A Poeme of Dauncing

Where liues the man that neuer yet did heareOf chaste Penelope, Ulisses' Queene?Who kept her faith vnspotted twentie yeare,Till he return'd that farre away had beene,And many men, and many townes had seen:Ten yeare at siege of Troy he lingring lay,And ten yeare in the Mid-land-Sea did stray.

Homer, to whom the Muses did carouseA great deepe cup with heauenly nectar filld:The greatest, deepest cup in Ioue's great house,(For Ioue himselfe had so expresly willd)He dranke off all, ne let one drop be spilld;Since when, his braine that had before been drie,Became the well-spring of all Poetrie.

Homer doth tell in his aboundant verse,The long laborious trauailes of the Man;And of his lady too he doth reherse,How shee illudes with all the art she can,Th' vngratefull loue which other lords began;For of her lord, false Fame long since had sworn,That Neptune's monsters had his carkase torne.

All this he tells, but one thing he forgot,One thing most worthy his eternall song;But he was old, and blind, and saw it not,Or else he thought he should Ulisses wrong,To mingle it his tragike acts among;Yet was there not in all the world of things,A sweeter burden for his Muse's wings.

The courtly loue Antinous did make:Antinous that fresh and iolly knight,Which of the gallants that did vndertakeTo win the widdow, had most wealth and might,Wit to perswade, and beautie to delight:The courtly loue he made vnto the Queene,Homer forgot, as if it had not beene.

Sing then Terpischore, my light Muse singHis gentle art, and cunning curtesie;You lady can remember euery thing,For you are daughter of Queene Memorie;But sing a plaine and easy melodie:For the soft meane that warbleth but the ground,To my rude eare doth yeeld the sweetest sound.

One onely night's discourse I can report,When the great Torch-bearer of Heauen was goneDowne in a maske vnto the Ocean's Court,To reuell it with Thetis all alone;Antinous disguisèd and vnknowne,Like to the Spring in gaudie ornament,Vnto the Castle of the Princesse went.

The soueraine Castle of the rockie Ile,Wherein Penelope the Princesse lay;Shone with a thousand lamps, which did exileThe shadowes darke, and turn'd the night to day;Not Ioue's blew tent, what time the sunny rayBehind the Bulwarke of the Earth retires,Is seene to sparkle with more twinckling fires.

That night the Queen came forth from far within,And in the presence of her Court was seene;For the sweet singer Phoemius did beginTo praise the worthies that at Troy had beene;Somewhat of her Ulisses she did weene.In his graue hymne the heau'nly man would sing,Or of his warres, or of his wandering.

Pallas that houre with her sweet breath diuineInspir'd immortall beautie in her eyes;That with cælestiall glory shee did shine,Brighter then Venus when shee doth ariseOut of the waters to adorne the skies;The Wooers all amazèd doe admireAnd checke their owne presumptuous desire.

Onely Antinous when at first he view'dHer starbright eyes, that with new honour shind;Was not dismayd, but there-with-all renew'dThe noblesse and the splendour of his mind;And as he did fit circumstances find,Vnto the throne he boldly gan aduance,And with faire maners wooed the Queene to dance.

'Goddesse of women, sith your heau'nlinesse'Hath now vouchsaft it selfe to represent'To our dim eyes, which though they see the lesse'Yet are they blest in their astonishment;'Imitate heau'n, whose beauties excellent'Are in continuall motion day and night,'And moue thereby more wonder and delight.

'Let me the moouer be, to turne about'Those glorious ornaments, that Youth and Loue'Haue fixed in you, euery part throughout;'Which if you will in timely measure moue,'Not all those precious iemms in heau'n aboue,'Shall yeeld a sight more pleasing to behold,'With all their turnes and tracings manifold.'

With this the modest Princesse blusht and smil'd,Like to a cleare and rosie euentide,And softly did returne this answer mild:'Faire Sir, you needs must fairely be denide'Where your demaund cannot be satisfide;'My feet, which onely Nature taught to goe,'Did neuer yet the art of footing know.

'But why perswade you me to this new rage?'(For all disorder and misrule is new)'For such misgouernment in former age,'Our old diuine Forefathers neuer knew;'Who if they liu'd, and did the follies view,'Which their fond nephews make their chiefe affaires,'Would hate themselues that had begot such heires.'

'Sole heire of Vertue and of Beautie both,'Whence cometh it (Antinous replies)'That your imperious vertue is so loth'To graunt your beauty her chiefe exercise?'Or from what spring doth your opinion rise'That dauncing is a frenzy and a rage,'First knowne and vs'd in this new-fangled age?

'Dauncing (bright Lady) then began to bee,'When the first seeds whereof the World did spring,'The fire, ayre, earth, and water--did agree,'By Loue's perswasion,--Nature's mighty King,--'To leaue their first disordred combating;'And in a daunce such measure to obserue,'As all the world their motion should preserue.

'Since when, they still are carried in a round,'And changing, come one in another's place;'Yet doe they neither mingle nor confound,'But euery one doth keepe the bounded space'Wherein the Daunce doth bid it turne or trace;'This wondrous myracle did Loue deuise,'For Dauncing is Love's proper exercise.

'Like this, he fram'd the gods' eternall Bower,'And of a shapelesse and confusèd masse,'By his through-piercing and digesting power,'The turning vault of heauen formèd was;'Whose starry wheeles he hath so made to passe,'As that their moouings do a musicke frame,'And they themselues still daunce vnto the same.

'Or if this All which round about we see,'(As idle Morpheus some sicke braines hath taught)'Of vndeuided motes compacted bee:'How was this goodly Architecture wrought?'Or by what meanes were they together brought?'They erre that say they did concurre by chance:'Loue made them meet in a well-ordered daunce.

'As when Amphion with his charming lire'Begot so sweet a syren of the ayre;'That with her Rethorike made the stones conspire'The ruines of a citie to repaire:'(A worke of wit and reason's wise affaire)'So Loue's smooth tongue, the motes such measure taught'That they ioyn'd hands; and so the world was wrought.

'How iustly then is Dauncing tearmèd new,'Which with the World in point of time begun?'Yea Time it selfe, (whose birth Ioue neuer knew,'And which indeed is elder then the sun)'Had not one moment of his age outrunne,'When out leapt Dauncing from the heap of things,'And lightly rode vpon his nimble wings.

'Reason hath both their pictures in her treasure,'Where Time the measure of all mouing is,'And Dauncing is a moouing all in measure;'Now if you doe resemble that to this,'And thinke both one, I thinke you thinke amis:'But if you iudge them twins, together got,'And Time first borne, your iudgement erreth not.

'Thus doth it equall age with age inioy,'And yet in lustie youth for euer flowers;'Like loue his sire, whom Paynters make a boy,'Yet is the eldest of the heau'nly powers;'Or like his brother Time, whose wingèd howers'Going and comming will not let him dye,'But still preserve him in his infancie.'

This said; the Queene with her sweet lips diuine,Gently began to moue the subtile ayre,Which gladly yeelding, did itselfe inclineTo take a shape betweene those rubies fayre;And being formèd, softly did repayreWith twenty doublings in the emptie way,Vnto Antinous eares, and thus did say:

'What eye doth see the heau'n, but doth admire'When it the moouings of the heau'ns doth see?'My selfe, if I to heau'n may once aspire,'If that be dauncing, will a Dauncer be;'But as for this your frantick iollitie'How it began, or whence you did it learne,'I neuer could with Reason's eye discerne.

Antinous answered: 'Iewell of the Earth,'Worthy you are that heau'nly daunce to leade;'But for you thinke our dauncing base of birth,'And newly-borne but of a braine-sicke head,'I will foorthwith his antique gentry read;'And for I loue him, will his herault be,'And blaze his Armes, and draw his petigree.

'When Loue had shapt this World,--this great faire wight,'That all wights else in this wide womb containes;'And had instructed it to daunce aright,'A thousand measures with a thousand straines,'Which it should practise with delightfull paines,'Vntill that fatall instant should reuolue,'When all to nothing should againe resolue:

'The comely order and proportion faire'On euery side, did please his wandring eye:'Till glauncing through the thin transparent ayre,'A rude disordered rout he did espie'Of men and women, that most spightfully'Did one another throng, and crowd so sore,'That his kind eye in pitty wept therefore.

'And swifter then the lightning downe he came,'Another shapelesse Chaos to digest;'He will begin another world to frame,'(For Loue till all be well will neuer rest)'Then with such words as cannot be exprest,'He cutts the troups, that all asunder fling,'And ere they wist, he casts them in a ring.

'Then did he rarifie the element,'And in the center of the ring appeare;'The beams that from his forehead spreading went,'Begot an horrour, and religious feare'In all the soules that round about him weare;'Which in their eares attentiueness procures,'While he, with such like sounds, their minds allures.

'How doth Confusion's mother, headlong Chance,'Put Reason's noble squadron to the rout?'Or how should you that haue the gouernance'Of Nature's children, Heauen and Earth throughout,'Prescribe them rules, and liue your selues without?'Why should your fellowship a trouble be,'Since man's chiefe pleasure is societie?

'If sence hath not yet taught you, learne of me'A comely moderation and discreet;'That your assemblies may well ordered bee'When my vniting power shall make you meet,'With heau'nly tunes it shall be temperèd sweet:'And be the modell of the World's great frame,'And you Earth's children, Dauncing shall it name.

'Behold the World, how it is whirled round,'And for it is so whirl'd, is namèd so;'In whose large volume many rules are found'Of this new Art, which it doth fairely show;'For your quicke eyes in wandring too and fro'From East to West, on no one thing can glaunce,'But if you marke it well, it seemes to daunce.

'First you see fixt in this huge mirrour blew,'Of trembling lights, a number numberlesse:'Fixt they are nam'd, but with a name vntrue,'For they all mooue and in a Daunce expresse'That great long yeare, that doth containe no lesse'Then threescore hundreds of those yeares in all,'Which the sunne makes with his course naturall.

'What if to you these sparks disordered seeme'As if by chaunce they had beene scattered there?'The gods a solemne measure doe it deeme,'And see a iust proportion euery where,'And know the points whence first their mouings were;'To which first points when all returne againe,'The axel-tree of Heau'n shall breake in twaine.

'Vnder that spangled skye, fiue wandring flames'Besides the King of Day, and Queene of Night,'Are wheel'd around, all in their sundry frames,'And all in sundry measures doe delight,'Yet altogether keepe no measure right;'For by it selfe each doth it selfe aduance,'And by it selfe each doth a galliard daunce.

'Venus, the mother of that bastard Loue,'Which doth vsurpe the World's great Marshal's name,'Iust with the sunne her dainty feete doth moue,'And vnto him doth all the iestures frame;'Now after, now afore, the flattering Dame,'With diuers cunning passages doth erre,'Still him respecting that respects not her.

'For that braue Sunne the Father of the Day,'Doth loue this Earth, the Mother of the Night;'And like a reuellour in rich aray,'Doth daunce his galliard in his lemman's sight,'Both back, and forth, and sidewaies, passing light;'His princely grace doth so the gods amaze,'That all stand still and at his beauty gaze.

'But see the Earth, when he approcheth neere,'How she for ioy doth spring and sweetly smile;'But see againe her sad and heauy cheere'When changing places he retires a while;'But those blake cloudes he shortly will exile,'And make them all before his presence flye,'As mists consum'd before his cheerefull eye.

'Who doth not see the measures of the Moone,'Which thirteene times she daunceth euery yeare?'And ends her pauine thirteene times as soone'As doth her brother, of whose golden haire'She borroweth part, and proudly doth it weare;'Then doth she coyly turne her face aside,'Then halfe her cheeke is scarse sometimes discride.

'Next her, the pure, subtile, and clensing Fire'Is swiftly carried in a circle euen;'Though Vulcan be pronounst by many a lyer,'The only halting god that dwels in heauen:'But that foule name may be more fitly giuen'To your false Fire, that farre from heauen is fall:'And doth consume, waste, spoile, disorder all.

'And now behold your tender nurse the Ayre'And common neighbour that ay runns around;'How many pictures and impressions faire'Within her empty regions are there found;'Which to your sences Dauncing doe propound.'For what are Breath, Speech, Ecchos, Musicke, Winds,'But Dauncings of the Ayre in sundry kinds?

'For when you breath, the ayre in order moues,'Now in, now out, in time and measure trew;'And when you speake, so well she dauncing loues,'That doubling oft, and oft redoubling new,'With thousand formes she doth her selfe endew'For all the words that from our lips repaire'Are nought but tricks and turnings of the ayre.

'Hence is her pratling daughter Eccho borne,'That daunces to all voyces she can heare;'There is no sound so harsh that shee doth scorne,'Nor any time wherein shee will forbeare'The ayrie pauement with her feet to weare;'And yet her hearing sence is nothing quick,'For after time she endeth euery trick.

'And thou sweet Musicke, Dauncing's onely life,'The eare's sole happinesse, the ayre's best speach;'Loadstone of fellowship, charming-rod of strife,'The soft mind's Paradice, the sicke mind's leach;'With thine own tong, thou trees and stons canst teach,'That when the Aire doth dance her finest measure,'Then art thou borne, the gods and mens sweet pleasure.

'Lastly, where keepe the Winds their reuelry,'Their violent turnings, and wild whirling hayes,'But in the Ayre's tralucent gallery?'Where shee herselfe is turnd a hundreth wayes,'While with those Maskers wantonly she playes;'Yet in this misrule, they such rule embrace,'As two at once encomber not the place.

'If then fire, ayre, wandring and fixed lights'In euery prouince of the imperiall skie,'Yeeld perfect formes of dauncing to your sights,'In vaine I teach the eare, that which the eye'With certaine view already doth descrie.'But for your eyes perceiue not all they see,'In this I will your Senses master bee.

'For loe the Sea that fleets about the Land,'And like a girdle clips her solide waist,'Musicke and measure both doth vnderstand;'For his great chrystall eye is alwayes cast'Vp to the Moone, and on her fixèd fast;'And as she daunceth in her pallid spheere,'So daunceth he about his Center heere.

'Sometimes his proud greene waues in order set,'One after other flow vnto the shore;'Which, when they haue with many kisses wet,'They ebbe away in order as before;'And to make knowne his courtly loue the more,'He oft doth lay aside his three-forkt mace,'And with his armes the timorous Earth embrace.

'Onely the Earth doth stand for euer still:'Her rocks remoue not, nor her mountaines meet:'(Although some wits enricht with Learning's skill'Say heau'n stands firme, and that the Earth doth fleet,'And swiftly turneth vnderneath their feet)'Yet though the Earth is euer stedfast seene,'On her broad breast hath Dauncing euer beene.

'For those blew vaines that through her body spred,'Those saphire streames which from great hils do spring.'(The Earth's great duggs; for euery wight is fed'With sweet fresh moisture from them issuing):'Obserue a daunce in their wilde wandering;'And still their daunce begets a murmur sweet,'And still the murmur with the daunce doth meet.

'Of all their wayes I love Mæander's path,'Which to the tunes of dying swans doth daunce;'Such winding sleights, such turns and tricks he hath,'Such creeks, such wrenches, and such daliaunce;'That whether it be hap or heedlesse chaunce,'In this indented course and wriggling play'He seemes to daunce a perfect cunning hay.

'Sic ubi fata vocant, udis abjectus in herbis,Ad vada Maeandri concinit albus olor.'

III.c.xxvii: Works by Wilkin, Vol. II. pp. 517,

'But wherefore doe these streames for euer runne?'To keepe themselues for euer sweet and cleere:'For let their euerlasting course be donne,'They straight corrupt and foule with mud appeare.'O yee sweet Nymphs that beautie's losse do feare,'Contemne the drugs that Physicke doth deuise,'And learne of Loue this dainty exercise.

'See how those flowres that have sweet beauty too,'(The onely iewels that the Earth doth weare,'When the young Sunne in brauery her doth woo):'As oft as they the whistling wind doe heare,'Doe waue their tender bodies here and there;'And though their daunce no perfect measure is,'Yet oftentimes their musicke makes them kis.

'What makes the vine about the elme to daunce,'With turnings, windings, and embracements round?'What makes the loadstone to the North aduance'His subtile point, as if from thence he found'His chiefe attractiue vertue to redound?'Kind Nature first doth cause all things to loue,'Loue makes them daunce and in iust order moue.

'Harke how the birds doe sing, and marke then how'Iumpe with the modulation of their layes,'They lightly leape, and skip from bow to bow:'Yet doe the cranes deserue a greater prayse'Which keepe such measure in their ayrie wayes,'As when they all in order rankèd are,'They make a perfect forme triangular.

'In the chiefe angle flyes the watchfull guid,'And all the followers their heads doe lay'On their foregoers backs, on eyther side;'But for the captaine hath no rest to stay,'His head forewearied with the windy way,'He back retires, and then the next behind,'As his lieuetenaunt leads them through the wind.

'But why relate I euery singular?'Since all the World's great fortunes and affaires'Forward and backward rapt and whirled are,'According to the musicke of the spheares:'And Chaunge herselfe her nimble feete vpbeares'On a round slippery wheele that rowleth ay,'And turnes all States with her imperuous sway.

'Learne then to daunce, you that are Princes borne,'And lawfull lords of earthly creatures all;'Imitate them, and thereof take no scorne,'For this new art to them is naturall--'And imitate the starres cælestiall:'For when pale Death your vital twist shall seuer,'Your better parts must daunce, with them for euer.

'Thus Loue perswades, and all the crowd of men'That stands around, doth make a murmuring;'As when the wind loosd from his hollow den,'Among the trees a gentle base doth sing,'Or as a brooke through peebles wandering;'But in their looks they vttered this plain speach,'That they would learn to daunce, if Loue would teach.

'Then first of all he doth demonstrate plaine'The motions seauen that ar in Nature found,'Upward and downeward, forth and backe againe,'To this side and to that, and turning round;'Whereof a thousand brawles he doth compound,'Which he doth teach vnto the multitude,'And euer with a turne they must conclude.

'As when a Nimph arysing from the land,'Leadeth a daunce with her long watery traine'Down to the Sea; she wries to euery hand,'And euery way doth crosse the fertile plaine;'But when at last shee falls into the maine,'Then all her trauerses concluded are,'And with the Sea her course is circulare.

'Thus when at first Loue had them marshallèd,'As earst he did the shapeless masse of things,'He taught them rounds and winding heyes to tread,'And about trees to cast themselues in rings:'As the two Beares, whom the First Mouer flings'With a short turn about heauen's axeltree,'In a round daunce for ever wheeling bee.

'But after these, as men more ciuell grew,'He did more graue and solemn measures frame,'With such faire order and proportion true,'And correspondence euery way the same,'That no fault-finding eye did euer blame;'For euery eye was mouèd at the sight'With sober wondring, and with sweet delight.

'Not those yong students of the heauenly booke,'Atlas the great, Promethius the wise,'Which on the starres did all their life-time looke,'Could euer finde such measures in the skies,'So full of change and rare varieties;'Yet all the feete whereon these measures goe,'Are only spondeis, solemne, graue and sloe.

'But for more diuers and more pleasing show,'A swift and wandring daunce she did inuent,'With passages vncertaine to and fro,'Yet with a certaine answer and consent'To the quicke musicke of the instrument.'Fiue was the number of the Musick's feet,'Which still the daunce did with fiue paces meet.

'A gallant daunce, that lively doth bewray'A spirit and a vertue masculine;'Impatient that her house on earth should stay'Since she her selfe is fiery and diuine;'Oft doth she make her body vpward fline,'With lofty turnes and capriols in the ayre,'Which with the lusty tunes accordeth faire.

'What shall I name those currant trauases,'That on a triple dactile foot doe runne'Close by the ground with sliding passages,'Wherein that Dauncer greatest praise hath wonne'Which with best order can all orders shunne;'For euery where he wantonly must range,'And turne, and wind, with vnexpected change.

'Yet is there one, the most delightfull kind,'A loftie iumping, or a leaping round;'Where arme in arme two dauncers are entwind'And whirle themselues with strict embracements bound,'And still their feet an anapest do sound;'An anapest is all their musick's song,'Whose first two feet are short, and third is long.

'As the victorious twinnes of Læda and Ioue'That taught the Spartans dauncing on the sands'Of swift Eurotas, daunce in heaun aboue,'Knit and vnited with eternall hands;'Among the starres their double image stands,'Where both are carried with an equall pace,'Together iumping in their turning race.

'This is the net wherein the Sunn's bright eye'Venus and Mars entangled did behold;'For in this daunce, their armes they so imply'As each doth seeme the other to enfold;'What if lewd wits another tale haue told'Of iealous Vulcan, and of yron chaynes?'Yet this true sence that forgèd lye containes.

'These various formes of dauncing, Loue did frame'And beside these, a hundred millions moe;'And as he did inuent, he taught the same,'With goodly iesture, and with comly show,'Now keeping state, now humbly honoring low:'And euer for the persons and the place'He taught most fit and best according grace.

'For Loue, within his fertile working braine'Did then conceiue those gracious Virgins three;'Whose ciuell moderation does maintaine'All decent order and conueniencie,'And faire respect, and seemlie modestie;'And then he thought it fit they should be borne,'That their sweet presence dauncing might adorne.

'Hence is it that these Graces painted are'With hand in hand dauncing an endlesse round;'And with regarding eyes, that still beware'That there be no disgrace amongst them found;'With equall foote they beate the flowry ground,'Laughing, or singing, as their passions will:'Yet nothing that they doe becomes them ill.

'Thus Loue taught men, and men thus learnd of Loue'Sweet Musick's sound with feet to counterfaite;'Which was long time before high thundering Ioue'Was lifted vp to Heauen's imperiall seat;'For though by birth he were the Prince of Creete,'Nor Creet, nor Heau'n should the yong Prince haue seen,'If dancers with their timbrels had not been.

'Since when all ceremonious misteries,'All sacred orgies and religious rights,'All pomps, and triumphs, and solemnities,'All funerals, nuptials, and like publike sights,'All Parliaments of peace, and warlike fights,'All learnèd arts, and euery great affaire'A liuely shape of dauncing seemes to beare.

'For what did he who with his ten-tong'd lute'Gaue beasts and blocks an vnderstanding eare?'Or rather into bestiall minds and brute'Shed and infus'd the beames of reason cleare?'Doubtlesse for men that rude and sauage were'A ciuill forme of dauncing he deuis'd,'Wherewith vnto their gods they sacrifiz'd.

'So did Musæus, so Amphion did,'And Linus with his sweet enchanting song;'And he whose hand the Earth of monsters rid,'And had men's eares fast chaynèd to his tongue'And Theseus to his wood-borne slaues among,'Vs'd dauncing as the finest policie'To plant religion and societie.

'And therefore now the Thracian Orpheus lire'And Hercules him selfe are stellified;'And in high heau'n amidst the starry quire,'Dauncing their parts continually doe slide;'So on the Zodiake Ganimed doth ride,'And so is Hebe with the Muses nine'For pleasing Ioue with dauncing, made diuine.

'Wherefore was Proteus sayd himselfe to change'Into a streame, a lyon, and a tree;'And many other formes fantastique, strange,'As in his fickle thought he wisht to be?'But that he daunc'd with such facilitie,'As like a lyon he could pace with pride,'Ply like a plant, and like a riuer slide.

'And how was Cæneus made at first a man,'And then a woman, then a man againe,'But in a daunce? which when he first began'Hee the man's part in measure did sustaine:'But when he chang'd into a second straine,'He daunc'd the woman's part another space,'And then return'd into his former place.

'Hence sprang the fable of Tiresias,'That he the pleasure of both sexes tryde;'For in a daunce he man and woman was'By often chaunge of place from side to side;'But for the woman easily did slide'And smoothly swim with cunning hidden art,'He tooke more pleasure in a woman's part.

'So to a fish Venus herselfe did change,'And swimming through the soft and yeelding waue,'With gentle motions did so smoothly range,'As none might see where she the water draue;'But this plaine truth that falsèd fable gaue,'That she did daunce with slyding easines,'Plyant and quick in wandring passages.

'And merry Bacchus practis'd dauncing too,'And to the Lydian numbers, rounds did make:'The like he did in th' Easterne India doo,'And taught them all when Phoebus did awake,'And when at night he did his coach forsake:'To honor heaun, and heau'ns great roling eye'With turning daunces, and with melodie.

'Thus they who first did found a Common-weale,'And they who first Religion did ordaine,'By dauncing, first the peoples hearts did steale:'Of whom we now a thousand tales doe faine;'Yet doe we now their perfect rules retaine'And vse them stil in such deuises new,'As in the World, long since their withering, grew.

'For after townes and kingdomes founded were,'Betweene greate States arose well-ordered War;'Wherein most perfect measure doth appeare,'Whether their well-set rankes respected are'In quadrant forme or semicircular:'Or else the march, when all the troups aduance,'And to the drum, in gallant order daunce.

'And after Warrs, when white-wing'd Victory'Is with a glorious tryumph beautified,'And euery one doth Io Io cry,'Whiles all in gold the conquerour doth ride;'The solemne pompe that fils the Citty wide'Obserues such ranke and measure euerywhere,'As if they altogether dauncing were.

'The like iust order mourners doe obserue,'(But with vnlike affection and atire)'When some great man that nobly did deserue,'And whom his friends impatiently desire,'Is brought with honour to his latest fire:'The dead corps too in that sad daunce is mou'd'As if both dead and liuing, dauncing lou'd.

'A diuers cause, but like solemnitie'Vnto the Temple leads the bashfull bride:'Which blusheth like the Indian iuory'Which is with dip of Tyrian purple died;'A golden troope doth passe on euery side,'Of flourishing young men and virgins gay,'Which keepe faire measure all the flowry way.

'And not alone the generall multitude,'But those choise Nestors which in councell graue'Of citties, and of kingdomes doe conclude,'Most comly order in their sessions haue;'Wherefore the wise Thessalians euer gaue'The name of leader of their Countrie's daunce'To him that had their Countrie's gouernance.

'And those great masters of their liberall arts,'In all their seurall Schooles doe Dauncing teach:'For humble Grammer first doth set the parts'Of congruent and well-according speach;'Which Rethorike, whose state the clouds doth reach,'And heau'nly Poetry, doe forward lead,'And diuers measures diuersly doe tread.

'For Rhetorick, clothing speech in rich aray'In looser numbers teacheth her to range,'With twenty tropes, and turnings euery way,'And various figures and licencious change;'But Poetry with rule and order strange,'So curiously doth moue each single pace,'As all is mard if she one foot misplace.

'These Arts of speach, the guids and marshals are;'But Logick leadeth Reason in a daunce:'(Reason the cynosure and bright load-star,'In this World's sea t' auoid the rock of Chaunce.)'For with close following and continuance'One reason doth another so ensue,'As in conclusion still the daunce is true.

'So Musicke to her owne sweet tunes doth trip'With tricks of 3, 5, 8, 15, and more;'So doth the Art of Numbering seeme to skip'From eu'n to odd in her proportion'd score;'So doe those skils, whose quick eyes doe explore'The iust dimension both of Earth and Heau'n,'In all their rules obserue a measure eu'n.

'Loe this is Dauncing's true nobilitie,'Dauncing, the child of Musicke and of Loue;'Dauncing it selfe, both loue and harmony,'Where all agree, and all in order moue;'Dauncing, the Art that all Arts doe approue;'The faire caracter of the World's consent,'The Heau'ns true figure and th' Earth's ornament.

The Queene, whose dainty eares had borne too long,The tedious praise of that she did despise;Adding once more the musicke of the tongueTo the sweet speech of her alluring eyes,Began to answer in such winning wise,As that forthwith Antinous' tongue was tyde,His eyes fast fixt, his eares were open wide.

'Forsooth (quoth she) great glory you haue won,'To your trim minion, Dauncing, all this while,'By blazing him Loue's first begotten sonne;'Of euery ill the hateful father vile'That doth the world with sorceries beguile;'Cunningly mad, religiously prophane,'Wit's monster, Reason's canker, Sence's bane.

'Loue taught the mother that vnkinde desire'To wash her hands in her owne infant's blood;'Loue taught the daughter to betray her sire'Into most base vnworthy seruitude;'Loue taught the brother to prepare such foode'To feast his brothers that the all-seeing sun'Wrapt in a clowd, that wicked sight did shun.

'And euen this self same Loue hath dauncing taught,'An Art that showes th' Idea of his minde'With vainesse, frenzie, and misorder fraught;'Sometimes with blood and cruelties vnkinde:'For in a daunce, Tereus' mad wife did finde'Fit time and place by murther of her sonne,'T' auenge the wrong his trayterous sire had done.

'What meane the mermayds when they daunce and sing'But certaine death vnto the marriner?'What tydings doe the dauncing dilphins bring,'But that some dangerous storme approcheth nere?'Then sith both Loue and Dauncing lyueries beare'Of such ill hap, vnhappy may I proue,'If sitting free I either daunce or loue.'

Yet once again Antinous did reply;'Great Queen, condemne not Loue the innocent,'For this mischeuous lust, which traterously'Vsurps his name, and steales his ornament:'For that true Loue which Dauncing did inuent,'Is he that tun'd the World's whole harmony,'And linkt all men in sweet societie.

'He first extracted from th' earth-mingled mind'That heau'nly fire, or quintessence diuine,'Which doth such simpathy in beauty find,'As is betweene the elme and fruitful vine,'And so to beauty euer doth encline;'Life's life it is, and cordiall to the heart,'And of our better part, the better part.

'This is true Loue, by that true Cupid got,'Which daunceth galliards in your amorous eyes,'But to your frozen hart approcheth not--'Onely your hart he dares not enterprise;'And yet through euery other part he flyes,'And euery where he nimbly daunceth now,'Though in your selfe, your selfe perceiue not how.

'For your sweet beauty daintily transfus'd'With due proportion throughout euery part;'What is it but a daunce where Loue hath vs'd'His finer cunning, and more curious art?'Where all the elements themselues impart,'And turne, and wind, and mingle with such measure,'That th' eye that sees it surfeits with the pleasure?

'Loue in the twinckling of your eylids daunceth,'Loue daunceth in your pulses and your vaines,'Loue when you sow, your needle's point aduanceth'And makes it daunce a thousand curious straines'Of winding rounds, whereof the forme remaines;'To shew, that your faire hands can daunce the hey,'Which your fine feet would learne as well as they.

'And when your iuory fingers touch the strings'Of any siluer-sounding instrument;'Loue makes them daunce to those sweete murmerings,'With busie skill, and cunning excellent;'O that your feet those tunes would represent'With artificiall motions to and fro,'That Loue this art in ev'ry part might showe!

'Yet your faire soule, which came from heau'n aboue'To rule thys house,--another heau'n below,--'With diuers powers in harmony doth moue,'And all the vertues that from her doe flow,'In a round measure hand in hand doe goe:'Could I now see, as I conceiue thys Daunce,'Wonder and Loue would cast me in a traunce.

'The richest iewell in all the heau'nly treasure'That euer yet vnto the Earth was showne,'Is perfect Concord, th' onely perfect pleasure'That wretched earth-borne men haue euer knowne,'For many harts it doth compound in one;'That when so one doth will, or speake, or doe,'With one consent they all agree thereto.

'Concord's true picture shineth in this art,'Where diuers men and women rankèd be,'And euery one doth daunce a seuerall part,'Yet all as one, in measure doe agree,'Obseruing perfect vniformitie;'All turne together, all together trace,'And all together honour and embrace.

'If they whom sacred Loue hath link't in one,'Doe as they daunce, in all their course of life,'Neuer shall burning griefe nor bitter mone,'Nor factious difference, nor vnkind strife,'Arise betwixt the husband and the wife;'For whether forth or bake or round he goeAs the man doth, so must the woman doe.

'What if by often enterchange of place'Sometime the woman gets the vpper hand?'That is but done for more delightfull grace,'For one that part shee doth not euer stand;'But, as the measure's law doth her command,'Shee wheeles about, and ere the daunce doth end,'Into her former place shee doth transcend.

'But not alone this correspondence meet'And vniform consent doth dauncing praise;'For Comlines the child of order sweet,'Enamels it with her eye-pleasing raies;'Fair Comlines, ten hundred thousand waies,'Through dauncing shedds it selfe, and makes shine'With glorious beauty, and with grace diuine.

'For Comliness is a disposing faire'Of things and actions in fit time and place;'Which doth in dauncing shew it selfe most cleere,'When troopes confus'd, which here and there doe trace'Without distinguishment or bounded space:'By dauncing's rule, into such ranks are brought,'As glads the eye, as rauisheth the thought.

'Then why should Reason iudge that reasonles'Which is wit's ofspring, and the worke of art,'Image of concord and of comlines?'Who sees a clock mouing in euery part,'A sayling pinnesse, or a wheeling cart;'But thinks that Reason, ere it came to passe'The first impulsiue cause and mouer was?

'Who sees an Armie all in ranke aduance,'But deemes a wise Commaunder is in place,'Which leadeth on that braue victorious daunce?'Much more in Dauncing's Art, in Dauncing's grace,'Blindnes it selfe may Reason's footstep trace;'For of Loue's maze it is the curious plot,'And of Man's fellowship the true-love knot.

'But if these eyes of yours, (load-starrs of Loue,'Shewing the World's great daunce to your mind's eye!)'Cannot with all their demonstrations moue'Kinde apprehension in your fantasie,'Of Dauncing's vertue, and nobilitie;'How can my barbarous tongue win you there to,'Which Heau'n and Earth's faire speech could neuer do?

'O Loue my king: if all my wit and power'Haue done you all the seruice that they can,'O be you present in this present hower,'And help your seruant and your true Leige-man'End that perswasion which I earst began;'For who in praise of Dauncing can perswade'With such sweet force as Loue, which Dancing made?

Loue heard his prayer, and swifter then the wind,Like to a page, in habit, face, and speech,He came, and stood Antinous behind,And many secrets to his thoughts did teach;At last a christall mirrour he did reachVnto his hands, that he with one rash view,All formes therein by Loue's reuealing knew.

And humbly honouring, gaue it to the QueeneWith this faire speech: 'See fairest Queene (quoth he)'The fairest sight that euer shall be seene,'And th' onely wonder of posteritie,'The richest worke in Nature's treasury;'Which she disdaines to shew on this World's stage,'And thinkes it far too good for our rude age.

'But in another World diuided far:'In the great, fortunate, triangled Ile,'Thrise twelue degrees remou'd from the North star,'She will this glorious workemanship compile;'Which she hath beene conceiuing all this while'Since the World's birth, and will bring forth at last,'When sixe and twenty hundred yeares are past.'

Penelope, the Queene, when she had view'dThe strang eye-dazeling, admirable sight,Faine would have praisd the state and pulchritude,But she was stricken dumbe with wonder quite,Yet her sweet minde retain'd her thinking might;Her rauisht minde in heaunly thoughts did dwel,But what she thought, no mortall tongue can tel.

You lady Muse, whom Ioue the CounsellourBegot of Memorie, Wisdom's treasuresse;To your diuining tongue is giuen a powerOf vttering secrets large and limitlesse:You can Penelope's strange thoughts expresseWhich she conceiu'd, and then would faine haue told,When shee the wond'rous christall did behold.

Her wingèd thoughts bore vp her minde so hie,As that she weend shee saw the glorious throneWhere the bright moone doth sit in maiesty:A thousand sparkling starres about her shone,But she herselfe did sparkle more aloneThen all those thousand beauties would haue doneIf they had been confounded all in one.

And yet she thought those stars mou'd in such measure.To do their soueraigne honor and delight,As sooth'd her minde, with sweet enchanting plesure,Although the various change amaz'd her sight,And her weake iudgement did entangle quite;Beside, their mouing made them shine more cleare,As diamonds mou'd more sparkling do appeare.

This was the picture of her wondrous thought;But who can wonder that her thought was so,Sith Vulcan king of fire that mirror wrought,(Who things to come, present, and past, doth know)And there did represent in liuely showOur glorious English Courts diuine image,As it should be in this our Golden Age.

Her brighter dazeling beames of maiestieWere laid aside, for she vouchsaft awhileWith gracious, cheerefull, and familiar eyeVpon the reuels of her Court to smile;For so Time's Iourneis she doth oft beguile:Like sight no mortall eye might elsewhere see,So full of State, Art, and varietie.

For of her barons braue, and ladies faire,--Who had they been elsewhere, most faire had been;Many an incomparable louely payre,With hand in hand were interlinkèd seene,Making faire honour to their soueraigne Queene;Forward they pac'd, and did their pace applyTo a most sweet and solemne melody.

So subtile and curious was the measure,With such vnlookt for chaunge in euery straine;As that Penelope rapt with sweet pleasure,Weend shee beheld the true proportion plaineOf her owne webb, weaud and unweaud againe;But that her art was somewhat lesse she thought,And on a meere ignoble subiect wrought.

For here like to the silkeworme's industry,Beauty it selfe out of it selfe did weaueSo rare a worke, and of such subtilty,As did all eyes entangle and deceiue,And in all mindes a strange impression leaue;In this sweet laborinth did Cupid stray,And neuer had the power to passe away.

As when the Indians, neighbours of the morning,In honour of the cheerefull rising sunne;With pearle and painted plumes themselues adorning,A solemne stately measure haue begun;The god well pleasd with that faire honour done,Sheds foorth his beames, and doth their faces kisWith that immortal glorious face of his.

Away, Terpsechore, light Muse away!And come Vranie, prophetese diuine;Come, Muse of heau'n, my burning thirst allay:Euen now for want of sacred drinke I tine:In heau'nly moysture dip thys pen of mine,And let my mouth with nectar ouerflow,For I must more then mortall glory show.

O, that I had Homer's aboundant vaine,I would hierof another Ilias make:Or els the man of Mantua's charmèd braine,In whose large throat great Joue the thunder spake.O that I could old Gefferie's Muse awake,Or borrow Colin's fayre heroike stile,Or smooth my rimes with Delia's servants file.

O, could I, sweet Companion, sing like you,Which, of a shadow, under a shadow sing;Or, like Salue's sad lover true,Or like the Bay, the Marigold's darling,Whose suddaine verse Loue covers with his wing:O that your braines were mingled all with mine,T' inlarge my wit for this great worke diuine!

Yet, Astrophell might one for all suffize,Whose supple Muse Camelion-like doth changeInto all formes of excellent deuise:So might the Swallow, whose swift Muse doth rangeThrough rare Idæas, and inuentions strange,And euer doth enioy her ioyfull Spring,And sweeter then the Nightingale doth sing.

O that I might that singing Swallow heare,To whom I owe my seruice and my loue!His sugred tunes would so enchant mine eare,And in my mind such sacred fury moue,As I should knock at Heau'ns gate aboue,With my proude rimes, while of this heau'nly stateI doe aspire the shadow to relate.