VI.

THE PATIENT COUNTESS.

The subject of this tale is taken from that entertaining Colloquy of _Erasmus_, intitled, "Uxor #Mempsigamos#, sive Conjugium:" which has been agreeably modernized by the late Mr. _Spence_, in his little Miscellaneous Publication, intitled, "_Moralities_, &c. by Sir Harry Beaumont," 1753, 8vo. pag. 42.

The following stanzas are extracted from an ancient poem intitled _Albion's England_, written by _W. Warner_, a celebrated poet in the reign of Q. Elizabeth, though his name and works are now equally forgotten. The reader will find some account of him in vol. ii. book ii. song 24.

The following stanzas are printed from the author's improved edition of his work, printed in 1602, 4to.; the third impression of which appeared so early as 1592, in bl. let. 4to. The edition in 1602 is in thirteen books; and so it is reprinted in 1612, 4to.; yet, in 1606, was published "A Continuance of Albion's England, by the first author, W. W. Lond. 4to.:" this contains Books xiv. xv. xvi. There is also extant, under the name of Warner, "Syrinx, or a seven-fold Historie, pleasant, and profitable, comical, and tragical," 4to.

* * * * *

[The title of this poem challenges comparison with _Patient_ _Griselda_, but it is in fact a totally different story, and as Mr. Hales says, "represents rather tact and management than patience in the wife of an unfaithful (not a tempting and essaying) husband." The first edition of Warner's poem was published in 1586, and the numerous impressions of it prove its popularity. The full title is as follows: "Albion's England, a continued History of the same Kingdome from the Originals of the first inhabitants thereof, unto the raigne of Queen Elizabeth."]

* * * * *

Impatience chaungeth smoke to flame, but jelousie is hell; Some wives by patience have reduc'd ill husbands to live well: As did the ladie of an earle, of whom I now shall tell. An earle 'there was' had wedded, lov'd; was lov'd, and lived long Full true to his fayre countesse; yet at last he did her wrong. 5 Once hunted he untill the chace, long fasting, and the heat Did house him in a peakish graunge[973] within a forest great. Where knowne and welcom'd (as the place and persons might afforde) Browne bread, whig,[974] bacon, curds and milke were set him on the borde. A cushion made of lists, a stoole halfe backed with a hoope 10 Were brought him, and he sitteth down besides a sorry coupe.[975] The poore old couple wisht their bread were wheat, their whig were perry, Their bacon beefe, their milke and curds were creame, to make him merry. Meane while (in russet neatly clad, with linen white as swanne, Herselfe more white, save rosie where the ruddy colour ranne: 15 Whome naked nature, not the aydes of arte made to excell) The good man's daughter sturres to see that all were feat[976] and well; The earle did marke her, and admire such beautie there to dwell. Yet fals he to their homely fare, and held him at a feast: But as his hunger slaked, so an amorous heat increast. When this repast was past, and thanks, and welcome too; he sayd 21 Unto his host and hostesse, in the hearing of the mayd: Yee know, quoth he, that I am lord of this, and many townes; I also know that you be poore, and I can spare you pownes.[977] Soe will I, so yee will consent, that yonder lasse and I 25 May bargaine for her love; at least, doe give me leave to trye. Who needs to know it? nay who dares into my doings pry? First they mislike, yet at the length for lucre were misled; And then the gamesome earle did wowe[978] the damsell for his bed. He took her in his armes, as yet so coyish to be kist, 30 As mayds that know themselves belov'd, and yieldingly resist. In few, his offers were so large she lastly did consent; With whom he lodged all that night, and early home he went. He tooke occasion oftentimes in such a sort to hunt. Whom when his lady often mist, contrary to his wont, 35 And lastly was informed of his amorous haunt elsewhere; It greev'd her not a little, though she seem'd it well to beare. And thus she reasons with herselfe, some fault perhaps in me; Somewhat is done, that so he doth: alas! what may it be? How may I winne him to myself? he is a man, and men 40 Have imperfections; it behooves me pardon nature then. To checke him were to make him checke,[979] although hee now were chaste: A man controuled of his wife, to her makes lesser haste, If duty then, or daliance may prevayle to alter him; I will be dutifull, and make my selfe for daliance trim. 45 So was she, and so lovingly did entertaine her lord, As fairer, or more faultles none could be for bed or bord. Yet still he loves his leiman,[980] and did still pursue that game, Suspecting nothing less, than that his lady knew the same: Wherefore to make him know she knew, she this devise did frame: 50 When long she had been wrong'd, and sought the foresayd meanes in vaine, She rideth to the simple graunge, but with a slender traine. She lighteth, entreth, greets them well, and then did looke about her: The guiltie houshold knowing her did wish themselves without her; Yet, for she looked merily, the lesse they did misdoubt[981] her. 55 When she had seen the beauteous wench (then blushing fairnes fairer) Such beauty made the countesse hold them both excus'd the rather. Who would not bite at such a bait? thought she: and who (though loth) So poore a wench, but gold might tempt? sweet errors lead them both. Scarse one in twenty that had bragg'd of proffer'd gold denied, 60 Or of such yeelding beautie baulkt, but, tenne to one, had lied. Thus thought she: and she thus declares her cause of coming thether; My lord, oft hunting in these partes, through travel, night or wether, Hath often lodged in your house; I thanke you for the same; For why? it doth him jolly ease to lie so neare his game. 65 But, for you have not furniture beseeming such a guest, I bring his owne, and come myselfe to see his lodging drest. With that two sumpters were discharg'd, in which were hangings brave, Silke coverings, curtens, carpets, plate, and al such turn should have. When all was handsomly dispos'd, she prayes them to have care 70 That nothing hap in their default,[982] that might his health impair: And, Damsell, quoth shee, for it seemes this houshold is but three, And for thy parents age, that this shall chiefely rest on thee; Do me that good, else would to God he hither come no more. So tooke she horse, and ere she went bestowed gould good store. 75 Full little thought the countie[983] that his countesse had done so; Who now return'd from far affaires did to his sweetheart go. No sooner sat he foote within the late deformed cote,[984] But that the formall change of things his wondring eies did note. But when he knew those goods to be his proper goods; though late, 80 Scarce taking leave, he home returnes the matter to debate. The countesse was a-bed, and he with her his lodging tooke; Sir, welcome home (quoth shee); this night for you I did not looke. Then did he question her of such his stuffe bestowed soe. Forsooth, quoth she, because I did your love and lodging knowe; 85 Your love to be a proper wench, your lodging nothing lesse; I held it for your health, the house more decently to dresse. Well wot I, notwithstanding her, your lordship loveth me; And greater hope to hold you such by quiet, then brawles, 'you' see. Then for my duty, your delight, and to retaine your favour, 90 All done I did, and patiently expect your wonted 'haviour. Her patience, witte and answer wrought his gentle teares to fall: When (kissing her a score of times) amend, sweet wife, I shall: He said, and did it; 'so each wife her husband may' recall.

FOOTNOTES:

[973] [rude and lone country house.]

[974] [buttermilk or sour whey.]

[975] [pen for poultry.]

[976] [nice or neat.]

[977] [pounds.]

[978] [woo.]

[979] To _check_ is a term in falconry, applied when a hawk stops and turns away from his proper pursuit: to _check_ also signifies to reprove or chide. It is in this verse used in both senses.

[980] [mistress.]

[981] [suspect.]

[982] [happen from their neglect.]

[983] [earl.]

[984] [cottage.]

VII

DOWSABELL.

The following stanzas were written by _Michael Drayton_, a poet of some eminence in the reigns of Q. Elizabeth, James I. and Charles I.[985] They are inserted in one of his Pastorals, the first edition of which bears this whimsical title, "Idea. The Shepheards Garland fashioned in nine Eglogs. Rowlands sacrifice to the nine muses. Lond. 1593." 4to. They are inscribed with the author's name at length "To the noble and valerous gentleman master Robert Dudley, &c." It is very remarkable that when Drayton reprinted them in the first folio edit. of his works, 1619, he had given those Eclogues so thorough a revisal, that there is hardly a line to be found the same as in the old edition. This poem had received the fewest corrections, and therefore is chiefly given from the ancient copy, where it is thus introduced by one of his Shepherds:

"Listen to mee, my lovely shepheards joye. And thou shall heare, with mirth and mickle glee, A pretie tale, which when I was a boy, My toothles grandame oft hath tolde to me."

The author has professedly imitated the style and metre of some of the old metrical romances, particularly that of _Sir Isenbras_[986] (alluded to in v. 3), as the reader may judge from the following specimen:

"Lordynges, lysten, and you shal here, &c. * * * * * Ye shall well heare of a knight, That was in warre full wyght, And doughtye of his dede: His name was Syr Isenbras, Man nobler then he was Lyved none with breade. He was lyvely, large, and longe, With shoulders broade, and armes stronge, That myghtie was to se: He was a hardye man, and hye, All men hym loved that hym se, For a gentyll knight was he: Harpers loved him in hall, With other minstrells all, For he gave them golde and fee," &c.

This ancient legend was printed in black-letter, 4to. by Wyllyam Copland; no date.[987] In the Cotton Library (Calig. A 2) is a MS. copy of the same romance containing the greatest variations. They are probably two different translations of some French original.

* * * * *

Farre in the countrey of Arden, There won'd[988] a knight, hight Cassemen, As bolde as Isenbras: Fell[989] was he, and eger bent, In battell and in tournament, 5 As was the good Sir Topas.

He had, as antique stories tell, A daughter cleaped[990] Dowsabel, A mayden fayre and free: And for she was her fathers heire, 10 Full well she was y-cond the leyre[991] Of mickle curtesie.

The silke well couth she twist and twine, And make the fine march-pine,[992] And with the needle werke: 15 And she couth helpe the priest to say His mattins on a holy-day, And sing a psalme in kirke.

She ware a frock of frolicke greene, Might well beseeme a mayden queene, 20 Which seemly was to see; A hood to that so neat and fine, In colour like the colombine, Y-wrought full featously.[993]

Her features all as fresh above, 25 As is the grasse that growes by Dove; And lyth[994] as lasse of Kent. Her skin as soft as Lemster wooll,[995] As white as snow on Peakish Hull,[996] Or swanne that swims in Trent. 30

This mayden in a morne betime Went forth, when May was in her prime, To get sweete cetywall,[997] The honey-suckle, the harlocke,[998] The lilly and the lady-smocke, 35 To deck her summer hall.

Thus, as she wandred here and there, Y-picking of the bloomed breere, She chanced to espie A shepheard sitting on a bancke, 40 Like chanteclere he crowed crancke,[999] And pip'd full merrilie.

He lear'd[1000] his sheepe as he him list, When he would whistle in his fist, To feede about him round; 45 Whilst he full many a carroll sung, Untill the fields and medowes rung, And all the woods did sound.

In favour this same shepheards swayne Was like the bedlam Tamburlayne,[1001] 50 Which helde prowd kings in awe: But meeke he was as lamb mought be; An innocent of ill as he[1002] Whom his lewd brother slaw.

The shepheard ware a sheepe-gray cloke, 55 Which was of the finest loke,[1003] That could be cut with sheere: His mittens were of bauzens[1004] skinne, His cockers[1005] were of cordiwin,[1006] His hood of meniveere.[1007] 60

His aule and lingell[1008] in a thong, His tar-boxe on his broad belt hong, His breech of coyntrie[1009] blewe: Full crispe and curled were his lockes, His browes as white as Albion rocks: 65 So like a lover true,

And pyping still he spent the day, So merry as the popingay;[1010] Which liked Dowsabel: That would she ought, or would she nought, 70 This lad would never from her thought; She in love-longing fell.

At length she tucked up her frocke, White as a lilly was her smocke, She drew the shepheard nye; 75 But then the shepheard pyp'd a good, That all his sheepe forsooke their foode, To heare his melodye.

Thy sheepe, quoth she, cannot be leane, That have a jolly shepheards swayne, 80 The which can pipe so well: Yea but, sayth he, their shepheard may, If pyping thus he pine away In love of Dowsabel.

Of love, fond boy, take thou no keepe,[1011] 85 Quoth she; looke thou unto thy sheepe, Lest they should hap to stray. Quoth he, so had I done full well, Had I not seen fayre Dowsabell Come forth to gather maye. 90

With that she gan to vaile her head, Her cheeks were like the roses red, But not a word she sayd: With that the shepheard gan to frowne, He threw his pretie pypes adowne, 95 And on the ground him layd.

Sayth she, I may not stay till night, And leave my summer-hall undight,[1012] And all for long of thee. My coate,[1013] sayth he, nor yet my foulde 100 Shall neither sheepe nor shepheard hould, Except thou favour mee.

Sayth she, Yet lever were I dead, Then I should lose my mayden-head, And all for love of men. 105 Sayth he, Yet are you too unkind. If in your heart you cannot finde To love us now and then.

And I to thee will be as kinde As Colin was to Rosalinde, 110 Of curtesie the flower. Then will I be as true, quoth she, As ever mayden yet might be Unto her paramour.

With that she bent her snow-white knee, 115 Downe by the shepheard kneeled shee, And him she sweetely kist: With that the shepheard whoop'd for joy, Quoth he, ther's never shepheards boy That ever was so blist. 120

FOOTNOTES:

[985] He was born in 1563, and died in 1631. _Biog. Brit._

[986] As also Chaucer's _Rhyme of Sir Topas_, v. 6.

[987] [Reprinted by Utterson. The _Romance of Sir Isumbras_ was printed from the MS. by Mr. Halliwell in the _Thornton Romance_ (Camden Society, 1844).]

[988] [dwelt.]

[989] [keen.]

[990] [named.]

[991] [she was taught the learning.]

[992] [march-pane, a kind of biscuit.]

[993] [dexterously.]

[994] [gentle or tender.]

[995] Leominster, or Lemster, was long famous for its wool, and Skelton refers to "good Lemster wool" in his _Elynour Rummin_.

[996] Peakish hill; this may refer to the well-known Derbyshire mountain called the Peak.

[997] herb valerian, or mountain spikenard.

[998] perhaps charlock, or wild rape.

[999] exultingly.

[1000] pastured.

[1001] Alluding to _Tamburlaine the great, or the Scythian Shepheard_, 1590, 8vo. an old ranting play ascribed to Marlowe.

[1002] Sc. Abel.

[1003] [fleece of wool.]

[1004] [sheepskin gloves with the wool on the inside.]

[1005] [short boots.]

[1006] [leather.]

[1007] [mixed fur.]

[1008] [rosined thread.]

[1009] [Coventry.]

[1010] [parrot.]

[1011] [heed.]

[1012] [undecked.]

[1013] [cot.]