MARCH.

AEGLOGA TERTIA.

Argument.

IN this Aeglogue, two Shepheards Boyes, taking occasion of the season, beginne to make purpose of love, and other plea sance which to spring-time is most agreeable. The special! meaning hereof, is, to give certaine marks and tokens, to know Cupid the poets god of Love. But more particularly, I thinke, in the person of Thomalin, is meant some secret Friend, who Scorned Love and his Knights so long, till at length him seife was entangled, and unwares wounded with the dart of some beautifull regard, which is Cupids arrow.

WILLYE. THOMALIN.

WILLYE.

THOMALIN! why sitten wee soe,
As weren overwent with woe,
Upon so fayre a morow?

The ioyous time now nigheth fast,
That shall alegge this bitter blas

And slake the winter sorow.

THO. Sicker, Willye! thou warnest well;
For winters wrath beginnes to quell,
And pleasaunt spring appeareth :

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The grasse nowe ginnes to be refresht,
The swallowe peepes out of her nest,

And clowdie welkin cleareth.

WIL. Seest not thilke same hawthorne studde,

How bragly it begins to budde,

And utter his tender head?

Flora nowe calleth forth eche flower,

And bids make readie Maias bower,
That newe is upryst from bedd:

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Tho shall wee sporten in delight,
And learne with Lettice to wexe light,
That scornefully lookes askaunce;

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Tho will wee little Love awake,
That nowe sleepeth in Lethe lake,

And pray him leaden our daunce.

THO. Willye! I ween thou be assot;

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For lusty Love still sleepeth not,

But is abroade at his game.

WIL. Howe kenst thou, that hee is awoke ?

Or hast thy selfe his slomber broke?

Or made privie to the same?

THо. No; but happily I him spide,
Where in a bush he did him hide,

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With winges of purple and blewe;

And, were not that my sheepe would stray,
The privie markes I would bewray,

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Whereby by chaunce I him knew.

WIL. Thomalin! have no care for-thy;
My selfe will have a double eye,

Ylike to my flocke and thine;

For, alas! at home I have a syre,
A stepdame eke, as hote as fyre,

That dewly adayes counts mine.
THо. Nay, but thy seeing will not serve,
My sheep for that may chaunce to swerve,

And fall into some mischiefe:

For sithens is but the third morow

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That I chaunst to fall asleepe with sorow,
And waked againe with griefe;

The while thilke same unhappie ewe,

Whose clouted legge her hurt doth shewe,
Fell headlong into a dell,

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And there unioynted both her bones:
Mought her neck bene ioynted attones,

She shoulde have neede no more spell;
Th' elfe was so wanton and so wood,
(But now I trowe can better good,)

She mought ne gang on the greene. WIL. Let be, as may be, that is past; That is to come, let he forecast:

Now tell us what thou hast seene.

THO. It was upon a holiday,

When shepheards groomes han leave to play,

I cast to go a shooting;

Long wandering up and downe the land,

With bow and bolts in either hand,

For birdes in bushes tooting,
At length within the yvie todde,
There shrowded was the little god,)
I heard a busie bustling ;

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I bent my bolt against the bush,
Listning if anie thing did rush,

But then heard no more rustling.

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Tho, peeping close into the thicke,

Might see the moving of some quicke,
Whose shape appeared not;

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But were it faerie, feend, or snake,

My courage earnd it to awake,
And manfully thereat shotte:

With that sprang forth a naked swayne,
With spotted winges like peacocks trayne,

And laughing lope to a tree;

So long I shott, that all was spent;

Tho pumie stones I hastly hent,

And threw; but nought avayled:

He was so wimble and so wight,

From bough to bough he lepped light,
And oft the pumies latched:

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Therewith affrayd I ranne away;

But he, that earst seemd but to play,

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A shaft in earnest snatched,

And hit me running in the heele :
For then I little smart did feele,

But soone it sore increased;

Of hony and of gaule in love there is store;
The hony is much, but the gaule is more.