The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
Place sorrow’s triumph on my conquered heart,
Whereto I yield, and seek none other breath,
But from the scent of some infectious grave:
Nor of my fortune ought, but mischief crave.
{285}
STREPHON
Nor of my fortune ought but mischief crave,
And seek to nourish that, which now contains
All what I am: if I myself will save,
Then must I save, what in me chiefly reigns,
Which is the hateful web of sorrow’s pains.
Sorrow then cherish me, for I am sorrow:
No being now, but sorrow I can have:
Then deck me as thine own; thy help I borrow,
Since thou my riches art, and that thou hast
Enough to make a fertile mind lie waste.
CLAIUS
Enough to make a fertile mind lie waste,
Is that huge storm, which pours itself on me:
Hailstones of tears, of sighs a monstrous blast,
Thunders of cries; lightnings my wild looks be,
The darkened heav’n my soul, which nought can see,
The flying sprites which trees by roots uptear,
Be those despairs which have my hopes quite rased.
The difference is; all folks those storms forbear,
But I cannot; who then myself should fly,
So close unto myself my wrecks do lie.
STREPHON
So close unto myself my wrecks do lie,
But cause, effect, beginning, and the end
Are all in me: what help then can I try?
My ship, myself, whose course to love doth bend,
Sore beaten doth her mast of comfort spend:
Her cable reason, breaks from anchor’d hope:
Fancy, her tackling torn away doth fly:
Ruin, the wind, hath blown her from her scope:
Bruised with waves of cares, but broken is
On rock despair, the burial of my bliss.
CLAIUS
On rock despair, the burial of my bliss,
I long do plough with plough of deep desire:
The seed fast-meaning is, no truth to miss:
I harrow it with thoughts, which all conspire,
Favour to make my chief and only hire.
But woe is me, the year is gone about,
And now I fain would reap, I reap but this
Hatefully grown, absence new sprung out.
So that I see, although my sight impair,
Vain is their pain, who labour in despair.
{286}
STREPHON
Vain is their pain, who labour in despair.
For so did I, when with my angle will,
I sought to catch the fish Torpedo fair,
Ev’n then despair did hope already kill:
Yet fancy would perforce employ his skill,
And this hath got; the catcher now is caught.
Lam’d with the angle, which itself did bear,
And unto death, quite drown’d in dolours, brought
To death, as then disguis’d in her fair face:
Thus, thus, alas, I had my loss in chase.
CLAIUS
Thus, thus, alas, I had my loss in chase,
When first that crowned Basilisk I knew;
Whose footsteps I with kisses oft did trace,
Till by such hap, as I must ever rue,
Mine eyes did light upon her shining hue,
And hers on me, astonish’d with that sight.
Since then my heart did lose his wonted place,
Infected so with her sweet poison’s might,
That, leaving me for dead, to her it went:
But ha! her flight hath her my dead reliques spent.
STREPHON
But ah! her flight hath my dead reliques spent,
Her flight, from me, from me, though dead to me,
Yet living still in her, while her beams lent
Such vital spark, that her mine eyes might see.
But now those living lights absented be,
Full dead before, now I to dust should fall,
But that eternal pains my soul have bent,
And keep it still within this body thrall,
That thus I must while in this death I dwell,
In earthly fetters feel a lasting hell.
CLAIUS
In earthly fetters feel a lasting hell,
Alas I do; from which to find release,
I would the earth, I would the heavens fell:
But vain it is to think those pains should cease,
Where life is death, and death cannot breed peace.
O fair, O only fair, from thee alas,
Those foul, most foul disasters to me fell;
Since thou from me, O me! O sun did’st pass.
Therefore esteeming all good blessings toys,
I joy in grief, and do detest all joys.
{287}
STREPHON
I joy in grief, and do detest all joys,
But now an end, O Claius, now an end:
For even the herbs our hateful music stroys,
And from our burning breath the trees do bend.
So well were those wailful complaints accorded to the passions of all
the princely hearers, while every one made what he heard of another
the balance of his own fortune, that they stood a long while stricken
in sad and silent consideration of them. Which the old Geron no more
marking than condemning in them, desirous to set forth what counsels
the wisdom of age had laid up in store against such fancies, as he
thought, follies of youth, yet so as it might not appear that his
words respected them, bending himself to a young shepherd, named
Philisides, who neither had danced nor sung with them, and had all
this time lain upon the ground at the foot of a Cypress tree, leaning
upon his elbow with so deep a melancholy, that his senses carried to
his mind no delight from any of their objects, he struck him upon the
shoulder with a right old man’s grace, that will seem livelier than
his age will afford him. And thus began unto him this eclogue.
GERON and PHILISIDES
GERON
Up, up, Philisides, let sorrows go,
Who yields to woe, but doth increase his smart.
Do not thy heart to plaintful custom bring:
But let us sing; sweet tunes do passions ease,
An old man hear who would thy fancies raise.
PHILISIDES
Who minds to please the mind drown’d in annoys
With outward joys, which inly cannot sink,
As well may think with oil to cool the fire:
Or with desire to make such foe a friend,
Who doth his soul to endless malice bend.
GERON
But sure an end to each thing time doth give,
Though woes now live, at length thy woes must die:
Then virtue try, if she can work in thee
That which we see in many time hath wrought,
And weakest hearts to constant temper brought.
PHILISIDES
Who ever taught a skilless man to teach,
Or stop a breach that never cannon saw?
{288}
Sweet virtue’s law bars not a causeful moan.
Time shall in one my life and sorrows end,
And me perchance your constant temper lend.
GERON
What can amend where physick is refus’d?
The wit’s abus’d that will no counsel take.
Yet for my sake discover us thy grief.
Oft comes relief when most we seem in trap.
The stars thy state, fortune may change thy hap.
PHILISIDES
If fortune’s lap became my dwelling place,
And all the stars conspired to my good,
Still were I one, this still should be my case,
Ruin’s relique, care’s web, and sorrow’s food:
Since she fair fierce to such a state me calls,
Whose wit the stars, whose fortune, fortune thralls.
GERON
Alas what falls are fall’n unto thy mind?
That there where thou confessed thy mischief lies,
Thy wit dost use still more harms to find.
Whom wit makes vain, or blinded with his eyes;
What counsel can prevail, or light give light?
Since all his force against himself he tries.
Then each conceit that enters in his sight,
Is made, forsooth, a jurate of his woes:
Earth, sea, air, fire, heaven, hell, and ghastly spright.
Then cries to senseless things, which neither knows
What aileth thee, and if they knew thy mind,
Would scorn in man, their king, such feeble shows.
Rebel, rebel, in golden fetters bind
This tyrant love; or rather do suppress
Those rebel-thoughts, which are thy slaves by kind.
Let not a glittering name thy fancy dress
In painted clothes; because they call it love:
There is no hate that can thee more oppress.
Begin, and half the work is done, to prove
By rising up, upon thyself to stand,
And think she is a she, that doth thee move.
He water ploughs, and soweth in the sand,
And hopes the flickering wind with net to hold
Who hath his hopes laid upon woman’s hand.
What man is he that hath his freedom sold?
Is he a manlike man, doth not know, man
Hath power that sex with bridle to withhold?
A fickle sex, and true in trust to no man,
{289}
A servant sex soon proud if they be coy’d:
And to conclude thy mistress is a woman.
PHILISIDES
O gods, how long this old fool hath annoy’d
My wearied ears! O gods, yet grant me this,
That soon the world of his false tongue be void.
O noble age who place their only bliss,
In being heard until the hearer die,
Uttering a serpent’s mind with a serpent’s hiss.
Then who will bear a well-authorized lie
(And patience hath) let him go learn of him
What swarms of virtues did in his youth fly
Such hearts of brass, wise heads, and garments trim
Were in his days: which heard, one nothing hears,
If from his words the falsehood he do skim.
And herein most their folly vain appears,
That since they still allege, when they were young,
It shows they fetch their wit from youthful years,
Like beast for sacrifice, where save the tongue
And belly nought is left: such sure is he,
This life-dead man in this old dungeon flung.
Old houses are thrown down for new we see:
The oldest rams are culled from the flock:
No man doth wish his horse should aged be.
The ancient oak well makes a fired block:
Old men themselves do love young wives to choose:
Only fond youth admires a rotten stock.
Who once a white long beard, well handle does
(As his beard him, he his beard did bare)
Though cradle-witted, must not honour lose,
O when will men leave off to judge by hair;
And think them old that have the oldest mind,
With virtue fraught, and full of holy fear!
GERON
If that thy face were hid, or I were blind,
I yet should know a young man speaketh now,
Such wandering reasons in thy speech I find,
He is a beast, that beasts use will allow.
For proof of man, who sprung of heav’nly fire
Hath strongest soul when most his reigns do bow.
But fondlings fond, know not your own desire
Loth to die young, and then you must be old.
Fondly blame that to which yourselves aspire.
But this light choler that doth make you bold,
Rather to wrong than unto just defence,
Is past with me, my blood is waxed cold,
{290}
Thy words, though full of malapert offence,
I weigh them not, but still will thee advise
How thou from foolish love mayest purge thy sense.
First think they err, that think them gaily wise,
Who well can set a passion out to show:
Such sight have they that see with goggling eyes,
Passion bears high when puffing wit doth blow.
But is indeed a toy, if not a toy,
True cause of evils: and cause of causeless woe,
If once thou mayest that fancy gloss destroy
Within thyself, thou soon wilt be ashamed
To be a player of thine own annoy.
Then let thy mind with better books be tamed.
Seek to espy her faults as well as praise,
And let thine eyes to other sports be framed.
In hunting fearful beasts, do spend some days,
Or catch the birds with pit-falls or with lime,
Or train the fox that train so crafty lays.
Lie but to sleep, and in the early prime
Seek skill of herbs in hills, haunt brooks near night,
And try with bait how fish will bite sometime.
Go graft again and seek to graft them right,
Those pleasant plants, those sweet and fruitful trees
Which both the palate and the eyes delight.
Cherish the hives of wisely painful bees,
Let special care upon thy flock be stayed,
Such active mind but seldom passion sees.
PHILISIDES
Hath any man heard what this old man said?
Truly not I, who did my thoughts engage,
Where all my pains one look of her hath paid.
Geron was even out of countenance, finding the words, he thought were
so wise, win so little reputation at this young man’s hands; and
therefore sometimes looking upon an old acquaintance of his called