The $ ™"£dition
much E nlaracd
THE
POEMS AND AMYNTAS
OF
THOMAS RANDOLPH
EDITED BY
JOHN JAY PARRY, PH.D.
NEW HAV.EN: YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS
LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
MDCCCCXVII
Copyright, 1917
BY YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS
First published, February 1917
PREFACE
IT seems now as though the prediction of the seven-
teenth century editors of the Clievelandi ^indicia
that Randolph would "lie embalmed in his own native
wax" had indeed come true. In general when the
public has seen fit to consign a writer to oblivion it is
wisest not to dispute its sentence. Yet in the present
instance I feel that the judgment of his contemporaries,
rather than that of the present day, is the correct
one, and that Randolph is deserving of a much larger
audience than he now has.
Wholly aside from the fact that poetry, particularly
old-fashioned poetry, no longer appeals to the general
reader, there are several reasons for the neglect into
which the works of Randolph have fallen. One is that
after his death an admiring brother published what-
ever of his he could find, burying the honey in the wax
and making no distinction between his early school
exercises and his later poems. Because of this the
juvenile efforts of the school-boy are often condemned
as though they were the work of his mature age.
Another fact which has kept him from being better
known is that copies of his works are now hard to
secure; one must read him either in the rare early edi-
tions, or in the astoundingly inaccurate reprint of W.
C. Hazlitt which is itself long out of print. It is to do
away with the difficulty of securing a text that this
volume, containing about one third of Randolph's
extant works, has been prepared.
With the example of Hazlitt before me I have possi-
vi PREFACE
bly, in trying to avoid his errors, gone too far in the
opposite direction. When one begins to correct and
amend it is difficult to know where to stop, and the
final result is apt to be that the editor quite eclipses
the author. For this reason I have not ventured to
make any changes of my own in the original texts.
This is not really such an obstacle as it might at first
appear, since most of those who use this book will
undoubtedly be persons familiar with seventeenth cen-
tury literature and able to read the early texts with-
out difficulty. For such persons the old spelling and
punctuation, irregular as they are, have a certain
charm; furthermore these persons may be sure that
they are not, as so often happens, being led astray by
some error in judgment on the part of the editor when,
if left to themselves, they could find a way out of the
difficulty.
In editing a volume of this kind one receives assist-
ance from so many sources that it is manifestly impos-
sible to acknowledge them all. In particular however
I wish to express my thanks to Professor William Lyon
Phelps of Yale who first suggested the subject to me
and who has aided me throughout the work; to Pro-
fessor Brooke and Professor Berdan, also of Yale, for
valuable assistance; to the staff of the Yale Library
for innumerable kindnesses; and to the librarians of
the British Museum, the Bodleian, and the Victoria
and Albert Museum for the generosity with which
they extended to me every facility for consulting the
manuscripts and early editions.
J. J- P-
ROME, N.Y.
January, 1917.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
PAGE
I. THE RANDOLPH FAMILY i
II. THE LIFE OF THOMAS RANDOLPH 6
III. THE CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS 21
IV. OTHER MEMBERS OF THE RANDOLPH FAMILY .... 26
V. THE AMYNTAS:
(a) History 30
(b) Sources 31
(r) The Fickle Shepherdess 34
VI. THE TEXT 36
VII. BIBLIOGRAPHY 39
VERSES PREFIXED TO THE 1638 VOLUME
By Ro. Randolph. M.A. Student of C. Church 47
Ro. Randolph, ex JEde Christi 49
I. T. A. M 50
Tho. Terrent. M.A. ex ^Ede Christi 51
Anonymous 51
R. Bride-oake. A.M. No. Coll 54
Ed. Gayton. M.A. loan 54
G. W. Joan 55
los. Howe. Trin. Coll. Oxon 55
Owen Feltham, Gent 56
R. Gostelow. Mr. A. Oxon 59
Ric. West. Bac. of Arts, and Student of Chr. Church. . . 60
POEMS IN THE 1638 VOLUME
On the inestimable content he inioyes in the muses .... 67
In Anguem, qui Lycorin dormientem amplexus est 73
A Complaint against Cupid that he never made him in Love. 78
A gratulatory to Mr Ben Johnson for his adopting of him to
be his Son 84
In Lesbiam, & Histrionem 86
De Histrice. Ex Claudiano , 88
vii
viii TABLE OF CONTENTS
In Archimedis Sphaeram ex Claudiano 90
De Magnete. Ex Claudiano 91
De Sene Veronensi. Ex Claudiano 94
The second Epod: of Horace translated 95
An Elegie upon the Lady Venetia Digby 97
An Epitaph upon Mre I. T 99
An Epithalamium 100
An Epitaph upon his honour'd friend Mr Warre 102
Vpon the losse of his little finger 103
On the Passion of Christ 104
Necessary Observations 104
A Platonick Elegie 113
An Apologie for his false Prediction that his Aunt Lane would
be deliver'd of a Sonne 115
An Epithalamium to Mr F. H 119
To Mr Feltham on his booke of Resolves 123
In Natalem Augustissimi Principis Caroli 128
Vpon his Picture 128
An Ode to Mr Anthony Stafford to hasten him into the
country 129
An answer to Mr Ben lohnson's Ode, to perswade him not to
leave the stage 132
A Dialogue. Thirsis. Lalage 134
A Dialogue betwixt a Nymph and a Shepheard 136
A Pastorall Ode 137
A Song 138
The Song of Discord 138
To one Overhearing his private discourse 139
Epigram: 47 ex decimo Libro Martialis 139
To the Vertuous and noble Lady, the Lady Cotton 140
An Elegie on the death of that Renowned and Noble Knight
Sir Rowland Cotton of Bellaport in Shropshire 140
Ausonii Epigram 38 144
On the Death of a Nightingale 145
Vpon the report of the King of Swedens Death 145
On Sr Robert Cotton the Antiquary 147
An Elegie 147
'H 'Hv<f>vovs ij -iroltiffa 1) IMVIKOV: Arist 149
Ad Amicum Litigantem 149
In Corydonem & Corinnam 150
To one admiring her selfe in a Looking-Glasse 151
An Eglogue occasion'd by two Doctors disputing upon predes-
tination 152
An Eglogue to Mr lohnson 156
TABLE OF CONTENTS ix
A Pastorall Courtship 163
Vpon a very deformed Gentlewoman, but of a voice incompar-
ably sweet 17°
The milk-maids Epithalamium l72
An Eglogue on the noble Assemblies revived on Cotswold Hills
by M. Robert Dover 174
The Song of Orpheus 181
A Maske for Lydia 182
A parley with his empty Purse 183
Vpon Love fondly refus'd for Conscience sake 185
POEMS NOT IN THE 1638 EDITION BUT INCLUDED IN
THE 1640 AND SUBSEQUENT EDITIONS
On Importunate Dunnes 191
A Character. Aulico-Politico-Academico 194
On the losse of his Finger 196
A paraneticon to the truly noble Gentleman M. Endymion
Porter 197
To a painted Mistresse 198
To his well Timbred Mistresse 199
On six Maids bathing themselves in a River 200
The Wedding Morne 202
In praise of Woemen in Generall 203
To M. I. S. on his Gratefull Servant 205
POEMS (MORE OR LESS DOUBTFULL) NOT IN ANY OF THE
COLLECTED EDITIONS BUT ADDED FROM VARIOUS
SOURCES
The Towns-mens Petition of Cambridge 209
On the Fall of the Mitre Tavern in Cambridge 213
Annagram. Vertue alone thy Blisse 216
An Epithalamium 217
On a maideof honour seen by a scollar in sommerset garden. . 218
Epigram 219
[To Richard Weston] 219
A letter to his Mistresse 219
The Character of a Perfect Woman 220
Ad Amicam 224
[On the Book Fish] 224
On Mr parson Organist of Westminster Abbye 224
[On William Laurence] 225
x TABLE OF CONTENTS
Randolph his answer to some merry companion 225
[Randolph's answer to the "Sons of Ben"] 225
Praeludium 226
[The City of London] 231
AMYNTAS 233
NOTES:
To the Poems 355
Amyntas 371
APPENDIX 375
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 377
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Portrait of Thomas Randolph .... frontispiece
The Birthplace of Thomas Randolph facing page 5
Genealogical Chart of the Randolph
Family page 25
Facsimile Title-page of the 1638
Edition (Poems with the Muses
Looking Glasse and Amyntas) . . . page 65
Facsimile Title-page of the 1638
Edition (Amyntas or the Im-
possible Dowry) page 233
THOMAS RANDOLPH
INTRODUCTION
I. THE RANDOLPH FAMILY
No one could be less vain of his ancestry than was
the poet Thomas Randolph, yet he was descended from
one of the oldest families in the kingdom, was entitled
to display coat-armor which had been recognized for
more than three hundred years, and was admitted
by his contemporaries to be a "gentleman," a term
which meant much more in those days than it does
at present.
There are Randolfs mentioned in England as early
as the Domesday Book, but aside from the similarity
of the name there is nothing to connect them with
the poet. The first of the name who can, with any
degree of probability, be assumed to be of his family
are to be found in Wiltshire and Hampshire about the
beginning of the fourteenth century. In the time of
Edward I we find mentioned among the knights of
Hampshire one "Johannes Randolph," whose arms,
as given by Tristram Risdon, were, "Gules, on a cross
argent, five mullets sable," and in a Parliamentary roll
of arms,1 undated but evidently of the early part of
the fourteenth century, we find a "Sire John Randolf "
1 Genealogist, New Series, n, 175.
I
2 THOMAS RANDOLPH
of Wiltshire and Hampshire whose arms were, "De
goules a vne Crois de argent e V moles de sable en la
crois." These are the same arms that in later times
were used by a nephew of the poet, Col. William Ran-
dolph, the founder of the Virginia branch of the family.
This Sir John Randolph must have been a man of
considerable importance in his day, for among the
papers preserved in the British Record Office are a
number which refer to him. In the year 1297 he and
Joan his wife (she was a daughter of John de Acton)
exchanged Chaddenwick in Wiltshire for the manor of
Ashe in the hundred of Overton, Hampshire. Later
they acquired other lands in Hampshire and elsewhere.
Sir John was made Keeper of the New Forest and held
for the king the manor and castle of Christ Church de
Twynham, and later the royal castle of Portchester.
He also served for many years as Justice in Eyre for
Common Pleas, his circuits covering, at various times,
much of the southern and western part of England.
He died some time between 1334 and 1337.
We find mention of but one son, Robert, but it seems
very probable that the William Randolf who is men-
tioned by Fuller as Sheriff of Wiltshire in 1333 and
Knight of the Shire, was, if not a son, at least some near
relative of Sir John. He served as collector of the king's
revenues for Wiltshire, was Keeper of the royal forest
and park of Claryndon, and in 1356 was given a com-
mission of Oyer and Terminer for Wiltshire. He held
lands in both Wiltshire and Hampshire, among them
being the manor of Bereford St. Martin. He died some
time before 1369.
Another person who almost certainly belonged to
this particular family is the Thomas Randolph of Bere-
INTRODUCTION 3
ford who, in consideration of having gone on the king's
service over seas, was in 1340 given a pardon for killing
William Nicol of Bockebrok. We find other Randolfs
and Randolphs at this time, but there is nothing more
than the name to connect them with this particular
family.1
When next we hear of the family it has split into two
(or more) branches, of which one, the Randolphs of
Wilts, bore the ancient arms of Sir John, while the
Randolphs of Kent bore the same, except that in their
coat the mullets were pierced.2 This division of the
family had evidently taken place before the year 1433,
for under that date Fuller mentions a William Randolf
of Tunbridge among the gentry of Kent. It is to this
branch of the family that Thomas Randolph, the
ambassador of Queen Elizabeth, belonged.3 The arms
of the Wiltshire branch of the family were "confirm'd
by Robert Cooke, Clarencieux, the I5th of March in
the I3th of Queen Eliz. to Tho. Randolph of Badelismer
in the County of Cambridge,4 Esq.; descended from
the ancient Family of Sir John Randolph, of the County
of Wilts, Knight." 8 From time to time we find mem-
1 The significance of the fact that the names John, Robert, William,
and Thomas, borne by members of the family at this time, all reap-
pear in the poet's immediate family should not be overlooked.
2 Guillim, Heraldry, 105; Edmondson, Heraldry.
3 The claim has sometimes been made (see The General Armory
of Sir John Bernard Burke) that the Randolphs of Kent are descended
from the prominent Scottish family of that name: this seems amply
disproved by the fact that we find Randolphs in England as early as
we do in Scotland, and that the arms of the Kent family resemble
very closely those of these English Randolphs and are not at all like
those of the Scottish house.
4 It is possible that this is an error for Badlesmere in Kent.
' Guillim, Heraldry, 105.
4 THOMAS RANDOLPH
bers of the family in various other parts of England,
but in the present connection these have no significance
for us.
Although we may assume the poet's kinship with
these earlier Randolphs because it was claimed by one
of his brothers and apparently never questioned, we
are unable definitely to trace his ancestry any further
back than his grandfather Robert, whom we find resid-
ing at Hams (now Hamsey), near Lewis, in county Sus-
sex. He is not mentioned in any of the pedigrees of
the Kent Randolphs and it seems quite certain that
he was of the other branch of the family. This Rob-
ert Randolph who was "a surveyor of land or land
measurer," l married Rose, the daughter and co-heiress
of Thomas Roberts, who was the son of Thomas Rob-
erts of Elford in Hawkhurst, county Kent.2 Like her
husband she was of gentle birth; Berry gives the
Roberts arms as " Per pale gules and azure, three pheons
or," and these arms are recognized and credited to
Roberts of Canterbury in the Visitation of Kent made
in 1663.
The only child of this union of whom we find any men-
tion was a son, William, born in 1572. He was very
wild in his youth and because of this his father cut him
off in his will with only a groat or three pence. When
the high-spirited young man received this legacy he
nailed it to the post of his father's door and set out to
shift for himself.3 He became steward to Sir George
1 This seems to be Aubrey's meaning, although it is not quite
clear to whom the statement refers.
1 Wm. Berry, Kent, 181; H. F. Waters, Gleanings, 925.
* This story rests solely on the authority of Aubrey and must be
accepted with a certain amount of caution.
INTRODUCTION 5
Goring in Sussex, and later to Edward Lord Zouche,1
settling at Houghton Parva or Little Houghton in
the county of Northampton. His financial resources
must have been very limited, for two of his sons were
later admitted to Westminster School as Queens
Scholars, and no one was eligible for these scholarships
whose father had an income of ten pounds or more
per year.
William Randolph married Elizabeth, the daughter
of Thomas Smith of Newnham near Daventry in the
county of Northampton. Baker2 gives a picture of
the Smith house "which stands on a bank at the end
of the lane leading to Dodford," and to judge from
this picture the Smiths must have been people of con-
siderable importance, although apparently not gentle-
folk. This wife, who bore him three sons and one
daughter, seems to have died some time after 1613,
for a few years later we find him married again, this
time to Dorothy, the daughter of Richard Lane of
Curteenhall, Gent, and the sister of the Sir Richard
Lane, who became Lord Keeper of the Great Seal under
Charles I. She was the widow of Thomas West of
Cotton End near Northampton, and the mother of the
Richard West, S.T.D., who wrote the poem, "To the
pious Memory of my dear Brother-in-law, Mr. Thomas
Randolph," prefixed to the collected editions of Ran-
dolph's Poems. By his second marriage William Ran-
dolph became the father of seven more children, four
sons and three daughters. He died in 1660.
1 There is in the Record Office a warrant (dated Sept. 13, 1619)
from Lord Zouche to Master " Randoll," authorizing him to hold court
in his manor of Chowton, county Somerset, and to receive the rents
there.
2 Northamptonshire, i, 261.
6 THOMAS RANDOLPH
II. THE LIFE OF THOMAS RANDOLPH
Thomas, the oldest child l of William Randolph and
his first wife Elizabeth was born at Newnham2 in the
house of his maternal grandfather on the fifteenth
of June, 1 605.' Early in life he began to exhibit a
leaning toward poetry, and at the age of nine he wrote
the History of our Saviour s Incarnation in English verse;
this was never printed and no copy of it is known to
be extant, but the original, in the young poet's own
handwriting, was long preserved as a rarity by his
brother John. We have the word of his "brother-in-
law" Richard West that some of the verses included in
the collected editions of the poems were written at a
not very much more mature age, and that even in
extreme youth "books were his toys." 4
1 The modern accounts all follow Baker, who says he was the second
•son; both Aubrey and the 1682 Visitation of Northamptonshire,
however, say that he was the oldest child. Aubrey was often far
from accurate, but in this case he got his facts from Randolph's
'brother John and had no reason for falsifying them; he sent the
'letter containing them to Wood for his Athenae. The Visitation was
made during the lifetime of the poet's brother William, and probably,
in accordance with the usual custom, was from facts furnished by some
.member of the family.
2 Winstanley, followed by Langbaine, Motley and others, says
that he was born at Houghton, which is probably a mere assumption
based upon the fact that this was his father's home; Aubrey, Wood,
Baker, and the 1682 Visitation give Newnham.
3 Baker gives this as the date of his baptism, and this has been
generally accepted; Kottas says that the baptism is recorded in the
parish register of Newnham under that date. I believe this to be
merely a graphic paraphrase of Baker's statement and do not think
that he took the trouble to investigate for himself. I have been
unable to learn whether or not the register for that date is still pre-
served. Aubrey, Wood, and the Visitation of 1682 all give June
as the date of his birth.
4 See his verses prefixed to the editions of the Poems.
INTRODUCTION 7
In order to give to this promising youth all the ad-
vantages possible, his father sent him to the College of
St. Peter, or, as it is more generally known, Westminster
School, where he secured one of the scholarships estab-
lished by Queen Elizabeth when she reorganized the
school. We do not know exactly when he entered, but
it was very likely somewhere about 1618, as the usual
period at the school was four or five years and Randolph
left it in 1623. l
At the time when Randolph entered the school the
headmaster was John Wilson,2 a man remarkable for
"a faculty more than ordinary in instructing youth."
The second master, to whom fell the task of instructing
the third and fourth forms, and who must therefore
have had charge of young Randolph during at least
part of his career at the school, was Thomas Hardinge.
Some of the students who were at the school at this
time, and with whom Randolph must have been well
acquainted, were William Hemmings, the son of the
Shakespearian actor, James Duport, who later became
eminent as a Greek Scholar, and John Donne (son of
the Dean of St. Paul's), Samuel Rutter, and William
Cartwright, the poets.3
1 One who is at all familiar with Kottas' method will hesitate to
accept even so positive a statement of his as the one that Randolph
entered the school in his twelfth year, when such statement is not
backed up by mention of his authorities. It is probably a good guess,
nothing more; Kottas always gives his conjectures as if they were
proven facts.
1 Kottas' statement that Camden was headmaster of Westmin-
ster School until his death in 1623 hardly requires an elaborate
refutation.
3 The Alumni Westmonasterienses gives the names of all the
Queens Scholars, with the dates when they were elected to the
universities; those who desire further information about Randolph's
companions at the school are referred to this work.
8 THOMAS RANDOLPH
In 1622 Wilson resigned his headmastership and was
succeeded in the position by Lambert Osbolston, who
"bore the character of a learned man, and was an ex-
cellent master, and very fortunate in breeding up many
wits." Although Randolph left the school only a
year later, and so cannot have been for very long under
Osbolston's care, he has left us a sincere although rather
effusive tribute to the debt he owed his eld master.1
Doubtless the character of the men under whom he
studied and of the course of study which he pursued in
this school did have considerable influence in molding
his nature.
At Westminster the chief emphasis was at this time
placed upon acquiring a thorough acquaintance with
the Greek and Latin authors, and upon an ability to
write both prose and verse in these two languages.
Geography also was taught to the boys, and apparently
Hebrew as well.2 Furthermore, they were required at
frequent intervals to try their skill in the composition
of English verses, and we learn from one of his school-
fellows that Randolph performed these tasks very
well, and that he wrote with remarkable facility.3
On Sunday the boys were given the task of putting
into English verse the sermon of the morning or else
the gospel and epistle of the day, and it is doubtless
to this custom that we owe the Necessary Observa-
1 See the Latin poem prefixed to the Jealous Lovers.
2 Hebrew was prescribed by the statutes drawn up in the time of
Elizabeth for the use of the school (F. H. Forshall, Westminster School,
412) and in 1661 Evelyn mentions both Hebrew and Arabic among
the languages in which the boys leaving for the university were able
to compose (ibid. 418). Forshall gives a rather full account of the
school life and studies at about this period.
3 James Duport, Musa Subseciva, 269-70.
INTRODUCTION 9
tions, which are certainly among Randolph's youth-
ful work; the translations from the Latin poets were
also, in all probability, school exercises of this
period.
Not only did Queen Elizabeth establish scholarships
at the school itself, but she also caused a number
of those at Trinity College, Cambridge, and Christ
Church, Oxford, to be set aside each year exclusively
for Westminster boys. These scholarships were
awarded on the basis of a competitive examination
held each year in Rogation Week. Among those who
took this examination in the year 1623 was young Ran-
dolph, who secured the highest rating of any of the
candidates. He was accordingly elected to Trinity
College, and was given the title of "Captain of the
Election." (The Captain is not now necessarily the
candidate with the highest stand.) The name THO.
RANDOLPH may still be read on the tablets in the school
dormitory which record the names of the captains for
each year.
Randolph did not matriculate at Cambridge for over
a year after his election, yet it is quite certain that he
entered the university before the date given in the col-
lege register. (Of the four others elected to Cambridge
with him, the three whom I have been able to trace all
matriculated the year before he did, yet all secured
their scholarships at the same time and two of them
took both the B.A. and M.A. degrees with him; the
third was not graduated.) x He was entered on the
1 That it was not necessary at this time to matriculate as soon as
one entered the university is shown by the case of Heath, who was
elected to Trinity from Westminster in 1624; he secured his fellow-
ship in 1625 but did not matriculate until 1626, yet he took both
degrees in the usual length of time after his election.
10 THOMAS RANDOLPH
college books on July 8, 1624,* as a lesser pensioner,2
the usual status of one whose father was in moderate
circumstances, for it implied that he was able to pay
for his son's board and education. During that same
year, however, he was given a scholarship in accordance
with the terms of his appointment from Westminster.3
Masson, in his life of Milton, whose career at Cam-
bridge coincided so closely with that of Randolph, has
given us a very good picture of the general life at the
university during this period.4 Of Randolph's part
in this life during the earlier portion of his course we
know practically nothing; he contributed to the Cam-
bridge collection of verses celebrating the marriage of
Charles and Henrietta Maria in 1625 6 (probably the
first of his poems to appear in print), and to the collec-
tion called forth in 1626 by the death of Bacon.6 We
also know that he wrote upon occasion English verses
which circulated among his fellows and that as early
as 1626 at least, he had acquired the reputation of a
wit.7 In January 1627-8, having fulfilled all the re-
quirements, he was graduated B.A., his name standing
eighth on the list of bachelors.8
1 Hazlitt from A. G. Greenhill of Cambridge.
* J. Venn & J. A. Venn, Book of Matriculations and Degrees.
W. W. R. Ball & J. A. Venn, Admissions to Trinity College.
3 Admissions to T. C. These scholarships were awarded to the
students as soon after the election as any fell vacant, but in practi-
cally every case at this time they were not given until the student
had been at the university for about a year.
4 In Fuller's History of Cambridge (1840) there is a plan of the town
as it was only a few years after Randolph left it.
s See Bibliography, Sec. Ill, No. I, p. 42.
6 See Bibliography, Sec. Ill, No. 2.
7 See the quotation from Fuller given on p. 369.
8 This is the date given by Hazlitt; the Book of Matric. and De-
grees and the Admissions to T. C. give merely 1627-8. Kottas gives
INTRODUCTION II
That he was something more than a good fellow and
merry companion is amply demonstrated by a letter l
written on Aug. n, 1629, to Lord Holland the Chan-
cellor, by Leonard Mawe the Master of Trinity, in
which he recommends to him "Thomas Randolph, B.A.,
one of extraordinary parts of wit and learning, and so
approved by the whole University that scarce an age
brings forth a better or the like. If he had been capable
of a fellowship at the last election the writer had cer-
tainly provided for him but not being so he begs the Earl
to procure for him his Majesties mandatory letter. He
has no friends to solicit for him but the Bishop of Lin-
coln 2 under whom he was bred at Westminster, and
the writer under whom he has lived for four years in
Trinity College." We do not know whether the king
did interest himself in the young man (we know that
he was in the habit of interfering in university elec-
tions), but at any rate Randolph was created a minor
Fellow on the 22d of September i629-3 In all prob-
ability he had spent the intervening time at the uni-
versity studying for his M.A. degree in accordance with
the usual custom. Apparently the only thing that he
published during this period was a Latin poem of four
lines, prefixed to Plumptre's Epigrammata,* but two
the date as March 27, 1628. The truth apparently is that the
candidates finished their work at any time during the term, were
pronounced to be Bachelors of Arts at the end of the term, but
were allowed to date their degrees from the beginning of it. (Mas-
son, 155.)
1 Preserved in the Record Office: Domestic Papers, Charles II,
148, 34.
3 This was John Williams, who later became Archbishop of York;
he had been Dean of Westminster while Randolph was at the school.
1 Hazlitt; Book of Matric. and Degrees.
4 See Bibliography, Sec. Ill, No. 3.
12 THOMAS RANDOLPH
at least of his English poems, which were not published
till later, may be ascribed to this year.1
In the following April the University was closed on
account of the plague and did not open until November,2
and it is very likely that Randolph spent at least part
of this time in London. To this period, or possibly to
a still earlier date, must be referred his introduction
to the "Sons of Ben," which certainly did take place
even if not in the form described by Winstanley; 3 Ben
Jonson and Lord Zouche were intimate friends, and it
is very likely indeed that the former had visited at
Houghton and had made the acquaintance of the
bright young son of his friend's steward. It would
therefore be very natural that Randolph, who was be-
ginning to come into notice as a poet and wit, should
resolve when he was in London "to go see Ben. Johnson
with his associates, which as he heard at a set-time
kept a Club together at the Devil-Tavern near Temple-
Bar; accordingly, at the time appointed he went thither,
but being unknown to them, and wanting Money,
which to an ingenious spirit is the most daunting thing
in the World, he peep'd into the Room where they were,
which being espied by Ben Johnson, and seeing him in
a Scholars thred-bare habit, John Bo-peep, says he,
come in, which accordingly he did, when immediately
they began to rime upon the meanness of his Clothes,
1 On six Maids bathing themselves in a River (see p. 366), and the
Towns-mens Petition of Cambridge (see p. 366).
1 Commons at Trinity ceased April 30, and were resumed on No-
vember 20. Cooper, Annals, 3, 223 and 228.
1 Much doubt has been cast upon the truth of this story on the
ground that it is highly fanciful, but I see no reason why it may not
be substantially correct. The fact that Randolph had most probably
already met Jonson seems to have been overlooked.
INTRODUCTION 13
asking him, If he could not make a Verse? and withal
to call for his Quart of Sack; there being four of them,
he immediately thus replied,
'I John Bo peep, to you four sheep,
With each one his good fleece,
If that you are willing to give me five shilling,
'Tis fifteen pence a piece.'
By Jesus, quoth Ben. Johnson (his usual oath), I believe
this is my Son Randolph, which being made known to
them, he was kindly entertained into their company,
and Ben. Johnson ever after called him Son."
It was at about this time that the Aristippus and
the Pedler, which had already been acted privately,
probably at Cambridge, were printed. Two editions
by different publishers appeared within a short time
of each other,1 but neither bore Randolph's name,
and the authorship seems not to have been gener-
ally known for some time.2 Possibly he wrote at
this time his answer to Jonson's Ode to Himself, for
his poem seems to have been written before that
1 John Mariott "entered for his copy" in the S. R. Mar. 26, 1630
(Arber 4, 231), and Robert Allot entered for the "Pedler by R. Dav-
enport" (a minor poet of the period) on Apr. 8 (Arber 4, 232). From
a later entry (July I, 1637, Arber 4, 387) we see that the title to the
Aristippus rested with Allot, who had republished it in 163 1 and again
in 1635. It would seem as if Harper had in some way secured a copy
of the play and proceeded to print it, and Randolph, learning of this,
had furnished Allot with a correct text and, so far as he could, with
the rights to it; why Davenport's name should have been used in
the entry I cannot see, unless it was through him that the arrange-
ments were made.
2 In the poem by Hemmings, in MS. Ashmole 38 (mentioned on
p. 357) there is a reference to the Aristippus as the work of an
unknown writer, not Randolph.
14 THOMAS RANDOLPH
ode was printed in 163 1.1 According to Miss Marks2
his Entertainment, the original version of the Muses
Looking-Glass, was licensed on Nov. 25, 1630, having
apparently been acted in the previous summer; Sir
Aston Cokain says that it met with a good reception
when presented.3
As soon as the university opened again in the fall,
he probably returned to Cambridge and resumed his
studies there, for in 1631, three years after taking his
Bachelor's degree, he was graduated M.A.4 Unlike the
B.A. degrees, which were conferred quite informally
during term time, the Master's degrees were awarded
at the annual commencement held early in July, and
it was at this time undoubtedly that Randolph took his.5
Some time during the same year (the exact date is
unknown) he was incorporated M.A. at Oxford,6 a
rather unusual honor for one who had so recently taken
that degree from his own university, and a testimonial
1 Tennant, in his edition of Jonson's New Inne (p. xxv), makes it
appear certain that the poem is an answer to an earlier version than
that printed in 1631.
2 English Pastoral Drama, p. 167.
3 Poems, p. in.
4 Book of Matric. and Degrees. Admissions to T.C.
6 Hazlitt is not at all clear here, but he apparently means that
Randolph became M.A. on March 23, 1631-2. This date does not
fit in so well with the other facts of his life, and besides both the Book
of Matric. and Degrees and the Admissions to T.C. give 1631, not
1631-2. In the case of his B.A. which he took in the spring, both
of these books give 1627-8. There is additional proof that Randolph
took his degree at the regular commencement in 1631, for he acted
as Praevaricator in the following spring, and the person to perform
this office was always selected one year ahead of time, from among
those graduating M.A. then. The person chosen to act at the com-
mencement in the next year was always the last one sworn, although
usually one of the first to be called. (Peacock xxvi.)
' Wood, Fasti, i, 461.
INTRODUCTION 15
to the respect with which he was regarded not only by
his fellows but by his superiors as well.
The rule requiring every person who took the master's
degree to reside at the university for five years longer
had long been a dead letter, and most students left
as soon as they were graduated, but Randolph, holding
a fellowship and apparently finding the life congenial,
remained. During this year he contributed some Latin
verses to the Cambridge volume celebrating the birth
of Princess Mary,1 and also secured what was un-
doubtedly the greatest literary success of his whole
career.
The King and Queen had announced their intention
of paying a visit to the University, and great prepara-
tions were made for celebrating so important an event,
and for making their stay pleasant. Among the other
festivities it was decided that a play should be pre-
sented, a form of entertainment common at the uni-
versities, and upon this occasion, perhaps out of
deference to the distinguished guests, the play was to
be in English. Two persons prepared and submitted
comedies for presentation: Peter Hausted of Queens,
whose Senile Odium had been acted at the University
during the previous year, and Thomas Randolph,
whose ability had not yet received any such public
recognition, but who was already very favorably
known to a great number of the students, particularly,
of course, to those of his own college.
The whole university took sides with the two candi-
dates, and in order to settle the question it was finally
decided that both plays should be presented. Through
the influence of Dr. Butts, the Vice-Chancellor, Haus-
1 See Bibliography, Sec. Ill, No. 4.
1 6 THOMAS RANDOLPH
ted arranged that his play, the Rival Friends, should
be acted first. It was presented on the igth of March x
and proved an utter failure, partially, no doubt, be-
cause, as Hausted charged, it was deliberately cried
down by the opposing faction, but chiefly because of
its dullness. Randolph's play, the Jealous Lovers,
which apparently was presented on the following day,
was a great success; not only was it liked by the
university, but, what was of much more importance,
the King, and Queen, and the Court were all well
pleased with it; 2 so well pleased that the Lord Chan-
cellor severely reproved Dr. Butts for his bad taste
in preferring Hausted's comedy and, indeed, in allow-
ing the Rival Friends to be given at all. This rebuke,
originating apparently with the king, so upset the
Doctor who was already overloaded with troubles, that
he hanged himself upon Easter morning.
At the Commencement held in June of that year
(the year in which Milton took his M.A.) Randolph
filled the office of Prevaricator, the licensed joker
without whom no Commencement at this period was
considered complete. The speech he delivered upon
this occasion has been preserved,3 and is of compara-
tively little merit; but the fact that of all the graduates
of the year before, he should have been the one chosen
to this office, apparently an elective one, is in itself sig-
1 The title-page of the Rival Friends gives this date, as does Wood;
Sir Simonds D'Ewes (Life, 2, 67) says that the King and Queen ar-
rived on the I9th, and left on the 2Oth. Baker, however (Cooper,
Annals 3, 249), says that they arrived on the 22d.
1 See the verses prefixed to the Jealous Lovers, especially those by
James Duport.
s Hazlitt reprinted it from a MS. formerly in the Huth Collection.
The conclusion is found also in MS. Rawl. Poet 62.
INTRODUCTION 17
nificant. We must not, however, overlook the fact
that Randolph was something more than a wit and a
merry companion; 1 he was also a man of large intellect
and learning, who seems to have fulfilled the duties in
connection with his fellowship in a highly satisfactory
manner/
With the Commencement of 1632 his connection
with the University (except for a contribution to the
volume celebrating the king's return from Scotland in
1633) 3 apparently ceases, for about this time we find
him again in London. Perhaps his success as an
amateur dramatist tempted him to try his fortune in
connection with the metropolitan stage. Fleay's con-
jecture that he served as assistant manager of the
newly organized company at the Salisbury Court The-
atre certainly fits the facts well, although there seems
to be absolutely no direct proof of his connection with
this company. What we do know is, that he suddenly
acquired considerable familiarity with the technique
of dramatic composition, and although it is quite
possible that he learned this from Jonson and the other
1 Sir Aston Cockain, writing to Sir Robert Milliard, speaks of him
as one:
"Whom you and I so well did love and know
When Cambridge (for his wit) extol'd him so."
but perhaps a greater tribute, because not intended as one, is that in
ShadwelPs Bury Fair (i, i) where Oldwit boasts: "but at Cam-
bridge none so great as I with Jack Cleveland; But Tom Randolph
and I were Hand and Glove; Tom was a brave fellow; the most
ingenious poet."
2 See Richard West's account (verses prefixed to the Poems) of
Randolph's skill in the exercises of the schools.
1 See Bibliography, Sec. Ill, No. 5. Randolph did not contribute
to the Cambridge collection celebrating the king's recovery from the
small-pox (Dec. 1632) or that on the birth of the Duke of York
(Oct. 1633)-
1 8 THOMAS RANDOLPH
playwrights with whom he was upon intimate terms,
it seems more likely that it came as the result of constant
close association with the stage. It was at this time
that he produced his Amyntas, which was acted at Court
and apparently in one of the theatres as well; probably
he also revised his Entertainment, now called the Muses
Loo king-Glass, for a number of allusions in it seem to
point to about this date. Malone's suggestion that
he may have assisted in the preparation of the second
(1632) folio of Shakespeare's works is worth abso-
lutely nothing unless it was based upon some more
information than he has left us.1
The qualities which had made him such a favorite
at Cambridge made him equally popular in London,
not only with Ben Jonson and his circle, with whom he
seems to have been upon terms of great intimacy, but
with the fine gentlemen as well, and even at Court he
was apparently no stranger.2 But this popularity had
its darker side as well, for the following story, given by
Winstanley, certainly has some truth in it. He was
making merry "in Gentlemen's company" and "as it
often happens that in drinking high quarrels arise, so
there chanced some words to pass between Mr. Ran-
dolph and another gentleman, which grew to be so high,
that the Gentleman drawing his sword, and striking at
Mr. Randolph, cut off his little finger, whereupon, in an
extemporary humour he instantly made these Verses.3
Arithmetick nine digits," etc.4
1 See Boswell's note in Malone's Shakespeare, 2, 656.
2 See the verses by Richard West prefixed to the Poems.
3 W. R. Chetwood (British Theatre) gives a different account,
saying that this accident occurred when he tried to separate two
friends who were fighting.
4 See p. 103.
INTRODUCTION 19
The excesses into which the "liberal conversation of
his admirers" led him undermined his constitution,
and he was obliged to leave London and go into the
country in the hope of regaining his health. He spent
some time at Little Houghton in the home of his father,
engaged in his "delightful studies," as Wood calls
them, until one day, meeting William Stafford of Blath-
erwyck (a relative of his old friend Anthony Stafford),
he was by him engaged as tutor to his son and heir,
receiving therefor an allowance of £100 per year.1
Not very long after this he died in Stafford's house,
under precisely what circumstances we do not know,
but the general impression was that his death was the
result of his irregular mode of living.2
On the iyth of March, 1634-5, he was buried in
Blatherwyck Church, "on the south side, at the lower
end of the north chancel," 3 among the members of
the Stafford family. Soon afterward a monument of
white marble, wreathed about with laurel, was erected
over his grave at the expense of Sir Christopher (after-
wards Lord) Hatton of Kirby; the inscription upon
it, which was composed by Randolph's friend and for-
mer rival, Peter Hausted, is indeed, as Aubrey says,
puerile.
1 Aubrey's expression is, "I think O» per annum"; I think
Aubrey's explanation a much better one than that usually given:
that Randolph was visiting Stafford purely as a friend.
2 Wood, Langbaine, Bridges, etc.
1 Bridges, Northamptonshire, 2, 280.
20 THOMAS RANDOLPH
MEMORISE SACRUM
Thome Randolphi (dum inter pauciores) Faelicis-
simi et facillimi ingenii Juvenis necnon majora pro-
mittentis si fata virum non invidissent saeculo.
Her sleepe thirteene
Together in one torn be,
And all these greate, yet quarrell not for rome:
The Muses and ye Graces teares did meete
And grav'd these letters on ye churlish sheete,
Who having wept their fountaines drye
Through the conduit of the eye,
For their friend who here does lye,
Crept into his grave and dyed,
And soe the Riddle is untyed.
For w0*1 this Church, proud y* the Fates bequeath
Unto her ever honour'd trust
Soe much and that soe precious dust,
Hath crown'd her Temples with an luye wreath,
W0*1 should have Laurelle beene
But y* the grieved plant to see him dead
Tooke pet and withered.
Cujus cineres brevi hac (qua potuit) imortalitate
donat Christopherus Hatton, Miles de Balneo, et
Musaru amator, illius vero (quem deflemus) sup-
plenda carminibus quae marmoris et aeris scandalum
manebunt perpetuum.
INTRODUCTION 21
Of Randolph's personal appearance we are able to
form a fairly clear idea; a portrait of him,1 probably
engraved by Marshall, appears in the frontispiece of
the 1640 edition of the Poems, and in some, but not all,
of the copies of each of the subsequent editions.2
Aubrey tells us that "he was of a pale ill complexion
and pock-bitten," and Randolph himself tells us that
he was marked by the small-pox. His hair was of very
light flaxen, almost white, and was flaggy as may be
seen from his picture. He was of middle height or
slightly less; "of about my stature or scarce so tall"
says Aubrey, who tells us elsewhere that he himself
was of middle stature.
III. THE CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS
Randolph's fame was great indeed in his own day,
but it was as "one of the most pregnant wits of his age,"
rather than as a poet, that most people thought of him.
Even those who did apply to him the term "poet"
were thinking, as they did so, rather of his "witty"
and "ingenious" poems, his timely satire, and his clever
comedies, than of these qualities which we usually asso-
ciate with the idea of true poetry. Randolph's verse
is by no means devoid of these attributes, for although
it lacks any great depth of feeling he does exhibit con-
siderable lightness and grace in much of his work.
1 Hazlitt is very probably correct when he interprets the inscrip-
tion "^Etatis SU2C 27" as meaning that he was 27 when the likeness of
him was made, but an interesting coincidence is that Aubrey, who
states that he was born in June 1605, and died in March 1634
[1634-5], refers to his death as having taken place in his twenty-
eighth year.
2 According to Baker (Northamptonshire), this was republished
by Rodd, but I have not been able to find a copy of this reprint.
22 THOMAS RANDOLPH
But these qualities were common to the age and were
possessed in equal or even greater degree by a number of
his contemporaries, so that they alone would not suf-
fice to raise a man very much above the common level;
even Herrick, who possessed them in such a preemi-
nent degree, was scarcely known in his own day.
I do not feel, as some critics have, that English poetry
suffered any very great loss through the premature
death of Randolph, because I believe that any poetic
talent he may have possessed had had ample oppor-
tunity to assert itself before he died. From early youth
he had been given constant practice in writing verses,
and he must also have read a great quantity of the mas-
terpieces of Greece and Rome, not only because this
was required in school and college, but also because his
tastes were decidedly classical. Very likely, as he was
fond of reading, he knew most of the English poets as
well, but the classics are in themselves good models for
a young poet. When we consider that in addition to
this early training, he enjoyed the friendship of most
of the poets of his day, we may safely assume that any
genius he may have had in this direction would not have
lain dormant. Had he lived another thirty years the
general average of his work would certainly have been
much higher, and he might have gained somewhat in
sweetness and delicacy, but his work would still have
been of much the same character as the more mature
of those poems which he has left us.
In the field of drama, however, the case is far different.
Most of the plays which he witnessed before coming to
London must have been the productions of classical
drama, or of plays of the classical type, acted at school
and at the university. It was because he followed too
INTRODUCTION 2$
closely these classical models that his early plays are,
from our point of view, failures. The Jealous Lovers,
although it has many good features, is essentially
unnatural in plot, while the Muses Looking-Glass can
hardly be called a play at all. When Randolph re-
vised it he inserted scenes and characters from London
life as he had come to know it, but the general outline
of the piece he did not and could not change. The best
of his early work is the Aristippus, which does not pre-
tend to be a play at all; here, unhampered by any
conventions or preconceived ideas of form, he has given
us a very realistic picture of the life he knew, greatly
exaggerated, of course, for the sake of humor.
It is very probable that he had read the plays of
Shakespeare and Jonson and perhaps of other English
dramatists, but if so he was evidently unable to appre-
ciate them at this time. A play intended for the stage
loses half its force when read, especially when one is
acquainted only with a totally different type of drama.
It must therefore have been something in the nature of
a revelation to Randolph when he came to London and
got into really close touch with the vigorous native
type of drama. Play-writing demands a much longer
apprenticeship than does the writing of poetry, yet in
Randolph's case a very short acquaintance with practi-
cal stagecraft worked wonders. The plot of the Amyn-
tas, apparently the only one of his plays written wholly
after he came to London, is by no means faultless, but
many of its defects are those inherent in the pastoral
drama, while others common to the type have been
skilfully avoided. In many ways the plot shows a
great amount of ingenuity, and, compared with other
plays of the type, the situations are natural and the
24 THOMAS RANDOLPH
characters well drawn. The Amyntas is not merely
a good pastoral; l it is very significant also as an indi-
cation of Randolph's growing familiarity with the
possibilities and limitations of the acted drama.
The parts of the Muses Looking-Glass which bear the
stamp of his more mature workmanship also show
decided promise. The characters remind us strongly
of Jonson, but Randolph, although he had great respect
for the old dramatist, was by no means content to follow
him slavishly. Here, as in other cases, he took the
suggestion which seemed to him good and developed
it for himself, and as time went on and he came to
know more different sides of life, he would probably
have developed a style more and more his own and less
based upon the work of any one else.
His greatness therefore lies more in promise than in
fulfilment; he had nearly all of the qualities which
make a great dramatist, but he had not yet realized his
powers and learned to use them to the best advantage.
This, I think, would have come in time. If he had
lived for a few years longer, keeping in close touch
with the theatre, and in equally close touch with life,
he might very probably have produced realistic com-
edies that would have rivalled the best work of his
master, Jonson himself.
1 Most critics agree in giving it third place among the English
plays of this type, while a number rank it ahead of Jonson's Sad
Shepherd, and second only to Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess.
INTRODUCTION
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26 THOMAS RANDOLPH
IV. OTHER MEMBERS OF THE RANDOLPH FAMILY l
The children of William Randolph of Little Hough-
ton and of Elizabeth his first wife were:
I. THOMAS, the -poet, born June 15, 1605, and died,
unmarried, in March 1634-5. His life has
already been given.
II. WILLIAM, baptized on Oct. 18, 1607. He settled
at Ascot in the County of Northampton, where
he was still living in 1682. He married three
times; by his first wife Margaret, the daughter
of William Burket of Bugbroke in the County
of Northampton, he had the following children :
1. Elizabeth, who died unmarried.
2. Alice, who married James Neale, son of
Robert Neale of Fiffield in the County of
Northampton.
3. Margaret, who married William Walters of
Eastcot in the Parish of Pattishull in the
County of Northampton.
4. William, who settled at Harrington in the
County of Northampton; he died about
the year 1675, aged about 40. His wife
Elizabeth, who was the daughter of
Richard Sherman of Hornton in the
County of Oxford, left him two children:
(a) Elizabeth, born about 1666.
(b) Thomas, born about 1668.
5. Thomas, who died unmarried.
1 Much of this material has never before appeared in print, and is
not accessible even in a large library, so that its inclusion seems amply
INTRODUCTION 27
The second wife of William Randolph of Ascot
was Marie, the widow of Theodore Marks of
Patishull in the County of Warwick. She
left no children. His third wife Sarah, the
daughter of Thomas Ladbrooke of Cubbing-
ton in the County of Warwick, was still living
in 1682. She bore him three more children:
6. Sarah, who married Thomas Bodington of
Codington in the County of Warwick.
7. Samuel, who in 1682 was living in London
in Pye Corner by Smithfield. He mar-
ried Sarah, the daughter of Richard
Pinkerd of Ascot in the County of
Northampton, by whom he had:
(a) A daughter.
8. John, born about 1654; living unmarried
in 1682.
III. ROBERT. He was baptized on May 26, 1611.
Educated at Westminster School, whence he
was elected to Christ Church, Oxford, in 1629.
He was graduated B.A. June 1, 1633, and M.A.
May 3, 1636 (as Randall). He became vicar
of Barnetby and afterwards of Donington in
Holland, Lincolnshire, where he was buried
on July 7, 1671. He edited the works of his
brother Thomas after the latter's death, and
also wrote a number of poems of his own. He
married twice; his first wife, who was the
daughter of Whitestone of Whittlesey in
the Isle of Ely, bore him one son:
justified. In general this section follows the Northamptonshire
Visitation of 1682, but I have corrected and amplified this from other
sources.
28 THOMAS RANDOLPH
i. Thomas, who was born about 1651, and who
died unmarried on July 25, 1671.
His second wife was Joyce, the widow of
Weston. She died without issue.
IV. ELIZABETH, who was baptized on Nov. 27, 1613.
She married George Burket of Bugbrook in
the County of Northampton.
The children of William Randolph of Little Hough-
ton and of his second wife Dorothy were:
V. JOHN, who was born at Little Houghton in 1619,
and died in April 1680. He was an attorney
and settled at Toceter in the County of
Northampton. He married Dorothy, daugh-
ter of Lewis Attebury of Great Houghton, and
had one son :
i. William, who was born Nov. 17, 1643, and
who in 1682 was still living unmarried.
VI. RICHARD, baptized Feb. 23, 1621. He settled
at Morton Morall in the County of Warwick
and died (in Dublin) in May 1678. He mar-
ried Elizabeth, daughter of John Riland,
Gent., of the County of Warwick, and sister
to Archdeacon Riland. They had the follow-
ing children:
1. Richard, a stationer of London. He mar-
ried but died without issue.
2. William, born in 1651 and emigrated to
Virginia (about 1674), where he died on
Apr. n, 1711. He became quite promi-
nent in the colony, being known as
Colonel William Randolph of Turkey
Island, and from him is descended the
INTRODUCTION 29
famous family of the Randolphs of
Virginia.1 (For further details in regard
to him or his descendants, see T. A.
Glenn, Colonial Mansions, 433, or L. P.
du Bellet, Virginia Families, 2, 129.)
He and his descendants used the old
Randolph arms of the five mullets on a
cross, and there is still preserved in the
Henrico County Court House a paper
dated 1698, which shows the seal of Col.
William Randolph, bearing these arms.2
3. Thomas, died unmarried.
4. John, living in the Strand in London in
1682.
5. Dorothy. In 1682 she was unmarried and
was living at the home of Sir Edward
Boughton in Warwickshire.
6. Mary, married in the County
of Dorset.
VII. HENRY, baptized Nov. 27, 1623. He went into
Virginia about 1642, married two wives there,
and had issue by both.
VIII. ANNE. Baptized Feb. 8, 1625, and died in the
following year.
IX. GEORGE, baptized July 29, 1627. He was "acci-
dently slain in the late wars" June 5, 1645,
and was buried at Harrington in the County
of Northampton.
1 Henry Randolph (VII) also left children in Virginia, and one of
the Kent branch of the family likewise settled there, but the Ran-
dolphs who were prominent in the affairs of the colony trace their
descent to Colonel William.
1 Glenn, 434; Crozier, Virginia Heraldica, 16.
30 THOMAS RANDOLPH
X. MARGARET, baptized Apr. 30, 1629. She mar-
ried Roger Philips, an Apothecary in Brent-
ford, in the County of Middlesex.
XL JUDITH, baptized Aug. 30, 1630. She married
Henry Welton of Brentford.
V. THE AMYNTAS
(a) History
The English public never took very kindly to the
pastoral type of drama, and the Amyntas was no
exception to this rule. It made little or no stir at the
time it was presented, and for this reason it is difficult,
if not impossible, to discover anything definite about
its stage history.
We know from the title-page of the printed editions
that it was acted before the King and Queen at White-
hall (in 1632-3, by the Queen's men, says Fleay), but
we are absolutely ignorant of the nature of the reception
it met there.1 It must also have been acted at one of
the regular theatres, or at least have been prepared for
such presentation, for, as Fleay points out, the pro-
logue and epilogue are not suitable for a court perform-
ance. So far as I have been able to discover, it was
never revived, although an altered version of it, under
the title of the Fickle Shepherdess, was presented about
the beginning of the eighteenth century.
1 The "Pastorall," which is recorded by Sir Henry Herbert as
having been played at Court on Easter Tuesday in 1634, is, accord-
ing to Fleay, Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess.
INTRODUCTION 31
(b) Sources l
The Amyntas owes its indebtedness to a general type
rather than to any individual play, for in neither plot
nor characters has Randolph borrowed bodily from any
other work. What he has done is to create, using situ-
ations and characters taken here and there from various
sources, a play which is distinctly his own, although
reminding us at every turn of something familiar.
In his attempt to create a pastoral drama which would
be acceptable to an English audience, Randolph has
fused together two quite dissimilar elements : the Italian
pastoral type, which was never really naturalized upon
the English stage, and the comedy element which had
been so essential a part of the native English drama ever
since its origin. When one tries to trace incidents and
situations, rather than a complete plot, back to their
sources, it is very easy to overemphasize the indebted-
ness of one work to another, for many of these incidents
are common to a number of writers, besides being of so
simple a character that they might occur to any author
quite independently. This is particularly true in the
case of the pastoral drama, in which a certain number
of types and situations came to be standardized, so
that all later plays were composed of new combinations
of the old material.
1 The general subject of the pastoral drama has been so fully
considered by Gregg in his work on the pastoral, that it seemed idle
to attempt anything of the kind here. He has also given a rather
extended discussion of the Amyntas and its place in the movement,
and to that book the reader is referred for information on this subject.
All that I have endeavored to do is to bring together the possible
sources mentioned by Gregg and Kottas, and to add some others which
they have overlooked.
32 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Randolph's greatest debt is undoubtedly to the
Aminta (1573) of Tasso and the Pastor Fido (1590) of
Guarini, the two finest examples of this type of lit-
erature. Both of these plays had appeared in English
translations before the time when the Amyntas was writ-
ten, so that a familiarity with them does not pre-suppose
any knowledge of Italian on the part of Randolph.
Medorus' narration of the events which led up to
the curse upon Sicilia resembles very closely that of
Ergasto in the Pastor Fido (i, 2), and the prayer of the
rejected lover which caused the goddess to lay this
curse upon the country is likewise much the same in the
two plays (except that in the Amyntas it is the father
of the lover, not the lover himself, who makes the
prayer). The ambiguous oracle with which the goddess
answered the prayers of her suppliants is a fairly com-
mon stock device, found in the Pastor Fido, but also in
such works as Rutter's Shepherd's Holiday (not printed
until 1635 but acted earlier), Daniel's Hymen s Triumph,
and the Maydes Metamorphosis (by Lyly?). The an-
swering of questions by the Echo was a device suffi-
ciently common to excite the ridicule of Butler in his
Hudibras. Examples of it occur in the Pastor Fido and
Sidney's Arcadia. Damon's sudden discovery of his
love for Amaryllis after he had wounded her resembles
quite closely the scene between Silvio and Dorinda in
the Pastor Fido (4, 9), and the scene where Pilumnus
is saved, by a very unexpected interpretation of the
meaning of the oracle, from the sacrifice of his son, bears a
slight resemblance to the sacrifice scene in the same play.
The Damon- Amaryllis situation (that of a man in
love with a woman who spurns him, while he in turn is
loved by a woman whom he spurns) is one of the most
INTRODUCTION 33
obvious of all, and is found in innumerable plays.
Some of those which approach nearest to the situation
here are the Midsummer. Night's Dream, Daniel's
Queen's Arcadia, Rutter's Shepherd's Holiday, and
Hausted's Rival Friends. Laurinda, the "wavering
nymph," is but an expansion of the common pastoral
type of the shepherdess who is courted by all, but, being
averse to love, accepts none of her suitors. Randolph
seems to have intended to make her actions seem more
natural by giving her a motive for them. Gregg thinks
that her inability to decide between her two lovers may
owe something to Bonarelli's Filli di Sciro (especially
3, i), but I think it more likely that, if we are to seek
a source at all, it may be found in Hausted's Rival
Friends, with which we can be positive Randolph was
familiar. (It is true that the idea here is not carried
out to such a length as it is in the Filli di Sciro, but Ran-
dolph required no more than a hint to set his mind work-
ing.) The contention between Damon and Alexis as
to which of them Laurinda preferred is closely paralleled
by that between Carinus and Amyntas in Daniel's
Queen's Arcadia.
Dorylas, the chief comedy character, is Randolph's
own creation, although he reminds us somewhat of
Joculo in the Maydes Metamorphosis (one of the attend-
ant "elves" in the Amyntas is named Joculo), or of
the pages of Lyly's comedies. Mopsus and Jocastus,
characters in the style of Jonson, are probably of Ran-
dolph's own creation likewise, although the former may
very possibly have been suggested 1 by the "Mopso,
ch' intende il parlar de gli augelli," of the Aminta (i, 2),
1 The name Mopsus was borne by two of the seers of the early
Greeks.
34 THOMAS RANDOLPH
even as Claius seems to have been inspired by the song
of Lamon in Book I of the Arcadia.
"Claius for skill of herbs and shepherds art
Among the wisest was accounted wise."
The trick played upon Jocastus by Dorylas resembles
somewhat the scene in the Merry Wives, where the
pseudo-fairies pinch Falstaff, singing as they do so, and
it also has certain points of similarity with the scene in
the Alchemist, where Dol, as the Queen of Faery, imposes
upon Dapper; I think that a closer parallel than either
of these can be found in the Rival Friends, where the
Bedlam, disguised as Oberon, imposes upon Stipes and
his daughter Merda, promising, among other things,
that he will make Stipes a gentleman. The promised
change in the sex of Jocastus reminds us of the Galla-
thea of Lyly or of the Maydes Metamorphosis, where
Eurymine is changed into a man and later into a
woman again.
(c) The Fickle Shepherdess
Who the author of this adaptation was seems never
to have been known, as all the early historians of the
stage class it as "Anonymous." According to Chet-
wood (British Theatre) it was produced in 1695, but it
was not printed until 1703, when an edition appeared
"as it is acted in the New Theatre in Lincoln's Inn
Fields by Her Majestie's Servants." Genest (2, 293)
thinks from the prologue that it was acted in the spring,
but he can give us no information beyond what we find
in the printed copies of the play.1
1 It is quite possible that a search through the newspapers in the
British Museum might yield something; those which I have been
able to secure here do not mention the play.
INTRODUCTION 35
According to the title-page of this play it was "played
all by women." The cast for the performance was:
Clorinda, a Fickle Shepherdess M. Barry
Amintas, a mad shepherd in love with Urania Mrs. Bracegirdle
Damon \ Two rivals in 1 Mrs. Bowman
Alexis / love with Clorinda / Mrs. Prince
Menalchas, Father to Clorinda Mrs. Willis
Adrastus, High priest of Ceres, father of Damon and Urania Mrs. Lee
Amaryllis, in love with Damon Mrs. Porter
Urania, in love with Amintas Mrs. Alison
Flavia, an old Nymph, sister to Claius Mrs. Martin
Claius, father to Amintas and Amaryllis Mrs. Lawson
A Shepheard Miss Parsons
Dorylas, a waggish boy The little Boy
The changes made in the play are such as we might
look for from a person altering it to suit the taste of
the highly "correct" early eighteenth century. In
order to secure unity of plot, Mopsus, Jocastus, Bro-
mius, etc., had to go, together with the comedy scenes
in which they took part. (In the scene of Amyntas'
madness the Shepherd takes the part originally given to
Mopsus.) In order that there may be no doubt con-
cerning the motives of Laurinda, or Clorinda as she
appears here, the play is made to begin with a scene in
which she confesses her inability to decide between
her two lovers. Damon's action in wounding Amaryllis
deliberately is too rude for a refined age; in the later
version she is injured when she runs in front of the spear
which he throws at Alexis.
In the greater part of the play the very words of
Randolph are used, changed just sufficiently to make
of it neither good verse nor good prose. This nonde-
script is written as prose, and is interspersed with pas-
sages of very Augustinian prose dialogue. Scattered
throughout the play are dances and new songs.
36 THOMAS RANDOLPH
VI. THE TEXT
The first (1638) edition is by far the best text which
we have of both the Poems and the Amyntas. It was
evidently prepared with a considerable amount of
care on the part of Robert Randolph, and from a
purely mechanical point of view as well it is a very
good piece of work. The second (1640) edition is not
so carefully printed, but it may possibly contain cor-
rections by Robert Randolph of some of the errors of
the first edition; it also contains some things not in the
first. The third edition (Poems 1643, Amyntas 1640)
seems to have been printed from the second, while the
fourth (1652) was almost certainly printed from the
third. Both of these latter editions are very carelessly
set up and abound in errors. The fifth edition (Poems
1664, Amyntas 1662), a much better piece of work, seems
to have been set up from the second, while the sixth and
seventh (both 1668, the second of the two probably set
up from the first of them) apparently follow the fifth.
These are both well printed, but the compositor has
taken great liberties with the text in order to bring it
into harmony with his ideas of what Randolph wrote.
The text which I give aims to be, as regards both
spelling and punctuation, an exact reprint of the first
edition, with the following exception: where obvious
mistakes in the first edition have been corrected in the
later ones I have adopted the correction, but in all such
cases I have given the original reading in the footnotes 1
so that it will be possible for any reader who wishes
to reconstruct the original text exactly. I have given
1 Some of the oft-repeated but meaningless variations in the use
of italics are noted in an appendix.
INTRODUCTION 37
in the same place all the variant readings of the later
editions which may be of significance as altering either
the sense or the metre of the earlier text. In some
cases a poem appeared in some collection of verses be-
fore it was included in the 1638 volume; I have recorded
the variants of these texts also, adopting them where
they seemed preferable, but in every such case recording
the fact in the notes.
In the case of the poems appearing first in the 1640
volume I have been forced to follow the text of 1643
(the other being exceedingly difficult to obtain), but as
I have made a thorough collation of this with the earlier
text, the differences which I have not mentioned in the
footnotes will be confined to minor variations in spelling
and italicizing. In the dramatic dialogue I have
printed the half lines (which in the early editions always
begin at the left of the page) in such a manner as to
indicate their relation to the other half lines: in no
case, however, have I ventured to alter the line division;
where this seemed incorrect I have given my suggestions
at the bottom of the page.
In general I have ignored manuscript versions of
poems which are to be found also in printed copies,
as the latter are practically always the more reliable.
Where in default of a better text it is necessary to rely
upon a single manuscript or a single printed copy, I
have endeavored to reproduce that text exactly, except
that I have ventured to expand such manuscript ab-
breviations as are usually given in full in the early
printed books.
Of the poems which have previously been credited to
Randolph I have omitted, as certainly not his, the one
Upon a Hermaphrodite (Hazlitt, p. 640), which is by
38 THOMAS RANDOLPH
John Cleveland; the To Dr Empiric (Hazlitt, p. 655),
which is by Ben Jonson; The high and mighty Com-
mendation of the Virtue of a Pot of Good Ale (Hazlitt,
p. 662), which is an old ballad;1 and The Combat of the
Cocks (Hazlitt, p. 677), which is by Robert Wild.1
I have not included the epitaph upon Drayton which
in MS. Ashmole 38 is credited to "Tho: Randall,"
but which has been credited to Quarles, Jonson,
Beaumont, and even to Drayton himself upon as
good or better grounds; its authorship seems to have
been in doubt even at the time when it was made
(see Aubrey, i, 240). Neither have I included the
ballad called The Merry Hoastess (Roxburgh Ballads,
3> 306), which Chappell suggested might possibly be
by Randolph, as it was printed with the initials T. R.
some time before 1664; it is not in the least in his
style. Furthermore I have omitted the dedicatory
poems prefixed to the Jealous Lovers which are cer-
tainly by Randolph, but which belong more properly
with an edition of the play.
I have not included Randolph's Latin poems in this
edition, as they seem hardly to belong to English litera-
ture and would, I believe, prove interesting to very
few. They may all be found in Hazlitt's edition of the
poet, with the exception of two short ones which I
have given in the notes to this volume (pp. 350 and 360),
a translation of Jonson' s Ode to Himself which is found
in the Crewe of Kind London Gossips, 1663, and the
verses on the marriage of King Charles and Henrietta
Maria, which occur in the Cambridge collection of
verses entitled Epithalamium . . . Caroli . . . et H.
Mariae (Bibliography, Sec. Ill, No. i).
1 See p. 41.
INTRODUCTION 39
VII. BIBLIOGRAPHY
I. Works published as Randolph' s
1. Aristippus or the loviall Philosopher: demon-
strativelie proouing, That Quartes, Pintes and Pottles,
Are sometimes necessary Authors in a Scholers Library*
Presented in a priuate Shew. To which is added, The
Conceited Pedlar. Omnis Aristippum decuit color &
status y res. Semel insaniuimus. London, Printed
by Thomas Harper, [etc.] MDCXXX.
Another edition was published in the same year by
Robert Allot (see footnote, p. 13), who republished it
in 1631 and 1635. There is also a Dublin edition which
was apparently published in 1635. Later editions
(1652, 1662, and two in 1668) were included in the
collected Works of Randolph.
2. The Jealous Lovers a Comedie presented to their
gracious majesties at Cambridge by the Students
of Trinity-Colledge. Written by Thomas Randolph
Master of Arts, and Fellow of the House. Valeat res
ludicra, si me Palma negata macrum, donata reducit
opimum. Printed by the Printers to the Universitie
of Cambridge. Ann. Dom. 1632. [etc.]
This was reprinted in 1634, 1640, 1646, 1652, 1662,
and twice in 1668. The first of these is occasionally,
and the others are regularly, found with the collected
editions.
3. Poems, With the Mvses Looking-glasse and Amyn-
tas. By Thomas Randolph Master of Arts and late
Fellow of Trinity Colledge in Cambridge. Oxford
Printed by Leonard Lichfield Printer to the Vniversity>
for Francis Bowman; M.DC.XXXVIII.
40 THOMAS RANDOLPH
This was reprinted in 1640, with the addition, in
some copies, of the Jealous Lovers; in 1643 with the
Jealous Lovers; and in 1652, 1664, and 1668 (twice),
with the Aristippus and the Pedlar also.
The Harleian Catalogue, printed in 1743, mentions an edition of
Randolph's "Poems, translations, and Plays. London 1634, in 4to,"
and this edition has been mentioned by various persons, but no copy
of it is now known, and it is possible that no such edition ever existed,
as Randolph's contemporaries make no mention of it.
4. The Mvses Looking-glasse. By T. R. Oxford,
Printed by Leonard Lichfield, for Francis Bowman,
1638.
This was reprinted in 1640, 1643, 1652, 1662, and
twice in 1668, each time in connection with the collected
Works. It appeared again in I7o6(?), with a dedica-
tion to (not by, as is usually stated) Jeremy Collier. It
was included in Dodsley's Old Plays, except in the last
edition, and in Scott's British Drama.
5. Amyntas or the Impossible Dowry. A Pastorall
acted before the King & Queene at White-Hall.
Written by Thomas Randolph. Pastorem, Tityre,
pingues Pascere oportet oves, diductum dicere Carmen.
Oxford, Printed by Leonard Lichfield for Francis
Bowman. 1638.
This was reprinted in 1640 (twice), 1652, 1662, and
1668 (twice), each time in connection with the collected
works.
2. Works credited to Randolph, but whose authenticity
is doubtful
I. Cornelianvm Dolivm. Comoedia lepidissima, op-
timorum judiciis approbata, & Theatrali coryphoeo,
nee imme rito, donata, palma chorali apprime digna.
INTRODUCTION 41
Auctore, T.R. ingeniossimo hujus aevi Heliconio.
Ludunt dum juvents, lasciviunt Senes, Senescunt juvenes,
juvenescunt Senes. Londini, apud Tho. Harperum.
[etc.] 1638.
This title-page, and the dedication, which speaks of
the author as having recently died, apply to Randolph
better than to any other T.R. of the time and I see
no reason to question his authorship; it was credited
to him as early as the time of Aubrey. Some of the
Latin forms resemble the Latin of Richard Brathwaite,
and it is possible that he may have revised the play
for publication.
2. The High and Mightie Commendation of the ver-
tue of a Pot of Good Ale. Full of wit without offence,
of mirth without obscenitie, of pleasure without scur-
rilitie, and of good content without distaste.
Whereunto is added the valiant battell fought be-
tweene the Norfolk Cock and the Wisbich Cock,
written by Thomas Randall. London, printed for F.
Cowles, T. Bates, and J. Wright. MDCXLII.
The former of these two poems is undoubtedly the
"ballad called, A proper newe ballad which without any
fayle will shewe all the hurte in a pott of good ale &."
which Lyman Stafford registered with the Stationers'
Company on May 27, 1612. That it was known before
it appeared here is shown by the fact that John Taylor
gives a prose paraphrase of it in 1637 (Drinke and Wel-
come}. It appeared many times in varying forms
throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
Hazlitt included it in his edition of Randolph, but later
doubted its authenticity.
The second poem, here credited to Randolph,
appeared later under the name of Robert Wild, to
42 THOMAS RANDOLPH
whom it is also credited in the Compleat Gamster of
Charles Cotton(?) and in Tom D'Urfey's Pills to Purge
Melancholy. J. Hunt in his edition of Wild gives it to
him without question. According to Hazlitt, a MS.
in the Huth collection gives the date of the battle as
June 17, 1637, which is after Randolph's death but while
Wild was still at Cambridge.
3. IIXouTo4>0aX/ua U\ovToyania. A pleasant comedie
Entituled Hey for Honesty, down with Knavery.
Translated out of Aristophanes his Plutus, by Tho:
Randolph. Augmented and Published by F.J. Dives
fabula sum satis superque: At Pauper satis & super
Poeta. London, printed in the Year 1651.
This is full of allusions to events which happened
after Randolph's death, but the general scheme of the
play and certain individual passages are much in his
style. I see no reason to doubt that it is what it
purports to be: an incomplete play of Randolph's, fin-
ished after his death by some person not now known.
4. On June 29, 1660, "The Prodigall Scholar, a
Comedy by Tho: Randall" was registered with the
Stationers' Company by Humphrey Moseley, but
nothing further is known of it.
3. Volumes in which poems by Randolph made their
first appearance
1. Epithalamium Illustriss. & Feliciss. Principum
Caroli regis et H. Mariae reginae Magnae Britanniae.
&c. A Musis Cantabrigiensibus decantatum. Excu-
debat Cantrellvs Legge, Almae Matris Cantabrigiae
Typographua MDCXXV.
2. Memoriae Honoratissimi Domini Francisci, Baro-
INTRODUCTION 43
nis de Verulamio, Vice-Comitis Sancti Albani, sacrum.
Londini in Officina Johannis Haviland. 1626.
3. Epigrammatom Opvsccvlvm Dvobvs Libellis Dis-
tinctvm. [etc.]] Authore Huntingdono Plumptre in
Artibus magistro Cantab. Londini Typis Tho. Harper,
imprensis Roberti Allot. An. Dom. 1629.
4. Genethliacum Illustrissimorum Principum Caroli
& Mariae a Musis Cantabrigiensibus Celebratum.
Excusum Cantabrigiae 1631.
5. Rex Redux, Sive Musa Cantabrigiensis voti dam-
nas De incolumitate & felici reditu Regis Caroli post
receptam Coronam, Comitiaq; peracta in Scotia. Ex
Academiae Cantabrigiensis Typographeo, Ann. Dom.
MDCXXXIII.
6. Parentalia Spectatissimo Rolando Cottono Equiti
Aurato Salopiensi Memoriae & Pietatis ergo. Londini
Excudebat A. M. 1635.
7. Annalia Dvbrensia. Vpon the yeerely celebra-
tion of Mr. Robert Dovers Olimpick Games vpon
Cotswold-Hills Written by [Drayton, Randolph, Ben
Jonson, Owen Feltham, Shackerley Marmion, Thomas
Heywood, and twenty-seven other less well known per-
sons. ] London, Printed by Robert Raworth for
Mathewe Walbancke 1636.
8. The Gratefvll Servant. A Comedie. As it was
lately presented with good applause in the private
House in Drury-Lane. By her Majesties Servants.
Written by James Shirley Gent. — Usque ego postera
Crescam laude recens. London: Printed by I. Okes
for William Leake, and are to be sold at his shop in
Chancery-lane neere the Roules. 1637.
This is the second edition of this play; the first
did not contain the poem by Randolph.
44 THOMAS RANDOLPH
9. A Crew of Kind London Gossips All met to be
Merry [etc.] To Which is Added Ingenious Poems or
wit and drollery. Written and newly enlarged by S.R.
QSamuel Rowlands'] 1663.
4. Alterations of works by Randolph
1. The Fickle Shepherdess; as it is acted in the
New Theater in Lincolns-Inn Fields By Her Majesties
Servants. Play'd all by Women. London [~no author's
name] 1703.
An adaptation of the Amyntas. See p. 33.
2. The Mirrour A Comedy in Three Acts with the
Author's Life and an Account of the Alterations.
London, [etc.] MDCCLVI
This is an adaptation of the Muses Looking-Glass;
the author was H. Dell. A second edition appeared in
the next year.
5. Chief sources for the life of Randolph
Aubrey, John, " Brief Lives," chiefly of Contemporaries.
Edited from the author's MSS. by Andrew Clark.
Oxford, 1898.
Baker, David Erskine, Biographia dramatica; or a com-
panion to the playhouse. Enlarged by Isaac Reed
and Stephen Jones. London, 1812.
Baker, George, The history and antiquities of the
county of Northampton. London, 1822-41.
Bridges, John, History and Antiquities of Northamp-
tonshire. Edited from the author's MSS. by the
Rev. Peter Wh alley. Oxford, 1791.
Chetwood, William Rufus, The British Theater. Con-
INTRODUCTION 45
taining the lives of the English Dramatic Poets.
Dublin, 1750.
Jacob, Giles, The poetical register; or, the Lives and
characters of the English Poets. London, 1723.
Langbaine, Gerard, An account of the English dramatic
poets. Oxford, 1691.
. The lives and characters of the English
dramatic poets. London, 1699.
Mawe, Leonard, Letter to Lord Holland. 1629. Pre-
served in the British Record Office.
Motley, John, A compleat list of all the English Dra-
matic Poets. Published in the volume with
Scanderbeg by Thomas Whincop. London, 1747.
Visitation of Northamptonshire made in the years 1682—
86. Not Printed. There is a copy in the New
York Public Library.
Winstanley, William, The lives of the most famous
English poets. London, 1687.
Wood, Anthony a, Athenae Oxonienses ... to which
is added the Fasti. Edited by Philip Bliss. Lon-
don, 1813-20.
TO THE MEMORY OF
HIS DEARE BROTHER
Mr THO. RANDOLPH.
IN such a solemne traine of freinds that sing
Thy Dirge in pious lines, and sadly bring
Religious Anthemes to attend thy Hearse,
Striving t'embalme thy precious name in verse:
I, that should most, have no more power to raise
Trophies to thee, or bring one graine of praise
To crowne thy Altar, then the Orbes dispence
Motion without their sole Intelligence.
For I confesse that power which workes in mee
Is but a weake resultance tooke from thee;
And if some scatter'd seeds of heate divine
Flame in my brest, they are deriv'd from thine:
And these low sickly numbers must be such,
As when steel moves, the Loadstone gives the touch.
So like a spungy cloud that sucks up raine
From the fat soile to send it back againe;
There may be now from me some language showne
To urge thy merit, but 'twas first thy owne:
For though the Doners influence be past
For new effects, the old impressions last.
As in a bleeding trunk we oft descry
Leaps in the head, and rowlings in the eye,
By vertue of some spirits, that alone
Doe tune those Organs though the soule be gone.
But since I adde unto this generall noise
Only weake sounds, and Echoes of thy voice;
Be this a taske for deeper mouthes, while I
That cannot bribe the Phansy, thaw the eye:
And on that Grave where they advance thy praise
Doe plant a sprigge of Cypresse not of Bayes.
47
48 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Yet flow these teares not that thy Reliques sit
Fix'd to their cell a constant Anchorit:
Nor am I stirr'd that thy pale ashes have
O're the darke Climate of a private Grave
No faire inscription: such distempers flow
From poore lay-thoughts, whose blindnesse cannot know
That to discerning Spirits the Grave can be
But a large wombe to Immortality:
And a faire vertuous name can stand alone
Brasse to the Tombe, and marble to the Stone.
No, 'tis that Ghostly progeny we mourne,
Which carelesse you let fall into the Vrne:
We had not flow'd with such a lavish tide
Of teares and greife, had not those Orphans dy'd.
For what had been my losse, who reading thine,
A Brother might haue kiss'd in every line.
These that are left, Posterity must have;
Whom a strict care hath rescu'd from the Grave
To gather strength by Vnion; as the beames
Of the bright Sunne shot forth in severall streames,
And thinly scatter'd with lesse fervour passe,
Which cause a flame contracted in a Glasse.
These, if they cannot much advance thy fame,
May stand dumbe Statues to preserve thy name:
And like Sun-dialls to a day that's gone,
Though poore in use, can tell there was a Sunne.
Yet (if a faire confession plant no Bayes,
Nor modest truth conceiv'd a lavish praise)
I could to thy great glory tell this age
Not one invenom'd line doth swell the page
With guilty legends; but so cleare from all
That shoot malicious noise, and vomit gall,
That 'tis observ'd in every leafe of thine,
Thou hast not scatter'd snakes in any line.
Here are no remnants tortur'd into rime
To gull the reeling judgments of the time;
Nor any stale reversions patch thy writ
Gleand from the ragges and frippery of wit.
Each syllable doth here as truly runne
Thine, as the light is proper to the Sunne.
Nay in those feebler lines which thy last breath
And labouring brains snatch'd from the skirts of death
Though not so strongly pure, we may descry
The father in his last posterity,
JNTRODUCTORr POEMS 49
As clearly showne, as Virgins looks doe passe
Through a thinne lawne, or shaddowes in a glasse:
And in thy setting, as the Suns, confesse,
The same large brightnesse, though the heate be lesse.
Such native sweetnesse flowes in every line,
The Reader cannot choose but sweare 'tis thine.
Though I can tell a rugged sect there is
Of some fly-wits will judge a squint on this;
And from thy easy flux of language guesse
The fancies weake, because the noise is lesse;
As if that Channell which doth smoothly glide
With even streames flow'd with a shallow tide.
But let a quick-discerning judgment looke,
And with a peircing eye untwist thy book
In every loome, I know the second veiw
Shall finde more lustre then the first could doe.
For have you scene when gazing on the skies
With strict survey a new succession rise
Of severall starres, which doe not so appeare
To every formall glance that shootes up there:
So when the serious eye has firmly been
Fix'd on the page, such large increase is seen
Of various fancy, that each severall veiw
Makes the same fruitful! book a Mart of new.
But I forbeare this mention; since I must
Ransack thy ashes, and revile thy dust
With such low characters, I mean to raise
Thee to my contemplation, not my praise:
And they that wish thy Picture clearly showne
In a true Glasse, I wish would use thy owne:
Where I presume how e're thy vertues come
111 shap'd abroad, th'art fairly drest at home.
Ro. RANDOLPH. M. A. Student of C. Church.
Lectori nimium critico qui Authoris Fescenni-
nos sales plus justo rigidus interpretatur.
D Extra quid Archetypes nudas mysteria charta?
Privatiqiu aperis limina clausa joci?
Non lucem patitur sed caelebs margo venenum,
Et vidtt ingenuis toxica mista jocis.
50 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Quceque stolata dedit sanctus Floralia vates,
Exuis, y nudos das sine veste sales.
Hinc tota immeritam jugulat censura papyrum,
Et levis ingenuos damnat arundo sales.
Carnifices calamos y raucce jurgia Musce
Simplicitas casti sentit honesta libri.
Quid culpa fuerit si vatis amabile carmen
Lascivam casto scbemate lusit anum?
Lintea si nudis iniecit pulcbra pudendis?
Vel tegit incastam larva modesta Deam?
Nulla tuis regnant nisi nomina mascula cbartis,
Si quod fcemineum est culpa legentis erit;
(Ft proles, uteri prime qui claustra reliquit,
Mascula, fcemineum vidimus arte Sporum.)
Das tbalami lusus cortina at tegmine sanctos,
Cynthia quos lectos gestiat esse suos.
Dii bent, quam sanctis loquitur Venus impia verbis?
Tyndaris £f? raptus bic stupet esse pios.
Lecta puella tuis dum spectat crimina chartis,
Visa sibi est furto sanctior ire suo.
I nunc ingenuce parcas lex lulia charta,
Scripta librum dederat, lecta lupanar erat.
Ro. RANDOLPH, ex ^Ede Christi.
BLest Spirit, when I first did see
The Genius of thy Poetrie,
Nimble and fluent; in a straine
Even with, if not beyond the braine
Of Laureats that crown'd the stage,
And liv'd the wonders of the age:
And this but sparkles from a fire
That fiam'd up, and soar'd much higher;
I gaz'd desierous to see
Whither thy wit would carry thee.
Thy first rise was so high, that even
As needs it must, the next was heaven.
I. T. A. M.
INTRODUCTORY POEMS 51
In Authorem
CAnescant alii, sterilique atatis honore
Latentur; fecit te tua Musa senem.
Parcarum labor est vita mensura peracta:
Tfxuntur propria stamina vtstra manu;
Felix qui primo excedis, Randolphf, sub avo,
Nee Genii extincti pr&via fata vides;
Dii bene non dederint effcetae frigora vita:
Debts quo fueras natus in igne mori.
THO. T E R R E N T, M. A. ex
Christ! :
V-pon M1 Randolph's Poems, collected and
published after his Death.
AS when a swelling Cloud melted to showres,
Sweetly diffuses fresh and active powers
Into the shrunke and thirstie veines of earth;
Blessing her barren wombe with a new birth
Of graine and fruit: and so redeemes a land
Of desperate people from th' destroying hand
Of merc'lesse Plague, Famine, or Dearth; and then
Collects it's streames unto the Ocean:
So thy diffusive soule, and fluent parts,
(Great miracle of naturall wit and Arts,)
Rapt up some Regions 'bove our Spheare, did flow
And showre their blessings downe on us below:
Whilst we, dull earth, in extasies did sit,
Almost o'rewhelmed with thy Flouds of Wit.
What bloud of verse is pump't from our dry Braines,
Sprung like a rushing Torrent from thy Veines.
When a long Drought presag'd some fatall Dearth,
Thy unexhausted Founts gave us new byrth
Of Wit and verse: when Cham, or Isis fell,
Thy open'd Floudgates made their Riv'lets swell
'Bove their proud Banks: Where planted by thy hand
Th' Hesperian Orchards, Paphian Myrtles stand,
And those sweet Shades, where Lovers tell their blisses
To' th' whisp'ring leaves, and summe 'em up in kisses.
52 THOMAS RANDOLPH
There in full Quire the Muses us'd to sing
Melodious Odes, bathing in Cham, their Spring:
And all the Graces, TOM, dwelt with thee too,
Crowning thy Front for old Citberons Brow.
Nor were we rich alone; Climes farre from hence
Acknowledge yet thy soveraigne influence:
Sicilians owe to thee their fruitfull Vale,
And Cotswold Hill thy Dewes created Dale.
All Lands and Soyles from hence were fruitfull growne,
And multipli'd the measures thou hadst sowne.
Green-sword-untilled milk-maids wish no blisses
Beyond a stammel Petticoat, and kisses,
And thy sweet Dowry \ This alone, they cry,
Will make our Beasts and Milk to multiply.
And the dull Fallow Clownes, who never thought
Of God or Heaven but in a floud or drought,
Doe gape and pray for Crops of Wit, and vow
To make their Lads and Wenches Poets now.
For they can make their fields to laugh and sing
To th' Muses Pipe, and Winter rhime to spring.
They pray for the first curse; like Schollers now,
To earne their livings by their sweaty Brow.
Then the fine Gardens of the Court, are set
With Flowers sprung from thy Muses Coronet.
Th9se pretty Imps in Plush, that on trust goe
For their fine clothes, and their fine Judgments too,
The Frontispice or Titlepage of Playes,
Whose whole discourse is — As the Poet sayes.
That Tavernes draine, (for Ivy is the signe
Of all such sack-shop wits, as well as wine.)
And make their verses dance on either hand
With numerous feet, whilst they want feet to stand.
That score up jests for every glasse or cup,
And th' totall summe behind the Doore cast up;
These had beene all dry'd up, and many more,
That quaffe up Helicon upon thy score.
The sneaking Tribe, that drinke and write by fits,
As they can steale or borrow coine or wits,
That Pandars fee for Plots, and then belie
The paper with — An excellent Comedif,
Acted (more was the pitty,) by th' Red Bull
With great applause, of some vaine City Gull;
That damne Philosophy, and prove the curse
Of emptinesse, both in the Braine and Purse;
INTRODUCTORY POEMS 53
These that scrape legges and trenchers to my Lord,
Had starv'd but for some scraps pickt from thy Bord.
They'had try'd the Balladiers or Fidlers trade,
Or a New Comedie at Tiburne made.
Thus, TOM thy pregnant Phancy crown'd us all
With wealthy showers, or Mines Poeticall.
Nor did thy dews distill in a cold raine,
But with a flash of Lightning op't thy Braine,
Which thaw'd our stupid spirits with lively heat,
And from our frosts forc'd a Poeticke sweat.
And now, Wit's Common-wealth by thee repriv'd,
(For its consumption shewes it not long liv'd,)
Thy farre dispersed Streames divert their course,
(Though some are damned up) to th' Muses Sourse,
This Ocean: — He that will fadome it,
By's Lines shall sound an Ocean of wit;
Not shallow, low, and troubled, but profound,
And vast, though in these narrow limits Bound.
The tribute of our eyes or pens, all we can pay,
Are some poore drops to thy Pactolus Sea,
And first stolne thence, though now so muddy growne
With our fowle channels, they scarce seeme thy owne.
Thus have I scene a peice of Coine, which bore
The Image of my King or Prince before,
New cast 'into some Peasant, loose its grace;
Yet's the same body with a fowler face.
If our owne store must pay; that Gold which was
Lent us in sterling we must turne in brasse.
Hadst thou writ lesse or worse, then we might lay
Something upon thy Vrne thou didst not say:
But thou hadst Phansies vast Monopolie,
Our stocke will scarce amount t'an Elegie!
Yet all the Legacies thy Fatall day
Bequeath'd, thy sad Executour will pay.
To late Divines (by Will and Testament)
A Paraphrase on each Commandement,
In Morall Precepts; with a Disputation
Ending the Quarrells 'bout Predestination.
To those that study how to spend the Day,
And yet grow wise — The Ethicks in a Play.
To Poets, 'cause there is no greater curse,
Thou bequeathdst — Nothing, in thy empty Purse.
To City-Madams, that bespeak new faces
For every Play or Feast, Thy Looking-glasses.
54 THOMAS RANDOLPH
And to their chamber-maids, who only can
Adorne their Ladies head, and dreame on man,
Th'ast left a Dowry; They till now, by stealth
Writ only members of the Common-wealth.
To Heaven thy Ravish't Soule, (though who shall look
Will say it lives in each line of thy Book.)
Thy Dust, unnatural! Reliques that could die,
To Earth; Thy Fame unto Eternitie.
A Husband to thy Widdow'd Poetrie,
Not from the Court but Vniversitie.
To thy sad Aunt, and now despairing mother,
Thy litle Orphans, and thy younger Brother;
From all of which this free Confessions fit,
The younger sister had the elder Wit.
Ad Authorem.
MOllia qudd tenui currunt mihi carmina filo,
Et meus in gyro sift breviore labor,
Dum tua constrictis assurgit Musa Cotburnis,
Et Veneres casto tincit Avena loco,
Cedimus inculti! Fato par Gloria nostro
Quod Tua mirentur Carmina, Nostra Itgant.
R. B R I D E - O A K E. A. M. No. Coll.
WHat need thy book crave any other fame,
It is enough that it beares Randolphs name.
Who sees the title, and him understood,
Must much condemne himselfe, or say tis good.
Goe forth example to the Neophyte,
Who hence should learne to Catechize his wit.
And dresse his Phancy by this glasse: whose Muse
Welfavour'd is, should here her face peruse,
It will not flatter, 'twill reflect the grace
She takes from th' owner of a beuteous face:
But if a menstruous, and illiterate eye
Blast her, the various specks shall soone descry
The foule beholder, and proclaime her spoile
Not to result from thence, but his owne soyle.
ED. G A Y T o N. M. A. loan.
INTRODUCTORY POEMS 5$
IMmortall B E N is dead; and as that ball
On Ida toss'd, so is his Crowne by all
The Infantry of wit. Vaine Priests! That chaire
Is only fit for his true Sonne and Heire.
Reach here the Lawrell: Randolph, 'tis thy praise:
Thy naked Scull shall well become the Bayes.
See, Daphne courts thy Ghost: and spite of fate,.
Thy Poems shall be Poet Laureat.
G. W. Joan.
To bis worthy friend Mr ROBERT RANDOLPH
of Ch. Ch. on the publishing of his
Brothers Poems.
WE thank, you worthy sir, that tis our hap
To praise even Randolph now without a clap,.
And give our suffrage yet, though not our voice,
To shew the odds betwixt his fame and noyse:
Whose only modesty we could applaud,
That seldome durst presume to blush abroad;
And bear his vast Report, and setting forth
His vertues, grow a suff'rer of his worth,
Was scarce his own acquaintance, and did use
To hear himselfe reported but as newes,
So distant from himselfe, that one might dare
To say those two were nere familiar:
Whose pollisht Phancy hath so smoothly wrought*
That 'tis suspected, and might tempt our thought
To guesse it spent in every birth, so writ
Not as the guift but Legacy of his wit:
Whose unbid braine drops so much flowing worth,
That others are deliver'd, he brought forth;
That did not course in wit, and beat at least
Ten lines in fallow to put up one lest;
Which still prevents our thought, we need not stay-
To th'end, the Epigram is in the way.
The Towne might here grow Poet, nay tis se'd
Some Mayors could hence as eas'ly rime as read;
Whose losse we so much weepe, we cannot heare
His very Comedy's without a teare;
And when we read his mirth, are faine to pray
Leave from our griefe to call the worke a play:
56 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Where fancy plaies with judgement, and so fits
That 'tis enough to make a guard of wits;
Where lines fulfill themselues, and are so right
That but a combats mention is a fight.
His phrase does bring to passe, and hee has lent
Language enough to give the Things Event;
The lines pronounce themselves, and we may say
The Actors were but Echoes of the Play:
Me thinkes the book does act, and we not doubt
To say it rather Enters then Comes out;
Which even you seeme to envy, whose device
Has made it viler even by its price,
And taught its value, which we count so great
That when we buy it cheapest we but cheat;
And when upon one Page we blesse our look,
How-ere we bargaine we have gain'd the book;
Fresh-men in this are forc't to have their right,
And 'tis no purchase though 'twere sold in spight;
So doe we owe you still, that let us know
He gave the world the Playes, and you the Show.
los. HOWE. Trin. Coll. OXON.
On bis beloved friend the Author y
and his ingenious Poems,
"\ 7"\ 7"Hat need these busy wits? who hath a Mine
V V His owne, thus rich, needs not the scatter'd shine
Of lesser heapes: Day dimmes a taper's light:
And Lamps are uselesse, where there is no night.
Why then this traine of writers? forreigne verse
Can adde no honour to a Poet's hearse,
Whose every line, which he to paper lent,
Builds for himselfe a lasting Monument.
Brave verse this priviledge hath; Though all be dumbe,
That is the Authors Epitaph and Tombe.
Which when ambitious Pyles, th' ostents of Pride,
To dust shall fall, and in their ruins hide
Their then no more remembred Founders Name:
These (like Apollo ever young) shall fame
The first composer; whose weigh'd workes shall tell
What Noble thoughts did in his Bosome dwell.
INTRODUCTORY POEMS 57
But now I find the cause: they that doe praise
Desert in others, for themselves plant Baies:
For he that praises merit, loves it: thus
Hee's good, for goodnesse that's solicitous.
Else, though Hee diamonds keenly pointed write,
They but proclaime a quainter Hypocrite:
Thus in the future, it shall honour bee,
That men shall read their names bound up with thee.
So country Moles, that would at Court appeare,
Intrude some Camels traine that does live there.
So Creatures that had drown'd else, did imbarke
With Noah, and liv'd by being in his Arke.
Or if not thus; as when in Royall state
Nobles attend Kings to inaugurate:
Or as last yeare when you both courts did see
Beget joyes noone in th'Vniversity;
All the learn'd tribe in reverend Habits meet,
As if the Schooles were turn'd into the street;
Where each one strove such duty to put on,
As might give honour to their own Sunnes Sunne.
Such honour here our dimmer pennes would have,
In pompe to wait him to his solemne grave:
Since what he was, his own fruits better show,
Then those which planted here by others, grow.
Rich jewels in themselves such lustre cast,
As gold about them, is no grace, but Wast.
Such was his Genius: Like the eyes quick wink;
Hee could write sooner, then another think.
His play was Fancies flame, a lightning wit,
So shot, that it could sooner pierce, then hit.
What e're he pleas'd, though but in sport to prove,
Appear'd as true, as pitty dwells with love.
Had he said thus, That discreet zeale might stan
Both with the lesuit, and the Puritan,
T'had been believ'd; that frost from heat proceeds.
That chastity from ease, and fulnesse breeds;
That women ought to wooe, as Eve at first
Woo'd Man, to make the world, and man accurst.
All would be taken up for Truth: and sense
Which knew Truth coming, would not going hence.
Had he maintain'd Rich Lucans worke had been
Meere History; there would no pen be seen,
Line 33. stan]stand '43, ff.
58 THOMAS RANDOLPH
To call it Poem. If for C&sar stood,
Great Pompey should be neither weak, nor Good.
Oh! had he liv'd to plead the craggy Law,
Which now unsetled holds the world in awe,
He would have met some Ostracisme, I feare,
Lest he had charm'd the purple ludge to erre.
Nor could he only in his Native speech
Robe his ripe thoughts; but even the Copious, Rich,
And lofty Greek, with Latine, did appeare
In him, as Orient in their proper sphere:
That when in them, himselfe he pleas'd t'expresse;
The ravisht hearer, could not but confesse,
He might as well old Rome, or Athens claime
For birth, as Britaine, circled with the Maine.
'Tis true, we have these languages still left;
But spoken, as apparrell got by theft
Is worne: disguis'd, and shadowed. Had hee
Liv'd but with us, till grave maturity;
Though wee should ever in his change have lost,
Wee might have gaind enough whereof to boast
Our nations better Genius; but now
Or hopes are nipt, e're they began to blow.
And sure I am, his losse must needs strike deep,
For whom in verse, thus England* Eye doth weepe.
Whose teares thus dew'd upon his mournefull dust
I will not longer trouble. They that must
Carp though at better things; let them only read;
These Poems here will strike that humour dead.
Which I should praise too: but in them I see
There is one blemish; for he hath nam'd mee.
Else, I'le not think the Reader so distrest
In wit: but that he will admire the rest.
Concluding thence, though in his forenoon-youth,
(And what I now shall write is modest truth,)
He knowes not him, who doth so much excell,
That could so quickly, doe so much, so well.
OWEN FELTHAM Gent.
INTRODUCTORY POEMS 59
On the death of Mr Randolph.
"Hen Donne, and Beaumont dyed, an Epitaph
Some men (I well remember) thought unsafe;
And said they did presume to write, unlesse
They could their teares in their expression dresse.
But love makes me more bold, and telles me I
In humble termes to vent my piety
May safely dare; and reason thinks not fit,
For which I lov'd, I now should feare that wit.
Respect lookes like a bargaine, if confinde
To rules precise; and is more just then kinde,
If by a poiz'd and equall testament
It turnes good-will, into a covenant;
Must every present offer'd to a Prince
Be just proportion'd to his eminence?
Or ought my Elegy unjust be thought
Because I cannot mourne thee as I ought?
Such lawes as these, (if any be so bold)
Ought those unskilful! but proud soules to hold,
Who think they could and did, at a due rate
Love thee; not mee, whose love was passionate,
And hath decreed, how ere the censure goe,
Thus much, although but thus, to let men know.
I doe admire no Comet did presage
The mournfull period of thy wonder'd age;
Or that no Sybill did thy death fore tell,
Since that by it alone more ill befell
The Laurell-God, then when the day was come
Wherein his Delphick-Oracle was dumbe:
In meaner wits that proverbe chance may hold
(That they which are soon ripe are seldome old)
But 'twas a poore one, and for thee unfit,
Whose infancy might teach their best years wit;
Whose talk was exemplary to their pains,
And whose discourse was tutor to their streines;
If thou wert serious, then the audience
Heard Platoe's works in Tullies eloquence:
If sad, the mourners knew no thrifty size
In teares, but still cri'd out, oh lend more eyes.
If merry, then the juyce of Comedy
Soe sweetned every word, that we might see
60 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Each stander by having enough to doe
To temper mirth, untill some friend could wooe
Thee take the pains to write, that so that pressure
Checking thy soules quick motions, some small leasure
Might be obtain'd to make provision
Of breath, against the next Scens action.
I could goe through thy works, which will survive
The funerall of time; and gladly strive
Beyond my power, to make that love appeare
Which after death is best seen in a teare;
But praising one, I should dispraise the rest,
Since whatsoere thou didst, was still the best:
Since then I am perswaded that in thee
Wit at her acmie was, and wee shall see
Posterity not daring to aspire
To equalize, but only to admire
Thee as their archetype; with thought of thee
Henceforth I'le thus enrich my memory.
While others count from Earth-quakes, and great frost;
And say i'th' last deare yeare, 'twould thus much cost.
My time-distinctions this shall be among,
Since wits-decay, or Randolph's death, — so long.
R. GOSTELOW. Mr. A. Oxon.
To the pious Memory of my deare Brother
in-Law Ml Thomas Randolph.
REaders, prepare your Fayth; who truly tells
His History, must needs write miracles.
Hee lisp'd Wit worthy th'Presse, as if that hee
Had us'd his Cradle as a Librarie.
Some of these Fruits had birth, when other Boyes
(His Elders) play'd with Nuts; Books were his Toyes.
Hee had not long of Playes Spectatour beene
But his small Feete wore Socks fit for the Scene.
Hee was not like those costive Wits, who blot
A quire of paper to contrive a plot.
And e're they name it, crosse it, till it look
Rased with wounds like an old Mercers Book.
What pleas'd this yeare, is next in peices torne,
It suffers many deaths e're it be borne.
INTRODUCTORY POEMS 6 1
For Humours to lye leidger they are scene
Oft in a Taverne, and a Bowling-greene.
They doe observe each place, and company,
As strictly as a Traveller or Spie.
And deifying dunghills, seeme t'adore
The scumme of people, Watchman, Changling, Whore.
To know the vice, and ignorance of all,
With any Ragges they'le drink a pot of Ale;
Nay, what is more (a strange unusuall thing
With Poets) they will pay the reckoning;
And sit with patience an houre by th' Heeles
To learne the Non-sence of the Constables.
Such lig-like flim-flams being got to make
The Rabble laugh, and nut-cracking forsake,
They goe Home (if th' have any) and there sit
In Gowne and Night-cap looking for some wit.
E're they compose, they must for a long space
Be dieted, as Horses for the race.
They must not Bacon, Beefe, or Pudding eate,
A jest may chance be starv'd with such grosse meate.
The Good Houre come, and their Braine tun'd, they write,
But slow as dying men their Wills indite.
They pen by drams and scruples, from their quill
Words (although dreggy) flow not, but distill.
They stare, and sowre their faces; nay to vent
The Braines they eate their fingers excrement:
And scratch their Heads, as if they were about
(Their wit so hide-bound is) to pull it out.
Ev'ry bald speech though Comicall it bee
To their rack'd members proves a Tragcedie.
When they have had the Counsell of some freind,
And of their begging Epilogue made an end,
Their Play salutes the world, and claimes the Stage
For its inheritance, being now of Age.
But while they pump't their Phansy day and night;
Hee nothing harder found then not to write.
No dyet could corrupt, or mend his straine;
All tempers were the best to his sure Braine.
He could with raptures captivate the King,
Yet not endanger Button, or Bandstring.
Poems from him gush'd out so readily
As if they'd only been in's Memory;
Yet are they with as marble fancies wrought,
As theirs whose pen waits for the thirteenth thought.
62 THOMAS RANDOLPH
They erre who say things quickly done soone fade;
Nature and Hee all in an Instant made.
Those that doe measure Fansies by the glasse,
And dote on such as cost more time, may passe
In rank with Gulls, whom folly doth entice
To thinke that best which has the greatest price.
Who poreing on, their Spungy Braine still squeeze,
Neglect the creame, and only save the Lees.
Stopping their flying quill, they clip Fames wing,
Make Helicon a puddle that's a Spring.
Nor was his Hast hoodwinkt; his Rage was wise,
His Fury counsell had, his rashnesse eyes.
Though hee (as Engines arrowes) shot forth wit,
Yet aim'd with all the proper marks to hit.
His Inke ne're stain'd the Surplice; he doth right
That sometimes takes a care to misse the White.
Hee turn'd no Scripture phrase into a jest;
Hee was inspir'd with raptures, not possest.
Some Divelish Poets think their Muse does ill
Vnlesse their verses doe prophane or kill.
They boldly write what I should feare to thinke,
Words that doe pale their paper, black their Inke.
The Titles of their Satyrs fright some, more
Then Lord have mercy writ upon a doore.
Although his wit was sharp as others, yet
It never wounded; thus a Razer set
In a wise Barbers hand tickles the skin,
And leaves a smooth not carbonaded chin.
So soveraigne was his Phansy, that you'd think
His quickning pen did Balsam drop not Inke.
Read's Elegies and you will see his praise
Doth many soules 'fore th' Resurrection raise.
No venom's in his Book; his very Snake
You may as safely as a Flower take.
There's none needs feare to surfet with his phrase,
He has no Gyant raptures to amaze
And torture weake capacities with wonder:
He (by his Laurell guarded) nere did thunder
As those strong bumbast Wits, whose Poetrie
Sounds like a Charme, or Spanish Pedigree.
Who with their Phancy towring 'bove the Sun,
Have in their stile Babells confusion.
If puny eyes doe read their verses, they
Will think 'tis Hebrew writ the English way.
INTRODUCTORY POEMS 63
His Lines doe runne smooth as the feet of time;
Each leafe though rich, swells not with gouty rime.
Here is no thrum, or knot; Arachne ne're
Weav'd a more even webb; and as they are
Listed for smoothnesse, so in this againe
That each Thread's spun, and warp'd by his own braine.
We have some Poetasters, who although
They ne're beyond the writing-Schoole did goe,
Sit at Apollo's Table, when as they
But midwives are, not Parents to a Play.
Were they betray'd, they'd be each Coblers scoffe,
Laught at, as one whose Periwig's blowne off.
Their Braines lye all in Notes; Lord! how they'd looke
If they should chance to loose their Table-book!
Their Bayes, like Ivy, cannot mount at all
But by some neighbouring tree, or joyning wall.
With what an extasy shall we behold
This Book, which is no Ghost of any old
Wormeaten Authour; heres no jest, or hint,
But had his Head both for it's Ore an' mint.
Wer't not for some Translations, none could know
Whether he had e're look'd in Book or no.
He could discourse of any subject, yet
No cold premeditated sence repeat;
As he that nothing at the Table talkes,
But what was cook'd in's study or the walkes;
Whose wit (like a sun-diall) only can
Goe true in this, or that Meridian.
Each Climate was to him his proper Spheare;
You'd think he had been brought up every where.
Was he at Court? his Complements would be
Rich wrought with Phansies best embroderie;
Which the spruse Gallants Echo like would speake
So oft, as they'd be thread-bare in a weeke.
They lov'd even his Abuses, the same jeere
So witty 'twas, would sting and please their eare.
Read's flowry Pastoratts, and you will sweare
Hee was not lobnsons only, but Pans Heire.
His smooth Amyntas would perswade even me
To think he alwaies liv'd in Sicilie.
Those happier Groves that shaded him, were all
As Trees of knowledge, and Propheticall:
Dodon's were but the type of them; Leaves were
Books in old time, but became Schollers here.
64 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Had he liv'd till Westminster Hall was seen
In Forrest Townes, perhaps he find had been.
Whilst others made Trees Maypoles, he could doe
As Orpheus did, and make them Dancers too.
But these were the light sports of his spare time;
He was as able to dispute, as rime.
And all (two gifts ne're joyn'd before) outwent
As well in Syllogisme as Complement.
Who looks within his clearer Glasse, will say
At once he writ an Ethick Tract and Play.
When he in Cambridge Schooles did moderate,
(Truth never found a subtler Advocate)
He had as many Auditours, as those
Who preach, their mouths being Silenc'd, through the Nose.
The Grave Divines stood gazing, as if there
In words was colour, or in th' eye an eare:
To heare him they would penetrate each other,
Embrace a Throng, and love a noysome smother.
Though Plodding Pates much time and oyle had spent
In beating out an obscure Argument;
He could untie, not break, the subtlest knot
Their puzling Art could weave; nay he had got
The trick on't so, as if that he had been
Within each Braine, and the nice folding seen.
Who went to th' Schooles Peripateticks, came,
If he disputed, home in Plato's name.
His Oppositions were as Text; some le'd
With wonder, thought he had not urg'd but read.
Nor was his ludgment all Philosophy:
He was in points of deepe Divinitie
Only Not Doctor; his true Catho'lique Braine
The Learning of a Councell did containe.
But all his Works are lost, his Fire is out;
These are but's Ashes, which were throwne about
And now rak'd up together; all wee have
With pious sacriledge snatch'd from his Grave
Are a few meteours; which may make it se'd
That TOM is yet alive, but Randolph's dead.
Thus when a Merchant posting o're the sea
With his rich loaden shippe is cast away;
Some light small Wares doe swim unto the shore,
But th' great and solid Prizes ne're rise more.
R I c. WEST. Sac. of Arts, and Student of Cbr. Church.
POEMS
•CITH THE
M V S E S
LOOKINGGLASSE
AMYNTAS
By THOMAS RANDOLPH Matter of ArtJ
and late Fellow QtTrinity ColJcdgc in
Ctmbriflgc.
OXFORD,
Prinredby LSONARD LICHPIBIO Printer
tothc Vmverfity,forFnAN c i $ BOWMAM
M. DC. XXXVIII.
ON THE
INESTIMABLE
CONTENT HE INIOYES
IN THE MVSES; TO THOSE
of his Friends that dehort him
from POETRY.
GOE sordid earth, and hope not to bewitch
My high-borne soule, that flies a nobler pitch!
Thou canst not tempt her with adulterate show,
She beares no appetite that flaggs so low.
Should both the Indies spread their lapps to me, 5
And court my eyes to wish their Treasurie,
My better will they neither could entice;
Nor this with gold, nor that with all her spice.
For what poore things had these possessions showne,
When all were mine, but I were not mine owne! 10
Others in pompous wealth their thoughts may please,
And I am rich in wishing none of these.
For say; which happinesse would you beg first,
Still to have drink, or never to haue thirst?
No servants on my beck attendant stand, 15
Yet are my passions all at my command;
Reason within me shall sole ruler be,
And every sense shall weare her livery.
(6) their] my, "40, ff. (7) neither] never '43, S, (18) her] hit '$».
67
68 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Lord of my selfe in cheife; when they that have
More wealth, make that their Lord, which is my slaue. 20
Yet I as well as they, with more content
Have in my selfe a Houshold government.
My intellectuall soule hath there possest
The Stewards place, to governe all the rest.
When I goe forth my Eyes two Vshers are, 25
And dutifully walke before me bare.
My Leggs run Footmen by me. Goe or stand
My ready Armes waite close on either hand.
My Lipps are Porters to the dangerous dore:
And either Eare a trusty Auditor: 30
And when abroad I goe, Fancy shall be
My skilfull Coachman, and shall hurry me
Through Heaven & Earth, and Neptune's watry plaine,
And in a moment drive me back againe.
The charge of all my Cellar, Thirst, is thine; 35
Thou Butler art and Yeoman of my wine.
Stomacke the Cooke, whose dishes best delight,
Because their only sawce is Appetite.
My other Cooke digestion; where to me
Teeth carve, and Palat will the taster be. 40
And the two Eylids, when I goe to sleepe,
Like carefull groomes my silent chamber keepe.
Where least a cold oppresse my vitall part,
A gentle fire is kindled by the Heart.
And least too great a heat procure my paine, 45
The Lungs fanne winde to coole those parts againe.
Within the inner closet of my braine
Attend the nobler members of my traine.
Invention Master of my Mint growes there,
And Memory my faithfull Treasurer. 50
(»5) two] too '38. (40) crave '52. (48) noble '68.
POEMS 69
And though in others 'tis a treacherous part,
My Tongue is Secretary to my heart.
And then the pages of my soule and sense,
Love, Anger, Pleasure, Griefe, Concupiscence,
And all affections else are taught t' obey 55
Like subjects, not like favourites to sway.
This is my Manner-house, and men shall see
I here live Maister of my family.
Say then thou man of worth; in what degree
May thy proud fortunes over-ballance me? 60
Thy many barks plough the rough Oceans backe;
And I am never frighted with a wracke.
Thy flocks of sheepe are numberlesse to tell;
And with one fleece I can be cloth'd as well.
Thou hast a thousand severall farmes to let; 65
And I doe feede on ne're a Tenants sweat.
Thou hast the Commons to Inclosure brought;
And I have fixt a bound to my vast thought.
Variety is sought for to delight
Thy witty and ambitious Appetite; 70
Three Elements, at least, dispeopled be,
To satisfie judicious gluttony:
And yet for this I love my Commons here,
Above the choicest of thy dainty cheere.
Noe widdowes curse caters a dish of mine, 75
I drinke no teares of Orphans in my wine.
Thou maist perchance to some great office come,
And I can rule a Common wealth at home.
And that preheminence injoy more free,
Then thou puft up with vaine Authority. 80
What boots it him a large command to have,
Whose every part is some poore vices slave?
(59) man of wealth; '40 ff. (61) Ocean '68. (81) ?] ! "38.
70 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Which over him as proudly Lords it there,
As o' re the rusticke he can domineere.
Whilst he poore swaines doth threat, in his own eyes 85
Lust and Concupiscence doe Tyrannize,
Ambition wrackes his heart with jealous feare,
And bastard flattery captivates his eare.
He on posterity may fixe his care,
And I can study on the times that were. 90
He stands upon a pinacle to show
His dangerous height, whilst I sit safe below.
Thy father hords up gold for thee to spend,
When death will play the office of a friend,
And take him hence, which yet he thinkes too late: 95
My nothing to inherit is a fate
Above thy birth-right, should it double be;
No longing expectation tortures me.
I can my fathers reverend head survay,
And yet not wish that every haire were gray. 100
My constant Genius sayes I happier stand,
And richer in his life, then in his land.
And when thou hast an heyre, that for thy gold
Will thinke each day makes thee an yeare too old;
And ever gaping to possesse thy store, 105
Conceives thy age to be above fourescore
'Cause his is one and twenty, and will pray
The too slow houres to hast, and every day
Bespeake thy Coffin, cursing every bell,
That he heares tole, 'cause 'tis anothers knell; no
(And justly at thy life he may repine,
For his is but a wardship during thine.)
(88) flatt'ry '68. (104) too] to '38.
(100) haire] heir "68. (109) Bespeakes '68.
(104) an] a '43, ff. (112) For] But '52.
POEMS 71
Mine shall have no such thoughts, if I have one
He shall be more a pupill then a sonne:
^And at my grave weepe truth, and say deaths hand, 115
That bountifully unto thine gave land,
But rob'd him of a Tutor; Cursed store!
There is no piety but amongst the poore.
Goe then confesse which of us fathers be
The happier made in our posterity: 120
I in my Orphane that hath nought beside
His vertue, thou in thy rich parricide.
Thou severall Artists doest imploy to show
The measure of thy lands; that thou maist know
How much of earth thou hast: while I doe call 125
My thoughts to scan how little 'tis in all.
Thou hast thy hounds to hunt the timorous hare,
The crafty fox, or the more noble deere;
Till at a fault perchance thy Lordship be,
And some poore citty varlet hunt for thee. 130
For 'tis not poore Actions fault alone;
Hounds have devour'd more Masters sure then one.
Whilst I the while persueing my content,
With the quicke Nostrils of a judgment, sent
The hidden steps of nature, and there see 135
Your game maintain'd by her Antipathye.
Thou hast a Hawke, and to that height doth flye
Thy understanding, if it scare so high:
While I my soule with Eagles Pinions wing,
To stoope at Heaven, and in her Talons bring 140
A glorious constellation, sporting there
With him whose belt of starres adornes the spheare.
Thou hast thy landskips, and the painters try
With all their skill to please thy wanton eye.
(143) lants-chipps '40. lants-chips '64.
72 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Here shadowy groves, and craggy mountaines there; 145
Here Rivers headlong fall, there springs runne cleare;
The heavens bright Raies through clouds must azure
show
Circled about with Iris gawdy bow.
And what of this? I reall Heavens doe see, 149
True springs, true groves; whilst yours but shadows be.
Nor of your houshhold stuffe so proudly boast,
Compos'd of curiosity and cost.
Your two best chambers are unfurnished,
Th' inner and upper roome, the heart and head.
But you will say the comfort of a life 155
Is in the partner of your joyes, a wife.
You may have choice of brides, you need not wooe
The rich, the faire; they both are proferd you:
But what fond virgin will my love preferre,
That only in Parnassus joynture her? 160
Yet thy base match I scorne, an honest pride
I harbour here that scornes a market bride.
Neglected beauty now is priz'd by gold,
And sacred love is basely bought and sold.
Wives are growne traffique, marriage is a trade, 165
And when a nuptiall of two hearts is made,
There must of moneyes too a wedding be,
That coine as well as men may multiplye.
O humane blindness! had we eyes to see,
There is no wealth to valiant poetry! 170
And yet what want I heaven or Earth can yeeld?
Me thinkes I now possesse th' Elisian field.
(146) there the springs '68. (160) ?] ! '38.
(147) most azure shrew '52. (161) an] and' 68.
(154) heart] breast '52. (167) too] to '52, ff.
(156) your] our '38. (172) the Elisian '38.
(157) brides] birds, '52.
POEMS 73
Into my chest the yellow Tagus flowes,
While my plate fleete in bright Pactolus rowes.
Th* Hesperian Orchard's mine; mine, mine is all: 175
Thus am I rich in wealth poeticall.
Why strive you then my friends to circumvent
My soule, and rob me of my blest content?
Why out of ignorant love counsell you me
To leave the Muses and my poetry? 180
Which should I leave and never follow more,
I might perchance get riches and be poore.
(175) Orchard's mine; mine, is all '43, '52, '64.
Orchard is mine: mine is all '68.
(180) the] my '68.
In Anguem, qui Lycorin dormientem
amplexus est.
THe spring was come, and all the fields growne
fine;
My flame Lycoris like young Proserpine
Went forth to gather flowers, bettring their sent
They tooke more sweetnesse from her, then they lent.
Now loaden with her harvest, and o'repress't 5
With her sweet toyle, she laid her downe to rest.
Lyllies did strow her couch, and proud were growne
To beare a whitnesse purer then their owne.
Roses fell down soft pillowes to her head,
And blusht themselves into a deeper red 10
To emulate her cheekes: Flora did set
Her maids to worke to weave the Violet
Into a purple rugge, to shield the faire
Lycoris from the malice of the Ayre.
Lycorin] Lycoris in '43, '52, '64. do) blusht] blush '68.
74 THOMAS RANDOLPH
When loe a snake hid in the neighbour bowres, 15
(Ah who could think treason should lurke in flowers?)
Shootes forth her checker'd skin, and gently creepes
Ore my Lycoris, that as gently sleepes.
I saw it, and a sodaine frost possest
My frighted soule in my then troubled brest. 20
What feares appear'd not to my mind and me?
Thou first wert call'd bemoan'd Euridice,
By serpents envy forced to expire,
From Orpheus rapt, and his death conquering lyre.
But when I found he wore a guiltlesse sting, 25
And more of love did then of treason bring:
How quickly could my former feare depart,
And to a greater leave my iealous heart!
For the smooth Viper every member scands,
Ajrick he loaths now, and the barren sands 30
That nurst him, wondring at the glorious sight
Of thighes and belly, and her brests more white
Then their own milke: Ah might I still (quoth he)
Crawle in such fields, 'twixt two such mountaines be!
There me he spied, and fearing to be seen, 35
Shrowds to her neck, thinking't had Lyllies been.
But viewing her bright cheekes, he soone did crye
Vnder you Roses shall I safer lye.
Thence did her forehead with full veines appeare,
Good heaven (quoth he) what violets growe here 40
On this cleare Promontory? Hence he slides
Vp to her lockes, and through her tresses glides,
Her yellow tresses; dazel'd to behold
A glistering groue, an intire wood of Gold.
(15) neighbour] neighboring '68. (38) you] yon '43, '64, "68. your '52.
(16) could] would '68. (41) cltare] clean '68.
(29) scands] scans '68.
POEMS 75
Th' Hesperian wood he thinkes he now hath scene, 45
That thought, but now, they had an Orchard beene;
For leaves and boughs the Arcbimenian vine,
The Dodon Oak and the Tbessalian Pine
Must yeeld to these, no trees so bright as they,
Nor Paphian Mirtles, nor Peneian bay! 50
loy now filld all his brest, no timorous feare
Of danger could find roome to harbour there.
Downe slips he and about each limbe he hurles
His wanton body into numerous curies.
And while his taile had throwne it selfe a chaine 55
About her necke, his head beares up againe;
With his black lips her warmer lips he greets,
And there with kisses steept in Nectar meets.
Thence Zephyr's breath he suckes, then doth he smell
Perfumes that all th' Arabian gummes excell. 60
And spices that doe build the Pbcenix Pyre,
When she renewes her youth in funerall fire.
Nor seekes he poyson there, but like the Bee
That on mount Hybla plyes her husbandry,
He gathers honey thence, now, now I know 65
With Aristceus flocks a snake may goe.
Ah cold at heart, I fear'd some heavenly sleight,
And love my rival; that his old deceit
Had once againe this borrowed shape put on
To court my Nimph, as he Dedis wonne. 70
Up lift the snake his head (for pleasure now
Held all his soule) and with erected brow
To flatter's Loue he sung; he strives to play,
And hisses forth a well tun'd Roundelay.
This wakes the Nymph; her eyes admit the day; 75
(45) wood] woods '68. (46) But '38.
(49) must '38. (70) DeSis] Dedis '43, '52. as he had Dedis '64, '68.
(64) ,] . '38. (75) admit] admits '68.
76 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Here flowers, and there her scattered garlands lay,
Which as shee picks up and with bents retyes,
Shee in her lap the speckled Serpent spyes.
The Nymph no signe of any terrour shows,
(How bold is beauty when her strength shee knows!) 80
And in her hand the tender worm she grasp'd,
While it sometimes about her finger clasp'd
A ring enamel'd, then her tender wast
In manner of a girdle round inbrac't;
And now upon her arme a braslet hung 85
Where for the greater ornament, he flung
His limber body into severall folds,
And twenty winding figures, where it holds
Her amorous pulse, in many a various twist,
And many a love-knot tyes upon her wrist. 90
Lycoris to the Gods thou art too deare,
And too too much of heaven belov'd I feare.
This or that Nymph's the red-sea spoiles may be,
But Lybia ne're sent Jewels but to thee.
What e're to us are deaths and poysons sent, 95
Desire to be Lycoris ornament.
For that same litle spider that hangs up,
Together with her web on the house top,
When shee beheld the snake a bracelet made,
Struck with an envy, and a love; she said, 100
And shall a snake thy Gemme Lycoris bee,
And such bright forme receive no tyres from mee?
Then flings her nets away, and throwing by
Her subtle toyl shee sets to catch the fly;
To th* loom Arachne goes, and plyes it there, 105
To work a robe for my Lycoris weare.
(85) arme] om. '52. wait '64. (101) thy] a '52.
(86) he] she '52. (104) the] a '68.
POEMS 77
But thou, 6 Serpent, which so blest canst bee
To reap those joys for which I envy thee:
That, happy worm, upon her lip hast hung,
Sucking in kisses with thy three-fork'd tongue, no
(So may'st thou age and skin together cast,
And oft recall thy youth, when it is past.)
Teach my Lycoris what your Arts may bee,
Let her th' Ingredients of thy Cordials see.
That shee may ne're grow old, that times dull plow
May never print a wrincle in her brow. 116
I charge thee in the powr'full Cupids name
May a new beauty alwayes and the same
Lycoris shew, ne're may shee in her glasse
Look for her own, and find another face. 120
Venus for beauty may shee then appear,
When shee has liv'd to old Sybillas year,
And when, deare snake, thou wilt no more renew
Thy youthfull vigour, bid base earth adjew.
Adde glory to the night, or from his spheare 125
Huge Python pull and fix thy torches there:
Where like a river thou shalt bending go,
And through the Orbe a starry torrent flow.
And thou Lycoris, when th'art pleas'd to take
No more of life, next thy beloved Snake 130
Shine forth a constellation, full, and bright;
Blesse the poor heavens with more majestick light.
Who in requitall shall present you there,
Ariadnes Crown, and Cassiop&as Cbayr.
(109) her] her '38. hast] fast '43, 9. (120) another] another* '43, 'S*t '&*•
(116) in] on '64, '68. (125) Adde] And '43, ff.
(117) pow'rfull] powerful '68.
78 THOMAS RANDOLPH
A Complaint against Cupid that he never
made him in Love.
HOw many of thy Captives (Love) complaine
Thou yoak'st thy slaves in too severe a chaine?
P have heard 'em their Poetique malice shew,
To curse thy Quiver, and blaspheme thy bow.
Calling thee boy, and blind; threatning the rod; 5
Prophanely swearing that thou art no God.
Or if thou be; not from the starry place;
But born below, and of the Stygian race.
But yet these Atheists that thy shafts dislike,
Thou canst be freindly to, and daigne to strike. 10
This on his Claris spends his thoughts and time;
That chaunts Corinna in his amorous rime.
A third speaks raptures, and hath gaind a wit
By praising Ccelia; else had mis't of it.
But that I think there can no freedom be, 15
(Cupid] so sweet, as thy Captivity.
I that could wish thy chains, and live content
To wear them, not my Gives, but ornament:
I that could any ransom pay to thee,
Not to redeem but sell my liberty, 20
I am neglected; let the cause be known;
Art thou a niggard of thy arrows grown,
That wert so prodigall? or dost thou please
To set thy Pillars up with Hercules
Weary of conquest? or should I disgrace 25
Thy victories, if I were daign'd a place
(3) I' have] I have '40. '43, '$2. '64. I've '68.
(18) my] thy '40, ff.
(20) ,] ; '38. • (22) Art thou niggard '68.
POEMS 79
Amongst thy other Trophies? none of these,
Witnesse thy dayly triumphs: who but sees
Thou still pursuest thy game from high to low;
No age, no Sexe can scape thy pow'rfull bow. 30
Decrepite age whose veins and bones may bee
An Argument against Philosophy,
To prove an emptinesse; that has no sense
Left but his feeling, feels thy influence;
And dying dotes: not babes thy shafts can misse; 35
How quickly Infants can be taught to kisse!
As the poor Apes being dumb these words would borrow,
/' was born to day to get a babe to morrow.
Each plow-man thy propitious wounds can prove,
Tilling the earth, and wishing t'were his love. 40
Am I invulnerable? is the dart
Rebeaten, which thou level'st at my heart?
Ill rest my Parents bones, if they have done
As Tethis once did to her God-like sonne
The great Achilles, dipt in Stygian lake; 45
Though I am so, Cupid, thy arrows take,
Try where I am not proof, and let me feel
Thy archery, if not i'th heart, i'th heel.
Perchance my heart lyes there; who would not be
A Coward, to be valiant made by thee. 50
I cannot say thy blindnesse is the cause,
That I am barr'd the freedom of thy laws;
The wretched out-Law of thy Mothers Court,
That place of comfort, Paradise of sport.
For they may say, that say thou blind canst be, 55
Eagles want eyes, and only moles can see.
(30) powerfull '43, ff- (44) Tethis'] Thetis '68.
(36) can] may '68. (50) .] ? '64, '68.
(38) / was '43, if. (52) barr'd] bard '68 laws] layes '68.
(43) 111] Tie '43.
80 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Not Argus with so many lights did shine,
For each fair Ladies sparkling eyes are thine.
Think' st thou because I doe the Muses love,
I in thy Camp would a faint souldier prove? 60
How came Mus&us, and Anacreon then
Into thy troops? how came Tibullus pen
Amongst thy speares; and how came Ovid (say)
To be enrold great Generall in thy pay?
And doubts thou me? suspect you I will tell 65
The hidden misteries of your Papbian cell,
To the straight lac'd Diana? or betray
The secrets of the night, unto the day?
No Cupid, by thy mothers doves I swear,
And by her sparrows, 'tis an idle fear. 70
If Philomel descend to sport with me,
Know I can be (great Love) as dumb as shee,
Though shee hath lost her tongue; in such delights
All should be like her, only talk by nights:
Make me thy Preist (if Poets truth divine) 75
Pie make the Muses wanton; at thy shrine
They all shall wait; and Dian's selfe shall be
A votresse to thy Mothers Nunnerie.
Where zeale with nature shall maintaine no strife;
Where none swear chastity, and single life. 80
To Penus-Nuns an easier oath is read,
Shee breaks her vow, that keeps her maiden head.
Reject not then your Flamins ministry:
Let me but deacon in thy Temples be:
And see how I shall touch my pow'rfull lyre, 85
And more inspir'd with thine, then Phoebus fire,
Chaunt such a moving verse, as soon should frame
Desire of dalliance in the coyest dame,
(70) Idle '38. (71) ,] ; '38. (79) Where] When '52. (88) .] ; '38.
POEMS 8 1
Melting to amorous thoughts her heart of stone,
And force her to untrusse her Virgin Zone. 90
Is Lucrece, or Penelope alive?
Give me a Spartan Matron, Sabine wife,
Or any of the vestals hither call,
And I will make them be thy converts all.
Who like good Proselites more in heart then show, 95
Shall to thy origies all so zealous go,
That Thais shall, nor Helen such appeare;
As if they only Loves precisians were.
But now my Muse dull heavy numbers sings,
Cupid 'tis thou alone giv'st verse her wings. 100
The Lawrell-wreath I never shall obtaine,
Vnlesse thy torch illuminate my braine.
Love Laurell gives; Phcebus as much can say,
Had not he lov'd, there had not been the Bay.
Why is my Presentation then put by? 1.05
Who is't that my Induction dares deny?
Can any Lady say I am unfit?
If, so, I'le sue my Square Impedit.
I'am young enough, my spirits quick and good;
My veins swell high with kind and active blood. 110
Nor am I marble; when I see an eye
Quick, bright, and full, 'raid round with maiestie;
I feel my heart with a strange heat opprest,
As 'twere a lightning darted through my brest.
I long not for the cherries on the Tree, 115
So much as those which in a lip I see.
And more affection beare I to the Rose
That in a cheek, then in a garden grows.
I gaze on beauteous Virgins with delight,
And feel my temper vary at the sight; 120
(92) .3 ! '38. (109) I'm '43, ff. (112) rai'd '40, '43, '52 rais'd '64. '68.
82 THOMAS RANDOLPH
I know not why, but warmer streams doe glide
Thorough my veins, sure 'tis a wanton tide.
But you perchance esteem my love the lesse,
Because I have a foolish bashfulnesse,
A shame-fac'd rose you find within my face, 125
Whose modest blush frights you from my embrace;
That's ready now to fall, if you'le but daigne
To pluck it once, it shall not grow againe.
Or doe you therefore cast my love away,
Because I am not expert in the play? 130
My skill's not known till it be ventred on;
I have not Aristotle read alone.
I am in Ovid a proficient too;
And if you'd heare my Lecture, could to you
Analize all his art, with so much more 135
Judgment and skill, then e're 'twas taught before;
That I might be cheife master, he, dull foole,
The under usher in the Cyprian Schoole:
For petty Paedagogue, poore Pedant, he
First writ the Art, and then the remedie: 140
But I could set downe rules of love so sure,
As should exceed Art, and admit no cure.
Pictures I could invent (Love, were I thine)
As might stand copies unto Aretine.
And such new dalliance study, as should frame 145
Variety in that which is the same.
I am not then uncapable (great Love}
Would'st thou my skill but with one arrow prove,
Giue me a Mistresse in whose looks to joy,
And such a Mistresse (Love) as will be coy, 150
Not easily wonne, though to be wonne in time;
That from her nicenesse I may store my rhime:
(121) why; '38. warmer] warme '68. (136) 'twas] was '$2, '68 before., '38.
POEMS 83
Then in a Thousand sighes, to thee Tie pay
My Morning Orisons, and every day
Two Thousand groans, and count these amorous
prayers, 155
I make to thee, not by my Beads, but Teares.
Besides, each day Tie write an Elegy,
And in as lamentable Poetry
As any Inns of Court-man, that hath gone
To buy an Ovid with a Littleton. 160
But (Love} I see you will not entertaine
Those that desire to Live amidst your traine;
For death and you have got a trick to fly
From such poore wretches as doe wish you nigh.
You scorne a yeelding slave, and plainly shew it, 165
Those that contemne your pow'er you make to know it.
And such am I; I slight your proud commands;
I mar'le who put a bow into your hands;
A hobby-horse, or some such pretty toy,
A rattle would befit you better, Boy. 170
You conquer Gods and men? how stand I free,
That will acknowledge no supremacie
Vnto your childish Godhead? does it cry?
Give it a plumme to still it's deity.
Good Venus let it suck; that it may keep 175
Lesse bawling; gentle Nurse rock it a sleep.
Or if you be past babie; and are now
Come to weare breeches, must we then allow
Your Boyship leave to shoot at whom you please?
No, whip it for such wanton tricks as these: 180
If this doe anger you, Fie send a Bee,
Shall to a single duell challenge thee:
(153) sights '68. (168) marie '40, S. who] you '52.
(166) power '40, ff. (176) brawling '43, '52.
84 THOMAS RANDOLPH
And make you to your Mam run, and complaine
The little serpent stung thee once againe.
Go hunt the butter flyes, and if you can 185
But catch 'em, make their wings into a fan.
Wee'le give you leave to hunt and sport at them,
So you let men alone. But I blaspheme
(Great Love) I feare I have offended thee,
If so, be mercifull, and punish me. 190
(184) litlle '38 litle '40.
(188) alone, "43, '64, '68 let me alone, '52
( I9o)mercifull, - - '40 '43, '64, '68 '52.
A gratulatory to MT Ben Johnson for bis
adopting of him to be bis Son.
I Was not borne to Helicon, nor dare
Presume to thinke my selfe a Muses heire.
I have no title to Parnassus hill,
Nor any acre of it by the will
Of a dead Ancestour, nor could I bee 5
Ought but a tenant unto Poetrie.
But thy Adoption quits me of all feare,
And makes me challenge a childs portion there.
I am a kinne to Heroes being thine,
And part of my alliance is divine. 10
Orpheus, Musceus, Homer too; beside
Thy Brothers by the Roman Mothers side;
As Ovid, Virgil, and the Latine Lyre,
That is so like thee, Horace; the whole quire
• of} om. '52. (9) Hero's '38. (14) thy Horace; '38.
POEMS 85
Of Poets are by thy Adoption, all 15
My uncles; thou hast given me pow'r to call
Pbcebus himselfe my grandsire; by this graunt
Each Sister of the nine is made my Aunt.
Go you that reckon from a large descent
Your lineall Honours, and are well content 20
To glory in the age of your great name,
Though on a Herralds faith you build the same:
I do not envy you, nor thinke you blest
Though you may beare a Gorgon on your Crest
By direct line from Perseus; I will boast 25
No farther than my Father; that's the most
I can, or should be proud of; and I were
Vnworthy his adoption, if that here
I should be dully modest; boast I must
Being sonne of his Adoption, not his lust. 30
And to say truth, that which is best in mee
May call you father, 'twas begot by thee.
Have I a sparke of that coelestiall flame
Within me, I confesse I stole the same
Prometheus like, from thee; and may I feed 35
His vulture, when I dare deny the deed.
Many more moones thou hast, that shine by night,
All Bankrups, wer't not for a borrow'd light;
Yet can forsweare it; I the debt confesse,
And thinke my reputation ne're the lesse. 40
For Father let me be resolv'd by you;
Is't a disparagement from rich Peru
To ravish gold; or theft, for wealthy Ore
To ransack Tagus, or Pactolus shore?
Or does he wrong Alcinous, that for want 45
Doth take from him a sprig or two, to plant
(16) power '52, '68. (27) should] could '64, '68.
86 THOMAS RANDOLPH
A lesser Orchard? sure it cannot bee:
Nor is it theft to steale some flames from thee.
Grant this, and Tie cry guilty, as I am,
And pay a filiall reverence to thy name. 50
For when my Muse upon obedient knees,
Askes not a Fathers blessing, let her leese
The fame of this Adoption; 'tis a curse
I wish her 'cause I cannot thinke a worse.
And here, as Piety bids me, I intreat 55
Phcebus to lend thee some of his own heat,
To cure thy Palsie; else I will complaine
He has no skill in hearbs; Poets in vaine
Make him the God of Physicke; 'twere his praise
To make thee as immortall as thy Baies; 60
As his own Daphne; 'twere a shame to see
The God, not love his Preist, more then his Tree.
But if heaven take thee, envying us thy Lyre,
'Tis to pen Anthems for an Angels quire.
(60) thy] the '68.
In Lesbiam, & Histrionem.
I Wonder what should Madam Lesbia meane
To keep young Histrio, and for what scene
So bravely shee maintaines him; that what sence
He please to blesse, 'tis done at her expence!
The play boy spends secure; he shall have more, 5
As if both Indies did supply his store.
As if he did in bright Pactolus swim,
Or Tagus yellow waves did water him:
And yet has no revenews to defray
POEMS 87
These charges, but the Madam, shee must pay 10
His prodigall disbursements: Madams are
To such as he, more then a treble share.
Shee payes (which is more then shee needs to doe)
For her owne comming in, and for his too.
This is reward due to the sacred sin; 15
No charge too much done to the beardlesse chin:
Allthough shee stint her poore old Knight Sr John?
To live upon his exhibition,
His hundred marks per Annum; when her loy,
Her sanguine darling, her spruce active boy 20
May scatter Angels; rub out silks, and shine
In cloths of gold; cry loud the world is mine:
Keepe his Race-nags, and in Hide-parke be seen
Briske as the best (as if the stage had been
Growne the Court's Rivall) can to Brackly goe, 25
To Lincoln* Race, and to New-market too;
At each of these his hundred pounds has vie'd
On Peggabrigs, or Sbotten-berrings side;
And looses without swearing. Let them curse
That neither have a Fortunatus purse, 30
Nor such a Madam; if this world doe hold
(As very likely 'twill) Madams growne old
Will be the best Monopolies; Histrio may
At Maw, or Gleeke, or at Primero play.
Still Madam goes to stake, Histrio knows 35
Her worth, and therefore dices too; and goes
As deepe, the Caster, as the only Sonne
Of a dead Alderman, come to twenty one
A whole weeke since; you'd know the reason why
Lesbia does this; guesse you as well as I; 40
do) charges: '68. (40) as I? '64, '68.
(28) Skotten herring '68.
88 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Then this I can no better reason tell;
'Tis 'cause he playes the womans part so well.
I see old Madams are not only toyle;
No tilth so fruitfull as a barren soyle.
Ah poore day labourers, how I pitty you 45
That shrinke, and sweat to live with much adoe!
When had you wit to understand the right,
'Twere better wages to have work'd by night.
Yet some that resting here, doe only thinke
That youth with age is an unequall linke, 50
Conclude that Histrws taske as hard must bee,
As was Mezentius bloody cruelty.
Who made the living to embrace the dead,
And so expire: but I am rather lead
His bargaine of the two the best to call; 55
He at one game keeps her, shee him at all.
(SO) ,] : '38.
De Histrice. Ex Claudiano.
FAm'd Stympball, I have heard, thy birds in flight
Shoot showers of arrowes forth all levied right.
And long the fable of those quills of steele
Did seeme to me a tale incredible.
Now I have faith; the Porcupine I see, 5
And then th' Herculean birds no wonders bee.
Her longer head like a swines snowt doth show;
Bristles like homes upon her forehead grow.
A fiery heat glows from her flaming eye;
Vnder her shaggy back the shape doth lye 10
As 'twere a whelpe: nature all Art hath try'd
In this small beast, so strangely fortified.
POEMS 89
A threatning wood o're all her body stands;
And stiff with Pikes the speckled stalks in bands
Grow to the warre; while under those doth rise 15
An other troope, girt with alternate dyes
Of severall hue; which while a blacke doth fill
The inward space, ends in a solid quill.
That lessning by degrees, doth in a while,
Take a quick point, and sharpens to a Pile. 20
Nor doth her squadrons like the hedghogs stand
Fixt; but shee darts them forth, and at command
Farre off her members aimes; shot through the skie
From her shak'd side the Native Engines flie.
Sometimes retiring, Parthian like, shee'l wound 25
Her following foe; sometimes intrenching round,
In battaile forme, marshalling all her flanks,
Shee'l clash her javelins to affright the ranks
Of her poore enemies, lineing every side
With speares, to which shee is her selfe allied. 30
Each part of her's a souldier, from her back
But stir'd, a horse and horrid noise doth crack;
That one would think the trumpets did incite
Two adverse Armies to begin to fight;
So great a noise, from one so small did rise. 35
Then to her skill in Armes she is so wise
As to adde Policy, and a thrifty feare
Of her owne safety; shee a wrath doth beare
Not prodigall of weapons, but content
With wary threatning; and hath seldome sent 40
An arrow forth, caus'd by an idle strife,
But spends 'em only to secure her life!
(14) speeded '38 her speckled '64 stiff as pikes her speckled '68.
(15) Grow] Go '68. (23) of '38.
(18) solid] sordid '68. (26) in trenching '38.
(21) squadron like a Hedge-hog '68. (29) ,] : '38.
(32) stir'd, a horrid noyse '68 a horse a horrid '52. (42) "m '68.
90 THOMAS RANDOLPH
And then her diligent stroke so certaine is
Without all error, shee will seldome misse.
No distance cozens her; the dumbe skin aimes right,
And rules the levy of the skillfull fight. 46
What humane labour, though we boast it such,
With all her reason can performe so much?
They from the Cretan Goats their homes must take,
And after, those with fire must softer make. 50
Buls guts must bend their bowes; and e're they fight
Steele armes their darts: and fethers wing their flights.
When loe a little beast wee armed see
With nothing but her owne Artillery:
Who seeks no forraine aide; with her all goe, 55
Shee to her selfe is Quiver, darts, and bow.
One Creature all the Arts of warfare knows;
If from examples then the Practice flows
Of humane life, hence did th' Invention grow
At distance to incounter with our foe. 60
Hence the Cydonians instructed are
Their Stratagems, and manner of their warre.
Hence did the Parthians learne to fight, and fly;
Taught by this bird their skilfull Archery.
(48) WithaU '38. (50) those] om. '68. (59) ,] ; '38.
In Arcbimedis Sphtzram ex Claudiano.
IOve saw the Heavens fram'd in a little glasse,
And laughing, to the Gods these words did passe;
Comes then the power of mortall cares so farre?
In brittle Orbes my labours acted are.
The statutes of the Poles, the faith of things, 5
The Laws of Gods this Syracusian brings
POEMS 91
Hither by art: Spirits inclos'd attend
Their severall spheares, and with set motions bend
The living worke: Each yeare the faigned Sun,
Each Month returnes the counterfeited Moon; 10
And viewing now her world, bold Industrie
Grows proud, to know the heavens her subjects bee.
Beleive Salmonius hath false thunders thrown,
For a poore hand is Natures rivall grown.
De Magnete. Ex Claudiano.
WHo in the world with busy reason pryes,
Searching the seed of things, & there descryes
With what defect labours th' Ecclipsed moon,
What cause commands a palenesse in the Sun,
Whence ruddy comets with their fatall haire, 5
Whence winds doe flow, and what the Motions are
That shake the bowels of the trembling earth;
What strikes the lightning forth; whence clouds give
birth
To horrid thunders; and doth also know
What light lends lustre to the painted Bow: 10
If ought of truth his soule doth understand,
Let him resolve a question Fie demand:
There is a stone which we the loadstone stile,
Of colour ugly, darke, obscure, and vile:
It never deck'd the sleiked locks of Kings, 15
No Ornament, no gorgeous Tire it brings
To Virgins beauteous necks, it never showne
A splendent buckle in ther maiden Zone:
(8) give] have '68. (16) ornament* '68.
92 THOMAS RANDOLPH
But only heare the wonders I will tell
Of the black peeble, and 'twill then excell 20
All bracelets, and what e're the diving Moore
'Mongst the red weeds seeks for 'ith Easterne shore:
From Iron first it lives, Iron it eats,
But that sweet feast it knows no other meats;
Thence shee renews her strength, vigor is sent 25
Through all her nerves by that hard nourishment;
Without that food shee dies, a famine numm's
Her meager joynts, a thirst her veins consumes.
Mars that frights Cities with his bloody speares,
And Venus that releases humane feares, 30
Doe both together in one Temple shine,
Both joyntly honour'd in a common shrine;
But different Statues, Mars a steele put on,
And Venus figure was Magnetique stone.
To them (as is the custome every yeare) 35
The Preist doth celebrate a Nuptiall there.
The torch the Quire doth lead, the threshold's green
With hallowed Mirtles, and the beds are seen
To smell with rosy flowers, the Geniall sheet
Spread over with a purple Coverlet. 40
But heare (6 strange) the statues seem'd to move,
And Cytherea runs to catch her Love;
And like their former joyes in heaven possest,
With wanton heat clings to her Mars'es brest;
There hangs a gratefull burden; then shee throwes 45
Her armes about his helmet, to Inclose
Her love in amorous Gives, least he get out,
Here live embraces chaine him round about.
He stir'd with love breath'd gently through his veins,
Is drawne by unseene links and secret chaines 50
(36) This line om. in '68. (41) here "43, ff. (48) Here] Her '51.
POEMS 93
To meet his spoused Gemme; the ay re doth wed
The steele unto the stone; thus strangely led
The Deities their stolne delights replay'd,
And only Nature was the bridall mayd.
What heat in these two Metals did inspire 55
Such mutuall league? what concords powrefull fire
Contracted their hard minds? the stone doth move
With amorous heat, the steele doth learne to love.
So Venus oft the God of warre withstood,
And gives him milder looks; when hot with blood 60
He rages to the fight, fierce with desire,
And with drawn points whets up his active Ire;
She dares goe forth alone, and boldly meet
His foaming steeds, and with a winning greet
The tumour of his high swolne breast asswage, 65
Temp' ring with gentle flames his violent rage.
Peace courts his soule, the fight he disavows,
And his red plumes he now to kisses bows.
Ah cruell Boy large thy dominions bee,
The Gods and all their Thunders yeild to thee: 70
Great love to leave his heaven thou can'st constraine,
And midst the brinish waves to Lowe againe.
Now the cold Rocks thou strik'st, the sencelesse stone
Thy weapon feeles, a lustfull heat doth runne
Through veins of flint, the steele thy Pow'er can tame;
And rigid Marble must admit thy flame. 76
(65) humor '68. (72) low '43 Love '$*.
(66) Tempring '38. (73) striks't '38.
(68) to kisses now he '64, '68. (75) power "40, ff.
(69) Ah! '68.
94 THOMAS RANDOLPH
DC Sene Veronensi. Ex Claudiano.
HAppy the man that all his dayes hath spent
Within his owne grounds, and no farther went:
Whom the same house that did him erst behold
A little Infant, sees him now grown old,
That with his staffe walkes where he crawl'd before, 5
Counts th* age of one poore cottage and no more.
Fortune ne're him with various tumult prest,
Nor dranke he unknown streams, a wandring guest.
He fear'd no Merchants stormes, nor drummes of war,
Nor ever knew the strifes of the hoarse Bar. 10
Who though to th* next Towne he a stranger bee,
Yet heav'ns sweet prospect he injoyes more free.
From fruits, not Consuls, computation brings,
By Apples Autumnes knows, by flowers the springs.
Thus he the day by his owne orbe doth prize; 15
In the same feild his Sunne doth set and rise.
That knew an oake a twigge, and walking thither
Beholds a wood and he grown up together.
Neighbouring Feron he may for India take,
And thinke the red sea is Benacus lake. 20
Yet is his strength untam'd, and firme his knees,
Him the third age a lusty Grandsire sees.
Goe seeke who s' will the farre Iberian shore,
This man hath liv'd, though that hath travel'd more.
(6) the age '68. (22) Him in the third age '64.
(19) Neighbouring '43, ff. (23) who's will '52.
POEMS 95
The second Epod: of Horace translated.
HAppy the man which farre from city care;
(Such as ancient Mortals were)
With his own oxen plows his fathers land,
Free from Vsurers griping hand.
The souldiers trumpets never breake his sleepe, 5
Nor angry seas that raging keepe.
He shunnes the wrangling Hall, nor foot doth set
On the proud thresholds of the Great:
His life is this (O life almost divine)
To marry Elmes unto the Vine; 10
To prune unfruitfull branches, and for them
To graft a bough of happier stemme.
Or else within the low couch'd vallies views
His well cloth'd flocks of bleating ewes.
Sometimes his hony he in pots doth keepe, 15
Sometimes he sheares his fleecy sheepe.
And when his fruits with Autumne ripened bee
Gathers his Apples from the Tree.
And joyes to tast the peares himselfe did plant,
And Grapes that naught of purple want. 20
Vnder an Oake sometimes he layes his head,
Making the tender grasse his bed.
Meane while the streams along their banks doe float
And birds doe chaunt with warbling throat;
And gentle springs a gentle murmure keepe, 25
To lull him to a quiet sleepe.
When winter comes, and th' ayre doth chillier grow,
Threatning showers and shivering snow;
(7) food '64. (9) )] !) '43, «. (14) floc'ki '38
96 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Either with hounds he hunts the tusked swine
That foe unto the corne and vine; 30
Or layes his nets; or limes the unctuous bush
To catch the blackbird, or the thrush.
Sometimes the Hare he courses, and one way
Makes both a pleasure and a prey.
But if with him a modest wife doth meet, 35
To guide his house and children sweet;
Such as the Sabine or Apulean wife,
Something brown but chast of life;
Such as will make a good warme fire to burne,
Against her wearied Mate's returne; 40
And shutting in her stalls her fruitfull Neat,
Will milke the kines distended Teat:
Fetching her husband of her selfe-brew'd beere,
And other wholesome Country cheere.
Suppe him with bread and cheese, Pudding or Pye, 45
Such dainties as they doe not buy:
Give me but these, and I shall never care
Where all the Lucrine oisters are;
These wholsome Country dainties shall to mee
Sweet as Tench or Sturgeon bee. 50
Had I but these I well could be without
The Carp, the Sammon, or the Trout :
Nor should the Phoenix selfe so much delight
My not ambitious appetite,
As should an Apple snatch'd from mine own trees, 55
Or hony of my labouring Bees.
My Cattels udders should afford me food,
My sheep my cloth, my ground my wood.
Sometimes a lambe, snatch'd from the wolfe shall bee
A banquet for my freind and mee. 60
(38) Sometimes '68. (45) Pye,] bye, '43, '52.
(42) Teat s "52. (46) buy:] any: '43. 'S*-
POEMS 97
Sometimes a Calfe ta'ne from her lowing Cow,
Or tender Issue of the So*w.
Our Gardens sallets yeild, Mallowes to keepe
Loose bodies, Lettice for to sleepe.
The cakling Hen an egge for breakfast layes, 65
And Duck that in our water playes.
The Goose for us her tender plumes hath bred
To lay us in a softer bed.
Our blankets are not dy'd with Orphans teares,
Our Pillows are not stuff' d with cares. 70
To walke on our owne grounds a stomack gets,
The best of sawce to tart our meats.
In midst of such a feast, 'tis joy to come
And see the well fed Lambs at home.
JTis pleasure to behold th' inversed Plow 75
The Lanquid necks of Oxen bow.
And view th' industrious servants that will sweat
Both at labour and at meat.
Lord grant me but enough; I aske no more
Then will serve mine, and helpe the poore. 80
(72) tart] cure '52. our] out "38.
An Elegie upon the Lady Venetia Digby.
DEatb, who'ld not change prerogatives with thee,
That dost such rapes, yet mayst not ques-
tion'd bee?
Here cease thy wanton lust, be satisfi'd,
Hope not a second, and so faire a bride.
Where was her Mars, whose valiant armes did hold 5
This Venus once, that thou durst be so bold
Venetian Digby. '52. (2) ?] om. '38.
98 THOMAS RANDOLPH
By thy too nimble theft? I know 'twas feare,
Lest he should come, that would have rescu'd her.
Monster confesse, didst thou not blushing stand,
And thy pale cheeke turne red to touch her hand? 10
Did shee not lightning-like strike suddaine heat
Through thy cold limbs, and thaw thy frost to sweate?
Well since thou hast her, use her gently, Death,
And in requitall of such pretious breath
Watch sentinell to guard her, doe not see 15
The wormes thy rivals, for the Gods will bee.
Remember Paris, for whose pettier sin,
The Troian gates let the stout Grecians in;
So when time ceases, (whose unthrifty hand
Has now almost consum'd his stock of sand) 20
Myriads of Angels shall in Armies come,
And fetch (proud ravisher) their Helen home.
And to revenge this rape, thy other store
Thou shalt resigne too, and shalt steale no more.
Till then faire Ladies (for you now are faire, 25
But till her death I fear'd your just dispaire,)
Fetch all the spices that Arabia yeelds,
Distill the choycest flowers of the fields:
And when in one their best perfections meet
Embalme her course, that shee may make them sweet.
Whilst for an Epitaph upon her stone 31
I cannot write, but I must weepe her one.
Epitaph.
Beauty it selfe lyes here, in whom alone,
Each part injoy'd the same perfection.
In some the Eyes we praise; in some the Haire; 35
In her the Lips; in her the Cheeks are faire;
do) turnd 68.' (zo) Ha't '38.
(18) Grecian ' 52. (22) their] there '38. (32) This line om. in '68
POEMS 99
That Nymphs fine Feet, her Hands we beauteous call,
But in this forme we praise no part, but all.
The ages past have many beauties showne,
And I more plenty in our time have knowne; 40
But in the age to come I looke for none,
Nature despaires, because her patterns gone.
An Epitaph upon M" I. T.
REader if thou hast a teare,
Thou canst not choose but pay it here.
Here lyes modesty, meeknesse, zeale,
Goodnfsse, Piety, and to tell
Her worth at once, one that had showne 5
All vertues that her sex could owne.
Nor dare my praise too lavish bee,
Least her dust blush for soe would shee.
Hast thou beheld in the spring's bowers
Tender buds breake to bring forth flowers: 10
So to keepe vertues stock, pale death
Tooke her to give her infant breath.
Thus her accounts were all made even,
Shee rob'd not earth to adde to heaven.
Mittris /. T. '43, '64 Mrs. J. T. '52 MirtriM J. T. "68.
(13) were all] are well '68.
100 THOMAS RANDOLPH
M
An Epitbalamium.
Vse be a bride-maid, dost not heare
How honoured Hunt and his faire Deere,
This day prepare their wedding cheere?
The swiftest of thy pinions take,
And hence a suddaine journey make, 5
To help 'em breake their bridall Cake.
Hast 'em to Church, tell 'em love sayes
Religion breeds but fond delayes,
To lengthen out the tedious dayes.
Chide the slow Preist, that so goes on, 10
As if he feard he should have done
His sermon, e're the glasse be runne.
Bid him post o'er his words, as fast
As if himselfe were now to tast
The pleasure of so faire a wast. 15
Now lead the blessed Couple home,
And serve a dinner up for some;
Their banquet is as yet to come.
Maids dance as nimbly as your blood,
Which I see swell a purple flood 20
In Emulation of that good
The bride possesseth; for I deeme
What shee enjoyes will be the theme
This night of every virgins dreame.
No separation between 11. 18 and 19 in '38.
POEMS 101
But envy not their blest content, 25
The hasty night is almost spent,
And they of Cupid will be shent.
The Sunne is now ready to ride,
Sure 'twas the morning I espide,
Or 'twas the blushing of the bride. 30
See how the lusty bridegrooms veins
Swell, till the active torrent strains
To breake those o're stretcht azure chaines.
And the faire bride ready to cry
To see her pleasant losse so nigh, 35
Pants like the sealed Pigeons eye.
Put out the torch, Love loves no lights,
Those that performe his misticke rites
Must pay their Orisons by nights.
Nor can that sacrifice be done 40
By any Priest, or Nun alone,
But when they both are met in one.
Now you that tast of Hymens cheere,
See that your lips doe meet so neare,
That Cockels might be tutor'd there; 45
And let the whisprings of your love
Such short and gentle murmurs prove,
As they were Lectures to the dove.
(38) his] their '52. (45) nuy 68.
102 THOMAS RANDOLPH
And in such strict embraces twine
As if you read unto the Vine, 50
The Ivy, and the Columbine.
Then let your mutuall bosomes beat,
Till they create by virtuall heat
Mirre, Balme, and spikenard in a sweat.
Thence may there spring many a paire 55
Of Sonnes and Daughters strong and faire:
How soone the Gods have heard my praier!
Me thinks already I espy
The cradles rock, the babies cry,
And drousy Nurses Lullaby. 60
(57) This line indented in '38.
An Epitaph upon his honoured freind Mr Warre.
HEre lyes the knowing head, the honest heart,
Faire blood, and curteous hands, and every part
Of gentle Warre, all with one stone content,
Though each deserv'd a severall monument.
He was (believe me Reader) for 'tis rare 5
Virtuous though young, and learned though an heire.
Not with his Blood, or Natures gifts content
He paid them both the tribute which they lent.
His ancestors in him fixed their pride,
So with him all reviv'd, with him all dyed. 10
(2) hand "64. (7) vertue* gift '68.
POEMS 103
This made death lingring come, asham'd to bee
At once the ruine of a familie.
Learne Reader here, though long thy line hath stood,
Time breeds consumptions in the noblest blood.
Learne (Reader) here to what our Glories come, 15
Here's no distinction 'twixt the House and Toombe.
(13) lone '68.
Vpon the losse of his little finger.
ARithmetique nine digits, and no more
Admits of, then I still have all my store.
For what mischance hath tane from my left
hand,
It seemes did only for a Cipher stand.
But this I'le say for thee departed joynt, 5
Thou wert not given to steale, nor pick, not point
At any in disgrace; but thou didst go
Vntimely to thy Death only to show
The other members what they once must doe;
Hand, arme, legge, thigh, and all must follow too. 10
Oft didst thou scan my verse, where if I misse
Henceforth I will impute the cause to this.
A fingers losse (I speake it not in sport)
Will make a verse a Foot too short.
Farewell deare finger, much I greive to see 15
How soone mischance hath made a Hand of thee.
(6) nor pick,] not pick, '43, '64 to pick, '52 or pick, '68.
(14) verse sometimes a foot too short. "64, '68.
104 THOMAS RANDOLPH
On the Passion of Christ.
WHat rends the temples vail, wher is day gone?
How can agenerall darknesse cloud the Sun?
Astrologers their skill in vaine doe try;
Nature must needs be sick, when God can dye.
(4) can] must '68.
Necessary Observations.
i Precept.
First worship God, he that forgets to pray
Bids not himselfe good morrow nor good day.
Let thy first labour be to purge thy sin;
And serve him first, whence all things did begin.
2 Pre.
Honour thy Parents to prolong thine end, 5
With them though for a truth doe not contend.
Though all should truth defend, doe thou loose rather
The truth a while, then loose their Loves for ever.
Who ever makes his fathers heart to bleed,
Shall have a child that will revenge the deed. 10
3 Pre.
Thinke that is just; 'tis not enough to doe,
Vnless thy very thoughts are upright too.
4 Pre.
Defend the truth, for that who will not dye,
A coward is, and gives himselfe the lye.
5 Pre.
Honour the King, as sonnes their Parents doe, 15
For he's thy Father, and thy Country's too.
POEMS 105
6Pre.
A freind is gold; if true heele never leave thee,
Yet both without a touchstone may deceive thee.
7 Pre.
Suspicious men thinke others false, but hee
Cozens himselfe that will too credulous bee. 20
For thy freinds sake, let no suspect be shown;
And shun to be too credulous for thine own.
8 Pre.
Take well what e're shall chance, though bad it bee;
Take it for good, and 'twill be so to thee.
9 Pre.
Swear not: An oath is like a dangerous dart 35
Which shot rebounds to strike the shooters heart.
10 Pre.
The law's the path of life; then that obey,
Who keeps it not hath wandring lost his way.
11 Pre.
Thanke those that doe thee good, so shalt thou gaine
Their second helpe, if thou shouldst need againe. 30
12 Pre.
To doubtfull matters doe not headlong run;
What's well left off, were better not begun.
13 Pre.
Be well advis'd, and wary counsell make,
E're thou dost any action undertake.
Having undertaken, thy endeauours bend 35
To bring thy Action to a perfect end.
14 Pre.
Safe in thy brest close lock up thy Intents;
For he that knows thy purpose, best prevents.
(21) subject '68. (36) actions '68.
106 THOMAS RANDOLPH
15 Pre.
To tell thy miseries will no comfort breed,
Men helpe thee most that thinke thou hast no need.
But if the world once they misfortunes know, 41
Thou soone shalt loose a freind, and find a foe.
16 Pre.
Keepe thy freinds goods; for should thy wants be known,
Thou canst not tell but they may be thine own.
17 Pre.
To gather wealth through fraud doe not presume, 45
A little evill got will much consume.
1 8 Pre.
First thinke, and if thy thoughts approve thy will
Then speake, and after what thou speakst fulfill.
19 Pre.
Spare not, nor spend too much; be this thy care,
Spare but to spend, and only spend to spare. 50
Who spends too much may want, and so complaine.
But he spends best that spares to spend againe.
20 Pre.
If with a stranger thou discourse first learne
By strictest observations to discerne,
If he be wiser then thy selfe; if so 55
Be dumbe, and rather choose by him to know.
But if thy selfe perchance the wiser bee,
Then doe thou speake that he may learne by thee.
21 Pre.
If thou dispraise a man let no man know,
By any circumstance that he's thy foe: 60
If men but once find that, they'l quickly see
Thy words from hate, and not from judgment bee.
(44) thine] thy '68.
POEMS 107
If thou wouldst tell his vice, doe what you can
To make the world believe thou lov'st the man.
22 Pre.
Reprove not in their wrath incensed men, 65
Good councell comes cleane out of season then.
But when his fury is appeas'd and past,
He will conceive his fault and mend at last.
When he is coole, and calme then utter it;
No man gives Physick in the midst oth' Fit. 70
23 Pre.
Seeme not too conscious of thy worth, nor be
The first that knows thy own sufficiency.
If to thy King and Country thy true care
More servicable is then others are,
That blaze in court, and every Action sway 75
As if the Kingdome on their shoulders lay.
Or if thou serv'st a master, and dost see
Others prefer'd of lesse Desert then thee,
Doe not complaine though such a Plaint be true,
Lords will not give their Favours as a Due. 80
But rather stay and hope: it cannot bee
But men at last must needs thy vertues see.
So shall thy trust endure, and greater grow,
Whilst they that are above thee, fall below.
24 Pre. •
Desire not thy mean fortunes for to set 85
Next to the stately Manners of the Great.
He will suspect thy labours, and oppresse,
Fearing thy greatnesse makes his wealth the lesse.
Great ones doe love no ^Equals: But must bee
Aboue the Termes of all comparitie. 90
(68) mend] men '38. (86)Manner» '52.
(85) meane-fortunes '38.
108 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Such a rich Neighbour is compared best
To the great Pike that eats up all the rest.
Or else like Pharaohs Cow, that in an houre
Will seaven of his fattest freinds devoure.
Or like the sea whose vastnesse swallows cleane 95
All other streams, though no encrease be scene.
Live by the Poore, they doe the Poore no harme;
So Bees thrive best when they together swarme.
Rich men are Bears, and Poore men ought to feare 'em.
Like ravenous wolfes; 'tis dangerous living neare 'em. 100
25 Pre.
Each man three Divils hath, selfe borne afflictions;
Th' unruly Tongue, the Belly, and Affections.
Charme these, such holy Conjurations can
Gaine thee the friendship both of God and man.
26 Pre.
So Hue with man as if Gods curious eye, 105
Did every where into thine Actions prie.
For never yet was sinne so void of sence,
So fully fac'd with brazen Impudence,
As that it durst before mens eyes commit
Their beastly lusts, least they should witnesse it. no
How dare they then offend, when God shall see,
That must alone both ludge and lury bee?
• 27 Pre.
Take thou no care how to deferre thy death,
And give more respit to this Mortall breath.
Would'st thou live long? the only meanes are these 115
'Bove Galens diet, or Hippocrates.
Strive to live well; Tread in the upright wayes,
And rather count thy Actions then thy dayes,
(100) wolves '43, S. (106) thy '68.
(101) hath '38 hath; '43, ff. affliction, '52. (112) ?] . '38.
POEMS 109
Then thou hast liv'd enough amongst us here,
For every day well spent I count a yeare. no
Live well, and then how soone soe're thou die,
Thou art of Age to claim ^Eternitie.
But he that out lives Nestor, and appeares
T'have the date of gray Matbusalems yeares.
If his life to sloth and sinne doth give, 125
I say he only Was, he did not Live!
28 Pre.
Trust not a man unknown he may deceive thee;
And doubt the man thou knowst for he may leave
thee.
And yet for to prevent exceptions too,
'Tis best not seeme to doubt although you doe. 130
29 Pre.
Heare much but little speake, a wise man feares,
And will not use his tongue so much as eares.
The Tongue if it the hedge of Teeth doe break
Will others shame, and its own Ruine speak.
I never yet did ever read of any 135
Vndone by hearing, but by speaking many.
The reason's this, the Eares if chast and holy,
Doe let in wit, the Tongue doth let out folly.
30 Pre.
To all alike be curteous, meeke, and kind,
A winning carriage with indifferent mind, 140
Be not familiar, that must be exempt,
Groomes saucy love soone turnes into contempt.
Be sure he be at least as good as thee,
To whom thy freindship shall familiar bee.
(124) Methus'lem'i '68. (137) holly '5*.
(129) exception '43, ff. (142) love, '38.
110 THOMAS RANDOLPH
31 Pre.
ludge not between two freinds, but rather see 145
If thou canst bring them freindly to agree.
So shalt thou both their Loves to thee encrease,
And gaine a Blessing too for making Peace;
But if thou should'st decide the cause i' th' end,
How e're thou judge thou sure shalt loose a freind. 150
32 Pre.
Thy credit wary keepe, 'tis quickly gone;
Being got by many Actions, lost by one.
33 Pre.
Vnto thy Brother buy not, sell, nor lend,
Such Actions have their own peculiar end;
But rather choose to give him, if thou see 155
That thou hast pow'er, and hee necessitie.
34 Pre.
Spare in thy youth, least Age should find thee poore
When time is past, and thou canst spare no more.
No coupl'd misery is so great in either,
As Age and Want when both doe meet together. 160
35 Pre.
Fly Drunkennesse, whose vile incontinence
Takes both away the reason and the sence.
Till with Circcean cups thy mind possest
Leaves to be man, and wholy turnes a Beast.
Thinke whilst thou swallowest the capacious Bowle,i65
Thou let'st in Seas to wrack and drown the soule.
That hell is open, to remembrance call,
And thinke how subject drunkards are to Fall.
Consider how it soone destroyes the grace
Of humane shape, spoyling the beauteous face. 170
(152) •] » '38. (163) Ciraean Kups '43, '52 mind's '43, '52, '68.
(156) power '40 ff.
POEMS 1 1 1
Puffing the cheekes, blearing the curious eye,
Studding the face with vitious Heraldry.
What Pearles and Rubies doth the wine disclose,
Making the purse poore to enrich the Nose?
How does it nurse disease, infect the heart. 175
Drawing some sicknesse into every part!
The stomack overcloyd, wanting a vent
Doth up againe resend her excrement.
And then (6 see what too much wine can doe!)
The very soule being drunke spews secrets too. 180
The Lungs corrupted breath contagious ayre,
Belching up fumes that unconcocted are.
The Braine o'rewarm'd (loosing her sweet repose)
Doth purge her filthy ordure through the nose.
The veins doe boyle glutted with vitious food, 185
And quickly Fevers the distemper'd blood.
The belly swells, the foot can hardly stand
Lam'd with the Gout; the Palsie shakes the Hand.
And through the flesh sick waters sinking in,
Doe bladder-like puffe up the dropsi'd skin. 190
It weaks the Braine, it spoiles the memory;
Hasting on Age, and wilfull Poverty.
It drownes thy better parts; making thy name
To foes a laughter, to thy freinds a shame.
'Tis vertues poyson, and the bane of trust, 195
The match of wrath, the fuell unto lust.
Quite leave this vice, and turne not to't againe,
Vpon Presumption of a stronger braine.
For he that holds more wine then others can,
I rather count a Hogshead then a man. 200
(199) other '38, '64, '68.
112 THOMAS RANDOLPH
36 Pre.
Let not thy Impotent lust so pow'rfull bee
Over thy Reason, Soule, and Liberty,
As to enforce thee to a marryed life,
E're thou art able to maintaine a wife.
Thou canst not feed upon her lips and face 205
Shee cannot cloth thee with a poore imbrace.
My selfe being yet alone, and but one still,
With patience could endure the worst of ill.
When fortune frownes, one to the wars may goe
To fight against his foes, and fortunes too. 210
But (6) the greife were trebled for to see
Thy wretched Bride halfe pin'd with Povertie.
To see thy Infants make their dumb complaint
And thou not able to releive their want.
The poorest begger when he's dead and gone, 215
Is rich as he that sits upon the Throne.
But he that having no estate is wed,
Starves in his grave, being wretched when he's dead.
37 Pre.
If e're I take a wife I will have one
Neither for beauty nor for portion, 220
But for her vertues; and I'le married bee
Not for my lust, but for posteritie.
And when I am wed, I'le never iealous bee,
But make her learne how to be chast by mee.
And be her face what 'twill, I'le thinke her faire 225
If shee within the house confine her care.
If modest in her words and cloths shee bee,
Not daub'd with pride and prodigalitie.
If with her neighbours shee maintaines no strife,
And beare her selfe to me a faithfull wife, 230
(201) powerfull '40 powerfull '43, ff. (211) treble '43, ff.
POEMS 113
I'de rather unto such a one be wed
Then claspe the choicest Helen in my bed.
Yet though shee were an Angell my affection
Should only love, not dote on her perfection.
A Platonick Elegie.
LOve, give me leave to serve thee, and be wise
To keepe thy torch in, but restore blind eyes.
I will a flame into my bosome take,
That Martyrs Court when they embrace the stake:
Not dull, and smoakie fires, but heat divine, 5
That burnes not to consume, but to refine.
I have a Mistresse for perfections rare
In every eye, but in my thoughts most faire.
Like Tapers on the Altar shine her eyes;
Her breath is the perfume of Sacrifice. 10
And where soe're my fancy would begin,
Still her perfection lets religion in.
I touch her like my Beads with devout care;
And come unto my Courtship as my Praier.
We sit, and talke, and kisse away the houres, 15
As chastly as the morning dews kisse flowers.
Goe wanton Lover, spare, thy sighs and teares,
Put on the Livery which thy dotage weares,
And call it Love, where heresie gets in
Zeal's but a coale to kindle greater sin. 20
Wee weare no flesh, but one another greet,
As blessed soules in separation meet.
An Elegit '38. (14) Court-»hip* '68.
(3) my] thy '68. (17) Line not indented in '38.
(4) «take] ttate '68. (18) the] thy '68.
(7) perfection '68.
114 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Wer't possible that my ambitious sin,
Durst commit rapes upon a Cherubin,
I might have lustfull thoughts to her, of all 25
Earths heav'nly Quire the most Angelicall.
Looking into my brest, her forme I find
That like my Guardian-Angell keeps my mind
From rude attempts; and when affections stirre,
I calme all passions with one thought of her. 30
Thus they whose reasons love, and not their sence,
The spirits love: thus one Intelligence
Reflects upon his like, and by chast loves
In the same spheare this and that Angell moves.
Nor is this barren Love; one noble thought 35
Begets an other, and that still is brought
To bed of more; vertues and grace increase,
And such a numerous issue ne're can cease.
Where Children, though great blessings, only bee
Pleasures repriv'd to some posteritie. 40
Beasts love like men, if men in lust delight
And call that love which is but appetite.
When essence meets with essence, and soules joyne
In mutuall knots, thats the true Nuptall twine:
Such Lady is my Love, and such is true; 45
All other Love is to your Sexe, not You.
(29) affliction! '68.
POEMS 115
An Apologie for his false Prediction that his
Aunt Lane would be deliver' d of a Sonnf.
MO.VTIS aoioros 5s ris eucofet KdXcos.
The best Prophets are but good Guessers.
A Re then the Sibils dead? what is become
Of the lowd Oracles? are the Augurs dumbe?
Live not the Magi that so oft reveald
Natures intents? is Gipsisme quite repeald?
Is Friar Bacon nothing but a name? 5
Or is all witchcraft braind with Doctor Lambf?
Does none the learned Bungies soule inherit?
Has Madam Davers dispossest her spirit?
Or will the Welchmen give me leave to say
There is no faith in Merlin? none, though they 10
Dare sweare each letter creed, and pawne their blood
He prophecied, an age before the flood,
Of holy Dee; which was, as some have said,
Ten generations ere the Arke was made.
All your predictions but Impostures are, 15
And you but prophecy of things that were.
And you Coelestiall luglers that pretend
You are acquainted with the starres, and send
Your spyes to search what's done in every spheare,
Keeping your state-intelligencers there 20
Your art is all deceit; for now I see
Against the Rules of deepe Astrologie,
Girles may be got when Mars his power doth vaunt,
And boyes when Venus is Predominant.
'euedfei '38.
(20) state intelligencers '38. (26),] om. "38.
Il6 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Nor doth the Moone though moist and cold shee bee
Alwaies at full, work to produce the shee: 26
Had this been true I had foretold no lie,
It was the Art was in the wrong, not I.
Thence I so dully err'd in my beleife,
As to mistake an Adam for an Eve: 30
0 grosse mistake, and in the civill pleas
Error Persona, Mr Doctor sayes,
And may admit divorce; but farewell now
You hungry star-fed Tribe, hence forth I vow
Talmud, Albumazar, and Ptolomie, 35
With Erra-Pater shall no Gospell bee.
Nor will I ever after this I sweare
Throw Dice upon the shepheards Calender.
But why doe I t' excuse my Ignorance
Lay blame upon the Art? no, no, perchance 40
1 have lost all my skill: for well I know
My Physiognomic two years agoe
By the small Pox was mar'd, and it may bee
A fingers losse hath spoild my Palmistry.
But why should I a grosse mistake confesse? 45
No I am confident I did but guesse
The very truth: it was a male child then,
But Aunt you staid till 'twas a wench agen.
To see th' unconstancy of humane things,
How little time great Alteration brings! 50
All things are subject unto change we know,
And if all things, why then not sexes too?
Tyresias we read a man was borne
Yet after did into a woman turne.
(31) ,] ! '68. (34) vow] now '38.
(32) Master '40, ff. (51) thing '38.
(33) many '64, '68.
POEMS 117
Lfvinus a Physitian of great fame, 55
Reports that one at Paris did the same.
And devout Papists say certaine it is,
One of their Popes by Metamorphosis
Indur'd the same; else how could loan be heire
To the succession of S. Peters chaire. 60
So I at Chairing cross e have beheld one
A statue cut out of the Parian stone
To figure great Alcides; which when well
The Artist saw it was not like to sell,
He takes his chissill, and away he pares 65
Part of his sinewy neck, shaving the haires
Of his rough beard and face, smoothing the brow,
And making that looke amorous, which but now
Stood wrinkled with his anger; from his head
He poles the shaggy locks, that had o're spread 70
His brawny shoulders with a fleece of haire,
And workes insteed more gentle tresses there.
And thus his skill exactly to expresse,
Soone makes a Venus of an Hercules.
And can it then impossible appeare, 75
That such a change as this might happen here?
For this cause therefore (Gentle Aunt) I pray
Blame not my Prophecy, but your delay.
But this will not excuse me; that I may
Directly cleare my selfe, there is no way 80
Vnlesse the Jesuits will to me impart
The secret depth of their mysterious art;
Who from their halting Patriot learne to frame
A Crutch for every word that fals out lame.
(56) that] of '68. '69) ,] ; '38.
(60) Saint '43, '52 St. '68. (70) pull» '68 that] and '40, '43, '52.
61) Not indented in '38. (74) an] a '64, '68.
(64) ,] ; '38. (82) ;] . '38.
Il8 THOMAS RANDOLPH
That can the subtle difference discry 85
Betwixt aequivocation and a lie.
And a rare scape by sly distinction find
To sweare the Tongue, and yet not sweare the mind.
Now arm'd with Arguments I nothing dread,
But my own cause thus confidently plead. 90
I said there was a boy within your wombe,
Not actually, but one in time to come.
Or by Antipbrasis my words might bee
That ever understands the contrary;
Or when I said you should a man-child beare, 95
You understood me of the sexe I feare,
When I did meane the mind; and thus define
A woman but of spirit masculine.
Or had I said it should a girle have been
And it had prov'd a boy, you should have seen 100
Me solve it thus; I meant a boy by fate,
But one that would have been effeminate.
Or thus I had my just excuse begun,
I said my Aunt would surely bring a sonne
If not a daughter; what we seers forsee 105
Is certaine truth unlesse it falshood bee.
Or I affirme because shee brought forth one
That will bring boyes, shee hath brought forth a son.
For doe not we call Father Adam thus,
Because that he got those that have got us? no
What ere I said by simple Affirmation,
I meant the right by mentall reservation.
(91) with in '38. (no) ?] . '38.
(too) you] it '38. (112) mentall reservation '40, ff.
POEMS 119
An Epithalamium to MT F. H.
FRanke, when this Morne the harbinger of day
Blush'd from her Easterne pillow where shee lay
Clasp'd in her Tythons arms red with those kisses,
Which being injoy'd by night, by day shee misses.
I walk'd the feilds to see the teeming earth, 5
Whose worn be now swells to give the flowers a birth.
Where while my thoughts with every object tane,
In severall contemplations rapt my braine,
A suddaine lustre like the Sunne did rise,
And with so great a light eclips'd mine eyes. 10
At last I spyed a Beauty such another,
As I have sometimes heard call thee her Brother.
But by the chariot, and her teame of Doves,
I guest her to be Venus, Queene of Loves.
With her a pretty boy I there did see, 15
But for his wings F had thought it had been thee.
At last when I beheld his quiver of darts,
I knew t'was Cupid, Emp'ror of our hearts.
Thus I accosted them, Goddesse divine,
Great Queene of Papbos and Cytberian shrine: 20
Whose Altars no man sees that can depart
Till in those flames he sacrifice his heart;
That conquer'st Gods, and men; and heaven divine,
Yea and hell too: Beare witnesse Proserpine.
And Cupid, thou that canst thy Trophies show 25
Over all these, and o're thy Mother too;
Witnesse the night which when with Mars shee lay,
Did all her sports to all the Gods betray:
(8) wrapt '52. (18) Emperour '38.
(14) guesse '52. (23) conquerest '38.
(16) I had '40, '43, '52 I'd '64 I'de '68.
120 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Tell me great Powers; what makes such glorious beams
Visit the lowly banks of Ninus streams? 30
Then Venus smil'd, and smiling bid me know
Cupid and shee must both to Weston goe.
I guest the cause; for Hymen came behind
In saffron robes, his Nuptiall knots to bind.
Then thus I pray'd: Great Venus by the Love 35
Of thy Adonis; as thou hop'st to move
Thy Mars to second kisses; and obtaine
Beauties reward, the Golden fruit againe:
Bow thy faire eares to my chast prayers, and take
Such Orisons as purest Love can make. 40
Thou, and thy boy I know are posting thither
To tye pure hearts in purest bonds together.
Cupid thou know'st the maid: I' have scene thee lye
With all thy arrowes lurking in her eye.
Venus thou know'st her love, for I have scene 45
The time thou would'st have faine her Rivall been.
0 blesse them both ! Let their affections meet
With happy omens in the Geniall sheet.
Both comely, beauteous both, both equall faire,
Thou canst not glory in a fitter paire. 50
1 would not thus have praid if I had seen
Fourscore and ten, wed to a young fifteen.
Death in such Nuptials seems with love to play,
And January seems to match with May:
Autumne to wed the Spring; Frost to desire 55
To kisse the Sun; Ice to embrace the fire.
Both these are young, both sprightfull, both compleat,
Of equall moisture, and of equall heat:
And their desires are one; were all Loves such
Who would love solitary sheets so much? 60
(43) I have '40, '43. '52 I've '64, '68. (59) Loves] love "68.
POEMS 121
Virginity (whereof chast fooles doe boast;
A thing not known what 'tis, till it be lost)
Let others praise; for me I cannot tell
What vertue 'tis to lead Baboons in hell.
Woman is one with man when shee is brided; 65
The same in kind, only in sexe divided.
Had all dy'd maids, we had been nothing then;
Adam had been the first, and last of men.
How none O Venus then thy power had seen?
How then in vaine had Cupids arrows been? 70
My selfe whose coole thoughts feele no hot desires,
That serve not Venus flames, but Vestas fires;
Had I not vow'd the cloysters, to confine
My selfe to no more wives then only nine
Parnassus brood; those that heare Phoebus sing, 75
Bathing their naked limbs in Thespian spring.
I'de rather bee an Owle of Birds, then one
That is the Phcenix if shee live alone.
Two is the first of numbers; one naught can doe,
One then is good, when one is made of two. 80
Which mistery is thine great Venus ; thine;
Thy union can two soules in one combine.
Now by that power I charge thee blesse the sheets
With happy issue where this couple meets.
The maid's a Harvy, one that may compare 85
With fruit Hesperian, or the Dragons care.
Her Love a Ward; not he that awed the seas,
Frighting the fearefull Hamadryades,
That Ocean terrour, he that durst outbrave
Dread Neptunes Trident, Ampbitrites wave. 90
(62) what, 'tis '38. (78) live] be '68.
(64) vertue, 'tit '38. (79) Two is] Two's '40, ff. numbers, '40 ff.
(74) to more '68. (88) ,] . '38.
(76) their] her '68.
122 THOMAS RANDOLPH
This Ward a milder Pirat sure will prove,
And only sailes the Hellespont of Love,
As once Leander did; his theft is best
That nothing steales but whats within the brest.
Yet let that other Ward his thefts compare, 95
And ransack all his treasures, let him beare
The wealth of worlds, the bowels of the West
And all the richest treasures of the East.
The sands of Tagus, all Pactolus ore,
With both the Indies; yet this one gets more 100
At once by Love, then he by force could get,
Or ravish from the Marchants; let him set
His Ores together; let him vainely boast
Of spices snatch'd from the Canary coast.
The Gummes of JEgypt, of the Tyrian fleece 105
Died in his Native purple, with what Greece,
Colchos, Arabia, or proud China yeilds,
With all the Metals in Guiana feilds.
When this has set all forth to boast his pride
In various pompe this other brings his Bride, no
And I'le be judg'd by all judicious eyes,
If shee alone prove not the richer prize.
O let not death have power their Love to sever!
Let them both love, and live and die together.
O let their beds be chast, and banish thence 115
As well all lealousies, as all offence!
For some men I have known, whose wives have been
As chast as Ice: such as were never seen
In wanton dalliance, such as untill death
Never smelt any, but their husbands breath. 120
Yet the Good-man still dream'd of homes, still fearing
His forhead would grow harder; still appearing
(101) Love; "38. (no) pompe, '38. (114) live] live, '40, ff.
POEMS 123
To his own fancy, bull, or stagge, or more,
Or Oxe at least, that was an Asse before.
If shee would have new cloaths, he streight will feare
Shee loves a Taylour; if shee sad appeare 126
He guesses soone it is 'cause he's at home;
If jocund, sure shee has some freind to come.
If shee be sick, he thinkes no greife shee felt,
But wishes all Physitians had been guelt. 130
But aske her how shee does, sets him a swearing,
Feeling her pulse, is love tricks past the bearing.
Poore wretched wife, shee cannot looke a wry
But without doubt 'tis flat adultery.
And jealous wives there be, that are afraid 135
To entertaine a handsome Chamber-maid.
Farre, farre from them be all such thoughts I pray,
Let their Loves prove eternall, and no day
Adde date to their affections, grant (6 Queene)
Their Loves like nuptiall bayes be alwaies greene. 140
And also grant But here shee bid me stay,
For well shee knew what I had else to say.
I ask'd no more, wish'd her hold on her race
To joyne their hands, and send them night apace.
Shee smil'd to heare what I in sport did say, 145
So whip'd her doves and smiling rid away.
(131) set '38. (135) Not indented in '40, ff.
To Mr Feltham on his booke of Resolves.
IN this unconstant Age when all mens minds
In various change strive to outvie the winds.
When no man sets his foot upon the square,
But treads on globes and circles; when we are
The Apes of Fortune, and desire to bee 5
124 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Revolved on as fickle wheeles as shee.
As if the planets, that our rulers are,
Made the soules motion too irregular.
When minds change oftner then the Greek could dream,
That made the Metempseucos'd soule his theame; 10
Yea oft to beastly formes: when truth to say
Moons change but once a month, we twice a day.
When none resolves but to be rich, and ill;
Or else resolves to be irresolute still.
In such a tide of minds, that every houre 15
Doe ebbe and flow; by what inspiring power,
By what instinct of grace I cannot tell,
Dost thou resolve so much, and yet so well?
While foolish men whose reason is their sence,
Still wander in the worlds circumference: 20
Thou holding passions raines with strictest hand
Dost firme and fixed in the Center stand.
Thence thou art setled, others while they tend
To rove about the circle find no end.
Thy booke I read, and read it with delight, 25
Resolving so to live as thou dost wright.
And yet I guesse thy life thy booke produces,
And but expresses thy peculiar uses.
Thy manners dictate, thence thy writing came,
So Lesbians by their worke their rules doe frame, 30
Not by the rules the worke; thy life had been
Patterne enough, had it of all been seen,
Without a book; books make the difference here,
In them thou liv'st the same but every where.
(6) Resolved '40, ff. (26) write '40, ff.
(16) flow, '43, ff. (30) works '40, *43t '$*•
(20) wandring '43. ff- (3*) °Q at '52.
(21) Thou] Though '52. (33) ;] ? '52.
(23) other-while '43, '52, '64.
POEMS 125
And this I guesse, though th'art unknown to me, 35
By thy chast writing; else it could not bee
(Dissemble ne're so well) but here and there
Some tokens of that plague would soone appeare;
Oft lurking in the skin a secret gout
In books would sometimes blister, and breake out. 40
Contagious sinnes in which men take delight
Must needs infect the paper when they write.
But let the curious eyes of Lynceus look
Through every nerve, and sinew of this book,
Of which 'tis full: let the most diligent mind 45
Prie thorough it, each sentence he shall find
Season'd with chast, not with an itching salt,
More savouring of the Lampe, then of the malt.
But now too many thinke no wit divine,
None worthy life, but whose luxurious line 50
Can ravish Virgins thoughts. And is it fit
To make a pandar, or a baud of wit?
But tell 'em of it, in contempt they look,
And aske in scorne if you would geld their book.
As if th' effeminate braine could nothing doe 55
That should be chast, and yet be masculine too.
Such books as these (as they themselves indeed
Truly confesse) men doe not praise but read.
Such idle books, which if perchance they can
Better the braine, yet they corrupt the man. 60
Thou hast not one bad line so lustfull bred
As to dye maid, or Matrons cheeke in red.
Thy modest wit, and witty honest letter
Make both at once my wit, and me the better.
(54) their] the '40, ff. (56) masc'line '64, "68.
(55) th1] the '68. (64) Makej '38.
126 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Thy book a Garden is, and helps us most 65
To regaine that which wee in Adam lost.
Where on the Tree of knowledge wee may feed,
But such as no forbidden fruits doth breed.
Whose leaves like those whence Eve her coat did frame,
Serve not to cover, but to cure our shame. 70
Fraught with all flowers, not only such as grows
To please the eye, or to delight the nose.
But such as may redeeme lost healths againe,
And store of Hellebore to purge the braine.
Such as would cure the surfet man did take 75
From Adams Apples: such as faine would make
Mans second Paradise, in which should bee
The fruits of life, but no forbidden Tree.
It is a Garden; ha, I thus did say:
And maids, and Matrons blushing runne away. 80
But maids reenter these chast pleasing bowers;
Chast Matrons here gather the purest flowers.
Feare not: from this pure Garden doe not flye,
In it doth no obsceane Priapus lye.
This is an Eden where no serpents bee 85
To tempt the womans imbecillitie.
These lines rich sap the fruit to heaven doth raise;
Nor doth the Cinnamon barke deserve lesse praise,
I meane the stile, being pure and strong and round,
Not long but Pythy: being short breath'd, but sound.
Such as the grave, acute, wise Seneca sings, 91
That best of Tutours to the worst of kings.
Not long and empty; lofty but not proud;
Subtle but sweet, high but without a cloud.
Well setled full of nerves, in breife 'tis such 95
That in a little hath comprized much,
(65) helpe '38. (79) ha' '38. (85) bee; '38. (92) Tutour '38.
POEMS 127
Like th' Iliads in a Nutshell: And I say
Thus much for stile; though truth should not bee gay
In strumpets glittering robes, yet ne'rethelesse
Shee well deserves a Matrons comelinesse. 100
Being too brave shee would our fancies glut;
But we should loath her being too much the slut.
The reasonable soule from heaven obtain'd
The best of bodies; and that man hath gain'd
A double praise, whose noble vertues are 105
Like to the face, in soule and body faire.
Who then would have a noble sentence clad
In russet-thread-bare words, is full as mad
As if Apelles should so fondly dote,
As to paint Venus in old Saucy s coat. no
They erre that would bring stile so basely under;
The lofty language of the Law was thunder.
The wisest 'pothecary knows 'tis skill
Neatly to candy o're the wholesome pill.
Best Physique then, when gall with sugar meets, 115
Tempring Absinthian bitternesse with sweets.
Such is thy sentence, such thy stile, being read.
Men see them both together happ'ly wed.
And so resolve to keepe them wed, as we
Resolve to give them to posteritie. 120
'Mongst thy resolves put my resolves in too;
Resolve who's will, thus I resolve to doe:
That should my errours choose anothers line
Whereby to write, I meane to live by thine.
(98) gay.' 38. (116) Asbinthian '38 sweats '68.
(107) nobler '52. (122) whose '52.
(108) russet thread-bare '68.
128 THOMAS RANDOLPH
In Natalem Augustissimi Principis Caroli.
Thy first birth Mary was unto a torn be,
And sad Lucina cheated thy blest wombe.
To heav'n thou then wert fruitful!, now to earth,
That canst give Saints as well as Kings a birth.
(3) thou wert '40, ff.
Fpon bis Picture.
WHen age hath made me what I am not now;
And every wrinckle tels me where the plow
Of time hath furrowed; when an Ice shalt
flow
Through every vein, and all my head wear snow:
When death displayes his coldnesse in my cheeke, 5
And I, my selfe in my owne Picture seeke.
Not finding what I am, but what I was;
In doubt which to beleive, this, or my glasse:
Yet though I alter, this remaines the same
As it was drawne, retaines the primitive frame, 10
And first complexion; here will still be seen
Blood on the cheeke, and Downe upon the chin.
Here the smooth brow will stay, the lively eye,
The ruddy Lip, and haire of youthfull dye.
Behold what frailty we in man may see, 15
Whose Shaddow is lesse given to change then hee.
(4) wear] be '40, '43, '52, '68 be-snow '64.
POEMS 129
An Ode to MT Anthony Stafford to hasten
him into the country.
C
|Ome spurre away,
I have no patience for a longer stay;
But must goe downe,
And leave the chargeable noise of this great Towne.
I will the country see, 5
Where old simplicity,
Though hid in gray
Doth looke more gay
Then foppery in plush and scarlat clad.
Farewell you City-wits that are 10
Almost at Civill warre;
'Tis time that I grow wise, when all the world grows
mad.
More of my dayes
I will not spend to gaine an Idiots praise;
Or to make sport 15
For some slight Punie of the Innes of Court.
Then worthy Stafford say
How shall we spend the day,
With what delights
Shorten the nights? 20
When from this tumult we are got secure;
Where mirth with all her freedome goes
Yet shall no finger loose;
Where every word is thought, and every thought is
pure.
(12) grows] growe '40. (18) ,]. '38.
130 THOMAS RANDOLPH
There from the tree 25
Wee'l cherries plucke, and pick the strawbery.
And every day
Go see the wholesome Country Girles make hay.
Whose browne hath lovlier grace,
Then any painted face, 30
That I doe know
Hide-Parke can show.
Where I had rather gaine a kisse then meet
(Though some of them in greater state
Might court my love with plate) 35
The beauties of the Cbeape, and wives of Lumbar dstrect.
But thinke upon
Some other pleasures, these to me are none,
Why doe I prate
Of woemen, that are things against my fate? 40
I never meane to wed,
That torture to my bed.
My Muse is shee
My Love shall bee.
Let Clownes get wealth, and heires; when I am gone,
And the great Bugbeare grisly death 46
Shall take this idle breath
If I a Poem leave, that Poem is my Sonne.
Of this, no more;
Wee'l rather tast the bright Pomona s store. 50
No fruit shall scape
Our pallats, from the damsen, to the grape.
Then full we'l seek a shade,
And heare what musique's made;
(29) Whose] whose '38. hath] and '68.
(34-S) No parentheses in '38. (37) upon. '38. (40) ?] om. '38.
POEMS 131
How Philomell 55
Her tale doth tell:
And how the other Birds doe fill the quire;
The Thrush and Blackbird lend their throats
Warbling melodious notes;
Wee will all sports enjoy, which others but desire. 60
Ours is the skie,
Where at what fowle we please our Hauke shall flye;
Nor will we spare
To hunt the crafty foxe, or timorous hare;
But let our hounds runne loose 65
In any ground they'l choose,
The Bucke shall fall,
The stagge and all:
Our pleasures must from their owne warrants bee,
For to my Muse, if not to mee, 70
I'me sure all game is free;
Heaven, Earth, are all but parts of her great Royalty.
And when we meane
To tast of Bacchus blessings now and then,
And drinke by stealth 75
A cup or two to noble Barkleys health.
Fie take my pipe and try
The Phrygian melody;
Which he that heares
Lets through his eares 80
A madnesse to distemper all the braine.
Then I another pipe will take
And Dorique musique make,
To Civilize with graver notes our wits againe.
(58) Black-birds '52. (62) Whereat '38, '40, '43, '51.
(59) Warbling] warbling '38. (84) greater '43, if.
132 THOMAS RANDOLPH
An answer to Afr Ben Johnson's Ode, to per-
swade him not to leave the stage.
B
'En doe not leave the stage
Cause 'tis a loathsome age;
For Pride, and Impudence will grow too bold,
When they shall heare it told
They frighted thee: stand high as is thy cause, 5
Their hisse is thy applause.
More just were thy disdaine,
Had they approv'd thy vaine.
So thou for them, and they for thee were borne,
They to incense, and thou as much to scorne. 10
Wilt thou engrosse thy store
Of wheat, and powre no more,
Because their Bacon-braines have such a tast
As more delight in mast?
No; set 'em forth a board of dainties, full 15
As thy best Muse can cull;
While they the while doe pine
And thirst, midst all their wine.
What greater plague can hell it selfe devise,
Then to be willing thus to tantalize? 20
Thou canst not find them stuffe
That will be bad enough
To please their pallats; let 'em thine refuse
For some Pye-corner Muse;
(8) appov'd '38. (23) thine] then '68. (24) Pye-corner* '68.
POEMS 133
Shee is to faire an hostesse, 'twere a sinne 25
For them to like thine Inne:
'Twas made to entertaine,
Guests of a nobler straine,
Yet if they will have any of thy store,
Give 'em some scraps, and send them from thy dore. 30
And let those things in plush,
'Till they be taught to blush
Like what they will, and more contented bee
With what Broome swept from thee.
I know thy worth, and that thy lofty straines 35
Write not to clothes but Braines:
But thy great spleene doth rise
Cause moles will have no eyes;
This only in my Ben, I faulty find
He's angry, they'le not see him that are blind. 40
Why should the Scene be Mute
Cause thou canst touch a Lute
And string thy Horace? let each Muse of nine
Claime thee, and say thou art mine.
'Twer fond to let all other flames expire 45
To sitt by Pindar's fire:
For by so strange neglect,
I should my selfe suspect
The Palsie were as well, thy braines disease;
If they could shake thy Muse which way they please. 50
And though thou well canst sing,
The glories of thy King;
And on the wings of verse his chariot beare
To heaven, and fixe it there:
(36) cloths '40 deaths '43, ff. (42) a] my '43. ff-
134 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Yet let thy Muse as well some raptures raise, 55
To please him, as to praise.
I would not have thee choose
Only a treble Muse;
But have this envious, ignorant Age to know,
Thou that canst sing so high, canst reach as low. 60
A Dialogue. Tbirsis. Lalage.
Th. "1% ^TY Lalage when I behold
%/ 1 So great a cold,
-1- T JL And not a spark of heat in thy desire,
I wonder what strange power of thine
Kindles in mine 5
So bright a flame, and such a burning fire.
Lalag. Can Tbirsis in Philosophy
A Truant bee,
And not have learn'd the power of the Sun?
How he to sublunary things, 10
A fervour brings,
Yet in himselfe is subject unto none?
Tb. But why within thy eyes appeare
Never a teare,
That cause from mine perpetuall showres to
fall? 15
La. Foole 'tis the power of fire you know
To melt the snow,
Yet has no moisture in it selfe at all.
Tb. How can I be, deare Virgin show,
Both fire and snow? 20
(3) thy] my '68. (n) favour '38.
(9) Son? '43 Son; '52.
POEMS 135
Doe you that are the cause the reason tell;
More then miracle to me
It seemes to be,
That so much heate with so much cold
should dwell.
La. The reason I will render thee; 25
Why both should bee.
Audacious Thirsis in thy love too bold,
'Cause thy sawcinesse durst aspire
To such a fire,
Thy love is hot; but 'tis thy hope is cold. 30
Tb. Let pitty move thy gentle brest
To one opprest;
This way, or that, give ease to my desire;
And either let Loves fire be lost
In hopes cold frost, 35
Or hopes cold frost be warm'd in loves quick
fire.
La. O neither Boy; neither of these
Shall wdrke thy ease.
I'le pay thy rashnesse with immortal paine,
As hope doth strive to freeze thy flame, 40
Love melts the same:
As Love doth melt it, Hope doth freez't again.
Tb. Come gentle swaines lend me a groane
To ease my moane.
Chorus. Ah cruell Love how great a power is thine ?45
Vnder the Poles although we lye
Thou mak'st us frye:
And thou canst make us freeze beneath the line.
I have arranged the whole poem in regard to speakers names, etc., in the same
manner as is the full page of the text in '38. The half pages preceding and fol-
lowing this page are more irregular.
(42) .] om, '38. (43) Th.] Placed before line 42 in '38.
136 THOMAS RANDOLPH
A Dialogue betwixt a Nymph and a Sbepheard.
Nymp: Hy sigh you swain ? this passion is
not common;
I'st for your kids, or Lambkins?
Sb: For a woman.
Nymp: How faire is shee that on so sage a brow
Prints lowring looks?
Sbep: lust such a toy as thou.
Nymp: Is shee a maid? 5
Sb: What man can answer that?
Nymp: Or widdow?
Sb: No.
Nym: What then?
Sh: I know not what.
Saint-like shee lookes, a Syren if shee sing.
Her eyes are starres, her mind is everything.
Nymp: If she be fickle, Shepheard leave to wooe
Or fancy mee.
Sb: No thou art woman too; 10
Nymp: But I am constant.
Sb: Then thou art not faire.
Nymp: Bright as the morning.
Sh: Wavering as the Ayre.
Nymp: What grows upon this cheeke?
Sh: A pure Carnation.
Nym: Come tast a kisse.
Sh: . O sweet, 6 sweet Temptation!
(l) comon; '38. (12) as air '68.
(6) What] what '38. (14) a] and "52.
POEMS 137
Cbo: Ah Love, and canst thou never loose the
feild? 15
Where Cupid layes a seige, the towne must
yeild.
He warmes the chillier blood with glowing fire,
And thaws the Icy frost of cold desire.
(16) a] the '40 ff.
A Pastorall Ode.
C
Oy Ccelia dost thou see
Yon hollow mountaine tottering o're the plaine,
O're which a fatall Tree
With treacherous shade betray es the sleepy swaine?
Beneath it is a Cell, 5
As full of horrour as my brest of care,
Ruine therein might dwell;
As a fit roome for guilt and black dispaire.
Thence will I headlong throw
This wretched weight, this heape of misery; 10
And in the dust below,
Bury my Carcasse, and the thought of thee:
Which when I finish'd have,
O hate me dead, as thou hast done alive;
And come not neare my grave 15
Least I take heat from thee, and so revive.
(0 COy] GO '68. do) wight '68. (12) thought! '68.
138 THOMAS RANDOLPH
A Song.
MVsick thou Queene of soules, get up and string
Thy pow'rful Lute, and some sad requiem
sing,
Till Rocks requite thy Eccho with a groane:
And the dull clifts repeate the duller tone:
Then on a suddaine with a nimble hand 5
Runne gently o're the Chordes, and so command
The Pine to dance, the Oake his Roots forgoe,
The holme and aged Elme to foot it too;
Mirtles shall caper, lofty Cedars runne;
And call the Courtly Palme to make up one; 10
Then in the midst of all their lolly traine,
Strike a sad note; and fixe 'em Trees againe.
The Song of Discord.
LEt Linus and Amphions lute,
With Orpheus citterne now be mute.
The harshest voice the sweetest note;
The Raven has the choicest throate.
A set of Frogs a quire for mee, 5
The Mandrake shall the Chaunter bee.
Where neither voice, nor tunes agree;
This is discords Harmonic.
Thus had Orpheus learn'd to play,
The following Trees had run away. 10
POEMS 139
To one Overhearing his private discourse.
I Wonder not my Lczda farre can see,
Since for her eyes shee might an Eagle bee,
And dare the Sun; but that shee heares so well
As that shee could my private whisperings tell,
I stand amaz'd; her eares are not so long, 5
That they could reach my words; hence then it
sprung:
Love overhearing fled to her bright eare,
Glad he had got a tale to whisper there.
Epigram: 47 ex decimo Libra Martialis.
THese are things that being possest
Will make a life that's truly blest:
Estate bequeath'd, not got with toyle;
A good hot fire, a gratefull soyle.
No strife, warm clothes, a quiet soule, 5
A strength intire, a body whole.
Prudent simplicity, equall freinds,
A diet that no Art commends.
A night not drunke, and yet secure;
A bed not sad, yet chast and pure. 10
Long sleepes to make the nights but short,
A will be to but what thou art.
Naught rather choose; contented lye,
And neither feare, nor wish to dye.
Martialis, '38. (s) cloths '40, '43 deaths '52, ff.
(3) with] by '68. (10) not] nor '43.
140 THOMAS RANDOLPH
To the Fertuous and noble Lady, the Lady Cotton.
Tls not to force more teares from your sad eye,
That we write thus; that were a Piety
Turn'd guilt and sinne; we only beg to come,
And pay due tribute to his sacred tombe.
The muses did divide his Love with you, 5
And justly therefore may be mourners too.
Instead of Cypresse, they have brought fresh Baies
To crowne his Vrne, and every dirge is Praise.
But since with him the learned tongues are gone,
Necessity here makes us use our owne. 10
Read in his praise your owne, you cannot misse;
For he was but our Wonder, you were his.
(8)Urin,'52 is] his '52, ff.
In the Partntalia this poem is signed Tho. Randolph.
An Elegie on the death of that Renowned and
Noble Knight Sir Rowland Cotton
of Bellaport in Shropshire
Rich as was Cottons worth, I wish each line;
And every verse I breath like him, a Mine.
That by his vertues might created bee
A new strange miracle, wealth in Poetrie.
But that invention cannot sure be poore, 5
That but relates a part of his large store.
His youth began, as when the Sun doth rise
Without a Cloud, and clearly trots the skies.
Simply An Elegie. in Par.
(l) so in Parentalia and "40, ff. Cottons '38.
POEMS 141
And whereas other youths commended bee
From conceived Hopes, his was maturitie. 10
Where other springs boast blossoms fairely blowne,
His was a harvest, and had fruits full growne.
So that he seem'd a Nestor here to raigne
In wisdome, ^jon-like, turn'd young againe.
This, Royall Henry, whose majestique eye 15
Saw thorough men, did from his court deserve,
And thither call'd him, and then fixed him there
One of the prime starres in his glorious spheare.
And (Princely Master) witnesse this with mee,
He liv'd not there to serve himselfe but thee. 20
No Silke-worme Courtier, such as study there
First how to get their cloaths, then how to weare.
And though in favour high, he ne're was known
To promote others suits to pay for's own.
He valued more his Master, and knew well, 25
To use his love was noble; base to sell.
Many there be live in the Court we know
To serve for Pageants, and make up the show;
And are not servicable there at all
But now and then at some great Festivall. 30
He serv'd for nobler use, the secret cares
Of common-wealths, and mystique State affaires;
And when great Henry did his Maxims heare,
He wore him as a lewell in his Eare.
Yet short he came not, nay he all out-went 35
In what some call a Courtiers complement.
An Active body that in subtile wise
Turnes pliable to any exercise.
(10) Hopes; '38. (35) outwent Par.
(19) Mager '68. (38) excuse '43, '$*•
(21) No] So '52 Counters "68.
142 THOMAS RANDOLPH
For when he leapt, the people dar'd to say
He was borne all of fire, and wore no clay. 40
Which was the cause too that he wrestled so,
'Tis not fires nature to be kept below.
His course he so perform'd with nimble pace,
The time was not perceiv'd measur'd the race.
As it were true that some late Artists say, 45
The Earth mov'd too, and run the other way.
All so soone finish'd, when the match was wonne
The Gazers by ask'd why they not begunne.
When he in masque us'd his harmonious feet,
The Sphears could not in comelier order meet; 50
Nor move more gracefull, whether they advance
Their measures forward, or retire their dance.
There be have scene him in our Henry's Court
The glory and the envy of that sport.
And carping like a constellation rise, 55
Having fixt upon him all the Ladies eyes.
But these in him I would not vertues call,
But that the world must know, that he had all.
When Henry dy'd (our universall woe)
Willing was Cotton to dye with him too. 60
And as neare death he came as neare could bee;
Himselfe he buried in obscuritie,
Entomb'd within his study wals, and there
Only the Dead his conversation were,
Yet was he not alone; for every day 65
Each Muse came thither with her sprig of Bay.
The Graces round about him did appeare,
The Genii of all Nations all met there.
(49) Musick '68. (53) Henries Par.
(56) fix'd Par. upon] on '64, '68.
(66) Muse~\ not in italics in Par.
(67), (68) Graces and Genii not in italics in Par.
POEMS 143
And while immur'd he sat thus close at home,
To him the wealth of all the world did come. 70
He had a language to salute the Sunne,
Where he unharnest, and where's teame begunne:
The tongues of all the East to him were known
As Naturall, as they were borne his own.
Which from his mouth so sweetly did intice, 75
As with their language he had mix'd their spice.
In Greeke so fluent, that with it compare
Th' Athenian Olives, and they saplesse are.
Rome did submit her Fasces, and confesse
Her Tully might talke more, and yet speake lesse. 80
All Sciences were lodg'd in his large brest,
And in that Pallace thought themselves so blest
They never meant to part, but he should bee
Sole Monarch, and dissolve their Heptarchie.
But 6 how vaine is mans fraile Harmonic! 85
We all are swannes, he that sings best must die.
Death knowledge nothing makes, when we come there,
We need no Language, nor Interpreter.
Who would not laugh at him now, that should seeke
Jn Cotton s Vrne for Hebrew or for Greeke? 90
But his more heav'nly graces with him yet
Live constant, and about him circled sit
A bright Retinue, and on each falls downe
A robe of Glory, and on each a Crowne.
Then Madam (though you have a losse sustained
Both infinite, and ne're to be regain'd 96
Here in this world) dry your sad eyes, once more
You shall againe enter the Nuptiall dore
(79) Fasces'} not in italics in Par.
(88) no] nor Par.
(91) heavenly Par.
(95) Par. leaves a line blank between 94 and 95.
144 THOMAS RANDOLPH
A sprightly bride; where you shall clothed bee
In garments weav'd of Immortalitie. 100
Nor greive because he left you not a Sonne,
To Image Cotton forth now he is gone.
For it had been a wrong to his great Name
T'have liv'd in any thing but Heaven, and Fame.
(102) Cotton Par. and '40, ff. Cotton "38.
Poem signed Tho: Randolph in Par.
Ausonii Epigram 38.
SHee which would not I would choose:
Shee which would I would refuse.
Venus could my mind but tame;
But not satisfie the same.
Inticements offer'd I despise, 5
And deny'd I slightly prize.
I would neither glut my mind,
Nor yet too much torment find.
Twice girt Diana doth not take mee,
Nor Venus naked joy full make mee. 10
The first no pleasure hath to joy mee,
And the last enough to cloy nice.
But a crafty wench I'de have
That can sell the act I crave.
And joyne at once in me these two, 15
I will, and yet I will not doe.
(6) This line is om. in '68.
POEMS 145
On the Death of a Nightingale.
GOe solitary wood, and henceforth be
Acquainted with no other Harmonic,
Then the Pyes chattering, or the shreekingnote
Of bodeing Owles, and fatall Ravens throate.
Thy sweetest Chanters dead, that warbled forth 5
Layes, that might tempests calme, and still the North;
And call downe Angels from their glorious Spheare
To heare her Songs, and learne new Anthems there.
That soule is fled, and to Elisium gone;
Thou a poore desert left; goe then and runne, 10
Begge there to stand a grove, and if shee please
To sing againe beneath thy shadowy Trees;
The soules of happy Lovers crown'd with blisses
Shall flock about thee, and keepe time with kisses.
(9) Elision '43, '52, '64. (n) stand] want '68.
Vpon the report of the King of Swedens Death.
I'Le not beleive't; if fate should be so crosse
Nature would not be silent of her losse.
Can he be dead, and no portents appeare?
No pale Ecclipse of th' sun to let us feare
What we should suffer, and before his light 5
Put out, the world inveloped in Night?
What thundring torrents the flush'd welkin tare?
What apparition kill'd him in the aire?
When Casar dy'd there were convulsion fits;
And nature seem'd to run out of her wits. 10
(7) tear? '68.
146 THOMAS RANDOLPH
At that sad object Tybers bosome swell'd,
And scarce from drowning all, by love withheld.
And shall we give this mighty Conquerour
That in a great and a more holy warre,
Was pulling downe the Empire which he reard, 15
A fall unmourn'd of Nature and unfear'd;
A death (unlesse the league of heav'n withstood)
Lesse wept then with an universall flood?
If I had scene a Comet in the aire
With glorious eye, and bright disheveld haire, 20
And on a suddaine with his gilded traine
Drop downe; I should have said that Sweden's slaine,
Shot like that starre; or if the earth had shooke
Like a weake floore, the falling roofe had broke;
I should have said the mighty King is gone; 25
Fel'd as the tallest tree in Libanon.
Alasse if he were dead; we need no post,
Uery instinct would tell us what we lost.
And a chill damp (as at the generall doome)
Creepe through each brest and we should know for
whome. 30
His German conquests are not yet compleat,
And when they are, ther's more remaining yet.
The world is full of sin, not every Land
O're growne with schisme hath felt his purging hand.
The Pope is not confounded, and the Turke, 35
Nor was he sure design'd for a lesse worke.
But if our sinnes have stop'd him in the source,
In mid'st Careere of his victorious course.
And heaven would trust the dulnesse of our sence
So farre, not to prepare us with portents. 40
(27) A lass '68 no] not '68. (33) not] nor '38 and '68.
(28) Every '68 instinct'^o, '43, '52. (36) He '40.
POEMS 147
'Tis we have that the losse, and he hath caught
His heav'nly garland e're his worke be wrought.
But I, before Tie undertake to greive
So great a losse, will choose not to beleive.
(42) be] he '52.
On Sr Robert Cotton the Antiquary.
POsterity hath many fates bemoan'd,
But ages long since past for thee have groan'd.
Times Trophies thou didst rescue from the grave
Who in thy death a second buriall have.
Cotton, deaths conquest now compleat I see,
Who ne're had vanquish'd all things but in thee.
An Elegif
HEav'n knowe my Love to thee, fed on desires
So hallowed, and unmixt with vulgar fires,
As are the purest beams shot from the Sun
At his full height; and the devotion
Of dying Martyrs could not burne more cleare, 5
Nor Innocence in her first robes appeare
Whiter then our Affections; they did show
Like frost forc'd out of flames, and fire from snow.
So pure, the Phoenix when shee did refine
Her age to youth, borrowed no flames but mine. 10
But now my daies o' recast, for I have now
Drawne Anger like a tempest o're the brow
(4) devotion. '38.
148 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Of my faire Mistresse; those your glorious eyes
Whence I was wont to see my day starre rise,
Threat like revengefull Meteors, and I feele 15
My torment, and my guilt double my hell.
'Twas a mistake, and might have veniall been,
Done to another, but it was made sin,
And justly Mortall too by troubling Thee,
Slight wrongs are treasons done to Majestic. 20
O all yee blest Ghosts of deceased Loves,
That new live Sainted in th' Elisian groves
Mediate for mercy for me; at her shrine
Meet in full quire, and joyne your praiers with mine.
Conjure her by the merits of your kisses, 25
By your past sufferings and present blisses;
Conjure her by your mutuall hopes, and feares;
By all your intermixed sighes, and teares,
To plead my pardon; goe to her and tell
That you will walke the guardian sentinell, 30
My soules safe Genii; that she need not feare
A mutinous thought, or one close rebell there.
But what needs that, when shee alone sits there
Sole Angell of that Orbe? in her own spheare
Alone shee sits, and can secure it free 35
From all irregular motions, only shee
Can give the balsome that must cure this sore;
And the sweet Antidote to sin no more.
(22) the' Elisian '43. (34) ?] ; '38.
(26) ;] . '38. (38) the] thee '68.
POEMS 149
H' 'Ev<f>vovs i) iroirjffis 17 navtuov: Arist.
F
Rom witty men and mad
All Poetry conception had.
No sires but these will Poetry admit,
Madnesse or wit.
This definition Poetry doth fit,
It is a witty madnesse, or mad wit.
Only these two Poetique heat admits,
A witty man, or one that's out of's wits.
'38. 11. 2 and 3 not separated in '38.
Arist.] om. '43, '52. (7) Poetiques "52.
Ad Amicum Litigantem.
WOuld you commence a Poet Sr, and be
A graduat in the thredbare mysterie?
The Oxes ford will no man thither bring,
Where the horse hoofe rais'd the Pegasian spring.
Nor will the bridge through which low Cham doth
runne, 5
Direct you to the bankes of Helicon.
If in that art you meane to take degrees,
Bedlam's the best of universities.
There study it, and when you would no more
A Poet be, goe drinke some Hellebore, 10
Which drugge when I had tasted, soone I left
The bare Parnassus, and the barren cleft;
150 THOMAS RANDOLPH
And can no more one of their Nation bee,
Because recover'd of my lunacie.
But you may then succeed me in my place 15
Of Poet, no pretence to make your grace
Denied you, for you goe to law, 'tis said;
And then 'tis ta'ne for granted you are mad.
In Corydonem y Corinnam.
AH wretch in thy Corinna's love unblest!
How strange a fancy doth torment thy brest?
When shee desires to sport thou saist her nay;
When shee denyes then thou desir'st to play.
Love burnes you both. (6 'tis a happy turne!) 5
But 'tis at severall times love both doth burne.
When scorching heat hath Corydons heart possest,
Then raignes a frost in cold Corinnas brest.
And when a frost in Corydon doth raigne,
Then is Corinnas brest on fire againe. 10
Why then with Corydon is it summer prime,
When with Corinna it is winter time?
Or why should then Corinnas summer bee
When it is winter Corydon with thee?
Can Ice from fire, or fire from Ice proceed? 15
Ah jest not Love is so severe a deed!
I bid thee not Corydons flame to blow
Cleane out; nor cleane to melt Corinnas snow.
Burne both! freeze both! let mutuall Fervour hold
His and her brest, or his and her's a cold. 20
(6) doth both '43, '52.
(17) flane '64.
POEMS 151
To one admiring her selfe in a Looking-Glasse.
FAire Lady when you see the Grace
Of Beauty in your Looking-Glasse:
A stately forhead, smooth and high,
And full of Princely Majesty.
A sparkling eye, no gemme so faire, $
Whose lustre dimmes the Cyprian starre.
A glorious cheeke divinely sweet,
Wherein both Roses kindly meet.
A cherry Lip that would entice
Even Gods to kisse at any price. 10
You thinke no beauty is so rare
That with your shaddow might compare.
That your reflection is alone,
The thing that men most dote upon.
Madam, alas your Glasse doth lye, 15
And you are much deceiv'd; for I
A beauty know of richer grace,
(Sweet be not angry) 'tis your face.
Hence then 6 learne more milde to bee,
And leave to lay your blame on mee; 20
If me your reall substance move;
When you so much your Shaddow Love.
Wise nature would not let your eye
Looke on her owne bright majestic;
Which had you once but gaz'd upon, 25
You could, except your selfe, love none:
What then you cannot love, let me,
That face I can, you cannot see.
Now you have what to loue, you'l say
What then is left for me I pray? 30
152 THOMAS RANDOLPH
My face sweet hart if it please thee;
That which you can, I cannot see:
So either love shall gaine his due,
Your's sweet in mee, and mine in you.
An Eglogue occasioned by two Doctors
disputing upon predestination.
Corydon.
HO jolly Tbirsis whither in such hast?
I'st for a wager that you run so fast?
Or past your houre below yon hawthorne tree
Does longing Galatea looke for thee?
Thirsis.
No Corydon, I heard young Daphnis say 5
Alexis challeng'd Tityrus to day
Who best shall sing of Shepheards Art, and praise;
But harke I heare 'em, listen to their laies.
Tityrus.
Alexis read, what means this mistique thing;
An Ewe I had two lambs at once did bring: 10
Th' one black as lett; the other white as snow:
Say in just providence how it could be so?
Alexis.
Will you Paris goodnesse therefore partiall call,
That might as well have given thee none at all?
Tityrus.
Were they not both eand by the selfe same Ewe? 15
How could they merit then so different hue?
(2) thou run'st '68. (9) mastique '68.
(3) past] past past '43, '52. (16) merit] ment '43, '52.
POEMS 153
Poore lamb alas; and couldst thou, yet unborne,
Sin to deserve the Guilt of such a scorne?
Thou hadst not yet fowl'd a religious spring,
Nor fed on plots of hallowed grasse, to bring 20
Staines to thy fleece; nor browz'd upon a tree
Sacred to Pan or Pales Deitie.
The Gods are ignorant if they not foreknow;
And knowing, 'tis unjust to use thee so.
Alexis.
Tytir with me contend, or Corydon; 25
But let the Gods, and their high wills alone.
For in our flocks that freedome challenge wee,
This kid is sacrific'd, and that goes free.
Tityrus.
Freed where you will my Lambs, what boots it us
To watch, and water, fold, and drive you thus. 30
This on the barren mountaines flesh can gleane,
That fed in flowry pastures will be leane.
Alexis.
Plow, sowe, and compasse, nothing boots at all,
Vnlesse the dew upon the Tilth's doe fall.
So labour sylly Shepheards what wee can, 35
All's vaine, unlesse a blessing drop from Pan.
Tityrus.
Ill thrive thy Ewes if thou these lyes maintaine:
Alexis.
And may thy Goats miscarry sawcy swaine.
Thyrsis.
Fie, Shepheards fie! while you these strifes begin,
Here creepes the woolfe; and there the fox gets in. 40
(18) ?] ! '40, ff. (37) Ewes] Theve* '38.
154 THOMAS RANDOLPH
To your vaine piping on so deepe a reed
The Lambkins listen, but forget to feed.
It gentle swains befits of Love to sing,
How Love left heaven; and heav'ns immortal King,
His coaeternall Father, O admire, 45
Love is a Sonne as an ancient as his sire.
His Mother was a Virgin: how could come
A birth so great, and from so chast a wombe!
His cradle was a manger; Shepheards see
True faith delights in poore simplicitie. 50
He pres'd no grapes, nor prun'd the fruitfull vine,
But could of water make a brisker wine.
Nor did he plow the earth, and to his Barne
The harvest bring, nor thresh, and grind the Corne.
Without all these Love could supply our need; 55
And with five Loaves, five thousand Hungers feed.
More wonders did he, for all which suppose
How he was crown'd, with Lilly, or with Rose?
The winding Ivy, or the glorious Bay,
Or mirtle, with the which Venus, they say, 60
Girts her proud temples? Shepheards none of them
But wore (poore head) a thorny Diadem.
Feet to the Lame he gave; with which they run
To worke their Surgeons last destruction.
The blind from him had eyes; but us'd that light 65
Like Basylisques to kill him with their sight.
Lastly he was betray'd (6 sing of this)
How Love could be betray'd! 'twas with a kisse.
And then his Innocent hands, and guiltlesse feet
(44) heav'ns]] heavens '43, ff. (46) his] the '68.
(45) Father. '38. (48) !] ? '43, '5*. • '68.
Between 11. 50 and 51 Harl. MS. 3357 has the following couplet:
Deepe Sages, by a Star, his Mansion sought,
Poore Swaines, by his owne Harbingers were tought.
POEMS 155
Were nayl'd unto the Crosse, striving to meet 70
In his spread armes his spouse, so mild in showe
He seem'd to court th' Imbraces of his foe.
Through his pearc'd side, through which a speare was
sent,
A torrent of all flowing Balsame went.
Run Amarillis run: one drop from thence 75
Cures thy sad soule, and drives all anguish hence.
Goe sunburnt Tkestylis, goe, and repaire
Thy beauty lost, and be againe made faire.
Love-sick Amyntas get a Pbiltrum here,
To make thee Lovely to thy truly deare. 80
But coy Licoris take the Pearle from thine,
And take the bloodshot from Alexis eyne.
Weare this an Amulet 'gainst all Syrens smiles,
The stings of snakes, and Teares of Crocodiles.
Now Love is dead: Oh no, he never dyes; 85
Three dayes he sleepes, and then againe doth rise
(Like faire Aurora from the Easterne Bay)
And with his beams drives all our clouds away:
This pipe unto our flocks, this sonnet get.
But hoe, I see the Sun ready to set, 90
Good night to all; for the great night is come;
Flocks to your folds and shepheards hye you home!
To morrow morning, when we all have slept,
Pans Cornet's blowne, and the great Shetpsbears kept.
(73-74) and (83-84) These four linei are not in Harl. MS. 3357.
(82) Altxis] Palsemons Harl. MS.
(83) against '52. '64, '68.
(85) dead:] lead: '38.
(92) high you home. '43, '52.
(94) blowen '43, '52.
THOMAS RANDOLPH
An Eglogue to M1 lohnson.
Tityrus
v:
NDER this beech why sits't them here
so sad
Son Damon, that wast erst a joviall lad ?
These groves were wont to Eccho with the sound
Of thy shrill reed, while every Nymph danc'd
round.
Rowse up thy soule, Parnassus mount stands
high, $
And must be climb'd with painefull industrie.
Damon. You Father on his forked top sit still,
And see us panting up so steepe a hill;
But I have broke my reed, and deeply swore
Never with wax, never to joynt it more. 10
Tit. Fond boy 'twas rashly done; I meant to
thee,
Of all the sons I have, by legacie
To have bequeath'd my pipe, thee, thee of all,
I meant it should her second Master call.
Dam. And doe you thinke I durst presume to
play 15
Where Tityrus had worne his lip away!
Live long thy selfe to tune it; 'tis from thee.
It has not from it self such Harmony,
But if we ever such disaster have
As to compose our Tytirus in his grave; 20
Yonder upon yon aged Oak, that now
Old trophies beares on every sacred bow,
(1) this] his '38. (13) pipe: "68.
(2) a] om. '51. (22) bears, on every sacred bow '40.
POEMS 157
We'le hang it up a relique, we will doe it,
And learned swains shall pay devotion to it.
Tyt. Canst thou farewell unto the Muses bid ? 25
Then bees shall loath the Thyme, the new
wean'd Kid
Browze on the buds no more; the teeming
ewes
Henceforth the tender sallows shall refuse.
Dam. I by those Ladies now do nothing set;
Let 'em for me some other servant get: 30
They shall no more be Mistresses of mine,
No, though my pipe had hope to equall thine.
Thine which the floods have stopt their course
to hear;
To which the spotted Linx hath lent an eare.
Which while the severall Ecchoes would
repeat, 35
The Musick has been sweet, the Art so great
That Pan himself amaz'd at thy deep aires,
Sent thee of his own bowl to drown thy
cares.
Of all the Gods Pan doth the Pipe respect,
The rest unlearned pleasures more affect. 40
Pan can distinguish what thy Raptures be
From Bavins loose lascivious Minstralsie,
Or Mcevius windy Bagpipe, Mcevius, he
Whose wit is but a Tavern Tympanic.
If ever I flock of my own doe feed, 45
My fattest Lambs shall on his Altar bleed.
Tyt. Two Altars I will build him, and each
yeare
Will sacrifice two wel-fed Bullocks there.
(28) fallows '52.
158 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Two that have horns; that while they butting
stand
Strike from their feet a cloud of numerous
sand. 50
But what can make thee leave the Muses
man,
That such a Patron hast as mighty Pan?
Whence is thy fury? Did the partiall eare
Of the rude Vulgar, when they late did heare
jEgon, and thee contend which best should
play, 55
Him Victour deem, and give thy kid away?
Does Amarillis cause this high despaire?
Or Galatea's coynesse breed thy care?
Dam. Neither of these, the Vulgar I contemn;
Thy pipe not alwaies Tytirus wins with
them : 60
And as for Love, in sooth I doe not know
Whether he wears a bow, and shafts or no.
Or did I, I a way could quickly find,
To win the beauteous Galatea's mind,
Or Amarillis: I to both could send 65
Apples that with Hesperian fruit contend:
And on occasion could have quickly guest
Where two fayr ring-doves built their amorous
nest.
Tyt. If none of these, my Damon then aread 69
What other cause can so much passion
breed !
Dam. Father I will, in those indulgent ears
I dare unload the burden of my fears.
(49) horns, '40, ff. (59) these; '68.
(S3) thy] this '43, ff. (68) fairing-doves '68.
POEMS 159
The Reapers that with whetted siccles stand,
Gathering the falling ears i'th' other hand;
Though they endure the scorching summers
heat, 75
Have yet some wages to allay their sweat:
The Lopper that doth fell the sturdy Oak
Labours, yet has good pay for every stroke.
The Plowman is rewarded: only we
That sing, are paid with our own melody. 80
Rich churls have learn't to praise us, and
admire,
But have not learn't to think us worth the
hire.
So toyling Ants perchance delight to hear
The summer musique of the Grassopper,
But after rather let him starve with pain, 85
Then spare him from their store one single
grain.
As when great lunos beauteous Bird displaies
Her starry tail, the boyes doe run and gaze
At her proud train; so look they now adaies
On Poets; and doe think if they but praise, 90
Or pardon what we sing, enough they doe:
I, and 'tis well if they doe so much too.
My rage is swel'd so high I cannot speak it,
Had I Pans pipe, or thine I now should
break it!
Tit. Let moles delight in Earth; Swine dunghils
rake; 95
Crows prey on Carrion; Frogs a pleasure take
In slimy pools; And Niggards wealth admire;
(74) 'ith' '38, '40, '43, '52. (82) learnt '52, ff.
(81) learnt '43, ff- (83) delight] are like '64, '68.
160 THOMAS RANDOLPH
But we, whose souls are made of purer fire,
Have other aimes: Who songs for gain hath
made,
Has of a liberall Science fram'd a Trade. 100
Hark how the Nightingale in yonder tree,
Hid in the boughes, warbles melodiously
Her various musique forth, while the whole
Quire
Of other birds, flock around, and all admire!
But who rewards her? will the ravenous
Kite 105
Part with her prey, to pay for her delight?
Or will the foolish, painted pratling lay
Now turn'd a hearer, to requite her play
Lend her a s'traw? or any of the rest
Fetch her a feather when she builds her
nest? no
Yet sings she ne're the lesse, till every den
Doe catch at her last notes: And shall I
then
His fortunes Damon 'bove my own commend,
Who can more cheese into the market send?
Clowns for posterity may cark and care, 115
That cannot out-live death but in an Heire:
By more then wealth we propagate our Names,
That trust not to successions, but our Fames.
Let hide-bound churls yoak the laborious Oxe,
Milk hundred goats, and shear a thousand
flocks; 120
Plant gainful Orchards, and in silver shine;
Thou of all fruits should'st only prune the
Vine:
(99) Who] whose '52. (118) Flames '4.0.
POEMS l6l
Whose fruit being tasted, might erect thy
brain
To reach some ravishing, high, and lofty
strain;
The double birth of Bacchus to expresse, 125
First in the grape, the second in the presse.
And therefore tell me boy, what is't can move
Thy mind, once fixed on the Muses Love?
Dam. When I contented liv'd by Cham's fair
streams,
Without desire to see the prouder Thames, 130
I had no flock to care for, but could sit
Vnder a willow covert, and repeat
Those deep and learned layes, on every part
Grounded on judgment, subtilty, and Art,
That the great Tutour to the greatest King,
The shepheard of Stagira, us'd to sing: 136
The shepheard of Stagira, that unfolds
All natures closet, shows what e're it holds;
The matter, form, sense, motion, place, and
measure 139
Of every thing contain'd in her vast treasure.
How Elements doe change; What is the cause
Of Generation; what the Rule and Laws
The Orbs doe move by; Censures every starre,
Why this is fixt, and that irregular;
Knows all the Heavens, as if he had been
there, 145
And help't each Angell turn about her spheare.
The thirsty pilgrim travelling by land,
When the feirce Dog-starre doth the day com-
mand,
(128) once] being '68. (134) iubtil'ty '38.
1 62 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Half choak't with dust, parch't with the
soultry heat;
Tir'd with his journey, and o'recome with
sweat, 150
Finding a gentle spring, at her cool brink
Doth not with more delight sit down and
drink,
Then I record his songs: we see a cloud,
And fearing to be wet, doe run and shroud
Vnder a bush; when he would sit and tell 155
The cause that made her mystic wombe to
swell;
Why it sometimes in drops of rain doth flow,
Sometimes dissolves her self in flakes of snow:
Nor gaz'd he at a Comet, but would frame
A reason why it wore a beard of flame. 160
Ah Tytirus, I would with all my heart,
Even with the best of my carv'd mazers part,
To hear him as he us'd divinely shew,
What 'tis that paints the divers-colour'd bow:
Whence Thunders are discharg'd, whence the
winds stray, 165
What foot through heaven hath worn the
milky way!
And yet I let this true delight alone,
Call'd thence to keep the flock of Corydon.
Ah woe is me, anothers flock to keep; 169
The care is mine, the master shears the sheep!
A flock it was that would not keep together;
A flock that had no fleece, when it came
hither.
(iS3) we see] see '64 seeing '68. (166) ways '43, wayes '52.
(161) withall '38, '40, '43.
POEMS 163
Nor would it learn to listen to my layes,
For 'twas a flock made up of severall strayes;
And now I would return to Cham, I hear 175
A desolation frights the Muses there!
With rustique swains I mean to spend my
time
Teach me there father to preserve my rime.
Tyt. To morrow morning I will counsel thee,
Meet me at Faunus Beech; for now you
see 180
How larger shadows from the mountains fall,
And Corydon doth Damon, Damon, call.
Damon, 'tis time my flock were in the fold,
More then high time; did you not erst behold
How Hesperus above yon clouds appear'd, 185
Hesperus leading forth his beauteous heard?
(178) rime.] time. '68.
A Pastorall Courtship.
BEhold these woods, and mark my Sweet
How all the boughes together meet!
The Cedar his faire arms displayes,
And mixes branches with the Bayes.
The lofty Pine deignes to descend, 5
And sturdy Oaks doe gently bend.
One with another subt'ly weaves
Into one loom their various leaves;
As all ambitious were to be
Mine and my Phyllis canopie! 10
(2) the] these '52.
164 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Let's enter, and discourse our Loves;
These are, my Dear, no tell-tale groves!
There dwell no Pyes, nor Parrats there,
To prate again the words they heare,
Nor babling Eccho, that will tell 15
The neighbouring hills one syllable.
Being enter' d let's together lye,
Twin'd like the Zodiaks Gemini!
How soon the flowers doe sweeter smell?
And all with emulation swell, 20
To be thy pillow? These for thee
Were meant a bed, and thou for me;
And I may with as just esteem
Presse thee, as thou maist lye on them.
And why so coy? What dost thou feare? 25
There lurks no speckled Serpent here.
No Venomous snake makes this his rode,
No Canker, nor the loathsome toad.
And yon poor spider on the tree,
Thy spinster will, no poisner be. 30
There is no Frog to leap, and fright
Thee from my arms, and break delight;
Nor snail that o're thy coat shall trace,
And leave behind a slimy lace.
This is the hallowed shrine of Love, 35
No wasp nor hornet haunts this grove,
Nor pismire to make pimples rise,
Vpon thy smooth and ivory thighes.
No danger in these shades doth lye,
Nothing that wears a sting, but I: 40
And in it doth no venome dwell,
Although perchance it make thee swell.
(i i ) lets '40. (29) yon] you '68. (30) poisoner '40, ff.
POEMS 165
Being set, let's sport a while, my Fair,
I will tye Love knots in thy haire.
See Zephyrus through the leaves doth stray, 45
And has free liberty to play;
And braids thy locks: And shall I find
Lesse favour then a saucy wind?
Now let me sit, and fix my eyes,
On thee that art my Paradise. 50
Thou art my all; the spring remains
In the fair violets of thy veins:
And that it is a summers day,
Ripe Cherries in thy lips display.
And when for Autumn I would seek, 55
'Tis in the Apples of thy cheek.
But that which only moves my smart,
Is to see winter in thy heart.
Strange, when at once in one appear
All the four seasons of the year! 60
I'le clasp that neck where should be set
A rich and Orient Carkanet:
But swains are poor, admit of then
More naturall chains, the arms of men.
Come let me touch those brests, that swell 65
Like two faire mountains, and may well
Be stil'd the Alpes, but that I feare
The snow has lesse of whitenesse there.
But stay (my Love) a fault I spy,
Why are these two fair fountains dry? 70
Which if they run, no Muse would please
To tast of any spring but these.
And Ganymed employ'd should bee
To fetch his love Nectar from thee.
(70) ?] , '38.
1 66 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Thou shalt be Nurse fair Venus swears 75
To the Next Cupid that she bears.
Were it not then discreetly done
To ope one spring to let two runne?
Fy, fy, this Belly, Beauty's mint,
Blushes to see no coyn stampt in't. 80
Employ it then, for though it be
Our wealth, it is your royaltie;
And beauty will have currant grace
That bears the Image of your face.
How to the touch the Ivory thighes 85
Veil gently, and again doe rise,
As pliable to impression,
As Virgins waxe, or Parian stone
Dissolv'd to softnesse, plump and full,
More white and soft then Cotsall wooll; 90
Or Gotten from the Indian Tree,
Or pretty silkworms huswifrie.
These on two marble pillars rais'd
Make me in doubt which should be praisd;
They, or their Columnes must; but when 95
I view those feet which I have seen
So nimbly trip it o're the Lawns
That all the Satyrs and the fawns
Have stood amaz'd, when they would passe
Over the leyes, and not a grasse too
Would feel the weight, nor rush, nor bent
Drooping betray which way you went.
O then I felt my hot desires
Burn more, and flame with double fires.
(82) your] our '68. (loo) layes '40, S.
(88) or] om. '68. (101) rash '68.
(89) softnesse; '40, ff. doz) .] , '40, '43, '52, '64, •'; '68.
(92) huswiferie '40, ff. (104) Burnt '68. ,] ; '38.
POEMS 167
Come let those thighes, those legs, those feet, 105
With mine in thousand windings meet,
And woven in more subtle twines
Then woodbine, Ivy, or the vines.
For when Love sees us circling thus
He'le like no Arbour more then us. no
Now let us kisse, would you be gone?
Manners at least allows me one.
Blush you at this, pretty one stay,
And I will take that kisse away.
Thus with a second, and that too 115
A third wipes off; so will we goe
To numbers that the Starrs out run,
And all the Atoms in the Sun.
For though we kisse till Pbcebus ray
Sink in the seas, and kissing stay 120
Till his bright beams return again,
There can of all but one remain:
And if for one good manners call,
In one good manners grant me all.
Are kisses all? they but forerun 125
Another duty to be done.
What would you of that minstrell say
That tunes his pipes and will not play?
Say what are blossoms in their prime,
That ripen not in harvest time? 130
Or what are buds that ne're disclose
The long'd for sweetnesse of the rose?
So kisses to a Lover's guest
Are invitations not the feast.
See everything that we espy 135
Is fruitfull, saving you and I:
(114) .] ; '64, '68. (124) one, good manners, '40, ff.
(116) of '38, '40, '64 ;] , '38. (125) kisses? all they '64, '68.
1 68 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Veiw all the feilds, survey the bowers,
The buds, the blossoms and the flowers;
And say if they so rich could be
In barren base Virginitie. 140
Earth's not so coy as you are now,
But willingly admits the plow.
For how had man or beast been fed,
If she had kept her maiden head?
Ccelia once coy as are the rest 145
Hangs now a babe on either brest;
And Chloris since a man she took,
Has lesse of greennesse in her look.
Our ewes have ean'd, and every damme
Gives suck unto her tender Lambe. 150
As by these groves we walk'd along,
Some Birds were feeding of their young,
Some on their egges did brooding sit,
Sad that they had not hatch'd them yet.
Those that were slower then the rest, 155
Were busy building of their nest.
You will not only pay the fine,
You vow'd and ow'd to Valentine.
As you were angling in the brook
With silken line and silver hook, 160
Through Christall streams you might descry
How vast and numberlesse a fry
The fish had spawn'd, that all along
The banks were crowded with the throng.
And shall fair Venus more command 165
By water then she does by land?
The Phoenix chast, yet when she dyes,
Her self with her own ashes lyes.
(156) their] the '43, '52, '68. (IS7) you only will not pay '43, ff.
POEMS 169
But let thy Love more wisely thrive
To doe the act while th'art alive. 170
'Tis time we left our childish Love
That trades for toyes, and now approve
Our abler skill; they are not wise
Look Babies only in the eyes.
That smooth red smile shews what you meant, i?5
And modest silence gives consent.
That which we now prepare, will bee
Best done in silent secresie.
Come doe not weep, what is't you feare?
Least some should know what we did here. 180
See not a flowre you prest is dead,
But re-erects his bended head;
That who soe're shall passe this way
Knows not by these where Phyllis lay.
And in your forehead there is none 185
Can read the act that we have done.
Phyllis.
Poore credulous and simple maid!
By what strange wiles art thou betraid!
A treasure thou hast lost to day
For which thou canst no ransome pay. 190
How black art thou transform'd with sin!
How strange a guilt gnaws me within!
Greif will convert this red to pale;
When every Wake, and whitsund-ale
Shall talk my shame; break, break sad heart 195
There is no Medicine for my smart,
No hearb nor balm can cure my sorrow,
Vnlesse you meet again to morrow.
(175) smooth'red '43 smoother' d *J2.
( 180) .] ? '68. (192) !] ? '43, 'St.
170 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Fpon a very deformed Gentlewoman, but of a
voice incomparably sweet.
Ichanc'd sweet Lesbia's voice to heare,
O that the pleasure of the eare
Contented had the appetite;
But I must satisfy the sight;
Where such a face I chanc'd to see 5
From which good Lord deliver me.
I'st not prophane if I should tell
I thought her one of those that fell
With Lucifers Apostate traine
Yet did her Angels voice retaine? 10
A cherubin her notes descry'd,
A Divell every where beside.
Aske the dark woods, and they'le confesse
None did such Harmony expresse
In all their bowres from May to lune, 15
Yet nere was face so out of tune.
Her Virginall teeth false time did keep,
Her wrinkled forhead went too deep.
Lower then Gammut sunke her eyes,
'Bove Ela though her nose did rise. 20
Tie trust Musitians now that tell
Best musique doth in discords dwell.
Her ayres entic'd the gentle quire
Of Birds to come, who all admire,
And would with pleasure longer stay, 25
But that her looks frights them away.
Which for a good Priapus goes
And well may serve to scarre the crowes.
incomparable '43, S. (25) 8tr»y '68.
(21) tell] rest '43, '52.
POEMS 171
Her voice might tempt th' immortall race,
But let her only shew her face, 30
And soone shee might extinguish thus
The lusting of an Incubus.
So have I scene a lute ore worne,
Old and rotten, patcht and torne,
So ravish with a sound, and bring 35
A close so sweet to every string,
As would strike wonder in our eares,
And work an envy in the Spheares.
Say monster strange, what maist thou be?
Whence shall I fetch thy Pedigree? 40
What but a Panther could beget
A beast so foule, a breath so sweet?
Or thou of Syrens issue art,
If they be fish the upper part.
Or else blind Homer was not mad 45
Then when he sung Vlysses had
So strange a guift from JEolus,
Who odour-breathing Zephyrus
In severall bottles did inclose,
For certain thou art one of those. 50
Thy lookes, where other women place
Their chiefest Pride, is thy disgrace.
The tongue, a part which us'd to be
Worst in thy Sexe, is best in thee.
Were I but now to choose my deare 55
Not by my eye, but by my eare,
Here would I dote; how shall I wooe
Thy voice, and not thy body too?
Then all the brood I get of thee,
Would Nightingalls, and Cygnets be: 60
172 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Cygnets betimes their throats to trye,
Borne with more Musique then they dye.
Say Lesbia, say, what God will blesse
Our Loves with so much happinesse?
Some women are all tongue, but 6 65
Why art not thou my Lesbia so?
Thy looks doe speak thee witch; one spell
To make thee but invisible,
Or dye; resigne thy selfe to death,
And I will catch thy latest breath; 70
But that the nose will scarce I feare
Finde it so sweet, as did the eare.
Or if thou wouldst not have me coy,
As was the selfe-inamour'd Boy,
Turne only Voice, an Eccho prove, 75
Here, here, by heav'n, I fixe my Love:
If not, you Gods, to ease my mind,
Or make her dumbe, or strike me blind;
For griefe, and anger in me rise,
Whil'st shee hath tongue, or I have eyes. 80
(62) they] the '43, '5*. (69) die! and resign '68.
(66) ?] ! '38. (76) Tie fit '64, '68.
(67) looks doe] look doth '68.
The milk-maids Epithalamium.
IOy to the Bridegroome and the Bride
That lye by one anothers side!
O fie upon the Virgin Bedds,
No losse is gain but Maiden heads.
Love quickly send the time may be
When I shall deal my Rosemary!
(4) gain'd '68.
POEMS 173
I long to simper at a feast,
To dance, and kisse, and doe the rest.
When I shall wed, and Bedded be
0 then the qualme comes over me, 10
And tells the sweetnesse of a Theame
That I ne're knew but in a dreame.
You Ladies have the blessed nights,
1 pine in hope of such delights.
And silly Dam'sell only can 15
Milk the cowes teats and think on man:
And sigh and wish to tast and prove
The wholesome Sillibub of Love.
Make hast, at once twin-Brothers beare;
And leave new matter for a starre. 20
Woemen and ships are never shown
So fair as when their sayles be blown.
Then when the Midwife hears your moane,
I'le sigh for grief that I have none.
And you, deare Knight, whose every kisse 25
Reapes the full crop of Cupids blisse,
Now you have found, confesse and tell
That single sheets doe make up hell.
And then so charitable be
To get a man to pitty me. 30
(15) Damsell '40, if.
(22) be] are '40, ff.
174 THOMAS RANDOLPH
An Eglogue on the noble Assemblies revived on
Cotswold Hills, by M. Robert Dover.
LiOtien, laenot.
VV!
Collen, Thenot.
Hat Clod-pates, Thenot, are our
Brittish swains?
Coll. T T How lubber-like they loll upon the
plains,
No life, no spirit in 'urn! every Clown
Soone as he layes his Hook and Tarbox down,
That ought to take his Reed, and chant his layes,
Or nimbly run the windings of the Maze, 6
Now gets a bush to roam himselfe, and sleepe;
Tis hard to know the shepheard from the sheepe.
And yet me thinks our English pastures be
As flowery as the Lawnes of Arcadie; 10
Our Virgins blith as theirs, nor can proud Greece
Boast purer ayre, nor sheer a finer fleece.
The. Yet view their out-side, Collen, you would say
They have as much brawn in their necks as they
Fair Tempe braggs of; lusty armes that swell 15
With able sinews, and might hurle as well
The weightie sledge; their leggs, and thighs of
bone,
Great as Colossus, yet their strength is gone.
They look like yonder man of wood, that stands
To bound the limits of the Parish lands. 20
AN EGLOGVE ON THE PALILIA
And Noble Assemblies revived on Cotswold
Hills, by Mr. ROBERT DOVER.
COLLEN. THENOT. (Heading in A. D.)
(i) Co//.] om. A.D. ?] , '38. (7) room. '43 ff.
(a) ,D ? '38. (14) they; A.D. they. '52, '68.
(3) 'em; '38, ff. (15) ;] om. A.D., '52, '68 , '43.
(6) winding '38. (18) strengths are A.D.
POEMS 175
Dost them ken, Collen, what the cause might be
Of such a dull and generall Lethargic?
Coll. Swain, with their sports their soules were ta'ne
away.
Till then they all were active; every day
They exercised to weild their limbs, that now 25
Are numb'd to every thing, but flail and plow.
Early in May up got the jolly rout
Call'd by the Lark, and spred the feilds about:
One for to breath himselfe, would coursing be
From this same Beech, to yonder Mulberie. 30
A second leapt, his supple nerves to try,
A third was practicing his melody.
This a new ligg was footing; others were
Busied at wrastling, or to throw the Barre:
Ambitious which should beare the bell away, 35
And kisse the Nut-brown Lady of the May.
This stirr'd 'urn up; a lolly swain was he
Whom Peg, and Susan after Victory
Crown'd with a garland they had made, beset
With Daisies, Pincks and many a Violet, 40
Cowslip, and Gilliflower. Rewards though small
Encourage vertue; but if none at all
Meet her, she languisheth, and dyes, as now
Where worth's deny'd the honour of a bough.
And, Tbenot, this the cause I read to be 45
Of such a dull and generall Lethargic.
The. Ill thrive the Lowt that did their mirth gainsay,
Wolves haunt his flocks, that took those sports
away
(ij) Swaine ! A.D. (37) "urn] 'cm '38, ff. he] me '43, "52.
(*4) active, '38, ff. every day; '64, '68. (40) Dazies A.D.
(33) ;] , '38. if. (43) dyes] lyes '64.
(34) wrestling '38, ff. (48) his] these '64, '68 !] . A.D.
176 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Coll. Some melancholy swains about have gone
To teach all Zeale, their own complection: 50
Choler they will admit sometimes I see
But Fleagme, and Sanguine no Religions be.
These teach that Dauncing is a lezabell;
And Barley-break, the ready way to Hell.
The Morrice, Idolls; Whitsun'-ales can be 55
But prophane Reliques of a lubilee!
These in a Zeal, t'expresse how much they doe
The Organs hate, have silenc'd Bag-pipes too;
And harmlesse May-poles, all are rail'd upon
As if they were the towers of Babilon. 60
Some think not fit there should be any sport
Fth Country, 'tis a dish proper to th' Court.
Mirth not becomes 'um, let the sawcy swain
Eate Beef, and Bacon, and goe sweat again.
Besides, what sport can in their pastimes be 65
When all is but ridiculous fopperie?
Tbf. Collen, I once the famous Spain did see,
A nation glorious for her gravitie;
Yet there an hundred Knights on warlike steeds
Did skirmish out a fight arm'd but with reeds;
At which a thousand Ladies eyes did gaze, 71
Yet 'twas no better then our Prison-base.
What is the Barriers but a Courtly way
Of our more down right sport, the Cudgell-
play?
Foot-ball with us may be with them Baloone, 75
As they at Tilt, so we at Quintaine runne.
(50) zeal their '38, ff.
(55) Morrice Idols, '38, '64, '68 Morrice-Idols '43, '52.
(62) Country] Citie, A.D. to th'] to 'th A.D. to t'h '38.
(63) 'em '38, ff. (66) ?] . A.D. (72) was '38 'was '40.
(75) Balcome '43, '52 Balcone '68
POEMS 177
And those old Pastimes relish best with me,
That have least Art, and most simplicitie.
Collen, they say at Court there is an Art
To dance a Ladies honour from her hart; 80
Such wiles poor shepheards know not, all their
sence
Is dull to any thing but Innocence.
The Country Lasse, although her dance be good,
Stirs not anothers Galliard in the Blood.
And yet their Sports by some controul'd have
been, 85
Who think there is no mirth but what is sin.
O might I but their harmlesse Gambols see
Restor'd unto an ancient libertie,
Where spotlesse dalliance traces o're the Plains,
And harmlesse Nymphs jet it with harmlesse
swains ! 90
To see an age againe of Innocent Loves
Twine close as Vines, yet kisse as chast as
Doves,
Me thinks I could the Tbracian Lyre have
strung,
Or tun'd my whistle to the Mantuan song.
Coll. Then tune thy whistle boy, and string thy
Lyre, 95
That age is come againe, thy brave desire
Pan hath approv'd; dauncing shall bee this yeare
Holy, as is the motion of a Spheare.
The. Collen, with sweeter breath Fame never blew
Her sacred Trump, if this good newes be true! 100
Coll. Knowst thou not Cotswold hils?
(87) their] there '38, '40, see! A.D.
(98) ,] om. '38
178 THOMAS RANDOLPH
The: Through all the land
No Finer wooll runnes through the spinsters
hand.
But silly Collen, ill thou dost divine;
Canst thou mistake a Bramble for a Pine?
Or think this Bush a Cedar? or suppose 105
Yon Hamlet, where to sleepe each shepheard
goes
In circuit, buildings, people, power and name
Equalls the Bow string' d by the silver Thame?
As well thou maist their sports with ours com-
pare,
As the soft wooll of Lambs, with the Goates
haire. no
Coll. Last evening Lad, I met a noble swaine,
That spurr'd his sprightfull Palfrey ore the plain,
His head with ribbands crown'd, and deckt as
gay
As any Lasse upon her Bridall day:
I thought (what easy faiths we shepheards
prove!) 115
This, not the Bull, had been Euro-pas Love!
I ask't the cause, they told me this was he
Whom this daies Triumph crown'd with Victory.
Many brave steeds there were, some you should
finde
So fleet as they had been sonnes of the winder 120
Others with hoofs so swift, beat o're the race
As if some engine shot 'urn to the place.
So many and so well wing'd Steeds there were,
As all the Brood of Pegasus had been there.
(106) Yo'n '38 young '43, '52, goes? AJ>.
(118) crownd '38. (122) 'em '38, ff.
POEMS 179
Rider, and horse could not distinguish'd be, 125
Both seem'd conjoyn'd a Centaure's Progeny.
A numerous troop they were, yet all so light
Earth never groan'd, nor felt 'urn in their
flight.
Such Royall Pastimes Cotswold mountains fill,
When gentle swains visit her glorious hill: 130
Where with such packs of Hounds they hunting
goe,
As Cyrus never woon'd his Bugle to!
Whose noise is musicall; and with full cries
Beats o're the feilds, and Ecchoes through the
skies.
Orion hearing wish'd to leave his Spheare, 135
And call his Dogge from heaven, to sport it there.
Watt though he fled for life, yet joy'd withall
So brave a dirge sung forth his funerall.
Not Syrens sweetlier rill, Hares as they flie
Look back, as glad to listen, loth to die. 140
The. No doubt but from this brave Heroick fire
In the more noble hearts, sparks of desire
May warme the colder Boores, and emulous
strife
Give the old Mirth and Innocence a new life.
When thoughts of fame their quickned souls
shall fill 145
At every glaunce that shewes 'um Cotswold hill.
Coll. There shepheard, there, the solemn games be
playd,
Such as great Theseus, or Alcides made:
(132) ne're did winde '38, ff.
(139) Not] Nor '68.
(146) 'em '38, '40, '43, '64, '68 them '52.
180 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Such as Apollo wishes he had scene,
And love desires had his invention beene! 150
The Nemean, and the Isthmian pastimes still
Though dead in Greece, survive on Cotswold hill.
The. Happy oh hill! the gentle Graces now
Shall trip o're Thine and leave Citherons brow:
Parnassus clift, shall sink below his spring, 155
And every Muse shall on thy frontlet sing.
The Goddesses againe in strife shall be,
And from mount Ida make appeale to thee;
Olympus pay thee homage and in dread
The aged Alpes shall bow his snowy head; 160
Flora with all her store thy Temples Crowne,
Whose height shall reach the stars: Gods looking
down
Shall blesse the Incense that thy flowers exhale
And make thee both a Mountain and a Vale.
How many Ladies on thy top shall meet, 165
And presse thy tresses with their od'rous feet?
Whose eyes when wondring men see from a farre,
They'le think thee Heaven and each of them a
starre.
But gentle Collen say what God or man
Fame we for this great worke, Daphnis or Pan?
Coll. Daphnis is dead, and Pan hath broke his Reed,
Tell all your flocks 'tis loviall Dover's deed.
Behold the shepheards in their ribbands goe,
And shortly all the Nymphs shall weare 'urn too:
(149-150) The order of these lines reversed in '64 and '68.
(153) Oh happy hill! '38.
(155) clift shall '38.
(161) storethy '38.
(168) They'le think the heaven and earth of them a starre. A.D. starre, '38.
(169) Coll. But gentle Collen '38. (172) DOVERS A.D.
(171) Co//.] The. '38. (174) 'em '38, ff.
POEMS l8l
Amaz'd to see such glory met together, 175
Blesse Dovers pipe, whose Musick call'd 'um
hither.
Sport you my Rams at sound of Dovers name;
Big-bellied ewes make hast to bring a Lambe
For Dovers fold: Goe maids and Lillies get
To make him up a glorious Coronet. 180
Swains keep his holy-day and each man sweare
To Saint him in the Shepheards Calendar.
(176) 'em '38, '43, '64, '68 'm '52.
(176, 177, 179) DOVERS A.D.
The poem is signed Thomas Randall. Cant, in A.D.
The Song of Orpheus.
HAile sacred Deserts, whom kind nature made
Only to shelter with a loving shade,
The now neglected Musique, glad to see
Lyons afford her hospitality,
And Tigers bid her welcome, with the rest 5
Of savage beasts accept her for a guest,
Since Men refuse her, and scarce daigne an eare
To her high notes; or if they please to heare,
Tis all; amongst my Pupills, you may see
The birds that learn'd their sweetest laies of me; 10
Those that chant Carols in this thanklesse age
To pleasure men, rewarded with a Cage.
1 82 THOMAS RANDOLPH
A Maske for Lydia.
SWeet Lydia take this maske, and shroud
Thy face within the silken cloud,
And veile those powerfull Skies:
For he whose gazing dares so high Aspire,
Makes burning glasses of his eyes, 5
And sets his heart on fire.
Vaile, Lydia vaile, for unto mee
There is no basiliske but thee.
Thy very lookes doe kill:
Yet in those lookes so fixt is my delight, 10
Poore soule (alas) I languish still
In absence of thy sight.
Close up those eyes, or we shall finde
Too great a lustre strike us blinde!
Or if a Ray so good 15
Ought to be scene, let it but then appeare
When Eagles doe produce their brood,
To try their young ones there.
Or if thou would'st have me to know
How great a brightnesse thou canst shew, 20
When they have lost the Sun;
Then doe thou rise, and give the world this theme,
Sol from th' Hesperides is run,
And back hath whipt his teame.
Yet through the Goat when he shall stray, 25
Thou through the Crab must take thy way;
(14) strikes '52 !] : '38. (19) you would '68. (20) ,] ; '38
POEMS 183
For should you both shine bright
In the same Tropick, we poore moles should get
Not so much comfort by the light,
As torment by the heat. 30
Where's Lydia now? where shall I seeke
Her charming lip, her tempting cheeke
That my affections bow'd?
So dark a sable hath ecclipst my faire,
That I can gaze upon the cloud, 35
That durst not see the Star.
But yet me thinkes my thoughts begin
To say there lies a white within,
Though black her pride controule:
And what care I how black a face I see, 40
So there be whitenesse in the soule,
Still such an Etbiop be.
(39) controul t '52.
A Parley with bis empty Purse.
PVrse, who'l not know you have a Poets been
When he shall look and find no gold herein?
What respect (think you) will there now be shown
To this foule nest, when all the birds are flowne?
Vnnaturall vacuum, can your emptinesse 5
Answer to some slight questions, such as these?
How shall my debts be paid? or can my scores
Be cleer'd with verses to my Creditors?
(i) who I not '52, Poets] Poet '52, *68.
184 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Hexameter's no sterling, and I feare
What the brain coynes goes scarce for currant there. 10
Can meeter cancell bonds? is here a time
Ever to hope to wipe out chalke with rime?
Or if I now were hurrying to the jaile
Are the nine Muses held sufficient baile?
Would they to any composition come, 15
If we should morgage our Elisium,
Tempe, Parnassus, and the golden streames
Of Tagus, and Pactolus, those rich dreames
Of active fancy? Can our Orpheus move
Those rocks, and stones with his best straines of Love?
Should I (like Homer] sing in lofty tones 21
To them Achilles, and his Myrmidons;
Hector, and Aiax are but Sergeants names,
They rellish bay-salt, 'bove the Epigrams
Of the most season'd braine, nor will they be 25
Content with Ode, or paid with Elegy.
Muse, burn thy baies, and thy fond quill resigne,
One crosse of theirs is worth whole books of mine.
Of all the treasure which the Poets hold
There's none at all they weigh, except our gold; 30
And mine's return'd to th' Indies, and hath swore
Never to visit this cold climate more.
Then crack your strings good Purse, for you need none;
Gape on, as they doe to be paid, gape on.
(22) ;] ! '43, '52-
(24) above '68.
POEMS 185
Vpon Love fondly refused for Conscience sake.
NAture, Creations law, is judg'd by sense,
Not by the Tyrant conscience.
Then our commission gives us leave to doe
What youth and pleasure prompts us to:
For we must question else heavens great decree, 5
And taxe it with a Treachery;
If things made sweet to tempt our appetite
Should with a guilt stain the delight.
Higher powers rule us, our selves can nothing doe;
Who made us love made't lawfull too. 10
It was not love, but love transform'd to vice
Ravish'd by envious Avarice,
Made women first impropriate; all were free,
Inclosures mans Inventions be.
F th' golden age no action could be found 15
For trespasse on my neighbours ground:
'Twas just with any Fayre to mixe our blood;
The best is most diffusive good.
She that confines her beams to one mans sight,
Is a darke Lanthorne to a glorious Light. 20
Say, does the Virgin-spring lesse chast appear
Cause many Thirsts are quenched there?
Or have you not with the same odours met
When more have smelt your violet?
The Phenix is not angry at her nest, 25
Cause her perfumes make others blest:
Though Incense to th' eternal Gods be meant,
Yet mortalls Rivall in the sent.
(4) too: '68.
(9) us,] om. '68. made'Uwfull '43.
(14) mens '40, ff.
(20) dark-Lanthorn '43, glorious] om. '64, "68.
1 86 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Man is the Lord of creatures, yet we see
That all his vassals loves are free; 30
The severe wedlocks fetters doe not bind
The Pard's inflam'd, and amorous mind;
But that he may be like a Bridegroome led
Even to the Roy all Lyons bed.
The birds may for a yeare their loves confine, 35
But make new choyce each Valentine.
If our affections then more servile be
Then are our slaves, where's mans soveraignty?
Why then by pleasing more, should you lesse please,
And spare the sweets, being more sweet then these?
If the fresh Trunk have sap enough to give 41
That each insertive branch may live;
The Gardner grafts not only Apples there,
But addes the Warden and the Peare;
The Peach, and Apricock together grow, 45
The Cherry, and the Damson too.
Till he hath made by skilfull husbandry
An intire Orchard of one Tree.
So least our Paradise perfection want,
We may as well inoculate as plant. 50
What's Conscience but a Beldams midnight theme?
Or nodding nurses idle dreame?
So feign'd, as are the Goblins, Elves, and Fairies
To watch their Orchards, and their Dairies.
For who can tell when first her reigne begun? 55
I' th' state of innocence was none:
And since large conscience (as the proverb shewes)
In the same sense with bad one goes,
(38) our] om. '64, '68.
(40) the] om. '64, '68.
(50) may inoculate and plant. '64, '68.
(51) Bedlams '64, '68.
POEMS 187
The lesse the better then, whence this will fall,
*Tis to be perfect to have none at all. 60
Suppose it be a vertue, rich and pure,
'Tis not for Spring, or Summer sure,
Nor yet for Autumne; Love must have his prime,
His warmer heats, and harvest time.
Till we have flourish'd, growne, and reap'd our
wishes, 65
What Conscience dares oppose our kisses?
But when times colder hand leads us neare home,
Then let that winter-vertue come:
Frost is till then prodigious; we may doe
What youth and pleasure prompts us to. 70
(60) He's perfect that hath none at all. '68.
(68) winter vertue '52.
POEMS
NOT IN THE 1638 EDITION
BUT
INCLUDED IN THE 1640
AND SUBSEQUENT EDITIONS.
On Importunate Dunnes.
POx take you all from you my sorrows swell
Your Treacherous Faith makes me turn Infidell.
Pray vex me not for Heavens sake, or rather
For your poor Childrens sake, or for their Father.
You trouble me in vain, what 'ere you say 5
I cannot, will not, nay I ought not pay.
You are Extortioners; I was not sent
T* encrease your sins, but make you all repent
That 'ere you trusted me, wee' re even here,
I bought too cheap, because you sold too dear. 10
Learn Conscience of your Wives, for they I swear
For the most part Trade in the better Ware.
Heark Reader if thou never yet hadst one
I'le shew the torments of a Cambridge Dunne.
He railes where 'ere he comes, and yet can say 15
But this, that Randolph did not keep his day.
What? can I keep the Day, or stop the Sun
From setting, or the Night from coming on.
Could I have kept dayes, I had chang'd the doom
Of Times and Seasons, that had never come. 20
These evill spirits haunt me every day,
And will not let me eat, study, or pray.
I am so much in their Books that 'tis known
I am too seldome frequent in my owne.
What damage given to my Doors might be 25
If Doors might Actions have of Battery!
(5) ,] ; '64, '68. (26) !] ? '68.
(9) i] ; '64, '68. wee're] om. '68.
191
192 THOMAS RANDOLPH
And when they finde their comming to no end
They Dunne by proxie, and their Letters send,
In such a stile as I could never find
In Tallies long, or Seneca's short winde. 30
Good Master Randolph, Pardon me, I pray
If I remember you forget your day.
I kindly dealt with you, and it would be
Vnkind in you, not to be kinde to me.
You know, Sir, I must pay for what I have. 35
My Creditors will be paid, therefore I crave
Pay me as I pay them Sir, for one Brother
Is bound in Conscience to pay another.
Besides my Landlord would not be content,
If I should dodge with him for's quarters rent. 40
My Wife lies in too, and I needs must pay
The Midwife, least the fool be cast away.
And 'tis a second charge to me poor man
To make the new born Babe a Christian.
Besides the Churching a third charge will be 45
In butter d H abb er dine and frummety.
Thus hoping you will make a courteous end,
I rest (I would thou would'st) Your loving Friend.
A. B. M. H. T. B. H. L. I. O.
I. F. M. G. P. W. Nay I know 50
You have the same stile all, and as for me
Such as your stile is shall your payment be,
Just all alike; see, what a cursed spell
Charmes Devils up, to make my Chamber hell.
(39) ,] • '43- (5*) ,3 • '43. S. (53) ;] , '40, '43, 'S*-
POEMS 193
This some starv'd Prentice brings, one that does look
With a face blurr'd more then his Masters book. 56
One that in any chink can peeping lye
More slender then the yard he measures by:
When my poor stomack barks for meat I dare
Scarce humour it, they make me live by air, 60
As the Camelions do; and if none pay
Better then I have done, even so may they.
When I would go to Chappell, they betray
My zeal, and when I onely meant to pray
Unto my God, faith all I have to do 65
Is to pray them, and glad theyl hear me too.
Nay should I preach, the Raschals are so vext,
They'd fee a beadle to arrest my Text;
And sue if such a sute might granted be,
My Use and Doctrine to an Outlary. 70
This stings, yet what my gall most works upon
Is that the hope of my revenge is gone.
For were I but to deal with such as those,
That know the danger of my Uerse or Prose
Ide steep my Muse in Vinegar and Gall 75
Till the fierce scold grew sharp and hang'd 'um all.
But those I am to deal with are so dull,
(Though got by Schollers) he that is most full
Of Understanding can but hither come,
Imprimis, Item, and the Totall summe. 80
I do not wish them JEgypts plagues, but even
As bad as they; Fie add unto them seven.
I wish not Grashoppers, Froggs, and Lice come down,
But clouds of Moths in every shop i' th' Town.
(56) his] her '52. (71) ,] ; '68.
(58) :], '40 . '68. (74) or] and '68.
194 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Then honest Devill to their Ink convey 85
Some Aqua-fortis that may eat away
Their books. To adde more torments to their lives,
Heaven I beseech thee, send 'um handsome Wives.
Such as will pox their flesh, till sores grow in 't
That all their Linnen may be spent in lint. 90
And give them Children with ingenuous faces,
Indued with all the Ornaments and Graces
Of Soul and Body, that it may be known
To others, and themselves, they'r not their own.
And if this vex 'um not, Tie grieve the Town 95
With this curse, States put Trinity-Lecture down.
But my last Imprecation this shall be,
May they more Debtors have, and all like me.
(98) all] om. '43.
A Character.
Aulico-Politico-Academico.
THou Cozen to great Madams and allyed,
To all the Beauties that are Ladified,
Thou Eagle of the Realm whose eyes can see,
Th' invisible plots of forraign policie,
Thou great and unknown Learning of thy Nation 5
Made not by studie, but by inspiration!
The Court, the State, the Schooles together be
By th' ears, and fight, and scratch, and all for thee.
When I behold thee cringe in some fair Hall,
And scrape proportions Mathematicall, 10
(7) Schooles] Schollers '64 Scholars '68.
POEMS 195
Varying thy mouth as 'twere by Magick-spell
To circle, ovall, square, and triangle,
And take a Virgin by the Ivory hand
Minting words to her, none can understand
But in a vision, and some verse repeat 15
So well inchanted, none the sense can get,
Till they have conjur'd in lines strange and many.
To find what spirit it has, if it have any.
To see thy feet (though nature made them splay)
Screw in the toes to dance and force a way 20
To some smooth measure, as might justly vaunt
Thou art turn'd Monseur of an Elephant.
Thy mother sure going to see some sport,
Tilting, or Masque, conceav'd thee in the Court.
But when I view thee gravely nod, and spit 25
In a grave posture, shake the head, and fit
Plots to bring Spain to England, and confine
King Philips Indies unto Middletons Mine.
When I read o're thy comments sagely writ
On the Currantoes, and with how much wit 30
Thy profound Apborismes do expound to us
The Almanacks, and Gallobelgicus;
When I conceive what news thou wilt bring ore
When thou returnst with thy Embassador;
What slops the Switzer wears to hide his joynts, 35
How French and how the Spaniard trusse their points,
How ropes of Onions at Saint Omers go,
And whether Turks be Christians yea or no.
Then I believe one in deep points so able,
Was surely got under the Councell-table. 40
(15) verse] words '68. (28) Mine '40.
(16) get. '43, '68. (33) o're '43, ff.
(20) away '40, '43. (35) dope* '64, '68 Switurs '43, '$1.
(27) to England, '40.
196 THOMAS RANDOLPH
But when I hear thee of Celarent write
In Ferio and Baralypton fight,
Me thinks my then Prophetike soul durst tell
Thou must be born at Aristotles Well.
But shall I tell thee friend how thy blest fate 45
By chance hath made thy name so fortunate.
The States-man thinks thou hast too much o'th'Court,
The Courtier thinks thy sager parts do sort
Best for the State; as for the Ladies they
Pos'd with the Medley of thy language, say 50.
Th' art a meer Scholler, and the Scholler swears
Thou art of any tribe rather then theirs.
One thinks thee this, one that, a third thinks either,
Thou thinkst thy self th'art all, and I think neither.
On the losse of his Finger.
HOw much more blest are trees then men,
Their boughes lopt off will grow agen;
But if the steel our limbs dissever,
The joynt once lost is lost for ever.
But fondly I dull fool complain, 5
Our members shall revive again;
And thou poor finger that art dust
Before the other members, must
Return as soon at heavens command,
And reunited be to th* hand 10
As those that are not ashes yet;
Why dost thou then so envious sit,
And malice Oaks that they to fate
Are tenants of a longer date?
(i) ,] ? '43, ff- (9) soon as '43, ff.
POEMS 197
Their leafes do more years include 15
But once expir'd, are nere renew'd.
Therefore dear finger though thou be
Cut from those muscles govern'd thee,
And had thy motion at command,
Yet still as in a margent stand, 20
To point my thoughts to fix upon
The hope of Resurrection:
And since thou canst no finger be
Be a deaths head to humble me,
Till death doth threat her sting in vain, 25
And we in heaven shake hands again.
A paraneticon to the truly noble Gentlman
M. Endymion Porter.
GOe bashfull Muse, thy message isto one
That drinks and fils thy Helicon.
Who when his quill a sportive number seeks,
Plants Roses in the Ladies cheeks.
And with a sad note from their eyes can call 5
Pearl-showres to dew those buds withall,
Whose layes when I by chance am blest to hear
My soul climbs up into my ear,
And bids your sisters challenge from the Moon
The Learned, as the fair Endymion. 10
Sing of his faith to the bright soul that's fled,
And left you all poor girls struck dead
With just despair of any future men
T'employ, or to reward a Pen.
(l) is] tell '64, '68.
198 rHOMAS RANDOLPH
A soul that staying would have wonders wrought, 15
High as himself, or his great thought,
And full of dayes, and honours (with our prayers,
In stead of Beads summ'd up with tears.)
Might of her own free flight to heaven have gone,
Offer what's heart, his hand, his sword had done. 20
But sing not thou a tale of discontent
To him whose joy is to lament.
We ought to pay true tears upon the hearse,
And lay some up in faithfull verse,
And so cast off our black; for more then thus 25
Troubles the saints for troubling us.
Say to him, Cupid being once too kinde
Wept out his eyes and so grew blinde.
For dead Adonis, grief being paid her due
He turn'd Loves wanton god, and so do you. 30
(17) prayer '52. (20) .] , '40, *43, '$*• (*7) Cupid '43, ff.
To a painted Mistresst.
THere are who know what once to day it was;
Your eyes, your Conscience, and your morning
glasse;
How durst you venture that adulterate part
Belabour'd with your fucus, and best Art
To the rude breath of every rash salute? 5
What did your prefer whisper? expect suit?
You were too pliant with your ear, you wisht
Pomatum and Vermillion might be kiss'd,
(4) Fucus '43, ff. (7) ,] ; '68-
(6) ?] ; '68. (8) Pomatum and Fermillion '43, ff. ,] ; '68.
POEMS 199
That lip, that cheek by man was never known,
Those favours you bestow are not your own. 10
Hence forth such kisses IMe defie, like Thee,
Which druggists sell to you, and you to me.
(9) known; '68.
To bis well Timbred Mistresse.
SWeet, heard you not fames latest breath rehearse
How I left hewing blocks to hack at Verse,
Now grown the Master-Log, while others be
But shavings and the chips of Poetry.
And thus I Saw Deal-boards of beauty forth, 5
To make my Love a Warehouse of her worth.
Her leggs are heart of Oak, and columns stand
To bear the amorous bulk; then Muse command
That Beech be work'd for thighes unto those legs,
Turn'd round and carv'd, and joynted fast with pegs.io
Contrive her belly round, a dining roome,
Where Love and Beauty will a feasting come,
Another story make from wast to chin
With breasts like Pots to nest young sparrows in;
Then place the Garret of her head above, 15
Thatcht with a yellow hair to keep in Love.
Thus have I finisht Beauties master prize
Were but the Glasier here to make her eyes.
Then Muse her out-works henceforth cease to raise
To work within, and wainscot her with praise. 20
(2) at] a '43, ff. (18) here] neer '52.
(10) joynted] joyned '43, ff. (19) henceforth] om. '43, '52.
200 THOMAS RANDOLPH
On six Maids bathing themselves in a River.
WHen bashfull Day-light now was gone,
And Night that hides a blush came on.
Six pretty Nymphs to wash away
The sweating of a summers-day,
In Chants fair streams did gently swim 5
And naked bathe each curious limbe.
O who had this blest sight but seen
Would think that they had Clcelia's been.
A Scholler that a walk did take
(Perchance for meditation sake) 10
This better object chanc'd to finde,
Straight all things else were out of minde;
What better study in this life,
For Practick or Contemplative?
He thought, poor soul, what he had seen 15
Diana and her Nymphs had been,
And therefore thought in piteous fear
Acteons fortunes had been near.
Or that the water-Nymphs they were
Together met to sport them there. 20
And that to him such love they bore
As unto Hilas once before.
What could he think but that his eye
Six Nymphs at once did there espie
Rise from the waves? Or that perchance 25
Fresh-water Syrens came to dance
Upon the stream with tongue and look
To tempt poor Schollers from their book?
(l) ,] . '«• d4) ?] • '40, '43. '52-
(S) did] stid '43. (17) in] it '68. (20) .] : '68.
POEMS 201
He could not think they Graces were
Because their numbers doubled are. 30
Nor can he think they Muses be
Because (alas) there wanted three.
I should have rather guest that there
Another brood of Helens were,
Begot by Jove upon the plains, 35
Hatch'd by some Leda of the swans.
The maids betrai'd were in a fright
And blusht, but 'twas not seen by night.
At last all by the bank did stand,
And he (kind heart) lent them his hand. 40
Where 'twas his blisse to feel all o're
Soft paps, smooth thighes, and some thing more.
But envious night hid from his eyes
The place where love and pleasure lies.
Guesse lovers guesse, guesse you that dare 45
What then might be this Schollers prayer.
That he had been a Cat to spy,
Or had he now Tiberius eye.
Yet since his wishes were in vain
He helpt them d'on their clothes again, 50
Makes promise there should none be shent,
So with them to the Tavern went.
How they all night did sport and play
Pardon my Muse, I dare not say;
Guesse you that have a minde to know 55
Whether he were a fool or no.
(35-36) Not in the old editions, but printed by Hazlitt from the Scatter good MS.
in the Huth Library.
(42) something '52, ff.
(43) Indented in '40.
(S4) ;] , '40, '43, '52.
202 THOMAS RANDOLPH
The Wedding Morne.
A Rise, come forth, but never to return
To the same Center, 'tis thy virgin Urn,
Bury it in those thoughts which did possesse
Thee from thy Cradle, 'till this happinesse;
Which but to think upon will make they cheek, 5
Fairer then is the morn you so much seek
In beauty to outvy; and be the pride
Of all that ever had the name of bride.
Up Maids and let your nimble fingers be
True instruments of curiosity: 10
Set not a pin amisse, nor let a pleat
Be folded in her gown but whats in state,
And when her Ivory Temples you would deck
Forbear your Art, for Nature gives you check.
There in the circuit of her radiant haire 15
See Cupid fetter'd in a golden snare.
Marke the triumphant Throne wherein the Boy
Installed sits to give the Bridegroom Joy.
But when shees drest and that her listning ear
Is welcom'd by the Bridegrooms being neer, 20
Look how she stands and how her stedfast eye
Is fix'd on him at's first discovery.
Both being met, mark how their souls do strive
To be in cithers joy contemplative.
Whose kisses raise betwixt them such a fire 25
That should the Phoenix see, he to expire
Would shun the spicy mountain, and so take
Himself between their lips a grave to make.
(2) thy] the '64, '68.
(16) Cupid '43, ff.
(19) and] om. '68.
POEMS 203
In praise of Woemen in GeneralL
HE is a Paricide to his mother's name,
And with an impious hand murthers her fame,
That wrongs the praise of women, that dares write
Libels on Saints, or with foul ink requite
The milk they lent us: Better Sex command 5
To your defence my more religious hand
At sword, or Pen; yours was the nobler birth,
For you of man were made, man but of earth,
The son of dust; and though your sin did breed
His fall, again you rais'd him in your seed. 10
Adam in's sleep a gainfull losse sustain'd
That for one rib a better selfe regain'd.
Who had he not your blest creation seen,
An Anchorite in Paradise had been.
Why in this work did the creation rest 15
But that eternall providence thought you best
Of all his six dayes labour: beasts should do
Homage to man, but man should wait on you.
You are of comlier sight, of daintier touch,
A tender flesh, a colour bright, and such 20
As Parians see in marble, skin more fair,
More glorious head, and far more glorious hair,
Eyes full of grace, and quicknesse, purer roses
Blush in your cheeks, a milder white composes
Your stately fronts, your breath more sweet then his 25
Breaths spice, and Nectar drops at every kisse.
Your skins are smooth, bristles on theirs do grow
Like quills of Pocupins, rough wooll doth flow
(7) yours] ours '40, '43, '52, '64 w»»] it '52.
(9) Sun '68. (11)
204 THOMAS RANDOLPH
CXre all their faces, you approach more near
The form of angels; they like beasts appear: 30
If then in bodies where the souls do dwell
You better us, do then our souls excell?
No; we in souls equall perfection see,
There can in them nor male nor female be.
Boast we of knowledge? you have more then we 35
You were the first ventur'd to pluck the tree.
And that more Rhetorick in your tongues doth ly
Let him dispute against that dares deny
Your least commands; and not perswaded be
With Sampsons strength, and Davids pietie, 40
To be your willing Captives; vertue sure
Were blinde as fortune, should she choose the poor
Rough cottage man to live in, and despise
To dwell in you the stately edifice.
Thus you are prov'd the better sex, and we 45
Must all repent that in our Pedigree
We choose the fathers name, where should we take
The mothers, a more honour'd blood, 'twould make
Our generation sure, and certain be,
And I'de beleeve some faith in Heraldry! 50
Thus perfect Creatures if detraction rise
Against your sex dispute but with your eyes,
Your hand, your lip, your brow, there will be sent
So subtile and so strong an argument
Will teach the Stoick his affection too, 55
And call the Cinick from his Tub to woo.
Thus mustring up your beauteous troops, go on
The fairest is the valiant Amazon.
(37) doth] do '68.
(46) Pedigree. '43, '52.
POEMS 205
To M. I. S. on bis Gratffull Servant.
f Cannot fulminate or tonitruate words,
•*• To puzzle intellects, my ninth lasse affords
No Lycophronian buskins, nor can strain
Garagantuan lines to Gigantize thy vein,
Nor make a jus jurand, that thy great plaies 5
Are terr'del fo-gos, or incognitaes;
Thy Pegasus in his admir'd careere,
Curvets no Capreols of Nonsence here.
(3) sycophronian G. S. '37. (6) terra del fo'gods G. S. '37.
(4) Garaganturn '43 Garaganturne "52. (8) no]] on G. S. '37. Non-sence '68-
WOnder not friend, that I do entertain
Such language, that both think & speak so
plain. 10
Know, I applaud thy smooth and even strains,
That will inform, and not confound our brains.
Thy Helicon, like a smooth stream doth flow,
While others with disturbed channels go,
And headlong, like Niles Cataracts do fall 15
With a huge noyse, and yet not heard at all.
When thy intelligence on the Cock-pit stage
Gives it a soul from the immortall rage
I hear the Muses birds with full delight
Sing where the birds of Mars were wont to fight: 20
Nor flatter I, thou knowest I do abhor it;
Let others praise thy Play, He love thee for it;
That he that knows my friend shall say, he has
A friend as Gratefull as his Servant was.
(IS) Nile Cataracts G. S. 37.
(12) Pie '43, ff.
The poem is signed Tho. Randolph, in G. S. '37.
POEMS
MORE OR LESS DOUBTFUL
not in any of the early editions of Randolph;
added from various sources.
The Towns-metis Petition of Cambridge.1
NOw Scholars, look unto it,
For you will all be undon,
For the last week, you know it,
The Towns-men rid to London:
The Mayor, if he thrives, 5
Hath promised, on his word,
The King a pair of Knives,
If he'll give him a Sword,
That he may put the Beadles down,
And walk in worship here, 10
And kill all Scholars in the Town
That thus do domineer.
And then unto the Court
They do themselves repair,
To make the King some sport, 15
And all his Nobles there.
He down upon his knee,
Both he and they together:
A Sword, he cryes, good King, give me,
That I may cut a feather. 20
There's none at all I have at home,
Will fit my hand I swear;
But one of yours will best become
A Sword to domineer.
These Scholars keep such wreaks, 25
As makes us all afeard,
« From the Crave of Kind London Gossips, 1662, where it is credited to "T.
Randolph."
209
210 THOMAS RANDOLPH
That if to them a Towns-man speaks,
They will pull off his beard:
But if your Grace such licence gives,
Then let us all be dead, 30
If each of us had not as lieve
He should pull off his head.
They call us silly drunkards too;
We know not why, nor where;
All this, and more than this, they do, 35
'Cause they will domineer.
A speech if I do make,
That hath much learning in't,
A Scholar comes to take,
And set it out in print; 40
We dare not touch them for our lives,
Good King, have pity on us!
For first they play upon our Wives,
And then make songs upon us.
Would we have power to put, 45
And turn on them the jeer,
Then we would do the best we could,
But we would domineer,
They stand much on their wit,
We know not what it is 50
But surely had we liked it,
We had got some of this.
But since it will no better be,
We are constraint to frame
Petitions to your Majesty, 55
These witty ones to tame.
A sword would scare them all, I say,
And put them in great fear;
POEMS 211
A Sword of you, good King, we pray,
That we may domineer: 60
Which, if your Grace permits,
Wee'll make them look about 'urn;
But yet they have such pleasant wits,
We cannot live without 'urn.
They have such pretty arguments, 65
To run upon our score;
They say fair words, and good intents
Are worth twice as much more.
And that a clown is highly grac't,
To sit a Scholar near; 70
And thus we are like fools out-fac't,
And they do domineer.
But if you will renew
To us your Grace's Charter,
Wee'l give a ribbon blew 75
To some Knight of the Garter.
A cap also we want,
And Maintenance much more.
And yet those Scholars brag and vaunt
As if they had good store. 80
But not a penny we can see,
Save once in twice 7 year:
They say it is no policy,
Drunkards should domineer.
Now reason, reason cries, Alas 85
Good Lord-lings, mark it well,
A Scholar told me that it was
A perfect parallel.
Their case and ours so equal stand
As in a way-scale true, 90
212 THOMAS RANDOLPH
A pound of Candles on each hand,
Will neither higher shew.
Then, prethee listen to my speech,
As thou shalt after hear:
And then I doubt it not, my Liege, 95
But we shall domineer.
Vice-Chancellors they have
And we have Mayors wise,
With Proctors and with Taskers grave,
Our Bayliffs you may size: 100
Their silver Staves keep much adoe,
Much more our silver Maces;
And some think, that our Serjeant too
Their Beadle-Squires out-faces.
And if we had a Sword I think 105
Along the street to bear,
'Twould make the proudest of them shrink,
And we should domineer:
They've Patrons of Nobility,
And we have our partakers; no
They've Doctors of Divinity,
And we have Basket-makers:
Their Heads, our brethren dear,
Their Fellows, our householders;
Shall match them, and we think to bear 115
Them down by head and shoulders.
A Sword give us, O king, we pray,
That we may top them there;
Since every Dog must have its day,
Let us once domineer. 120
When they had made the King to laugh,
And see one kiss his hand;
POEMS 213
Then little mirth they make, as if
His mind they understand.
Avoid the room, an Usher cryes, 125
The King will private sup:
And so they all came down like fools,
As they before went up.
They cry'd God bless his Majesty;
And then no doubt they sware, 130
They'l have the Town made a City,
And here so domineer.
But wot ye what the King did think,
And what his meaning was;
I vow unto you by this drink, 135
A rare device he has:
His Majesty hath pen'd it,
That they'l be ne're the better:
And so he means to send it,
All in a Latine Letter, 140
Which when it comes for to be read,
It plainly will appear,
The Towns-men they must hang the' head,
And the Scholars must domineer.
On the Fall of the Mitre Tavern in Cambridge}-
LAment, lament, ye Scholars all,
Each wear his blackest Gown:
The Mitre that held up your wits,
Is now itself fain down.
1 From the Crnve of Kind London Gossips, 1662, where, however, no author'*
»me is given, and it is not divided into stanzas. See notes.
214 THOMAS RANDOLPH
The dismal fire of London-Bridge, 5
Can move no heart of mine:
For that but o're the water stood,
But this stood o're the wine.
It needs must melt, each Christians heart,
That this sad newes but hears. 10
To think how the sad Hogsheads wept
Good Sack and Claret tears,
The zealous Students of the place
Change of Religion fear,
Lest this mishap may chance bring in 15
The heresie of Beer.
Unhappy Mitre! I would know
The cause of this sad hap:
Came it by making legs too low
To Pembrook's Cardinals Cap? 20
Then know thy self, and cringe no more,
Since Popery went down,
That Cap must vail to thee, for now
The Mitre's next the Crown.
Or was't, because our company 25
Did not frequent thy Cell
As we were wont, to cure these cares,
Thou fox'dst thy self and fell?
No sure, the Devil was adry,
And caus'd a fatal blow; 30
'Twas he that made the Cellar sink,
That he might drink below.
POEMS 215
Yet, though some say, the Devil did it,
'Cause he might drink up all.
I rather think the Pope was drunk, 35
And let his Mitre fall.
Lament, ye .Eaton-conjurers,
Because your lack of knowledge
To let a Tavern fall that stood
On the walls of your Colledge. 40
Let the Rose with the Falcon molt,
Whiles Sam enjoyes his wishes:
The Dolphin too must cast her Crown,
Wine was not made for Fishes.
That Sign a Tavern best befits, 45
Which shews who loves Wine best:
The Mitre's then the only Sign,
For that's the Scholar's crest.
Then drink Sack Sam, and cheer thy heart,
Be not dismaid at all; 50
For we will drink it up again,
Though our selves de catch a fall,
Wee'll be thy workmen day and night,
In spight of bugbear-Proctors,
We drank like fresh-men all before, 55
But now wee'll drink like Doctors.
2l6 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Annagram. Virtue alone thy Blisse.1
Descent of birth is a vaine good
Doubtfully sprung from others bloud,
Wealth, though it be the worldlings baite,
Wise men but use to make up weight:
Witt in a woman I scarce know 5
Whether it be a praise or no:
Beautie's a glorious flower, but gone
And wither'd ere the spring be done:
All those thou dost as Jewells weare,
But more thine owne perfections are; 10
For thine a nobler bloud shall bee
Whose pure descent flowes but from thee;
Thy wealth is goodnesse, such a store
As is more pretious then the oare
That loades the yeerely fleetes of Spayne, 15
For which the naked Indians slayne;
Thy witt soe chaste, thou mights't have beene
Not Sapho, but the Sheba Queene:
A beauty thou thy selfe hast made
Whose Rose and Lilly shall not fade, 20
Sett in the soule not in the face,
That garden is a fading place;
In thee both soule and body are
Equally noble rich, and faire,
Outward, and inward graces kisse, 25
Cause, virtue is alone thy blisse;
Nor is this stollne, or borrowed fame,
Thy praise is all thine owne, thy name.
From Harl. MS. 6917, where it is credited to T: Randolph.
POEMS 217
An Epitbalamium.1
Bliss court thee sweetest soule, and fall soe thick
That it outwit or pose arithmetick.
'Mongst all those ioyes which from the holy shrine
As you return'd the virgins gave, lett mine
I pray have entertainment, for they come 5
To sing in your Epithalamium.
0 prove soe happy in thy nuptiall,
That when beleaguerd, slow-faith virgins shall
Cruelly deliberate, and refuse
The rights of Hymen, all our youths may use 10
This rare stratigem, tell them but a story
Of thy blest bridall's fortune, and their glory
Which must so hale them, that they straight will be
All wives in hope to be as blest as thee.
Heauen send a sweet-fac't heire, a chopping boy, 15
To make thee sport at home, O what ioy
T'would be to view both your portraictures done
Soe rarly to the life, and that in one,
Soe small a peice, then if the worke be showne
This would commend you most, it is your owne. 20
Pardon I can't expresse the thousand blisse
1 wish you but the summe of all is this.
He pray thou may soe happy be;
As thy best honour'd bedman is in thee.
Except but heaven, and he that more would speake 25
I say, need's his expression must be weake.
1 From Addit. MS. 11,811, where it is credited to Thomas Randolph.
218 THOMAS RANDOLPH
On a maide of honour seen by a scollar in sommerset
garden.1
As once in blacke I disrespected walk't,
Where glittering courtiers in their tissues stalk't,
I cast by chaunce my melancholy eye,
Upon a woman (as I thought) pass'd by.
But when I veiw'd her ruffe and beaver reard 5
As if Priapus-like she would have feard,
The ravenous Harpyes from the clustred grape,
Then I began much to mistrust her shape;
When veiwing curiously, away she slipt,
And in a fount her whited hande she dipt. 10
The angry water as if wrong'd thereby,
Ranne murmuring thence a second touch to fly,
At which away she stalkes, and as she goes
She viewes the situation of each rose;
And having higher rays'd her gowne, she gaz'd 15
Upon her crimson stocking, which amaz'd
Blusht at her open impudence, and sent
Reflection to her cheeke, for punishment.
As thus I stood the gard'ner chaunce to pass.
My frend (quoth I) what is this stately lasse. 20
A maide of honour Sr said he, and goes away,
Drawing a riddle, was enough to pose
The crafty Oedipus, for I could
Nor mayde, nor honour, sure no honesty.
1 From Addit. MS. 11,811, where it is credited to Thomas Randolph.
(23) Hazlitt adds [see] which is very probably correct.
POEMS 219
Epigram.1
Heavens decreed, before the world begun,
That such fair beauty should not live a nun;
But if thou needs this vow wilt undertake,
I wish my arms a cloister for thy sake.
[To Richard Weston.~] *
Although your Lordshipps happy annagram
give you of hard and honest both the name
yet let that hand (I pray you) fall on mee
gently, and pay mee with your honesty.
A letter to bis Mistresse?
Goe happy Paper by Command,
Take liberty to kisse a Hand
More white than any part of thee,
Although with spotts thou graced bee.
The glorie of the chiefest day, 5
The morning Aire perfum'd in May,
The first born Rose of all the Spring,
The Down beneath the Turtles Wing.
A Lute just reaching to the Eare
Whatere is soft, is sweet, is faire 10
Are but her shredds who fills the place
And Sume of every Single grace.
1 Printed by Hazlitt from the Scattergood MS. formerly in the collection of
Mr. Henry Huth.
» From the fly-leaf of the British Museum copy of the 1638 edition of the Poem*.
It is there credited to "Tho Randolph."
1 From Addit. MS. 22,602, where it is credited to T. Randall.
220 THOMAS RANDOLPH
As in a Child the Nurse descries
The Mothers Lips, the Fathers Eyes,
The Uncles Nose, & doth apply 15
Honors to every part, So I
In her could Analise the Store,
Of all that choice e're Nature wore
Each Private piece to mind may call
Some Earth, but none can match it all. 20
Poore Emblemes, they, can but expresse
One Element of Comelynesse.
None are so rich to shew in One
All Samples of Perfection.
Nor can the Pencill represent 25
More than the Outward Lineament.
Then who can lime the portraitour
Of beauties live Behaviour?
Or what can figure evry kind
Of Jewell that adorns her mind? 30
Thought cannot draw her picture full,
Each thought to Her is grosse & dull.
The Character of a Perfect Woman}-
Apelles curious eye must gaze upon
all beauties, and from choice of all make one;
Thais must lend a lipp, Lais a cheeke,
then for a browe we must Oenone seeke.
Spoyle Hermia for a nose, ravish an eye 5
from Helen, and from Omphale snatch a thighe:
Stopp Atalanta in her nimble race
to borrow Leggs, and parcell of her face;
i From Harl. MS. 6918, where it is credited to T. R. closely following other
poems which are by Randolph.
POEMS 221
robbe Ledaes twinns, and Venus breast must weare,
and cozen Ariadne of her haire; 10
wee make no shape nor to encrease our store
of beauty, tane on trust; leave others poore.
Like such as thrive by breaking; this is she
of whom the double faire Penelope
Lucrece, and Pallas all but copies are 15
and not examples; this is that one rare
Eternall forme of woman, which we finde
platonick dreame in none but in the minde.
of the great workeman, by which he creates
the rest oth' sexe, and as their severall fates 20
gives them like her th'are blest, their excellence
brings but reflection of a light from hence:
Soe perfect as if natures care had beene
To fitt the Inne a guest, the Guest an Inne:
Her soule and body equally divine, 25
never dwelt holyer saint in statelier shrine;
in every member some great vertue lives
that like the soule informes the part, and gives
his heaven a motion, that they all appeare
Soe many Angells in their proper Spheare: 30
I will not say her hairs are finest wires
of gold or silver (dross the world admires)
nor silkewormes coyles spunne by a subtle thread
but they are crownes of rayes throwne round her head.
Beames that shoote glory forth, by whose bright shine
we know the orbe the circle is divine: 36
Her browe is fairer than the parian stone
Fitt to make Altars on, where in a throne
Sitts maiesty triumphant, in her hand
She beares a powerfull scepter to command, 40
(36) Thus in MS.; probably intended for] they circle.
222 THOMAS RANDOLPH
and checke proud mortalls whose bold hopes might
bee
such gyants as to court Divinitye;
Under the Lidd that Canopies her eyes
pure bashfullnesse in mayden curtaines lyes,
from which, as morning, breakes a double sunne 45
more bright than eagles dare to gaze upon;
Which when in Zeale they fixe on heaven, and then
Deigne to bestow a lower looke on men,
amazed in my thoughts I know not whether
they kindle more heate here, or send more thither 50
Which though in us some wanton flames they move,
againe their brightness curbes ambitious Love;
As misty fogges which into clouds are swelld
by the same heate that raised them are dispelld;
View in her cheekes pure bloud, nere tainted more 55
than what an apple surfetted long before,
And that refined, that in those christall tydes
but little of originall blott resides;
There modesty her virgin pallace keepes,
behold yon bed of roses where she sleepes, 60
Looke on that blush, for nought her selfe hath done,
her only shame is this that we have none;
Her corrall lips for God and man prepare
A stately banquet, then the Gods more rare;
Where to a friend if curtesie graunt a kisse 65
tis frost in hers, yet lightning shot from his;
Within there runne two Ivory pales along,
a needlesse fence for such a vertuous tongue
Which are but as a guard to a good prince
Not given for safety, but magnificence; 70
When that Instrument that seldome speakes
though all attend, unwellcome silence breaks,
POEMS 223
how admiration takes our eares, that bee
so rapt they thinke the ayre turnd harmony;
Who sees her fingers in their quaint device 75
With cunning needle worke a paradise,
Where flowers, and trees, beasts, fish, and fowle appear
Would think that peece Arts first creation were;
But when she takes her Lute, and strikes the strings
themselves with wonder, at the hand that brings 80
Divinity into them, you might see
Each fowle, each fish, each beast, each flower, and tree
runne from the worke, as if they orpheus heare,
and to the hand that wrought them lend an eare;
yet here another royall vertue dwells, 85
her charity, that all the rest excells,
and works of mercy in more plenty powres
Than Ceres eares of wheate, or Jove his showres;
Her waste is untoucht snow girt with a zone 89
that bounds my course, as that in heaven the sunne;
Let wanton pencills her hid parts expresse;
the Sexe, and not perfection lyes in these;
To shadow every part will pose my skill
whose meditation is above my quill;
She is the workemans glory, the creation 95
knowes her a master-peece; mans admiration
(though all his Limbes rebell) could not reveale
to such perfection, so much love as zeale;
She hath a heart of soe strange temper framed
it cannot simply hard, or soft be named; too
the cause can make it Adamant, and then
can melt that Adamant to waxe againe;
And this is natures phoenix I presume
that chastly lives and dyes in a perfume.
224 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Ad Amicam.1
Sweet, doe not thy beauty wrong
By thinking still thou art too young,
The rose, & lilly in each cheeke
Flourish, & noe more ripenesse seeke.
Those flaming beames, shott from thine eye,
Doe shew Loves Midsomer is nigh.
Love's still young, & a buxome boy,
And young things be allowed to toy,
Then lose no time, for love hath wings,
And flies away from aged things.
[On the Book Fish.'] 2
If Fishes thus do bring us Books, then we
May hope to equal Bodlyes Library.
On Mr parson Organist of Westminster Abbye?
Death passing by, and hearing parsons play
Stood much Amazed at his depth of skill
And said this Artist must with me away
for Death bereaves us of the better still
Yet let the Quire whils't hee keeps time sing on
For Parsons rests his service being Done
1 From MS. Tanner, 465, where it is credited to T. R.
1 From Fuller's Worthies of England.
» From MS. Ashmole 38, where it is credited to Th. Randall.
POEMS 22$
[On William Lawrence^]
With diligence and trust most exemplary
Did WILLIAM LAVRENCE serve a Prebendary;
And for his Paines now past, before not lost,
Gain'd this Remembrance at his Masters cost.
O reade these Lines againe; you seldome find
A Servant faithfull and a Master kind.
Short Hand he wrote; his Flowre in prime did fade,
And hasty Death Short Hand of him hath made.
Well covth he Nv'bers and well mesur'ed Land;
Thvs doth he now that Grovnd where on yov stand.
Wherein he lyes so Geometricall;
Art maketh some, but thvs will Nature all.
Randolph his answer to some merry companion 2
From all the ills that I have done, Lord, quit me out
of hand,
And make me not a scorne to fools that nothing
understand.
[Randolph's answer to the " Sons of Ben"~] 3
I John Bo peep, to you four sheep,
With each one his good fleece,
If that you are willing to give me five shilling,
'Tis fifteen pence a piece.
1 From a transcription of Laurence's epitaph given in Bradley's Westminster
Abbey. The version given by Aubrey is slightly different.
1 Printed by Hazlitt from the MS. commonplace-book of Henry Ozinden of
Barham, 1647.
1 From Winstanley's life of Randolph.
226 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Praeludium.1
Gen: Ho! Histrio! I thought a presse had swallowed
you all, tis so long since I saw a Comedie:
have you not for want of exercise forgot your
quality? Can you stroddle as wide, & talke
as loud as you were wont to doe? 5
Histr; Wee will Sir stretch legs & mouth to do you
service; though in this dead vacation the one
hath beene onely employd in the to'thers
errands; the feete had little else to do but to
walke away the stomacke — 10
Gen: Well I am glad the gagg is out of your mouth;
we have had a great dearth of witt all over
the tavernes & ordinaryes, for want of new
words, & had you ben longer supprest, we
must either have new studyed Euphues, or 15
return'd to Greene-s Arcadia, or have cald in
fidlers & said nothing — Drinking in silence
wou'd have come up againe.
Hist. It has beene a wretched time with us Fme
sure all over the towne; such an alteration 20
cleane through 'urn a fellow that has been big
enough to play Hercules, is fallen away so
many Cubitts, all the cloths in our wardrope
will not stuffe him up to the stature — a paire
of silke stockings serv'd six of 'urn from June 25
to October — another had nothing to eat for
a fortnight togeather but a propertie buckler.
Gent. Hard of digestion! what play have you today?
Hist. One newly reviv'd, the Hungry Courtier:
1 From Addit. MS. 37,425. where it is marked "T Randall after the last Pro-
logue" in a hand which another note says is that of " Ld. Ch. Clarendon."
POEMS 227
Gent. the hungry Courtier — no — let it be the 30
hungry plaier — I would not sit on any stage
'ith towne this twelve-month, for if they gape
as wide as they usd to doe, I should suspect
a further danger — there is nigh occasion to
feare the Actors will devoure the audience — 35
what think you of a play nothing but ghosts?
would it not be excellently fitted for the per-
sons? Never a comedy where a pudding is
eaten? or bowleing with penny loaves? o for
a yeoman of the guard's part at a chine of 40
beef! I would hardly trust thee at one of your
woodden pyes: — faith how have you liv'd?
Does the Lady at fifty hold out? prethee show
me how & by what miracle you have beene
preserved — 45
Hist. Faith Sir, Fie tell you — some of us have
beg'd in blanke verse; others have acted Tam-
berlaine to a butcher & spoke themselves 'oth
score for a sheepshead — many have peeped
into roomes like fidlers, Gentlemen will you 50
have any speeches —
Gent. Oh prethee now let me see that
His. If you will give us a supper I doe thinke I
shall persuade 'urn too't.
Gent. With all my heart; in troth I pitty their 55
miseryes — wee feed & cloth them with monyes,
& they Line us with wit. what — easily per-
suaded —
His. I sir, looke you this is a great Captaine.
Ent. Captaine 60
Frost ceize my bloud if I can beare the dov
were I a pigmie, twould exalt my wrath
228 THOMAS RANDOLPH
to gyant bignesse resolution
awake & rise put on thy cloaths of fury
And draw thy sword & march along with 65
mee.
Gent. Call for the traine band, sure hee'l take the
towne.
Cap. Fix't is my will & danger doe thy worst —
were bones of matrons & the sculls of 70
virgins
vanishd & slaughterd, built into a bullwarke
I would goe on spight of the muskets teeth
The Canons mouth, or Jaw of Culverin.
Death meet me in the horridst face thou hast 75
Jove set thy thunders to oppose my ayme
Mars & Bellona fyery daggers draw
yet I resolve as men of valour should
To tast & eat this peice of pasty crust.
Gent. A desperate peice of service — I would make 80
him a Captaine at least, if I meant to assault
a cupbord, or beseidge an Alms-tub — here —
eat —
Hist. Sir I have scene others then plaiers this dead
time not very fatt; twas a Lent with us, & I 85
beleive an Ember weeke with some of you;
when you have kept your Frydayes two or
three days together; wee have mett you some
times, & fasted fowre in a messe at hospitable
Humphreys — 90
But here comes a Lover
Lover Ah Cruell Cupid well I knew thy flames
happy I liv'd — now I lament & water
Earth with my teares; the winds have heard
my sighs, 95
POEMS 229-
and mountaines eccho-d with perpetuall
grones,
the nightingale listning to my complaints
sings out of tune, & beares a part with mee
And canst thou bee so cruell, when I languish 100
In flames of thy affection — gentle death
Lend me thy curteous hand, o learne not thou
Scorne & disdaine from him; Sir in what desert
or wildernesse were you brought up ? what Tyger
Leopard or Lyonesse suckled you with bloud. 105
That you can bee so savadge to deny
Your poore despaireing Thisbe, halfe a crowne
To vampe her bootes.
Gent. It breeds compunction in mee — alas poore
Lady — have you any more Inhabitants of the no
land of famine?
His. Yes Sir here they are — 2 Rovers — brothers
of the knife that have fallen out, who shall eat
tothers nose first — you know the meaning
— the quarrell must bee taken up — 115
And let it bee at your charge.
Gen. At my charge? o I understand you.
1 Rov. I will unnose thy face; sowce up thy cheekes
& cut thy body into fleetch & gammon —
2 yield mee a chine, a surloine, & a shoulder 120
or I will ceeze the rest in sutt & smoke.
1 then sword supply revenge.1
2 Dy then, & bee in brawny collars boyld
bore as thou art.
1 wilt thou yield up a legg? 125
2 For I must carve thee.
1 After this line there is in the MS. part of another one which ha* become inde-
cipherable.
230 THOMAS RANDOLPH
1 Not the least of pestes.
2 A wing will serve.
1 Noe, if thou meane escape
resigne a collop. if not so, to pott, 130
2 sword cutt, & send him to the dressing bord.
Gent, what doe you meane, Gentlemen! pray be not
so earnest in theise unciville quarrelle —
1 Sir thinke not by persuasion to controwle
my thirsty steele; it must have bloud & 135
drink —
2 thinke not Leane Rhetorique can abate the edge
of hungry blade, it must have flesh & feed.
Gent. I know you have both good stomacks — pray
bee reconcil'd — walke downe the stayres, 140
& chew the cud with my servingmen.
1 then sword to sleepe in scabbard — knife awake
2 thou art by miracle preserved — all freinds
Say grace a forehand, least it breed delay.
I I cannot haveing said none many a day. 145
Gent. This is well ended — so & how have you
liv'd what Chamelion shar'd Commons with
you? what speech have you knawed on?
His. faith my gutts are noe great storers, a little
serves mee, and you seldome heard a pismire 150
complaine of a dearth o'Corne yet —
Gent. Who's this? how has he liv'd?
His. He has liv'd by speaking the prologue to this
play: he might ha' done penance too, had not
that discharged his ordinary on a desperate 155
day —
Gent. I shall heare that in the cockpit, well you
shall sup with me; He send my boy to be-
speake one dish.
POEMS 231
His. An oxe, with a pudding in's belly, & per- 160
chance for second course a dozen of calves in
a dish, & so I shall expect you.
[The City of London.'] l
O fortunate Citie reioyce in thy Fate
That hast so religious a Magistrate
Oh Jonas the 2^ is sent unto thee
As Jonas the first to old Ninvee
Thou poenitat Citie of London 5
Divinitie means to cure all soules
And Charitie means to repaire old Powles
The Clergie & Laytie lovingly meete
Th' one sweeps the Conscience the other the Street
In the cleanly Citie of London 10
Each Citizen unto the Prison is borne
That every night will not hang out his horn
Yet spare all your Candles, good Providence might
And hang out their wives that are surely as light
In the delicate City of London. *5
Know this good magistrate hath a command
In Middlesex London & chering & Strand
O with what sins, with what sins are w'opprest
When the Mayor on the Sabbath can take no rest
In Westminster nor in London *o
1 From MS. Rawl. 62. It is credited in the margin to " Randall " in what teemi
to be a later hand.
232 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Sobriety then shall arise some think
That no man soe late in the night shall have drink
Yet then good fellows retain your old crimes
Rise early good fellows & be drunk betimes
In the temperate Citty of London 25
Authoritie now smites us noe more
To drinke in a Taverne, or speake with a whore
The late proclamation was go good sense
That banisht away all Gentlemen hence
From the chargeable Citie of London 30
The Bankside is honest & Bloomsbury Chasse
The Ladies turn'd carefull & look to the Wast
Nor can we now Beershops in Turnbull Street see
No Bawdy house now but St. Anthlins shall bee
In the Puritan Citie of London 35
28 go] thus in MS.; perhaps intended for]] so.
AMYNTAS
OR THE
IMPOSSIBLE DOWRY.
A PASTORALL ACTED
before the K TN G £ Q^u E E N E
at White-Hall,
Written by THOMAS RANDOLPH.
fafcere eportet tvest diduttttm Jitert Curmtn,
OXFORD,
Printed by LetrurJ Lichptld, for Frtncu
1(538.
Drammatis Persona.
Pilumnus. The high Priest of Ceres: Father to Damon
and Vrania.
Medorus. Father to Laurinda.
Claius. A wild Sylvan, father to Amyntas and 5
Amaryllis.
Corymbus. An under Priest.
Damon.
, Two Rivalls in Laurinda's Love.
Alexis.
Amyntas. A mad Sheapheard. 10
Laurinda. A wavering Nymph.
Vrania. A sad Nymph, enamoured on Amyntas.
Amarillis. A distressed sheapheardesse, in love with
Damon.
Thestylis. An old Nymph, sister to Claius. 15
locastus. A fantastique sheapheard & fairy Knight.
Bromius. His man, a blunt Clowne.
Mopsus. A foolish Augur enamoured on Thestylis.
Dorylas. A knavish boy.
Echo. 20
Priests.
Chorus of
Sbeapbeards.
Nymphs.
Quorum fit mentio,
Philabus.
Lalage.
Mycon.
The Scene Sicilie, in the
holy Vale.
The time an Astrologicall day from
Noone to Noone.
(10) mand 'job, "52 man '62, '68. (16) &] and a *4ob, ff.
234
Nym.
PROLOGVS.
Nymph. Sbepheard.
Le speak the Prologue.
Sbeap. Then you doe mee wrong.
Nym. Why, dare your Sexe compare
with ours for Tongue?
Sbeap. A Female Prologue!
Nym. Yes, as well as Male.
Shep. That's a new trick;
Nym. And t'other is as stale.
Sbep. Men are more eloquent then women made: 5
Nym. But women are more powrfull to perswade.
Sbep. It seemes so; for I dare no more contend.
Nym. Then best give ore the strife, and make an end.
Sbeap. I will not yeeld.
Nym. Shall we divide it then?
Sbeap. You to the Woemen speak.
Nym. You to the Men. 10
Sbeap. Gentlemen, looke not from us Rurall swains
For polish'd speech, high lines, or Courtly straines:
Expect not we should bring a labour'd Scene,
Or complements; we ken not what they meane.
Nym. And Ladies, we poore Country Girles doe
come 15
With such behaviour as we learn'd at home.
235
236 THOMAS RANDOLPH
How shall we talke to Nymphs so trim and gay,
That nere saw Lady yet but at a May?
She. His Muse is very bashfull, should you throw
A Snake into her Cradle, I doe know 20
She is no Hercules to outlive your Ire:
Nym. One Hisse would make the fearfull foole expire,
Without a sting.
Shfp. Gentlemen doe but you
Like this, no matter what the Woemen doe.
Nym. It was a sawcy Swaine thus to conclude! 25
Ladies, the Gentlemen are not so rude,
If they were ever school' d by powrefull love,
As to dislike the things you shall approve.
If you but like him 'twill be greater praise 29
Then if each Muse of Nine had fetch'd him Baies.
(18) yet, '4ob, ff.
AMYNTAS.
ACTVS I. SCENA I.
Laurinda. Dorylas.
Dor. h^^,i^^|Is newes Laurinda that will ravish you!
Laur. How, ravish mee? if't be such
desperat newes
I pray conceale it.
Dor. So I will.
Lau. Nay Dory las,
Pray tell it though.
Dor. Tis desperat newes, I dare not.
Laur. But prithee doe.
Dor. I must conceal it.
Laur. Doe not. 5
Dor. Mistresse, you have prevail'd: I will relate it.
Laur. No matter though whether you doe or no.
Dor. No ? then I will not tell you.
Laur. Yet I care not
Much if I heare it.
Dor. And I care not much
Whether I tell't or no.
Laur. What is it?
Dor. Nothing. 10
(8) tell it '68. (9) !] ? '38.
237
238 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Laur. Sweet Dorylas let me know.
Dor. What pretty weather-cocks
These women are! I serve a Mistresse here
Fit to have made a Planet: sheele waxe and wane
Twice in a minute.
Laur. But good Dorylas
Your newes.
Dor. Why excellent Newes!
Laur. But what?
Dor. Rare newes! 15
Newes fit,
Laur. For what ?
Dor. To be conceal'd: why Mistresse
The Rivalls, those on whom this Powerfull face
Doth play the tyrant.
Laur. Dorylas what of them ?
Dor. Now, now shee wanes : O for a dainty Husband
To make her a full Moone! The amorous
couple! 20
Your brace of sweet hearts Damon and Alexis
Desire your audience.
Lau. Is this all your newes?
You may conceale it.
Dor. Now you have heard it told
I may conceale it! well I thank thee Nature
Thou didst create me Man, for I want wit 25
Enough to make up woman: but good Mistresse
What doe you think of Damon?
Laur. As a man
Worthy the best of Nymphs.
Dor. What of Alexis
(IS) Rare newes? '68. (17) Doth] Docs "62, '68.
(16), ] , '38 . '401, 's*. (20) Q . '38. couple, '52, ff.
AMTNTAS 239
Laur. As one that may deserve the fairest Virgin
In Sicilie.
Dor. What Virgin?
Lau. Proserpine, 30
Were shee yet Ceres daughter.
Dor. And what Damon?
Lau. Hee? Ceres selfe, were she not yet a Mother.
Dor. Greet, Greet! There is no Labyrinth but a
woman!
Laurinda, gentle Mistrese tell me which
Of these you love ?
Lau. Why Damon best of any. 35
Dor. Why so, that's well and plain.
Lau. Except Alexis.
Dor. Why then you love Alexis best ?
Lau. Of any.
Dor. I am glad on't.
Lau. But my Damon.
Dor. Be this true
And He be sworne Cupid is turn'd a jugler;
Prasto! you love Alexis best but Damon, 40
And Damon but Alexis! Love you Damon?
Lau. I doe.
Dor. And not Alexis?
Lau. And Alexis.
Dor. Shee would ha' both I thinke.
Laur. Not I by Ceres.
Dor. Then you love neither?
Lau. Yes, I doe love either. 45
Dor. Either, and yet not both, both best, yet neither;
Why doe you torture those with equall Racks,
(28) .] : '38, *40a. (38) ont. '38, '402, Lau.] Lau. '38.
(3») •] = '38. (40) Prestol '406, ff.
(36) Alexis '403, ff.
240 THOMAS RANDOLPH
That both vow service to you? If your love
Have prefer'd Damon, tell Alexis of it;
Or if Alexis, let poore Damon know it,
That he which is refus'd, smothering his flame, 50
May make another choice, now doubtfull hope
Kindles desires in both.
Lau. Ah Dorylas,
Thy yeares are yet uncapable of love!
Thou hast not learn'd the mysteries of Cupid!
Dost thou not see through all Sicilia, 55
From gentlest sheapheards to the meanest swaines,
What inauspitious torches Hymen lights
At every wedding? what unfortunate hands
Linke in the wedding ring? Nothing but feares,
larres, discontents, suspicions, jealousies, 60
These many yeares meet in the Bridall sheetes.
Or if all these be missing, yet a Barrennesse,
A curse as cruell, or Abortive births
Are all the blessings crowne the Geniall bed !
Till the successe prove happier, and I finde 65
A blessed change, ile temper my affection,
Conceale my flames, dissemble all my fires,
And spend those yeares I owe to Love and Beauty
Only in choosing on whose love to fixe
My Love and beauty.
Dor. Rare Feminine wisdome! 70
Will you admit 'em.
Lau. Yes, goe call them hither.
Yet doe not, now I thinke on't: yet you may too;
And yet come back againe.
Dor. Nay I will goe.
(50) smothering in his '68. (69) on] one '52.
(52) desire '403, ff. (70) !] : '38.
(64) bed '4ob, '52 bed. '68.
AMTNTAS 241
Lau. Why Dorylas.
Dor. What newes?
Lau. Come back I say.
Dor. Yes, to be sent againe.
Lau. You'l stay I hope. 75
Dor. Not I by Ceres.
Lau. Dorylas.
Dor. No good Mistresse
Farewell for I at length have learn'd to know
You call me back only to bid mee goe. Exit.
Lau. Tis no great matter sirrah: when they come
lie beare myselfe so equall unto both, 80
As both shall thinke I love him best, this way
I keepe both fires alive, that when I please
I may take which I please. But who comes
here ?
(81) best, this way '4ob, '52.
SCEN. 2.
Laurinda. Tbestylis.
O Tbestylis y'are welcome!
Tbest. If Laurinda,
My too abrupt intrusion come so rudely
As to disturbe your private Meditations,
I beg your pardon!
Lau. How now Thestylis?
Grown Orator of late? has learned Mopsus
Read Rhetorique unto you, that you come
To see me with Exordiums?
Tbest. No Laurinda;
But if there be a charme call'd Rhetorique;
242 THOMAS RANDOLPH
An art, that woods and forrests cannot skill;
That with persuasive magique could command 10
A pitty in your soule, I would my tongue
Had learn'd that powerfull art!
Lau. Why Thfstylis,
Thou know'st the brests I suck'd were neither
wolves
Nor Tygers, and I have a heart of waxe,
Soft and soone melting; try this amorous heart;
'tis not 15
Of flint or marble.
The. If it were, Laurinda,
The teares of her, whose orator I come
Have power to soften it. Beauteous Amaryllis,
Shee that in this unfortunate age of love,
This haplesse time of Cupids tyranny 20
Plac'd her affection on a skornfull sheapheard,
One that disdaines her love.
Lau. Disdaines her love!
I tell thee Thfstylis in my poore judgment,
(And women if no envy blind their eyes,
Best judge of womens beauties) Amaryllis 25
May make a Bride worthy the proudest Sheapheard
In all Sicilia: but wherein can I
Pitty this injur'd Nymph?
The. Thus she desires you,
As you desire to thrive in him you love;
As you doe love him whom you most desire, 30
Not to love Damon! Damon alas repaies
Her love with skorne! Tis a request she saies
She knowes you cannot grant, but if you doe not
Shee will not live to aske again.
(12) ,] ? '52. (15) heart, '4ob, ff. (32) Q ; '40^, ff-
AMYNTAS 243
Lau. Poore Nymph!
My Amaryllis knowes my fidelity; 35
How often have we sported on the Lawnes,
And danc'd a roundelay to locastus pipe?
If I can doe her service Thestylis,
Be sure I will: Good wench, I dare not stay
Least I displease my Father; who in this age 40
Of haplesse lovers watches me as close
As did the Dragon the Hesperian fruit.
Farewell. Exit Laur.
Tbest. Farewell Laurinda! Thus poore foole
I toyle for others; like the painfull Bee
From every flower cull hony drops of love 45
To bring to others hives : Cupid does this
Cause I am Claius sister. Other Nymphs
Have their varietie of loves, for every gowne,
Nay every petticote; I have only one,
The poore foole Mopsus! yet no matter wench, 50
Fooles never were in more request then now.
He make much of him, for that woman lyes
In weary sheetes, whose Husband is too wise.
(34) G • '38, '403. (35) by fidelity, '52.
(44) others like the painfull Bee, '4ob, '52 others, like the painful Bee, '68.
(46) other '68.
SCEN. 3.
Tbestylis. Mopsus. locastus.
Mop. locastus, I love Tbestylis abominably,
The mouth of my affection waters at her.
lo. Be wary Mopsus, learne of mee to skorne
The mortalls; choose a better match: goe love
Some Fairy Lady! Princely Oberon 5
244 THOM4S RANDOLPH
Shall stand thy friend: and beauteous Mob his
Queene
Give thee a Maid of Honour.
Mop. How locastus?
Marry a puppet? Wed a mote ith' Sunne?
Goe looke a wife in nutshells? wooe a gnat
That's nothing but a voice? No no, locastus, 10
I must have flesh and blood, and will have Thestylis.
A fig for Fairies!
Tbfs. Tis my sweet-heart Mopsus,
And his wise brother: O the twins of folly!
These doe I entertaine only to season
The poore Amyntas madnesse. 15
Mop. Sacred red and white,
How fares thy reverend beauty?
The. Very ill
Since you were absent, Mopsus! where have you
Beene all this live-long houre?
Mop. I have been
Discoursing with the birds.
The. Why, can birds speake?
lo. In Fairyland they can: I have heard 'em chirpe 20
Very good Greeke and Latin.
Mop. And our Birds
Talke better farre then they : a new-laid egge
Of Sicilie shall out talke the bravest Parrat
In Oberons Vtopia.
The. But what languages
Doe they speake, servant ? 25
Mop. Severall languages,
As Cawation, Cbirpation, Hootation,
Wbistleation, Crowation, Cackleation,
Shrffkation, Hissation.
(16) thy] the '52.
AMYNTAS 245
The. And Fooleation.
Mop. No, that's our language, we our selves speak that,
That are the learned Augurs.
The. What successe 30
Does your Art promise?
Mop. Very good.
The. What Birds
Met you then first?
Mop. A Wood-cock and a Goose.
Tbf. Well met.
Mop. I told 'em so.
Tbf. And what might this portend ?
Mop. Why thus and first the Wood-cock
Wood and Cock,
Both very good signes. For first the wood doth
signify 35
The fire of our love shall never goe out,
Because it has more fuell: wood doth signify
More fuell.
The. What the Cock?
Mop. Better then t'other:
That I shall crow ore those that are my rivalls,
And roost my selfe with thee. 40
The. But now the Goose?
Mop. I, I the Goose, that likes me best of all,
Th'ast heard our gray-beard sheapherds talk of
Rome,
And what the Geese did there: The Goose doth
signify
That I shall keep thy Capitoll.
The. Good gander!
(26) Hootation. '38. (41) that] om. '68.
(28) Fooleation? '406, ff.
246 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Io. It cannot choose but strangely please his
highnesse! 45
The. What are you studying of locastus, ha?
Io. A rare devise, a Masque to entertaine
His grace of Fairy with.
The. A Masque? what is't?
Io. An Anti-masque of fleaes, which I have taught
To dance Currantoes on a spiders thread. 50
Mop. An Anti-masque of fleaes? brother me thinkes
A masque of Birds were better, that could dance
The morrice in the aire, Wrens and Robin-red-
brests,
Linnets, and Titmise.
Io. So! and why not rather
Your Geese & Wood-cocks? Mortall hold thy
tongue, S3
Thou dost not know the mystery.
The. Tis true
He tells you Mopsus, leave your Augurie,
Follow his counsell, and be wise.
Mop. Be wise?
I skorne the motion ! follow his counsell and be wise ?
That's a fine trick i' faith! is this an age 60
For to be wise in ?
The. Then you mean I see,
T'expound the Oracle.
Mop. I doe mean to be
Th' interpreter.
Io. And then a jig of Pismires
Is excellent.
Mop. What, to interpret Oracles?
A foole must be th' interpreter. 65
(4S) Io. It cannot '68. (57) Mopsus; '68.
AMYNTAS 247
The. Then no doubt
But you will have the honour.
Mop. Nay I hope
I am as faire for't as another man.
If I should now grow wise against my will,
And catch this wisdome!
The. Never feare it Mopsus.
Mop. Twere dangerous vent'ring. Now I think on't
too 70
Pray Heaven this aire be wholsome! is there not
An antidote against it? what doe you think
Of garlick every morning?
The. Fy upon't,
'Twill spoile our kissing! and besides I tell you
Garlick's a dangerous dish, eating of garlick 75
May breed the sicknesse, for as I remember
Tis the Phylosophers dyet.
Mop. Certainly
I am infected, now the fit's upon mee!
Tis some thing like an ague, sure I caught it
With talking with a Scholar next my heart. 80
The. How sad a life live I,
Betwixt their folly and Amyntas madnesse!
For Mopsus He prescribe you such a diet
As shall secure you.
Mop. Excellent she Doctor!
Your women are the best Physitians, 85
And have the better practice.
The. First my Mopsusy
Take heed of fasting, for your hungry meales
Nurse wisdome.
(66) have honour '4ob, '52.
(70) ventring. "38 vent'ring now '52 too. '68.
(83) For, Mopsus, I '68.
248 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Mop. True! O what a stomach have I
To be her patient!
The. Besides, take speciall care
You weare not thred-bare clothes: 'twill breed at
least 90
Suspicion you are wise.
lo. I marry will it.
The. And walke not much alone; or if you walke
With company, be sure you walke with fooles,
None of the wise.
Mop. No, no I warrant you,
He walke with no body but my brother here, 95
Or you, or mad Amyntas.
The. By all meanes
Take heed of Travell, your beyond-sea wit
Is to be feard.
Mop. If ere I travell hang mee.
lo. Not to the Fairy land ?
The. Thither he may.
But above all things weare no beard, long 100
beards
Are signes the braines are full, because the excre-
ments
Come out so plentifully.
lo. Rather empty,
Because they have sent out so much, as if
Their brains were sunk into their beards: King
Oberon
Has ne're a beard, yet for his wit I am sure 105
He might have beene a Gyant. Who comes here?
Enter Dorylas.
(88) True? '68. (101) full: '403, ff.
(94) No, on, '40*. (102) empty; '403, S.
(100) beard,] beardi, '38. (104) beard: '68.
AMYNTAS 249
Dor. All haile unto the fam'd interpreter
Of fowles and Oracles!
Mop. Thankes good Dorylas.
Dor. How fares the winged cattell ? are the woodcocks,
The jayes, the dawes, the cuckoes, and the owles no
In health ?
Mop. I thank the gracious starres they are!
Dor. Like health unto the president of the jigs;
I hope King Oberon and his royall Mob
Are well.
lo. They are, I never saw their Graces
Eate such a meale before.
Dor. E'ne much good doe't em! 115
lo. They're rid a hunting.
Do. Hare or Deere my Lord ?
lo. Neither, a brace of snailes of the first head.
The. But Dorylas, there's a mighty quarrell here,
And you are chosen umpire.
Dor. About what?
The. The exposition of the Oracle: 120
Which of these two you think the verier foole.
Dor. It is a difficult cause, first let me pose 'em!
You Mopsus, cause you are a learned Augur,
How many are the seven Liberall Sciences?
Mop. Why much about a dozen.
Dor. You locastus, 125
When Oberon shav'd himselfe, who was his Barber?
lo. I knew him well, a little dapper youth,
They call him Periwinckle.
Dor. Tbestylis,
A weighty cause and askes a longer time.
The. Wee'll in the while to comfort sad Amyntas. 130
Exeunt The. Mop. lo.
(113) joyall '38. (115) Dir. '38.
250 THOMAS RANDOLPH
ScEN. 4.
Dorylas. Laurinda.
Lau. I wonder much that Dorylas staies so long,
Faine would I heare whether they'l come or no
Do. Ha? would you so?
Lau. I see in your own messages
You can goe fast enough.
Dor. Indeed forsooth,
I loiter'd by the way.
Lau. What, will they come? 5
Dor. Which of them ?
Lau. Damon?
Dor. No.
Lau. Alexis will ?
Dor. Nor he.
Lau. How, neither? am I then neglected?
Dor. Damon will come.
Lau. And not Alexis too?
Dor. Only Alexis comes.
Lau. Let him not come.
I wonder who sent for him; unlesse both 10
He speak with none.
Dor. Why both will visit you.
Lau. Both? one had been too many. Was e're Nymph
So vex'd as I ? you sawcy rascall you,
How doe you strive to crosse me ?
Dor. And sweet Mistresse,
Still I will crosse you, 'tis the only way 15
Truely to please you.
(3) own] om. '4ob, ff. (10); ] , '38, Voa.
(6) Damon. '62. (u) Why? *sa-
AMYNTAS 25 1
SCENA 5.
Enter Medorus.
Medo. So, you'l all please her,
I wonder who'l please mee ? you all for her
Can run on errants, carry love-sick letters,
And amorous eglogues from her howling suiters,
To her, and back againe, be Cupids Heraulds, 5
And point out meetings for her.
Dor. Truly Sir,
Not I, pray aske my Mistresse: Doe I call
Your sweet-hearts speak, nay speak it if you
can.
Doe I?
Lau. Why no.
Do. Nay say your worst, I care not,
Did I goe ever? 10
Lau. Never.
Dor. La - you now!
We were devising nothing but a snare
To catch the Pole-cat,
Med. Sirrah get you in;
Take heed I doe not find your haunts.
Dor. What haunts?
Med. You'l in!
Dor. I know no haunts I have but to the Dairy, 15
To skimme the milke-bowles like a lickerish Fairy.
Exit Dor.
(7) Doe I call] om. 4ob. ff.
(8) Your sweet-hearts speak — speak, may speak it if you can. '403 .
Your sweet hearts, speak nay speak if you can; '400.
Your sweet-hearts, speak, speak, nay speak if you can; '52, ff.
(9) Doe I?] Doll? '68. (12) Med.] om. '38.
do) La you *4ob, ff. (14) !] ? '408, ff.
252 THOM4S RANDOLPH
Me. He that's a womans keeper, should have eyes
A hundred more then Argus, and his eares
Double the number: Now the newes, what letters?
What posy, ring or bracelet wooes to day? 20
What Grove to night is conscious of your whispers?
Come tell me, for I fear your trusty squire,
Your little closet blabbes into your eare
Some secret, let me know it.
Lau. Then you feare,
Least I should be in love.
Me. Indeed I doe, 25
Cupids a dangerous boy, and often wounds
The wanton roving eye.
Lau. Were I in love,
Not that I am (for yet by Dian's bow
I have not made my choice,) and yet suppose it,
Suppose I say I were in love, What then ? 30
Me. So I would have thee, but not yet my Girle,
Till loves prove happier, till the wretched Claius
Have satisfied the Gods.
Lau. Why Claius, Father?
Me. Hast thou not heard it?
Lau. Never.
Me. Tis impossible.
Lau. How should I sir? you know that my discourse 35
Is all with walls and pictures, I nere meet
The Virgins on the downes.
Me. Why I will tell thee,
Thou knowest Pilumnus?
Lau. The high Priest of Ceres?
(22) fear] know '38. (33) Have] Hath '52, ff.
(28) Diana's '52, ff. (37) ,] , — '400.
(29) it] om. *40b, ff. (38) Pilumbujf '38.
(32) loves] lovers '52.
AMTNTAS 253
Me. Yes: This Pilumnus had a sonne Philabus,
Who was, while yet he was, the only joy 40
The staffe and comfort of his fathers age,
And might have still beene so, had not fond love
Vndone him.
Lau. How did love undoe Philabus?
Me. Why thus; one Lalage, a beauteous Nymph
As ever eye admired, Alpbestus daughter, 45
Was by her father promis'd him in marriage.
Lau. Why hitherto his love had good successe.
Me. But only promis'd: for the sheapherd Claius,
(A name accursed in Sicilian fields!)
Being rich, obtain'd the beauteous Lalage 50
From sweet Philezbus: he sad heart being rob'd,
Of all his comfort, having lost the beauty
Which gave him life and motion; seeing Claius
Injoy those lips, whose cherries were the food
That nurs'd his soule, spent all his time in sorrow, 55
In melancholy sighes and discontents;
Look'd like a wither' d tree oregrowne with mosse,
His eyes were ever dropping Iceacles.
Disdaine and sorrow made Pilumnus rage,
And in this rage, he makes his moane to Ceres, 60
(Ceres most sacred of Sicilian powers;)
And in those moanes he prosecutes revenge,
And that revenge to fall on Lalage.
Lau. Would Ceres heare his praiers?
Me. Silly maid!
His passions were not causelesse; and with what
justice 65
Could she deny Pilumnus? how oft hath he
sprinkled,
(49) name] man '52, ff. (64) Q , '38. (66) the] he '68
254 THOMAS RANDOLPH
The finest flowre of wheat, and sweetest myrrhe
Vpon her Altars! Lalage ru'd the time
She flowted brave Pbilabus. Now she was great
With two sweet twins, the faire chast Amaryllis, 70
And mad Amyntas; (an unluckly paire!)
These shee brought forth, but never liv'd to see
them:
Lucina caus'd her sorrowes stop her breath,
Leaving this matchlesse paire of beauteous infants,
In whom till now she lives.
Lau. After her death 75
How far'd the sorrowfull Pbilabus?
Me. Worse
Then ever: Shee being dead whose life was his,
Whose lookes did hold his eyes from shutting up,
He pin'd away in sorrowes, griefe it was
To see she was not his, but greater farre 80
That she was not at all. Her Exequies being past,
He casts him down upon that turfe of earth,
Vnder whose roofe his Lalage was hous'd,
And parlied with her ashes, 'till his own lampe
Was quite extinguish'd with a fatall dampe. 85
Here ended th' noble sheapheard.
Lau. Vnhappy lover!
Tis pitty but the Virgins once a yeare,
Should wash his tombe with maiden teares! but
now
Both Lalage being dead, and her Philebus, 90
How comes it other loves should prove unfortunate ?
Mfd. Pilumnus having lost his hopefull Sonne,
Though he had two more children, fair Vrania
(67) and the sweetest '68 (73) ,] . '38 ; '408,' 52.
(68) 0 ? '40b, ff.
AMTNTAS 255
And noble Damon; yet the death of Lalage
Suffic'd not his revenge, but he anew implores
His goddesse wrath 'gainst Claius: Doth Ceres
prize me thus? 95
Shall Claius tread upon the flowry Plaine,
And walke upon the Ashes of my boy?
Will I be Arcbyflamen where the Gods
Are so remisse? let wolves approach their shrines;
Their howlings are as powerfull as the Praiers zoo
Of sad Pilumnus! Such disgusts at last
Awaken'd Ceres: with hollow murmuring noise
Her Ompha like a thunder 'gins to roare.
(The Ompha if it menace speakes at large
In copious language, but perplexed termes.) 105
And laid this curse on all Trinacria.
Sicilian swaines, ill luck shall long betide
To every bridegroome, and to every bride:
No sacrifice, no vow shall still mine Ire,
Till Claius blood both quench and kindle fire, no
The wise shall misconceive me, and the wit
Scornd, and neglected shall my meaning hit.
Lau. Angry and Intricate! Alas for love!
What then became of Claius?
Me. Why the Ompha
Having denounc'd against him, and he knowing 115
The hate of old Pilumnus fled away,
I think hee's sayl'd to the Antipodes.
No tydings can be brought what ground receives
him,
Vnlesse Corymbus make a happy voyage; 119
Corymbus that will search both East and Occident
And when he finds him, spill his captive blood.
(97) boy] body '4ob, ff. (102) :] on. '52.
(99) ;] ?'4ob, '52. (114) Ompha, '38.
256 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Which Ceres grant he may! Tender Laurinda
Now dost thou see the reason of my care,
And why my watchfull eyes so close observe
Thy steps and actions.
Lau. And I promise, father, 125
To temper my affections, 'till the Goddesse
Doe mitigate her anger.
Med. Doe so then :
For now you see with what unfortunate choice
Pilumnus daughter, delicate Vrania loves
The mad Amyntas: for the angry Goddesse, 130
Though she repaid the wrong done to Pbilabus,
Yet not approving the reuengefull mind
Of great Pilumnus, scourg'd him with his own asking,
By threatning an unhappy marriage
To his Vrania, unlesse he that wooes her 135
Pay an impossible Dowry; for as others
Give Portions with their daughters, Ceres Priests
Vse to receive for theirs. The words are these,
That which thou hast not, mayst not, canst not have
Amyntas, is the Dowry that I crave. 140
Rest hopelesse in thy love, or else divine
To give Vrania this, and she is thine:
Which while the poore Amyntas would Interpret,
He lost his wits. Take heed of love, Laurinda,
You see th' unhappinesse of it in others; 145
Let not experience in thy selfe instruct thee.
Be wise my Girle: so some and follow me. Exit.
Lau. Tie make a Garland for my kid and follow you.
What a sad tale was here! how full of sorrow!
Happy the heart that never felt the shaft 150
Of angry Cupid!
(139) maist not, nor canst not '52. (146) .] am. "403, '4ob, '52 ; '68.
(149) here? "38 sorrow? '38, *4Oa.
AMYNTAS 257
ScEN. 6.
Damon Alexis
Damon and Alexis?
Their presence quickly puts these cogitations
Out of my mind: Poore soules, I fain would pity
them,
And yet I cannot, for to pity one
Were not to pity t'other, and to pity 5
Both, were to pity neither. Mine old Temper
Is all the shift I have; some dew of comfort
To either of them. How now bold intruders,
How dare you venter on my privacy?
If you must needs have this walk, be it so! 10
Tie seeke another: What? you'l let me goe?
Da. Cruell Laurinda (if a word so foule
Can have so faire a dwelling.) scale not up
Thy eares, but let a pity enter there
And find a passage to thy heart. 15
Alex. Laurinda.
(The name which but to speak I would not wish
For life or breath.) Let not thy powerfull beauty
Torment us longer: Tell us which of us
You value most.
Da. And t'other, for old freindship
Strangling his bitter Corrasive in his heart, 20
Hath promised to desist from further suit.
Alex. Or if he cannot so, assure he cannot,
Yet he will rather chuse to dye then live
Once to oppose your liking.
(2) present* '54. (16) ( ] om. '52.
(9) venture *4Ob, ff. (17) ) D om. "4Ob, '52.
258 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Lau. Since you are 24
Growne so importunate, and will not be answer'd
With modest silence; Know I wish you well.
Alex. How, me Laurinda?
Lau. Why I wish, Alexis,
I were thy wife.
Da. Then most unhappy me!
Alex. That word doth relish immortalitie. 29
Lau. And I doe wish thou wer't my husband, Damon.
Alex. Still more perplexed: what doe you think I am?
Lau. My head, Alexis.
Da. And what I ?
Lau. My heart.
Da. Which hand am I?
Laur. Damon, my right.
Alex. Which I?
Lau. My left, Alexis.
Alex. Thus you scorne my love.
Lau. Not I, Alexis: th'art my only hope. 35
Da. Then I am all despaire, no hope for me.
Lau. Why so my Damon? thou art my desire.
Alexis is my flame; Damon my fire.
Alexis doth deserve my nuptiall Bed,
And Damon's worthy of my Maidenhead! 40
Exit Lau.
Alex. Damon, desist thy suit or loose thy life;
Thou heard'st Laurinda wish she were my wife.
Da. Thy wife, Alexis? But how can it be
Without a Husband ? and I must be he. 44
Alex. I am her head: That word doth seeme t'impart
She meanes my marriage.
(45) t'import '62, '68.
(46) my] me '68 How? '62, '68.
AMYNTAS 259
Da. How without her heart ?
For that am I: besides you heard her say
I was the right hand, you the left, away,
Desist Alexis, mine's the upper hand.
Alex. But, Damon, I next to her heart doe stand: 50
I am her hope, in that you plainly see
The end of her intents doth aime at me.
Da. But I am her desire, in that 'tis showne
Her only wish is to make me her owne.
Alex. I am her flame.
Da. 'Tis true, but I her fire. 55
Alex. The flames the hotter, therefore her desire
Most aimes at mee.
Da. Yet when the flame is spent,
The fire continues; Therefore me she meant.
Alex. She promis'd now I should injoy her Bed.
Da. Alexis doe, so I her Maidenhead. 60
Alex. I see she still conceales it, and with speeches
Perplext and doubtfull masks her secret thoughts.
Da. Let's have another meeting, since her words
Delude us thus, wee'le haue a pregnant signe
To shew her mind.
Alex. I goe that way a hunting, 65
And will call for her.
Da. I'le the while retire
Into the Temple, if I linger here
I am afraid of meeting Amaryllis,
Who with unwelcome love solicites me.
Alex. And would she might preuaile!
Da. Till then farewell. 70
Alex. All happinesse to Damon be
Except Laurinda.
(48) »w«y; '68.
260 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Da. All but her to thee.
Alex. Thus we in love and courtesie contend.
Da. The name of Rivall should not loose the Freind.
Exeunt.
Finis actus I.
ACTVS 2. SCEN I.
Pilumnus Vrania.
Vra. TG^Ather perswade me not! The power of heaven
-i- Can never force me from Amyntas love;
'Tis rooted here so deepe within my heart
That he which pulls it out, pulls out at once,
That and my soule together.
Pil. Fond Frania, 5
Can ignorant love make thee affect the seede,
The hatefull seede of cursed Lalage?
Did I for this beget thee ?
Vra. Father, you know
Divinitie is powerfull, Cupids will
Must not be question'd: When love meanes to
sport 10
(Phave heard your selfe relate it) he can make
The Wolfe and Lambe kisse freindly; force the
Lyon
T'forget his Majestic, and in amorous dalliance
Sport with the frisking Kid. When Venus rides,
Shee'le linke the ravenous Kite, and milder Swan 15
To the same chariot, and will yoak together
The necks of Doves and Eagles; when as shee
Commands, all things loose their Antipathic,
(n) I have '68.
AMYNTAS 26l
Even contrarieties: can I alone
Resist her will? I cannot, my Amyntas 20
Shall witnesse that!
Pil. I blame thee not so much
For loving him, while yet he was Amyntas.
But being mad and having lost himselfe,
Why shouldst not thou loose thy affection too?
Vra. I love him now the rather; he hath lost 25
Himselfe for me, and should he loose me too?
It were a sinne he should !
Pil. What canst thou love
In his distemper'd wildnesse?
Vra. Only that,
His wildnesse; 'tis the comfort I have left
To make my teares keepe time to his distractions;3o
To think as wildly as he talks; to marry
Our griefs together, since our selves we cannot.
The Oracle doth aske so strange a Dowry,
That now his company is the only blisse
My love can aime at: but I stay too long 35
I'le in to comfort him.
Pil. Doe not Vrania.
Vra. Doe not ?
I must and will; Nature commands me no,
But Love more powerfull sayes it shall be so. Exit.
Pil. The Gods did well to make their Destinies 40
Of woemen, that their wills might stand for law
Fixt and unchang'd; who's this? Corymbus? he.
(42) this *4ob, '52. he] om. '^ob, ff.
262 THOMAS RANDOLPH
ScEN. 2.
Pilumnus. Corymbus.
PH. Corymbus welcome !
Cor. Sacred Pilumnus hayle!
And fruitfull Sicilie I kisse thy dust —
Pil. What newes Corymbus? Is our Countrie's
Mischeif
Fetter'd in chaines?
Cor. Thrice the sunne hath past
Through the twelve Inns of heaven, since my
diligence 5
Has been imploy'd in quest of him, whose death
Must give poore lovers life, the hatefull Claius;
Yet could I ne're heare of him: — The meane
while
How fare the poore Sicilians? Does awfull Ceres
Still bend her angry brow? Find the sad Lovers 10
No rest, no quiet yet?
Pil. Corymbus none!
The Goddess has not yet deign'd to accept
One sacrifice, no favourable Echo
Resounded from her Ompba; All her answers
Are full, and doubtfull. 15
Cor. The true signe, Pilumnus,
Her wrath is not appeas'd.
Pil. Appeas'd say you?
Rather againe incens'd so farre, Corymbus,
As that my selfe am plagu'd; My poore Vrania
Dotes on Amyntas.
(8) heare] here '68.
(14) Resounded] Sounded '68.
AMTNTAS 263
Cor. First shall our hives swarme in the venemous
yew, 20
And Goats shall browze upon our myrtle wands!
— One of your blood, Pilumnus, (is it possible)
Love Lalage and Claius brood?
Pil. The chaine of fate
Will have it so! And he lov'd her as much.
Cor. That makes it something better. 25
Pil. Ah, thou knowest not
What sting this waspish fortune pricks me with!
I seeing their loves so constant, so inflexible,
Chid with dame Ceres 'cause she us'd me thus.
My words were inconsiderate, and the heavens
Punish'd my rough expostulations: 30
Being Archiflamen of Trinacria
I did demand a Dowry of that sheapheard
That askes my daughter: — Set the price said I,
Thou Goddess, that dost cause such hatefull loves;
If that Amyntas be thy darling swaine, 35
Aske thou, and set a Dowry for Vrania:
With that the Altar groan'd, my haire grew stiffe,
Amyntas looked agast; Vrania quiver'd,
And the Ompka answer' d
Cor. With an Echo;
Pil. No.
Co. Then I presage some ill! 40
Pi. This darke demand,
That which thou hast not, maist not, canst not have,
Amyntas, is the dowry that I crave:
Rest hopeless e in thy love, or else divine
To give Vrania this and she is thine.
(22) your] our '68. (30) rough] rash '52
(28) 'cause] if '38, '408. (39) ;]? Uob, ff.
264 THOMAS RANDOLPH
And so he did, but the perplexed sense 45
Troubled his braines so farre, he lost his wits;
Yet still he loves, and shee, my griefe Corymbus
Will not permit me to relate the rest!
Fie in into the Temple, and expresse
What's yet behinde in teares. Exit. 50
Corym. Sad sad Pilumnus!
And most distress'd Sicilians! Other nations
Are happy in their loves, you only are unfortu-
nate!
In all my travelles ne'r a spring but had
Her paire of lovers, singing to that musique
The gentle bubling of her waters made 55
Never a walke unstor'd with amorous couples,
Twind with so close imbraces, as if both
Meant to growe one together! every shade
Sheltred some happy loves, that counting dazies,
Scor'd up the summes on one anothers lips, 60
That met so oft and close, as if they had
Chang'd soules at every kisse. The married sort
As sweet and kind as they: at every evening
The loving husband and full brested wife
Walk'd on the Downs so friendly, as if that 65
Had been their wedding day. The boies of five,
And girles of foure, e're that their lisping tongues
Had learn'd to prattle plaine, would prate of love,
Court one another, and in wanton dalliance
Returne such innocent kisses, you'd have thought 70
You had scene Turtles billing.
(48) the] om. '38.
(71) Tur les '38.
AMYNTAS 265
ScEN. 3.
Mopsus. Corymbus.
Mop. What aire is that? The voice of — Turtles billing!
Of Turtles! a good Omen! shee is chast
And billing, billing, o delicious billing!
That word presages kissing.
Co. Who is this?
Mopsus, my learned Augur?
Mop. Stand aside, 5
The other side; I will not talke to thee
Vnlesse I have the winde.
Co. Why, whats the matter Mopsus?
Mop. Th'art infected;
Co. What with the Plague?
M op. Worse then the Plague, the Wisdom !
You have been in travell, & that's dangerous 10
For getting Wisdome.
Co. Then nere feare it, Mopsus,
For I came home a foole just as I went.
Mop. By Ceres?
Co. Yes.
Mop. By Ceres welcome then!
Co. But Mopsus, why doe you walke here alone?
That's dangerous too! 15
Mop. I : but I come to meet
The Cittizens of the aire; you have heard my skill
In augury?
Co. Why I have heard your name
Not mention'd any where in all my travailes.
Mop. How? not mention'd?
(10) intravell, '38. (14) ?] ! '38, Uoa. (15) Thau dangerou* '68.
266 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Co. Yo'are to hasty Mopsus,
Not without admiration. 20
Mop. I know that.
Co. How should you know it ?
Mop. Why some birds or other,
Fly from all countries hither, and they tell me.
Co. But how dare you converse with birds that
travell ?
Mop. With an antidote I may: but my Corymbus
What strange birds have you scene beyond seas? 25
Cor. Brave ones:
Ladies with fans and feathers! dainty Fowles!
There were brave taking Augury.
Mop. But, Corymbus,
Are those fine Lady-birds such pretty things?
Co. As tame as sparrowes, and as sweet as Night-
ingals.
Mop. Is the Cocklady-bird, or the Henlady-bird 30
The better?
Co. All are hens.
Mop. O admirable!
Would you had brought me one! but whats the Fan ?
Co. A fan's a wing of one side.
Mop. Delicate!
And what's their Feather?
Co. Like the copple-crowne
The Lap-wing has: 35
Mop. The Lap-wing? then they'l — ly.
Co. With men they will;
Mop. Delicious Lady-birds!
But have they such brave traines, such curious
tailes
As our birds have?
AMTNTAS 267
Co. Like Peacocks, there's the head
Of all their pride.
Mop. Nay 'tis the taile Corymbus,
Surely these things you call the Lady-birds 40
Are the true birds of Paradice!
Enter Corymbus' s carriages.
Co. Very right
Mopsus, I cannot stay, I must attend
My carriage to the Temple: gentle Mopsus
Farewelll Exit.
Mop. Farewell Corymbus] By my troth
I never long'd for any thing in my life 45
So much as Lady-birds; dainty Lady-birds!
I would fetch one of them; but I dare not travell
For fear I catch the wisdome. O sweet Lady-birds !
With copple crownes, and wings but on one side!
And tailes like Peacocks ! curious Lady-birds ! 50
Uo) the] om. "52.
SCEN. 4.
Amyntas. Vrania. Amaryllis, mantt Mopsus.
Amyn. That which I have not, may not, cannot
have!
It is the moone! frania, thou shalt weare
The horned Goddesse at thy beauteous eare.
Come hither Pegasus, I will mount thy back,
And spurre thee to her orbe.
Mop. Oh good Amyntas! 5
Amyn. Why, art thou foundred Pegasus? Am-
aryllis,
Fetch him a peck of provender.
268 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Vra. Sweet Amyntas!
Amy. What sales my Cytherea? wouldst thou eat
A golden Apple ? if thou wilt, by Venus
Fie rob th' Hesperian Orchard.
Mop. Ha ha he! 10
Amyn. Ha? dost thou laugh old Charon? sirrah sculler,
Prepare thy boat!
Ama. For what? deere brother speake!
Amyn. Art thou my sister Helen? were we hatchd
In the same eggshell ? Is your cock-boat ready ?
Mop. It is, an't please your Worship. 15
Amyn. Very well!
Row me to hell! no faster? I will have thee
Chain'd unto Pluto's gallies!
Vra. Why to hell,
My deere Amyntas?
Amy. Why? to borrow money!
Ama. Borrow there ?
Amy. I there ! They say there be more Vsurers there 20
Then all the world besides: see how the windes
Rise! Puffe — puffe Boreas. what a cloud comes
yonder?
Take heed of that wave Charon! ha? give mee
The oares! — so so: the boat is overthrown, 24
Now Charons drown'd: but I will swim to shore
Vra. O Ceres, now behold him! can thy eyes
Looke on so sad an object, and not melt
Them and thy heart to pitty?
Ama. How this greefe
Racks my tormented soule! but the neglect
Of Damon more afflicts mee : the whole Senate 30
Of heaven decrees my ruine.
(13) sister? Hellen '52. (22) yonder '52 yonder; '68. (29) !] ? '38-
AMYNTAS 269
Vra. And mine too.
Come Amaryllis let's weepe both together,
Contending in our sorrowes !
Ama. Would to Ceres
That I were dead!
Vra. And I had nere been borne!
Ama. Then had not I been wretched! 35
Vra. Then Amyntas
Might have been happy.
Mop. Nay if you begin
Once to talke wisely, 'Tis above high time,
That I were gone: farewell Belleropbon!
I must goe seek my Tbestylis; shee's not here. Exit.
Amy. My armes are weary; now I sinke I sinke! 40
Farewell Vrania.
Ama. Alas what strange distractions,
Tosse his distemperd braine!
Vra. Yet still his love to me
Lives constant.
Amy. Styx I thank thee! That curld wave
Hath tos'd mee on the shore. come Sysiphus.
I'le rowle thy stone a while: mee thinkes this
labour 45
Doth looke like Love! does it not so, Tysiphone?
Ama. Mine is that restlesse toile.
Amy. Pst so, Erynnis?
You are an idle huswife, goe and spin
At poore Ixions wheele!
Vra. Amyntas.
Amyn. Ha?
Am I known here? 50
(32) both] om. '68. (46) so] om. '4ob, ff.
(41) distraction '38. (47) I'st] Is't '68.
270 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Vra. Amyntas, deere Amyntas. —
Amyn, Who calls Amyntas? beauteous Proserpine?
Tis shee. Fair Empresse of th' Elysian shades,
Ceres bright daughter intercede for mee,
To thy incensed mother: prithee bid her
Leave talking riddles, with thou ?
Vra. How shall I 55
Apply myselfe to his wild passions?
Ama. Seeme to be
What he conceives you.
Amy. Queen of darknesse,
Thou supreme Lady of eternall night,
Grant my petitions ! wilt thou beg of Ceres
That I may have Vrania?
Vra. Tis my praier, 60
And shall be ever, I will promise thee
Shee shall have none but him.
Amyn. Thankes Proserpine!
Vra. Come sweet Amyntas, rest thy troubled head
Here in my lap: Now here I hold at once
My sorrow and my comfort: Nay ly still. 65
Amyn. I will: but Proserpine
Vra. Nay, good Amyntas.
Amy. Should Pluto chance to spy me, would not hee
Be jealous of me?
Vran. No.
Amy. Tysiphone,
Tell not Vrania of it, least she feare
I am in love with Proserpine: doe not Fury ! 70
Ama. I will not.
Vra. Pray ly still !
(56) ?] ! '38. (58) Thouiupreme '38.
(61) will] om. '68.
(70) Proserpina: '40 b. 62, '68.
AMYNTAS 271
Amy. You Proserpine ,
There is in Sicilie the fairest Virgin
That ever blest the land, that ever breath'd,
Sweeter then Zephyrusl didst thou never heare
Of one Vrania ?
Vr. Yes.
Amy. This poo re Vrania 75
Loves an unfortunate sheapheard, one that's mad,
Tysipbone,
Canst thou believe it? Elegant Vrania
(I cannot speak it without teares) still loves
Amyntas, the distracted mad Amyntas.
I'st not a constant Nymph? But I will goe 80
And carry all Elysium on my back,
And that shall be her joynture.
Vra. Good Amyntas,
Rest here a while!
Amy. Why weepe you Proserpine*.
Vr. Because Vrania weepes to see Amyntas
So restlesse and unquiet.
Does shee so? 85
Then I will ly as calme as doth the Sea,
When all the winds are lock'd in JEolus jayle:
I will not move a haire, not let a nerve
Or Pulse to beat, least I disturbe her! Hush,
Shee sleepes!
Vra. And so doe you. 90
Amy. You talk too loud,
You'l waken my Vrania'.
Vra. If AmyntaSy
Her deere Amyntas would but take his rest,
Vrania could not want it.
(79) dittracted m«n, mad Amyntai. *6z, '68. (85) «hee»of '38.
272 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Amy. • Not so loud!
Ama. What a sad paire are wee?
Vra. How miserable ?
He that I love is not!
Ama. And he that I 95
Doe love, loves not; or, if he love, not mee.
Vra. I have undone Amyntas\
Ama. And my Damon
Has undone me.
Vr. My kindnesse ruin'd him.
Ama. But his unkindnesse, me; unhappy me! 99
Vra. More wretched I, for Damon has his reason,
And he may love.
Ama. But does not: thy Amyntas
Returnes thee mutuall love.
Vra. True, Amaryllis,
But he has lost his reason; mine has love,
No reason.
Ama. Mine has reason, but no love.
Omee!
Vra. My Amaryllis, how thy griefes 105
Meete full with mine to make the truest story
Of perfect sorrow that ere eye bedew* d
With teares of Pitty!
Ama. Come Vrania:
Let's sit together like two marble monuments
Of ever weeping misery. no
Enter Damon.
(94) miserable! '403, '4Ob, '52 . '68.
(95) ! — ] ! '4ob, '52 . '68.
(101-2) But does not thy Amyntas
Returne thee mutual! love? *4ob, ff.
Enter Damon."} om. *4Ob, '52.
(105) griefe '52.
AMTNTAS 273
Da. Minds in love,
Doe count their daies by minutes, measure howres
By every sand that drops through the slow glasse;
And for each vie a teare.
Ama. If so, my Damon,
How many times hath thy unkindnesse ruin'd
Sad Amaryllis* every frowne is mortall. 115
Dam. Ill luck, to seeke my love and finde my
hate!
Ama. Be not so cruell to mee ! Gentle Damon,
Accept this witnesse of my love, it is
The story of poore Echo, that for love
Of her Narcissus pin'd into a voice. 120
Da. Doe thou so too!
Ama. Damon, suppose I should,
And then the Gods for thy contempt of mee
Should plague thee like Narcissus.
Da. Amaryllis,
They cannot doe it: I have fixt my love
So firme on my Laurinda, that for her 125
I e're shall hate my selfe.
Ama. — , Prithee Love accept it,
'Twas wrought by mine own hand.
Da. For that I hate it!
Vra. Fy Brother, can you be of the same stock,
Issue, and bloud with me, and yet so cruell ?
Da. Nor can I, sister, dote like you on any 130
That is the cursed brat of Lalage.
Amy. Saist thou so Centaur el
Vra. Good Amyntas hold,
This is the Sacred Vally : here 'tis death,
For to shed human blood.
(127) .] om. '38.
274 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Da. Still idly you complaine
To crosse mee, Amaryllis, but in vaine! Exit. 135
Ama. O, I am sick to death !
Amy. What a brave show
The monsters braines would make !
(137) G ? '38.
SCEN. 5.
Tbestylis. Mopsus. Amyntas.
Amaryllis. Frania.
Ama. My griefe o're weighs me!
The. How fares my Amaryllis ?
Ama. Like a Taper
Allmost burnt out: sometimes all a darknesse,
And now and then a flash or two of comfort,
But soone blown out againe. Ah Thfstylis, 5
I cannot long subsist. For thee vaine labour,
Away! I hate thee cause my Damon does,
And for that reason too I hate my selfe,
And every thing but him!
Vra. Come my sad Partner,
Poore rivall of my sorrowes: Goe with mee 10
Into the Temple; Fie intreat my Brother
To use thee kindly: if in mee it lye,
I'le helpe thee.
Ama. Doe Vrania, or I dye.
Exeunt Frania, Amaryl.
Amyntas. Tbestylis. Mopsus.
The. What a strange thing is Love!
(6) vain's labour '403 subsist; for the vaine *4Ob, ff
(7) thee] the *4ob, '52.
AMTNTAS 275
Amy. It is a madnesse:
See how it stares. Have at thee thou blind
Archer! 15
O I have mist him! now Tie stand thee
Cupidl
Looke how the rascall winkes a one eye, Tbestylis\
Nay draw your arrow home boy! just i'th heart!
— O I am slaine!
The st. Amyntas.
Amy. Dost not see?
My blood runs round about mee, I lye soaking 20
In a red Sea, take heed! see Thtstylis,
What a fine Crimson 'tis?
Mop. Where?
Amy. Here you puppet!
Dost thou not see it?
Mop. Yes I see it playne,
But I spy nothing.
Amy. Then thou art a mole.
Mop. Now I looke better on't, I seeitplaine; 25
Does it not hurt you ?
Amy. Strangely! Have at thee
How think you now?
The. Be quiet good Amyntas.
Mop. You'l fright away the birds else, and clean spoile
My augury.
Amyn. Goe about it, I am quiet!
Mop. Now for some happy Omen, a Cuckoe Cries.
Amy. Ha, ha, he! 30
Mop. Why laughs the madman ?
Amy. Who can choose but laugh ?
The bird cried Homes!
(16) thee] the '^b, '52. (18) Nay] May. '5*
(17) a] with '68. (20) round] down '5*.
276 THOMAS RANDOLPH
The. What happinesse portends it,
Sweet Mopsus?
Mop. Constancy in Love, my Thestylis,
This bird is alwaies in a note.
The. Most excellent.
Mop. Bird of the spring I thank thee! Mopsus
thanks thee. 35
Amy. This is a man of skill, an Oedipus,
Apollo, Reverend Phoebus, Don of Delphos.
Mop. What a brave man am I ?
Amy. Thou canst resolve
By thy great Art all questions: What is that,
That which I have not, may not, cannot have ? 40
Mop. That which you have not, may not, cannot
have?
It is my skill, you cannot have my skill.
Amy. Where lies that skill?
Mop. Lies? here within this noddle.
Amy. Fetch me my wood-knife I will cut it off,
And send it to Vrania for a dowry. 45
Mop. No, no I am deceiv'd, it is not that.
Amy. You dolt, you asse, youcockoe:
Mop. Good Amyntas.
(37) Reverent '38, '408. (38) ?] ! '68.
(43) 'Lies here within *4ob, '52, '62 'Lies within '68.
SCEN. 6.
Dorylas. Mopsus. locastus. Tbestylis. Amyntas.
lo. 1st not a brave sight Dorylas^ can the mortalls
Caper so nimbly ?
Dor. Verily they cannot!
(2) ?] ! '38.
AMYNTAS 277
Io. Does not King Oberon beare a stately presence?
Mab is a beauteous Empresse.
Do. Yet you kiss'd her
With admirable courtship. 5
Io. I doe think
There will be of locastus brood in Fairy.
Mop. You Cuckold-maker, I will tell King Oberon
You lye with Mab his wife!
Io. Doe not good brother,
And I'le wooe Tbestylis for thee.
Doe so then.
Io. Canst thou love Mopsus, mortall? 10
The. Why suppose
I can sir, what of that?
Io. Why then be wise,
And love him quickly!
Mop. Wise? then I'le have none of her, that's the way
To get wise children, 'troth and I had rather
They should be bastards. 15
Amy. No, the children may
Be like the Father.
Io. True distracted Mortall:
Thestylis, I say love him hee's a foole.
Dor. But we will make him rich, then 'tis no matter.
The. But what estate shall he assure upon mee?
Io. A Royall joynture all in Fairy land. 20
Amy. Such will I make Vrania!
Io. Dorylas knows it,
A curious Parke.
Dor. Pal'd round about with Pick-teeth.
Io. Besides a house made all of mother of Pearle;
An Ivory Teniscourt.
Dor. A nutmeg Parlour.
278 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Io. A saphyre dary-roome.
Do. A Ginger hall. 25
Io. Chambers of Agate.
Do. Kitchins of all Chrystall.
Am. O admirable! This is it for certaine!
Io. The jacks are gold.
Do. The spits are Spanish needles.
Io. Then there be walkes.
Do. Of Amber.
Io. Curious orchards.
Do. That bear as well in winter as in summer. 30
Io. Bove all the fishponds! every pond is full,
Do. Of Nectar: will this please you ? every grove
Stor'd with delightfull birds.
Mop. But be there any
Lady-birds there?
Io. Abundance.
Mop. And Cuckoes too
To presage constancy? 35
Do. Yes.
The. Nay then lets in
To scale the writings.
Amy. There boy, so, ho, ho. Exeunt.
Do. What pretty things are these both to be borne
To Lands and Livings, we poore witty knaves,
Have no inheritance but Braines: who's this?
Enter Alexis.
One of my Mistresse beagles. 40
Ale. Dorylas,
I have had the bravest sport.
(25) dary-roome] dining-room '68. (36) so, ho, ho, ho. '4Ob, ff.
(29) walkes '38. (38) Livings! *4ob, ff.
(34) ?] • '38.
AMTNTAS 279
Do. In what, Alexis*
Al. In hunting, Dory las: a brace of Grayhounds
cours'd a stag
With equall swiftnesse till the wearied deere,
Stood bay at both alike: the fearfull doggs
Durst neither fasten.
Do. So, and did not you 45
Compare the stag to my fair mistresse? ha!
Persued by you and Damon, caught by neither?
Ale. By Cupid th'art i'th right.
Dor. Alas poore whelpes,
In troth I pitty you! Why such a hunting
Have we had here: Two puppies of a litter, 50
Mopsus and wise locastus hunting folly
With a full mouth.
Alex. I much wonder, Dorylas,
Amyntas can be sad, having such follies
To provoke mirth.
Do. And to that end his sister
Keepes them about him; but in vaine, his Melan-
choly 55
Has took so deepe impression.
Enter Damon.
Da. My Alexis
Well met, I'ave been at your cottage to seeke you.
Alex. But I am ne're at home; Thou and I, Damon,
Are absent from our selves.
Do. Excellent application!
To see the wit of love!
Da. Let us goe seeke her, 60
To have a finall judgement.
(56) so] such '403, ff.
(56) Altxisl '40a,b S.
280 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Alex. That may end
One of our miseries, and the others life!
Do. O lamentable! who would be in love?
Da. Content.
SCEN. 7.
Laurinda. Dorylas. Alexis. Damon.
Da. Here comes my joy or death.
Do. O pittifull!
Al. My sweet affliction.
Do. Pitifully sweet!
Nere feare your father, Mistresse, kisse securely,
I'le be your Mercury, and charme a sleepe
Old Argus.
Lau. Doe.
Do. But if he chance to spy 5
You and your sweet-hearts here, I know not of it.
Lau. You doe not!
Do. Nay you know if I had seene them,
I should have told him.
Lau. Y'are a trusty servant.
Do. Poore Dorylas is blind, he sees not here
Damon, no nor Alexis.
Lau. No not hee! 10
Do. Alack I am innocent: if the belly swell
I did not fetch the poison.
Lau. No, begone. Exit Dorylas.
Da. Laurinda now for mercy sake give period
To our long miseries.
(8) I should have told him.] om. '64, '68. (13) mercies '64, '68.
(9) here. '4ob. (14) You now are like '68.
(10) Damon. No nor '4ob.
AMTNTAS 28l
Alex. Now you are like cruel
To both, and play the tyrant equally, 15
On him you hate as much as him you love.
Da. Depriving one the comfort of his joy.
Ale. The other the sure remedy of his death!
Lau. Damon you have a Love, fair Amaryllis,
Content your selfe with her. 20
Da. Fie rather kisse
An Etbiops crisped lip: imbrace a Viper!
Deformity it selfe to her is fair.
Al. Damon thou hast thy answer.
Lau. And Alexis,
There be in Sicilie many Virgins more 24
Worthy your choice: why did you plac't on mee?
Goe seeke some other.
Alex. O those words to me
Are Poyson.
Da. But to me an Antidote.
Al. Thus she gave life to me to tak't away:
Da. And me she slew to raise me up againe:
You shall not slight us thus, what doe you thinke 30
Of mee ?
Lau. Thou art the glory of the woods.
Alex. And what am I ?
Lau. The pride of all the Plaines.
Ale. These your ambiguous termes have now too oft
Deluded us.
Da. Shew by some sign which of us
You have design'd for happinesse. 35
Lau. So I will.
Sbee takes Damon s Garland and weares it on her
own bead: and puts her own on Alexis.
(16) as him] as on him '52. (26) O] om. '52.
282 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Damon, as I affect thee, so I vow
To wear this Garland that adornes thy brow:
This wreath of flowres, Alexis, which was mine
Because thou lov'st me truly, shall be thine.
This is plain dealing; let not Cupid's warres 40
Drive your affections to uncivill jarres! Exit.
Da. Now happy Damon, shee thy Garland weares
That holds thy heart chain'd in her golden haires!
Alex. Most blessed I ! this Garland once did twine
About her head, that now imbraces mine. 45
Dam. Desist Alexis, for she deignes to have
The Garland that was mine.
Alex. But me she gave
That which was hers.
Da. Tis more to take then give.
Alex. I think 'tis greater kindnesse to receive. 49
Da. By this your share's the lesse, you but receive.
Al. And by your argument, yours you did but give!
Love is the Garland.
Da. Then shee did approve
Of my affection best, shee took my love.
Ale. Fond Damon, she accepted love from thee,
But what is more, she gave her love to mee; 55
In giving that to mee, she proves my right.
Da. Why took she mine, but meaning to requite?
Alex. I will dispute no more.
Da. Then let our speares
Plead for us,
Alex. And determine of our feares.
Come Damon, by this argument let us prove, 60
Which tis of us Laurinda best doth love.
Da. Yet tis, Alexis, clean against our oath.
(46) designs '68. (58) spheares '52
AMTNTAS 283
Alex. True, Damon, and perchance may ruine both!
Da. So neither shall enjoy her.
Ale. Cruell breath!
Besides this is the Sacred Vale, tis death 65
To staine the hallowed grasse but with one drop
Of humane blood.
Da. So both should loose their hope!
Ale. And what is more, 'tis against her commands.
Da. Whose every breath has powre to stay our
hands.
Ale. Wee'l have her answer make a certain end.
Da. Till then, Alexis, let me be thy friend.
Ale. Come Damon, lets together seeke reliefe.
Da. Tis fit, being Rivalls both in love and griefe.
Finis Actus secundi.
ACTVS 3. SCEN I.
Damon. Alexis. Laurinda.
Dam. Aurinda, by thy selfe, the sweetest oath
J— ^That can be sworn,
Ale. By those faire eyes, whose light
Comforts my soule;
Dam. Whose heat inflameth mine;
Ale. Vnlesse you deigne at length to end our strife,
Da. We both have vow'd to sacrifice our life, 5
Ale. On one anothers speare.
Lau. What shall I doe?
I find an equall warre within my soule,
My selfe divided; now I would say Damon,
Another time Alexis, then againe
(2) sworn, '400, &• (3) comfort '38.
284 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Damon, and then Alexis: like a sheapheard 10
That sees on either hand a ravenous wolfe,
One snatching from his ewe a tender Lamb,
The other watching for a gentle Kid,
Knowes not poore soule which hand to turne to first.
Now he would save his Lamb; but seeing his Kid 15
Halfe in the jaw of death, turnes back in hast
To rescue that, where viewing then his Lamb
In greater danger, runs to that again;
As doubtfull which to save as which to loose:
So fares it now with me. But love instruct mee ! 20
Da. Resolve.
Ale. Or wee'l resolve.
Lau. No trick left yet?
Enter Dorylas.
Dor. If ever one was pepper' d looke on mee!
Lau. Why whats the matter?
Do. You talke of Love and Cupid,
I have been plagu'd with a whole swarme of Cupids
Ale. What should this meane ? 25
Do. I know not, but I am sure
I have a thousand naturall rapiers
Stick in my flesh!
Da. The meaning of the riddle?
Ale. The morall ?
Do. In plain tearmes I have been driving
One of your swarmes of Bees, gentle Laurinda;
Lau. The purest waxe give Damon: and, good
swaine, 30
The hony to Alexis: This is plain.
Do. Now will the hony and the wax fall together by
th' eares.
(24) whole] om. '68. (25) What] what '38.
A MT NT AS 285
Da. Alexis, this plain signe confirmes her grant,
She gave me waxe to scale the covenant.
Do. Well argu'd for the waxe, now for the hony. 35
Ale. To me she gave the hony, that must be
The sweetest, and the sweetest sweet is shee.
Do. The hony is the sweeter argument.
Da. But by the waxe she saies that she from none
But mee will take true loves impression. 40
Do. The waxe is very forward to the bargain;
He would be sealing of her.
Ale. But plain the hony speakes, no other guest
But I, shall tast in her a lovers feast.
Do. Delicious reason, my mouth waters at it, 45
Dam. The waxe must make the Taper that must
light
The wedded paire to bed on Hymens night:
Besides 'tis virgins waxe, by that you see
To me she destines her virginity.
Do. Two excellent twin-arguments borne at a
birth. 50
Ale. And hony shewes a wedding; that must knead
A cake for Hymen ere we goe to bed.
Take you the waxe, the hony is for mee;
There is no hony in the world but shee.
Dor. His disputation still has some good relish in't. 55
Da. I see, Alexis, all Laurinda's bees
Serve but to sting us both.
Dor. Now, whats the matter?
The morall?
Lau. See what 'tis to live a maid!
Now two at once doe serve us and adore,
Shee that weds one, serves him, serv'd her before. 60
(38) «weete«t '52. ff. (44) tart] take 'St.
286 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Da. Alexis come!
AL Come Damonl
Da. Cure my feare.
AL There's no helpe left but in a Pelian speare!
Lau. O stay your hands, for by my maidenhead
Dor. Happy the man shall quit her of that oath.
Ale. Most happy Dorylasl 65
Do. I knew that before!
Lau. I have protested never to disclose
Which 'tis that best I love: But the first Nymph,
As soone as Titan guilds the Easterne hills,
And chirping birds, the Saints-bell of the day,
Ring in our eares a warning to devotion, 70
That lucky damsell what so e're she be
Shall be the Goddesse to appoint my love,
To say, Laurinda this shall be your choice:
And both shall sweare to stand to her award!
Both. By fair Laurinda' s hand we swear. 75
Lau. Till then
Be friends, and for this night it is my pleasure
You sleep like friendly Rivalls arme in arme.
Both. Thankes to the fair Laurindal
AL Come Damon, you this night with me shall
rest.
Da. Wert thou but my Laurinda I were blest. 80
Exeunt Damon. Alexis.
Dor. Mistresse, if they should dreame now.
Lau. And they should?
(74) on her '403, ff.
AMYNTAS 287
ScEN. 2.
Amaryllis. Vrania. Doryllis. Laurinda.
Vra. Sweet Amaryllis \
Ama. Stay me not Vrania\
Do. More Cupids, more bees, more stinging yet!
Ama. Dishevel'd haire, poore ornament of the head
I'le teare you from my crowne ! what dost thou here ?
Weake chaines! my pride presum'd you had a
powre 5
To fetter Heroes ! and in amorous Gives
Lead any sheapheard captive!
Vra. Amaryllis.
Ama. But Damon breakes thee like a spiders loome!
And thou poore face that wer't so oft beli'de
For fair and beauteous, by my flattering glasse; 10
I'le tear those crimson roses from my cheekes,
That but my selfe nere yet inchanted any.
My will is fixt!
Lau. Where goe you, Amaryllis?
Ama. Since Damon hates my life I'le goe and see 14
If I can please him in my death: if hee'le but
deigne
To kisse me, and accept my latest breath,
I shall salute the Gods a happy soule.
This dart I'le give him; and upon my knees
Beg till I have obtain'd to dye by him:
Death from that hand is welcome. 20
Lau. I will shew you
A way most probable to redeeme his love.
(II) my] thy '68.
(19) dye] om. *4ob to dye by] it too by '68.
288 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Ama. I shall wrong you, Laurinda\ No injoy him,
The treasure of the Earth: my latest words
Shall be praiers for you : mild Vrania,
Sister in blood to Damon, not in affection, 25
Nymph take this whistle, 'twas a Tritons once,
With which I call my Lamb-kins when they stray;
JTis Amaryllis last bequeathment to you.
Vra. Live happy sheapheardesse and weare it still!
Ama. Laurinda, my great legacy is yours, 30
Gentle-ungentle Damon.
Lau. I re-bequeath him to my Amaryllis:
Come therefore amorous maid, be rul'd by mee;
This night wee'le sleepe together.
Do. And shee too
Should dreame of Damon. ' 35
Lau. Dorylas, goe to Thestylis
T* excuse her this nights absence. Amaryllis
Wenches are nere so witty as a bed,
And two together make a statesmans head.
Begon to Thestylis.
Do. So, I am sure
Still Cupids factor: well ere long I see 40
There will be many an heire the more for mee.
Vra. My Bellamore y'are under good protection;
The Temple gates will close unlesse I hast.
Lau. Vrania, a happy night unto you!
Vra. The like to her that pitties the distressed
Amaryllis. 45
Exeunt Lau. Ama. Vrania.
Dor. So so, this hony with the very thought
Has made my mouth so lickorish that I must
Have something to appease the appetite.
(30) is] in 'S2. (33) ;] ? '68. (36) .] , '38.
AMYNTAS 289
Have at locastus orchard ! dainty Apples,
How lovely they looke! Why these are Dory las
sweet-hearts. 50
Now must I be the Princely Oberon,
And in a royall humour with the rest
Of royall Fairies attendant goe in state
To rob an orchard: I have hid my robes
On purpose in a hollow tree. Heaven blesse meeiss
What Pucke, what Goblins this?
Claius. Dorylas.
Cla. Thrice Sacred Valley,
I kisse thy hallowed Earth!
Do. Another lover,
Enamour'd of the Ground!
Cl. Faine would I speake
And aske for Amaryllis: but my feare
Will not permit mee. 60
Do. Slid; I thinke he takes mee
For Oberon already.
Cl. Youth can you tell mee
How I may speak to night with Amaryllis?
Da. Age, by no meanes to night: this night shee
lodges
With fair Laurinda, old Medorus daughter.
Cl. Can you instruct me then how I may meet 65
Amyntas?
Do. Who, the madman ? Every evening
He walkes abroad into the vallie here
With Tbestylis. Farewell old walking Ivibush.
Exit Dor.
Claius solus.
(•56) Claius. Dorylas. One line higher up in 40*. ff.
(60) S'lid '403, ff.
290 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Cla. I see the smoake steame from the Cottage tops,
The fearfull huswife rakes the embers up. 70
All hush to bed. Sure no man will disturbe mee.
0 blessed vally ! I the wretched Claius
Salute thy happy soyle, I that have liv'd
Pelted with angry curses in a place
As horrid as mygriefes,theLylibaean mountaines, 75
These sixteene frozen winters, there have I
Beene with rude out-lawes, living by such sinnes
As runne o' th' score with justice, 'gainst my prayers
& wishes.
And when I would have tumbled down a rock,
Some secret powre restrain'd me: There I lately
heard 80
By a disconsolate Pilgrim that sought death,
That my Amyntas wits (ah me!) were marr'd.
Twas not a time to thinke to save my selfe
When my poore boy was lost. Lost said I ? — O
Phoebus,
If there be soveraigne power in juice of hearbs, 85
And that the teeming earth yeeld medicinal flowres
To cure all maladies, I have sought the skill;
No leafe no root hath scap'd mee: I may boast it,
1 have been natures diligent Apothecary.
Be lucky my emplaister! I have tempered 90
The surest Recipe the worlds garden yeelds;
'Twould put Orestes in his wits again.
I know I step upon my death: the Oracle
Desires my blood for sacrifice, and Pilumnus
For his old hate still seekes it: make long stay 95
I dare not, only I desire t'apply
My medicine and be gone. Who's this I spy?
(7S) Libyan '62, '68. (82) ah] ha '4ob, ff. (91) Receipt '52.
AMYNTAS 291
SCEN. 3.
Tbestylis. Amyntas. Mopsus.
I doe remember now that countenance;
It is my sister Tbestylis, Tie stand close
T'observe their actions.
The. Would to Ceres
She would be pleas'd at length to end her anger,
And pitty poo re Amyntas\
Cl. So pray I. 5
Amy. I have the bravest spaniell in the world,
Of a sharpe sent and quick, so ho ho, so ho ho!
Ringwood, lowler, White/oof, so ho ho! so ho ho!
Mop. I shall be a whole kennell of dogs anon.
Amy. Juno, Vulcan, Venus! so ho ho, so ho ho! 10
Mop. Lord what a heavenly puppy he makes me
now!
Amy. There Lady there!
Mop. Ha? be there Lady-dogs as well as Lady-birds
too?
Amy. Beauty, Beauty.
Mop. Slid I was never cal'd that name before: 15
Thestylis, Amyntas calls me Beauty,
I prethee come kisse mee.
The. Thus I spend my life
Laughing amidst my teares.
(7) so ho ho! so ho ho ho! '62, "68.
(8) so ho ho! so ho ho ho! '62, '68.
(12-14) These lines are so divided in all the texts but they may be arranged:
Amy. There Lady there!
Mop. Ha? be there Lady-dogs
As well as Lady-birds too?
Amy. Beauty. Beauty.
(13) too! '38. (is) S'lid '403, ff.
292 THOM4S RANDOLPH
Amy. Now Vertue Venue!
Mop. Is that a dog's name too? would I were hang'd
If Tie have any of it for that trick. 20
Amy. Dost thou not sent it yet? Close, close you
rogue
By Pan the curre hunts counter.
Mop. Oh good master! Bow wow, bow wow wow
Amyn. So now he has't again.
What at a fault you mungrell? will you never 25
Start me this Oracle?
Mop. Start an Oracle?
As if an Oracle were a hare?
Amy. So 'tis
And skuds away so swift we cannot take it.
Start me this Oracle.
Mop. Start it who's will for mee,
For Tie not start it.
Amy. Then unkennell it. 30
Mop. Vnkennell it?
Amy. I, tis a Foxe a Foxe,
A cunning crafty rogue: no body knowes
Which way to finde him. Ha? what sent is this?
Dost thou not smell ?
Mop. What?
Amy. The meaning of the Oracle ?
Vnkennell it, or I will lease thee. 35
(22-24) These lines may be arranged.
By Pan the curre hunts counter.
Mop. Oh good master!
Bow wow, bow wow wow
Amyn. So now he has't again.
(29) who's] who '62, '68.
(33) ha? '38 sent] on. '68.
(34) Oracle. '4ob, ff.
(35) leashe '403 lashe '4ob, '52 lash '62, '68.
AMYNTAS 293
Mop. Good sir,
I have no skill in starting or unkennelling,
But if you'l have me spring an Oracle.
Amy. And wilt thou doe it? spring me then this
Oracle!
Mop. I that I will, my skill lies all in birds,
Whose flight I feare I have observ'd so long 40
That I am metamorphos'd to a spaniell.
Amy. Looke how my hawke of understanding soares
About the Partridge Oracle! ill luck!
Tis at retreat againe.
Mop. O shall I never
Rid me of this misfortune! (thankes good omen) 45
Cras, eras she saies, to morrow 'twill be better.
A Crow cawes.
Black bird I thank thee!
Claius to them.
The. Litle thinks the wretched Claius now
How sad a life his poore Amyntas lives!
Cl. Too well unto his griefe. Tie goe unto
him 50
And follow him in his humor: — You have got
A dainty spanniell, sir.
Amy. I think the world
Cannot afford his equall.
Cla. What breed is hee?
Amy. True Spartan Tie assure you.
Cl. Was the sire
Of the same Country? 55
Amy. No, as I remember
He was an Irish Grey-hound, but the damme
Came of Actions brood.
(44) »O a '4ob, '52.
294 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Cl. As how I pray?
Amy. Why thus; Melampus was the sire of Lalaps,
Lalaps to Lagon, Lagon to Ichnobates,
Ichnobates to Pampbagus, and Pamphagus 60
To Dorceus, he to Labros, that was sire
To Oresitrophus, Oresitrophus
To fleet Tberidamas, Tberidamas
To swift Nebrophonos, Nebropbonos
To the quick-nos'd Aellus; he to Dramas, 65
Dramas to Tygris, Tygris to Orybasus,
Orybasus to Pterelas, he to Nape,
The damme of Mopsus.
Mop. So then Orybasus
Was my great grandfather. Though I be a Dog,
I come of a good house. My Ancestors 70
Were all of Noble names past understanding.
What a brave man's my Master! where learn'd he
All this? Ne're stirre now I could find in my heart
To leave my Augury and study Heraldry;
A man I think may learn't as well as t'other, 75
Yet never fear of growing too wise upon't.
And then will I record the pedigree
Of all the dogs i'th'world. O that I had
The Armes of all our house by th'Mothers side!
Cl. Sir I have brave things in a Basket for you. 80
Give me your Dog, and you shall have 'em all.
Amy. Take him.
Mop. O heavens! and shall I change my master,
One mad man for another?
Amy. Curre be quiet,
I have said it, and my will shall be a law.
(58 and 59) Lelaps '40*. S. (79) byth* '38.
(59 and 60) Ichonbatts '4ob, '52, '62.
AMTNTAS 295
Mop. O good sir, for Melampus sake, and Dorceus 85
Leelaps, Ichnobates, Lagon, Mflanchetes,
Labros, Nebrophonos, Oresitrophus,
Tygris, Orybasus, Therydamas,
Afllus, Dromas, Nape, and the rest
Of all my Noble ancestors deceas'd, 90
Be mercifull unto me! Pitty pitty
The only hope of all our family.
CL Sir, can he fetch and carry?
Amy. You shall see him.
Fetch sirrah: there: the curre is runne,
away,
Help me to catch my dog: you'l bring you mun-
grell? 95
Mop. Yes much! the birds will not advise me to it.
Exit.
The. Sylvan why gaze you on us? would you frolike
With poor Amynta's madnes? 'twould ill beseem
you
To make our griefe your pastime.
CL Not I by heaven!
My joyes are counterfeit, my sorrowes reall : 100
(I cannot hold from weeping) ah you know not
What griefe lies here within, (teares you'l betray
me!)
Give me my eye full of this noble sheapheard !
Who hath not heard how he hath chac'd the boare?
And how his speare hath torne the panch of wolves.
On th' barke of every tree his name's ingraven. 106
Now Planet struck, and all that vertue vanish'd.
(88) Orybatus '38 (101) from] for '52.
(89) and all the rest '68. (104) ?] ! '38.
(97) Tht Sylvan Uob, '52. (106) th'] the '4Ob.
(98) Amyntas's '68 ?] ; '38.
296 THOMAS RANDOLPH
The. Thy lookes are fierce, thy words bespeak thee
Gentle.
Amy. Why wep't he The stylist
The. I did not marke him.
Amy. It was a mote in's eye: Fie kisse it out; no
Pie curie thy shackl'd looks, and crispe thy haire
Like the streight-growing Cypresse. Come let's
put
Our heads together. Thou art more then mortall,
And shal't expound to Ceres what she askes.
It is a gallant Sylvan, Thestylis. 115
Cl. I am not skill'd in riddles, no interpreter
Of Divinations, but dare contend
With any Empyrick to doe a cure,
Whether the body or the minde be sick.
That is my study, I but crave the leave 120
To try the powre of art upon this sheapheard.
If Msculapius be propitious to him,
After the dew of one nights softer slumbers,
I dare be bold to say he shall recover.
Amy. My dog againe? dost read it in the starres? 125
What a strange man is this?
Cl. Thy wits, Amyntas,
I meane; O cast thy armes in my embraces,
Speak carefull Nymph how came he thus distracted?
Amy. I doe you meane? with a very-very-very mad
trick
By making verses.
CL Rest rest deluded fancy! 130
The. There was a time (alas that ere it was.)
When my poore sheapheard fell in love.
(109) ?]!'38. (in) locks '68.
(no) eyes: '403, '4ob, '52. (129) a very-very-very-very mad trick: '68-
AMTNTAS 297
Cl. With whom?
The. The starre of beauty, Pilumnu's much admir'd
Vrania.
Cl. O the crosse darts of fate!
The. Shee sweet Nymph inlodged
The casket of his love in her own bosome, 135
But Ceres set a Dowry. Out alasse!
Would shee had bid us quench the flames of
jEtna
In Aretbusa's streames, it had been easy.
We fight with words and cannot conquer them;
This her Imperious Ompba ask'd, and Thunder'di4o
That which tbou bast not, maist not, canst not have
Amyntas, is the Dowry that I crave.
To find out her commands, he lost himselfe.
Cl. Your storie's pittifull: Tis my profession 144
To wander through the Earth, and in my Travell,
I am inquisitive after the sick to heale 'em :
Their cure and kind acceptance is my pay.
You will not fear to lodge me for a night ?
The. We have but homely hospitality.
Amy. He feast thee with some Venison, brave Mon-
tana. 150
Cl. Thy restitution is my feast Amyntas;
Your curdes and chestnuts and your country fare
Is bounteous for so meane a guest as I:
But send for that Vrania her sweet voice
Must sing a Lullaby to drowne his senses, 155
And charme soft sleepe upon his troubled phancy.
And 'fore the gray-eyd morne doe peepe, be
confident
(133) Pilumnus 403 ff. (154) Frania; '62, '68.
(139) words] cords *sz.
298 THOMAS RANDOLPH
I'le put the musique of his braines in tune.
You'l call Vrania.
The. Doubt not sir, I will.
Or send my servant Mycon by the Vale. 160
Amy. Come Sylvan, if the dogs doe barke Fie braine
'em;
Wee'l sleepe to night together, and to morrow,
Cl. Will end I hope thy madnesse, not my sorrow.
Amy. Wee'l goe a hunting, so ho ho! so ho ho! Exeunt.
Mopsus from the Orchard.
Mop. Are the mad dogs gone yet? 165
A little more would have perswaded mee
Into a spaniell: and I may be one
For any thing I know: Yet sure I am not
Because methinkes I speake; but an this speaking
Should be but barking now: If I be a dog 170
Heaven send me a better Master then the former.
Ceres defend me what strange Elves are there!
(159) Col. You'l call '38, *4oa, '4ob, 52.
(169) an] and '62, '68.. (170) :] ? '4ob, ff.
SCEN. 4.
Dorylas with a Bevy of Fairies.
Dor. How like you now my Grace? is not my
countenance
Royall and full of Majesty? Walke not I
Like the young Prince of Pigmies ? Ha ? my knaves,
Wee'l fill our pockets. Looke looke yonder, Elves,
Would not yon apples tempt a better conscience 5
Then any we have to rob an Orchard? ha!
(I) now] may '4ob om. '68. (2) Walk I not '68. (6) !] ? '68.
AMTNTAS 299
Fairies, like Nymphs with child, must have the
things
They long for. You sing here a Fairy catch
In that strange tongue I taught you: while our selfe
Doe clime the Trees. Thus Princely Oberon 10
Ascends his throne of State.
Nos beata Fauni Proles,
Quibus non est magna molesy
Elves Quamvis Lunam incolamus,
Hortos sezpe frequentamus. 15
Furto cuncta magis bella,
Fur to dulcior Puella.
Furto omnia decora.
Furto poma dulciora.
Cum mortales lecto jacent, 20
Nobis poma noctu placent.
Ilia tamen sunt ingrata,
Nisifurto sint parata.
locastus. Bromius.
lo. What divine noyse fraught with immortall
harmony
Salutes mine eare? . 25
Bro. Why this immortall Harmony
Rather salutes your Orchard: these young Rascalls
These pescod-shalers doe so cheat my Master:
(9) our] your '^ob, '52, '62, my '68. (18) omma '52.
(13) magnamoles '38. (19) Furto] Cum '^ob, S.
(16) cuncto '68 ,]. '68. (25) ears '68.
This poetry is not divided into stanzas in 4Ob, ff.
(27) pescod-shelers Uob, '52 pescod shellers '62, '68.
300 THOMAS RANDOLPH
We cannot have an apple in the Orchard,
But straight some Fairy longs for't : well if I 29
Might have my will, a whip again should jerk h'em,
Into their old mortality:
lo. Dar'st thou schreetch-owle
With thy rude croaking interrupt their musique;
Whose melody hath made the spheares to lay
Their heavenly lutes aside, only to listen
To their more charming notes? 35
Bro. Say what you will,
I say a cudgell now were excellent Musique.
Oberon descende citus,
Elves. Ne cogaris bine invitus.
Canes audio latrantes,
Et mortales vigilantes. 40
lo. Prince Oberon? I heard his Graces name.
Bro. O ho: I spy his Grace! Most noble Prince
Come downe, or I will pelt your Grace with stones,
That I believe your Grace was ne're so pelted
Since t'was a Grace. 45
Do. Bold mortall, hold thy hand.
Bro. Immortall Thiefe come down, or I will fetch
you:
Methidhs it should impaire his Graces honour
To steale poore mortals apples: Now have at you!
Dor. locastus, we are Oberon, and we thought
That one so neere to us as you in favour,
Would not have suffer* d this prophane rude groome
Thus to impaire our royaltie.
(30) h'em '4ob, '52 'em '62, '68
(31) old] om. '68.
AMTNTAS 301
Io. Gracious Prince,
The fellow is a foole, and not yet purged
From his mortalitie.
Do. Did we out of love
And our intire affection, of all Orchards 55
Chuse yours to make it happy by our dances,
Light ayry measures, and fantastique rings!
And you ingratefull mortall thus requite us.
All for one Apple!
Io. Villaine th'hast undone me:
His Grace is much incens'd. 60
Do. You know, locastus,
Our Grace have Orchards of our owne more
precious
Then mortals can have any: And we sent you
A Present of them t'other day.
Io. 'Tis right,
Your Graces humble servant must acknowledge it.
Bro. Some of his owne I am sure. 65
Do. I must confesse
Their outside look'd something like yours indeed;
But then the tast more relish'd of eternitie,
The same with Nectar.
Io. Your good Grace is welcome
To anything I have: Nay, Gentlemen
Pray doe not you spare neither.
Elves. Ti-ti-ta-tf. 70
Io. What say these mighty peeres, great Oberon ?
Do. They cannot speak this language, but in ours
They thank you, and they say they will have none,
Elves. Ti-ti-ta-ti- Tititatie
Io. What say they now? 75
(56) your's '38. (58) ungrateful '68 requite* '38.
302 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Do. They doe request you now
To grant them leave to dance a Fayry ring
About your servant, and for his offence
Pinch him: doe you the while command the traitour
Not dare to stirre, not once presume to mutter.
lo. Traytour, for so Prince Oberon deignes to call
thee, 80
Stirre not nor mutter.
Bro. To be thus abus'd!
lo. Ha? mutter' st thou?
Bro. I have deserved better.
lo. Still mutter' st thou?
Bro. I see I must endure it.
lo. Yet mutter' st thou? Now Noble Lords begin
When it shall please your honours. 85
Do. Ti ti tatie.
Our noble freind permits, Tititatie:
Doe you not sir?
lo. How should I say I doe ?
Do. Ti ti tatie.
lo. Ti ti tatie my Noble Lords.
Quoniam per te violamur
Elves Vngues hie experiamur. 90
Statim dices tibi datam
Cutem valdl variatam.
They dance.
lo. Tititatie to your Lordships for this excellent
musick
Bro. This 'tis to have a coxcombe to on's master.
(75) rebust '52. (93) Lordship for his '68.
(89) per le~\ partt '52. (94) one's '52, ff.
A MT NT AS 303
Io. Still mutter'st thou ? 95
Exit Bromius.
Dorylas from the tree: locastus falls on his knees.
Do. And rise up Sir locastus, our deare Knight.
Now hang the hallowed bell about his neck,
We call it a mellisonant Tingle Tangle,
(Indeed a sheep-bell stolne from's own fat wether.)
aside.
The ensigne of his knighthood. Sir locastus, 100
Wee call to mind we promis'd you long since
The President of our Dances place; we are now
Pleas'd to confirme it on you: give him there
His Staffe of Dignity.
Io. Your Grace is pleas'd
To honour your poor leigeman.
Do. Now begone. 105
Io. Farewell unto your Grace and eke to you,
Tititatie my Noble Lords farewell. Exit.
Dor. Tititatie my noble foole farewell:
Now, my Nobility and honourd Lords, 109
Our grace is pleas'd for to part stakes; here localo
These are your share; these his, and these our
Graces.
Have we not gull'd him bravely! see you Rascalls,
These are the fruits of witty knavery.
Mopsus enters barking.
Dor. Heaven shield Prince Oberon, and his honour'd
Lords !
We are betraid.
Mop. Bow wow wow. 115
(too) his] this '68.
(107) Lord '68 *Exit.] not indicated in *4ob, '51.
(ill) your] you '400.
(Hi) !] ? '68
304 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Nay nay since you have made a sheepe of my
Brother
Fie be a dog to keepe him.
Do. O good Mopsusl
Mop. Does not your Grace, most lowe and mighty
Dorylas,
Feare whipping now?
Do. Good Mopsus but conceale us,
And I will promise by to morrow night 120
To get thee Tbestylis.
Mop. I will aske leave
Of the birds first. An owle? the bird of night;
An owle sbreekes.
That plainly shewes that by to morrow night,
He may perform his promise.
Do. And I will.
Mop. Why then I will conceale you. But your
Grace 125
Must thinke your Grace beholding to mee.
Do. Well:
We doe.
Mop. And thanke the owle, she stood your friend.
And for this time my witty Grace farewell.
Do. Nay be not so discourteous; Stay and take
An apple first: you localo give him one, 130
And you another, and our Grace a third.
Mop. Your Grace is liberall: But now I feare
I am not hee that must interpret th' Oracle.
My brother will prevent me, to my griefe
I much suspect it, for this Dorylas 135
A scarre-crow cozend him most shamefully,
Which makes me feare hee's a more foole then I.
Exit Mopsus.
(126) :].4ob .'52 ?'68.
AMYNTAS 305
Dor. So, we are clean got off: come noble Peeres
Of Fairy, come, attend our Royall Grace.
Lets goe and share our fruit with our Queen Mab,i\o
And th'other Darymaids; where of this theam
We will discourse amidst our Cakes and Cream.
Cum tot poma babeamus,
Elves. Triumphos leeti iam canamus.
Faunos ego credam ortos 145
Tantum ut frequentent hortos.
I domum Oberon ad illas
Qua nos manent nunc ancillas.
Quarum osculemur sinum,
Inter poma, lac, y vinum. 150
Finis Actus tertii.
ACTVS 4. SCEN I.
Mopsus, Tbestilis.
Mop. r would have you know Tbestilis, so I would
A I am no dog, but mortall flesh and blood
As you are.
Tbes. O be patient gentle Mopsus.
Mop. Slid, fetch and carry!
Tbes. Nay good sweet heart
Be not so angry.
Mop. Angry? why 'twould anger 5
A dog indeed to be so us'd, a dog!
I would not use a dog so: bid a dog
That comes of a good house to fetch and carry!
(4) S'lid *40a, ff. (5) «o] om. '52.
306 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Discourteous! let him get dogs of his own,
For I have got my neck out of the collar. 10
Let him unkennell's Oracles himselfe
For Mopsus, if I starte or spring him one
Tie dye the dogs death and be hang'd: mad foole!
Tbes. But Mopsus, you may now securely visit
Mee and my house: Amyntas, heaven beprais'd,ij
Is now recover'd of his wits again.
Mop. How? and grown wise!
Thes. Ceres be prais'd as ever.
Mop. Shut up your doores then; Carduus Benedictus
Or Dragon water may doe good upon him.
Tbfs. What mean you Mopsus? 20
Mop. Mean I ? what mean you
To invite me to your house when 'tis infected ?
Thes. Infected ?
Mop. I, Amyntas has the Wits.
And doe you think Tie keepe him company?
Though, as I told you still, I am suspitious
locastus is the man that must
The. Doe what? 25
Mop. It grieves me to think of it.
The. Out with't man.
Mop. That must interpret; I have cause to think
(With sorrow be it spoken) he will prove
The verier foole, but let him; yet now my Augury
That never failes me, tells me certainly 30
That I shall have thee, Thestylis, yet ere night;
It was an owle
(18) Carduus, Benedictus *4Ob, '$*,
(21) what mean you? '52.
(24) told you, still I am '68.
AMTNTAS 307
SCEN. 2.
Claius. Amyntas.
And see see, Thestylis,
Here comes the Ivy bush. Fie stand aside,
For I am still most bodily afraid.
Amy. What Deity lives here? the soul of Pbcebus
Breaths in this powerfull man: sure Aesculapius 5
Revisits earth againe; and in this shape
Deales health amongst us! I before was nothing
But bruit and beast: O tell me by what reliques
Of heavenly fire you have inspir'd me with
This better soule of reason! worthy sir, 10
If y'are some God (as lesse I cannot deeme you)
That pittying of my miseries, came downe
From heaven to cure mee, tell mee, that I may
With sacrifice adore you.
Mop. Adore him?
Are there such Ruffian Gods in heaven as he? 15
Such beggarly Deities?
Amyn. If you will conceale it,
And I by ignorance omit to pay
Those sacred duties that I ought, be pleas'd
To pardon me.
Mop. Heighday ! well Tbestylis,
You may be glad your house is not infected; 20
Hee's ten times madder now then ere he was,
To deify this rude ill-favour'd Silvan,
This fellow with the beard all over: Tbestylis,
I dare not stay; unlesse my heeles maintaine 24
My safety I shall turne a dog againe. Exit Mopsus.
(4) lives? the soul '62, '68.
308 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Clai. I am as you are, mortall; 'tis my skill
In Physick, and experience in the rare
Vertue of herbes, that wrought this miracle;
No Divinity, or power in me.
Tbest. AmyntaSy when shall we requite this kind-
nesse? 30
Amynt. Never, I would willingly
Have sacrific'd unto him, but his modesty
Will not permit it: though he will not suffer us
T' adore him as a God, yet we may pay
A reverence to him as a father. 35
Claius. O those words doe touch the quick!
Amyn. For if he be
A father that begot this flesh, this clay,
What's he to whom we owe our second birth
Of soule and reason ? Father, I must call you
By that name, father. 40
Claius. Now the floudgates open, (aside
And the full stream of teares will issue out:
Traitors, you will betray me!
Tbest. Sir, why weepe you?
Claius. To thinke of this man's father O I lov'd
him
As dearely as my selfe! (my words and all
Breake out suspitious!) has he not a daughter? 45
As I remember well, he said her name was
The. Amaryllis.
Cla. Yes, I had almost
Forgot it, I would faine have scene her too.
Tbest. You cannot now, because to night she lodg'd
With one Laurinda. 5°
(39) Father; '52
(40) floud-gate's '4Ob, '52.
AMTNTAS 309
SCEN. 3.
Vrania.
Amy. O my Crania, welcome,
Amyntas bids thee so, I that 'till now
Was not Amyntas: come my joy, and meet mee
Full of our happinesse!
Vra. Grant Ceres now
My hopes be faithfull to me: my Amyntas ', 5
How came your thoughts so setled ?
Amyn. O Vrania^
Here, here he stands, to whom I owe my selfe,
And thou owest me: we reverence in our Temples
Marble, and brasse, whose statues serve for nothing
But to hang cobwebs on : oh ! how much rather 10
Should we adore this Deity, that bestowed
Such happinesse upon us!
Vra. Would we knew
How to deserve it.
Cla. So you may Vrania,
If you will grant me one request.
Vra. Command it.
Cla. I would intreat you presently to vow 16
Virginity to Ceres, that Amyntas
No more may toyle his brain in thinking what
To give you for a Dowry.
Vra. Sir, I will
Presently about it, I'le only first
Get some unknown disguise. 20
Claius. I dare stay here
No longer, for I must begon ere yet
The light betrayes me.
(5) to me, my Amyntas. '4ob, "52 me, my Amyntas, '62, '68.
(8) Temple '52. (21) be gone '52, ff.
310 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Vra. Happinesse attend you!
Cla. Remember it Vrania.
Amyn. Farewell father.
Exeunt Fran. Amynt. Tbestyl.
Claius Solus.
Clai. Thus like a bat, or owle I spend my age
In night or darknesse, as asham'd of day, 25
And fearefull of the light: the sunne and I
Dare never be acquainted. O guilt, guilt,
Thou and thy daughter feare are punishments
Perpetuall, every whistling of the wind 29
Doth seeme the noise of apprehenders; shadowes
Affright me more then men. Each step I tread
Is danger. Life? why to live longer should we
Not live at all ? I heare a noy se : false timorousnesse
Deceive me not, my eyes instruct me too,
Heaven shield me 35
(33) ?] = '38.
SCEN. 4.
Alexis. Damon.
Fain I would enquire of them
For Amaryllis, but if one of these
Bee Damon, I am lost
Alex. How early, Damon, doe lovers rise?
Cla. Tis he, I heare his name, good mole away.
Exit 5
Dam. No Larkes so soon, Alexis.
(3-6) These lines are so divided in all the editions. They may, however, be thu»
arranged to make blank verse:
Bee Damon, I am lost.
Alex. How early, Damon,
Doe lovers rise?
Cla. Tis he, I heare his name,
Good mole away. Exit.
Dam. No Larkes so soon, Alexis.
AMYNTAS 311
Alex. He that of us shall have Laurinda, Damon
Will not be up so soone: ha! would you Damon?
Dam. A lexis, no; but if I misse Laurinda,
My sleepe shall be eternall. 10
Alex. I much wonder the Sunne so soone can rise!
Da. Did he lay his head in faire Laurinda' s lap,
We should have but short daies.
Alex. No summer, Damon.
Dam. Thetis to her is browne.
Alex. And he doth rise
From her to gaze on faire Laurinda' s eyes. 15
Dam. O now I long to meet our Arbitresse.
Alex. On whom depends our only happinesse.
Dam. It must be the first Virgin that we greet
From Ceres Temple.
Alex. Yes, the first we meet.
Dam. I heare no noise of any yet that move. 20
Alex. Devotion's not so early up as love.
Dam. See how Aurora blushes! we suppose
Where Tithon lay to night.
Alex. That modest rose
He grafted there.
Dam. O heaven, 'tis all I seeke
To make that colour in Laurinda' s cheeke. 25
Alex. The virgins now come from the Temple.
Dam. Appeale unto the first.
(13) Alexis. We should '38.
(17) only] daily '52.
312 THOMAS RANDOLPH
SCEN. 5.
The virgins passe over the stage with waxe candles
in their hands, Amaryllis goes the first, but she is
staid by Damon, as unknown to be Amaryllis, she
being vail'd and having on her head the garland that
Laurinda took from Damon.
Chast beauteous Nymph
Ceres so grant your prayers, as you determine
Justly our cause!
Amar. Ceres has heard my prayers,
For all my morning orisons beg'd no more
Then one kind word from Damon.
Dam. Amaryllis! 5
Alex. That name breaths life & soul to poore Alexis.
Amar. The same; — why startle you? you have not
met
A poyson, Damon.
Dam. Yes a thousand vipers
Have stung my soule.
Alex. As many joyes crown mine
With happinesse. 10
Dam. Would I had met this morning
Infectious vapors nursing plagues, not thee;
No curse but that had power to ruin mee!
Alex. No other blessing hath preserved mee.
Amar. What should this mean, my Damon\ how
have I
Displeas'd you, sweet? heaven knowes it is my
praier 15
More then for heaven, to please you.
(n) vapors, "62, '68.
AMYNTAS 313
Da. O my torture!
Fly hence as farre as hell, and hide thy head
Lower then darknesse; would thou had'st been
acting
Incest or murder, when thou cam'st to pray:
Thou hadst in any thing sinn'd lesse then this: 20
Vnseasonable devotion!
Amar. Can it be
A sin to pray for Damon?
Dam. Thou had'st blest mee
Had'st thou sate all this while in some dark cell
Loading my head with curses.
Ama. Innocence
Let me not understand you. 25
Dam. I'le not stand
To her award, she is a partiall judge,
And will decree unjustly.
Ama. How, to Damon ?
To him she loves so deerely?
Dam. That's the reason;
Shee does confesse, Alexis, that she loves me,
That's argument enough against her. 3°
Amar. Ceres, these obscure passions move me.
Alex. Fie instruct you,
Take here the paper, pen and inke.
Ama. Why yet sir
I know no more.
Alex. You are to passe your censure,
Being the first Nymph that we have met this
morning,
(27) How to Damon? Uob, ff.
(30-31) These lines would be more metrical if they should be arranged:
That's argument enough against her.
Amar. Ceres.
These obscure passions move me.
314 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Which of us two must have the faire Laurinda. 35
Write your award; our mutuall oathes doe bind
us
Not to deny't.
Da. 'Tis a meere plot contriv'd
Betwixt this cursed Nymph, and you, Alexis.
Alex. Damon, you wrong us both.
Dam. Where did you steale
This Garland ? it was mine. 4°
Ama. For that I love it.
Because it once was thine.
Da. For that I hate it,
'Cause it is thine, had it been true to mee,
Me thinkes as soone as it had toucht thy head
It should have withered.
Amar. So it would have done
Had it not first touch't yours. Laurinda gave
me 45
This Garland, but nere told me of this accident.
Da. Alexis, you deale false, 'tis a conspiracy
'Twixt you and her.
Alex. How can it? you know, Damon,
I have not beene one minute from your presence.
Da. You tooke your time while I was sleeping. 50
Alex. Neither,
Nor I nor you could sleepe one winke this night,
The expectation of this morning tryall
Did keepe us both awake.
Da. I doe not know,
But there is some trick in't, and I'le appeale
From her too partiall sentence. 55
(38) Nymph and you, "4ob, ff.
(41) /'38.
AMYNTAS 315
Ale. Tie the while goe fetch Laurinda, shee shall
force you stand
Vnto her tryall. Exit.
Amar. Damon, thy harsh language is more then death
Vnto me.
Da. I doe charge you to teare the paper,
And refuse to judge between us. 60
Amar. No, I am resolv'd to write what I determine.
Da. Now thou hast indeed a time wherein thou
maist
Revenge my scorne. Take it, but I'le prevent thee.
be strikes her.
Amar. Welcome death !
From him all things are so. Damon, fly hence, 65
Thou hast shed bloud here in the Sacred Valley,
Make hast away or thou art lost for ever.
Dam. Thy counsell's good, no matter whose the guilt.
Exit Damon.
Ama. What was it he said last? Thou hast indeed
A time wherein thou maist revenge my scorne. 7°
With love, no otherwise : and there thou shalt not
(56) This should undoubtedly be arranged thus, to finish out line 55:
Alt. lie the while
Goe fetch Laurinda, shee shall force you stand
(58-64) These lines will scan if rearranged as follows:
Amar. Damon, thy harsh language
Is more then death unto me.
Da. I doe charge you
To tear the paper, and refuse to judge
Between us.
Amar. No, I am resolved to write
What I determine.
Da. Now thou hast indeed
A time wherein thou maist revenge my scorne.
Take it, but I'le prevent thee. kf strikes her.
jlmar. Welcome death!
(59) doe] om. '68. (63) scorne; take it: '68.
(61) what] om. '400, '52. (70) my] thy '51.
316 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Prevent mee, Damon. I will write This inke
Deserves not to record the name of Damon,
Tis black and ugly; thou thy selfe hast furnisht mee
With that of better colour. 'Tis my blood 75
That's truly Cupids inke: love ought to write
Only with that; — . This paper is too course;
O that I had my heart, to write it there!
But so it is already. Would I had
A Parchment made of my own skin, in that 80
To write the truth of my affection,
A wonder to posterity! Hand make hast
As my bloud does, or I shall faint I feare
Ere I have done my story.
SCEN. 6.
Enter Dorylas.
Dor. These milkemaids are the daintiest rogues,
they kisse
As sweet as sillibubs, surely Oberon
Lives a delitious life! Ha! who lies here?
A Nymph ? If't were but now in Oberons power
To steale away her maidenhead, as she sleepes: 5
O 'twould be excellent sport, to see how shee
Would misse it when she wakes: what misery 'tis
To be a boy; why could not my good father
Have got me five yeares sooner? here had been
A purchase: well, 'tis but five yeares longer 10
And I shall hope to see a merrier world.
No body neere too! Slid the very thought's
Enough to make me man oth sudden, well
I'le kisse her though.
(3) Ha who '4ob, '52. (12) S'lid '403, ff.
(7) 'tis] it is "40b, ff. (13) o 'the *4Ob, '52 o'th '62, '68.
AM TNT AS 317
Amar. O I faint.
Dor. She dreames; 14
Now shall I know all secrets: These same women
Are given so much to talke when they are awake
That they prate sleeping too.
Amar. My blood congeales
Within my quill, and I can write no more.
Dor. Love letters? she was troubled yester night
About inditeing, and she dreames on't now. 20
Poore sleepy secretary!
Ama. I will fold it up
And send it; who's that's here? my eyes
Are dimme, ha, Dorylas!
Dor. Now she dreames she gives it me to carry;
I halfe feare I use to carry letters in my sleepe, 25
Wearying my selfe all night, and that's the reason
I am so loath to rise i'th morning.
Ama. Dorylas, carry this letter for mee.
Dor. I thought so,
That's all that I can doe, carry their letters, 29
Or runne of errands: well, come five yeares hence
They may imploy me better. Vnto whom is it?
Ama. Vnto Laurinda, take it.
Dor. How, a red letter?
Amar. Say I wish all health to her and Damon;
And being not able for to beare my griefes, 34
I sought a remedy from mine own speare and died.
(24-28) These lines may be rearranged as follows:
Dor. Now she dreames
She gives it me to carry; I halfe feare
I use to carry letters in my sleepe,
Wearying my selfe all night, and that's the reason
I am so loath to rise i'th morning.
Ama. Dorylas,
Carry this letter for mee.
(31) me] be '$2.
318 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Dor. How dead ? oh mee,
See how her blood hath stain'd the holy Valley \
Well you have done me wrong to kill your selfe,
Only to have me sacrific'd on the Altar,
I nere deserv'd it.
Ama. Fear not Dorylas. 40
Dor. Fear not to dye so like a calfe? oh
Dorylas oh
Ama. Good Dorylas be gone, whilest yet my breath
Will give me leave to say it was not you.
Dor. See that you doe, and so farewell. Exit.
Amar. Farewell !
How fearfull death is unto them, whose life 45
Had any sweetnesse in it! my daies have all
Been so oreworne with sorrow, that this wound
Is unto me rather a salve then sore,
More physick then disease: whither my journey
Shall lead me now; through what dark hideous
place, 5°
Among what monsters, hags and snake-hair'd
Furies,
Am I to goe, I know not; but my life
Hath been so spotlesse, chast, and innocent,
My death so undeserv'd, I have no reason
(If there be Gods) but to expect the best; 55
Yet what doth most torment me, is the thought
How long 'twill bee ere I again enjoy
My Damon's presence: untill then, Elysium
Will be no place of pleasure; and perchance 59
When he comes thither too, he then may slight mee
As much as now. That very feare doth make
thee
Dye, wretched Amaryllis!
(42) while '62, '68.
AMTNTAS 319
SCEN. 7.
Enter Claius.
Cla. How no feare
Can make me loose the father! Death or danger
Threat what you can; I have no heart to goe
Back to the mountaines, 'till my eyes have seen
My Amaryllis I
Amar. O was ever love
So cros'd as mine! was ever Nymph so wretched
As Amaryllis?
Cla. Ha! I heard the sound
Of Amaryllis; where's that blessed creature,
That owes the name? are you the Virgin?
Ama. Yes,
That fatall name is mine. I shall anon
Be nothing but the name. 10
Cla. O speak, what hand,
What barbarous Tigers issue, what cursed whelpe
Of Beares or Lyon, had the marble heart
To wound so sweet a Nymph ?
Amar. O sir, my bloud
Calls none but fortune guilty. I by chance
Stumbled on mine own dart, and hurt my selfe. 15
Clai. Then I have hearbs to cure it: heaven I thank
thee
That didst instruct me hither! still the bloud
Flowes like a scarlet torrent, whose quick streame
Will not be checkt: speak Amarillis, quickly,
What hand this sinne hath stain'd, upon whose
soule 20
(5) !] ? '68. (12) Lyons *4ob, '52 Lion* '62, '68.
(6) ?] ! '68. (15) mine] my '68.
320 THOMAS RANDOLPH
This bloud writes murther; till you see the man
Before your eyes, that gave the hurt, all hope
In Physick is despaire: She will not speak,
And now the cure growes to the last. Yet here
I have a Recipe will revive her spirits, 25
And 'till the last drop of her blood be clean
Applies a medicine and rubs her temples.
Exhausted from those azure veines, preserve her;
But then shee's lost for ever! Then, O Ceres,
If there be any in these groves, men, virgins,
Beast, bird, or trees, or any thing detesting 3°
This horrid fact, reveale it! Sacred grasse
Whose hallowed greene this bloudy deed hath
stain'd,
Aske nature for a tongue to name the murtherer!
Pie to the Temple: If this place containe
Any Divinity, Piety, or Religion, 35
If there be any God at home, or Priest,
Ompha, or Oracle, Shrine, or Altar, speake
Who did it: who is guilty of this sinne,
That dyes the earth with bloud, & makes the
heavens
Asham'd to stand a witnesse? 40
(25) receipt Uob, ff.
(•26) Umplts] liples '38. In the original editions this stage direction is in the
margin opposite 11. 26-29.
(29) Virgin, '4ob, '52.
SCEN. 8.
Enter Pilumnus. Corymbus.
Pilum. What sad voyce
Disturbs our pious Orgyes ?
Cor. See, Pilumnus,
A virgin all in gore.
AM TNT AS 321
Pit. Ceres defend us;
The Sacred 7 ally is prophan'd.
Cor. The place
So deare to Ceres, all defil'd with bloud. 5
Pil. By Ceres, and her holy Ompha, hee
That did it, with his blood shall satisfy
The Goddesse anger; who by blood offends
By his own sacrific'd, must make amends.
Cla. I durst presume upon the power of art, 10
Did I but know the murtherer.
Pil. Howsoever
'Tis death to him that did it.
Cor. Speake his name
Faire virgin.
Ama. O — if it be death to him
That did it, I have not the power to live
Beyond him. 15
Cor. Why, who was it then ?
Ama. My selfe,
And in my death your law is satisfied,
The blood and act both mine.
Cla. It is not so,
For had it been by her own hand, my skill
Could have preserv'd her life.
Amar. It was my selfe,
Or one as deare.
Cla. Who's that? 20
Ama. I'le rather dye
Then name him, though it be a name I use
Oft to repeat, and every repetition
Is a new soule unto mee: 'tis a name
I have taught the birds to caroll, every
(23) 'tis my name '68.
322 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Laurell and Cedar beares it registred 25
Vpon his tender barke; it is a name
In which is all the life I yet have left;
A name I long to speake; yet I had rather
Dye all the severall sorts of death twice over
Then speake it once. 30
Clai. I charge thee by that duty
Thou ow'st to me, Amarillis, that thou owest to me
Who gave thee life.
Pit. What should this mean Corymbusl
Cl. And by the womb that bare thee, by the breasts
Of thy dead mother, Lalage,
Cor. This is strange.
Cla. Conceale him not! in plain, I am thy father 35
Thy father, Amarillis, that commands thee
By these gray haires to tell mee. I am Claius.
Pilum. How, Claius\ and so fortunatly found!
Claius. I, glut your hate, Pilumnus; let your soule
That has so long thirsted to drinke my blood, 4°
Swill till my veines are empty; and carowse
Deep in my heart, till you grow drunke, and reele,
And vomit up the surfet, that your cruelty
Quaft off with so much pleasure; I have stood
Long like a fatall oake, at which great love 45
Levels his thunder; all my boughes long since
Blasted and wither'd ; now the trunke falls too.
Heaven end thy wrath in mee!
Pilum. Blessed be Ceres\
What unexpected happines is here?
Rejoyce Sicilians', miserable lovers, 5°
Crowne all your browes with roses, and adore
The Deity that sent him: he is come
(32) !] ? '68. (49) ?] ! '68. (50) ;] , '68 om. ^ob, '52.
AMYNTAS 323
Whose blood must quench the fire of Ceres wrath,
And kindle more auspitious flames of love
In every brest. 55
Cla. I, doe, I feare not death.
Let every Virgins hand when I am slaine
Ring me a knell of Plaudits: let my Dirges
Be amorous Ditties, and in stead of weeping
Dance at my funerall ! Tis no griefe for mee
To dye to make my countrymen some sport. 60
Here's one in whom I only wish to live
Another age.
Amar. What joy have I to live,
That nere liv'd yet? the time that I have spent
Since first I wept, then, when I first had entrance
Into this world, this cold and sorrowfull world, 65
Was but a scene of sorrow; wretched I!
Fatall to both my parents! For my birth
Ruin'd my mother, and my death my father.
O Tragick life! I either should have been
Nere borne, or nere have died. When I began 7°
To be, my sinne began, why should it then
Out live mee ? for, though now I cease to be,
That still continues: Eyes, flow forth a pace,
And be asham'd to see my wound run blood
Faster then you drop teares 75
Enter Damon.
See, here he comes.
His absence never untill now I wisht.
Dam. My Conscience brings me back, the feet of
guilt
Goe slow and dull, 'tis hard to run away
From that we beare about us!
(63) ?] : '38. (70) ne're '62 (?») Out-live *4Oa, *4ob, '$«.
324 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Cla. The Murtherer
Is it this place, the issue of her blood 80
Is stop'd o'th' sudden. Cruel man, 'tis thou
Hast done this bloudy act, that will disgrace
The story of our nation, and imprint
So deepe a blemish in the age we live in
For savage Barbarisme, that eternity . 85
Shall nere weare out: Pilumnus, on my knees
I beg the justice of Sicilian lawes
Against this monster.
Pilum. Claius, 'tis your hate,
And old revenge instructs you to accuse
My sonne: you would have fellowes in your
death, 90
And to that purpose you pretend, I know not
What mysteries of art!
Cla. Speak Amaryllis
Is't not this wolfe?
Pilum. Say, virgin, was it hee?
Ama. O, I am angry with my blood for stopping!
This coward ebbe against my will betraies mee; 95
The streame is turned, my eyes run faster now.
Pilum. Can you accuse my sonne?
A mar. By Ceres, no;
I have no heart to doe it: does that face
Look cruell? doe those eyes sparkle with hate,
Or malice? Tell me, Father, lookes that brow 100
As if it could but frowne? Say, can you thinke
Tis possible Damon could have the heart
To wound a Virgin? surely barbarous cruelty
Dwels not in such a brest: mercy, and mildnesse,
Courtesy, love, and sweetnesse breath in him, 105
(81) oth' '38. (99) doe] does '52.
AMTNTAS 325
Not Anger, wrath, or murther; Damon was not
Fed at a Thracian teat, Venn* did send
Her Doves to nurse him, and can he be cruell?
Whence should he learne so much of barbarisme
As thus to wrong a Virgin? if he wound mee no
Tis only from his eyes, where loves blind God
Whets his pil'd arrowes; He besides, you know,
Had never cause to wrong mee, for he knowes
Alwaies I lov'd him: Father, doe not wrong
An innocent; his soule is white, and pure, 115
Tis sinne to thinke there lives a sinne in him;
Impiety to accuse him.
Clai. In his lookes
He carries guilt, whose horror breeds this strange
And obstinate silence: shame, and his conscience
Will not permit him to deny it.
Amar. Tis, alas 120
His modest, bashfull nature, and pure innocence,
That makes him silent: think you that bright rose
That buds within his cheekes, was planted there
By guilt or shame? no he has alwaies been
So unacquainted with all act of sinne, 125
That but to be suspected strikes him dumb
With wonder and amazement. For by Ceres
(I think my oath be lawfull) I my selfe
Was cause of this.
Cla. Still I am confident
'Twas hee. 13°
Pilum. It is your envy makes you so.
(125) acts '68.
326 THOMAS RANDOLPH
ScEN. 9.
Alexis. Laurinda.
Lau. I will Alexis,
And so he must if oathes be any tye.
Alex. To lovers they are none, we break those
bonds
As easily as threds of silke: A bracelet
Made of your maidens haire's a stronger chaine 5
Then twenty cobweb oathes, which while we
break
Venus but laughs: it must be your perswasion
That works him to it.
Lau. Damon, you must stand
To what you promis'd, how shall I believe
Those other oathes you sweare, if you respect 10
This one no better? It was my device
To have her judge, was it not, Amaryllis?
How, all in blood!
Cla. Yes, this unmercifull man
(If he be man that can doe such a crime)
Has wounded her. 15
Amar. Indeed it was not hee.
Pil. You see her selfe frees him.
Lau. When last we left her
She was with Damon.
Amar. Pray believe her not,
She speaks it out of anger, I nere saw
Damon to day before.
Alex. And when we left 'em
He was incens'd. ao
(6) J ; *4ob, ff. (II) ?] : '38. (14) be * man '51.
AMTNTAS 327
A mar. You are no competent witnesse;
You are his Rivall in Laurinda's love,
And speak not truth but malice; 'tis a plot
To ruin innocence.
Lau. O ungratefull man!
The wolfe that does devoure the brest that nurst
it
Is not so bad as thou: here, here, this Letter 25
Th' eternall Chronicle of affection,
That ought with golden characters to be writ
In Cupids Annals, will (false man) convince
thee
Of fowle ingratitude: you shall hear me read it.
The Letter.
Laurinda, you have put it unto mee 3°
To choose a husband for you, I will be
A judge impartially upright, just and true,
Yet not so much unto my selfe as you.
Alex. Now I expect to hear my blessed doome.
Lau. Alexis well deserves, but Damon more', 35
/ wish you him I wisbt my selfe before.
Alex. O, I am ruin'd in the height of hope.
How like the hearb Solstitiall is a lover,
Now borne, now dead again, he buds, sprouts
forth,
Flourishes, ripens, withers in a minute. 40
Lau. Take him, the best of men, that ever eye
Beheld, and live with him for whom I dye.
Amarillis.
Here look on't. —
(") ;3 , '38. (*8) Annall '52.
328 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Dam. Writ with blood ? o let me kisse
My bill of Accusation! here my name 45
Lookes like my soule, all crimson, every line,
Word, syllable, and letter, weares the livery
Of my unnaturall action. Amarillis
That name of all is black, which was alone
Worthy so pretious inke; as if disdaining 50
The character of cruelty, which the rest
Were cloath'd in: for as if that word alone
Did weare this morning colour, to bewaile
The funerall of my vertue, that lies buried 54
Here in this living tombe, this moving sepulchre.
Lau. Know murtherer I hate thy bed, and thee,
Unkind, unthankfull villaine.
Ama. Nay, Laurinda,
You have bound your selfe to stand to my award;
The sentence now is past, and you must love him,
It cannot be revers'd; you are deceiv'd, 60
He is not guilty of this sinne, his love
To me for mine, makes him against his conscience
Seeme to confesse it, but believe him not.
Lau. Nor will I, he is all falsehood, and ingratitude.
Da. Laurinda, you may spare in this harsh lan-
guage 65
To utter your dislike: had you a beauty
More than immortall, and a face whose glory
Farre outshind angels, I would make my choyce
Here, and no where but here; her vertue now
Moves a more noble flame within my brest 7°
Then ere your beauty did; I am enamour'd
(47) weare *4ob, were '52 wear '62, '68.
($6) murderer '68 thee] then '52.
(62) To me, '38 To me; '403.
(64) I] om. '38.
AMYNTAS 329
More of her soule, then ever yet I doted
Upon your face: I doe confesse the fact;
Pardon me vertuous maid, for though the action
Be worthy death, the object most condemnes
mee!
Take me to death Corymbus; Amarillis, 76
I goe to write my story of repentance
With the same inke, wherewith thou wrotes
before
The legend of thy love, farewell, farewell.
Exeunt Corymb. Dam.
Pit. Laurinda, and Alexis, doe you call 80
The Sheapheards, and the virgins of Sicilia
To see him sacrific'd, whose death must make
Their loves more fortunate; this day shall be
Happy to all Sicilians, but to mee. 84
Yet come thou cursed Claius, the sweet comfort
Which I shall take when my revenge is done,
Will something ease the sorrow for my sonne.
Clai. Amarillis, prethee call Amyntas to me,
And Thestylis: I fain would have mine eye
Behold them once again before I dye. 9°
Ex. PH. Cla.
Ale. Come my Laurinda, through how many
chances,
Suspicions, errors, sorrowes, doubts, and feares
Love leads us to our pleasures! many stormes
Have we sail'd through my Sweet, but who could
feare
A tempest, that had hope to harbour here? 95
Ex. Alex. Lau.
(78) So '403 : all other editions] wrote.
(93) ID ; '38.
(95) ?] . '38, '40a, '68.
330 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Amarillis sola.
Amar. All, all but the distressed Amarillis
Are happy, or lesse wretched; fair Laurinda
Is ready for a wedding, old Pilumnus
Hath lost a sonne, yet mitigates his griefe
In Claius death, my father Claius dies, 100
Yet joyes to have the sonne of his old enemy
A partner of his sorrowes; my father looses
Only himselfe; and Damon too no more;
Amyntas but a father, onely I
Have lost all these; I have lost Claius, Damon, 105
And my selfe too; A father with Amyntas,
And all the rest in Damon, and which more
Affects mee, I am cause of all; Pilumnus
Had not else lost his sonne, nor had Amyntas
Wept for a Father, nor poore Tbestylis no
Bewail'd a brother; Damon might have liv'd,
And Claius but for mee; all circumstances
Concurre to make my miseries compleat,
And sorrowes perfect: for I lost my father
As soone as I had found him, and my Damon 115
As soone as I had found he lov'd mee: thus
All I can find is losse; o too too wretched,
Distressed virgin! when they both are dead
Visit their Ashes, and first weepe an howre
On Claius Vrne, then go, and spend another 120
At Damons; thence again goe wet the tombe
Of thy dead father, and from thence returne
Back to thy lovers grave; thus spend thy age
In sorrowes; and till death doe end thy cares
Betwixt these two equally share thy teares. 125
Finis Actus quarti.
c
AMTNTAS 331
AcTVS. 5. SCEN. I.
Dory/a/, and a Chorus of Swaines.
Dor. ^^"^Ome neighbours, let's goe see the
sacrifice
Must make you happy lovers: oh
'twill be
A fortunate season! Father Coridon,
You and old mother Baucis shall be friends.
The sheepe-hooke and the distaffe shall shake
hands. 5
You lovely freeze-coats, nothing now but kissing,
Kissing and culling, culling and kissing, heighday!
In hope it will be one day so with mee
I am content to live. Now let's ascend.
SCEN. 2.
Alexis. Laurinda. Medorus.
Alex. Now my Laurinda, now (o happy now!)
All lets that stood between my joy and mee
Are gone and fled.
Lau. Long, o too long, Alexis,
My doubtfull fancy wavered whom to love,
Damon, or you; in both was happinesse, 5
But double happinesse was my single misery:
So far'd it once, Alexis, (for I well
Remember it) with one of my poore ewes,
Equally mov'd between two tufts of grasse,
This tempting one way, that inticing t'other, 10
(i) Oh '40*
332 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Now she would this, then that, then this againe,
Vntill poore foole (true emblem of her mistresse)
Shee almost starv'd in choosing which to feed on;
At last (so heaven pittied the innocent foole)
A westerne gale nipt one, which being blasted 15
Shee fed upon the other.
Ale. Pretty fool! lets now no more deferre our
nuptial joyes.
Med. How sweet a folly is this love! But rash
youth, Alexis,
(As youth is rash) runnes indiscreetly on
While mature judgment ripened by experience 20
Stayes for loves season.
Alex. Season ? why, can love
Be ever out of season ?
Med. Yes, Alexis,
Nothing's borne ripe, all things at first are greene.
Alex. Lau. And such shall our affection still be seene.
Med. You are to hasty reapers that doe call. 25
For Sickles in the spring.
Alex. Loves harvest shall;
(Lovers you know) his harvest ought to bee
All the yeare long.
Lau. In Cupids husbandry,
Who reapes not in the spring, reapes not at all.
Med. Woemen indeed too soone begin their fall. 3°
Yet till curst Claius dye, as now he must,
Alexis, and Laurinda, let my counsell
Asswage the heat of youth; pray be perswaded
(12) Until the poor fool '68.
(17) Pretty fool!] These words of Alexis undoubtedly belong to 1. 16, which
it metrically incomplete, while 1.17 is complete without them.
(18) !] ? '38.
(23) •] , '38.
(26) .] : '38 Loves, '38.
AM TNT AS 333
A little for to deferre your nuptiall blisse;
'Tis but a while. . 35
Alex. A while in lov's an age.
Lau. Maids in a while grow cold.
Med. Temper loves fire.
Alex. 'Tis but cold love that's temperate in desire.
Med. Yet, loving paire, stay 'till a fayrer gale;
He deserves shipwrack, ('tis the Marriners flout)
And justly too, that in a storme sets out. +o
Lau. I will suppresse my flame, (ah still it glowes.)
Alex. And I, but how unwilling Cupid knowes!
Med. Tis well; now let's goe take our place, to see
For our sad griefes a sadder remedy.
(36) Temper love's fire. '6*.
SCEN. 3.
Amyntas. Amarillis.
Amar. — Yes, it was he: hee's in the temple brother,
A place wherein he doth deserve a shrine,
Yet is to him a prison; can you Gods
Suffer the place that's reard unto your honours
Be made so vile a thing? 5
Amyn. Pray give me entrance:
I am not mad, (and yet I would I were)
Am I not mad to wish so? Let me come
And see him, sure you had your selfe a father.
Did you not wish to see him ere he died ?
If he be dead, wee'l only pray a while, 10
And weep; will tears pollute the hallowed Ompha?
For we must shed them, yes, we cannot choose:
(10) dead: '38.
334 THOM4S RANDOLPH
Come sister, he will let us, for though Lalage
Was our sad mother, yet the Gods will let us
Weepe for her: come, come Amarillis, come. 15
Exit.
SCEN. 4.
Mopus. locastus.
locast. Brother, aread, what meanes his graces favour?
Mop. It signifies you bear the bell away,
From all his Graces nobles.
Jo. Divinely Augur'd;
For this I'le make thee Augur to his grace.
Mop. Belwether of Knight-hood, you shall bind me
to you. 5
lo. I'le have't no more a sheep-bell; I am Knight
Of the Mdlisonant Tingletangle.
Mop. Sure one of my progeny; tell me gratious
brother,
Was this Mdlisonant Tingle tangle none
Of old Actions hounds? 10
lo. Ignorant mortall !
Thou dost not understand the termes of honour.
Mop. How should I sir, my trees bear no such
apples:
lo. As mine, th' Hesperian fruit are crabbs to
mine,
Hence came the Knight-hood, hence.
(i) aread,] read, '68. (3) ;3 ! '4ob, ff. (10) !] . '38.
(12) How should I sir? my trees bearcs no such apples. *4ob, ff.
beares] bear '68.
(14-16) These lines should probably be arranged as follows
Hence came the Knight-hood, hence.
Mop. The fame whereof
Rings loud.
lo. We know it.
Mop. Foure such knight-hoods more
AMY NT AS 335
Mop. The fame whereof rings loud. 15
Io. We know it.
Mop. Foure such knight-hoods more
Would make an excellent peale.
Io. Tie have 'em so.
Mop. But you must get a squirell too.
Io. For what?
Mop. To ring your Knight-hoods.
Io. I'le have any thing,
His grace will not deny me, o sweet orchard.
Mop. To see the fruit that came of such an orchard!
Io. But shall we not see Claius sacrific'd?
Mop. Oh by all meanes.
Io. But how deserv'd he death ?
Mop. No matter for deserving it or no;
Tis fit he suffer for example sake.
Io. And not offend ?
Mop. Tis fit he should offend.
They take their places.
(to) ,] . '68 .] ! Uob, ff.
SCEN. 5.
Pilumnus with a sacrificing knife, fire laid on the
Altar, a Priest holding a Taper ready to kindle it,
another Priest powring water on Claius head, who
was bound: Corymbus leading out Damon bound.
Pil. Sicilians, Nature and religion
Are at contention in mee: my sad soule
Divided 'twixt my Goddesse and my sonne,
Would in her strange distractions, either have mee
336 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Turne Parricide or Apostate: Awefull Ceres, 3
For whom I feed the fattest of my Lambs,
To whom I send the holiest of my prayers
Vpon the smoaky wings of sweetest myrrhe,
Instruct thy doubtful Flamenl As I cannot
Forget I am thy priest: for sooner shall 10
Our Lambs forget to feed, our swaines to sing,
Our Bees forget first, from the fruitfull Thyme
To cull them baggs of Nectar: every thing
Forget his nature, ere I can forget
I am thy Priest: Nor can I but remember 15
That Damon is my sonne: yet take him Ceres!
You need not powre water upon his head,
Fie doe it with my teares. Ceres, I hope
Thy anger will not bind the Fathers eye
To look into the Bowels of his sonne, 20
I'le therefore first spill on thy hallowed Altar
This Captives blood; and then retire my selfe
Not to be present at my Damons death,
Least nature might turne Rebell to devotion.
Song.
Ceres, to whom we owe that yet 25
We doe not Mast and Acornes eat:
That didst provide us better meat,
The purest flower of finest wheat.
This bloud we spill at thy desire
To kindle and to quench a fire. 30
0 let it quench thy flame of ire,
And kindle mercies more entire.
(9) A»] as '4ob, '52. (30) a ire. '38 an ire. '40*.
(19) blind '68. (31) ire^fire, '38, '40*.
AMYNTAS 337
0 let this guilty bloud atone
For every poore unlucky one;
Nymph, or Swain, who ere doe grone 35
Vnder sad Loves imperious throne.
That Love a happier age may see
In thy long torturd Sicily.
That blood which must tV Attonement bee
Thus Goddesse, thus, we pay to thee\ 40
Amyntas. Amarillis.
Amy. Stay, stay that impious hand, whose hasty
zeale
Thinks murther can appease the Goddesse wrath!
If it be murther must appease her wrath,
What is't can move her anger? Doe not then,
Doe not pollute her Altar, least it keep 45
The crimsod staine of bloud, and blush for ever,
At this too cruell, ignorant devotion.
Pil. Avoid the mad man.
Amyn. Why Pilumnus, Why?
By the dread Ompha, spare this guilty blood,
And I'le expound the Oracle. 50
What fire has yet his bloud or quench't or kindled ?
Pil. Why it hath quench't the sadder flames of
love,
And more auspitious fires begin to move.
Amyn. Where? in what brest? No love in all Trinacria
But under Cupids scepter faints and groanes 55
More now then ever. Thy unfortunate Damon,
And more unfortunate Amarillis stand
A sad example; Thy Vrania
(33) at one '4ob, '52. (51) Amyn. What fire hat
(42) murder '4Ob, ff. (54) Where in? in what '68.
(43) murder '52, ff.
338 THOMAS RANDOLPH
(O sad sweet name!) may with her poore Amintas
Witnesse his tyrannous reigne: here in Sicilia 60
Turtles grow jealous, Doves are turn'd unchast,
The very Pellicans of Trinacrean woods
Are found unnaturall, and thirst the bloud
Of their young brood, (alas who can believe it?)
Whom they were wont to suckle with their own. 65
O wretched season ! Bitter fruits of love !
The very Storks with us are Parricides.
Nay even the senselesse trees are sensible
Of this imperious rage: the gentle Vine
(The happy embleme once of happier Lovers) 70
That with such amorous twines and close imbraces
Did cling about the loved-loving elme,
With slacker branches now falls down and withers:
If then to adde more fuell to the flame,
To powre in oyle and sulphure be to quench it, 75
The flame is quench'd. Nor are you hee, Pi-
lumnus,
That must expound the Oracle, 'Tis a witt
Such as mine is neglected, that must hit
The Goddesse meaning: you, the living Oracle 79
Of Sicilify the breathing Ompba of the Kingdome
Will misconceive the Goddesse; you are wise
Skil'd in the vertues of all herbs, and flowers,
What makes our Ewes can best, what keeps them
sound;
Can tell us all the mysteries of heaven,
The number, height, and motion of the starres; 85
Tis a mad brain, an intellect you scorne
That must unty this riddle.
(60) Witnesse his tyrannous reigne here in Sicilia. '406, ff.
(83) can] can *4Ob, '52 them] the '38. ;] ? '52.
(86) an] and '68 intellect, '38. (87) unite Uob, 'ja.
AMYNTAS 339
Pil. But I know
The wrath of Ceres cannot be appeas'd
But by the bloud of Claius.
Amy. So it is.
Pil. How can that bee? yet his accursed gore 90
Hath not imbru'd the Altar.
Amyn. But his bloud
Hath been already shed in Amarillis:
Shee is his bloud, so is Vrania yours,
And Damon is your bloud; That is the bloud
The Goddesse aimes at, that must still her ire, 95
For her bloud hath both quench't and kindled
fire.
Pil. What hath it quencht or kindled ?
Amyn. Love, the fire
That must be quench't and kindled. Damons
love
To his Laurinda in that bloud extinguish'd,
Is by that powerfull bloud kindled anew 100
To Amarillis, now grown his desire:
Thus Claius bloud hath quench't and kindled fire.
All. Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas.
Pil. And is the fire of my Damon kindled
But to be quench't againe: Ceresl a frost 105
Dwell on thy Altars, ere my zeale renew
Religious fires to warme 'em.
Amyn. Spare these blasphemies,
For Damon is acquitted & assoil'd
Of any trespasse.
Pil. How Amyntas? speake!
Thou that hast sav'd a Father, save a sonne. no
(98) must] nrnst '38.
(105) :] ! '68 !] , '61, '68.
340 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Amyn. Thus, Amarillis is the Sacrifice
The Goddesse aim'd at: and the bloud of Sacrifice
(As you all know) may lawfully be spilt
Even in the Holy vale, and so it was;
Besides your Damon is a Priest by birth, 115
And therefore by that Title, he may spill
The sacrifized Amarillis bloud.
If this interpretation be not true,
Speak you Sicilians, Fie be judg'd by you.
All. Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas. 120
Pil. Amyntas, thou hast now made full amends
For my Pbilfbus death; Claius all envy,
Envy the viper of a venemous soule
Shall quit my brest: This is the man, Sicilians,
The man to whom you owe your liberties; 125
Goe Virgins, and with Roses strow his way,
Crowne him with violets, and lilly wreathes;
Cut off your golden tresses, and from them
Weave him a robe of love: Damon, pay here
The debt of duty that thou ow'st to mee; 130
Hence was thy second birth.
Da. Or hither rather:
The Balsame of Sicilia flowed from hence,
Hence from this scarlet torrent, whose each drop
Might ransome Cupid were he captive tane.
Amaril. How much owe I my Damon, whose blest
hand i3S
Made mee the publique sacrifice! could I shed
As many drops of blood, even from the heart
As Arethusa drops of water can,
I would outvie her at the fullest tide,
That other Virgins loues might happy be, 14°
And mine my Damon be as blest in thee.
(ill),]: '62 ; '68. (118) sacrificed '403, ff.
AMYNTAS 341
Clai. O what a showre of joy falls from mine eyesl
The now too fortunate Claiusl my Amyntas,
My Amarillis, how shall I divide
My teares and joyes betwixt you! 145
Pil. Lovers come,
Come all with flowry chaplets on your browes,
And singing Hymmes to Ceres, walk around
This happy village; to expresse our glee
This day each yeare shall Cupids triumphs bee.
Amyn. Still my impossible Dowry for Frania 150
Leaves mee unfortunate in the mid'st of joy;
Yet out of piety I will heere a while
(Though blest I am not 'till she be my bride)
In publique joyes lay private griefes aside. 154
Exeunt cum Cboro cantantium.
Io. And Fie goe fetch the youngsters of the
towne,
The mortall Fairies, and the lasses browne,
To bring spic'd cakes, and ale, to dance and play,
Queen Mob her selfe shall keepe it holy-day. Exit.
Mop. Ah Dorilas that I could not have the wit
To have been a mad man rather then a foole. 160
I have lost the credit.
Dor. Tis no matter
You shall have Thestylis.
Mop. Shall I, Dorylast
I had as live interpret her as Oracles.
Dor. And here she comes, give me your quail pipe,
harke you. Exit.
Enter Thestylis.
(148) ;] , '403, ff. (160) mad-man '68.
(*i$4) constantium '52. (i6a) .] , '38.
dS7) Play- '68.
342 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Mop. Now, Thestylis, thou shalt mine Oracle
bee, 165
Hence forth I will interpret none but thee.
Thes. Why haue the birds (my Mopsus) councel'd
so?
Mop. They say I must, whether you will or noe.
Thes. How know I that?
Mop. The birds doe speak it plain.
Dorilas with a quaile pipe.
Harke, Tbestylis, the birds say so again. 170
Thes. I understand them not.
Mop. Will you be judg'd
By th' next we meet?
Thes. Mopsus, I am content,
So you will stand unto it as well as I.
Mop. By Ceres, Tbestylis, most willingly.
Enter Dorylas.
Mop. Ah Dorilus, heard you what the birds did
say? 175
Dor. I Mopsus, you are a happy man to day.
Mop. What said they boy?
Dor. As if you did not know.
Mop. But Thestylis.
Dor. Why sure she understands it,
Have you to her this language never read?
Mop. No, Dorylas, I can teach her best in bed. 180
Dor. The Birds said twice: (as you full well doe
know)
You must have Tbestylis whether she will or no.
(167) counsel'd '4°b>, ff.
('169) This stage direction is in the margin opposite 11. 169-170 in the old
editions.
(177) Dor.] Mop. '62.
AMYNTAS 343
Tbfs. And am I caught ? Tis no great matter though;
For this time Mopsus I will marry thee;
The next I wed, by Pan, shall wiser bee! 185
Mop. And have I got thee? thankes my witty boy.
Do. Harke, Tbestylis, the birds doe bid you joy.
Thes. For fooling Mopsus, now 'tis time give ore.
Mop. Mad man I may, but will be foole no more.
Thes. Mad after marriage as a foole before. 190
For hee's a foole that weds, all wives being bad;
And shee's a foole makes not her husband mad.
(188) ,] ; '62, '68.
SCEN. 6.
locastus with a Morrice, bimselfe maid
Marrian, Bromius the Clowne.
Dor. See, Mopsus, see, here comes your Fairy
brother,
Hark you, for one good turne deserves another.
Exeunt Dor. Mop.
locast. I did not think there had been such delight
In any mortall Morrice, they doe caper
Like quarter Fairies at the least: by my Knight-
hood, 5
And by this sweet Mellisonant Tingle tangle,
The ensigne of my glory, you shall bee
Of Oberons Revels.
Bro. What to doe I pray?
To dance away your Apples?
(7) of] or '52.
(9) your] our ',+ob, ff. ?] . '38.
344 THOMAS RANDOLPH
locas. Surely mortall,
Thou art not fit for any office there. 10
Enter Dory las like the King of Fairies. Mopsus.
lo. See, blind mortall, see,
With what a port, what grace, what majesty
This princely Oberon comes, your Grace is welcome.
Do. A beauteous Lady, bright and rare,
Queen Mab her selfe is not so faire. 15
lo. Does your grace take me for a woman then?
Do. Yes beauteous virgin; Thy each part
Has shot an arrow through my heart;
Thy blazing eye, thy lip so thinne,
Thy azure cheek, & christall chinne, 20
Thy rainbow brow, with many a rose;
Thy saphyre eares, and ruby nose,
All wound my soule, O gentle be
Or Lady you will ruin mee. 24
lo. Bromius, what shall I doe? I am no woman!
If geelding of me will preserve your grace,
With all my heart.
Bro. No master, let him rather
Steale away all your orchard Apples.
lo. I and shall,
Beauteous Queen Mab may loose her longing else.
Do. How's this ? are you no woman then ? 30
Can such bright beauty live with men ?
lo. An't please your grace, I am your Knight
locastus.
Do. Indeed I thought no man but hee
Could of such perfect beauty bee.
lo. Cannot your Grace distill me to a woman? 35
(28) I, and he shall, '62, '68.
(35) G • '38, Uoa, *4ob.
AMTNTAS 345
Do. I have an hearb, they Moly call,
Can change thy shape (my sweet) and shall.
To tast this Moly but agree,
And thou shalt perfect woman bee.
lo. With all my heart; nere let me move 40
But I am up to th' eares in love.
But what if I doe marry thee?
Do. My Queene locasta thou shalt bee:
lo. Sweet Moly I pray let Bromius have some
Moly too,
Hee'l make a very pretty waiting maid. 45
Bro. No indeed forsooth, you have Ladies enough
already.
Do. Halfe your estate then give to mee,
Else, you being gone, there none will be,
Whose Orchard I dare here frequent.
lo. Sweet Oberon, I am content. 50
Do. The other halfe let Mopsus take.
lo. And Tbestylis a joynture make.
Bro. Why master, are you mad ?
lo. Your mistresse sirrah.
Our grace has said it, and it shall be so.
Bro. What, will you give away all your estate? 55
lo. We have enough beside in Fairy land.
You Thestylis shall be our maid of honour.
Tbes. I humbly thank your Grace.
lo. Come Princely Oberon,
I long to tast this Moly : pray bestow 59
The Knight-hood of the Mettisonant Tingle tangle,
Vpon our brother Mopsus, we will raise
All of our house to honours.
(37) Can] C an. '38. (47) A>.] lo. '52. (62) honour '6a, '68.
(41) the cares "4Ob, '52. (55) away] em. '62, '68.
346 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Mop. Gracious sister!
Jo. I alwaies thought I was borne to be a Queene.
Do. Come let us walke, majestique Queene,
Of Fairy mortalls to be scene. 65
In chaires of Pearle thou plac't shalt bee,
And Empresses shall envy thee,
When they behold upon our throne
locasta with her Dorilas.
All. Ha, ha, ha! 7°
lo. Am I deceiv'd and cheated, guld and fool'd?
Mop. Alas sir you were borne to be a Queene.
lo. My lands, my livings, and my orchard gone?
Dor. Your grace hath said it, and it must be so.
Bro. You have enough beside in Fairyland. 75
Tbes. What would your Grace command your maid
of honour?
Dor. Well I restore your lands: only the orchard
I will reserve for fear Queen Mob should long.
Mop. Part I'le restore unto my liberall sister
In leiw of my great Knighthood. 80
Thes. Part give I.
lo. I am beholding to your liberality.
Bro. I'le some thing give as well as doe the rest,
Take my fooles coat, for you deserve it best.
lo. I shall grow wiser.
Dor. Oberon will be glad on't.
Thfs. I must goe call Vrania that she may 85
Come vow Virginity. Exit.
(77) orchar'd '38.
(84) on't '38.
AMTNTAS 347
SCEN. 7.
Pilumnus. Amyntas. l3c.
Amyn. Ceres, I doe thank thee,
That I am author of this publique joy:
But is it justice (Goddesse) I alone
Should have no share in't? Every one I see
Is happy but my selfe that made 'em so, 5
And my Vrania that should most be so.
I thirst amid the Bowles; when others sit
Quaffing off Nectar, I but hold the cup;
And stand a sadder tantalus of love,
Starving in all this plenty; Cere's Demand 10
Feeds me with gall; stretching my doubtfull
thoughts
On many thousand racks: I would my Dowry
Was all the gold of Tagus, or the ore
Of bright Pactolus channell: But, Vrania,
Tis hid, alas I know not what it is. 15
SCEN. 8.
Vrania. Tbestylis.
My Thestylisy since first the Sea-gods Trident
Did rule the small three pointed peece of earth
Of this our conquering soile, it has not been
A place of so much story as to day,
So full of wonders: O 'twill serve (my Tbestylis) 5
For our discourse when we goe fold our Ewes,
Those Sheapheards that another day shall keep
(l) This line not indented in '38, '401, '4°t>, '52.
(6) fol'd '38.
348 THOMAS RANDOLPH
Their Kiddes upon these mountaines shall for ever
Relate the miracle to their wondring Nymphs,
Of my Vrania\ it will fill their eares 10
With admiration.
Thfs. Sir, Vrania s here.
Amyn. How! is this habit! This me thinks befits not
A Lover, my Vrania.
Vra. Yes, Amyntas.
This habit well befits a Virgins life.
For since my Dowry never can be paid 15
Thus for thy sake Fie live and dye a maid.
Amyn. O is it just, so faire a one as you
Should vow Virginity ? must the sacred womb
Of my Vrania fit to have brought forth
A fruitfull race of Gods, be ever barren? 20
Never expect Lucina? shall this beauty
Live but one age? how curs'd is our posterity
That shall have no Vrania s\ can one Tombe
Contain all goodnesse? Ceres rather blast
The corne thou gav'st us: let the earth grow
barren; 25
These trees, and flowers wither eternally;
Let our Plowes toyle in vaine, and let there be
No more a harvest: Every losse is small,
Yea though the Pbcenix selfe should burne to
ashes
And nere revive again! But let there be 30
Some more Vrania' s
Pilum. 'Tis necessity,
We must obey.
Amyn. But yet Vrania,
I hope we may sometimes come pray together;
(22) curs'd is] curs' d's Uob, '52.
AMTNTAS 349
Tis not prophane, and mid'st our sacred Ori-
sons 35
Change a chast kisse or two; or shall I too
Turne Virgin with thee? But I foole my selfe,
The Gods intend to crosse us, and in vaine
We strive (Vrania) to crosse them again.
Vrania kneeling before the Ompba.
Fran. Great Ceres, for thy daughter Proserpine*
sake 40
Ravisht by Pluto from Sicilian plaines
To raigne with him Queen of Elysian shades,
Accept the sacrifice of a Virgin, for
It is thy Pleasure, thine, by whom the earth
And every thing growes fruitfull, to have mee 45
Be ever barren: Thy impossible Dowry,
Makes me despaire to be Amyntas bride;
Therefore that cold chast snow that never should
Have melted but betwixt his amorous armes
I vow unto thy Cloyster (Awfull Goddesse!) 50
Almighty Ceres, is not this life holy?
Echo. Folly.
Better then live in an unhappy love?
EC. Happy love.
Be judge ye woods, & let Amyntas speak.
EC. Amyntas, speak.
Pil. The Goddesse is well pleas'd, she daines to
answer
By gracious Echo's; goe Amyntas speak. 55
Amyn. Why, will she answer mee before Frania?
No, 'twas the musique of her Angels voice,
Whose heavenly Accents with such charming notes
Ravish'd the Goddesse eares, she could not choose
(51) ?]o«. '38.
350 THOMAS RANDOLPH
But bear a part in that harmonious song; 60
Yet if she will after such melody
Endure to hear the harsh Amyntas speak.
EC. Amyntas, speak.
When wilt thou think my torments are enow?
EC. Now.
Alas, how is it possible I should hope it?
Echo. Hope it.
How shall I pay the Dowry that you aske mee? 65
Echo. Aske mee.
I aske a Dowry to be made a Husband.
Echo. A Husband.
Answer directly to what I said last.
Echo. What I said last.
A Husband, Ceres? Why is that the guesse?
EC. Yes.
That which I have not, may not, cannot have,
I have not, may not, cannot have a Husband. 70
Tis true, I am a man, nor would I change
My sexe, to be the Empresse of the world.
Vrania, take thy Dowry, 'tis my selfe;
A Husband, take it.
Fran. Tis the richest Dowry
That ere my most ambitious praiers could beg! 75
But I will bring a portion, my Amyntas,
Shall equall it, if it can equall'd bee:
That which I have not, may not, cannot have
Shall be thy portion, 'tis a wife, Amyntas.
Amyn. Should greater Queenes wooe mee in all their
Pride, 80
And in their laps bring me the wealth of worlds,
I should prefer this portion 'fore the best:
(79) .] om. '38. (82) 'fore] for '4ob, ff.
AMYNTAS 351
Thankes Ceres, that hast made us both be blest.
Echo. Be blest.
Clai. Pilumnus, let us now grow young againe,
And like two trees robb'd of their leafy boughes 85
By winter, age, and Boreas keener breath,
Sprout forth and bud again: This spring of joy
Cuts forty yeares away from the gray summe.
Once more in triumph let us walke the Village 1
Pilum. But first I will intreat this company 90
To deigne to take part in this publique joy.
Pilumnus Epilogizes.
All Loves are happy, none with us there bee,
Now sick of coynesse, or unconstancy.
The wealthy summes of Kisses doe amount
To greater scores then curious art can count!
Each eye is fix'd upon his Mistris face, 5
And every arme is lock't in some embrace.
Each cheeke is dimpled; every lip doth smile:
Such happinesse I wish this blessed Isle,
This little world of Lovers: and least you
Should think this bliss e no reall joyes, nor true, 10
Would every Lady in this orbe might see
Their Loves as happy as we say they be!
And for you gentle youths, whose tender hearts
Are not shot proof e 'gainst love and Cupids darts;
These are my Prayrs, (I would those prayrs were
charmes} IS
That each had here his Mistrisse in his armes.
True Lovers, (for tis truth gives love delight)
To you our Author only means to write.
(18) Authort '38 wright '38.
352 THOMAS RANDOLPH
If he have pleas' d (as yet he doubtfull stands}
For his applause clap lips instead of Hands. 20
He beggs nor Bayes, nor Ivy; only this,
Seale his wisht Plaudite with an amorous Kisse.
Exeunt Cantantes.
FINIS.
NOTES
NOTES
ON THE INTRODUCTORY POEMS
ROBERT RANDOLPH. The brother of the poet. See p. 27.
I. T. A. M. Probably this is Jerameel Terrent, M.A., who was a
graduate of Westminster School and of Christ Church, Oxford.
He was well known as a tutor at Oxford and later became rector
of Clewer, Berkshire.
THO. TERRENT. He also was a graduate of Westminster School and
of Christ Church, and served as curate of Bensington. He
contributed to a number of collections of Oxford poems.
R. BRIDE-OAKE. Ralph Bridecake (1613-1678), a graduate of Brase-
nose College, Oxford. In 1634 he was made Prochaplain of New
College, and was afterward Bishop of Chichester and Master
of the Manchester Free Grammar School.
ED. GAYTON. Edmund Gaytoun or Gayton, one of the "Sons of
Ben." He was a fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge, and,
according to Wood, was the author of a number of works "some
good, others most vain and trashy things."
G. W. Joan. Apparently George Wilde (i6io-:665), a graduate of
St. John's College, Oxford, where he became a fellow in 1631;
in 1635 he was incorporated at Cambridge. He was considered
a wit in his younger days, and it was his play which was acted
before the royal party in the College Hall in 1636. He was
chaplain to Archbishop Laud, and after the Restoration became
Bishop of Derry.
los. HOWE. Josias Howe, a graduate and fellow of Trinity College,
Oxford. Wood says that he has "several copies of verses that
are extant in various books which shew him to have been a good
poet."
OWEN FELTHAM. (i6o2?-i668), best known for his Resolves, a series
of moral essays. See p. 359.
R. GOSTELOW. Richard Gostelow, who was graduated B.A. from
Corpus Christi, Oxford, in 1631 (as Gorstelow) and M.A. in 1634.
355
356 NOTES
When he in Cambridge Scbooles did moderate,
The Moderator was the person chosen to preside over the
"disputations" or exercises in the University Schools required
of all candidates for degrees.
Ric. WEST. This Richard West was not, according to our present
terminology, the " brother-in-law" of the poet; he was the son of
Randolph's step-mother and her first husband, Thomas West, of
Cotton End. See p. 5.
NOTES ON THE POEMS
p. 73. IN ANGUEM, QUI LYCORIN DORMIENTEM AMPLEXUS EST.
In the original editions this poem is preceded by a Latin
version which bears this title, while the English one is headed
simply Englished thus 11apa<j>p<T(TTu<&s.
p. 78, /. 13. A third speaks raptures, and hath gaind a wit
By praising Cezlia,
This is apparently a reference to the poems of Carew, which
were not, however, published until 1640.
p. 84. A GRATULATORY TO Mr BEN JOHNSON.
See the story of Randolph's "adoption" given in the intro-
duction, p. 12, and his own account given on p. 84. Baker
tells us (Biog. Dram. 2, 590) that Jonson " admitted him as one
of his adopted Sons in the Muses, and held him in equal Esteem
with the ingenious Mr. Cartwright."
p. 86 /. 57. To cure thy Palsie;
Jonson, according to his own statement, was first stricken
with the palsy in the year 1628.
IN LESBIAM, & HISTRIONEM.
p. 87, /. 12. more then a treble share.
At this time the actors did not have regular salaries, but each
received, in accordance with his abilities, a certain proportion
of the profits.
p. 87, //. 25-26. can to Brackly goe,
To Lincolne Race, and to New-Market too;
Newmarket in Suffolk has long been famous for its horse-
races; formerly they were held also at Brackley in Northamp-
NOTES 357
tonshire. "Lincoln Race" is perhaps that held at Stamford in
Lincolnshire.
p. 87, /. 34. Maw, Gleeke and Primero.
Card games popular at about this period,
p. 88, /. 52. Mezentius bloody cruelty.
This is described by Vergil, JEmid, VIII, 485.
p. 97. AN ELEGIE UPON THE LADY VENETIA DIGBY.
Lady Digby was the wife of Sir Kenelm Digby, and the
daughter of Sir Edward Stanley. She died suddenly on May i,
1633, which fixes fairly closely the date of the composition of
this poem.
p. 99. AN EPITAPH UPON M™ I. T.
Mistress I. T. was in all probability the wife of thel.T., A.M.,
who was the author of one of the prefatory poems. The latter
person seems to have been Jerameel Terrent (see p. 355).
p. 102. AN EPITAPH UPON HIS HONOUR'D FRIEND Mr WARRE.
This is apparently the "much lamented Mr. J. Warr," re-
ferred to also as "John Weare Councellour" by Herrick in his
Hespe rides. He took his B.A. degree from Exeter College, Oxford,
in 1621-22, and his M.A. in 1624. In 1627 he was a student of
Gray's Inn, being registered as the son and heire of Edward
Warre, of Chipley in Somerset, Esq., but I find no record of him
after that date. Accounts differ as to his age, but he was born
some time between 1601 and 1605.
p. 103. VPON THE LOSSE OF HIS LITTLE FINGER.
The circumstances attending the composition of this poem
are given in the Introduction, p. 18. In MS. Malone 14, in the
Bodleian, there is a reply to this by some unknown author who
quotes the expression "pulchrum est monstrari digito," which
was used by Randolph in his Oratio Pravaricatoria. As this
speech was delivered at the Cambridge Commencement in June,
1632, it is probable that the incident took place after that time.
In MS. Ashmole 38 there is a poem headed "Mr. Thomas
Randall the Poett, his finger being cut of by a Riotous Gentle-
man, his frinde Mr William Hemminge made this Elegie on the
same." This describes, in mock heroic style, the burial of the
finger, which was attended by all the chief poets of the time.
NOTES
p. 104. ON THE PASSION OF CHRIST.
In MS. Egerton 2725, which contains this poem, it is preceded
by the following Latin version.
In diem passionis.
Quid templum abscindit? quo luxque diesque recessit?
An potuit tenebras totus Apollo habi?
Astrologi dubitatec, fides ait; Haud ita minim
Natura malo si sit, morientec Deo.
In A collection of Select Epigrams, published in 1757 by John
Hackett, there is another version of this poem, which may pos-
sibly be the original one, but is more probably not authentic
(Epigram clxii).
The Temple's Veil is rent, the Day is gone;
A sudden gen'ral Darkness hides the Sun:
Why Nature thus shou'd deviate from her Laws,
Philosophers amaz'd explore the Cause.
Give o'er weak Men; in vain your Skill ye try;
Nature must needs be sick, when God can die.
p. 104. NECESSARY OBSERVATIONS.
These "Observations" were most probably school exercises
of the young poet. See p. 8.
p. 113. A PLATONICK ELEGIE.
This poem belongs, apparently, to the last year of Randolph's
life. James Howell, writing on June 3, 1634, says: "The court
affords little news at present, but that there is a love called
platonic love, which much sways there of late . . . This love
sets the wits of the town on work; and they say there will be
a masque shortly of it."
p. 115. AN APOLOGIE FOR HIS FALSE PREDICTION, etc.
This "Aunt Lane" was some relative of Randolph's step-
mother, probably the wife of Sir Richard Lane. See p. 5.
Mdfm fipurros 8$ rls fiK&fei xaXtos.
This saying (in the form M&JTIS &' fipwpos 5or« eucdf« xaXws)
is credited by Plutarch to Euripides, but it is not in any of
his extant works.
p. IIJ, /. 6. Doctor Lambe.
Dr. John Lambe, who was accused of practicing the Black
Art, was beaten to death by a London street mob in June, 1628.
NOTES 359
p. 115, /. 8. Madam Davers
Eleanor Touchet, wife of Sir John Davies, was the author of
several fanatical books on prophecy. She gained notice through
being popularly supposed to have predicted the death of William
Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, in 1630.
p. 116, /. 35. Albumazar
The Arabic astrologer Abu-Maaschar (805-885)
p. 1 1 6, /. 36. Erra-Pater
"A Jew, born in Jewry, Doctor of Astronomy and Phywck,"
according to the title-page of his book of prophecy. The name
was sometimes applied to William Lilly, the astrologer,
p. 1 1 6, /. 38. Sbepbeards Calender.
For this work see the note on p. 364.
p. 117, /. 55. Levinus
Lovinus Lemnius, a Dutch physician of the Sixteenth Century
the author of a number of books. He was a native of Zierikse
on the island of Schouwen in Zeeland.
p. 119. AN EPITHALAMIUM TO Mr F. H.
The references in this poem to Ninus (the Nene), and Weston
make it clear that the parties concerned lived in the neighbor-
hood of Northampton. At this time there were Wards living at
Little Houghton, the home of Randolph's father, and there were
Harveys at Weston Favell not far away. (See the 1619 Visi-
tation of Northamptonshire, pp. 151 & 99.) In this latter family
there were several Francis Harveys, and it is very probably
one of these, the father of the bride, who is the "F.H." and the
"Frank" addressed here. It is interesting, though not par-
ticularly significant, that Mary Harvey of this family married
Lewis Atterbury of Great Houghton, and that the poet's brother
William afterwards married their daughter.
p. 121, /. 87. be that awed the seas,
"Captain" (John?) Ward, who flourished 1601-1615, wa§ a
notorious pirate.
p. 123. To Mr FELTHAM ON HIS BOOKE OF RESOLVES.
These Resolves, a series of moral essays, appeared first in
1620 (?), and a Seconde Centurie in 1628. These two parts went
through a number of editions, but in none of them that I have
seen are Randolph's verses printed.
360 NOTES
p. 124, /. 30. So Lesbians by their worke their rules doe frame,
Aristotle (Nic. Eth. 5, 10) says, "Of a Lesbian building the
rule is leaden, since the rule is bent conformable to the figure of
the stone, and does not remain the same."
p. 128. IN NATALEM AUGUSTISSIMI PRINCIPIS CAROLI.
In the original editions this poem is preceded by four lines in
Latin of which this is but a paraphrase.
On May 13, 1629, Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I, gave
birth prematurely to her first child, a boy, who died in two
hours. Her next child, afterwards Charles II, was born on May
29, 1630.
p. 129. AN ODE TO Mr ANTHONY STAFFORD TO HASTEN HIM INTO THE
COUNTRY.
Anthony Stafford (1587-1645), "descended from those of
that name living in Blatherwyck," was a good scholar, "well
read in antient history, poets and other authors," and was also
the author of a number of books.
p. 129, /. 16. Punie of the Innes of Court.
A recently admitted student or freshman at the law schools.
p. IJI, /. 76. noble Barkley
George Berkeley, eighth Baron Berkeley (1601-1658), to
whom Stafford dedicated his Guide of Honour.
p. 132. AN ANSWER TO Mr BEN IOHNSON'S ODE, etc.
On Jan. 19, 1628-9, Jonson's play The New Inne was acted at
the Blackfriars Theater and was a hopeless failure. Two years
later Jonson printed it together with his Ode to Himself, which
had apparently been written soon after the failure. (See Ten-
nant's edition of the New Inne.) The Ode inspired a number
of answers besides this one of Randolph's.
In the Crewe of Kind London Gossips, 1663, we find "Ben
Johnson's Discontented Soliliqui upon the sinister censure of
his play, called the New Inn, Translated into Latin, and Answered
Verse for Verse by THOMAS RANDALL," and the same thing occurs
in several of the MSS. in which this poem appears.
P- I33» I' 34- what Broome swept from thee.
Tennant has shown that Jonson's original version probably
read "Brome's sweepings," and that this was changed before
publication. Brome, who had been Jonson's servant, produced
his Love-sick Maid three weeks after the failure of the Newe Inne,
and it proved a great success.
NOTES 361
p. 133, /. 49. the Palsie
See note on p. 356.
p. 140. To THE VERTUOUS AND NOBLE LADY, THE LADY COTTON.
This poem was first printed in the Parentalia (see Bibliog-
raphy, Sec. 3.) in 1635, and was afterwards included in the
collected editions of the poems.
Lady Cotton, the wife of Sir Rowland Cotton, was Jocosa,
daughter and coheiress of Richard Welsh (or Walsh) of Shal-
desley in the county of Warwick (1623 Visitation of Shropshire,
p. 155). Kottas thinks that the poem is addressed to the wife of
Sir Robert Cotton.
p. 140. AN ELEGIE ON THE DEATH OF ... SIR ROWLAND COTTON,
etc.
First printed in the Parentalia in 1635. Sir Rowland was
Sheriff of Shropshire in 1617, according to Fuller, which identi-
fies him as the Rowland Cotton of Alkington, who appears in
the 1623 Shropshire Visitation (p. 155). The date of his
death is not given, but it appears from Wm. Strode's poem in
the Parentalia that it took place after the death of Sir Robert,
that is after 1631; it was probably not long before the publica-
tion of the Parentalia.
Fuller says of Sir Rowland, "Incredible are the most true
relations, which many eye-witnesses, still alive, do make of the
valour and Activity of this most accomplished Knight. So
strong as if he had been nothing but bones: so nimble as if he
had been nothing but sinewes."
p. 141, /. 15. Royall Henry,
Henry Frederick (1594-1612), Prince of Wales, oldest son of
James I.
p. 144. AUSONII EPIGRAM 38.
In all the editions of Ausonius which I have seen this epigram
is No. 39.
p. 145. VPON THE REPORT OF THE KlNG OF SwEDENS DEATH.
Gustavus Adolphus was slain in the battle of Lutzen on
Nov. 6, 1632. James Howell writes to his brother in the follow-
ing month: "One Jerbire, who says that he was at the very
action brought the first news to this town, and every corner
rings of it; yet such is the extravagance of some, that they will
lay wagers he is not yet dead, and the Exchange is full of such
people."
362 NOTES
p. 146, /. 14. a great and a more holy warre
One of Gustavus's reasons for attempting to "pull down"
the Holy Roman Empire was that he wished to secure relief
for his fellow-Protestants who were oppressed by it.
p. 147. ON Sr ROBERT COTTON, THE ANTIQUARY.
This is Sir Robert Bruce Cotton, whose libary at Cotton
House was a meeting-place for all the scholars of the coun-
try. Ben Jonson was intimate with him and often visited him.
Cotton died on May 6, 1631.
p. 149. 'H 'Ew/>w>Ds 1) Tolijavs ft navucov: ARIST.
Aristotle (Poetics, Chap. 17) says: St6 efo^uow $ TOM/TU^ ecru*
p. I5O. IN CORYDONEM & CoRINNAM.
In the original editions this title is prefixed to the Latin ver-
sion which precedes these lines; the English verses are headed
simply Parapbras'd.
p. 152. AN ECLOGUE OCCASION'D BY TWO DOCTORS DISPUTING UPON
PREDESTINATION.
In the British Museum there is a manuscript volume (Harl.
3357) which contains, among metrical translations of the Psalms,
divine meditations, etc., a version of this poem; it is there
credited to "T. Randolph gent." It differs considerably from the
version given in the printed editions of Randolph, the speakers
being Thyrsis, Corydon, Thenot, and Colin Clout. If the date
1633, given in the manuscript, be correct, we must assume that
we have here an earlier version which Randolph afterwards
revised, for the whole book is too carefully copied for us to sup-
pose the differences due to pure carelessness.
In the front of the book is the following inscription: "Hen-
narietta Holies her book given her by her father John Holies,
the last Duke of that name. She married the late Edw. Harley,
Ld Oxford, son of Robert Harley first Ld of Oxford of that
family."
p. 153, //. 37-38. In MS. Harl. 3357 these two lines read:
The.
Doaturd you fowle on Pans Omniscience fall,
Col.
Dunce, you his goodness into question call:
NOTES 363
p. 156. AN ECLOGUE TO Mr IOHNSON.
In this poem it seems tolerably certain that Tityrus is in-
tended to represent Jonson, while Damon stands for Randolph
himself.
p. 162, /. 168. Call'd thence to keep the flock of Corydon.
This is the passage upon which Fleay bases his conjecture that
Randolph acted as assistant to the manager of the company
playing at the Salisbury Court Theater under the name of
"Prince Charles' Men."
p. 163, /. 176. A desolation frights the Muses there!
It seems most natural to refer this to the plague which caused
the closing of the university from April to November, 1630,
during which time Randolph was almost certainly in London.
In this case, however, Fleay's conjecture cannot be correct, for
Prince Charles' Men did not come to Salisbury Court until
January, 1632.
p. I7O. VPON A VERY DEFORMED GENTLEWOMAN.
In MS. Malone 21 this is credited to "Dr. Lewis," but the
evidence in Randolph's favor is overwhelming.
p. 170, //. 19, 20. Gammut, Ela.
Gammut was the lowest tone in the mediaeval system as Ela
was the highest.
p. 171, /. 41. Wbat but a Panther
See Pliny, Nat. Hist., 8, 23.
THE MILK-MAIDS EPITHALAMIUM.
p. 172, /. 6. When I shall deal my Rosemary.
Rosemary was supposed to strengthen the memory and so
was used at both funerals and weddings.
p. 174. AN ECLOGUE ON THE NOBLE ASSEMBLIES REVIVED ON
COTSWOLD HILLS.
These verses appeared first in the Annalia Dubrensia (see
bibliography, Sec. 3, No. 7), which was licensed on Jan. II,
1636. The poems in this volume, all dealing with Dover and the
Cotswold Games, were by various poets and must have been
written at different times, as several of the authors were dead
when the volume appeared.
364 NOTES
The collection has been reprinted by Grosart in Occasional
Issues, and there is a discussion of it in Anglia Vol. 12. For the
purposes of collation I have used the copy in the British Museum
which bears the signature of Dover himself.
According to Wood (Atbenee 4, 222), the games were begun
by Dover and by him continued for forty years, being held at
a certain time each year on Cotswold Hills in Gloucestershire.
They were finally abolished by the Puritans. The character of
the sports held there is made clear from this poem of Randolph's.
p. 176, /. 54. Barley-break, the ready way to Hell.
In the game of Barley-break the middle inclosure was called
"Hell."
p. 176, /. 70. Did skirmish out a fight arm'd but with reeds;
The "cane game," or jousting with hollow canes instead of
lances was a fairly common mode of amusement; it is said to
have originated at Messina when Richard I was on his way to
the Holy Land.
p. 181, /. 182. Shepheards Calendar
This work is a translation of the French Le compost et Kalen-
drier des Bergers, a work very popular in the Sixteenth Century;
most of the editions contained, among other things, a chapter on
astrology and a " Kalender with the figures of euery Saint that
is hallowed in the yeare."
p. 185. VPON LOVE FONDLY REFUS'D FOR CONSCIENCE SAKE.
Samuel Austin, in his Epistle to the Reader prefixed to his
Panegyric Ci66ij, declares that he intends to write "The
Authors answer to Mr. Randolphs poem styled, Love fondly
refused for Conscience Sake &c," but nothing further is known of
this answer.
POEMS ADDED IN THE 1640 EDITION.
ON IMPORTUNATE DUNNES.
p. 191, //. 43-44. And 'tis a second charge to me, poor man
To make the new born Babe a Christian.
At the time of the christening it was the custom to give an
entertainment at which the guests not only ate all they wished,
but from which they carried away in their pockets as much as
they pleased; at the time of the churching it was customary to
give another large entertainment.
NOTES 365
p. 193. /. 70. Use and Doctrine
According to Gifford it was the custom for the Puritan
preachers to divide their sermons into "doctrine" and "use,"
meaning by the former term the subject under explanation, and
by the latter the practical inference to be derived from it.
p. 194, /. 96. Trinity Lecture
These lectures were given on Sunday afternoons in Trinity
Church, Cambridge, by one of the university faculty appointed
for that purpose. They were very popular with the towns-
people, and made such an appeal to the Puritans, that Laud
attempted to abolish them in 1630, but without success.
A CHARACTER.
p. 195, /. 28. Middletons Mine
In 1617 Sir Hugh Myddleton or Middleton leased some aban-
doned lead and silver mines in the Plynlimmon district of Wales,
and after clearing them of water made a large sum of money by
working them.
p. 195, /. 30. Currantots
A kind of weekly newspaper notorious for its inaccuracy,
p. 195, /. 32. Gallobelgicus
Mercurius Gallobelgicus ', a kind of historical chronicle pub-
lished at Cologne. One of the editions in the British Museum
has as a sub-title Rerum in Gallia et Belgio . . . ab anno 1588 (usq.
ad nundinas autumnales anni 1636) gestarum.
p. 196, //. 41-42. Celarent, Ferio, Baralypton
Terms used by the Schoolmen to designate various forms of
syllogisms.
p. 196. OK THE LOSSE OF HIS FlNGER.
See the note on p. 357.
p. 197. A PARANETICON TO ... M. ENDYMION PORTER.
Endymion Porter (1587-1649) was Groom of the Bed-Cham-
ber to Prince Charles and also held various public offices. He
wrote poetry himself and was the friend and patron of poets.
p. 197, /. 1 1 . The bright soul that's fled.
Apparently a reference to the death of Prince Henry which
occurred in 1612.
366 NOTES
p. 200. ON six MAIDS BATHING THEMSELVES IN A RIVER.
In the Scattergood MS., formerly in the Huth collection, this
poem is headed, "On 6 Cambridge Maids bathing themselves by
Queen's Coll." and the date is given as June 15, 1629. From
this manuscript Hazlitt has added two lines not found in the
printed copies, and I have followed him in this (//. 35-36).
p. 2OO, /. 8. Clalia
Cloelia was a Roman virgin who was given as a hostage to
Porsena; with nine of her companions she escaped and, pursued
by the Etruscans, swam across the Tiber to safety.
Livy, 2, 13.
p. 20 1, /. 48. Tiberius eye
Suetonius tells us that the eyes of Tiberius, which were larger
had a wonderful faculty for seeing in the night-time and in the
dark. Life of Tiberius, 68.
p. 205. To M. I. S. ON HIS GRATEFULL SERVANT.
These lines were prefixed to the 1637 edition of Shirley's
Gratefull Servant, and were reprinted in the 1640 edition of
Randolph's Poems.
POEMS NOT IN ANY OF THE COLLECTED EDITIONS.
p. 209. THE TOWNS-MENS PETITION OF CAMBRIDGE.
Although this poem is not in any of the early editions of
Randolph's collected works and the earliest ascription of it to
him is in 1662, there can be little doubt of its authenticity. Not
only is it quite in his style but it also deals with an event which
occurred while he was at Cambridge.
On Sept. i, 1629, John Shirwood, who was at that time mayor
of the town of Cambridge, was discommoned by the University
for interfering with the punishment of three chandlers whom the
University had found guilty of selling candles to the students
at a price above that fixed by its own officers.1 Shirwood made
three different trips to London to put the townsmen's side of the
case before the king,2 complaining, a§ we learn from the answer
of the University3 to his plea that he had been used "as no
(1) Baker MS. 25, 259. Quoted by Cooper, Annals 8, 285.
(2) Accounts of the Treasurers of the Town, 5 & 6 Car. I. Quoted by G
Annals 3, 320.
(3) Domestic papers, Charles I, Dec. 4, 1629. Cooper mentions another answer
of the University (dated Oct. 6, 1629) which is now in the Downing College Library.
xx>per,
'er
NOTES 367
mayor was ever used before." The king, by an Order of Council
dated Dec. 4, ordered the townsmen to pay the fines imposed
upon them by the University, and to "make public confession
in the V. Chan*, court of their fault in breaking the said rates &
prices so set, & refusing to pay the fines assessed upon them, &
questioning the Priviliges of the University." l I think it quite
clear that the poem alludes to this dispute and to the humilia-
tion of the townspeople which resulted.
p. 213, /. 131. They' I have the Town made a City,
There had been considerable agitation to this effect not long
before this time.
p. 213. ON THE FALL OF THE MITRE TAVERN IN CAMBRIDGE.
This poem likewise is not in the collected editions, yet there
is little doubt of its authenticity. Three early commonplace
books which I have seen (MSS. Rawl. 62, d 108, and d 1092) all
credit it to Randolph; Dr. Bliss had a fourth in his own collec-
tion, and Hazlitt mentions still another in the Huth Library.
In the copies which I have seen the division into stanzas is in
each case indicated, so that in this matter I have departed from
the printed text.
The Mitre Tavern, which stood on the south end of the site
now occupied by the screen of King's College, fell down in 1633,
or thereabouts; it was subsequently rebuilt.
p. 214, /. 5. The dismal fire of London-Bridge
During the night of the I3th of February, 1632-33, forty-
three of the houses on the Bridge were consumed by a fire which
broke out at about eleven o'clock and raged until eight in the
morning,
p. 214, /. 20. Pembrook's Cardinals Cap.
The tavern called the Cardinal's Cap, stood nearly opposite
Pembroke Hall, occupying a portion of the site upon which the
Pitt Press has since been erected,
p. 214, /. 24. the Crown.
The Crown was another Cambridge tavern of the period, as
were the Rose, Falcon and Dolphin mentioned below.
p. 215, /. 37. Eaton-conjurers
Until comparatively recently, King's College was what is
known as a "close college" for Eton; that is, all of the fellow-
ships, scholarships, etc., were open only to graduates of that
school, and most of the students in the college were Eton men.
(i) Quoted by Dyer, Priviligts I, 141.
368 NOTES
p. 216. ANNAGRAM. VIRTUE ALONE THY BLISSE.
The ascription of this poem, and the two which follow, to
Randolph rests, in each case, upon the authority of a single manu-
script. This is scanty evidence upon which to attribute any
work to a given author, yet in both subject matter and style
they so closely resemble the undisputed work of Randolph (the
third not quite so closely as the other two) that in the absence
of any other claimant for them I think that they should be
credited to him.
p. 219. EPIGRAM.
This is from a manuscript which I have not seen and I have
been forced to follow Hazlitt's transcription of it, which is prob-
ably only approximately correct. Considerable doubt is cast
upon the authenticity of this poem by the fact that the other
epigram printed by Hazlitt from the same manuscript is by Ben
Jonson. In the absence of definite evidence to the contrary,
however, I have thought it best to include this among the poems
of Randolph.
p. 219 [To RICHARD WESTON.}
In the British Museum copy where this poem is found it is
preceded by the following Latin verses:
vir durus ac honestus
Richardus Westonus
vir Durus ac Comus
Te licet Durum vocal ac honestum
nominis felix annagramma vestri
sis tamen quaeso mihi miti durus
valde et honestus.
I have been unable to identify the particular Richard Weston
to whom the poem is addressed.
p. 219. A LETTER TO HIS MlSTRESSE.
While this poem may not be by Randolph (although I myself
believe that it is) it is certain that the scribe who compiled the
volume thought it his. The names Randolph and Randall were
almost interchangeable at this period; the poet himself was
often called Randall, while his brother Robert took his B.A.
as Randolph but his M.A. as Randall.
p. 220. THE CHARACTER OF A PERFECT WOMAN.
The ascription of this poem to "T.R." in the midst of a group
of Randolph's poems shows that the scribe believed it his, and
NOTES 369
merely used this form of abbreviation, as in other cases we
find "T. Rand:" etc., in places where the name has already
been given in full. I think that the poem shows clear traces of
Randolph's hand, although its authenticity is by no means
beyond question. The text as it stands is very corrupt; in a
number of cases the real meaning is quite obvious but I have
preferred to reproduce the poem exactly as it stands in the
manuscript, giving in the foot-notes such conjectural emend-
ations as to my mind admit of no question. In case of doubt I
have preferred to let each reader settle the question for himself.
p. 224. AD AMICAM.
The external evidence for attributing this poem to Randolph
is slight indeed, yet it is so very much in his style that in the
absence of any other claimant I feel justified in crediting it to
him. It is found in MS. Tanner 465, where it is credited to
"T. R." This MS. contains but one other poem by Randolph,
and that is in another part of the volume, yet Randolph was
undoubtedly the best known T. R. of the period and it seems
more than likely that he is the person meant; the Bodleian cata-
logue ascribes it to him without hesitation.
Another version (unsigned) of this poem is written in the
back of the volume of Various Poems numbered c-2^i in the
British Museum. In 1874 Furnivall reprinted this for the Bal-
lad Society among Love Poems and Humourous Ones.
p. 224. [ON THE BOOK FISH.]
"It must not be forgotten, how during my abode in Cam-
bridge on Mid-summer Eve, 1626, a Book was found in the belly
of a Cod (brought into the Market to be sold) containing therein
three Treatises, whereof the first and largest was entituled, A
Preparation to the Crosse. It was wrapped about with Canvass,
and probably that voracious Fish plundered both out of the
pocket of some Sbip-wrackfd Seaman. The Wits of the Univer-
sity made themselves merry thereat, one making a long copy of
Verses thereon, whereof this Dystick I remember
* Tho. * // Fishes," etc.
Randolph. Fuller Worthies, 1662. p. 359, under
Richard Tracey of Gloucestershire.
p. 224. ON Mr PARSON ORGANIST OF WESTMINSTER ABBYE.
This is the epitaph placed upon Parsons' tomb in the cloistew
of Westminster Abbey; its ascription to Randolph apparently
rests solely upon the authority of MS. Ashmole 38, which is not
370 NOTES
always accurate in its attributions. The claim of Camden to
it, which has been advanced, rests upon no ground whatever,
since he expressly states that he is quoting it from some " modern
wit." It was probably written soon after the death of Parsons,
which occurred early in 1623; at this time Randolph was still
at Westminster School.
p. 225. [EPITAPH ON WILLIAM LAWRENCE.]
"Dr. Busby, schoolmaster of Westminster, was Tom Ran-
dolph's school-fellow and coetanean, and sayth that he made
these verses — 'Tis his vaine: — "
Aubrey, Life of Randolph,
This epitaph was placed over the tomb of Lawrence, which is
in the North walk of the cloisters at Westminster Abbey. Law-
rence died on Dec. 28, 1621.
p. 225. RANDOLPH HIS ANSWER TO SOME MERRY COMPANION.
Henry Oxinden of Barham gives the following in his common-
place-book, 1647 (I quote Hazlitt's transcription): "Several
wits being a drinking together, hearing that Randolph the poet
was in the house, being desirous to make sport with him, sent
for him into their company. Randolph came to them: they in
their discourse propounded who was the best poet, so one said
Virgil, another Horace, another Ovid, &c. and gave their reasons.
Randolph, being demanded his opinion, said he thought the
sweet singer of Israel the best. They asked him why? He said
because —
'From all the ills,'" etc.
p. 225. [RANDOLPH'S ANSWER TO THE "SONS OF BEN."]
For Winstanley's account of the circumstances attending the
production of this poem see the introduction, p. 13.
p. 226. PRJELUDIUM.
I have compared the indorsement on the MS. with other
papers which are known to be by Clarendon, and the handwriting
seems to be the same. Clarendon was a friend of Jonson's, and
was in London at the time Randolph was there, so that it is
more than likely that they knew each other, but of this there is
no proof. (The Edward Hide whose verses were prefixed to the
Jealous Lovers is almost certainly the one who entered Trinity
College from Westminster in 1625.) If Clarendon's note be cor-
rect I can see but two possible explanations of it. One is that
Randolph wrote the prologue for some revival of Fletcher's Wo-
man Hater (called also the Hungry Courtier in the 1649 edition)
NOTES 371
of which we have no record. It is quite within the bounds of
possibility that some such revival took place before Randolph's
death, and that the secondary title was given it at this time,
but the prologue seems hardly appropriate to this play.
The more likely explanation is that it was written by some one
else for a performance of one of Randolph's plays,1 given in all
probability subsequent to the closing of the theaters. (The lean
times referred to may, of course, be merely one of the times when
the theaters were closed because of the plague.) In that case the
name "Hungry Courtier" was chosen simply for its appropriate-
ness, without regard to any play actually in existence. The
language of this prologue sounds much more like a burlesque of
Randolph's style than like his own serious work.
p. 231. [THE CITY OF LONDON.]
The fact that the name "Randall" was evidently added in
the margin at some time after the rest of the page was written
is in itself suspicious; this taken in conjunction with the fact
that in none of the poems unquestionably his does Randolph
use a metre prevailingly dactylic makes me quite certain that
the poem is not by him. The events referred to in the poem would
also seem to point to a date later than Randolph's death. Since,
however, I cannot assign it to any other author I have thought
it better to include it here among the doubtful poems.
NOTES ON THE AMYNTAS.
The Latin quotation on the tide-page is from Virgil, Eclogue
VI, tt. 4-S-
ACT I.
Sc. ii, //. 47-48. Other Nymphs
(p. 243) Have their varietie of loves, for every gown,
Probably an echo of Guarini's
"Corisca, mi dicea, si vuole appunto
Far degli amanti quel che della vesti:
Molti averne, un goderne, e cangiar spesso;"
Pastor Fido, I, iii.
Sc. v, /. 103. Ompha
(P- 255)
A word apparently coined by Randolph from the Greek,
6n<tfl, a divine voice or prophecy; he may also have associated
with it the Delphic 6/i<£aX6s.
(l) Compare especially with this prologue the Jealous Lovers, III, iv v, & and
the Hey for Honesty, IV, i.
372 NOTES
ACT II.
Sc. iii, /. 34. copple crotone
(p. 266)
A crest or tuft of feathers on a bird's head.
/. 35. tbiy'l — ly.
An allusion to the lapwing's wily methods of drawing a
stranger away from its nest.
Sc. vi, /. 28. Spanish needles.
(p. 278)
At this period the best needles still were, as they long had
been, imported from Spain.
/. 36. so, bo, bo.
"So ho" was the call used to direct the dogs when they were
hunting the hare.
ACT III.
Sc. i, /. 62. Pelian speare
(p. 286)
Compare this with the "Pelias hasta" of Ovid, the spear of
Achilles cut on Mount Pelion.
Sc. ii, /. 75. Lylibaan mountaines
(p. 290)
Lilybaeum, the modern Marsala, is a town in the western
part of Sicily.
Sc. iii, //. 26-41. Start unkennel spring
Amyntas uses of the oracle the terms applied to various kinds
of game by the hunters; they spoke of "starting" a hare, "un-
kennelling" a fox, and "springing" a bird.
Sc. v, /. 70. Ti-ti-ta-tif
(P- 3°i)
These same words are used by the pseudo-fairies in the Al-
chemist when they impose upon Dapper: Gifford supposes them
to be merely a hint to the performers to use some strange and
inarticulate jargon.
ACT IV.
Sc. i, /. 18. Carduus Benedictus
(p. 3°6)
The plant known as the Blessed Thistle, which Dodoens in
his Herbal says "is given with great profile against the pesti-
lence"; Dragon water was another popular remedy.
NOTES 373
Sc. viii, //. 33-34. And by the womb that bare tbee, by the breasts
(p. 322) Of thy dead mother, Lalage
These lines are taken over almost verbatim from the "Jealous
Lovers, II, ix.
Sc. ix, /. 38. bearb Solstitial
(P- 327)
This is from Plautus (Pseudolus I, I, 36-37)
"Quasi solstitialis herba paulisper fui:
Repente exortus sum, repentino occidi."
but what plant he means by it is unknown.
ACT V.
Sc. iv, /. 2. bear the bell away
(P- 334)
To be successful over, to take precedence of. It is supposed
that this meaning of the expression arose from the custom of
giving little golden bells as prizes in the horse-races.
APPENDIX
Variations, too unimportant for mention in the foot-note*,
between the 1638 text of the Amyntas and that given in this
volume.
ACT I
Sc. i. From /. 46 to the end of the scene the capital D's in the itali-
cized words are in roman type.
Sc. ii. From /. 7 to /. 22 the L's and in /. 31 the D's in italicized words
are roman.
Sc. iii. From /. 81 to the end of the scene (except in II. gi & 94),
the I's, when standing alone, are italic.
Sc. iv. In this scene all the I's are italic, and from /. 4 to the end all
the D's in italicized words are roman.
Sc. v. In //. 2 to 10, and 36 to 75 the I's are italic; in //. 6, 9, 16,
and 28 the D's, and in //. 50, 63, 68, 73, 75, 83, and 86 the L's,
in italicized words are roman.
Sc. vi. In /. 26, and /. 44 to the end of the scene the I's are italic;
in /. 14 the small i in pity is also italic. In //. 12, 15, 32, and /.
37 to the end the L's, and in //. 1-19, 38-50, and 60 to the end
the D's are roman in italicized words.
ACT II
Sc. ii. /. 47, Corymbus
Sc. iii. /. 39, ditto
Sc. iv. In //. 34, 35, and 38 the I's are italic, and in //. 7 and 9, and
60 to 94 the V's in italicized words are roman.
Sc. v. In //. 16-29 the I's are italic; from the beginning to /. 31 the
A's in italicized words are roman.
Sc. vi. In /. 17 the I is italic; from /. 40 to the end the D's in
italicized words are roman.
Sc. vii. Throughout the scene the D's, and from /. 32 to the end the
A's, in italicized words, are roman; in /. 56 the I of In is italic.
ACT III
Sc. i. All the I's as far as /. 56 are italic; throughout the scene the
D's, and as far as /. 43 the A's (except in /. 36), in the italicized
words, are roman.
375
376 APPENDIX
Sc. ii. In italicized words the D's and L's as far as /. 57 are roman,
as are the A's in //. 45 and 59. The I in /. 58 is italic.
Sc. iii. The I's in //. 19-57 (except /. 44), 77, 111-124 and 167 to the
end of the scene are italic; so also is the first y in /. 100. In
//. 58, 59, 86, and 87 the L's are roman, as is the C in the margin
opposite /. 46.
Sc. iv. In //. 1-29 the I's are italic.
ACT IV
Sc. ii. The I's in //. 3, 7, and n (the first) are italic; the E in /. 25
is roman.
Sc. iii. The I's in//. 15, 18 and 19 are italic.
Sc. v. The I's from /. 41 to the end of the scene (except /. 54) are
italic; the D's in //. 25-50, 62, and 68-73, an^ tne L m ^ 5^»
are roman.
Sc. vi. The I's in //. ii, 25 (the second), 48, and 57 are italic; the
D's from /. I to the end of the scene, and the A's in //. 44 and
62 are roman in the italicized words.
Sc. vii. The I's in //. 3 and 6 are italic; the A's in //. 4 and 6 are
roman.
Sc. ix. The D in /. 19 is roman, as are the j's in /. 32.
ACT V
Sc. ii. The I in /. 28 is italic.
Sc. v. The C's in //. 16 and 18 are roman.
Sc. vi. The I's in the italicized words in //. *2, 30, 47, 51, 64, and 69
are roman.
INDEX OF FIRST LINES
INDEX OF FIRST LINES
PAGE
A freind is gold; if true heele never leave thee, 105
Ah wretch in thy Corinna's love unblest! 150
Although your Lordshipps happy annagram 219
Apelles curious eye must gaze upon 220
Are then the Sibils dead? what is become 115
Arise, come forth, but never to return 202
Arithmetique nine digits, and no more 103
As once in blacke I disrespected walk't 218
Beauty it selfe lyes here, in whom alone, 98
Behold these woods, and mark my Sweet 163
Ben doe not leave the stage 132
Be well advis'd, and wary counsell make, 105
Blisse court thee sweetest soule, and fall soe thick 217
Come spurre away, 129
Coy Coelia dost thou see 137
Death passing by, and hearing parsons play 224
Death, who'ld not change prerogatives with thee, 97
Defend the truth, for that who will not dye, 104
Descent of birth is a vaine good 216
Desire not thy mean fortunes for to set 107
Each man three Divils hath, selfe borne afflictions; 108
Faire Lady when you see the Grace IS1
Fam'd Stymphall, I have heard, thy birds in flight 88
First thinke, and if thy thoughts approve thy will 106
First worship God, he that forgets to pray 104
Fly Drunkennesse, whose vile incontinence no
Franke, when this Morne the harbinger of day 119
From all the ills that I have done, Lord, quit me out of hand,. 225
From witty men and mad *47
380 INDEX OF FIRST LINES
PAGE
Goe bashful Muse, thy message is to one 197
Goe happy Paper by Command, 219
Goe solitary wood, and henceforth be 145
Goe sordid earth, and hope not to bewitch 67
Haile sacred Deserts, whom kind nature made 181
Happy the man that all his dayes hath spent 94
Happy the man which farre from city care; 95
Heare much but little speake, a wise man feares 109
Heavens decreed, before the world begun, 219
Heav'n knowes my Love to thee, fed on desires 147
He is a Paricide to his mother's name, 203
Here lyes the knowing head, the honest heart, 102
Ho! Histrio! I thought a presse had swallowed you all, . . . 226
Ho jolly Thirsis whither in such hast? 152
Honour the King, as sonnes their Parents doe 104
Honour thy Parents to prolong thine end, 104
How many of thy Captives (Love) complaine 78
How much more blest are trees than men, 196
I cannot fulminate or tonitruate words 205
I chanc'd sweet Lesbia's voice to heare, 170
If e're I take a wife I will have one 112
If Fishes thus do bring us Books, then we 224
If thou dispraise a man let no man know, 106
If with a stranger thou discourse first learne 106
I John Bo Peep, to you four sheep, 225
I'le not beleive't; if fate should be so crosse 145
In this unconstant Age when all mens minds 123
I was not borne to Helicon, nor dare 84
I wonder not my Laeda farre can see, 139
I wonder what should Madam Lesbia meane 86
love saw the Heavens fram'd in a little glasse, 90
loy to the Bridegroome and the Bride 172
ludge not between two freinds, but rather see no
Keepe thy freinds goods; for should thy wants be known, . . 106
Lament, lament, ye Scholars all, 213
Let Linus and Amphions lute, 138
Let not thy Impotent lust so pow'rfull bee 112
Love, give me leave to serve thee, and be wise 113
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 381
PACE
Mvse be a bride-maid, dost not heare loo
Mvsick thou Queene of soules, get up and string 138
My Lalage when I behold 134
Nature, Creations law, is judg'd by sense 185
Now Scholars, look unto it, 209
O fortunate Citie rejoyce in thy Fate 231
Posterity hath many fates bemoan'd 147
Pox take you all, from you my sorrows swell 191
Pvrse, who'l not know you have a Poets been 183
Reader if thou hast a teare, 99
Reprove not in their wrath incensed men, 107
Rich as was Cottons worth, I wish each line; 140
Safe in thy brest close lock up thy Intents; 105
Seeme not too conscious of thy worth, nor be 107
Shee which would not I would choose: 144
So Hue with man as if Gods curious eye, 108
Spare in thy youth, least Age should find thee poore no
Spare not, nor spend too much; be this thy care, 106
Suspicious men thinke others false, but hee 105
Swear not; An oath is like a dangerous dart 105
Sweet, doe not thy beauty wrong 224
Sweet, heard you not fames latest breath rehearse 199
Sweet Lydia take this maske, and shroud 182
Take thou no care how to deferre thy death 108
Take well what e're shall chance, though bad it bee; 105
Thanke those that doe thee good, so shall thou gaine .... 105
The law's the path of life; then that obey, 105
There are who know what once to day it was; 198
These are things that being possest 139
The spring was come, and all the fields growne fine; 73
Thinke that is just; 'tis not enough to doe, 104
Thou Cozen to great Madams and allyed 194
Thy credit wary keepe, 'tis quickly gone; no
Thy first birth Mary was unto a tombe, 128
Tis not to force more teares from your sad eye, 14°
To all alike be curteous, meeke, and kind, 109
To doubtfull matters doe not headlong run; 105
383 INDEX OF FIRST LINES
PAGE
To gather wealth through fraud doe not presume, 106
To tell thy miseries will no comfort breed, 106
Trust not a man unknown he may deceive thee 109
Vnder this beech why sit'st thou here so sad 156
Vnto thy Brother buy not, sell, nor lend, no
What Clod-pates, Thenot, are our Brittish swains? 174
What rends the temples vail, where is day gone? 104
When age hath made me what I am not now; 128
When bashful Day-light now was gone, 200
Who in the world with busy reason pryes, 91
Why sigh you swain ? this passion is not common; 136
With diligence and trust most exemplary 225
Wonder not friend that I do entertain 205
Would you commence a Poet Sr, and be 149
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