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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374510" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Shepheardes Calender: September</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">September: Ægloga Nona. Hobbinol & Diggon Dauie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinol.<br>Diggon Dauie, I bidde her god day: <br>Or Diggon her is, or I missaye. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>Her was her, while it was daye light, <br>But nowe her is a most wretched wight. <br>For day, that was, is wightly past, <br>And now at earst the dirke night doth hast. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinoll.<br>Diggon areede, who has thee so dight? <br>Neuer I wist thee in so poor a plight. <br>Where is the fayre flocke, thou was wont to leade? <br>Or bene they chaffred? or at mischiefe dead? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>Ah for loue of that, is to thee moste leefe, <br>Hobbinol, I pray thee gall not my old griefe: <br>Sike question ripeth vp cause of newe woe, <br>For one opened mote vnfolde many moe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinoll.<br>Nay, but sorrow close shrouded in hart <br>I know, to kepe, is a burdenous smart. <br>Eche thing imparted is more eath to beare: <br>When the rayne is faln, the cloudes wexen cleare. <br>And nowe sithence I sawe thy head last, <br>Thrise three Moones bene fully spent and past: <br>Since when thou hast measured much grownd, <br>And wandred I wene about the world rounde, <br>So as thou can many thinges relate: <br>But tell me first of thy flocks astate. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>My sheepe bene wasted, (wae is me therefore) <br>The iolly shepheard that was of yore, <br>Is nowe nor iolloye, nor shepehearde more. <br>In forrein costes, men sayd, was plentye: <br>And so there is, but all of miserye. <br>I dempt there much to haue eeked my store, <br>But such eeking hath made my hart sore. <br>In tho countryes, whereas I haue bene, <br>No being for those, that truely mene, <br>But for such, as of guile maken gayne, <br>No such countrye, as there to remaine. <br>They setten to sale their shops of shame, <br>And maken a Mart of theyr good name. <br>The shepheards there robben one another, <br>And layen baytes to beguile her brother. <br>Or they will buy his sheepe out of the cote, <br>Or they will caruen the shepheards throte. <br>The shepheards swayne you cannot wel ken, <br>But it be by his pryde, from other men: <br>They looken bigge as Bulls, that bene bate, <br>And bearen the cragge so stiffe and so state, <br>As cocke on his dunghill, crowing cranck. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinoll.<br>Diggon, I am so stiffe, and so stanck, <br>That vneth may I stand any more: <br>And nowe the Westerne wind bloweth sore, <br>That nowe is in his chiefe souereigntee, <br>Beating the withered leafe from the tree. <br>Sitte we downe here under the hill: <br>Tho may we talke, and tellen our fill, <br>And make a mocke at the blustring blast. <br>Now say on Diggon, what euer thou hast. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>Hobbin, ah hobbin, I curse the stounde, <br>That euer I cast to haue lorne this grounde. <br>Wel-away the while I was so fonde, <br>To leaue the good, that I had in honde, <br>In hope of better, that was vncouth: <br>So lost the Dogge the flesh in his mouth. <br>My seely sheepe (ah seely sheepe) <br>That here by there I whilome vsed to keepe, <br>All were they lustye, as thou didst see, <br>Bene all sterued with pyne and penuree. <br>Hardly my selfe escaped thilke payne, <br>Driuen for neede to come home agayne. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinoll.<br>Ah fon, now by thy losse art taught, <br>That seeldome chaunge the better brought. <br>Content who liues with tryed state, <br>Neede feare no chaunge of frowning fate: <br>But who will seeke for vnknowne gayne, <br>Oft liues by losse, and leaues with payne. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>I wote ne Hobbin how I was bewitcht <br>With vayne desyre, and hope to be enricht. <br>But sicker so it is, as the bright starre <br>Seemeth ay greater, when it is farre: <br>I thought the soyle would haue made me rich: <br>But nowe I wote, it is nothing sich. <br>For eyther the shepeheards bene ydle and still, <br>And ledde of theyr sheepe, what way they wyll: <br>Or they bene false, and full of couetise, <br>And casten to compasse many wrong emprise. <br>But the more bene fraught with fraud and spight, <br>Ne in good nor goodnes taken delight: <br>But kindle coales of conteck and yre, <br>Wherewith they sette all the world on fire: <br>Which when they thinken agayne to quench <br>With holy water, they doen hem all drench. <br>They saye they con to heauen the high way, <br>But by my soule I dare vndersaye, <br>Thye neuer sette foote in that same troade, <br>But balk the right way, and strayen abroad. <br>They boast they han the deuill at commaund: <br>But aske hem therefore, what they han paund. <br>Marrie that great Pan bought with deare borrow, <br>To quite it from the blacke bowre of sorrowe. <br>But they han sold thilk same long agoe: <br>For thy woulden drawe with hem many moe. <br>But let hem gange alone a Gods name: <br>As they han brewed, so let hem beare blame. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinoll.<br>Diggon, I praye the speake not so dirke. <br>Such myster saying me seemeth to mirke. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>Then playnely to speake of shepheards most what, <br>Badde is the best (this english is flatt.) <br>Their ill hauiour garres men missay, <br>Both of their doctrine, and of their faye. <br>They sayne the world is much war then it wont, <br>All for her shepheards bene beastly and blont. <br>Other sayne, but how truely I note, <br>All for they holden shame of theyr cote. <br>Some sticke not to say, (whote cole on her tongue) <br>That sike mischeife graseth hem emong, <br>All for the casten too much of worlds care, <br>To deck her Dame, and enrich her heyre: <br>For such encheason, If you goe nye, <br>Fewe chymneis reeking you shall espye: <br>The fat Oxe, that wont ligge in the stal, <br>Is nowe fast stalled in her crumenall. <br>Thus chatten the people in theyr steads, <br>Ylike as a Monster of many heads. <br>But they that shooten neerest the pricke, <br>Sayne, other the fat from their beards doen lick. <br>For bigge Bulles of Basanbrace hem about, <br>That with theyr hornes butten the more stoute: <br>But the leane soules treaden vnder foote. <br>And to seeke redresse mought little boote: <br>For liker bene they to pluck away more, <br>Then ought of the gotten good to restore. <br>For they bene like foule wagmoires ouergrast, <br>That if thy galage once sticketh fast, <br>The more to wind it out thou doest swinck, <br>Thou mought ay deeper and deeper sinck. <br>Yet better leaue of with a little losse, <br>Then by much wrestling to leese the grosse. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinoll.<br>Nowe Diggon, I see thou speakest to plaine: <br>Better it were, a little to feyne, <br>And cleanly couer, that cannot be cured. <br>Such il, as is forced, mought nedes be endured. <br>But of sike pastoures howe done the flocks creepe? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>Sike as the shepheards, sike bene her sheepe, <br>For they nill listen to the shepheards voyce, <br>But if he call hem at theyr good choyce, <br>They wander at wil, and stray at pleasure, <br>And to theyr foldes yeeld at their owne leasure. <br>But they had be better come at their cal: <br>for many han into mischiefe fall, <br>And bene of rauenous Wolues yrent, <br>All for they nould be buxome and bent. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinoll.<br>Fye on thee Diggon, and all thy foule leasing, <br>Well is knowne that sith the Saxon king, <br>Neuer was Woolfe seene many nor some, <br>Nor in all Kent, nor in Christendome: <br>But the fewer Woolues (the soth to sayne,) <br>The more bene the Foxes that here remaine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>Yes, but they gang in more secrete wise, <br>And with sheepes clothing doen hem disguise, <br>They walke not widely as they were wont <br>For feare of raungers, and the great hunt: <br>But priuely prolling too and froe, <br>Enaunter they mought be inly knowe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinoll.<br>Or priue or pert yf any bene, <br>We han great Bandogs will tear their skinne. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>Indeede thy ball is a bold bigge curre, <br>And could make a iolly hole in theyr furre. <br>But not good Dogges hem needeth to chace, <br>But heedy shepheards to discerne their face. <br>For all their craft is in their countenaunce, <br>They bene so graue and full of mayntenaunce. <br>But shall I tell thee what my selfe knowe, <br>Chaunced to Roffynn not long ygoe? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinoll.<br>Say it out Diggon, what euer it hight, <br>For not but well mought him betight. <br>He is so meeke, wise, and merciable, <br>And with his word his worke is conuenable. <br>Colin clout I wene be his selfe boye, <br>(Ah for Colin he whilome my ioye) <br>Shepheards sich, God mought vs many send, <br>That doen so carefully theyr flocks tend. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>Thilk same shepheard mought I well marke: <br>He has a Dogge to byte or to bark, <br>Neuer had shepheard so nene a kurre, <br>That waketh, and if but a leafe sturre. <br>Whilome there wonned a wicked Wolfe, <br>That with many a Lambe had glutted his gulfe. <br>And euer at night wont to repayre <br>Vnto the flocke, when the Welkin shone faire, <br>Ycladde in clothing of seely sheepe, <br>When the good old man vsed to sleepe. <br>Tho at midnight he would barke and ball, <br>(For he had eft learned a curres call.) <br>As if a Woolfe were emong the sheepe. <br>With that the shpheard would breake his sleepe, <br>And send out Lowder (for so his dog hote) <br>To raunge the fields with wide oppen throte. <br>Tho when as Lowder was farre away, <br>This Woluish sheepe would catchen his pray, <br>A Lambe, or a Kidde, or a weanell wast: <br>With that to the wood would he speede him fast. <br>Long time he vsed this slippery pranck, <br>Ere Roffy could for his laboure him thanck. <br>At end the shepheard his practise spyed, <br>(For Roffy is wise, and as Argus eyed) <br>And when at euen he came to the flocke, <br>Fast in theyr folds he did them locke, <br>And tooke out the Woolfe in his counterfect cote, <br>And let out the sheepes bloud at his throte. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinoll.<br>Marry Diggon, what should him affraye, <br>To take his owne where euer it laye? <br>For had his wesand bene a little widder, <br>He would hue deuoured both hidder and shidder. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>Mischiefe light on him, and Gods great curse, <br>Too good for him had bene a great deale worse: <br>For it was a perilous beast aboue all, <br>And eke had he cond the shepherds call. <br>And oft in the night came to the shepecote, <br>And called Lowder, with a hollow throte, <br>As if it the old man selfe had bene. <br>The dog his maisters voice did it weene, <br>Yet halfe in doubt, he opened the dore, <br>And ranne out, as he was wont of yore. <br>No sooner was out, but swifter then thought, <br>Fast by the hyde the Wolfe lowder caught: <br>And had not Roffy renne to the steuen, <br>Lowder had be slaine thilke same euen. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinoll.<br>God shield man, he should so ill haue thriue, <br>All for he did his deuoyr beliue. <br>If sike bene Wolues, as thou hast told, <br>How mought we Diggon, hem be-hold. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>How, but with heede and watchfulnesse, <br>Forstallen hem of their wilinesse? <br>For thy with shepheard sittes not playe, <br>Or sleepe, as some doen, all the long day: <br>But euer liggen in watch and ward, <br>From soddein force theyr flocks for to gard. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinoll.<br>Ah Diggon, thilke same rule were too straight, <br>All the cold season to wach and waite. <br>We bene of flesh, men as other bee, <br>Why should we be bound to such miseree? <br>What euer thing lacketh chaungeable rest, <br>Mought needes decay, when it is at best. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>Ah but Hobbinol, all this long tale, <br>Nought easeth the care, that doth me forhaile. <br>What shall I doe? what way shall I wend, <br>My piteous plight and losse to amend? <br>Ah, good Hobbinol, mought I thee praye, <br>Of ayde or counsell in my decaye. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hobbinoll.<br>Now by my soule Diggon, I lament <br>The haplesse mischief, that has thee hent, <br>Nethelesse thou seest my lowly saile, <br>That froward fortune doth euer auaile. <br>But were Hobbinoll, as God mought please, <br>Diggon should soone find fauour and ease. <br>But if to my cotage thou wilt resort, <br>So as I can, I wil thee comfort: <br>There mayst thou ligge in a vetchy bed, <br>Till fayrer Fortune shewe forth her head. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggon.<br>Ah Hobbinol, God mought it thee requite. <br>Diggon on fewe such freends did euer lite. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Diggons Embleme. <br>Inopem me copia fecit.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edmund+Spenser">Edmund Spenser</a><div class=q>
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Hobbinol.
Diggon Dauie, I bidde her god day: 
Or Diggon her is, or I missaye. 

Diggon.
Her was her, while it was daye light, 
But nowe her is a most wretched wight. 
For day, that was, is wightly..."></div>
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