The Works of Ben Jonson/Volume 6/The Sad Shepherd/Act 1 Scene 2
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SCENE II.
Another Part of the Same.
Enter Marian, Friar Tuck, John, George-a-Green,
Much, Woodmen, &c.
Much, Woodmen, &c.
Mar. Know you, or can you guess, my merry men,
What 'tis that keeps your master, Robin Hood,
So long, both from his Marian, and the wood?
What 'tis that keeps your master, Robin Hood,
So long, both from his Marian, and the wood?
Tuck. Forsooth, madam, he will be hereby noon,
Aud prays it of your bounty, as a boon,
That you by then have kill'd him venison some,
To feast his jolly friends, who hither come
In threaves to frolic with him, and make cheer:
Here's Little John hath harbour'd you a deer,
I see by his tackling.
Aud prays it of your bounty, as a boon,
That you by then have kill'd him venison some,
To feast his jolly friends, who hither come
In threaves to frolic with him, and make cheer:
Here's Little John hath harbour'd you a deer,
I see by his tackling.
John. And a hart of ten,[1]
I trow he be, madam, or blame your men:
For by his slot, his entries, and his port,[2]
His frayings, fewinets, he doth promise sport,
And standing 'fore the dogs; he hears a head
Large and well-beam'd, with all rights summ'd and spread.
I trow he be, madam, or blame your men:
For by his slot, his entries, and his port,[2]
His frayings, fewinets, he doth promise sport,
And standing 'fore the dogs; he hears a head
Large and well-beam'd, with all rights summ'd and spread.
Mar. Let's rouze him quickly, and lay on the hounds.
John Scathlock is ready with them on the grounds;
So is his brother Scarlet: now they have found
His lair they have him sure within the pound.
So is his brother Scarlet: now they have found
His lair they have him sure within the pound.
Mar Away then, when my Robin bids a feast,
'Twere sin in Marian to defraud a guest.
[Exeunt Marian and John with the Woodmen.
'Twere sin in Marian to defraud a guest.
[Exeunt Marian and John with the Woodmen.
Tuck. And I, the chaplain, here am left to be
Steward to-day, and charge you all in fee,
To d'on your liveries, see the bower drest,
And fit the fine devices for the feast:
You, George, must care to make the baldrick trim,
And garland that must crown, or her, or him,
Whose flock this year hath brought the earliest lamb.
Steward to-day, and charge you all in fee,
To d'on your liveries, see the bower drest,
And fit the fine devices for the feast:
You, George, must care to make the baldrick trim,
And garland that must crown, or her, or him,
Whose flock this year hath brought the earliest lamb.
George. Good father Tuck, at your commands I am
To cut the table out o' the green sword,
Or any other service for my lord;
To carve the guests large seats; and these lain in
With turf, as soft and smooth as the mole's skin:
And hang the bulled nosegays 'bove their heads,[3]
********
The piper's bank, whereon to sit and play;
And a fair dial to mete out the day.
Our master's feast shall want no just delights,
His entertainments must have all the rites.
To cut the table out o' the green sword,
Or any other service for my lord;
To carve the guests large seats; and these lain in
With turf, as soft and smooth as the mole's skin:
And hang the bulled nosegays 'bove their heads,[3]
********
The piper's bank, whereon to sit and play;
And a fair dial to mete out the day.
Our master's feast shall want no just delights,
His entertainments must have all the rites.
Much. Ay, and all choice that plenty can send in:
Bread, wine, acates, fowl, feather, fish or fin,
For which my father's nets have swept the Trent—
Bread, wine, acates, fowl, feather, fish or fin,
For which my father's nets have swept the Trent—
Enter Æglamour.
Æg. And have you found her?
Much. Whom?
Æg. My drowned love,
Earine! the sweet Earine,
The bright and beautiful Earine!
Have you not heard of my Earine?
Just by your father's mill—I think I am right—
Are not you Much the miller's son?
Earine! the sweet Earine,
The bright and beautiful Earine!
Have you not heard of my Earine?
Just by your father's mill—I think I am right—
Are not you Much the miller's son?
Much. I am.
Æg. And bailiff to brave Robin Hood?
Much. The same.
Æg. Close by your father's mills, Earine,
Earine was drown'd! O my Earine!
Old Maudlin tells me so, and Douce her daughter—
Have you swept the river, say you, and not found her?
Earine was drown'd! O my Earine!
Old Maudlin tells me so, and Douce her daughter—
Have you swept the river, say you, and not found her?
Much. For fowl and fish, we have.
Æg. O, not for her! You are goodly friends! right charitable men!
Nay, keep your way and leave me; make your toys,
Your tales, your posies, that you talk'd of; all
Your entertainments: you not injure me.
Only if I may enjoy my cypress wreath,
And you will let me weep, 'tis all I ask,
Till I be turn'd to water, as was she!
And troth, what less suit can you grant a man?
Nay, keep your way and leave me; make your toys,
Your tales, your posies, that you talk'd of; all
Your entertainments: you not injure me.
Only if I may enjoy my cypress wreath,
And you will let me weep, 'tis all I ask,
Till I be turn'd to water, as was she!
And troth, what less suit can you grant a man?
Tuck. His phantasie is hurt, let us now leave him;
[Exit. The wound is yet too fresh to admit searching.
[Exit. The wound is yet too fresh to admit searching.
Æg. Searching! where should I search, or on what track?
Can my slow drop of tears, or this dark shade
About my brows, enough describe her loss!
Earine! O my Earine's loss!
No, no, no, no; this heart will break first.
Can my slow drop of tears, or this dark shade
About my brows, enough describe her loss!
Earine! O my Earine's loss!
No, no, no, no; this heart will break first.
George. How will this sad disaster strike the ears
Of bounteous Robin Hood, our gentle master!
Of bounteous Robin Hood, our gentle master!
Much. How will it mar his mirth, abate his feast;
[Exeunt George and Much. And strike a horror into every guest!
[Exeunt George and Much. And strike a horror into every guest!
Æg. If I could knit whole clouds about my brows,
And weep like Swithin, or those watery signs,
The Kids, that rise then, and drown all the flocks
Of those rich shepherds, dwelling in this vale;
Those careless shepherds that did let her drown!
Then I did something: or could make old Trent
Drunk with my sorrow, to start out in breaches,
To drown their herds, their cattle, and their corn;
Break down their mills, their dams, o'erturn their weirs,
And see their houses and whole livelihood
Wrought into water with her, all were good:
I'd kiss the torrent, and those whirls of Trent,
That suck'd her in, my sweet Earine!
When they have cast her body on the shore,
And it comes up as tainted as themselves,
All pale and bloodless, I will love it still,
For all that they can do, and make them mad,
To see how I will hug it in mine arms!
And hang upon her looks, dwell on her eyes,
Feed round about her lips, and eat her kisses,
Suck off her drowned flesh!—and where's their malice!
Not all their envious sousing can change that.
But I will still study some revenge past this—
[Music of all sorts is heard.
I pray you give me leave, for I will study,
Though all the bells, pipes, tabors, timburines ring,
That you can plant about me; I will study.
And weep like Swithin, or those watery signs,
The Kids, that rise then, and drown all the flocks
Of those rich shepherds, dwelling in this vale;
Those careless shepherds that did let her drown!
Then I did something: or could make old Trent
Drunk with my sorrow, to start out in breaches,
To drown their herds, their cattle, and their corn;
Break down their mills, their dams, o'erturn their weirs,
And see their houses and whole livelihood
Wrought into water with her, all were good:
I'd kiss the torrent, and those whirls of Trent,
That suck'd her in, my sweet Earine!
When they have cast her body on the shore,
And it comes up as tainted as themselves,
All pale and bloodless, I will love it still,
For all that they can do, and make them mad,
To see how I will hug it in mine arms!
And hang upon her looks, dwell on her eyes,
Feed round about her lips, and eat her kisses,
Suck off her drowned flesh!—and where's their malice!
Not all their envious sousing can change that.
But I will still study some revenge past this—
[Music of all sorts is heard.
I pray you give me leave, for I will study,
Though all the bells, pipes, tabors, timburines ring,
That you can plant about me; I will study.
Enter Robin Hood, Clarion, Mellifleur,
Lionel, Amie, Alken, Tuck, Musicians, &c.
Lionel, Amie, Alken, Tuck, Musicians, &c.
Rob. Welcome, bright Clarion, and sweet Mellifleur,
The courteous Lionel, fair Amie; all
My friends and neighbours, to the jolly bower
Of Robin Hood, and to the green-wood walks!
Now that the shearing of your sheep is done,
And the wash'd flocks are lighted of their wool,
The smoother ewes are ready to receive
The mounting rams again; and both do feed,
As either promised to increase your breed
At eaning-time, and bring you lusty twins:
Why should or you or we so much forget
The season in ourselves, as not to make
Use of our youth and spirits, to awake
The nimble horn-pipe, and the timburine,
And mix our songs and dances in the wood,
And each of us cut down a triumph-bough?—
Such are the rites the youthful June allow.[4]
The courteous Lionel, fair Amie; all
My friends and neighbours, to the jolly bower
Of Robin Hood, and to the green-wood walks!
Now that the shearing of your sheep is done,
And the wash'd flocks are lighted of their wool,
The smoother ewes are ready to receive
The mounting rams again; and both do feed,
As either promised to increase your breed
At eaning-time, and bring you lusty twins:
Why should or you or we so much forget
The season in ourselves, as not to make
Use of our youth and spirits, to awake
The nimble horn-pipe, and the timburine,
And mix our songs and dances in the wood,
And each of us cut down a triumph-bough?—
Such are the rites the youthful June allow.[4]
Cla. They were, gay Robin; but the sourer sort
Of shepherds now disclaim in all such sport:[5]
And say, our flock the while are poorly fed,
When with such vanities the swains are led.
Of shepherds now disclaim in all such sport:[5]
And say, our flock the while are poorly fed,
When with such vanities the swains are led.
Tuck. Would they, wise Clarion, were not hurried more[6]
With covetise and rage, when to their store
They add the poor man's yeanling, and dare sell
Both fleece and carcass, not gi'ing him the fell!
Which maketh all the rest forbear to feed;
Or strew tods' hairs, or with their tails do sweep
The dewy grass, to do'ff the simpler sheep;
Or dig deep pits their neighbour's neat to vex,
To drown the calves, and crack the heifers' necks;
Or with pretence of chasing thence the brock,
Send in a cur to worry the whole flock!
With covetise and rage, when to their store
They add the poor man's yeanling, and dare sell
Both fleece and carcass, not gi'ing him the fell!
Which maketh all the rest forbear to feed;
Or strew tods' hairs, or with their tails do sweep
The dewy grass, to do'ff the simpler sheep;
Or dig deep pits their neighbour's neat to vex,
To drown the calves, and crack the heifers' necks;
Or with pretence of chasing thence the brock,
Send in a cur to worry the whole flock!
Lio. O friar, those are faults that are not seen,
Ours open, and of worst example been.
They call ours Pagan pastimes, that infect
Our blood with ease, our youth with all neglect;
Our tongues with wantonness, our thoughts with lust;
And what they censure ill, all others must.
Ours open, and of worst example been.
They call ours Pagan pastimes, that infect
Our blood with ease, our youth with all neglect;
Our tongues with wantonness, our thoughts with lust;
And what they censure ill, all others must.
Rob. I do not know what their sharp sight may see,
Of late, but I should think it still might be
As 'twas, an happy age, when on the plains
The woodmen met the damsels, and the swains
The neat-herds, ploughmen, and the pipers loud,
And each did dance, some to the kit or crowd,
Some to the bag-pipe; some the tabret mov'd,
And all did either love, or were belov'd.
Of late, but I should think it still might be
As 'twas, an happy age, when on the plains
The woodmen met the damsels, and the swains
The neat-herds, ploughmen, and the pipers loud,
And each did dance, some to the kit or crowd,
Some to the bag-pipe; some the tabret mov'd,
And all did either love, or were belov'd.
Lio. The dextrous shepherd then would try his sling,
Then dart his hook at daisies, then would sing;
Sometimes would wrestle.
Then dart his hook at daisies, then would sing;
Sometimes would wrestle.
Cla. Ay, and with a lass:
And give her a new garment on the grass;
After a course at barley-break, or base.
And give her a new garment on the grass;
After a course at barley-break, or base.
Lio. And all these deeds were seen without offence,
Or the least hazard of their innocence.
Or the least hazard of their innocence.
Rob. Those charitable times had no mistrust:
Shepherds knew how to love, and not to lust.
Shepherds knew how to love, and not to lust.
Cla. Each minute that we lose thus, I confess,
Deserves a censure on us, more or less;
But that a sadder chance hath given allay
Both to the mirth and music of this day.
Our fairest shepherdess we had of late,
Here upon Trent, is drown'd; for whom her mate,
Young Æglamour, a swain, who best could tread
Our country dances, and our games did lead,
Lives like the melancholy turtle, drown'd
Deeper in woe, than she in water: crown'd
With yew, and cypress, and will scarce admit
The physic of our presence to his fit.
Deserves a censure on us, more or less;
But that a sadder chance hath given allay
Both to the mirth and music of this day.
Our fairest shepherdess we had of late,
Here upon Trent, is drown'd; for whom her mate,
Young Æglamour, a swain, who best could tread
Our country dances, and our games did lead,
Lives like the melancholy turtle, drown'd
Deeper in woe, than she in water: crown'd
With yew, and cypress, and will scarce admit
The physic of our presence to his fit.
Lio. Sometimes he sits, and thinks all day, then walks,
Then thinks again, and sighs, weeps, laughs, and talks;
And 'twixt his pleasing frenzy, and sad grief,
Is so distracted, as no sought relief
By all our studies can procure his peace.
Then thinks again, and sighs, weeps, laughs, and talks;
And 'twixt his pleasing frenzy, and sad grief,
Is so distracted, as no sought relief
By all our studies can procure his peace.
Cla. The passion finds in him that large increase,
As we doubt hourly we shall lose him too.
As we doubt hourly we shall lose him too.
Rob. You should not cross him then, whate'er you do.
For phant'sie stopp'd, will soon take fire, and burn
Into an auger, or to a phrensie turn.
For phant'sie stopp'd, will soon take fire, and burn
Into an auger, or to a phrensie turn.
Cla. Nay, so we are advised by Aiken here,
A good sage shepherd, who, although he wear
An old worn hat and cloke, can tell us more
Than all the forward fry, that boast their lore.
A good sage shepherd, who, although he wear
An old worn hat and cloke, can tell us more
Than all the forward fry, that boast their lore.
Lio. See, yonder comes the brother of the maid,
Young Karolin: how curious and afraid
He is at once! willing to find him out,
And loth to offend him.
Young Karolin: how curious and afraid
He is at once! willing to find him out,
And loth to offend him.
Enter Karolin.
Kar. Sure he's here about.
Cla. See where he sits.
[Points to Æglamour, sitting upon a bank hard by.
[Points to Æglamour, sitting upon a bank hard by.
Æg. It will be rare, rare, rare!
An exquisite revenge! but peace, no words!
Not for the fairest fleece of all the flock:
If it be known afore, 'tis all worth nothing!
I'll carve it on the trees, and in the turf,[8]
On every green sword, and in every path,
Just to the margin of the cruel Trent.
There will I knock the story in the ground,
In smooth great pebble, and moss fill it round,
Till the whole country read how she was drown'd;
And with the plenty of salt tears there shed,
Quite alter the complexion of the spring.
Or I will get some old, old, grandam thither,
Whose rigid foot but dipp'd into the water,
Shall strike that sharp and sudden cold throughout,
As it shall lose all virtue; and those nymphs,
Those treacherous nymphs pull'd in Earine,
Shall stand curl'd up like images of ice,
And never thaw! mark, never! a sharp justice!
Or stay, a better! when the year's at hottest,
And that the dog-star foams, and the stream boils,
And curls, and works, and swells ready to sparkle,
To fling a fellow with a fever in,
To set it all on fire, till it burn
Blue as Scamander, 'fore the walls of Troy,
When Vulcan leap'd into him to consume him.
An exquisite revenge! but peace, no words!
Not for the fairest fleece of all the flock:
If it be known afore, 'tis all worth nothing!
I'll carve it on the trees, and in the turf,[8]
On every green sword, and in every path,
Just to the margin of the cruel Trent.
There will I knock the story in the ground,
In smooth great pebble, and moss fill it round,
Till the whole country read how she was drown'd;
And with the plenty of salt tears there shed,
Quite alter the complexion of the spring.
Or I will get some old, old, grandam thither,
Whose rigid foot but dipp'd into the water,
Shall strike that sharp and sudden cold throughout,
As it shall lose all virtue; and those nymphs,
Those treacherous nymphs pull'd in Earine,
Shall stand curl'd up like images of ice,
And never thaw! mark, never! a sharp justice!
Or stay, a better! when the year's at hottest,
And that the dog-star foams, and the stream boils,
And curls, and works, and swells ready to sparkle,
To fling a fellow with a fever in,
To set it all on fire, till it burn
Blue as Scamander, 'fore the walls of Troy,
When Vulcan leap'd into him to consume him.
[They approach him.Rob. A deep hurt phant'sie!
Æg. Do you not approve it?
Rob. Yes, gentle Æglamour, we all approve,
And come to gratulate your just revenge:
Which, since it is so perfect, we now hope
You'll leave all care thereof, and mix with us,
In all the proferr'd solace of the spring.
And come to gratulate your just revenge:
Which, since it is so perfect, we now hope
You'll leave all care thereof, and mix with us,
In all the proferr'd solace of the spring.
Æg. A spring, now she is dead! of what? of thorns,
Briars and brambles? thistles, burs and docks?
Cold hemlock, yew? the mandrake, or the box?
These may grow still; but what can spring beside?
Did not the whole earth sicken when she died?
As if there since did fall one drop of dew,
But what was wept for her! or any stalk
Did bear a flower, or any branch a bloom,
After her wreath was made! a In faith, in faith,
[9] You do not fair to put these things upon me,
Which can in no sort be: Earine,
Who had her very being, and her name,
With the first knots or buddings of the spring,[10]
Born with the primrose or the violet,
Or earliest roses blown; when Cupid smiled,
And Venus led the Graces out to dance,
And all the flowers and sweets in nature's lap
Leap'd out, and made their solemn conjuration,
To last but while she lived! Do not I know
How the vale wither'd the same day? how Dove,
Dean, Eye, and Erwash, Idel, Snite and Soare,
Each broke his urn, and twenty waters more,
That swell'd proud Trent, shrunk themselves dry? that since
No sun or moon, or other cheerful star,
Look'd out of heaven, but all the cope was dark,
As it were hung so for her exequies!
And not a voice or sound to ring her knell;
But of that dismal pair, the screeching owl,
And buzzing hornet! Hark! hark! hark! the foul
Bird! how she flutters with her wicker wings!
Peace! you shall hear her screech.
Briars and brambles? thistles, burs and docks?
Cold hemlock, yew? the mandrake, or the box?
These may grow still; but what can spring beside?
Did not the whole earth sicken when she died?
As if there since did fall one drop of dew,
But what was wept for her! or any stalk
Did bear a flower, or any branch a bloom,
After her wreath was made! a In faith, in faith,
[9] You do not fair to put these things upon me,
Which can in no sort be: Earine,
Who had her very being, and her name,
With the first knots or buddings of the spring,[10]
Born with the primrose or the violet,
Or earliest roses blown; when Cupid smiled,
And Venus led the Graces out to dance,
And all the flowers and sweets in nature's lap
Leap'd out, and made their solemn conjuration,
To last but while she lived! Do not I know
How the vale wither'd the same day? how Dove,
Dean, Eye, and Erwash, Idel, Snite and Soare,
Each broke his urn, and twenty waters more,
That swell'd proud Trent, shrunk themselves dry? that since
No sun or moon, or other cheerful star,
Look'd out of heaven, but all the cope was dark,
As it were hung so for her exequies!
And not a voice or sound to ring her knell;
But of that dismal pair, the screeching owl,
And buzzing hornet! Hark! hark! hark! the foul
Bird! how she flutters with her wicker wings!
Peace! you shall hear her screech.
Cla. Good Karolin, sing,
Help to divert this phant'sie.
Help to divert this phant'sie.
[Sings, while Æg. reads the song.Kar. All I can.
Though I am young and cannot tell[11]
Either what Death or Love is well,
Yet I have heard they both bear darts,
And both do aim at human hearts:
And then again, I have been told,
Love wounds with heat, as Death with cold;
So that I fear they do but bring
Extremes to touch, and mean one thing.
Though I am young and cannot tell[11]
Either what Death or Love is well,
Yet I have heard they both bear darts,
And both do aim at human hearts:
And then again, I have been told,
Love wounds with heat, as Death with cold;
So that I fear they do but bring
Extremes to touch, and mean one thing.
As in a ruin we it call
One thing to be blown up, or fall;
Or to our end, like way may have,
By flash of lightning, or a wave:
So Love's inflamed shaft or brand
May kill as soon as Death's cold hand
Except Love's fires the virtue have
To fright the frost out of the grave.
One thing to be blown up, or fall;
Or to our end, like way may have,
By flash of lightning, or a wave:
So Love's inflamed shaft or brand
May kill as soon as Death's cold hand
Except Love's fires the virtue have
To fright the frost out of the grave.
Æg. Do you think so? are you in that good heresy,
I mean, opinion? if you be, say nothing:
I'll study it as a new philosophy,
But by myself, alone: now you shall leave me.
Some of these nymphs here will reward you; this,
This pretty maid, although but with a kiss.
[He forces Amie to kiss Karolin.
Lived my Earine, you should have twenty;
For every line here, one; I would allow them
From mine own store, the treasure I had in her:
[Exit.Now I am poor as you.
I mean, opinion? if you be, say nothing:
I'll study it as a new philosophy,
But by myself, alone: now you shall leave me.
Some of these nymphs here will reward you; this,
This pretty maid, although but with a kiss.
[He forces Amie to kiss Karolin.
Lived my Earine, you should have twenty;
For every line here, one; I would allow them
From mine own store, the treasure I had in her:
[Exit.Now I am poor as you.
Kar. And I a wretch!
[Exit Kar.Cla. Yet keep an eye upon him, Karolin.
Mel. Alas, that ever such a generous spirit
As Æglamour's, should sink by such a loss!
As Æglamour's, should sink by such a loss!
Cla. The truest lovers are least fortunate:
Look all their lives and legends, what they call
The lovers scriptures,[12] Heliodores or Tatii,
Longi, Eustathii, Prodomi, you'll find it!
What think you, father?
Look all their lives and legends, what they call
The lovers scriptures,[12] Heliodores or Tatii,
Longi, Eustathii, Prodomi, you'll find it!
What think you, father?
Alken. I have known some few,
And read of more, who have had their dose, and deep,
Of these sharp bitter-sweets.
And read of more, who have had their dose, and deep,
Of these sharp bitter-sweets.
Lio. But what is this
To jolly Robin, who the story is
Of all beatitude in love?
To jolly Robin, who the story is
Of all beatitude in love?
Cla. And told
Here every day with wonder on the wold.
Here every day with wonder on the wold.
Lio. And with fame's voice.
Alken. Save that some folk delight
To blend all good of others with some spight.
To blend all good of others with some spight.
Cla. He and his Marian are the sum and talk
Of all that breathe here in the green-wood walk.
Of all that breathe here in the green-wood walk.
Mel. Or Belvoir vale.
Lio. The turtles of the wood.
Cla. The billing pair.
Alken. And so are understood
For simple loves, and sampled lives beside.
For simple loves, and sampled lives beside.
Mel. Faith, so much virtue should not be envièd.
Alken. Better be so than pitied, Mellifleur:
For 'gainst all envy, virtue is a cure;
But wretched pity ever calls on scorns.—
[Horns within.
The deer's brought home; I hear it by their horns.
For 'gainst all envy, virtue is a cure;
But wretched pity ever calls on scorns.—
[Horns within.
The deer's brought home; I hear it by their horns.
Enter Marian, John, and Scarlet.
Rob. My Marian, and my mistress!
[They embrace.Mar. My loved Robin!
Mel. The moon's at full, the happy pair are met.
Mar. How hath this morning paid me for my rising!
First, with my sports; but most with meeting you.
I did not half so well reward my hounds,
As she hath me to day; although I gave them
All the sweet morsels call'd tongue, ears, and dowcets!
First, with my sports; but most with meeting you.
I did not half so well reward my hounds,
As she hath me to day; although I gave them
All the sweet morsels call'd tongue, ears, and dowcets!
Rob. What, and the inch-pin?
Mar. Yes.
Rob. Your sports then pleased you?
Mar. You are a wanton.
Rob. One, I do confess,
I want-ed till you came; but now I have you,
I'll grow to your embraces, till two souls
Distilled into kisses through our lips,
[kisses her.Do make one spirit of love.
I want-ed till you came; but now I have you,
I'll grow to your embraces, till two souls
Distilled into kisses through our lips,
[kisses her.Do make one spirit of love.
Mar. O Robin, Robin!
Rob. Breathe, breathe awhile; what says my gentle Marian?
Mar. Could you so long be absent?
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- ↑ And a hart of ten,
I trow he be———] "When a hart, says Manwood, is past his sixth year, he is generally to be called a hart of ten.Whal.He is not a hart at all till he has attained that age, as I learn from that treasury of field knowledge, The Gentleman's Recreation; but he is not necessarily even then a hart of ten: that proud distinction is taken from his "bearing."—"As, if he hath four croches on his near horn, and five on his far, you must say he beareth ten, or he is a hart of ten, for you must always make the number even."
- ↑ For by his slot, his entries, &c] These are all terms of the chase, and should be explained. The slot is the print of a stag's foot upon the ground; entries are places through which deer have lately passed, by which their size is guessed at; frayings are the pillings of their horns; and a deer is said to fray her head, when she rubs it against a tree to renew it, or to cause the outward coat of her new horns to fall off; the fewmets are the dung of a deer. Whal
Jonson is indebted here to Gascoigne's "Commendation of the noble Arte of Venerie," in which all these "signs of sport" are elaborately described. - ↑ And hang the bulled nosegays 'bove their heads.} Bulled, or bolled, signifies swelled, ready to break its inclosure; the bulled nosegays therefore are nosegays of flowers full blown. Whal.
After "heads" a line appears from the context to be wanting; perhaps it was lost at the press. - ↑ Such are the rites, &c.] The folio reads were by an evident misprint, as appears from the line which immediately follows.
- ↑ Cla. They were, gay Robin, but the sourer sort
Of shepherds, now disclaim in all such sport:] The Puritans had a strange aversion to wakes and may-games, which they considered as remains of Paganism; and the dislike was greatly increased by the indulgence granted to the country-people, in the exercise of their rural sports on holidays. Whal. - ↑ Tuck. Would they, wise Clarion, were not hurried more, &c] This and the beautiful speeches which follow, are levelled with great force and discrimination, at the Puritans, who about this time began to grow formidable, and display that covetise and rage which soon afterwards laid waste the sheepfold. That "the flock was poorly fed," was, we see, the watchword of the time, and therefore adopted by Milton, who knew better, and must have been actuated by evil passions:The pastors were changed soon after this was written, and it would require more than the prejudice and intrepidity of this great man to affirm, that the sheep were better tended, or better fed. To drop the metaphor, it may be said without fear of contradiction, that the church of England at that period, was supplied with a ministry of as much wisdom, learning, and true piety as ever adorned this or any other country since the days of the Apostles."The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,
But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly ———
From Milton, whose malignity to the hierarchy is well known, neither truth nor justice is to be expected on the subject; but some approaches to both may be found in others. "In these times, (says Lilly, the hireling advocate of the Usurpation) many worthy ministers lost their livings or benefices, for not complying with the Directory. Had you seen (O noble Esquire) what pitiful idiots were preferred into sequestrated church-benefices, you would have been grieved in your soul; but when they came before the classes of divines, could those simpletons but only say they were converted by hearing such a sermon of that godly man, Hugh Peters, Stephen Marshall, or any of that gang, he was presently admitted." History of his Life, p. 87.
Such were the successors of Hooker and Sanderson, of Usher and Hammond, of Donne and Herbert, &c. But even Milton lived to change his note—even he who exultingly consigned a virtuous sovereign to the block, and a pious priesthood to everlasting perdition, * lived to call upon an hypocritical usurper, to whom all religion was a jest, to save him from the clergy whose intrusion into the church his own clamours had, at least, promoted.Jonson is far from being singular in his remarks on the growing moroseness of these dangerous times; the author of Adrasta, (among a thousand others) felt and expressed the same sentiments."Help us to save free conscience from the paw
Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw."
Sonnet to Crom.Damon. Come, hands to work! It is the festival
Of our Silvanus, we must round entrench
The fittest place for dancing.
Laur. And strew the banks
On which the summer Lord and Lady sit
To see the sports, with those rich spoils of May.
Armin. Our shepherds will be frolic then, and lose
No ceremony of their ancient mirth.
Damon. I like them well: the curious preciseness,
And all-pretended gravity, of those
That seek to banish hence these harmless sports,
Have thrust away much ancient honesty.
Armin. I do believe you. p. 53. - ↑ "But the Bishops (of the Church of England) who by the impairing and diminution of the true faith, the distresses and servitude of their country, aspire to high dignity, rule, and promotion here, after a shameful end in this life, which God grant them! shall be thrown down eternally into the darkest and deepest gulph of hell, where under the despiteful controul, the trample and spurn of the other damned, who in the anguish of their torture, shall have no other ease than to exercise a raving and beastial tyranny over them, as their slaves and negroes; they shall remain in that plight for ever, the lowermost, the most dejected, most under foot, and trodden down vassals of perdition." Milton's Treatise on Reformation, sub fin vol i. p. 274. Dr. Johnson uses the language of forbearance when, rising from the perusal of this fiendlike cursing, he merely observed, "such was Milton's controversial malignity, that hell grew blacker at his frown."
- ↑ I'll carve it on the trees, &c] This thought is sufficiently familiar to every pastoral writer; but the particular object of Jonson's imitation was Spenser."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." - ↑ {{ppoem|start=open|end=close|or any branch a bloom, After her wreath was made!] GREEK HERE Bion.
- ↑ Earine,
Who had her very being, and her name,
With the first knots or buddings of the spring, &c] The English reader will perhaps require to be told, that Earine is derived from a Greek word signifying the spring; but I hope his sagacity does not want a monitor, to point out the exquisite delicacy of the following lines, and indeed of the whole speech. The sentiments are wonderfully pleasing, the verses harmonious and soft. Whal. - ↑ Though I am young, &c] The modern prejudice against Jonson is strongly exemplified in the neglect of his minor poems. While even the worst of Shakspeare's pieces have been sought out with avidity (nay the silly trash which passes under his name, such as "When I was a little tiny boy," &c.) and set to music, a number of exquisite songs dispersed among the works of Jonson remain wholly unnoticed. "All is but fortune," as Stephano truly observes; and though it be too much perhaps to expect a Mus. Doc. to read for himself, yet he may fairly be expected to follow the fashion; and Jonson may yet have his turn. That he was not thus overlooked by the great composers of former times is certain; the song before us was set to music by Nicholas Lanncare, and inserted in the compilation of Ayres and Dialogues, by Henry Lawes, 1653.
- ↑ The lover's scriptures, Helidores, or Tatii,
Longi, &c.] For the first two, see vol. v. p. 394. Longus is the author of the beautiful pastoral of Daphnis and Chloe; Eustathius of the story of Ismene and Ismenias; and Prodromus of a love-tale in metre, called Doricles and Rhodantes.