human
Can you continue this poem for me?
  addressed himself to Southampton prior to his dedication of "The
Choise of Valentines," and Dr. Grosart purports to give the first
honorable the Lord S.[i]
Pardon, _sweete flower of Matchles poetrie,
And fairest bud the red rose euer bare;
Although my Muse, devorst from deeper care,
Presents thee with a wanton Elegie.
Ne blame my verse of loose unchastitie
For painting forth the things that hidden are,
Since all men acte what I in speache declare,
Onlie induced with varietie.
Complants and praises euery one can write,
And passion out their pangu's in statlie rimes;
But of loues pleasures none did euer write,
That have succeeded in theis latter times.
Accept of it, Deare Lord, in gentle gree,
And better lynes, ere long, shall honor thee._
Titchfield. The dedication is absent in the Rawlinson text: _cf._
It was the merie moneth of Februarie,
When yong men, in their iollie roguerie,
Rose earelie in the morne fore breake of daie,
To seeke them valentines soe trimme and gaie;
With whom they maie consorte in summer sheene,
And dance the haidegaies on our toune-greene,
As alas at Easter, or at Pentecost,
Perambulate the fields that flourish most;
And goe to som village abbordring neere,
To taste the creame and cakes and such good cheere;
Or see a playe of strange moralitie,
Where to, the contrie franklins flock-meale swarme,
And Jhon and Jone com marching arme in arme.
Euen on the hallowes of that blessed Saint
That doeth true louers with those ioyes acquaint,
I went, poore pilgrime, to my ladies shrine,
To see if she would be my valentine;
But woe, alass, she was not to be found,
For she was shifted to an upper ground:
Good Justice Dudgeon-haft, and crab-tree face,
With bills and staues had scar'd hir from the place;
And now she was compel'd, for Sanctuarie,
To flye unto a house of venerie.
Thither went I, and bouldlie made enquire
If they had hackneis to lett-out to hire,
And what they crau'd, by order of their trade,
To lett one ride a iournie on a iade.
Therwith out stept a foggy three-chinnd dame,
That us'd to take yong wenches for to tame,
And ask't me if I ment as I profest,
Or onelie ask't a question but in iest.
"In iest?" quoth I; "that terme it as you will;
I com for game, therefore give me my Jill."
"Why Sir," quoth shee, "if that be your demande,
Com, laye me a Gods-pennie in my hand;
For, in our oratorie siccarlie,
None enters heere, to doe his nicarie,
But he must paye his offertorie first,
And then, perhaps, wee'le ease him of his thirst."
I, hearing hir so ernest for the box,
Gave hir hir due, and she the dore unlocks.
In am I entered: "venus be my speede!
But where's this female that must do this deed"?
By blinde meanders, and by crankled wayes,
Shee leades me onward, (as my Aucthor saies),
Vntill we came within a shadie loft
Where venus bounsing vestalls skirmish oft;
And there shee sett me in a leather chaire,
And brought me forth, of prettie Trulls, a paire,
To chuse of them which might content myne eye;
But hir I sought, I could nowhere espie.
I spake them faire, and wisht them well to fare--
"Yet soe yt is, I must haue fresher ware;
Wherefore, dame Bawde, as daintie as you bee,
Fetch gentle mistris Francis forth to me."
"By Halliedame," quoth she, "and Gods oune mother,
I well perceaue you are a wylie brother;
For if there be a morsell of more price,
You'll smell it out, though I be nare so nice.
As you desire, so shall you swiue with hir,
But think, your purse-strings shall abye-it deare;
For, he that will eate quailes must lauish crounes,
And Mistris Francis, in her veluett gounes,
And ruffs and perwigs as fresh as Maye,
Can not be kept with half a croune a daye."
"Of price, good hostess, we will not debate,
Though you assize me at the highest rate;
Onelie conduct me to this bonnie bell.
And tenne good gobbs I will unto thee tell,
Of golde or siluer, which shall lyke thee best,
So much doe I hir companie request."
Awaie she went: so sweete a thing is golde,
That (mauger) will inuade the strongest holde.
"Hey-ho! she coms, that hath my hearte in keepe
Sing Lullabie, my cares, and falle a-sleepe."
Sweeping she coms, as she would brush the ground;
Hir ratling silkes my sences doe confound.
"Oh, I am rauisht: voide the chamber streight;
For I must neede's upon hir with my weight."
"My Tomalin," quoth shee, and then she smilde.
"I, I," quoth I, "soe more men are beguild
With smiles, with flatt'ring wordes, and fained cheere,
When in their deedes their falsehood doeth appeare."
"As how, my lambkin," blushing, she replide,
"Because I in this dancing schoole abide?
If that it be, that breede's this discontent,
We will remoue the camp incontinent:
For shelter onelie, sweete heart, came I hither,
And to auoide the troblous stormie weather;
But now the coaste is cleare, we will be gonne,
Since, but thy self, true louer I haue none."
With that she sprung full lightlie to my lips,
And fast about the neck me colle's, and clips;
She wanton faints, and falle's vpon hir bedd,
And often tosseth too and fro hir head;
She shutts hir eyes, and waggles with her tongue:
"Oh, who is able to abstaine so long?"
"I com! I com! sweete lyning be thy leaue:"
Softlie my fingers up theis curtaine heaue,
And make me happie, stealing by degreese.
First bare hir leggs, then creepe up to hir kneese;
From thence ascend unto her mannely thigh--
(A pox on lingring when I am so nighe!).
Smock, climbe a-pace, that I maie see my ioyes;
Oh heauen and paradize are all but toyes
Compar'd with this sight I now behould,
Which well might keepe a man from being olde.
A prettie rysing wombe without a weame,
That shone as bright as anie siluer streame;
And bare out like the bending of an hill,
At whose decline a fountaine dwelleth still;
That hath his mouth besett with uglie bryers,
Resembling much a duskie nett of wyres;
A loftie buttock, barrd with azure veines,
Whose comelie swelling, when my hand distreines,
Or wanton checketh with a harmlesse stype,
It makes the fruites of loue oftsoone be rype,
And pleasure pluckt too tymelie from the stemme
To dye ere it hath seene Jerusalem.
O Gods! that euer anie thing so sweete,
So suddenlie should fade awaie, and fleete!
Hir armes are spread, and I am all unarm'd,
Lyke one with Ouid's cursed hemlocke charm'd;
So are my Limms unwealdlie for the fight
That spend their strength in thought of hir delight.
What shall I doe to shewe my self a man?
It will not be for ought that beawtie can.
I kisse, I clap, I feele, I view at will,
Yett dead he lyes, not thinking good or ill.
"Unhappie me," quoth shee, "and wilt' not stand?
Com, lett me rubb and chafe it with my hand!
Perhaps the sillie worme is labour'd sore,
And wearied that it can doe noe more;
If it be so, as I am greate a-dread,
I wish tenne thousand times that I were dead.
How ere it is, no meanes shall want in me,
That maie auaile to his recouerie."
Which saide, she tooke and rould it on hir thigh,
And when she look't on't, she would weepe and sighe;
She dandled it, and dancet it up and doune,
Not ceasing till she rais'd it from his swoune.
And then he flue on hir as he were wood,
And on hir breeche did hack and foyne a-good;
He rub'd, and prickt, and pierst her to the bones,
Digging as farre as eath he might for stones;
Now high, now lowe, now stryking shorte and thicke;
Now dyuing deepe, he toucht hir to the quicke;
Now with a gird he would his course rebate,
Straite would he take him to a statlie gate;
Plaie while him list, and thrust he neare so hard,
Poore pacient Grissill lyeth at hir warde,
And giue's, and takes, as blythe and free as Maye,
And ere-more meete's him in the midle waye.
On him hir eyes continualy were fixt;
With hir eye-beames his melting looke's were mixt,
Which, like the Sunne, that twixt two glasses plaies,
From one to th' other cast's rebounding rayes.
He, lyke a starre that, to reguild his beames
Sucks-in the influence of Phebus streames,
Imbathes the lynes of his descending light
In the bright fountaines of hir clearest sight.
She, faire as fairest Planet in the skye,
Hir puritie to noe man doeth denye;
The verie chamber that enclouds her shine
Lookes lyke the pallace of that God deuine,
Who leades the daie about the Zodiake,
And euerie euen discends to th'oceane lake;
So fierce and feruent is her radiance,
Such fyrie stakes she darts at euerie glance
As might enflame the icie limmes of age,
And make pale death his seignedrie to aswage;
To stand and gaze upon her orient lamps,
Where Cupid all his chiefest ioyes encamps,
And sitts, and playes with euery atomie
That in hir Sunne-beames swarme aboundantlie.
Thus gazing, and thus striuing, we perseuer:
But what so firme that maie continue euer?
"Oh not so fast," my rauisht Mistriss cryes,
"Leaste my content, that on thy life relyes,
Be brought too-soone from his delightfull seate,
And me unwares of hoped bliss defeate.
Together lett us marche unto content,
And be consumed with one blandishment."
As she prescrib'd so kept we crotchet-time,
And euerie stroake in ordre lyke a chyme,
Whilst she, that had preseru'd me by hir pittie,
Unto our musike fram'd a groaning dittie.
"Alass! alass! that loue should be a sinne!
Euen now my blisse and sorrowe doeth beginne.
Hould wyde thy lapp, my louelie Danae,
And entretaine the golden shoure so free,
That trikling falles into thy treasurie.
As Aprill-drops not half so pleasant be,
Nor Nilus overflowe to Ægipt plaines
As this sweet-streames that all hir ioints imbaynes.
With "Oh!" and "Oh!" she itching moues hir hipps,
And to and fro full lightlie starts and skips:
She ierkes hir leggs, and sprauleth with hir heeles;
No tongue maie tell the solace that she feeles,
"I faint! I yeald! Oh, death! rock me a-sleepe!
Sleepe! sleepe desire! entombed in the deepe!"
"Not so, my deare," my dearest saint replyde,
"For, from us yett, thy spirit maie not glide
Untill the sinnowie channels of our blood
Without their source from this imprisoned flood;
And then will we (that then will com too soone),
Dissolued lye, as though our dayes were donne."
The whilst I speake, my soule is fleeting hence,
And life forsakes his fleshie residence.
Staie, staie sweete ioye, and leaue me not forlorne
Why shouldst thou fade that art but newelie borne?
"Staie but an houre, an houre is not so much:
But half an houre; if that thy haste is such,
Naie, but a quarter--I will aske no more--
That thy departure (which torments me sore),
Maie be alightned with a little pause,
And take awaie this passions sudden cause."
He heare's me not; hard-harted as he is,
He is the sonne of Time, and hates my blisse.
Time nere looke's backe, the riuers nere returne;
A second springe must help me or I burne.
No, no, the well is drye that should refresh me,
The glasse is runne of all my destinie:
Nature of winter learneth nigardize
Who, as he ouer-beares the streame with ice
That man nor beaste maie of their pleasance taste,
So shutts she up hir conduit all in haste,
And will not let hir Nectar ouer-flowe,
Least mortall man immortall ioyes should knowe.
Adieu! unconstant loue, to thy disporte
Adieu! false mirth, and melodie too short;
Adieu! faint-hearted instrument of lust;
That falselie hath betrayde our equale trust.
Hence-forth no more will I implore thine ayde,
Or thee, or man of cowardize upbrayde.
My little dilldo shall suply their kinde:
A knaue, that moues as light as leaues by winde;
That bendeth not, nor fouldeth anie deale,
But stands as stiff as he were made of steele;
And playes at peacock twixt my leggs right blythe,
And doeth my tickling swage with manie a sighe.
For, by saint Runnion! he'le refresh me well;
And neuer make my tender bellie swell.
Poore Priapus! whose triumph now must falle,
Except thou thrust this weakeling to the walle.
Behould! how he usurps, in bed and bowre
And undermines thy kingdom euerie howre;
How slye he creepes betwixt the barke and tree,
And sucks the sap, whilst sleepe detaineth thee.
He is my Mistris page at euerie stound,
And soone will tent a deepe intrenched wound.
He wayte's on Courtlie Nimphs that be so coye,
And bids them skorne the blynd-alluring boye.
He giues yong guirls their gamesome sustenance,
And euerie gaping mouth his full sufficeance.
He fortifies disdaine with forraine artes,
And wanton-chaste deludes all loving hartes.
If anie wight a cruell mistris serue's,
Or, in dispaire, (unhappie) pines and staru's,
Curse Eunuke dilldo, senceless counterfet
Who sooth maie fill, but never can begett.
But, if revenge enraged with dispaire,
That such a dwarf his wellfare should empaire,
assistant
Sure, a continuation for this poem could be:
  Would faine this womans secretarie knowe,
Lett him attend the markes that I shall showe:
He is a youth almost two handfulls highe,
Streight, round, and plumb, yett hauing but one eye,
Wherein the rhewme so feruentlie doeth raigne,
That Stigian gulph maie scarce his teares containe;
Attired in white veluet, or in silk,
And nourisht with whott water, or with milk,
Arm'd otherwhile in thick congealed glasse,
When he, more glib, to hell be lowe would passe.
Vpon a charriot of five wheeles he rydes,
The which an arme strong driuer stedfast guides,
And often alters pace as wayes growe deepe,
(For who, in pathes unknowne, one gate can keepe?)
Sometimes he smoothlie slideth doune the hill;
Another while, the stones his feete doe kill;
In clammie waies he treaddeth by and by,
And plasheth and sprayeth all that be him nye.
So fares this iollie rider in his race,
Plunging and sousing forward in lyke case,
He dasht, and spurted, and he plodded foule,
God giue thee shame, thou blinde mischapen owle!
Fy-fy, for grief: a ladies chamberlaine,
And canst not thou thy tatling tongue refraine?
I reade thee beardles blab, beware of stripes,
And be aduised what thou vainelie pipes;
Thou wilt be whipt with nettles for this geare
If Cicelie shewe but of thy knauerie heere.
Saint Denis shield me from such female sprites!
Regarde not, Dames, what Cupids Poete writes:
I pennd this storie onelie for my selfe,
Who, giuing suck unto a childish Elfe,
And quitte discourag'd in my nurserie,
Since all my store seemes to hir penurie.
I am not as was Hercules the stout,
That to the seaventh iournie could hould out;
I want those hearbe's and rootes of Indian soile,
That strengthen wearie members in their toile--
Druggs and Electuaries of new devise,
Doe shunne my purse, that trembles at the price.
Sufficeth all I haue, I yeald hir hole
Which, for a poore man, is a princelie dole,
I paie our hostess scott and lott at moste,
And looke as leane and lank as anie ghoste;
What can be added more to my renowne?
She lyeth breathlesse; I am taken doune;
The waves doe swell, the tydes climbe or'e the banks;
Judge, gentlemen! if I deserue not thanks?
And so, good night! unto you euer'ie one;
For loe, our thread is spunne, our plaie is donne.
_Claudito iam vinos Priapa, sat prata biberunt_ [sic[j]].
_Thus[k] hath my penne presum'd to please my friend--
Oh mightst thou lykewise please Apollo's eye.
No, Honor brooke's no such impietie,
Yett Ouids wanton Muse did not offend.
He is the fountaine whence my streames doe flowe--
Forgive me if I speake as I was taught,
A lyke to women, utter all I knowe,
As longing to unlade so bad a fraught.
My mynde once purg'd of such lasciuious witt,
With purifide words and hallowed verse,
Thy praises in large volumes shall rehearce,
That better maie thy grauer view befitt.
Meanewhile yett rests, you smile at what I write;
Or, for attempting, banish me your sight._
devoure, to ravish, to deflower.
crownes.
enioye the vsed thinge.
laboured.
Togeather lett our equall motions stirr,
Togeather lett vs liue and dye, my deare;
languishmente.
vpprayd.
thankes.