Or to the Reader.

Who, of Love should better write,Than he that Love learns to indite?

Who, of Love should better write,

Than he that Love learns to indite?

To the mighty, learned, and ancient Potentate,Quisquis, Emperor of, King ofGreat and Little A., Prince of B. C.andD., &c.;Aliquiswisheth the muchincrease of true subjects, free fromPassion, spleen, and melancholy;and endued with virtue,wisdom,andmagnanimity.

To the mighty, learned, and ancient Potentate,

Quisquis, Emperor of, King of

Great and Little A., Prince of B. C.and

D., &c.;Aliquiswisheth the much

increase of true subjects, free from

Passion, spleen, and melancholy;

and endued with virtue,

wisdom,and

magnanimity.

ANEpistleto the Reader! Why! that must have his Forehead or first entrance like a Courtier, fair-spoken and full of expectation; his Middle or centre like your citizen's warehouse, beautified with enticing vanities, though the true riches consist of bald commodities; hisRendezvousor conclusion like the lawyer's case, able to pocket up any matter; but let good words be your best evidence! In the General or foundation, he must be like Paul's Church, resolved to let every Knight and Gull travel upon him: yet his Particulars or lineaments may be Royal as the Exchange, with ascending steps, promising new but costly devices and fashions. It must have Teeth like a Satyr, Eyes like a critic; and yet may your Tongue speak false Latin, like your panders and bawds of poetry. Your Genius and Species should march in battle array with our politicians: yet your Genius ought to live with an honest soul indeed.

It should be like the never-too-well-readArcadia,where the Prose and Verse, Matter and Words, are like his[Sidney's]Mistress's eyes! one still excelling another, and without corrival! or to come home to the vulgar's element, like friendlyShake-speare'sTragedies,where the Comedian rides, when the Tragedian stands on tiptoe. Faith, it should please all, like PrinceHamlet!But, in sadness, then it were to be feared, he would run mad. In sooth, I will not be moonsick, to please! nor out of my wits, though I displease all! What? Poet! are you in Passion, or out of Love? This is as strange as true!

Well, well! if I seem mystical or tyrannical; whether I be a fool or a Lord's-Ingle; all's one! If you be angry, you are not well advised! I will tell you, it is an Indian humour I have snuffed up from Divine Tobacco! and it is most gentlemanlike, to puff it out at any place or person!

I'll noEpistle!It were worse than one ofHercules'labours! but will conclude honesty is a man's best virtue. And but for the Lord Mayor and the two Sheriffs, the Inns of Court, and many Gallants elsewhere, this last year might have been burned! As forMomus(carp and bark who will!), if thenoble Assbray not, I am as good a Knight Poet, asÆtatis suæ,MasterAn. Dom.'sson-in-law.

Let your critic look to the rowels of his spurs, the pad of his saddle, and the jerk of his wand! then let him ride me and my rhymes down, as hotly as he would. I care not! We shall meet and be friends again, with the breaking of a spear or two! and who would do less, for a fair Lady?

There I leave you, where you shall ever find me!

PassionateDaiphantus, your loving subject, Gives you to understand, he is aMan in Print,and it is enough he hath undergone a Pressing, though for your sakes and for Ladies: protesting for this poor infant of his brain, as it was the price of his virginity, born into the world with tears: so (but for a many his dear friends that took much pains for it) it had died, and never been laughed at! and that if Truth have wrote less than Fiction; yet it is better to err in Knowledge than in Judgement! Also, if he have caught up half a line of any other's, it was out of his memory, not of any ignorance!

Why he dedicates it to All, and not to any Particular, as his Mistress or so? His answer is, He is better born, than to creep into women's favours, and ask their leave afterwards.

Also he desireth you to help to correct such errors of the Printer, which (because the Author is dead, or was out of the City) hath been committed. And it was his folly, or the Stationer's, you had not anEpistleto the purpose.

Thus like a lover, wooes he for your favour;Which, if you grant, thenOmnia vincit Amor.

Thus like a lover, wooes he for your favour;

Which, if you grant, thenOmnia vincit Amor.

ISingthe old World in an infant story!I sing the new World in an ancient ditty!I sing this World; yes, this World's shame and glory!I sing a Medley of rigour and of pity!I sing the Court's, City's, and the Country's fashions!Yet sing I but of Love and her strange Passions!I sing that anthem lovers sigh in sadness!I sing sweet times of joys in wo[e]-ven verses!I sing those lines, I once did act in madness!I sing and weep! (tears follow birth and hearses!)I sing aDirge!a Fury did indite it!I sing Myself! whilst I myself do write it.I invocate, to grace my Artless labour,The faithful goddess, men callMemory(True Poet's treasure, and their Wit's best favour);To deck my Muse with truest poesy!Though Love write well, yet Passion blinds th'affection.Man ne'er rules right, that's in the least subjection.Sweet Memory! Soul's life, new life increasing!The Eye of Justice! Tongue of Eloquence!The Lock of Learning! Fountain never ceasing!The Cabinet of Secrets! Caske[t] of Sense!Which governest Nature, teacheth Man his awe!That art all Conscience, and yet rul'st by Law!Bless thou, this Love Song-Air of my best wishes!(Thou art the Parent nourisheth Desire!)Blow, gentle winds! safe land me at my blisses!Love still mounts high, though lovers not aspire.My Poem's Truth! Fond poets feign at pleasure!A loving subject is a Prince's treasure.

Singthe old World in an infant story!

I sing the new World in an ancient ditty!

I sing this World; yes, this World's shame and glory!

I sing a Medley of rigour and of pity!

I sing the Court's, City's, and the Country's fashions!

Yet sing I but of Love and her strange Passions!

I sing that anthem lovers sigh in sadness!I sing sweet times of joys in wo[e]-ven verses!I sing those lines, I once did act in madness!I sing and weep! (tears follow birth and hearses!)I sing aDirge!a Fury did indite it!I sing Myself! whilst I myself do write it.

I sing that anthem lovers sigh in sadness!

I sing sweet times of joys in wo[e]-ven verses!

I sing those lines, I once did act in madness!

I sing and weep! (tears follow birth and hearses!)

I sing aDirge!a Fury did indite it!

I sing Myself! whilst I myself do write it.

I invocate, to grace my Artless labour,The faithful goddess, men callMemory(True Poet's treasure, and their Wit's best favour);To deck my Muse with truest poesy!Though Love write well, yet Passion blinds th'affection.Man ne'er rules right, that's in the least subjection.

I invocate, to grace my Artless labour,

The faithful goddess, men callMemory

(True Poet's treasure, and their Wit's best favour);

To deck my Muse with truest poesy!

Though Love write well, yet Passion blinds th'affection.

Man ne'er rules right, that's in the least subjection.

Sweet Memory! Soul's life, new life increasing!The Eye of Justice! Tongue of Eloquence!The Lock of Learning! Fountain never ceasing!The Cabinet of Secrets! Caske[t] of Sense!Which governest Nature, teacheth Man his awe!That art all Conscience, and yet rul'st by Law!

Sweet Memory! Soul's life, new life increasing!

The Eye of Justice! Tongue of Eloquence!

The Lock of Learning! Fountain never ceasing!

The Cabinet of Secrets! Caske[t] of Sense!

Which governest Nature, teacheth Man his awe!

That art all Conscience, and yet rul'st by Law!

Bless thou, this Love Song-Air of my best wishes!(Thou art the Parent nourisheth Desire!)Blow, gentle winds! safe land me at my blisses!Love still mounts high, though lovers not aspire.My Poem's Truth! Fond poets feign at pleasure!A loving subject is a Prince's treasure.

Bless thou, this Love Song-Air of my best wishes!

(Thou art the Parent nourisheth Desire!)

Blow, gentle winds! safe land me at my blisses!

Love still mounts high, though lovers not aspire.

My Poem's Truth! Fond poets feign at pleasure!

A loving subject is a Prince's treasure.

IN Venice fair, the city most admired;Their lived a Gallant, whoDaiphantushight.Right nobly born, well lettered, loved, desiredOf every Courtier in their most delight:So full of pleasance, that he seemed to beA man begot inVenus' infancy.His face was fair, full comely was his feature:Lipped like the cherry, with a wanton's eye:AMarsin anger, yet aVenus' creature;Made part ofCynthia, most ofMercury:A pitied soul, so made of Love and Hate,Though still beloved, in love unfortunate.Thus made by Nature, Fortune did conspireTo balance him, with weight ofCupid'S wings;Passant in Love, yet oft in great Desire;Sudden in Love, not staid in anything.He courted all, not loved: and much did striveTo die for Love, yet never meant to wive!As Nature made him fair, so likewise witty;(She not content) his thoughts thus very fickle.Fortune that gained him, placed him in this city,To wheel his head, which she had made most tickle.Fortune made him beloved, and so distraught him!His reins let forth, he fell; andCupidcaught him.Not far from Venice, in an Abbey fair,Well walled about, two worthy Ladies dwelt:Who virgins were, so sweet and debonair,The ground they trod on, of their odour smelt.Two virgin Sisters, matchless in a phere,Had livèd virgins well nigh eighteen year.Eurialæ, the elder sister's named;The other wasUraniathe wise.Nature for making them was surely blamed:Venusherself, by them all did despise!Such beauties with such virtue! so combined,That all exceeds, yet nought excels their mind.Eurialæso shows as doth the sun,When mounted on the continent of heaven:Yet oft she's clouded; but when her glory's come,Two suns appear! to make her glory even.Her smiles send brightness when the sun's not bright!Her looks give beauty, when the sun lends light!Modest and humble, of nature mild and sweet;Unmatched beauty with her virtue meeting:Proud that her lowly 'beisance doth re-greetWith her chaste silence. Virtue ever keeping.This is the sun, that sets before it rise!This is a star! no less are both her eyes!Her beauty peerless! peerless is her mind!Her body matchless! matchless are her thoughts!Herself but one! but one like her, we find!Her wealth's her virtue! Such virtue is not bought!This is a heaven on earth, makes her divine!This is the sun, obscures where it doth shine!Uranianext. O that I had that ArtCould write her worth! her worth no eye may see!Or that her tongue (O heaven!) were now my heart,What silver lines in showers should drop from me!My heart she keeps! how can I then indite?No heart-less creature can Love Passions write!As a black veil upon the wings of morn,Brings forth a day as clear asVenus' face;Or a fair jewel, by an Ethiope worn,Enricheth much the eye, which it doth grace:Such is her beauty, if it well be told!Placed in a jetty chariot set with gold.Her hair, Night's canopy in mourning weedsIs still enthroned, when locked within is seenA Deity, drawn by a pair of steedsLikeVenus' eyes! And if the like have been,Her eyes two radiant stars, but yet divine!Her face day's sun (heaven all!) if once they shine!Upon the left side of this heavenly feature,In curious work, Nature hath set a seal,Wherein is writ,This is a matchless creature!Where Wit and Beauty strives for the appeal:The Judges choosed are Love and Fancy. They rise,And looking on her, with her, left their eyes!Her Wit and Beauty were at many frays,"Whether the deep impressions did cause?""Nature!" said Beauty; Art, her Wit did praise:Love thought her Face; her tongue had Truth's applause.Whilst they contend, Which was the better part?I lent an eye; She robbed me of my heart!Sisters these two are, like the Day and Night:Their glories, by their virtues they do merit,One as the Day to see the other's might;The other's Night to shadow a high spirit.If all were Day, how could a lover rest?Or if all Night, lovers were too much blest!Both fair, as eke their bodies tall and slender:Both wise, yet silence shews their modesty:Both grave, although they both are young and tender:Both humble hearted, not in policy.So fair, wise, grave, and humble are esteemed;Yet what men see, the worst of them is deemed!Nature that made them fair, doth love perfection.What Youth counts wisdom, Age doth bring to trial.Grave years in Youth, in Age needs no direction.A humble heart deserves, finds, no denial.Fairs ring their knells, and yet Fame never dies!True judgement's from the heart, not from the eyes!These two, two sisters, cousins to this lover;He often courts, as was his wonted fashion.Who swears all's fair, yet hath no heart to prove her,Seems still in Love or in a lover's Passion,Now learns this lesson! and love-scoffers find it!Cupidhits rightest, when Lovers do least mind it!Although his guise were fashioned to his mind,And wording Love, as compliment he used;Seemed still to jest at Love and lovers' kind,Never obtained, but where he was refused:Yet now, his words with wit so are rewarded;He loves! loves two! loves all! of none regarded.Now he that laughed to hear true lovers sigh,Can bite his lips, until his heart doth bleed!Who jibed at all, loves all! each day's his night!Who scorned, now weeps and howls! writes his own meed!He that would bandy Love, is now the ball!Who feared no hazard, himself hath ta'en the fall!Beauty and Virtue, who did praise the fashion;Who, Love and Fancy thought a comedy:Now is turned Poet! and writes Love in Passion!His verses fit the bleeding Tragedy!In willow weeds, right well he acts his part!His Scenes are tears, whose embryon was his heart!He loves, where Love to all doth prove disaster!His eyes no sooner see, but he's straight blind!His kindred, friends, or foes, he follows fasterThan his own good! He's now but too too kind!He that spent all, would fain find out Love's treasure!Extremities are, for extremes the measure.Thus thinks he, of the words he spent in vain;And wishes now, his tongue had eloquence!He's dumb! all motion that a world could gain,A centre now without circumference!Cupid, with words who fought! would teach him Art,Hath lost his tongue; and with it, left his heart!He swears he loves! (the heat doth prove the fire!)He weeps his Love, his tears shew his Affection.He writes his Love, his lines plead his Desire.He sings his Love, the ditty mourns the action.He sings, writes, weeps, and swears that he's in sadness!It is believed,Not cured, Love turns to madness!Love once dissembled, oaths are a grace most slender!Tears oft are heard, Ambassadors for Beauty!Words writ in gold, an iron heart may render!A Passion Song shews much more hope than duty!Oaths spoke in tears; words, song; prove no true ditty:A feignèd Love must find a feignèd Pity!Thus is the goodDaiphantuslike the fly,Who playing with the candle feels the flame.The smiles of scorn are lovers' misery:That soul's most vex't, is grievèd with his name.Though kindDaiphantusdo most love protest;Yet is his cross, still to be thought in jest!Poor tortured lover! Like a perjured soul,Swears till he's hoarse, yet never is believed!(Who's once a villain, still is counted foul!)O woful pity! when with wind relieved,Learns this by wrote,Though Love unconstant be,They must prove constant, will her comforts see!Now to the humble heart of his dread Saint,Eurialæ, he kneels; but's not regarded!Then toUraniasighs, till he grows faint:Such is her Wit, in silence he's rewarded!His humble voice,Eurialæaccuseth!His sighing Passion,Uraniarefuseth!Then lifts he up his eyes, but Heaven frowneth!Bows down his head, Earth is a mass of sorrow!Runs to the seas; the sea, it storms and howleth!Hies to the woods, the birds sad tunes do borrow!Heaven, Earth, sea, woods, and all things do conspireHe burn in Love, yet freeze in his Desire!The Ladies jest! command him to feign still!Tell him, how, one day, he may be in love!That lover's reason hath not Love's free will!Smile in disdain, to think of that he proves!(O me,Daiphantus! how art thou advised?When he's less pitied, then he is despised!)They hold this but his humour! seem so wise!And many lovers' stories forth do bring!Court him with shadows, whilst he catcheth flies,Biting his fingers till the blood forth spring!Then do they much commend his careless Passion!Call him "a lover of our Courtiers' fashion!"All this they do in modesty; yet freeFrom thinking him so honest, as in truth:Much less so kind, as to love two or three,Him near allied; and he himself a youth!Till with the sweat, which from his sufferings rise,His face is pearled, like the lights his eyes.Then with his look down-cast, and trembling hand,A High Dutch colour, and a tongue like ice,Apart with thisEurialæto standEndeavours he. This was his last device,Yet in so humble strains, this Gallant courts her;The wind being high, his breath it never hurts her!Speechless thus stands he, till She feared him dead,And rubs his temples, calls and cries for aid.Water is fetched and spunged into his head:Who then starts up; from dreaming, as he said,And craving absence of all, but this Saint,He 'gan to court her, but with a heart right faint."Bright Star ofPhœbus! Goddess of my thought!Behold thy vassal, humbled on his knee!Behold for thee, what gods and Art hath wrought,A man adoring! of Love, the lowest degree.I love! I honour thee!" No more; there stayedAs if foresworn; even so, was he afraid!Eurialænow spake, yet seemed in wonder,Her lips when parting, heaven did ope his treasure,"O do not, do not love! I will not sunderA heart in two! Love hath nor height nor measure!Live still a virgin! Then I'll be thy lover!"Heaven here did close. No tongue could after move her.As if in heaven, he was ravished so.O love! O voice! O face! which is the glory?O day! O night! O Age! O worlds of joy!Of every part, true love might write a story.Convert my sighs, O to some angel's tongue.To die for Love is life! Death is best young!She gone,Uraniacame. He, on the flower,But sight of her revived his noble fire:And as ifMarsdid thunder, words did shower!(Love speaks in heat, when 'tis in most Desire)She made him mad, whose sight had him revived;Now speaks he plainly! Storms past, the air is glide."Why was I made, to bear such woe and grief?Why was I born, but in Love to be nourished?Why then for Love (Love, of all virtues chief),And I not pitied, though I be not cherished?What! did my eyes offend in virtue seeing?O no! True Virtue is the lover's being!"Beauty and Virtue are the twins of life;Love is the mother which them forth doth bring.Wit with discretion ends the lover's strife.Patience with silence is a glorious thing.Love crowns a man, Love gives to all due merit;Men without love are bodies without spirit."Love to a mortal is both life and treasure.Love changed to Wedlock doubleth in her glory.Love is the gem, whose worth is without measure.Fame dies, if not entombed within Love's story.Man that lives, lives not, if he wants Content.Man that dies, dies not, if with Love's consent."Thus spakeDaiphantus, and thus spake he well;Which wiseUraniawell did understand:So well she like it, as it did excel.Now graced she him with her white slender hand,With words most sweet, a colour fresh and fair,In heavenly speech, she 'gan his woes declare."My goodDaiphantus! Love, it is no toy!Cupid, though blind, yet strikes the heart at last.His force, you feel! whose power must breed your joy;This is the meed for scoffs, you on him cast!You love, who scorned! your love, with scorn is quite!You love, yet want! your love, with want is spite!"Love plays the wanton, where she means to kill.Love rides the fool, and spurs without direction.Love weeps like you, yet laughs at your good will.Love is, of all things, but the true confection.Love is of everything; yet itself's but one thing.Love is anything, yet indeed is nothing."We virgins know this, though not the force of Love.For we two sisters live as in a cell:Nor do we scorn it, though we it not approve;By prayer we hope, her charms for to repell!And thus adieu! But you, in Progress go,To find fit place to warble forth your woe."Who first seeks mercy, is the last for grief,"Thus did She part; whose image stayed behind.He in a trance stands mute, finds no relief(For She was absent, whose tongue pleased his mind),But like a heartless and a hurtless creature,In admiration of so sweet a feature.At length looked up, his shadow only seeing,Sighs to himself and weeps, yet silent stands;Kneels, riseth, walks, all this without True Being,Sure he was there, though fettered in Love's bands.His lips departed, parted were his blisses:Yet for pure love, each lip the other kisses.Revived by this, or else Imagination,Recalls things past, the time to come laments;Records his love, but with an acclamation!Repents himself and all these accidents.Now with the wings of Love, he 'gins to raise,His Love to gain, this woman he doth praise."Women than Men are purer creatures far!The Soul of souls! the blessed Gift of Nature!To men, a heaven! to men, the brightest star!The pearl that's matchless! high, without all stature!So full of goodness, that Bounty waiteth stillUpon their trencher! feeds them with free will!"Where seek we Virtue, learn true Art or Glory;Where find we Joy that lasteth, still is spending,But in sweet Women? of man's life, the Story!Alpha, they are! Omega is their ending!Their virtues shine with such a sun of brightness!Yet he's unwise, that looks in them for lightness!"(O let my pen relate mine own decay!There are, which are not, or which should not be,Some shaped like Saints, whose steps are not the way.O let my Verse not name their infamy!These hurt not all, but even the wandering eye,Which fondly gapes for his own misery.These do not harm the honest or the just,The faithful lover, or the virtuous dame;But those whose souls be only given to lust,Care more for pleasure, than for worthy fame.But peace, my Muse! For now, methinks I hearAn angel's voice come warbling in my ear!)Not distant far, within a garden fair,The sweetArtesiasang unto her lute,Her voice charmedCupid, and perfumed the air,Made beasts stand still, and birds for to be mute.Her voice and beauty proved so sad a ditty;Who saw, was blind! who heard, soon sued for pity!This Lady was no virgin like the rest,Yet near allied. By Florence city dwelling(Nature and Art; within her both were blest;Music in her, and Love had his excelling).To visit her fair cousins oft she came;Perhaps more jocund, but no whit to blame.Fortune had crossed her with a churlish Mate,WhoStrymonhight. A Palmer was his sire,Full nobly born and of a wealthy state;His son a child not born to his Desire.Thus was she crossed, which causèd her thereby,Daiphantus'grief to mourn, by sympathy.Daiphantushearing such a swan-tuned voice,Was ravished, as with angels' melody;Though in this labyrinth blest, could not rejoice,Nor yet could see what brought this harmony.At length, this goddess ceased; began draw near,Who, when he saw; he saw not, 'twas her sphere!Away then crept he on his hands and knees,To hide himself: thoughtVenuscame to plague him!Which she espying, like the sun she stands;As with her beams, she thought for to assuage him.But like the sun, which gazed on blinds the eye,So he by her! and so resolved to die.At this, in wonder softly did she pace it;Yet suddenly was stayed. His verses seized her,Which he late writ, forgot. Thus was he graced.She read them over, and the writing pleased her.ForCupidframed two mottoes in her heart:The one asDian's, the other, for his dart.She read and pitied; reading, Pity taught.She loved and hated; hate to Love did turn.She smiled and wept; her weeping Smiling brought.She hoped and feared; her Hopes in fear did mourn.She read, loved, smiled, and hoped; but 'twas in vain:Her tears, still dread; and pity, hate did gain.She could have loved him, such true verses making;She might have loved him, and yet love beguiling.She would have kissed him, but feared his awaking;She might have kissed him, and sleep sweetly smiling.She thus afeared, did fear what she most wished.He thus in hope, still hoped for that he missed.He looked! They two, long each on other gazed!Sweet silence pleaded what each other thought.Thus Love and Fancy both alike amazed,As if their tongues and hearts had been distraught.Artesia'svoice thus courted him at length.The more she spake, the greater was his strength!"Good gentle Sir! your fortunes I bemoan,And wish my state so happy as to ease you!But She that grieved you, She it is alone,Whose breath can cure, and whose kind words appease you!Were I that She, heaven should my star extinguish,If you but loved me, ere I would relinquish."Yet, noble Sir! I can no love protest,For I am wedded (O word full fraught with woe!)But in such manner as good love is blest,In honest kindness, I'll not prove your foe!Mine own experience doth my counsel prove,I know to pity, yet not care to love!"A sister, yet Nature hath given me,A virgin true, right fair, and sweetly kind.I for her good, Fortune hath driven meTo be a comfort. Your heart shall be her mind.My woes yet tell me, she is best a maid!"And here she stopped her tears, her words thus stayed.Daiphantusthen, in number without measure,Began her praises, which no pen can end."O Saint! O sun of heaven, and earth the treasure!Who lives, if not thy honour to defend?Ah me! what mortal can be in love so strange,That wedding Virtue will a wand'ring range?"She, like the morning, is still fresh and fair.The Elements, of her, they all do borrow;The Earth, the Fire, the Waters, and the Air;Their strength, heat, moisture, liveliness. No sorrowCan Virtue change! Beauty hath but one place.The heart's still perfect; though empaled the face."O eyes! no eyes, but stars still clearly shining!O face! no face but shape of angels' fashion!O lips! no lips, but bliss by kiss refining!O heart! no heart, but of true love right Passion!O eyes, face, lips, and heart, if not too cruel;To see, feel, taste, and love earth's rarest jewel."This said, he paused, new praises now devising,Kneels toApollofor his skill and Art:When came the Ladies! At which, he arising,'Twixt lip and lip, he had nor lips nor heart.His eyes, their eyes so sweetly did incumber:Although awaked, yet in a golden slumber.Most like a lion raised from slumbering ease,He cast his looks, fall grimly them among.At length, he firmly knit what might appeaseHis brow; looked stedfastly and longAt one, till all their eyes with his eyes met alikeOn fairVitullia, who his heart did strike.Vitulliafair, yet brown; as mixed togetherAs Art and Nature strove which was the purest.So sweet her smilings were, a grace to either!That heaven's glory in that face seemed truest.Venus, excepted when the god her wooed,Was ne'er so fair! so tempting, yet so good!Wonder not, mortals, though the Poets feign!The Muses' graces were in this She's favour:Nor wonder, though She strove his tongue to gain!For I lose mine, in thinking of his labour."Well may he love," I write, "and all Wits praise her,She's so all humble, Learning cannot raise her!"Daiphantusoft sighed: "Oh!" oft said "Fair!"Then looks and sighs, and then cries wonderful;Thus did he long, and truly 'twas not rare:The object was! which made his mind so dull.Pray pardon him! for better to cry "Oh!"Than feel that Passion which caused him sigh so.Now, all were silent, not alone this Lover,Till cameIsmenio, brother to this Saint,Whose haste made sweat, his tongue he could not prove her,For this against him, that his heart was faint:Thus all amazed, none knowing any cause,Ismeniobreathless, here had time to pause.At length,Ismenio, who had wit and skill,Questioned the reason of this strong effect:At last related, haste outwent his will,He told them, "He was sent, them to direct,Where hunting sports, their eyes should better please!"Who first went forth,Daiphantusmost did ease.They gone,Daiphantusto his standish highs!Thinks, in his writsVitullia'sbeauties were:But what he wrote, his Muse not justifies,Bids him take time! "Love badly writes in fear!Her worthy praise, if he would truly write,Her kisses' nectar must the same indite.""Art, and sweet Nature! Let your influence dropFrom me like rain! Yes, yes, in golden showers!(Whose end is Virtue, let him never stop!)But fall on her, like dew on sprinkling flowers!That both together meeting, may begetAnOrpheus! two gems in a soil richly set!"Thus ravished, then distracted, as was deemed,Not taught to write of Love in this extreme;In love, in fear; yea, trembling (as it seemed),If praising her, he should not keep the mean!Thus vexed, he wept! His tears intreated pity,But Love unconstant, tunes a woful ditty.Now kneels toVenus. Faithfulness protestedTo this, none else! This was his only Saint!Vowed e'er his service, or to be arrestedToVenus'censure! Thus he left to faint.His love brought Wit, and Wit engendered Spirit;True Love and Wit thus learned him to indite."As the mild lamb runs forth from shepherd's fold,By ravenous wolves is caught and made a prey:So is my Sense, by which Love taketh hold,Tormented more than any tongue can say.The difference is, they tortured so, do die!I feed the torment breeds my misery."Consumed by her I live, such is her glory!Despised of her I love, I more adore her!I'll ne'er write ought, but of her virtue's story!Beauty unblasted is the eye's rich storer,If I should die, O who would ring love's knell?"Faint not,Daiphantus! Wise men love not so well!"Like heaven's artist, the astronomer,Gazing on stars, oft to the earth doth fall:So I,Daiphantus, now Lover's Harbinger,Am quite condemned to Love's funeral!Who falls by women, by them oft doth rise;Ladies have lips to kiss, as well as eyes!"But tush, thou fool! thou lov'st all thou seest.Who once thou lovest, thou should'st change her never!Constant in love,Daiphantus, see thou beest!If thou hope comfort, Love but once, and ever!"Fortune! O be so good to let me findA lady living, of this constant mind!""O, I would wear her in my heart's heart-gore!And place her on the continent of stars!Think heaven and earth, like her had not one more!Would fight for her till all my face were scars!But if that women be such fickle Shees;Men may be like them in infirmities!"O no,Daiphantus! Women are not so'Tis but their shadows, pictures merely painted!Then turn poor lover! "O heaven! not to my woe!Then toVitullia!" With that word, he fainted.Yet she that wounds, did heal. Like her, no heaven.Odds in a man, a woman can make even!"O myVitullia! Let me write that down!O sweetVitullia! Nature made thee sweet!O kindVitullia! Truth hath the surest ground!I'll weep or laugh, so that our hearts may meet!"Love is not always merry, nor still weeping:A drop of each, Love's joys are sweets in sleeping."Her name, in golden letters, on my breast I'll 'grave!Around my temples, in a garland wear!My Art shall be, her favour for to have!My Learning still her honour high to rear!My lips shall close but to her sacred name!My tongue be silent but to spread her fame!"In woods, groves, hills,Vitullia'sname shall ring!In meadows, orchards, gardens, sweetest and fair!I'll learn the birds her name alone to sing!All quires shall chant it in a heavenly air!The Day shall be her Usher! Night, her Page!Heaven, her Palace! and this Earth, her Stage!"Virgin's pure chasteness, in her eyes shall be!Women, true love, from her true mind shall learn!Widows, their mourning in her face shall see!Children, their duty in her speech discern!And all of them in love with each, but I:Who fear her love, will make me fear to die!"My Orisons are still to please this creature!My Valour sleeps but when She is defended!My Wits still jaded but when I praise her feature!My Life is hers; in her begun and ended!O happy day wherein I wear not willow!Thrice blessed night, wherein her breast's my pillow!"I'll serve her, as the Mistress of all Pleasure!I'll love her, as the Goddess of my soul!I'll keep her, as the Jewel of all treasure!I'll live with her, yet out ofLove'scontrol!That all may know, I will not from her part,I'll double lock her in my lips and heart!If e'er I sigh, it shall be for her pity!If e'er I mourn, her funeral draws near!If e'er I sing, her virtue is the ditty!If e'er I smile, her beauty is the sphere!All that I do, is that I may admire her!All that I wish, is that I still desire her!"But peace,Daiphantus! Music is only sweet,When without discord. A consort makes a heaven.The ear is ravished when true voices meet.Odds, but in music, never makes things even.In voices' difference breeds a pleasant ditty,In Love, a difference brings a scornful pity.Whose was the tongue,Eurialædefended?Whose was the wit,Uraniadid praise?Whose were the lips,Artesia'svoice commended?Whose was the heart loved all? all crowned with bays?"Sure 'twas myself! What did I? O I tremble!Yet I'll not weep! Wise men may love dissemble."Fie, no! Fond Love hath ever his reward!A sea of tears! a world of sighs and groans!Ah me!Vitulliawill have no regardTo ease my grief, and cure me of my moans;If once her ear should hearken to that voice,Relates my fortunes in Love's fickle choice.But now, I will, their worth with hers declare,That Truth by Error may have her true being;Things good are lessened by the thing that's rare.Beauty increaseth by a blackness seeing.Whoso is fair and chaste, they, sure, are best!Such isVitullia! such are all the rest!"But she is fair, and chaste, and wise." What then,So are they all, without a difference!"She's fair, chaste, wise, and kind, yes, to all men."The rest are so! Number makes Excellence."She's fair, chaste, wise, kind, rich, yet humble."They three, her equal! Virtue can never stumble."Vitulliais the sun; they stars of night!"Yet night is the bosom wherein the sun doth rest."The moon herself borrows of the sun's light,"All by the stars take counsel to be blest.The day's the sun, yet Cupid can it blind;The stars at night, Sleep cures the troubled mind."She is a rose, the fairer, so the sweeter!She is a lute, whose belly tunes the music!She is my prose, yet makes me speak all metre!She is my life, yet sickens me with physic!She is a virgin, that makes her a jewel!She will not love me, therein She is cruel!"Eurialæis like Sleep when one is wearyUraniais like a golden Slumber.Artesia'svoice, like Dreams that make men merry.Vitullia, like a Bed, all these encumber.1. Sleep, 2. Slumber, 3. Dreams upon a 4. Bed are best;First, Second, Third, but in the Fourth is blest."O butVitullia, what? She's wondrous pretty!O I, and what? so is She very fair!O yes, and what? She's like herself most witty!And yet, what is She? She is all but air!What can earth be, but earth? So we are all!Peace, then, my Muse! Opinion oft doth fall!"Eurialæ, I honour for humility!Urania, I reverence for her wit!Artesia, I adore for true agility!Three Graces for the goddesses most fit.Each of these gifts are blessed in their faces,O, what'sVitullia, who hath all these Graces?"She is but a Lady! So are all the rest.As pure, as sweet, as modest, yea as loyal;Yes, She's the Shadow (shadows are the least!),Which tells the Hour of Virtue by her dial.By her, men see there is on earth a heaven!By them, men know her virtues are matched even!In praising all, much time he vainly spent,Yet thought none worthy butVitullia;Then called to mind, he could not well repentThe love he bare the wiseUrania.Eurialæ,Artesia, all, such beauties had,Which as they pleased him, made him well nigh mad.Eurialæ, her beauty, his eyesight harmed!Urania, her wit, his tongue incensed!Artesia, her voice, his ears had charmed!Thus poorDaiphantuswas, with love tormented.Vitullia'sbeauty, as he did impart,The others' virtues vanquishèd his heart.At length, he grew as in an ecstasy'Twixt Love and Love, Whose beauty was the truer?His thoughts thus diverse, as in a lunacy,He starts and stares, to see Whose was the purer?Oft treads a maze, runs, suddenly then stays,Thus with himself, himself makes many frays.Now with his fingers, like a barber snaps!Plays with the fire-pan, as it were a lute!Unties his shoe-strings! Then his lips, he laps!Whistles awhile, and thinks it is a flute!At length, a glass presents it to his sight,Where well he acts fond Love in Passions right.His chin he strokes! swears "beardless men kiss best!"His lips anoints, says "Ladies use such fashions!"Spits on his napkin, terms that "the bathing jest."Then on the dust, describes the Courtiers' Passion.Then humble calls, "Though they do still aspire;Ladies then fall, when Lords rise by desire."Then straddling goes, says, "Frenchmen fear no bears!"Vows "he will travel to the Siege of Brest!"Swears, "Captains, they do all against the hair!"Protests "Tobacco is a smoke-dried jest!"Takes up his pen for a tobacco pipe,Thus all besmeared, each lip, the other wipe.His breath, he thinks the smoke! his tongue, a coal!Then runs for bottle-ale to quench his thirst;Runs to his ink-pot, drinks! then stops the hole!And thus grows madder than he was at first.Tassohe finds, by that ofHamletthinksTerms him a madman, then of his inkhorn drinks!Calls players "fools! The Fool, he judgeth wiseth,Will learn them action out of Chaucer'sPander,Proves of their poets bawds, even in the highest,Then drinks a health! and swears it is no slander."Puts off his clothes! his shirt he only wears!Much like madHamlet, thus, as Passion tears!"Who calls me forth, from my distracted thought?O Cerberus! if thou? I prithee speak!Revenge, if thou? I was thy rival ought!In purple gores, I'll make the ghosts to reek!Vitullia! OVitullia, be thou still!I'll have revenge, or harrow up my will!"I'll fallow up the wrinkles of the earth!Go down to hell, and knock atPluto'sgate!I'll turn the hills to valleys! make a dearthOf virtuous honour to eternal Fate!I'll beat the winds, and make the tides keep back!Reign in the sea, that lovers have no wrack!"Yes, tell the Earth, 'It is a murderer!Hath slainVitullia!' OVitullia'sdead!I'll count blindCupidfor a conjurer,And with wild horses will I rend his head!I, with a pickaxe, will pluck out his brains!Laugh at this boy! ease lovers of much pains!"O then, I'll fly! I'll swim! yet stay, and thenI'll ride the moon, and make the clouds my horse!Make me a ladder of the heads of men,Climb up to heaven! Yes, my tongue will forceTo gods and angels! O, I'll never end,Till forVitullia, all my cries I spend!"Then I, like a Spirit of pure Innocence,I'll be all white! and yet behold I'll cry'Revenge!' O lovers! this my sufference;Or else for love, for love, a soul must die!Eurialæ!Urania!Artesia! so!—"Heart rent in sunder, with these words of woe."But soft, here comes! Who comes? and not calls outOf rape and murder, love and villainy?Stay, wretched man! Who runs? doth never doubtIt is thy soul! thy Saint! thy deity!Then call the birds to ring a mourning Knell,For madDaiphantus, who doth love so well!"O sing a song, parted in parcels three,I'll bear the burden still of all your grief;Who is all Woe, can tune his miseryTo discontents; but not to his relief.O kiss her! kiss her! And yet do not do so!They bring some joy, but with short joys, long woe!Upon his knees, "O goddesses beholdA caitiff wretch bemoaning his mishap!If ever pity were hired without gold,LamentDaiphantus, once in Fortune's lap!LamentDaiphantus, whose good deeds now slumber!Lament a lover, whose woe no tongue can number!"My woes—" There did he stay, fell to the ground,Rightly divided into blood and tears,As if those words had given a mortal wound,So lay he foaming, with the weight of cares.Who this had seen, and seeing had not wept,Their hearts were, sure, from crosses ever kept!The Ladies all, who late from hunting came,Untimely came to view this Map of Sorrow.Surely all wept! and sooth it was no shame,For, from his grief, the world might truly borrow:As he lay speechless grovelling, all undressed;So they stood weeping, Silence was their best.Ismeniowith these Ladies bare a part,And much bemoaned him, though he knew not why;But kind compassion struck him to the heart,To see him mad. Much better see one die!Thus walksIsmenio, and yet oft did pause,At length, a writing made him know the cause.He read, till words, like thunder, pierced his heart;He sighed, till Sorrow seemed itself to mourn;He wept till tears like ysacles [icicles] did part,He pitied so, that pity, hate did scorn.He read to sigh, and weep for pity's sake;The less he read, the less his heart did quake.At length resolved, he up the writing takesAnd to the Ladies travails as with child;The birth was Love, such love as discord makes,The midwife Patience; thus in words full mild,He writ with tears that which with blood was writ;The more he read, the more they pitied it.They look uponDaiphantus, he not seeing:And wondered at him, but his sense was parted.They loved him much, though little was his being,And sought to cure him, though he was faint-hearted,Ismeniothus, with speed resolves to ease him;By a sweet song, his sister should appease him!Ismeniowas resolved he would be eased,And was resolved of no means but by Music,Which is so heavenly that it hath releasedThe danger oft, not to be cured by physic.Her tongue and hand thus married together,Could not but please him, who so loved either.But first before his madness were allayed,They offered incense atDiana'sshrine,And much besought her, now to be apaid;Which was soon granted to these saints divine:Yet so, that madDaiphantusmust agreeNever to love, but live in chastity.Thus they adjured him, by the gods on high,Never henceforth to shoot withCupid'squiver!Nor love to feign: for there's no remedy,If once relapsed, then was he mad for ever!TorturedDaiphantus, now a sign did make;And kindIsmeniothis did undertake.Then 'ganArtesiato play upon her lute,Whose voice sang sweetly, now a mourning ditty;Loveher admired, though he that loved were mute,Cupidhimself feared he should sue for pity.O wondrous virtue! Words spoken are but wind;But sung to Prick Song, they are joys divine!I heard her sing, but still methought I dreamed.I heard her play, but I methought did sleep.The Day and Night, till now, were never weaned.VenusandDianravished, both did weep.They which each hated, now agreed to sayThis was the goddess both of night and day.My heart and ears, so ravished with the voiceI still forgot, what still I heard her sing:The tune, surely, of Sonnets, this was all the choice.Poets do keep it as a charming thing.What think you of the joys thatDaiphantushad,When for such music, I would still be mad!The birds came chirping to the windows round,And so stood still, as if they ravished were;Beasts forth the forest came, brought with the sound;The lion laid him down as if in fear.The fishes in fresh rivers swam to shore;Yea, had not Nature stayed them, had done more.This was a sight, whose eyes had never seen;This was a voice, such music ne'er was heard;This Paradise was it, where who had been,Might well have thought of hell, and not afeard.Sure, hell itself was heaven, in this sphere,Madmen, wild beasts, and all here tamèd were.Like as a king, his chair of state ascendeth,Being newly made a god upon the earth,In state amounts, till step by step he endeth,Thinks it to heaven a true-ascending birth.So hiesDaiphantus, on his legs and feet,As ifDaiphantusnow some god should meet.He looks upon himself, not without wonder.He wonders at himself, what he might be.He laughs unto himself: thinks he's aslumber.He weeps unto himself, himself to see.And sure to hear and see what he had doneMight make him swear but now the world begun.Fully revived, at lastArtesiaceased,When birds and beasts so hideous noise did make,That almost all turned fury, fear was the least;Yea, such a fear as forced them cry and quake;Till thatDaiphantus, more of reason hadThan they which moaned him, lately being mad.He with more joy than words could well declare,And with more words than his new tongue could tell,Did strive to speak (such was his love and careThus to be thankful); but yet knew not wellWhether his tongue (not tuned unto his heart),Or modest silence, would best act his part?But speak he will! Then give attentive earTo hear him tell a woful lover's story!His hands and eyes to heaven up did he rear,Grief taught him speech, though he to speak were sorry.But whatsoever be a Lover's Passion,Daiphantusspeaks his, in a mourning fashion.As o'er the mountains walks the wandering soul,Seeking for rest in his unresting spirit,So goodDaiphantus, thinking to enrolHimself in grace, by telling of Love's meritWas so distracted, how he should commend it,Where he began, he wished still to end it."Eurialæ, my eyes are hers in right!Urania, my tongue is as her due!Artesia, my ears to her I 'dite!My heart to each! and yet my heart to you,To you,Vitullia! to you, and all the rest,Who once me cursed, now to make me blest!"1 Beauty and 2 Wit, did 1 wound and 2 pierce my heart,3 Music and 4 Favour, 3 gained and 4 kept it sure:Love led by Fancy to the 4 last I part,Love led by Reason to the 1 first is truer.1 Beauty and 2 Wit first conquered, made me yield,3 Music and 4 Favour rescued got the field."To 2 Wit and 1 Beauty, my first love I give!3 Music and 4 Favours, my second love have gained!All made me mad, and all did me relieve,Though one recured me, when I was sustained.Thus, troth to say, to All I love did owe;Therefore to All my love I ever vow!"Thus to the first 1 and 2, his right hand he did tender:His left hand to the 3 and 4; last most lovingly 4.His tongue kind thanks, first to the last did render,The whiles his looks were bent indifferently.Thus he salutes All: and to increase his blisses,From lip to lip, each Lady now he kisses.Ismenioin humble wise salutes he,With gracious language he returns his heart,His words so sweetly to his tongue now suits he,As what he speaks shew Learning with good Art.IsmeniopleasedDaiphantus,DaiphantusAll;When love gains love for love, this Love we call!Uranianow bethought what was protestedBy youngIsmenioatDiana'sshrine,ConjuredDaiphantusthat, no more he jestedWith Love or Fancy! for they were Divine:And if he did, that there they all would prayHe still might live in love, both night and day!This grieved him much (but folly 'twere to grieve!)His now obedience shewed his own free will.He swore "he would not love, in shew, achieve!But live a virgin, chaste and spotless still.Which said, such music suddenly delighted,As all were ravished, and yet all affrighted.Here parted all, not without joy and sadness.Some wept, some smiled; a world it was to hear them!Both springs here met. Woe here was clothed with gladness.Heaven was their comfort. It alone did cheer them.Daiphantusfrom these springs, some fruit did gather.Experience is an infant, though an ancient father!"Sweet Lady! know the Soul looks through our eyesights!Content lives not in shews or beauty seeing!Peace, not from number, nor strength in high spirits!Joy dies with Virtue, yet lives in Virtue's being!Beauty is masked, where Virtue is not hidden!Man still desires that fruit, he's most forbidden!"Jewels, for virtue, not for beauty prized!What's seldom seen breeds wonder, we admire it!King's lines are rare, and therefore well advised.Wise men, not often talk, Fools still desire it.Women are books! Kept close, they hold much treasure;Unclasped, sweet ills! Most woe lies hid in pleasure."Who studies Arts alike, can he prove Doctor?Who surfeits, hardly lives! drunkards recover!Whose will's his law, that conscience needs no Proctor!When men turn beasts, look there for brutish lovers!Those eyes are pore-blind, look equally on anyThough't be a virtue to hinder one by many."Who gains by travel, lose Lordships for their Manors,MustTarquinravish some? Hell on that glory!Whose life's in healths, death soonest gains those banners!Lust still is punished, though Treason write the story!A rolling eye, a globe, new worlds discover!Who still wheels round is but a damnèd lover."Doth Faith and Troth lie bathing? Is Lust, pleasure?Can commons be as sweet as land enclosed?Then virgin sin may well be counted pleasure!Where such lords rule, who lives not ill-disposed!True Love's a Phœnix, but One until it dies:Lust is a Cockatrice in all, but in her eyes."Here did he end more blessed than his wishes.(Fame's at the high, when Love indites the Story)The private life brings with it heavenly blisses.Sweet Contemplation much increaseth glory.I'll leave him to the learning of Love's spell!"Better part friends, that follow fiends to hell!"Ismenio, withVitulliawent together,Perhaps both wounded with blindCupid'sdart;Yet durst they not relate their love to either,Love if once pitied, pierceth to the heart:But, sure,Vitulliais so fair a mark,Cupidwould court her, though but by the dark.Artesia, she must go, the more She's grieved,To churlishStrymon, her adopted Mate;Cupid, though blind, yet pitied and relievedThis modest Lady with some happy fate.For what but Virtue, which doth all good nourish,Could brook her fortunes, much less love and cherish.Eurialæ, with goodUraniastayed,Where Virtue dwells, they only had their being;Beauty and Wit still fear, are not dismayed,For where they dwell, Love ever will be prying.These two were one. All good, each could impart.One was their fortune, and one was their heart.Beauty and Virtue were true friends to either.Heaven is the sphere where all men seek for glory.Earth is the grave where sinners join together.Hell keeps the book, enrols each lustful story.Live as we will, Death makes, of all conclusion:Die then to live! or life is thy confusion.Beauty and Wit in these, fed on Affection.Labour and Industry were their twins of life.Love and True Bounty were in their subjection,Their bodies, with their spirits, had no strife.Such were these two, as grace did them defend:Such are these two, as with these two I end.

N Venice fair, the city most admired;

Their lived a Gallant, whoDaiphantushight.

Right nobly born, well lettered, loved, desired

Of every Courtier in their most delight:

So full of pleasance, that he seemed to be

A man begot inVenus' infancy.

His face was fair, full comely was his feature:Lipped like the cherry, with a wanton's eye:AMarsin anger, yet aVenus' creature;Made part ofCynthia, most ofMercury:A pitied soul, so made of Love and Hate,Though still beloved, in love unfortunate.

His face was fair, full comely was his feature:

Lipped like the cherry, with a wanton's eye:

AMarsin anger, yet aVenus' creature;

Made part ofCynthia, most ofMercury:

A pitied soul, so made of Love and Hate,

Though still beloved, in love unfortunate.

Thus made by Nature, Fortune did conspireTo balance him, with weight ofCupid'S wings;Passant in Love, yet oft in great Desire;Sudden in Love, not staid in anything.He courted all, not loved: and much did striveTo die for Love, yet never meant to wive!

Thus made by Nature, Fortune did conspire

To balance him, with weight ofCupid'S wings;

Passant in Love, yet oft in great Desire;

Sudden in Love, not staid in anything.

He courted all, not loved: and much did strive

To die for Love, yet never meant to wive!

As Nature made him fair, so likewise witty;(She not content) his thoughts thus very fickle.Fortune that gained him, placed him in this city,To wheel his head, which she had made most tickle.Fortune made him beloved, and so distraught him!His reins let forth, he fell; andCupidcaught him.

As Nature made him fair, so likewise witty;

(She not content) his thoughts thus very fickle.

Fortune that gained him, placed him in this city,

To wheel his head, which she had made most tickle.

Fortune made him beloved, and so distraught him!

His reins let forth, he fell; andCupidcaught him.

Not far from Venice, in an Abbey fair,Well walled about, two worthy Ladies dwelt:Who virgins were, so sweet and debonair,The ground they trod on, of their odour smelt.Two virgin Sisters, matchless in a phere,Had livèd virgins well nigh eighteen year.

Not far from Venice, in an Abbey fair,

Well walled about, two worthy Ladies dwelt:

Who virgins were, so sweet and debonair,

The ground they trod on, of their odour smelt.

Two virgin Sisters, matchless in a phere,

Had livèd virgins well nigh eighteen year.

Eurialæ, the elder sister's named;The other wasUraniathe wise.Nature for making them was surely blamed:Venusherself, by them all did despise!Such beauties with such virtue! so combined,That all exceeds, yet nought excels their mind.

Eurialæ, the elder sister's named;

The other wasUraniathe wise.

Nature for making them was surely blamed:

Venusherself, by them all did despise!

Such beauties with such virtue! so combined,

That all exceeds, yet nought excels their mind.

Eurialæso shows as doth the sun,When mounted on the continent of heaven:Yet oft she's clouded; but when her glory's come,Two suns appear! to make her glory even.Her smiles send brightness when the sun's not bright!Her looks give beauty, when the sun lends light!

Eurialæso shows as doth the sun,

When mounted on the continent of heaven:

Yet oft she's clouded; but when her glory's come,

Two suns appear! to make her glory even.

Her smiles send brightness when the sun's not bright!

Her looks give beauty, when the sun lends light!

Modest and humble, of nature mild and sweet;Unmatched beauty with her virtue meeting:Proud that her lowly 'beisance doth re-greetWith her chaste silence. Virtue ever keeping.This is the sun, that sets before it rise!This is a star! no less are both her eyes!

Modest and humble, of nature mild and sweet;

Unmatched beauty with her virtue meeting:

Proud that her lowly 'beisance doth re-greet

With her chaste silence. Virtue ever keeping.

This is the sun, that sets before it rise!

This is a star! no less are both her eyes!

Her beauty peerless! peerless is her mind!Her body matchless! matchless are her thoughts!Herself but one! but one like her, we find!Her wealth's her virtue! Such virtue is not bought!This is a heaven on earth, makes her divine!This is the sun, obscures where it doth shine!

Her beauty peerless! peerless is her mind!

Her body matchless! matchless are her thoughts!

Herself but one! but one like her, we find!

Her wealth's her virtue! Such virtue is not bought!

This is a heaven on earth, makes her divine!

This is the sun, obscures where it doth shine!

Uranianext. O that I had that ArtCould write her worth! her worth no eye may see!Or that her tongue (O heaven!) were now my heart,What silver lines in showers should drop from me!My heart she keeps! how can I then indite?No heart-less creature can Love Passions write!

Uranianext. O that I had that Art

Could write her worth! her worth no eye may see!

Or that her tongue (O heaven!) were now my heart,

What silver lines in showers should drop from me!

My heart she keeps! how can I then indite?

No heart-less creature can Love Passions write!

As a black veil upon the wings of morn,Brings forth a day as clear asVenus' face;Or a fair jewel, by an Ethiope worn,Enricheth much the eye, which it doth grace:Such is her beauty, if it well be told!Placed in a jetty chariot set with gold.

As a black veil upon the wings of morn,

Brings forth a day as clear asVenus' face;

Or a fair jewel, by an Ethiope worn,

Enricheth much the eye, which it doth grace:

Such is her beauty, if it well be told!

Placed in a jetty chariot set with gold.

Her hair, Night's canopy in mourning weedsIs still enthroned, when locked within is seenA Deity, drawn by a pair of steedsLikeVenus' eyes! And if the like have been,Her eyes two radiant stars, but yet divine!Her face day's sun (heaven all!) if once they shine!

Her hair, Night's canopy in mourning weeds

Is still enthroned, when locked within is seen

A Deity, drawn by a pair of steeds

LikeVenus' eyes! And if the like have been,

Her eyes two radiant stars, but yet divine!

Her face day's sun (heaven all!) if once they shine!

Upon the left side of this heavenly feature,In curious work, Nature hath set a seal,Wherein is writ,This is a matchless creature!Where Wit and Beauty strives for the appeal:The Judges choosed are Love and Fancy. They rise,And looking on her, with her, left their eyes!

Upon the left side of this heavenly feature,

In curious work, Nature hath set a seal,

Wherein is writ,This is a matchless creature!

Where Wit and Beauty strives for the appeal:

The Judges choosed are Love and Fancy. They rise,

And looking on her, with her, left their eyes!

Her Wit and Beauty were at many frays,"Whether the deep impressions did cause?""Nature!" said Beauty; Art, her Wit did praise:Love thought her Face; her tongue had Truth's applause.Whilst they contend, Which was the better part?I lent an eye; She robbed me of my heart!

Her Wit and Beauty were at many frays,

"Whether the deep impressions did cause?"

"Nature!" said Beauty; Art, her Wit did praise:

Love thought her Face; her tongue had Truth's applause.

Whilst they contend, Which was the better part?

I lent an eye; She robbed me of my heart!

Sisters these two are, like the Day and Night:Their glories, by their virtues they do merit,One as the Day to see the other's might;The other's Night to shadow a high spirit.If all were Day, how could a lover rest?Or if all Night, lovers were too much blest!

Sisters these two are, like the Day and Night:

Their glories, by their virtues they do merit,

One as the Day to see the other's might;

The other's Night to shadow a high spirit.

If all were Day, how could a lover rest?

Or if all Night, lovers were too much blest!

Both fair, as eke their bodies tall and slender:Both wise, yet silence shews their modesty:Both grave, although they both are young and tender:Both humble hearted, not in policy.So fair, wise, grave, and humble are esteemed;Yet what men see, the worst of them is deemed!

Both fair, as eke their bodies tall and slender:

Both wise, yet silence shews their modesty:

Both grave, although they both are young and tender:

Both humble hearted, not in policy.

So fair, wise, grave, and humble are esteemed;

Yet what men see, the worst of them is deemed!

Nature that made them fair, doth love perfection.What Youth counts wisdom, Age doth bring to trial.Grave years in Youth, in Age needs no direction.A humble heart deserves, finds, no denial.Fairs ring their knells, and yet Fame never dies!True judgement's from the heart, not from the eyes!

Nature that made them fair, doth love perfection.

What Youth counts wisdom, Age doth bring to trial.

Grave years in Youth, in Age needs no direction.

A humble heart deserves, finds, no denial.

Fairs ring their knells, and yet Fame never dies!

True judgement's from the heart, not from the eyes!

These two, two sisters, cousins to this lover;He often courts, as was his wonted fashion.Who swears all's fair, yet hath no heart to prove her,Seems still in Love or in a lover's Passion,Now learns this lesson! and love-scoffers find it!Cupidhits rightest, when Lovers do least mind it!

These two, two sisters, cousins to this lover;

He often courts, as was his wonted fashion.

Who swears all's fair, yet hath no heart to prove her,

Seems still in Love or in a lover's Passion,

Now learns this lesson! and love-scoffers find it!

Cupidhits rightest, when Lovers do least mind it!

Although his guise were fashioned to his mind,And wording Love, as compliment he used;Seemed still to jest at Love and lovers' kind,Never obtained, but where he was refused:Yet now, his words with wit so are rewarded;He loves! loves two! loves all! of none regarded.

Although his guise were fashioned to his mind,

And wording Love, as compliment he used;

Seemed still to jest at Love and lovers' kind,

Never obtained, but where he was refused:

Yet now, his words with wit so are rewarded;

He loves! loves two! loves all! of none regarded.

Now he that laughed to hear true lovers sigh,Can bite his lips, until his heart doth bleed!Who jibed at all, loves all! each day's his night!Who scorned, now weeps and howls! writes his own meed!He that would bandy Love, is now the ball!Who feared no hazard, himself hath ta'en the fall!

Now he that laughed to hear true lovers sigh,

Can bite his lips, until his heart doth bleed!

Who jibed at all, loves all! each day's his night!

Who scorned, now weeps and howls! writes his own meed!

He that would bandy Love, is now the ball!

Who feared no hazard, himself hath ta'en the fall!

Beauty and Virtue, who did praise the fashion;Who, Love and Fancy thought a comedy:Now is turned Poet! and writes Love in Passion!His verses fit the bleeding Tragedy!In willow weeds, right well he acts his part!His Scenes are tears, whose embryon was his heart!

Beauty and Virtue, who did praise the fashion;

Who, Love and Fancy thought a comedy:

Now is turned Poet! and writes Love in Passion!

His verses fit the bleeding Tragedy!

In willow weeds, right well he acts his part!

His Scenes are tears, whose embryon was his heart!

He loves, where Love to all doth prove disaster!His eyes no sooner see, but he's straight blind!His kindred, friends, or foes, he follows fasterThan his own good! He's now but too too kind!He that spent all, would fain find out Love's treasure!Extremities are, for extremes the measure.

He loves, where Love to all doth prove disaster!

His eyes no sooner see, but he's straight blind!

His kindred, friends, or foes, he follows faster

Than his own good! He's now but too too kind!

He that spent all, would fain find out Love's treasure!

Extremities are, for extremes the measure.

Thus thinks he, of the words he spent in vain;And wishes now, his tongue had eloquence!He's dumb! all motion that a world could gain,A centre now without circumference!Cupid, with words who fought! would teach him Art,Hath lost his tongue; and with it, left his heart!

Thus thinks he, of the words he spent in vain;

And wishes now, his tongue had eloquence!

He's dumb! all motion that a world could gain,

A centre now without circumference!

Cupid, with words who fought! would teach him Art,

Hath lost his tongue; and with it, left his heart!

He swears he loves! (the heat doth prove the fire!)He weeps his Love, his tears shew his Affection.He writes his Love, his lines plead his Desire.He sings his Love, the ditty mourns the action.He sings, writes, weeps, and swears that he's in sadness!It is believed,Not cured, Love turns to madness!

He swears he loves! (the heat doth prove the fire!)

He weeps his Love, his tears shew his Affection.

He writes his Love, his lines plead his Desire.

He sings his Love, the ditty mourns the action.

He sings, writes, weeps, and swears that he's in sadness!

It is believed,Not cured, Love turns to madness!

Love once dissembled, oaths are a grace most slender!Tears oft are heard, Ambassadors for Beauty!Words writ in gold, an iron heart may render!A Passion Song shews much more hope than duty!Oaths spoke in tears; words, song; prove no true ditty:A feignèd Love must find a feignèd Pity!

Love once dissembled, oaths are a grace most slender!

Tears oft are heard, Ambassadors for Beauty!

Words writ in gold, an iron heart may render!

A Passion Song shews much more hope than duty!

Oaths spoke in tears; words, song; prove no true ditty:

A feignèd Love must find a feignèd Pity!

Thus is the goodDaiphantuslike the fly,Who playing with the candle feels the flame.The smiles of scorn are lovers' misery:That soul's most vex't, is grievèd with his name.Though kindDaiphantusdo most love protest;Yet is his cross, still to be thought in jest!

Thus is the goodDaiphantuslike the fly,

Who playing with the candle feels the flame.

The smiles of scorn are lovers' misery:

That soul's most vex't, is grievèd with his name.

Though kindDaiphantusdo most love protest;

Yet is his cross, still to be thought in jest!

Poor tortured lover! Like a perjured soul,Swears till he's hoarse, yet never is believed!(Who's once a villain, still is counted foul!)O woful pity! when with wind relieved,Learns this by wrote,Though Love unconstant be,They must prove constant, will her comforts see!

Poor tortured lover! Like a perjured soul,

Swears till he's hoarse, yet never is believed!

(Who's once a villain, still is counted foul!)

O woful pity! when with wind relieved,

Learns this by wrote,Though Love unconstant be,

They must prove constant, will her comforts see!

Now to the humble heart of his dread Saint,Eurialæ, he kneels; but's not regarded!Then toUraniasighs, till he grows faint:Such is her Wit, in silence he's rewarded!His humble voice,Eurialæaccuseth!His sighing Passion,Uraniarefuseth!

Now to the humble heart of his dread Saint,

Eurialæ, he kneels; but's not regarded!

Then toUraniasighs, till he grows faint:

Such is her Wit, in silence he's rewarded!

His humble voice,Eurialæaccuseth!

His sighing Passion,Uraniarefuseth!

Then lifts he up his eyes, but Heaven frowneth!Bows down his head, Earth is a mass of sorrow!Runs to the seas; the sea, it storms and howleth!Hies to the woods, the birds sad tunes do borrow!Heaven, Earth, sea, woods, and all things do conspireHe burn in Love, yet freeze in his Desire!

Then lifts he up his eyes, but Heaven frowneth!

Bows down his head, Earth is a mass of sorrow!

Runs to the seas; the sea, it storms and howleth!

Hies to the woods, the birds sad tunes do borrow!

Heaven, Earth, sea, woods, and all things do conspire

He burn in Love, yet freeze in his Desire!

The Ladies jest! command him to feign still!Tell him, how, one day, he may be in love!That lover's reason hath not Love's free will!Smile in disdain, to think of that he proves!(O me,Daiphantus! how art thou advised?When he's less pitied, then he is despised!)

The Ladies jest! command him to feign still!

Tell him, how, one day, he may be in love!

That lover's reason hath not Love's free will!

Smile in disdain, to think of that he proves!

(O me,Daiphantus! how art thou advised?

When he's less pitied, then he is despised!)

They hold this but his humour! seem so wise!And many lovers' stories forth do bring!Court him with shadows, whilst he catcheth flies,Biting his fingers till the blood forth spring!Then do they much commend his careless Passion!Call him "a lover of our Courtiers' fashion!"

They hold this but his humour! seem so wise!

And many lovers' stories forth do bring!

Court him with shadows, whilst he catcheth flies,

Biting his fingers till the blood forth spring!

Then do they much commend his careless Passion!

Call him "a lover of our Courtiers' fashion!"

All this they do in modesty; yet freeFrom thinking him so honest, as in truth:Much less so kind, as to love two or three,Him near allied; and he himself a youth!Till with the sweat, which from his sufferings rise,His face is pearled, like the lights his eyes.

All this they do in modesty; yet free

From thinking him so honest, as in truth:

Much less so kind, as to love two or three,

Him near allied; and he himself a youth!

Till with the sweat, which from his sufferings rise,

His face is pearled, like the lights his eyes.

Then with his look down-cast, and trembling hand,A High Dutch colour, and a tongue like ice,Apart with thisEurialæto standEndeavours he. This was his last device,Yet in so humble strains, this Gallant courts her;The wind being high, his breath it never hurts her!

Then with his look down-cast, and trembling hand,

A High Dutch colour, and a tongue like ice,

Apart with thisEurialæto stand

Endeavours he. This was his last device,

Yet in so humble strains, this Gallant courts her;

The wind being high, his breath it never hurts her!

Speechless thus stands he, till She feared him dead,And rubs his temples, calls and cries for aid.Water is fetched and spunged into his head:Who then starts up; from dreaming, as he said,And craving absence of all, but this Saint,He 'gan to court her, but with a heart right faint.

Speechless thus stands he, till She feared him dead,

And rubs his temples, calls and cries for aid.

Water is fetched and spunged into his head:

Who then starts up; from dreaming, as he said,

And craving absence of all, but this Saint,

He 'gan to court her, but with a heart right faint.

"Bright Star ofPhœbus! Goddess of my thought!Behold thy vassal, humbled on his knee!Behold for thee, what gods and Art hath wrought,A man adoring! of Love, the lowest degree.I love! I honour thee!" No more; there stayedAs if foresworn; even so, was he afraid!

"Bright Star ofPhœbus! Goddess of my thought!

Behold thy vassal, humbled on his knee!

Behold for thee, what gods and Art hath wrought,

A man adoring! of Love, the lowest degree.

I love! I honour thee!" No more; there stayed

As if foresworn; even so, was he afraid!

Eurialænow spake, yet seemed in wonder,Her lips when parting, heaven did ope his treasure,"O do not, do not love! I will not sunderA heart in two! Love hath nor height nor measure!Live still a virgin! Then I'll be thy lover!"Heaven here did close. No tongue could after move her.

Eurialænow spake, yet seemed in wonder,

Her lips when parting, heaven did ope his treasure,

"O do not, do not love! I will not sunder

A heart in two! Love hath nor height nor measure!

Live still a virgin! Then I'll be thy lover!"

Heaven here did close. No tongue could after move her.

As if in heaven, he was ravished so.O love! O voice! O face! which is the glory?O day! O night! O Age! O worlds of joy!Of every part, true love might write a story.Convert my sighs, O to some angel's tongue.To die for Love is life! Death is best young!

As if in heaven, he was ravished so.

O love! O voice! O face! which is the glory?

O day! O night! O Age! O worlds of joy!

Of every part, true love might write a story.

Convert my sighs, O to some angel's tongue.

To die for Love is life! Death is best young!

She gone,Uraniacame. He, on the flower,But sight of her revived his noble fire:And as ifMarsdid thunder, words did shower!(Love speaks in heat, when 'tis in most Desire)She made him mad, whose sight had him revived;Now speaks he plainly! Storms past, the air is glide.

She gone,Uraniacame. He, on the flower,

But sight of her revived his noble fire:

And as ifMarsdid thunder, words did shower!

(Love speaks in heat, when 'tis in most Desire)

She made him mad, whose sight had him revived;

Now speaks he plainly! Storms past, the air is glide.

"Why was I made, to bear such woe and grief?Why was I born, but in Love to be nourished?Why then for Love (Love, of all virtues chief),And I not pitied, though I be not cherished?What! did my eyes offend in virtue seeing?O no! True Virtue is the lover's being!

"Why was I made, to bear such woe and grief?

Why was I born, but in Love to be nourished?

Why then for Love (Love, of all virtues chief),

And I not pitied, though I be not cherished?

What! did my eyes offend in virtue seeing?

O no! True Virtue is the lover's being!

"Beauty and Virtue are the twins of life;Love is the mother which them forth doth bring.Wit with discretion ends the lover's strife.Patience with silence is a glorious thing.Love crowns a man, Love gives to all due merit;Men without love are bodies without spirit.

"Beauty and Virtue are the twins of life;

Love is the mother which them forth doth bring.

Wit with discretion ends the lover's strife.

Patience with silence is a glorious thing.

Love crowns a man, Love gives to all due merit;

Men without love are bodies without spirit.

"Love to a mortal is both life and treasure.Love changed to Wedlock doubleth in her glory.Love is the gem, whose worth is without measure.Fame dies, if not entombed within Love's story.Man that lives, lives not, if he wants Content.Man that dies, dies not, if with Love's consent."

"Love to a mortal is both life and treasure.

Love changed to Wedlock doubleth in her glory.

Love is the gem, whose worth is without measure.

Fame dies, if not entombed within Love's story.

Man that lives, lives not, if he wants Content.

Man that dies, dies not, if with Love's consent."

Thus spakeDaiphantus, and thus spake he well;Which wiseUraniawell did understand:So well she like it, as it did excel.Now graced she him with her white slender hand,With words most sweet, a colour fresh and fair,In heavenly speech, she 'gan his woes declare.

Thus spakeDaiphantus, and thus spake he well;

Which wiseUraniawell did understand:

So well she like it, as it did excel.

Now graced she him with her white slender hand,

With words most sweet, a colour fresh and fair,

In heavenly speech, she 'gan his woes declare.

"My goodDaiphantus! Love, it is no toy!Cupid, though blind, yet strikes the heart at last.His force, you feel! whose power must breed your joy;This is the meed for scoffs, you on him cast!You love, who scorned! your love, with scorn is quite!You love, yet want! your love, with want is spite!

"My goodDaiphantus! Love, it is no toy!

Cupid, though blind, yet strikes the heart at last.

His force, you feel! whose power must breed your joy;

This is the meed for scoffs, you on him cast!

You love, who scorned! your love, with scorn is quite!

You love, yet want! your love, with want is spite!

"Love plays the wanton, where she means to kill.Love rides the fool, and spurs without direction.Love weeps like you, yet laughs at your good will.Love is, of all things, but the true confection.Love is of everything; yet itself's but one thing.Love is anything, yet indeed is nothing.

"Love plays the wanton, where she means to kill.

Love rides the fool, and spurs without direction.

Love weeps like you, yet laughs at your good will.

Love is, of all things, but the true confection.

Love is of everything; yet itself's but one thing.

Love is anything, yet indeed is nothing.

"We virgins know this, though not the force of Love.For we two sisters live as in a cell:Nor do we scorn it, though we it not approve;By prayer we hope, her charms for to repell!And thus adieu! But you, in Progress go,To find fit place to warble forth your woe.

"We virgins know this, though not the force of Love.

For we two sisters live as in a cell:

Nor do we scorn it, though we it not approve;

By prayer we hope, her charms for to repell!

And thus adieu! But you, in Progress go,

To find fit place to warble forth your woe.

"Who first seeks mercy, is the last for grief,"Thus did She part; whose image stayed behind.He in a trance stands mute, finds no relief(For She was absent, whose tongue pleased his mind),But like a heartless and a hurtless creature,In admiration of so sweet a feature.

"Who first seeks mercy, is the last for grief,"

Thus did She part; whose image stayed behind.

He in a trance stands mute, finds no relief

(For She was absent, whose tongue pleased his mind),

But like a heartless and a hurtless creature,

In admiration of so sweet a feature.

At length looked up, his shadow only seeing,Sighs to himself and weeps, yet silent stands;Kneels, riseth, walks, all this without True Being,Sure he was there, though fettered in Love's bands.His lips departed, parted were his blisses:Yet for pure love, each lip the other kisses.

At length looked up, his shadow only seeing,

Sighs to himself and weeps, yet silent stands;

Kneels, riseth, walks, all this without True Being,

Sure he was there, though fettered in Love's bands.

His lips departed, parted were his blisses:

Yet for pure love, each lip the other kisses.

Revived by this, or else Imagination,Recalls things past, the time to come laments;Records his love, but with an acclamation!Repents himself and all these accidents.Now with the wings of Love, he 'gins to raise,His Love to gain, this woman he doth praise.

Revived by this, or else Imagination,

Recalls things past, the time to come laments;

Records his love, but with an acclamation!

Repents himself and all these accidents.

Now with the wings of Love, he 'gins to raise,

His Love to gain, this woman he doth praise.

"Women than Men are purer creatures far!The Soul of souls! the blessed Gift of Nature!To men, a heaven! to men, the brightest star!The pearl that's matchless! high, without all stature!So full of goodness, that Bounty waiteth stillUpon their trencher! feeds them with free will!

"Women than Men are purer creatures far!

The Soul of souls! the blessed Gift of Nature!

To men, a heaven! to men, the brightest star!

The pearl that's matchless! high, without all stature!

So full of goodness, that Bounty waiteth still

Upon their trencher! feeds them with free will!

"Where seek we Virtue, learn true Art or Glory;Where find we Joy that lasteth, still is spending,But in sweet Women? of man's life, the Story!Alpha, they are! Omega is their ending!Their virtues shine with such a sun of brightness!Yet he's unwise, that looks in them for lightness!"

"Where seek we Virtue, learn true Art or Glory;

Where find we Joy that lasteth, still is spending,

But in sweet Women? of man's life, the Story!

Alpha, they are! Omega is their ending!

Their virtues shine with such a sun of brightness!

Yet he's unwise, that looks in them for lightness!"

(O let my pen relate mine own decay!There are, which are not, or which should not be,Some shaped like Saints, whose steps are not the way.O let my Verse not name their infamy!These hurt not all, but even the wandering eye,Which fondly gapes for his own misery.

(O let my pen relate mine own decay!

There are, which are not, or which should not be,

Some shaped like Saints, whose steps are not the way.

O let my Verse not name their infamy!

These hurt not all, but even the wandering eye,

Which fondly gapes for his own misery.

These do not harm the honest or the just,The faithful lover, or the virtuous dame;But those whose souls be only given to lust,Care more for pleasure, than for worthy fame.But peace, my Muse! For now, methinks I hearAn angel's voice come warbling in my ear!)

These do not harm the honest or the just,

The faithful lover, or the virtuous dame;

But those whose souls be only given to lust,

Care more for pleasure, than for worthy fame.

But peace, my Muse! For now, methinks I hear

An angel's voice come warbling in my ear!)

Not distant far, within a garden fair,The sweetArtesiasang unto her lute,Her voice charmedCupid, and perfumed the air,Made beasts stand still, and birds for to be mute.Her voice and beauty proved so sad a ditty;Who saw, was blind! who heard, soon sued for pity!

Not distant far, within a garden fair,

The sweetArtesiasang unto her lute,

Her voice charmedCupid, and perfumed the air,

Made beasts stand still, and birds for to be mute.

Her voice and beauty proved so sad a ditty;

Who saw, was blind! who heard, soon sued for pity!

This Lady was no virgin like the rest,Yet near allied. By Florence city dwelling(Nature and Art; within her both were blest;Music in her, and Love had his excelling).To visit her fair cousins oft she came;Perhaps more jocund, but no whit to blame.

This Lady was no virgin like the rest,

Yet near allied. By Florence city dwelling

(Nature and Art; within her both were blest;

Music in her, and Love had his excelling).

To visit her fair cousins oft she came;

Perhaps more jocund, but no whit to blame.

Fortune had crossed her with a churlish Mate,WhoStrymonhight. A Palmer was his sire,Full nobly born and of a wealthy state;His son a child not born to his Desire.Thus was she crossed, which causèd her thereby,Daiphantus'grief to mourn, by sympathy.

Fortune had crossed her with a churlish Mate,

WhoStrymonhight. A Palmer was his sire,

Full nobly born and of a wealthy state;

His son a child not born to his Desire.

Thus was she crossed, which causèd her thereby,

Daiphantus'grief to mourn, by sympathy.

Daiphantushearing such a swan-tuned voice,Was ravished, as with angels' melody;Though in this labyrinth blest, could not rejoice,Nor yet could see what brought this harmony.At length, this goddess ceased; began draw near,Who, when he saw; he saw not, 'twas her sphere!

Daiphantushearing such a swan-tuned voice,

Was ravished, as with angels' melody;

Though in this labyrinth blest, could not rejoice,

Nor yet could see what brought this harmony.

At length, this goddess ceased; began draw near,

Who, when he saw; he saw not, 'twas her sphere!

Away then crept he on his hands and knees,To hide himself: thoughtVenuscame to plague him!Which she espying, like the sun she stands;As with her beams, she thought for to assuage him.But like the sun, which gazed on blinds the eye,So he by her! and so resolved to die.

Away then crept he on his hands and knees,

To hide himself: thoughtVenuscame to plague him!

Which she espying, like the sun she stands;

As with her beams, she thought for to assuage him.

But like the sun, which gazed on blinds the eye,

So he by her! and so resolved to die.

At this, in wonder softly did she pace it;Yet suddenly was stayed. His verses seized her,Which he late writ, forgot. Thus was he graced.She read them over, and the writing pleased her.ForCupidframed two mottoes in her heart:The one asDian's, the other, for his dart.

At this, in wonder softly did she pace it;

Yet suddenly was stayed. His verses seized her,

Which he late writ, forgot. Thus was he graced.

She read them over, and the writing pleased her.

ForCupidframed two mottoes in her heart:

The one asDian's, the other, for his dart.

She read and pitied; reading, Pity taught.She loved and hated; hate to Love did turn.She smiled and wept; her weeping Smiling brought.She hoped and feared; her Hopes in fear did mourn.She read, loved, smiled, and hoped; but 'twas in vain:Her tears, still dread; and pity, hate did gain.

She read and pitied; reading, Pity taught.

She loved and hated; hate to Love did turn.

She smiled and wept; her weeping Smiling brought.

She hoped and feared; her Hopes in fear did mourn.

She read, loved, smiled, and hoped; but 'twas in vain:

Her tears, still dread; and pity, hate did gain.

She could have loved him, such true verses making;She might have loved him, and yet love beguiling.She would have kissed him, but feared his awaking;She might have kissed him, and sleep sweetly smiling.She thus afeared, did fear what she most wished.He thus in hope, still hoped for that he missed.

She could have loved him, such true verses making;

She might have loved him, and yet love beguiling.

She would have kissed him, but feared his awaking;

She might have kissed him, and sleep sweetly smiling.

She thus afeared, did fear what she most wished.

He thus in hope, still hoped for that he missed.

He looked! They two, long each on other gazed!Sweet silence pleaded what each other thought.Thus Love and Fancy both alike amazed,As if their tongues and hearts had been distraught.Artesia'svoice thus courted him at length.The more she spake, the greater was his strength!

He looked! They two, long each on other gazed!

Sweet silence pleaded what each other thought.

Thus Love and Fancy both alike amazed,

As if their tongues and hearts had been distraught.

Artesia'svoice thus courted him at length.

The more she spake, the greater was his strength!

"Good gentle Sir! your fortunes I bemoan,And wish my state so happy as to ease you!But She that grieved you, She it is alone,Whose breath can cure, and whose kind words appease you!Were I that She, heaven should my star extinguish,If you but loved me, ere I would relinquish.

"Good gentle Sir! your fortunes I bemoan,

And wish my state so happy as to ease you!

But She that grieved you, She it is alone,

Whose breath can cure, and whose kind words appease you!

Were I that She, heaven should my star extinguish,

If you but loved me, ere I would relinquish.

"Yet, noble Sir! I can no love protest,For I am wedded (O word full fraught with woe!)But in such manner as good love is blest,In honest kindness, I'll not prove your foe!Mine own experience doth my counsel prove,I know to pity, yet not care to love!

"Yet, noble Sir! I can no love protest,

For I am wedded (O word full fraught with woe!)

But in such manner as good love is blest,

In honest kindness, I'll not prove your foe!

Mine own experience doth my counsel prove,

I know to pity, yet not care to love!

"A sister, yet Nature hath given me,A virgin true, right fair, and sweetly kind.I for her good, Fortune hath driven meTo be a comfort. Your heart shall be her mind.My woes yet tell me, she is best a maid!"And here she stopped her tears, her words thus stayed.

"A sister, yet Nature hath given me,

A virgin true, right fair, and sweetly kind.

I for her good, Fortune hath driven me

To be a comfort. Your heart shall be her mind.

My woes yet tell me, she is best a maid!"

And here she stopped her tears, her words thus stayed.

Daiphantusthen, in number without measure,Began her praises, which no pen can end."O Saint! O sun of heaven, and earth the treasure!Who lives, if not thy honour to defend?Ah me! what mortal can be in love so strange,That wedding Virtue will a wand'ring range?

Daiphantusthen, in number without measure,

Began her praises, which no pen can end.

"O Saint! O sun of heaven, and earth the treasure!

Who lives, if not thy honour to defend?

Ah me! what mortal can be in love so strange,

That wedding Virtue will a wand'ring range?

"She, like the morning, is still fresh and fair.The Elements, of her, they all do borrow;The Earth, the Fire, the Waters, and the Air;Their strength, heat, moisture, liveliness. No sorrowCan Virtue change! Beauty hath but one place.The heart's still perfect; though empaled the face.

"She, like the morning, is still fresh and fair.

The Elements, of her, they all do borrow;

The Earth, the Fire, the Waters, and the Air;

Their strength, heat, moisture, liveliness. No sorrow

Can Virtue change! Beauty hath but one place.

The heart's still perfect; though empaled the face.

"O eyes! no eyes, but stars still clearly shining!O face! no face but shape of angels' fashion!O lips! no lips, but bliss by kiss refining!O heart! no heart, but of true love right Passion!O eyes, face, lips, and heart, if not too cruel;To see, feel, taste, and love earth's rarest jewel."

"O eyes! no eyes, but stars still clearly shining!

O face! no face but shape of angels' fashion!

O lips! no lips, but bliss by kiss refining!

O heart! no heart, but of true love right Passion!

O eyes, face, lips, and heart, if not too cruel;

To see, feel, taste, and love earth's rarest jewel."

This said, he paused, new praises now devising,Kneels toApollofor his skill and Art:When came the Ladies! At which, he arising,'Twixt lip and lip, he had nor lips nor heart.His eyes, their eyes so sweetly did incumber:Although awaked, yet in a golden slumber.

This said, he paused, new praises now devising,

Kneels toApollofor his skill and Art:

When came the Ladies! At which, he arising,

'Twixt lip and lip, he had nor lips nor heart.

His eyes, their eyes so sweetly did incumber:

Although awaked, yet in a golden slumber.

Most like a lion raised from slumbering ease,He cast his looks, fall grimly them among.At length, he firmly knit what might appeaseHis brow; looked stedfastly and longAt one, till all their eyes with his eyes met alikeOn fairVitullia, who his heart did strike.

Most like a lion raised from slumbering ease,

He cast his looks, fall grimly them among.

At length, he firmly knit what might appease

His brow; looked stedfastly and long

At one, till all their eyes with his eyes met alike

On fairVitullia, who his heart did strike.

Vitulliafair, yet brown; as mixed togetherAs Art and Nature strove which was the purest.So sweet her smilings were, a grace to either!That heaven's glory in that face seemed truest.Venus, excepted when the god her wooed,Was ne'er so fair! so tempting, yet so good!

Vitulliafair, yet brown; as mixed together

As Art and Nature strove which was the purest.

So sweet her smilings were, a grace to either!

That heaven's glory in that face seemed truest.

Venus, excepted when the god her wooed,

Was ne'er so fair! so tempting, yet so good!

Wonder not, mortals, though the Poets feign!The Muses' graces were in this She's favour:Nor wonder, though She strove his tongue to gain!For I lose mine, in thinking of his labour."Well may he love," I write, "and all Wits praise her,She's so all humble, Learning cannot raise her!"

Wonder not, mortals, though the Poets feign!

The Muses' graces were in this She's favour:

Nor wonder, though She strove his tongue to gain!

For I lose mine, in thinking of his labour.

"Well may he love," I write, "and all Wits praise her,

She's so all humble, Learning cannot raise her!"

Daiphantusoft sighed: "Oh!" oft said "Fair!"Then looks and sighs, and then cries wonderful;Thus did he long, and truly 'twas not rare:The object was! which made his mind so dull.Pray pardon him! for better to cry "Oh!"Than feel that Passion which caused him sigh so.

Daiphantusoft sighed: "Oh!" oft said "Fair!"

Then looks and sighs, and then cries wonderful;

Thus did he long, and truly 'twas not rare:

The object was! which made his mind so dull.

Pray pardon him! for better to cry "Oh!"

Than feel that Passion which caused him sigh so.

Now, all were silent, not alone this Lover,Till cameIsmenio, brother to this Saint,Whose haste made sweat, his tongue he could not prove her,For this against him, that his heart was faint:Thus all amazed, none knowing any cause,Ismeniobreathless, here had time to pause.

Now, all were silent, not alone this Lover,

Till cameIsmenio, brother to this Saint,

Whose haste made sweat, his tongue he could not prove her,

For this against him, that his heart was faint:

Thus all amazed, none knowing any cause,

Ismeniobreathless, here had time to pause.

At length,Ismenio, who had wit and skill,Questioned the reason of this strong effect:At last related, haste outwent his will,He told them, "He was sent, them to direct,Where hunting sports, their eyes should better please!"Who first went forth,Daiphantusmost did ease.

At length,Ismenio, who had wit and skill,

Questioned the reason of this strong effect:

At last related, haste outwent his will,

He told them, "He was sent, them to direct,

Where hunting sports, their eyes should better please!"

Who first went forth,Daiphantusmost did ease.

They gone,Daiphantusto his standish highs!Thinks, in his writsVitullia'sbeauties were:But what he wrote, his Muse not justifies,Bids him take time! "Love badly writes in fear!Her worthy praise, if he would truly write,Her kisses' nectar must the same indite."

They gone,Daiphantusto his standish highs!

Thinks, in his writsVitullia'sbeauties were:

But what he wrote, his Muse not justifies,

Bids him take time! "Love badly writes in fear!

Her worthy praise, if he would truly write,

Her kisses' nectar must the same indite."

"Art, and sweet Nature! Let your influence dropFrom me like rain! Yes, yes, in golden showers!(Whose end is Virtue, let him never stop!)But fall on her, like dew on sprinkling flowers!That both together meeting, may begetAnOrpheus! two gems in a soil richly set!"

"Art, and sweet Nature! Let your influence drop

From me like rain! Yes, yes, in golden showers!

(Whose end is Virtue, let him never stop!)

But fall on her, like dew on sprinkling flowers!

That both together meeting, may beget

AnOrpheus! two gems in a soil richly set!"

Thus ravished, then distracted, as was deemed,Not taught to write of Love in this extreme;In love, in fear; yea, trembling (as it seemed),If praising her, he should not keep the mean!Thus vexed, he wept! His tears intreated pity,But Love unconstant, tunes a woful ditty.

Thus ravished, then distracted, as was deemed,

Not taught to write of Love in this extreme;

In love, in fear; yea, trembling (as it seemed),

If praising her, he should not keep the mean!

Thus vexed, he wept! His tears intreated pity,

But Love unconstant, tunes a woful ditty.

Now kneels toVenus. Faithfulness protestedTo this, none else! This was his only Saint!Vowed e'er his service, or to be arrestedToVenus'censure! Thus he left to faint.His love brought Wit, and Wit engendered Spirit;True Love and Wit thus learned him to indite.

Now kneels toVenus. Faithfulness protested

To this, none else! This was his only Saint!

Vowed e'er his service, or to be arrested

ToVenus'censure! Thus he left to faint.

His love brought Wit, and Wit engendered Spirit;

True Love and Wit thus learned him to indite.

"As the mild lamb runs forth from shepherd's fold,By ravenous wolves is caught and made a prey:So is my Sense, by which Love taketh hold,Tormented more than any tongue can say.The difference is, they tortured so, do die!I feed the torment breeds my misery.

"As the mild lamb runs forth from shepherd's fold,

By ravenous wolves is caught and made a prey:

So is my Sense, by which Love taketh hold,

Tormented more than any tongue can say.

The difference is, they tortured so, do die!

I feed the torment breeds my misery.

"Consumed by her I live, such is her glory!Despised of her I love, I more adore her!I'll ne'er write ought, but of her virtue's story!Beauty unblasted is the eye's rich storer,If I should die, O who would ring love's knell?"Faint not,Daiphantus! Wise men love not so well!

"Consumed by her I live, such is her glory!

Despised of her I love, I more adore her!

I'll ne'er write ought, but of her virtue's story!

Beauty unblasted is the eye's rich storer,

If I should die, O who would ring love's knell?"

Faint not,Daiphantus! Wise men love not so well!

"Like heaven's artist, the astronomer,Gazing on stars, oft to the earth doth fall:So I,Daiphantus, now Lover's Harbinger,Am quite condemned to Love's funeral!Who falls by women, by them oft doth rise;Ladies have lips to kiss, as well as eyes!"

"Like heaven's artist, the astronomer,

Gazing on stars, oft to the earth doth fall:

So I,Daiphantus, now Lover's Harbinger,

Am quite condemned to Love's funeral!

Who falls by women, by them oft doth rise;

Ladies have lips to kiss, as well as eyes!"

But tush, thou fool! thou lov'st all thou seest.Who once thou lovest, thou should'st change her never!Constant in love,Daiphantus, see thou beest!If thou hope comfort, Love but once, and ever!"Fortune! O be so good to let me findA lady living, of this constant mind!"

But tush, thou fool! thou lov'st all thou seest.

Who once thou lovest, thou should'st change her never!

Constant in love,Daiphantus, see thou beest!

If thou hope comfort, Love but once, and ever!

"Fortune! O be so good to let me find

A lady living, of this constant mind!"

"O, I would wear her in my heart's heart-gore!And place her on the continent of stars!Think heaven and earth, like her had not one more!Would fight for her till all my face were scars!But if that women be such fickle Shees;Men may be like them in infirmities!"

"O, I would wear her in my heart's heart-gore!

And place her on the continent of stars!

Think heaven and earth, like her had not one more!

Would fight for her till all my face were scars!

But if that women be such fickle Shees;

Men may be like them in infirmities!"

O no,Daiphantus! Women are not so'Tis but their shadows, pictures merely painted!Then turn poor lover! "O heaven! not to my woe!Then toVitullia!" With that word, he fainted.Yet she that wounds, did heal. Like her, no heaven.Odds in a man, a woman can make even!

O no,Daiphantus! Women are not so

'Tis but their shadows, pictures merely painted!

Then turn poor lover! "O heaven! not to my woe!

Then toVitullia!" With that word, he fainted.

Yet she that wounds, did heal. Like her, no heaven.

Odds in a man, a woman can make even!

"O myVitullia! Let me write that down!O sweetVitullia! Nature made thee sweet!O kindVitullia! Truth hath the surest ground!I'll weep or laugh, so that our hearts may meet!"Love is not always merry, nor still weeping:A drop of each, Love's joys are sweets in sleeping.

"O myVitullia! Let me write that down!

O sweetVitullia! Nature made thee sweet!

O kindVitullia! Truth hath the surest ground!

I'll weep or laugh, so that our hearts may meet!"

Love is not always merry, nor still weeping:

A drop of each, Love's joys are sweets in sleeping.

"Her name, in golden letters, on my breast I'll 'grave!Around my temples, in a garland wear!My Art shall be, her favour for to have!My Learning still her honour high to rear!My lips shall close but to her sacred name!My tongue be silent but to spread her fame!

"Her name, in golden letters, on my breast I'll 'grave!

Around my temples, in a garland wear!

My Art shall be, her favour for to have!

My Learning still her honour high to rear!

My lips shall close but to her sacred name!

My tongue be silent but to spread her fame!

"In woods, groves, hills,Vitullia'sname shall ring!In meadows, orchards, gardens, sweetest and fair!I'll learn the birds her name alone to sing!All quires shall chant it in a heavenly air!The Day shall be her Usher! Night, her Page!Heaven, her Palace! and this Earth, her Stage!

"In woods, groves, hills,Vitullia'sname shall ring!

In meadows, orchards, gardens, sweetest and fair!

I'll learn the birds her name alone to sing!

All quires shall chant it in a heavenly air!

The Day shall be her Usher! Night, her Page!

Heaven, her Palace! and this Earth, her Stage!

"Virgin's pure chasteness, in her eyes shall be!Women, true love, from her true mind shall learn!Widows, their mourning in her face shall see!Children, their duty in her speech discern!And all of them in love with each, but I:Who fear her love, will make me fear to die!

"Virgin's pure chasteness, in her eyes shall be!

Women, true love, from her true mind shall learn!

Widows, their mourning in her face shall see!

Children, their duty in her speech discern!

And all of them in love with each, but I:

Who fear her love, will make me fear to die!

"My Orisons are still to please this creature!My Valour sleeps but when She is defended!My Wits still jaded but when I praise her feature!My Life is hers; in her begun and ended!O happy day wherein I wear not willow!Thrice blessed night, wherein her breast's my pillow!

"My Orisons are still to please this creature!

My Valour sleeps but when She is defended!

My Wits still jaded but when I praise her feature!

My Life is hers; in her begun and ended!

O happy day wherein I wear not willow!

Thrice blessed night, wherein her breast's my pillow!

"I'll serve her, as the Mistress of all Pleasure!I'll love her, as the Goddess of my soul!I'll keep her, as the Jewel of all treasure!I'll live with her, yet out ofLove'scontrol!That all may know, I will not from her part,I'll double lock her in my lips and heart!

"I'll serve her, as the Mistress of all Pleasure!

I'll love her, as the Goddess of my soul!

I'll keep her, as the Jewel of all treasure!

I'll live with her, yet out ofLove'scontrol!

That all may know, I will not from her part,

I'll double lock her in my lips and heart!

If e'er I sigh, it shall be for her pity!If e'er I mourn, her funeral draws near!If e'er I sing, her virtue is the ditty!If e'er I smile, her beauty is the sphere!All that I do, is that I may admire her!All that I wish, is that I still desire her!"

If e'er I sigh, it shall be for her pity!

If e'er I mourn, her funeral draws near!

If e'er I sing, her virtue is the ditty!

If e'er I smile, her beauty is the sphere!

All that I do, is that I may admire her!

All that I wish, is that I still desire her!"

But peace,Daiphantus! Music is only sweet,When without discord. A consort makes a heaven.The ear is ravished when true voices meet.Odds, but in music, never makes things even.In voices' difference breeds a pleasant ditty,In Love, a difference brings a scornful pity.

But peace,Daiphantus! Music is only sweet,

When without discord. A consort makes a heaven.

The ear is ravished when true voices meet.

Odds, but in music, never makes things even.

In voices' difference breeds a pleasant ditty,

In Love, a difference brings a scornful pity.

Whose was the tongue,Eurialædefended?Whose was the wit,Uraniadid praise?Whose were the lips,Artesia'svoice commended?Whose was the heart loved all? all crowned with bays?"Sure 'twas myself! What did I? O I tremble!Yet I'll not weep! Wise men may love dissemble.

Whose was the tongue,Eurialædefended?

Whose was the wit,Uraniadid praise?

Whose were the lips,Artesia'svoice commended?

Whose was the heart loved all? all crowned with bays?

"Sure 'twas myself! What did I? O I tremble!

Yet I'll not weep! Wise men may love dissemble.

"Fie, no! Fond Love hath ever his reward!A sea of tears! a world of sighs and groans!Ah me!Vitulliawill have no regardTo ease my grief, and cure me of my moans;If once her ear should hearken to that voice,Relates my fortunes in Love's fickle choice.

"Fie, no! Fond Love hath ever his reward!

A sea of tears! a world of sighs and groans!

Ah me!Vitulliawill have no regard

To ease my grief, and cure me of my moans;

If once her ear should hearken to that voice,

Relates my fortunes in Love's fickle choice.

But now, I will, their worth with hers declare,That Truth by Error may have her true being;Things good are lessened by the thing that's rare.Beauty increaseth by a blackness seeing.Whoso is fair and chaste, they, sure, are best!Such isVitullia! such are all the rest!

But now, I will, their worth with hers declare,

That Truth by Error may have her true being;

Things good are lessened by the thing that's rare.

Beauty increaseth by a blackness seeing.

Whoso is fair and chaste, they, sure, are best!

Such isVitullia! such are all the rest!

"But she is fair, and chaste, and wise." What then,So are they all, without a difference!"She's fair, chaste, wise, and kind, yes, to all men."The rest are so! Number makes Excellence."She's fair, chaste, wise, kind, rich, yet humble."They three, her equal! Virtue can never stumble.

"But she is fair, and chaste, and wise." What then,

So are they all, without a difference!

"She's fair, chaste, wise, and kind, yes, to all men."

The rest are so! Number makes Excellence.

"She's fair, chaste, wise, kind, rich, yet humble."

They three, her equal! Virtue can never stumble.

"Vitulliais the sun; they stars of night!"Yet night is the bosom wherein the sun doth rest."The moon herself borrows of the sun's light,"All by the stars take counsel to be blest.The day's the sun, yet Cupid can it blind;The stars at night, Sleep cures the troubled mind.

"Vitulliais the sun; they stars of night!"

Yet night is the bosom wherein the sun doth rest.

"The moon herself borrows of the sun's light,"

All by the stars take counsel to be blest.

The day's the sun, yet Cupid can it blind;

The stars at night, Sleep cures the troubled mind.

"She is a rose, the fairer, so the sweeter!She is a lute, whose belly tunes the music!She is my prose, yet makes me speak all metre!She is my life, yet sickens me with physic!She is a virgin, that makes her a jewel!She will not love me, therein She is cruel!

"She is a rose, the fairer, so the sweeter!

She is a lute, whose belly tunes the music!

She is my prose, yet makes me speak all metre!

She is my life, yet sickens me with physic!

She is a virgin, that makes her a jewel!

She will not love me, therein She is cruel!

"Eurialæis like Sleep when one is wearyUraniais like a golden Slumber.Artesia'svoice, like Dreams that make men merry.Vitullia, like a Bed, all these encumber.1. Sleep, 2. Slumber, 3. Dreams upon a 4. Bed are best;First, Second, Third, but in the Fourth is blest.

"Eurialæis like Sleep when one is weary

Uraniais like a golden Slumber.

Artesia'svoice, like Dreams that make men merry.

Vitullia, like a Bed, all these encumber.

1. Sleep, 2. Slumber, 3. Dreams upon a 4. Bed are best;

First, Second, Third, but in the Fourth is blest.

"O butVitullia, what? She's wondrous pretty!O I, and what? so is She very fair!O yes, and what? She's like herself most witty!And yet, what is She? She is all but air!What can earth be, but earth? So we are all!Peace, then, my Muse! Opinion oft doth fall!

"O butVitullia, what? She's wondrous pretty!

O I, and what? so is She very fair!

O yes, and what? She's like herself most witty!

And yet, what is She? She is all but air!

What can earth be, but earth? So we are all!

Peace, then, my Muse! Opinion oft doth fall!

"Eurialæ, I honour for humility!Urania, I reverence for her wit!Artesia, I adore for true agility!Three Graces for the goddesses most fit.Each of these gifts are blessed in their faces,O, what'sVitullia, who hath all these Graces?"

"Eurialæ, I honour for humility!

Urania, I reverence for her wit!

Artesia, I adore for true agility!

Three Graces for the goddesses most fit.

Each of these gifts are blessed in their faces,

O, what'sVitullia, who hath all these Graces?"

She is but a Lady! So are all the rest.As pure, as sweet, as modest, yea as loyal;Yes, She's the Shadow (shadows are the least!),Which tells the Hour of Virtue by her dial.By her, men see there is on earth a heaven!By them, men know her virtues are matched even!

She is but a Lady! So are all the rest.

As pure, as sweet, as modest, yea as loyal;

Yes, She's the Shadow (shadows are the least!),

Which tells the Hour of Virtue by her dial.

By her, men see there is on earth a heaven!

By them, men know her virtues are matched even!

In praising all, much time he vainly spent,Yet thought none worthy butVitullia;Then called to mind, he could not well repentThe love he bare the wiseUrania.Eurialæ,Artesia, all, such beauties had,Which as they pleased him, made him well nigh mad.

In praising all, much time he vainly spent,

Yet thought none worthy butVitullia;

Then called to mind, he could not well repent

The love he bare the wiseUrania.

Eurialæ,Artesia, all, such beauties had,

Which as they pleased him, made him well nigh mad.

Eurialæ, her beauty, his eyesight harmed!Urania, her wit, his tongue incensed!Artesia, her voice, his ears had charmed!Thus poorDaiphantuswas, with love tormented.Vitullia'sbeauty, as he did impart,The others' virtues vanquishèd his heart.

Eurialæ, her beauty, his eyesight harmed!

Urania, her wit, his tongue incensed!

Artesia, her voice, his ears had charmed!

Thus poorDaiphantuswas, with love tormented.

Vitullia'sbeauty, as he did impart,

The others' virtues vanquishèd his heart.

At length, he grew as in an ecstasy'Twixt Love and Love, Whose beauty was the truer?His thoughts thus diverse, as in a lunacy,He starts and stares, to see Whose was the purer?Oft treads a maze, runs, suddenly then stays,Thus with himself, himself makes many frays.

At length, he grew as in an ecstasy

'Twixt Love and Love, Whose beauty was the truer?

His thoughts thus diverse, as in a lunacy,

He starts and stares, to see Whose was the purer?

Oft treads a maze, runs, suddenly then stays,

Thus with himself, himself makes many frays.

Now with his fingers, like a barber snaps!Plays with the fire-pan, as it were a lute!Unties his shoe-strings! Then his lips, he laps!Whistles awhile, and thinks it is a flute!At length, a glass presents it to his sight,Where well he acts fond Love in Passions right.

Now with his fingers, like a barber snaps!

Plays with the fire-pan, as it were a lute!

Unties his shoe-strings! Then his lips, he laps!

Whistles awhile, and thinks it is a flute!

At length, a glass presents it to his sight,

Where well he acts fond Love in Passions right.

His chin he strokes! swears "beardless men kiss best!"His lips anoints, says "Ladies use such fashions!"Spits on his napkin, terms that "the bathing jest."Then on the dust, describes the Courtiers' Passion.Then humble calls, "Though they do still aspire;Ladies then fall, when Lords rise by desire."

His chin he strokes! swears "beardless men kiss best!"

His lips anoints, says "Ladies use such fashions!"

Spits on his napkin, terms that "the bathing jest."

Then on the dust, describes the Courtiers' Passion.

Then humble calls, "Though they do still aspire;

Ladies then fall, when Lords rise by desire."

Then straddling goes, says, "Frenchmen fear no bears!"Vows "he will travel to the Siege of Brest!"Swears, "Captains, they do all against the hair!"Protests "Tobacco is a smoke-dried jest!"Takes up his pen for a tobacco pipe,Thus all besmeared, each lip, the other wipe.

Then straddling goes, says, "Frenchmen fear no bears!"

Vows "he will travel to the Siege of Brest!"

Swears, "Captains, they do all against the hair!"

Protests "Tobacco is a smoke-dried jest!"

Takes up his pen for a tobacco pipe,

Thus all besmeared, each lip, the other wipe.

His breath, he thinks the smoke! his tongue, a coal!Then runs for bottle-ale to quench his thirst;Runs to his ink-pot, drinks! then stops the hole!And thus grows madder than he was at first.Tassohe finds, by that ofHamletthinksTerms him a madman, then of his inkhorn drinks!

His breath, he thinks the smoke! his tongue, a coal!

Then runs for bottle-ale to quench his thirst;

Runs to his ink-pot, drinks! then stops the hole!

And thus grows madder than he was at first.

Tassohe finds, by that ofHamletthinks

Terms him a madman, then of his inkhorn drinks!

Calls players "fools! The Fool, he judgeth wiseth,Will learn them action out of Chaucer'sPander,Proves of their poets bawds, even in the highest,Then drinks a health! and swears it is no slander."Puts off his clothes! his shirt he only wears!Much like madHamlet, thus, as Passion tears!

Calls players "fools! The Fool, he judgeth wiseth,

Will learn them action out of Chaucer'sPander,

Proves of their poets bawds, even in the highest,

Then drinks a health! and swears it is no slander."

Puts off his clothes! his shirt he only wears!

Much like madHamlet, thus, as Passion tears!

"Who calls me forth, from my distracted thought?O Cerberus! if thou? I prithee speak!Revenge, if thou? I was thy rival ought!In purple gores, I'll make the ghosts to reek!Vitullia! OVitullia, be thou still!I'll have revenge, or harrow up my will!

"Who calls me forth, from my distracted thought?

O Cerberus! if thou? I prithee speak!

Revenge, if thou? I was thy rival ought!

In purple gores, I'll make the ghosts to reek!

Vitullia! OVitullia, be thou still!

I'll have revenge, or harrow up my will!

"I'll fallow up the wrinkles of the earth!Go down to hell, and knock atPluto'sgate!I'll turn the hills to valleys! make a dearthOf virtuous honour to eternal Fate!I'll beat the winds, and make the tides keep back!Reign in the sea, that lovers have no wrack!

"I'll fallow up the wrinkles of the earth!

Go down to hell, and knock atPluto'sgate!

I'll turn the hills to valleys! make a dearth

Of virtuous honour to eternal Fate!

I'll beat the winds, and make the tides keep back!

Reign in the sea, that lovers have no wrack!

"Yes, tell the Earth, 'It is a murderer!Hath slainVitullia!' OVitullia'sdead!I'll count blindCupidfor a conjurer,And with wild horses will I rend his head!I, with a pickaxe, will pluck out his brains!Laugh at this boy! ease lovers of much pains!

"Yes, tell the Earth, 'It is a murderer!

Hath slainVitullia!' OVitullia'sdead!

I'll count blindCupidfor a conjurer,

And with wild horses will I rend his head!

I, with a pickaxe, will pluck out his brains!

Laugh at this boy! ease lovers of much pains!

"O then, I'll fly! I'll swim! yet stay, and thenI'll ride the moon, and make the clouds my horse!Make me a ladder of the heads of men,Climb up to heaven! Yes, my tongue will forceTo gods and angels! O, I'll never end,Till forVitullia, all my cries I spend!

"O then, I'll fly! I'll swim! yet stay, and then

I'll ride the moon, and make the clouds my horse!

Make me a ladder of the heads of men,

Climb up to heaven! Yes, my tongue will force

To gods and angels! O, I'll never end,

Till forVitullia, all my cries I spend!

"Then I, like a Spirit of pure Innocence,I'll be all white! and yet behold I'll cry'Revenge!' O lovers! this my sufference;Or else for love, for love, a soul must die!Eurialæ!Urania!Artesia! so!—"Heart rent in sunder, with these words of woe.

"Then I, like a Spirit of pure Innocence,

I'll be all white! and yet behold I'll cry

'Revenge!' O lovers! this my sufference;

Or else for love, for love, a soul must die!

Eurialæ!Urania!Artesia! so!—"

Heart rent in sunder, with these words of woe.

"But soft, here comes! Who comes? and not calls outOf rape and murder, love and villainy?Stay, wretched man! Who runs? doth never doubtIt is thy soul! thy Saint! thy deity!Then call the birds to ring a mourning Knell,For madDaiphantus, who doth love so well!

"But soft, here comes! Who comes? and not calls out

Of rape and murder, love and villainy?

Stay, wretched man! Who runs? doth never doubt

It is thy soul! thy Saint! thy deity!

Then call the birds to ring a mourning Knell,

For madDaiphantus, who doth love so well!

"O sing a song, parted in parcels three,I'll bear the burden still of all your grief;Who is all Woe, can tune his miseryTo discontents; but not to his relief.O kiss her! kiss her! And yet do not do so!They bring some joy, but with short joys, long woe!

"O sing a song, parted in parcels three,

I'll bear the burden still of all your grief;

Who is all Woe, can tune his misery

To discontents; but not to his relief.

O kiss her! kiss her! And yet do not do so!

They bring some joy, but with short joys, long woe!

Upon his knees, "O goddesses beholdA caitiff wretch bemoaning his mishap!If ever pity were hired without gold,LamentDaiphantus, once in Fortune's lap!LamentDaiphantus, whose good deeds now slumber!Lament a lover, whose woe no tongue can number!

Upon his knees, "O goddesses behold

A caitiff wretch bemoaning his mishap!

If ever pity were hired without gold,

LamentDaiphantus, once in Fortune's lap!

LamentDaiphantus, whose good deeds now slumber!

Lament a lover, whose woe no tongue can number!

"My woes—" There did he stay, fell to the ground,Rightly divided into blood and tears,As if those words had given a mortal wound,So lay he foaming, with the weight of cares.Who this had seen, and seeing had not wept,Their hearts were, sure, from crosses ever kept!

"My woes—" There did he stay, fell to the ground,

Rightly divided into blood and tears,

As if those words had given a mortal wound,

So lay he foaming, with the weight of cares.

Who this had seen, and seeing had not wept,

Their hearts were, sure, from crosses ever kept!

The Ladies all, who late from hunting came,Untimely came to view this Map of Sorrow.Surely all wept! and sooth it was no shame,For, from his grief, the world might truly borrow:As he lay speechless grovelling, all undressed;So they stood weeping, Silence was their best.

The Ladies all, who late from hunting came,

Untimely came to view this Map of Sorrow.

Surely all wept! and sooth it was no shame,

For, from his grief, the world might truly borrow:

As he lay speechless grovelling, all undressed;

So they stood weeping, Silence was their best.

Ismeniowith these Ladies bare a part,And much bemoaned him, though he knew not why;But kind compassion struck him to the heart,To see him mad. Much better see one die!Thus walksIsmenio, and yet oft did pause,At length, a writing made him know the cause.

Ismeniowith these Ladies bare a part,

And much bemoaned him, though he knew not why;

But kind compassion struck him to the heart,

To see him mad. Much better see one die!

Thus walksIsmenio, and yet oft did pause,

At length, a writing made him know the cause.

He read, till words, like thunder, pierced his heart;He sighed, till Sorrow seemed itself to mourn;He wept till tears like ysacles [icicles] did part,He pitied so, that pity, hate did scorn.He read to sigh, and weep for pity's sake;The less he read, the less his heart did quake.

He read, till words, like thunder, pierced his heart;

He sighed, till Sorrow seemed itself to mourn;

He wept till tears like ysacles [icicles] did part,

He pitied so, that pity, hate did scorn.

He read to sigh, and weep for pity's sake;

The less he read, the less his heart did quake.

At length resolved, he up the writing takesAnd to the Ladies travails as with child;The birth was Love, such love as discord makes,The midwife Patience; thus in words full mild,He writ with tears that which with blood was writ;The more he read, the more they pitied it.

At length resolved, he up the writing takes

And to the Ladies travails as with child;

The birth was Love, such love as discord makes,

The midwife Patience; thus in words full mild,

He writ with tears that which with blood was writ;

The more he read, the more they pitied it.

They look uponDaiphantus, he not seeing:And wondered at him, but his sense was parted.They loved him much, though little was his being,And sought to cure him, though he was faint-hearted,Ismeniothus, with speed resolves to ease him;By a sweet song, his sister should appease him!

They look uponDaiphantus, he not seeing:

And wondered at him, but his sense was parted.

They loved him much, though little was his being,

And sought to cure him, though he was faint-hearted,

Ismeniothus, with speed resolves to ease him;

By a sweet song, his sister should appease him!

Ismeniowas resolved he would be eased,And was resolved of no means but by Music,Which is so heavenly that it hath releasedThe danger oft, not to be cured by physic.Her tongue and hand thus married together,Could not but please him, who so loved either.

Ismeniowas resolved he would be eased,

And was resolved of no means but by Music,

Which is so heavenly that it hath released

The danger oft, not to be cured by physic.

Her tongue and hand thus married together,

Could not but please him, who so loved either.

But first before his madness were allayed,They offered incense atDiana'sshrine,And much besought her, now to be apaid;Which was soon granted to these saints divine:Yet so, that madDaiphantusmust agreeNever to love, but live in chastity.

But first before his madness were allayed,

They offered incense atDiana'sshrine,

And much besought her, now to be apaid;

Which was soon granted to these saints divine:

Yet so, that madDaiphantusmust agree

Never to love, but live in chastity.

Thus they adjured him, by the gods on high,Never henceforth to shoot withCupid'squiver!Nor love to feign: for there's no remedy,If once relapsed, then was he mad for ever!TorturedDaiphantus, now a sign did make;And kindIsmeniothis did undertake.

Thus they adjured him, by the gods on high,

Never henceforth to shoot withCupid'squiver!

Nor love to feign: for there's no remedy,

If once relapsed, then was he mad for ever!

TorturedDaiphantus, now a sign did make;

And kindIsmeniothis did undertake.

Then 'ganArtesiato play upon her lute,Whose voice sang sweetly, now a mourning ditty;Loveher admired, though he that loved were mute,Cupidhimself feared he should sue for pity.O wondrous virtue! Words spoken are but wind;But sung to Prick Song, they are joys divine!

Then 'ganArtesiato play upon her lute,

Whose voice sang sweetly, now a mourning ditty;

Loveher admired, though he that loved were mute,

Cupidhimself feared he should sue for pity.

O wondrous virtue! Words spoken are but wind;

But sung to Prick Song, they are joys divine!

I heard her sing, but still methought I dreamed.I heard her play, but I methought did sleep.The Day and Night, till now, were never weaned.VenusandDianravished, both did weep.They which each hated, now agreed to sayThis was the goddess both of night and day.

I heard her sing, but still methought I dreamed.

I heard her play, but I methought did sleep.

The Day and Night, till now, were never weaned.

VenusandDianravished, both did weep.

They which each hated, now agreed to say

This was the goddess both of night and day.

My heart and ears, so ravished with the voiceI still forgot, what still I heard her sing:The tune, surely, of Sonnets, this was all the choice.Poets do keep it as a charming thing.What think you of the joys thatDaiphantushad,When for such music, I would still be mad!

My heart and ears, so ravished with the voice

I still forgot, what still I heard her sing:

The tune, surely, of Sonnets, this was all the choice.

Poets do keep it as a charming thing.

What think you of the joys thatDaiphantushad,

When for such music, I would still be mad!

The birds came chirping to the windows round,And so stood still, as if they ravished were;Beasts forth the forest came, brought with the sound;The lion laid him down as if in fear.The fishes in fresh rivers swam to shore;Yea, had not Nature stayed them, had done more.

The birds came chirping to the windows round,

And so stood still, as if they ravished were;

Beasts forth the forest came, brought with the sound;

The lion laid him down as if in fear.

The fishes in fresh rivers swam to shore;

Yea, had not Nature stayed them, had done more.

This was a sight, whose eyes had never seen;This was a voice, such music ne'er was heard;This Paradise was it, where who had been,Might well have thought of hell, and not afeard.Sure, hell itself was heaven, in this sphere,Madmen, wild beasts, and all here tamèd were.

This was a sight, whose eyes had never seen;

This was a voice, such music ne'er was heard;

This Paradise was it, where who had been,

Might well have thought of hell, and not afeard.

Sure, hell itself was heaven, in this sphere,

Madmen, wild beasts, and all here tamèd were.

Like as a king, his chair of state ascendeth,Being newly made a god upon the earth,In state amounts, till step by step he endeth,Thinks it to heaven a true-ascending birth.So hiesDaiphantus, on his legs and feet,As ifDaiphantusnow some god should meet.

Like as a king, his chair of state ascendeth,

Being newly made a god upon the earth,

In state amounts, till step by step he endeth,

Thinks it to heaven a true-ascending birth.

So hiesDaiphantus, on his legs and feet,

As ifDaiphantusnow some god should meet.

He looks upon himself, not without wonder.He wonders at himself, what he might be.He laughs unto himself: thinks he's aslumber.He weeps unto himself, himself to see.And sure to hear and see what he had doneMight make him swear but now the world begun.

He looks upon himself, not without wonder.

He wonders at himself, what he might be.

He laughs unto himself: thinks he's aslumber.

He weeps unto himself, himself to see.

And sure to hear and see what he had done

Might make him swear but now the world begun.

Fully revived, at lastArtesiaceased,When birds and beasts so hideous noise did make,That almost all turned fury, fear was the least;Yea, such a fear as forced them cry and quake;Till thatDaiphantus, more of reason hadThan they which moaned him, lately being mad.

Fully revived, at lastArtesiaceased,

When birds and beasts so hideous noise did make,

That almost all turned fury, fear was the least;

Yea, such a fear as forced them cry and quake;

Till thatDaiphantus, more of reason had

Than they which moaned him, lately being mad.

He with more joy than words could well declare,And with more words than his new tongue could tell,Did strive to speak (such was his love and careThus to be thankful); but yet knew not wellWhether his tongue (not tuned unto his heart),Or modest silence, would best act his part?

He with more joy than words could well declare,

And with more words than his new tongue could tell,

Did strive to speak (such was his love and care

Thus to be thankful); but yet knew not well

Whether his tongue (not tuned unto his heart),

Or modest silence, would best act his part?

But speak he will! Then give attentive earTo hear him tell a woful lover's story!His hands and eyes to heaven up did he rear,Grief taught him speech, though he to speak were sorry.But whatsoever be a Lover's Passion,Daiphantusspeaks his, in a mourning fashion.

But speak he will! Then give attentive ear

To hear him tell a woful lover's story!

His hands and eyes to heaven up did he rear,

Grief taught him speech, though he to speak were sorry.

But whatsoever be a Lover's Passion,

Daiphantusspeaks his, in a mourning fashion.

As o'er the mountains walks the wandering soul,Seeking for rest in his unresting spirit,So goodDaiphantus, thinking to enrolHimself in grace, by telling of Love's meritWas so distracted, how he should commend it,Where he began, he wished still to end it.

As o'er the mountains walks the wandering soul,

Seeking for rest in his unresting spirit,

So goodDaiphantus, thinking to enrol

Himself in grace, by telling of Love's merit

Was so distracted, how he should commend it,

Where he began, he wished still to end it.

"Eurialæ, my eyes are hers in right!Urania, my tongue is as her due!Artesia, my ears to her I 'dite!My heart to each! and yet my heart to you,To you,Vitullia! to you, and all the rest,Who once me cursed, now to make me blest!

"Eurialæ, my eyes are hers in right!

Urania, my tongue is as her due!

Artesia, my ears to her I 'dite!

My heart to each! and yet my heart to you,

To you,Vitullia! to you, and all the rest,

Who once me cursed, now to make me blest!

"1 Beauty and 2 Wit, did 1 wound and 2 pierce my heart,3 Music and 4 Favour, 3 gained and 4 kept it sure:Love led by Fancy to the 4 last I part,Love led by Reason to the 1 first is truer.1 Beauty and 2 Wit first conquered, made me yield,3 Music and 4 Favour rescued got the field.

"1 Beauty and 2 Wit, did 1 wound and 2 pierce my heart,

3 Music and 4 Favour, 3 gained and 4 kept it sure:

Love led by Fancy to the 4 last I part,

Love led by Reason to the 1 first is truer.

1 Beauty and 2 Wit first conquered, made me yield,

3 Music and 4 Favour rescued got the field.

"To 2 Wit and 1 Beauty, my first love I give!3 Music and 4 Favours, my second love have gained!All made me mad, and all did me relieve,Though one recured me, when I was sustained.Thus, troth to say, to All I love did owe;Therefore to All my love I ever vow!"

"To 2 Wit and 1 Beauty, my first love I give!

3 Music and 4 Favours, my second love have gained!

All made me mad, and all did me relieve,

Though one recured me, when I was sustained.

Thus, troth to say, to All I love did owe;

Therefore to All my love I ever vow!"

Thus to the first 1 and 2, his right hand he did tender:His left hand to the 3 and 4; last most lovingly 4.His tongue kind thanks, first to the last did render,The whiles his looks were bent indifferently.Thus he salutes All: and to increase his blisses,From lip to lip, each Lady now he kisses.

Thus to the first 1 and 2, his right hand he did tender:

His left hand to the 3 and 4; last most lovingly 4.

His tongue kind thanks, first to the last did render,

The whiles his looks were bent indifferently.

Thus he salutes All: and to increase his blisses,

From lip to lip, each Lady now he kisses.

Ismenioin humble wise salutes he,With gracious language he returns his heart,His words so sweetly to his tongue now suits he,As what he speaks shew Learning with good Art.IsmeniopleasedDaiphantus,DaiphantusAll;When love gains love for love, this Love we call!

Ismenioin humble wise salutes he,

With gracious language he returns his heart,

His words so sweetly to his tongue now suits he,

As what he speaks shew Learning with good Art.

IsmeniopleasedDaiphantus,DaiphantusAll;

When love gains love for love, this Love we call!

Uranianow bethought what was protestedBy youngIsmenioatDiana'sshrine,ConjuredDaiphantusthat, no more he jestedWith Love or Fancy! for they were Divine:And if he did, that there they all would prayHe still might live in love, both night and day!

Uranianow bethought what was protested

By youngIsmenioatDiana'sshrine,

ConjuredDaiphantusthat, no more he jested

With Love or Fancy! for they were Divine:

And if he did, that there they all would pray

He still might live in love, both night and day!

This grieved him much (but folly 'twere to grieve!)His now obedience shewed his own free will.He swore "he would not love, in shew, achieve!But live a virgin, chaste and spotless still.Which said, such music suddenly delighted,As all were ravished, and yet all affrighted.

This grieved him much (but folly 'twere to grieve!)

His now obedience shewed his own free will.

He swore "he would not love, in shew, achieve!

But live a virgin, chaste and spotless still.

Which said, such music suddenly delighted,

As all were ravished, and yet all affrighted.

Here parted all, not without joy and sadness.Some wept, some smiled; a world it was to hear them!Both springs here met. Woe here was clothed with gladness.Heaven was their comfort. It alone did cheer them.Daiphantusfrom these springs, some fruit did gather.Experience is an infant, though an ancient father!

Here parted all, not without joy and sadness.

Some wept, some smiled; a world it was to hear them!

Both springs here met. Woe here was clothed with gladness.

Heaven was their comfort. It alone did cheer them.

Daiphantusfrom these springs, some fruit did gather.

Experience is an infant, though an ancient father!

"Sweet Lady! know the Soul looks through our eyesights!Content lives not in shews or beauty seeing!Peace, not from number, nor strength in high spirits!Joy dies with Virtue, yet lives in Virtue's being!Beauty is masked, where Virtue is not hidden!Man still desires that fruit, he's most forbidden!

"Sweet Lady! know the Soul looks through our eyesights!

Content lives not in shews or beauty seeing!

Peace, not from number, nor strength in high spirits!

Joy dies with Virtue, yet lives in Virtue's being!

Beauty is masked, where Virtue is not hidden!

Man still desires that fruit, he's most forbidden!

"Jewels, for virtue, not for beauty prized!What's seldom seen breeds wonder, we admire it!King's lines are rare, and therefore well advised.Wise men, not often talk, Fools still desire it.Women are books! Kept close, they hold much treasure;Unclasped, sweet ills! Most woe lies hid in pleasure.

"Jewels, for virtue, not for beauty prized!

What's seldom seen breeds wonder, we admire it!

King's lines are rare, and therefore well advised.

Wise men, not often talk, Fools still desire it.

Women are books! Kept close, they hold much treasure;

Unclasped, sweet ills! Most woe lies hid in pleasure.

"Who studies Arts alike, can he prove Doctor?Who surfeits, hardly lives! drunkards recover!Whose will's his law, that conscience needs no Proctor!When men turn beasts, look there for brutish lovers!Those eyes are pore-blind, look equally on anyThough't be a virtue to hinder one by many.

"Who studies Arts alike, can he prove Doctor?

Who surfeits, hardly lives! drunkards recover!

Whose will's his law, that conscience needs no Proctor!

When men turn beasts, look there for brutish lovers!

Those eyes are pore-blind, look equally on any

Though't be a virtue to hinder one by many.

"Who gains by travel, lose Lordships for their Manors,MustTarquinravish some? Hell on that glory!Whose life's in healths, death soonest gains those banners!Lust still is punished, though Treason write the story!A rolling eye, a globe, new worlds discover!Who still wheels round is but a damnèd lover.

"Who gains by travel, lose Lordships for their Manors,

MustTarquinravish some? Hell on that glory!

Whose life's in healths, death soonest gains those banners!

Lust still is punished, though Treason write the story!

A rolling eye, a globe, new worlds discover!

Who still wheels round is but a damnèd lover.

"Doth Faith and Troth lie bathing? Is Lust, pleasure?Can commons be as sweet as land enclosed?Then virgin sin may well be counted pleasure!Where such lords rule, who lives not ill-disposed!True Love's a Phœnix, but One until it dies:Lust is a Cockatrice in all, but in her eyes."

"Doth Faith and Troth lie bathing? Is Lust, pleasure?

Can commons be as sweet as land enclosed?

Then virgin sin may well be counted pleasure!

Where such lords rule, who lives not ill-disposed!

True Love's a Phœnix, but One until it dies:

Lust is a Cockatrice in all, but in her eyes."

Here did he end more blessed than his wishes.(Fame's at the high, when Love indites the Story)The private life brings with it heavenly blisses.Sweet Contemplation much increaseth glory.I'll leave him to the learning of Love's spell!"Better part friends, that follow fiends to hell!"

Here did he end more blessed than his wishes.

(Fame's at the high, when Love indites the Story)

The private life brings with it heavenly blisses.

Sweet Contemplation much increaseth glory.

I'll leave him to the learning of Love's spell!

"Better part friends, that follow fiends to hell!"

Ismenio, withVitulliawent together,Perhaps both wounded with blindCupid'sdart;Yet durst they not relate their love to either,Love if once pitied, pierceth to the heart:But, sure,Vitulliais so fair a mark,Cupidwould court her, though but by the dark.

Ismenio, withVitulliawent together,

Perhaps both wounded with blindCupid'sdart;

Yet durst they not relate their love to either,

Love if once pitied, pierceth to the heart:

But, sure,Vitulliais so fair a mark,

Cupidwould court her, though but by the dark.

Artesia, she must go, the more She's grieved,To churlishStrymon, her adopted Mate;Cupid, though blind, yet pitied and relievedThis modest Lady with some happy fate.For what but Virtue, which doth all good nourish,Could brook her fortunes, much less love and cherish.

Artesia, she must go, the more She's grieved,

To churlishStrymon, her adopted Mate;

Cupid, though blind, yet pitied and relieved

This modest Lady with some happy fate.

For what but Virtue, which doth all good nourish,

Could brook her fortunes, much less love and cherish.

Eurialæ, with goodUraniastayed,Where Virtue dwells, they only had their being;Beauty and Wit still fear, are not dismayed,For where they dwell, Love ever will be prying.These two were one. All good, each could impart.One was their fortune, and one was their heart.

Eurialæ, with goodUraniastayed,

Where Virtue dwells, they only had their being;

Beauty and Wit still fear, are not dismayed,

For where they dwell, Love ever will be prying.

These two were one. All good, each could impart.

One was their fortune, and one was their heart.

Beauty and Virtue were true friends to either.Heaven is the sphere where all men seek for glory.Earth is the grave where sinners join together.Hell keeps the book, enrols each lustful story.Live as we will, Death makes, of all conclusion:Die then to live! or life is thy confusion.

Beauty and Virtue were true friends to either.

Heaven is the sphere where all men seek for glory.

Earth is the grave where sinners join together.

Hell keeps the book, enrols each lustful story.

Live as we will, Death makes, of all conclusion:

Die then to live! or life is thy confusion.

Beauty and Wit in these, fed on Affection.Labour and Industry were their twins of life.Love and True Bounty were in their subjection,Their bodies, with their spirits, had no strife.Such were these two, as grace did them defend:Such are these two, as with these two I end.

Beauty and Wit in these, fed on Affection.

Labour and Industry were their twins of life.

Love and True Bounty were in their subjection,

Their bodies, with their spirits, had no strife.

Such were these two, as grace did them defend:

Such are these two, as with these two I end.

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