THE SHEPHERD'S HUNTING: THE SECOND EGLOGUE by GEORGE WITHER

The Argument.

@3Cuddy@1 here relates, how all
Pitty @3Philarete's@1 thrall.
Who, requested, doth relate
The true cause of his estate;
Which broke off, because 'twas long,
They begin, a three-man-Song.

Willy. Cuddy. Philarete.

@3Willy.@1

Lo, @3Philaret@1, thy old friend heere, and I,
Are come to visit thee in these thy Bands,
Whil'st both our Flocks in an @3Inclosure@1 by,
Doe picke the thin grasse from the fallowed lands.
He tels me thy restraint of liberty,
Each one throughout the Country understands:
And there is not a gentle-natur'd @3Lad@1
On all these @3Downes@1, but for thy sake is sad.

@3Cuddy.@1

Not thy acquaintance, and thy friends alone,
Pitty thy close restraint, as friends should doe:
But some that have but seene thee, for thee moane:
Yea, many that did never see thee to.
Some deeme thee in a fault, and most in none;
So divers wayes doe divers @3Rumors@1 goe
And at all meetings where our @3Shepheards@1 bee,
Now the maine Newes that's extant, is of thee.

@3Philarete.@1

Why, this is somewhat yet: had I but kept
Sheepe on the @3Mountaines@1, till the day of doome,
My @3name@1 should in obscuritie have slept
In @3Brakes@1, in @3Briars, shrubbed Furze@1 and @3Broome@1.
Into the Worlds wide eare it had not crept,
Nor in so many mens thoughts found a roome:
But what cause of my sufferings doe they know?
Good @3Cuddy@1, tell me, how doth @3rumour@1 goe?

@3Cuddy.@1

Faith 'tis uncertaine; some speake this, some that:
Some dare say nought, yet seeme to thinke a cause,
And many a one prating he knowes not what
Comes out with @3Proverbes@1 and @3old ancient sawes@1,
As if he thought thee guiltlesse, and yet not:
Then doth he speake halfe @3Sentences@1, then pawse:
That what the most would say, we may suppose;
But, what to say, the @3Rumour@1 is, none knowes.

@3Philarete.@1

Nor care I greatly; for, it skils not much,
What the unsteady common-people deemes,
His @3Conscience@1 doth not alwaies feele least touch,
That blamelesse in the sight of others seemes:
My cause is honest, and because 'tis such,
I hold it so, and not for mens esteemes:
If they speake justly well of mee, I'me glad;
If falsely evill, it ne're makes me sad.

@3Willy.@1

I like that mind: but, @3Shepheard@1, you are quite
Beside the matter that I long to heare:
Remember what you promis'd yester-night,
Youl'd put us off with other talke, I feare;
Thou know'st that honest @3Cuddies@1 heart's upright,
And none but he, except my selfe, is neere:
Come therefore, and betwixt us two relate,
The true occasion of thy present state.

@3Philarete.@1

My Friends I will; You know I am a @3Swaine@1,
That kept a poore Flocke on a barren @3Plaine@1:
Who though it seemes, I could doe nothing lesse,
Can make a @3Song@1, and woe a @3Shepheardesse@1.
And not alone the fairest where I live,
Have heard me sing, and favours daign'd to give:
But, though I say't, the @3noblest Nymph@1 of @3Thame@1,
Hath grac'd my @3Verse@1, unto my greater fame.
Yet, being young, and not much seeking prayse,
I was not noted out for @3Shepheards layes@1:
Nor feeding Flocks, as, you know, others be:
For the delight that most possessed me
Was hunting @3Foxes, Wolves@1, and @3Beasts@1 of @3Prey@1:
That spoyle our @3Foulds@1, and beare our @3Lambs@1 away.
For this, as also for the love I beare
Unto my @3Country@1, I laid-by all @3care@1
Of @3gaine@1, or of @3preferment@1, with @3desire@1
Onely to keepe that state I had entire.
And like a true growne @3Huntsman@1 sought to speed
My selfe with @3Hounds@1 of rare and choysest breed,
Whose @3Names@1 and @3Natures@1 ere I further goe,
Because you are my friends I'le let you know.
My first esteemed Dogge that I did finde,
Was by @3descent@1 of olde @3Acteons@1 kinde;
A @3Brache@1, which if I doe not aime amisse,
For all the world is just like one of his:
She's named @3Love@1, and scarce yet knowes her duty;
Her Damme's my Ladies pretty @3Beagle, Beauty@1.
I bred her up my selfe with wondrous charge,
Untill she grew to be exceeding large,
And waxt so wanton, that I did abhorre it,
And put her out amongst my neighbours for it.
The next is @3Lust@1, a Hound that's kept abroad
Mongst some of mine acquaintance, but a Toad
Is not more loathsome: 'tis a Curre will range
Extreamely, and is ever full of mange:
And cause it is infectious, she's not wunt
To come among the rest, but when they hunt.
@3Hate@1 is the third, a Hound both deepe and long:
His @3Sire@1 is @3True@1, or else supposed @3Wrong@1.
He'le have a snap at all that passe him by,
And yet pursues his game most eagerly.
With him goes @3Envie@1 coupled, a leane Curre,
And yet she'le hold out, hunt we ne're so farre:
She pineth much, and feedeth little to,
Yet stands and snarleth at the rest that doe.
Then there's @3Revenge@1, a wondrous deep-mouth'd dog,
So fleet, I'me faine to hunt him with a clog,
Yet many times he'le much out-strip his bounds,
And hunts not closely with the other Hounds:
He'le venter on a @3Lyon@1 in his @3ire@1;
Curst @3Choller@1 was his @3Damme@1, and @3Wrong@1 his @3Sire@1.
This @3Choller@1, is a @3Brache@1, that's very old,
And spends her mouth too-much to have it hold:
She's very teasty; an unpleasing Curre,
That bites the very Stones, if they but sturre:
Or when that ought but her displeasure moves,
She'le bite and snap at any one she loves.
But my quicke scented'st Dogge is @3Joelousie@1,
The truest of this breede's in @3Italie@1.
The @3Damme@1 of mine would hardly fill a Glove,
It was a @3Ladies@1 little Dogge, cal'd @3Love@1:
The @3Sire@1 a poore deformed Curre, nam'd @3Feare@1;
As shagged and as rough as is a @3Beare@1:
And yet the Whelpe turn'd after neither kinde,
For he is very large, and nere-hand blinde.
Farre-off, hee seemeth of a pretty culler,
But doth not prove so, when you view him fuller.
A vile suspitious Beast; whose lookes are bad,
And I doe feare in time he will grow mad.
To him I couple @3Avarice@1, still poore;
Yet shee devoures as much as twenty more:
A thousand Horse shee in her paunch can put,
Yet whine, as if she had an emptie gut;
And having gorg'd what might a Land have found,
Shee'le catch for more, and, hide it in the ground.
@3Ambition@1 is a Hound as greedy full;
But hee for all the daintiest bits doth cull:
Hee scornes to licke up Crumbs beneath the Table,
Hee'le fetch't from boards and shelves, if he be able:
Nay, hee can climbe, if neede be; and for that
With him I hunt the @3Martine@1, and the @3Cat@1:
And yet sometimes in mounting, hee's so quicke,
Hee fetches falls, are like to breake his necke.
@3Feare@1 is wel-mouth'd, but subject to @3Distrust@1;
A Stranger cannot make him take a Crust:
A little thing will soone his courage quaile,
And 'twixt his legges hee ever claps his Taile.
With him, @3Despaire@1, now, often coupled goes,
Which by his roring mouth each @3hunts-man@1 knowes.
None hath a better minde unto the game;
But hee gives off, and alwaies seemeth lame.
My bloud-hound @3Cruelty@1, as swift as wind,
Hunts to the death, and never comes behind;
Who, but she's strapt, and musled to, withall,
Would eate her fellowes and the prey and all.
And yet, she cares not much for any food;
Unlesse it be the purest harmelesse blood.
All these are kept abroad at charge of meny,
They doe not cost me in a yeare a penny.
But there's two couple of a midling size,
That seldome passe the sight of my owne eyes.
@3Hope@1, on whose head I've laid my life to pawne;
@3Compassion@1, that on every one will fawne.
This would, when 'twas a whelpe, with @3Rabets@1 play
Or @3Lambes@1, and let them goe unhurt away:
Nay, now she is of growth, shee'le now and then
Catch you a @3Hare@1, and let her goe agen.
The two last, @3Joy@1, and @3Sorrow@1, make me wonder,
For they can ne're agree, nor bide asunder.
@3Joy@1's ever wanton, and no order knowes,
She'le run at @3Larkes@1, or stand and barke at @3Crowes@1.
@3Sorrow@1 goes by her, and ne're moves his eye:
Yet both doe serve to helpe make up the cry:
Then comes behinde all these to beare the base,
Two couple more of a farre larger Race,
Such wide-mouth'd @3Trollops@1, that 'twould doe you good,
To heare their loud-loud @3Ecchoes@1 teare the Wood:
There's @3Vanity@1, who by her gaudy @3Hide@1,
May farre away from all the rest be spide,
Though huge, yet quicke, for she's now here, now there;
Nay, looke about you, and she's every where:
Yet ever with the rest, and still in chace,
Right so, @3Inconstancie@1 fils every place;
And yet so strange a fickle natur'd Hound,
Looke for her, and she's no where to be found.
@3Weakenesse@1 is no faire Dogge unto the eye,
And yet she hath her proper qualitie.
But there's @3Presumption@1, when he heat hath got,
He drownes the @3Thunder@1, and the @3Cannon-shot@1:
And when at Start, he his full roaring makes,
The Earth doth tremble, and the Heaven shakes:
These were my Dogs, ten couple just in all,
Whom by the name of @3Satyres@1 I doe call:
Mad Curs they be, and I can ne're come nigh them,
But I'me in danger to be bitten by them.
Much paines I tooke, and spent dayes not a few,
To make them keepe together, and hunt true:
Which yet I doe suppose had never bin,
But that I had a @3Scourge@1 to keepe them in.
Now when that I this Kennell first had got,
Out of mine owne Demeanes I hunted not,
Save on these Downes, or among yonder @3Rocks@1,
After those beasts that spoyl'd our Parish Flockes:
Nor during that time, was I ever wont,
With all my Kennell in one day to hunt:
Nor had done yet, but that this other yeere,
Some Beasts of @3Prey@1 that haunt the @3Deserts@1 heere,
Did not alone for many @3Nights@1 together
Devoure, sometime a @3Lambe@1, sometime a @3Weather@1:
And so disquiet many a poore mans Heard,
But thereof loosing all were much afeard.
Yea, I among the rest, did fare as bad,
Or rather worse; for the best @3Ewes@1 I had,
(Whose breed should be my meanes of life and gaine,
Were in one Evening by these @3Monsters@1 slaine:
Which mischiefe I resolved to repay,
Or else grow desperate and hunt all away.
For in a furie such as you shall see
@3Hunts-men@1, in missing of their sport will be)
I vow'd a @3Monster@1 should not lurke about
In all this @3Province@1, but I'de finde him out.
And thereupon without respect or @3care@1,
How @3lame@1, how @3full@1, or how @3unfit@1 they were,
In hast unkennell'd all my roaring crew,
Who were as mad, as if my mind they knew;
And e're they trail'd a flight-shot, the fierce Curres,
Had rous'd a @3Hart@1, and through @3Brakes, Bryars@1, and @3Furres@1
Follow'd at gaze so close, that @3Love@1 and @3Feare@1
Got in together, and had surely, there
Quite overthrowne him, but that @3Hope@1 thrust in
'Twixt both, and sav'd the pinching of his skin.
Whereby he scap't, till coursing overthwart,
@3Despaire@1 came in, and grip't him to the hart.
I hallowed in the resdue to the fall,
And for an entrance, there I flesh't them all:
Which having done, I dip'd my staffe in blood
And onward led my @3Thunder@1 to the Wood;
Where what they did, I'le tell you out anon,
My keeper calles me, and I must be gon.
Goe, if you please a while, attend your Flocks,
And when the @3Sunne@1 is over yonder Rocks,
Come to this @3Cave@1 againe, where I will be,
If that my @3Gardian@1 so much favour me.
Yet if you please, let us three sing a straine,
Before you turne your sheepe into the Plaine.

@3Willie.@1

I am content.

@3Cuddy.@1

As well content am I.

@3Philarete.@1

Then @3Will@1 begin, and wee'le the rest supply.

SONG.

@3Willie.@1

Shepheard, would these Gates were ope,
Thou might'st take with us thy fortunes.

@3Philarete.@1

No, I'le make this narrow scope,
(Since my Fate doth so importune)
Meanes unto a wider Hope.

@3Cuddy.@1

Would thy Shepheardesse were here,
Who belov'd, loves so dearely?

@3Philarete.@1

Not for both your Flocks, I sweare,
And the gaine they yeeld you yeerely,
Would I so much wrong my Deare.
Yet, to me, nor to this Place,
Would she now be long a stranger:
She would hold it in disgrace,
(If she fear'd not more my danger)
Where I am to shew her face.

@3Willie.@1

Shepheard, we would wish no harmes,
But something that might content thee.

@3Philarete.@1

Wish me then within her armes;
And that wish will ne're repent me,
If your wishes might prove charmes.

@3Willie.@1

Be thy Prison her embrace,
Be thy ayre her sweetest breathing.

@3Cuddy.@1

Be thy prospect her sweet Face,
For each looke a kisse bequeathing,
And appoint thy selfe the place.

* * *

@3Philarete.@1

Nay pray, hold there, for I should scantly then
Come meete you here this afternoone agen:
But fare you well, since wishes have no power,
Let us depart and keepe the pointed houre.

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