Complete Works of Edmund Spenser

by Edmund Spenser

  Exceedingly they troubled were in thought,

  Ne wist what answere unto him to frame,

  Ne how to scape great punishment, or shame,

  For their false treason and vile theeverie. 315

  For not a lambe of all their flockes supply

  Had they to shew; but ever as they bred,

  They slue them, and upon their fleshes fed:

  For that disguised dog lov’d blood to spill,

  And drew the wicked shepheard to his will. 320

  So twixt them both they not a lambkin left,

  And when lambes fail’d, the old sheepes lives they reft;

  That how t’ acquite themselves unto their lord

  They were in doubt, and flatly set abord.

  The Foxe then counsel’d th’ Ape for to require 325

  Respite till morrow t’ answere his desire:

  For times delay new hope of helpe still breeds.

  The goodman granted, doubting nought their deeds,

  And bad, next day that all should readie be.

  But they more subtill meaning had than he: 330

  For the next morrowes meed they closely ment,

  For feare of afterclaps, for to prevent:

  And that same evening, when all shrowded were

  In careles sleep, they, without care or feare,

  Cruelly fell upon their flock in folde, 335

  And of them slew at pleasure what they wolde:

  Of which whenas they feasted had their fill,

  For a full complement of all their ill,

  They stole away, and tooke their hastie flight,

  Carried in clowdes of all-concealing night. 340

  So was the Husbandman left to his losse,

  And they unto their fortunes change to tosse.

  After which sort they wandered long while,

  Abusing manie through their cloaked guile;

  That at the last they gan to be descryed 345

  Of everie one, and all their sleights espyed:

  So as their begging now them failed quyte;

  For none would give, but all men would them wyte.

  Yet would they take no paines to get their living,

  But seeke some other way to gaine by giving, 350

  Much like to begging, but much better named;

  For manie beg, which are thereof ashamed.

  And now the Foxe had gotten him a gowne,

  And th’ Ape a cassocke sidelong hanging downe;

  For they their occupation meant to change, 355

  And now in other state abroad to range:

  For since their souldiers pas no better spedd,

  They forg’d another, as for clerkes booke-redd.

  Who passing foorth, as their adventures fell,

  Through manie haps, which needs not here to tell, 360

  At length chaunst with a formall Priest to meete,

  Whom they in civill manner first did greete,

  And after askt an almes for Gods deare love.

  The man straight way his choler up did move,

  And with reproachfull tearmes gan them revile, 365

  For following that trade so base and vile;

  And askt what license or what pas they had.

  ‘Ah!’ said the Ape, as sighing wondrous sad,

  ‘Its an hard case, when men of good deserving

  Must either driven be perforce to sterving, 370

  Or asked for their pas by everie squib,

  That list at will them to revile or snib:

  And yet (God wote) small oddes I often see

  Twixt them that aske, and them that asked bee.

  Natheles because you shall not us misdeeme, 375

  But that we are as honest as we seeme,

  Yee shall our pasport at your pleasure see,

  And then ye will (I hope) well mooved bee.’

  Which when the Priest beheld, he vew’d it nere,

  As if therein some text he studying were, 380

  But little els (God wote) could thereof skill:

  For read he could not evidence nor will,

  Ne tell a written word, ne write a letter,

  Ne make one title worse, ne make one better.

  Of such deep learning little had he neede, 385

  Ne yet of Latine, ne of Greeke, that breede

  Doubts mongst divines, and difference of texts,

  From whence arise diversitie of sects,

  And hatefull heresies, of God abhor’d.

  But this good Sir did follow the plaine word, 390

  Ne medled with their controversies vaine:

  All his care was, his service well to saine,

  And to read homelies upon holidayes;

  When that was done, he might attend his playes:

  An easie life, and fit High God to please. 395

  He, having overlookt their pas at ease,

  Gan at the length them to rebuke againe,

  That no good trade of life did entertaine,

  But lost their time in wandring loose abroad;

  Seeing the world, in which they bootles boad, 400

  Had wayes enough for all therein to live;

  Such grace did God unto his creatures give.

  Said then the Foxe: ‘Who hath the world not tride

  From the right way full eath may wander wide.

  We are but novices, new come abroad, 405

  We have not yet the tract of anie troad,

  Nor on us taken anie state of life,

  But readie are of anie to make preife.

  Therefore might please you, which the world have proved,

  Us to advise, which forth but lately moved, 410

  Of some good course, that we might undertake,

  Ye shall for ever us your bondmen make.’

  The Priest gan wexe halfe proud to be so praide,

  And thereby willing to affoord them aide;

  ‘It seemes,’ said he, ‘right well that ye be clerks, 415

  Both by your wittie words and by your werks.

  Is not that name enough to make a living

  To him that hath a whit of Natures giving?

  How manie honest men see ye arize

  Daylie thereby, and grow to goodly prize? 420

  To deanes, to archdeacons, to commissaries,

  To lords, to principalls, to prebendaries;

  All jolly prelates, worthie rule to beare,

  Who ever them envie: yet spite bites neare.

  Why should ye doubt, then, but that ye like-wise 425

  Might unto some of those in time arise?

  In the meane time to live in good estate,

  Loving that love, and hating those that hate;

  Being some honest curate, or some vicker,

  Content with little in condition sicker.’ 430

  ‘Ah! but,’ said th’ Ape, ‘the charge is wondrous great,

  To feed mens soules, and hath an heavie threat.’

  ‘To feede mens soules,’ quoth he, ‘is not in man:

  For they must feed themselves, doo what we can.

  We are but charg’d to lay the meate before: 435

  Eate they that list, we need to doo no more.

  But God it is that feedes them with his grace,

  The bread of life powr’d downe from heavenly place.

  Therefore said he, that with the budding rod

  Did rule the Jewes, All shalbe taught of God. 440

  That same hath Jesus Christ now to him raught,

  By whom the flock is rightly fed and taught:

  He is the shepheard, and the priest is hee;

  We but his shepheard swaines ordain’d to bee.

  Therefore herewith doo not your selfe dismay; 445

  Ne is the paines so great, but beare ye may;

  For not so great, as it was wont of yore,

  It ‘s now a dayes, ne halfe so streight and sore.

  They whilome used duly everie day

  Their service and their holie things to say, 450r />
  At morne and even, besides their anthemes sweete,

  Their penie masses, and their complynes meete,

  Their dirges, their trentals, and their shrifts,

  Their memories, their singings, and their gifts.

  Now all those needlesse works are laid away; 455

  Now once a weeke, upon the Sabbath day,

  It is enough to doo our small devotion,

  And then to follow any merrie motion.

  Ne are we tyde to fast, but when we list,

  Ne to weare garments base of wollen twist, 460

  But with the finest silkes us to aray,

  That before God we may appeare more gay,

  Resembling Aarons glorie in his place:

  For farre unfit it is, that person bace

  Should with vile cloaths approach Gods majestie, 465

  Whom no uncleannes may approachen nie:

  Or that all men, which anie master serve,

  Good garments for their service should deserve,

  But he that serves the Lord of Hoasts Most High,

  And that in highest place, t’ approach him nigh, 470

  And all the peoples prayers to present

  Before his throne, as on ambassage sent

  Both too and fro, should not deserve to weare

  A garment better than of wooll or heare.

  Beside, we may have lying by our sides 475

  Our lovely lasses, or bright shining brides:

  We be not tyde to wilfull chastitie,

  But have the gospell of free libertie.’

  By that he ended had his ghostly sermon,

  The Foxe was well induc’d to be a parson; 480

  And of the Priest eftsoones gan to enquire,

  How to a benefice he might aspire.

  ‘Marie, there,’ said the Priest, ‘is arte indeed:

  Much good deep learning one thereout may reed;

  For that the ground-worke is, and end of all, 485

  How to obtaine a beneficiall.

  First therefore, when ye have in handsome wise

  Your selfe attyred, as you can devise,

  Then to some noble man your selfe applye,

  Or other great one in the worldes eye, 490

  That hath a zealous disposition

  To God, and so to his religion.

  There must thou fashion eke a godly zeale,

  Such as no carpers may contrayre reveale:

  For each thing fained ought more warie bee. 495

  There thou must walke in sober gravitee,

  And seeme as saintlike as Saint Radegund:

  Fast much, pray oft, looke lowly on the ground,

  And unto everie one doo curtesie meeke:

  These lookes (nought saying) doo a benefice seeke, 500

  And be thou sure one not to lacke or long.

  But if thee list unto the court to throng,

  And there to hunt after the hoped pray,

  Then must thou thee dispose another way:

  For there thou needs must learne to laugh, to lie, 505

  To face, to forge, to scoffe, to companie,

  To crouche, to please, to be a beetle stock

  Of thy great masters will, to scorne, or mock:

  So maist thou chaunce mock out a benefice,

  Unlesse thou canst one conjure by device, 510

  Or cast a figure for a bishoprick:

  And if one could, it were but a schoole trick.

  These be the wayes, by which without reward

  Livings in court be gotten, though full hard.

  For nothing there is done without a fee: 515

  The courtier needes must recompenced bee

  With a benevolence, or have in gage

  The primitias of your parsonage:

  Scarse can a bishoprick forpas them by,

  But that it must be gelt in privitie. 520

  Doo not thou therefore seeke a living there,

  But of more private persons seeke elswhere,

  Whereas thou maist compound a better penie,

  Ne let thy learning question’d be of anie.

  For some good gentleman, that hath the right 525

  Unto his church for to present a wight,

  Will cope with thee in reasonable wise;

  That if the living yerely doo arise

  To fortie pound, that then his yongest sonne

  Shall twentie have, and twentie thou hast wonne: 530

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

  And he will care for all the rest to shift;

  Both that the bishop may admit of thee,

  And that therein thou maist maintained bee.

  This is the way for one that is unlern’d 535

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

  But they that are great clerkes have nearer wayes,

  For learning sake to living them to raise:

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

  T’ accept a benefice in peeces riven. 540

  How saist thou (friend) have I not well discourst

  Upon this common place (though plaine, not wourst)?

  Better a short tale than a bad long shriving.

  Needes anie more to learne to get a living?’

  ‘Now sure, and by my hallidome,’ quoth he, 545

  ‘Ye a great master are in your degree:

  Great thankes I yeeld you for your discipline,

  And doo not doubt, but duly to encline

  My wits theretoo, as ye shall shortly heare.’

  The Priest him wisht good speed, and well to fare. 550

  So parted they, as eithers way them led.

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

  Through the Priests holesome counsell lately tought,

  And throgh their own faire handling wisely wroght,

  That they a benefice twixt them obtained; 555

  And craftie Reynold was a priest ordained,

  And th’ Ape his parish clarke procur’d to bee.

  Then made they revell route and goodly glee.

  But ere long time had passed, they so ill

  Did order their affaires, that th’ evill will 560

  Of all their parishners they had constraind;

  Who to the ordinarie of them complain’d,

  How fowlie they their offices abusd’,

  And them of crimes and heresies accusd’;

  That pursivants he often for them sent: 565

  But they neglected his commaundement.

  So long persisted obstinate and bolde,

  Till at the length he published to holde

  A visitation, and them cyted thether:

  Then was high time their wits about to geather. 570

  What did they then, but made a composition

  With their next neighbor priest, for light condition,

  To whom their living they resigned quight

  For a few pence, and ran away by night.

  So passing through the countrey in disguize, 575

  They fled farre off, where none might them surprize,

  And after that long straied here and there,

  Through everie field and forrest farre and nere;

  Yet never found occasion for their tourne,

  But, almost sterv’d, did much lament and mourne. 580

  At last they chaunst to meete upon the way

  The Mule, all deckt in goodly rich aray,

  With bells and bosses, that full lowdly rung,

  And costly trappings, that to ground downe hung.

  Lowly they him saluted in meeke wise; 585

  But he through pride and fatnes gan despise

  Their meanesse; scarce vouchsafte them to requite.

  Whereat the Foxe deep groning in his sprite,

  Said: ‘Ah, Sir Mule! now blessed be the day,

  That I see you so goodly and so gay 590

  In your attyres, and eke your silken hyde

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

  Seemes that in fruitfull pastures ye doo live,

  Or Fortune doth you secret favour give.’

  ‘Foolish Foxe!’ said the Mule, ‘thy wretched need 595

  Praiseth the thing that doth thy sorrow breed.

  For well I weene, thou canst not but envie

  My wealth, compar’d to thine owne miserie,

  That art so leane and meagre waxen late,

  That scarse thy legs uphold thy feeble gate.’ 600

  ‘Ay me!’ said then the Foxe, ‘whom evill hap

  Unworthy in such wretchednes doth wrap,

  And makes the scorne of other beasts to bee.

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

  Or what of tidings you abroad doo heare? 605

  Newes may perhaps some good unweeting beare.’

  ‘From royall court I lately came,’ said he,

  ‘Where all the braverie that eye may see,

  And all the happinesse that heart desire,

  Is to be found; he nothing can admire, 610

  That hath not seene that heavens portracture:

  But tidings there is none, I you assure,

  Save that which common is, and knowne to all,

  That courtiers as the tide doo rise and fall.’

  ‘But tell us,’ said the Ape, ‘we doo you pray, 615

  Who now in court doth beare the greatest sway:

  That, if such fortune doo to us befall,

  We may seeke favour of the best of all.’

  ‘Marie,’ said he, ‘the highest now in grace,

  Be the wilde beasts, that swiftest are in chase; 620

  For in their speedie course and nimble flight

  The Lyon now doth take the most delight:

  But chieflie joyes on foote them to beholde,

  Enchaste with chaine and circulet of golde.

  So wilde a beast so tame ytaught to bee, 625

  And buxome to his bands, is joy to see;

  So well his golden circlet him beseemeth:

  But his late chayne his Liege unmeete esteemeth;

  For so brave beasts she loveth best to see

  In the wilde forrest raunging fresh and free. 630

  Therefore if fortune thee in court to live,

  In case thou ever there wilt hope to thrive,

  To some of these thou must thy selfe apply:

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

  So vainly shalt thou too and fro be tost, 635

  And loose thy labour and thy fruitles cost.

  And yet full few which follow them, I see,

  For vertues bare regard advaunced bee,

  But either for some gainfull benefit,

  Or that they may for their owne turnes be fit. 640

  Nath’les, perhaps ye things may handle soe,

  That ye may better thrive than thousands moe.’

  ‘But,’ said the Ape, ‘how shall we first come in,