Collected Works of Michael Drayton

by Michael Drayton

Alas, that e’re I sawe this day (quoth he)

  That I my Native Country-men should see

  In this estate; when out of very zeale

  Both to his native earth, and common-weale,

  He thrust amongst them, and thus frames his speech.

  Deare Country-men, I humbly yee beseech

  Heare me a little, and but marke me well.

  Alas, it is not long, since first yee fell

  Into this frenzie, these outragious fits,

  Be not I pray yee so out of your wits:

  But call to minde th’ inevitable ill

  Must fall on yee, if yee continue still

  Thus mad and frantique; therefore be not worse

  Then your brute beasts to bring thereby a Curse

  Upon your Nephewes, so to taynt their blood,

  That twenty Generations shall be woo’d;

  And this brave Land for wit, that hath been fam’d,

  The Ile of Ideots after shall be nam’d:

  Your braines are not so craz’d, but leave this Ryot,

  And tis no question, but with temperate Dyet,

  And counsaile of wise men, when they shall see

  The desperate estate wherein you be:

  But with such med’cines as they will apply,

  They’ll quickly cure your greevous malady.

  And as he would proceed with his Oration,

  One of the chiefest of this Bedlam Nation;

  Layes hold on him, and askes who he should be.

  Thou fellow (quoth this Lord) where had we thee,

  Com’st thou to Preach to us that be so wise,

  What wilt thou take upon thee to advise

  Us, of whom all now underneath the skie,

  May well be seene to learne frugality:

  Why surely honest fellow thou art mad.

  Another standing by, swore that he had

  Seene him in Bedlam, foureteene yeeres agoe:

  O quoth a third this fellow doe I knowe.

  This is an arrant Coxcomb, a meere Dizard,

  If yee remember, this is the same Wizard,

  Which tooke upon him wisely to fore-tell,

  The shower so many yeares before it fell:

  Whose strong effects being so strange and rare,

  Hath made us such brave creatures as we are:

  When of this Nation all the frantique Route,

  Fell into laughter the poore man about.

  Some made mouthes at him, others as in scorne

  With their forkt fingers poynted him the horne:

  They call’d him Asse, and Dolt, and bad him goe

  Amongst such Fooles, as he himselfe was, who

  Could not teach them: at which this honest man,

  Finding that naught, but hate and scorne he wan

  Amongst these Ideots, and their beastly kinde,

  The poore small remnant of his life behinde,

  Determineth to solitude to give,

  And a true Hermite afterward to live.

  The tale thus ended, Gossip by your leave;

  Quoth mother Bumby, I doe well perceive

  The morrall of your Story, which is this;

  (Correct me Dame, if I doe judge amisse)

  But first Ile tell you by this honest Ale,

  In my conceite this is a prety tale;

  And if some hansome Players would it take,

  It (sure) a pretty Interlude would make.

  But to the Morrall, this same mighty shower

  Is a plague sent by supernaturall power

  Upon the wicked, for when God intends

  To lay a curse on mens ungodly ends:

  Of understanding he doth them deprive;

  Which taken from them, up themselves they give

  To beastlinesse, nor will he let them see

  The miserable estate wherein they be.

  The Rock to which this man for safety climes,

  The contemplation is of the sad times

  Of the declining World; his counsailes tolde

  To the mad Route, to spoyle and basenesse solde,

  Showes that from such no goodnesse can proceede,

  Who counsailes fooles, shall never better speede.

  Quoth mother Red-Cap, you have hit it right:

  (Quoth she) I know it Gossip, and to quite

  Your tale; another you of me shall have,

  Therefore a while your patience let me crave.

  Out in the North tow’rds Groneland farre away,

  There was a Witch (as ancient Stories say)

  As in those parts there many Witches be:

  Yet in her craft above all other, shee

  Was the most expert, dwelling in an Ile,

  Which was in compasse scarce an English mile;

  Which by her cunning she could make to floate

  Whether she list, as though it were a Boate:

  And where againe she meant to have it stay,

  There could she fixe it in the deepest Sea:

  She could sell windes to any one that would,

  Buy them for money, forcing them to hold

  What time she listed, tye them in a thrid,

  Which ever as the Sea-farer undid

  They rose or scantled, as his Sayles would drive,

  To the same Port whereas he would arive:

  She by her Spels could make the Moone to stay,

  And from the East, she could keepe back the day,

  Raise Mists and Fogs that could Ecclipse the light:

  And with the noone-sted she could mixe the night.

  Upon this Ile whereas she had aboad,

  Nature (God knowes) but little cost bestow’d:

  Yet in the same, some Bastard creature were

  Seldome yet seene in any place but there;

  Halfe men, halfe Goate, there was a certaine kinde,

  Such as we Satyres purtray’d out doe finde.

  Another sort of a most ugly shape;

  A Beare in body, and in face an Ape:

  Other like Beasts yet had the feete of Fowles,

  That Demy-Urchins weare, and Demy-Owles:

  Besides there were of sundry other sorts,

  But wee’ll not stand too long on these reports.

  Of all the rest that most resembled man,

  Was an o’r-worne ill-favoured Babian;

  Which of all other, for that onely he,

  Was full of tricks, as they are us’d to be:

  Him in her Craft, so seriously she taught,

  As that in little time she had him brought,

  That nothing could before this Ape be set,

  That presently he could not counterfet;

  She learnt him med’cines instantly to make;

  Him any thing whose shape he pleas’d to take:

  And when this skill she had on him bestow’d,

  She sent him for intelligence abroad.

  Thus fully furnish’d, and by her sent out,

  Hee went to practise all the World about.

  He like a Jipsey oftentimes would goe,

  All kinde of Gibb’rish he had learnt to knowe,

  And with a stick, a short string, and a noose,

  Would showe the people tricks at fast and loose:

  Tell folkes their Fortunes, for he would finde out

  By slye enquirie, as he went about:

  What chance this one he, or that she had prov’d

  Whom they most hated, or whom most they lov’d,

  And looking in their hands, as there he knew it,

  Out of his skill would counterfet to shew it:

  Sometimes he for a Mountebanke would passe,

  And shew you in a Crusible, or Glasse:

  Some rare extraction, presently and runne,

  Through all the Cures that he therewith had done,

  An Aspick still he caried in a poke,

  Which he to bite him often would provoke,

  And with an oyle when it began to swell,

  The deadly poyson quickly could expel
l:

  And many times a Jugler he would be,

  (A craftier Knave there never was then he;)

  And by a mist deceiving of the sight,

  (As knavery ever falsifies the light)

  He by his active nimblenesse of hand,

  Into a Serpent would transforme a Wand

  As those Egyptians, which by Magick thought,

  Farre beyond Moyses wonders to have wrought,

  There never was a subtility devis’d,

  In which this villaine was not exercis’d.

  Now from this Region where they dwelt, not far

  There was a wise and learn’d Astronomer,

  Who skilfull in the Planetary howres,

  The working knew of the Celestiall powers.

  And by their ill, or by their good aspect,

  Men in their actions wisely could direct,

  And in the black and gloomy Arts so skild,

  That he (even) Hell in his subjection hild;

  He could command the Spirits up from belowe,

  And binde them strongly, till they let him knowe

  All the drad secrets that belong’d them to,

  And what those did, with whom they had to do.

  This Wizard in his knowledge most profound,

  Sitting one day the depth of things to sound;

  For that the World was brought to such a passe,

  That it well-neere in a confusion was;

  For things set right, ranne quickly out of frame,

  And those a wry to rare perfection came:

  And matters in such sort about were brought,

  That States were pusled, almost beyond thought,

  Which made him think (as he might very well)

  There were more Divels then he knew in hell.

  And thus resolves that he would cast about

  In his best skill, to find the Engine out

  That wrought all this, and put himselfe therein:

  When in this bus’nesse long he had not bin,

  But by the Spirits which he had sent abroad,

  And in this worke, had every way bestow’d;

  He came to know this foule Witch, and her Factor,

  The one the Plotter, and the other th’ Actor

  Of all these stirres, which many a State had spoyl’d,

  Whereby the World so long had beene turmoyl’d,

  Wherefore he thought it much did him behove,

  Out of the way this couple to remove;

  Or (out of question) halfe the World e’re long

  Would be divided, hers, and his among.

  When turning over his most mistique bookes,

  Into the secrets of his Art he lookes;

  And th’ earth and th’ ayre doth with such Magiques fill

  That every place was troubled by his skill;

  Whilst in his minde he many a thing revolves,

  Till at the last, he with himselfe resolves;

  One Spirit of his should take the Witches shape,

  Another in the person of the Ape,

  Should be joyn’d with him, so to prove by this,

  Whether their power were lesse, or more then his;

  Which he performes, and to their taske them sets,

  When soon that Spirit, the Witch that counterfets,

  Watch’d till he found her farre abroad to be,

  Into the place, then of her home gets he:

  And when the Babian came the newes to bring

  What he had done abroad, and ev’ry thing

  Which he had plotted, how their bus’nesse went,

  And in the rest to know her drad intent,

  Where she was wont to call him her deare sonne,

  Her little Play-feere, and her pretty Bun:

  Hug him, and sweare he was her onely joy;

  Her very Hermes, her most dainty Boy,

  O most strange thing: she chang’d her wonted cheare,

  And doth to him most terrible appeare:

  And in most fearefull shapes she doth him threaten

  With eager lookes, as him she would have eaten,

  That from her presence he was forc’d to flye,

  As from his death, or deadly enemie.

  When now the second which the shape doth take

  Of the Baboon, determining to make

  The like sport with him, his best time doth watch,

  When he alone the cursed Witch might catch;

  And when her Factor farthest was remote,

  Then he began to change his former note,

  And where he wont to tell her pleasing stories

  Full of their Conquests, Triumphes, and their glories,

  He turnes his Tale, and to the Witch relates

  The strange revolts of Tributary States,

  Things gotten backe, which late they had for prize,

  With new discoveries of their pollicies;

  Disgusts and dangers that had crost their cunning,

  With sad portents, their ruine still forrunning;

  That thus the Witch and the Baboon deceiv’d

  Of all their hopes, of all their joyes bereav’d,

  As in dispaire doe bid the world adue.

  When as the Ape which weake and sickely grew,

  On the cold earth his scurvy caryon layes,

  And worne to nothing, endes his wretched dayes:

  The filthy Hagg abhorring of the light,

  Into the North past Thule takes her flight,

  And in those deepes, past which no Land is found,

  Her wretched selfe she miserably drownd.

  The tale thus ended, mother Owle doth take

  Her turne, and thus to mother Bumby spake;

  The tale our Gossip Red-cap told before

  You so well ridled that there can no more

  Be said of it; and therefore as your due,

  What you have done for her, Ile doe for you.

  And thus it is, that same notorious Witch,

  Is the ambition men have to be rich,

  And Great, for which all faith aside they lay,

  And to the Devill give themselves away,

  The floating Ile where she is said to wonne,

  The various courses are through which they ronne,

  To get their endes, and by the Ape is ment,

  Those damned Villaines, made the Instrument

  To their disignes, that wondrous man of skill,

  Sound counsell is, or rather if you will,

  The Divine Justice, which doth bring to light,

  Their wicked plotts not raught by common sight

  For though they never have so closely wrought,

  Yet to confusion lastly they are brought.

  Gossip, indeede, you have hit it to a haire,

  And surely your Moralitie is rare,

  Quoth Mother Bumby; Mother Owle replide,

  Come, come, I know I was not very wide,

  Wherefore to quit your Tales, and make them three,

  My honest Gossips listen now to me.

  There was a man, not long since dead, but hee

  Rather a Devill might accounted be:

  For Judgement at her best could hardly scan,

  Whether he were more Devill, or more man;

  And as he was, he did himselfe apply

  T’ all kind of Witchcraft, and blacke Sorcery:

  And for his humor naturally stood,

  To Theft, to Rapine, and to shedding blood.

  By those damn’d Hags with whom he was in grace,

  And usd to meet in many a secret place;

  He learnt an hearb of such a wondrous power,

  That were it gather’d at a certaine howre,

  (For Nature for the same did so provide,

  As though from knowledge gladly it to hide,

  For at Sunset it selfe it did disclose,

  And shutt it selfe up, as the Morning rose)

  That with thrice saying a strange Magique spell,

  Which but to him, to no man they would tell,r />
  When as so e’r that simple he would take,

  It him a war-wolfe instantly would make,

  Which put in practise he most certaine prov’d,

  When to a Forrest he himselfe remov’d,

  Through which there lay a plaine and common Roade,

  Which he the place chose for his chiefe abode,

  And there this Monster set him downe to theeve,

  Nothing but stolne goods might this Fiend releeve;

  No silly woman, by that way could passe,

  But by this Woolfe she surely ravisht was,

  And if he found her flesh were soft and good,

  What serv’d for Lust, must also serve for foode.

  Into a Village he sometime would gett,

  And watching there (as for the purpose sett)

  For little Children when they came to play,

  The fattst he ever bore with him away;

  And as the people oft were wont to rise,

  Following with Hubbubs and confused cries:

  Yet was he so well breathed, and so light,

  That he would still outstrip them by his flight;

  And making straight to the tall Forrest neare,

  Of the sweet Flesh would have his Junkets there.

  And let the Shepheards doe the best they could;

  Yet would he venter oft upon the Fold:

  And taking the fatt’st Sheepe he there could finde:

  Beare him away, and leave the Dogs behinde:

  Nor could men keepe, so much as Pig, or Lamb,

  But it no sooner, could drop from the Dam,

  By hooke or crooke, but he would surely catch,

  Though with their weapons all the Towne should watch.

  Amongst the rest there was a silly Asse,

  That on the way by Fortune chanc’d to passe,

  Yet (it was true) he in his time had bin

  A very perfect man, in shape, and skin:

  But by a Witch envying (his estate)

  That had borne to him a most deadly hate,

  Into this shape he was transform’d, and so,

  From place to place, he wandred to and fro;

  And often times was taken for a stray,

  And in the Pinfold many a time he lay;

  Yet held he still the reason that he had

  When he was man, although he thus was clad

  In a poore Asses shape, wherein he goes,

  And must endure what Fortune will impose.

  Him on his way this cruell Woolfe doth take,

  His present prey, determining to make.

  He bray’d, and ror’d, to make the people heare:

  But it fell out, no creature being neare,

  The silly Asse when he had done his best,

  Must walke the common way amongst the rest:

  When tow’rds his den the cruell Woolfe him tugs,

  And by the eares most terribly him lugs:

  But as God would, he had no list to feed,