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Clio. Heare thou great Father of the Gods on hie That most art dreaded for thy thunder darts: And thou our Syre that raignst in Castalie And mount Parnasse, the God of goodly Arts: Heare and behold the miserable state Of vs thy daughters, dolefull desolate. Behold the fowle reproach and open shame, The which is day by day vnto vs wrought By such as hate the honour of our name, The foes of learning, and each gentle thought; They not contented vs themselues to scorne, Doo seeke to make vs of the world forlorne. Ne onely they that dwell in lowly dust, The sonnes of darknes and of ignoraunce; But they, whom thou great loue by doome


Didst to the type of honour earst aduaunce; 70
They now puft vp with sdeignfull insolence,
Despise the brood of blessed Sapience.
The sectaries of my celestiall skill,
That wont to be the worlds chiefe ornament,
And learned Impes that wont to shoote vp still,
And grow to hight of kingdomes gouernment
They vnderkeep, and with their spredding armes
Doo beat their buds, that perish through their

It most behoues the honorable race

Of mightie Peeres, true wisedome to sustaine,
And with their noble countenaunce to grace 81
The learned forheads, without gifts or gaine:
Or rather learnd themselues behoues to bee;
That is the girlond of Nobilitie.

But (ah) all otherwise they doo esteeme
Of th'heauenly gift of wisdomes influence,
And to be learned it a base thing deeme;
Base minded they that want intelligence:
For God himselfe for wisedome most is praised,
And men to God thereby are nighest raised. 90
But they doo onely striue themselues to raise
Through pompous pride, and foolish vanitie;
In th'eyes of people they put all their praise,
And onely boast of Armes and Auncestrie :
But vertuous deeds, which did those Armes first

To their Grandsyres, they care not to atchiue.
So I, that doo all noble feates professe
To register, and sound in trump of gold;
Through their bad dooings, or base slothful-

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So shall succeeding ages haue no light
Of things forepast, nor moniments of time,
And all that in this world is worthie hight
Shall die in darknesse, and lie hid in slime :
Therefore I mourne with deep harts sorrowing,
Because I nothing noble haue to sing.
With that she raynd such store of streaming

That could haue made a stonie heart to weep,
And all her Sisters rent their golden heares, III
And their faire faces with salt humour steep.
So ended shee: and then the next anew,
Began her grieuous plaint as doth ensew.


O who shall powre into my swollen eyes
A sea of teares that neuer may be dryde,
A brasen voice that may with shrilling cryes
Pierce the dull heauens and fill the ayer wide,
And yron sides that sighing may endure, 119
To waile the wretchednes of world impure?
Ah wretched world the den of wickednesse,
Deformd with filth and fowle iniquitie;
Ah wretched world the house of heauinesse
Fild with the wreaks of mortall miserie ;
Ah wretched world, and all that is therein
The vassals of Gods wrath, and slaues of sin.
Most miserable creature vnder sky
Man without vnderstanding doth appeare;
For all this worlds affliction he thereby,
And Fortunes freakes is wisely taught to

Of wretched life the onely ioy shee is,
And th'only comfort in calamities.
She armes the brest with constant patience,
Against the bitter throwes of dolours darts.
She solaceth with rules of Sapience
The gentle minds, in midst of worldlie smarts:
When he is sad, shee seeks to make him merie,
And doth refresh his sprights when they be


But he that is of reasons skill bereft,
And wants the staffe of wisedome him to stay,
Is like a ship in midst of tempest left
Withouten helme or Pilot her to sway,
Full sad and dreadfull is that ships euent:
So is the man that wants intendiment.
Whie then doo foolish men so much despize
The precious store of this celestiall riches?
Why doo they banish vs, that patronize
The name of learning? Most vnhappie

The which lie drowned in deep wretchednes,
Yet doo not see their owne vnhappines.


My part it is and my professed skill
The Stage with Tragick buskin to adorne,
And fill the Scene with plaint and outcries

Of wretched persons, to misfortune borne
But none more tragick matter I can finde
Than this, of men depriu'd of sense and minde.
For all mans life me seemes a Tragedy,
Full of sad sights and sore Catastrophees;
First comming to the world with weeping eye,
Where all his dayes like dolorous Trophees, 160
Are heapt with spoyles of fortune and of feare,
And he at last laid forth on balefull beare.
So all with rufull spectacles is fild,
Fit for Megera or Persephone;
But I that in true Tragedies am skild,
The flowre of wit, finde nought to busie me :
Therefore I mourne, and pitifully mone,
Because that mourning matter I haue none.
Then gan she wofully to waile, and wring
Her wretched hands in lamentable wise; 170
And all her Sisters thereto answering,
Threw forth lowd shrieks and drerie dolefull


So rested she: and then the next in rew,
Began her grieuous plaint as doth ensew.


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By which mans life in his likest image
Was limned forth, are wholly now defaced;
And those sweete wits which wont the like to


Are now despizd, and made a laughing game.
And he the man, whom Nature selfe had made
To mock her selfe, and Truth to imitate,
With kindly counter vnder Mimick shade,
Our pleasant Willy, ah is dead of late:
With whom all ioy and iolly meriment
Is also deaded, and in dolour drent.
In stead thereof scoffing Scurrilitie,
And scornfull Follie with Contempt is crept,
Rolling in rymes of shameles ribaudrie
Without regard, or due Decorum kept,
Each idle wit at will presumes to make,
And doth the Learneds taske vpon him take.
But that same gentle Spirit, from whose pen
Large streames of honnie and sweete Nectar

Scorning the boldnes of such base-borne men,
Which dare their follies forth so rashlie throwe;
Doth rather choose to sit in idle Cell,
Than so himselfe to mockerie to sell.

Where be the sweete delights of learnings So am I made the seruant of the manie,



That wont with Comick sock to beautefie
The painted Theaters, and fill with pleasure
The listners eyes, and eares with melodie;
In which I late was wont to raine as Queene,
And maske in mirth with Graces well beseene?
O all is gone, and all that goodly glee,
Which wont to be the glorie of gay wits
Is layd abed, and no where now to see;
And in her roome vnseemly Sorrow sits,
With hollow browes and greisly countenaunce,
Marring my ioyous gentle dalliaunce.
And him beside sits vgly Barbarisme
And brutish Ignorance, ycrept of late
Out of dredd darknes of the deep Abysme,
Where being bredd, he light and heauen does

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And laughing stocke of all that list to scorne,
Not honored nor cared for of anie;
But loath'd of losels as a thing forlorne:
Therefore I mourne and sorrow with the rest
Vntill my cause of sorrow be redrest.

Therewith she lowdly did lament and shrike,
Pouring forth streames of teares abundantly,
And all her Sisters with compassion like, 231
The breaches of her singults did supply.
So rested shee: and then the next in rew
Began her grieuous plaint, as doth ensew.


Like as the dearling of the Summers pryde,
Faire Philomele, when winters stormie wrath
The goodly fields, that earst so gay were dyde
In colours diuers, quite despoyled hath,
All comfortlesse doth hide her chearlesse head
During the time of that her widowhead : 240
So we, that earst were wont in sweet accord
All places with our pleasant notes to fill,
Whilest fauourable times did vs afford
Free libertie to chaunt our charmes at will:
All comfortlesse vpon the bared bow,
Like wofull Culuers doo sit wayling now.

For far more bitter storme than winters stowre The beautie of the world hath lately wasted, And those fresh buds, which wont so faire to flowre,

Hathmarred quite, and all their blossoms blasted: And those yong plants, which wont with fruit t'abound, 251


Now without fruite or leaues are to be found.
A stonie coldnesse hath benumbd the sence
And liuelie spirits of each liuing wight,
And dimd with darknesse their intelligence,
Darknesse more than Cymerians daylie night?
And monstrous error flying in the ayre,
Hath mard the face of all that semed fayre.
Image of hellish horrour, Ignorance,
Borne in the bosome of the black Abysse,
And fed with furies milke, for sustenaunce
Of his weake infancie, begot amisse
By yawning Sloth on his owne mother Night;
So hee his sonnes both Syre and brother hight.
He armd with blindnesse and with boldnes stout,
(For blind is bold) hath our fayre light defaced;
And gathering vnto him a ragged rout
Of Faunes and Satyres, hath our dwellings raced
And our chast bowers, in which all vertue rained,
With brutishnesse and beastlie filth hath stained.
The sacred springs of horsefoot Helicon,
So oft bedeawed with our learned layes,
And speaking streames of pure Castalion,
The famous witnesse of our wonted praise,
They trampled haue with their fowle footings


And like to troubled puddles haue them made. Our pleasant groues, which planted were with paines,

That with our musick wont so oft to ring, And arbors sweet, in which the Shepheards swaines

Were wont so oft their Pastoralls to sing, 280 They haue cut downe and all their pleasaunce mard,

That now no pastorall is to bee hard.

In stead of them fowle Goblins and Shriekowles,
With fearfull howling do all places fill;
And feeble Eccho now laments and howles,
The dreadfull accents of their outcries shrill.
So all is turned into wildernesse,
Whilest Ignorance the Muses doth oppresse.
And I whose ioy was earst with Spirit full
To teach the warbling pipe to sound aloft,
My spirits now dismayd with sorrow dull,
Doo mone my miserie in silence soft.
Therefore I mourne and waile incessantly,
Till please the heauens affoord me remedy.


Therewith shee wayled with exceeding woe
And pitious lamentation did make,
And all her sisters seeing her doo soe,
With equall plaints her sorrowe did partake.
So rested shee: and then the next in rew,
Began her grieuous plaint as doth ensew. 300

Who so hath in the lap of soft delight
Beene long time luld, and fed with pleasures

Feareles through his own fault or Fortunes spight,

To tumble into sorrow and regreet,
Yf chaunce him fall into calamitie,
Findes greater burthen of his miserie.
So wee that earst in ioyance did abound
And in the bosome of all blis did sit,
Like virgin Queenes with laurell garlands cround,
For vertues meed and ornament of wit, 310
Sith ignorance our kingdome did confound,
Bee now become most wretched wightes on

And in our royall thrones which lately stood
In th'hearts of men to rule them carefully,
He now hath placed his accursed brood,
By him begotten of fowle infamy;
Blind Error, scornefull Follie, and base Spight,
Who hold by wrong, that wee should haue by

They to the vulgar sort now pipe and sing,
And make them merrie with their fooleries, 320
They cherelie chaunt and rymes at randon fling,
The fruitfull spawne of their ranke fantasies:
They feede the eares of fooles with flattery,
And good men blame, and losels magnify:
All places they doo with their toyes possesse,
And raigne in liking of the multitude,
The schooles they fill with fond new fanglenesse,
And sway in Court with pride and rashnes rude;
Mongst simple shepheards they do boast their

And say their musicke matcheth Phœbus quill.
The noble hearts to pleasures they allure, 331
And tell their Prince that learning is but vaine,
Faire Ladies loues they spot with thoughts impure,
And gentle mindes with lewd delights distaine:
Clerks they to loathly idlenes entice,
And fill their bookes with discipline of vice.
So euery where they rule and tyrannize,
For their vsurped kingdomes maintenaunce,
The whiles we silly Maides, whom they dispize,
And with reprochfull scorne discountenaunce,
From our owne natiue heritage exilde,
Walk through the world of euery one reuilde.


Nor anie one doth care to call vs in,
Or once vouchsafeth vs to entertaine,
Vnlesse some one perhaps of gentle kin,
For pitties sake compassion our paine,
And yeeld vs some reliefe in this distresse :
Yet to be so relieu'd is wretchednesse.
So wander we all carefull comfortlesse,
Yet none doth care to comfort vs at all; 350
So seeke we helpe our sorrow to redresse,
Yet none vouchsafes to answere to our call:
Therefore we mourne and pittilesse complaine,
Because none liuing pittieth our paine.
With that she wept and wofullie waymented,
That naught on earth her griefe might pacifie;
And all the rest her dolefull din augmented,
With shrikes and groanes and grieuous agonie.
So ended shee: and then the next in rew,
Began her piteous plaint as doth ensew.



Ye gentle Spirits breathing from aboue,
Where ye in Venus siluer bowre were bred,
Thoughts halfe deuine, full of the fire of loue,
With beawtie kindled and with pleasure fed,
Which ye now in securitie possesse,
Forgetfull of your former heauinesse :
Now change the tenor of your ioyous layes,
With which ye vse your loues to deifie,
And blazon foorth an earthlie beauties praise,
Aboue the compasse of the arched skie :
Now change your praises into piteous cries,
And Eulogies turne into Elegies.
Such as ye wont whenas those bitter stounds
Of raging loue first gan you to torment,
And launch your hearts with lamentable wounds
Of secret sorrow and sad languishment,
Before your Loues did take you vnto grace;
Those now renew as fitter for this place
For I that rule in measure moderate
The tempest of that stormie passion,
And vse to paint in rimes the troublous state
Of Louers life in likest fashion,
Am put from practise of my kindlie skill,
Banisht by those that Loue with leawdnes fill.
Loue wont to be schoolmaster of my skill
And the deuicefull matter of my song;
Sweete Loue deuoyd of villanie or ill,
But pure and spotles, as at first he sprong
Out of th'Almighties bosome, where he nests;
From thence infused into mortall brests. 390
Such high conceipt of that celestiall fire,
The base-borne brood of blindnes cannot gesse,
Ne euer dare their dunghill thoughts aspire
Vnto so loftie pitch of perfectnesse,


But rime at riot, and doo rage in loue;
Yet little wote what doth thereto behoue.
Faire Cytheree the Mother of delight,
And Queene of beautie, now thou maist go pack;
For lo thy Kingdome is defaced quight,
Thy scepter rent, and power put to wrack; 400
And thy gay Sonne, that winged God of Loue,
May now goe prune his plumes like ruffed Doue.
And ye three Twins to light by Venus brought,
From whom what euer thing is goodly thought
The sweete companions of the Muses late,
Doth borrow grace, the fancie to aggrate;
Go beg with vs, and be companions still
As heretofore of good, so now of ill.
For neither you nor we shall anie more
Finde entertainment, or in Court or Schoole:
For that which was accounted heretofore 411

The learneds meed, is now lent to the foole,
He sings of loue, and maketh louing layes,
And they him heare, and they him highly

With that she powred foorth a brackish flood
Of bitter teares, and made exceeding mone;
And all her Sisters seeing her sad mood,
With lowd laments her answered all at one.
So ended she: and then the next in rew
Began her grieuous plaint, as doth ensew. 420


To whom shall I my euill case complaine,
Or tell the anguish of my inward smart,
Sith none is left to remedie my paine,
Or deignes to pitie a perplexed hart;
But rather seekes my sorrow to augment
With fowle reproach, and cruell banishment.
For they to whom I vsed to applie
The faithfull seruice of my learned skill,
The goodly off-spring of loues progenie,
That wont the world with famous acts to fill:
Whose liuing praises in heroïck style,
It is my chiefe profession to compyle.
They all corrupted through the rust of time,
That doth all fairest things on earth deface,
Or through vnnoble sloth, or sinfull crime,
That doth degenerate the noble race;
Haue both desire of worthie deeds forlorne,
And name of learning vtterly doo scorne.
Ne doo they care to haue the auncestrie
Of th'old Heroes memorizde anew,
Ne doo they care that late posteritie
Should know their names, or speak their praises


But die forgot from whence at first they sprong, As they themselues shalbe forgot ere long.

What bootes it then to come from glorious Forefathers, or to haue been nobly bredd ? What oddes twixt Irus and old Inachus,

Is ignorance, the enemie of grace,

That mindes of men borne heauenlie doth debace.

Twixt best and worst, when both alike are dedd; Through knowledge we behold the worlds

If none of neither mention should make,
Nor out of dust their memories awake?
Or who would euer care to doo braue deed,
Or striue in vertue others to excell;


If none should yeeld him his deserued meed,
Due praise, that is the spur of dooing well?
For if good were not praised more than ill,
None would choose goodnes of his owne freewill.
Therefore the nurse of vertue I am hight,
And golden Trompet of eternitie,
That lowly thoughts lift vp to heauens hight,
And mortall men haue powre to deifie: 460
Bacchus and Hercules I raisd to heauen,
And Charlemaine, amongst the Starris seauen.
But now I will my golden Clarion rend,
And will henceforth immortalize no more:
Sith I no more finde worthie to commend
For prize of value, or for learned lore:
For noble Peeres whom I was wont to raise,
Now onely seeke for pleasure, nought for praise.
Their great reuenues all in sumptuous pride
They spend, that nought to learning they may

spare ;

And the rich fee which Poets wont diuide,
Now Parasites and Sycophants doo share :
Therefore I mourne and endlesse sorrow make,
Both for my selfe and for my Sisters sake.
With that she lowdly gan to waile and shrike,
And from her eyes a sea of teares did powre,
And all her sisters with compassion like,
Did more increase the sharpnes of her showre.
So ended she: and then the next in rew
Began her plaint, as doth herein ensew.



What wrath of Gods, or wicked influence
Of Starres conspiring wretched men t'afflict,
Hath powrd on earth this noyous pestilence,
That mortall mindes doth inwardly infect
With loue of blindnesse and of ignorance,
To dwell in darkenesse without souenance?
What difference twixt man and beast is left,
When th'heauenlie light of knowledge is put out,
And th'ornaments of wisdome are bereft ?
Then wandreth he in error and in doubt,
Vnweeting of the danger hee is in,
Through fleshes frailtie and deceipt of sin.
In this wide world in which they wretches stray,
It is the onelie comfort which they haue,
It is their light, their loadstarre and their day;
But hell and darkenesse and the grislie graue


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How in his cradle first he fostred was;
And iudge of Natures cunning operation,
How things she formed of a formelesse mas:
By knowledge wee do learne our selues to

And what to man, and what to God wee owe.
From hence wee mount aloft vnto the skie,
And looke into the Christall firmament,
There we behold the heauens great Hierarchie,
The Starres pure light, the Spheres swift moue-



The Spirites and Intelligences fayre,
And Angels waighting on th' Almighties chayre.
And there, with humble minde and high

Th'eternall Makers maiestie wee viewe,
His loue, his truth, his glorie, and his might,
And mercie more than mortall men can vew
O soueraigne Lord, O soueraigne happinesse
To see thee, and thy mercie measurelesse :
Such happines haue they, that doo embrace
The precepts of my heauenlie discipline;
But shame and sorrow and accursed case
Haue they, that scorne the schoole of arts


And banish me, which do professe the skill
To make men heauenly wise, through humbled


I feede on sweet contentment of my thought,
How euer yet they mee despise and spight,
And please my selfe with mine owne selfe-

In contemplation of things heauenlie wrought:
So, loathing earth, I looke vp to the sky,
And being driuen hence, I thether fly.
Thence I behold the miserie of men,
Which want the blis that wisedom would them

And like brute beasts doo lie in loathsome den,
Of ghostly darkenes, and of gastlie dreed:
For whom I mourne and for my selfe complaine,
And for my Sisters eake whom they disdaine.
With that shee wept and waild so pityouslie,
As if her eyes had beene two springing wells
And all the rest her sorrow to supplie,

Did throw forth shrieks and cries and dreery yells.

So ended shee, and then the next in rew, Began her mournfull plaint as doth ensew. 540

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