Lady Russell's Entertainment for Queen Elizabeth at Bisham

sigs Aij–B (August)

At the top of the Hill going to Bissam, the
Cornets sounding in the Woods, a
wilde man came forth and vt-
tered this speech.

I Followed this sounde, as enchanted; neither knowing the reason why, nor how to bee ridde of it: vnusuall to these Woods, and (I feare) to our gods prodigious. Syluanus whom I honour, is runne into a Caue: Pan, whom I enuye, courting of the Shepheardesse: Enuie I thee Pan? No, pitty thee, an eie-sore to chast Nymphes; yet still importunate: Honour thee Syluanus? No, contemne thee: fearefull of Musicke in the Woods, yet counted the god of the Woods. I, it may bee more stout, than wise, asked, who passed that way? what he or shee? none durst answere, or would vouchsafe, but passionate Eccho, who saide Shee. And Shee it is, and you are Shee, whom in our dreames many yeares wee Satyres haue seene, but waking could neuer finde any such. Euery one hath tolde his dreame and described your person, all agree in one, and set downe your vertues: in this onely did wee differ, that some saide your Pourtraiture might be drawen, other saide impossible: some thought your vertues might be numbred, most saide they were infinite: Infinite, and impossible, of that side was I: and first in humility to salute you most happy I: my vntamed thoughts | waxe gentle, & I feele in my selfe ciuility, A thing hated, because not knowen, and vnknowen because I knew not you. Thus Vertue tameth fiercenesse, Beauty, madnesse. Your Maiesty on my knees will I followe, bearing this Club, not as a Saluage, but to beate downe those that are.

At the middle of the Hill sate Pan, and two
Virgins keeping sheepe, and sowing in
their Samplers, where her Maie-
stye stayed and heard this.

Pan. PRety soules and bodies too, faire shephardisse, or sweete Mistresse, you know my suite, loue, my vertue, Musicke, my power, a godhead. I cannot tickle the sheepes gutts of a Lute, bydd, bydd, bydd, like the calling of Chickins, but for a Pipe that squeeketh like a Pigg, I am he. How doe you burne time, & drowne beauty in pricking of clouts, when you should bee penning of Sonnets? You are more simple then the sheepe you keepe, but not so gentle. I loue you both, I know not which best, and you both scorne me, I know not which most. Sure I am, that you are not so young as not to vnderstand loue, nor so wise as to withstand it, vnlesse you think your selues greater than gods, whereof I am one. Howe often haue I brought you Chestnuts for a loue token, & desired but acceptance for a fauour. Little did you knowe the misterye, that as the huske was thornye and tough, yet the meate sweete, so though my hyde were rough and vnkempt, yet my heart was smooth and louing: you are but the Farmers daughters of the Dale, I the god of the flocks that feede vpon the hils. Though I cannot force loue, I may obedience, or else sende your sheepe a wandring, with my fancies. Coynesse must be reuenged with curstnesse, but be not agaste sweet mice, my godhead commeth so fast vpon me, that Maiestye had almost ouerrunn affection, Can you loue? Wil you? Syb. Alas poore Pan, looke how he looketh Sister, fitter | to drawe in a Haruest wayne, then talke of loue to chaste Virgins, would you haue vs both?

Pan. I, for oft I haue hearde, that two Pigeons may bee caught with one beane.

Isab. And two Woodcocks with one sprindge.

Syb. And many Dotterels with one dance.

Isab. And all fooles with one faire worde.

Nay, this is his meaning; as he hath two shapes, so hath he two harts, the one of a man wherewith his tongue is tipped, dissembling; the other of a beast, wherewith his thoughts are poysoned, lust. Men must haue as manie loues, as they haue hart- strings, and studie to make an Alphabet of mistresses, from A. to Y. which maketh them in the end crie, Ay. Against this, experience hath prouided vs a remedy, to laugh at them when they know not what to saie, and when they speake, not to beleeue them.

Pan. Not for want of matter, but to knowe the meaning, what is wrought in this sampler?

Syb. The follies of the Gods, who became beastes, for their affections.

Pan. What in this?

Isa. The honour of Virgins who became Goddesses, for their chastity.

Pan. But what be these?

Syb. Mens tongues, wrought all with double stitch but not one true.

Pan. What these?

Isa. Roses, Eglentine, harts-ease, wrought with Queenes stitch, and all right.

Pan. I neuer hard the odds betweene mens tongues, and weomens, therefore they may be both double, vnlesse you tell mee how they differ.

Syb. Thus, weomens tongues are made of the same flesh that their harts are, and speake as they thinke: Mens harts of the flesh that their tongues, and both dissemble, But prythy Pan be packing, thy words are as odious as thy | sight, and we attend a sight which is more glorious, then the sunne rising.

Pan. What doth Iupiter come this waies?

Syb. No, but one that will make Iupiter blush as guilty of his vnchast iugglings, and Iuno dismaide as wounded at her Maiesty. What our mother hath often tolde vs, and fame the whole world, cannot be concealed from thee; if it be, we wil tell thee, which may hereafter make thee surcease thy suite, for feare of her displeasure, and honour virginitye, by wondering at her vertues.

Pan. Say on sweete soule?

Syb. This way commeth the Queene of this Islande, the wonder of the world, and natures glory, leading affections in fetters, Virginities slaues: embracing mildnes with Iustice, Maiesties twinns. In whom nature hath imprinted beauty, not art paynted it; in whome wit hath bred learning, but not without labour; labour brought forth wisedome, but not without wonder. By her it is (Pan) that all our Carttes that thon seest, are laden vvith Corne, when in other countries they are filled vvith Harneys, that our horses are ledde vvith a whipp: theirs vvith a Launce, that our Riuers flow with fish, theirs with bloode: our cattel feede on pastures, they feede on pastures like cattel: One hande she stretcheth to Fraunce, to weaken Rebels; the other to Flaunders, to strengthen Religion; her heart to both Countries, her vertues to all. This is shee at whom Enuie hath shott all her arrowes, and now for anger broke her bow, on whom God hath laide all his blessinges, & we for ioy clappe our hands, heedlesse treason goeth hedlesse: and close trechery restlesse: Daunger looketh pale to beholde her Maiesty; & tyranny blusheth to heare of her mercy. Iupiter came into the house of poore Baucis, & she vouchsafeth to visite the bare Farmes of her subiects. We vpon our knees, wil entreat her to come into the valley, that our houses may be blessed with her presence, whose hartes are filled with quietnes by her gouernement. To her wee wish as many yeares, as our fieldes haue eares of | corne, both infinite: and to her enemies, as many troubles, as the Wood hath leaues, all intollerable. But whist, here shee is, run downe Pan the hill in all hast, and though thou breake thy necke to giue our mother warning, it is no matter.

Pan. No, giue me leaue to die with wondring, & trippe you to your mother. Here I yeelde all the flockes of these fields to your highnes: greene be the grasse where you treade: calme the water where you rowe: sweete the aire, where you breathe: long the life that you liue, happy the people that you loue: this is all I can wish. During your abode, no theft shalbe in the woods: in the fielde no noise, in the vallies no spies, my selfe will keepe all safe: that is all I can offer. And heare I breake my pipe, which Apollo could neuer make me doe; and follow that sounde which followes you.

At the bottome of the hill, entring into the
house Ceres with her Nymphes in an har-
uest Cart, meete her Maiesty, hauing a
Crowne of wheat-ears with a Iewell,
and after this song, vttered
the speech following.

Swel Ceres now for other Gods are shrinking,

Pomona pineth,

Fruitlesse her tree;

Faire Phoebus shineth

Onely on mee.

Conceite doth make me smile whilst I am thinking,

How euery one doth read my story,

How euery bough on Ceres lowreth,

Cause heauens plenty on me powreth,

And they in leaues doe onely glory,

All other Gods of power bereuen,

Ceres only Queene of heauen. |

With Robes and flowers let me be dressed,

Cynthia that shineth,

Is not so cleare,

Cynthia declineth,

When I appeere,

Yet in this Ile shee raignes as blessed,

And euery one at her doth wonder,

And in my eares still fonde fame whispers,

Cynthia shalbe Ceres Mistres,

But first my Carre shall riue a sunder,

Helpe Phoebus helpe my fall is suddaine,

Cynthia, Cynthia, must be soueraigne.

GReater then Ceres, receiue Ceres Crowne, the ornament of my plenty, the honour of your peace, heere at your highnes feete, I lay downe my feined deity, which Poets haue honoured, truth contemned. To your Maiesty whome the heauens haue crowned with happines, the world with vvonder, birth with dignitie, nature with perfection, vve doe all Homage, accounting nothing ours but what comes from you. And this muche dare we promise for the Lady of the farme, that your presence hath added many daies to her life, by the infinite ioies shee conceyues in her heart, who presents your highnesse with this toye and this short praier, poured from her hart, that your daies may increase in happines, your happines haue no end till there be no more daies.