Canst thou depart and be forgotten so,Stanhopethou canst not, no deareStanhope, no:But in despight of death the world shall see,That Muse which so much graced was by theeCan black Obliuion vtterly out-braue,And set thee vp aboue thy silent Graue.I meruail'd much theDerbianNimphes were dumbe,Or of those Muses, what should be become,That of all those, the mountaines there among,10Not one this while thyEpicediumsung;But so it is, when they of thee were reft,They all those hills, and all those Riuers left,And sullen growne, their former seates remoue,Both from cleareDarwin, and from siluerDoue,And for thy losse, they greeued are so sore,That they haue vow'd they will come there no more;But leaue thy losse to me, that I should rue thee,Vnhappy man, and yet I neuer knew thee:Me thou didst loue vnseene, so did I thee,20It was our spirits that lou'd then and not wee;Therefore without profanenesse I may callThe loue betwixt vs, loue spirituall:But that which thou affectedst was so true,As that thereby thee perfectly I knew;And now that spirit, which thou so lou'dst, still mine,Shall offer this a Sacrifice to thine,And reare this Trophe, which for thee shall last,When this most beastly Iron age is past;I am perswaded, whilst we two haue slept,30Our soules haue met, and to each other wept,That destenie so strongly should forbid,Our bodies to conuerse as oft they did:For certainly refined spirits doe know,As doe the Angels, and doe here beloweTake the fruition of that endlesse blisse,As those aboue doe, and what each one is.They see diuinely, and as those there doe,They know each others wills, so soules can too.About that dismall time, thy spirit hence flew,40Mine much was troubled, but why, I not knew,In dull and sleepy sounds, it often left me,As of it selfe it ment to haue bereft me,I asked it what the cause was, of such woe,Or what it might be, that might vexe it so,But it was deafe, nor my demand would here,But when that ill newes came, to touch mine eare,I straightwayes found this watchfull sperit of mine,Troubled had bin to take it leaue of thine,For when fate found, what nature late had done,50How much from heauen, she for the earth had wonBy thy deare birth; said, that it could not beIn so yong yeares, what it perceiu'd in thee,But nature sure, had fram'd thee long before;And as Rich Misers of their mighty store,Keepe the most precious longst, so from times past,She onely had reserued thee till the last;So did thy wisedome, not thy youth behold,And tooke thee hence, in thinking thou wast old.Thy shape and beauty often haue to me60Bin highly praysed, which I thought might be,Truely reported, for a spirit so braue,Which heauen to thee so bountifully gaue;Nature could not in recompence againe,In some rich lodging but to entertaine.Let not the world report then, that the Peake,Is but a rude place only vast and bleake;And nothing hath to boast of but her Lead,When she can say that happily she bredThee, and when she shall of her wonders tell70Wherein she doth all other Tracts excell,Let her account thee greatst, and still to timeOf all the rest, accord thee for the prime.
Canst thou depart and be forgotten so,Stanhopethou canst not, no deareStanhope, no:But in despight of death the world shall see,That Muse which so much graced was by theeCan black Obliuion vtterly out-braue,And set thee vp aboue thy silent Graue.I meruail'd much theDerbianNimphes were dumbe,Or of those Muses, what should be become,That of all those, the mountaines there among,10Not one this while thyEpicediumsung;But so it is, when they of thee were reft,They all those hills, and all those Riuers left,And sullen growne, their former seates remoue,Both from cleareDarwin, and from siluerDoue,And for thy losse, they greeued are so sore,That they haue vow'd they will come there no more;But leaue thy losse to me, that I should rue thee,Vnhappy man, and yet I neuer knew thee:Me thou didst loue vnseene, so did I thee,20It was our spirits that lou'd then and not wee;Therefore without profanenesse I may callThe loue betwixt vs, loue spirituall:But that which thou affectedst was so true,As that thereby thee perfectly I knew;And now that spirit, which thou so lou'dst, still mine,Shall offer this a Sacrifice to thine,And reare this Trophe, which for thee shall last,When this most beastly Iron age is past;I am perswaded, whilst we two haue slept,30Our soules haue met, and to each other wept,That destenie so strongly should forbid,Our bodies to conuerse as oft they did:For certainly refined spirits doe know,As doe the Angels, and doe here beloweTake the fruition of that endlesse blisse,As those aboue doe, and what each one is.They see diuinely, and as those there doe,They know each others wills, so soules can too.About that dismall time, thy spirit hence flew,40Mine much was troubled, but why, I not knew,In dull and sleepy sounds, it often left me,As of it selfe it ment to haue bereft me,I asked it what the cause was, of such woe,Or what it might be, that might vexe it so,But it was deafe, nor my demand would here,But when that ill newes came, to touch mine eare,I straightwayes found this watchfull sperit of mine,Troubled had bin to take it leaue of thine,For when fate found, what nature late had done,50How much from heauen, she for the earth had wonBy thy deare birth; said, that it could not beIn so yong yeares, what it perceiu'd in thee,But nature sure, had fram'd thee long before;And as Rich Misers of their mighty store,Keepe the most precious longst, so from times past,She onely had reserued thee till the last;So did thy wisedome, not thy youth behold,And tooke thee hence, in thinking thou wast old.Thy shape and beauty often haue to me60Bin highly praysed, which I thought might be,Truely reported, for a spirit so braue,Which heauen to thee so bountifully gaue;Nature could not in recompence againe,In some rich lodging but to entertaine.Let not the world report then, that the Peake,Is but a rude place only vast and bleake;And nothing hath to boast of but her Lead,When she can say that happily she bredThee, and when she shall of her wonders tell70Wherein she doth all other Tracts excell,Let her account thee greatst, and still to timeOf all the rest, accord thee for the prime.
My noble friend, you challenge me to writeTo you in verse, and often you recite,My promise to you, and to send you newes;As 'tis a thing I very seldome vse,And I must write of State, if toMadrid,A thing our Proclamations here forbid,And that word State such Latitude doth beare,As it may make me very well to feareTo write, nay speake at all, these let you know10Your power on me, yet not that I will showeThe loue I beare you, in that lofty height,So cleere expression, or such words of weight,As intoSpanishif they were translated,Might make the Poets of that Realme amated;Yet these my least were, but that you extortThese numbers from me, when I should reportIn home-spunne prose, in good plaine honest wordsThe newes our wofullEnglandvs affords.The Muses here sit sad, and mute the while20A sort of swine vnseasonably defileThose sacred springs, which from the by-clift hillDropt their pureNectarinto euery quill;In this with State, I hope I doe not deale,This onely tends the Muses common-weale.What canst thou hope, or looke for from his pen,Who liues with beasts, though in the shapes of men,And what a poore few are we honest still,And dare to be so, when all the world is ill.I finde this age of our markt with this Fate,30That honest men are still precipitateVnder base villaines, which till th' earth can ventThis her last brood, and wholly hath them spent,Shall be so, then in reuolution shallVertue againe arise by vices fall;But that shall I not see, neither will IMaintaine this, as one doth a Prophesie,That our KingIamestoRomeshall surely goe,And from his chaire thePopeshall ouerthrow.But O this world is so giuen vp to hell,40That as the old Giants, which did once rebell,Against the Gods, so this now-liuing raceDare sin, yet stand, and Ieere heauen in the face.But soft my Muse, and make a little stay,Surely thou art not rightly in thy way,To my goodIeffrayeswas not I aboutTo write, and see, I suddainely am out,This is pureSatire, that thou speak'st, and IWas first in hand to write an Elegie.To tell my countreys shame I not delight.50But doe bemoane 't I am noDemocrite:O God, though Vertue mightily doe grieueFor all this world, yet will I not beleeueBut that shees faire and louely, and that sheSo to the period of the world shall be;Else had she beene forsaken (sure) of all,For that so many sundry mischiefes fallVpon her dayly, and so many takeArmes vp against her, as it well might makeHer to forsake her nature, and behind,60To leaue no step for future time to find,As she had neuer beene, for he that nowCan doe her most disgrace, him they alowThe times chiefe Champion, and he is the man,The prize, and Palme that absolutely wanne,For where Kings Clossets her free seat hath binShe neere the Lodge, not suffered is to Inne,For ignorance against her stands in state,Like some great porter at a Pallace gate;So dull and barbarous lately are we growne,70And there are some this slauery that haue sowne,That for mans knowledge it enough doth make,If he can learne, to read an Almanacke;By whom that trash ofAmadis de Gaule,Is held an author most authenticall,And things we haue like Noblemen that beIn little time, which I haue hope to seeVpon their foot-clothes, as the streets they rideTo haue their hornebookes at their girdles ti'd.But all their superfluity of spite80On vertues hand-maid Poesy doth light,And to extirpe her all their plots they lay,But to her ruine they shall misse the way,For his alone the Monuments of wit,Aboue the rage of Tyrants that doe sit,And from their strength, not one himselfe can saue,But they shall tryumph o'r his hated graue.In my conceipt, friend, thou didst neuer seeA righter Madman then thou hast of me,For now asElegiackI bewaile90These poor base times; then suddainely I raileAnd amSatirick, not that I inforceMy selfe to be so, but euen as remorse,Or hate, in the proud fulnesse of their hightMaster my fancy, iust so doe I write.But gentle friend as soone shall I beholdThat stone of which so many haue vs tould,(Yet neuer any to this day could make)The greatElixaror to vndertakeTheRose-crosseknowledge which is much like that100A Tarrying-iron for fooles to labour at,As euer after I may hope to see,(A plague vpon this beastly world for me,)Wit so respected as it was of yore;And if hereafter any it restore,It must be those that yet for many a yeare,Shall be vnborne that must inhabit here,And such in vertue as shall be asham'dAlmost to heare their ignorant Grandsires nam'd,With whom so many noble spirits then liu'd,110That were by them of all reward depriu'd.My noble friend, I would I might haue quitThis age of these, and that I might haue writ,Before all other, how much the braue pen,Had here bin honoured of theEnglishmen;Goodnesse and knowledge, held by them in prise,How hatefull to them Ignorance and vice;But it falls out the contrary is true,And so myIeffreyesfor this time adue.
My noble friend, you challenge me to writeTo you in verse, and often you recite,My promise to you, and to send you newes;As 'tis a thing I very seldome vse,And I must write of State, if toMadrid,A thing our Proclamations here forbid,And that word State such Latitude doth beare,As it may make me very well to feareTo write, nay speake at all, these let you know10Your power on me, yet not that I will showeThe loue I beare you, in that lofty height,So cleere expression, or such words of weight,As intoSpanishif they were translated,Might make the Poets of that Realme amated;Yet these my least were, but that you extortThese numbers from me, when I should reportIn home-spunne prose, in good plaine honest wordsThe newes our wofullEnglandvs affords.The Muses here sit sad, and mute the while20A sort of swine vnseasonably defileThose sacred springs, which from the by-clift hillDropt their pureNectarinto euery quill;In this with State, I hope I doe not deale,This onely tends the Muses common-weale.What canst thou hope, or looke for from his pen,Who liues with beasts, though in the shapes of men,And what a poore few are we honest still,And dare to be so, when all the world is ill.I finde this age of our markt with this Fate,30That honest men are still precipitateVnder base villaines, which till th' earth can ventThis her last brood, and wholly hath them spent,Shall be so, then in reuolution shallVertue againe arise by vices fall;But that shall I not see, neither will IMaintaine this, as one doth a Prophesie,That our KingIamestoRomeshall surely goe,And from his chaire thePopeshall ouerthrow.But O this world is so giuen vp to hell,40That as the old Giants, which did once rebell,Against the Gods, so this now-liuing raceDare sin, yet stand, and Ieere heauen in the face.But soft my Muse, and make a little stay,Surely thou art not rightly in thy way,To my goodIeffrayeswas not I aboutTo write, and see, I suddainely am out,This is pureSatire, that thou speak'st, and IWas first in hand to write an Elegie.To tell my countreys shame I not delight.50But doe bemoane 't I am noDemocrite:O God, though Vertue mightily doe grieueFor all this world, yet will I not beleeueBut that shees faire and louely, and that sheSo to the period of the world shall be;Else had she beene forsaken (sure) of all,For that so many sundry mischiefes fallVpon her dayly, and so many takeArmes vp against her, as it well might makeHer to forsake her nature, and behind,60To leaue no step for future time to find,As she had neuer beene, for he that nowCan doe her most disgrace, him they alowThe times chiefe Champion, and he is the man,The prize, and Palme that absolutely wanne,For where Kings Clossets her free seat hath binShe neere the Lodge, not suffered is to Inne,For ignorance against her stands in state,Like some great porter at a Pallace gate;So dull and barbarous lately are we growne,70And there are some this slauery that haue sowne,That for mans knowledge it enough doth make,If he can learne, to read an Almanacke;By whom that trash ofAmadis de Gaule,Is held an author most authenticall,And things we haue like Noblemen that beIn little time, which I haue hope to seeVpon their foot-clothes, as the streets they rideTo haue their hornebookes at their girdles ti'd.But all their superfluity of spite80On vertues hand-maid Poesy doth light,And to extirpe her all their plots they lay,But to her ruine they shall misse the way,For his alone the Monuments of wit,Aboue the rage of Tyrants that doe sit,And from their strength, not one himselfe can saue,But they shall tryumph o'r his hated graue.In my conceipt, friend, thou didst neuer seeA righter Madman then thou hast of me,For now asElegiackI bewaile90These poor base times; then suddainely I raileAnd amSatirick, not that I inforceMy selfe to be so, but euen as remorse,Or hate, in the proud fulnesse of their hightMaster my fancy, iust so doe I write.But gentle friend as soone shall I beholdThat stone of which so many haue vs tould,(Yet neuer any to this day could make)The greatElixaror to vndertakeTheRose-crosseknowledge which is much like that100A Tarrying-iron for fooles to labour at,As euer after I may hope to see,(A plague vpon this beastly world for me,)Wit so respected as it was of yore;And if hereafter any it restore,It must be those that yet for many a yeare,Shall be vnborne that must inhabit here,And such in vertue as shall be asham'dAlmost to heare their ignorant Grandsires nam'd,With whom so many noble spirits then liu'd,110That were by them of all reward depriu'd.My noble friend, I would I might haue quitThis age of these, and that I might haue writ,Before all other, how much the braue pen,Had here bin honoured of theEnglishmen;Goodnesse and knowledge, held by them in prise,How hatefull to them Ignorance and vice;But it falls out the contrary is true,And so myIeffreyesfor this time adue.
Accursed Death, what neede was there at allOf thee, or who to councell thee did call;The subiect whereupon these lines I spendFor thee was most vnfit, her timelesse endToo soone thou wroughtst, too neere her thou didst stand;Thou shouldst haue lent thy leane and meager handTo those who oft the help thereof beseech,And can be cured by no other Leech.In this wide world how many thousands be,10That hauing past fourescore, doe call for thee.The wretched debtor in the Iayle that lies,Yet cannot this his Creditor sufficeDoth woe thee oft with many a sigh and teare,Yet thou art coy, and him thou wilt not heare.The Captiue slaue that tuggeth at the Oares,And vnderneath the Bulls tough sinewes rores,Begs at thy hand, in lieu of all his paines,That thou wouldst but release him of his chaines;Yet thou a niggard listenest not thereto,20With one short gaspe which thou mightst easily do,But thou couldst come to her ere there was neede,And euen at once destroy both flower and seede.But cruell Death if thou so barbarous be,To those so goodly, and so young as shee;That in their teeming thou wilt shew thy spight;Either from marriage thou wilt Maides affright,Or in their wedlock, Widowes liues to chuseTheir Husbands bed, and vtterly refuse,Fearing conception; so shalt thou thereby30Extirpate mankinde by thy cruelty.If after direfull Tragedy thou thirst,ExtinguishHimensTorches at the first;Build Funerall pyles, and the sad pauement strewe,With mournfull Cypresse, and the pale-leau'd Yewe.Away with Roses, Myrtle, and with Bayes;Ensignes of mirth, and iollity, as these;Neuer at Nuptials vsed be againe,But from the Church the new Bride entertaineWith weepingNenias, euer and among,40As at departings be sadRequiemssong.Lucinaby th' olde Poets that wert sayd,Women in Childe-birth euermore to ayde,Because thine Altars, long haue layne neglected:Nor as they should, thy holy fiers reflectedVpon thy Temples, therefore thou doest flye,And wilt not helpe them in necessitie.Thinking vpon thee, I doe often muse,Whether for thy deare sake I should accuseNature or Fortune, Fortune then I blame,50And doe impute it as her greatest shame,To hast thy timelesse end, and soone agenI vexe at Nature, nay I curse her then,That at the time of need she was no stronger,That we by her might haue enioy'd thee longer.But whilst of these I with my selfe debate,I call to minde how flinty-hearted FateSeaseth the olde, the young, the faire, the foule,No thing on earth can Destinie controule:But yet that Fate which hath of life bereft thee,60Still to eternall memory hath left thee,Which thou enioy'st by the deserued breath,That many a great one hath not after death.
Accursed Death, what neede was there at allOf thee, or who to councell thee did call;The subiect whereupon these lines I spendFor thee was most vnfit, her timelesse endToo soone thou wroughtst, too neere her thou didst stand;Thou shouldst haue lent thy leane and meager handTo those who oft the help thereof beseech,And can be cured by no other Leech.In this wide world how many thousands be,10That hauing past fourescore, doe call for thee.The wretched debtor in the Iayle that lies,Yet cannot this his Creditor sufficeDoth woe thee oft with many a sigh and teare,Yet thou art coy, and him thou wilt not heare.The Captiue slaue that tuggeth at the Oares,And vnderneath the Bulls tough sinewes rores,Begs at thy hand, in lieu of all his paines,That thou wouldst but release him of his chaines;Yet thou a niggard listenest not thereto,20With one short gaspe which thou mightst easily do,But thou couldst come to her ere there was neede,And euen at once destroy both flower and seede.But cruell Death if thou so barbarous be,To those so goodly, and so young as shee;That in their teeming thou wilt shew thy spight;Either from marriage thou wilt Maides affright,Or in their wedlock, Widowes liues to chuseTheir Husbands bed, and vtterly refuse,Fearing conception; so shalt thou thereby30Extirpate mankinde by thy cruelty.If after direfull Tragedy thou thirst,ExtinguishHimensTorches at the first;Build Funerall pyles, and the sad pauement strewe,With mournfull Cypresse, and the pale-leau'd Yewe.Away with Roses, Myrtle, and with Bayes;Ensignes of mirth, and iollity, as these;Neuer at Nuptials vsed be againe,But from the Church the new Bride entertaineWith weepingNenias, euer and among,40As at departings be sadRequiemssong.Lucinaby th' olde Poets that wert sayd,Women in Childe-birth euermore to ayde,Because thine Altars, long haue layne neglected:Nor as they should, thy holy fiers reflectedVpon thy Temples, therefore thou doest flye,And wilt not helpe them in necessitie.Thinking vpon thee, I doe often muse,Whether for thy deare sake I should accuseNature or Fortune, Fortune then I blame,50And doe impute it as her greatest shame,To hast thy timelesse end, and soone agenI vexe at Nature, nay I curse her then,That at the time of need she was no stronger,That we by her might haue enioy'd thee longer.But whilst of these I with my selfe debate,I call to minde how flinty-hearted FateSeaseth the olde, the young, the faire, the foule,No thing on earth can Destinie controule:But yet that Fate which hath of life bereft thee,60Still to eternall memory hath left thee,Which thou enioy'st by the deserued breath,That many a great one hath not after death.
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OldeChavcerdoth ofTopastell,MadRablaisof Pantagruell,A latter third ofDowsabell,With such poore trifles playing:Others the like haue laboured atSome of this thing, and some of that,And many of they know not what,But that they must be saying.Another sort there bee, that will10Be talking of the Fayries still,Nor neuer can they have their fill,As they were wedded to them;No Tales of them their thirst can slake,So much delight therein they take,And some strange thing they fame would make,Knew they the way to doe them.Then since no Muse hath bin so bold,Or of the Later, or the ould,Those Eluish secrets to vnfold,20Which lye from others reading,My actiue Muse to light shall bring,The court of that proud Fayry King,And tell there, of the Reuelling,Ioueprosper my proceeding.And thouNimphidiagentle Fay,Which meeting me vpon the way,These secrets didst to me bewray,Which now I am in telling:My pretty light fantastick mayde,30I here inuoke thee to my ayde,That I may speake what thou hast sayd,In numbers smoothly swelling.This Pallace standeth in the Ayre,By Nigromancie placed there,That it no Tempests needs to feare,Which way so ere it blow it.And somewhat Southward tow'rd the Noone,Whence lyes a way vp to the Moone,And thence theFayriecan as soone40Passe to the earth below it.The Walls of Spiders legs are made,Well mortized and finely layd,He was the master of his TradeIt curiously that builded:The Windowes of the eyes of Cats,And for the Roofe, instead of Slats,Is couer'd with the skinns of Batts,With Mooneshine that are guilded.HenceOberonhim sport to make,50(Their rest when weary mortalls take)And none but onelyFayrieswake,Desendeth for his pleasure.AndMabhis meerry Queene by nightBestrids young Folks that lye vpright,(In elder Times theMarethat hight)Which plagues them out of measure.Hence Shaddowes, seeming Idle shapes,Of little frisking Elues and Apes,To Earth doe make their wanton skapes,60As hope of pastime hasts them:Which maydes think on the Hearth they see,When Fyers well nere consumed be,Their daunsing Hayes by two and three,Iust as their Fancy casts them.These make our Girles their sluttery rue,By pinching them both blacke and blew,And put a penny in their shue,The house for cleanely sweeping:And in their courses make that Round,70In Meadowes, and in Marshes found,Of them so call'd theFayrieground,Of which they haue the keeping.Thus when a Childe haps to be gott,Which after prooues an Ideott,When Folke perceiue it thriueth not,The fault therein to smother:Some silly doting brainlesse Calfe,That vnderstands things by the halfe,Say that theFayrieleft this Aulfe,80And tooke away the other.But listen and I shall you tell,A chance inFayriethat befell,Which certainly may please some well;In Loue and Armes delighting:OfOberonthat Iealous grewe,Of one of his owneFayriecrue,Too well (he fear'd) his Queene that knew,His loue but ill requiting.Pigwiggenwas thisFayrieknight,90One wondrous gratious in the sightOf faire QueeneMab, which day and night,He amorously obserued;Which made kingOberonsuspect,His Seruice tooke too good effect,His saucinesse, and often checkt,And could have wisht him starued.Pigwiggengladly would commend,Some token to queeneMabto send,If Sea, or Land, him ought could lend,100Were worthy of her wearing:At length this Louer doth deuise,A Bracelett made of Emmotts eyes,A thing he thought that shee would prize,No whitt her state impayring.And to the Queene a Letter writes,Which he most curiously endites,Coniuring her by all the ritesOf loue, she would be pleased,To meete him her true Seruant, where110They might without suspect or feare,Themselues to one another cleare,And haue their poore hearts eased.At mid-night the appointed hower,And for the Queene a fitting bower,(Quoth he) is that faire Cowslip flower,OnHipcuthill that groweth,In all your Trayne there's not aFay,That euer went to gather May,But she hath made it in her way,120The tallest there that groweth.When byTom Thuma Fayrie Page,He sent it, and doth him engage,By promise of a mighty wage,It secretly to carrie:Which done, the Queene her maydes doth call,And bids them to be ready all,She would goe see her Summer Hall,She could no longer tarrie.Her Chariot ready straight is made,130Each thing therein is fitting layde,That she by nothing might be stayde,For naught must be her letting,Foure nimble Gnats the Horses were,Their Harnasses of Gossamere,Flye Cranion her Chariottere,Vpon the Coach-box getting.Her Chariot of a Snayles fine shell,Which for the colours did excell:The faire QueeneMab, becomming well,140So liuely was the limming:The seate the soft wooll of the Bee;The couer, (gallantly to see)The wing of a pyde Butterflee,I trowe t'was simple trimming.The wheeles compos'd of Crickets bones,And daintily made for the nonce,For feare of ratling on the stones,With Thistle-downe they shod it;For all her Maydens much did feare,150IfOberonhad chanc'd to heare,ThatMabhis Queene should haue bin there,He would not haue aboad it.She mounts her Chariot with a trice,Nor would she stay for no advice,Vntill her Maydes that were so nice,To wayte on her were fitted,But ranne her selfe away alone;Which when they heard there was not one,But hasted after to be gone,160As she had beene diswitted.Hop, andMop, andDropso cleare,Pip, andTrip, andSkipthat were,ToMabtheir Soueraigne euer deare:Her speciall Maydes of Honour;Fib, andTib, andPinck, andPin,Tick, andQuick, andIill, andIin,Tit, andNit, andWap, andWin,The Trayne that wayte vpon her.Vpon a Grashopper they got,170And what with Amble, and with Trot,For hedge nor ditch they spared not,But after her they hie them.A Cobweb ouer them they throw,To shield the winde if it should blowe,Themselues they wisely could bestowe,Lest any should espie them.But let vs leaue QueeneMaba while,Through many a gate, o'r many a stile,That now had gotten by this wile,180Her dearePigwigginkissing,And tell howOberondoth fare,Who grew as mad as any Hare,When he had sought each place with care,And found his Queene was missing.By grislyPlutohe doth sweare,He rent his cloths, and tore his haire,And as he runneth, here and there,An Acorne cup he greeteth;Which soone he taketh by the stalke190About his head he lets it walke,Nor doth he any creature balke,But lays on all he meeteth.TheThuskanPoet doth aduance,The frantickePaladineof France,And those more ancient doe inhaunce,Alcidesin his fury.And othersAiax Telamon,But to this time there hath bin non,So Bedlam as ourOberon,200Of which I dare assure you.And first encountring with a waspe,He in his armes the Fly doth claspeAs though his breath he forth would graspe,Him for Pigwiggen taking:Where is my wife thou Rogue, quoth he,Pigwiggen, she is come to thee,Restore her, or thou dy'st by me,Whereat the poore waspe quaking,Cryes,Oberon, greatFayrieKing,210Content thee I am no such thing,I am a Waspe behold my sting,At which theFayriestarted:When soone away the Waspe doth goe,Poore wretch was neuer frighted so,He thought his wings were much to slow,O'rioyd, they so were parted.He next vpon a Glow-worme light,(You must suppose it now was night),Which for her hinder part was bright,220He tooke to be a Deuill.And furiously doth her assaileFor carrying fier in her taileHe thrasht her rough coat with his flayle,The mad King fear'd no euill.O quoth theGlowormehold thy hand,Thou puisant King ofFayrieland,Thy mighty stroaks who may withstand,Hould, or of life despaire I:Together then her selfe doth roule,230And tumbling downe into a hole,She seem'd as black as any Cole,Which vext away theFayrie.From thence he ran into a Hiue,Amongst the Bees he letteth driueAnd downe their Coombes begins to riue,All likely to haue spoyled:Which with their Waxe his face besmeard,And with their Honey daub'd his BeardIt would haue made a man afeard,240To see how he was moyled.A new Aduenture him betides,He mett an Ant, which he bestrides,And post thereon away he rides,Which with his haste doth stumble;And came full ouer on her snowte,Her heels so threw the dirt about,For she by no meanes could get out,But ouer him doth tumble.And being in this piteous case,250And all be-slurried head and face,On runs he in this Wild-goose chaseAs here, and there, he ramblesHalfe blinde, against a molehill hit,And for a Mountaine taking it,For all he was out of his wit,Yet to the top he scrambles.And being gotten to the top,Yet there himselfe he could not stop,But downe on th' other side doth chop,260And to the foot came rumbling:So that the Grubs therein that bred,Hearing such turmoyle ouer head,Thought surely they had all bin dead,So fearefull was the Iumbling.And falling downe into a Lake,Which him vp to the neck doth take,His fury somewhat it doth slake,He calleth for a Ferry;Where you may some recouery note,270What was his Club he made his Boate,And in his Oaken Cup doth float,As safe as in a Wherry.Men talke of the Aduentures strange,OfDon Quishott, and of their changeThrough which he Armed oft did range,OfSancha Panchastrauell:But should a man tell euery thing,Done by this frantickeFayrieking.And them in lofty numbers sing280It well his wits might grauell.Scarse set on shore, but therewithall,He meetethPucke, which most men callHobgoblin, and on him doth fall,With words from frenzy spoken;Hoh, hoh, quothHob, God saue thy grace,Who drest thee in this pitteous case,He thus that spoild my soueraignes face,I would his necke were broken.ThisPuckseemes but a dreaming dolt,290Still walking like a ragged Colt,And oft out of a Bush doth bolt,Of purpose to deceiue vs.And leading vs makes vs to stray,Long Winters nights out of the way,And when we stick in mire and clay,Hobdoth with laughter leaue vs.DearePuck(quoth he) my wife is goneAs ere thou lou'st KingOberon,Let euery thing but this alone300With vengeance, and pursue her;Bring her to me aliue or dead,Or that vilde thief,Pigwigginshead,That villaine hath defil'd my bedHe to this folly drew her.QuothPuck, My Liege Ile neuer lin,But I will thorough thicke and thinne,Vntill at length I bring her in,My dearest Lord nere doubt it:Thorough Brake, thorough Brier,310Thorough Muck, thorough Mier,Thorough Water, thorough Fier,And thus goesPuckabout it.This thing Nimphidia ouer hardThat on this mad King had a guardNot doubting of a great reward,For first this businesse broching;And through the ayre away doth goeSwift as an Arrow from the Bowe,To let her SoueraigneMabto know,320What perill was approaching.The Queene bound with Loues powerfulst charmeSate withPigwiggenarme in arme,Her Merry Maydes that thought no harme,About the roome were skipping:A Humble-Bee their Minstrell, playdeVpon his Hoboy; eu'ry MaydeFit for this Reuells was arayde,The Hornepype neatly tripping.In comesNimphidia, and doth crie,330My Soueraigne for your safety flie,For there is danger but too nie,I posted to forewarne you:The King hath sentHobgoblinout,To seeke you all the Fields about,And of your safety you may doubt,If he but once discerne you.When like an vprore in a Towne,Before them euery thing went downe,Some tore a Ruffe, and some a Gowne,340Gainst one another iustling:They flewe about like Chaffe i' th winde,For hast some left their Maskes behinde;Some could not stay their Gloues to finde,There neuer was such bustling.Forth ranne they by a secret way,Into a brake that neere them lay;Yet much they doubted there to stay,LestHobshould hap to find them:He had a sharpe and piercing sight,350All one to him the day and night,And therefore were resolu'd by flight,To leave this place behind them.At length one chanc'd to find a Nut,In th' end of which a hole was cut,Which lay vpon a Hazell roote,There scatt'red by a Squirill:Which out the kernell gotten had;When quoth thisFaydeare Queene be glad,LetOberonbe ne'r so mad,360Ile set you safe from perill.Come all into this Nut (quoth she)Come closely in be rul'd by me,Each one may here a chuser be,For roome yee need not wrastle:Nor neede yee be together heapt;So one by one therein they crept,And lying downe they soundly slept,And safe as in a Castle.Nimphidiathat this while doth watch,370Perceiu'd ifPuckthe Queene should catchThat he should be her ouer-match,Of which she well bethought her;Found it must be some powerfull Charme,The Queene against him that must arme,Or surely he would doe her harme,For throughly he had sought her.And listning if she ought could heare,That her might hinder, or might feare:But finding still the coast was cleare,380Nor creature had discride her;Each circumstance and hauing scand,She came thereby to vnderstand,Puckwould be with them out of handWhen to her Charmes she hide her:And first her Ferne seede doth bestowe,The kernell of the Missletowe:And here and there asPuckshould goe,With terrour to affright him:She Night-shade strawes to work him ill,390Therewith her Veruayne and her Dill,That hindreth Witches of their will,Of purpose to dispight him.Then sprinkles she the iuice of Rue,That groweth vnderneath the Yeu:With nine drops of the midnight dewe,From Lunarie distilling:The Molewarps braine mixt therewithall;And with the same the Pismyres gall,For she in nothing short would fall;400TheFayriewas so willing.Then thrice vnder a Bryer doth creepe,Which at both ends was rooted deepe,And ouer it three times shee leepe;Her Magicke much auayling:Then onProserpynadoth call,And so vpon her spell doth fall,Which here to you repeate I shall,Not in one tittle fayling.By the croking of the Frogge;410By the howling of the Dogge;By the crying of the Hogge,Against the storme arising;By the Euening Curphewe bell;By the dolefull dying knell,O let this my direfull Spell,Hob, hinder thy surprising.By the Mandrakes dreadfull groanes;By the Lubricans sad moans;By the noyse of dead mens bones,420In Charnell houses ratling:By the hissing of the Snake,The rustling of the fire-Drake,I charge thee thou this place forsake,Nor of QueeneMabbe pratling.By the Whirlwindes hollow sound,By the Thunders dreadfull stound,Yells of Spirits vnder ground,I chardge thee not to feare vs:By the Shreech-owles dismall note,430By the Blacke Night-Rauens throate,I charge theeHobto teare thy CoateWith thornes if thou come neere vs,Her Spell thus spoke she stept aside,And in a Chincke her selfe doth hide,To see there of what would betyde,For shee doth onely minde him:When presently sheePuckespies,And well she markt his gloating eyes,How vnder euery leafe he spies,440In seeking still to finde them.But once the Circle got within,The Charmes to worke doe straight begin,And he was caught as in a Gin;For as he thus was busie,A paine he in his Head-peece feeles,Against a stubbed Tree he reeles,And vp went pooreHobgoblinsheeles,Alas his braine was dizzie.At length vpon his feete he gets,450Hobgoblinfumes,Hobgoblinfrets,And as againe he forward sets,And through the Bushes scrambles;A Stump doth trip him in his pace,Down comes pooreHobvpon his face,And lamentably tore his case,Amongst the Bryers and Brambles.A plague vpon QueeneMab, quoth hee,And all her Maydes where ere they be,I thinke the Deuill guided me,460To seeke her so prouoked.Where stumbling at a piece of Wood,He fell into a dich of mudd,Where to the very Chin he stood,In danger to be choked.Now worse than e're he was before:PoorePuckdoth yell, poorePuckdoth rore;That wak'd QueeneMabwho doubted soreSome Treason had been wrought her:VntillNimphidiatold the Queene470What she had done, what she had seene,Who then had well-neere crack'd her spleeneWith very extreame laughter.But leaue weHobto clamber out:QueeneMaband all herFayrierout,And come againe to haue aboutWithOberonyet madding:And withPigwiggennow distrought,Who much was troubled in his thought,That he so long the Queene had sought,480And through the Fields was gadding.And as he runnes he still doth crie,KingOberonI thee defie,And dare thee here in Armes to trie,For my deare Ladies honour:For that she is a Queene right good,In whose defence Ile shed my blood,And that thou in this iealous moodHast lay'd this slander on her.And quickly Armes him for the Field,490A little Cockle-shell his Shield,Which he could very brauely wield:Yet could it not be pierced:His Speare a Bent both stiffe and strong,And well-neere of two Inches long;The Pyle was of a Horse-flyes tongue,Whose sharpnesse nought reuersed.And puts him on a coate of Male,Which was of a Fishes scale,That when his Foe should him assaile,500No poynt should be preuayling:His Rapier was a Hornets sting,It was a very dangerous thing:For if he chanc'd to hurt the King,It would be long in healing.His Helmet was a Bettles head,Most horrible and full of dread,That able was to strike one dead,Yet did it well become him:And for a plume, a horses hayre,510Which being tossed with the ayre,Had force to strike his Foe with feare,And turne his weapon from him.Himselfe he on an Earewig set,Yet scarce he on his back could get,So oft and high he did coruet,Ere he himselfe could settle:He made him turne, and stop, and bound,To gallop, and to trot the Round,He scarce could stand on any ground,520He was so full of mettle.When soone he met withTomalin,One that a valiant Knight had bin,And to KingOberonof kin;Quoth he thou manlyFayrie:TellOberonI come prepar'd,Then bid him stand vpon his Guard;This hand his basenesse shall reward,Let him be ne'r so wary.Say to him thus, that I defie,530His slanders, and his infamie,And as a mortall enemie,Doe publickly proclaime him:Withall, that if I had mine owne,He should not weare theFayrieCrowne,But with a vengeance should come downe:Nor we a King should name him.ThisTomalincould not abide,To heare his Soueraigne vilefide:But to theFayrieCourt him hide;540Full furiously he posted,With eu'ry thingPigwiggensayd:How title to the Crowne he layd,And in what Armes he was aray'd,As how himselfe he boasted.Twixt head and foot, from point to point,He told th'arming of each ioint,In every piece, how neate, and quaint,ForTomalincould doe it:How fayre he sat, how sure he rid,550As of the courser he bestrid,How Mannag'd, and how well he did;The King which listened to it,Quoth he, goeTomalinwith speede,Prouide me Armes, prouide my Steed,And euery thing that I shall neede,By thee I will be guided;To strait account, call thou thy witt,See there be wanting not a whitt,In euery thing see thou me fitt,560Just as my foes prouided.Soone flewe this newes throughFayrielandWhich gaue QueeneMabto vnderstand,The combate that was then in hand,Betwixt those men so mighty:Which greatly she began to rew,Perceuing that allFayrieknew,The first occasion from her grew,Of these affaires so weighty.Wherefore attended with her maides,570Through fogs, and mists, and dampes she wades,ToProserpinethe Queene of shadesTo treat, that it would please her,The cause into her hands to take,For ancient loue and friendships sake,And soone therof an end to make,Which of much care would ease her.A While, there let weMabalone,And come we to KingOberon,Who arm'd to meete his foe is gone,580For ProudPigwiggencrying:Who sought theFayrieKing as fast,And had so well his iourneyes cast,That he arriued at the last,His puisant foe espying:StoutTomalincame with the King,Tom Thumdoth onPigwiggenbring,That perfect were in euery thing,To single fights belonging:And therefore they themselues ingage,590To see them exercise their rage,With faire and comely equipage,Not one the other wronging.So like in armes, these champions were,As they had bin, a very paire,So that a man would almost sweare,That either, had bin either;Their furious steedes began to nayeThat they were heard a mighty way,Their staues vpon their rests they lay;600Yet e'r they flew together,Their Seconds minister an oath,Which was indifferent to them both,That on their Knightly faith, and troth,No magicke them supplyed;And sought them that they had no charmes,Wherewith to worke each others harmes,But came with simple open armes,To haue their causes tryed.Together furiously they ran,610That to the ground came horse and man,The blood out of their Helmets span,So sharpe were their incounters;And though they to the earth were throwne,Yet quickly they regain'd their owne,Such nimblenesse was neuer showne,They were two Gallant Mounters.When in a second Course againe,They forward came with might and mayne,Yet which had better of the twaine,620The Seconds could not iudge yet;Their shields were into pieces cleft,Their helmets from their heads were reft,And to defend them nothing left,These Champions would not budge yet.Away from them their Staues they threw,Their cruell Swords they quickly drew,And freshly they the fight renew;They euery stroke redoubled:Which madeProserpinatake heed,630And make to them the greater speed,For fear lest they too much should bleed,Which wondrously her troubled.When to th' infernallStixshe goes,She takes the Fogs from thence that rose,And in a Bagge doth them enclose;When well she had them blended:She hyes her then toLethespring,A Bottell and thereof doth bring,Wherewith she meant to worke the thing,640Which onely she intended.NowProserpinewithMabis goneVnto the place whereOberonAnd proudPigwiggen, one to one,Both to be slaine were likely:And there themselues they closely hide,Because they would not be espide;ForProserpinemeant to decideThe matter very quickly.And suddainly vntyes the Poke,650Which out of it sent such a smoke,As ready was them all to choke,So greeuous was the pother;So that the Knights each other lost,And stood as still as any post,Tom Thum, norTomalincould boastThemselues of any other.But when the mist gan somewhat cease,Proserpinacommanded peace:And that a while they should release,660Each other of their perill:Which here (quoth she) I doe proclaimeTo all in dreadfullPlutosname,That as yee will eschewe his blame,You let me heare the quarrell,But here your selues you must engage,Somewhat to coole your spleenish rage:Your greeuous thirst and to asswage,That first you drinke this liquor:Which shall your vnderstanding cleare,670As plainely shall to you appeare;Those things from me that you shall heare,Conceiuing much the quicker.ThisLethewater you must knowe,The memory destroyeth so,That of our weale, or of our woe,It all remembrance blotted;Of it nor can you euer thinke:For they no sooner tooke this drinke,But nought into their braines could sinke,680Of what had them besotted.KingOberonforgotten had,That he for iealousie ranne mad:But of his Queene was wondrous glad,And ask'd how they came thither:Pigwiggenlikewise doth forget,That he QueeneMabhad euer met;Or that they were so hard beset,When they were found together.Nor neither of them both had thought,690That e'r they had each other sought;Much lesse that they a Combat fought,But such a dreame were lothing:Tom Thumhad got a little sup,AndTomalinscarce kist the Cup,Yet had their braines so sure lockt vp,That they remembred nothing.QueeneMaband her light Maydes the while,Amongst themselues doe closely smile,To see the King caught with this wile,700With one another testing:And to theFayrieCourt they went,With mickle ioy and merriment,Which thing was done with good intent,And thus I left them feasting.
OldeChavcerdoth ofTopastell,MadRablaisof Pantagruell,A latter third ofDowsabell,With such poore trifles playing:Others the like haue laboured atSome of this thing, and some of that,And many of they know not what,But that they must be saying.
Another sort there bee, that will10Be talking of the Fayries still,Nor neuer can they have their fill,As they were wedded to them;No Tales of them their thirst can slake,So much delight therein they take,And some strange thing they fame would make,Knew they the way to doe them.
Then since no Muse hath bin so bold,Or of the Later, or the ould,Those Eluish secrets to vnfold,20Which lye from others reading,My actiue Muse to light shall bring,The court of that proud Fayry King,And tell there, of the Reuelling,Ioueprosper my proceeding.
And thouNimphidiagentle Fay,Which meeting me vpon the way,These secrets didst to me bewray,Which now I am in telling:My pretty light fantastick mayde,30I here inuoke thee to my ayde,That I may speake what thou hast sayd,In numbers smoothly swelling.
This Pallace standeth in the Ayre,By Nigromancie placed there,That it no Tempests needs to feare,Which way so ere it blow it.And somewhat Southward tow'rd the Noone,Whence lyes a way vp to the Moone,And thence theFayriecan as soone40Passe to the earth below it.
The Walls of Spiders legs are made,Well mortized and finely layd,He was the master of his TradeIt curiously that builded:The Windowes of the eyes of Cats,And for the Roofe, instead of Slats,Is couer'd with the skinns of Batts,With Mooneshine that are guilded.
HenceOberonhim sport to make,50(Their rest when weary mortalls take)And none but onelyFayrieswake,Desendeth for his pleasure.AndMabhis meerry Queene by nightBestrids young Folks that lye vpright,(In elder Times theMarethat hight)Which plagues them out of measure.
Hence Shaddowes, seeming Idle shapes,Of little frisking Elues and Apes,To Earth doe make their wanton skapes,60As hope of pastime hasts them:Which maydes think on the Hearth they see,When Fyers well nere consumed be,Their daunsing Hayes by two and three,Iust as their Fancy casts them.
These make our Girles their sluttery rue,By pinching them both blacke and blew,And put a penny in their shue,The house for cleanely sweeping:And in their courses make that Round,70In Meadowes, and in Marshes found,Of them so call'd theFayrieground,Of which they haue the keeping.
Thus when a Childe haps to be gott,Which after prooues an Ideott,When Folke perceiue it thriueth not,The fault therein to smother:Some silly doting brainlesse Calfe,That vnderstands things by the halfe,Say that theFayrieleft this Aulfe,80And tooke away the other.
But listen and I shall you tell,A chance inFayriethat befell,Which certainly may please some well;In Loue and Armes delighting:OfOberonthat Iealous grewe,Of one of his owneFayriecrue,Too well (he fear'd) his Queene that knew,His loue but ill requiting.
Pigwiggenwas thisFayrieknight,90One wondrous gratious in the sightOf faire QueeneMab, which day and night,He amorously obserued;Which made kingOberonsuspect,His Seruice tooke too good effect,His saucinesse, and often checkt,And could have wisht him starued.
Pigwiggengladly would commend,Some token to queeneMabto send,If Sea, or Land, him ought could lend,100Were worthy of her wearing:At length this Louer doth deuise,A Bracelett made of Emmotts eyes,A thing he thought that shee would prize,No whitt her state impayring.
And to the Queene a Letter writes,Which he most curiously endites,Coniuring her by all the ritesOf loue, she would be pleased,To meete him her true Seruant, where110They might without suspect or feare,Themselues to one another cleare,And haue their poore hearts eased.
At mid-night the appointed hower,And for the Queene a fitting bower,(Quoth he) is that faire Cowslip flower,OnHipcuthill that groweth,In all your Trayne there's not aFay,That euer went to gather May,But she hath made it in her way,120The tallest there that groweth.
When byTom Thuma Fayrie Page,He sent it, and doth him engage,By promise of a mighty wage,It secretly to carrie:Which done, the Queene her maydes doth call,And bids them to be ready all,She would goe see her Summer Hall,She could no longer tarrie.
Her Chariot ready straight is made,130Each thing therein is fitting layde,That she by nothing might be stayde,For naught must be her letting,Foure nimble Gnats the Horses were,Their Harnasses of Gossamere,Flye Cranion her Chariottere,Vpon the Coach-box getting.
Her Chariot of a Snayles fine shell,Which for the colours did excell:The faire QueeneMab, becomming well,140So liuely was the limming:The seate the soft wooll of the Bee;The couer, (gallantly to see)The wing of a pyde Butterflee,I trowe t'was simple trimming.
The wheeles compos'd of Crickets bones,And daintily made for the nonce,For feare of ratling on the stones,With Thistle-downe they shod it;For all her Maydens much did feare,150IfOberonhad chanc'd to heare,ThatMabhis Queene should haue bin there,He would not haue aboad it.
She mounts her Chariot with a trice,Nor would she stay for no advice,Vntill her Maydes that were so nice,To wayte on her were fitted,But ranne her selfe away alone;Which when they heard there was not one,But hasted after to be gone,160As she had beene diswitted.
Hop, andMop, andDropso cleare,Pip, andTrip, andSkipthat were,ToMabtheir Soueraigne euer deare:Her speciall Maydes of Honour;Fib, andTib, andPinck, andPin,Tick, andQuick, andIill, andIin,Tit, andNit, andWap, andWin,The Trayne that wayte vpon her.
Vpon a Grashopper they got,170And what with Amble, and with Trot,For hedge nor ditch they spared not,But after her they hie them.A Cobweb ouer them they throw,To shield the winde if it should blowe,Themselues they wisely could bestowe,Lest any should espie them.
But let vs leaue QueeneMaba while,Through many a gate, o'r many a stile,That now had gotten by this wile,180Her dearePigwigginkissing,And tell howOberondoth fare,Who grew as mad as any Hare,When he had sought each place with care,And found his Queene was missing.
By grislyPlutohe doth sweare,He rent his cloths, and tore his haire,And as he runneth, here and there,An Acorne cup he greeteth;Which soone he taketh by the stalke190About his head he lets it walke,Nor doth he any creature balke,But lays on all he meeteth.
TheThuskanPoet doth aduance,The frantickePaladineof France,And those more ancient doe inhaunce,Alcidesin his fury.And othersAiax Telamon,But to this time there hath bin non,So Bedlam as ourOberon,200Of which I dare assure you.
And first encountring with a waspe,He in his armes the Fly doth claspeAs though his breath he forth would graspe,Him for Pigwiggen taking:Where is my wife thou Rogue, quoth he,Pigwiggen, she is come to thee,Restore her, or thou dy'st by me,Whereat the poore waspe quaking,
Cryes,Oberon, greatFayrieKing,210Content thee I am no such thing,I am a Waspe behold my sting,At which theFayriestarted:When soone away the Waspe doth goe,Poore wretch was neuer frighted so,He thought his wings were much to slow,O'rioyd, they so were parted.
He next vpon a Glow-worme light,(You must suppose it now was night),Which for her hinder part was bright,220He tooke to be a Deuill.And furiously doth her assaileFor carrying fier in her taileHe thrasht her rough coat with his flayle,The mad King fear'd no euill.
O quoth theGlowormehold thy hand,Thou puisant King ofFayrieland,Thy mighty stroaks who may withstand,Hould, or of life despaire I:Together then her selfe doth roule,230And tumbling downe into a hole,She seem'd as black as any Cole,Which vext away theFayrie.
From thence he ran into a Hiue,Amongst the Bees he letteth driueAnd downe their Coombes begins to riue,All likely to haue spoyled:Which with their Waxe his face besmeard,And with their Honey daub'd his BeardIt would haue made a man afeard,240To see how he was moyled.
A new Aduenture him betides,He mett an Ant, which he bestrides,And post thereon away he rides,Which with his haste doth stumble;And came full ouer on her snowte,Her heels so threw the dirt about,For she by no meanes could get out,But ouer him doth tumble.
And being in this piteous case,250And all be-slurried head and face,On runs he in this Wild-goose chaseAs here, and there, he ramblesHalfe blinde, against a molehill hit,And for a Mountaine taking it,For all he was out of his wit,Yet to the top he scrambles.
And being gotten to the top,Yet there himselfe he could not stop,But downe on th' other side doth chop,260And to the foot came rumbling:So that the Grubs therein that bred,Hearing such turmoyle ouer head,Thought surely they had all bin dead,So fearefull was the Iumbling.
And falling downe into a Lake,Which him vp to the neck doth take,His fury somewhat it doth slake,He calleth for a Ferry;Where you may some recouery note,270What was his Club he made his Boate,And in his Oaken Cup doth float,As safe as in a Wherry.
Men talke of the Aduentures strange,OfDon Quishott, and of their changeThrough which he Armed oft did range,OfSancha Panchastrauell:But should a man tell euery thing,Done by this frantickeFayrieking.And them in lofty numbers sing280It well his wits might grauell.
Scarse set on shore, but therewithall,He meetethPucke, which most men callHobgoblin, and on him doth fall,With words from frenzy spoken;Hoh, hoh, quothHob, God saue thy grace,Who drest thee in this pitteous case,He thus that spoild my soueraignes face,I would his necke were broken.
ThisPuckseemes but a dreaming dolt,290Still walking like a ragged Colt,And oft out of a Bush doth bolt,Of purpose to deceiue vs.And leading vs makes vs to stray,Long Winters nights out of the way,And when we stick in mire and clay,Hobdoth with laughter leaue vs.
DearePuck(quoth he) my wife is goneAs ere thou lou'st KingOberon,Let euery thing but this alone300With vengeance, and pursue her;Bring her to me aliue or dead,Or that vilde thief,Pigwigginshead,That villaine hath defil'd my bedHe to this folly drew her.
QuothPuck, My Liege Ile neuer lin,But I will thorough thicke and thinne,Vntill at length I bring her in,My dearest Lord nere doubt it:Thorough Brake, thorough Brier,310Thorough Muck, thorough Mier,Thorough Water, thorough Fier,And thus goesPuckabout it.
This thing Nimphidia ouer hardThat on this mad King had a guardNot doubting of a great reward,For first this businesse broching;And through the ayre away doth goeSwift as an Arrow from the Bowe,To let her SoueraigneMabto know,320What perill was approaching.
The Queene bound with Loues powerfulst charmeSate withPigwiggenarme in arme,Her Merry Maydes that thought no harme,About the roome were skipping:A Humble-Bee their Minstrell, playdeVpon his Hoboy; eu'ry MaydeFit for this Reuells was arayde,The Hornepype neatly tripping.
In comesNimphidia, and doth crie,330My Soueraigne for your safety flie,For there is danger but too nie,I posted to forewarne you:The King hath sentHobgoblinout,To seeke you all the Fields about,And of your safety you may doubt,If he but once discerne you.
When like an vprore in a Towne,Before them euery thing went downe,Some tore a Ruffe, and some a Gowne,340Gainst one another iustling:They flewe about like Chaffe i' th winde,For hast some left their Maskes behinde;Some could not stay their Gloues to finde,There neuer was such bustling.
Forth ranne they by a secret way,Into a brake that neere them lay;Yet much they doubted there to stay,LestHobshould hap to find them:He had a sharpe and piercing sight,350All one to him the day and night,And therefore were resolu'd by flight,To leave this place behind them.
At length one chanc'd to find a Nut,In th' end of which a hole was cut,Which lay vpon a Hazell roote,There scatt'red by a Squirill:Which out the kernell gotten had;When quoth thisFaydeare Queene be glad,LetOberonbe ne'r so mad,360Ile set you safe from perill.
Come all into this Nut (quoth she)Come closely in be rul'd by me,Each one may here a chuser be,For roome yee need not wrastle:Nor neede yee be together heapt;So one by one therein they crept,And lying downe they soundly slept,And safe as in a Castle.
Nimphidiathat this while doth watch,370Perceiu'd ifPuckthe Queene should catchThat he should be her ouer-match,Of which she well bethought her;Found it must be some powerfull Charme,The Queene against him that must arme,Or surely he would doe her harme,For throughly he had sought her.
And listning if she ought could heare,That her might hinder, or might feare:But finding still the coast was cleare,380Nor creature had discride her;Each circumstance and hauing scand,She came thereby to vnderstand,Puckwould be with them out of handWhen to her Charmes she hide her:
And first her Ferne seede doth bestowe,The kernell of the Missletowe:And here and there asPuckshould goe,With terrour to affright him:She Night-shade strawes to work him ill,390Therewith her Veruayne and her Dill,That hindreth Witches of their will,Of purpose to dispight him.
Then sprinkles she the iuice of Rue,That groweth vnderneath the Yeu:With nine drops of the midnight dewe,From Lunarie distilling:The Molewarps braine mixt therewithall;And with the same the Pismyres gall,For she in nothing short would fall;400TheFayriewas so willing.
Then thrice vnder a Bryer doth creepe,Which at both ends was rooted deepe,And ouer it three times shee leepe;Her Magicke much auayling:Then onProserpynadoth call,And so vpon her spell doth fall,Which here to you repeate I shall,Not in one tittle fayling.
By the croking of the Frogge;410By the howling of the Dogge;By the crying of the Hogge,Against the storme arising;By the Euening Curphewe bell;By the dolefull dying knell,O let this my direfull Spell,Hob, hinder thy surprising.
By the Mandrakes dreadfull groanes;By the Lubricans sad moans;By the noyse of dead mens bones,420In Charnell houses ratling:By the hissing of the Snake,The rustling of the fire-Drake,I charge thee thou this place forsake,Nor of QueeneMabbe pratling.
By the Whirlwindes hollow sound,By the Thunders dreadfull stound,Yells of Spirits vnder ground,I chardge thee not to feare vs:By the Shreech-owles dismall note,430By the Blacke Night-Rauens throate,I charge theeHobto teare thy CoateWith thornes if thou come neere vs,
Her Spell thus spoke she stept aside,And in a Chincke her selfe doth hide,To see there of what would betyde,For shee doth onely minde him:When presently sheePuckespies,And well she markt his gloating eyes,How vnder euery leafe he spies,440In seeking still to finde them.
But once the Circle got within,The Charmes to worke doe straight begin,And he was caught as in a Gin;For as he thus was busie,A paine he in his Head-peece feeles,Against a stubbed Tree he reeles,And vp went pooreHobgoblinsheeles,Alas his braine was dizzie.
At length vpon his feete he gets,450Hobgoblinfumes,Hobgoblinfrets,And as againe he forward sets,And through the Bushes scrambles;A Stump doth trip him in his pace,Down comes pooreHobvpon his face,And lamentably tore his case,Amongst the Bryers and Brambles.
A plague vpon QueeneMab, quoth hee,And all her Maydes where ere they be,I thinke the Deuill guided me,460To seeke her so prouoked.Where stumbling at a piece of Wood,He fell into a dich of mudd,Where to the very Chin he stood,In danger to be choked.
Now worse than e're he was before:PoorePuckdoth yell, poorePuckdoth rore;That wak'd QueeneMabwho doubted soreSome Treason had been wrought her:VntillNimphidiatold the Queene470What she had done, what she had seene,Who then had well-neere crack'd her spleeneWith very extreame laughter.
But leaue weHobto clamber out:QueeneMaband all herFayrierout,And come againe to haue aboutWithOberonyet madding:And withPigwiggennow distrought,Who much was troubled in his thought,That he so long the Queene had sought,480And through the Fields was gadding.
And as he runnes he still doth crie,KingOberonI thee defie,And dare thee here in Armes to trie,For my deare Ladies honour:For that she is a Queene right good,In whose defence Ile shed my blood,And that thou in this iealous moodHast lay'd this slander on her.
And quickly Armes him for the Field,490A little Cockle-shell his Shield,Which he could very brauely wield:Yet could it not be pierced:His Speare a Bent both stiffe and strong,And well-neere of two Inches long;The Pyle was of a Horse-flyes tongue,Whose sharpnesse nought reuersed.
And puts him on a coate of Male,Which was of a Fishes scale,That when his Foe should him assaile,500No poynt should be preuayling:His Rapier was a Hornets sting,It was a very dangerous thing:For if he chanc'd to hurt the King,It would be long in healing.
His Helmet was a Bettles head,Most horrible and full of dread,That able was to strike one dead,Yet did it well become him:And for a plume, a horses hayre,510Which being tossed with the ayre,Had force to strike his Foe with feare,And turne his weapon from him.
Himselfe he on an Earewig set,Yet scarce he on his back could get,So oft and high he did coruet,Ere he himselfe could settle:He made him turne, and stop, and bound,To gallop, and to trot the Round,He scarce could stand on any ground,520He was so full of mettle.
When soone he met withTomalin,One that a valiant Knight had bin,And to KingOberonof kin;Quoth he thou manlyFayrie:TellOberonI come prepar'd,Then bid him stand vpon his Guard;This hand his basenesse shall reward,Let him be ne'r so wary.
Say to him thus, that I defie,530His slanders, and his infamie,And as a mortall enemie,Doe publickly proclaime him:Withall, that if I had mine owne,He should not weare theFayrieCrowne,But with a vengeance should come downe:Nor we a King should name him.
ThisTomalincould not abide,To heare his Soueraigne vilefide:But to theFayrieCourt him hide;540Full furiously he posted,With eu'ry thingPigwiggensayd:How title to the Crowne he layd,And in what Armes he was aray'd,As how himselfe he boasted.
Twixt head and foot, from point to point,He told th'arming of each ioint,In every piece, how neate, and quaint,ForTomalincould doe it:How fayre he sat, how sure he rid,550As of the courser he bestrid,How Mannag'd, and how well he did;The King which listened to it,
Quoth he, goeTomalinwith speede,Prouide me Armes, prouide my Steed,And euery thing that I shall neede,By thee I will be guided;To strait account, call thou thy witt,See there be wanting not a whitt,In euery thing see thou me fitt,560Just as my foes prouided.
Soone flewe this newes throughFayrielandWhich gaue QueeneMabto vnderstand,The combate that was then in hand,Betwixt those men so mighty:Which greatly she began to rew,Perceuing that allFayrieknew,The first occasion from her grew,Of these affaires so weighty.
Wherefore attended with her maides,570Through fogs, and mists, and dampes she wades,ToProserpinethe Queene of shadesTo treat, that it would please her,The cause into her hands to take,For ancient loue and friendships sake,And soone therof an end to make,Which of much care would ease her.
A While, there let weMabalone,And come we to KingOberon,Who arm'd to meete his foe is gone,580For ProudPigwiggencrying:Who sought theFayrieKing as fast,And had so well his iourneyes cast,That he arriued at the last,His puisant foe espying:
StoutTomalincame with the King,Tom Thumdoth onPigwiggenbring,That perfect were in euery thing,To single fights belonging:And therefore they themselues ingage,590To see them exercise their rage,With faire and comely equipage,Not one the other wronging.
So like in armes, these champions were,As they had bin, a very paire,So that a man would almost sweare,That either, had bin either;Their furious steedes began to nayeThat they were heard a mighty way,Their staues vpon their rests they lay;600Yet e'r they flew together,
Their Seconds minister an oath,Which was indifferent to them both,That on their Knightly faith, and troth,No magicke them supplyed;And sought them that they had no charmes,Wherewith to worke each others harmes,But came with simple open armes,To haue their causes tryed.
Together furiously they ran,610That to the ground came horse and man,The blood out of their Helmets span,So sharpe were their incounters;And though they to the earth were throwne,Yet quickly they regain'd their owne,Such nimblenesse was neuer showne,They were two Gallant Mounters.
When in a second Course againe,They forward came with might and mayne,Yet which had better of the twaine,620The Seconds could not iudge yet;Their shields were into pieces cleft,Their helmets from their heads were reft,And to defend them nothing left,These Champions would not budge yet.
Away from them their Staues they threw,Their cruell Swords they quickly drew,And freshly they the fight renew;They euery stroke redoubled:Which madeProserpinatake heed,630And make to them the greater speed,For fear lest they too much should bleed,Which wondrously her troubled.
When to th' infernallStixshe goes,She takes the Fogs from thence that rose,And in a Bagge doth them enclose;When well she had them blended:She hyes her then toLethespring,A Bottell and thereof doth bring,Wherewith she meant to worke the thing,640Which onely she intended.
NowProserpinewithMabis goneVnto the place whereOberonAnd proudPigwiggen, one to one,Both to be slaine were likely:And there themselues they closely hide,Because they would not be espide;ForProserpinemeant to decideThe matter very quickly.
And suddainly vntyes the Poke,650Which out of it sent such a smoke,As ready was them all to choke,So greeuous was the pother;So that the Knights each other lost,And stood as still as any post,Tom Thum, norTomalincould boastThemselues of any other.
But when the mist gan somewhat cease,Proserpinacommanded peace:And that a while they should release,660Each other of their perill:Which here (quoth she) I doe proclaimeTo all in dreadfullPlutosname,That as yee will eschewe his blame,You let me heare the quarrell,
But here your selues you must engage,Somewhat to coole your spleenish rage:Your greeuous thirst and to asswage,That first you drinke this liquor:Which shall your vnderstanding cleare,670As plainely shall to you appeare;Those things from me that you shall heare,Conceiuing much the quicker.
ThisLethewater you must knowe,The memory destroyeth so,That of our weale, or of our woe,It all remembrance blotted;Of it nor can you euer thinke:For they no sooner tooke this drinke,But nought into their braines could sinke,680Of what had them besotted.
KingOberonforgotten had,That he for iealousie ranne mad:But of his Queene was wondrous glad,And ask'd how they came thither:Pigwiggenlikewise doth forget,That he QueeneMabhad euer met;Or that they were so hard beset,When they were found together.
Nor neither of them both had thought,690That e'r they had each other sought;Much lesse that they a Combat fought,But such a dreame were lothing:Tom Thumhad got a little sup,AndTomalinscarce kist the Cup,Yet had their braines so sure lockt vp,That they remembred nothing.
QueeneMaband her light Maydes the while,Amongst themselues doe closely smile,To see the King caught with this wile,700With one another testing:And to theFayrieCourt they went,With mickle ioy and merriment,Which thing was done with good intent,And thus I left them feasting.