Blossoms on the Hauthorn's hung:
_Philomœle_ (Night-Musiques-King)
Tolde the comming of the spring.
Whose sweete siluer-sounding voice
Made the little birds reioice:
Skipping light from spray to spray,
Till _Aurora_ shew'd the day.
Scarce might one see, when I might see
(For such chaunces sudden bee)
By a well of Marble-stone
A Shepheard lying all alone.
Weepe he did; and his weeping
Made the fading flowers spring.
_Daphnis_ was his name (I weene)
Youngest Swaine of Summers Queene.
When _Aurora_ saw 'twas he.
Weepe she did for companie:
Weepe she did for her sweete sonne
That (when antique _Troy_ was wonne)
Suffer'd death by lucklesse fate,
Whom she now laments too late:
And each morning (by Cocks crew)
Showers downe her siluer dew.
Whose teares (falling from their spring)
Giue moysture to each liuing thing,
That on earth increase and grow,
Through power of their friendlie foe.
Whose effect when _Flora_ felt,
Teares, that did her bosome melt,
(For who can resist teares often,
But Shee whom no teares can soften?)
Peering straite aboue the banks,
Shew'd herselfe to giue her thanks.
Wondring thus at Natures worke,
(Wherein many maruailes lurke)
Me thought I heard a dolefull noise,
Consorted with a mournfull voice,
Drawing nie to heare more plaine,
Heare I did, vnto my paine,
(For who is not pain'd to heare
Him in griefe whom heart holdes deare?)
Silly swaine (with griefe ore-gone)
Thus to make his piteous mone.
Loue I did, (alas the while)
Loue I did, but did beguile
My deare loue with louing so,
(VVhom as then I did not know.)
Loue I did the fairest boy,
That these fields did ere enioy.
Loue I did, fair _Ganymed;_
(_Venus_ darling, beauties bed:)
Him I thought the fairest creature;
Him the quintessence of Nature:
But yet (alas) I was deceiu'd,
(Loue of reason is bereau'd)
For since then I saw a Lasse.
(Lasse) that did in beauty passe,
(Passe) faire _Ganymede_ as farre
As _Phœbus_ doth the smallest starre.
Loue commaunded me to loue;
Fancy bade me not remoue
My affection from the swaine
Which he cannot graunt the crauer?)
Loue at last (though loath) preuailde;
(Loue) that so my heart assailde;
Whom I neuer could obtaine:
(For who can obtaine that fauour,
Wounding me with her faire eies,
(Ah how Loue can subtelize,
And deuize a thousand shifts,
How to worke men to his drifts.)
Her it is, for whom I mourne;
Her, for whom my life I scorne;
Her, for whom I weepe all day;
Her, for whom I sigh, and say,
Either She, or els no creature,
Shall enioy my loue: whose feature
Though I neuer can obtaine,
Yet shall my true loue remaine:
Till (my body turn'd to clay)
My poore soule must passe away,
To the heauens; where (I hope)
Hit shall finde a resting scope:
Then since I loued thee (alone)
Remember me when I am gone.
Scarce had he these last words spoken,
But me thought his heart was broken;
With great griefe that did abound,
(Cares and griefe the heart confound)
In whose heart (thus riu'd in three)
ELIZA written I might see:
In Caracters of crimson blood,
(VVhose meaning well I vnderstood.)
Which, for my heart might not behold,
I hyed me home my sheep to folde.
FINIS.
[Illustration]
_CASSANDRA._
[Illustration]
Vpon a gorgious gold embossed bed,
With Tissue curtaines drawne against the sunne,
(Which gazers eies into amazement led,
So curiously the workmanship was done,)
Lay faire _Cassandra_, in her snowie smocke,
Whose lips the Rubies and the pearles did locke.
And from her Iuory front hung dangling downe,
A bush of long and louely curled haire;
VVhose head impalled with a precious Crowne
Of orient Pearle, made her to seeme more faire:
And yet more faire she hardly could be thought,
Then Loue and Nature in her face had wrought.
By this, young _Phœbus_ rising from the East,
Had tane a view of this rare Paragon:
Wherewith he soone his radiant beames addresst,
And with great ioy her (sleeping) gazed vpon:
Til at the last, through her light cazements cleare,
He stole a kisse; and softly call'd her Deare.
Yet not so softly but (therwith awak't,)
Shee gins to open her faire christall couers,
Wherewith the wounded God, for terror quakt,
(Viewing those darts that kill disdained louers:)
And blushing red to see himselfe so shamed
He scorns his Coach, and his owne beauty blamed.
Now with a trice he leaues the azure skies,
(As whilome _Ioue_ did at _Europaes_ rape,)
And rauisht with her loue-a[l]luring eies,
He turns himselfe into a humane shape:
And that his wish the sooner might ensue,
He sutes himselfe like one of _Venus_ crew.
Vpon his head he wore a Hunters hat
Of crimson veluet, spangd with stars of gold,
Which grac'd his louely face: and ouer that
A siluer hatband ritchly to behold:
On his left shoulder hung a loose Tyara,
As whilome vs'd faire _Penthesilea_.
Faire _Penthesilea_ th' _Amazonian_ Queene,
When she to Troy came with her warlike band,
Of braue Viragoes glorious to be scene;
Whose manlike force no power might withstand:
So look't _Apollo_ in his lonely weedes,
As he vnto the Troian Damzell speedes.
Not faire, _Adonis_ in his chiefest pride,
Did seeme more faire, then young _Apollo_ seemed,
When he through th'aire inuisibly did glide,
T'obtaine his Loue, which he Angelike deemed;
Whom finding in her chamber all alone,
He thus begins t'expresse his piteous mone.
O fairest, faire, aboue all faires (quoth hee)
If euer Loue obtained Ladies fauour,
Then shew thy selfe compassionate to me,
Whose head surpriz'd with thy diuine behauior,
Yeelds my selfe captiue to thy conqu'ring eies:
O then shew mercy, do not tyrannize.
Scarce had _Apollo_ vtter'd these last words
(Rayning downe pearle from his immortall eies)
When she for answere, naught but feare affords,
Filling the place with lamentable cries:
But _Phœbus_ fearing much these raging fits,
With sugred kisses sweetely charm'd her lips.
(And tells her softly in her softer eare)
That he a God is, and no mortall creature:
Wherewith abandoning all needlesse feare,
(A common frailtie of weake womans nature)
She boldly askes him of his deitie,
Gracing her question with her wanton eie.
Which charge to him no sooner was assignde,
But taking faire _Cassandra_ by the hand
(The true bewraier of his secrete minde)
He first begins to let her vnderstand,
That he from _Demogorgon_ was descended:
Father of th'Earth, of Gods and men commended.
The tenor of which tale he now recites,
Closing each period with a rauisht kisse:
Which kindnes, she vnwillingly requites,
Conioyning oft her Corrall lips to his:
Not that she lou'd the loue of any one;
But that she meant to cozen him anone.
Hee briefly t'her relates his pedegree:
The sonne of _Ioue_, sole guider of the sunne,
He that slue _Python_ so victoriouslie,
He that the name of wisdomes God hath wonne,
The God of Musique, and of Poetry:
Of Phisicke, Learning, and Chirurgery.
All which he eloquently reckons vp,
That she might know how great a God he was:
And being charm'd with _Cupid's_ golden cup
He partiallie vnto her praise doth passe,
Calling her tipe of honour, Queen of beauty:
To whom all eies owe tributary duety.
I loued once, (quoth hee) aie me I lou'd,
As faire a shape as euer nature framed:
Had she not been so hard t'haue beene remou'd,
By birth a sea-Nymph; cruell _Daphne_ named:
Whom, for shee would not to my will agree,
The Gods transform'd into a Laurell tree.
Ah therefore be not, (with that word he kist her)
Be not (quot[h] he) so proud as _Daphne_ was:
Ne care thou for the anger of my sister,
She cannot, nay she shall not hurt my _Cass:_
For if she doe, I vow (by dreadfull night)
Neuer againe to lend her of my light.
This said: he sweetly doth imbrace his loue,
Yoaking his armes about her Iuory necke:
And calls her wanton _Venus_ milk-white Doue,
VVhose ruddie lips the damaske roses decke.
And euer as his tongue compiles her praise,
Loue daintie Dimples in her cheekes doth raise.
And meaning now to worke her stratagem
Vpon the silly God, that thinks none ill,
She hugs him in her armes, and kisses him;
(Th'easlyer to intice him to her will.)
And being not able to maintaine the feeld,
Thus she begins (or rather seemes) to yeeld.
VVoon with thy words, and rauisht with my beauty,
Loe here _Cassandra_ yeelds her selfe to thee,
Requiring nothing for thy vowed duety,
But only firmnesse, Loue, and secrecy:
Which for that now (euen now) I meane to try thee,
A boone I crave; which thou canst not deny me.
Scarce were these honywords breath'd from her lips,
But he, supposing that she ment good-faith,
Her filed tongues temptations interceps;
And (like a Nouice,) thus to her he saith:
Aske what thou wilt, and I will giue it thee;
Health, wealth, long life, wit, art, or dignitie.
Here-with she blushing red, (for shame did adde
A crimson tincture to her palish hew,)
Seeming in outward semblance passing glad,
(As one that th'end of her petition knew)
She makes him sweare by vgly _Acheron_,
That he his promise should performe anon.
Which done: relying on his sacred oath,
She askes of him the gift of prophecie:
He (silent) giues consent: though seeming loath
To grant so much to fraile mortalitie:
But since that he his vowes maie not recall,
He giues to her the sp'rite propheticall.
But she no sooner had obtain'd her wish,
VVhen straite vnpris'ning her lasciuiuous armes
From his softe bosom (th'aluary of blisse)
She chastely counterchecks loues hote alarmes:
And fearing lest his presence might offend her,
She slips aside; and (absent) doth defend her.
(_Muliere ne credas, ne mortuæ quidem._)
Looke how a brightsome Planet in the skie,
(Spangling the Welkin with a golden spot)
Shootes suddenly from the beholders eie,
And leaues him looking there where she is not:
Euen so amazed _Phœbus_ (to descrie her)
Lookes all about, but no where can espie her.
Not th'hungry Lyon, hauing lost his pray,
With greater furie runneth through the wood,
(Making no signe of momentarie staie,
Till he haue satisfi'd himslfe with blood,)
Then angry _Phœbus_ mounts into the skie:
Threatning the world with his hot-burning eie.
Now nimbly to his glist'ring Coach he skips,
And churlishlie ascends his loftie chaire,
Yerking his head strong Iades with yron whips,
Whose fearefull neighing ecchoes through the aire,
Snorting out fierie Sulphure from theire nosethrils:
Whose deadly damp the worlds poore people kils.
Him leaue me (for a while) amids the heauens,
VVreaking his anger on his sturdie steedes:
Whose speedful course the day and night now eeuens,
(The earth dis-robed of her summer weedes)
And nowe black-mantled night with her browne vaile,
Couers each thing that all the world might quaile.
When loe, _Cassandra_ lying at her rest,
(Her rest were restlesse thoughts:) it so befell,
Her minde with multitude of cares opprest,
Requir'd some sleepe her passions to expell:
Which when sad _Morpheus_ will did vnderstand,
He clos'd her eie-lids with his leaden hand.
Now sleepeth shee: and as shee sleepes, beholde;
Shee seemes to see the God whom late shee wronged
Standing before her; whose fierce looks vnfold,
His hidden wrath (to whom iust ire belonged)
Seeing, shee sighs, and sighing quak't for feare,
To see the shaddow of her shame appeare.
Betwixt amaze and dread as shee thus stands,
The fearefull vision drew more neere vnto her:
Aud pynioning her armes in captiue bands
So sure, that mortall wight may not vndoe her,
He with a bloudy knife (oh cruell part,)
With raging fury stabd her to the heart.
Heerewith awaking from her slumbring sleepe,
(For feare, and care, are enemies to rest:)
At such time as _Aurora_ gins to peepe
And shew her selfe; far orient in the East:
Shee heard a voice which said: O wicked woman,
Why dost thou stil the gods to vengeance summon?
Thou shalt (indeede) fore-tell of things to come;
And truely, too; (for why my vowes are past)
But heare the end of _Ioues_ eternall doome:
Because thy promise did so little last,
Although thou tell the truth, (this gift I giue thee)
Yet for thy falsehood, no man shall beleeue thee.
And (for thy sake) this pennance I impose
Vpon the remnant of all woman kinde,
For that they be such truth professed foes;
A constant woman shall be hard to finde:
And that all flesh at my dread name may tremble,
When they weep most, then shall they most dissemble.
This said _Apollo_ then: And since that time
His words haue proved true as Oracles:
Whose turning thoughtes ambitiously doe clime
To heauens height; and world with lightnes fils:
Whose sex are subject to inconstancie,
As other creatures are to destinie.
Yet famous _Sabrine_ on thy banks doth rest
The fairest Maide that euer world admired:
Whose constant minde, with heauenly gifts possest
Makes her rare selfe of all the world desired.
In whose chaste thoughts no vanitie doth enter;
So pure a minde _Endymions_ Love hath lent her.
Queene of my thoughts, but subiect of my verse,
(Divine _Eliza_) pardon my defect:
Whose artlesse pen so rudely doth reherse
Thy beauties worth; (for want of due respect)
Oh pardon thou the follies of my youth;
Pardon my faith, my loue, my zeale, my truth.
But to _Cassandra_ now: who hauing heard
The cruell sentence of the threatning voice;
At length (too late) begins to waxe affeard,
Lamenting much her vnrepentant choice:
And seeing her hard hap without reliefe,
She sheeds salt teares in token of her griefe.
Which when _Aurora_ saw, and saw t'was shee,
Euen shee her selfe whose far-renowmed fame
Made all the world to wonder at her beauty,
It mou'd compassion in this ruthfull Dame:
And thinking on her Sonnes sad destinie,
With mournfull teares she beares her companie.
Great was the mone, which faire _Cassandra_ made:
Greater the kindnesse, which _Aurora_ shew'd:
Whose sorrow with the sunne began to fade,
And her moist teares on th'earths green grasse bestow'd:
Kissing the flowers with her siluer dew,
Whose fading beautie, seem'd her case to rew.
Scarce was the lonely Easterne Queene departed,
From stately _Ilion_ (whose proud-reared wals
Seem'd to controule the cloudes, till _Vulcan_ darted
Against their Tower his burning fier-bals)
When sweet _Cassandra_ (leauing her soft bed)
In seemely sort her selfe apparelled.
And hearing that her honourable Sire,
(Old princely _Pryamus Troy's_ aged King)
Was gone into _Ioues_ Temple, to conspire
Against the _Greekes_, (whom he to war did bring)
Shee, (like a Furie), in a bedlam rage,
Runs gadding thither, his fell wrath t'assuage.
But not preuailing: truely she fore-tolde
The fall of _Troy_ (with bold erected face:)
They count her hare-brain'd, mad, and ouer-bold,
To presse in presence in so graue a place:
But in meane season _Paris_ he is gone,
To bring destruction on faire _Ilion_.
What, ten-yeeres siedge by force could not subuert,
That, two false traitors in one night destroi'd:
Who richly guerdon'd for their bad desert,
Was of _Æneas_ but small time inioi'd:
Who, for concealement of _Achilles_ loue,
Was banished; from _Ilion_ to remoue.
King _Pryam_ dead and all the Troians slaine;
(His sonnes, his friends and deere confederates)
And lots now cast for captiues that remaine,
(Whom Death hath spared for more cruell fates)
_Cassandra_ then to _Agamemnon_ fell,
With whom a Lemman she disdain'd to dwell.
She, weepes; he, wooes; he would, but she would not:
He, tell's his birth; shee, pleades virginitie:
He saith, selfe-pride doth rarest beauty blot:
(And with that word he kist her louingly:)
Shee, yeeldingly resists; he faines to die:
Shee, fall's for feare; he, on her feareleslie.
But this braue generall of all the _Greekes_,
Was quickly foyled at a womans hands,
For who so rashly such incounters seekes,
Of hard mis-hap in danger euer stands:
Onely chaste thoughts, vertuous abstinence,
Gainst such sweet poyson is the sur'st defence.
But who can shun the force of beauties blow?
Who is not rauisht with a lonely looke?
Grac'd with a wanton eie, (the hearts dumb show)
Such fish are taken with a siluer hooke:
And when true loue cannot these pearles obtaine
_Vnguentum Album_ is the only meane.
Farre be it from my thought (diuinest Maid)
To haue relation to thy heauenly hew,
(In whose sweete voice the Muses are imbaid)
No pen can paint thy commendation due:
Saue only that pen, which no pen can be,
An Angels quill, to make a pen for thee.
But to returne to these vnhappie Louers,
(Sleeping securely in each others armes)
Whose sugred ioies nights sable mantle couers,
Little regarding their ensuing harmes:
Which afterward they iointlie both repented:
"Fate is fore-seene, but neuer is preuented."
Which saying to be true, this lucklesse Dame
Approued in the sequele of her story:
Now waxing pale, now blushing red (for shame),
She scales her lips with silence (womens glory)
Till _Agamemnon_ vrging her replies,
Thus of his death she truely prophecies.
The day shall come, (quoth she) O dismal daie!
When thou by false _Ægistus_ shalt be slaine:
Heere could she tell no more; but made a stay.
(From further speech as willing to refraine:)
Not knowing then, nor little did she thinke,
That she with him of that same cup must drinke.
But what? (fond man) he laughs her skil to scorne,
And iesteth at her diuination:
Ah to what vnbeliefe are Princes borne?
(The onely ouer-throw of many a Nation:)
And so it did befall this lucklesse Prince,
Whom all the world hath much lamented since.
Insteede of teares, he smileth at her tale:
Insteede of griefe, he makes great shew of gladnes:
But after blisse, there euer followes bale;
And after mirth, there alwaies commeth sadnes:
But gladnesse, blisse, and mirth had so possest him,
That sadnes, bale, and griefe could not molest him.
Oh cruell _Parcæ_ (quoth _Cassandra_ then)
Why are you _Parcæ_, yet not mou'd with praier?
Oh small security of mortall men,
That liue on earth, and breathe this vitall aire:
When we laugh most, then are we next to sorrow;
The Birds feede vs to-day, we them to-morrow.
But if the first did little moue his minde,
Her later speeches lesse with him preuailed;
Who beinge wholy to selfe-will inclinde,
Deemes her weake braine with lunacy assailed:
And still the more shee councels him to stay,
The more he striueth to make haste away.
How on the Seas he scap'd stormes, rocks and sholes,
(Seas that enuide the conquest he had wone,
Gaping like hell to swallow Greekish soules,)
I heere omit; onely suppose it done:
His storm-tyrde Barke safely brings him to shore,
His whole Fleete els, or suncke or lost before.
Lift vp thy head, thou ashie-cyndred _Troy_,
See the commaunder of thy traitor foes,
That made thy last nights woe, his first daies ioie,
Now gins his night of ioy and daie of woes:
His fall be thy delight, thine was his pride:
As he thee then, so now thou him deride.
He and _Cassandra_ now are set on shore,
Which he salutes with ioy, she greetes with teares,
Currors are sent that poast to Court before,
Whose tidings fill th'adultrous Queene with feares,
Who with _Ægistus_ in a lust-staind bed,
Her selfe, her King, her State dishonored.
She wakes the lecher with a loud-strain'd shrike,
Loue-toies they leaue, now doth lament begin:
He flie (quoth he) but she doth that mislike,
Guilt vnto guilt, and sinne she ads to sinne:
Shee meanes to kill (immodest loue to couer)
A kingly husband, for a caytiue louer.
The peoples ioies, conceiued at his returne,
Their thronging multitudes: their gladsome cries,
Their gleeful hymnes, whiles piles of incense burne:
Their publique shewes, kept at solemnities:
We passe: and tell how King and Queene did meet,
Where he with zeale, she him with guile did greet.
He (noble Lord) fearelesse of hidden treason,
Sweetely salutes this weeping Crocodile:
Excusing euery cause with instant reason
That kept him from her sight so long a while:
She, faintly pardons him; smiling by Art:
(For life was in her lookes, death in her hart.)
For pledge that I am pleas'd receiue (quoth shee)
This rich wrought robe, thy _Clytemnestras_ toile:
Her ten yeeres worke this day shall honour thee,
For ten yeeres war, and one daies glorious spoile:
Whil'st thou contendedst there, I heere did this:
Weare it my loue, my life, my ioy, my blisse.
Scarce had the Syren said what I haue write,
But he (kind Prince) by her milde words misled,
Receiu'd the robe, to trie if it were fit;
(The robe) that had no issue for his head;
Which, whilst he vainly hoped to haue found,
_Ægistus_ pierst him with a mortal wound.
Oh how the _Troyan_ Damzell was amazed
To see so fell and bloudy a Tragedie,
Performed in one Act; she naught but gazed,
Vpon the picture; whom shee dead did see,
Before her face: whose body she emballms,
With brennish teares, and sudden deadly qualms.
Faine would she haue fled backe on her swift horse
But _Clytemnestra_ bad her be content,
Her time was com'n: now bootelesse vsd she force,
Against so many; whom this Tygresse sent
To apprehend her: who (within one hower
Brought backe againe) was lockt within a Tower.
Now is she ioylesse, friendlesse, and (in fine)
Without all hope of further libertie:
Insteed of cates, cold water was her wine,
And _Agamemnons_ corps her meate must be,
Or els she must for hunger starue (poore sole)
What could she do but make great mone and dole.
So darke the dungeon was, wherein she was,
That neither Sunne (by day) nor Mone (by night)
Did shew themselues: and thus it came to passe.
The Sunne denide to lend his glorious light
To such a periur'd wight, or to be scene;
(What neede she light, that ouer-light had bin?)
Now silent night drew on; when all things sleepe,
Saue theeves, and cares; and now stil mid-night came:
When sad _Cassandra_ did naught els but weepe;
Oft calling on her _Agamemnons_ name.
But seeing that the dead did not replie,
Thus she begins to mourne, lament, and crie.
Oh cruell Fortune (mother of despaire,)
Well art thou christen'd with a cruell name:
Since thou regardest not the wise, or faire,
But do'st bestow thy riches (to thy shame)
On fooles and lowly swaines, that care not for thee:
And yet I weepe, and yet thou do'st abhorre me.
Fie on ambition, fie on filthy pride,
The roote of ill, the cause of all my woe:
On whose fraile yce my youth first slipt aside:
And falling downe, receiu'd a fatall blow.
Ah who hath liu'd to see such miserie
As I haue done, and yet I cannot die?
I liu'd (quoth she) to see _Troy_ set on fire:
I liu'd to see, renowned _Hector_ slaine:
I liu'd to see, the shame of my desire:
And yet I liue, to feel my grieuous paine:
Let all young maides example take by me,
To keepe their oathes, and spotlesse chastity.
Happy are they, that neuer liu'd to know
What 'tis to liue in this world happily:
Happy are they which neuer yet felt woe:
Happy are they, that die in infancie:
Whose sins are cancell'd in their mothers wombe:
Whose cradle is their graue, whose lap their tomb.
Here ended shee; and then her teares began,
That (Chorus-like) at euery word downe rained.
Which like a paire of christall fountaines ran,
Along her lonely cheekes: with roses stained:
Which as they wither still (for want of raine)
Those siluer showers water them againe.
Now had the poore-mans clock (shrill chauntcleare)
Twice giuen notice of the Mornes approach,
(That then began in glorie to appeare,
Drawne in her stately colour'd saffron-Coach)
When shee (poore Lady) almost turn'd to teares,
Began to teare and rend her golden haires.
Lie there (quoth shee) the workers of my woes
You trifling toies, which my liues staine haue bin:
You, by whose meanes our coines chiefly growes,
Clothing the backe with pride, the soule with sin:
Lie there (quoth shee) the causers of my care;
This said, her robes she all in pieces tare.
Here-with, as weary of her wretched life,
(Which shee inioy'd with small felicitie)
She ends her fortune with a fatall knife;
(First day of ioy, last day of miserie:)
Then why is death accounted Nature's foe,
Since death (indeed) is but the end of woe?
For as by death, her bodie was released
From that strong prison made of lime and stone;
Euen so by death her purest soule was eased,
From bodies prison, and from endlesse mone:
Where now shee walkes in sweete _Elysium_
(The place for wrongful Death and Martirdum.)
FINIS.
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The Encomion of Lady Pecunia:
_OR_
The praise of Money.
_quærenda pecunia primum est,
Virtus post nummos._ Horace.
By _Richard Barnfeild_, Graduate in _Oxford_.
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LONDON,
Printed by G. S. for Iohn Iaggard, and are
to be sold at his shoppe neere Temple-barre,
at the Signe of the Hand and starre.
1598.
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To the Gentlemen Readers.
[Illustration]
Gentlemen, being incouraged through your gentle acceptance of my
_Cynthia_, I haue once more aduentured on your Curtesies: hoping to
finde you (as I haue done heretofore) friendly. Being determined to
write of somthing, and yet not resolued of any thing, I considered with
my selfe, if one should write of Loue (they will say) why, euery one
writes of Loue: if of Vertue, why, who regards Vertue? To be short, I
could thinke of nothing, but either it was common, or not at all in
request. At length I bethought my selfe of a Subiect, both new (as
hauing neuer beene written vpon before) and pleasing (as I thought)
because Mans Nature (commonly) loues to heare that praised, with whose
pressence, hee is most pleased.
_Erasmus_ (the glory of _Netherland_, and the refiner of the Latin
Tongue) wrote a whole Booke, in _the prayse of Folly_. Then if so
excellent a Scholler, writ in praise of Vanity, why may not I write in
praise of that which is profitable? There are no two Countreys, where
Gold is esteemed, lesse than in _India_, and more then in _England:_
the reason is, because the _Indians_ are barbarous, and our Nation
ciuill.
I have giuen _Pecunia_ the title of a Woman, Both for the termination
of the Word, and because (as Women are) shee is lov'd of men. The
brauest Voyages in the World, haue beene made for Gold: for it, men
haue venterd (by Sea) to the furthest parts of the Earth: In the
Pursute whereof, _Englands Nestor_ and _Neptune_ (_Haukins_ and
_Drake_) lost their liues. Vpon the Deathes of the which two, of the
first I writ this:
_The Waters were his Winding sheete, the Sea was made his Toome;
Yet for his fame the Ocean Sea, was not sufficient roome._
Of the latter this:
England _his hart; his Corps the Waters haue;
And that which raysd his fame, became his grave._
The _Prætorians_ (after the death of _Pertinax_) in the election of a
new Emperour, more esteemed the money of _Iulianus_, then either the
vertue of _Seuerus_, or the Valour of _Pessennius_. Then of what great
estimation and account, this Lady _Pecunia_, both hath beene in the
Worlde, and is at this present, I leaue to your Iudgement. But what
speake I so much of her praise in my Epistle, that haue commended her
so at large in my Booke? To the reading wherof, (Gentlemen) I referre
you.
[Illustration]
[THE AUTHORS FIRST EPISTLE-DEDICATORY (1605).
[Collated with the Bridgwater House copy.]
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Led by the swift report of winged Fame,
With siluer trumpet, sounding forth your name
To you I dedicate this merry Muse,
And for my Patron, I your fauour chuse:
She is a Lady, she must be respected:
She is a Queene, she may not be neglected.
This is the shadow, you the substance haue,
Which substance now this shadow seems to craue.
RICHARD BARNFIELD.]