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 For killing of the Cretish Bull that wasted those same groundes. The folke of Cremyon thinke themselves beholden unto thee. For that without disquieting their fieldes may tilled be. By thee the land of Epidaure behelde the clubbish sonne Of Vulcane dead. By thee likewise the countrie that doth runne Along Cephisus bankes behelde the fell Procrustes slaine. The dwelling place of Ceres, our Eleusis glad and faine, Beheld the death of Cercyon. That orpid Sinis who Abusde his strength in bending trees and tying folke thereto, Their limmes asunder for to teare when loosened from the stops The trees unto their proper place did trice their streyned tops, Was killde by thee. Thou made the way that leadeth to the towne Alcathoe in Beotia cleare by putting Scyron downe. To this same outlawes scattred bones the land denied rest, And likewise did the Sea refuse to harbrough such a guest: Till after floting to and fro long while as men doe say At length they hardened into stones: and at this present day The stones are called Scyrons cliffes. Now if we should account Thy deedes togither with thy yeares, thy deedes would far surmount Thy yeares. For thee, most valiant Prince, these publike vowes we keepe For thee with cherefull heartes we quaffe these bolles of wine so deepe. The Pallace also of the noyse and shouting did resounde The which the people made for joy. There was not to be founde In all the Citie any place of sadnesse. Nathelesse (So hard it is of perfect joy to find so great excesse, But that some sorrow therewithall is medled more or lesse), Aegeus had not in his sonnes recoverie such delight, But that there followed in the necke a piece of fortunes spight. King Minos was preparing war, who though he had great store Of ships and souldiers yet the wrath the which he had before Conceyved in his fathers brest for murthring of his sonne Androgeus made him farre more strong and fiercer for to ronne To rightfull battell to revenge the great displeasure donne. Howbeit he thought it best ere he his warfare did begin To finde the meanes of forreine aides some friendship for to win. And thereupon with flying fleete where passage did permit He went to visit all the Iles that in those seas doe sit.


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 Anon the Iles Astypaley and Anaphey both twaine The first constreynde for feare of war, the last in hope of gaine, Tooke part with him. Low Myconey did also with him hold So did the chalkie Cymoley, and Syphney which of olde Was verie riche with veynes of golde, and Scyros full of bolde And valiant men, and Seryphey the smooth or rather fell, And Parey which for Marblestone doth beare away the bell. And Sythney which a wicked wench callde Arne did betray For mony: who upon receit thereof without delay Was turned to a birde which yet of golde is gripple still, And is as blacke as any cole, both fethers, feete and bill. A Cadowe is the name of hir. But yet Olyarey, And Didymey, and Andrey eke, and Tene, and Gyarey, And Pepareth where Olive trees most plenteously doe grow, In no wise would agree their helpe on Minos to bestow. Then Minos turning lefthandwise did sayle to Oenope Where reignde that time King Aeacus. This Ile had called be Of old by name of Oenope: but Aeacus turnde the name And after of his mothers name Aegina callde the same. The common folke ran out by heapes desirous for to see A man of such renowne as Minos bruited was to bee. The Kings three sonnes Duke Telamon, Duke Peley, and the yong Duke Phocus went to meete with him. Old Aeacus also clung With age, came after leysurely, and asked him the cause Of his repaire. The ruler of the hundred Shires gan pause: And musing on the inward griefe that nipt him at the hart, Did shape him aunswere thus: O Prince vouchsafe to take my part In this same godly warre of mine: assist me in the just Revengement of my murthred sonne that sleepeth in the dust. I crave your comfort for his death. Aeginas sonne replide: Thy suite is vaine: and of my Realme perforce must be denide. For unto Athens is no lande more sure than this alide: Such leagues betweene us are which shall infringde for me abide. Away went Minos sad: and said: full dearly shalt thou bie Thy leagues. He thought it for to be a better pollicie To threaten war than war to make, and there to spend his store And strength which in his other needes might much availe him more.

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272 the ending ā), that expressed by with, or by—the idea of adjacency or accompaniment passing naturally into that of means, instrument, or cause. Two cases, the dative and genitive, designated relations of a less physical character: the former (with the ending ai) we should render by for before the noun; the latter (its ending is asya or as) expressed general pertinence or possession. Then the accusative (with the sign m) assumed the office of indicating the directest dependent relation, that which even with us is expressed without the aid of a preposition—the objective—as well as that most immediate relation of motion which we signify by to. The nominative, finally, has also its ending, s, in the presence of which is strikingly exhibited the tendency of the earliest Indo-European language to make every vocable a true form, to give to every theme, in every relation, a sign of its mode of application, a formative element. Besides these seven proper cases, the vocative or interjectional case, the form of address, also makes a part of the scheme of declension; it has no distinctive ending, but is identical with the theme or the nominative case, or is only phonetically altered from them.

The declensional endings which we have instanced are those of the singular number. To explain their origin in any such way as shows us their precise value as independent elements, and the nature of the act of transfer by which they were made signs of case-relations, is not practicable. Pronominal elements are distinctly traceable in most of them, and may have assumed something of a prepositional force before their combination. The genitive affix is very likely to have been at the first, like many genitive affixes of later date in the history of the Indo-European languages, one properly forming a derivative adjective: and it is not impossible that the dative ending was of the same nature.

There are many existing tongues which have for the plurals of their nouns precisely the same case-endings as for the singular, only adding them along with a special pluralizing suffix. The attempt has been made to find such a


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 As yet might from Oenopia walles the Cretish fleete be kend. When thitherward with puffed sayles and wind at will did tend A ship from Athens, which anon arriving at the strand Set Cephal with Ambassade from his Countrimen aland. The Kings three sonnes though long it were since last they had him seene, Yet knew they him. And after olde acquaintance eft had beene Renewde by shaking hands, to Court they did him streight convay. This Prince which did allure the eyes of all men by the way, As in whose stately person still remained to be seene The markes of beautie which in flowre of former yeares had beene, Went holding out an Olife braunch that grew in Atticke lande And for the reverence of his age there went on eyther hand A Nobleman of yonger yeares. Sir Clytus on the right And Butes on the left, the sonnes of one that Pallas hight. When greeting first had past betweene these Nobles and the King, Then Cephal setting streight abroche the message he did bring, Desired aide: and shewde what leagues stoode then in force betweene His countrie and the Aeginites, and also what had beene Decreed betwixt their aunceters, concluding in the ende That under colour of this war which Minos did pretende To only Athens, he in deede the conquest did intende Of all Achaia. When he thus by helpe of learned skill His countrie message furthred had, King Aeacus leaning still His left hand on his scepter, saide: My Lordes, I would not have Your state of Athens seeme so straunge as succor here to crave. I pray commaund. For be ye sure that what this Ile can make Is yours. Yea all that ere I have shall hazard for your sake. I want no strength. I have such store of souldiers, that I may Both vex my foes and also keepe my Realme in quiet stay. And now I thinke me blest of God that time doth serve to showe Without excuse the great good will that I to Athens owe. God holde it sir (quoth Cephalus) God make the number grow Of people in this towne of yours: it did me good alate When such a goodly sort of youth of all one age and rate Did meete me in the streete. But yet me thinkes that many misse Which at my former being here I have beheld ere this.


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 At that the King did sigh, and thus with plaintfull voice did say: A sad beginning afterward in better lucke did stay. I would I plainly could the same before your faces lay. Howbeit I will disorderly repeate it as I may. And lest I seeme to wearie you with overlong delay, The men that you so mindefully enquire for lie in ground And nought of them save bones and dust remayneth to be found. But as it hapt what losse thereby did unto me redound? A cruell plague through Junos wrath who dreadfully did hate This Land that of hir husbands Love did take the name alate, Upon my people fell: as long as that the maladie None other seemde than such as haunts mans nature usually, And of so great mortalitie the hurtfull cause was hid, We strove by Phisicke of the same the Pacients for to rid. The mischief overmaistred Art: yea Phisick was to seeke To doe it selfe good. First the Aire with foggie stinking reeke Did daily overdreepe the earth: and close culme Clouds did make The wether faint: and while the Moone foure times hir light did take And fillde hir emptie homes therewith, and did as often slake: The warme South windes with deadly heate continually did blow. Infected were the Springs, and Ponds, and streames that ebbe and flow. And swarmes of Serpents crawld about the fieldes that lay untillde Which with their poison even the brookes and running water fillde. In sodaine dropping downe of Dogs, of Horses, Sheepe and Kine, Of Birds and Beasts both wild and tame as Oxen, Wolves, and Swine, The mischiefe of this secret sore first outwardly appeeres. The wretched Plowman was amazde to see his sturdie Steeres Amid the furrow sinking downe ere halfe his worke was donne. Whole flocks of sheepe did faintly bleate, and therewithall begonne Their fleeces for to fall away and leave the naked skin, And all their bodies with the rot attainted were within. The lustie Horse that erst was fierce in field renowne to win Against his kinde grew cowardly: and now forgetting quight The auncient honor which he preast so oft to get in fight, Stoode sighing sadly at the Racke as wayting for to yeelde His wearie life without renowne of combat in the fielde. The Boare to chafe, the Hinde to runne, the cruell Beare to fall


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 Upon the herdes of Rother beastes had now no lust at all. A languishing was falne on all. In wayes, in woods, in plaines, The filthie carions lay, whose stinche, the Ayre it selfe distaines. (A wondrous thing to tell) not Dogges, not ravening Foules, nor yit Horecoted Wolves would once attempt to tast of them a bit. Looke, where they fell, there rotted they: and with their savor bred More harme, and further still abrode the foule infection spred. With losse that touched yet more nere, on Husbandmen it crept, And ragingly within the walles of this great Citie stept. It tooke men first with swelting heate that scalt their guts within: The signes whereof were steaming breath and firie colourde skin. The tongue was harsh and swolne, the mouth through drought of burning veines Lay gaping up to hale in breath, and as the pacient streines To draw it in, he suckes therewith corrupted Aire beside. No bed, no clothes though nere so thinne the pacients could abide. But laide their hardened stomackes flat against the bare colde ground Yet no abatement of the heate therein their bodies found: But het the earth, and as for Leache was none that helpe could hight. The Surgians and Phisitions too were in the selfesame plight. Their curelesse cunning hurt themselves. The nerer any man Approcheth his diseased friend, and doth the best he can To succor him most faithfully, the sooner did he catch His bane. All hope of health was gone. No easment nor dispatch Of this disease except in death and buriall did they finde. Looke, whereunto that eche mans minde and fancie was enclinde, That followed he. He never past what was for his behoofe. For why? that nought could doe them good was felt too much by proofe. In everie place without respect of shame or honestie At Wels, at brookes, at ponds, at pits, by swarmes they thronging lie: But sooner might they quench their life than staunch their thirst thereby. And therewithall so heavie and unwieldie they become, That wanting power to rise againe, they died there. Yet some The selfesame waters guzled still without regard of feare, So weary of their lothsome beds the wretched people were, That out they lept: or if to stand their feeble force denide, They wallowed downe and out of doores immediatly them hide: It was a death to every man his owne house to abide.


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 Brett to Lord Bramwell's bill to render the testimony of accused persons and their wives admissible in criminal courts helped to postpone a needful reform for some years. In drawing attention (17 July 1890) to defects in the administration of the law, he took occasion to deplore the introduction of chancery procedure into the queen's bench division. At the same time, however, he unequivocally declared in favour of a court of criminal appeal, and his last speech (8 July 1898) was in support of the measure (since carried) to validate within the United Kingdom marriages with deceased wives' sisters duly solemnised in the colonies. He died at his town house, 6 Ennismore Gardens, Kensington, on 24 May 1899, leaving issue by his wife Eugénie (married 3 April 1850), only daughter of Louis Mayer, and stepdaughter of Colonel Gurwood, C.B., an heir, Reginald Baliol, who succeeded him in title and estate.

Esher's seat was Heath Farm, Watford, Hertfordshire, but his remains were interred in the family vault appendant to Moore Place, the seat of his younger brother. Sir Wilford Brett, K.C.M.G., in Esher churchyard. The vault contains his monument, a stately marble structure, with recumbent effigies of himself and Lady Esher, erected some years before his death, and also the tomb of his younger son. Lieutenant Eugène Leopold Brett, who died on 8 Dec. 1882 of fever contracted in Egypt. Despite the bereavement which clouded his old age, Esher retained to the end no little of the elasticity of youth. His strongly marked and somewhat stern features readily relaxed under the influence of a humorous suggestion, and his brusque, and in court sometimes overbearing, manners belied the kindness of his heart. He was essentially vir pietate gravis, and exemplary in all the relations of life. He was also fond of society, and society was fond of him. He was an indefatigable collector of curios, and was never happier than when displaying his treasures to his guests at Ennismore Gardens. His portrait by Millais was exhibited at the Grosvenor Gallery in 1887.

 BREWER, EBENEZER COBHAM (1810–1897), miscellaneous writer, second son of John Sherren Brewer [q. v.], was born on 2 May 1810, in Russell Square, London, and educated by private tutors. He proceeded to Trinity Hall, Cambridge, in 1832, obtained the freshmen's prizes for Latin and English essays, was first prizeman in the next two years, and, though strongly advised to go out in mathematics, took his degree in the civil law (first class) in 1835. He was ordained deacon in 1834, priest in 1836, proceeded to the degree of LL.D. in 1840, and devoted himself to literature. For six years, from 1852, he resided in Paris. On his return to England he resided for a time in Bernard Street, Russell Square, and then moved to St. Luke's Villas, Westbourne Park. Failing health compelled him to retire into the country, and he lived for many years at Lavant, near Goodwood. He died on 6 March 1897 at Edwinstowe vicarage, Newark, where he had been residing with his son-in-law, the Rev. H. T. Hayman. In 1856 he married at Paris Ellen Mary, eldest daughter of the Rev. Francis Tebbutt of Hove.

His principal works are: 1. ‘A Guide to the Scientific Knowledge of Things Familiar,’ 2nd edit. London [1848], 24mo; 11th edit. [1857] 8vo. A French edition of this popular ‘Guide to Knowledge’ appeared under the title of ‘La Clef de la Science, ou les Phénomènes de tous les jours expliqués. Troisième édition, corrigée par M. l'Abbé Moigno,’ Paris, 1858, 12mo. A Greek translation by P. I. Kritides was published at Smyrna in 1857, 8vo. 2. ‘A Political, Social, and Literary History of France,’ London [1863], 8vo. 3. ‘Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, giving the Derivation, Source, or Origin of Common Phrases,’ London [1870], 8vo; 3rd edit. [1872-3]; 12th edit, revised [1881]; enlarged, 100th thousand, 1895. 4. ‘Errors of Speech and of Spelling,’ 2 vols. London, 1877, 8vo. 5. ‘The Reader's Handbook of Allusions, References, Plots, and Stories,’ London, 1880, 8vo; 3rd edit. 1882; new edit. revised throughout and greatly enlarged, London, 1898, 8vo. 6. ‘A Political, Social, and Literary History of Germany,’ London, 1881, 8vo. 7. ‘Etymological and


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 And for they did not know the cause whereof the sicknesse came, The place (bicause they did it know) was blamed for the same. Ye should have seene some halfe fordead go plundring here and there By highways sides while that their legges were able them to beare. And some lie weeping on the ground or rolling piteously Their wearie eyes which afterwards should never see the Skie: Or stretching out their limmes to Heaven that overhangs on hie, Some here, some there, and yonder some, in what so ever coste Death finding them enforced them to yeelde their fainting Ghoste. What heart had I, suppose you, then, or ought I then to have? In faith I might have lothde my life, and wisht me in my grave As other of my people were. I could not cast mine eie In any place, but that dead folke there strowed I did spie Even like as from a shaken twig when rotten Apples drop, Or Mast from Beches, Holmes or Okes when Poales doe scare their top. Yon stately Church with greeces long against our Court you see: It is the shrine of Jupiter. What Wight was he or shee That on those Altars burned not their frankincense in vaine? How oft, yet even with Frankincense that partly did remaine Still unconsumed in their hands, did die both man and wife, As ech of them with mutuall care did pray for others life? How often dyde the mother there in suing for hir sonne, Unheard upon the Altarstone, hir prayer scarce begonne? How often at the Temple doore even while the Priest did bid His Beades, and poure pure wine betwene their homes, at sodaine slid The Oxen downe without stroke given? Yea once when I had thought My selfe by offring sacrifice Joves favor to have sought, For me, my Realme, and these three ymps, the Oxe with grievous grone Upon the sodaine sunke me downe: and little bloud or none Did issue scarce to staine the knife with which they slit his throte. The sickly inwardes eke had lost the signes whereby we note What things the Gods for certaintie would warne us of before: For even the verie bowels were attainted with the sore. Before the holie Temple doores, and (that the death might bee The more dispitefull) even before the Altars did I see The stinking corses scattred. Some with haltars stopt their winde, By death expulsing feare of death: and of a wilfull minde


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 Did haste their ende, which of it selfe was coming on apace. The bodies which the plague had slaine were (O most wretched case) Not caried forth to buriall now. For why such store there was That scarce the gates were wyde inough for Coffins forth to passe. So eyther lothly on the ground unburied did they lie, Or else without solemnitie were burnt in bonfires hie. No reverence nor regard was had. Men fell togither by The eares for firing. In the fire that was prepared for one Another straungers corse was burnt. And lastly few or none Were left to mourne. The sillie soules of Mothers with their small And tender babes, and age with youth as Fortune did befall Went wandring gastly up and downe unmourned for at all. In fine so farre outrageously this helpelesse Murren raves, There was not wood inough for fire, nor ground inough for graves. Astonied at the stourenesse of so stout a storme of ills I said: O father Jupiter whose mightie power fulfills Both Heaven and Earth, if flying fame report thee not amisse In vouching that thou didst embrace in way of Love ere this The River Asops daughter, faire Aegina even by name, And that to take me for thy sonne thou count it not a shame: Restore thou me my folke againe, or kill thou me likewise. He gave a signe by sodaine flash of lightning from the Skies, And double peale of Thundercracks. I take this same (quoth I) And as I take it for a true and certaine signe whereby Thou doest confirme me for thy sonne: so also let it be A hansell of some happie lucke thou mindest unto me. Hard by us as it hapt that time, there was an Oken tree With spreaded armes as bare of boughes as lightly one shall see. This tree (as all the rest of Okes) was sacred unto Jove And sprouted of an Acorne which was fet from Dodon grove. Here markt we how the pretie Ants, the gatherers up of graine, One following other all along in order of a traine, Great burthens in their little mouthes did painfully sustaine: And nimbly up the rugged barke their beaten path maintaine. As wondring at the swarme I stoode, I said: O father deere As many people give thou me, as Ants are creeping heere. And fill mine empty walles againe. Anon the Oke did quake,


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 And unconstreynde of any blast, his loftie braunches shake, The which did yeeld a certaine sound. With that for dreadfull feare A shuddring through my bodie strake and up stoode stiffe my heare. But yet I kissed reverently the ground and eke the tree. Howbeit I durst not be so bolde of hope acknowne to bee. Yet hoped I: and in my heart did shroude my secret hope. Anon came night: and sleepe upon my carefull carcasse crope. Me thought I saw the selfesame Oke with all his boughes and twigs, And all the Pismeres creeping still upon his tawnts and sprigs, Which trembling with a sodaine brayd these Harvest folke off threw And shed them on the ground about, who on the sodaine grew In bignesse more and more, and from the earth themselves did lift: And stoode upright against the tree: and therewithall did shift Their maygernesse, and coleblacke hue, and number of their feete: And clad their limmes with shape of man. Away my sleepe did fleete. And when I wooke, misliking of my dreame I made my mone That in the Gods I did perceive but slender helpe or none. But straight much trampling up and downe and shuffling did I heare, And (which to me that present time did verie straunge appeare) Of people talking in my house me thought I heard the reare. Now while I musing on the same supposde it to have been Some fancie of the foolish dreame which lately I had seen, Behold, in comes me Telamon in hast, and thrusting ope My Chamber doore, said: Sir, a sight of things surmounting hope And credit shall you have: come forth. Forth came I by and by And even such men for all the world there standing did I spie As in my sleepe I dreamed of, and knew them for the same. They comming to me greeted me, their sovereigne Lord, by name. And I (my vowes to Jove performde) my Citie did devide Among my new inhabiters: and gave them land beside Which by decease of such as were late owners of the same Lay wast. And in remembrance of the race whereof they came, The name of Emets I them gave. Their persons you have seen: Their disposition is the same that erst in them hath been. They are a sparing kinde of folke, on labor wholy set, A gatherer, and a hoorder up of such as they doe get. These fellowes being like in yeares and courage of the minde,


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 Shall go a warfare ny as soone as that the Easterne winde Which brought you hither luckely, (the Easterne winde was it That brought them thither) turning, to the Southerne coast doe flit. With this and other such like talke they brought the day to ende. The Even in feasting, and the night in sleeping they did spende. The Sunne next Morrow in the heaven with golden beames did burne, And still the Easterne winde did blow and hold them from returne. Sir Pallas sonnes to Cephal came (for he their elder was) And he and they to Aeacus Court togither forth did passe. The King as yet was fast asleepe. Duke Phocus at the gate Did meete them, and receyved them according to their state. For Telamon and Peleus alreadie forth were gone, To muster Souldiers for the warres. So Phocus all alone Did leade them to an inner roume, where goodly Parlours were, And caused them to sit them downe. As he was also there Now sitting with them, he beheld a Dart in Cephals hand With golden head, the stele whereof he well might understand Was of some straunge and unknowne tree. When certain talke had past A while of other matters there, I am (quoth he) at last A man that hath delight in woods and loves to follow game And yet I am not able sure by any meanes to ame What wood your Javeling stele is of. Of Ash it can not bee. For then the colour should be browne. And if of Cornell tree, It would be full of knubbed knots. I know not what it is: But sure mine eies did never see a fairer Dart than this. The one of those same brethren twaine replying to him said: Nay then the speciall propertie will make you more dismaid, Than doth the beautie of this Dart. It hitteth whatsoever He throwes it at. The stroke thereof by Chaunce is ruled never. For having done his feate, it flies all bloudie backe agen Without the helpe of any hand. The Prince was earnest then To know the truth of all: as whence so riche a present came, Who gave it him, and whereupon the partie gave the same. Duke Cephal answerde his demaund in all points (one except) The which (as knowne apparantly) for shame he overlept: His beautie namely, for the which he did receive the Dart. And for the losse of his deare wife right pensive at the hart,


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 He thus began with weeping eies: This Dart, O Goddesse sonne, (Ye ill would thinke it) makes me yirne, and long shall make me donne, If long the Gods doe give me life. This weapon hath undonne My deare beloved wife and me. O would to God this same Had never unto me bene given. There was a noble Dame That Procris hight (but you perchaunce have oftner heard the name Of great Orythia whose renowne was bruited so by fame, That blustring Boreas ravisht hir.) To this Orythia shee Was sister. If a bodie should compare in ech degree The face and natures of them both, he could none other deeme But Procris worthier of the twaine of ravishment should seeme. Hir father and our mutuall love did make us man and wife. Men said I had (and so I had in deede) a happie life. Howbeit Gods will was otherwise, for had it pleased him Of all this while, and even still yet in pleasure should I swim. The second Month that she and I by band of lawfull bed Had joynde togither bene, as I my masking Toyles did spred, To overthrow the horned Stags, the early Morning gray Then newly having chased night and gun to breake the day, From Mount Hymettus highest tops that freshly flourish ay, Espide me, and against my will conveyde me quight away. I trust the Goddesse will not be offended that I say The troth of hir. Although it would delight one to beholde Hir ruddie cheekes: although of day and night the bounds she holde: Although on juice of Ambrosie continually she feede: Yet Procris was the only Wight that I did love in deede. On Procris only was my heart: none other word had I But Procris only in my mouth: still Procris did I crie. I upned what a holy thing was wedlocke: and how late It was ago since she and I were coupled in that state. Which band (and specially so soone) it were a shame to breake. The Goddesse being moved at the words that I did speake, Said: Cease thy plaint, thou Carle, and keepe thy Procris still for me. But (if my minde deceyve me not) the time will shortly be That wish thou wilt thou had hir not. And so in anger she To Procris sent me backe againe. In going homeward as Upon the Goddesse sayings with my selfe I musing was,


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 I gan to dreade bad measures lest my wife had made some scape. Hir youthfull yeares begarnished with beautie, grace and shape, In maner made me to beleve the deede already done. Againe hir maners did forbid mistrusting over soone. But I had bene away: but even the same from whom I came A shrewde example gave how lightly wives doe run in blame: But we poore Lovers are afraide of all things. Hereupon I thought to practise feates: which thing repented me anon: And shall repent me while I live. The purpose of my drifts Was for t'assault hir honestie with great rewards and gifts. The Morning fooding this my feare, to further my device, My shape (which thing me thought I felt) had altered with a trice. By meanes whereof anon unknowne to Pallas towne I came, And entred so my house: the house was clearely voide of blame: And shewed signes of chastitie in mourning ever sith Their maister had bene rapt away. A thousand meanes wherewith To come to Procris speach had I devisde: and scarce at last Obteinde I it. As soone as I mine eie upon hir cast, My wits were ravisht in such wise that nigh I had forgot The purposde triall of hir troth. Right much adoe God wot I had to holde mine owne that I the truth bewrayed not. To keepe my selfe from kissing hir full much adoe I had As reason was I should have done. She looked verie sad. And yet as sadly as she lookte, no Wight alive can show A better countenance than did she. Hir heart did inward glow In longing for hir absent spouse. How beautifull a face Thinke you, Sir Phocus, was in hir whome sorrow so did grace? What should I make report how oft hir chast behaviour strave And overcame most constantly the great assaults I gave? Or tell how oft she shet me up with these same words? To one (Where ere he is) I keepe my selfe, and none but he alone Shall sure enjoy the use of me. What creature having his Wits perfect would not be content with such a proofe as this Of hir most stedfast chastitie? I could not be content: But still to purchase to my selfe more wo I further went. At last by profering endlesse welth, and heaping gifts on gifts, In overlading hir with wordes I drave hir to hir shifts.


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 Then cride I out: Thine evill heart my selfe I tardie take. Where of a straunge advouterer the countenance I did make, I am in deede thy husband. O unfaithfull woman thou, Even I my selfe can testifie thy lewde behavior now. She made none answere to my words, but being stricken dum And with the sorrow of hir heart alonly overcum, Forsaketh hir entangling house, and naughtie husband quight: And hating all the sort of men by reason of the spight That I had wrought hir, straide abrode among the Mountaines hie, And exercisde Dianas feates. Then kindled by and by A fiercer fire within my bones than ever was before, When she had thus forsaken me by whome I set such store. I prayde hir she woulde pardon me, and did confesse my fault. Affirming that my selfe likewise with such a great assault Of richesse might right well have bene enforst to yeelde to blame, The rather if performance had ensewed of the same. When I had this submission made, and she sufficiently Revengde hir wronged chastitie, she then immediatly Was reconcilde: and afterward we lived many a yeare In joy and never any jarre betweene us did appeare. Besides all this (as though hir love had bene too small a gift) She gave me eke a goodly Grewnd which was of foote so swift, That when Diana gave him hir, she said he should outgo All others, and with this same Grewnd she gave this Dart also The which you see I hold in hand. Perchaunce ye faine would know What fortune to the Grewnd befell. I will unto you show A wondrous case. The straungenesse of the matter will you move. The krinkes of certaine Prophesies surmounting farre above The reach of auncient wits to read, the Brookenymphes did expound: And mindlesse of hir owne darke doubts Dame Themis being found, Was as a rechelesse Prophetisse throwne flat against the ground. For which presumptuous deede of theirs she tooke just punishment. To Thebes in Baeotia streight a cruell beast she sent, Which wrought the bane of many a Wight. The countryfolk did feed Him with their cattell and themselves, untill (as was agreed) That all we youthfull Gentlemen that dwelled there about Assembling pitcht our corded toyles the champion fields throughout.


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 But Net ne toyle was none so hie that could his wightnesse stop, He mounted over at his ease the highest of the top. Then everie man let slip their Grewnds, but he them all outstript And even as nimbly as a birde in daliance from them whipt. Then all the field desired me to let my Laelaps go: (The Grewnd that Procris unto me did give was named so) Who strugling for to wrest his necke already from the band Did stretch his collar. Scarsly had we let him off of hand But that where Laelaps was become we could not understand. The print remained of his feete upon the parched sand, But he was clearly out of sight. Was never Dart I trow, Nor Pellet from enforced Sling, nor shaft from Cretish bow, That flew more swift than he did runne. There was not farre fro thence About the middle of the Laund a rising ground, from whence A man might overlooke the fieldes. I gate me to the knap Of this same hill, and there beheld of this straunge course the hap In which the beast seemes one while caught, and ere a man would think, Doth quickly give the Grewnd the slip, and from his bighting shrink: And like a wilie Foxe he runnes not forth directly out, Nor makes a windlasse over all the champion fieldes about, But doubling and indenting still avoydes his enmies lips, And turning short, as swift about as spinning wheele he whips, To disapoint the snatch. The Grewnd pursuing at an inch Doth cote him, never losing ground: but likely still to pinch Is at the sodaine shifted off. Continually he snatches In vaine: for nothing in his mouth save only Aire he latches. Then thought I for to trie what helpe my Dart at neede could show. Which as I charged in my hand by levell aime to throw, And set my fingars to the thongs, I lifting from bylow Mine eies, did looke right forth againe, and straight amids the field (A wondrous thing) two Images of Marble I beheld: Of which ye would have thought the t'one had fled on still apace And that with open barking mouth the tother did him chase. In faith it was the will of God (at least if any Goddes Had care of them) that in their pace there should be found none oddes. Thus farre: and then he held his peace. But tell us ere we part (Quoth Phocus) what offence or fault committed hath your Dart?


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 His Darts offence he thus declarde: My Lorde, the ground of all My grief was joy. Those joyes of mine remember first I shall. It doth me good even yet to thinke upon that blissfull time ( meane the fresh and lustie yeares of pleasant youthfull Prime) When I a happie man enjoyde so faire and good a wife, And she with such a loving make did lead a happie life. The care was like of both of us, the mutuall love all one. She would not to have line with Jove my presence have forgone. Ne was there any Wight that could of me have wonne the love, No though Dame Venus had hir selfe descended from above. The glowing brands of love did burne in both our brests alike. Such time as first with crased beames the Sunne is wont to strike The tops of Towres and mountaines high, according to the wont Of youthfull men, in woodie Parkes I went abrode to hunt. But neither horse nor Hounds to make pursuit upon the scent. Nor Servingman, nor knottie toyle before or after went, For I was safe with this same Dart. When wearie waxt mine arme With striking Deere, and that the day did make me somewhat warme, Withdrawing for to coole my selfe I sought among the shades For Aire that from the valleyes colde came breathing in at glades. The more excessive was my heate the more for Aire I sought. I waited for the gentle Aire: the Aire was that that brought Refreshing to my wearie limmes. And (well I bear't in thought) Come Aire I wonted was to sing, come ease the paine of me Within my bosom lodge thy selfe most welcome unto me, And as thou heretofore art wont abate my burning heate. By chaunce (such was my destinie) proceeding to repeate Mo words of daliance like to these, I used for to say Great pleasure doe I take in thee: for thou from day to day Doste both refresh and nourish me. Thou makest me delight In woods and solitarie grounds. Now would to God I might Receive continuall at my mouth this pleasant breath of thine. Some man (I wote not who) did heare these doubtfull words of mine, And taking them amisse supposde that this same name of Aire The which I callde so oft upon, had bene some Ladie faire: He thought that I had lovde some Nymph. And thereupon streight way He runnes me like a Harebrainde blab to Procris, to bewray


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 This fault as he surmised it: and there with lavish tung Reported all the wanton words that he had heard me sung. A thing of light beliefe is love. She (as I since have harde) For sodeine sorrow swounded downe: and when long afterwarde She came againe unto hir selfe, she said she was accurst And borne to cruell destinie: and me she blamed wurst For breaking faith: and freating at a vaine surmised shame She dreaded that which nothing was: she fearde a headlesse name. She wist not what to say or thinke. The wretch did greatly feare Deceit: yet could she not beleve the tales that talked were. Onlesse she saw hir husbands fault apparant to hir eie, She thought she would not him condemne of any villanie. Next day as soone as Morning light had driven the night away, I went abrode to hunt againe: and speeding, as I lay Upon the grasse, I said: Come, Aire, and ease my painfull heate. And on the sodaine as I spake there seemed for to beate A certaine sighing in mine eares of what I could not gesse. But ceasing not for that I still proceeded nathelesse: And said, O come, most pleasant Aire. With that I heard a sound Of russling softly in the leaves that lay upon the ground. And thinking it had bene some beast I threw my flying Dart. It was my wife. Who being now sore wounded at the hart, Cride out, Alas. As soone as I perceyved by the shrieke It was my faithfull spouse, I ran me to the voiceward lieke A madman that had lost his wits. There found I hir halfe dead, Hir scattred garments staining in the bloud that she had bled, And (wretched creature as I am) yet drawing from the wound The gift that she hir selfe had given. Then softly from the ground I lifted up that bodie of hirs of which I was more chare Than of mine owne, and from hir brest hir clothes in hast I tare. And binding up hir cruell wound I strived for to stay The bloud, and prayd she would not thus by passing so away Forsake me as a murtherer: she waxing weake at length And drawing to hir death apace, enforced all hir strength To utter these few wordes at last: I pray thee humbly by Our bond of wedlocke, by the Gods as well above the Skie As those to whome I now must passe, as ever I have ought


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 Deserved well by thee, and by the Love which having brought Me to my death doth even in death unfaded still remaine, To nestle in thy bed and mine let never Aire obtaine. This sed, she held hir peace, and I perceyved by the same And tolde hir also how she was beguiled in the name. But what avayled telling then? she quoathde: and with hir bloud Hir little strength did fade. Howbeit as long as that she coud See ought, she stared in my face and gasping still on me Even in my mouth she breathed forth hir wretched ghost. But she Did seeme with better cheare to die for that hir conscience was Discharged quight and cleare of doubtes. Now in conclusion as Duke Cephal weeping told this tale to Phocus and the rest Whose eyes were also moyst with teares to heare the pitious gest, Behold King Aeacus and with him his eldest sonnes both twaine Did enter in and after them there followed in a traine Of well appointed men of warre new levied: which the King Delivered unto Cephalus to Athens towne to bring.


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he day starre now beginning to disclose the Morning bright And for to dense the droupie Skie from darkenesse of the night, The Easterne wind went downe and flakes of foggie Clouds gan show, And from the South a merrie gale on Cephals sayles did blow. The which did hold so fresh and large, that he and all his men Before that he was looked for arrived safe agen In wished Haven. In that while King Minos with his fleete Did waste the cost of Megara. And first he thought it meete To make a triall of the force and courage of his men Against the towne Alcathoe where Nisus reigned then. Among whose honorable haire that was of colour gray, One scarlet haire did grow upon his crowne, whereon the stay Of all his Kingdome did depende. Sixe times did Phoebe fill Hir homes with borrowed light, and yet the warre hung wavering still In fickle fortunes doubtfull scaales: and long with fleeting wings Betwene them both flew victorie. A Turret of the Kings Stood hard adjoyning to the Wall which being touched rings, For Phoebus (so men say) did lay his golden Violl there, And so the stones the sound thereof did ever after beare. King Nisus daughter oftentimes resorted to this Wall And strake it with a little stone to raise the sound withall, In time of peace. And in the warre she many a time and oft Behelde the sturdie stormes of Mars from that same place aloft. And by continuance of the siege the Captaines names she knew, Their armes, horse, armor and aray in everie band and crew. Bit specially above the rest she noted Minos face. She knew inough and more than was inough as stoode the case. For were it that he hid his head in Helme with fethered crest, To hir opinion in his Helme he stayned all the rest. Or were it that he tooke in hand of steele his target bright, She thought in weelding of his shielde he was a comly Knight. Or were it that he raisde his arme to throw the piercing Dart, The Ladie did commend his force and manhode joynde with Art. Or drew he with his arrow nockt his bended Bow in hand


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 She sware that so in all respectes was Phoebus wont to stand. But when he shewde his visage bare, his Helmet laid aside, And on a Milke white Steede brave trapt, in Purple Robe did ride, She scarce was Mistresse of hir selfe, hir wits were almost straught. A happie Dart she thought it was that he in fingars caught, And happie called she those reynes that he in hand had raught. And if she might have had hir will, she could have founde in hart, Among the enmies to have gone. She could have found in hart, From downe the highest Turret there hir bodie to have throwne, Among the thickest of the Tents of Gnossus to have flowne, Or for to ope the brazen gates and let the enmie in, Or whatsoever else she thought might Minos favor win. And as she sate beholding still the King of Candies tent, She said: I doubt me whether that I rather may lament Or of this wofull warre be glad. It grieves me at the hart That thou O Minos unto me thy Lover enmie art. But had not this same warfare bene, I never had him knowne. Yet might he leave this cruell warre, and take me as his owne. A wife, a feere, a pledge for peace he might receive of me. O flowre of beautie, O thou Prince most pearlesse: if that she That bare thee in hir wombe were like in beautie unto thee, A right good cause had Jove on hir enamored for to bee. Oh happie were I if with wings I through the Aire might glide And safely to King Minos Tent from this same Turret slide. Then would I utter who I am, and how the firie flame Of Cupid burned in my brest, desiring him to name What dowrie he would aske with me in loan of his love, Save only of my Fathers Realme no question he should move. For rather than by traitrous meanes my purpose should take place, Adue, desire of hoped Love. Yet oftentimes such grace Hath from the gentle Conqueror proceeded erst, that they Which tooke the foyle have found the same their profit and their stay. Assuredly the warre is just that Minos takes in hand, As in revengement of his sonne late murthered in this land. And as his quarrell seemeth just, even so it cannot faile, But rightfull warre against the wrong must (I beleve) prevaile. Now if this Citie in the ende must needes be taken, why


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 Should his owne sworde and not my Love be meanes to win it by? It were yet better he should speede by gentle meanes without The slaughter of his people, yea and (as it may fall out) With spending of his owne bloud too. For sure I have a care O Minos lest some Souldier wound thee ere he be aware. For who is he in all the world that hath so hard a hart That wittingly against thy head would aime his cruell Dart? I like well this devise, and on this purpose will I stand: To yeelde my selfe endowed with this Citie to the hand Of Minos: and in doing so to bring this warre to ende. But smally it availeth me the matter to intende. The gates and yssues of this towne are kept with watch and warde, And of the Keyes continually my Father hath the garde. My Father only is the man of whome I stand in dreede, My Father only hindreth me of my desired speede. Would God that I were Fatherlesse. Tush, everie Wight may bee A God as in their owne behalfe, and if their hearts be free From fearefulnesse. For fortune works against the fond desire Of such as through faint heartednesse attempt not to aspire. Some other feeling in hir heart such flames of Cupids fire Already would have put in proofe some practise to destroy What thing so ever of hir Love the furtherance might anoy And why should any woman have a bolder heart than I? Through fire and sword I boldly durst adventure for to flie. And yet in this behalfe at all there needes no sword nor fire, There needeth but my fathers haire to accomplish my desire. I That Purple haire of his to me more precious were than golde: That Purple haire of his would make me blest a thousand folde: That haire would compasse my desire and set my heart at rest. Night (chiefest Nurce of thoughts to such as are with care opprest) Approched while she spake these words, and darknesse did encrease Hir boldnesse. At such time as folke are wont to finde release Of cares that all the day before were working in their heds, By sleepe which falleth first of all upon them in their beds, Hir fathers chamber secretly she entered: where (alasse That ever Maiden should so farre the bounds of Nature passe) She robde hir Father of the haire upon the which the fate


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 Depended both of life and death and of his royall state. And joying in hir wicked prey, she beares it with hir so As if it were some lawfull spoyle acquired of the fo. And passing through a posterne gate she marched through the mid Of all hir enmies (such a trust she had in that she did) Untill she came before the King, whom troubled with the sight She thus bespake: Enforst, O King, by love against all right I Scylla, Nisus daughter, doe present unto thee heere My native soyle, my household Gods, and all that else is deere For this my gift none other thing in recompence I crave Than of thy person which I love, fruition for to have. And in assurance of my love receyve thou here of mee My fathers Purple haire: and thinke I give not unto thee A haire but even my fathers head. And as these words she spake, The cursed gift with wicked hand she profered him to take. But Minos did abhorre hir gift: and troubled in his minde With straungenesse of the heynous act so sore against hir kinde, He aunswerde: O thou slaunder of our age, the Gods expell Thee out of all this world of theirs and let thee no where dwell. Let rest on neither Sea nor Land be graunted unto thee. Assure thy selfe that as for me I never will agree That Candie, Joves owne foster place (as long as I there raigne), Shall unto such a monstruous Wight a Harbrow place remaine. This said, he like a righteous Judge among his vanquisht foes Set order under paine of death. Which done he willed those That served him to go aboorde and Anchors up to wey. When Scylla saw the Candian fleete aflote to go away, And that the Captaine yeelded not so good reward as shee Had for hir lewdnesse looked for: and when in fine she see That no entreatance could prevaile, then bursting out in ire With stretched hands and scattred haire, as furious as the fire She shraming cryed out aloud: And whither doste thou flie Rejecting me, the only meanes that thou hast conquerde by? O cankerde Churle preferde before my native soyle, preferd Before my father, whither flyste, O Carle of heart most hard? Whose conquest as it is my sinne, so doth it well deserve Reward of thee, for that my fault so well thy turne did serve.


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 Doth neither thee the gift I gave, nor yet my faithfull love, Nor yet that all my hope on thee alonly rested, move? For whither shall I now resort forsaken thus of thee? To Megara the wretched soyle of my nativitie? Behold it lieth vanquished and troden under foote. But put the case it flourisht still: yet could it nothing boote. I have foreclosde it to my selfe through treason when I gave My fathers head to thee. Whereby my countriefolke I drave To hate me justly for my crime. And all the Realmes about My lewde example doe abhorre. Thus have I shet me out Of all the world that only Crete might take me in, which if Thou like a Churle denie, and cast me up without relief, The Ladie Europ surely was not mother unto thee: But one of Affricke Sirts where none but Serpents fostred bee, But even some cruell Tiger bred in Armen or in Inde, Or else the Gulfe Charybdis raisde with rage of Southerne winde. Thou wert not got by Jove: ne yet thy mother was beguilde In shape of Bull: of this thy birth the tale is false compilde. But rather some unwieldie Bull even altogither wilde That never lowed after Cow was out of doubt thy Sire. O father Nisus, put thou me to penance for my hire. Rejoyce thou in my punishment, thou towne by me betrayd. I have deserved (I confesse) most justly to be payd With death. But let some one of them that through my lewdnesse smart Destroy me, why doste thou that by my crime a gainer art, Commit like crime thy selfe? Admit this wicked act of me As to my land and Fatherward in deede most hainous be. Yet oughtest thou to take it as a friendship unto thee. But she was meete to be thy wife, that in a Cow of tree Could play the Harlot with a Bull, and in hir wombe could beare A Barne, in whome the shapes of man and beasts confounded were. How sayst thou, Carle? compell not these my words thine eares to glow? Or doe the windes that drive thy shyps, in vaine my sayings blow? In faith it is no wonder though thy wife Pasiphae Preferrde a Bull to thee, for thou more cruell wert than he. Now wo is me. To make more hast it standeth me in hand. The water sounds with Ores, and hales from me and from my land.


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 In vaine thou striveth, O thou Churle, forgetfull quight of my Desertes: for even in spight of thee pursue thee still will I. Upon thy courbed Keele will I take holde: and hanging so Be drawen along the Sea with thee where ever thou do go. She scarce had said these words, but that she leaped on the wave And getting to the ships by force of strength that Love hir gave Upon the King of Candies Keele in spight of him she clave. Whome when hir father spide (for now he hovered in the aire, And being made a Hobby Hauke did soare between a paire Of nimble wings of yron Mayle) he soused downe amaine To seaze upon hir as she hung, and would have tome hir faine With bowing Beake. But she for feare did let the Caricke go: And as she was about to fall, the lightsome Aire did so Uphold hir that she could not touch the Sea as seemed tho. Anon all fethers she became, and forth away did flie Transformed to a pretie Bird that stieth to the Skie. And for bicause like clipped haire hir head doth beare a marke, The Greekes it Cyris call, and we doe name the same a Larke. As soone as Minos came aland in Crete, he by and by Performde his vowes to Jupiter in causing for to die A hundred Bulles for sacrifice. And then he did adorne His Pallace with the enmies spoyles by conquest wonne beforne. The slaunder of his house encreast: and now appeared more The mothers filthie whoredome by the monster that she bore Of double shape, an ugly thing. This shamefull infamie, This monster borne him by his wife he mindes by pollicie To put away, and in a house with many nookes and krinks From all mens sights and speach of folke to shet it up he thinks. Immediatly one Daedalus renowmed in that lande For fine devise and workmanship in building, went in hand To make it. He confounds his worke with sodaine stops and stayes, And with the great uncertaintie of sundrie winding wayes Leades in and out, and to and fro, at divers doores astray. And as with trickling streame the Brooke Maeander seemes to play In Phrygia, and with doubtfull race runnes counter to and fro, And meeting with himselfe doth looke if all his streame or no Come after, and retiring eft cleane backward to his spring


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 And marching eft to open Sea as streight as any string, Indenteth with reversed streame: even so of winding wayes Unnumerable Daedalus within his worke convayes. Yea scarce himselfe could find the meanes to winde himselfe well out: So busie and so intricate the house was all about. Within this Maze did Minos shet the Monster that did beare The shape of man and Bull. And when he twise had fed him there With bloud of Atticke Princes sonnes that given for tribute were, The third time at the ninth yeares end the lot did chaunce to light On Theseus, King Aegaeus sonne: who like a valiant Knight Did overcome the Minotaur: and by the pollicie Of Minos eldest daughter (who had taught him for to tie A clew of Linnen at the doore to guide himselfe thereby) As busie as the turnings were, his way he out did finde, Which never man had done before. And streight he having winde, With Minos daughter sailde away to Dia: where (unkinde And cruell creature that he was) he left hir post alone Upon the shore. Thus desolate and making dolefull mone God Bacchus did both comfort hir and take hir to his bed. And with an everlasting starre the more hir fame to spred, He tooke the Chaplet from hir head, and up to Heaven it threw. The Chaplet thirled through the Aire: and as it gliding flew, The precious stones were turnd to starres which biased cleare and bright, And tooke their place (continuing like a Chaplet still to sight) Amid betweene the Kneeler Downe and him that gripes the Snake. Now in this while gan Daedalus a wearinesse to take Of living like a banisht man and prisoner such a time In Crete, and longed in his heart to see his native Clime. But Seas enclosed him as if he had in prison be. Then thought he: though both Sea and Land King Minos stop fro me, I am assurde he cannot stop the Aire and open Skie. To make my passage that way then my cunning will I trie. Although that Minos like a Lord held all the world beside: Yet doth the Aire from Minos yoke for all men free abide. This sed: to uncoth Arts he bent the force of all his wits To alter natures course by craft. And orderly he knits A rowe of fethers one by one, beginning with the short,


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VII.] plural-suffix also among the plural endings of our earliest nouns, but with only faint and doubtful success; if these are actually of composite derivation, the marks of their composition are hidden almost beyond hope of discovery. We must be content to say for the present, at least, that the suffixes of declension indicate by their differences the distinctions of number as well as of case. And, among the nouns as well as the verbs of the primitive language, not only a plural, but also a dual, was distinguished from the singular by its appropriate endings, which are of not less problematical derivation, and, in the earliest condition of speech that we can trace, much fewer in number, being limited to three.

One other distinction, that of gender, was partially dependent for its designation upon the case-endings. We have already (in the third lecture  ) had occasion to refer to the universal classification of objects named, by the earliest language-makers of our family, according to gender, as masculine, feminine, or neuter—a classification only partially depending upon the actual possession of sexual qualities, and exhibiting, in the modern dialects which have retained it, an aspect of almost utter and hopeless arbitrariness. Nor, as was before remarked, is it possible even in the oldest Indo-European tongues to trace and point out otherwise than most dimly and imperfectly the analogies, apparent or fanciful, which have determined the grammatical gender of the different words and classes of words: such is the difficulty and obscurity of the subject that we must avoid here entering into any details respecting it. It appears that, in the first place, from the masculine, as the fundamental form, certain words were distinguished as possessed of feminine qualities, and marked by a difference of derivative ending, often consisting in a prolongation of the final vowel of the ending; while to all the derivatives formed by certain endings like qualities were attributed. The distinction was doubtless made in the beginning by the endings of derivation alone, those of case having no share in it; but it passed over to some extent into those of case also, the feminine here again showing a tendency to broader and fuller forms.


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 And overmatching still eche quill with one of longer sort, That on the shoring of a hill a man would thinke them grow. Even so the countrie Organpipes of Oten reedes ir row Ech higher than another rise. Then fastned he with Flax The middle quilles, and joyned in the lowest sort with Wax. And when he thus had finisht them, a little he them bent In compasse, that the verie Birdes they full might represent. There stoode me by him Icarus, his sonne, a pretie Lad. Who knowing not that he in handes his owne destruction had, With smiling mouth did one while blow the fethers to and fro Which in the Aire on wings of Birds did flask not long ago: And with his thumbes another while he chafes the yelow Wax And lets his fathers wondrous worke with childish toyes and knacks. As soon as that the worke was done, the workman by and by Did peyse his bodie on his wings, and in the Aire on hie Hung wavering: and did teach his sonne how he should also flie. I warne thee (quoth he), Icarus, a middle race to keepe. For if thou hold too low a gate, the dankenesse of the deepe Will overlade thy wings with wet. And if thou mount too hie, The Sunne will sindge them. Therfore see betweene them both thou flie. I bid thee not behold the Starre Bootes in the Skie. Nor looke upon the bigger Beare to make thy course thereby, Nor yet on Orions naked sword. But ever have an eie To keepe the race that I doe keepe, and I will guide thee right. In giving counsell to his sonne to order well his flight, He fastned to his shoulders twaine a paire of uncoth wings. And as he was in doing it and warning him of things, His aged cheekes were wet, his hands did quake, in fine he gave His sonne a kisse the last that he alive should ever have. And then he mounting up aloft before him tooke his way Right fearfull for his followers sake: as is the Bird the day That first she tolleth from hir nest among the braunches hie Hir tender yong ones in the Aire to teach them for to flie. So heartens he his little sonne to follow teaching him A hurtfull Art. His owne two wings he waveth verie trim, And looketh backward still upon his sonnes. The fishermen Then standing angling by the Sea, and shepeherdes leaning then


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 On sheepehookes, and the Ploughmen on the handles of their Plough, Beholding them, amazed were: and thought that they that through The Aire could flie were Gods. And now did on their left side stand The Iles of Samos, Junos land: And on their right, Lebinthos and the faire Calydna fraught With store of honie: when the Boy a frolicke courage caught To flie at randon. Whereupon forsaking quight his guide, Of fond desire to flie to Heaven, above his boundes he stide. And there the nerenesse of the Sunne which burnd more hote aloft, Did make the Wax (with which his wings were glewed) lithe and soft. As soone as that the Wax was molt, his naked armes he shakes, And wanting wherewithall to wave no helpe of Aire he takes. But calling on his father loud he drowned in the wave: And by this chaunce of his those Seas his name for ever have. His wretched Father (but as then no father) cride in feare: O Icarus, O Icarus, where art thou? tell me where That I may finde thee, Icarus. He saw the fethers swim Upon the waves, and curst his Art that so had spighted him. At last he tooke his bodie up and laid it in a grave, And to the Ile the name of him then buried in it gave. And as he of his wretched sonne the corse in ground did hide, The cackling Partrich from a thicke and leavie thorne him spide, And clapping with his wings for joy aloud to call began. There was of that same kinde of Birde no mo but he as than. In times forepast had none bene seene. It was but late anew Since he was made a bird: and that thou, Daedalus, mayst rew: For whyle the world doth last thy shame shall thereupon ensew. For why thy sister, ignorant of that which after hapt, Did put him to thee to be taught full twelve yeares old and apt To take instruction. He did marke the middle bone that goes Through fishes, and according to the paterne tane of those He filed teeth upon a piece of yron one by one And so devised first the Saw where erst was never none. Moreover he two yron shankes so joynde in one round head, That opening an indifferent space, the one point downe shall tread, And tother draw a circle round. The finding of these things, The spightfull heart of Daedalus with such a m lice stings,


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 That headlong from the holy towre of Pallas downe he thrue His Nephew, feyning him to fall by chaunce, which was not true. But Pallas (who doth favour wits) did stay him in his fall And chaunging him into a Bird did clad him over all With fethers soft amid the Aire. The quicknesse of his wit (Which erst was swift) did shed it selfe among his wings and feete. And as he Partrich hight before, so hights he Partrich still. Yet mounteth not this Bird aloft ne seemes to have a will To build hir nest in tops of trees among the boughes on hie But flecketh nere the ground and layes hir egges in hedges drie. And forbicause hir former fall she ay in minde doth beare, She ever since all lofty things doth warely shun for feare. And now forwearied Daedalus alighted in the land Within the which the burning hilles of firie Aetna stand. To save whose life King Cocalus did weapon take in hand, For which men thought him merciful. And now with high renowne Had Theseus ceast the wofull pay of tribute in the towne Of Athens. Temples decked were with garlands every where, And supplications made to Jove and warlicke Pallas were, And all the other Gods, to whome more honor for to show, Gifts, blud of beasts, and frankincense the people did bestow As in performance of their vowes. The right redoubted name Of Theseus through the lande of Greece was spred by flying fame. And now the folke that in the land of rich Achaia dwelt, Praid him of succor in the harmes and perils that they felt. Although the land of Calydon had then Meleager: Yet was it faine in humble wise to Theseus to prefer A supplication for the aide of him. The cause wherfore They made such humble suit to him was this. There was a Bore The which Diana for to wreake hir wrath conceyvde before Had thither as hir servant sent the countrie for to waast. For men report that Oenie when he had in storehouse plaast The full encrease of former yeare, to Ceres did assigne The firstlings of his corne and fruits: to Bacchus, of the Wine: And unto Pallas Olife oyle. This honoring of the Gods Of graine and fruits who put their help to toyling in the clods, Ambitiously to all, even those that dwell in heaven did clime.


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 Dianas Altars (as it hapt) alonly at that time Without reward of Frankincense were overskipt (they say). Even Gods are subject unto wrath. He shall not scape away Unpunisht, though unworshipped he passed me wyth spight: He shall not make his vaunt he scapt me unrevenged quight, Quoth Phoebe. And anon she sent a Bore to Oenies ground Of such a hugenesse as no Bull could ever yet be found, In Epyre: but in Sicilie are Bulles much lesse than hee. His eies did glister blud and fire: right dreadfull was to see His brawned necke, right dredfull was his haire which grew as thicke With pricking points as one of them could well by other sticke. And like a front of armed Pikes set close in battell ray The sturdie bristles on his back stoode staring up alway. The scalding fome with gnashing hoarse which he did cast aside, Upon his large and brawned shield did white as Curdes abide. Among the greatest Oliphants in all the land of Inde, A greater tush than had this Boare, ye shall not lightly finde. Such lightning flashed from his chappes, as seared up the grasse. Now trampled he the spindling come to ground where he did passe, Now ramping up their riped hope he made the Plowmen weepe. And chankt the kernell in the eare. In vaine their floores they sweepe: In vaine their Barnes for Harvest long, the likely store they keepe. The spreaded Vines with clustred Grapes to ground he rudely sent, And full of Berries loden boughes from Olife trees he rent. On cattell also did he rage. The shepeherd nor his dog, Nor yet the Bulles could save the herdes from outrage of this Hog. The folke themselves were faine to flie. And yet they thought them not In safetie when they had themselves within the Citie got. Untill their Prince Meleager, and with their Prince a knot Of Lords and lustie gentlemen of hand and courage stout, With chosen fellowes for the nonce of all the Lands about, Inflamed were to win renowne. The chiefe that thither came Were both the twinnes of Tyndarus of great renowne and fame, The one in all activitie of manhode, strength and force, The other for his cunning skill in handling of a horse. And Jason he that first of all the Gallie did invent: And Theseus with Pirithous betwene which two there went


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 A happie leage of amitie: And two of Thesties race: And Lynce, the sonne of Apharie and Idas, swift of pace. And fierce Leucyppus and the brave Acastus with his Dart In handling of the which he had the perfect skill and Art. And Caeny who by birth a wench, the shape of man had wonne And Drias and Hippothous: and Phoenix eke the sonne Of olde Amyntor: and a paire of Actors ympes: and Phyle Who came from Elis. Telamon was also there that while: And so was also Peleus, the great Achilles Sire: And Pherets sonne: and Iolay, the Thebane who with fire Helpt Hercules the monstruous heades of Hydra off to seare. The lively Lad Eurytion and Echion who did beare The pricke and prise for footemanship, were present also there. And Lelex of Narytium too. And Panopie beside: And Hyle: and cruell Hippasus: and Naestor who that tide Was in the Prime of lustie youth: moreover thither went Three children of Hippocoon from old Amicle sent. And he that of Penelope the fathrinlaw became. And eke the sonne of Parrhasus, Ancaeus cald by name. There was the sonne of Ampycus of great forecasting wit: And Oeclies sonne who of his wife was unbetrayed yit. And from the Citie Tegea there came the Paragone Of Lycey forrest, Atalant, a goodly Ladie, one Of Schoenyes daughters, then a Maide. The garment she did weare A brayded button fastned at hir gorget. All hir heare Untrimmed in one only knot was trussed. From hir left Side hanging on hir shoulder was an Ivorie quiver deft: Which being full of arrowes, made a clattring as she went. And in hir right hand she did beare a Bow already bent. Hir furniture was such as this. Hir countnance and hir grace Was such as in a Boy might well be cald a Wenches face, And in a Wench be cald a Boyes. The Prince of Calydon No sooner cast his eie on hir, but being caught anon In love, he wisht hir to his wife. But unto this desire God Cupid gave not his consent. The secret flames of fire He haling inward still did say: O happy man is he Whom this same Ladie shall vouchsave hir Husband for to be.


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 The shortnesse of the time and shame would give him leave to say No more: a worke of greater weight did draw him then away. A wood thick growen with trees which stoode unfelled to that day Beginning from a plaine, had thence a large prospect throughout The falling grounds that every way did muster round about. As soone as that the men came there, some pitched up the toyles, Some tooke the couples from the Dogs, and some pursude the foyles In places where the Swine had tract: desiring for to spie Their owne destruction. Now there was a hollow bottom by, To which the watershots of raine from all the high grounds drew. Within the compasse of this pond great store of Osiers grew: And Sallowes lithe, and flackring Flags, and moorish Rushes eke, And lazie Reedes on little shankes, and other baggage like. From hence the Bore was rowzed out, and fiersly forth he flies Among the thickest of his foes like thunder from the Skies, When Clouds in meeting force the fire to burst by violence out. He beares the trees before him downe, and all the wood about Doth sound of crashing. All the youth with hideous noyse and shout Against him bend their Boarspeare points with hand and courage stout. He rushes forth among the Dogs that held him at a bay, And now on this side now on that, as any come in way, He rippes their skinnes and splitteth them, and chaseth them away, Echion first of all the rout a Dart at him did throw, Which mist and in a Maple tree did give a little blow. The next (if he that threw the same had used lesser might), The backe at which he aimed it was likely for to smight. It overflew him. Jason was the man that cast the Dart. With that the sonne of Ampycus sayd: Phoebus (if with hart I have and still doe worship thee) now graunt me for to hit The thing that I doe levell at. Apollo graunts him it As much as lay in him to graunt. He hit the Swine in deede. But neyther entred he his hide nor caused him to bleede. For why Diana (as the Dart was flying) tooke away The head of it: and so the Dart could headlesse beare no sway. But yet the moodie beast thereby was set the more on fire And chafing like the lightning swift he uttreth forth his ire. The fire did sparkle from his eyes: and from his boyling brest


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 He breathed flaming flakes of fire conceyved in his chest. And looke with what a violent brunt a mightie Bullet goes From engines bent against a wall, or bulwarks full of foes: With even such violence rusht the Swine among the Hunts amayne, And overthrew Eupalamon and Pelagon both twaine That in the right wing placed were. Their fellowes stepping to And drawing them away, did save their lives with much ado. But as for poore Enesimus, Hippocoons sonne had not The lucke to scape the deadly dint. He would away have got, And trembling turnde his backe for feare. The Swine him overtooke, And cut his hamstrings, so that streight his going him forsooke. And Naestor to have lost his life was like by fortune ere The siege of Troie, but that he tooke his rist upon his speare: And leaping quickly up upon a tree that stoode hard by, Did safely from the place behold his foe whome he did flie. The Boare then whetting sharpe his tuskes against the Oken wood To mischiefe did prepare himselfe with fierce and cruell mood. And trusting to his weapons which he sharpened had anew, In great Orithyas thigh a wound with hooked groyne he drew. The valiant brothers, those same twinnes of Tyndarus (not yet Celestiall signes), did both of them on goodly coursers sit As white as snow: and ech of them had shaking in his fist A lightsome Dart with head of steele to throw it where he lyst. And for to wound the bristled Bore they surely had not mist But that he still recovered so the coverts of the wood, That neyther horse could follow him, nor Dart doe any good. Still after followed Telamon, whom taking to his feete No heede at all for egernesse, a Maple roote did meete, Which tripped up his heeles, and flat against the ground him laid. And while his brother Peleus relieved him, the Maid Of Tegea tooke an arrow swift, and shot it from hir bow. The arrow lighting underneath the havers eare bylow, And somewhat rasing of the skin, did make the bloud to show. The Maid hirselfe not gladder was to see that luckie blow, Than was the Prince Meleager. He was the first that saw, And first that shewed to his Mates the blud that she did draw: And said: For this thy valiant act due honor shalt thou have.


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 The men did blush, and chearing up ech other courage gave With shouting, and disorderly their Darts by heaps they threw. The number of them hindred them, not suffring to ensew That any lighted on the marke at which they all did ame. Behold, enragde against his ende the hardie Knight that came From Arcadie, rusht rashly with a Pollax in his fist And said: You yonglings learne of me what difference is betwist A wenches weapons and a mans: and all of you give place To my redoubted force. For though Diana in this chase Should with hir owne shield him defend, yet should this hand of mine Even maugre Dame Dianas heart confound this orped Swine. Such boasting words as these through pride presumptuously he crakes: And streyning out himselfe upon his tiptoes streight he takes His Pollax up with both his hands. But as this bragger ment To fetch his blow, the cruell beast his malice did prevent: And in his coddes (the speeding place of death) his tusshes puts, And rippeth up his paunche. Downe falles Ancaeus and his guts Come tumbling out besmearde with bloud, and foyled all the plot. Pirithous, Ixions sonne, at that abashed not: But shaking in his valiant hand his hunting staffe did goe Still stoutly forward face to face t'encounter with his foe To whome Duke Theseus cride afarre: O dearer unto mee Than is my selfe, my soule I say, stay: lawfull we it see For valiant men to keepe aloofe. The over hardie hart In rash adventring of him selfe hath made Ancaeus smart. This sed, he threw a weightie Dart of Cornell with a head Of brasse: which being leveld well was likely to have sped, But that a bough of Chestnut tree thick leaved by the way Did latch it, and by meanes therof the dint of it did stay. Another Dart that Jason threw, by fortune mist the Bore, And light betwene a Mastifes chaps, and through his guts did gore, And naild him to the earth. The hand of Prince Meleager Plaid hittymissie. Of two Darts his first did flie too far, And lighted in the ground: the next amid his backe stickt fast. And while the Bore did play the fiend and turned round agast, And grunting flang his fome about togither mixt with blood, The giver of the wound (the more to stirre his enmies mood,)


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 Stept in, and underneath the shield did thrust his Boarspeare through. Then all the Hunters shouting out demeaned joy inough. And glad was he that first might come to take him by the hand. About the ugly beast they all with gladnesse gazing stand And wondring what a field of ground his carcasse did possesse, There durst not any be so bolde to touch him. Nerethelesse, They every of them with his bloud their hunting staves made red. Then stepped forth Meleager, and treading on his hed Said thus: O Ladie Atalant, receive thou here my fee, And of my glorie vouch thou safe partaker for to bee. Immediatly the ugly head with both the tusshes brave And eke the skin with bristles stur right griesly, he hir gave. The Ladie for the givers sake, was in hir heart as glad As for the gift. The rest repinde that she such honor had. Through all the rout was murmuring. Of whom with roring reare And armes displayd that all the field might easly see and heare, The Thesties cried: Dame, come off and lay us downe this geare. And thou a woman offer not us men so great a shame, As we to toyle and thou to take the honor of our game. Ne let that faire smooth face of thine beguile thee, lest that hee That being doted in thy love did give thee this our fee, Be over farre to rescow thee. And with that word they tooke The gift from hir, and right of gift from him. He could not brooke This wrong: but gnashing with his teeth for anger that did boyle Within, said fiersly: learne ye you that other folkes dispoyle Of honor given, what diffrence is betweene your threats, and deedes. And therewithall Plexippus brest (who no such matter dreedes) With wicked weapon he did pierce. As Toxey doubting stood What way to take, desiring both t'advenge his brothers blood, And fearing to be murthered as his brother was before, Meleager (to dispatch all doubts of musing any more) Did heate his sword for companie in bloud of him againe, Before Plexippus bloud was cold that did thereon remaine. Althaea going toward Church with presents for to yild Due thankes and worship to the Gods that for hir sonne had kild The Boare, beheld hir brothers brought home dead: and by and by She beate hir brest, and filde the towne with shrieking piteously,


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 And shifting all hir rich aray, did put on mourning weede But when she understoode what man was doer of the deede, She left all mourning, and from teares to vengeance did proceede. There was a certaine firebrand which when Oenies wife did lie In childebed of Meleager, she chaunced to espie The Destnies putting in the fire: and in the putting in, She heard them speake these words, as they his fatall threede did spin: O lately borne, like time we give to thee and to this brand. And when they so had spoken, they departed out of hand. Immediatly the mother caught the blazing bough away, And quenched it. This bough she kept full charely many a day: And in the keeping of the same she kept hir sonne alive. But now intending of his life him clearly to deprive, She brought it forth, and causing all the coales and shivers to Be layed by, she like a foe did kindle fire thereto. Fowre times she was about to cast the firebrand in the flame: Fowre times she pulled backe hir hand from doing of the same. As mother and as sister both she strove what way to go: The divers names drew diversly hir stomacke to and fro. Hir face waxt often pale for feare of mischiefe to ensue: And often red about the eies through heate of ire she grew. One while hir looke resembled one that threatned cruelnesse: Another while ye would have thought she minded pitiousnesse. And though the cruell burning of hir heart did drie hir teares, Yet burst out some. And as a Boate which tide contrarie beares Against the winde, feeles double force, and is compeld to yeelde To both, so Thesties daughter now unable for to weelde Hir doubtful passions, diversly is caried off and on, And chaungeably she waxes calme, and stormes againe anon. But better sister ginneth she than mother for to be. And to th'intent hir brothers ghostes with bloud to honor, she In meaning to be one way kinde, doth worke another way Against kinde. When the plagie fire waxt strong she thus did say: Let this same fire my bowels burne. And as in cursed hands The fatall wood she holding at the Hellish Altar stands: She said: Ye triple Goddesses of wreake, ye Helhounds three Beholde ye all this furious fact and sacrifice of mee.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1901 supplement/Brett, William Baliol


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 I wreake, and do against all right: with death must death be payde: In mischiefe mischiefe must be heapt: on corse must corse be laide. Confounded let this wicked house with heaped sorrowes bee. Shall Oenie joy his happy sonne in honor for to see And Thestie mourne bereft of his? Nay: better yet it were, That eche with other companie in mourning you should beare. Ye brothers Ghostes and soules new dead I wish no more, but you To feele the solemne obsequies which I prepare as now: And that mine offring you accept, which dearly I have bought The yssue of my wretched wombe. Alas, alas what thought I for to doe? O brothers, I besech you beare with me. I am his mother: so to doe my hands unable be. His trespasse I confesse deserves the stopping of his breath: But yet I doe not like that I be Author of his death. And shall he then with life and limme, and honor too, scape free? And vaunting in his good successe the King of Calidon bee? And you deare soules lie raked up but in a little dust? I will not surely suffer it. But let the villaine trust That he shall die, and draw with him to ruine and decay His Kingdome, Countrie and his Sire that doth upon him stay. Why where is now the mothers heart and pitie that should raigne In Parents? and the ten Monthes paines that once I did sustaine? O would to God thou burned had a babie in this brand, And that I had not tane it out and quencht it with my hand. That all this while thou lived hast, my goodnesse is the cause. And now most justly unto death thine owne desert thee drawes. Receive the guerdon of thy deede: and render thou agen Thy twice given life, by bearing first, and secondarly when I caught this firebrand from the flame: or else come deale with me As with my brothers, and with them let me entumbed be. I would, and cannot. What then shall I stand to in this case? One while my brothers corses seeme to prease before my face With lively Image of their deaths. Another while my minde Doth yeelde to pitie, and the name of mother doth me blinde. Now wo is me. To let you have the upper hand is sinne: But nerethelesse the upper hand O brothers doe you win. Condicionly that when that I to comfort you withall


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 Have wrought this feate, my selfe to you resort in person shall. This sed, she turnde away hir face, and with a trembling hand Did cast the deathfull brand amid the burning fire. The brand Did eyther sigh, or seeme to sigh in burning in the flame, Which sorie and unwilling was to fasten on the same. Meleager being absent and not knowing ought at all Was burned with this flame: and felt his bowels to appall With secret fire. He bare out long the paine with courage stout. But yet it grieved him to die so cowardly without The shedding of his bloud. He thought Anceus for to be A happie man that dide of wound. With sighing called he Upon his aged father, and his sisters, and his brother, And lastly on his wife too, and by chaunce upon his mother. His paine encreased with the fire, and fell therewith againe: And at the selfe same instant quight extinguisht were both twaine. And as the ashes soft and hore by leysure overgrew The glowing coales: so leysurly his spirit from him drew. Then drouped stately Calydon. Both yong and olde did mourne, The Lords and Commons did lament, and maried wives with tome And tattred haire did crie alas. His father did beray His horie head and face with dust, and on the earth flat lay, Lamenting that he lived had to see that wofull day For now his mothers giltie hand had for that cursed crime Done execution on hir selfe by sword before hir time. If God to me a hundred mouthes with sounding tongues should send, And reason able to conceyve, and thereunto should lend Me all the grace of eloquence that ere the Muses had, I could not shew the wo wherewith his sisters were bestad. Unmindfull of their high estate, their naked brests they smit, Untill they made them blacke and blew. And while his bodie yit Remained, they did cherish it, and cherish it againe. They kist his bodie: yea they kist the chist that did containe His corse. And after that the corse was burnt to ashes, they Did presse his ashes with their brests: and downe along they lay Upon his tumb, and there embraste his name upon the stone, And filde the letters of the same with teares that from them gone. At length Diana satisfide with slaughter brought upon


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 The house of Oenie, lifts them up with fethers everichone, (Save Gorgee and the daughtrinlaw of noble Alcmene) and Makes wings to stretch along their sides, and horned nebs to stand Upon their mouthes. And finally she altring quight their faire And native shape, in shape of Birds dooth sent them through the Aire. The noble Theseus in this while with others having donne His part in killing of the Boare, to Athens ward begonne To take his way. But Acheloy then being swolne with raine Did stay him of his journey, and from passage him restraine. Of Athens valiant knight (quoth he) come underneath my roofe, And for to passe my raging streame as yet attempt no proofe. This brooke is wont whole trees to beare and evelong stones to carry With hideous roring down his streame. I oft have seene him harry Whole Shepcotes standing nere his banks, with flocks of sheepe therin. Nought booted buls their strength: nought steedes by swiftnes there could win. Yea many lustie men this brooke hath swallowed, when the snow From mountaines molten, caused him his banks to overflow. i The best is for you for to rest untill the River fall Within his boundes: and runne ageine within his chanell small. Content (quoth Theseus): Acheloy, I will not sure refuse Thy counsell nor thy house. And so he both of them did use. Of Pommy hollowed diversly and ragged Pebble stone The walles were made. The floore with Mosse was soft to tread upon. The roofe thereof was checkerwise with shelles of Purple wrought And Perle. The Sunne then full two parts of day to end had brought, And Theseus downe to table sate with such as late before Had friendly borne him companie at killing of the Bore. At one side sate Ixions sonne, and on the other sate The Prince of Troyzen, Lelex, with a thin hearde horie pate. And then such other as the brooke of Acarnania did Vouchsafe the honor to his boord and table for to bid, Who was right glad of such a guest. Immediatly there came Barefooted Nymphes who brought in meate. And when that of the same The Lords had taken their repast, the meate away they tooke, And set downe wine in precious stones. Then Theseus who did looke Upon the Sea that underneath did lie within their sight, Said: tell us what is yon same place, (and with his fingar right


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 Hee poynted thereunto) I pray, and what that Iland hight, Although it seemeth mo than one. The River answerd thus, It is not one mayne land alone that kenned is of us. There are uppon a fyve of them. The distaunce of the place, Dooth hinder to discerne betweene eche Ile the perfect space. And that the lesse yee woonder may at Phoebees act alate, To such as had neglected her uppon contempt or hate, Theis Iles were sumtyme Waternimphes: who having killed Neate, Twyce fyve, and called to theyr feast the Country Gods to eate, Forgetting mee kept frolicke cheere. At that gan I to swell, And ran more large than ever erst, and being over fell In stomacke and in streame, I rent the wood from wood, and feeld From feeld, and with the ground the Nymphes as then with stomacks meeld Remembring mee, I tumbled to the Sea. The waves of mee And of the sea the ground that erst all whole was woont to bee Did rend asunder into all the Iles you yonder see, And made a way for waters now to passe betweene them free. They now of Urchins have theyr name. But of theis Ilands, one A great way off (behold yee) stands a great way off alone, As you may see. The Mariners doo call it Perimell. With her (shee was as then a Nymph) so farre in love I fell, That of her maydenhod I her spoyld: which thing displeasd so sore Her father Sir Hippodamas, that from the craggy shore He threw her headlong downe to drowne her in the sea. But I Did latch her streight, and bearing her aflote did lowd thus crie: O Neptune with thy threetynde Mace who hast by lot the charge Of all the waters wylde that bound uppon the earth at large, To whom wee holy streames doo runne, in whome wee take our end, Draw neere, and gently to my boone effectually attend. This Ladie whome I beare aflote myselfe hath hurt. Bee meeke And upright. If Hippodamas perchaunce were fatherleeke, Or if that he extremitie through outrage did not secke, He oughted to have pitied her and for to beare with mee. Now help us Neptune, I thee pray, and condescend that shee Whom from the land her fathers wrath and cruelnesse dooth chace Who through her fathers cruelnesse is drownd: may find the grace To have a place: or rather let hirselfe become a place.


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 And I will still embrace the same. The King of Seas did move His head, and as a token that he did my sute approve, He made his surges all to shake. The Nymph was sore afrayd. Howbee't shee swam, and as she swam, my hand I softly layd Upon her brest which quivered still. And whyle I toucht the same, I sensibly did feele how all her body hard became: And how the earth did overgrow her bulk. And as I spake, New earth enclosde hir swimming limbes, which by and by did take Another shape, and grew into a mighty Ile. With thatThe River ceast and all men there did woonder much thereat. Pirithous being over hault of mynde and such a one As did despyse bothe God and man, did laugh them everychone To scorne for giving credit, and sayd thus: The woords thou spaakst Are feyned fancies, Acheloy: and overstrong thou maakst The Gods: to say that they can give and take way shapes. This scoffe Did make the heerers all amazde, for none did like thereof. And Lelex of them all the man most rype in yeeres and wit, Sayd thus: Unmeasurable is the powre of heaven, and it Can have none end. And looke what God dooth mynd to bring about, Must take effect. And in this case to put yee out of dout, Upon the hilles of Phrygie neere a Teyle there stands a tree Of Oke enclosed with a wall. Myself the place did see. For Pithey untoo Pelops feelds did send mee where his father Did sumtyme reigne. Not farre fro thence there is a poole which rather Had bene dry ground inhabited. But now it is a meare And Moorecocks, Cootes, and Cormorants doo breede and nestle there. The mightie Jove and Mercurie his sonne in shape of men Resorted thither on a tyme. A thousand houses when For roome to lodge in they had sought, a thousand houses bard Theyr doores against them. Nerethelesse one Cotage afterward Receyved them, and that was but a pelting one in deede. The roofe therof was thatched all with straw and fennish reede. Howbee't two honest auncient folke, (of whom she Baucis hight And he Philemon) in that Cote theyr fayth in youth had plight: And in that Cote had spent theyr age. And for they paciently Did beare theyr simple povertie, they made it light thereby, And shewed it no thing to bee repyned at at all.


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 It skilles not whether there for Hyndes or Maister you doo call, For all the houshold were but two: and both of them obeyde, And both commaunded. When the Gods at this same Cotage staid, And ducking downe their heads, within the low made Wicket came, Philemon bringing ech a stoole, bade rest upon the same Their limmes: and busie Baucis brought them cuishons homely geere. ihich done, the embers on the harth she gan abrode to steere, And laid the coales togither that were raakt up over night, And with the brands and dried leaves did make them gather might, And with the blowing of hir mouth did make them kindle bright. Then from an inner house she fetcht seare sticks and clifted brands, And put them broken underneath a Skillet with hir hands. Hir Husband from their Gardenplot fetcht Coleworts. Of the which She shreaded small the leaves, and with a Forke tooke downe a flitch Of restie Bacon from the Balke made blacke with smoke, and cut A peece thereof, and in the pan to boyling did it put. And while this meate a seething was, the time in talke they spent, By meanes whereof away without much tedousnesse it went. There hung a Boawle of Beeche upon a spirget by a ring. The same with warmed water filld the two old folke did bring To bathe their guests foule feete therein. Amid the house there stood A Couch whose bottom sides and feete were all of Sallow wood, And on the same a Mat of Sedge. They cast upon this bed A covering which was never wont upon it to be spred Except it were at solemne feastes: and yet the same was olde And of the coursest, with a bed of sallow meete to holde. The Gods sate downe. The aged wife right chare and busie as A Bee, set out a table, of the which the thirde foote was A little shorter than the rest. A tylesherd made it even And tooke away the shoringnesse: and when they had it driven To stand up levell, with greene Mintes they by and by it wipte. Then set they on it Pallas fruite with double colour stripte. And Cornels kept in pickle moyst, and Endive, and a roote Of Radish, and a jolly lump of Butter fresh and soote, And Egges reare rosted. All these Cates in earthen dishes came. Then set they downe a graven cup made also of the same Selfe kinde of Plate, and Mazers made of Beech whose inner syde


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 Was rubd with yellow wax. And when they pawsed had a tyde, Hot meate came pyping from the fyre. And shortly thereupon A cup of greene hedg wyne was brought. This tane away, anon Came in the latter course, which was of Nuts, Dates, dryed figges, Sweete smelling Apples in a Mawnd made flat of Osier twigges, And Prunes and Plums and Purple grapes cut newly from the tree, And in the middes a honnycomb new taken from the Bee. Besydes all this there did ensew good countnance overmore, With will not poore nor nigardly. Now all the whyle before, As ofen as Philemon and Dame Baucis did perceyve The emptie Cup to fill alone, and wyne to still receyve, Amazed at the straungenesse of the thing, they gan streyght way With fearfull harts and hands hilld up to frame themselves to pray. Desyring for theyr slender cheere and fare to pardoned bee. They had but one poore Goose which kept theyr little Tennantree, And this to offer to the Gods theyr guestes they did intend. The Gander wyght of wing did make the slow old folke to spend Theyr paynes in vayne, and mokt them long. At length he seemd to flye For succor to the Gods themselves, who bade he should not dye. For wee bee Gods (quoth they) and all this wicked towneship shall Abye their gylt. On you alone this mischeef shall not fall. No more but give you up your house, and follow up this hill Togither, and upon the top therof abyde our will. They bothe obeyd. And as the Gods did lead the way before, They lagged slowly after with theyr staves, and labored sore Ageinst the rysing of the hill. They were not mickle more Than full a flyghtshot from the top, when looking backe they saw How all the towne was drowned save their lyttle shed of straw. And as they wondred at the thing and did bewayle the case Of those that had theyr neyghbours beene, the old poore Cote so base Whereof they had beene owners erst, became a Church. The proppes Were turned into pillars huge. The straw uppon the toppes Was yellow, so that all the roof did seeme of burnisht gold: The floore with Marble paved was. The doores on eyther fold Were graven. At the sight hereof Philemon and his make Began to pray in feare. Then Jove thus gently them bespake: Declare thou ryghtuowse man, and thou woman meete to have


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 A ryghtuowse howsband, what yee would most cheefly wish or crave. Philemon taking conference a little with his wyfe, Declared bothe theyr meenings thus: We covet during lyfe, Your Chapleynes for to bee to keepe your Temple. And bycause Our yeeres in concord wee have spent, I pray when death neere drawes, Let bothe of us togither leave our lives: that neyther I Behold my wyves deceace, nor shee see myne when I doo dye. Theyr wish had sequele to theyr will. As long as lyfe did last, They kept the Church. And beeing spent with age of yeares forepast, By chaunce as standing on a tyme without the Temple doore They told the fortune of the place, Philemon old and poore Saw Baucis floorish greene with leaves, and Baucis saw likewyse Philemon braunching out in boughes and twigs before hir eyes. And as the Bark did overgrow the heades of both, eche spake To other whyle they myght. At last they eche of them did take Theyr leave of other bothe at once, and therewithall the bark Did hyde theyr faces both at once. The Phrygians in that park Doo at this present day still shew the trees that shaped were Of theyr two bodies, growing yit togither joyntly there. Theis things did auncient men report of credit verie good. For why there was no cause why they should lye. As I there stood I saw the garlands hanging on the boughes, and adding new I sayd: Let them whom God dooth love be Gods, and honor dew Bee given to such as honor him with feare and reverence trew. He hilld his peace, and bothe the thing and he that did it tell Did move them all, but Theseus most. Whom being mynded well To heere of woondrous things, the brooke of Calydon thus bespake: There are, O valiant knyght, sum folke that had the powre to take Straunge shape for once, and all their lyves continewed in the same. And other sum to sundrie shapes have power themselves to frame, As thou, O Protew, dwelling in the sea that cleepes the land. For now a yoonker, now a boare, anon a Lyon, and Streyght way thou didst become a Snake, and by and by a Bull That people were afrayd of thee to see thy horned skull. And oftentymes thou seemde a stone, and now and then a tree, And counterfetting water sheere thou seemedst oft to bee A River: and another whyle contrarie thereunto