locke, declareth his minde Cantico more,

upon this texte:

'Content your selfe as well as I,

Let reason rule your minde,
As cuckoldes come by destinie,

So cuckowes sing by kinde.'

14. The Lover forsaken, hewayleth his chaunce. 15. The Lover hearing his Lady to be caste in dumpes, writeth unto hir in this order.

(Prose.)

16. J. G. biddeth his friende A. T. good morrowe. 17. His good night to the same A. T.

18. His farewell to the same.

19. Epilogus." (Prose.)

From his "Farewell to his friend," too much in the strain of those amatorial ditties, in which he designed "to blase the incineration of Veneriall dames and ruffling nymphes," the following stanzas are taken.

"A greater griefe can hardly be,

Than faythfull friendes for to departe,

Thy tryed friendship biddes me say
That absence thyne will cut my harte.

Thou arte my gem of all my joye,

The fountayne eke of my delight,
Thou arte the staffe whereto I leane,

How might I misse thee fro my sight?

Though space is great and myles are long,
Whiche seemes to parte our corpse in twayne:

Yet distaunce shall not parte our love,

Our hartes alike shall still remayne.

O Titus true! O Phenix kynde!

How lothe am I to bidde farewell!
It grieves me that suche faithfull friendes
For aye together may not dwell.
Shall we asunder parted be,

Who thus have livde in tryed troth?
If needs we must, then fare you well,
Yet to departe I am full lothe.

Ten thousand times I rather had

A grisly ghost to ende my lyfe:
Come Atropos therefore in haste,

On me to use thy shredding knyfe.
Come lothsome death, with fearefull mace,
Spare not to worke my latter dome:
Make haste, make haste, I live to long;

Breath yeelded hath, bryng me my tome."

A prose epilogue concludes the volume, and may fitly do the same by this article.

"The proud pecocke (gentle reader) strouteth and playteth his gorgeous tayle so long, till at the length he discovereth the filthe thereof: so some will thinke, and will not sticke to say, that whyle I indevour to discover the imbecillitie of other men's natures, I reveale thereby mine owne licencious livyng, if so (at the least) I speake by experience. And what if I did?-Yet are they farre deceyved herein, and do but dreame (as it were) upon falshoode it selfe. For the market declareth how the corne is solde: and though I am but yong of yeares, yet may I dayly heare and see that, whereof by action I am not partaker. It seemeth also, the vanities of this world are the greater, when as they lie so open, and are so

manifest unto my youthfull yeares. And though it hath not pleased Polymneia so to favour my penne, as to countervayle my well willing: yet I truste yee will accepte of me for my well meanyng, who am not therein a strawe bredth incomparable to Cleanthes. Comparisons are odious: * I meane not therefore by his learnyng, (for therunto I am many a degree below) but by the great desire he had in writing, and by the pleasure he tooke all his life time therein.

"How simple yet so ever this little volume of mine be, if thou wilte bestowe thy travell to seeke forth the grounde and the depth therof, thou shalt soone espie and quickly perceyve how in every poynte and clause therof is hidden, besides the myrthe, some deeper sense and purpose. But unto the carelesse reader it is (as it were) a peece of unleavened dough, wherefore for such I thinke it better to have their browes knitte harde with the kercher of Morpheus, and so to lay them doune to sleepe, than legere et non intelligere, nempe negligere est. And as I have been briefe in all things heretofore, so will I be likewise herein; and as I have brought you into my rude Garden, so (turnyng the key) here will I leave you to choose what flowers shall like you beste. My penne is stubbed, my paper spente, my inke wasted, my wittes gravelled, and (to be shorte) tyme calleth me away; wherefore, standing to your curtesies, and hoping of your good acceptaunce hereof, wishyng to you as to my selfe, in haste I bidde you farewell."

T. P.

*So said Shakspeare's Dogberry; or rather, meant to say.

ART. LX. Seneca his tenne tragedies translated into Englysh. Mercurij nutrices, horœ. Imprinted at London in Fleet streete neere vnto Saincte Dunstan's Church by Thomas Marsh. 1581. 4to.

DEDICATED to Sir Thomas Henneage, Treasurer of the Queen's chamber. The first play is Hercules furens, translated by Jasper Heywood,* and the recital of the chorus, at the conclusion of the first act, thus commences:

"The fading starres now shyne but seelde in sighte,
In stipye skye, night ouercome with day
Plucks in her fyres, while spronge agayne is light,

The day starre drawes the cleresome beames theire waye.

The yeye signe of haughtye poale agayne,

With seuen starres markt, the beares of Arcadye,

Do call the light with ouerturned wayne;

With marble horse nowe drawne, hys waye to hye

Doth Titan toppe of Oetha ouer spred;

The bushes bright that nowe with berryes bee
Of Thebes strewde, by daye do blushe full redde;
And to returne doth Phoebus syster flee.
Now labor harde beginnes, and euery kynde

Of cares it styrres, the shepehearde doth vnfolde;
His flockes vnpende do grase their foode to fynde,
And nippes the grasse with hoary frost full colde.
At will doth play in open medow faire

The calfe whose brow did damme yet neuer teare,
The empty kyne their vdders doe repayre;
And lyght with course vncertayne here and there.

*Nat. 1535. Ob. 1597.

In grasse full soft the wanton kidde hee flynges;

In toppe of boughe doth sitte with chaunting songe, And to the sunne newe rose to spreade her wynges, Bestirres herselfe her mourneful nestes amonge The Nightingall; and doth with byrdes aboute Confuse resounde with murmure mixed ryfe To witnes day.

"

The following is the description of the dog Cerberus, in the third act.

"Of greedy Ditis after this doth then the house appere,

The fierce and cruell Stygian dogge doth fraye the spirites there,
The whiche with great and roaring sounde his heads vpshaking three
The kingdome keepes his vgly head with filth full foule to see
The serpentes licke; his hayres be fowle with vypers set among,
And at his crooked wrested tayle doth hysse a dragon long,
Like yre to shape: when him we wyst his pace that way to take,
His bristle hayres he lifteth vp with fierce vp bended snake,
And sounde sent out: he soone perceyues in his applyed eare
Who euen the sprits is wont to sent as soone as stoode more neare
The sonne of Ioue, the doubtfull dogge strait couched downe in denne,
And eche of them did feare; beholde with dolefull barking then
The places dumme he makes a dred, the threatning serpent stout
Through all the fieldes about doth hysse; the bawling noyse sent out
Of dredfull voyce from triple mouth, euen sprits that happy bee
Doth make afrayde."-

Col." Here endeth the first Tragedye of Seneca, called Hercules furens, translated into Englishe by Jasper Heywood, studente in Oxenforde." Then follows a head title.

The second tragedie of Seneca entitvtuled Thyestes, faythfully Englished by Jasper Heywood, felow of Alsolne Colledge in Oxenforde.