Collection of Poems, Eclogue 3
The Shepheards Hunting.
The third Eglogue.
THE ARGVMENT.
Philarete with his three Friends,
Heare his hunting ſtorie ends.
Kinde Alexis with much ruth,
Wailes the baniſh't Shepheards youth:
But he ſlighteth Fortunes ſtings,
And in ſpight of Thraldom… ſings.
PHILARETE. CVDDY. ALEXIS. WILLY.
Philarete.
SO, now I ſee y'are Shepheards of your word,
Thus were you wont to promiſe, and to doe.
Cuddy.
More then our promiſe is, we can afford,
We come our ſelues, and bring another to:
Alexis, whom thou know'ſt well is no foe:
Who loues thee much: and I doe know that he
Would faine a hearer of thy Hunting be.
Philarete.
Alexis you are welcome, for you know
You cannot be but welcome where I am;
You euer were a friend of mine in ſhow,
And I hauehave found you are indeed the ſame:
VponUpon my firſt reſtraint you hither came,
And proffered me more tokens of your louelove,
Then it were fit my ſmall deſerts ſhould proue.
Alexis.
'Tis ſtill your vſe to vnderpriſe your merit;
Be not ſo coy to take my proffered louelove,
'Twill neither vnbeſeeme your worth nor ſpirit.
To offer court'ſie doth thy friend behoue:
And which are ſo, this is a place to proue.
Then once againe I ſay, if cauſe there be.
Firſt makea tryall, if thou pleaſe, of me.
Philarete.
Thankes good Alexis; ſit downe by me heere,
I hauehave a taske, theſe Shepheards know, to doe;
A Tale already told this Morne well neere,
With which I very faine would forward goe,
And am as willing thou ſhould'ſt heare it to:
But thou canſt neuer vnderſtand this laſt,
Till I hauehave alſo told thee what is paſt.
Willy.
It ſhall not neede, for I ſo much preſum'd,
I on your mutuall friendſhips, might be bold,
That I a freedome to my ſelfe aſſum'd,
To make him know, what is already told.
If I hauehave done amiſſe, then you may ſcold.
But in my telling I preuiſed this,
He knew not whoſe, nor to what end it is.
Philarete.
Well, now he may, for heere my Tale goes on:
My eager Dogges and I to Wood are gon.
Where, beating through the Conuerts, eueryevery Hound
A ſeuerall Game had in a moment found:
I rated them, but they purſu'd their pray,
And as it fell (by hap) tooke all one way.
Then I began with quicker ſpeed to follow,
And teaz'd them on, with a more chearefull hallow:
That ſoone we paſſed many weary miles,
Tracing the ſubtile game through all their wiles.
Theſe doubl'd, thoſe re-doubled on the ſcent,
Still keeping in full chaſe where ere they went.
Vp Hils, downe Cliffes, through Bogs, and ouer Plaines,
Stretching their Muſicke to the higheſt ſtraines.
That when ſome Thicket hid them from mine eye,
My eare was rauiſh'd with their melodie.
Nor croſt we onelyonly Ditches, Hedges, Furrowes,
But Hamlets, Tithings, Pariſhes, and Burrowes:
They followed where ſo eu'r the game did go,
Through Kitchin, Parlor, Hall, and Chamber to.
And, as they paſſ'd the City, and the Court,
My Prince look'd out, and daign'd to view my ſport.
Which then (although I ſuffer for it now)
(If ſome ſay true) he liking did allow;
And ſo much (had I had but wit to ſtay)
I might my ſelfe (perhaps) hauehave heard him ſay.
But I, that time, as much as any daring,
More for my pleaſure then my ſafetie caring;
Seeing freſh game from eueryevery couert riſe,
(Croſſing by thouſands ſtill before their eyes)
Ruſh'd in, and then following cloſe my Hounds,
Some beaſts I found lie dead, ſome full of wounds,
Among the willows, ſcarce with ſtrength to moue,
One I found heere, another there, whom LoueLove
Had grip'd to death: and, in the ſelfe-ſame ſtate,
Lay one deuour'd by Enuy, one by Hate;
Luſt had bit ſome, but I ſoone paſt beſide them,
Their feſtr'd wounds ſo ſtuncke, none could abide them.
Choller hurt diuers, but Reuenge kild more:
Feare frighted all, behinde him and before.
Deſpaire draue on a huge and mighty heape,
Forcing ſome downe from Rocks and Hils to leape:
Some into water, ſome into the fire,
So on themſelues he made them wreake his ire.
But I remember, as I paſſ'd that way,
Where the great King and Prince of Shepheards lay,
About the wals were hid, ſome (once more knowne)
That my fell Curre Ambition had o'rethrowne:
Many I heard, purſu'd by Pitty, cry;
And oft I ſaw my Bloud-Hound, Cruelty,
Eating her paſſage euen to the hart,
Whither once gotten, ſhe is loath to part.
All pli'd it well, and made ſo loud a cry,
'Twas heard beyond the Shores of Britany.
Some rated them, ſome ſtorm'd, ſome lik'd the game,
Some thought me worthy praiſe, ſome worthy blame.
But I, not fearing th'one, miſ-ſteeming t'other,
Both, in ſhrill hallowes and loud yernings ſmother.
Yea, the ſtrong mettled, and my long-breath'd crew,
Seeing the game increaſing in their view,
Grew the more frolicke, and the courſes length
Gaue better breath, and added to their ſtrength.
Which Ioue perceiuing, for Ioue heard their cries
Rumbling amongſt the Spheares concauities:
Hee mark'd their courſe, and courages increaſe,
Saying, 'twere pitty ſuch a chaſe ſhould ceaſe.
And therewith ſwore their mouthes ſhould neuer waſt,
But hunt as long's mortality did laſt.
Soone did they feele the power of his great gift,
And I began to finde their pace more ſwift:
I follow'd, and I rated, but in vaine
Striu'd to o'retake, or take them vp againe.
They neuer ſtayed ſince, nor nights nor dayes,
But to and fro ſtill run a thouſand wayest
Yea, often to this place where now I lie,
They'l wheele about to cheare me with their cry;
And one day in good time will vengeance take
On ſome offenders, for their Maſters ſake:
For know, my Friends, my freedome in this ſort
For them I loſe, and making my ſelfe ſport.
Willy.
Why? was there any harme at all in this?
Philarete.
No, Willy, and I hope yet none there is.
Willy.
How comes it then?—
Philarete.
—Note, and I'le tell thee how?
Thou know'ſt that Truth and Innocency now,
If plac'd with meanneſſe, ſuffers more deſpight
Then Villainies, accompan'ed with might.
But thus it fell, while that my Hounds purſu'd
Their noyſome prey, and eueryevery field lay ſtrew'd
With Monsters, hurt and ſlaine; vponupon a beaſt,
More ſubtile, and more noyſome then the reſt,
My leane-flanckt Bitch, cald Enuy, hapt to light:
And, as her wont is, did ſo ſurely bite,
That, though ſhee left behinde ſmall outward ſmart,
The wounds were deepe, and rankled to the hart.
This, joyning to ſome other, that of late,
Were very eagerly purſu'd by Hate,
(To fit their purpoſe hauing taken leaſure)
Did thus conſpire to worke me a diſpleaſure.
For imitation, farreſurpaſſing Apes,
They laide aſide their Foxe and Woluiſh ſhapes,
And ſhrowded in the skinnes of harmleſſe Sheepe
Into by-wayes, and open paths did creepe;
Where, they (as hardly drawing breath) didly,
Shewing their wounds to eueryevery paſſer by;
To make them thinke that they were ſheepe ſo foyl'd,
And by my Dogges, in their late hunting, ſpoyl'd.
Beſide, ſome other that enuy'd my game,
And, for their paſtime, kept ſuch Monſters tame:
As, you doe know, there's many for their pleaſure
Keepe Foxes, Beares, & Wolues, as ſome great treaſure:
Yea, many get their liuing by them to,
And ſo did ſtore of theſe, I ſpeake of, do.
Who, ſeeing that my Kennell had affrighted,
Or hurt ſome Vermine wherein they delighted;
And finding their owne power by much to weake,
Their Malice on my Innocence to wreake,
Swolne with the deepeſt rancour of deſpight,
Some of our greateſt Shepheards Folds by night
They cloſely entred; and there hauing ſtain'd
Their hands in villany, of mee they plain'd,
Affirming, (without ſhame, or honeſty,)
I, and my Dogges, had done it purpoſely.
Whereat they ſtorm'd, and cald mee to a tryall,
Where Innocence preuailes not, nor denyall:
But for that cauſe, heere in this place I lie,
Where none ſo merry as my dogges, and I.
Cuddy.
Beleeue it, heere's a Tale will ſuten well,
For Shepheards in another Age to tell.
Willy.
And thou ſhalt be remembred with delight,
By this, hereafter, many a Winters night.
For, of this ſport another Age will ring;
Yea, Nymphes that are vnborne thereof ſhall ſing,
And not a Beauty on our Greenes ſhall play,
That hath not heard of this thy hunting day.
Philarete.
It may be ſo, for if that gentle Swaine,
Who wonnes by Tauy, on the Weſterne plaine,
Would make the Song, ſuch life his Verſe can giuegive,
Then I doe know my Name might euer liue.
Alexis.
But tell me; are our Plaines and Nymphs forgot,
And canſt thou frolicke in thy trouble be?
Philarete.
Can I, Alexis, ſayſt thou? Can I not,
That am reſolu'd to ſcorne more miſery?
Alexis.
Oh, but that youth's yet greene, and young bloud hot,
And liberty muſt needs be ſweet to thee.
But, now moſt ſweet whil'ſt eueryevery buſhy Vale,
And Groue, and Hill, rings of the Nightingale.
Me thinkes, when thou remembreſt thoſe ſweet layes
Which thou would'ſt leade thy Shepheardeſſe to heare,
Each Euening tyde among the Leauy ſprayes,
The thought of that ſhould make thy freedome deare:
For now, whil'ſt eueryevery Nymph on Holy-dayes
Sports with ſome iolly Lad, and maketh cheere,
Thine, ſighes for thee, and mew'd vp from reſort,
Will neither play her ſelfe, nor ſee their ſport.
Thoſe Shepheards that were many a Morning wont,
VntoUnto their Boyes to leaue the tender Heard;
And beare thee company when thou didſt hunt;
Me thinkes the ſport thou haſt ſo gladly ſhar'd
Among thoſe Swaynes ſhould make thee thinke vpon't,
For't ſeemes all vaine, now, that was once indear'd.
It cannot be: ſince I could make relation,
How for leſſe cauſe thou haſt beene deepe in paſſion.
Philarete.
'Tis true: my tender heart was euer yet
Too capable of ſuch conceits as theſe;
I neuer ſaw that Obiect, but from it,
The Paſſions of my LoueLove I could encreaſe.
Thoſe things which moue not other men a whit,
I can, and doe make vſe of, if I pleaſe:
When I am ſad, to ſadneſſe I apply,
Each Bird, and Tree, and Flowre that I paſſe by.
So, when I will be merry, I aſwell
Something for mirth from eueryevery thing can draw,
From Miſerie, from Priſons, nay from Hell:
And as when to my minde, griefe giues a flaw,
Beſt comforts doe but make my woes more fell:
So when I'me bent to Mirth, from miſchiefes paw.
(Though ceas'd vponupon me) I would ſomething cull,
That ſpight of care, ſhould make my ioyes more full.
I feele thoſe wants, Alexis, thou doeſt name,
Which ſpight of youths affections I ſuſtaine;
Or elſe, for what is't I hauehave gotten Fame,
And am more knowne then many an elder Swaine?
I… ſuch deſires I had not learn'd to tame,
(Since many pipe much better on this Plaine:)
But tune your Reedes, and I will in a Song,
Expreſſe my Care, and how I take this Wrong.
Sonnet.
I That ere'ſt-while the worlds ſweet Ayre did draw,
(Grac'd by the faireſt euer Mortall ſaw;)
Now cloſely pent, with walles of Ruth-leſſe ſtone.
Conſume my Dayes, and Nights and all alone.
When I was wont to ſing of Shepheards loues,
My walkes were Fields, and Downes, and Hils, and Groues:
But now (alas) ſo ſtrict is my hard doome,
Fields, Downes, Hils, Groues, and al's but one pooreroome.
Each Morne, as ſoone as Day-light did appeare,
With Natures Muſicke Birds would charme mine eare:
Which now (inſtead) of their melodious ſtraines,
Heare, ratling Shackles, Gyues, and Boults, and Chaines.
But, though that all the world's delight forſake me,
I hauehave a Muſe, and ſhe ſhall Muſicke make me:
Whoſe ayrie Notes, in ſpight of cloſeſt cages,
Shall giuegive content to me, and after ages.
Nor doe I paſſe for all this outward ill.
My hearts the ſame, and undeiected ſtill;
And which is more then ſome in freedome winne,
I hauehave truereſt, and peace, and ioy within.
And then my Mind, that ſpight of priſon's free,
When ere ſhe pleaſes any where can be;
Shee's in an houre, in France, Rome, Turky, Spaine,
In Earth, in Hell, in Heauen, and here againe.
Yet there's another comfort in my woe,
My cauſe is ſpread, and all the world may know,
My fault's no more, but ſpeaking Truth, and Reaſon;
No Debt, nor Theft, nor Murther, Rape, or Treaſon.
Nor ſhall my foes with all their Might and Power,
Wipe out their ſhame, nor yet this fame of our:
Which when they finde, they ſhall my fate enuie,
Till they grow leane, and ſicke, and mad, and die.
Then though my Body here in Priſon rot,
And my wrong'd Satyres ſeeme a while forgot:
Yet, when both Fame, and life hath left thoſe men,
My Verſe and I'le reuiue, and liue agen.
So thus enclos'd, I beare afflictions load,
But with more true content then ſome abroad;
For whilſt their thoughts, doe feele my Scourges ſting,
In bands I'le leape, and dance, and laugh, and ſing.
Alexis.
Why now I ſee thou droup'ſt not with thy care,
Neither exclaim'ſt thou on thy hunting day;
But doſt with vnchang'd reſolution beare,
The heauy burthen of exile away.
All that did truely know thee, did conceaue,
Thy actions with thy ſpirit ſtill agree'd;
Their good conceit thou doeſt no whit bereaue,
But ſheweſt that thou art ſtill thy ſelfe indeed.
If that thy mind to baſeneſſe now deſcends,
Thou'lt iniure Vertue, and deceiue thy friends.
Willie.
Alexis, he will iniure Vertue much,
But more his friends, and moſt of all himſelfe,
If on that common barre his minde but touch,
It wrackes his fame vponupon diſgraces ſhelfe.
Whereas if thou ſteere on that happy courſe,
Which in thy iuſt aduenture is begun;
No thwarting Tide, nor aduerſe blaſt ſhall force
Thy Barke without the Channels bounds to run.
Thou art the ſame thou wert, for ought I ſee,
When thou didſt freely on the Mountaines hunt,
In nothing changed yet, vnleſſe it be
More merrily diſpos'd then thou wert wont.
Still keepe thee thus, ſo other ſhall know,
Vertue can giuegive content in midſt of woe.
And ſhe (though mightines with frownes doth threat)
That, to be Innocent, is to be great.
Thriue and farewell.—
Alexis.
—In this thy trouble flouriſh.
Cuddy.
While thoſe that wiſh thee ill, fret, pine, and periſh.