O time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing! His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurned, But spurned in vain; youth waneth by increasing: For gripple Edel to himself her kingdom sought to gain, And for that cause from sight of such he did his ward restrain. Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading By chance one Curan, son unto a prince in Danske, seen; Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green. His helmet now shall make a hive for bees, And when he saddest sits in homely cell, 5 II did see WILLIAM WARNER Meanwhile the king did beat his brains his booty to achieve, Nor caring what became of her, so he by her might thrive. At last his resolution was some peasant should her wive. And (which was working to his wish) he did observe with joy How Curan, whom he thought a drudge, scaped many an amorous toy. The king, perceiving such his vein, promotes his vassal still, Lest that the baseness of the man should let, perhaps, his will. Assured therefore of his love, but not suspecting who The lover was, the king himself in his behalf did 109 He borrowed on the working days his holy russets oft; And of the bacon's fat, to make his startops black and soft; And lest his tarbox should offend he left it at the fold; Sweet growte, or whig, his bottle had as much as it might hold; A sheave of bread as brown as nut, and cheese as white as snow; 60 And wildings or the season's fruit he did in scrip bestow. And whilst his pie-bald cur did sleep, and sheephook lay him by, On hollow quills of oaten straw he piped melody; But when he spied her, his saint, he wiped his greasy shoes, And clear'd the drivel from his beard and thus the shepherd woos: "I have, sweet wench, a piece of cheese, as good as tooth may chaw, And bread and wildings souling well "Well know I, sooth they say that say, 'More quiet nights and days The shepherd sleeps and wakes than he whose cattle he doth graze.' Believe me, lass, a king is but a man, and so am I; Content is worth a monarchy, and mischiefs hit the high; As late it did a king and his, not dwelling far from hence, Who left a daughter, (save thyself) for fair a matchless wench." Here did he pause, as if his tongue had done his heart offence. The Neatress, longing for the rest, did egg him on to tell How fair she was, and who she was. "She bore," quoth he, "the bell 100 For beauty. Though I clownish am, I know what beauty is; Or did I not, yet seeing thee, I senseless were to miss. Suppose her beauty Helen's-like, or Helen's somewhat less, And every star consorting to a pure complexion guess. Her stature comely tall, her gait well graced, and her wit To marvel at, not meddle with, as matchless I omit. A globe-like head, a gold-like hair, a forehead smooth and high, An even nose, on either side did shine a greyish eye; Two rosy cheeks, round ruddy lips, white justset teeth within; A mouth in mean, and underneath a round and dimpled chin; ΓΙΟ Where equal mixture did not want of mild and stately grace. Her smiles were sober, and her looks were cheerful unto all; And such as neither wanton seem, nor wayward, mell, nor gall. A quiet mind, a patient mood, and not disdaining any; Not gibing, gadding, gaudy, and her faculties were many. A nymph, no tongue, no heart, no eye, might praise, might wish, might see For life, for love, for form, more good, more worth, more fair than she. Yea such a one, as such was none, save only she was such. 130 Of Argentile to say the most, were to be silent much." "I knew the lady very well, but worthless of such praise," The Neatress said; "and muse I do, a shepherd thus should blaze The coat of beauty. Credit me, thy latter speech betrays Thy clownish shape a coined show. But wherefore dost thou weep?" The Shepherd wept, and she was woe, and both doth silence keep. "In truth," quoth he, "I am not such as seeming I profess: But then for her, and now for thee, I from myself digress. Her loved I, be! - - wretch that I am and recreant to In Edel's court sometimes in pomp, till love controlled the same; But now- - What now? Dear heart, how now? What ailest thou to weep?" The damsel wept, and he was woe, and both did silence keep. "I grant," 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." They sweetly surfeiting in joy, and silent for a GEORGE CHAPMAN His sisters, or his brothers' wives; or whether she should be At temple with the other dames, t' implore Minerva's ruth. Her woman answer'd; since he ask'd, and urged so much the truth, The truth was she was neither gone, to see his brothers' wives, His sisters, nor t' implore the ruth of Pallas on their lives; But she (advertised of the bane Troy suffer'd, and how vast Conquest had made herself for Greece) like one distraught, made haste To ample Ilion with her son, and nurse, and all the way 420 III All the great city pass'd, and came where, seeing how blood was spilt, Andromache might see him come; who made as he would pass The ports without saluting her, not knowing where she was. She, with his sight, made breathless haste, to meet him; she, whose grace Brought him withal so great a dower; she that of all the race Of king Aëtion only lived; Aëtion whose house stood Beneath the mountain Placius, environ'd with the wood Of Theban Hypoplace, being court to the Cilician land. 430 She ran to Hector, and with her, tender of heart and hand, Her son, borne in his nurse's arms; when, like a heavenly sign, Compact of many golden stars, the princely child did shine, Whom Hector call'd Scamandrius; but whom the town did name Astyanax, because his sire did only prop the He left of him, th' Oreades (that are the high descent Of Ægis-bearing Jupiter) another of their own Did add to it, and set it round with elms; by which is shown, In theirs, the barrenness of death; yet might it serve beside To shelter the sad monument from all the ruffinous pride Of storms and tempests, used to hurt things of that noble kind. The short life yet my mother lived he saved, and served his mind With all the riches of the realm; which not enough esteem'd, He kept her prisoner; whom small time, but much more wealth, redeem'd; And she, in sylvan Hypoplace, Cilicia ruled again, But soon was overruled by death; Diana's chaste disdain 461 Gave her a lance, and took her life. Yet, all these gone from me, Thou amply render'st all; thy life makes still my father be, My mother, brothers; and besides thou art my husband too, Most loved, most worthy. Pity then, dear love, and do not go, For thou gone, all these go again; pity our common joy, Lest, of a father's patronage, the bulwark of all Troy, Thou leav'st him a poor widow's charge: stay, stay then, in this tower, And call up to the wild fig-tree all thy retired power; For there the wall is easiest scal'd, and fittest for surprise, 470 And there, th' Ajaces, Idomen, th' Atrides, Diomed, thrice Have both survey'd and made attempt; I know not if induced By some wise augur, or the fact was naturally infused Into their wits, or courages." To this great Hector said: "Be well assur'd, wife, all these things in my kind cares are weigh'd, But what a shame and fear it is to think how Troy would scorn (Both in her husbands, and her wives, whom longtrain'd gowns adorn) That I should cowardly fly off! The spirit I first did breathe Did never teach me that; much less, since the contempt of death But spin the Greek wives' webs of task, and their fetch-water be To Argos, from Messeïdes, or clear Hyperia's spring; Which howsoever thou abhorr'st, Fate's such a shrewish thing She will be mistress; whose cursed hands, when they shall crush out cries From thy oppressions (being beheld by other enemies) Thus they will nourish thy extremes: 'This dame was Hector's wife, A man that, at the wars of Troy, did breathe the worthiest life Of all their army.' This again will rub thy fruitful wounds, 500 To miss the man that to thy bands could give such narrow bounds. But that day shall not wound mine eyes; the solid heap of night Shall interpose, and stop mine ears against thy plaints, and plight." This said, he reach'd to take his son; who, of his arms afraid, And then the horse-hair plume, with which he was so overlaid, Nodded so horribly, he cling'd back to his nurse, and cried. Laughter affected his great sire, who doff'd, and laid aside |