Argentile and Curan. - extracted from Albion's England

The Brutons thus departed hence, seaven kingdoms here begonne,
 Where diversly in divers broyls the Saxons lost and wonne.
 King Edel and King Adelbright in Diria jointly raigne;
 In loyal concorde during life these kingly friends remaine.
 When Adelbright should leave his life, to Edel thus he sayes:
 "By those same bondes of happie love, that held us friends alwaies;
 By our by-parted crowne, of which the moyetie is mine;
 By God, to whom my soule must passe, and so in time may thine,
 I pray thee, nay I conjure thee, to nourish as thine owne,
  Thy neece, my daughter Argentile, till she to age be growne;
  And then, as thou receivest it, resigne to her my throne."
  A promise had for this bequest, the testator he dies.
  But all that Edel undertooke, he afterward denies.
  Yet well he fosters for a time the damsell, that was growne
  The fairest lady under Heaven; whose beautie being knowne,
  A many princes seeke her love, but none might her obtaine,
  For grippell Edel to himselfe her kingdome sought to gaine;
  And for that cause from sight of such he did his ward restraine.
  By chance one Curan, sonne unto a prince in Danske, did see
  The maid, with whom he fell in love; as much as man might bee.
  Unhappie youth, what should he doe? His saint was kept in mewe;
  Nor he, nor any noble-man admitted to her vewe.
  One while in melancholy fits he pines himselfe awaye;
  Anon he thought by force of arms to win her, if he maye;
  And still against the kings restraint did secretly invay.
  At length the high controller Love, whom none may disobay,
  Imbased him from lordlines, unto a kitchen drudge,
  That so at least of life or death she might become his judge.
  Accesse so had to see, and speake, he did his love bewray,
  And tells his birth: her answer was she husbandles would stay.
  Meane while the king did beate his braines his booty to atchieve,
  Nor caring what became of her, so he by her might thrive.
  At last his resolution was some pessant should her wive.
  And (which was working to his wish) he did observe with joye
  How Curan, whom he thought a drudge, scapt many an amorous toye.
  The king, perceiving such his veine, promotes his vassal still,
  Lest that the basenesse of the man should lett, perhaps, his will.
  Assured therefore of his love, but not suspecting who
  The lover was, the king himself in his behalf did woe.
  The lady, resolute from love, unkindly takes that he
  Should barre the noble, and unto so base a match agree;
  And therefore shifting out of doores, departed thence by stealth,
  Preferring povertie before a dangerous life in wealth.
  When Curan heard of her escape, the anguish in his heart
  Was more than much, and after her from court he did depart;
  Forgetfull of himselfe, his birth, his country, friends, and all,
  And only minding (whom he mist) the foundresse of his thrall.
  Nor meanes he after to frequent or court or stately townes,
  But solitarily to live amongst the country grownes.
  A brace of years he lived thus, well pleased so to live,
  And shepherd-like to feed a flocke himselfe did wholly give.
  So wasting, Love, by worke and want, grew almost to the waine;
  But then began a second love, the worser of the twaine.
  A country wench, a neatherds maid, where Curan kept his sheepe,
  Did feed her drove: and now on her was all the shepherds keepe.
  He borrow'd on the working daies his holy russets oft;
  And of the bacon's fat, to make his startops blacke and soft;
  And least his tarbox should offend, he left it at the folde;
  Sweet grout, or whig, his bottle had as much as it might holde;
  A sheeve of bread as browne as nut, and cheese as white as snow;
  And wildings or the seasons fruit he did in scrip bestow.
  And whilst his py-bald curre did sleepe, and sheep-hooke lay him by,
  On hollow quilles of oten straw he piped melody.
  But when he spyed her, his saint, he wip'd his greasy shooes,
  And clear'd the drivell from his beard, and thus the shepheard wooes.
  "I have, sweet wench, a peece of cheese, as good as tooth may chawe,
  And bread and wildings souling well, (and therewithal did drawe
  His lardrie) and in 'yearning' see yon crumpling ewe," quoth he,
  Did twinne this fall: and twin shouldst thou, if I might tup with thee.
  Thou art too elvish, faith thou art too elvish, and too coy;
  Am I (I pray thee) beggarly, that suche a flocke enjoy?
  I wis I am not: yet that thou doest hold me in disdaine
  Is brimme abroad, and made a gybe to all that keepe this plaine.
  There be as quaint (at least that thinke themselves as quaint) that crave
  The match, that thou, O wot not why, maist, but mislik'st to have.
  How wouldst thou match? (for well I wot thou art a female) I
  Her know not here that willingly with maiden-head would die.
  The plowmans labour hath no end, and he a churle will prove;
  The craftsman hath more worke in hand then fitteth unto love;
  The merchant, traffiquing abroad, suspects his wife at home:
  A youth will play the wanton; and an old man prove a mome.
  Then chuse a shepheard; with the Sun he doth his flocke unfold,
  And all the day on hill or plaine he merrie chat can hold;
  And with the Sun doth folde againe; then jogging home betime,
  He turnes a crab, or turnes a round, or sings some merry ryme.
  Nor lacks he gleefull tales to tell, whilst round the nut-brown bowl doth trot;
  And sitteth singing care away, till he to bed be got.
  Theare sleepes he soundly all the night, forgetting morrow-cares;
  Nor feares he blasting of his corne, nor uttering of his wares;
  Or stormes by seas, or stirres on land, or cracke of credit lost;
  Not spending franklier than his flocke shall still defray the cost.
  Well wot I, sooth they say, that say, 'More quiet nights and daies
  The shepheard sleeps and wakes than he whose cattel he doth graize.'
  Beleeve me, lasse, a king is but a man, and so am I;
  Content is worth a monarchie, and mischiefs hit the hie;
  As late it did a king and his, not dwelling far from hence,
  Who left a daughter, save thyselfe, for fair a matchless wench."-
  Here did he pause, as if his tongue had done his heart offence.
  The neatresse, longing for the rest, did egge him on to tell
  How faire she was, and who she was. "She bore," quoth he, "the bell
  For beautie: though I clownish am, I know what beautie is;
  Or did I not, yet seeing thee, I senseless were to mis.
  Suppose her beautie Helen's-like, or Helen's somewhat less,
  And everie starre consorting to a pure complexion guess.
  Her stature comely, tall; her gate well graced; and her wit
  To marvell at, not meddle with, as matchless I omit.
  A globe-like head, a gold-like haire, a forehead smooth and hie;
  An even nose, on either side did shine a greyish eie;
  Two rosie cheeks, round ruddy lips, white just-set teeth within;
  A mouth in meane, and underneathe a round and dimpled chin;
  Her snowie necke with blueish veines stood bolt upright upon
  Her portly shoulders: beating balles, her veined breasts, anon
  Adde more to beautie. Wand-like was her middle falling still,
  And rising whereas women rise: ** - Imagine nothing ill.
  And more, her long and limber armes had white and azure wrists;
  And slender fingers aunswere to her smooth and lillie fists.
  A legge in print, a pretie foot: conjecture of the rest,
  For amorous eies, observing forme, think parts obscured best.
  "With these, O raritie! with these, her tong of speech was spare;
  But speaking, Venus seem'd to speake, the balle from Ide to bear.
  With Phoebe, Juno, and with both, herselfe contends in face;
  Wheare equall mixture did not want of milde and stately grace.
  Her smiles were sober, and her lookes were chearefull unto all:
  Even such as neither wanton seeme, nor waiward; mell nor gall.
  A quiet minde, a patient moode, and not disdaining any;
  Not gybing, gadding, gawdy: and sweete faculties had many.
  A nimph, no tong, no heart, no eie, might praise, might wish, might see;
  For life, for love, for forme, more good, more worth, more faire than shee.
  Yea such an one, as such was none, save only she was such.
  Of Argentile to say the most, were to be silent much."
  "I knew the lady very well, but worthles of such praise,"
  The neatresse said; "and muse I do, a shepheard thus should blaze
  The 'coate' of beauti. Credit me, thy latter speech bewraies
  Thy clownish shape a coined shew.  But wherefore dost thou weepe?"
  The shepheard wept, and she was woe, and both doe silence keepe.
  "In troth," quoth he, "I am not such as seeming I professe:
  But then for her, and now for thee, I from myselfe digresse.
  Her loved I (wretch that I am and recreant to be!)
  I loved her that hated love. But now I die for thee.
  At Kirkland is my fathers court, and Curan is my name,
  In Edels court sometimes in pompe, till love countrould the same,-
  But now - What now? - deare heart, how now? What ailest thou to weepe?"
  The damsell wept, and he was woe, and both did silence keepe.
  "I grant," quoth she, "it was too much, that you did love so much;
  But whom your former could not move, your second love doth touch.
  Thy twice-beloved Argentile submitteth her to thee,
  And for thy double love presents herself a single fee,
  In passion, not in person chang'd: and I, my lord, am she."
  They sweetly surfeiting in joy, and silent for a space,
  When as the ecstasie had end did tenderly imbrace,
  And for their wedding, and their wish got fitting time and place.
  Not England (for of Hengist then was named so this land)
  Than Curan had an hardier knight; his force could none withstand;
  Whose sheep-hooke laid apart, he then had higher things in hand.
  First, making knowne his lawfull claime in Argentile her right,
  He warr'd in Diria, and he wonne Brenicia too in fight;
  And so from trecherous Edel tooke at once his life and crowne,
  And of Northumberland was king, long raigning in renowne.
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