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  Your owne assuredly to be commaunded,

  E. K.

  POST SCR.

  NOW I trust, Maister Harvey, that upon sight of your speciall frends and fellow poets doings, or els for envie of so many 300 unworthy quidams, which catch at the garlond which to you alone is dewe, you will be perswaded to pluck out of the hatefull darknesse those so many excellent English poemes of yours which lye hid, and bring them forth to eternall light. Trust me, you doe both them great wrong, in depriving them of the desired sonne, and also your selfe, in smoothering your deserved prayses; and all men generally, in withholding 310 from them so divine pleasures which they might conceive of your gallant English verses, as they have already doen of your Latine poemes, which, in my opinion, both for invention and elocution are very delicate and superexcellent. And thus againe I take my leave of my good Mayster Harvey. From my lodging at London, thys 10 of Aprill, 1579.

  The Generall Argument of the Whole Booke

  LITTLE, I hope, needeth me at large to discourse the first originall of Æglogues, having alreadie touched the same. But, for the word Æglogues, I know, is unknowen to most, and also mistaken of some the best learned (as they think) I wyll say somewhat thereof, being not at all impertinent to my present purpose.

  They were first of the Greekes, the inventours of them, called Æglogai, as it were [Greek] or [Greek] that is, Goteheards tales. For although in Virgile and others the speakers be more shepherds then goatheards, yet Theocritus, in whom is more ground of authoritie then in Virgile, this specially from that deriving, as from the first head and welspring, the whole invencion of his Æglogues, maketh goteheards the persons and authors of his tales. This being, who seeth not the grossenesse of such as by colour of learning would make us beleeve that they are more rightly termed Eclogai; as they would say, extraordinary discourses of unnecessarie matter? which difinition, albe in substaunce and meaning it agree with the nature of the thing, yet no whit answereth with the [Greek] and interpretation of the word. For they be not termed Eclogues, but Æglogues: which sentence this authour very well observing, upon good judgement, though indeede few goteheards have to doe herein, nethelesse doubteth not to cal them by the used and best knowen name. Other curious discourses hereof I reserve to greater occasion.

  These xij Æglogues, every where answering to the seasons of the twelve monthes, may be well devided into three formes or ranckes. For eyther they be plaintive, as the first, the sixt, the eleventh, and the twelfth; or recreative, such as al those be which containe matter of love, or commendation of special personages; or moral, which for the most part be mixed with some satyrical bitternesse: namely the second, of reverence dewe to old age, the fift, of coloured deceipt, the seventh and ninth, of dissolute shepheards and pastours, the tenth, of contempt of poetrie and pleasaunt wits. And to this division may every thing herein be reasonably applyed: a few onely except, whose speciall purpose and meaning I am not privie to. And thus much generally of these xij Æglogues. Now will we speake particularly of all, and first of the first, which he calleth by the first monethes name, Januarie: wherein to some he may seeme fowly to have faulted, in that he erroniously beginneth with that moneth which beginneth not the yeare. For it is wel known, and stoutely mainteyned with stronge reasons of the learned, that the yeare beginneth in March; for then the sonne reneweth his finished course, and the seasonable spring refresheth the earth, and the plesaunce thereof, being buried in the sadnesse of the dead winter now worne away, reliveth. This opinion maynteine the olde astrologers and philosophers, namely the reverend Andalo, and Macrobius in his holydayes of Saturne; which accoumpt also was generally observed both of Grecians and Romans. But saving the leave of such learned heads, we mayntaine a custome of coumpting the seasons from the moneth January, upon a more speciall cause then the heathen philosophers ever coulde conceive, that is, for the incarnation of our mighty Saviour and eternall Redeemer, the Lord Christ, who, as then renewing the state of the decayed world, and returning the compasse of expired yeres to theyr former date and first commencement, left to us his heires a memoriall of his birth in the ende of the last yeere and beginning of the next: which reckoning, beside that eternall monument of our salvation, leaneth also uppon good proofe of special judgement. For albeit that in elder times, when as yet the coumpt of the yere was not perfected, as afterwarde it was by Julius Cæsar, they began to tel the monethes from Marches beginning, and according to the same, God (as is sayd in Seripture) comaunded the people of the Jewes to count the moneth Abib, that which we call March, for the first moneth, in remembraunce that in that moneth he brought them out of the land of Ægipt, yet according to tradition of latter times it hath bene otherwise observed, both in government of the Church and rule of mightiest realmes. For from Julius Cæsar, who first observed the leape yeere, which he called Bissextilem Annum, and brought into a more certain course the odde wandring dayes which of the Greekes were called [Greek] of the Romanes intercalares (for in such matter of learning I am forced to use the termes of the learned) the monethes have bene nombred xij, which in the first ordinaunce of Romulus were but tenne, counting but ccciiij dayes in every yeare, and beginning with March. But Numa Pompilius, who was the father of al the Romain ceremonies and religion, seeing that reckoning to agree neither with the course of the sonne, nor of the moone, thereunto added two monethes, January and February: wherin it seemeth, that wise king minded upon good reason to begin the yeare at Januarie, of him therefore so called tanquam janua anni, the gate and entraunce of the yere, or of the name of the god Janus, to which god for that the old Paynims attributed the byrth and beginning of all creatures new comming into the worlde, it seemeth that he therfore to him assigned the beginning and first entraunce of the yeare. Which account for the most part hath hetherto continued: notwithstanding that the Ægiptians beginne theyr yeare at September, for that, according to the opinion of the best rabbins and very purpose of the Seripture selfe, God made the worlde in that moneth, that is called of them Tisri. And therefore he commaunded them to keepe the feast of Pavilions in the end of the yeare, in the xv. day of the seventh moneth, which before that time was the first.

  But our authour, respecting nether the subtiltie of thone parte, nor the antiquitie of thother, thinketh it fittest, according to the simplicitie of commen understanding, to begin with Januarie, wening it perhaps no decorum that shepheard should be seene in matter of so deepe insight, or canvase a case of so doubtful judgment. So therefore beginneth he, and so continueth he throughout.

  Januarye

  ÆGLOGA PRIMA

  ARGUMENT

  IN this fyrst Æglogue Colin Cloute, a shepheardes boy, complaineth him of his unfortunate love, being but newly (as semeth) enamoured of a countrie lasse called Rosalinde: with which strong affection being very sore traveled, he compareth his carefull case to the sadde season of the yeare, to the frostie ground, to the frosen trees, and to his owne winter-beaten flocke. And lastlye, fynding himselfe robbed of all former pleasaunce and delights, hee breaketh his pipe in peeces, and casteth him selfe to the ground.

  COLIN CLOUTE.

  A SHEPEHEARDS boye (no better doe him call)

  When winters wastful spight was almost spent,

  All in a sunneshine day, as did befall,

  Led forth his flock, that had bene long ypent.

  So faynt they woxe, and feeble in the folde, 5

  That now unnethes their feete could them uphold.

  All as the sheepe, such was the shepeheards looke,

  For pale and wanne he was, (alas the while!)

  May seeme he lovd, or els some care he tooke:

  Well couth he tune his pipe, and frame his stile. 10

  Tho to a hill his faynting flocke he ledde,

  And thus him playnd, the while his shepe there fedde.

  ‘Ye gods of love, that pitie lovers payne,

  (If any gods the paine of lovers pitie,)

  Looke from above, where you in joyes remaine, 15

  And bowe your eares unto my do
lefull dittie.

  And Pan, thou shepheards god, that once didst love,

  Pitie the paines that thou thy selfe didst prove.

  ‘Thou barrein ground, whome winters wrath hath wasted,

  Art made a myrrhour to behold my plight: 20

  Whilome thy fresh spring flowrd, and after hasted

  Thy sommer prowde with daffadillies dight,

  And now is come thy wynters stormy state,

  Thy mantle mard wherein thou maskedst late.

  ‘Such rage as winters reigneth in my heart, 25

  My life bloud friesing with unkindly cold:

  Such stormy stoures do breede my balefull smart,

  As if my yeare were wast and woxen old.

  And yet, alas! but now my spring begonne,

  And yet, alas! yt is already donne. 30

  ‘You naked trees, whose shady leaves are lost,

  Wherein the byrds were wont to build their bowre,

  And now are clothd with mosse and hoary frost,

  Instede of bloosmes, wherwith your buds did flowre:

  I see your teares, that from your boughes doe raine, 35

  Whose drops in drery ysicles remaine.

  ‘All so my lustfull leafe is drye and sere,

  My timely buds with wayling all are wasted;

  The blossome which my braunch of youth did beare

  With breathed sighes is blowne away and blasted; 40

  And from mine eyes the drizling teares descend,

  As on your boughes the ysicles depend.

  ‘Thou feeble flocke, whose fleece is rough and rent,

  Whose knees are weake through fast and evill fare,

  Mayst witnesse well by thy ill governement, 45

  Thy maysters mind is overcome with care.

  Thou weake, I wanne; thou leane, I quite forlorne:

  With mourning pyne I; you with pyning mourne.

  ‘A thousand sithes I curse that carefull hower

  Wherein I longd the neighbour towne to see: 50

  And eke tenne thousand sithes I blesse the stoure

  Wherein I sawe so fayre a sight as shee.

  Yet all for naught: such sight hath bred my bane.

  Ah, God! that love should breede both joy and payne!

  ‘It is not Hobbinol wherefore I plaine, 55

  Albee my love he seeke with dayly suit:

  His clownish gifts and curtsies I disdaine,

  His kiddes, his cracknelles, and his early fruit.

  Ah, foolish Hobbinol! thy gyfts bene vayne:

  Colin them gives to Rosalind againe. 60

  ‘I love thilke lasse, (alas! why doe I love?)

  And am forlorne, (alas! why am I lorne?)

  Shee deignes not my good will, but doth reprove,

  And of my rurall musick holdeth scorne.

  Shepheards devise she hateth as the snake, 65

  And laughes the songes that Colin Clout doth make.

  ‘Wherefore, my pype, albee rude Pan thou please,

  Yet for thou pleasest not where most I would:

  And thou, unlucky Muse, that wontst to ease

  My musing mynd, yet canst not, when thou should: 70

  Both pype and Muse shall sore the while abye.’

  So broke his oaten pype, and downe dyd lye.

  By that, the welked Phœbus gan availe

  His weary waine, and nowe the frosty Night

  Her mantle black through heaven gan over-haile. 75

  Which seene, the pensife boy, halfe in despight,

  Arose, and homeward drove his sonned sheepe,

  Whose hanging heads did seeme his carefull case to weepe.

  COLINS EMBLEME.

  Anchôra speme.

  GLOSSE

  Colin Cloute is a name not greatly used, and yet have I sene a poesie of Maister Skeltons under that title. But indeede the word Colin is Frenche, and used of the French poete Marot (if he be worthy of the name of a poete) in a certein æglogue. Under which name this poete secretly shadoweth himself, as sometime did Virgil under the name of Tityrus, thinking it much fitter then such Latine names, for the great unlikelyhoode of the language.

  Unnethes, scarcely.

  Couthe commeth of the verbe Conne, that is, to know or to have skill. As well interpreteth the same the worthy Sir Tho. Smitth, in his booke of government: wherof I have a perfect copie in wryting, lent me by his kinseman, and my verye singular good freend, Maister Gabriel Harvey: as also of some other his most grave and excellent wrytings.

  Sythe, time.

  Neighbour towne, the next towne: expressing the Latine vicina.

  Stoure, a fitt.

  Sere, withered.

  His clownish gyfts imitateth Virgils verse,

  ‘Rusticus es Corydon, nec munera curat Alexis.’

  Hobbinol is a fained country name, whereby, it being so commune and usuall, seemeth to be hidden the person of some his very speciall and most familiar freend, whom he entirely and extraordinarily beloved, as peradventure shall be more largely declared hereafter. In thys place seemeth to be some savour of disorderly love, which the learned call pæderastice: but it is gathered beside his meaning. For who that hath red Plato his dialogue called Alcybiades, Xenophon, and Maximus Tyrius, of Socrates opinions, may easily perceive that such love is muche to be alowed and liked of, specially so meant as Socrates used it: who sayth, that in deede he loved Alcybiades extremely, yet not Alcybiades person, but hys soule, which is Alcybiades owne selfe. And so is pæderastice much to be præferred before gynerastice, that is, the love whiche enflameth men with lust toward womankind. But yet let no man thinke, that herein I stand with Lucian, or his develish disciple Unico Aretino, in defence of execrable and horrible sinnes of forbidden and unlawful fleshlinesse. Whose abominable errour is fully confuted of Perionius, and others.

  I love, a prety epanorthosis in these two verses, and withall a paronomasia or playing with the word, where he sayth, I love thilke lasse (alas, &c.

  Rosalinde is also a feigned name, which, being wel ordered, wil bewray the very name of hys love and mistresse, whom by that name he coloureth. So as Ovide shadoweth hys love under the name of Corynna, which of some is supposed to be Julia, themperor Augustus his daughter, and wyfe to Agryppa. So doth Aruntius Stella every where call his lady Asteris and Ianthis, albe it is wel knowen that her right name was Violantilla: as witnesseth Statius in his Epithalamium. And so the famous paragone of Italy, Madonna Cœlia, in her letters envelopeth her selfe under the name of Zima: and Petrona under the name of Bellochia. And this generally hath bene a common custome of counterfeicting the names of secret personages.

  Avail, bring downe.

  Overhaile, drawe over.

  EMBLEME.

  His Embleme or poesye is here under added in Italian, Anchôra speme: the meaning wherof is, that notwithstandeing his extreme passion and lucklesse love, yet, leaning on hope, he is some what recomforted.

  Februarie

  ÆGLOGA SECUNDA

  ARGUMENT

  THIS Æglogue is rather morall and generall then bent to any secrete or particular purpose. It specially conteyneth a discourse of old age, in the persone of Thenot, an olde shepheard, who, for his crookednesse and unlustinesse, is scorned of Cuddie, an unhappy heardmans boye. The matter very well accordeth with the season of the moneth, the yeare now drouping, and as it were, drawing to his last age. For as in this time of yeare, so then in our bodies, there is a dry and withering cold, which congealeth the crudled blood, and frieseth the wether-beaten flesh, with stormes of fortune and hoare frosts of care. To which purpose the olde man telleth a tale of the Oake and the Bryer, so lively and so feelingly, as, if the thing were set forth in some picture before our eyes, more plainly could not appeare.

  CUDDIE. THENOT.

  Cud. Ah for pittie! wil rancke winters rage

  These bitter blasts never ginne tasswage?

  The kene cold blowes through my beaten hyde,

  All as I were through the body gryde.

  My r
agged rontes all shiver and shake, 5

  As doen high towers in an earthquake:

  They wont in the wind wagge their wrigle tailes,

  Perke as peacock: but nowe it avales.

  The. Lewdly complainest thou, laesie ladde,

  Of winters wracke, for making thee sadde. 10

  Must not the world wend in his commun course,

  From good to badd, and from badde to worse,

  From worse unto that is worst of all,

  And then returne to his former fall?

  Who will not suffer the stormy time, 15

  Where will he live tyll the lusty prime?

  Selfe have I worne out thrise threttie yeares,

  Some in much joy, many in many teares;

  Yet never complained of cold nor heate,

  Of sommers flame, nor of winters threat; 20

  Ne ever was to fortune foeman,

  But gently tooke that ungently came:

  And ever my flocke was my chiefe care;

  Winter or sommer they mought well fare.

  Cud. No marveile, Thenot, if thou can beare 25

  Cherefully the winters wrathfull cheare:

  For age and winter accord full nie,

  This chill, that cold, this crooked, that wrye;

  And as the lowring wether lookes downe,

  So semest thou like Good Fryday to frowne. 30

  But my flowring youth is foe to frost,

  My shippe unwont in stormes to be tost.

  The. The soveraigne of seas he blames in vaine,

  That, once seabeate, will to sea againe.