Like two faire marble pillours they were seene,
Which doe the temple of the gods support,
Whom all the people decke with girlands greene,
And honour in their festivall resort:

Those same with stately grace and princely port
She taught to tread, when she herselfe would grace;
But with the woody nymphes when she did play,
Or when the flying libbard she did chace,

She could them nimbly move, and after fly apace.

And in her hand a sharpe bore-speare she held,
And at her backe a bow and quiver gay,

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Stuft with steele-headed dartes wherewith she queld
The salvage beastes in her victorious play,

Knit with a golden bauldricke which forelay
Athwart her snowy brest,

*

*

Her yellow lockes, crisped like golden wyre,
About her shoulders weren loosely shed,

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In her rude heares sweet flowres themselves did lap,

And flourishing fresh leaves and blossomes did enwrap.

Such as Diana by the sandy shore

Of swift Eurotas, or on Cynthus greene,

Where all the nymphes have her unwares forlore,
Wandreth alone with bow and arrowes keene,
To seeke her game: or as that famous queene

Of Amazons, whom Pyrrhus did destroy,
The day that first of Priame she was seene,
Did shew herselfe in great triumphant joy,

To succour the weake state of sad afflicted Troy.

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5

THE CAVE OF MAMMON.

(Fairy Queen, II., 7, 3–9.)

At last he came unto a gloomy glade,

Cover'd with boughes and shrubs from heavens light,
Whereas he sitting found in secret shade
An uncouth, salvage, and uncivile wight,

Of griesly hew and fowle ill-favour'd sight;

His face with smoke was tand, and eies were bleard,
His head and beard with sout, were ill bedight,

His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have been seard

In smythes fire-spitting forge, and nayles like clawes appeard.

His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust,

Was underneath enveloped with gold;

Whose glistning glosse, darkned with filthy dust,
Well yet appeared to have beene of old

A work of rich entayle and curious mould
Woven with antickes and wyld ymagery:
And in his lap a masse of coyne he told,
And turned upside downe, to feede his eye
And covetous desire with his huge threasury.

And round about him lay on every side

Great heapes of gold that never could be spent ;
Of which some were rude owre, not purifide,
Of Mulcibers devouring element;

Some others were new driven, and distent
Into great ingowes and to wedges square;

Some in round plates withouten moniment:
But most were stampt, and in their metal bare

The antique shapes of kings and kesars straung and rare.

Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright

And haste he rose for to remove aside

Those pretious hils from straungers envious sight,
And downe them poured through an hole full wide
Into the hollow earth, them there to hide :

But Guyon, lightly to him leaping, stayd
His hand that trembled as one terrifyde;

And though himselfe were at the sight dismayd,
Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfull sayd:

"What art thou, Man (if man at all thou art),”

In great disdaine he answerd: "Hardy Elfe,
That darest vew my direfull countenance!

I read thee rash and heedlesse of thyselfe,

To trouble my still seate and heapes of pretious pelfe.

"God of the world and worldlings I me call,
Great Mammon, greatest god below the skye,
That of my plenty poure out unto all,
And unto none my graces do envye:
Riches, renowme, and principality,

Honour, estate, and all this worldes good,
For which men swinck, and sweat incessantly,
Fro me do flow into an ample flood,

And in the hollow earth have their eternall brood.

Wherefore, if me thou deigne to serve and sew,
At thy command, lo! all these mountaines bee;
Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew,
All these may not suffise, there shall to thee

Ten times so much be nombred francke and free!"

MOTHER HUBBERD'S TALE.

(U. 892-914.)

THE SUITOR.

Most miserable man, whom wicked fate

Hath brought to court, to sue for had-ywist,

That few have found, and manie one hath mist!

Full little knowest thou that hast not tride,
What hell it is in suing long to bide:

To loose good dayes, that might be better spent ;
To wast long nights in pensive discontent;

To speed today, to be put back to-morrow;
To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow;
To have thy Princes grace, yet want her Peeres;
To have thy asking, yet waite manie yeeres;
To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares;
To eat thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires;
To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne,
To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne.
Unhappie wight, borne to desastrous end,
That doth his life in so long tendance spend!
Who ever leaves sweete home, where meane estate
In safe assurance, without strife or hate,
Findes all things needfull for contentment meeke,
And will to court for shadowes vaine to seeke,
Or hope to gaine, himselfe will a daw trie:
That curse God send unto mine enemie!

FRANCIS BACON.

DISCOURSE.

Some in their discourse desire rather commendation of wit in being able to hold all arguments, than of judgment in discerning what is true; as if it were a praise to know what might be said, and not what should be thought. Some have certain commonplaces and themes wherein they are good, and want variety; 5 which kind of poverty is for the most part tedious, and when it is once perceived, ridiculous. The honourablest part of talk is to give the occasion, and again to moderate and to pass to somewhat else, for then a man leads the dance. It is good in discourse and speech of conversation, to vary and intermingle 10 speech of the present occasion with arguments, tales with reasons, asking of questions with telling of opinions, and jest with earnest; for it is a dull thing to tire, and, as we say now, to jade anything too far. As for jest, there be certain things which ought to be privileged from it; namely, religion, matters of 15 state, great persons, any man's present business of importance, and any case that deserveth pity; yet there be some that think their wits have been asleep except they dart out somewhat that is piquant and to the quick; that is a vein which would be bridled:

"Parce puer stimulis, et fortius utere loris "

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and, generally, men ought to find the difference between saltness and bitterness. Certainly he that hath a satirical vein, as he maketh others afraid of his wit, so he hath need to be afraid of others' memory. He that questioneth much shall learn much 25 and content much, but especially if he apply his questions to the skill of the persons whom he asketh; for he shall give them