That after we may favour seeke to win?’
‘How els,’ said he, ‘but with a good bold face, 645
And with big words, and with a stately pace,
That men may thinke of you, in generall,
That to be in you, which is not at all:
For not by that which is, the world now deemeth,
(As it was wont) but by that same that seemeth. 650
Ne do I doubt, but that ye well can fashion
Your selves theretoo, according to occasion:
So fare ye well; good courtiers may ye bee.’
So, proudlie neighing, from them parted hee.
Then gan this craftie couple to devize, 655
How for the court themselves they might aguize:
For thither they themselves meant to addresse,
In hope to finde there happier successe.
So well they shifted, that the Ape anon
Himselfe had cloathed like a gentleman, 660
And the slie Foxe, as like to be his groome;
That to the court in seemly sort they come.
Where the fond Ape, himselfe uprearing hy
Upon his tiptoes, stalketh stately by,
As if he were some great magnifico, 665
And boldlie doth amongst the boldest go;
And his man Reynold, with fine counterfesaunce,
Supports his credite and his countenaunce.
Then gan the courtiers gaze on everie side,
And stare on him, with big lookes basen wide, 670
Wondring what mister wight he was, and whence:
For he was clad in strange accoustrements,
Fashion’d with queint devises never seene
In court before, yet there all fashions beene:
Yet he them in newfanglenesse did pas. 675
But his behaviour altogether was
Alla Turchesca, much the more admyr’d,
And his lookes loftie, as if he aspyr’d
To dignitie, and sdeign’d the low degree;
That all which did such strangenesse in him see 680
By secrete meanes gan of his state enquire,
And privily his servant thereto hire:
Who, throughly arm’d against such coverture,
Reported unto all, that he was sure
A noble gentleman of high regard, 685
Which through the world had with long travel far’d,
And seene the manners of all beasts on ground;
Now here arriv’d, to see if like he found.
Thus did the Ape at first him credit gaine,
Which afterwards he wisely did maintaine 690
With gallant showe, and daylie more augment
Through his fine feates and courtly complement;
For he could play, and daunce, and vaute, and spring,
And all that els pertaines to reveling,
Onely through kindly aptnes of his joynts. 695
Besides he could doo manie other poynts,
The which in court him served to good stead:
For he mongst ladies could their fortunes read
Out of their hands, and merie leasings tell,
And juggle finely, that became him well: 700
But he so light was at legier demaine,
That what he toucht came not to light againe;
Yet would he laugh it out, and proudly looke,
And tell them that they greatly him mistooke.
So would he scoffe them out with mockerie, 705
For he therein had great felicitie;
And with sharp quips joy’d others to deface,
Thinking that their disgracing did him grace:
So whilst that other like vaine wits he pleased
And made to laugh, his heart was greatly eased. 710
But the right gentle minde would bite his lip,
To heare the javell so good men to nip:
For though the vulgar yeeld an open eare,
And common courtiers love to gybe and fleare
At everie thing, which they heare spoken ill, 715
And the best speaches with ill meaning spill;
Yet the brave courtier, in whose beauteous thought
Regard of honour harbours more than ought,
Doth loath such base condition, to backbite
Anies good name for envie or despite. 720
He stands on tearmes of honourable minde,
Ne will be carried with the common winde
Of courts inconstant mutabilitie,
Ne after everie tattling fable flie;
But heares and sees the follies of the rest, 725
And thereof gathers for himselfe the best.
He will not creepe, nor crouche with fained face,
But walkes upright with comely stedfast pace,
And unto all doth yeeld due curtesie;
But not with kissed hand belowe the knee, 730
As that same apish crue is wont to doo:
For he disdaines himselfe t’ embase there-too.
He hates fowle leasings, and vile flatterie,
Two filthie blots in noble gentrie;
And lothefull idlenes he doth detest, 735
The canker worme of everie gentle brest;
The which to banish with faire exercise
Of knightly feates, he daylie doth devise:
Now menaging the mouthes of stubborne steedes,
Now practising the proofe of warlike deedes, 740
Now his bright armes assaying, now his speare,
Now the nigh aymed ring away to beare:
At other times he casts to sew the chace
Of swift wilde beasts, or runne on foote a race,
T’ enlarge his breath (large breath in armes most needfull) 745
Or els by wrestling to wex strong and heedfull,
Or his stiffe armes to stretch with eughen bowe,
And manly legs, still passing too and fro,
Without a gowned beast him fast beside;
A vaine ensample of the Persian pride, 750
Who after he had wonne th’ Assyrian foe,
Did ever after scorne on foote to goe.
Thus when this courtly gentleman with toyle
Himselfe hath wearied, he doth recoyle
Unto his rest, and there with sweete delight 755
Of musicks skill revives his toyled spright;
Or els with loves and ladies gentle sports,
The joy of youth, himselfe he recomforts:
Or lastly, when the bodie list to pause,
His minde unto the Muses he withdrawes; 760
Sweete Ladie Muses, ladies of delight,
Delights of life, and ornaments of light:
With whom he close confers, with wise discourse,
Of Natures workes, of heavens continuall course,
Of forreine lands, of people different, 765
Of kingdomes change, of divers government,
Of dreadfull battailes of renowmed knights;
With which he kindleth his ambitious sprights
To like desire and praise of noble fame,
The onely upshot whereto he doth ayme. 770
For all his minde on honour fixed is,
To which he levels all his purposis,
And in his princes service spends his dayes,
Not so much for to gaine, or for to raise
Himselfe to high degree, as for his grace, 775
And in his liking to winne worthie place,
Through due deserts and comely carriage,
In whatso please employ his personage,
That may be matter meete to gaine him praise;
For he is fit to use in all assayes, 780
Whether for armes and warlike amenaunce,
Or else for wise and civill governaunce.
For he is practiz’d well in policie,
And thereto doth his courting most applie:
To learne the enterdeale of princes strange, 785
To marke th’ in
tent of counsells, and the change
Of states, and eke of private men somewhile,
Supplanted by fine falshood and faire guile;
Of all the which he gathereth what is fit
T’ enrich the storehouse of his powerfull wit, 790
Which through wise speaches and grave conference
He daylie eekes, and brings to excellence.
Such is the rightfull courtier in his kinde:
But unto such the Ape lent not his minde;
Such were for him no fit companions, 795
Such would descrie his lewd conditions:
But the yong lustie gallants he did chose
To follow, meete to whom he might disclose
His witlesse pleasance and ill pleasing vaine.
A thousand wayes he them could entertaine, 800
With all the thriftles games that may be found;
With mumming and with masking all around,
With dice, with cards, with balliards farre unfit,
With shuttelcocks, misseeming manlie wit,
With courtizans, and costly riotize, 805
Whereof still somewhat to his share did rize:
Ne, them to pleasure, would he sometimes scorne
A pandares coate (so basely was he borne);
Thereto he could fine loving verses frame,
And play the poet oft. But ah! for shame, 810
Let not sweete poets praise, whose onely pride
Is vertue to advaunce, and vice deride,
Be with the worke of losels wit defamed,
Ne let such verses poetrie be named.
Yet he the name on him would rashly take, 815
Maugre the sacred Muses, and it make
A servant to the vile affection
Of such as he depended most upon,
And with the sugrie sweete thereof allure
Chast ladies eares to fantasies impure. 820
To such delights the noble wits he led
Which him reliev’d, and their vaine humours fed
With fruitles follies and unsound delights.
But if perhaps into their noble sprights
Desire of honor or brave thought of armes 825
Did ever creepe, then with his wicked charmes
And strong conceipts he would it drive away,
Ne suffer it to house there halfe a day.
And whenso love of letters did inspire
Their gentle wits, and kindly wise desire, 830
That chieflie doth each noble minde adorne,
Then he would scoffe at learning, and eke scorne
The sectaries thereof, as people base
And simple men, which never came in place
Of worlds affaires, but, in darke corners mewd, 835
Muttred of matters, as their bookes them shewd,
Ne other knowledge ever did attaine,
But with their gownes their gravitie maintaine.
From them he would his impudent lewde speach
Against Gods holie ministers oft reach, 840
And mocke divines and their profession:
What else then did he by progression,
But mocke High God himselfe, whom they professe?
But what car’d he for God, or godlinesse?
All his care was himselfe how to advaunce, 845
And to uphold his courtly countenaunce
By all the cunning meanes he could devise;
Were it by honest wayes, or otherwise,
He made small choyce: yet sure his honestie
Got him small gaines, but shameles flatterie, 850
And filthie brocage, and unseemly shifts,
And borowe base, and some good ladies gifts:
But the best helpe, which chiefly him sustain’d,
Was his man Raynolds purchase which he gain’d.
For he was school’d by kinde in all the skill 855
Of close conveyance, and each practise ill
Of coosinage and cleanly knaverie,
Which oft maintain’d his masters braverie.
Besides, he usde another slipprie slight,
In taking on himselfe, in common sight, 860
False personages fit for everie sted,
With which he thousands cleanly coosined:
Now like a merchant, merchants to deceave,
With whom his credite he did often leave
In gage, for his gay masters hopelesse dett: 865
Now like a lawyer, when he land would lett,
Or sell fee-simples in his masters name,
Which he had never, nor ought like the same:
Then would he be a broker, and draw in
Both wares and money, by exchange to win: 870
Then would he seeme a farmer, that would sell
Bargaines of woods, which he did lately fell,
Or corne, or cattle, or such other ware,
Thereby to coosin men not well aware;
Of all the which there came a secret fee 875
To th’ Ape, that he his countenaunce might bee.
Besides all this, he usd’ oft to beguile
Poore suters, that in court did haunt some while:
For he would learne their busines secretly,
And then informe his master hastely, 880
That he by meanes might cast them to prevent,
And beg the sute the which the other ment.
Or otherwise false Reynold would abuse
The simple suter, and wish him to chuse
His master, being one of great regard 885
In court, to compas anie sute not hard,
In case his paines were recompenst with reason:
So would he worke the silly man by treason
To buy his masters frivolous good will,
That had not power to doo him good or ill. 890
So pitifull a thing is suters state.
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, 895
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 to day, to be put back to morrow;
To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow; 900
To have thy Princes grace, yet want her Peeres;
To have thy asking, yet waite manie yeeres;
To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares;
To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires;
To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne, 905
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, 910
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!
For none but such as this bold Ape unblest 915
Can ever thrive in that unluckie quest;
Or such as hath a Reynold to his man,
That by his shifts his master furnish can.
But yet this Foxe could not so closely hide
His craftie feates, but that they were descride 920
At length, by such as sate in justice seate,
Who for the same him fowlie did entreate;
And having worthily him punished,
Out of the court for ever banished.
And now the Ape, wanting his huckster man, 925
That wont provide his necessaries, gan
To growe into great lacke, ne could upholde
His countenaunce in those his garments olde;
Ne new ones could he e
asily provide,
Though all men him uncased gan deride, 930
Like as a puppit placed in a play,
Whose part once past all men bid take away:
So that he driven was to great distresse,
And shortly brought to hopelesse wretchednesse.
Then, closely as he might, he cast to leave 935
The court, not asking any passe or leave;
But ran away in his rent rags by night,
Ne ever stayd in place, ne spake to wight,
Till that the Foxe, his copesmate, he had found;
To whome complayning his unhappy stound, 940
At last againe with him in travell joynd,
And with him far’d some better chaunce to fynde.
So in the world long time they wandered,
And mickle want and hardnesse suffered;
That them repented much so foolishly 945
To come so farre to seeke for misery,
And leave the sweetnes of contented home,
Though eating hipps and drinking watry fome.
Thus as they them complayned too and fro,
Whilst through the forest rechlesse they did goe, 950
Lo! where they spide, how in a gloomy glade
The Lyon sleeping lay in secret shade,
His crowne and scepter lying him beside,
And having doft for heate his dreadfull hide:
Which when they sawe, the Ape was sore afrayde, 955
And would have fled with terror all dismayde.
But him the Foxe with hardy words did stay,
And bad him put all cowardize away:
For now was time (if ever they would hope)
To ayme their counsels to the fairest scope, 960
And them for ever highly to advaunce,
In case the good, which their owne happie chaunce
Them freely offred, they would wisely take.
Scarse could the Ape yet speake, so did he quake;
Yet, as he could, he askt how good might growe, 965
Where nought but dread and death do seeme in show.
‘Now,’ sayd he, ‘whiles the Lyon sleepeth sound,
May we his crowne and mace take from the ground,
And eke his skinne, the terror of the wood,
Wherewith we may our selves (if we thinke good) 970
Make kings of beasts, and lords of forests all,
Subject unto that powre imperiall.’
‘Ah! but,’ sayd the Ape, ‘who is so bold a wretch,
That dare his hardy hand to those out stretch,
When as he knowes his meede, if he be spide, 975
To be a thousand deathes, and shame beside?’
‘Fond Ape!’ sayd then the Foxe, ‘into whose brest
Never crept thought of honor nor brave gest,
Who will not venture life a king to be,
And rather rule and raigne in soveraign see, 980
Than dwell in dust inglorious and bace,
Complete Works of Edmund Spenser Page 136
