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Scalar Milton

Evan Thomas, Milton Group8, Milton Group7, Milton Group6, Milton Group5, Milton Group4, Milton Group3, Milton Group2, Milton Group1, Milton Group9, Authors

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EK's gloss

EK is commonly characterized as an editor, probably intimate with Spenser and possibly Spenser himself. EK added notes to each Aeclogue in keeping with the latest fashions in book design.
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The Shepheardes Calender: January    Edmund Spenser

Related:  Thou barrein ground, whome winters wrath hath wasted,,  I loue,  Thy mantle mard, wherein thou mas-kedst late.,  Sere,  Hobbinol,  auaile,  All so my lustfull leafe is drye and sere,  Edmund Spenser,  And thou vnlucky Muse, that wontst to ease,  My musing mynd, yet canst not, when thou should:,  Rosalind,  With breathed sighes is blowne away, & blasted,,  Epic,  Thy sommer prowde with Daffadillies dight.,  Shee deignes not my good will, but doth reproue,,  Wherefore my pype, albee rude Pan thou please,,  Wherein I sawe so fayre a sight, as shee.,  Both pype and Muse, shall sore the while abye.,  Yet for thou pleasest not, where most I would:,  John Milton,  Wherein I longd the neighbour towne to see:,  And am forlorne, (alas why am I lorne?),  Stoure,  A thousand sithes I curse that carefull hower,,  Whilome thy fresh spring flowrd, and after hasted,  Pastoral,  It is not Hobbinol, wherefore I plaine,,  couth,  overhaile,  Virgil,  And eke tenne thousand sithes I blesse the stoure,,  Ah foolish Hobbinol, thy gyfts bene vayne:,  Yet all for naught: [such] sight hath bred my bane.,  Ah God, that loue should breede both ioy and payne.,  The blossome, which my braunch of youth did beare,,  My timely buds with wayling all are wasted:,  I loue thilke lasse, (alas why doe I loue?),  As on your boughes the ysicles depend.,  Teaching notes, 10 Sept. 2014,  His clownish gifts and curtsies I disdaine,,  His kiddes, his cracknelles, and his early fruit.,  Shepheards deuise she hateth as the snake,,  sithes,  Albee my loue he seeke with dayly suit:,  The Shepheardes Calender: January,  vnnethes,  So broke his oaten pype, and downe dyd lye.,  Art made a myrrhour, to behold my plight:,  Colins Embleme.,  And now is come thy wynters stormy state,,  And laughes the songes, that Colin Clout doth make.,  Colin them gives to Rosalind againe.,  Colin clout,  And of my rurall musick holdeth scorne.,  neighbour towne,  His clownish gifts,  And from mine eyes the drizling teares descend,