University of Virginia Library

And as she spake that word, a flowing tide
Of teares gusht out, whose violence deny'd
Th'intended passage of her doubling tongue:
She stopt a while: Then on the floore she flung
Her prostrate body, whilst her hands did teare
(Not knowing what they did) her dainty haire.
Sometimes she struck the ground; somtimes, her brest:
Began some words, and then wept out the rest;
At last, her liuelesse hands did, by degrees,
Raise her cast body on her feeble knees,
And humbly rearing her sad eyes vpon
Her mothers frowning visage, thus went on.

Vpon these knees; these knees that ne're were bent
To you in vaine; that neuer did present
Their vnrewarded duty; neuer rose
Without a mothers blessing; vpon those,
Vpon those naked knees, I recommend
To your deare thoughts, those torments that attend
Your poore Parthenia, whose vnknowne distresse
Craues rather, death, then language to expresse.
What shall I doe? Demagoras and Death
Sound both alike to these sad eares; that breath
That names the one, does nominate the other.
No, no, I cannot loue him; my deare mother,
Command Parthenia now to vndergoe
What death you please, and these quick hands shall show
The seale of my obedience in my heart.
The gods themselues, that haue a secret art
To force affection, cannot violate
The lawes of Nature, stop the course of Fate.
Can earth forget her burthen, and ascend?
Or can th'aspiring flames be taught to tend
To th'earth? If fire descend, and earth aspire,
Earth were no longer earth, nor fire, fire.
Euen so, by nature, 'tis all one to me,
To loue Demagoras, and not to be.
No, no, the heauens can doe no act that's greater,
Then (hauing made so) to preserue their creature.
And thinke you that the righteous Gods would fill me
With such false ioyes, as (if enioy'd) would kill me?
I know that they are mercifull: what they
Command, they giue a power to obey.
The ioyfull vision that your slumbring eyes
Of late beheld, did promise and comprise
A fayrer fortune, then the heauens can share
To poore Partheniaes merit; whom despaire
Hath swallow'd: Your prophetick dreame discride
A royall mariage; pointed out the Bride;
Her safe Deliuerance, and her smiling sonne;
Honour and wealth; and after all was done,
There wants a Bridegroome: him, the heauens haue seald
Within my brest, by me, to be reueal'd;
VVhich, if your patience shall vouchsafe to heare,
My lips shall recommend vnto your eare.

When as Basilius (may whose royall hand
Long sway the scepter of th'Arcadian land)
From Cyprus brought his more then princely Bride,
The faire Gynecia, (whom as Greece deny'd
An equall; so the world acknowledg'd none
As her superiour in perfection:)
Vpon this Ladies royall traine, and state,
A great concourse of Nobles did awaite,
And Cyprian Princes, with their princely port,
To see her crowned in th'Arcadian Court;
Illustrious Princes were they: but as farre
As midnight Phebe outshines the twinckling Starre,
So far, amongst this rout of Princes, one
Surpast the rest, in honour and renowne;
VVhose perfect vertue findes more admiration
In the Arcadian Court, then imitation:
In th'exc'lence of his outward parts, and feature,
The world conceiues, the curious hand of Nature
Outwent it selfe; which, being richly fraught
And furnisht with transcendent worth, is thought
To be the chosen fortresse for protection
Of all the Arts, and storehouse of perfection:
The Cyprus stock did ne're, till now, bring forth
So rare a Branch, whose vnderualued worth
Brings greater glory to th'Arcadian Land,
Then can the dull Arcadians vnderstand;
His name is Argalus.
He (Madam) was that Cypresse wreath, that crown'd
My nuptiall brows: And now the Bridegroom's found,
Cloath'd in the mystry of that Cypresse wreath;
VVhich, since the better gods haue pleas'd to breathe
Into my soule, O may I cease to be,
If ought, but death, part Argalus and me:
Yet does my safe obedience not withstand
VVhat you desire, or what the gods command:
For what the gods command, is your desire
Parthenia should obey; and not respire
Against their sacred counsels, or withstand
The plot, wherein they haue vouchsaf'd a hand:
VVe must submit our wils; what they enioyne,
Must be; nor lies it in your power or mine,
To crosse: we must endeauour to fulfill
VVhat else must come to passe against our will;
My vowes are past, and second heauens decree,
Nothing shall part my Argalus and me.

So said; Th'impatient mothers kindled eye
(Halfe closed with a murtherous frowne) let flie
A scorching fireball, from whence was shed
Some drops of choller; sternly shakes her head;
With trembling hands vnlocks the doore, and flees,
Leauing Parthenia on her aking knees,
And as she fled, her fury thus began
To open, And is Argalus the man?
But there she stopt; when striuing to expresse
What rage had prompted, could doe nothing lesse.

All you, whose deare affections haue beene tost
In Cupids blanket, and vniustly crost
By wilfull Parents, whose extreame command
Haue made you groan beneath their tyrannous hand,
That take a furious pleasure to diuorse
Your soules from your best thoughts, nay (what is worse
Then torture) force your fancies to respect,
And dearely loue, whom most you disaffect:
Draw neare, and comfort the distressed heart
Of poore Parthenia; let your eyes impart
One droppe at least: And whosoe're thou be
That read'st these lines, may thy desiers see
The like successe, if reading, thou forbeare
To wet this very paper with a teare.
Behold (poore Lady) how an houres time
Hath pluck't her faded roses from their prime,
And like an vnregarded ruine, lyes,
With deaths vntimely image in her eyes.
She, she, whom hopeful thoughts had newly crownd
With promis'd ioyes, lyes groueling on the ground;
Her weary hand sustaine her drooping head;
(Too soft a pillow for so hard a bed)
Her eyes swolne vp, as loath to see the light,
That would discouer so forlorne a sight:
The flaxen wealth of her neglected haires
Stick't fast to her pale cheeks with dried teares;
And at first blush, she seemes, as if it were
Some curious statue on a Sepulchre:
Sometimes her brinie lips would whisper thus,
My Argalus, my dearest Argalus:
And then they clos'd againe, as if the one
Had kist the other, for that seruice done
In naming Argalus: sometimes opprest
With a deepe sigh, she gaue her panting brest
A sudden stroke; and after that, another,
Crying, Hard fortune, O hard hearted mother!
And sicke with her owne thoughts, her passion stroue
Betwixt the two extreames of griefe, and loue;
The more she grieu'd, the more her loue abounded;
The more she lou'd, the more her heart was wounded
With desperate griefe: at length, the tyrannous force
Of loue and griefe, sent forth this selfe discourse.

How art thou chang'd (Parthenia?) how hath passion
Put all thy thoughts, and senses out of fashion?
Exil'd thy little iudgement, and betray'd thee
To thine owne selfe? How nothing hath it made thee?
How is thy weather-beaten soule opprest
With stormes and tempests blowne from the Northeast
Of cold despaire? which, long ere this, had found
Eternall rest; had bin orewhelm'd, and drown'd
In the deepe gulfe of all my miseries,
Had I not pumpt this water from mine eyes;
My Argalus; ô where, ô where art thou?
Thou little think'st thy poore Parthenia, now
Is tortur'd for thy sake; alas, (deare heart!)
Thou know'st not the insufferable smart
I vndergoe for thee: Thou dost not keepe
A Register of those sad teares I weepe,
No, no, thou dost not.
Well, well; from henceforth, Fortune, doe not spare
To doe the worst (thy Agent) Mischiefe dare;
Deuise new torments, or repeat the old,
Vntill thou burst, or I complaine: Be hold,
As bitter; I disdaine thy rage, thy power;
Who's leuell'd with the earth, can fall no lower;
Doe; spit thy venome forth, and temper all
Thy studied actions with the spirit of gall;
Thy practis'd malice can no euill deuise
Too hard, for Argalus to exercise;
His loue shall sweeten death, and make a torture
My sportfull pastime, to make houres shorter;
His loue shall fill my heart, and leaue no roome,
Wherein your rage may practise martyrdoome.

But ere that word could vsher out another,
The tender Virgins marble hearted mother
Enters the Chamber; with a chang'd aspect
Beholds Parthenia; with a new respect
Salutes her child, and (hauing clos'd the doore)
Her helpfull arme remoues her from the floore
Whereon she lay; and, being set together,
In gentle termes, she thus did commune with her.

Peruerse Parthenia, Is thy heart so sworne
To Argalus his loue, that it must scorne
Demagoras? Are your soules conioyn'd so close,
That my entreaty may not enterpose?
If so, what helpe? yet let a mothers care
Be not contemn'd, that bids her child beware.
The sickle that's too early, cannot reape
A fruitfull Haruest: Looke, before you leape:
Adiourne your thoughts, and make a wise delay,
You cannot measure vertue in a day;
Vertues appeare, but vices baulke the light;
Tis hard to read a vice at the first sight.
False are those ioyes, that are not mixt with doubt,
Fire easely kindled, will not easely out:
Diuide that loue, which thou bestowst on one,
Twixt two: try both; then take the best, or none:
Consult with time: for time bewrayes, discouers
The faith, the loue, the constancy of louers.
Acts done in hast, by leasure are repented,
And things, soone past, are oft, too late lamented:
With that, Parthenia, rising from her place,
And bowing with incomparable grace,
Made this reply; Madam, each seuerall day
Since first you gaue this body being, may
Write a large volume of your tender care,
Whose hourely goodnesse if it should compare
With my deserts, alas, the world would show
Too great a summe for one poore heart to owe;
I must confesse my heart is not so sworne
To Argalus his merit as to scorne
Demagoras; nor yet so loosely tyed,
That I can slip the knot, and so diuide
Entire affection, which must not be seuer'd,
Nor euer can be (but in vaine) endeuour'd.
My heart is one, and by one power guided;
One is no number; cannot be diuided.
And Cupids learned schoolemen haue resolu'd
That loue diuided is but loue dissolu'd;
But yet, what plighted faith, and honour may
Not now vndoe, your counsell shall delay.
Madam, Partheniaes hand is not so greedy,
To reape her corne, before her corne he ready:
Her vnaduised sickle shall not thrust
Into her hopefull Haruest, ere needs must:
To yours Parthenia shall submit her skill,
Whose season shall be season'd by your will:
Her time of haruest shall admit no measure
But onely what's proportion'd by your pleasure.
So ended she; But till that darknesse got
The mastry of the light, they parted not.
The mother pleads for the Laconian Lord;
The daughter (whose impatience had abhorr'd
His very name, had not her mother spok't)
She pleads her vow, which cannot be reuokt.
Yet still the mother pleads, and does omit
No way vntryed, that a hard hearted wit
Knowes to deuise; perswades, allures, entreats;
Mingles his words with smiles, with tears, wth threats;
Commands, coniures; tries one way, tryes another,
Does th'vtmost that a marble brested mother
Can doe; and yet the more she did apply,
The more she taught Parthenia to deny;
The more she did assault, the more contend;
The more she taught the virgin to defend.
At last, despairing (for her words did finde
More ease to moue a mountaine, then her minde)
She spake no more; but from her chaire she started,
And spit these words, Goe, peenish Girle, and parted.
Away she flings, and finding no successe
In her lost words, her fury did addresse
Her raging thoughts to a new studied plot;
Actions must now enforce, what words could not.
Treason is in her thoughts; Her furious breath
Can whisper now no language, vnder death;
Poore Argalus must dye; and his remoue
Must make the passage to Demagoras loue:
And till that barre be broken, or put by,
No hope to speed; Poore Argalus must dye.
Demagoras is call'd to counsell now,
Consults, consents; and, after mutuall vow,
Resoluing on the act, they both conspire,
Which way to execute their close desire.
Drawing his keene Seeletto from his side,
Madam (said he) This medicine well applide,
To Argalus his bosome, will giue rest
To him, and me; the sudden way is best.
My Lord (said she) your trembling hand may misse
The marke, and then your selfe in danger is
Of outcry; or perchance his owne resistance.
Attempts are dangerous, at so small a distance.
A drugg's the better weapon; which does breathe
Deaths secret errand, carries sudden death
Clos'd vp in sweetnesse: Come, a drugge strikes sure,
And works our ends, and yet we sleepe secure.
My Lord, bethinke no other; Set your rest
Vpon these Cards; The surest way is best:
Leaue me to manage our successfull plot,
And if these studious browes contriue it not
Too sure, for art of Magicke to preuent,
Ne're trust a womans wit, when fully bent
To take reuenge: Begone, my Lord; repose
The trust in me: Onely be wise, be close.

That night, when as the vniuersall shade
Of the vnspangled heauen, and earth had made
An vtter darknesse; (darknesse, apt to further
The horrid enterprise of rapes, and murther)
She, she, that now lacks nothing to procure
A full reuenge, she calls Athleia to her,
(Partheniaes handmaid) whom she thus bespake.

Athleia, dare thy priuate thoughts partake
With mine? Canst thou be secret? Has thy heart
A locke that none can pick by thee vish art,
Or brake by force? Tell me, Canst thou digest
A secret, trusted to thy faithfull brest?

Madam, said she, Let me bee neuer true
To my owne thoughts, if euer false to you:
Speake what you please; Athleia shall conceale,
Torments may make me roare, but ne're reueale.

Replyde the Lady then: Athleia knows
How much, how much my deare affection owes
Partheniaes heart, whose welfare is the crowne
Of all my ioyes, which now is ouerthrowne
And deeply buried in forgotten dust,
If thou betray the secret of my trust.
It lyeth in thy power to remoue
Approaching euills: Parthenia is in loue:
Her wasted spirits languish in her brest,
And nought, but look'd for death, can giue her rest;
Tis Argalus she loues; who, with disdaine,
Requites her loue, not louing her againe;
He sleights her teares: The more that he neglects,
The more entirely she (poore soule) affects:
She groanes beneath the burden of despaire,
And with her sighes she cloyes the idle ayre.
Thou art acquainted with her priuate teares;
And you, so oft exchanging tongues and eares,
Must know too much, for one poore heart t'endure;
But desperate's the wound admits no Cure:
It lies in thee to helpe: Athleia, say,
Wilt thou assist me, if I find the way?

Madam, my forced ignorance shall be
Sufficient earnest of my secresie:
Your lips haue vtter'd nothing that is new
To Athleias eares: Alas, it is too true.
Long, long ere this, your seruant had reueal'd
The same to you, had not my lips bin seal'd:
But if my best endeauors may extend
To bring my Mistresse sorrowes to an end,
Let all the enraged Dieties allot
To me worse torment, if I doe it not:
My life's too poore to hazard for her ease;
Madam, Ile doo't; Command me what you please:
So said; The treacherous Lady steps aside,
Into her serious closet; and applide
Her hasty, and perfidious hands, to frame
This forged letter, in Partheniaes name.

Constant Parthenia to her faithfull Argalus.

This done, and seal'd, she op'd her priuate doore,
Call'd in Athleia, and said; For euery sore
The gods prouide a salue. Force must preuaile,
Where sighes and teares, and deepe entreaties faile.
Forthwith, from out her Cabinet she tooke
A little glasse, and said, Athleia, looke
Within these slender walls, these glazed lists,
Partheniaes happinesse, and life consists;
It is Nepenthe; which the factious gods
Doe vse to drinke, when ere they be at ods,
Whose secret vertue (so infus'd by Ioue)
Does turne deep hatred, into dearest loue;
It makes the proudest louer whine and baule,
And such to dote, as neuer lou'd at all;
Here, take this glasse, and recommend the same
To Argalus in his Partheniaes name,
And to his hand, to his owne hand commit
This letter; Betweene Argalus, and it
Let no eye come: Be sure thy speed preuent
The rising Sun: and so heauens crowne th'euent.

By this the feather'd Bellman of the night
Sent forth his midnight summons, to inuite
All eyes to slumber, when they both addrest
Their thoughtfull minds, to take a doubtfull rest.

O heauens! and you, O you celestiall powers,
That neuer slumber, but imploy all houres
In mans protection; still preseruing, keeping
Our soules from obuious dangers, waking, sleeping.
O, can your all-descerning eyes behold
Such impious actions prosper, vncontroll'd?
O can your hearts, your tender hearts endure
To see your seruant (that now sleepes secure,
Vnarm'd, vnwarn'd, and hauing no defence,
But your protection, and his innocence)
Betray'd, and murther'd, drawing at one breath
His owne prepar'd destruction, his owne death?
And will ye suffer't? He that is the crowne
Of prized vertue, honour and renowne;
The flowre of Arts; the Cyprian liuing story;
Arcadias Girland, and great Græces glory;
The earths new wonder; and the worlds example,
Must dye betraid; Treason and death must trample
Vpon his life; and, in the dust, must lye
As much admir'd perfection, as can dye.
No, Argalus, the coward hand of death
Durst ne're assault thee, if not vnderneath
The Maske of loue: Thou art aboue the reach
Of open wrongs; Mans force could ne're make breach
Into thy life: no, Death could ne're vncase
Thy soule, had she appeared face to face.
Dreame, Argalus; and let thy thoughts be troubled
With murthers, treasons; Let thy dreams be doubled
And what thy frighted fancy shall perceiue,
Be wisely superstitious, and beleeue.
O, that my lines could wake thee now, and feuer
Those eyelids, that ere long must sleepe for euer.
Wake, now or neuer Argalus; and withstand
Thy danger; Wake, the murtheresse is at hand.
Parthenia, oh Parthenia, who shall weepe
Thy world of teares? Canst thou, O canst thou sleep?
Will thy dull Genius giue thee leaue to slumber?
Does nothing trouble thee? no dreame incumber
Thy frighted thoughts? and Argalus so neere
His latest houre? Not one dreaming teare?
Sleepe on: and when thy flattring slumber's past,
Perchance, thine eyes will learne to weepe as fast.
His death is plotted; And this morning light
Must send him downe, into eternall night.
Nay, what is worse then worst; His dying breath
Will censure thee, as Agent in his death.

By this the broadfac'd Quirister of night
Surceas'd her screeching note, and tooke her flight
To the next neighbring Ivy: Brids and beasts
Forsake the warme protection of their nests,
And nightly dens, whilst darknesse did display
Her sable curtaines, to let in the day,
When sad Athleia's dreame had vnbenighted
Her slumbring eies: her busie thoughts were frighted:
She rose, and trembled; and being halfe distraught,
With her prophetick feares; she thus bethought.

What ayle the Gods, thus to disturbe my rest,
And make such earthquakes in my troubled brest?
Nothing but death, and murthers? Graues and Bells?
Frighting my fancy, with their hourely knells?
Twas nothing but a dreame; and dreames they say,
Expound themselues the cleane contrary way.
The Riddle's read; and now I vnderstand
My dreames intents: Some mariage is at hand:
For death interpreted, is nothing else
But mariage; And the melancholly Bells,
Is mirth and musicke: By the graue, is read
The ioyfull ioy, full, ioyfull, mariage bed:
I, I tis plaine: And now, me thinks, 'twas I,
That my prophetick dreame foretold, should dye.
If this be death, Death exercise thy power,
And let Athleia dye within this houre.
Doe, doe thy worst; Athleia's faithfull breath
Shall pray for nothing more then sudden death.
But stay, Athleia, the too forward day,
Begins to gild the East; away, away.

So hauing said; The nimble fingerd Lasse
Tooke the forg'd letter, and the amorous glasse,
And, to her early progresse, she applies her,
Departs, and towards Argalus she hies her;
But euery step she tooke, her mind enforc'd
New thoughts, and with her selfe, she thus discours'd.

How fraile's the nature of a womans will!
How crosse! The thing that's most forbidden, still
They more desire; and least inclinde, to doe
What they are most of all perswaded too.
Had not (alas) my Lady bound these hands,
Athleia ne're had struggled with her bands.
I must not tast it! Had she not enioyn'd
My lips from tasting it, Athleia's mind
Had neuer thought on't; now, me thinkss I long;
Desires, if once confinde, become too strong
For womans conquer'd reason to resist;
A womans reason's measur'd by her list.
I long to tast: yet was there nothing did
Mooue my desires, but that I was forbid.

With that she stayd her weary steps, and hasted
T'vntye the Glasse; lift vp her arme and tasted;
That done (and hauing now attain'd, almost
Her iourneyes end) the little time she lost,
New speed regaines; The nimble ground she traces
With double hast, and quicke redoubled paces.
All on a sudden, she begins to faint;
Her bowells gripe, her breath begins to taint;
Her blistred tongue growes hot, her liuer glowes;
Her vaines doe boile, her colour comes and goes:
She staggers; falls; and on the ground she lyes;
Swels like a bladder; roares; and bursts; and dyes.

Thus from her ruine, Argalus deriues
His longer life, and by her death, he liues;
Liue Argalus, and let the gods allot
Such morning draughts to those that loue thee not:
Liue long; and let the righteous powers aboue,
That haue preseru'd thee for Parthenia's loue,
Crowne all thy hopes, and fortunes, with euent
Too sure, for second treasons to preuent.

By this time, did the lauish breath of Fame
Giue language to her Trumpet, and proclaime
Athleias death, the current of which newes
Truths warrant had forbidden to abuse
Deceiued eares: which, when the Lady heard,
Whose trecherous heart was greedily prepar'd
To entertaine a murther; she arose,
And with rude violence desperately throwes
Her trembling body, on the naked floore,
But what she said, and did, I will deplore,
Not vtter; but with forced silence smother,
Because she was the faire Parthenia's mother:
May it suffice, that the extreames of shame,
And vnresisted sorrow ouercame
Her disappointed malice; lesse lamenting
The treason, then successe; and more repenting
Of what she fail'd to doe, then what she did,
Her sullen soule dispaires; her thoughts forbid
What reason wants the power, to perswade;
Her griefes being growne too deepe for her to wade,
She sinks; and with a hollow sigh, she cryed,
Welcome thou easer of all euills; and dyed.

Now tongues begin to walke; and euery eare
Hath got the Saturyasis to heare
This tragicke sceane: The breath of Fame grows bold
Feares no repulse, and scornes to be controlld,
Whilst lowd report, (whose tender lips before,
Durst onely whisper) now begins to roare;
The letter, found in dead Athleias brest,
Bewray'd the plot; and what (before) was guest,
Is now confirm'd, and clear'd: for all men knew
Whose hand it was, and whence the malice grew.

But haue we lost Parthenia? In what Isle
Of endlesse sorrow lurks she all this while?
Sweet Reader, vrge me not to tell, for feare
Thy heart dissolue, and melt into a teare.
Excuse my silence: If my lines should speake,
Such marble hearts, as could not melt, would break;
No, leaue her to her selfe: It is not fit
To write, what being read, you'd wish vnwrit:
I leaue the taske to those, that take delight,
To see poore Ladyes tortur'd in despight
Of all remorse; whose hearts are still at strife
To paint a torment to the very life.
I leaue that taske to such, as haue the powre
To weepe, and smile againe within an houre.
To those, whose flinty hearts are more contented
To limme a griefe, then pitty the tormented.
Let it suffice, that had not heauen protected
Her Argalus; the ioy whereof, corrected
That furious griefe, which passion recommended
To her sad thoughts, her story here had ended.

When Time (the enemy of Fame) had clos'd
Her babling lips, and gently had compos'd
Partheniaes sorrowes, raising from the ground
Her body, spent with griefe, and almost drownd
In her owne teares; a long expected Sceane
Of better fortune enters in, to dreane
His marish eyes: Her stormy night of teares
Being past, a welcome day of ioy appeares;
The rocke's remou'd, and loues wide Ocean now
Giues roome enough; lookes with a milder brow.
Reader forget thy sorrowes; Let thine eare
Welcome the tydings thou so longst to heare:
A louers diet's sweet, commixt with sower;
His hell and heauen, oft-time, diuides an houre.

Now Argalus can finde a faire accesse
To his Parthenia: now, feares nothing lesse
Then eares and eyes; and now Partheniaes heart
Can giue her tongue the freedome, to impart
His louder welcome, whilst her greedy eye
Can looke her fill, and feare no stander by.
She's not Parthenia, he not present with her;
And he not Argalus, if not together.
Their cheeks are fill'd with smiles; their tongues with chat,
Now, this they make their subiect, and now that.
One while they laugh; and laughing wrangle too,
And iarre, as iealous louers vse to doe.
And then a kisse, must make them friends againe;
Faith, one's too little; Louers must haue twaine;
Two brings in ten; ten multiplyes to twenty;
That, to a hundred: then because the plenty
Growes troublesome to count, and does incumber
Their lips; their lips gaue kisses without number.
Their thoughts run backe to former times: they told
Of all loues passages, they had of old.
Of this thing done, the time, the place, and why;
The manner how; and who were present by;
The mothers craft; her vndeceiu'd suspition;
Her bated words; her marble disposition;
Her pining thoughts; and her proiecting feares;
Her soliloquies, and her secret teares;
Where first they met; Th'occasion of their meeting;
Their compliment; the manner of their greeting;
His danger; his deliuerance; and the reason
That first induc't the Agents to the treason.
Thus, by the priuiledge of time, and leisure;
Their sweet discourses (crown'd wth mutuall pleasure
Commixt with greife) they equall with the light,
And, after, grumble at the enuious night,
Which bids them part too soone: what, day denyde
In words, in thoughts, the tedious night supplyde,
Which blam'd the Fates for doing louers wrong,
To make the day so short; the night so long.

But now the little winged god repented
That he had laught so much; his heart relented;
His very soule grew sad; his blinded eye
Began to weepe, at his owne tyranny;
Laments their sorrowes: finds a secret way,
To make the night as pleasing as the day.
Calls Hymen in, and in his eare discouers
The lingring torments of these wounded louers:
Giues him a charge, no longer to deferre,
T'engrosse their names, within his Register.
And now Partheniaes haruest draweth neare,
(The dearly earned price of many a teare)
Her ioy shal reape, what a world of griefe hath sown,
The time's appointed, and the day's set downe;
Wherein sweet Hymen, with his nuptiall bands
Shall ioyne together their espoused hands.

Here stop my Muse: Retire thy selfe, and stay,
To gather breath against the mariage day.

Readers, the ioyfull Bride salutes yee all;
In her behalfe, if any haue let fall
A tender teare; to those, she makes request,
That they'd be pleas'd to grace her mariage feast.