:In Winter to the generall view80Full Summer forth should bring.Dorida.Had I a body like my deare,Were I so straight so tall,O, if so broad my shoulders were,Had I a waste so small;I would challenge the proud Queene of loueTo yeeld to me for shape,And I should feare thatMarsorIoveWould venter for my rape.Rodope.Had I a hand like thee my Gerle,90(This hand O let me kisse)These Ivory Arrowes pyl'd with pearle,Had I a hand like this;I would not doubt at all to make,Each finger of my handTo taske swiftMercuryto takeWith his inchanting wand.Dorida.Had I a Theigh like Rodopes;Which twas my chance to viewe,When lying on yon banck at ease,100The wind thy skirt vp blew,I would say it were a columne wroughtTo some intent Diuine,And for our chasteDianasought,A pillar for her shryne.Rodope.Had I a Leg but like to thineThat were so neat, so cleane,A swelling Calfe, a Small so fine,An Ankle, round and leane,I would tell nature she doth misse110Her old skill; and maintaine,She shewd her master peece in this,Not to be done againe.Dorida.Had I that Foot hid in those shoos,(Proportion'd to my height)Short Heele, thin Instep, euen Toes,A Sole so wondrous straight,The Forresters and Nimphes at thisAmazed all should stand,And kneeling downe, should meekely kisse120The Print left in the sand.By this the Nimphes came from their sport,All pleased wondrous well,And to these Maydens make reportWhat lately them befell:One said the daintyLelipaDid all the rest out-goe,Another would a wager layShe would outstrip a Roe;Sayes one, how like youFlorimel130There is your dainty face:A fourth replide, she lik't that well,Yet better lik't her grace,She's counted, I confesse, quoth she,To be our onely Pearle,Yet haue I heard her oft to beA melancholy Gerle.Another said she quite mistoke,That onely was her art,When melancholly had her looke140Then mirth was in her heart;And hath she then that pretty trickAnother doth reply,I thought no Nimph could haue bin sickOf that disease but I;I know you can dissemble wellQuoth one to giue you due,But here be some (who Ile not tell)Can do't as well as you,Who thus replies, I know that too,150We haue it from our Mother,Yet there be some this thing can doeMore cunningly then other:If Maydens but dissemble canTheir sorrow and ther ioy,Their pore dissimulation than,Is but a very toy.
This Nimphall of delights doth treat,Choice beauties, and proportions neat,Of curious shapes, and dainty featuresDescribd in two most perfect creatures.
WhenPhœbuswith a face of mirth,Had flong abroad his beames,To blanch the bosome of the earth,And glaze the gliding streames.Within a goodly Mertle groue,Vpon that hallowed dayThe Nimphes to the bright Queene of loueTheir vowes were vsde to pay.FaireRodopeandDorida10Met in those sacred shades,Then whom the Sunne in all his way,Nere saw two daintier Maids.And through the thickets thrild his fires,Supposing to haue seeneThe soueraigneGoddesse of desires,OrIoves Emperious Queene:Both of so wondrous beauties were,In shape both so excell,That to be paraleld elsewhere,20No iudging eye could tell.And their affections so surpasse,As well it might be deemd,That th' one of them the other was,And but themselues they seem'd.And whilst the Nimphes that neare this place,Disposed were to playAt Barly-breake and Prison-base,Doe passe the time away:This peerlesse payre together set,30The other at their sport,None neare their free discourse to let,Each other thus they court,
Dorida.My sweet, my soueraigneRodope,My deare delight, my loue,That Locke of hayre thou sentst to me,I to this Bracelet woue;Which brighter euery day doth growThe longer it is worne,As its delicious fellowes doe,40Thy Temples that adorne.
Rodope.Nay had I thine myDorida,I would them so bestow,As that the winde vpon my way,Might backward make them flow,So should it in its greatst excesseTurne to becalmed ayre,And quite forget all boistrousnesseTo play with euery hayre.
Dorida.To me like thine had nature giuen,50A Brow, so Archt, so cleere,A Front, wherein so much of heauenDoth to each eye appeare,The world should see, I would strike deadThe Milky Way that's now,And say that NectarHebeshedFell all vpon my Brow.
Rodope.O had I eyes likeDoridaes,I would inchant the dayAnd make the Sunne to stand at gaze,60Till he forget his way:And cause his SisterQueene of Streames,When so I list by night;By her much blushing at my BeamesT' eclipse her borrowed light.
Dorida.Had I a Cheeke likeRodopes,In midst of which doth stand,A Groue of Roses, such as these,In such a snowy land:I would then make the Lilly which we now70So much for whitenesse name,As drooping downe the head to bow,And die for very shame.
Rodope.Had I a bosome like to thine,When I it pleas'd to show,T' what part o' th' Skie I would inclineI would make th' Etheriall bowe,My swannish breast brancht all with blew,In brauery like the spring:In Winter to the generall view80Full Summer forth should bring.
Dorida.Had I a body like my deare,Were I so straight so tall,O, if so broad my shoulders were,Had I a waste so small;I would challenge the proud Queene of loueTo yeeld to me for shape,And I should feare thatMarsorIoveWould venter for my rape.
Rodope.Had I a hand like thee my Gerle,90(This hand O let me kisse)These Ivory Arrowes pyl'd with pearle,Had I a hand like this;I would not doubt at all to make,Each finger of my handTo taske swiftMercuryto takeWith his inchanting wand.
Dorida.Had I a Theigh like Rodopes;Which twas my chance to viewe,When lying on yon banck at ease,100The wind thy skirt vp blew,I would say it were a columne wroughtTo some intent Diuine,And for our chasteDianasought,A pillar for her shryne.
Rodope.Had I a Leg but like to thineThat were so neat, so cleane,A swelling Calfe, a Small so fine,An Ankle, round and leane,I would tell nature she doth misse110Her old skill; and maintaine,She shewd her master peece in this,Not to be done againe.
Dorida.Had I that Foot hid in those shoos,(Proportion'd to my height)Short Heele, thin Instep, euen Toes,A Sole so wondrous straight,The Forresters and Nimphes at thisAmazed all should stand,And kneeling downe, should meekely kisse120The Print left in the sand.
By this the Nimphes came from their sport,All pleased wondrous well,And to these Maydens make reportWhat lately them befell:One said the daintyLelipaDid all the rest out-goe,Another would a wager layShe would outstrip a Roe;Sayes one, how like youFlorimel130There is your dainty face:A fourth replide, she lik't that well,Yet better lik't her grace,She's counted, I confesse, quoth she,To be our onely Pearle,Yet haue I heard her oft to beA melancholy Gerle.Another said she quite mistoke,That onely was her art,When melancholly had her looke140Then mirth was in her heart;And hath she then that pretty trickAnother doth reply,I thought no Nimph could haue bin sickOf that disease but I;I know you can dissemble wellQuoth one to giue you due,But here be some (who Ile not tell)Can do't as well as you,Who thus replies, I know that too,150We haue it from our Mother,Yet there be some this thing can doeMore cunningly then other:If Maydens but dissemble canTheir sorrow and ther ioy,Their pore dissimulation than,Is but a very toy.
The Muse new Courtship doth deuise,By Natures strange Varieties,Whose Rarieties she here relates,And giues you Pastorall Delicates.Lalusa Iolly youthfull Lad,WithCleon, no lesse crown'dWith vertues; both their beings hadOn the Elizian ground.Both hauing parts so excellent,That it a question was,Which should be the most eminent,Or did in ought surpasse:ThisCleonwas a Mountaineer,10And of the wilder kinde,And from his birth had many a yeereBin nurst vp by a Hinde.And as the sequell well did show,It very well might be;For neuer Hart, nor Hare, nor Roe,Were halfe so swift as he.ButLalusin the Vale was bred,Amongst the Sheepe and Neate,And by these Nimphes there choicly fed,20With Hony, Milke, and Wheate;Of Stature goodly, faire of speech,And of behauiour mylde,Like those there in the Valley rich,That bred him of a chyld.Of Falconry they had the skill,Their Halkes to feed and flye,No better Hunters ere clome Hill,Nor hollowed to a Cry:In Dingles deepe, and Mountains hore,30Oft with the bearded SpeareThey combated the tusky Boare,And slew the angry Beare.In Musicke they were wondrous quaint,Fine Aers they could deuise;They very curiously could Paint,And neatly Poetize;That wagers many time were laidOn Questions that arose,Which song the wittyLalusmade,40WhichCleonshould compose.The stately Steed they manag'd well,Of Fence the art they knew,For Dansing they did all excellThe Gerles that to them drew;To throw the Sledge, to pitch the Barre,To wrestle and to Run,They all the Youth exceld so farre,That still the Prize they wonne.These sprightly Gallants lou'd a Lasse,50CaldLirope the bright,In the whole world there scarcely wasSo delicate a Wight,There was no Beauty so diuineThat euer Nimph did grace,But it beyond it selfe did shineIn her more heuenly face:What forme she pleasd each thing would takeThat ere she did behold,Of Pebbles she could Diamonds make,60Grosse Iron turne to Gold:Such power there with her presence cameSterne Tempests she alayd,The cruell Tiger she could tame,She raging Torrents staid,She chid, she cherisht, she gaue life,Againe she made to dye,She raisd a warre, apeasd a Strife,With turning of her eye.Some said a God did her beget,70But much deceiu'd were they,Her Father was aRiuelet,Her Mother was aFay.Her Lineaments so fine that were,She from the Fayrie tooke,Her Beauties and Complection cleere,By nature from the Brooke.These Ryualls wayting for the houre(The weather calme and faire)When as she vs'd to leaue her Bower80To take the pleasant ayreAcosting her; their complementTo her their Goddesse done;By gifts they tempt her to consent,WhenLalusthus begun.Lalus.SweetLiropeI haue a LambeNewly wayned from the Damme,* Without hornes.Of the right kinde, it is *notted,Naturally with purple spotted,Into laughter it will put you,90To see how prettily 'twill But you;When on sporting it is set,It will beate you a Corvet,And at euery nimble boundTurne it selfe aboue the ground;When tis hungry it will bleate,From your hand to haue its meate,And when it hath fully fed,It will fetch Iumpes aboue your head,As innocently to expresse100Its silly sheepish thankfullnesse,When you bid it, it will play,Be it either night or day,ThisLiropeI haue for thee,So thou alone wilt liue with me.Cleon.From him O turne thine eare away,And heare me my lou'dLirope,I haue a Kid as white as milke,His skin as soft asNaplessilke,His hornes in length are wondrous euen,110And curiously by nature writhen;It is of th' Arcadian kinde,Ther's not the like twixt eitherInde;If you walke, 'twill walke you by,If you sit downe, it downe will lye,It with gesture will you wooe,And counterfeit those things you doe;Ore each Hillock it will vault,And nimbly doe the Summer-sault,Upon the hinder Legs 'twill goe,120And follow you a furlong so,And if by chance a Tune you roate,'Twill foote it finely to your note,Seeke the worlde and you may misseTo finde out such a thing as this;This my loue I haue for theeSo thou'lt leaue him and goe with me.Lirope.Beleeue me Youths your gifts are rare,And you offer wondrous faire;Lalusfor Lambe,Cleonfor Kyd,130'Tis hard to iudge which most doth bid,And haue you two such things in store,And I n'er knew of them before?Well yet I dare a Wager layThatBragmy little Dog shall play,As dainty tricks when I shall bid,AsLalusLambe, orCleonsKid.But t' may fall out that I may neede themTill when yee may doe well to feed them;Your Goate and Mutton pretty be140But Youths these are noe bayts for me,Alasse good men, in vaine ye wooe,'Tis not your Lambe nor Kid will doe.Lalus.I haue two Sparrowes white as Snow,Whose pretty eyes like sparkes doe show;In her BosomeVenushatcht themWhere her littleCupidwatcht them,Till they too fledge their Nests forsookeThemselues and to the Fields betooke,Where by chance a Fowler caught them150Of whom I full dearely bought them;* The redde fruit of the smooth Bramble.They'll fetch you Conserue from the *Hip,And lay it softly on your Lip,Through their nibling bills they'll ChirupAnd fluttering feed you with the Sirup,And if thence you put them byThey to your white necke will flye,And if you expulse them thereThey'll hang vpon your braded Hayre;You so long shall see them prattle160Till at length they'll fall to battle,And when they haue fought their fill,You will smile to see them billThese birds myLirope'sshall beSo thou'lt leaue him and goe with me.Cleon.His Sparrowes are not worth a rushI'le finde as good in euery bush,Of Doues I haue a dainty paireWhich when you please to take the Air,About your head shall gently houer170You Cleere browe from the Sunne to couer,And with their nimble wings shall fan you,That neither Cold nor Heate shall tan you,And like Vmbrellas with their feathersSheeld you in all sorts of weathers:They be most dainty Coloured things,They haue Damask backs and Chequerd wings,Their neckes more Various Cullours showeThen there be mixed in the Bowe;Venussaw the lesser Doue180And therewith was farre in Loue,Offering for't her goulden BallFor her Sonne to play withall;These myLiropesshall beSo shee'll leaue him and goe with me.Lirope.Then for Sparrowes, and for DouesI am fitted twixt my Loues,ButLalusI take no delightIn Sparowes, for they'll scratch and biteAnd though ioynd, they are euer wooing190Alwayes billing, if not doeing,TwixtVenusbreasts if they haue lyenI much feare they'll infect myne;Cleonyour Doues are very dainty,Tame Pidgeons else you know are plenty,These may winne some of your MarrowesI am not caught with Doues, nor Sparrowes,I thanke ye kindly for your Coste,Yet your labour is but loste.Lalus.With full-leau'd Lillies I will stick200Thy braded hayre all o'r so thick,That from it a Light shall throwLike the Sunnes vpon the Snow.Thy Mantle shall be Violet Leaues,With the fin'st the Silkeworme weauesAs finely wouen; whose rich smellThe Ayre about thee so shall swellThat it shall haue no power to mooue.A Ruffe of Pinkes thy Robe aboueAbout thy necke so neatly set210That Art it cannot counterfet,Which still shall looke so Fresh and new,As if vpon their Roots they grew:And for thy head Ile haue a TyerOf netting, made of Strawbery wyer,And in each knot that doth composeA Mesh, shall stick a halfe blowne Rose,Red, damaske, white, in order setAbout the sides, shall run a FretOf Primroses, the Tyer throughout220With Thrift and Dayses frindgd about;All this faire Nimph Ile doe for thee,So thou'lt leaue him and goe with me.Cleon.These be but weeds and Trash he brings,Ile giue thee solid, costly things,His will wither and be goneBefore thou well canst put them on;With Currall I will haue thee Crown'd,Whose Branches intricatly woundShall girt thy Temples euery way;230And on the top of euery SprayShall stick a Pearle orient and great,Which so the wandring Birds shall cheat,That some shall stoope to looke for Cheries,As other for tralucent Berries.And wondering, caught e'r they be wareIn the curld Tramels of thy hayre:And for thy necke a Christall ChaineWhose lincks shapt like to drops of Raine,Vpon thy panting Breast depending,240Shall seeme as they were still descending,And as thy breath doth come and goe,So seeming still to ebbe and flow:With Amber Bracelets cut like Bees,Whose strange transparency who sees,With Silke small as the Spiders TwistDoubled so oft about thy Wrist,Would surely thinke aliue they were,From Lillies gathering hony there.Thy Buskins Ivory, caru'd like Shels250Of Scallope, which as little BelsMade hollow, with the Ayre shall Chime,And to thy steps shall keepe the time:LeaueLalus,Liropefor meAnd these shall thy rich dowry be.Lirope.Lalusfor Flowers.Cleonfor Iemmes,For Garlands and for Diadems,I shall be sped, why this is braue,What Nimph can choicer Presents haue,With dressing, brading, frowncing, flowring,260All your Iewels on me powring,In this brauery being drest,To the ground I shall be prest,That I doubt the Nimphes will feare me,Nor will venture to come neare me;Neuer Lady of the May,To this houre was halfe so gay;All in flowers, all so sweet,From the Crowne, beneath the Feet,Amber, Currall, Ivory, Pearle,270If this cannot win a Gerle,Ther's nothing can, and this ye wooe me,Giue me your hands and trust ye to me,(Yet to tell ye I am loth)That I'le haue neither of you both;Lalus.When thou shalt please to stem the flood,(As thou art of the watry brood)I'le haue twelve Swannes more white than Snow,Yokd for the purpose two and two,To drawe thy Barge wrought of fine Reed280So well that it nought else shall need,The Traces by which they shall hayleThy Barge; shall be the winding trayleOf woodbynd; whose braue Tasseld Flowers(The Sweetnesse of the Woodnimphs Bowres)Shall be the Trappings to adorne,The Swannes, by which thy Barge is borne,Of flowred Flags I'le rob the bankeOf water-Cans and King-cups ranckTo be the Couering of thy Boate,290And on the Streame as thou do'st Floate,TheNaiadesthat haunt the deepe,Themselues about thy Barge shall keepe,Recording most delightfull Layes,By Sea Gods written in thy prayse.And in what place thou hapst to land,There the gentle Siluery sand,Shall soften, curled with the AierAs sensible of thy repayre:This my deare loue I'le doe for thee,300So Thou'lt leaue him and goe with me:Cleon.Tush Nimphe his Swannes will prove but Geese,His Barge drinke water like a Fleece;A Boat is base, I'le thee prouide,A Chariot, whereinIouemay ride;In which when brauely thou art borne,Thou shalt looke like the gloryous morneVshering the Sunne, and such a oneAs to this day was neuer none,Of the Rarest Indian Gummes,310More pretious then your BalsamummesWhich I by Art haue made so hard,That they with Tooles may well be Caru'dTo make a Coach of: which shall beMateryalls of this one for thee,And of thy Chariot each small peeceShall inlayd be with Amber Greece,And guilded with the Yellow oreProduc'd fromTaguswealthy shore;In which along the pleasant Lawne,320With twelue white Stags thou shalt be drawne,Whose brancht palmes of a stately height,With seuerall nosegayes shall be dight;And as thou ryd'st, thy Coach about,For thy strong guard shall runne a Rout,Of Estriges; whose Curled plumes,Sen'sd with thy Chariots rich perfumes,The scent into the Aier shall throw;Whose naked Thyes shall grace the show;Whilst the Woodnimphs and those bred330Vpon the mountayns, o'r thy headShall beare a Canopy of flowers,Tinseld with drops of Aprill showers,Which shall make more glorious showesThen spangles, or your siluer Oas;This bright nimph I'le doe for theeSo thou'lt leaue him and goe with me.Lirope.Vie and reuie, like Chapmen profer'd,Would't be receaued what you haue offer'd;Ye greater honour cannot doe me,340If not building Altars to me:Both by Water and by Land,Bardge and Chariot at command;Swans vpon the Streame to rawe me,Stags vpon the Land to drawe me,In all this Pompe should I be seene,What a pore thing were a Queene:All delights in such excesse,As but yee, who can expresse:Thus mounted should the Nimphes me see,350All the troope would follow me,Thinking by this state that IWould asume a Deitie.There be some in loue haue bin,And I may commit that sinne,And if e'r I be in loue,With one of you I feare twill proue,But with which I cannot tell,So my gallant Youths farewell.
The Muse new Courtship doth deuise,By Natures strange Varieties,Whose Rarieties she here relates,And giues you Pastorall Delicates.
Lalusa Iolly youthfull Lad,WithCleon, no lesse crown'dWith vertues; both their beings hadOn the Elizian ground.Both hauing parts so excellent,That it a question was,Which should be the most eminent,Or did in ought surpasse:ThisCleonwas a Mountaineer,10And of the wilder kinde,And from his birth had many a yeereBin nurst vp by a Hinde.And as the sequell well did show,It very well might be;For neuer Hart, nor Hare, nor Roe,Were halfe so swift as he.ButLalusin the Vale was bred,Amongst the Sheepe and Neate,And by these Nimphes there choicly fed,20With Hony, Milke, and Wheate;Of Stature goodly, faire of speech,And of behauiour mylde,Like those there in the Valley rich,That bred him of a chyld.Of Falconry they had the skill,Their Halkes to feed and flye,No better Hunters ere clome Hill,Nor hollowed to a Cry:In Dingles deepe, and Mountains hore,30Oft with the bearded SpeareThey combated the tusky Boare,And slew the angry Beare.In Musicke they were wondrous quaint,Fine Aers they could deuise;They very curiously could Paint,And neatly Poetize;That wagers many time were laidOn Questions that arose,Which song the wittyLalusmade,40WhichCleonshould compose.The stately Steed they manag'd well,Of Fence the art they knew,For Dansing they did all excellThe Gerles that to them drew;To throw the Sledge, to pitch the Barre,To wrestle and to Run,They all the Youth exceld so farre,That still the Prize they wonne.These sprightly Gallants lou'd a Lasse,50CaldLirope the bright,In the whole world there scarcely wasSo delicate a Wight,There was no Beauty so diuineThat euer Nimph did grace,But it beyond it selfe did shineIn her more heuenly face:What forme she pleasd each thing would takeThat ere she did behold,Of Pebbles she could Diamonds make,60Grosse Iron turne to Gold:Such power there with her presence cameSterne Tempests she alayd,The cruell Tiger she could tame,She raging Torrents staid,She chid, she cherisht, she gaue life,Againe she made to dye,She raisd a warre, apeasd a Strife,With turning of her eye.Some said a God did her beget,70But much deceiu'd were they,Her Father was aRiuelet,Her Mother was aFay.Her Lineaments so fine that were,She from the Fayrie tooke,Her Beauties and Complection cleere,By nature from the Brooke.These Ryualls wayting for the houre(The weather calme and faire)When as she vs'd to leaue her Bower80To take the pleasant ayreAcosting her; their complementTo her their Goddesse done;By gifts they tempt her to consent,WhenLalusthus begun.
Lalus.SweetLiropeI haue a LambeNewly wayned from the Damme,* Without hornes.Of the right kinde, it is *notted,Naturally with purple spotted,Into laughter it will put you,90To see how prettily 'twill But you;When on sporting it is set,It will beate you a Corvet,And at euery nimble boundTurne it selfe aboue the ground;When tis hungry it will bleate,From your hand to haue its meate,And when it hath fully fed,It will fetch Iumpes aboue your head,As innocently to expresse100Its silly sheepish thankfullnesse,When you bid it, it will play,Be it either night or day,ThisLiropeI haue for thee,So thou alone wilt liue with me.
* Without hornes.
Cleon.From him O turne thine eare away,And heare me my lou'dLirope,I haue a Kid as white as milke,His skin as soft asNaplessilke,His hornes in length are wondrous euen,110And curiously by nature writhen;It is of th' Arcadian kinde,Ther's not the like twixt eitherInde;If you walke, 'twill walke you by,If you sit downe, it downe will lye,It with gesture will you wooe,And counterfeit those things you doe;Ore each Hillock it will vault,And nimbly doe the Summer-sault,Upon the hinder Legs 'twill goe,120And follow you a furlong so,And if by chance a Tune you roate,'Twill foote it finely to your note,Seeke the worlde and you may misseTo finde out such a thing as this;This my loue I haue for theeSo thou'lt leaue him and goe with me.
Lirope.Beleeue me Youths your gifts are rare,And you offer wondrous faire;Lalusfor Lambe,Cleonfor Kyd,130'Tis hard to iudge which most doth bid,And haue you two such things in store,And I n'er knew of them before?Well yet I dare a Wager layThatBragmy little Dog shall play,As dainty tricks when I shall bid,AsLalusLambe, orCleonsKid.But t' may fall out that I may neede themTill when yee may doe well to feed them;Your Goate and Mutton pretty be140But Youths these are noe bayts for me,Alasse good men, in vaine ye wooe,'Tis not your Lambe nor Kid will doe.
Lalus.I haue two Sparrowes white as Snow,Whose pretty eyes like sparkes doe show;In her BosomeVenushatcht themWhere her littleCupidwatcht them,Till they too fledge their Nests forsookeThemselues and to the Fields betooke,Where by chance a Fowler caught them150Of whom I full dearely bought them;* The redde fruit of the smooth Bramble.They'll fetch you Conserue from the *Hip,And lay it softly on your Lip,Through their nibling bills they'll ChirupAnd fluttering feed you with the Sirup,And if thence you put them byThey to your white necke will flye,And if you expulse them thereThey'll hang vpon your braded Hayre;You so long shall see them prattle160Till at length they'll fall to battle,And when they haue fought their fill,You will smile to see them billThese birds myLirope'sshall beSo thou'lt leaue him and goe with me.
* The redde fruit of the smooth Bramble.
Cleon.His Sparrowes are not worth a rushI'le finde as good in euery bush,Of Doues I haue a dainty paireWhich when you please to take the Air,About your head shall gently houer170You Cleere browe from the Sunne to couer,And with their nimble wings shall fan you,That neither Cold nor Heate shall tan you,And like Vmbrellas with their feathersSheeld you in all sorts of weathers:They be most dainty Coloured things,They haue Damask backs and Chequerd wings,Their neckes more Various Cullours showeThen there be mixed in the Bowe;Venussaw the lesser Doue180And therewith was farre in Loue,Offering for't her goulden BallFor her Sonne to play withall;These myLiropesshall beSo shee'll leaue him and goe with me.
Lirope.Then for Sparrowes, and for DouesI am fitted twixt my Loues,ButLalusI take no delightIn Sparowes, for they'll scratch and biteAnd though ioynd, they are euer wooing190Alwayes billing, if not doeing,TwixtVenusbreasts if they haue lyenI much feare they'll infect myne;Cleonyour Doues are very dainty,Tame Pidgeons else you know are plenty,These may winne some of your MarrowesI am not caught with Doues, nor Sparrowes,I thanke ye kindly for your Coste,Yet your labour is but loste.
Lalus.With full-leau'd Lillies I will stick200Thy braded hayre all o'r so thick,That from it a Light shall throwLike the Sunnes vpon the Snow.Thy Mantle shall be Violet Leaues,With the fin'st the Silkeworme weauesAs finely wouen; whose rich smellThe Ayre about thee so shall swellThat it shall haue no power to mooue.A Ruffe of Pinkes thy Robe aboueAbout thy necke so neatly set210That Art it cannot counterfet,Which still shall looke so Fresh and new,As if vpon their Roots they grew:And for thy head Ile haue a TyerOf netting, made of Strawbery wyer,And in each knot that doth composeA Mesh, shall stick a halfe blowne Rose,Red, damaske, white, in order setAbout the sides, shall run a FretOf Primroses, the Tyer throughout220With Thrift and Dayses frindgd about;All this faire Nimph Ile doe for thee,So thou'lt leaue him and goe with me.
Cleon.These be but weeds and Trash he brings,Ile giue thee solid, costly things,His will wither and be goneBefore thou well canst put them on;With Currall I will haue thee Crown'd,Whose Branches intricatly woundShall girt thy Temples euery way;230And on the top of euery SprayShall stick a Pearle orient and great,Which so the wandring Birds shall cheat,That some shall stoope to looke for Cheries,As other for tralucent Berries.And wondering, caught e'r they be wareIn the curld Tramels of thy hayre:And for thy necke a Christall ChaineWhose lincks shapt like to drops of Raine,Vpon thy panting Breast depending,240Shall seeme as they were still descending,And as thy breath doth come and goe,So seeming still to ebbe and flow:With Amber Bracelets cut like Bees,Whose strange transparency who sees,With Silke small as the Spiders TwistDoubled so oft about thy Wrist,Would surely thinke aliue they were,From Lillies gathering hony there.Thy Buskins Ivory, caru'd like Shels250Of Scallope, which as little BelsMade hollow, with the Ayre shall Chime,And to thy steps shall keepe the time:LeaueLalus,Liropefor meAnd these shall thy rich dowry be.
Lirope.Lalusfor Flowers.Cleonfor Iemmes,For Garlands and for Diadems,I shall be sped, why this is braue,What Nimph can choicer Presents haue,With dressing, brading, frowncing, flowring,260All your Iewels on me powring,In this brauery being drest,To the ground I shall be prest,That I doubt the Nimphes will feare me,Nor will venture to come neare me;Neuer Lady of the May,To this houre was halfe so gay;All in flowers, all so sweet,From the Crowne, beneath the Feet,Amber, Currall, Ivory, Pearle,270If this cannot win a Gerle,Ther's nothing can, and this ye wooe me,Giue me your hands and trust ye to me,(Yet to tell ye I am loth)That I'le haue neither of you both;
Lalus.When thou shalt please to stem the flood,(As thou art of the watry brood)I'le haue twelve Swannes more white than Snow,Yokd for the purpose two and two,To drawe thy Barge wrought of fine Reed280So well that it nought else shall need,The Traces by which they shall hayleThy Barge; shall be the winding trayleOf woodbynd; whose braue Tasseld Flowers(The Sweetnesse of the Woodnimphs Bowres)Shall be the Trappings to adorne,The Swannes, by which thy Barge is borne,Of flowred Flags I'le rob the bankeOf water-Cans and King-cups ranckTo be the Couering of thy Boate,290And on the Streame as thou do'st Floate,TheNaiadesthat haunt the deepe,Themselues about thy Barge shall keepe,Recording most delightfull Layes,By Sea Gods written in thy prayse.And in what place thou hapst to land,There the gentle Siluery sand,Shall soften, curled with the AierAs sensible of thy repayre:This my deare loue I'le doe for thee,300So Thou'lt leaue him and goe with me:
Cleon.Tush Nimphe his Swannes will prove but Geese,His Barge drinke water like a Fleece;A Boat is base, I'le thee prouide,A Chariot, whereinIouemay ride;In which when brauely thou art borne,Thou shalt looke like the gloryous morneVshering the Sunne, and such a oneAs to this day was neuer none,Of the Rarest Indian Gummes,310More pretious then your BalsamummesWhich I by Art haue made so hard,That they with Tooles may well be Caru'dTo make a Coach of: which shall beMateryalls of this one for thee,And of thy Chariot each small peeceShall inlayd be with Amber Greece,And guilded with the Yellow oreProduc'd fromTaguswealthy shore;In which along the pleasant Lawne,320With twelue white Stags thou shalt be drawne,Whose brancht palmes of a stately height,With seuerall nosegayes shall be dight;And as thou ryd'st, thy Coach about,For thy strong guard shall runne a Rout,Of Estriges; whose Curled plumes,Sen'sd with thy Chariots rich perfumes,The scent into the Aier shall throw;Whose naked Thyes shall grace the show;Whilst the Woodnimphs and those bred330Vpon the mountayns, o'r thy headShall beare a Canopy of flowers,Tinseld with drops of Aprill showers,Which shall make more glorious showesThen spangles, or your siluer Oas;This bright nimph I'le doe for theeSo thou'lt leaue him and goe with me.
Lirope.Vie and reuie, like Chapmen profer'd,Would't be receaued what you haue offer'd;Ye greater honour cannot doe me,340If not building Altars to me:Both by Water and by Land,Bardge and Chariot at command;Swans vpon the Streame to rawe me,Stags vpon the Land to drawe me,In all this Pompe should I be seene,What a pore thing were a Queene:All delights in such excesse,As but yee, who can expresse:Thus mounted should the Nimphes me see,350All the troope would follow me,Thinking by this state that IWould asume a Deitie.There be some in loue haue bin,And I may commit that sinne,And if e'r I be in loue,With one of you I feare twill proue,But with which I cannot tell,So my gallant Youths farewell.
Poetick Raptures, sacred fires,With whichApollohis inspires,This Nimphall gives you; and withallObserues the Muses Festivall.Amongst th' Elizians many mirthfull Feasts,At which the Muses are the certaine guests,Th' obserue one Day with most Emperiall state,To wiseApollowhich they dedicate,The Poets God; and to his Alters bringTh' enamel'd Brauery of the beauteous spring,And strew their Bowers with euery precious sweet,Which still wax fresh, most trod on with their feet;With most choice flowers each Nimph doth brade her hayre,10And not the mean'st but bauldrick wise doth weareSome goodly Garland, and the most renown'dWith curious Roseat Anadems are crown'd.These being come into the place where theyYearely obserue the Orgies to that day,The Muses from their Heliconian springTheir brimfull Mazers to the feasting bring:When with deepe Draughts out of those plenteous Bowles,The iocond Youth haue swild their thirsty soules,They fall enraged with a sacred heat,20And when their braines doe once begin to sweatThey into braue and Stately numbers breake,And not a word that any one doth speakeBut tis Prophetick, and so strangely farreIn their high fury they transported are,As there's not one, on any thing can straine,But by another answred is againeIn the same Rapture, which all sit to heare;When as two Youths that soundly liquord were,DorilusandDoron, two as noble swayns30As euer kept on the Elizian playns,First by their signes attention hauing woonne,Thus they the Reuels frolikly begunne.Doron.ComeDorilus, let vs be brave,In lofty numbers let vs raue,With Rymes I will inrich thee.Dorilus.Content say I, then bid the base,Our wits shall runne the Wildgoosechase,Spurre vp, or I will swich thee.Doron.The Sunne out of the East doth peepe,40And now the day begins to creepe,Vpon the world at leasure.Dorilus.The Ayre enamor'd of the Greaues,The West winde stroaks the velvit leauesAnd kisses them at pleasure.Doron.The spinners webs twixt spray and spray,The top of euery bush make gay,By filmy coards there dangling.Dorilus.For now the last dayes euening dewEuen to the full it selfe doth shew,50Each bough with Pearle bespangling.Doron.O Boy how thy abundant vaineEuen like a Flood breaks from thy braine,Nor can thy Muse be gaged.Dorilus.Why nature forth did neuer bringA man that like to me can sing,If once I be enraged.Doron.WhyDorilusI in my skillCan make the swiftest Streame stand still,Nay beare back to his springing.60Dorilus.And I into a Trance most deepeCan cast the Birds that they shall sleepeWhen fain'st they would be singing.Doron.WhyDorilusthou mak'st me mad,And now my wits begin to gad,But sure I know not whither.Dorilus.ODoronlet me hug thee then,There neuer was two madder men,Then let vs on together.Doron. Hermesthe winged Horse bestrid,70And thorow thick and thin he rid,And floundred throw the Fountaine.Dorilus.He spurd the Tit vntill he bled,So that at last he ran his headAgainst the forked Mountaine,Doron.How sayst thou, but pydeIrisgotInto greatIunosChariot,I spake with one that saw her.Dorilus.And there the pert and sawcy Elfe,Behau'd her as twereIuno'sselfe,80And made the Peacocks draw her.Doron.Ile borrowPhœbusfiery Iades,With which about the world he trades,And put them in my Plow.Dorilus.O thou most perfect frantique man,Yet let thy rage be what it can,Ile be as mad as thou.Doron.Ile to greatIove, hap good, hap ill,Though he with Thunder threat to kill,And beg of him a boone.90Dorilus.To swerue vp one ofCynthiasbeames,And there to bath thee in the streames.Discouerd in the Moone.Doron.Come frolick Youth and follow me,My frantique boy, and Ile show theeThe Countrey of the Fayries.Dorilus.The fleshy Mandrake where't doth growIn noonshade of the Mistletow,And where the Phœnix Aryes.Doron.Nay more, the Swallowes winter bed,100The Caverns where the Winds are bred,Since thus thou talkst of showing.Dorilus.And to those Indraughts Ile thee bring,That wondrous and eternall springWhence th' Ocean hath its flowing.Doron.We'll downe to the darke house of sleepe,Where snoringMorpheusdoth keepe,And wake the drowsy Groome.Dorilus.Downe shall the Dores and Windowes goe,The Stooles vpon the Floare we'll throw,110And roare about the Roome.The Muses here commanded them to stay,Commending much the caridge of their LayAs greatly pleasd at this their madding Bout,To heare how brauely they had borne it outFrom first to the last, of which they were right glad,By this they found thatHeliconstill hadThat vertue it did anciently retaineWhenOrpheus Lynusand th' Ascrean SwaineTooke lusty Rowses, which hath made their Rimes,120To last so long to all succeeding times.And now amongst this beauteous Beauie here,Two wanton Nimphes, though dainty ones they were,NaijsandCloein their female fitsLonging to show the sharpnesse of their wits,Of thenine Sistersspeciall leaue doe craueThat the next Bout they two might freely haue,Who hauing got the suffrages of all,Thus to their Rimeing instantly they fall.Naijs.Amongst you all let us see130Who ist opposes mee,Come on the proudest sheTo answere my dittye.Cloe.WhyNaijs, that am I,Who dares thy pride defie.And that we soone shall tryThough thou be witty.Naijs. CloeI scorne my RimeShould obserue feet or time,Now I fall, then I clime,140Where i'st I dare not.Cloe.Giue thy Invention wing,And let her flert and fling,Till downe the Rocks she ding,For that I care not.Naijs.This presence delights me,My freedome inuites me,The Season excytes me,In Rime to be merry.Cloe.And I beyond measure,150Am rauisht with pleasure,To answer each Ceasure,Untill thou beist weary.Naijs.Behold the Rosye Dawne,Rises in Tinsild Lawne,And smiling seemes to fawne,Vpon the mountaines.Cloe.Awaked from her Dreames,Shooting foorth goulden BeamesDansing vpon the Streames160Courting the Fountaines.Naijs.These more then sweet Showrets,Intice vp these Flowrets,To trim vp our Bowrets,Perfuming our Coats.Cloe.Whilst the Birds billingEach one with his DillingThe thickets still fillingWith Amorous Noets.Naijs.The Bees vp in hony rould,170More then their thighes can hould,Lapt in their liquid gould,Their Treasure vs Bringing.Cloe.To these Rillets purlingVpon the stones Curling,And oft about wherling,Dance tow'ard their springing.Naijs.The Wood-Nimphes sit singing,Each Groue with notes ringingWhilst fresh Ver is flinging180Her Bounties abroad.Cloe.So much as the Turtle,Upon the low Mertle,To the meads fertle,Her cares doth unload.Naijs.Nay 'tis a world to see,In euery bush and Tree,The Birds with mirth and glee,Woo'd as they woe.Cloe.The Robin and the Wren,190Every Cocke with his Hen,Why should not we and men,Doe as they doe.Naijs.The Faires are hopping,The small Flowers cropping,And with dew dropping,Skip thorow the Greaues.Cloe.At Barly-breake they playMerrily all the day,At night themselues they lay200Vpon the soft leaues.Naijs.The gentle winds sally,Vpon every Valley,And many times dallyAnd wantonly sport.Cloe.About the fields tracing,Each other in chasing,And often imbracing,In amorous sort.Naijs.And Eccho oft doth tell210Wondrous things from her Cell,As her what chance befell,Learning to prattle.Cloe.And now she sits and mocksThe Shepherds and their flocks,And the Heards from the RocksKeeping their Cattle.When to these Maids the Muses silence cry,For 'twas the opinion of the Company,That were not these two taken of, that they220Would in their Conflict wholly spend the day.When as the Turne toFlorimelnext came,A Nimph for Beauty of especiall name,Yet was she not so Iolly as the rest:And though she were by her companions prest,Yet she by no intreaty would be wroughtTo sing, as by th' Elizian Lawes she ought:When two bright Nimphes that her companions were,And of all other onely held her deare,MildClarisandMertilla, with faire speech230Their most belouedFlorimelbeseech,T'obserue the Muses, and the more to wooe her,They take their turnes, and thus they sing vnto her.Cloris.Sing,Florimel, O sing, and weeOur whole wealth will giue to thee,We'll rob the brim of euery Fountaine,Strip the sweets from euery Mountaine,We will sweepe the curled valleys,Brush the bancks that mound our allyes,We will muster natures dainties240When she wallowes in her plentyes,The lushyous smell of euery flowerNew washt by an Aprill shower,The Mistresse of her store we'll make theeThat she for her selfe shall take thee;Can there be a dainty thing,That's not thine if thou wilt sing.Mertilla.When the dew in May distilleth,And the Earths rich bosome filleth,And with Pearle embrouds each Meadow,250We will make them like a widow,And in all their Beauties dresse thee,And of all their spoiles possesse thee,With all the bounties Zephyre brings,Breathing on the yearely springs,The gaudy bloomes of euery TreeIn their most beauty when they be,What is here that may delight thee,Or to pleasure may excite thee,Can there be a dainty thing260That's not thine if thou wilt sing.ButFlorimelstill sullenly replyesI will not sing at all, let that suffice:When as a Nimph one of the merry gingSeeing she no way could be wonne to sing;Come, come, quoth she, ye vtterly vndoe herWith your intreaties, and your reuerence to her;For praise nor prayers, she careth not a pin;They that our frowardFlorimelwould winne,Must worke another way, let me come to her,270Either Ile make her sing, or Ile vndoe her.Claia. FlorimelI thus coniure thee,Since their gifts cannot alure thee;By stampt Garlick, that doth stinkWorse then common Sewer, or Sink,By Henbane, Dogsbane, Woolfsbane, sweetAs any Clownes or Carriers feet,By stinging Nettles, pricking TeaselsRaysing blisters like the measels,By the rough Burbreeding docks,Rancker then the oldest Fox,280By filthy Hemblock, poysning moreThen any vlcer or old sore,By the Cockle in the corne,That smels farre worse then doth burnt horne,By Hempe in water that hath layne,By whose stench the Fish are slayne,By Toadflax which your Nose may tast,If you haue a minde to cast,May all filthy stinking Weeds290That e'r bore leafe, or e'r had seeds,Florimelbe giuen to thee,If thou'lt not sing as well as wee.At which the Nimphs to open laughter fell,Amongst the rest the beauteousFlorimel,(Pleasd with the spell fromClaiathat came,A mirthfull Gerle and giuen to sport and game)As gamesome growes as any of them all,And to this ditty instantly doth fall.Florimel.How in my thoughts should I contriue300The Image I am framing,Which is so farre superlatiue,As tis beyond all naming;I wouldIoueof my counsell make,And haue his judgement in it,But that I doubt he would mistakeHow rightly to begin it,It must be builded in the Ayre,And tis my thoughts must doo it,And onely they must be the stayre310From earth to mount me to it,For of my Sex I frame my Lay,Each houre, our selues forsaking,How should I then finde out the wayTo this my vndertaking,When our weake Fancies working still,Yet changing every minnit,Will shew that it requires some skill,Such difficulty's in it.We would things, yet we know not what,320And let our will be granted,Yet instantly we finde in thatSomething vnthought of wanted:Our ioyes and hopes such shadowes are,As with our motions varry,Which when we oft haue fetcht from farre,With us they neuer tarry:Some worldly crosse doth still attend,What long we haue in spinning,And e'r we fully get the end330We lose of our beginning.Our pollicies so peevish are,That with themselues they wrangle,And many times become the snareThat soonest vs intangle;For that the Loue we beare our FriendsThough nere so strongly grounded,Hath in it certaine oblique endsIf to the bottome sounded:Our owne well wishing making it,340A pardonable Treason;For that is deriud from witt,And vnderpropt with reason.For our Deare selues beloued sake(Euen in the depth of passion)Our Center though our selues we make,Yet is not that our station;For whilst our Browes ambitious beAnd youth at hand awayts vs,It is a pretty thing to see350How finely Beautie cheats vs,And whilst with tyme we tryfling standTo practise Antique gracesAge with a pale and withered handDrawes Furowes in our faces.When they which so desirous were beforeTo hear her sing; desirous are far moreTo haue her cease; and call to haue her staydFor she to much alredy had bewray'd.And as thethrice three Sistersthus had grac'd360Their Celebration, and themselues had plac'dVpon a Violet banck, in order allWhere they at will might view the FestifallThe Nimphs and all the lusty youth that wereAt this braue Nimphall, by them honored there,To Gratifie the heauenly Gerles againeLastly prepare in state to entertaineThose sacred Sisters, fairely and confer,On each of them, their prayse particularAnd thus the Nimphes to the nine Muses sung.370When as the Youth and Forresters amongThat well prepared for this businesse were,Become theChorus, and thus sung they there.Nimphes. Cliothen first of those Celestiall nineThat daily offer to the sacred shryne,Of wiseApollo; Queene of Stories,Thou that vindicat'st the gloriesOf passed ages, and renewstTheir acts which euery day thou viewst,And from a lethargy dost keepe380Old nodding time, else prone to sleepe.Chorus. ClioO craue ofPhœbusto inspireVs, for his Altars with his holiest fire,And let his glorious euer-shining RayesGiue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.Nimphes. Melpominethou melancholly MaidNext, to wisePhœbuswe inuoke thy ayd,In Buskins that dost stride the Stage,And in thy deepe distracted rage,In blood-shed that dost take delight,390Thy obiect the most fearfull sight,That louest the sighes, the shreekes, and soundsOf horrors, that arise from wounds.Chorus.Sad Muse, O craue ofPhœbusto inspireVs for his Altars, with his holiest fire,And let his glorious euer-shining RayesGiue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.Nimphes.ComickThaliathen we come to thee,Thou mirthfull Mayden, onely that in gleeAnd loues deceits, thy pleasure tak'st,400Of which thy varying Scene that mak'stAnd in thy nimble Sock do'st stirreLoude laughter through the Theater,That with the Peasant mak'st the sport,As well as with the better sort.Chorus. Thaliacraue ofPhœbusto inspireVs for his Alters with his holyest fier;And let his glorious euer-shining RayesGiue life, and growth to our Elizian Bayes.Nimphes. Euterpenext to thee we will proceed,410That first sound'st out the Musick on the Reed,With breath and fingers giu'ng life,To the shrill Cornet and the Fyfe.Teaching euery stop and kaye,To those vpon the Pipe that playe,Those which Wind-Instruments we callOr soft, or lowd, or greate, or small,Chorus. Euterpeaske ofPhebusto inspire,Vs for his Alters with his holyest fireAnd let his glorious euer-shining Rayes420Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.Nimphes. Terpsichorethat of the Lute and Lyre,And Instruments that sound with Cords and wyere,That art the Mistres, to commaundThe touch of the most Curious hand,When euery Quauer doth ImbraceHis like in a true Diapase,And euery string his sound doth fillToucht with the Finger or the Quill.Chorus. Terpsichore,crauePhebusto inspire430Vs for his Alters with his holyest fierAnd let his glorious euer-shining RayesGiue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.Nimphes.ThenEratowise muse on thee we call,In Lynes to vs that do'st demonstrate all,Which neatly, with thy staffe and Bowe,Do'st measure, and proportion showe;Motion and Gesture that dost teachThat euery height and depth canst reach,And do'st demonstrate by thy Art440What nature else would not Impart.Chorus.DeareEratocrauePhebusto inspireVs for his Alters with his holyest fire,And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes,Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.Nimphes.To thee then braueCaliopewe comeThou that maintain'st, the Trumpet, and the Drum;The neighing Steed that louest to heare,Clashing of Armes doth please thine eare,In lofty Lines that do'st rehearse450Things worthy of a thundring verse,And at no tyme are heard to straine,On ought that suits a Common vayne.Chorus. Caliope, crauePhebusto inspire,Vs for his Alters with his holyest fier,And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes,Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.Nimphes.ThenPolyhymniamost delicious Mayd,In Rhetoricks Flowers that art arayd,In Tropes and Figures, richly drest,460The Fyled Phrase that louest best,That art all Elocution, andThe first that gau'st to vnderstandThe force of wordes in order plac'dAnd with a sweet deliuery grac'd.Chorus.Sweet Muse perswade ourPhœbusto inspireVs for his Altars, with his holiest fire,And let his glorious euer shining RayesGiue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.Nimphes.LoftyVraniathen we call to thee,470To whom the Heauens for euer opened be,Thou th' Asterismes by name dost call,And shewst when they doe rise and fallEach Planets force, and dost diuineHis working, seated in his Signe,And how the starry Frame still roulesBetwixt the fixed stedfast Poles.Chorus. Vraniaaske ofPhœbusto inspireVs for his Altars with his holiest fire,And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes480Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.
Poetick Raptures, sacred fires,With whichApollohis inspires,This Nimphall gives you; and withallObserues the Muses Festivall.
Amongst th' Elizians many mirthfull Feasts,At which the Muses are the certaine guests,Th' obserue one Day with most Emperiall state,To wiseApollowhich they dedicate,The Poets God; and to his Alters bringTh' enamel'd Brauery of the beauteous spring,And strew their Bowers with euery precious sweet,Which still wax fresh, most trod on with their feet;With most choice flowers each Nimph doth brade her hayre,10And not the mean'st but bauldrick wise doth weareSome goodly Garland, and the most renown'dWith curious Roseat Anadems are crown'd.These being come into the place where theyYearely obserue the Orgies to that day,The Muses from their Heliconian springTheir brimfull Mazers to the feasting bring:When with deepe Draughts out of those plenteous Bowles,The iocond Youth haue swild their thirsty soules,They fall enraged with a sacred heat,20And when their braines doe once begin to sweatThey into braue and Stately numbers breake,And not a word that any one doth speakeBut tis Prophetick, and so strangely farreIn their high fury they transported are,As there's not one, on any thing can straine,But by another answred is againeIn the same Rapture, which all sit to heare;When as two Youths that soundly liquord were,DorilusandDoron, two as noble swayns30As euer kept on the Elizian playns,First by their signes attention hauing woonne,Thus they the Reuels frolikly begunne.
Doron.ComeDorilus, let vs be brave,In lofty numbers let vs raue,With Rymes I will inrich thee.
Dorilus.Content say I, then bid the base,Our wits shall runne the Wildgoosechase,Spurre vp, or I will swich thee.
Doron.The Sunne out of the East doth peepe,40And now the day begins to creepe,Vpon the world at leasure.
Dorilus.The Ayre enamor'd of the Greaues,The West winde stroaks the velvit leauesAnd kisses them at pleasure.
Doron.The spinners webs twixt spray and spray,The top of euery bush make gay,By filmy coards there dangling.
Dorilus.For now the last dayes euening dewEuen to the full it selfe doth shew,50Each bough with Pearle bespangling.
Doron.O Boy how thy abundant vaineEuen like a Flood breaks from thy braine,Nor can thy Muse be gaged.
Dorilus.Why nature forth did neuer bringA man that like to me can sing,If once I be enraged.
Doron.WhyDorilusI in my skillCan make the swiftest Streame stand still,Nay beare back to his springing.
60Dorilus.And I into a Trance most deepeCan cast the Birds that they shall sleepeWhen fain'st they would be singing.
Doron.WhyDorilusthou mak'st me mad,And now my wits begin to gad,But sure I know not whither.
Dorilus.ODoronlet me hug thee then,There neuer was two madder men,Then let vs on together.
Doron. Hermesthe winged Horse bestrid,70And thorow thick and thin he rid,And floundred throw the Fountaine.
Dorilus.He spurd the Tit vntill he bled,So that at last he ran his headAgainst the forked Mountaine,
Doron.How sayst thou, but pydeIrisgotInto greatIunosChariot,I spake with one that saw her.
Dorilus.And there the pert and sawcy Elfe,Behau'd her as twereIuno'sselfe,80And made the Peacocks draw her.
Doron.Ile borrowPhœbusfiery Iades,With which about the world he trades,And put them in my Plow.
Dorilus.O thou most perfect frantique man,Yet let thy rage be what it can,Ile be as mad as thou.
Doron.Ile to greatIove, hap good, hap ill,Though he with Thunder threat to kill,And beg of him a boone.
90Dorilus.To swerue vp one ofCynthiasbeames,And there to bath thee in the streames.Discouerd in the Moone.
Doron.Come frolick Youth and follow me,My frantique boy, and Ile show theeThe Countrey of the Fayries.
Dorilus.The fleshy Mandrake where't doth growIn noonshade of the Mistletow,And where the Phœnix Aryes.
Doron.Nay more, the Swallowes winter bed,100The Caverns where the Winds are bred,Since thus thou talkst of showing.
Dorilus.And to those Indraughts Ile thee bring,That wondrous and eternall springWhence th' Ocean hath its flowing.
Doron.We'll downe to the darke house of sleepe,Where snoringMorpheusdoth keepe,And wake the drowsy Groome.
Dorilus.Downe shall the Dores and Windowes goe,The Stooles vpon the Floare we'll throw,110And roare about the Roome.
The Muses here commanded them to stay,Commending much the caridge of their LayAs greatly pleasd at this their madding Bout,To heare how brauely they had borne it outFrom first to the last, of which they were right glad,By this they found thatHeliconstill hadThat vertue it did anciently retaineWhenOrpheus Lynusand th' Ascrean SwaineTooke lusty Rowses, which hath made their Rimes,120To last so long to all succeeding times.And now amongst this beauteous Beauie here,Two wanton Nimphes, though dainty ones they were,NaijsandCloein their female fitsLonging to show the sharpnesse of their wits,Of thenine Sistersspeciall leaue doe craueThat the next Bout they two might freely haue,Who hauing got the suffrages of all,Thus to their Rimeing instantly they fall.
Naijs.Amongst you all let us see130Who ist opposes mee,Come on the proudest sheTo answere my dittye.
Cloe.WhyNaijs, that am I,Who dares thy pride defie.And that we soone shall tryThough thou be witty.
Naijs. CloeI scorne my RimeShould obserue feet or time,Now I fall, then I clime,140Where i'st I dare not.
Cloe.Giue thy Invention wing,And let her flert and fling,Till downe the Rocks she ding,For that I care not.
Naijs.This presence delights me,My freedome inuites me,The Season excytes me,In Rime to be merry.
Cloe.And I beyond measure,150Am rauisht with pleasure,To answer each Ceasure,Untill thou beist weary.
Naijs.Behold the Rosye Dawne,Rises in Tinsild Lawne,And smiling seemes to fawne,Vpon the mountaines.
Cloe.Awaked from her Dreames,Shooting foorth goulden BeamesDansing vpon the Streames160Courting the Fountaines.
Naijs.These more then sweet Showrets,Intice vp these Flowrets,To trim vp our Bowrets,Perfuming our Coats.
Cloe.Whilst the Birds billingEach one with his DillingThe thickets still fillingWith Amorous Noets.
Naijs.The Bees vp in hony rould,170More then their thighes can hould,Lapt in their liquid gould,Their Treasure vs Bringing.
Cloe.To these Rillets purlingVpon the stones Curling,And oft about wherling,Dance tow'ard their springing.
Naijs.The Wood-Nimphes sit singing,Each Groue with notes ringingWhilst fresh Ver is flinging180Her Bounties abroad.
Cloe.So much as the Turtle,Upon the low Mertle,To the meads fertle,Her cares doth unload.
Naijs.Nay 'tis a world to see,In euery bush and Tree,The Birds with mirth and glee,Woo'd as they woe.
Cloe.The Robin and the Wren,190Every Cocke with his Hen,Why should not we and men,Doe as they doe.
Naijs.The Faires are hopping,The small Flowers cropping,And with dew dropping,Skip thorow the Greaues.
Cloe.At Barly-breake they playMerrily all the day,At night themselues they lay200Vpon the soft leaues.
Naijs.The gentle winds sally,Vpon every Valley,And many times dallyAnd wantonly sport.
Cloe.About the fields tracing,Each other in chasing,And often imbracing,In amorous sort.
Naijs.And Eccho oft doth tell210Wondrous things from her Cell,As her what chance befell,Learning to prattle.
Cloe.And now she sits and mocksThe Shepherds and their flocks,And the Heards from the RocksKeeping their Cattle.
When to these Maids the Muses silence cry,For 'twas the opinion of the Company,That were not these two taken of, that they220Would in their Conflict wholly spend the day.When as the Turne toFlorimelnext came,A Nimph for Beauty of especiall name,Yet was she not so Iolly as the rest:And though she were by her companions prest,Yet she by no intreaty would be wroughtTo sing, as by th' Elizian Lawes she ought:When two bright Nimphes that her companions were,And of all other onely held her deare,MildClarisandMertilla, with faire speech230Their most belouedFlorimelbeseech,T'obserue the Muses, and the more to wooe her,They take their turnes, and thus they sing vnto her.
Cloris.Sing,Florimel, O sing, and weeOur whole wealth will giue to thee,We'll rob the brim of euery Fountaine,Strip the sweets from euery Mountaine,We will sweepe the curled valleys,Brush the bancks that mound our allyes,We will muster natures dainties240When she wallowes in her plentyes,The lushyous smell of euery flowerNew washt by an Aprill shower,The Mistresse of her store we'll make theeThat she for her selfe shall take thee;Can there be a dainty thing,That's not thine if thou wilt sing.
Mertilla.When the dew in May distilleth,And the Earths rich bosome filleth,And with Pearle embrouds each Meadow,250We will make them like a widow,And in all their Beauties dresse thee,And of all their spoiles possesse thee,With all the bounties Zephyre brings,Breathing on the yearely springs,The gaudy bloomes of euery TreeIn their most beauty when they be,What is here that may delight thee,Or to pleasure may excite thee,Can there be a dainty thing260That's not thine if thou wilt sing.
ButFlorimelstill sullenly replyesI will not sing at all, let that suffice:When as a Nimph one of the merry gingSeeing she no way could be wonne to sing;Come, come, quoth she, ye vtterly vndoe herWith your intreaties, and your reuerence to her;For praise nor prayers, she careth not a pin;They that our frowardFlorimelwould winne,Must worke another way, let me come to her,270Either Ile make her sing, or Ile vndoe her.
Claia. FlorimelI thus coniure thee,Since their gifts cannot alure thee;By stampt Garlick, that doth stinkWorse then common Sewer, or Sink,By Henbane, Dogsbane, Woolfsbane, sweetAs any Clownes or Carriers feet,By stinging Nettles, pricking TeaselsRaysing blisters like the measels,By the rough Burbreeding docks,Rancker then the oldest Fox,280By filthy Hemblock, poysning moreThen any vlcer or old sore,By the Cockle in the corne,That smels farre worse then doth burnt horne,By Hempe in water that hath layne,By whose stench the Fish are slayne,By Toadflax which your Nose may tast,If you haue a minde to cast,May all filthy stinking Weeds290That e'r bore leafe, or e'r had seeds,Florimelbe giuen to thee,If thou'lt not sing as well as wee.
At which the Nimphs to open laughter fell,Amongst the rest the beauteousFlorimel,(Pleasd with the spell fromClaiathat came,A mirthfull Gerle and giuen to sport and game)As gamesome growes as any of them all,And to this ditty instantly doth fall.
Florimel.How in my thoughts should I contriue300The Image I am framing,Which is so farre superlatiue,As tis beyond all naming;I wouldIoueof my counsell make,And haue his judgement in it,But that I doubt he would mistakeHow rightly to begin it,It must be builded in the Ayre,And tis my thoughts must doo it,And onely they must be the stayre310From earth to mount me to it,For of my Sex I frame my Lay,Each houre, our selues forsaking,How should I then finde out the wayTo this my vndertaking,When our weake Fancies working still,Yet changing every minnit,Will shew that it requires some skill,Such difficulty's in it.We would things, yet we know not what,320And let our will be granted,Yet instantly we finde in thatSomething vnthought of wanted:Our ioyes and hopes such shadowes are,As with our motions varry,Which when we oft haue fetcht from farre,With us they neuer tarry:Some worldly crosse doth still attend,What long we haue in spinning,And e'r we fully get the end330We lose of our beginning.Our pollicies so peevish are,That with themselues they wrangle,And many times become the snareThat soonest vs intangle;For that the Loue we beare our FriendsThough nere so strongly grounded,Hath in it certaine oblique endsIf to the bottome sounded:Our owne well wishing making it,340A pardonable Treason;For that is deriud from witt,And vnderpropt with reason.For our Deare selues beloued sake(Euen in the depth of passion)Our Center though our selues we make,Yet is not that our station;For whilst our Browes ambitious beAnd youth at hand awayts vs,It is a pretty thing to see350How finely Beautie cheats vs,And whilst with tyme we tryfling standTo practise Antique gracesAge with a pale and withered handDrawes Furowes in our faces.
When they which so desirous were beforeTo hear her sing; desirous are far moreTo haue her cease; and call to haue her staydFor she to much alredy had bewray'd.And as thethrice three Sistersthus had grac'd360Their Celebration, and themselues had plac'dVpon a Violet banck, in order allWhere they at will might view the FestifallThe Nimphs and all the lusty youth that wereAt this braue Nimphall, by them honored there,To Gratifie the heauenly Gerles againeLastly prepare in state to entertaineThose sacred Sisters, fairely and confer,On each of them, their prayse particularAnd thus the Nimphes to the nine Muses sung.370When as the Youth and Forresters amongThat well prepared for this businesse were,Become theChorus, and thus sung they there.
Nimphes. Cliothen first of those Celestiall nineThat daily offer to the sacred shryne,Of wiseApollo; Queene of Stories,Thou that vindicat'st the gloriesOf passed ages, and renewstTheir acts which euery day thou viewst,And from a lethargy dost keepe380Old nodding time, else prone to sleepe.
Chorus. ClioO craue ofPhœbusto inspireVs, for his Altars with his holiest fire,And let his glorious euer-shining RayesGiue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.
Nimphes. Melpominethou melancholly MaidNext, to wisePhœbuswe inuoke thy ayd,In Buskins that dost stride the Stage,And in thy deepe distracted rage,In blood-shed that dost take delight,390Thy obiect the most fearfull sight,That louest the sighes, the shreekes, and soundsOf horrors, that arise from wounds.
Chorus.Sad Muse, O craue ofPhœbusto inspireVs for his Altars, with his holiest fire,And let his glorious euer-shining RayesGiue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.
Nimphes.ComickThaliathen we come to thee,Thou mirthfull Mayden, onely that in gleeAnd loues deceits, thy pleasure tak'st,400Of which thy varying Scene that mak'stAnd in thy nimble Sock do'st stirreLoude laughter through the Theater,That with the Peasant mak'st the sport,As well as with the better sort.
Chorus. Thaliacraue ofPhœbusto inspireVs for his Alters with his holyest fier;And let his glorious euer-shining RayesGiue life, and growth to our Elizian Bayes.
Nimphes. Euterpenext to thee we will proceed,410That first sound'st out the Musick on the Reed,With breath and fingers giu'ng life,To the shrill Cornet and the Fyfe.Teaching euery stop and kaye,To those vpon the Pipe that playe,Those which Wind-Instruments we callOr soft, or lowd, or greate, or small,
Chorus. Euterpeaske ofPhebusto inspire,Vs for his Alters with his holyest fireAnd let his glorious euer-shining Rayes420Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.
Nimphes. Terpsichorethat of the Lute and Lyre,And Instruments that sound with Cords and wyere,That art the Mistres, to commaundThe touch of the most Curious hand,When euery Quauer doth ImbraceHis like in a true Diapase,And euery string his sound doth fillToucht with the Finger or the Quill.
Chorus. Terpsichore,crauePhebusto inspire430Vs for his Alters with his holyest fierAnd let his glorious euer-shining RayesGiue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.
Nimphes.ThenEratowise muse on thee we call,In Lynes to vs that do'st demonstrate all,Which neatly, with thy staffe and Bowe,Do'st measure, and proportion showe;Motion and Gesture that dost teachThat euery height and depth canst reach,And do'st demonstrate by thy Art440What nature else would not Impart.
Chorus.DeareEratocrauePhebusto inspireVs for his Alters with his holyest fire,And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes,Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.
Nimphes.To thee then braueCaliopewe comeThou that maintain'st, the Trumpet, and the Drum;The neighing Steed that louest to heare,Clashing of Armes doth please thine eare,In lofty Lines that do'st rehearse450Things worthy of a thundring verse,And at no tyme are heard to straine,On ought that suits a Common vayne.
Chorus. Caliope, crauePhebusto inspire,Vs for his Alters with his holyest fier,And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes,Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.
Nimphes.ThenPolyhymniamost delicious Mayd,In Rhetoricks Flowers that art arayd,In Tropes and Figures, richly drest,460The Fyled Phrase that louest best,That art all Elocution, andThe first that gau'st to vnderstandThe force of wordes in order plac'dAnd with a sweet deliuery grac'd.
Chorus.Sweet Muse perswade ourPhœbusto inspireVs for his Altars, with his holiest fire,And let his glorious euer shining RayesGiue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.
Nimphes.LoftyVraniathen we call to thee,470To whom the Heauens for euer opened be,Thou th' Asterismes by name dost call,And shewst when they doe rise and fallEach Planets force, and dost diuineHis working, seated in his Signe,And how the starry Frame still roulesBetwixt the fixed stedfast Poles.
Chorus. Vraniaaske ofPhœbusto inspireVs for his Altars with his holiest fire,And let his glorious euer-shining Rayes480Giue life and growth to our Elizian Bayes.