Transcriber's Note

Archaic, dialectical and other spellings not in current usage have been left as in the original book. Obvious misprints have been fixed. Details of the changes appear at the [end of the text].

Castara, by William Habington

English Reprints

WILLIAM HABINGTON

Castara

THE THIRD EDITION OF 1640; EDITED AND
COLLATED WITH THE EARLIER ONES
OF 1634, 1635

EDITED BY
EDWARD ARBER
F.S.A. ETC. LATE EXAMINER IN ENGLISH
LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE
TO THE UNIVERSITY OF
LONDON

WESTMINSTER
A. CONSTABLE AND CO.
1895

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION.

The old English family of Habingdon, Abingdon, Habington, or Abington traced their pedigree beyond the reign of Henry III., to Philip de Habington, of Abingdon, co. Cambridge: but that branch of the family from which our Poet sprang, descended from Richard Habington, of Brokhampton, whose third son John was coifferer to Queen Elizabeth. This John Habington, our Poet's grand-father, bought Hindlip Hall, an estate beautifully situated about four miles from Worcester. He married twice. By his second wife he had two sons, Thomas; and Edward, who was executed for Babington's plot in 1586.

Anthony-a-Wood gives this account of Thomas Habington. He 'was born at Thorpe near to Chertsey in Surrey, on the 23 Aug. 1560, (at which time and before the manor thereof belonged to his father) and at about 16 years of age he became a commoner of Lincoln Coll. Where spending about three years in academicall studies, was taken thence by his father and sent to the universities of Paris and Rheimes in France. After some time spent there in good letters, he return'd into England, and expressing and shewing himself an adherent to Mary qu. of Scots (who plotted with Anth. Babington against qu. Elizabeth) was committed prisoner to the Tower of London, where continuing six years, he profited more in that time in several sorts of learning, then he had before in all his life. Afterwards he retired to Hendlip (the manor of which his father had settled upon him) took to wife Mary the eldest daughter of Edward lord Morley by Elizabeth his wife, daughter and sole heir of Sir William Stanley knight, lord Mounteagle; and at riper years survey'd Worcestershire, made a collection of most of its antiquities from records, registers, evidences both private and public, monumental inscriptions and arms.... At length, after he had lived to the age of 87 years, surrendred up his pious soul to God at Hendlip near Worcester on the 8th October 1647, and was buried by his father in a vault under the chancel of the church there.' Ath. Oxon. iii. 222. Ed. 1817.

Hindlip Hall was full of lurking places. T. Nash in his Hist. of Worc. i. 585-7, gives a transcript of Ashmole's MSS. Vol. 804, fol. 93, at Oxford: which is a most graphic description of a search, for eleven nights and twelve days, in Jan. 1605, through the house: wherein Garnett the Jesuit and others were discovered, who were afterwards executed.

3. Wood's account of our Poet is perhaps the most authentic. "William Habington, was born at Hendlip, on the fourth [So have I been instructed by letters from his son Tho. Habington esq.: dated 5 Jan. 1672.] (some say the fifth) day of November 1605, educated in S. Omers and Paris; in the first of which he was earnestly invited to take upon him the habit of the Jesuits, but by excuses got free and left them. After his return from Paris, being then at man's estate, he was instructed at home in matters of history by his father, and became an accomplished gentleman.... This person, Will. Habington, who did then run with the times, and was not unknown [what does Wood mean by this?] to Oliver the usurper, died on the 30th of November 1654, and was buried in the vault before-mentioned by the bodies of his father and grand-father. The MSS. which he (and his father) left behind, are in the hands of his son Thomas, and might be made useful for the public, if in others."—Ath. Oxon. iii. 223. Ed. 1817.

4. The Habingtons were connected with the Talbots through the above Richard Habington's second son Richard Habington, whose grand-daughter Eleanor Baskerville married John Talbot of Longdon: and became the mother of (1) John, Lord Talbot 10th Earl of Shrewsbury, who succeeded his bachelor uncle George Talbot, the 9th Earl (lamented by our Poet at p. [77]) on his death, 2d April 1630: (2) of George Talbot, our author's bosom friend, who died young and unmarried; and of other children.

5. The second son of the Earl of Pembroke, Sir William Herbert, was created on 2d April 1629, 1st Baron Powis. He had three children by Eleanor, youngest daughter of Henry Percy, 10th Earl of Northumberland, Sir Percy Herbert, Catherine Herbert, and Lucy Herbert. This Lucy Herbert is Castara.

6. A concurrence of allusions would seem to fix Habington's marriage with Lucy Herbert, between 1630 and 1633: later than which it cannot be: as the anniversary of his wedding day is celebrated in verse, at p. [80]. Most of the poems relate to

'those of my blood

And my Castara's.'

There is in their arrangement, a slight thread of continuity. We are to realize the young Englishman, of good family, possibly not unhandsome, wooing—with a culture and grace acquired in France—the young English beauty: possibly under some disadvantage, being neither possessed of high station nor large fortune; and the lady's father too having just been made a Peer. The wooing beginning in town migrates to Marlow.

See, he from Marlow sends

His eyes to Seymours.         p. [41].

The lovers meeting 'under the kind shade of this tree' is noticed. In sum, the details of a pure courtship leading up to a happy marriage.

In "Wits Recreations, Selected [by the bookseller Humphry Blunden] from the Finest Fancies of Moderne Muses. London, 1640:" is the following.

19. To Mr William Habington on his Castara, a Poem.

Thy Muse is chaste and thy Castara too,

'Tis strange at Court, and thou hadst power to woo

And to obtain (what others were deny'd)

The fair Castara for thy vertuous bride:

Enjoy what you dare wish, and may there be,

Fair issues branch from both, to honor thee.

Again, the after incidents of life are alluded to, in the poems; Castara has a fever but she recovers, she mourns over the loss of friends, and the like: while, the brightness and fancifulness of this earlier poesy but reflect the happiness of the Poet's home.

7. There are also songs of Friendship. As where he reproaches his bosom friend Talbot for not having seen him for three days, at p. [39], or where he consoles him for the hard usage he has received from that jilt Astrodora, at p. [82]: and most of all, in the eight passionate Elegies over his decease.

8. Occasionally there is a bit of lashing satire, as that against the cravings of Poets, at p. [50]: or of dry humour, as in

Come therefore blest even in the Lollards zeale

Who canst with conscience safe, 'fore hen and veale

Say grace in Latine, while I faintly sing

A Penitentiall verse in oyle and Ling.     p. [64].

9. Lastly: strangely intermingled are Requiems over the mortality of Man, the vanity and uncertainty of all things; leading almost to a disgust with life. Of this he thus gives the key-note in saying at p. [114], 'When the necessities of nature returne him downe to earth, he esteemes it a place he is condemned to.... To live he knows a benefit, and the contempt of it ingratitude, and therefore loves, but not doates on life.' To this frame of thought may be opposed the keen wise saying of a great contemporary: Selden.

"Whilst you are upon Earth enjoy the good things that are here (to that end were they given) and be not melancholly, and wish yourself in Heaven. If a King should give you the keeping of a Castle, with all things belonging to it, Orchards, Gardens, &c., and bid you use them; withal promise you that after twenty years to remove you to Court, and to make you a Privy Councellor. If you should neglect your Castle, and refuse to eat of those fruits, and sit down, and whine, and wish you were a Privy Councellor, do you think the King would be pleased with you?"—Table Talk, p. 84. Ed. 1867.

Our wisdom is to recognise the representations of Habington, and to live in the spirit of Selden: thus 'using the world as not abusing it.'

William Habington's works were published in the following order:—

BIBLIOGRAPHY.

With First Lines, &c. of the three first editions, showing the growth of the work.

(a) Issues in the Author's lifetime.

I. As a separate publication.

1. "CASTARA, &c. LONDON, Printed by Anne Griffin for William Cooke, and are to be sold at his shop neare Furnivals Inne gate in Holburne. 1634. 4to."

Perfectly anonymous: all names being represented by initials. It consists of only two Parts, each having a separate title page; in which Parts are contained the following:

2. "CASTARA, &c. The Second Edition. Corrected and Augmented. London. Printed by B. A. and T. F. for Will. Cooke, and are to bee sold at his shop neare Furnivals-Inne Gate in Holburne, 1635. 12mo."

In this second edition, the authorship is avowed by means of a new heading to G. Talbot's poem, at p. [14]. It still consists of but two Parts, each with a separate title: but is augmented by three Characters in prose and twenty-six poems; all by Habington.

3. 1640. Third Edition in 12mo: with Titles, Characters, and Poems arranged in the order here reprinted. For titles, see pp. 9, 55, 111. There are no further additions to the first two parts: but there is added an entire Third Part.

II. With other Works.

None.

(b) Issues since the Author's Death.

I. As a separate publication.

6. 14 April 1870. London. 1 vol. 8vo. English Reprints: see title at p. [1]. This Edition follows No. 3 as to the arrangement of the Poems, &c.: but has been corrected with the earlier editions; when ever in spelling or punctuation the former were the better readings. In doubtful cases, the earlier variations are shown in footnotes.

5. [1812.] Bristol. 1 vol. 8vo. "Habington's Castara, with a preface and notes by Charles A. Elton." [A reprint of No. 3.]

II. With other Works.

4. London. 1810. 21 vols. 8vo. The Works of the English Poets. Ed. by A. Chalmers, F.S.A. Vol. iv. 437-482 contains a Reprint of No. 3.

III. Selections, &c.

One or more of these Poems will be found in the Selections of Ellis, H. Headley, The Lyre of Love, E. Sandford's British Poets, &c. &c.

Castara: The First Part

CASTARA:

—Carmina non prius
Audita, Musarum
facerdos Virginibus.—

The third Edition.
Corrected and augmented

LONDON
Printed by T. Cotes, for Will.
Cooke: and are to be sold at his
Shop neere Fernivals-Inne Gate
in Holburne. 1640.

The Author.

The Presse hath gathered into one, what fancie had scattered in many loose papers. To write this, love stole some houres from businesse, and my more serious study. For though Poetry may challenge if not priority, yet equality with the best Sciences, both for antiquity and worth; I never set so high a rate upon it, as to give my selfe entirely up to its devotion. It hath too much ayre, and (if without offence to our next transmarine neighbour,) [1]wantons too much according to the French garbe. And when it is wholly imployed in the soft straines of love, his soule who entertaines it, loseth much of that strength which should confirme him man. The nerves of judgement are weakned most by its dalliance, and when woman, (I meane onely as she is externally faire) is the supreme object of wit, we soone degenerate into effeminacy. For the religion of fancie declines into a mad superstition, when it[2] adores that Idoll which is not secure from age and sicknesse. Of such heathens, our times afford us a pittyed multitude, who can give no nobler testimony of twenty yeares imployment, then some loose coppies of lust happily exprest. Yet these the common people of wit blow up with their breath of praise, and honour with the Sacred name of Poets: To which as I beleeve they can never have any just claime, so shall I not dare by this essay to lay any title, since more sweate and oyle he must spend, who shall arrogate so excellent an attribute. Yet if the innocency of a chaste Muse shall bee more acceptable, and weigh heavier in the ballance of esteeme, than a fame, begot in adultery of study; I doubt I shall leave them no hope of competition. For how unhappie soever I may be in the elocution, I am sure the Theame is worthy enough. In all those flames in which I burnt I never felt a wanton heate, nor was my invention ever sinister from the straite way of chastity. And when love builds upon that rocke, it may safely contemne the battery of the waves, and threatnings of the wind. Since time, that makes a mockery of the firmest structures shall it selfe be ruinated, before that be demolisht. Thus was the foundation layd. And though my eye in its survey, was satisfi'd, even to curiosity, yet did not my search rest there. The Alabaster, Ivory, Porphir, Jet, that lent an admirable beauty to the outward building, entertained me with but a halfe pleasure, since they stood there onely to make sport for ruine. But when my soule grew acquainted with the owner of that mansion; I found that Oratory was dombe when it began to speak her, and wonder (which must necessarily seize the best at that time) a lethargie, that dulled too much the faculties of the minde, onely fit to busie themselves in discoursing her perfections, Wisdome, I encounter'd there, that could not spend it selfe since it affected silence, attentive onely to instructions, as if all her sences had beene contracted into hearing: Innocencie, so not vitiated by conversation with the world, that the subtile witted of her sex, would have tearm'd it ignorance: Wit, which seated it selfe most in the apprehension, and if not inforc't by good manners, would scarce have gain'd the name of affability: Modesty, so timorous, that it represented a besieg'd Citty, standing watchfully upon her guard, strongest in the loyalty to her Prince. In a word, all those vertues which should restore woman to her primitive state of beauty, fully adorn'd her. But I shall be censur'd, in labouring to come nigh the truth, guilty of an indiscreet Rhetoricke. However such I fancied her, for to say shee is, or was such, were to play the Merchant, and boast too much the value of a Jewell I possesse, but have no minde to part with. And though I appeare to strive against the streame of best wits, in erecting the selfe same Altar, both to chastity and love; I will for once adventure to doe well, without a president. Nor if my rigid friend question superciliously the setting forth of these Poems, will I excuse my selfe (though justly perhaps I might) that importunity prevail'd, and cleere judgements advis'd. This onely I dare say, that if they are not strangled with envie of the present, they may happily live in the not dislike of future times. For then partiality ceaseth, and vertue is without the idolatry of her clients, esteemed worthy honour. Nothing new is free from detraction, and when Princes alter customes even heavie to the subject, best ordinances are interpreted innovations. Had I slept in the silence of my acquaintance, and affected no study beyond that which the chase or field allowes, Poetry had then beene no scandall upon me, and the love of learning no suspition of ill husbandry. But what malice, begot in the Country upon ignorance, or in the City upon Criticisme, shall prepare against me, I am armed to endure. For as the face of vertue lookes faire without the adultery of Art, so fame needes no ayde from rumour to strengthen her selfe. If these lines want that courtship, (I will not say flattery) which insinuates it selfe into the favour of great men, best; they partake of my modesty. If Satyre to win applause with the envious multitude; they expresse my content, which maliceth none, the fruition of that, they esteeme happie. And if not too indulgent to what is my owne; I thinke even these verses will have that proportion in the worlds opinion, that heaven hath allotted me in fortune; not so high, as to be wondred at, nor so low as to be contemned.

[1] she wantons too much. 1635.

[2] she adores. 1635.

[3]To his best friend and Kinsman
William Habington, Esquire.

Not in the silence of content and store

Of private sweets ought thy Muse charme no more

Then thy Castara's eare. 'Twere wrong such gold

Should not like Mines, (poore nam'd to this) behold

It selfe a publike joy. Who her restraine,

Make a close prisoner of a Soveraigne.

Inlarge her then to triumph. While we see

Such worth in beauty, such desert in thee,

Such mutuall flames betweene you both, as show

How chastity, though yce, like love can glow,

Yet stand a Virgin: How that full content

By vertue is to soules united, lent,

Which proves all wealth is poore, all honours are

But empty titles, highest power but care,

That quits not cost. Yet Heaven to Vertue kind,

Hath given you plenty to suffice a minde

That knowes but temper. For beyond your state

May be a prouder, not a happier Fate.

I Write not this in hope t'incroach on fame,

Or adde a greater lustre to your name.

Bright in it selfe enough. We two are knowne

To th' World, as to our selves, to be but one

In blood as study: And my carefull love

Did never action worth my name, approve

Which serv'd not thee. Nor did we ere contend,

But who should be best patterne of a friend.

Who read thee, praise thy fancie, and admire

Thee burning with so high and pure a fire,

As reaches heaven it selfe. But I who know

Thy soule religious to her ends, where grow

No sinnes by art or custome, boldly can

Stile thee more than good Poet, a good man.

Then let thy temples shake off vulgar bayes,

Th' hast built an Altar which enshrines thy praise:

And to the faith of after time commends

Yee the best paire of lovers, us of friends.

[4]George Talbot.

[3] To his best friend and kinsman. On his Castara. 1634.

[4] G. T. 1634.

A Mistris

Is the fairest treasure, the avarice of Love can covet; and the onely white, at which he shootes his arrowes, nor while his aime is noble, can he ever hit upon repentance. She is chaste, for the devill enters the Idoll and gives the Oracle, when wantonnesse possesseth beauty, and wit maintaines it lawfull. She is as faire as Nature intended her, helpt perhaps to a more pleasing grace by the sweetnesse of education, not by the flight of Art. She is young, for a woman past the delicacie of her spring, may well move by vertue to respect, never by beauty to affection. Shee is innocent even from the knowledge of sinne, for vice is too strong to be wrastled with, and gives her frailty the foyle. She is not proude, though the amorous youth interpret her modestie to that sence; but in her vertue weares so much Majestie, lust dares not rebell, nor though masqued, under the pretence of love, capitulate with her. She entertaines not every parley offer'd, although the Articles pretended to her advantage: advice and her own feares restraine her, and woman never owed ruine to too much caution. She glories not in the plurality of servants, a multitude of adorers heaven can onely challenge, and it is impietie in her weakenesse to desire superstition from many. She is deafe to the whispers of love, and even on the marriage houre can breake off, without the least suspition of scandall, to the former liberty of her carriage. She avoydes a too neere conversation with man, and like the Parthian overcomes by flight. Her language is not copious but apposit, and she had rather suffer the reproach of being dull company, than have the title of Witty, with that of Bold and Wanton. In her carriage she is sober, and thinkes her youth expresseth life enough, without the giddy motion, fashion of late hath taken up. She danceth to the best applause but doates not on the vanity of it, nor licenceth an irregular meeting to vaunt the levity of her skill. She sings, but not perpetually, for she knowes, silence in woman is the most perswading oratory. She never arriv'd to so much familiarity with man as to know the diminutive of his name, and call him by it; and she can show a competent favour: without yeelding her hand to his gripe. Shee never understood the language of a kisse, but at salutation, nor dares the Courtier use so much of his practised impudence as to offer the rape of it from her: because chastity hath writ it unlawfull, and her behaviour proclaimes it unwelcome. She is never sad, and yet not jiggish; her conscience is cleere from guilt, and that secures her from sorrow. She is not passionately in love with poetry, because it softens the heart too much to love; but she likes the harmony in the Composition; and the brave examples of vertue celebrated by it, she preposeth to her imitation. She is not vaine in the history of her gay kindred or acquaintance; since vertue is often tenant to a cottage, and familiarity with greatnesse (if worth be not transcendant above the title) is but a glorious servitude, fooles onely are willing to suffer. She is not ambitious to be prais'd, and yet vallues death beneath infamy. And Ile conclude, (though the next sinod of Ladies condemne this character as an heresie broacht by a Precision) that onely she who hath as great a share in vertue as in beauty, deserves a noble love to serve her, and a free Poesie to speake her.

Fifty-seven Poems, chiefly on Love and Courtship.

To Castara.
A Sacrifice.

Let the chaste Phœnix from the flowry East,

Bring the sweete treasure of her perfum'd nest,

As incense to this Altar, where the name

Of my Castara's grav'd by th' hand of fame.

Let purer Virgins, to redeeme the aire

From loose infection, bring their zealous prayer,

T' assist at this great feast: where they shall see,

What rites Love offers up to Chastity.

Let all the amorous Youth, whose faire desire

Felt never warmth, but from a noble fire,

Bring hither their bright flames: which here shall shine

As Tapers fixt about Castara's shrine.

While I the Priest, my untam'd heart, surprise,

And in this Temple mak't her sacrifice.

To Castara,
Praying.

I saw Castara pray, and from the skie,

A winged legion of bright Angels flie

To catch her vowes, for feare her Virgin prayer

Might chance to mingle with impurer aire.

To vulgar eyes, the sacred truth I write,

May seeme a fancie. But the Eagles sight

Of Saints, and Poets, miracles oft view,

Which to dull Heretikes appeare untrue.

Faire zeale begets such wonders. O divine

And purest beauty; let me thee enshrine

In my devoted soule, and from thy praise,

T' enrich my garland, pluck religious Bayes.

Shine thou the starre by which my thoughts shall move,

Best subject of my pen, Queene of my love.

To Roses in the bosome of Castara.

Yee blushing Virgins happie are

In the chaste Nunn'ry of her brests,

For hee'd prophane so chaste a faire,

Who ere should call them Cupids nests.

Transplanted thus how bright yee grow,

How rich a perfume doe yee yeeld?

In some close garden, Cowslips so

Are sweeter then ith' open field.

In those white Cloysters live secure

From the rude blasts of wanton breath,

Each houre more innocent and pure,

Till you shall wither into death.

Then that which living gave you roome,

Your glorious sepulcher shall be.

There wants no marble for a tombe,

Whose brest hath marble beene to me.

To Castara,
A Vow.

By those chaste lamps which yeeld a silent light,

To the cold Urnes of Virgins; By that night,

Which guilty of no crime, doth onely heare

The Vowes of recluse Nuns, and th' An'thrits prayer;

And by thy chaster selfe; My fervent zeale

Like mountaine yee, which the North winds congeale,

To purest Christall, feeles no wanton fire.

But as the humble Pilgrim, (whose desire

Blest in Christs cottage, view by Angels hands,

Transported from sad Bethlem,) wondring stands

At the great miracle: So I at thee,

Whose beauty is the shrine of chastity.

Thus my bright Muse in a new orbe shall move,

And even teach Religion how to love.

To Castara,
Of his being in Love.

Where am I? not in Heaven: for oh I feele

The stone of Sisiphus, Ixions wheele;

And all those tortures, Poets (by their wine

Made judges) laid on Tantalus, are mine.

Not yet am I in hell; for still I stand,

Though giddy in my passion, on firme land,

And still behold the seasons of the yeare,

Springs in my hope, and Winters in my feare.

And sure I'me 'bove the earth: For th' highest star

Shoots beames, but dim to what Castara's are,

And in her sight and favour I even shine

In a bright orbe beyond the Christalline.

If then Castara I in Heaven nor move,

Nor Earth, nor Hell; where am I but in Love?

To my honoured Friend, M^r. E. P.

Not still ith' shine of Kings. Thou dost retire

Sometime to th' Holy shade, where the chaste quire

Of Muses doth the stubborne Panther awe,

And give the wildernesse of his nature law.

The wind his chariot stops: Th' attentive rocke

The rigor doth of its creation mocke,

And gently melts away: Argus to heare

The musicke, turnes each eye into an eare.

To welcome thee, Endymion, glorious they

Triumph to force these creatures disobey

What nature hath enacted. But no charme

The Muses have these monsters can disarme

Of their innated rage: No spell can tame

The North-winds fury, but Castara's name.

Climbe yonder forked hill, and see if there

Ith' barke of every Daphne, not appeare

Castara written; And so markt by me,

How great a Prophet growes each Virgin tree?

Lie downe, and listen what the sacred spring

In her harmonious murmures, strives to sing

To th' neighb'ring banke, ere her loose waters erre

Through common channels; sings she not of her?

Behold yond' violet, which such honour gaines,

That growing but to emulate her veines,

It's azur'd like the skie: when she doth bow

T' invoke Castara, heav'n perfumes her vow.

The trees the water, and the flowers adore

The Deity of her sex, and through each pore

Breath forth her glories. But unquiet love

[5]To make thy passions so uncourtly prove,

As if all eares should heare her praise alone.

Now listen thou; Endymion sings his owne.

[5] To make affection so ill-nurtur'd prove. 1634, 1635.

To Castara.

Doe not their prophane Orgies heare,

Who but to wealth no altars reare,

The soule's oft poys'ned through the eare.

Castara rather seeke to dwell

Ith' silence of a private cell.

Rich discontent's a glorious hell.

Yet Hindlip doth not want extent

Of roome (though not magnificent)

To give free welcome to content.

There shalt thou see the earely Spring,

That wealthy stocke of nature bring,

Of which the Sybils bookes did sing.

From fruitlesse Palmes shall honey flow,

And barren Winter Harvest show,

While Lilies in his bosome grow,

No North-winde shall the corne infest,

But the soft spirit of the East,

Our sent with perfum'd banquets feast.

A Satyre here and there shall trip,

In hope to purchase leave to sip

Sweete Nectar from a Fairies lip.

The Nimphs with quivers shall adorne

Their active sides, and rouse the morne

With the shrill musicke of their horne.

Wakened with which, and viewing thee,

Faire Daphne her faire selfe shall free,

From the chaste prison of a tree:

And with Narcissus (to thy face

Who humbly will ascribe all grace)

Shall once againe pursue the chase.

So they, whose wisdome did discusse

Of these as fictions: shall in us

Finde, they were more then fabulous.

To Castara,
Softly singing to her selfe.