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The soote season that bud and bloom forth
brings
With green
hath clad the hill and eke the vale;
The nightingale with feathers new she sings;
The turtle 2 to her make 3 hath told her tale:
Summer is come, for every spray now springs;
The hart hath hung his old head on the
pale; 5

The buck in brake his winter cote he flings;
The fishes flete with new repaired scale;
The adder all her slough away she slings;
The swift swallow pursueth the flies smale; 10
The busy bee her honey now she mings.7
Winter is worn, that was the flowers' bale: 8
And thus I see among these pleasant things
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs!

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For my lord's guilt thus faultless bide I pains. Yet from my lord shall not my foot remove; Sweet is his death that takes his end by love.

DESCRIPTION AND PRAISE OF HIS LOVE GERALDINE

From Tuscan came my lady's worthy race; Fair Florence was sometime her ancient seat; The Western isle whose pleasant shore doth face

Wild Camber's cliffs did give her lively heat; Fostered she was with milk of Irish breast; Her sire, an earl; her dame, of princes' blood;

From tender years in Britain she doth rest, With a king's child, where she tasteth costly food;

Hunsdon did first present her to mine eyes; Bright is her hue, and Geraldine she hight;1 Hampton me taught to wish her first for

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THE MEANS TO ATTAIN A HAPPY
LIFE

Martial, the things that do attain
The happy life be these, I find:
The riches left,3 not got with pain;
The fruitful ground; the quiet mind;
The egall1 friend; no grudge, no strife;
No charge of rule, no governance;
Without disease, the healthful life;
The household of continuance;
The mean diet, no delicate fare;
True wisdom joined with simpleness;
The night discharged of all care,
Where wine the wit may not oppress;
The faithful wife, without debate;
Such sleeps as may beguile the night:
Contented with thine own estate,
Ne wish for death, ne fear his might.

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ΙΟ

1 is named 2 from nature inherited equal

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Thus 'gan to speak: "O Queen, it is thy will
I should renew a woe cannot be told;
How that the Greeks did spoil and overthrow
The Phrygian wealth and wailful realm of
Troy.

Those ruthful things that I myself beheld,
And whereof no small part fell to my share;
Which to express, who could refrain from
tears?

What Myrmidon? or yet what Dolopes? 10 What stern Ulysses' wagèd soldier?

And lo! moist night now from the welkin falls,

And stars declining counsel us to rest;
But since so great is thy delight to hear
Of our mishaps and Troyes last decay,
Though to record the same my mind abhors
And plaint eschews, yet thus will I begin:
The Greekës chieftains, all irked with the war,
Wherein they wasted had so many years,
And oft repulsed by fatal destiny,

A huge horse made, high raised like a hill,
By the divine science of Minerva,
Of cloven fir compacted were his ribs,
For their return a feigned sacrifice,
The fame whereof so wandered it at point.2
In the dark bulk they closed bodies of men
Chosen by lot, and did enstuff by stealth
The hollow womb with armèd soldiers.

20

There stands in sight an isle hight Tenedon, Rich and of fame while Priam's kingdom stood, Now but a bay and road unsure for ship. 31 Hither them secretly the Greeks withdrew, Shrouding themselves under the desert shore; And, weening we they had been fled and gone, And with that wind had fet3 the land of Greece, Troy discharged her long continued dole.1 The gates cast up, we issued out to play, The Greekish camp desirous to behold, The places void and the forsaken coasts. Here Pyrrhus' band, there fierce Achilles pight; 5

Here rode their ships, there did their battles join.

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Willed it to drown, or underset with flame, 50
The suspect present of the Greek's deceit,
Or bore and gauge the hollow caves uncouth;
So diverse ran the giddy people's mind.

Lo! foremost of a route that followed him,
Kindled Laöcoön hasted from the tower,
Crying far off: 'O wretched citizens,
What so great kind of frenzy freteth you?
Deem ye the Greeks, our enemies, to be gone?
Or any Greekish gifts can you suppose
Devoid of guile? Is so Ulysses known?
Either the Greeks are in this timber hid,
Or this an engine is to annoy 2 our walls,
To view our towers, and overwhelm our town.
Here lurks some craft. Good Troyans give

no trust

Unto this horse, for, whatsoever it be,

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I dread the Greeks, yea when they offer gifts.""

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ROGER ASCHAM (1515-1568)

THE SCHOLEMASTER

FROM THE FIRST BOOKE FOR THE

YOUTH

If your scholer do misse sometimes, in marking rightlie these foresaid sixe thinges, chide not hastelie: for that shall, both dull his witte, and discorage his diligence: but monish him gentelie: which shall make him, both willing to amende, and glad to go forward in love and hope of learning. I have now wished, twise or thrise, this gentle nature, to be in a Scholemaster: And, that I have done so, neither by chance, nor without some reason, I will now declare at large, why, in mine opinion, love is fitter then feare, gentlenes better than beating, to bring up a childe rightlie in learninge.

With the common use of teaching and beating in common scholes of England, I will not greatlie contend: which if I did, it were but a small grammaticall controversie, neither belonging to heresie nor treason,3 nor greatly touching God nor the Prince: although in very deede, in the end, the good or ill bringing up of children, doth as much serve to the good or ill service, of God, our Prince, and our whole countrie, as any one thing doth beside.

1 excited 2 injure 3 This is a proverbial expression.

I do gladlie agree with all good Scholemasters in these pointes: to have children brought to a good perfitnes in learning: to all honestie in maners: to have all fautes1 rightlie amended: to have everie vice severelie corrected: but for the order and waie that leadeth rightlie to these pointes, we somewhat differ. For commonlie, many scholemasters, some, as I have seen, moe,2 as I have heard tell, be of so crooked a nature, as, when they meete with a hard witted scholer, they rather breake him than bowe him, rather marre him then mend him. For whan the scholemaster is angrie with some other matter, then will he sonest faul to beate his scholer: and though he him selfe should be punished for his folie, yet must he beate some scholer for his pleasure: though there be no cause for him to do so, nor yet fault in the scholer to deserve so. These, ye will say, be fond 3 scholemasters, and fewe they be that be found to be soch. They be fond in deede, but surelie overmany soch be found everie where. But this will I say, that even the wisest of your great beaters, do as oft punishe nature as they do correcte faultes. Yea, many times, the better nature is sorer punished: For, if one, by quicknes of witte, take his lesson readelie, an other, by hardnes of witte, taketh it not so speedelie: the first is alwaies commended, the other is commonlie punished: whan a wise scholemaster should rather discretelie consider the right disposition of both their natures, and not so moch wey what either of them is able to do now, as what either of them is likelie to do hereafter. For this I know, not onelie by reading of bookes in my studie, but also by experience of life, abrode in the world, that those which be commonlie the wisest, the best learned, and best men also, when they be olde, were never commonlie the quickest of witte, when they were yonge. The causes why, amongst other, which be many, that move me thus to thinke, be these fewe, which I will recken. Quicke wittes, commonlie, be apte to take, unapte to keepe: soone hote and desirous of this and that: as colde and sone wery of the same againe: more quicke to enter spedelie, than hable to pearse farre: even like over sharpe tooles, whose edges be verie soone turned. Soch wittes delite them selves in easie and pleasant studies, and never passe farre forward in hie and hard sciences.

4

6

And

1 faults more 3 foolish weigh 5able pierce

therefore the quickest wittes commonlie may prove the best Poetes, but not the wisest Orators: readie of tonge to speake boldlie, not deepe of judgement, either for good counsel or wise writing. Also, for maners and life, quicke wittes, commonlie, be, in desire, newfangle,1 in purpose unconstant, light to promise any thing, readie to forget every thing: both benefite and injurie: and thereby neither fast to frend, nor fearefull to foe: inquisitive of every trifle, not secret in greatest affaires : bolde, with any person : busie, in every matter: sothing soch as be present: nipping any that is absent of nature also, alwaies, flattering their betters, envying their equals, despising their inferiors: and, by quicknes of witte, verie quicke and readie, to like none so well as them selves.

Moreover commonlie, men, very quicke of witte, be also, verie light of conditions: 3 and thereby, very readie of disposition, to be caried over quicklie, by any light cumpanie to any riot and unthriftiness, when they be yonge and therfore seldome, either honest of life, or riche in living, when they be olde. For, quicke in witte and light in maners, be, either seldome troubled, or verie sone wery, in carying a verie hevie purse. Quicke wittes also be, in most part of all their doinges, overquicke, hastie, rashe, headie, and brainsicke. These two last wordes, Headie, and Brainsicke, be fitte and proper wordės, rising naturallie of the matter, and tearmed aptlie by the condition, of over moch quickenes of witte. In yougthe also they be readie scoffers, privie mockers, and ever over light and mery. In aige, sone testie, very waspishe, and alwaies over miserable: and yet fewe of them cum to any great aige, by reason of their misordered life when they were yong: but a great deale fewer of them cum to shewe any great countenance, or beare any great authoritie abrode in the world, but either live obscurelie, men know not how, or dye obscurelie, men marke not whan. They be like trees, that shewe forth faire blossoms and broad leaves in spring time, but bring out small and not long lasting fruite in harvest time: and that, onelie soch as fall and rotte before they be ripe, and so, never, or seldome, cum to any good at all. For this ye shall finde most true by experience, that amongest a number of quicke wittes in youthe, fewe be found, in the end, either verie fortu

1 fond of novelty 2 agreeing with 3 character

nate for them selves, or verie profitable to serve the common wealth, but decay and vanish, men know not which way: except a very fewe, to whom peradventure blood and happie parentage may perchance purchace a long standing upon the stage. The which felicitie, because it commeth by others procuring, not by their owne deservinge, and stand by other mens feete, and not by their own, what owtward brag so ever is borne by them, is in deed, of it selfe, and in wise mens eyes, of no great estimation.

JOHN FOXE (1516-1587)

ACTS AND MONUMENTS OF THESE LATTER AND PERILLOUS DAYES FROM THE BEHAVIOUR OF DR. RIDLEY AND MASTER LATIMER AT THE TIME OF THEIR DEATH

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Incontinently they were commanded to make them readie, which they with all meeknesse obeyed. Master Ridley tooke his gowne and his tippet, and gave it to his brother-inlawe Master Shepside, who all his time of imprisonment, although he might not be suffered to come to him, lay there at his owne charges to provide him necessaries, which from time to time he sent him by the sergeant that kept him. Some other of his apparel that was little worth, hee gave away; other the bailiffes took. He gave away besides divers other small things to gentlemen standing by, and divers of them pitifullie weeping, as to Sir Henry Lea he gave a new groat; and to divers of my Lord Williams gentlemen some napkins, some nutmegges, and races 2 of ginger; his diall, and such other things as he had about him, to every one that stood next him. Some plucked the pointes of his hose. Happie was he that might get any ragge of him. Master Latimer gave nothing, but very quickly suffered his keeper to pull off his hose, and his other array, which to look unto was very simple and being stripped into his shrowd,3 hee seemed as comly a person to them that were there present as one should lightly see; 3 shirt

1 immediately

2 roots

and whereas in his clothes hee appeared a withered and crooked sillie olde man, he now stood bolt upright, as comely a father as one might lightly behold.

Then Master Ridley, standing as yet in his trusse,' said to his brother: "It were best for me to go in my trusse still." "No," quoth his brother, "it will put you to more paine: and the trusse will do a poore man good." Whereunto Master Ridley said: “Be it, in the name of God;" and so unlaced himselfe. Then being in his shirt, he stood upon the foresaid stone, and held up his hande and said: "O heavenly Father, I give unto thee most heartie thanks, for that thou hast called mee to be a professour of thee, even unto death. I beseech thee, Lord God, take mercie upon this realme of England, and deliver the same from all her enemies."

Then the smith took a chaine of iron, and brought the same about both Dr. Ridleyes and Maister Latimers middles; and as he was knocking in a staple, Dr. Ridley tooke the chaine in his hand, and shaked the same, for it did girde in his belly, and looking aside to the smith, said: "Good fellow, knocke it in hard, for the flesh will have his course." Then his brother did bringe him gunnepowder in a bag, and would have tied the same about his necke. Master Ridley asked what it was. His brother said, "Gunnepowder." "Then,"

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sayd he, "I take it to be sent of God; therefore I will receive it as sent of him. And have you any," sayd he, "for my brother?" meaning Master Latimer. "Yea, sir, that I have,' quoth his brother. "Then give it unto him," sayd hee, "betime;2 least ye come too late." So his brother went, and caried of the same gunnepowder unto Maister Latimer.

In the mean time Dr. Ridley spake unto my Lord Williams, and saide: "My lord, I must be a suter unto your lordshippe in the behalfe of divers poore men, and speciallie in the cause of my poor sister; I have made a supplication to the Queenes Majestie in their behalves. I beseech your lordship for Christs sake, to be a mean to her Grace for them. My brother here hath the supplication, and will resort to your lordshippe to certifie you herof. There is nothing in all the world that troubleth my conscience, I praise God, this only excepted. Whiles I was in the see of London divers poore men tooke leases of me, and agreed with me for 2 early

1 a padded jacket

the same. Now I heare say the bishop that now occupieth the same roome will not allow my grants unto them made, but contrarie unto all lawe and conscience hath taken from them their livings, and will not suffer them to injoy the same. I beseech you, my lord, be a meane for them; you shall do a good deed, and God will reward you."

Then they brought a faggotte, kindled with fire, and laid the same downe at Dr. Ridleys feete. To whome Master Latimer spake in this manner: "Bee of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man. Wee shall this day light such a candle, by Gods grace, in England, as I trust shall never bee putte out."

And so the fire being given unto them, when Dr. Ridley saw the fire flaming up towards him, he cried with a wonderful lowd voice: "In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum: Domine, recipe spiritum meum. And after, repeated this latter part often in English, "Lord, Lord, receive my spirit ;" Master Latimer crying as vehementlie on the other side, “O Father of heaven, receive my soule !" who received the flame as it were imbracing of it. After that he had stroaked his face with his hands, and as it were bathed them a little in the fire, he soone died (as it appeared) with verie little paine or none. And thus much concerning the end of this olde and blessed servant of God, Master Latimer, for whose laborious travailes,1 fruitfull life, and constant death the whole realme hath cause to give great thanks to almightie God.

But Master Ridley, by reason of the evill making of the fire unto him, because the wooden faggots were laide about the gosse 2 and over-high built, the fire burned first beneath, being kept downe by the wood; which when he felt, hee desired them for Christes sake to let the fire come unto him. Which when his brother-in-law heard, but not well understood, intending to rid him out of his paine (for the which cause hee gave attendance), as one in such sorrow not well advised what hee did, heaped faggots upon him, so that he cleane covered him, which made the fire .more vehement beneath, that it burned cleane all his neather parts, before it once touched the upper; and that made him leape up and down under the faggots, and often desire them to let the fire come unto him, saying, “I cannot burne." Which indeed appeared well;

1 labors 2 gorse, furze

1

for, after his legges were consumed by reason of his struggling through the paine (whereof hee had no release, but onelie his contentation in God), he showed that side toward us cleane, shirt and all untouched with flame. Yet in all this torment he forgate not to call unto God still, having in his mouth, "Lord have mercy upon me," intermedling this cry, "Let the fire come unto me, I cannot burne. In which paines he laboured till one of the standers by with his bill 2 pulled off the faggots above, and where he saw the fire flame up, he wrested himself unto that side. And when the flame touched the gunpowder, he was seen to stirre no more, but burned on the other side, falling downe at Master Latimers feete. Which some said happened by reason that the chain loosed; other said that he fell over the chain by reason of the poise of his body, and the weakness of the neather lims.

Some said that before he was like to fall from the stake, hee desired them to holde him to it with their billes. However it was, surelie it mooved hundreds to teares, in beholding the horrible sight; for I thinke there was none that had not cleane exiled all humanitie and mercie, which would not have lamented to beholde the furie of the fire so to rage upon their bodies. Signes there were of sorrow on everie side. Some tooke it greevouslie to see their deathes, whose lives they held full deare: some pittied their persons, that thought the soules had no need thereof. His brother mooved many men, seeing his miserable case, seeing (I say) him compelled to such infelicitie, that he thought then to doe him best service when he hastned his end. Some cried out of the lucke, to see his indevor (who most dearelie loved him, and sought his release) turne to his greater vexation and increase of paine. But whoso considered their preferments in time past, the places of honour that they some time occupied in this common wealth, the favour they were in with their princes, and the opinion of learning they had in the university where they studied, could not chuse but sorrow with teares to see so great dignity, honour, and estimation, so necessary members sometime accounted, so many godly vertues, the study of so manie yeres, such excellent learning, to be put into the fire and consumed in one moment. Well! dead they are, and

1 intermingling 2 a kind of weapon consisting of a curved blade fixed at the end of a pole.

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