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Dr with the hook or net,

Where thou dost gather now Bare-footed, wantonly

Of well employed life Che pleasant dainty fish

Th'inestimable gains; lo cotangle or deceive.

Where Venus on thee smiles, Che shepherds left

Apollo gives thee place, l'heir wonted places of resort,

And Mars, in reverent wise Their bagpipes now were still;

Doth to thy vertue bow, Their loving merry lays

And decks his fiery sphear were quite forgot; and now

To do thee honour most : their focks, men might perceive

In highest part whereof, o wander and to stray,

Thy valour for to grace, All carelessly peglect;

A chair of gold he sets ind in the itead of mirth

To thee, and there doth tell Ind pleasure, nights and days,

Thy noble acts anew, jeught else was to be heard

Whereby even they that boast ut wocs, complaints, and mone.

Themselves of ancient fame, fur thou (O blcfied Soul!)

As Pyrrhus, Hannibal, oft haply not respect

Scipio, and Casar, with 'hese tears we fhed, though full

The rest that did excel i loving pure aspect;

In martial prowess, high laving a fix'd thine eye

Thy glory to admire. a that most glorious throne,

All haill! therefore, here, full of majesty.

O worthy Philip, immortal! be high Creacor reigns;

The flowre of Sydney's race ! : whose bright shining face

The honour of thy name! by joys are all complete,

Whose worthy praise to sing Those love kindles thy spright;

My Muses not aspire ; There happy always one

But, sorrowful and sad, bou liv'it in bliss

These tears to thee let fall, hat earthly passion never ftains

Yet wish their verses might here from the purest spring,

So far and wide thy fame he sacred nectar sweet

Extend, that envy's rage thy continual drink;

Nor time might end the same.

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To the right honourable


Most brave and noble Lady! the things that make ye so much honoured of the world as ye be, are such as (without my simple lines' testimony) are throughly known to all men, namely, your ex, cellent beauty, your vertuous behaviour, and your noble match with that mot honourable lord the very pattern of right nobility: but the causes for which ye have deserved of me to be honoured (if honour it be at all) are both your particular bounties, and also some private bands of affinity which it hath pleased your Ladyship to acknowledge; of which whenas I found my self in no part worthy, I devised this last fender means, to intimate my hunible affection to your Ladyship, and allo to make the same universally known to the world, that by honouring you they might know me, and by knowing me they might honour you.

Vouchsafe, noble Lady! to accept this simple remembrance, though not worthy of your self, yes such as, perhaps, by good acceptance thereof, ye may hereafter cull out a more meet and memorable evidence of your own excellent deserts. So, recommending the same to your Ladyship's goud liking, I humbly take leave.

Your Ladyship's humbly ever,


Reverse to me, ye facred Sisters Ninc!
The golden brood of great Apollo's wit,
Thole piteous plaints and forrowful Indsins
Which late you poured forth as ye did it
Beside the filver springs of Helicone,
Making your mulick of heart-breaking mone :

For since the time that Phoebus' foolish ron
Ithundered, through Jove's avengeful wrath,
lor trarerfing the charret of the sun
Beyond the compali of the pointed path,
Of you his mournful lifters was lamented,
Such mournfo! turcs were never since invented.

Nor since that fair Caliope did lose

Behold the foul reproach and open Mame Her loved twins, the dearlings of her joy,

The which is day by day unto us wrought, Her Palici, whom her unkindly foes,

By such as hate the honour of our name, The Fatal Sisters, did for spight destroy,

The foes of learning, and each gentle thought; Whom all the Muses did bewail long space, They, not contented us themselves to scorn, Was ever heard such wailing in this place. Do seek to make us of the world forlorn. For all their groves, which with the heavenly Ne only they that dwell in lowly duft, noises

The fons of Darkncís and of Ignorance, of their sweet instruments were wont to found,

But they whom thou, great Jove! by doom And th' hollow hills, from which their silver

unjuít, voices

Didst to the type of honour earst advance ; Were wont redoubled ecchoes to rebound,

They now, puft up with 'Ideigpful insulence, Did now rebound with nought but rueful cries,

Despise the brood of blessed Sapience And yelling shrieks thrown up into the skies.

The fectaries of my celestial skill, The trembling streams, which wont in channels

That wont to be the world's chief ornament, clear

And learned inips tha wont to shoot up still, To rumblr gently down with murmur soft,

And grow to height of kingdom's government, And were by them right tuneful taught to bear,

They under kecp, and with their spreading arms A base's part amongst their consorts ost,

Do beat their buds, that perish through their Now forc'd to overflow with brackish tears,

harms. With troublous noisc did dull their dainty ears.

It most behoves the honourable rac
The joyous Nymphs and light-foot Fairies,
Which thither came to hear their mufick sweet,

Of mighty peers true wisdom to sustain,

And with their noble countenance to grace
And to the measures of their melodies
Did learn to move their nimble-shifting feet,

The learned foreheads without gist or gain; Now hearing them so heavily lament,

Or rather learn'd themselves behoves to be, Like heavenly lamenting from them went.

That is the girlond of nobility. And all that else was wont en work delight

But (ah!) all otherwise they do esteem Through the divine infusion of their skill,

Of th' heavenly gift of wisdoni's influence, And all that else seem'd fair and fresh in sight,

And to be learned it a base thing deem; So made by Nature for to serve their will,

Base minded they that want intelligence; Was turned now to dismal heaviness,

For God himself for wisdom is prail'd, Was turned now to dreadful ugliness.

And men to God thereby are nighest rail'd. Ay me! what thing on earth, that all things But they do only ftrive themselves to raise breeds,

Through pompous pride and foolish vanity; Might be the cause of so impatient plight?

In th' eyes of people they put all their praise, What fury or what fiend, with felon deeds,

And only boast of arms and ancefry; Hath stirred up so mischievous despight?

But vertuous deeds, which did those arms first Can grief then enter into heavenly hearts,

give And pierce immortal breasts with mortal smarts? To their grandfires, they care not to atchieve. Vouchsafe ye then, whom only it concerns,

So I, that do all noble feats profess To me those secret causes to display,

To register, and found in trump of gold,' For pone but you, or who of you it learns,

Through their bad doings or base flothfulness Can rightfully aread so dolesul lay.

Find nothing worthy to be writ or told; Begin, thou eldest fifter of the crew,

For better far it were to hide their names,
And let the rest in order thee ensue.

Than telling them to blazon out their blames.
So shall succecding ages have no light
Of things forepaft, nor monuments of time,

And all that in this world is worthy hight

Shall die in darkness, and lic hid in flime;

Therefore I mourn with dep heart's forrowing, HEAR, thou grcat Father of the gods on high, Because I no:hing noble have to fing. That most art decaded for thy thunder-darts, And thou our fire, that reign'it in Caftalie, With that she rain'd such store of streaming And Mount Parnals, the god of goodly art;

(cars, Hear and behold the mitcrable ftate

That could have made a tony heart to weep, Of us, thy dauglters, doleful defolate,

And all her sisters rent their golden hears, Are heape with spoils of fortune arid of fear,
And their fair faces with salt humour steep. And he at last laid forth on baleful bier.
So ended she; and then the next in rew
Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensue.

So all with rueful spectacles is fill'd,
Fit for Megæra or Persephone,
But I, that in true tragedies am skili'd,

The flowre of wit, find nought to bury me,

Therefore I mourn and pitiíully mone,

Because that mourning niatter I have none.
O who shall pour into my swollen eyes
A sea of tears that never may be dride!

Then 'gan she woefully to wail, and wring
A brazen voice that may with fhrilling cries Per wretched hands in lamentable wise ;
Pierce the dull heavens, and fill the air so And all her fitters thereto answering,

Threw forth loud shrieks and drery doleful crios. And iron sides, that fighing may endure,

So refted she; and then the next in rew To wail the wretchedness of world impure ?

Began her grievous plaint, as doth ensus.


Ah! wretched world! the den of wickedness,
Deform’d with filth and foul iniquity;
Ah! wretched World! the house of heaviness,
Fill'd with the wrecks of mortal misery;
Ah! wretched World! and all that is therein,
The vassals of God's wrath, and llaves of fin.

Wuere be the sweet delights of learning's trea

That wont with comick sock to beautify
The painted theatres, and fill with pleasure
The lisners' eyes and ears with melody,
In which I late was wont to reign as queen,
And mark in mirth with graces well bescen?

Most miserable creature under sky
Man without understanding doth appear,
For all this world's affliction he thireby,
And Fortune's freaks, is wisely taught to bear;
Of wretched life the only joy she is,
And the only comfort in calamities.


She arms the breast with constant patience
Against the bitter throws of Dolour's darts;
She solaceth with rules of sapience
The gentle minds, in midst of worldly smarts :
When he is sad she seeks to make him merry,
And doth refreth his sprights when they be


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But he that is of reason's skill bereft,
And wants the staff of wisdom him to ftay,
Is like a ship in midit of tempest lest,
Withouten helm or pilot her to sway :
Full fad and dreadful is that ship's event;
So is the man that wants entendiment,

Why then do foolish men so much despise
The precious store of these celestial riches ?
Why do they banish us, that patronize
The name of learning ? Most unhappy wretches!
The which lie drowned in deep wretchedness,
Yet do not see their own unhappiness.
My part it is, and my professed skill,
The stage with tragick buskins to adorn,
And fill the scene with plaints and outcries fhrill
Of wretched persons to misfortune born;
But none more tragick matter I can find
Than this, of men depriv'd of sense and mind.
For all man's life me seems a tragedy
Full of sad fights and fore catastrophees;
First coming to the world with weeping eye,
Where all his days, like dolorous trophecs,

O! all is gone; and all that goodly glee,
Which wont to be the glory of gay wits,
Is laid abed, and no where now to lec,
And in her room unseemly sorrow fits,
With hollow brows and griefly countenance
Marring my joyous gentle dalliance.
And him besides sits ugly Barbarism,
And brutish Ignorance, ycrept of late
Out of drad darkness of the deep aby sm,
Where being bred, he light and heaven does

hate :
They in the minds of men now tyrannize,
And the fair scene with rudeness foul disguize.
All places they with folly have pofleft,
And with vain toys the vulgar entertain,
But me have banished, with all the rest
That whilom wont to wait upon my train,
Fine Counterfesance, and unhurtful Sport,
Delight, and Laughter, deckt in Icemly fort.
All these, and all that else the comick stage
With season'd wit and goodly pleasance grac'd,
By which man's life, in his likest image,
Was limned forth, are wholly now defacd;
And those sweet wits, which wont the like te

Are now despis'd, and made a laughing ganie.
And he, the man whom Nature self had made
To mock her self, and truth to intimate,
With kindly counter under mimick lhade,
Our pleasant Willy, ah! is dead of late;
With whom all joy and jolly merriment
Is also deaded, and in dolour drcnt.

In ftead therenf, scoffing Scurrility,

By yawning :loh on his own mother Night,
And scorning Folly with Contempt is crept,

So he is fons both fire and brother hight :
Rolling in rimés of shameless ribaudry
Without regard, or due decorum kept ;

He, arm'd with blindnefs and with boldness stout, Each idle wit at will persumes to make,

(For blind is bold) hath our fair light defaced, And doth the learned's talk upon him take. And gathering unto him a ragged rout

Of Fauns and Satyrs, hath our dwellings raced, But that same gentle spirit, from whose pen And our chatte bowers, in which all vertue Large Itreams of honey and sweet nectar flow,

Scorning the boldness of such base-born men, With brutishness and beastly filth had stain'd.
Which dare their follies forth so rafhly throw,
D th rather choose to fit in idle cell,

The sacred springs of horse-foot Helicon,
Than fo himself to mockery to sell.

So oft hedewed with our learned layes,

And speaking streams of pure Caftalion, So am I made the servant of the many,

The famous witness of our wunted praise, And laughing-lock of all that list to scorn, They trampled have with their foul footing's Not honoured nor cared for of any,

tread, Eue loach'd of lofels as a thing forlorn ;

And like to troubled puddles have them made. Therefore I mourn and sorrow with the rest, Until my cause of sorrow be redrest.

Our pleasant groves, which planted were with

plains, Therewith she loudly did lament and Narike,

That with our musick wont so oft to ring, Pouring forth streams of tears abundantiy, And arbours sweet, in which the thepherds’ And all her sisters, with compassion like,

swains The breaches uf her fingulis did fupply.

Were wont so oft their pastorals to sing, So rested the; and then the next in rew

They have cut down, and all their plcalures Beyan her grievous plaint, as doch enfcw.

That now no pastoral is to be heard.


Like as the dearling of the summer's pride,
Fair Philomele ! when winter's stormy wrath
The goodly fields, that erat fo gay were dy'd
In colours divers, quite despoiled hath,
All comfortless doth hide her cheerless head
Daring the time of that her widowhead;

So we, that earst were wont in sweet accord
All places with our pleatant notes to fill,
Whilst favourable times did us afford
Free liberty to chaunt our charms at will,
All comfortless upon the barcd bow,
Like wosul culvers, do fit wailing now,
For far more bitter storm than winter's (tower,
The beauty of the world hath lately wasted,
And those fresh buds, which wont so fair to

Hath marred quite, and all their blossoms blasted;
And those young plants, which wont with fruit

abound, Now wi: hout fruit or leaves are to be found.

In stead of them, foul goblins and shriek-owls,
With fearful howling do all places fill,
And feeble Eccho now laments and howls
The dreadiul accents of their out-crics shrill :
So all is turned into wilderness,
Whilft Ignorance the Muses doth oppress.
And I, whose joy was earst with spirit full
To teach the warbling pipe to found aloft,
My spirits, now dismay'd with forrow dull,
Do mone ny misery with silence foft;
Therefore I mourn and wail inceffantly,
Till please th' Heavens afford me remedy.
Therewith the wailed with exceeding wo,
And piteous lamentarion did make,
And all her lifters feeing her do so,
With equal plaints her forrow did partake.
So rested the; and then the next in rew
Began her grievous plaint, as do;h ensue.


A song coldness hath benumb'd the sense
And lively spirits of each living wight,
And dimin', with darkness their intelligence,
Darkrets more than Cymmerians' daily night;
And monstrous Error, flying in the air,
Hach marr'd the face of all that seemed fair.

Wuoso hath in the lap of soft Delight
Been long time lulld, and fed with pleasures

Fearlcss through his own fault or Fortune's

To stumble into forrow and regret,
sf chance him fall into calamity,
Finds greater burthen of his misery.

Image of hellish horror, Ignorance,
Born in the bofom of the black abyss,
And fed with Furics' milk for fuftenance
Of his wcak infancy, begot amiss

So we, that earst in joyance did abound,
And in the bosom of all blifs did fit,
Like virgin querns, with laurel garlands crown'd,
For virtue's meed and ornament of wit,

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