The Shepherd's Week/First Pastoral

by John Gay

MONDAY;

OR, THE

SQUABBLE.

Lobbin Clout, Cuddy, Cloddipole.

LOBBIN CLOUT. HY younglings, Cuddy, are but just awake; No thrustles shrill the bramble-bush forsake, No chirping lark the welkin^[1] sheen^[2] invokes; No damsel yet the swelling udder strokes; O’er yonder hill does scant^[3] the dawn appear, 5Then why does Caddy leave his cott so rear?^[4]

CUDDY. A Lobbin Clout! I ween,^[5] my plight is guest,For he that loves a stranger is to rest;If swains belie not, thou hast prov'd the smart,And Blouzelinda's mistress of thy heart. 10This rising rear betokeneth well thy mind,Those arms are folded for thy Blouzelind;And well, I trow, our piteous plights agree,Thee Blouzelinda smites, Buxoma me.

LOBBIN CLOUT. Ah Blouzelind! I love thee more by half, 15Than does their fawns, or cows the new-fall'n calf:Woe worth the tongue! may blisters sore it gall,That names Buxoma, Blouzelind withal.

CUDDY. Hold, witless Lobbin Clout, I thee advise,Lest blisters sore on thy own tongue arise. 20Lo yonder Cloddipole, the blithsome swain,The wisest lout of all the neighbouring plain.From Cloddipole we learnt to read the skies,To know when hail will fall, or winds arise.He taught us erst^[6] the heifers tail to view, 25When stuck aloft, that show'rs would strait ensue;He first that useful secret did explain,That pricking corns foretold the gath'ring rain.When swallows fleet soar high and sport in air,He told us that the welkin wou'd be clear. 30Let Cloddipole then hear us twain rehearse,And praise his sweetheart in alternate verse,I'll wager this same oaken staff with thee,That Cloddipole shall give the prize to me.

LOBBIN CLOUT. See this tobacco pouch that's lin'd with hair, 35Made of the skin of sleekest fallow deer. This pouch, that's ty'd with tape of reddest hue,I'll wager that the prize shall be my due.

CUDDY. Begin thy carrols then, thou vaunting slouch,Be thine the oaken staff, or mine the pouch. 40

LOBBIN CLOUT.My Blouzelinda is the blithest lass,Than primrose sweeter, or the clover-grass.Fair is the king-cup that in meadow blows,Fair is the daisie that beside her grows,Fair is the gillyflow'r, of gardens sweet, 45fair is the mary-gold, for pottage meet;But Blouzelind's than gillyflow'r more fair,Than daisie, mary-gold, or king-cup rare.

CUDDY.My brown Buxoma is the featest maid,That e'er at wake delightsome gambol play'd; 50Clean as young lambkins or the goose's down,And like the goldfinch in her Sunday gown.The witless lamb may sport upon the plain,The frisking kid delight the gaping swain,The wanton calf may skip with many a bound, 55And my cur Tray play deftest^[7] feats around;But neither lamb nor kid, nor calf nor Tray,Dance like Buxoma on the first of May.

LOBBIN CLOUT.Sweet is my toil when Blouzelind is near,Of her bereft 'tis winter all the Year. 60With her no sultry summer's heat I know;In winter, when she's nigh, with love I glow.Come Blouzelinda, ease thy swain's desire,My summer's shaddow and my winter's fire!

CUDDY. As with Buxoma once I work'd at hay, 65Ev'n noon-tide labour seem'd an holiday;And holidays, if haply she were gone,Like worky-days I wish'd wou'd soon be done.Eftsoons^[8], O sweet-heart kind, my love repay,And all the year shall then be holiday. 70

LOBBIN CLOUT As Blouzelinda in a gamesome mood,Behind a haycock loudly laughing stood,I slyly ran, and snatch'd a hasty kiss,She wip'd her lips, nor took it much amiss.Believe me, Cuddy, while I'm bold to say, 75Her breath was sweeter than the ripen'd hay.

CUDDY. As my Buxoma in a morning fair,With gentle finger stroak'd her milky care,I queintly^[9] stole a kiss; at first, 'tis trueShe frown'd, yet after granted one or two. 80Lobbin, I swear, believe who will my vows, Her breath by far excell'd the breathing cows.

LOBBIN CLOUT. Leek to the Welch, to Dutchmen butter’s dear,^[10]Of Irish swains potatoe is the chear,Oats for their feasts the Scottish shepherds grind, 85Sweet turnips are the food of Blouzelind.While she loves turnips, butter I'll despise,Nor leeks nor oatmeal nor potatoe prize.

CUDDY.In good roast beef my landlord sticks his knife,The capon fat delights his dainty wife, 90Pudding our parson eats, the squire loves hare,But white-pot thick is my Buxoma's fare.While she loves white-pot, capon ne’er shall be,Nor hare, nor beef, nor pudding, food for me.

LOBBIN CLOUT. As once I play’d at blindmand’s-buff, it hapt 95About my eyes the towel thick was wrapt:I miss'd the Swains, and seiz’d on Blouzelind;True speaks that ancient proverb, Love is blind.

CUDDY. As at hot-cockles once I laid me down,And felt the weighty hand of many a clown, 100Buxoma gave a gentle tap, and IQuick rose, and read soft mischief in her eye.

LOBBIN CLOUT. On two near elms the slacken’d cord I hung,Now high, now low my Blouzelinda swung.With the rude wind her rumpled garment rose, 105And show’d her taper leg and scarlet hose.

CUDDY. Across the fallen oak the plank I laid, And my self pois'd against the tott'ring maid; High leapt the plank; adown Buxoma fell: I spy'd—But faithful sweethearts never tell, 110

LOBBIN CLOUT. This riddle, Cuddy, if thou can'st, explain, This wily riddle puzzles ev'ry swain. ^[11]What flower is that which bears the virgin's name, The richest metal joined with the same?

CUDDY. Answer, thou carl, and judge this riddle right,I'll frankly own thee for a cunning wight. 116^[12]What flow'r is that which royal honour craves,^[13]Adjoin the virgin, and 'tis strown on graves.

CLODDIPOLE. Forbear, contending louts, give o'er your strains, An oaken staff each merits for his pains.^[14] 120 But see the sun-beams bright to labour warn,And gild the thatch of goodman Hodges' barn. Your herds for want of water stand a-dry, They're weary of your song's ——— and so am I.

 

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1. Line 3. Welkin the same as Welken, an old Saxon word, signifying a cloud, by poetical licence it is frequently taken for the element or sky, as may appear by this verse in the dream of Chaucer, Ne in all the Welkin was no cloud.
2. Sheen or shine, an old word for shining or bright.
3. 5. Scant, used in ancient British authors, for scarce.
4. 6. Rear, an expression in several counties of England for early in the morning.
5. Line 7. To ween, deriv'd from the Saxon, to think or conceive.
6. Line 25. Erst, a contraction of ere this, it signifies sometime ago or formerly.
7. Line 56, Deft, an old world signifying brisk or nimble.
8. Line 69. Eftsoons, from eft an ancient British word, signifying soon. So that eftsoons is a doubling of the word soon, which is, as it were to say twice soon, or very soon.
9. Line 79. Queint has various significations in the ancient English authors. I have used it in this place, in the same sense as Chaucer hath done in his miller's tale. As clerkes been full subtil and queint (by which he means arch or waggish) and not in that obscure sense wherein he useth it in the line immediately following.
10. Line 83. Populus Alcidæ gratissima, vitis Iaccho,
    Formosæ Myrtus Veneri, sua Laurea Phœbo.
    Phillis amat Corylos, Illas dum Phillis amabit,
    Nec Myrtus vincit Corylos nec Laurea Phœbi, &c.
    Virg.
11. Marygold.
12. Rosemary.
13. Line 117. Dic quibus in terris inscripti nomina regum
    Nascantur flores.Virg.
14. Line 120. Et vitula tu dignus & hic.Virg.