The neatresse said: and muse I do, A shepheard thus should blaze 260 The 'coate' of beautie1. Credit me, "In troth, quoth he, I am not such, As seeming I professe: But then for her, and now for thee, I from myselfe digresse. 270 "Her loved I (wretch that I am A recreant to be) I loved her, that hated love, But now I die for thee. "At Kirkland is my fathers court, And Curan is my name, 275 In Edels court sometimes in pompe, Till love countrould the same : "But now-what now ?-deare heart, how now? What ailest thou to weepe?" The damsell wept, and he was woe, And both did silence keepe. 280 1 i. e. emblazon beauty's coat. Ed. 1597, 1602, 1612, read coote. I graunt, quoth she, it was too much, He warr'd in Diria 2, and he wonne Bernicia too in fight: During the Saxon heptarchy, the kingdom of Northumber And so from trecherous Edel tooke At once his life and crowne, And of Northumberland was king, Long raigning in renowne. 310 XXV. Corin's Fate. ONLY the three first stanzas of this song are ancient : these are extracted from a small quarto MS. in the Editor's possession, written in the time of Queen Elizabeth. As they seemed to want application, this has been attempted by a modern hand. CORIN, most unhappie swaine, Whither wilt thou drive thy flocke? Little foode is on the plaine; Full of danger is the rocke: Wolfes and beares doe kepe the woodes; Forests tangled are with brakes: Meadowes subject are to floodes; Moores are full of miry lakes. Yet to shun all plaine, and hill, Forest, moore, and meadow-ground, 5 10 land (consisting of six northern counties, besides part of Scotland) was for a long time divided into two lesser sovereignties, viz. Deira (called here Diria) which contained the southern parts, and Bernicia, comprehending those which lay north. Hunger will as surely kill : How may then reliefe be found? Such is hapless Corins fate : Since my waywarde love begunne, Equall doubts begett debate What to seeke, and what to shunne. Spare to speke, and spare to speed; Yet to speke will move disdaine : If I see her not I bleed, Yet her sight augments my paine. What may then poor Corin doe? Tell me, shepherdes, quicklye tell; For to linger thus in woe Is the lover's sharpest hell. 15 20 XXVI. Jane Shore. THOUGH SO many vulgar errors have prevailed concerning this celebrated courtesan, no character in history has been more perfectly handed down to us. We have her portrait drawn by two masterly pens; the one has delineated the features of her person, the other those of her character and story. Sir Thomas More drew from the life, and Drayton has copied an original picture of her. The reader will pardon the length of the quotations, as they serve to correct many popular mistakes relating to her catastrophe. The first is from Sir Thomas More's history of Richard III., written in 1513, about thirty years after the death of Edward IV. "Now then by and by, as it wer for anger, not for covetise, the protector sent into the house of Shores wife (for her husband dwelled not with her) and spoiled her of al that ever she had, (above the value of two or three thousand marks,) and sent her body to prison. And when he had a while laide unto her, for the maner sake, that she went about to bewitch him, and that she was of counsel with the lord chamberlein to destroy him in conclusion, when that no colour could fasten upon these matters, then he layd heinously to her charge the thing that herselfe could not deny, that al the world wist was true, and that natheles every man laughed at to here it then so sodainly so highly taken, that she was naught of her body. And for thys cause, (as a goodly continent prince, clene and fautless of himself, sent oute of heaven into this vicious world for the amendment of mens maners,) he caused the bishop of London to put her to open pennance, going be |