THENOT.

Many meete tales of youth did he make, And some of loue, and some of cheualrie: But none fitter then this to applie. Now listen a while, and hearken the end,

"Here grewe an aged Tree on the greene,

TA

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A goodly Oake sometime had it bene, With armes full strong and largely displayd, But of their leaues they were disarayde: The bodie bigge, and mightely pight, Throughly rooted, and of wonderous hight: Whilome had bene the King of the field, And mochell mast to the husband did yielde, And with his nuts larded many swine. But now the gray mosse marred his rine, His bared boughes were beaten with stormes, His toppe was bald, and wasted with wormes, His honor decayed, his braunches sere.

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Hard by his side grewe a bragging brere,
Which proudly thrust into Thelement,
And seemed to threat the Firmament.
Yt was embellisht with blossomes fayre,
And thereto aye wonned to repayre
The shepheards daughters, to gather flowres,
To peinct their girlonds with his colowres.
And in his small bushes vsed to shrowde
The sweete Nightingale singing so lowde:
Which made this foolish Brere wexe so bold,
That on a time he cast him to scold,
And snebbe the good Oake, for he was old.
Why standst there (quoth he) thou brutish
blocke ?

Nor for fruict,nor for shadoweserues thy stocke:
Seest, how fresh my flowers bene spredde,
Dyed in Lilly white, and Cremsin redde, 130
With Leaues engrained in lusty greene,
Colours meete to clothe a mayden Queene.
Thy wast bignes but combers the grownd,
And dirks the beauty of my blossomes rownd.
The mouldie mosse, which thee accloieth,
My Sinamon smell too much annoieth.
Wherefore soone I rede thee, hence remoue,
Least thou the price of my displeasure proue.
So spake this bold brere with great disdaine:
Little him answered the Oake againe, 140
But yielded, with shame and greefe adawed,
That of a weede he was ouercrawed.

Yt chaunced after vpon a day,
The Hus-bandman selfe to come that way,
Of custome for to seruewe his grownd,
And his trees of state in compasse rownd.
Him when the spitefull brere had espyed,
Causlesse complained, and lowdly cryed
Vnto his Lord, stirring vp sterne strife:
O my liege Lord, the God of my life,

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Pleaseth you ponder your Suppliants plaint,
Caused of wrong, and cruell constraint,
Which I your poore Vassall dayly endure:
And but your goodnes the same recure,
Am like for desperate doole to dye,
Through felonous force of mine enemie.

Greatly aghast with this piteous plea, Him rested the goodman on the lea, And badde the Brere in his plaint proceede. With painted words tho gan this proude weede, (As most vsen Ambitious folke :) 161

His colowred crime with craft to cloke.

Ah my soueraigne, Lord of creatures all,
Thou placer of plants both humble and tall,
Was not I planted of thine owne hand,
To be the primrose of all thy land,
With flowring blossomes, to furnish the prime,
And scarlot berries in Sommer time?
How falls it then, that this faded Oake,
Whose bodie is sere, whose braunches broke,
Whose naked Armes stretch vnto the fyre, 171
Vnto such tyrannie doth aspire:

Hindering with his shade my louely light,
And robbing me of the swete sonnes sight?
So beate his old boughes my tender side,
That oft the bloud springeth from woundes wyde:
Vntimely my flowres forced to fall,
That bene the honor of your Coronall..
And oft he lets his cancker wormes light
Vpon my braunches, to worke me more spight:
And oft his hoarie locks downe doth cast, 181
Where with my fresh flowretts bene defast.
For this, and many more such outrage,
Crauing your goodlihead to aswage
The ranckorous rigour of his might,
Nought aske I, but onely to hold my right:
Submitting me to your good sufferance,
And praying to be garded from greeuance.
To this the Oake cast him to replie
Well as he couth; but his enemie
Had kindled such coles of displeasure,
That the good man noulde stay his leasure,
But home him hasted with furious heate,
Encreasing his wrath with many a threate.
His harmefull Hatchet he hent in hand,
(Alas, that it so ready should stand)
And to the field alone he speedeth.
(Ay little helpe to harme there needeth)
Anger nould let him speake to the tree,
Enaunter his rage mought cooled bee:
But to the roote bent his sturdy stroke,
And made many wounds in the wast Oake.
The Axes edge did oft turne againe,
As halfe vnwilling to cutte the graine:
Semed, the sencelesse yron dyd feare,
Or to wrong holy eld did forbeare.

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For it had bene an auncient tree,
Sacred with many a mysteree,
And often crost with the priestes crewe,
And often halowed with holy water dewe.
But sike fancies weren foolerie,
And broughten this Oake to this miserye.
For nought mought they quitten him from decay:
For fiercely the good man at him did laye.
The blocke oft groned vnder the blow,
And sighed to see his neare ouerthrow.
In fine the steele had pierced his pitth,
Tho downe to the earth he fell forthwith:
His wonderous weight made the grounde toquake,
Thearth shronke vnder him, and seemed to
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shake.

There lyeth the Oake, pitied of none.

Now stands the Brere like a Lord alone,
Puffed vp with pryde and vaine pleasaunce:
But all this glee had no continuaunce.
For eftsones Winter gan to approche,
The blustring Boreas did encroche,
And beate vpon the solitarie Brere:

For nowe no succoure was seene him nere.
Now gan he repent his pryde to late :
For naked left and disconsolate,

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The byting frost nipt his stalke dead,
The watrie wette weighed downe his head,
And heaped snowe burdned him so sore,
That nowe vpright he can stand no more:
And being downe, is trodde in the durt
Of cattell, and brouzed, and sorely hurt.
Such was thend of this Ambitious brere,
For scorning Eld

CVDDIE.

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Now I pray thee shepheard, tel it not forth :
Here is a long tale, and little worth.
So longe haue I listened to thy speche,
That graffed to the ground is my breche:
My hartblood is welnigh frorne I feele,
And my galage growne fast to my heele:
But little ease of thy lewd tale I tasted.
Hye thee home shepheard, the day is nigh
wasted.

Thenots Embleme.
Iddio perche è vecchio,
Fa suoi al suo essempio.

Cuddies Embleme.

Niuno vecchio,
Spaventa Iddio.

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Kene) sharpe.

Gride) perced: an olde word much vsed of Lidgate, but not found (that I know of) in Chaucer. Ronts) young bullockes.

Wracke) ruine or Violence, whence commeth shipwracke: and not wreake, that is vengeauncé or wrath.

A fon) a foole.

Belte) a girdle or wast band. lythe) soft and gentile. Venteth) snuffeth in the wind. Thy flocks Father) the Ramme. Crags) neckes. Rather Lambes) that be ewed early in the beginning of the yeare.

Youth is) A verye moral and pitthy Allegorie of youth, and the lustes thereof, compared to a wearie wayfaring man.

Tityrus) I suppose he meane Chaucer, whose prayse for pleasaunt tales cannot dye, so long as the memorie of hys name shal liue, and the name of Poetrie shal endure.

Well thewed) that is, Bene moratæ, full of morall

wisenesse.

There grew) This tale of the Oake and the Brere, he telleth as learned of Chaucer, but iti s cleane in another kind, and rather like to sopes fables. It is very excellente for pleasaunt descriptions, being altogether a certaine Icon or Hypotyposis of disdainfull younkers.

Embellisht) beautified and adorned.
To wonne) to haunt or frequent.
Sneb) checke.
Why standst) The speach is scorneful and very
presumptuous.

Engrained) dyed in grain.
Accloieth) encombreth.

Adawed) daunted and confounded.

Trees of state) taller trees fitte for timber wood.
Sterne strife) said Chaucer.s, fell and sturdy.
O my liege) A maner of supplication, wherein is
kindly coloured the affection and speache of
Ambitious men.

Coronall) Garlande. Flourets) young blossomes.
The Primrose) The chiefe and worthiest.

Naked armes) metaphorically ment of the bare boughes, spoyled of leaues. This colourably he speaketh, as adiudging hvm to the fyre.

The blood) spoken of a blocke, as it were of a liuing creature, figuratiuely, and (as they saye)

κατ' εἰκασμόν.

Nould for would not. Wounds) gashes.

Hoarie lockes) metaphorically for withered leaues. Hent) caught. Ay) euermore. Enaunter) least that. The priestes crewe) holy water pott, wherewith the popishe priest vsed to sprinckle and hallowe the trees from mischaunce. Such blindnesse was in those times, which the Poete supposeth, to haue bene the finall decay of this auncient Oake. The blocke oft groned) A liuelye figure, whiche geueth sence and feeling to vasensible creatures, as Virgile also sayeth: Saxa gemunt grauido &c. Boreas) The Northerne wynd, that bringeth the moste stormie weather.

Glee) chere and iollitic.

For scorning Eld) And minding (as shoulde seme) to haue made ryme to the former verse, he is conningly cutte of by Cuddye, as disdayning to here any more.

Galage) a startuppe or clownish shoe.

Embleme.

This embleme is spoken of Thenot, as a moral of his former tale: namelye, that God, which is himselfe most aged, being before al ages, and without beginninge, maketh those, whom he loueth like to himselfe, in heaping yeares vnto theyre dayes, and blessing them wyth longe lyfe. For the blessing of age is not giuen to all, but vnto those, whome God will so blesse: and albeit that many euil men reache vnto such fulnesse of yeares, and some also wexe olde in myserie and

thraldome, yet therefore is not age euer the lesse blessing. For euen to such euill men such number of yeares is added, that they may in their last dayes repent, and come to their first home. So the old man checketh the rashheaded boy, for despysing his gray and frostye heares. Whom Cuddye doth counterbuff with a byting and bitter prouerbe, spoken indeede at the first in contempt of old age generally. For it was an old opinion, and yet is continued in some mens conceipt, that men of yeares haue no feare of god at al, or not so much as younger folke. For that being rypened with long experience, and hauing passed many bitter brunts and blastes of vengeaunce, they dread no stormes of Fortune, nor wrathe of Gods, nor daunger of menne, as being eyther by longe and ripe wisedome armed against all mischaunces and aduersitie, or with much trouble hardened against all troublesome tydes: lyke vnto the Ape, of which is sayd in Æsops fables, that oftentimes meeting the Lyon, he was at first sore aghast and dismayed at the grimnes and austeritie of hys countenance, but at last being acquainted with his lookes, he was so furre from fearing him, that he would familiarly gybe and iest with him: Suche longe experience breedeth in some men securitie. Although it please Erasimus a great clerke and good old father, more fatherly and fauourablye to construe it in his Adages for his own behoofe, That by the prouerbe Nemo Senex metuit Iouem, is not meant, that old men haue no feare of God at al, but that they be furre from superstition and Idolatrous regard of false Gods, as is Iupiter. But his greate learning notwithstanding, it is to plaine, to be gainsayd, that olde men are muche more enclined to such fond fooleries, then younger heades.

IN this Eglogue two shepheards boyes taking occasion of the season, beginne to make purpose of loue and other plesaunce, which to springtime is most agreeable. The speciall meaning hereof is, to giue certaine markes and tokens, to know Cupide the Poets God of Loue. But more particularlye I thinke, in the person of Thomalin is meant some secrete freend, who scorned Loue and his knights so long, till at length him selfe was entangled, and vnwares wounded with the dart of some beautifull regard, which is Cupides arrowe.

And pleasant spring appeareth. The grasse nowe ginnes to be refresht, The Swallow peepes out of her nest, And clowdie Welkin cleareth.

WILLYE.

Seest not thilke same Hawthorne studde,
How bragly it beginnes to budde,

And vtter his tender head?
Flora now calleth forth eche flower,
And bids make ready Maias bowre,

That newe is vpryst from bedde.
Tho shall we sporten in delight,
And learne with Lettice to wexe light,

That scornefully lookes askaunce,
Tho will we little Loue awake,
That nowe sleepeth in Lethe lake,
And pray him leaden our daunce.
THOMALIN.

Willye, I wene thou bee assott:
For lustie Loue still sleepeth not,
But is abroad at his game.
WILLYE.
How kenst thou, that he is awoke?
Or hast thy selfe his slomber broke?
Or made preuie to the same?

THOMALIN.

No, but happely I hym spyde, Where in a bush he did him hide,

With winges of purple and blewe.

And were not, that my sheepe would stray,
The preuie marks I would bewray,
Whereby by chaunce I him knewe.
WILLYE.

Thomalin, haue no care for thy,
My selfe will haue a double eye,
Ylike to my flocke and thine:
For als at home I haue a syre,
A stepdame eke as whott as fyre,
That dewly adayes counts mine.
THOMALIN.

Nay, but thy seeing will not serue,
My sheepe for that may chaunce to swerue,
And fall into some mischiefe.

For sithens is but the third morowe,
That I chaunst to fall a sleepe with sorowe,
And waked againe with griefe:
The while thilke same vnhappye Ewe,
Whose clouted legge her hurt doth shewe,
Fell headlong into a dell.

And there vnioynted both her bones:
Mought her necke bene ioynted attones,
She shoulde haue neede no more spell.
Thelf was so wanton and so wood,
(But now I trowe can better good)
She mought ne gang on the greene.
WILLYE.

Let be, as may be, that is past:
That is to come, let be forecast.

Now tell vs, what thou hast seene.
THOMALIN.

It was vpon a holiday,

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When shepheardes groomes han leaue to playe,
I cast to goe a shooting.

Long wandring vp and downe the land,
With bowe and bolts in either hand,
For birds in bushes tooting:

At length within an Yuie todde
(There shrouded was the little God)
I heard a busie bustling.
I bent my bolt against the bush,
Listening if any thing did rushe,

But then heard no more rustling.
Tho peeping close into the thicke,
Might see the mouing of some quicke,

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Whose shape appeared not: But were it faerie, feend, or snake, My courage earnd it to awake, And manfully thereat shotte. forth a naked swayne,

With that

sprong

With spotted winges like Peacocks trayne, 80 And laughing lope to a tree.

His gylden quiuer at his backe,

And siluer bowe, which was but slacke,
Which lightly he bent at me.
That seeing, I leuelde againe,

And shott at him with might and maine,
As thicke, as it had hayled.

So long I shott, that al was spent:
Tho pumie stones I hastly hent,

And threwe: but nought availed:
He was so wimble, and so wight,
From bough to bough he lepped light,
And oft the pumies latched.
Therewith affrayd I ranne away:
But he, that earst seemd but to playe,
A shaft in earnest snatched,
And hit me running in the heele :
For then I little smart did feele:
But soone it sore encreased.

And now it ranckleth more and more,
And inwardly it festreth sore,
Ne wote I, how to cease it.

WILLYE.
Thomalin, I pittie thy plight.
Perdie with loue thou diddest fight:
I know him by a token.
For once I heard my father say,
How he him caught vpon a day,
(Whereof he wilbe wroken)
Entangled in a fowling net,
Which he for carrion Crowes had set,

That in our Peeretree haunted.

Tho sayd, he was a winged lad,

But bowe and shafts as then none had :
Els had he sore be daunted.

But see the Welkin thicks apace,
And stouping Phebus steepes his face:
Yts time to hast vs homeward.

Willyes Embleme.

To be wise and eke to loue,
Is graunted scarce to God aboue.

Thomalins Embleme.

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Of Hony and of Gaule in loue there is store: The Honye is much, but the Gaule is more.