The Shorter Poems

by Edmund Spenser

  Whereas thou maist compound a better penie,

  Ne let thy learning question’d be of anie.

  525

  For some good Gentleman that hath the right

  Vnto his Church for to present a wight,

  Will cope with thee in reasonable wise;

  That if the liuing yerely doo arise

  To fortie pound, that then his yongest sonne

  530

  Shall twentie haue, and twentie thou hast wonne:

  Thou hast it wonne, for it is of franke gift,

  And he will care for all the rest to shift;

  Both that the Bishop may admit of thee,

  And that therein thou maist maintained bee.

  535

  This is the way for one that is vnlern’d

  Liuing to get, and not to be discern’d.

  But they that are great Clerkes, haue nearer wayes,

  For learning sake to liuing them to raise:

  Yet manie eke of them (God wote) are driuen,

  540

  T’accept a Benefice in peeces riuen.

  How saist thou (friend) haue I not well discourst

  Vpon this Common place (though plaine, not wourst) ?

  Better a short tale, than a bad long shriuing.

  Needes anie more to learne to get a liuing?

  545

  Now sure and by my hallidome (quoth he)

  Ye a great master are in your degree:

  Great thankes I yeeld you for your discipline,

  And doo not doubt, but duly to encline

  My wits theretoo, as ye shall shortly heare.

  550

  The Priest him wisht good speed, and well to fare.

  So parted they, as eithers way them led.

  But th’Ape and Foxe ere long so well them sped,

  Through the Priests holesome counsell lately tought,

  And throgh their own faire handling wisely wroght,

  555

  That they a Benefice twixt them obtained;

  And craftie Reynold was a Priest ordained;

  And th’Ape his Parish Clarke procur’d to bee.

  Then made they reuell route and goodly glee.

  But ere long time had passed, they so ill

  560

  Did order their affaires, that th’euill will

  Of all their Parishners they had constraind;

  Who to the Ordinarie of them complain’d,

  How fowlie they their offices abusd’,

  And them of crimes and heresies accusd’;

  565

  That Pursiuants he often for them sent:

  But they neglected his commaundement.

  So long persisted obstinate and bolde,

  Till at the length he published to holde

  A Visitation, and them cyted thether:

  570

  Then was high time their wits about to geather;

  What did they then, but made a composition

  With their next neighbor Priest for light condition,

  To whom their liuing they resigned quight

  For a few pence, and ran away by night.

  575

  So passing through the Countrey in disguize,

  They fled farre off, where none might them surprize,

  And after that long straied here and there,

  Through euerie field and forrest farre and nere;

  Yet neuer found occasion for their tourne,

  580

  But almost steru’d, did much lament and mourne.

  At last they chaunst to meete vpon the way

  The Mule, all deckt in goodly rich aray,

  With bells and bosses, that full lowdly rung,

  And costly trappings, that to ground downe hung.

  585

  Lowly they him saluted in meeke wise,

  But he through pride and fatnes gan despise

  Their meanesse; scarce vouchsafte them to requite.

  Whereat the Foxe deep groning in his sprite,

  Said, Ah sir Mule, now blessed be the day,

  590

  That I see you so goodly and so gay

  In your attyres, and eke your silken hyde

  Fil’d with round flesh, that euerie bone doth hide.

  Seemes that in fruitfull pastures ye doo liue,

  Or fortune doth you secret fauour giue.

  595

  Foolish Foxe (said the Mule) thy wretched need

  Praiseth the thing that doth thy sorrow breed.

  For well I weene, thou canst not but enuie

  My wealth, compar’d to thine owne miserie,

  That art so leane and meagre waxen late,

  600

  That scarse thy legs vphold thy feeble gate.

  Ay me (said then the Foxe) whom euill hap

  Vnworthy in such wretchednes doth wrap,

  And makes the scorne of other beasts to bee:

  But read (faire Sir, of grace) from whence come yee?

  605

  Or what of tidings you abroad doo heare?

  Newes may perhaps some good vnweeting beare.

  From royall Court I lately came (said he)

  Where all the brauerie that eye may see,

  And all the happinesse that heart desire,

  610

  Is to be found; he nothing can admire,

  That hath not seene that heauens portracture:

  But tidings there is none I you assure,

  Saue that which common is, and knowne to all,

  That Courtiers as the tide doo rise and fall.

  615

  But tell vs (said the Ape) we doo you pray,

  Who now in Court doth beare the greatest sway.

  That if such fortune doo to vs befall,

  We may seeke fauour of the best of all.

  Marie (said he) the highest now in grace,

  620

  Be the wilde beasts, that swiftest are in chace;

  For in their speedie course and nimble flight

  The Lyon now doth take the most delight:

  But chieflie, ioyes on foote them to beholde,

  Enchaste with chaine and circulet of golde:

  625

  So wilde a beast so tame ytaught to bee,

  And buxome to his bands is ioy to see.

  So well his golden Circlet him beseemeth:

  But his late chayne his Liege vnmeete esteemeth;

  For so braue beasts she loueth best to see,

  630

  In the wilde forrest raunging fresh and free.

  Therefore if fortune thee in Court to liue,

  In case thou euer there wilt hope to thriue,

  To some of these thou must thy selfe apply:

  Els as a thistle-downe in th’ayre doth flie,

  635

  So vainly shalt thou too and fro be tost,

  And loose thy labour and thy fruitles cost.

  And yet full few, which follow them I see,

  For vertues bare regard aduaunced bee,

  But either for some gainfull benefit,

  640

  Or that they may for their owne turnes be fit.

  Nath’les perhaps ye things may handle soe,

  That ye may better thriue than thousands moe.

  But (said the Ape) how shall we first come in,

  That after we may fauour seeke to win?

  645

  How els (said he) but with a good bold face,

  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,

  650

  (As it was wont) but by that same that seemeth.

  Ne do I doubt, but that ye well can fashion

  Your selues theretoo, according to occasion:

  So fare ye well, good Courtiers may ye bee;

  So proudlie neighing from them parted hee.

  655

  Then gan this craftie couple
to deuize,

  How for the Court themselues they might aguize:

  For thither they themselues meant to addresse,

  In hope to finde there happier successe,

  So well they shifted, that the Ape anon

  660

  Himselfe had cloathed like a Gentleman,

  And the slie Foxe, as like to be his groome,

  That to the Court in seemly sort they come.

  Where the fond Ape himselfe vprearing hy

  Vpon his tiptoes, stalketh stately by,

  665

  As if he were some great Magnifico,

  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 euerie side,

  670

  And stare on him, with big lookes basen wide,

  Wondring what mister wight he was, and whence:

  For he was clad in strange accoustrements,

  Fashion’d with queint deuises neuer seene

  In Court before, yet there all fashions beene:

  675

  Yet he them in newfanglenesse did pas:

  But his behauiour 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;

  680

  That all which did such strangenesse in him see,

  By secrete meanes gan of his state enquire,

  And priuily his seruant thereto hire:

  Who throughly arm’d against such couerture,

  Reported vnto all, that he was sure

  685

  A noble Gentleman of high regard,

  Which through the world had with long trauel far’d,

  And seene the manners of all beasts on ground;

  Now here arriu’d, to see if like he found.

  Thus did the Ape at first him credit gaine,

  690

  Which afterwards he wisely did maintaine

  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 reueling,

  695

  Onely through kindly aptnes of his ioynts.

  Besides he could doo manie other poynts,

  The which in Court him serued to good stead:

  For he mongst Ladies could their fortunes read

  Out of their hands, and merie leasings tell,

  700

  And iuggle finely, that became him well:

  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.

  705

  So would he scoffe them out with mockerie,

  For he therein had great felicitie;

  And with sharp quips ioy’d others to deface,

  Thinking that their disgracing did him grace:

  So whilst that other like vaine wits he pleased,

  710

  And made to laugh, his heart was greatly eased.

  But the right gentle minde would bite his lip,

  To heare the Iauell so good men to nip:

  For though the vulgar yeeld an open eare,

  And common Courtiers loue to gybe and fleare

  715

  At euerie thing, which they heare spoken ill,

  And the best speaches with ill meaning spill;

  Yet the braue Courtier, in whose beauteous thought

  Regard of honour harbours more than ought,

  Doth loath such base condition, to backbite

  720

  Anies good name for enuie or despite:

  He stands on tearmes of honourable minde,

  Ne will be carried with the common winde

  Of Courts inconstant mutabilitie,

  Ne after euerie tattling fable flie;

  725

  But heares, and sees the follies of the rest,

  And thereof gathers for himselfe the best:

  He will not creepe, nor crouche with fained face,

  But walkes vpright with comely stedfast pace,

  And vnto all doth yeeld due curtesie;

  730

  But not with kissed hand belowe the knee,

  As that same Apish crue is wont to doo:

  For he disdaines himselfe t’embase theretoo.

  He hates fowle leasings, and vile flatterie,

  Two filthie blots in noble Gentrie;

  735

  And lothefull idlenes he doth detest,

  The canker worme of euerie gentle brest;

  The which to banish with faire exercise

  Of knightly feates, he daylie doth deuise:

  Now menaging the mouthes of stubborne steedes,

  740

  Now practising the proofe of warlike deedes,

  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,

  745

  T’enlarge his breath (large breath in armes most needfull)

  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;

  750

  A vaine ensample of the Persian pride,

  Who after he had wonne th’Assyrian foe,

  Did euer after scorne on foote to goe.

  Thus when this Courtly Gentleman with toyle

  Himselfe hath wearied, he doth recoyle

  755

  Vnto his rest, and there with sweete delight

  Of Musicks skill reuiues his toyled spright,

  Or els with Loues, and Ladies gentle sports,

  The ioy of youth, himselfe he recomforts:

  Or lastly, when the bodie list to pause,

  760

  His minde vnto the Muses he withdrawes;

  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 heauens continuall course,

  765

  Of forreine lands, of people different,

  Of kingdomes change, of diuers gouernment,

  Of dreadfull battailes of renowmed Knights;

  With which he kindleth his ambitious sprights

  To like desire and praise of noble fame,

  770

  The onely vpshot whereto he doth ayme:

  For all his minde on honour fixed is,

  To which he leuels all his purposis,

  And in his Princes seruice spends his dayes,

  Not so much for to gaine, or for to raise

  775

  Himselfe to high degree, as for his grace,

  And in his liking to winne worthie place;

  Through due deserts and comely carriage,