"True, (answered he,) but her great excellence, 621 Lifts me above the measure of my might: That, being fild with furious insolence, I feele my selfe like one yrapt in spright. For when I thinke of her, as oft I ought,
Then want I words to speake it fitly forth: 625 And, when I speake of her what I have thought, I cannot thinke according to her worth.
Yet will I thinke of her, yet will I speake,
So long as life my limbs doth hold together;
And, when as death these vitall bands shall breake,
Her name recorded I will leave for ever.
Her name in every tree I will endosse,
That, as the trees do grow, her name may grow: And in the ground each where will it engrosse, And fill with stones, that all men may it know. 635 The speaking woods, and murmuring waters-fall, Her name lle teach in knowen termes to frame: And eke my lambs, when for their dams they call,
Ile teach to call for Cynthia by name.
And, long while after I am dead and rotten, 640
Amongst the shepheards daughters dancing rownd,
My layes made of her shall not be forgotten,
But sung by them with flowry gyrlonds crownd,
And ye, who so ye be, that shall survive,
When as ye hear her memory renewed,
Be witnesse of her bountie here alive,
Which she to Colin her poore shepheard shewed."
Much was the whole assembly of those heards Moov'd at his speech, so feelingly he spake: And stood awhile astonisht at his words, Till Thestylis at last their silence brake,
Saying; Why, Colin! since thou foundst such
With Cynthia and all her noble crew;
Why didst thou ever leave that happie place,
In which such wealth might unto thee accrew; 655
And back returnedst to this barrein soyle,
Where Cold, and Care, and Penury, do dwell,
Here to keep sheepe with hunger and with toil?
Most wretched he that is and cannot tell."
"Happy indeed, (said Colin,) I him hold, 660
That may that blessed presence still enioy,
Of Fortune and of Envy uncomptrould,
Which still are wont most happie states t'annoy:
But I, by that which little while I prooved,
Some part of those enormities did see,
The which in Court continually hooved,
And followd those which happie seemd to bee.
Therefore I, silly Man! whose former dayes
Had in rude fields bene altogether spent,
Durst not adventure such unknowen wayes,
Nor trust the guile of Fortunes blandishment;
But rather chose back to my sheep to tourne,
Whose utmost hardnesse I before had tryde,
Then, having learnd repentance late, to mourne
Emongst those wretches which I there descryde."
"Shepheard, (said Thestylis,) it seems of
Thou speakest thus gainst their felicitie,
Which thou enviest, rather then of right
That ought in them blameworthie thou doest spie."
"Cause have I none, (quoth he,) of cancred will To quite them ill, that me demeand so well: 681 But selfe regard of private good or ill
Moves me of each, so as I found, to tell,
And eke to warne young shepheards wandring wit,
Which, through report of that lives painted blisse,
Abandon quiet home to seeke for it,
686
And leave their lambes to losse, misled amisse.
For, sooth to say, it is no sort of life,
For shepheard fit to lead in that same place,
Where each one seeks with malice, and with strife,
To thrust downe other into foule disgrace,
Himself to raise: and he doth soonest rise
That best can handle his deceitfull wit
In subtil shifts, and finest sleights devise,
Either by slaundring his well deemed name,
Through leasings lewd, and fained forgerie,
Or else by breeding him some blot of blame,
By creeping close into his secrecie;
To which him needs a guilefull hollow hart,
Masked with fair dissembling curtesie, 700
A filed toung, furnisht with termes of art,
No art of schoole, but courtiers schoolery.
For arts of schoole have there small countenance, Counted but toyes to busie ydle braines;
And there professours find small maintenance, 705 But to be instruments of others gaines.
Ne is there place for any gentle wit,
Unlesse to please, it self it can applie;
But shouldred is, or out of doore quite shit,
As base, or blunt, unmeet for melodie.
For each mans worth is measured by his weed,
As harts by hornes, or asses by their eares:
Yet asses be not all whose eares exceed,
Nor yet all harts that hornes the highest beares:
For highest lookes have not the highest mynd, 715
Nor haughtie words most full of highest thoughts:
But are like bladders blowen up with wynd,
That being prickt do vanish into noughts.
Even such is all their vaunted vanitie
Nought else but smoke, that fumeth soone away:
Such is their glorie that in simple eie
Seeme greatest, when their garments are most gay.
So they themselves for praise of fooles do sell,
And all their wealth for painting on a wall;
With price whereof they buy a golden bell, 725
And purchase highest rowmes in bowre and hall:
Whiles single Truth and simple Honestie
Do wander up and downe despys'd of all;
Their plaine attire such glorious gallantry
Disdaines so much that none them in doth
"Ah! Colin, (then said Hobbinol,) the blame Which thou imputest, is too generall,
As if not any gentle wit of name,
Nor honest mynd might there be found at all. For well I wot, sith I myselfe was there, 735 To wait on Lobbin, (Lobbin well thou knew
Full many worthie ones then waiting were,
As ever else in princes court thou vewest.
Of which, among you many yet remain,
Whose names I cannot readily now ghesse: 740
Those that poore sutors papers do retaine,
And those that skill of medicine professe,
And those that do to Cynthia expound
The ledden of straunge languages in charge:
For Cynthia doth in sciences abound,
And gives to their professors stipends large.
Therefore uniustly thou doest wyte them all,
For that which thou mislikedst in a few."
"Blame is, (quoth he,) more blamelesse generall, Than that which private errours doth pursew; 750 For well I wot, that there amongst them bee Full many persons of right worthie parts, Both for report of spotlesse honestie, And for profession of all learned arts, Whose praise hereby no whit impaired is, Though blame do light on those that faultie bee; For all the rest do most-what far amis, And yet their owne misfaring will not see:
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