Lalvs, Cleon, and Lirope

The Muse new Courtship doth deuise,By Natures strange Varieties,Whose Rarieties she here relates,And giues you Pastorall Delicates.

Lalus a Iolly youthfull Lad,With Cleon, no lesse crown'dWith vertues; both their beings hadOn the Elizian ground.Both hauing parts so excellent,That it a question was,Which should be the most eminent,Or did in ought surpasse:This Cleon was a Mountaineer,And of the wilder kinde,And from his birth had many a yeereBin nurst vp by a Hinde.And as the sequell well did show,It very well might be;For neuer Hart, nor Hare, nor Roe,Were halfe so swift as he.But Lalus in the Vale was bred,Amongst the Sheepe and Neate,And by these Nimphes there choicly fed,With Hony, Milke, and Wheate;Of Stature goodly, faire of speech,And of behauiour mylde,Like those there in the Valley rich,That bred him of a chyld.Of Falconry they had the skill,Their Halkes to feed and flye,No better Hunters ere clome Hill,Nor hollowed to a Cry:In Dingles deepe, and Mountains hore,Oft with the bearded SpeareThey combated the tusky Boare,And slew the angry Beare.In Musicke they were wondrous quaint,Fine Aers they could deuise;They very curiously could Paint,And neatly Poetize;That wagers many time were laidOn Questions that arose,Which song the witty Lalus made,Which Cleon should compose.The stately Steed they manag'd well,Of Fence the art they knew,For Dansing they did all excellThe Gerles that to them drew;To throw the Sledge, to pitch the Barre,To wrestle and to Run,They all the Youth exceld so farre,That still the Prize they wonne.These sprightly Gallants lou'd a Lasse,Cald Lirope the bright,In the whole world there scarcely wasSo delicate a Wight,There was no Beauty so diuineThat euer Nimph did grace,But it beyond it selfe did shineIn her more heuenly face:What forme she pleasd each thing would takeThat ere she did behold,Of Pebbles she could Diamonds make,Grosse Iron turne to Gold:Such power there with her presence cameSterne Tempests she alayd,The cruell Tiger she could tame,She raging Torrents staid,She chid, she cherisht, she gaue life,Againe she made to dye,She raisd a warre, apeasd a Strife,With turning of her eye.Some said a God did her beget,But much deceiu'd were they,Her Father was a Riuelet,Her Mother was a Fay.Her Lineaments so fine that were,She from the Fayrie tooke,Her Beauties and Complection cleere,By nature from the Brooke.These Ryualls wayting for the houre(The weather calme and faire)When as she vs'd to leaue her BowerTo take the pleasant ayreAcosting her; their complementTo her their Goddesse done;By gifts they tempt her to consent,When Lalus thus begun.

Lalus. Sweet Lirope I haue a LambeNewly wayned from the Damme,* Without Of the right kinde, it is *notted,hornes. Naturally with purple spotted,Into laughter it will put you,To see how prettily 'twill But you;When on sporting it is set,It will beate you a Corvet,And at euery nimble boundTurne it selfe aboue the ground;When tis hungry it will bleate,From your hand to haue its meate,And when it hath fully fed,It will fetch Iumpes aboue your head,As innocently to expresseIts silly sheepish thankfullnesse,When you bid it, it will play,Be it either night or day,This Lirope I haue for thee,So thou alone wilt liue with me.

Cleon. From him O turne thine eare away,And heare me my lou'd Lirope,I haue a Kid as white as milke,His skin as soft as Naples silke,His hornes in length are wondrous euen,And curiously by nature writhen;It is of th' Arcadian kinde,Ther's not the like twixt either Inde;If you walke, 'twill walke you by,If you sit downe, it downe will lye,It with gesture will you wooe,And counterfeit those things you doe;Ore each Hillock it will vault,And nimbly doe the Summer-sault,Upon the hinder Legs 'twill goe,And follow you a furlong so,And if by chance a Tune you roate,'Twill foote it finely to your note,Seeke the worlde and you may misseTo finde out such a thing as this;This my loue I haue for theeSo thou'lt leaue him and goe with me.

Lirope. Beleeue me Youths your gifts are rare,And you offer wondrous faire;Lalus for Lambe, Cleon for Kyd,'Tis hard to iudge which most doth bid,And haue you two such things in store,And I n'er knew of them before?Well yet I dare a Wager layThat Brag my little Dog shall play,As dainty tricks when I shall bid,As Lalus Lambe, or Cleons Kid.But t' may fall out that I may neede themTill when yee may doe well to feed them;Your Goate and Mutton pretty beBut Youths these are noe bayts for me,Alasse good men, in vaine ye wooe,'Tis not your Lambe nor Kid will doe.

Lalus. I haue two Sparrowes white as Snow,Whose pretty eyes like sparkes doe show;In her Bosome Venus hatcht themWhere her little Cupid watcht them,Till they too fledge their Nests forsookeThemselues and to the Fields betooke,Where by chance a Fowler caught themOf whom I full dearely bought them;* The redde They'll fetch you Conserue from the *Hip,fruit of the And lay it softly on your Lip,smooth Through their nibling bills they'll ChirupBramble. And fluttering feed you with the Sirup,And if thence you put them byThey to your white necke will flye,And if you expulse them thereThey'll hang vpon your braded Hayre;You so long shall see them prattleTill at length they'll fall to battle,And when they haue fought their fill,You will smile to see them billThese birds my Lirope's shall beSo thou'lt leaue him and goe with me.

Cleon. His Sparrowes are not worth a rushI'le finde as good in euery bush,Of Doues I haue a dainty paireWhich when you please to take the Air,About your head shall gently houerYou Cleere browe from the Sunne to couer,And with their nimble wings shall fan you,That neither Cold nor Heate shall tan you,And like Vmbrellas with their feathersSheeld you in all sorts of weathers:They be most dainty Coloured things,They haue Damask backs and Chequerd wings,Their neckes more Various Cullours showeThen there be mixed in the Bowe;Venus saw the lesser DoueAnd therewith was farre in Loue,Offering for't her goulden BallFor her Sonne to play withall;These my Liropes shall beSo shee'll leaue him and goe with me.

Lirope. Then for Sparrowes, and for DouesI am fitted twixt my Loues,But Lalus I take no delightIn Sparowes, for they'll scratch and biteAnd though ioynd, they are euer wooingAlwayes billing, if not doeing,Twixt Venus breasts if they haue lyenI much feare they'll infect myne;Cleon your Doues are very dainty,Tame Pidgeons else you know are plenty,These may winne some of your MarrowesI am not caught with Doues, nor Sparrowes,I thanke ye kindly for your Coste,Yet your labour is but loste.

Lalus. With full-leau'd Lillies I will stickThy braded hayre all o'r so thick,That from it a Light shall throwLike the Sunnes vpon the Snow.Thy Mantle shall be Violet Leaues,With the fin'st the Silkeworme weauesAs finely wouen; whose rich smellThe Ayre about thee so shall swellThat it shall haue no power to mooue.A Ruffe of Pinkes thy Robe aboueAbout thy necke so neatly setThat Art it cannot counterfet,Which still shall looke so Fresh and new,As if vpon their Roots they grew:And for thy head Ile haue a TyerOf netting, made of Strawbery wyer,And in each knot that doth composeA Mesh, shall stick a halfe blowne Rose,Red, damaske, white, in order setAbout the sides, shall run a FretOf Primroses, the Tyer throughoutWith Thrift and Dayses frindgd about;All this faire Nimph Ile doe for thee,So thou'lt leaue him and goe with me.

Cleon. These be but weeds and Trash he brings,Ile giue thee solid, costly things,His will wither and be goneBefore thou well canst put them on;With Currall I will haue thee Crown'd,Whose Branches intricatly woundShall girt thy Temples euery way;And on the top of euery SprayShall stick a Pearle orient and great,Which so the wandring Birds shall cheat,That some shall stoope to looke for Cheries,As other for tralucent Berries.And wondering, caught e'r they be wareIn the curld Tramels of thy hayre:And for thy necke a Christall ChaineWhose lincks shapt like to drops of Raine,Vpon thy panting Breast depending,Shall seeme as they were still descending,And as thy breath doth come and goe,So seeming still to ebbe and flow:With Amber Bracelets cut like Bees,Whose strange transparency who sees,With Silke small as the Spiders TwistDoubled so oft about thy Wrist,Would surely thinke aliue they were,From Lillies gathering hony there.Thy Buskins Ivory, caru'd like ShelsOf Scallope, which as little BelsMade hollow, with the Ayre shall Chime,And to thy steps shall keepe the time:Leaue Lalus, Lirope for meAnd these shall thy rich dowry be.

Lirope. Lalus for Flowers. Cleon for Iemmes,For Garlands and for Diadems,I shall be sped, why this is braue,What Nimph can choicer Presents haue,With dressing, brading, frowncing, flowring,All your Iewels on me powring,In this brauery being drest,To the ground I shall be prest,That I doubt the Nimphes will feare me,Nor will venture to come neare me;Neuer Lady of the May,To this houre was halfe so gay;All in flowers, all so sweet,From the Crowne, beneath the Feet,Amber, Currall, Ivory, Pearle,If this cannot win a Gerle,Ther's nothing can, and this ye wooe me,Giue me your hands and trust ye to me,(Yet to tell ye I am loth)That I'le haue neither of you both;

Lalus. When thou shalt please to stem the flood,(As thou art of the watry brood)I'le haue twelve Swannes more white than Snow,Yokd for the purpose two and two,To drawe thy Barge wrought of fine ReedSo well that it nought else shall need,The Traces by which they shall hayleThy Barge; shall be the winding trayleOf woodbynd; whose braue Tasseld Flowers(The Sweetnesse of the Woodnimphs Bowres)Shall be the Trappings to adorne,The Swannes, by which thy Barge is borne,Of flowred Flags I'le rob the bankeOf water-Cans and King-cups ranckTo be the Couering of thy Boate,And on the Streame as thou do'st Floate,The Naiades that haunt the deepe,Themselues about thy Barge shall keepe,Recording most delightfull Layes,By Sea Gods written in thy prayse.And in what place thou hapst to land,There the gentle Siluery sand,Shall soften, curled with the AierAs sensible of thy repayre:This my deare loue I'le doe for thee,So Thou'lt leaue him and goe with me:

Cleon. Tush Nimphe his Swannes will prove but Geese,His Barge drinke water like a Fleece;A Boat is base, I'le thee prouide,A Chariot, wherein Ioue may ride;In which when brauely thou art borne,Thou shalt looke like the gloryous morneVshering the Sunne, and such a oneAs to this day was neuer none,Of the Rarest Indian Gummes,More pretious then your BalsamummesWhich I by Art haue made so hard,That they with Tooles may well be Caru'dTo make a Coach of: which shall beMateryalls of this one for thee,And of thy Chariot each small peeceShall inlayd be with Amber Greece,And guilded with the Yellow oreProduc'd from Tagus wealthy shore;In which along the pleasant Lawne,With twelue white Stags thou shalt be drawne,Whose brancht palmes of a stately height,With seuerall nosegayes shall be dight;And as thou ryd'st, thy Coach about,For thy strong guard shall runne a Rout,Of Estriges; whose Curled plumes,Sen'sd with thy Chariots rich perfumes,The scent into the Aier shall throw;Whose naked Thyes shall grace the show;Whilst the Woodnimphs and those bredVpon the mountayns, o'r thy headShall beare a Canopy of flowers,Tinseld with drops of Aprill showers,Which shall make more glorious showesThen spangles, or your siluer Oas;This bright nimph I'le doe for theeSo thou'lt leaue him and goe with me.

Lirope. Vie and reuie, like Chapmen profer'd,Would't be receaued what you haue offer'd;Ye greater honour cannot doe me,If not building Altars to me:Both by Water and by Land,Bardge and Chariot at command;Swans vpon the Streame to rawe me,Stags vpon the Land to drawe me,In all this Pompe should I be seene,What a pore thing were a Queene:All delights in such excesse,As but yee, who can expresse:Thus mounted should the Nimphes me see,All the troope would follow me,Thinking by this state that IWould asume a Deitie.There be some in loue haue bin,And I may commit that sinne,And if e'r I be in loue,With one of you I feare twill proue,But with which I cannot tell,So my gallant Youths farewell.