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Suddeinly out of his delightfull dreame

Eftsoones her shallow ship away did slide, The man awoke, and would have questiond more; More swift then swallow sheres the liquid skye, But he would not endure that wofoll theame Withonten oare or pilot it to guide, For to dilate at large, but urged sore,

Or winged canvas with the wind to fly: With percing wordes and pittifull implore, Onely she turnd a pin, and by and by Him hasty to arise: as one affright

It cut away upon the yielding wave, With hellish feends, or furies mad uprore,

(Ne cared she her course for to apply) H then uprose, inflamd with fell despight, For it was taught the way which she would have, And called for his armes; for he would algates fight: And both from rocks and fats itselfe could wiselysare. They bene ybrought; he quickly does him dight, And all the way the wanton damsell found And lightly mounted passeth on his way; New nierth her passenger to entertaine ; Ne ladies loves, ne sweete entreaties, might For she in pleasaunt purpose did abound, Appease his heat, or hastie passage stay;

And greatly ioyed merry tales to fayne,
For he has vowd to beene avengd that day Of which a store-house did with her remaine;
(That day itselfe him seemed all too long) Yet seemed, nothing well they ber became :
On him, that did Pyrochles deare dismay: For all her wordes she drownd with laughter vaine,
So proudly pricketh on bis courser strong, (wrong: And wanted grace in utt'ring of the same,
And Atin ay him pricks with spurs of shame and that turued ali her pleasaunce to a scuffing game.

And other wbiles vaine toyes she would devize,
As her fan'asticke wit did most delight:

Sometimes her head she fondly would aguize

With gaudy girlonds, or fresh flowrets digt

About her necke, or rings of rushes plight: Guyon is of immodest merth

Sometimes, to do him laugh, she would assay Led into loose desyre;

To laugh at shaking of the leavës light, Fights with Cymochles, whiles his bro

Or to behold the water worke and play ther burnes in furious fyre.

About her little frigot, therein making way. A HARDER lesson to learne continence

Her light behaviour and loose dalliaunce In joyous pleasure then in grievous paine : Gave wondrous great contentment to the knight, Por sweetnesse doth allure the weaker sence That of his way he had no sovenaunce, So strongly, that uneathes it can refraine

Nor care of vow'd revenge and cruell fight; From that which feeble nature covets faine: But to weake wench did yield his martiall might But griefe and wrath, that be her enemies So easie was to quench his flamed minde And foes of life, she better can restraine :

With one sweeté drop of sensual! de ight! Yet Vertue vauntes in both her victories; So easie is t'appease the stormy winde And Gayon in them all shewes goodly maysteries. Of malice in the calme of p.easaunt womankind ! Whom bold Cymochles traveiling to finde,

Diverse discourses in their way they spent ; With cruell purpose bent to wreake on him Mongst which Cymochles of her questioned The wrath which Atin kindled in his mind, Both what she was, and what that usage ment, Came to a river, by whose utmost brim

Which in her cott she daily practized : Wayting to passe he saw whereas did swim “Vaine man,” saide she, “that wouldest be reckoned Along the shore, as swift as glaunce of eye, A straonger in thy bome, and ignoraunt A litle gondelay, bedecked trim

Of Phædria, (for so my name is red) Witb boughes and arbours woven cunningly, Of Phædria, thine owne fellow servaúnt; That like a litle forrest seemed outwardly. For thou to serve Acrasia thy selfe doest vaunt. And therein sate a lady fresh and fayre,

“ In this wide inland sea, that hight by name Making sweete solace to herselfe alone:

The Idle Lake, my wandring ship I row, Sometimes she song as lowd as larke in ayre, That knowes her port, and thether sayles by ayme, Sometimes she laught, that nigh her breath was gone; Ne care ne feare 1 how the wind do blow, Yet was there pot with her else any one,

Or whether swift I wend or whether slow: That to her might move cause of meriment: Both slow and swift alike do serve my tourne ; Matter of merth enough, tbough there were nope, Ne swelling Neptune ne lowd-thundring love She could devise; and thousand waies invent Cap chaunge my cheare, or make me ever mourne: To feede her foolish humour and vaine iolliment, My litle boat can safely passe this perilous bourne.” Which when far off Cymochles heard and saw, Whiles thus she talked, and whiles thus she toyd, He lowdly cald to such as were abord

They were far past the passage which he spake, The little barke unto the shore to draw,

And come unto an island waste and voyd, And him to ferry over that deepe ford.

That foted in the midst of that great lake; The merry mariner unto his word

There her small gondelay her port did make, Soone hea kned, and her painted bote streightway And that gay payre issewing on the shore Turnd to the shore, wbere that same warlike lord Disburdned her: their way they forward take She in receiv'd; but Atin by no way

Into the land that lay them faire before, She would admit, albe the knight her much did Whose pleasaunce she him shewd, and plentifull pray:

great store, VOL. IIL.


It was a chosen plott of fertile land,

By this time was the worthy Guyon brought Emongst wide waves sett, like a litle nest,

Unto the other side of that wide strond As if it had by Natures cunning hand

Where she was rowing, and for passage sought: Bene choycely picked out from all the rest, Him needed not long call; shee soone to hond And laid forth for ensample of the best :

Her ferry brought, where him she byding fond No daintie flowre or herbe that growes on grownd, With his sad guide: himselfe she tooke aboord, No arborett with painted blossomes drest

But the blacke palmer suffred still to stond, And smelling sweete, but there it migbt be fownd Ne would for price or prayers once afsoord To bud out faire, and her sweete smels throwe al To ferry that old man over the perlous foord. arownd.

Guyon was loath to leave his guide behind, No tree, whose braunches did not bravely spring; Yet being entred might not backe retyre ; No braunch, whereon a fine bird did not sitt;

For the ditt barke, obaying to her mind, No bird, but did her shrill notes sweetely sing; Forth launched quickly as she did desire, No song, but did containe a lovely ditt.

Ne gave him leave to bid that aged sire Trees, braunches, birds, and songs, were framed fitt Adieu, but nimbly ran her wonted course For to allure fraile mind to carelesse ease.

Through the dull billowes thicke as troubled mire, Carelesse the man soone woxe, and his weake witt

Whom nether wind out of their seat could forse, Was overcome of thing that did him please:

Nor timely tides did drive out of theirsluggish sourse. So pleased did his wrathfull purpose faire appease. Thus when shee had his eyes and sences fed

And by the way, as was her wonted guize, With false delights, and fild with pleasures vayn,

Her mery fitt she freshly gan to reare,

And did of ioy and iollity devize,
Into a shady dale she soft him led,
And layd him downe upon a grassy playn;

Herselfe to cherish, and her guest to cheare. And her sweete selfe without dread or disdayn

The knight was courteous, and did not forbeare

Her honest merth and pleasaunce to partake; She sett beside, laying his head disarmd

But when he saw her toy, and gibe, and geare, In her loose lap, it softly to sustayn, Where soone he slumbred fearing not be harmd :

And passe the bonds of modest merimake, The whiles with a love lay she thus him

sweetly Her dalliaunce he despis’d and follies did forsake. charmd :

Yet she still followed her former style, “ Behold, O man, that tojlesome paines doest take, And said, and did, all that mote him delight, The flowrs, the fields, and all that pleasaunt growes, Till they arrived in that pleasaunt ile, How they themselves doe thine ensample make,

Where sleeping late she lefte her other knight. Whiles nothing envious Nature them forth throwes But, whenas Guyon of that land bad sight, Out of her fruitfull lap; how, no man knowes,

He wist himselfe amisse, and angry said; They spring, they bud, they blossome fresh and faire, Ah! dame, perdy ye have not doen me right, And decke the world with their rich pompous showes; Thus to mislead mee, whiles I you obaid : Yet no man for them taketh paines or care,

Me litle needed from my right way to have straid." Yet no man to them can his carefull paines compare.

“ Faire sir,” quoth she, “be not displeasd at all; “ The lilly, lady of the flowring field,

Who fares on sea may not commaund his way, The flowre-deluce, her lovely paramoure,

Ne wind and weather at his pleasure call : Bid tbee to them thy fruitlesse labors yield, The sea is wide, and easy for to stray; And soone leave off this toylsome weary stoure: The wind unstable, and doth never stay. Loe! loe, how brave she decks her bounteous boure, But here a while ye may in safety rest, With silkin curtens and gold coverletts,

Till season serve new passage to assay: Therein to shrowd her sumptuous belamoure ! Better safe port then be in seas distrest." [iest Yet nether spinnes nor cards, ne cares nor fretts, Therewith she laught, and did her earnest end in But to her mother nature all her care she letts.

But he, halfe discontent, mote náthëlesse “ Why then doest thou, man, that of them all Himselfe appease, and issewd forth on shore : Art lord, and eke of nature soveraine,

The ioyes whereof and happy fruitfulnesse, Wilfully make thyselfe a wretched thrall,

Such as he saw, she gan him lay before, And waste thy joyous howres in needelesse paine, And all, though pleasaunt, yet she made much Seeking for daunger and adventures vaine ? What bootes it al to have and nothing use? The fields did laugh, the flowres did freshly spring, Who shall him rew that swimming in the maine The trees did bud, and early blossomes bore; Will die for thrist, and water doth refuse? [chuse." And all the quire of birds did sweetly sing, Refuse such fruitlesse toile, and present pleasures and told that gardins pleasures in their caroling. By this she had him lalled fast asleepe,

And she, more sweete then any bird on bough, That of no worldly thing he care did take: Would oftentimes emongst them beare a part, Then she with liquors strong his eies did steepe, And strive to passé (as she could well enough) That nothing should him hastily awake.

Their native musicke by her skilful art : So she him lefte, and did herselfe betake

Šo did she all, that might his constant hart Unto her boat again, with which she clefte Withdraw from thought of warlike enterprize, The slouthfuil wave of that great griesy lake: And drowne in dissolute delights apart, Soone shee that island far behind her lefte, (wefte. Where noise of armes, or vew of martiall guize, And now is come to that same place where first she Might not revive desire of knightly exercize :


But he was wise, and wary of her will,

“ If ever love of lady did empierce And ever held his hand upon bis hart;

Your yron brestes, or pittie could find place, Yet would not seeme so rude, and thewed ill, Withhold your bloody handes from battaill fierce; As to despise so curteous seeming part

And, sith for me ye fight, to me this grace That gentle lady did to him impart:

Both yield, to stay your deadly stryfe a space.” But, fairly tempring, fond desire subdewd, They stayd a while; and forth she gan proceede; And ever her desired to depart.

“ Most wretched woman and of wicked race, She list not heare, but her disports poursewd, That am the authour of this hainous deed, And ever bad him stay till time the tide renewd. And cause of death betweene two doughtie knights

do breed ! And now by this Cymochles howre was spent, That he awoke out of his ydie dreme;

“ But, if for me ye fight, or me will serve, And, shaking off his drowsy dreriment,

Not this rude kynd of battaill, nor these armes Gan him avize, howe ill did him beseme

Are meet, the which doe men in bale to sterve, In slouthfull sleepe his molten hart to steme, And doolefull sorrowe heape with deadly harmes : And quench the brond of his conceived yre. Such cruell game my scarmoges disarmes. Tho up he started, stird with shame extreme, Another warre, and other weapons, I Ne staied for his damsell to inquire,

Doe love, where Love does give his sweet alarmes But marched to the strond, there passage to require. Without bloodshed, and where the enimy

Does yield unto his foe a pleasaunt victory.
And in the way he with sir Guyon mett,
Accompany de with Phædria the faire:

“ Debatefull strife, and cruell enmity, Fftsoones he gan to rage, and inly frett,

The famous name of knighthood fowly shend; Crying; “ Let be that lady debonaire,

But lovely peace, and gentle amity, Thou recreaunt knight, and soone thyselfe prepaire And in amours the passing how res to spend, To batteile, if thou meane her love to gayn. The mightie martiall handes doe most commend; Loe! loe already how the fowles in aire

Of love they ever greater glory bore Doe flocke, awaiting shortly to obtayn

Then of their armes : Mars is Cupidoes frend, Thy carcas for their pray, the guerdon of thy payn.” And is for Venus loves renowmed more [yore.

Then all bis wars and spoiles, the which he did of And there-withall he fiersly at him few, And with importune outrage him assayld; Therewith she sweetly smyld. They, though full Who, soone prepard to field, his sword forth drew, To prove extremities of bloody fight, (bent And him with equall valew countervayld :


her speach their rages gan relent, Their mightie strokes their haberieons dismayld, And calme the sea of their tempestuous spight: And naked made each others manly spalles; Such powre have pleasiug wordes! Such is the might The mortall steele despiteously entayld

Of courteous clemency in gentle hart ! Deepe in their flesh, quite through the yron walles, Now after all was ceast, the Faery knight That a large purple streame adown their giambeux Besought that damzell suffer him depart, falles.

And yield him ready passage to that other part. Cymochles, that had never mett before

She no lesse glad then he desirous was
So puissant foe, with envious despight

Of his departure thence; for of her ioy
His prowd presumed force increased more, And vaine delight she saw he light did pas,
Disdeigning to bee held so long in fight.

A foe of folly and immodest toy,
Sir Guyon, grudging not so much his might Still solemne sad, or still disdainfull coy;
As those anknightly raylinges which he spoke, Delighting all in armes and cruell warre,
With wratbfull fire his corage kindled bright, That her sweet peace and pleasures did annoy,
Thereof devising shortly to be wroke,

Troubled with terrour and unquiet iarre, And doubling all his powres redoubled every stroke. That she well pleased was thence to amove him farre. Both of them high attonce their hands enhaunst, Tho him she brought abord, and her swift bote And both attonce their huge blowes down did sway: Porthwith directed to that further strand; Cynochles sword on Guyons shield yglaunst, The which on the dull waves did lightly flote, And thereof nigh one quarter sheard away: And soone arrived on the sballow sand, Bat Gayons angry blade so fiers did play Where gladsome Guyon salied forth to land, On th' others belmett, which as Titan shone, And to that damsell thankes gave for reward. That quite it clove his plumed crest in tway, Upon that shore he spyed Atin stand, And bared all his head unto the bone; (stone. There by his maister left, when late he far'd Where-with astonisht still he stood as sencelesse In Phædrias flitt barck over that perlous shard. Still as he stood, fayre Phædria, that beheld Well could he him remember, sith of late That deadly daunger, soone atweene them ran; He with Pyrochles sharp debatement made; And at their feet herselfe most humbly feld, Streight gan he him revyle, and bitter rate, Crying with pitteous voyce, and count'nance wan, As shepheardes curre, that in darke eveninges shade "Ah, well away! most noble lords, how can Hath tracted forth some salvage beastës trade: Your cruell eyes endure so pitteous sight,

“Vile miscreaunt,” said he, “whether dost thou dye To shed your lives on ground? Wo worth the mản, The shame and death, which will thee soone invade? That first did teach the cursed steele to bight What coward hand shall doe thee next to dye, In his owne flesh, and make way to the living spright! | That art thus fowly fledd from famous enimy?”

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With that he stifly shooke his steelhead dart : Whyles thus they strugled in that Ydle wave, But sober Guyon hearing bim so rayle,

And strove in vaine, the one himselfe to drowne, Though somewhat moved in his mightie hart, The other both from drowning for to save; Yet with strong reason maistred passion fraile, Lo! to that shore one in an auncient gowne, And passed fayrely forth : he, turning taile, Whose hoary locks great gravitie did crowne, Backe to the strond retyrd, and there still stayd, Holding in hand a goodly arming sword, Awaiting passage, which him late did faile; By fortune came, ledd with the troublous sowne: The whiles Cymochles with that wanton mayd Where drenched deepe he fownd in that dull ford The hasty heat of his avowd revenge delayd. The carefull servaunt stryving with his raging lord. Whylest there the varlet stood, he saw from farre Him Atin spying knew right well of yore, An armed knight that towardes him fast ran; And lowdly cald; “ Help! helpe, O Arcbimage, He ran on foot, as if in lucklesse warre

To save my lord in wretched plight forlore; His forlorne steed from him the victour was: Helpe with thy hand, or with thy counsell sage: He seemed breathlesse, hartlesse, faint, and wan; Weake handes, but counsell is most strong in age." And all his armour sprinckled was with blood, Him when the old man saw, he woundred sore And soyld with durtie gore, that no man can To see Pyrochles there so rudely rage: Discerne the hew thereof: he never stood,

Yet sithens helpe, he saw, he needed more
But bent his hastie course towardes the Ydle flood. Then pitty, he in hast approched to the shore.
The varlet saw, when to the flood he came And cald; " Pyrochles, what is this I see?
How without stop or stay he fiersly lept,

What hellish fury hath at earst thee hent?
And deepe himselfe beducked in the same, Furious ever I thee knew to bee,
That in the lake his loftie crest was stept,

Yet never in this straunge astonishment.”
Ne of his safetie seemed care he kept;

“ These flames, these flames,” he cryde, “ doe me But with his raging armes be rudely flasht

torment!” The waves about, and all bis armour swept, “What flames,” quoth he, “when I thee present see That all the blood and filth away was washt; In daunger rather to be drent then brent ?” Yet still he bet the water, and the billowes dasht. · Harrow! the flames which me consume,” said he,

Ne can be quencht, within my secret bowelles bee. Atin drew nigh to weet what it mote bee; For much he wondred at that úncouth sight: “ That cursed man, that cruel feend of Hell, Whom should he but his own deare lord there see, Furor, oh! Furor hath me thus bedight: His owne deare lord Pyrochles in sad plight, His deadly woundes within my liver swell, Ready to drowne himselfe for fell despight: And his whott fyre burnes in mine entralles bright, “ Harrow now, out and well away !” he cryde, Kindled through his infernall brond of spight, “ What dismall day hath lent this cursed light, Sith late with him I batteill vaine would boste; To see my lord so deadly damnifyde?

That now I weene loves dreaded thunder-light Pyrochles, 0 Pyrochles, what is thee betyde?” Does scorch not halfe so sore, nor damned ghoste

In flaming Phlegeton does not so felly roste." “ I burne, I burne, I burne," then lowd he cryde, “ O how I burne with implacable fyre !

Which whenas Archimago heard, his griefe Yet pought can quench mine inly flaming syde, He knew right well, and him attonce disarm'd: Nor sea of licour cold, nor lake of myre;

Then searcht his secret woundes, and made a priefe Nothing but death can doe me to respyre.” Of every place that was with bruzing harmd, “ Ah! be it,” said he, “ from Pyrocbles farre Or with the hidden fier inly warmd. After pursewing death once to requyre,

Which doen, he balmes and herbes thereto applyde, Orthink, thatought those paissant hands may marre, And evermore with mightie spels them charmd; Death is for wretches borne under unhappy starre.” That in short space be bas them qualifyde, (dyde.

And him restord to helth, that would have algates “Perdye, then is it fitt for me," said he, “ That am, I weene, most wretched man alive; Burning in flames, yet no flames can I see, And, dying dayly, dayly yet revive: O Atin, helpe to me last death to give !"

The varlet at his plaint was grievd so sore,
That his deepe-wounded hart in two did rive;

Guyon findes Mammon in a delve
And, his owne health remembring now no more,

Sunning his threasure hore; Did follow that ensample which he blam'd afore.

Is by him tempted, and led downe

To see his secrete store, Into the lake he lept his lord to ayd, (So love the dread of daunger doth despise) As pilot well expert in perilous wave, And, of him catching hold, him strongly stayd That to a stedfast starre bis course hath bent, From drowning ; but more happy he then wise When foggy mistes or cloudy tempests have Of that seas nature did him not avise:

The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent, The waves thereof so slow and sluggish were, And cover'd Heaven with hideous dreriment; Engrost with mud which did them fowie agrise, Upon his card and compas firmes his eye, That every weighty thing they did upbeare, The maysters of his long experiment, Ne ought mote ever sinck downe to the bottom And to them does the steddy helme apply, there.

Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward fly:

So Guyon having lost his trustie guyde,

“ Wherefore if me thou deigne to serve and sew, Late left beyond that Ydle Lake, proceedes At thy commaund lo! all these mountainés bee: Yet on bis way, of none accompanyde;

Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew, And evermore himselfe with comfort feedes All these may not suffise, there shall to thee Of his own vertues and praise-worthie deedes. Ten times so much be nombred francke and free." So, long he yode, yet no adventure found, “Mammon,” said he, “thy godheads raunt isvaine, Wbich Fame of her shrill trompet worthy reedes: And idle offers of thy golden fee; For still he traveild through wide wastfull ground, To them that covet such eye-glutting gaine That nought but desert wildernesse shewd all

around. Proffer thy giftès, and fitter servaunts entertaine. At last he came unto a gloomy glade,

“ Meill befits, that in derdoing armes Corer'd with boughes and shrubs from Heavens light, and honours suit my vowed daies do spend, Whereas he sitting found in secret shade

Unto thy bounteous baytes and pleasing charmes, An upcouth, salvage, and uncivile wight,

With which weake men thou witchest, to attend; Of griesly hew and fowle ill-favour'd sight;

Regard of worldly mucke doth fowly blend His face with smoke was tand, and eies were bleard, And' low abase the high heroicke spright, His bead and beard with sout were ill bedight,

That ioyes for crownes and kingdomes to contend: His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have ben seard

Faire shields, gay steedes, bright armes, be my dein smythes fire-spitting forge, and nayles like clawes

light; appeard.

Those be the riches fit for an advent'rous knight.” His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust, Was underneath enveloped with gold;

“ Vaine glorious Elfe,” saide he,“ doest not thou Whose glistring glosse, darkned with filthy dust,

That money can thy wantes at will supply? (weet Well yet appeared to have beene of old

Shields, steeds, and armes, and all things for thee A worke of rich entayle and curious mould,

It can purvay in twinckling of an eye; (meets Woven with antickes and wyld ymagery:

And crownes and king lomes to thee multiply. And in his lap a masse of coyne he told,

Do not I kings create, and throw the crowne And turned upside downe, to feede his eye

Sometimes to him that low in dust doth ly, And coretous desire with his huge threasury.

And him that raignd into his rowme tirrust downe;.

And, whom Ilust, do heape with glory and renowne?" And round about him lay on every side Great heapes of gold that never could be spent ;

“ All otherwise,” saide he, “ I riches read, Of wbich some were rude owre, not purifide

And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse; Of Mulcibers devouring element;

First got with guile, and then preserv'd dread Some others were new driven, and distent

And after spent with pride and lavishnesse,
Into great ingowes and to wedges square;

Leaving behind them griefe and heavinesse :
Some ja round plates withouten moniment: Infinite mischiefes of them doe arize;
But most were stampt, and in their metal bare

Strife and debate, bloodshed and bitternesse,
The antique shapes of kings and Kesars straung Outrageous wrong and hellish covetize;
and rare.

That noble heart, as great dishonour, doth despize. Scope as he Guyon sav, in great affright

“ Ne thine be kingdomes, ne the scepters thine; And baste he rose for to remove aside

But realmes and rulers thou doest both confound, Those pretious hils from straungers envious sight, And loyall truth to treason doest incline : And downe them poured through an hole full wide Witnesse the gailtlesse blood pourd oft on ground; Into the hollow earth, them there to hide: The crowned often slaine; the slayer cround; Bat Gayon, lightly to him leaping, stayd

The sacred diademe in peeces rent; His hand that trembled as oue terrifyde;

And purple robe gored with many a wound; And though himseife were at the sight dismayd, Castles surprizd ; great cities sackt and brent : Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfall So mak’st thou kings, and gaynest wrongfull gosayd;

vernment ! " What art thou, man, (if man at all thou art) “ Long were to tell the troublous stormes that tosse That here in desert hast thine habitaunce, The private state, and make the life upsweet: Add these rich bils of welth doest bide apart Who swelling sayles in Caspian sea doth crosse, From the worldes eye, and from her right usaunce?" And in fraylè wood on Adrian gulf doth feet, Thereat, with staring eyes fixed askaunce, Doth not, I weene, so many evils meet." In great disdaine he answerd; “ Hardy Elfe, Then Mammon wexing wroth; “ And why then," That darest view my direful countenaunce ! “ Are mortall men so fond and updiscreet (sayd, I read thee rash and heedlesse of thyselfe, (pelfe. So evill thing to seeke unto their ayd ; [brayd ?" To trouble my still seate and heapes of pretious And, having not, complaine; and, having it, up

God of the world and worldlings I me call, “ Indeed,” quoth he,“ through fowle intempeGreat Mammon, greatest god below the skye, Frayle men are oft captív'd to covetise: Craunce, That of my plenty poure out unto all,

But would they thinke with how small allowaúnce And unto none my graces do envye::

Untroubled nature doth herselfe suffise, Riebes, renowme, and principality,

Such superfluities they would desp se, Honour, estate, and all this worldës good, Which with sad cares empeach our native ioyes. For which men swinck and sweat incessantly, At the well-head the purest streames arise ; Fro me do flow into an ample flood,

But mucky filth his braunching armes annoyes, And in the bollow earth have their eternall brood. And with uncomely weedes the gentle wave accloyes.

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