Chapter 29

Dost see yon tow'ring hills, yon spreading trees,950Which wrap their lofty heads in clouds? Dost seeYon house of little worth, and lesser height?Dost think a jewel of ten thousand weightCan dwell within that sooty carcanet?Dost think the gaudy sun each night does setAnd riseth from yon roof? Dost think the moon,With double horn and glitt'ring tapers, soonWill issue thence? Didst ever see an eyeWhich checked the beams of awful majesty?Dost think an earth-born beauty can be found,960Which darts forth lustre from the sullen ground—To kiss the glorious skies? Or canst thou thinkThe queen of beauty dwells in such a chink?Dost think? 'tis poor, why do I question so?Thou dar'st confirm all this by oath, I know,Since my Bellama's there, all life, all breath,Whose presence can enlive the soul of death,Despite of sickly Nature: she is all fairAnd truly meriteth Bellezza's chair.All those fair treasures, which dispersèd lie970'Twixt poles and parallels, pay to her eye,And with her span contracted in her meetAs radiant, red, white, smooth, soft, rich, and sweet,She is the world's epitome and soul,And with her inch of earth outworths the whole.She's beauty's archi-fount: as riv'lets smallBorrow from greater currents, and they allPay tribute to the ocean, just soThe dimmer shafts of wingèd Cupid's bowBorrow from brighter, [and] the brightest pay980Homage unto Bellama—beauty's day.I tell thee there's not one small worth of hersBut loudly says that foppish Nature errsIn other beauties: nor is this all, for why?Her thoughts pluck stars, and dark th' imperial sky.Virtue and beauty both: why, 'tis as rareAs frosts in June or comets in the air,As crows in Africk, Æolus want puffs,Or she-precisians want Geneva ruffs.Yet my Bellam', alone and one, unites990The beauteous colours, noble red and whites,With heaven's issue, Virtue: dar'st then deny,If not divine, her half a deity?Tip Cynthia's horns with wonder, wind aloud,And mount the saddle of a wingèd cloud,Then circle earth, and see if thou canst findHalf such a feature with so rare a mind.I know when thou return'st thou'lt say with me,Bellama's beauty is aA per se.

Dost see yon tow'ring hills, yon spreading trees,

950Which wrap their lofty heads in clouds? Dost see

Yon house of little worth, and lesser height?

Dost think a jewel of ten thousand weight

Can dwell within that sooty carcanet?

Dost think the gaudy sun each night does set

And riseth from yon roof? Dost think the moon,

With double horn and glitt'ring tapers, soon

Will issue thence? Didst ever see an eye

Which checked the beams of awful majesty?

Dost think an earth-born beauty can be found,

960Which darts forth lustre from the sullen ground—

To kiss the glorious skies? Or canst thou think

The queen of beauty dwells in such a chink?

Dost think? 'tis poor, why do I question so?

Thou dar'st confirm all this by oath, I know,

Since my Bellama's there, all life, all breath,

Whose presence can enlive the soul of death,

Despite of sickly Nature: she is all fair

And truly meriteth Bellezza's chair.

All those fair treasures, which dispersèd lie

970'Twixt poles and parallels, pay to her eye,

And with her span contracted in her meet

As radiant, red, white, smooth, soft, rich, and sweet,

She is the world's epitome and soul,

And with her inch of earth outworths the whole.

She's beauty's archi-fount: as riv'lets small

Borrow from greater currents, and they all

Pay tribute to the ocean, just so

The dimmer shafts of wingèd Cupid's bow

Borrow from brighter, [and] the brightest pay

980Homage unto Bellama—beauty's day.

I tell thee there's not one small worth of hers

But loudly says that foppish Nature errs

In other beauties: nor is this all, for why?

Her thoughts pluck stars, and dark th' imperial sky.

Virtue and beauty both: why, 'tis as rare

As frosts in June or comets in the air,

As crows in Africk, Æolus want puffs,

Or she-precisians want Geneva ruffs.

Yet my Bellam', alone and one, unites

990The beauteous colours, noble red and whites,

With heaven's issue, Virtue: dar'st then deny,

If not divine, her half a deity?

Tip Cynthia's horns with wonder, wind aloud,

And mount the saddle of a wingèd cloud,

Then circle earth, and see if thou canst find

Half such a feature with so rare a mind.

I know when thou return'st thou'lt say with me,

Bellama's beauty is aA per se.

Thus he to rocks and bushes did discover1000The secret flames which scorched his heated breast:Though he as yet was not a vocal lover,But shrouded his close love in smiles and jest.Yet Fortune oftentimes does Venus grace.He got lip-freedom in an eyeless place.For there a Turk's Elysium was the stageWhereon the virgins acted parts of mirth,Which Nature did with nobler gifts engage,And deckèd more than other parts of earth:And Bellam's breath was such a powerful thing,1010It here did keep an everlasting spring.The angry puffings of congealing EastAnd sturdy North, cold Winter's stoutest roisters,Durst ne'er of curled locks the trees divest,Nor e'er were heard to whistle in their cloisters.Such vernal blasts came from Bellama's mouthKept here Favonius, and the dropping South.And if sharp frosts did, in her absence, stealInto this place, and glaz'd the tattling streams,Then into crystal would the springs congeal,1020And ev'ry flower was rayed with silver beams.Yet if Bellama did but glance her eye,The crystal and the silver thence did fly.Nay, strange it was to hear the purling wet,The saucy frost with angry murmurs chide,And with its constant jars and strugglings fret,Then thaw to tears, and on the Venice slide.Yet oft Bellama would call in her rays,To view the silver purls and crystal ways.Into this garden once Albino got;1030Yet ah! but once, and met his sovereign fair,Hoping their hearts should tie the Gordian knotHe fanned her beauty with such courting air.For, though he was a monk, love did instruct him,And to Love's palace Fortune did conduct him.He oftentimes with trembling thumb would pressHer dancing vein, way to her heart to find,Whilst conscious she her looks with red would dress,Fearing her pulse was traitor to her mind.For 'tis entruthed by some that by this vein1040We may the knowledge of affections gain.Such knowledge gained he by her pulse's touch,Which leapt to meet, not chide, his busy thumbs,That he desired a kiss; and found it suchWhose sweetness far outsweet[en]s Hybla's combs:Then cried, 'Give for each lip a cherry sweet,And then a third, in which they two may meet.'Such quick'ning heat was from those kisses lent,That thawed his voice and did unfreeze his tongue,Packed thence despair, exilèd discontent,1050And made him vent what was concealèd long.For though desire and love each minute bid him.Yet fear, his habit, and her beauty, chid him.'Madam,' quoth he, 'vouchsafe a courteous earUnto my words, sent from an amorous heart.Which hath long time been wracked with hope and fear,Grisly despair, and Cupid's awful dart,And till this time (restrained by black disasters)Could ne'er apply lip-love or vowel-plasters.Be pleased to know (yet sure you needs must know it)1060A beauty so divine must needs divine,Though I should want heart, hand, or voice to show it,When first your beauty in mine eyes did shine,They slipped into my breast, and told my heartThe god of love by them had sent a dart.My heart made quick reply (if hearts have voice)You ever have such faithful servants been,That what you like, I'll freely call my choice:For beauty, brought by you, does fires teen.Carry this message back, tell her 'tis best1070That hers should heat my bosom, I her breast.''Peace, peace.' quoth she, 'speak not a work of love,For fear my anger scorns and folly writes.Eagles love eagles, and the dove the dove.Hawks brook not buzzards: or the pheasant kites.Equals love equals: but unequal flameIs teened with folly, and expires with shame.''True, quoth he,' likeness does the heart incline;Greatness loves greatness without farther search,Yet crawling ivies lofty elms entwine,1080And gall-less turtles with the eagles perch.I baulk your greatness: for as good, not great,I homage pay, and loves alarums beat.Those airy titles which ambition swell,And puff like bladders [are] like bladders burst,The worldling's goddess, which in chests does dwell,Is gnawn with rust, and makes the chesters curst.Honour is tied unto the prince's eyeAnd wealth to Fortune's mutability.I have not wealth (nor do I want), what then?1090Must Hymen stoop unto the nods of gold?Must I vail bonnet unto ermine men?And virtue by the herald be controlled?No, love does blaze the noblest arms: and sheThat can maintain herself in love, can me.''Stay, stay.' quoth she, 'you will be out of wind.Methinks the voice of greatness speaks delight.Our poets only then feign Cupid blind,When children of the sun do dote on night,Or folly, mounted on Icarian wings,1100Courts queens' affections and does gaze on kings.''No,' says Albino, ''tis the contrary.Love never is more purblind than when earthJoins house to house, and pedigrees do tieScutcheons to scutcheons in pure virtue's dearth.For regal flames blest goodness only teens,And virtue ought to court the love of queens.We all are born for public good: 'tis vainWith torchlight to embellish Titan's rays,Or cast our stock of water in the main,1110Such love from laws of love and nature strays.But those that Fortune hath enriched with goodsShould dam up nature's wants, by mixing bloods.Was I the Caesar of the Roman stems,(Once only darling to the King of skies),Did both the Indies pay me tribute-gems,I'd not unite a double majesty.For being no distinction in degree,She would assume that honour due to me.She'd chide me sooner than I durst check her,1120And (as the proverb)quarrel for the breeches.On some choice mean that honour I'd conferShould sue with humble 'Sirs', and low beseeches.Thus was she tied to payment of respects,I licensed with state-love to mix neglects.Where beauty does indite, and virtues seal,Greatness is not required to set his hand:Though greatness here may virtue's acts repeal,Yet virtue's acts in Cupid's courts must stand.Then where I find grace, feature, virtues, dwell,1130I've greatness, wealth, and honour—toll the bell!Then with kind airs, life of my wishes, speak,Bid honour know his distance, wealth depart,And let the day of true contentment breakFrom thy clear lips, to cheer my misted heart.O, with one circle let my arms enfoldThe soul of honour and the heart of gold.''Sir,' quoth Bellama, 'wealth is not my aim,Nor does the gales of honour heave my soul,I higher prize an action than a name,1140And value more a pamphlet than a roll.Where I with comeliness find virtue mixed,My love, eyes, thoughts, are on that object fixed.I speak not much of love, lest you presume;And speak a little, lest you should despair.I would not have my words your hopes deplume,Nor feather them to reach the highest air.I sum up all in this, whenas I say,I will not with disdains thy service pay.'Oh happy words! oh more than sacred breath!1150Albino, live! Bellama says thou must.Confront dire Fate, and challenge meagre Death:'Tis not in them to moulder thee to dust.Yet be advised, let not proud folly in,The conquest is as great to hold as win.Our anchorist with all the words that joy,Hearting a lover, was acquainted with,Accosts his saint, rewards the wingèd boy,And congees to the queen of heat and pith.Smilèd and glanced, paid thanks, desired a kiss;1160And prayed time give an age unto his bliss.But when day's lamp had wan the western clime,And wrapt his head in sea-green Thetis' lap,Our lover must observe the chanting timeAnd bids his saint adieu. Oh hard mishap!Oh, 'tis a hell to think what hellish painTrue lovers by unkind divorcement gain!Yet, by that time the hoary-headed sireHad summed twelve sixty minutes, he againReturned t' his lady, when bright Titan's fire1170Was newly risen from the brackish main:And, common greetings passed amidst their pleasures,He in his lady's hands these lines entreasures.

Thus he to rocks and bushes did discover

1000The secret flames which scorched his heated breast:

Though he as yet was not a vocal lover,

But shrouded his close love in smiles and jest.

Yet Fortune oftentimes does Venus grace.

He got lip-freedom in an eyeless place.

For there a Turk's Elysium was the stageWhereon the virgins acted parts of mirth,Which Nature did with nobler gifts engage,And deckèd more than other parts of earth:And Bellam's breath was such a powerful thing,1010It here did keep an everlasting spring.

For there a Turk's Elysium was the stage

Whereon the virgins acted parts of mirth,

Which Nature did with nobler gifts engage,

And deckèd more than other parts of earth:

And Bellam's breath was such a powerful thing,

1010It here did keep an everlasting spring.

The angry puffings of congealing EastAnd sturdy North, cold Winter's stoutest roisters,Durst ne'er of curled locks the trees divest,Nor e'er were heard to whistle in their cloisters.Such vernal blasts came from Bellama's mouthKept here Favonius, and the dropping South.

The angry puffings of congealing East

And sturdy North, cold Winter's stoutest roisters,

Durst ne'er of curled locks the trees divest,

Nor e'er were heard to whistle in their cloisters.

Such vernal blasts came from Bellama's mouth

Kept here Favonius, and the dropping South.

And if sharp frosts did, in her absence, stealInto this place, and glaz'd the tattling streams,Then into crystal would the springs congeal,1020And ev'ry flower was rayed with silver beams.Yet if Bellama did but glance her eye,The crystal and the silver thence did fly.

And if sharp frosts did, in her absence, steal

Into this place, and glaz'd the tattling streams,

Then into crystal would the springs congeal,

1020And ev'ry flower was rayed with silver beams.

Yet if Bellama did but glance her eye,

The crystal and the silver thence did fly.

Nay, strange it was to hear the purling wet,The saucy frost with angry murmurs chide,And with its constant jars and strugglings fret,Then thaw to tears, and on the Venice slide.Yet oft Bellama would call in her rays,To view the silver purls and crystal ways.

Nay, strange it was to hear the purling wet,

The saucy frost with angry murmurs chide,

And with its constant jars and strugglings fret,

Then thaw to tears, and on the Venice slide.

Yet oft Bellama would call in her rays,

To view the silver purls and crystal ways.

Into this garden once Albino got;1030Yet ah! but once, and met his sovereign fair,Hoping their hearts should tie the Gordian knotHe fanned her beauty with such courting air.For, though he was a monk, love did instruct him,And to Love's palace Fortune did conduct him.

Into this garden once Albino got;

1030Yet ah! but once, and met his sovereign fair,

Hoping their hearts should tie the Gordian knot

He fanned her beauty with such courting air.

For, though he was a monk, love did instruct him,

And to Love's palace Fortune did conduct him.

He oftentimes with trembling thumb would pressHer dancing vein, way to her heart to find,Whilst conscious she her looks with red would dress,Fearing her pulse was traitor to her mind.For 'tis entruthed by some that by this vein1040We may the knowledge of affections gain.

He oftentimes with trembling thumb would press

Her dancing vein, way to her heart to find,

Whilst conscious she her looks with red would dress,

Fearing her pulse was traitor to her mind.

For 'tis entruthed by some that by this vein

1040We may the knowledge of affections gain.

Such knowledge gained he by her pulse's touch,Which leapt to meet, not chide, his busy thumbs,That he desired a kiss; and found it suchWhose sweetness far outsweet[en]s Hybla's combs:Then cried, 'Give for each lip a cherry sweet,And then a third, in which they two may meet.'

Such knowledge gained he by her pulse's touch,

Which leapt to meet, not chide, his busy thumbs,

That he desired a kiss; and found it such

Whose sweetness far outsweet[en]s Hybla's combs:

Then cried, 'Give for each lip a cherry sweet,

And then a third, in which they two may meet.'

Such quick'ning heat was from those kisses lent,That thawed his voice and did unfreeze his tongue,Packed thence despair, exilèd discontent,1050And made him vent what was concealèd long.For though desire and love each minute bid him.Yet fear, his habit, and her beauty, chid him.

Such quick'ning heat was from those kisses lent,

That thawed his voice and did unfreeze his tongue,

Packed thence despair, exilèd discontent,

1050And made him vent what was concealèd long.

For though desire and love each minute bid him.

Yet fear, his habit, and her beauty, chid him.

'Madam,' quoth he, 'vouchsafe a courteous earUnto my words, sent from an amorous heart.Which hath long time been wracked with hope and fear,Grisly despair, and Cupid's awful dart,And till this time (restrained by black disasters)Could ne'er apply lip-love or vowel-plasters.

'Madam,' quoth he, 'vouchsafe a courteous ear

Unto my words, sent from an amorous heart.

Which hath long time been wracked with hope and fear,

Grisly despair, and Cupid's awful dart,

And till this time (restrained by black disasters)

Could ne'er apply lip-love or vowel-plasters.

Be pleased to know (yet sure you needs must know it)1060A beauty so divine must needs divine,Though I should want heart, hand, or voice to show it,When first your beauty in mine eyes did shine,They slipped into my breast, and told my heartThe god of love by them had sent a dart.

Be pleased to know (yet sure you needs must know it)

1060A beauty so divine must needs divine,

Though I should want heart, hand, or voice to show it,

When first your beauty in mine eyes did shine,

They slipped into my breast, and told my heart

The god of love by them had sent a dart.

My heart made quick reply (if hearts have voice)You ever have such faithful servants been,That what you like, I'll freely call my choice:For beauty, brought by you, does fires teen.Carry this message back, tell her 'tis best1070That hers should heat my bosom, I her breast.'

My heart made quick reply (if hearts have voice)

You ever have such faithful servants been,

That what you like, I'll freely call my choice:

For beauty, brought by you, does fires teen.

Carry this message back, tell her 'tis best

1070That hers should heat my bosom, I her breast.'

'Peace, peace.' quoth she, 'speak not a work of love,For fear my anger scorns and folly writes.Eagles love eagles, and the dove the dove.Hawks brook not buzzards: or the pheasant kites.Equals love equals: but unequal flameIs teened with folly, and expires with shame.'

'Peace, peace.' quoth she, 'speak not a work of love,

For fear my anger scorns and folly writes.

Eagles love eagles, and the dove the dove.

Hawks brook not buzzards: or the pheasant kites.

Equals love equals: but unequal flame

Is teened with folly, and expires with shame.'

'True, quoth he,' likeness does the heart incline;Greatness loves greatness without farther search,Yet crawling ivies lofty elms entwine,1080And gall-less turtles with the eagles perch.I baulk your greatness: for as good, not great,I homage pay, and loves alarums beat.

'True, quoth he,' likeness does the heart incline;

Greatness loves greatness without farther search,

Yet crawling ivies lofty elms entwine,

1080And gall-less turtles with the eagles perch.

I baulk your greatness: for as good, not great,

I homage pay, and loves alarums beat.

Those airy titles which ambition swell,And puff like bladders [are] like bladders burst,The worldling's goddess, which in chests does dwell,Is gnawn with rust, and makes the chesters curst.Honour is tied unto the prince's eyeAnd wealth to Fortune's mutability.

Those airy titles which ambition swell,

And puff like bladders [are] like bladders burst,

The worldling's goddess, which in chests does dwell,

Is gnawn with rust, and makes the chesters curst.

Honour is tied unto the prince's eye

And wealth to Fortune's mutability.

I have not wealth (nor do I want), what then?1090Must Hymen stoop unto the nods of gold?Must I vail bonnet unto ermine men?And virtue by the herald be controlled?No, love does blaze the noblest arms: and sheThat can maintain herself in love, can me.'

I have not wealth (nor do I want), what then?

1090Must Hymen stoop unto the nods of gold?

Must I vail bonnet unto ermine men?

And virtue by the herald be controlled?

No, love does blaze the noblest arms: and she

That can maintain herself in love, can me.'

'Stay, stay.' quoth she, 'you will be out of wind.Methinks the voice of greatness speaks delight.Our poets only then feign Cupid blind,When children of the sun do dote on night,Or folly, mounted on Icarian wings,1100Courts queens' affections and does gaze on kings.'

'Stay, stay.' quoth she, 'you will be out of wind.

Methinks the voice of greatness speaks delight.

Our poets only then feign Cupid blind,

When children of the sun do dote on night,

Or folly, mounted on Icarian wings,

1100Courts queens' affections and does gaze on kings.'

'No,' says Albino, ''tis the contrary.Love never is more purblind than when earthJoins house to house, and pedigrees do tieScutcheons to scutcheons in pure virtue's dearth.For regal flames blest goodness only teens,And virtue ought to court the love of queens.

'No,' says Albino, ''tis the contrary.

Love never is more purblind than when earth

Joins house to house, and pedigrees do tie

Scutcheons to scutcheons in pure virtue's dearth.

For regal flames blest goodness only teens,

And virtue ought to court the love of queens.

We all are born for public good: 'tis vainWith torchlight to embellish Titan's rays,Or cast our stock of water in the main,1110Such love from laws of love and nature strays.But those that Fortune hath enriched with goodsShould dam up nature's wants, by mixing bloods.

We all are born for public good: 'tis vain

With torchlight to embellish Titan's rays,

Or cast our stock of water in the main,

1110Such love from laws of love and nature strays.

But those that Fortune hath enriched with goods

Should dam up nature's wants, by mixing bloods.

Was I the Caesar of the Roman stems,(Once only darling to the King of skies),Did both the Indies pay me tribute-gems,I'd not unite a double majesty.For being no distinction in degree,She would assume that honour due to me.

Was I the Caesar of the Roman stems,

(Once only darling to the King of skies),

Did both the Indies pay me tribute-gems,

I'd not unite a double majesty.

For being no distinction in degree,

She would assume that honour due to me.

She'd chide me sooner than I durst check her,1120And (as the proverb)quarrel for the breeches.On some choice mean that honour I'd conferShould sue with humble 'Sirs', and low beseeches.Thus was she tied to payment of respects,I licensed with state-love to mix neglects.

She'd chide me sooner than I durst check her,

1120And (as the proverb)quarrel for the breeches.

On some choice mean that honour I'd confer

Should sue with humble 'Sirs', and low beseeches.

Thus was she tied to payment of respects,

I licensed with state-love to mix neglects.

Where beauty does indite, and virtues seal,Greatness is not required to set his hand:Though greatness here may virtue's acts repeal,Yet virtue's acts in Cupid's courts must stand.Then where I find grace, feature, virtues, dwell,1130I've greatness, wealth, and honour—toll the bell!

Where beauty does indite, and virtues seal,

Greatness is not required to set his hand:

Though greatness here may virtue's acts repeal,

Yet virtue's acts in Cupid's courts must stand.

Then where I find grace, feature, virtues, dwell,

1130I've greatness, wealth, and honour—toll the bell!

Then with kind airs, life of my wishes, speak,Bid honour know his distance, wealth depart,And let the day of true contentment breakFrom thy clear lips, to cheer my misted heart.O, with one circle let my arms enfoldThe soul of honour and the heart of gold.'

Then with kind airs, life of my wishes, speak,

Bid honour know his distance, wealth depart,

And let the day of true contentment break

From thy clear lips, to cheer my misted heart.

O, with one circle let my arms enfold

The soul of honour and the heart of gold.'

'Sir,' quoth Bellama, 'wealth is not my aim,Nor does the gales of honour heave my soul,I higher prize an action than a name,1140And value more a pamphlet than a roll.Where I with comeliness find virtue mixed,My love, eyes, thoughts, are on that object fixed.

'Sir,' quoth Bellama, 'wealth is not my aim,

Nor does the gales of honour heave my soul,

I higher prize an action than a name,

1140And value more a pamphlet than a roll.

Where I with comeliness find virtue mixed,

My love, eyes, thoughts, are on that object fixed.

I speak not much of love, lest you presume;And speak a little, lest you should despair.I would not have my words your hopes deplume,Nor feather them to reach the highest air.I sum up all in this, whenas I say,I will not with disdains thy service pay.'

I speak not much of love, lest you presume;

And speak a little, lest you should despair.

I would not have my words your hopes deplume,

Nor feather them to reach the highest air.

I sum up all in this, whenas I say,

I will not with disdains thy service pay.'

Oh happy words! oh more than sacred breath!1150Albino, live! Bellama says thou must.Confront dire Fate, and challenge meagre Death:'Tis not in them to moulder thee to dust.Yet be advised, let not proud folly in,The conquest is as great to hold as win.

Oh happy words! oh more than sacred breath!

1150Albino, live! Bellama says thou must.

Confront dire Fate, and challenge meagre Death:

'Tis not in them to moulder thee to dust.

Yet be advised, let not proud folly in,

The conquest is as great to hold as win.

Our anchorist with all the words that joy,Hearting a lover, was acquainted with,Accosts his saint, rewards the wingèd boy,And congees to the queen of heat and pith.Smilèd and glanced, paid thanks, desired a kiss;1160And prayed time give an age unto his bliss.

Our anchorist with all the words that joy,

Hearting a lover, was acquainted with,

Accosts his saint, rewards the wingèd boy,

And congees to the queen of heat and pith.

Smilèd and glanced, paid thanks, desired a kiss;

1160And prayed time give an age unto his bliss.

But when day's lamp had wan the western clime,And wrapt his head in sea-green Thetis' lap,Our lover must observe the chanting timeAnd bids his saint adieu. Oh hard mishap!Oh, 'tis a hell to think what hellish painTrue lovers by unkind divorcement gain!

But when day's lamp had wan the western clime,

And wrapt his head in sea-green Thetis' lap,

Our lover must observe the chanting time

And bids his saint adieu. Oh hard mishap!

Oh, 'tis a hell to think what hellish pain

True lovers by unkind divorcement gain!

Yet, by that time the hoary-headed sireHad summed twelve sixty minutes, he againReturned t' his lady, when bright Titan's fire1170Was newly risen from the brackish main:And, common greetings passed amidst their pleasures,He in his lady's hands these lines entreasures.

Yet, by that time the hoary-headed sire

Had summed twelve sixty minutes, he again

Returned t' his lady, when bright Titan's fire

1170Was newly risen from the brackish main:

And, common greetings passed amidst their pleasures,

He in his lady's hands these lines entreasures.

My teeming fancy strives, choice fair, to chainEternity to time, that ne'er shall wane;And make those garden-minutes see the sunEntombed in darkness, and the earth unspunEre they expire, that all succeeding timesMay know and tell the subject of these rhymes.Assist me, Flora, that I may with grace1180Worthy its honour, shadow forth that placeOf spreading trees, sweet herbs, and fragrant flowers,Enriched with pleasing walks and shady bowers.Each twig, with amorous touch, embraced his mate,Like Bacchus' sacred tree his propping state;Or ivy, elm, that neither sun nor windTo his retirèd conclaves passage find.Within whose walls a half-night's darkness dwells,Which satyrs' growing palaces excels,Or anchorets' secluding hermitage.1190Here, like a common theatre or stage,Each spicèd child of earth, in summer robeAnd Iris' mantle, opes his closèd globe,Knows his appearing cue, and freely playsO' th' wished-for presence of your quick'ning rays.Such perfect vivifying influenceDwells in your looks, Light's chariot driven hence,That your sole presence can create a spring,From winter's frozen bands can loose each thing,From earth's entombing sepulchre can raise1200Each sleeping flow'r, to chant forth Maia's praise.This made amazement seize my mind to viewHalf-agèd winter bid so soon adieuTo this Elysium of the pagans' joy.And Chloris, with her new-brush'd clothes so coyBefore, and hardly to be won, come forthCrowned with the glory of her springing worth,To court our eyes, nay more, the bare-faced earthCovered with carpets green, befringèd roundWith smiling rosy trees, with glorious store1210Of daisies, suckles, cowslips, studded o'er.Like hunting vests of satonisco green,Embossed with gems by fawns and wood-nymphs' queen,Worn when the tushèd boar, bear, panting hartTh' unkennel, rouse, disfrank with nimble art.And, lest your spotless souls should suffer ill,Air's fleeting tuns crystalline streams distil,To wash the grassy-tufted tapestryWhich whistling winds, with murm'rings, haste to dry.And ev'ry tender branch whereon you tread1220To make your tracing, pacing, moves its head.Alcinous' orchard, or that precious rootWhich bore old Atlas' daughters golden fruit;Th' Idalian mount where Cytherea strayed,Or that where Ceres' luckless daughter playedWhenas the king of shades surprisèd her.Nor may the Roman's pride with this confer,For here all Maia's treasures are unitedWhich do, which shall, or senses e'er delighted,Yet summered by your eye each flower does bud,1230Blossoms, sprouts, opens, blooms, and chews the cud.Your presence hearts them all. O be as kindAs unto them to me; shoot through my rind.Shine through my heart with one, one smiling ray!So shall it open, blossom, sprout as they—Spiced with the choicest sweets e'er Venus had,In all the postures of true service clad,Trimmed with the beauties of the richest spring.All fertile too, all store of fruit shall bring:This, choice affection; that, chaste loyalty;1240This, vows; that, service; and that, constancy,Made up into a nosegay, circled inWith twists of love, which youth and virtue spin.Then, breath and ray, make and accept the posyAnd seal a contract 'twixt the lily and rosy.

My teeming fancy strives, choice fair, to chain

Eternity to time, that ne'er shall wane;

And make those garden-minutes see the sun

Entombed in darkness, and the earth unspun

Ere they expire, that all succeeding times

May know and tell the subject of these rhymes.

Assist me, Flora, that I may with grace

1180Worthy its honour, shadow forth that place

Of spreading trees, sweet herbs, and fragrant flowers,

Enriched with pleasing walks and shady bowers.

Each twig, with amorous touch, embraced his mate,

Like Bacchus' sacred tree his propping state;

Or ivy, elm, that neither sun nor wind

To his retirèd conclaves passage find.

Within whose walls a half-night's darkness dwells,

Which satyrs' growing palaces excels,

Or anchorets' secluding hermitage.

1190Here, like a common theatre or stage,

Each spicèd child of earth, in summer robe

And Iris' mantle, opes his closèd globe,

Knows his appearing cue, and freely plays

O' th' wished-for presence of your quick'ning rays.

Such perfect vivifying influence

Dwells in your looks, Light's chariot driven hence,

That your sole presence can create a spring,

From winter's frozen bands can loose each thing,

From earth's entombing sepulchre can raise

1200Each sleeping flow'r, to chant forth Maia's praise.

This made amazement seize my mind to view

Half-agèd winter bid so soon adieu

To this Elysium of the pagans' joy.

And Chloris, with her new-brush'd clothes so coy

Before, and hardly to be won, come forth

Crowned with the glory of her springing worth,

To court our eyes, nay more, the bare-faced earth

Covered with carpets green, befringèd round

With smiling rosy trees, with glorious store

1210Of daisies, suckles, cowslips, studded o'er.

Like hunting vests of satonisco green,

Embossed with gems by fawns and wood-nymphs' queen,

Worn when the tushèd boar, bear, panting hart

Th' unkennel, rouse, disfrank with nimble art.

And, lest your spotless souls should suffer ill,

Air's fleeting tuns crystalline streams distil,

To wash the grassy-tufted tapestry

Which whistling winds, with murm'rings, haste to dry.

And ev'ry tender branch whereon you tread

1220To make your tracing, pacing, moves its head.

Alcinous' orchard, or that precious root

Which bore old Atlas' daughters golden fruit;

Th' Idalian mount where Cytherea strayed,

Or that where Ceres' luckless daughter played

Whenas the king of shades surprisèd her.

Nor may the Roman's pride with this confer,

For here all Maia's treasures are united

Which do, which shall, or senses e'er delighted,

Yet summered by your eye each flower does bud,

1230Blossoms, sprouts, opens, blooms, and chews the cud.

Your presence hearts them all. O be as kind

As unto them to me; shoot through my rind.

Shine through my heart with one, one smiling ray!

So shall it open, blossom, sprout as they—

Spiced with the choicest sweets e'er Venus had,

In all the postures of true service clad,

Trimmed with the beauties of the richest spring.

All fertile too, all store of fruit shall bring:

This, choice affection; that, chaste loyalty;

1240This, vows; that, service; and that, constancy,

Made up into a nosegay, circled in

With twists of love, which youth and virtue spin.

Then, breath and ray, make and accept the posy

And seal a contract 'twixt the lily and rosy.

Enspherèd thus with virgins, oft he wouldTell pretty tales, fraught with conceited mirth,Discourse of foreign states sometimes unfold,(A sudden jest may give to laughter birth.)Thus to beguile the time, he oft would do,1250And unsuspected did his lady woo.Then privately sometimes with her would walkAlong a pavèd way, where lofty treesBore only witness of their am'rous talk,Plaiting their branchèd pride that none might see.And, lest quick envy should their dalliance spy,Themselves about the trees the brambles tie.Here in soft whispers did he court her love,And strove by oath their loves to ratify.'Madam,' says he, 'this reason may you move,1260That day and malice have too many eyesWhen my lips are sealed, and I attempt in vainTo send the children of my teeming brain.Not half so vigilant the dragon was,Which Colchos' treasure watch'd, as is your dame;So that they must through Argus headpiece passWhich seek here to enkindle Cupid's flame.I know your jealous matron does discoverHow my faint heart about your breast does hover.''Sir,' says Bellama, 'there is no such haste.1270Time will appoint our loves some fitter seasons,My father must ungirdle first my waist,Love will not be repelled by force, but reasons:And more, you know it is in vain to strive,Here's no escaping this monastic hive.When as the third day's sun, three hours or more,Our zenith has behind him left, hitherReturn, and I will meet thee; not before'.'My thoughts', quoth he, 'do in your absence wither,Pinched with the sharpest blasts cold winter breathes,1280But your,yourlooks, my heart with blossoms wreathes.That foolish glass, which measures time with sand,Enough of gravel has to meet a year.With lesser trouble I could Hermes' wand,Than the sad torture of your absence, bear:Change then those hours to minutes, days to day;If you say't shall be so time must obey.''Alas,' quoth she, 'my faith is not so strong,To think reality with language dwells,Nor can I think you count those minutes long1290When you're employèd with your beads and bells.Yet t' has the face of truth: I'll therefore tryIf time will pay such duty to mine eye.''These words have lent my body a new soul,And shot', quoth he, 'a fire through every vein;Doubt not your voice time's circle can control,And make the sun his hasty jennets rein.Nay more, methinks m' enlight'ned eyes discover'Bout you the gods with veilèd bonnets hover.I'm half-persuaded 'twas not blasphemy1300For me to say your nod can ravel Fate;Thaw into chaos this firm globe of dry;Beckon the planets; and their tow'rs unslate.Methinks I see the sun nailed to his sky,Unnath his car, and throw his whipstaff by.''Peace, peace,' quoth she, 'Albino! thou dost rave,Why dwells such language on thy wretching tongue?Wilt thou just vengeance force to dig thy grave?Think'st thou stern Fate will suffer such a wrong?Pinion thy words; let them not soar so high,1310Lest they should gash the clouds and ope the skyWe must not play with sharps, nor kiss the flame,Dally with heaven, or upbraid the gods,Lest their just anger make their powers tameSuch saucy scandals with their plagues and rods.Then wing no more Bellama's name, but letThe pearl be callèd pearl, the jet but jet.Go home in clouds, lest Envy see thy face;And come not till those minutes task the watch.''Madam,' says he, 'I'll bid them mend their pace.1320'Tis just with lovers every hair to catchThat dights occasion's brow, change date for date,Entrench sometimes upon the rights of Fate.Yet your command shall stand, I'll not transgress,But watch the hand until it joint the hour,And all my paths with gloomy shades will dress,That undiscovered I may win this bow'r.May all the blessings which a lover's voiceBreathes on his lady wait on you, my choice.'Here did they meet to rivet fast their heart,1330Where not a breath their private joys disturb;They thought no eye a saucy ray durst dart,Or any voice had power their loves to curb.So credulous are lovers, and so fainTo their conjectures wouldconclusum's chain.But this bright sun of joy eclipsèd was,And pitchy clouds their glorious sky did smutch:Then Venus' joys were like to Venice glass,Poor glass-like toys that perish with a touch.A guardian's anger, or a parent's frown,1340Nips love's fresh blossoms and a wish uncrown.The jealous matron, from her tow'ring loft,O'erlooked th' ambitious trees which hemmed them in;O'erheard their vows, their sighs, and language soft;And saw how Cupid leapt from skin to skin,The traffic of their lips, and how thin balmsDid glue and cement fast their melting palms.When she perceived the progress of their love,Religious care empanelled straight a juryOf thoughts and plots, this stranger to remove,1350Soothèd with profit, and enflamed with fury,Ush'ring her language with a threat'ning frown,She asked her business with that shavèd crown.Why was that sickly voice whose feeble galesCan raise no echoes, hand- and elbow-chat,Eye-dialogue's discourse, and wanton tales,That way of am'rousness and this, and that?'Speak truth, Bellama, has thy heart, as voice,Decreed that youthful monk thine only choice?'Bellama, startled at this sudden news,1360Yet did her answers all consist of noes;But yet, alas! her blood observed the cues,And called by guilt, her lily banks o'erflows:So that, though she with settled vows denied,Yet to the eye her blushes guilty cried.When as the matron's busy eyes had readLove on her cheeks in bloody letters writ,She asked her why blind folly thus had ledHer reason 'gainst religion, state, or wit?Or, if she needs must love, why did she scowl1370Upon state-satins, and embrace a cowl?Bellama to excuses tuned her air,Framing pretences for her amorous faith,But yet, alas! such was Pazzella's care,From her excuses she withheld her faith.And, with a voice shrill and as fierce as thunder,Sware she would knap their silly loves in sunder.Those scarlet gowns which doom offenders' death,Or the proscriptions of the Roman state,Had not the tithe of that affrighting breath,1380Although they weak'ned hell and threat'ned Fate,As had these words which feeble love did shiver,Snap his weak strings, and crack his emptied quiver.But, all this while, Albino sate with pleasure,And on his trencher joy and mirth attend;Nor to delight will he allow a measure,As at one sitting he his stock would spend.Nay, if he slept, he dreamed of naught but rings,Gloves, fans, masks, monkeys, and such pretty things.And when the time of his approach approached,1390His eye did travel with the dial's hand,Then started up to see Don Phoebus coached,Bade him make haste and at that minute stand,That this blest day may count more moments' flightThan could the stout Alcides' genial night.But oft we see before a sudden dash,The sun salutes the earth with hottest gleams:So here, before misfortune's harshest lash,Joy on Albino shot his choicest beams;That every thought was crownèd with a star,1400And rid with Venus in her silver car.Rose out o' th' vault with love and hope adust,And in conceit fed on his future sweet,Thinking what most may please, not what's most just.And with what phrase he should his lady greet:Vowing, in this full heat of lust and pride,To try how fast Bellama's girdle's tied.But as our alchemists do study much,Spend all their wits and wealth to find that stoneWhich baser metals doth engold with touch,1410(As he which once did awe the Phrygian throne)And when they long have dreamèd of a mass,Their silver's turned to tin, their gold to brass.Just so our amorist, stuffed full with hope,Came to this walk for his expected treasure,The crystal casements of his soul did opeTo let in th' object of his joy and pleasure:But when he thought t' have found his lovely lass,His love was lady-smocks, his lady grass.He searched with stricter care each bush and bow'r,1420Than did the fairy king and Hob his man;Throwing his eyes into each branchèd tow'r,And midst the sharp'ned pikes of brambles ran.Pricked forward with desire, enraged with spite,And venteth here what love and hate indite.

Enspherèd thus with virgins, oft he would

Tell pretty tales, fraught with conceited mirth,

Discourse of foreign states sometimes unfold,

(A sudden jest may give to laughter birth.)

Thus to beguile the time, he oft would do,

1250And unsuspected did his lady woo.

Then privately sometimes with her would walkAlong a pavèd way, where lofty treesBore only witness of their am'rous talk,Plaiting their branchèd pride that none might see.And, lest quick envy should their dalliance spy,Themselves about the trees the brambles tie.

Then privately sometimes with her would walk

Along a pavèd way, where lofty trees

Bore only witness of their am'rous talk,

Plaiting their branchèd pride that none might see.

And, lest quick envy should their dalliance spy,

Themselves about the trees the brambles tie.

Here in soft whispers did he court her love,And strove by oath their loves to ratify.'Madam,' says he, 'this reason may you move,1260That day and malice have too many eyesWhen my lips are sealed, and I attempt in vainTo send the children of my teeming brain.

Here in soft whispers did he court her love,

And strove by oath their loves to ratify.

'Madam,' says he, 'this reason may you move,

1260That day and malice have too many eyes

When my lips are sealed, and I attempt in vain

To send the children of my teeming brain.

Not half so vigilant the dragon was,Which Colchos' treasure watch'd, as is your dame;So that they must through Argus headpiece passWhich seek here to enkindle Cupid's flame.I know your jealous matron does discoverHow my faint heart about your breast does hover.'

Not half so vigilant the dragon was,

Which Colchos' treasure watch'd, as is your dame;

So that they must through Argus headpiece pass

Which seek here to enkindle Cupid's flame.

I know your jealous matron does discover

How my faint heart about your breast does hover.'

'Sir,' says Bellama, 'there is no such haste.1270Time will appoint our loves some fitter seasons,My father must ungirdle first my waist,Love will not be repelled by force, but reasons:And more, you know it is in vain to strive,Here's no escaping this monastic hive.

'Sir,' says Bellama, 'there is no such haste.

1270Time will appoint our loves some fitter seasons,

My father must ungirdle first my waist,

Love will not be repelled by force, but reasons:

And more, you know it is in vain to strive,

Here's no escaping this monastic hive.

When as the third day's sun, three hours or more,Our zenith has behind him left, hitherReturn, and I will meet thee; not before'.'My thoughts', quoth he, 'do in your absence wither,Pinched with the sharpest blasts cold winter breathes,1280But your,yourlooks, my heart with blossoms wreathes.

When as the third day's sun, three hours or more,

Our zenith has behind him left, hither

Return, and I will meet thee; not before'.

'My thoughts', quoth he, 'do in your absence wither,

Pinched with the sharpest blasts cold winter breathes,

1280But your,yourlooks, my heart with blossoms wreathes.

That foolish glass, which measures time with sand,Enough of gravel has to meet a year.With lesser trouble I could Hermes' wand,Than the sad torture of your absence, bear:Change then those hours to minutes, days to day;If you say't shall be so time must obey.'

That foolish glass, which measures time with sand,

Enough of gravel has to meet a year.

With lesser trouble I could Hermes' wand,

Than the sad torture of your absence, bear:

Change then those hours to minutes, days to day;

If you say't shall be so time must obey.'

'Alas,' quoth she, 'my faith is not so strong,To think reality with language dwells,Nor can I think you count those minutes long1290When you're employèd with your beads and bells.Yet t' has the face of truth: I'll therefore tryIf time will pay such duty to mine eye.'

'Alas,' quoth she, 'my faith is not so strong,

To think reality with language dwells,

Nor can I think you count those minutes long

1290When you're employèd with your beads and bells.

Yet t' has the face of truth: I'll therefore try

If time will pay such duty to mine eye.'

'These words have lent my body a new soul,And shot', quoth he, 'a fire through every vein;Doubt not your voice time's circle can control,And make the sun his hasty jennets rein.Nay more, methinks m' enlight'ned eyes discover'Bout you the gods with veilèd bonnets hover.

'These words have lent my body a new soul,

And shot', quoth he, 'a fire through every vein;

Doubt not your voice time's circle can control,

And make the sun his hasty jennets rein.

Nay more, methinks m' enlight'ned eyes discover

'Bout you the gods with veilèd bonnets hover.

I'm half-persuaded 'twas not blasphemy1300For me to say your nod can ravel Fate;Thaw into chaos this firm globe of dry;Beckon the planets; and their tow'rs unslate.Methinks I see the sun nailed to his sky,Unnath his car, and throw his whipstaff by.'

I'm half-persuaded 'twas not blasphemy

1300For me to say your nod can ravel Fate;

Thaw into chaos this firm globe of dry;

Beckon the planets; and their tow'rs unslate.

Methinks I see the sun nailed to his sky,

Unnath his car, and throw his whipstaff by.'

'Peace, peace,' quoth she, 'Albino! thou dost rave,Why dwells such language on thy wretching tongue?Wilt thou just vengeance force to dig thy grave?Think'st thou stern Fate will suffer such a wrong?Pinion thy words; let them not soar so high,1310Lest they should gash the clouds and ope the sky

'Peace, peace,' quoth she, 'Albino! thou dost rave,

Why dwells such language on thy wretching tongue?

Wilt thou just vengeance force to dig thy grave?

Think'st thou stern Fate will suffer such a wrong?

Pinion thy words; let them not soar so high,

1310Lest they should gash the clouds and ope the sky

We must not play with sharps, nor kiss the flame,Dally with heaven, or upbraid the gods,Lest their just anger make their powers tameSuch saucy scandals with their plagues and rods.Then wing no more Bellama's name, but letThe pearl be callèd pearl, the jet but jet.

We must not play with sharps, nor kiss the flame,

Dally with heaven, or upbraid the gods,

Lest their just anger make their powers tame

Such saucy scandals with their plagues and rods.

Then wing no more Bellama's name, but let

The pearl be callèd pearl, the jet but jet.

Go home in clouds, lest Envy see thy face;And come not till those minutes task the watch.''Madam,' says he, 'I'll bid them mend their pace.1320'Tis just with lovers every hair to catchThat dights occasion's brow, change date for date,Entrench sometimes upon the rights of Fate.

Go home in clouds, lest Envy see thy face;

And come not till those minutes task the watch.'

'Madam,' says he, 'I'll bid them mend their pace.

1320'Tis just with lovers every hair to catch

That dights occasion's brow, change date for date,

Entrench sometimes upon the rights of Fate.

Yet your command shall stand, I'll not transgress,But watch the hand until it joint the hour,And all my paths with gloomy shades will dress,That undiscovered I may win this bow'r.May all the blessings which a lover's voiceBreathes on his lady wait on you, my choice.'

Yet your command shall stand, I'll not transgress,

But watch the hand until it joint the hour,

And all my paths with gloomy shades will dress,

That undiscovered I may win this bow'r.

May all the blessings which a lover's voice

Breathes on his lady wait on you, my choice.'

Here did they meet to rivet fast their heart,1330Where not a breath their private joys disturb;They thought no eye a saucy ray durst dart,Or any voice had power their loves to curb.So credulous are lovers, and so fainTo their conjectures wouldconclusum's chain.

Here did they meet to rivet fast their heart,

1330Where not a breath their private joys disturb;

They thought no eye a saucy ray durst dart,

Or any voice had power their loves to curb.

So credulous are lovers, and so fain

To their conjectures wouldconclusum's chain.

But this bright sun of joy eclipsèd was,And pitchy clouds their glorious sky did smutch:Then Venus' joys were like to Venice glass,Poor glass-like toys that perish with a touch.A guardian's anger, or a parent's frown,1340Nips love's fresh blossoms and a wish uncrown.

But this bright sun of joy eclipsèd was,

And pitchy clouds their glorious sky did smutch:

Then Venus' joys were like to Venice glass,

Poor glass-like toys that perish with a touch.

A guardian's anger, or a parent's frown,

1340Nips love's fresh blossoms and a wish uncrown.

The jealous matron, from her tow'ring loft,O'erlooked th' ambitious trees which hemmed them in;O'erheard their vows, their sighs, and language soft;And saw how Cupid leapt from skin to skin,The traffic of their lips, and how thin balmsDid glue and cement fast their melting palms.

The jealous matron, from her tow'ring loft,

O'erlooked th' ambitious trees which hemmed them in;

O'erheard their vows, their sighs, and language soft;

And saw how Cupid leapt from skin to skin,

The traffic of their lips, and how thin balms

Did glue and cement fast their melting palms.

When she perceived the progress of their love,Religious care empanelled straight a juryOf thoughts and plots, this stranger to remove,1350Soothèd with profit, and enflamed with fury,Ush'ring her language with a threat'ning frown,She asked her business with that shavèd crown.

When she perceived the progress of their love,

Religious care empanelled straight a jury

Of thoughts and plots, this stranger to remove,

1350Soothèd with profit, and enflamed with fury,

Ush'ring her language with a threat'ning frown,

She asked her business with that shavèd crown.

Why was that sickly voice whose feeble galesCan raise no echoes, hand- and elbow-chat,Eye-dialogue's discourse, and wanton tales,That way of am'rousness and this, and that?'Speak truth, Bellama, has thy heart, as voice,Decreed that youthful monk thine only choice?'

Why was that sickly voice whose feeble gales

Can raise no echoes, hand- and elbow-chat,

Eye-dialogue's discourse, and wanton tales,

That way of am'rousness and this, and that?

'Speak truth, Bellama, has thy heart, as voice,

Decreed that youthful monk thine only choice?'

Bellama, startled at this sudden news,1360Yet did her answers all consist of noes;But yet, alas! her blood observed the cues,And called by guilt, her lily banks o'erflows:So that, though she with settled vows denied,Yet to the eye her blushes guilty cried.

Bellama, startled at this sudden news,

1360Yet did her answers all consist of noes;

But yet, alas! her blood observed the cues,

And called by guilt, her lily banks o'erflows:

So that, though she with settled vows denied,

Yet to the eye her blushes guilty cried.

When as the matron's busy eyes had readLove on her cheeks in bloody letters writ,She asked her why blind folly thus had ledHer reason 'gainst religion, state, or wit?Or, if she needs must love, why did she scowl1370Upon state-satins, and embrace a cowl?

When as the matron's busy eyes had read

Love on her cheeks in bloody letters writ,

She asked her why blind folly thus had led

Her reason 'gainst religion, state, or wit?

Or, if she needs must love, why did she scowl

1370Upon state-satins, and embrace a cowl?

Bellama to excuses tuned her air,Framing pretences for her amorous faith,But yet, alas! such was Pazzella's care,From her excuses she withheld her faith.And, with a voice shrill and as fierce as thunder,Sware she would knap their silly loves in sunder.

Bellama to excuses tuned her air,

Framing pretences for her amorous faith,

But yet, alas! such was Pazzella's care,

From her excuses she withheld her faith.

And, with a voice shrill and as fierce as thunder,

Sware she would knap their silly loves in sunder.

Those scarlet gowns which doom offenders' death,Or the proscriptions of the Roman state,Had not the tithe of that affrighting breath,1380Although they weak'ned hell and threat'ned Fate,As had these words which feeble love did shiver,Snap his weak strings, and crack his emptied quiver.

Those scarlet gowns which doom offenders' death,

Or the proscriptions of the Roman state,

Had not the tithe of that affrighting breath,

1380Although they weak'ned hell and threat'ned Fate,

As had these words which feeble love did shiver,

Snap his weak strings, and crack his emptied quiver.

But, all this while, Albino sate with pleasure,And on his trencher joy and mirth attend;Nor to delight will he allow a measure,As at one sitting he his stock would spend.Nay, if he slept, he dreamed of naught but rings,Gloves, fans, masks, monkeys, and such pretty things.

But, all this while, Albino sate with pleasure,

And on his trencher joy and mirth attend;

Nor to delight will he allow a measure,

As at one sitting he his stock would spend.

Nay, if he slept, he dreamed of naught but rings,

Gloves, fans, masks, monkeys, and such pretty things.

And when the time of his approach approached,1390His eye did travel with the dial's hand,Then started up to see Don Phoebus coached,Bade him make haste and at that minute stand,That this blest day may count more moments' flightThan could the stout Alcides' genial night.

And when the time of his approach approached,

1390His eye did travel with the dial's hand,

Then started up to see Don Phoebus coached,

Bade him make haste and at that minute stand,

That this blest day may count more moments' flight

Than could the stout Alcides' genial night.

But oft we see before a sudden dash,The sun salutes the earth with hottest gleams:So here, before misfortune's harshest lash,Joy on Albino shot his choicest beams;That every thought was crownèd with a star,1400And rid with Venus in her silver car.

But oft we see before a sudden dash,

The sun salutes the earth with hottest gleams:

So here, before misfortune's harshest lash,

Joy on Albino shot his choicest beams;

That every thought was crownèd with a star,

1400And rid with Venus in her silver car.

Rose out o' th' vault with love and hope adust,And in conceit fed on his future sweet,Thinking what most may please, not what's most just.And with what phrase he should his lady greet:Vowing, in this full heat of lust and pride,To try how fast Bellama's girdle's tied.

Rose out o' th' vault with love and hope adust,

And in conceit fed on his future sweet,

Thinking what most may please, not what's most just.

And with what phrase he should his lady greet:

Vowing, in this full heat of lust and pride,

To try how fast Bellama's girdle's tied.

But as our alchemists do study much,Spend all their wits and wealth to find that stoneWhich baser metals doth engold with touch,1410(As he which once did awe the Phrygian throne)And when they long have dreamèd of a mass,Their silver's turned to tin, their gold to brass.

But as our alchemists do study much,

Spend all their wits and wealth to find that stone

Which baser metals doth engold with touch,

1410(As he which once did awe the Phrygian throne)

And when they long have dreamèd of a mass,

Their silver's turned to tin, their gold to brass.

Just so our amorist, stuffed full with hope,Came to this walk for his expected treasure,The crystal casements of his soul did opeTo let in th' object of his joy and pleasure:But when he thought t' have found his lovely lass,His love was lady-smocks, his lady grass.

Just so our amorist, stuffed full with hope,

Came to this walk for his expected treasure,

The crystal casements of his soul did ope

To let in th' object of his joy and pleasure:

But when he thought t' have found his lovely lass,

His love was lady-smocks, his lady grass.

He searched with stricter care each bush and bow'r,1420Than did the fairy king and Hob his man;Throwing his eyes into each branchèd tow'r,And midst the sharp'ned pikes of brambles ran.Pricked forward with desire, enraged with spite,And venteth here what love and hate indite.

He searched with stricter care each bush and bow'r,

1420Than did the fairy king and Hob his man;

Throwing his eyes into each branchèd tow'r,

And midst the sharp'ned pikes of brambles ran.

Pricked forward with desire, enraged with spite,

And venteth here what love and hate indite.

When, walking, I sent forth my watchful eyesTo fetch in objects, like Bellona's spies,Along this swelling way which chequered wasWith smooth-faced pebbles, not with pikèd grass,Bellama paced, whose only pacing set1430Upon the pavèd walk a coronetOf Flora's pride—carnations, tulips, lilies,Pansies, pinks, roses, daffadowndillies.Nay more, methought, I saw the rubbish waySapphires, pearls, rubies, onyx-stones, outray.The very channel, proud of her blest weight,Swelled up with pride unto the ridge's height,To kiss her feet, and made the way an alley.With this choice fair mine eyes (ah!) once did dally,Nature's epitome, whose curious brow1440Was like a smoothèd mount of bleachèd snow,At whose clear foot Nature divine did placeTwo diamonds, which did enlighten all her face.So that 'twas like those orbs wherein do strayThe planet-lamps, or Cupid's sucking way;And from these gems such silver rays were sentWhich hatchèd o'er her light accoutrement.So that dull fancies would have thought she hadIn cambric, holland, or pure lawn, been clad.Nay, I at first thought it had Cynthia bin1450Deck'd in her brother's sunshine ermelin.She shot such glorious beams: but now, alas!She's gone, she's fled, and lo! the mourning grassIs hayed already, and th' ungemmed stoneAt feathers catch to fly where she is gone.The branchèd beech, the oak, and tow'ring ash,Bend both their brows and boughs my face to lash.The angry thorns my hands, though armèd, scratch,And testy brambles at my vestures catch(Which was before the curse of human sin,1460But now, by her, outsmelled the eglantine),I, wonder-strucken, asked a holy thistle,Which with his sharp'ned pikes began to bristle,(But know at first 'twas but an homely weed,Her presence made it holy, not its seed)Why all with ireful looks thus threat'ned me?'It is supposed, Bellama fair,' quoth he,'The goddess of this walk was forced by youTo this benighted path to bid adieu.''Alas!' quoth I (meanwhile the thistle paus'd),1470'Their wrath is undeserved, I never causedBy any ill demeans that saint to leaveThis place, and widow every branch and greave.Unto your testates I myself refer,How choicely I have ever honoured her,Have paid my tribute-compliments, and gaveRespects as much as due, or she, would have.But people (worse than those that people stews)Whose only joy consists in telling news,Or Pazzell' else with her envenomed lips,1480Your glory and my comfort do eclipse,'Tis them they ought to chide, for only theyCompel her to forsake this gloomy way.Yet spite of all disasters, fate, and hell,Albino's heart shall with Bellama dwell:And though chill winter nip both you and me,We shall, ere long, our suns and summers see.'

When, walking, I sent forth my watchful eyes

To fetch in objects, like Bellona's spies,

Along this swelling way which chequered was

With smooth-faced pebbles, not with pikèd grass,

Bellama paced, whose only pacing set

1430Upon the pavèd walk a coronet

Of Flora's pride—carnations, tulips, lilies,

Pansies, pinks, roses, daffadowndillies.

Nay more, methought, I saw the rubbish way

Sapphires, pearls, rubies, onyx-stones, outray.

The very channel, proud of her blest weight,

Swelled up with pride unto the ridge's height,

To kiss her feet, and made the way an alley.

With this choice fair mine eyes (ah!) once did dally,

Nature's epitome, whose curious brow

1440Was like a smoothèd mount of bleachèd snow,

At whose clear foot Nature divine did place

Two diamonds, which did enlighten all her face.

So that 'twas like those orbs wherein do stray

The planet-lamps, or Cupid's sucking way;

And from these gems such silver rays were sent

Which hatchèd o'er her light accoutrement.

So that dull fancies would have thought she had

In cambric, holland, or pure lawn, been clad.

Nay, I at first thought it had Cynthia bin

1450Deck'd in her brother's sunshine ermelin.

She shot such glorious beams: but now, alas!

She's gone, she's fled, and lo! the mourning grass

Is hayed already, and th' ungemmed stone

At feathers catch to fly where she is gone.

The branchèd beech, the oak, and tow'ring ash,

Bend both their brows and boughs my face to lash.

The angry thorns my hands, though armèd, scratch,

And testy brambles at my vestures catch

(Which was before the curse of human sin,

1460But now, by her, outsmelled the eglantine),

I, wonder-strucken, asked a holy thistle,

Which with his sharp'ned pikes began to bristle,

(But know at first 'twas but an homely weed,

Her presence made it holy, not its seed)

Why all with ireful looks thus threat'ned me?

'It is supposed, Bellama fair,' quoth he,

'The goddess of this walk was forced by you

To this benighted path to bid adieu.'

'Alas!' quoth I (meanwhile the thistle paus'd),

1470'Their wrath is undeserved, I never caused

By any ill demeans that saint to leave

This place, and widow every branch and greave.

Unto your testates I myself refer,

How choicely I have ever honoured her,

Have paid my tribute-compliments, and gave

Respects as much as due, or she, would have.

But people (worse than those that people stews)

Whose only joy consists in telling news,

Or Pazzell' else with her envenomed lips,

1480Your glory and my comfort do eclipse,

'Tis them they ought to chide, for only they

Compel her to forsake this gloomy way.

Yet spite of all disasters, fate, and hell,

Albino's heart shall with Bellama dwell:

And though chill winter nip both you and me,

We shall, ere long, our suns and summers see.'

This said, he straight forsook his silent grove,Trimming his looks which passion did untrim,And hastes to find the object of his love.1490But such an eye the matron cast on him,That fury on her looks did seem to dwell,And envy to her face transplanted hell.Heartless Albino with much pain did viewHow on her looks madness and anger ranged,And on Bellam' he private glances threwTo bring him word if that she stood unchanged,If she continued square, despite of them,Whose jealous eyes did all their actions hem.Bellama knew the language of his eye,1500But could not give respect to Cupid's law,For Piazella to her eyes did tieA constant watch, which kept her eyes in awe:That she was forced to peep within her veil,For there the matron did her eyes enjail.The ragged crew, which are enwrapt in chainsThrough grates, more freedom have of sight than she,Which in them both produced such griefs and painsToo sharp and loud to be expressed by me.Albino now does judge his absence better,1510And chose a proxy to present a letter.One of his order (deemed a trusty friendEndeared to him by favours, oath, and vow),Was his Talthibius, ordained to sendTo her whose beauty makes stiff Atlas bow.The monk embraced the office, and did swear,By all our scarlet oaths, faith, truth, and care.Albino now to every Santo prays,And for success his hands with zeal does rear,Courting his lady in some Irish lays,1520And robbed his finger of its golden sphere.En-nealedI live in hope, and sure grief's waves,If anchorless, had been t'is wishes graves.

This said, he straight forsook his silent grove,

Trimming his looks which passion did untrim,

And hastes to find the object of his love.

1490But such an eye the matron cast on him,

That fury on her looks did seem to dwell,

And envy to her face transplanted hell.

Heartless Albino with much pain did viewHow on her looks madness and anger ranged,And on Bellam' he private glances threwTo bring him word if that she stood unchanged,If she continued square, despite of them,Whose jealous eyes did all their actions hem.

Heartless Albino with much pain did view

How on her looks madness and anger ranged,

And on Bellam' he private glances threw

To bring him word if that she stood unchanged,

If she continued square, despite of them,

Whose jealous eyes did all their actions hem.

Bellama knew the language of his eye,1500But could not give respect to Cupid's law,For Piazella to her eyes did tieA constant watch, which kept her eyes in awe:That she was forced to peep within her veil,For there the matron did her eyes enjail.

Bellama knew the language of his eye,

1500But could not give respect to Cupid's law,

For Piazella to her eyes did tie

A constant watch, which kept her eyes in awe:

That she was forced to peep within her veil,

For there the matron did her eyes enjail.

The ragged crew, which are enwrapt in chainsThrough grates, more freedom have of sight than she,Which in them both produced such griefs and painsToo sharp and loud to be expressed by me.Albino now does judge his absence better,1510And chose a proxy to present a letter.

The ragged crew, which are enwrapt in chains

Through grates, more freedom have of sight than she,

Which in them both produced such griefs and pains

Too sharp and loud to be expressed by me.

Albino now does judge his absence better,

1510And chose a proxy to present a letter.

One of his order (deemed a trusty friendEndeared to him by favours, oath, and vow),Was his Talthibius, ordained to sendTo her whose beauty makes stiff Atlas bow.The monk embraced the office, and did swear,By all our scarlet oaths, faith, truth, and care.

One of his order (deemed a trusty friend

Endeared to him by favours, oath, and vow),

Was his Talthibius, ordained to send

To her whose beauty makes stiff Atlas bow.

The monk embraced the office, and did swear,

By all our scarlet oaths, faith, truth, and care.

Albino now to every Santo prays,And for success his hands with zeal does rear,Courting his lady in some Irish lays,1520And robbed his finger of its golden sphere.En-nealedI live in hope, and sure grief's waves,If anchorless, had been t'is wishes graves.

Albino now to every Santo prays,

And for success his hands with zeal does rear,

Courting his lady in some Irish lays,

1520And robbed his finger of its golden sphere.

En-nealedI live in hope, and sure grief's waves,

If anchorless, had been t'is wishes graves.

Ick predee metres be not coy,But intertaune mee's love vit joy:For me be not a snottee boy.Vat tough me russell not in silke,And keep mee's servaunts vit capes ilke,Yet me be not a sop of milke.Vat tough me vil not stautly stret,1530And ilke de Peacock poudely jet;Yet me be vary pruce and neat.Vat tough me vil not lye vit pimpes,And pend me's coyne on light-teale shrimpes,Yet me can hug, busse prettee nymphes.Vat tough me ha ne Hauke ne Hound,And vil not suare begot, idzound,Yet faith mee's frolique, plumpe and sound.Vat tough me cannot Maudam say,And vit ty Fan an Monkee play,1540Yet me con flatter vel as thay.Vat tough me connot honour teeVit titles laudee C or D,Yet tou sault a good Metress bee.Vat tough, vat tough, Ick say, vat tough,Ick say, udsnigs, in feck I trough,Yet Ick drive not te Caurt and Plough.Then pretee, pretee, buxome faire,Let me not launguish in despaire,But say me's sutes all gaunted are.1550Let ne mee's Irish borrell speach,In tyne affection mauke o breach,For me con better say so teach.And me can be as blyth and freeAs auny push or saunten hee,Ten say, and ved, and bed vit me.Tyne faytfull friend and good servaune,Patrick Applous,te fine, te bave, tegallaun Irish-mon.

Ick predee metres be not coy,But intertaune mee's love vit joy:For me be not a snottee boy.

Ick predee metres be not coy,

But intertaune mee's love vit joy:

For me be not a snottee boy.

Vat tough me russell not in silke,And keep mee's servaunts vit capes ilke,Yet me be not a sop of milke.

Vat tough me russell not in silke,

And keep mee's servaunts vit capes ilke,

Yet me be not a sop of milke.

Vat tough me vil not stautly stret,1530And ilke de Peacock poudely jet;Yet me be vary pruce and neat.

Vat tough me vil not stautly stret,

1530And ilke de Peacock poudely jet;

Yet me be vary pruce and neat.

Vat tough me vil not lye vit pimpes,And pend me's coyne on light-teale shrimpes,Yet me can hug, busse prettee nymphes.

Vat tough me vil not lye vit pimpes,

And pend me's coyne on light-teale shrimpes,

Yet me can hug, busse prettee nymphes.

Vat tough me ha ne Hauke ne Hound,And vil not suare begot, idzound,Yet faith mee's frolique, plumpe and sound.

Vat tough me ha ne Hauke ne Hound,

And vil not suare begot, idzound,

Yet faith mee's frolique, plumpe and sound.

Vat tough me cannot Maudam say,And vit ty Fan an Monkee play,1540Yet me con flatter vel as thay.

Vat tough me cannot Maudam say,

And vit ty Fan an Monkee play,

1540Yet me con flatter vel as thay.

Vat tough me connot honour teeVit titles laudee C or D,Yet tou sault a good Metress bee.

Vat tough me connot honour tee

Vit titles laudee C or D,

Yet tou sault a good Metress bee.

Vat tough, vat tough, Ick say, vat tough,Ick say, udsnigs, in feck I trough,Yet Ick drive not te Caurt and Plough.

Vat tough, vat tough, Ick say, vat tough,

Ick say, udsnigs, in feck I trough,

Yet Ick drive not te Caurt and Plough.

Then pretee, pretee, buxome faire,Let me not launguish in despaire,But say me's sutes all gaunted are.

Then pretee, pretee, buxome faire,

Let me not launguish in despaire,

But say me's sutes all gaunted are.

1550Let ne mee's Irish borrell speach,In tyne affection mauke o breach,For me con better say so teach.

1550Let ne mee's Irish borrell speach,

In tyne affection mauke o breach,

For me con better say so teach.

And me can be as blyth and freeAs auny push or saunten hee,Ten say, and ved, and bed vit me.

And me can be as blyth and free

As auny push or saunten hee,

Ten say, and ved, and bed vit me.

Tyne faytfull friend and good servaune,Patrick Applous,te fine, te bave, tegallaun Irish-mon.

Tyne faytfull friend and good servaune,

Patrick Applous,te fine, te bave, te

gallaun Irish-mon.

Cupid oft-times disdains to dwellIn lofty palace, but does shellHimself in straw-thatched roof, and chooseFor novel a September rose1560Before a diamond to present,Or time in silver ceilings pent;Great gifts enforce, but small ones woo,And forced respects will never do.He questions his own worth that fearsTo whisper in his mistress' earsWith smallest gifts, since true worth hatesA boon which for him loudly prates,And female worths may justly slightThose that but with gilt swords dare fight.1570These make me send this little ring(An emblem of a greater thing),Tis bruised—hence representeth trueMy heart, bruised, bent, and bowed for you.Anatomists conclude by artA vein is stretchèd to the heartFro' th' smallest finger of the left;From vein and finger comes this gift:Hence merits better, since we findMany send presents, few their mind.

Cupid oft-times disdains to dwell

In lofty palace, but does shell

Himself in straw-thatched roof, and choose

For novel a September rose

1560Before a diamond to present,

Or time in silver ceilings pent;

Great gifts enforce, but small ones woo,

And forced respects will never do.

He questions his own worth that fears

To whisper in his mistress' ears

With smallest gifts, since true worth hates

A boon which for him loudly prates,

And female worths may justly slight

Those that but with gilt swords dare fight.

1570These make me send this little ring

(An emblem of a greater thing),

Tis bruised—hence representeth true

My heart, bruised, bent, and bowed for you.

Anatomists conclude by art

A vein is stretchèd to the heart

Fro' th' smallest finger of the left;

From vein and finger comes this gift:

Hence merits better, since we find

Many send presents, few their mind.

1580'Tis hope that makes me live, and whenMy hope's transferred to other men,Divorced from me, health cannot giveA strength to make my rent heart live.A rented heart 'tis truly called,For love of virtues you enthralled,Tenant at will to you, and paysLarge rents of sighs each hour and days.But to what number they amount,Puzzles arithmetic to count.1590Then, courteous landlady, be pleaseTo seal my heart a lifelong lease.Else ev'ry slight and frown of yoursWill turn your tenant out of doors.Yet hope persuades me not to doubtMy heart shall not be turnèd out.For you have promisèd to comeAnd live with it, or exchange home;So I be landlord unto thine,And you be landlady to mine.1600Say 'Aye' to this, and only FateShall change the tenor of our state.

1580'Tis hope that makes me live, and when

My hope's transferred to other men,

Divorced from me, health cannot give

A strength to make my rent heart live.

A rented heart 'tis truly called,

For love of virtues you enthralled,

Tenant at will to you, and pays

Large rents of sighs each hour and days.

But to what number they amount,

Puzzles arithmetic to count.

1590Then, courteous landlady, be please

To seal my heart a lifelong lease.

Else ev'ry slight and frown of yours

Will turn your tenant out of doors.

Yet hope persuades me not to doubt

My heart shall not be turnèd out.

For you have promisèd to come

And live with it, or exchange home;

So I be landlord unto thine,

And you be landlady to mine.

1600Say 'Aye' to this, and only Fate

Shall change the tenor of our state.

Bardino from the coven posts with speedUnto Albino's only polar star,Loaden with blessings, and beware take heedAs the great grandame's son prepared for war,Or as a widow's son, whose only joyHangs on the nuptials of her lusty boy.Like as a pilot to some floating keelWhen as the bustlers from old Æol's cave1610On Neptune's furrowed back make it to reel,And at his death shoot billow after wave:So tossed in seas of grief Albino tiedHis love's choice pinnace to Bardino's guide.But Bishop-Guts, tun-bellied, all-paunched friar,In sight of Lesbia's tow'rs, split his fair galley,Proved a dissembling and perfidious liar;From his foul breast deceit and hate did sally.The seeds of every sin in him did bud,Nothing did wither but this one thing,Good.1620For to win credit with the Lady-mother,And raise a liking of himself in her,He proved a traitor to his abbey-brother,With abbotess in private does confer,And unto her imparts his amorous news,She, not Bellam', his vowèd service views.But to Albino he returned with faith(Yet 'twas an oath), 'I importuned thy saint,Pressed her t' unlock thy secrets: but she saith"What purblind folly does thy heart attaint?1630Thou know'st what offers I refused, and thou'llConfine my love unto a starvèd cowl!"'Away flings she, and leaves me disconsolate,Nor after deigned to me a wonted look:Now is Albino pinched with cruel Fate.Which is the better, Cupid, or thy book?Hadst viewed her beauty with a scornful eyeThou hadst not tasted of her pride and fie.Hapless Albin', and hapless so much moreBecause Albin', rest quiet with thy lot;1640If Nilus overflow his sandy floor,Above twelve cubits, it procures a rot.When at too high a pitch affections tow'r,Fate with misfortunes oft their hopes doth sour.Wound not the harmless air with mournful hoots,Steer not 'gainst Volga's stream thy feeble keel,Be not like him who 'gainst a whirlwind shoots,Or like the cockatrice in pecking steel;For acts, 'gainst Nature wrought, despite do gain,And love o'erlooking Fortune, reaps disdain.'1650But let us see what strange effect this newsWrites in his breast (disaster's fatal book),What stronger plot his working fancy brewsIf's lofty thoughts be at this answer shook—Alas! they are, so weak a thing is man,Crash'd into atoms with a slighting fan.His blood retires unto his throbbing heart,His wannèd cheeks with lawn were overspread,An aspen-trembling loos'ned every part,His spirits fainted and his vitals fled,1660And his quick heart with such strong motions beatedThat it, though chilled with fear, his body heated.Ent'ring his chamber, strewèd o'er with rue,He leaned his head upon his swelling pillow,And, sighing, cried 'Bellama! is this true?Must I be doomèd to the barren willow?I thought, exempted from my pedant's art,I should no more have felt the willow's smart.Thy eyes spake love: and every glance you sentWrit on my heart, "Albino is approv'd";1670Whensoe'er my eyes unto thy feature went,And met with thine, they brought me word "You lov'd",Then can Bellama not Bellama be?She may Bellama be, but not to me.Blest heavens! how have men deserved your ire,That made you frame this curse, this thing calledWoman,So comely and so useful, giving fireTo sear us men and yet disdain to know man?Why on their faces have you placed such charms,To make us court with sighs the worst of harms.'1680Pandora's box of woes was openèd then,When first they took in hand to make a woman,And all the Furies joined to torture men;Yet women first were rare, but now grown common,And mischiefs high, when once they common growEntomb great states, and commons overthrow.Thou Love (what should I call thee?) dost entice,Nay check'st rebellion in the awful gods;Women thy weapons are, of such high price,That beat with them they humbly kiss the rods.1690No life, no joy, no sweet, without a lass;And yet no sweet nor joy since woman was.Our eyes do ne'er mistake the day for night,Nor can the pale-hewed pinks for roses pass,But when on women's colours they do light.Then (bribed) they look as through a painted glass,So that what women are we never seeBut what we wish and fancy them to be.'Mongst thousand virgins which do suck this air,I never knew but one, but one—one good;1700Whom I supposèd full as good as fair,And she was making e'er Deucalion's flood:But she—alas! what should I say?—but sheIs woe to man, a woman unto me.'Thus in his height'ned fury he condemnsBoth Fate and Fortune, honour, wealth, and worth,Raileth on virgins and their beauteous gems,And curseth Nature that did bring her forth,But, above all, his sharp incensèd museIn wrathful odes Don Cupid does accuse.

Bardino from the coven posts with speed

Unto Albino's only polar star,

Loaden with blessings, and beware take heed

As the great grandame's son prepared for war,

Or as a widow's son, whose only joy

Hangs on the nuptials of her lusty boy.

Like as a pilot to some floating keelWhen as the bustlers from old Æol's cave1610On Neptune's furrowed back make it to reel,And at his death shoot billow after wave:So tossed in seas of grief Albino tiedHis love's choice pinnace to Bardino's guide.

Like as a pilot to some floating keel

When as the bustlers from old Æol's cave

1610On Neptune's furrowed back make it to reel,

And at his death shoot billow after wave:

So tossed in seas of grief Albino tied

His love's choice pinnace to Bardino's guide.

But Bishop-Guts, tun-bellied, all-paunched friar,In sight of Lesbia's tow'rs, split his fair galley,Proved a dissembling and perfidious liar;From his foul breast deceit and hate did sally.The seeds of every sin in him did bud,Nothing did wither but this one thing,Good.

But Bishop-Guts, tun-bellied, all-paunched friar,

In sight of Lesbia's tow'rs, split his fair galley,

Proved a dissembling and perfidious liar;

From his foul breast deceit and hate did sally.

The seeds of every sin in him did bud,

Nothing did wither but this one thing,Good.

1620For to win credit with the Lady-mother,And raise a liking of himself in her,He proved a traitor to his abbey-brother,With abbotess in private does confer,And unto her imparts his amorous news,She, not Bellam', his vowèd service views.

1620For to win credit with the Lady-mother,

And raise a liking of himself in her,

He proved a traitor to his abbey-brother,

With abbotess in private does confer,

And unto her imparts his amorous news,

She, not Bellam', his vowèd service views.

But to Albino he returned with faith(Yet 'twas an oath), 'I importuned thy saint,Pressed her t' unlock thy secrets: but she saith"What purblind folly does thy heart attaint?1630Thou know'st what offers I refused, and thou'llConfine my love unto a starvèd cowl!"

But to Albino he returned with faith

(Yet 'twas an oath), 'I importuned thy saint,

Pressed her t' unlock thy secrets: but she saith

"What purblind folly does thy heart attaint?

1630Thou know'st what offers I refused, and thou'll

Confine my love unto a starvèd cowl!"

'Away flings she, and leaves me disconsolate,Nor after deigned to me a wonted look:Now is Albino pinched with cruel Fate.Which is the better, Cupid, or thy book?Hadst viewed her beauty with a scornful eyeThou hadst not tasted of her pride and fie.

'Away flings she, and leaves me disconsolate,

Nor after deigned to me a wonted look:

Now is Albino pinched with cruel Fate.

Which is the better, Cupid, or thy book?

Hadst viewed her beauty with a scornful eye

Thou hadst not tasted of her pride and fie.

Hapless Albin', and hapless so much moreBecause Albin', rest quiet with thy lot;1640If Nilus overflow his sandy floor,Above twelve cubits, it procures a rot.When at too high a pitch affections tow'r,Fate with misfortunes oft their hopes doth sour.

Hapless Albin', and hapless so much more

Because Albin', rest quiet with thy lot;

1640If Nilus overflow his sandy floor,

Above twelve cubits, it procures a rot.

When at too high a pitch affections tow'r,

Fate with misfortunes oft their hopes doth sour.

Wound not the harmless air with mournful hoots,Steer not 'gainst Volga's stream thy feeble keel,Be not like him who 'gainst a whirlwind shoots,Or like the cockatrice in pecking steel;For acts, 'gainst Nature wrought, despite do gain,And love o'erlooking Fortune, reaps disdain.'

Wound not the harmless air with mournful hoots,

Steer not 'gainst Volga's stream thy feeble keel,

Be not like him who 'gainst a whirlwind shoots,

Or like the cockatrice in pecking steel;

For acts, 'gainst Nature wrought, despite do gain,

And love o'erlooking Fortune, reaps disdain.'

1650But let us see what strange effect this newsWrites in his breast (disaster's fatal book),What stronger plot his working fancy brewsIf's lofty thoughts be at this answer shook—Alas! they are, so weak a thing is man,Crash'd into atoms with a slighting fan.

1650But let us see what strange effect this news

Writes in his breast (disaster's fatal book),

What stronger plot his working fancy brews

If's lofty thoughts be at this answer shook—

Alas! they are, so weak a thing is man,

Crash'd into atoms with a slighting fan.

His blood retires unto his throbbing heart,His wannèd cheeks with lawn were overspread,An aspen-trembling loos'ned every part,His spirits fainted and his vitals fled,1660And his quick heart with such strong motions beatedThat it, though chilled with fear, his body heated.

His blood retires unto his throbbing heart,

His wannèd cheeks with lawn were overspread,

An aspen-trembling loos'ned every part,

His spirits fainted and his vitals fled,

1660And his quick heart with such strong motions beated

That it, though chilled with fear, his body heated.

Ent'ring his chamber, strewèd o'er with rue,He leaned his head upon his swelling pillow,And, sighing, cried 'Bellama! is this true?Must I be doomèd to the barren willow?I thought, exempted from my pedant's art,I should no more have felt the willow's smart.

Ent'ring his chamber, strewèd o'er with rue,

He leaned his head upon his swelling pillow,

And, sighing, cried 'Bellama! is this true?

Must I be doomèd to the barren willow?

I thought, exempted from my pedant's art,

I should no more have felt the willow's smart.

Thy eyes spake love: and every glance you sentWrit on my heart, "Albino is approv'd";1670Whensoe'er my eyes unto thy feature went,And met with thine, they brought me word "You lov'd",Then can Bellama not Bellama be?She may Bellama be, but not to me.

Thy eyes spake love: and every glance you sent

Writ on my heart, "Albino is approv'd";

1670Whensoe'er my eyes unto thy feature went,

And met with thine, they brought me word "You lov'd",

Then can Bellama not Bellama be?

She may Bellama be, but not to me.

Blest heavens! how have men deserved your ire,That made you frame this curse, this thing calledWoman,So comely and so useful, giving fireTo sear us men and yet disdain to know man?Why on their faces have you placed such charms,To make us court with sighs the worst of harms.'

Blest heavens! how have men deserved your ire,

That made you frame this curse, this thing calledWoman,

So comely and so useful, giving fire

To sear us men and yet disdain to know man?

Why on their faces have you placed such charms,

To make us court with sighs the worst of harms.'

1680Pandora's box of woes was openèd then,When first they took in hand to make a woman,And all the Furies joined to torture men;Yet women first were rare, but now grown common,And mischiefs high, when once they common growEntomb great states, and commons overthrow.

1680Pandora's box of woes was openèd then,

When first they took in hand to make a woman,

And all the Furies joined to torture men;

Yet women first were rare, but now grown common,

And mischiefs high, when once they common grow

Entomb great states, and commons overthrow.

Thou Love (what should I call thee?) dost entice,Nay check'st rebellion in the awful gods;Women thy weapons are, of such high price,That beat with them they humbly kiss the rods.1690No life, no joy, no sweet, without a lass;And yet no sweet nor joy since woman was.

Thou Love (what should I call thee?) dost entice,

Nay check'st rebellion in the awful gods;

Women thy weapons are, of such high price,

That beat with them they humbly kiss the rods.

1690No life, no joy, no sweet, without a lass;

And yet no sweet nor joy since woman was.

Our eyes do ne'er mistake the day for night,Nor can the pale-hewed pinks for roses pass,But when on women's colours they do light.Then (bribed) they look as through a painted glass,So that what women are we never seeBut what we wish and fancy them to be.

Our eyes do ne'er mistake the day for night,

Nor can the pale-hewed pinks for roses pass,

But when on women's colours they do light.

Then (bribed) they look as through a painted glass,

So that what women are we never see

But what we wish and fancy them to be.

'Mongst thousand virgins which do suck this air,I never knew but one, but one—one good;1700Whom I supposèd full as good as fair,And she was making e'er Deucalion's flood:But she—alas! what should I say?—but sheIs woe to man, a woman unto me.'

'Mongst thousand virgins which do suck this air,

I never knew but one, but one—one good;

1700Whom I supposèd full as good as fair,

And she was making e'er Deucalion's flood:

But she—alas! what should I say?—but she

Is woe to man, a woman unto me.'

Thus in his height'ned fury he condemnsBoth Fate and Fortune, honour, wealth, and worth,Raileth on virgins and their beauteous gems,And curseth Nature that did bring her forth,But, above all, his sharp incensèd museIn wrathful odes Don Cupid does accuse.

Thus in his height'ned fury he condemns

Both Fate and Fortune, honour, wealth, and worth,

Raileth on virgins and their beauteous gems,

And curseth Nature that did bring her forth,

But, above all, his sharp incensèd muse

In wrathful odes Don Cupid does accuse.

1710Thou Love, if thou wilt suffer this, be blind,Deaf, dumb, and stupid, and unwisely kindMore unto slights than merits, and rewardRespects and negligence with same regard.If satins difference and maids adornThan Nature has with beauty, more with scorn,That they must fligger, scoff, deride, and jeer,Appoint their servants certain hours t' appear,Afford by number kisses, sights by tale,Command a certain distance, and impale1720Love's game from taste or touch, and, if at allMen do transgress, steep all their words in gall,Check but the least presumption, and with frownsStrike as much terror unto us as crowns—Love, if thou'lt suffer this, and wink at them,Make us esteem a pebble for a gem,Stoop, cringe, adore, sue, flatter, and admire,And in our bosoms teen'st thy amorous fire—May all the haggish Furies soundly lashAnd with their snaky whips thy sinews gash!1730May all the tortures Hell encloseth fallOn thee, if not enough, and more than all.But we—we men, will be no more thy slavesAnd women's too: we'll pack unto our graves:And in our silent beds of earth will courtThe slender-waisted worms, and with them sport,Dally, hug, toy, and vow their wimbling bussIs full as sweet as women's was to us.Enwalled with dust we'll lie: till Nature shallPerceive thy malice, Cupid, and her fall,1740And woo's, with sighs and tears in loving guise,For a replantage of the world, to rise,Then shall our wills ungod thee and thy mother,And Cupids be ourselves one to another.Then in thy temples shall no voice be heard,But screech-owls, dors, and daws; no altar rearedWhereon to sacrifice true lovers' hearts,Scalded with sighs, and gallèd with thy darts.For we ourselves ourselves will temples call,And make our bosoms altars, whereon shall1750From fourteen to fourscore the females fairsBurn frankincense of love with sighs and prayers:And change the custom so that maidens thenShall court, admire, adore, and woo us men.

1710Thou Love, if thou wilt suffer this, be blind,

Deaf, dumb, and stupid, and unwisely kind

More unto slights than merits, and reward

Respects and negligence with same regard.

If satins difference and maids adorn

Than Nature has with beauty, more with scorn,

That they must fligger, scoff, deride, and jeer,

Appoint their servants certain hours t' appear,

Afford by number kisses, sights by tale,

Command a certain distance, and impale

1720Love's game from taste or touch, and, if at all

Men do transgress, steep all their words in gall,

Check but the least presumption, and with frowns

Strike as much terror unto us as crowns—

Love, if thou'lt suffer this, and wink at them,

Make us esteem a pebble for a gem,

Stoop, cringe, adore, sue, flatter, and admire,

And in our bosoms teen'st thy amorous fire—

May all the haggish Furies soundly lash

And with their snaky whips thy sinews gash!

1730May all the tortures Hell encloseth fall

On thee, if not enough, and more than all.

But we—we men, will be no more thy slaves

And women's too: we'll pack unto our graves:

And in our silent beds of earth will court

The slender-waisted worms, and with them sport,

Dally, hug, toy, and vow their wimbling buss

Is full as sweet as women's was to us.

Enwalled with dust we'll lie: till Nature shall

Perceive thy malice, Cupid, and her fall,

1740And woo's, with sighs and tears in loving guise,

For a replantage of the world, to rise,

Then shall our wills ungod thee and thy mother,

And Cupids be ourselves one to another.

Then in thy temples shall no voice be heard,

But screech-owls, dors, and daws; no altar reared

Whereon to sacrifice true lovers' hearts,

Scalded with sighs, and gallèd with thy darts.

For we ourselves ourselves will temples call,

And make our bosoms altars, whereon shall

1750From fourteen to fourscore the females fairs

Burn frankincense of love with sighs and prayers:

And change the custom so that maidens then

Shall court, admire, adore, and woo us men.

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