Isextracted from an ancient historical poem in XIII. Books, intitled,Albion's England, byWilliam Warner: "An author (says a former editor,) only unhappy in the choice of his subject, and measure of his verse. His poem is an epitome of the British history, and written with great learning, sense, and spirit. In some places fine to an extraordinary degree, as I think will eminently appear in the ensuing episode (of Argentile and Curan). A tale full of beautiful incidents in the romantic taste, extremely affecting, rich in ornament, wonderfully various in style; and in short, one of the most beautiful pastorals I ever met with." (Muses Library, 1738, 8vo.) To his merit nothing can be objected unless perhaps an affected quaintness in some of his expressions, and an indelicacy in some of his pastoral images.
Warneris said, by A. Wood,[708]to have been a Warwickshire man, and to have been educated in Oxford, at Magdalene-hall: as also in the latter part of his life to have been retained in the service of Henry Cary Lord Hunsdon, to whom he dedicates his poem. However that may have been, new light is thrown upon his history, and the time and manner of his death are now ascertained, by the following extract from the parish register book of Amwell, in Hertfordshire; which was obligingly communicated to the Editor by Mr.Hoole, the very ingenious translator of Tasso, &c.
(1608—1609.) "Master William Warner, a man of good yeares and of honest reputation; by his profession an Atturnye of the Common Pleas; author ofAlbions England, diynge suddenly in the night in his bedde, without any former complaynt or sicknesse, on thursday night beeinge the 9th daye of March; was buried the satturday following, and lyeth in the church at the corner under the stone of Walter Ffader." SignedTho. Hassall Vicarius.
Though now Warner is so seldom mentioned, his contemporaries ranked him on a level with Spenser, and called them the Homer and Virgil of their age.[709]But Warner rather resembledOvid, whoseMetamorphoseshe seems to have taken for his model, having deduced a perpetual poem from the deluge down to the æra ofElizabeth, full of lively digressions and entertaining episodes. And though he is sometimes harsh, affected, and obscure, he often displays a most charming and pathetic simplicity: as where he describes Eleanor's harsh treatment of Rosamond:
"With that she dasht her on the lippesSo dyed double red:Hard was the heart that gave the blow,Soft were those lippes that bled."
"With that she dasht her on the lippesSo dyed double red:Hard was the heart that gave the blow,Soft were those lippes that bled."
The edition ofAlbion's Englandhere followed was printed in 4to. 1602; said in the title-page to have been "first penned and published by William Warner, and now revised and newly enlarged by the same author." The story ofArgentile and Curanis I believe the poet's own invention; it is not mentioned in any of our chronicles. It was however so much admired, that not many years after he published it, came out a larger poem on the same subject in stanzas of six lines, intitled,The most pleasant and delightfulhistorie of Curan a prince of Danske, and the fayre princesseArgentile, daughter and heyre to Adelbright, sometime king of Northumberland,&c. byWilliam Webster,London, 1617, in 8 sheets 4to. An indifferent paraphrase of the following poem.—This episode of Warner's has also been altered into the common ballad,of the twoyoung Princes on Salisbury Plain, which is chiefly composed of Warner's lines, with a few contractions and interpolations, but all greatly for the worse. See the collection ofHist. Ballads, 1727, 3 vols. 12mo.
[Percy had already in the first volume quoted from Warner's poem the story of thePatient Countess.]
[Percy had already in the first volume quoted from Warner's poem the story of thePatient Countess.]
The Bruton's 'being' departed hence seaven kingdoms here begonne,Where diversly in divers broyles the Saxons lost and wonne.King Edel and king Adelbright in Diria jointly raigne;In loyal concorde during life these kingly friends remaine.When Adelbright should leave his life, to Edel thus he sayes;5By those same bondes of happie love, that held us friends alwaies;By our by-parted crowne, of which the moyetie is mine;By God, to whom my soule must passe, and so in time may thine;I pray thee, nay I cònjure thee, to nourish, as thine owne,Thy niece, my daughter Argentile, till she to age be growne;10And then, as thou receivest it, resigne to her my throne.A promise had for his bequest, the testatòr he dies;But all that Edel undertooke, he afterwards denies.Yet well he 'fosters for' a time the damsell that was growneThe fairest lady under heaven; whose beautie being knowne,15A many princes seeke her love; but none might her obtaine;For grippell[710]Edel to himselfe her kingdome sought to gaine;And for that cause from sight of such he did his ward restraine.By chance one Curan, sonne unto a prince in Danske,[711]did seeThe maid, with whom he fell in love, as much as man might bee.20Unhappie youth, what should he doe? his saint was kept in mewe;[712]Nor he, nor any noble-man admitted to her vewe.One while in melancholy fits he pines himselfe awaye;Anon he thought by force of arms to win her if he maye:And still against the kings restraint did secretly invay.25At length the high controller Love, whom none may disobay,Imbased him from lordlines into a kitchen drudge,That so at least of life or death she might become his judge.Accesse so had to see and speake, he did his love bewray,And tells his birth: her answer was, she husbandles would stay.30Meane while the king did beate his braines, his booty to atchieve,Nor caring what became of her, so he by her might thrive;At last his resolution was some pessant should her wive.And (which was working to his wish) he did observe with joyeHow Curan, whom he thought a drudge, scapt many an amorous toye.[713]35The king, perceiving such his veine, promotes his vassal still,Lest that the basenesse of the man should lett,[714]perhaps, his will.Assured therefore of his love, but not suspecting whoThe lover was, the king himselfe in his behalf did woe.The lady resolute from love, unkindly takes that he40Should barre the noble, and unto so base a match agree:And therefore shifting out of doores, departed thence by stealth;Preferring povertie before a dangerous life in wealth.When Curan heard of her escape, the anguish in his hartWas more than much, and after her from court he did depart;45Forgetfull of himselfe, his birth, his country, friends, and all,And only minding (whom he mist) the foundresse of his thrall.Nor meanes he after to frequent or court, or stately townes,But solitarily to live amongst the country grownes.[715]A brace of years he lived thus, well pleased so to live,50And shepherd-like to feed a flocke himselfe did wholly give.So wasting, love, by worke, and want, grew almost to the waine:But then began a second love, the worser of the twaine.A country wench, a neatherds maid, where Curan kept his sheepe,Did feed her drove: and now on her was all the shepherds keepe.55He borrowed on the working daies his holy russets oft,[716]And of the bacon's fat, to make his startops[717]blacke and soft.And least his tarbox[718]should offend, he left it at the folde:Sweete growte,[719]or whig,[720]his bottle had, as much as it might holde.A sheeve[721]of bread as browne as nut, and cheese as white as snow,60And wildings,[722]or the seasons fruit he did in scrip bestow,And whilst his py-bald curre did sleepe, and sheep-hooke lay him by,On hollow quilles of oten straw he piped melodyBut when he spyed her his saint, he wip'd his greasie shooes,And clear'd the drivell from his beard, and thus the shepheard wooes.65"I have, sweet wench, a peece of cheese, as good as tooth may chawe,And bread and wildings souling[723]well, (and therewithall did draweHis lardrie) and in 'yeaning' see yon crumpling[724]ewe, quoth he,[725]Did twinne this fall, and twin shouldst thou, if I might tup[726]with thee.Thou art too elvish, faith thou art, too elvish and too coy:70Am I, I pray thee, beggarly, that such a flock enjoye?I wis I am not: yet that thou doest hold me in disdaineIs brimme[727]abroad, and made a gybe to all that keepe this plaine.There be as quaint[728](at least that thinke themselves as quaint) that craveThe match, that thou, I wot not why, maist, but mislik'st to have.75How wouldst thou match? (for well I wot, thou art a female) I,Her know not here that willingly with maiden-head would die.[729]The plowmans labour hath no end, and he a churle will prove:The craftsman hath more worke in hand then fitteth unto love:The merchant, traffiquing abroad, suspects his wife at home:80A youth will play the wanton; and an old man prove a mome.[730]Then chuse a shepheard: with the sun he doth his flocke unfold,And all the day on hill or plaine he merrie chat can hold;And with the sun doth folde againe; then jogging home betime,He turnes a crab, or turnes a round, or sings some merry ryme.[731]85Nor lacks he gleeful tales, whilst round the nut-brown bowl doth trot;[732]And sitteth singing care away, till he to bed be got:Theare sleepes he soundly all the night, forgetting morrow-cares:Nor feares he blasting of his corne, nor uttering of his wares;Or storms by seas, or stirres on land, or cracke of credit lost;90Not spending franklier than his flocke, shall still defray the cost.Well wot I, sooth they say, that say more quiet nights and daiesThe shepheard sleeps and wakes, than he whose cattel he doth graize.Beleeve me, lasse, a king is but a man, and so am I:Content is worth a monarchie, and mischiefs hit the hie;95As late it did a king and his not dwelling far from hence,Who left a daughter, save thyselfe, for fair a matchless wench."—Here did he pause, as if his tongue had done his heart offence.The neatresse,[733]longing for the rest, did egge him on to tellHow faire she was, and who she was. "She bore, quoth he, the bell100For beautie: though I clownish am, I know what beautie is;Or did I not, at seeing thee, I senceles were to mis.* * * * *Her stature comely, tall; her gate well graced; and her witTo marvell at, not meddle with, as matchless I omit.A globe-like head, a gold-like haire, a forehead smooth, and hie,105An even nose; on either side did shine a grayish eie:Two rosie cheeks, round ruddy lips, white just-set teeth within;A mouth in meane;[734]and underneathe a round and dimpled chin.Her snowie necke, with blewish veines, stood bolt upright uponHer portly shoulders; beating balles her veined breasts, anon110Adde more to beautie. Wand-like was her middle falling still,And rising whereas women rise: * * *—imagine nothing ill.And more, her long, and limber armes had white and azure wrists;And slender fingers aunswere to her smooth and lillie fists.A legge in print, a pretie foot; conjecture of the rest:For amorous eies, observing forme, think parts obscured best.116With these, O raretie! with these her tong of speech was spare;But speaking, Venus seem'd to speake, the balle from Ide to bear.With Phœbe, Juno, and with both herselfe contends in face;Wheare equall mixture did not want of milde and stately grace.120Her smiles were sober, and her lookes were chearefull unto all:Even such as neither wanton seeme, nor waiward; mell,[735]nor gall.A quiet minde, a patient moode, and not disdaining any;Not gybing, gadding, gawdy: and sweete faculties had many.A nimph, no tong, no heart, no eie, might praise, might wish, might see;125For life, for love, for forme; more good, more worth, more faire than shee.Yea such an one, as such was none, save only she was such:Of Argentile to say the most, were to be silent much."I knew the lady very well, but worthles of such praise,The neatresse said: and muse I do, a shepheard thus should blaze130The 'coate' of beautie[736]. Credit me, thy latter speech bewraiesThy clownish shape a coined shew. But wherefore dost thou weepe?The shepheard wept, and she was woe, and both doe silence keepe."In troth, quoth he, I am not such, as seeming I professe:But then for her, and now for thee, I from myselfe digresse.135Her loved I (wretch that I am a recreant to be)I loved her, that hated love, but now I die for thee.At Kirkland is my fathers court, and Curan is my name,In Edels court sometimes in pompe, till love countrould the same:But now—what now?—deare heart, how now? what ailest thou to weepe?"140The damsell wept, and he was woe, and both did silence keepe.I graunt, quoth she, it was too much that you did love so much:But whom your former could not move, your second love doth touch.Thy twice-beloved argentile submitteth her to thee,And for thy double love presents herself a single fee,In passion not in person chang'd, and I, my lord, am she.146They sweetly surfeiting in joy, and silent for a space,When as the extasie had end, did tenderly imbrace;And for their wedding, and their wish got fitting time and place.Not England (for of Hengist then was named so this land)150Then Curan had an hardier knight; his force could none withstand:Whose sheep-hooke laid apart, he then had higher things in hand.First, making knowne his lawfull claime in Argentile her right,He warr'd in Diria[737], and he wonne Bernicia[737]too in fight:And so from trecherous Edel tooke at once his life and crowne,155And of Northumberland was king, long raigning in renowne.[738]
The Bruton's 'being' departed hence seaven kingdoms here begonne,Where diversly in divers broyles the Saxons lost and wonne.King Edel and king Adelbright in Diria jointly raigne;In loyal concorde during life these kingly friends remaine.When Adelbright should leave his life, to Edel thus he sayes;5By those same bondes of happie love, that held us friends alwaies;By our by-parted crowne, of which the moyetie is mine;By God, to whom my soule must passe, and so in time may thine;I pray thee, nay I cònjure thee, to nourish, as thine owne,Thy niece, my daughter Argentile, till she to age be growne;10And then, as thou receivest it, resigne to her my throne.A promise had for his bequest, the testatòr he dies;But all that Edel undertooke, he afterwards denies.Yet well he 'fosters for' a time the damsell that was growneThe fairest lady under heaven; whose beautie being knowne,15A many princes seeke her love; but none might her obtaine;For grippell[710]Edel to himselfe her kingdome sought to gaine;And for that cause from sight of such he did his ward restraine.By chance one Curan, sonne unto a prince in Danske,[711]did seeThe maid, with whom he fell in love, as much as man might bee.20Unhappie youth, what should he doe? his saint was kept in mewe;[712]Nor he, nor any noble-man admitted to her vewe.One while in melancholy fits he pines himselfe awaye;Anon he thought by force of arms to win her if he maye:And still against the kings restraint did secretly invay.25At length the high controller Love, whom none may disobay,Imbased him from lordlines into a kitchen drudge,That so at least of life or death she might become his judge.Accesse so had to see and speake, he did his love bewray,And tells his birth: her answer was, she husbandles would stay.30Meane while the king did beate his braines, his booty to atchieve,Nor caring what became of her, so he by her might thrive;At last his resolution was some pessant should her wive.And (which was working to his wish) he did observe with joyeHow Curan, whom he thought a drudge, scapt many an amorous toye.[713]35The king, perceiving such his veine, promotes his vassal still,Lest that the basenesse of the man should lett,[714]perhaps, his will.Assured therefore of his love, but not suspecting whoThe lover was, the king himselfe in his behalf did woe.The lady resolute from love, unkindly takes that he40Should barre the noble, and unto so base a match agree:And therefore shifting out of doores, departed thence by stealth;Preferring povertie before a dangerous life in wealth.When Curan heard of her escape, the anguish in his hartWas more than much, and after her from court he did depart;45Forgetfull of himselfe, his birth, his country, friends, and all,And only minding (whom he mist) the foundresse of his thrall.Nor meanes he after to frequent or court, or stately townes,But solitarily to live amongst the country grownes.[715]A brace of years he lived thus, well pleased so to live,50And shepherd-like to feed a flocke himselfe did wholly give.So wasting, love, by worke, and want, grew almost to the waine:But then began a second love, the worser of the twaine.A country wench, a neatherds maid, where Curan kept his sheepe,Did feed her drove: and now on her was all the shepherds keepe.55He borrowed on the working daies his holy russets oft,[716]And of the bacon's fat, to make his startops[717]blacke and soft.And least his tarbox[718]should offend, he left it at the folde:Sweete growte,[719]or whig,[720]his bottle had, as much as it might holde.A sheeve[721]of bread as browne as nut, and cheese as white as snow,60And wildings,[722]or the seasons fruit he did in scrip bestow,And whilst his py-bald curre did sleepe, and sheep-hooke lay him by,On hollow quilles of oten straw he piped melodyBut when he spyed her his saint, he wip'd his greasie shooes,And clear'd the drivell from his beard, and thus the shepheard wooes.65"I have, sweet wench, a peece of cheese, as good as tooth may chawe,And bread and wildings souling[723]well, (and therewithall did draweHis lardrie) and in 'yeaning' see yon crumpling[724]ewe, quoth he,[725]Did twinne this fall, and twin shouldst thou, if I might tup[726]with thee.Thou art too elvish, faith thou art, too elvish and too coy:70Am I, I pray thee, beggarly, that such a flock enjoye?I wis I am not: yet that thou doest hold me in disdaineIs brimme[727]abroad, and made a gybe to all that keepe this plaine.There be as quaint[728](at least that thinke themselves as quaint) that craveThe match, that thou, I wot not why, maist, but mislik'st to have.75How wouldst thou match? (for well I wot, thou art a female) I,Her know not here that willingly with maiden-head would die.[729]The plowmans labour hath no end, and he a churle will prove:The craftsman hath more worke in hand then fitteth unto love:The merchant, traffiquing abroad, suspects his wife at home:80A youth will play the wanton; and an old man prove a mome.[730]Then chuse a shepheard: with the sun he doth his flocke unfold,And all the day on hill or plaine he merrie chat can hold;And with the sun doth folde againe; then jogging home betime,He turnes a crab, or turnes a round, or sings some merry ryme.[731]85Nor lacks he gleeful tales, whilst round the nut-brown bowl doth trot;[732]And sitteth singing care away, till he to bed be got:Theare sleepes he soundly all the night, forgetting morrow-cares:Nor feares he blasting of his corne, nor uttering of his wares;Or storms by seas, or stirres on land, or cracke of credit lost;90Not spending franklier than his flocke, shall still defray the cost.Well wot I, sooth they say, that say more quiet nights and daiesThe shepheard sleeps and wakes, than he whose cattel he doth graize.Beleeve me, lasse, a king is but a man, and so am I:Content is worth a monarchie, and mischiefs hit the hie;95As late it did a king and his not dwelling far from hence,Who left a daughter, save thyselfe, for fair a matchless wench."—Here did he pause, as if his tongue had done his heart offence.The neatresse,[733]longing for the rest, did egge him on to tellHow faire she was, and who she was. "She bore, quoth he, the bell100For beautie: though I clownish am, I know what beautie is;Or did I not, at seeing thee, I senceles were to mis.* * * * *Her stature comely, tall; her gate well graced; and her witTo marvell at, not meddle with, as matchless I omit.A globe-like head, a gold-like haire, a forehead smooth, and hie,105An even nose; on either side did shine a grayish eie:Two rosie cheeks, round ruddy lips, white just-set teeth within;A mouth in meane;[734]and underneathe a round and dimpled chin.Her snowie necke, with blewish veines, stood bolt upright uponHer portly shoulders; beating balles her veined breasts, anon110Adde more to beautie. Wand-like was her middle falling still,And rising whereas women rise: * * *—imagine nothing ill.And more, her long, and limber armes had white and azure wrists;And slender fingers aunswere to her smooth and lillie fists.A legge in print, a pretie foot; conjecture of the rest:For amorous eies, observing forme, think parts obscured best.116With these, O raretie! with these her tong of speech was spare;But speaking, Venus seem'd to speake, the balle from Ide to bear.With Phœbe, Juno, and with both herselfe contends in face;Wheare equall mixture did not want of milde and stately grace.120Her smiles were sober, and her lookes were chearefull unto all:Even such as neither wanton seeme, nor waiward; mell,[735]nor gall.A quiet minde, a patient moode, and not disdaining any;Not gybing, gadding, gawdy: and sweete faculties had many.A nimph, no tong, no heart, no eie, might praise, might wish, might see;125For life, for love, for forme; more good, more worth, more faire than shee.Yea such an one, as such was none, save only she was such:Of Argentile to say the most, were to be silent much."I knew the lady very well, but worthles of such praise,The neatresse said: and muse I do, a shepheard thus should blaze130The 'coate' of beautie[736]. Credit me, thy latter speech bewraiesThy clownish shape a coined shew. But wherefore dost thou weepe?The shepheard wept, and she was woe, and both doe silence keepe."In troth, quoth he, I am not such, as seeming I professe:But then for her, and now for thee, I from myselfe digresse.135Her loved I (wretch that I am a recreant to be)I loved her, that hated love, but now I die for thee.At Kirkland is my fathers court, and Curan is my name,In Edels court sometimes in pompe, till love countrould the same:But now—what now?—deare heart, how now? what ailest thou to weepe?"140The damsell wept, and he was woe, and both did silence keepe.I graunt, quoth she, it was too much that you did love so much:But whom your former could not move, your second love doth touch.Thy twice-beloved argentile submitteth her to thee,And for thy double love presents herself a single fee,In passion not in person chang'd, and I, my lord, am she.146They sweetly surfeiting in joy, and silent for a space,When as the extasie had end, did tenderly imbrace;And for their wedding, and their wish got fitting time and place.Not England (for of Hengist then was named so this land)150Then Curan had an hardier knight; his force could none withstand:Whose sheep-hooke laid apart, he then had higher things in hand.First, making knowne his lawfull claime in Argentile her right,He warr'd in Diria[737], and he wonne Bernicia[737]too in fight:And so from trecherous Edel tooke at once his life and crowne,155And of Northumberland was king, long raigning in renowne.[738]
FOOTNOTES:[708]Athen. Oxon.[709]Ibid.[710][griping or miserly.][711][Denmark.][712][in confinement.][713]The construction is, "How that many an amorous toy, or foolery of love, 'scaped Curan;"i.e.escaped from him, being off his guard.[714][hinder.][715][grounds.][716]Ver. 56.i.e.holy-day russets [or best clothes.][717][buskins or half boots.][718][used for anointing sores in sheep, &c.][719][small beer.][720][whey or buttermilk.][721][slice.][722][crab apples.][723][victualling.][724][crooked horned.][725]Ver. 68. Eating.PCC.[726][ram.][727][public.][728][nice or prudent.][729]V. 77. Her know I not her that. 1602.[730][blockhead.][731]Ver. 85.i.e.roasts a crab, or apple.[732]V. 86. to tell, whilst round the bole doth trot. Ed. 1597.[733][female keeper of herds.][734][middle sized.][735][honey.][736]i.e.emblazon beauty's coat. Ed. 1597, 1602, 1612, read Coote.[737]During the Saxon heptarchy, the kingdom of Northumberland (consisting of 6 northern counties, besides part of Scotland) was for a long time divided into two lesser sovereignties, viz. Deira (called here Diria) which contained the southern parts, and Bernicia, comprehending those which lay north.[738][This poem was subdivided into stanzas by Percy, and is so printed in previous editions of theReliques.]
[708]Athen. Oxon.
[708]Athen. Oxon.
[709]Ibid.
[709]Ibid.
[710][griping or miserly.]
[710][griping or miserly.]
[711][Denmark.]
[711][Denmark.]
[712][in confinement.]
[712][in confinement.]
[713]The construction is, "How that many an amorous toy, or foolery of love, 'scaped Curan;"i.e.escaped from him, being off his guard.
[713]The construction is, "How that many an amorous toy, or foolery of love, 'scaped Curan;"i.e.escaped from him, being off his guard.
[714][hinder.]
[714][hinder.]
[715][grounds.]
[715][grounds.]
[716]Ver. 56.i.e.holy-day russets [or best clothes.]
[716]Ver. 56.i.e.holy-day russets [or best clothes.]
[717][buskins or half boots.]
[717][buskins or half boots.]
[718][used for anointing sores in sheep, &c.]
[718][used for anointing sores in sheep, &c.]
[719][small beer.]
[719][small beer.]
[720][whey or buttermilk.]
[720][whey or buttermilk.]
[721][slice.]
[721][slice.]
[722][crab apples.]
[722][crab apples.]
[723][victualling.]
[723][victualling.]
[724][crooked horned.]
[724][crooked horned.]
[725]Ver. 68. Eating.PCC.
[725]Ver. 68. Eating.PCC.
[726][ram.]
[726][ram.]
[727][public.]
[727][public.]
[728][nice or prudent.]
[728][nice or prudent.]
[729]V. 77. Her know I not her that. 1602.
[729]V. 77. Her know I not her that. 1602.
[730][blockhead.]
[730][blockhead.]
[731]Ver. 85.i.e.roasts a crab, or apple.
[731]Ver. 85.i.e.roasts a crab, or apple.
[732]V. 86. to tell, whilst round the bole doth trot. Ed. 1597.
[732]V. 86. to tell, whilst round the bole doth trot. Ed. 1597.
[733][female keeper of herds.]
[733][female keeper of herds.]
[734][middle sized.]
[734][middle sized.]
[735][honey.]
[735][honey.]
[736]i.e.emblazon beauty's coat. Ed. 1597, 1602, 1612, read Coote.
[736]i.e.emblazon beauty's coat. Ed. 1597, 1602, 1612, read Coote.
[737]During the Saxon heptarchy, the kingdom of Northumberland (consisting of 6 northern counties, besides part of Scotland) was for a long time divided into two lesser sovereignties, viz. Deira (called here Diria) which contained the southern parts, and Bernicia, comprehending those which lay north.
[737]During the Saxon heptarchy, the kingdom of Northumberland (consisting of 6 northern counties, besides part of Scotland) was for a long time divided into two lesser sovereignties, viz. Deira (called here Diria) which contained the southern parts, and Bernicia, comprehending those which lay north.
[738][This poem was subdivided into stanzas by Percy, and is so printed in previous editions of theReliques.]
[738][This poem was subdivided into stanzas by Percy, and is so printed in previous editions of theReliques.]
Onlythe three first stanzas of this song are ancient; these are extracted from a small quarto MS. in the Editor's possession, written in the time of Q. Elizabeth. As they seemed to want application, this has been attempted by a modern hand.
Corin, most unhappie swaine,Whither wilt thou drive thy flocke?Little foode is on the plaine;Full of danger is the rocke:Wolfes and beares doe kepe the woodes;5Forests tangled are with brakes:Meadowes subject are to floodes;Moores are full of miry lakes.Yet to shun all plaine, and hill,Forest, moore, and meadow-ground,10Hunger will as surely kill:How may then reliefe be found?[Such is hapless Corins fate:Since my waywarde love begunne,Equall doubts begett debate15What to seeke, and what to shunne.Spare to speke, and spare to speed;Yet to speke will move disdaine:If I see her not I bleed,Yet her sight augments my paine.20What may then poor Corin doe?Tell me, shepherdes, quicklye tell;For to linger thus in woeIs the lover's sharpest hell.]
Corin, most unhappie swaine,Whither wilt thou drive thy flocke?Little foode is on the plaine;Full of danger is the rocke:
Wolfes and beares doe kepe the woodes;5Forests tangled are with brakes:Meadowes subject are to floodes;Moores are full of miry lakes.
Yet to shun all plaine, and hill,Forest, moore, and meadow-ground,10Hunger will as surely kill:How may then reliefe be found?
[Such is hapless Corins fate:Since my waywarde love begunne,Equall doubts begett debate15What to seeke, and what to shunne.
Spare to speke, and spare to speed;Yet to speke will move disdaine:If I see her not I bleed,Yet her sight augments my paine.20
What may then poor Corin doe?Tell me, shepherdes, quicklye tell;For to linger thus in woeIs the lover's sharpest hell.]
⁂
Thoughso many vulgar errors have prevailed concerning this celebrated courtezan, no character in history has been more perfectly handed down to us. We have her portrait drawn by two masterly pens; the one has delineated the features of her person, the other those of her character and story. Sir Thomas More drew from the life, and Drayton has copied an original picture of her. The reader will pardon the length of the quotations, as they serve tocorrect many popular mistakes relating to her catastrophe. The first is from Sir Thomas More'sHistory of Richard III.written in 1513, about thirty years after the death of Edw. IV.
"Now then by and by, as it wer for anger, not for covetise, the protector sent into the house of Shores wife (for her husband dwelled not with her) and spoiled her of al that ever she had, (above the value of 2 or 3 thousand marks) and sent her body to prison. And when he had a while laide unto her, for the maner sake, that she went about to bewitch him, and that she was of counsel with the lord chamberlein to destroy him: in conclusion when that no colour could fasten upon these matters, then he layd heinously to her charge the thing that herselfe could not deny, that al the world wist was true, and that natheles every man laughed at to here it then so sodainly so highly taken,—that she was naught of her body. And for thys cause (as a goodly continent prince, clene and fautless of himself, sent oute of heaven into this vicious world for the amendment of mens maners) he caused the bishop of London to put her to open pennance, going before the crosse in procession upon a sonday with a taper in her hand. In which she went in countenance and pace demure so womanly; and albeit she was out of al array save her kyrtle only, yet went she so fair and lovely, namelye, while the wondering of the people caste a comly rud in her chekes (of which she before had most misse) that her great shame wan her much praise among those that were more amorous of her body, then curious of her soule. And many good folke also, that hated her living, and glad wer to se sin corrected, yet pittied thei more her penance then rejoiced therin, when thei considred that the protector procured it more of a corrupt intent, then any virtuous affeccion.
"This woman was born in London, worshipfully frended, honestly brought up, and very wel maryed, saving somewhat too soone; her husbande an honest citizen, yonge, and goodly, and of good substance. But forasmuche as they were coupled ere she wer wel ripe, she not very fervently loved, for whom she never longed. Which was happely the thinge, that the more easily made her encline unto the king's appetite, when he required her. Howbeit the respect of his royaltie, the hope of gay apparel, ease, plesure, and other wanton welth, was able soone to perse a soft tender hearte. But when the king had abused her, anon her husband (as he was an honest man, and one that could his good, not presuming to touch a kinges concubine) left her up to him al together. When the king died, the lord chamberlen [Hastings] toke her:[739]whichin the kinges daies, albeit he was sore enamoured upon her, yet he forbare her, either for reverence, or for a certain friendly faithfulness.
"Proper she was, and faire: nothing in her body that you wold have changed, but if you would have wished her somewhat higher. Thus say thei that knew her in her youthe. Albeit some thatnowsee her(for yet she liveth) deme her never to have bene wel visaged. Whose jugement seemeth me somewhat like, as though men should gesse the bewty of one longe before departed, by her scalpe taken out of the charnel-house; for now is she old, lene, withered, and dried up, nothing left but ryvilde skin, and hard bone. And yet being even such, whoso wel advise her visage, might gesse and devise which partes how filled, wold make it a fair face.
"Yet delited not men so much in her bewty, as in her pleasant behaviour. For a proper wit had she, and could both rede wel and write; mery in company, redy and quick of aunswer, neither mute nor ful of bable; sometime taunting without displeasure, and not without disport. The king would say, That he had three concubines, which in three divers properties diversly excelled. One the meriest, another the wiliest, the thirde the holiest harlot in his realme, as one whom no man could get out of the church lightly to any place, but it were to his bed. The other two wer somwhat greater personages, and natheles of their humilite content to be nameles, and to forbere the praise of those properties; but the meriest was the Shoris wife, in whom the king therfore tokespecial pleasure. For many he had, but her he loved, whose favour, to sai the trouth (for sinne it wer to belie the devil) she never abused to any mans hurt, but to many a mans comfort and relief. Where the king toke displeasure, she would mitigate and appease his mind: where men were out of favour, she wold bring them in his grace: for many, that had highly offended, shee obtained pardon: of great forfeitures she gate men remission: and finally in many weighty sutes she stode many men in gret stede, either for none or very smal rewardes, and those rather gay than rich: either for that she was content with the dede selfe well done, or for that she delited to be sued unto, and to show what she was able to do wyth the king, or for that wanton women and welthy be not alway covetous.
"I doubt not some shal think this woman too sleight a thing to be written of, and set amonge the remembraunces of great matters: which thei shal specially think, that happely shal esteme her only by that theinow see her. But me semeth the chaunce so much the more worthy to be remembred, in how much she isnowin the more beggerly condicion, unfrended and worne out of acquaintance, after good substance, after as grete favour with the prince, after as grete sute and seeking to with al those, that in those days had busynes to spede, as many other men were in their times, which be now famouse only by the infamy of their il dedes. Her doinges were not much lesse, albeit thei be muche lesse remembred because thei were not so evil. For men use, if they have an evil turne, to write it in marble; and whoso doth us a good tourne, we write it in duste.[740]Which is not worst proved by her; forat this dayeshee beggeth of many at this daye living, that at this day had begged, if shee had not bene." See More'sworkes, folio, bl. let. 1557, pp. 56, 57.
Draytonhas written a poetical epistle from this lady to her royal lover, and in his notes thereto he thus draws her portrait: "Her stature was meane, her haire of a dark yellow, her face round and full, her eye gray, delicate harmony being betwixt each part's proportion, and each proportion's colour, her body fat, white and smooth, her countenance cheerfull and like to her condition. The picture which I have seen of hers was such as she rose out of her bed in themorning, having nothing on but a rich mantle cast under one arme over her shoulder, and sitting on a chaire, on which her naked arm did lie. What her father's name was, or where she was borne, is not certainly knowne: but Shore, a young man of right goodly person, wealth and behaviour, abandoned her bed after the king had made her his concubine. Richard III. causing her to do open penance in Paul's church-yard,commanded that no man shouldrelieve her, which the tyrant did, not so much for his hatred to sinne, but that by making his brother's life odious, he might cover his horrible treasons the more cunningly." SeeEngland's HeroicalEpistles, by Mich. Drayton, Esq; Lond. 1637, 12mo.
An original picture ofJane Shorealmost naked is preserved in the Provost's Lodgings at Eton; and another picture of her is in the Provost's Lodge at King's College, Cambridge: to both which foundations she is supposed to have done friendly offices withEdward IV.A small quarto Mezzotinto print was taken from the former of these byJ. Faber.
The history ofJane Shorereceives new illustration from the following letter ofK. Richard III.which is preserved in theHarl.MSS.Num. 433, Art. 2378, but of which the copy transmitted to the Editor has been reduced to modern orthography, &c. It is said to have been addressed toRusselbp. of Lincoln, lord chancellor, Anno 1484.
By theKing.
"Right Reverend Father in God, &c. signifying unto you, that it is shewed unto us, that our Servant and Solicitor Thomas Lynom, marvellously blinded and abused with the late Wife of William Shore, now living in Ludgate by our commandment, hath made Contract of Matrimony with her, as it is said, and intendeth, to our full great marvel, to effect the same. WE, for many causes, would be sorry that he should be so disposed; pray you therefore to send for him, and in that ye goodly may, exhort, and stir him to the contrary: And if ye find him utterly set for to marry her, and none otherwise would be advertized, then, if it may stand with the laws of the church, we be content the time of marriage be deferred to our coming next to London; that upon sufficient Surety found of her good abearing, ye do so send for her Keeper, and discharge him of our said commandment, by Warrant of these, committing her to the rule, and guiding of her Father, or any other, by your direction, in the mean season. Given, &c.
"RIC.Rex."
It appears from two articles in the same MS. that K. Richard had granted to the saidThomas Linomthe office of King's Solicitor (Art. 134.), and also the Manor of Colmeworth, com. Bedf. to him and his Heirs Male (Art. 596.)
The following ballad is printed (with some corrections) from an old black-letter copy in the Pepys collection. Its full title is,Thewoefull lamentation of Jane Shore, a goldsmith's wife in London,sometime king Edward IV. his concubine. To the tune ofLive withme, &c.(See the first volume.) To every stanza is annexed the following burthen:
"Then maids and wives in time amend,For love and beauty will have end."
"Then maids and wives in time amend,For love and beauty will have end."
[The tale of Jane Shore's sufferings has found frequent narrators. The first known ballad upon her story was written by Thomas Churchyard (who died in 1604) and is included in theMirror forMagistrates. The ballad here printed is attributed to Thomas Deloney, and was entered on the books of the Stationers' Company to William White, printer, on the 11th of June, 1603, but no copy of this edition is known to exist. Mr. Chappell remarks that no copy in any of the collections can be dated "earlier than Charles the Second's time, or at most than the Protectorate" (Roxburghe Ballads, vol. i. p. 479). It is printed in theCollectionof Old Ballads, 1723 (vol. i. p. 145), and in the same collection is a burlesque song calledKing Edward and Jane Shore(vol. i. p. 153). The Roxburghe copy has a second part which Mr. Chappell says is "probably by another hand and of later date." Deloney has paid very little attention to facts, and many of his statements are groundless, for instance no one was hanged for succouring Jane (vv. 105-112), and instead of dying of hunger in a ditch (vv. 125-132), she survived her penance nearly fifty years. (She died in the 18th year of Henry VIII.'s reign.) Her husband is named Matthew Shore in verse 13, but we have the best authority for affirming that his true name was William. Richard III. followed Jane Shore with unrelenting hate, and not content with making her do penance, clapping her in prison and depriving her of all her property, which amounted to the value of 3000 marks, equal to about£20,000 of our present money, he prevented her from marrying a respectable man.There is no date to the paper printed above, but as John Russell, D.D., Bishop of Lincoln, was Richard's Chancellor only from Nov. 1484 to July 1485, we can fix it pretty closely.According to Mr. Nugent Bell, in hisHuntingdon Peerage, the name of the father of Jane Shore was Thomas Wainstead. Granger says that the Duchess of Montagu had a lock of her hair which looked as if it had been powdered with gold dust. For further information, seeSome Particulars of the Life of Jane Shore, by the Rev. Mark Noble, in Brayley'sGraphic Illustrator, pp. 49-64.]
[The tale of Jane Shore's sufferings has found frequent narrators. The first known ballad upon her story was written by Thomas Churchyard (who died in 1604) and is included in theMirror forMagistrates. The ballad here printed is attributed to Thomas Deloney, and was entered on the books of the Stationers' Company to William White, printer, on the 11th of June, 1603, but no copy of this edition is known to exist. Mr. Chappell remarks that no copy in any of the collections can be dated "earlier than Charles the Second's time, or at most than the Protectorate" (Roxburghe Ballads, vol. i. p. 479). It is printed in theCollectionof Old Ballads, 1723 (vol. i. p. 145), and in the same collection is a burlesque song calledKing Edward and Jane Shore(vol. i. p. 153). The Roxburghe copy has a second part which Mr. Chappell says is "probably by another hand and of later date." Deloney has paid very little attention to facts, and many of his statements are groundless, for instance no one was hanged for succouring Jane (vv. 105-112), and instead of dying of hunger in a ditch (vv. 125-132), she survived her penance nearly fifty years. (She died in the 18th year of Henry VIII.'s reign.) Her husband is named Matthew Shore in verse 13, but we have the best authority for affirming that his true name was William. Richard III. followed Jane Shore with unrelenting hate, and not content with making her do penance, clapping her in prison and depriving her of all her property, which amounted to the value of 3000 marks, equal to about£20,000 of our present money, he prevented her from marrying a respectable man.
There is no date to the paper printed above, but as John Russell, D.D., Bishop of Lincoln, was Richard's Chancellor only from Nov. 1484 to July 1485, we can fix it pretty closely.
According to Mr. Nugent Bell, in hisHuntingdon Peerage, the name of the father of Jane Shore was Thomas Wainstead. Granger says that the Duchess of Montagu had a lock of her hair which looked as if it had been powdered with gold dust. For further information, seeSome Particulars of the Life of Jane Shore, by the Rev. Mark Noble, in Brayley'sGraphic Illustrator, pp. 49-64.]