B4v

A
Poetical Rapsody

Containing,
Diverse Sonnets, Odes, Elegies, Madrigalls,
and other Poesies, both in Rime, and
Measured Verse.

Never yet published.

The Bee and Spider by a diverse power,

Sucke Hony & Poyson from the selfe same flower.

Printed at London by V.S. for John Baily, and
to be solde at his Shoppe in Chancerie lane,
neere to the Office of the six Clarkes. 16021602.

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Dialogue betweene two shepheards, Thenot
and Piers, in praise of Astrea, made by the excellent
Lady, the Lady Mary Countesse of Pembrook,
at the Queenes Majesties being at her house at
1500 < x < 1599Anno 15.

Then.

I Sing divine Astreas praise,

O Muses! help my wittes to raise,

And heave my Verses higher.

Piers.

Thou needst the truth but plainely tell,

Which much I doubt thou canst not well,

Thou art so oft a lier.

Then.

If in my Song no more I show,

Than Heav’n, and Earth, and Sea do know,

Then truely I have spoken.

Piers.

Sufficeth not no more to name,

But being no lesse, the like, the same,

Else lawes of truth be broken.

Then.

Then say, she is so good, so faire,

With all the earth she may compare,

Not Momus selfe denying.

Piers.

Compare may thinke where likenesse holds,

Nought like to her the earth enfoldes,

I lookt to finde you lying.

B5 Then. B5v

Then.

Astrea sees with Wisdoms sight,

Astrea workes by Vertues might,

And joyntly both do stay in her.

Piers.

Nay take from them, her hand, her minde,

The one is lame, the other blinde,

Shall still your lying staine her?

Then.

Soone as Astrea shewes her face,

Strait every ill avoides the place,

And every good aboundeth.

Piers.

Nay long before her face doth showe,

The last doth come, the first doth goe,

How lowde this lie resoundeth!

Then.

Astrea is our chiefest joy,

Our chiefest guarde against annoy,

Our chiefest wealth, our treasure.

Piers.

Where chiefest are, three others bee,

To us none else but only shee;

When wilt thou speake in measure?

Then.

Astrea may be justly sayd,

A field in flowry Roabe arrayd,

In Season freshly springing.

Piers.

That Spring indures but shortest time,

This never leaves Astreas clime,

Thou liest, instead of singing.

Then.

As heavenly light that guides the day,

Right so doth thine each lovely Ray,

That from Astrea flyeth.

Piers B6r

Piers.

Nay, darknes oft that light enclowdes,

Astreas beames no darknes shrowdes;

How lowdly Thenot lyeth!

Then.

Astrea rightly terme I may,

A manly Palme, a Maiden Bay,

Her verdure never dying.

Piers.

Palme oft is crooked, Bay is lowe,

Shee still upright, still high doth growe,

Good Thenot leave thy lying.

Then.

Then Piers, of friendhship tell me why,

My meaning true, my words should ly,

And strive in vaine to raise her.

Piers.

Words from conceit do only rise,

Above conceit her honour flies;

But silence, nought can praise her.

Mary Countesse of Pembroke.

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