University of Virginia Library

Dardaneas answere to Disteus.

To thee the most presumptuous without leaue,
Counsell, not health, by these few lines I send,
That am more fearfull then thou maist conceaue:
If that I thought mine honour to offend
By answering thee, constraind as thou maist see,
Or answering not, it might the more extend,
Rather then I would thus much pleasure thee,
Or would vouchsafe to take my pen in hand,
First would I take a sword to murder me.
Mine end is good, and doth with vertue stand,
And if thou dost thinke otherwise then so,
Thou art deceiu'd as much as any man:
For if my reason soundly thou wilt knowe,
And weigh my wordes but with attentiue minde,
And note each sentence that heerein I showe:
By all the foresaid thou shalt onely finde,
How I pretend to giue thee sound aduise,
And holesome counsell fit for one so blinde:
Which is, that thou leaue of this enterprise
(If that thou canst) and flie a thought so vaine,
Or at the least conceale it from mine eies.
I knowe not, and the ground cannot obtaine,
That made thee write to me this other day:
Nor yet from whence such boldnes thou might'st gaine.
But now I doe remember thou didst say,
That loue not thou, those louing lines did write,
Bicause it did thy minde too much dismay:
Fancies they are, like to the dreames by night,
Common to louers (if there any bee)
To manifest his childish toies so light.
Poore God of loue, thy seruants all agree
As many as doe waite vpon thy traine,
To lay their faultes most commonly in thee:
If childish toies I saide: doe not disdaine:
For this God, whom thou dost so much obay,
Is but a childe, thy wordes doe shew it plaine.
Thou seem'st to shew the same by wordes, I say,
By deedes I knowe not, nor I doe pretend
To knowe, though deedes by words thou dost display.
Which last of all in men I comprehend,
Which are more wordes then works in plaine effect:
In case this God of loue their mindes offend,
If that your harts so plainly could detect
That, which your mouth expresseth by her voice,
We should not hold your loues in such suspect.
But truth it is, I doe no whit reioice,
For nothing it concerneth me at all,
To heare thee vaunt thee of thy loue and choice:
And that as firme as any brazen wall,
And more then rocks vpon the shorie sandes,
In fortunes fauour or in fortunes thrall:
That like an Oke against the winde it standes,
Like hardest Dimond to the beating steele,
Like Salamander in the flaming brandes.
And that againe it turneth like the wheele,
And wauers more then beames of shaken glasse,
More then the waues, that tumble still and reele,
More changing then the weathercocke (Alas)
In towres, and more then Cynthia in her skie:
And more then men in loue their liues that passe.
This hurts me little, nor I care not I,
Wherefore it shall be better for thy ease,
Not to loue her, that doth thy loue denie.
Then seeke some other with thy loue to please
Against thy loue that will not so rebell,
And where thou maist swim in contented seas:
For (sooth) thy person hath deserued well
To be beloued of some other dame,
For many giftes in which thou dost excell.
There is no Lady, but would wish the same,
Nor scorne thy loue, but euer thinke her blest
That she might call thee by her louers name.
And sooner shalt thou want (to match thy brest)
A Lady fit (respecting thy desert)
For none come neere (though yet accounted best)
Of purpose heere thy praises I insert,
For thou didst so much wander in my praise,
That onely this for thanks I doe reuert.
And wordes for wordes doe giue thee now in paise,
And if thou hast extolled me much better,
So all thy giftes in euerie place I blaze,
Ingratefull thou didst call me in thy letter,
And there the proofe was false and very vaine,
And therefore thou must yet remaine my detter.
Although it were not so, thou saidst againe
That I was bound to loue, in being faire,
So worldling like thine argument was plaine.
But see how reason doth the same impaire,
For brighter doth each womans beautie shine,
The more she shines in praise of vertues rare.
So that I shall make nature more diuine,
In following Dianas honest traine,
Then Venus steps, or her fond discipline.
To please her sonne I euer thought it vaine,
Since him I cannot, and Diana please,
For she is chast, dishonest is his chaine.
To serue Apollos sister, sweetest ease
And greatest honour by her loue is got.
Who serues fond loue is drown'd in dolefull seas.
If after Venus sonne thou art so hot,
And dost intend to follow his desires,
If so it please, then how maiest thou not?
I doe not meane to loue what he requires:
And let this God euen worke with me his fill,
He neuer shall consume me in his fires.
Let him not seeke but her, that seekes her ill,
Let him not wound but those that loue his wounds,
Nor subiect those that care not for his will.
But now I knowe not to what purpose soundes
These reasons, that disswade me to imbrace
Cupid thy God, that reason still confoundes.
Since that vnto my will he giueth place,
And on the same his liking doth depend,
Reason in me his colours doe deface.
T'is therefore reason, to the which I tend,
And great it is, since it doth satisfie
My minde, and doth the same so well defend.
Thou writ'st, that if to loue thee I denie,
That I would suffer thee to loue me yet,
Against my will for loue yet wilt thou die.
A pretie meanes procoeding from thy wit,
To pray me not thy deere loue to preuent,
Yet will I nill I thou to practise it.
I greeue I cannot hinder this intent,
But if (in fine) perforce vnto my paine
Thou wilt loue me, perforce I must consent.
If that from being lou'd, I could remaine,
(As from all loue) in faith I neuer would
Haue left it to thy choosing to abstaine.
For he that lou'd me with such rigour should
Be punish't, that he should haue thence no soule
To loue me, if his loue preuent I could.
But Ile doe that which no man shall controule,
Which is that none presume to manifest
His loue to me so wanton and so bolde.
Let therefore punishment thy minde suggest,
To mooue this fancie from thy idle minde,
A fancie first conceiu'd within thy brest,
Of no good ground where hope thou canst not finde:
Hope is exil'd where honour taketh place;
Honour is deere to women of my kinde:
Virgins I meane, and liuing in the face
Of all the world with honour and renowne.
Which if it be but staind, each other grace
She hath, with no recou'rie falleth downe.
If then these few perswasions cannot make
Thee change thy minde, nor now this present frowne,
Nor trembling hands, which now for anger shake
By writing of these lines with little rest,
Nor feare of punishment make thee forsake
This fond conceit nurc'd vainly in thy brest,
When thou maist neuer hope to haue a day;
Then let mine honour mooue thee (at the lest)
To make thee hide this fier (if you may)
Wherewith thou saist thy brest is so inflam'd:
Marke this, and let thy wits not so estray.
If that thou saist, that hardly is reclam'd
The fire of loue, and hardly hid againe;
To tell it Palna lesse thou shalt be blam'd.
But since thy hope incertaine is and vaine,
And all thy harmes most sure, then ope the dore
(To helpe thee) to obliuion and disdaine.
And thus I end in hope to heare no more.