University of Virginia Library

The Second Booke.

Sayle gentle Pinace: Now the heauens are cleare,
The winds blow faire: Behold the harbour's neere.
Trydented Neptune hath forgot to frowne;
The rocks are past; The storme is ouerblowne;
Vp wetherbeaten voyagers; and rouze yee,
Forsake your loathed Cabbins; vp, and louze ye
Vpon the open decks, and smell the land;
Cheare vp; the welcome shoare is nigh at hand:
Sayle gentle Pinace, with a prosperous gale,
To th'Isle of peace: Saile gentle Pinace, saile;
Fortune conduct thee; Let thy keele diuide
The siluer streames, that thou mast safely slide
Into the bosome of thy quiet Key,
And quite thee fairely of th'iniurious Sea.
Great Seaborne Queene, thy birthright giues thee power
T'assist poore suppliants; grant one happy houre.
O, let these wounded louers be possest,
At length, of their so long desired rest.
Now, now the ioyfull mariage day drawes on;
The Bride is busie, and the Bridegroome's gone
To call his fellow Princes to the feast;
The Girland's made; The bridall chamber's drest;
The Muses haue consulted with the Graces,
To crowne the day, and honour their embraces
With shadow'd Epithalmes: Their warbling tongues
Are perfect in their new made Lyrick songs;
Hymen begins to grumble at delay,
And Bacchus laughs to think vpon the day;
The virgin tapors, and what other rights
Doe appertaine to Nuptiall delights,
Are all prepar'd, whereby may be exprest
The ioyfull triumph of this mariage feast.
But stay! who lends me now an yron pen,
T'engraue within the marble hearts of men
A tragick sceane; which whosoe're shall reade,
His eyes may spare to weepe, and learne to bleed
Carnation teares: If time shall not allow
His death preuented eyes to weepe enow,
Then let his dying language recommend
What's left to his posterity to end.
Thou saddest of all Muses; come; afford
Thy studious helpe, that each confounding word
May rend a heart (at least;) that euery line
May pickle vp a kingdome in the brine
Of their owne teares: O teach me to extract
The spirit of griefe, whose vertue may distract
Those brests, which sorrow knowes not how to kill;
Inspier, ô inspire my melting Quill,
And, like sad Niobé, let euery one
That cannot melt, be turn'd into a stone:
Teach me to paint an oft-repeated sigh
So to the life, that whosoe're be nigh
May heare it breathe, and learne to doe the like
By imitation, till true passion strike
Their bleeding hearts: Let such as shall rehearse
This story, houle like Irish at a Herse.
Th'euent still crownes the act: Let no man say,
Before the euening's come; Tis a faire day:
When as the Kalends of this bridall feast
Were entred in, and euery longing brest
Waxt great with expectation, and all eyes
(Prepar'd for entertaining nouelties)
Were growne impatient now, to be suffis'd
With that, which Art and Honour had deuis'd
T'adorne the times withall, and to display
Their bounty, and the glory of that day,
The rare Parthenia taking sweet occasion
To blesse her busie thoughts, with contemplation
Of absent Argalus, whose too long stay
Made minutes seemes as dayes; and euery day
A measur'd age; into her secret bower
Betooke her weary steps, where euery houre
Her greedy eares expect to heare the summe
Of all her hopes, that Argalus is come.
She hopes, she feares at once; and still she muses
What makes him stay so long; she chides; excuses;
She questions; answers; and she makes reply,
And talkes, as if her Argalus were by;
Why com'st thou not? Can Argalus forget
His languishing Parthenia? what, not yet?
But as she spake that word, she heard a noise,
Which seem'd as if it were the whispering voice
Of close conspiracy: she began to feare
She knew not what, till her deceiued eare,
Instructed by her hopes, had singled out
The voice of Argalus from all the rout,
Whose steps (as she supposed) did prepare
By stealth to sieze vpon her vnaware:
She gaue aduantage to the thriuing plot,
Hearing the noyse, as if she heard it not.
Like as young Doues, which ne're had yet forsaken
The warme protection of their nests, or taken
Vpon themselues a selfe-prouiding care,
To shift for food, but with paternall fare
Grow fat and plump; think euery noise they heare,
Their full cropt parents are at hand, to cheare
Their crauing stomacks, whilst th'impartiall fist
Of the false Cater, rifling where it list
In euery hole, surprises them, and sheds
Their guiltlesse blood, and parts their gasping heads
From their vaine struggling bodies; so; euen so
Our poore deceiu'd Parthenia, (that did owe
Too much to her owne hopes) the whilst her eyes
Were set, to welcome the vnualued prize
Of all her ioyes, her dearest Argalus,
Steps in Demagoras, and salutes her thus:
Base Trull; Demagoras comes to let thee see,
How much he scornes thy painted face, and thee;
Foule Sorceresse! Could thy prosperous actions think
To scape reuenge, because the gods did wink
At thy designes? Think'st thou thy mothers blood
Cryes in a language, not to be'vnderstood?
Hadst thou no closer stratagem, to further
Thy pamper'd lust, but by the saluage murther
Of thine owne aged parent, whose sad death
Must giue a freedome to the whisp'ring breath
Of thy enioy'd adult'rer? who (they say)
Will cloake thy whoredome, with a mariage day;
Nay struggle not; here's none that can reprieue
Such pounded beasts; It is in vaine to striue,
Or roare for helpe: why do'st not rather weepe,
That I may laugh? Perchance, if thou wilt creepe
Vpon thy wanton belly, and confesse
Thy selfe a true repentant murtheresse,
My sinfull Page may play the soole, and gather
Thy early fruit into his barne, and father
Thy new got Cyprian bastard, if that he
Be halfe so wise, that got it, but to flee.
Hah! dost thou weepe? or doe false mists but mocke
Our cheated eyes? From so obdure a rock
Can water flow? weeping will make thee faire;
Weepe till thy mariage day; that who repaire
To grace thy feast, may fall a weeping too,
And, in a mirrour, see what teares can doe.
Vile strumpet! did thy flattering thoughts e're wrong
Thy iudgement so; to thinke, Demagoras tongue
Could so abuse his honour, as to sue
For serious loue? So base a thing as you
(Me thinks) should rather fixe your wanton eyes
Vpon some easie groome, that hopes to rise
Into his masters fauour, for your sake;
I; this had beene preferment, like to make
A hopefull fortune: thou presumptuous trash!
What was my courtship? but the minuts dash
Of youthfull passion, to allay the dust
Of my desires, and exuberous lust?
I scorne thee to the soule, and here I stand
Bound for reuenge, whereto I set my hand.
With that, he caught her rudely by the faire
And bounteous treasure of her Nymph-like hayre;
And, by it, dragd her on the dusty floore:
He stopt her mouth, for feare she should implore
An aid from heauen, she swounding in the place,
His salvage hands besmear'd her liuelesse face
With horrid poyson, thinking she was dead,
He left her breathlesse, and away he fled.
Come, come ye Furies, you malignant spirits,
Infernall Harpies, or what, else, inherits
The land of darknesse; you, that still conuerse
VVith damned soules; you, you that can rehearse
The horrid facts of villanies, and can tell
How euery hell hound lookes, that roares in hell;
Suruey them all; and, then, informe my pen,
To draw in one, the monster of all men;
Teach me to limme a villaine, and to paint
With dextrous art, the basest Sycophant,
That e're the mouth of insolent disdaine
Vouchsaf'd to spit vpon; the ripened blaine
Of all diseased humours, fit for none
But dogs to lift their hasty legs vpon:
So cleare mens eyes, that whosoe're shall see
The type of basenesse, may cry, This is Hee;
Let his reproach be a perpetuall blot
In Honours booke: Let his remembrance rot
In all good mindes: Let none but villaines call
His bugbeare name to memory, wherewithall
To fright their bauling bastards: Let no spell
Be found more potent, to preuaile in hell,
Then the nine letters of his charme like name;
Which, let our bashfull Chriscrosse row disclaime
To the worlds end, not fitting to be set
As mutes, within the Iewish Alphabet.
But harke! Am I deceiu'd, or doe I heare
The voice of Arg'lus sounding in mine eare?
He calls Parthenia: No, that tongue can be
No counterfeit: He's come: 'tis he, 'tis he.
Welcome too late, that art now come too soone;
Hadst thou bin here, this deed had ne're bin done.
Alas! when louers linger, and outgoe
Their promis'd date, they know not what they doe:
Men fondly say, that women are too fond;
At parting, to require so strict a bond
For quicke returne: Poore soules! 'tis they endure
Oft times the danger of the forfeiture;
I blame them not; for mischiefe still attends
Vpon the too long absence of true friends.
Well; Argalus is come, and seekes about
In euery roome, to finde Parthenia out;
He askes, enquiers; but all lips are sparing
To be the authors of ill newes, not daring
To speake the truth; they all amazed stand;
And now, my Lord's as fearfull to demand;
Dares not enquire her health, lest his sad eare
Should heare such words, as he's afraid to heare:
All lips are boulted with a linnen barre,
And euery eye does, like a blazing star,
Portend some euill; no language findes a leake;
The lesse they speake, the more he feares to speake.
Faces grow sad; and euery priuate eare
Is turn'd a Closet for the whisperer;
He walkes the roome, and like an vnknowne stranger
They eye him; from each eye, he picks a danger;
At last, his lips not daring to importune
What none dare tell him, vnexpected fortune
Leads his rash steps into a darkned roome,
A place more black then night; No sooner come,
But he was welcom'd with a sigh, as deepe
As a spent heart could giue; he heard one weepe,
And by the noise of groanes and sobs was led
(Hauing none other guide) to the sad bed.
Who is't (said he) that calls vntimely night
To hide those griefes that thus abiure the light?
With that, as if her heart had rent in two,
She past a sigh, and said, O aske not who?
Vrge not my tongue to make a forc'd reply
To your demand: Alas! it is not I:
Not I (said he?) what language doe I heare;
Darknesse may stop mine eye, but not mine eare.
It is my deare Parthenia's voice; ah me,
And can Parthenia, not Parthenia be?
What meanes this word, (Alas! it is not I)?
What sudden ill hath taught thee to deny
Thy selfe? or what can Argalus then claime,
If his Parthenia be not the same,
She was; alas, it seemes to me all one
To say, Thou art not hers, that's not her owne.
Can hills forget their pondrous bulk, and flye,
Like wandring Atomes, in the empty sky?
Or can the heauens, (growne idle) not fulfill
Their certaine reuolutions, but stand still,
And leaue their constant motion, for the winde
T'inherit? Can Parthenia change her minde?
Heauen sooner shall stand still, and earth remoue,
E're my Parthenia falsifie her loue:
Vnfold thy Riddle then; and tell me, why
Those lips should say, (Alas it is not I.)
Whereto she thus reply'd; O doe not thou
So wrong thy noble thoughts, as once t'allow
That cursed name a roome, within thy brest,
Let not so foule a prodigy be blest
With thy lost breath; Let it be held a sin
Too great for pardon, e're to name't agen;
Let darknesse hide it in eternall night;
May it be clad with horror, to affright
A desp'rate conscience; He that knowes not how
To mouthe a curse, O let him practise now
Vpon this name; Let him that would contract
The body of all mischiefe, or extract
The quint'ssence of all sorrowes, onely claime
A secret priuiledge to vse that name:
Far be it from thy language, to commit
So soule a sin, as once to mention it:
Liue happy Arg'lus; doe not thou partake
In these my miseries: O forbeare to make
My burthen greater, by thy tender sorrow;
Alas, my heart is strong, and needs not borrow
Thy needlesse helpe: O be not thou so cruell
To feed my flaming fiers, with thy fuell;
Why dost thou sigh? O wherefore should thy heart
Vsurpe my stage, and act Parthenia's part?
It is my proper taske: what dost thou meane,
Without my licence, to intrude my Sceane?
Alas! thy sorrowes ease not my distresse;
God knowes, I weepe not one poore teare the lesse:
My patent's sign'd and past; whereby appeares
That I haue got the Monopoly of teares:
In me, let each mans torment finde an end:
I am that Sea, to which all Riuers tend:
Let all spent mourners, that can weepe no more,
Take teares on trust, and set them on my score.
And as she spake that word, his heart not able
To beare a language so vnsufferable,
But being swolne so big, must either breake
Or vent, his darkned reason grew too weake
T'oppose his quickned passion (like a man
Transported from himselfe) he thus began;
Accursed darknesse! Thou sad type of death!
Infernall Hagge, whose dwelling is beneath!
What meanes thy boldnesse to vsurpe this roome,
And force a night, before the night be come?
Get, get thee downe, and keepe within thy lifts;
Goe reuell there; and hurle thy hideous mists
Before those cursed eyes, that take delight
In vtter darkenesse, and abhorre the light;
Returne thee to thy dungeon, whence thou came
And hide those faces, whose infernall flame
Cals for more darknesse, and whose tortur'd soules
Craue the protection of th'obscurest holes,
To scape some lashes, and auoid those strict
And horrid plagues, the furies doe inflict:
But if thou needs must ramble here, aboue;
Goe to some other Clymate, and remoue
Thy vgly presence from our darkned eyes,
That hate thy Tyranny: Goe exercise
Thy power in Groues, and solitary springs,
Where Bats are subiects, and where Owles are kings;
Goe to the graues, and fill those empty roomes,
That such as slumber in their silent Toombs
May blesse thy welcome shades, and lie possest
Of vndisturbed and eternall rest:
Or if thy more ambitious fogs desire
To haunt the liuing; hast thee, and retire
Into some Cloyster, and there stand betweene
The light, and those that faine would sin, vnseene;
Assist them there; and let thy vgly shapes
Count'nance close treasons, and incestuous rapes:
Benight those roomes; and ayd all such, as feare
The eye of heauen; Goe; close thy curtaines there;
We need thee not (foule witch,) away, away;
Thou hid'st more beauty then the noone of day
Can giue; O thou, that hast so rudely hurl'd
On this darke bed, the glory of the world.
So said; Abruptly he the roome departs,
His cheeks looke pale, his curled hayre vpstarts
Like quills of Porcupines, and from his eye
Quicke flashes like the flames of lightning flye;
He calls for light; the light no sooner come,
But his owne hand conuayes it to the roome
From whence he came, and as he entred in
He blest himselfe; he blest himselfe agin;
Thrice did he blesse himselfe, and after said,
Foule witch, begon; and let thy dismall shade
Forsake this place; Let thy darke fogs obey
Great Vulcans charge; In Vulcans name, away;
Or if thy stout rebellion shall disclaime
His soueraignty, in my Parthenia's name
I charme thee hence. And as that word flew out,
He steps to that sad bed, where round about,
Clos'd were the curtaines, as if darknesse did
Command that such a Iewell should be hid:
His left hand held the tapour, and his right
Enforc'd the curtaines, to absolue the light;
Which done; appear'd before his wondring eye
The truest pourtrait of deformity,
As e're the Sun beheld: That louely face
That was, of late, the modell of all grace
And peerelesse beauty, whose imperious eyes
Rauisht where e're they lookt, and did surprise
The very soules of men; she, she of whom
Nature her selfe was proud, is now become
So loath'd an obiect, so deform'd, disguiz'd,
As darknesse, for mans sake, was well aduis'd
To cloath in mists, lest any were incited
To see that face, and so depart affrighted.
All this when Argalus beheld, and found
It was no dreame, he fell vpon the ground;
And rau'd; and rose agen; stood still; and gaz'd;
At first he startled, then he stood amaz'd;
Lookes now vpon the light; and now on her;
One while his tyred fancy does refer
His thoughts to silence; as his thoughts encrease,
His passion striues for vent, and breakes that peace,
Which conquer'd reason had, of late, concluded,
And thus began; Are these false eyes deluded?
Or haue inchanted mists stept in betweene
My abused eyes, and what mine eyes haue seene?
No; mischiefe cannot act so faire a part,
T'affright in iest; it goes beyond the art
Of all blacke bookes, to maske, with such disguise,
So sweet a face; I know, that these are eyes;
And this a light; False mists could neuer be
Betwixt my poore Parthenia, and me.
Accursed Tapour! what infernall spright
Breath'd in thy face? what Fury gaue thee light?
Thou impe of Phlegetor; who let thee in,
To force a day, before the day begin?
Who brought thee hither? I? did I? From whom,
What leane chapt fury did I snatch thee from?
When as this cursed hand did goe about
To bring thee in, why went not these eies out?
Be all such Tapours cursed, for thy sake;
Ne're shine, but at some Vigill, or sad Wake;
Be neuer seene, but when as sorrow cals
Thy needfull helpe to nightly funerals;
Be as a May-game for th'amazed Bat
To sport about; and Owles, to wonder at:
Still haunt the Chancels at a midnight knell,
To fright the Sexton from his passing Bell:
Giue light to none but treasons, and be hid
In their darke lanthorns: Let all mirth forbid
Thy treacherous flames the roome: and if that none
Shall deigne to put thee out, goe out alone;
Attend some misers table, and then waste
Too soone, that he may curse thee for thy haste;
Burne dimme for euer: Let that flatt'ring light
Thou feed'st, consume thy stock: be banisht quite
From Cupids Court: When louers goe about
Their stolne pleasures, let your flames goe out;
Henceforth be vsefull to no other end,
But onely to burne day light, or attend
The midnight Cups of such as shall resigne,
VVith vsurie, thir indigested wine:
VVhy dost thou burne so cleare? Alas! these eyes
Discerne too much; Thy wanton blaze doth rise
Too high a pitch: Thou burnst too bright, for such
As see no comfort; O thou shin'st too much:
Why dost thou vext me? Is thy flame so stout
T'endure my breath? This breath shall puffe thee out.
Thus, thus my ioyes are quite extinguisht, neuer
To be reuiu'd: Thus gone, thus gone for euer.
With that, transported with a furious hast,
He blew it out: but marke, that very blast
(As if it meant, on purpose, to disclaime
His desp'rate thoughts) reuiu'd th'extinguisht flame.
He stands amaz'd; and, hauing mus'd a while,
Beholds the Tapour, and begins to smile.
And can the gods themselues (said he) contriue
Away for hope? Can my past ioyes reuiue,
Like this rekindled fier? If they doe,
I'le curse my lips (bright Lamp) for cursing you.
Eternall Fates! Deale fairely; dally not:
If your hid bounties haue reseru'd a lot
Beyond my wained hopes, be it exprest
In open view; make haste; and doe your best:
But if your Iustice be determin'd so,
To exercise your vengeance on my woe,
Strengthen not what at length you meane to burst;
Strike home betimes; dispatch; and doe your worst:
That burthen is too great for him to beare,
That's eauenly poised betwixt hope and feare.
And there he stopt; as fearing to molest
The silent peace of her dissembled rest.
He gaz'd vpon her; stood as in a trance;
Sometimes her liuelesse hand he would aduance
To his sad lips; then steale it downe agen;
Sometimes, a teare would fall vpon't; and then
A sigh must dry it; Euery kisse did beare
A sigh; and euery sigh begat a teare:
He kist; she sigh'd; he wept; and, for a space,
He fixt his eye vpon her wounded face;
And, in a whispering language, he disburs'd
His various thoughts; thus, with himselfe, discours'd.
Before the sound of his last breath was gon,
Her speech (being marshall'd with a powerfull groan,
Through the rude confluence, and amazed throng
Of her distracted thoughts) her feeble tongue
Wept forth these words; Thus fleet, thus transitory
Is mans delight, and all that painted glory,
Poore earth can giue; Nor wealth, nor blood, nor beauty,
Can quit that debt, that necessary duty,
They owe to Change and Time; but, like a flower,
They flourish now, and fade within an houre.
The world's compos'd of Change; there's nothing stayes
At the same point; all alters; all decayes:
The world is like a Play, where euery age
Concludes her Sceane, and so departs the stage;
And when Times hasty Houre glasse is run,
Change strikes the Epilogue, and the Play is done.
Who acts the King to day, by change of lot,
Perchance to morrow begs, and blushes not:
Whose beauty was ador'd o're night, next morning,
May finde a face, like mine, not worth the scorning:
Looke where we list, there's nothing to the eye
Seemes truly constant, but Inconstancy.
Most deare Parthenia (Argalus reply'd)
Had thy deceiued eye but stept aside,
And lookt vpon thy Argalus his brest;
I know, I know, thy language had profest
Another faith: thy lips had ne're let flie,
At vnawares, so great an Heresie:
Tis not the change of fauour, that can change
My heart; nor Time, nor Fortune can estrange
My best affections, so for euer fixt
On thee; nothing, but Death, can come betwixt
My soule, and thine; If I had lou'd thy face,
Thy face alone; my fancy had giuen place,
Ere this, to fresh desiers, and attended
Vpon new fortunes, and the old had ended.
If I had lou'd thee, for thy heauenly eye,
I might haue courted the bright maiesty
Of Tiran: If thy curious lips had snar'd
My lick'rish thoughts, I might haue soone prepar'd
A blushing Currall, or some full ripe Chery,
And pleas'd my lips, vntill my lips were weary;
Or if the smoothnesse of thy whiter brow
Had charm'd mine eyes, and made my fancy bow
To outwards obiects, polisht Marble might
Haue giuen as much content, as much delight;
In briefe, had Argalus his flatter'd eye
Bin pleas'd with beauties bare Epitomy,
Thy curious picture might haue then supply'd
My wants, more full, then all the world beside;
No, no; 'Twas neither brow, nor lip, nor eye
Nor any outward exc'lence vrg'd me, why
To loue Parthenia: 'Twas thy better part,
Which mischiefe could not wrong, surpris'd my heart.
Thy beauty was but like a Christall case,
Through which, the Iewell of admired grace
Transparent was, whose hidden worth did make
Me loue the Casket, for the Iewels sake;
No, no; my well-aduised eye pierc'd in
Beyond the filme; sunk deeper then the skin;
Else, had I now bin chang'd, and that firme duty
I owe my vowes, had faded, with thy beauty;
Nay, weepe not (my Parthenia;) let those teares
Ne're waile that losse, which a few after yeares
Had claim'd as due; Cheare vp; thou hast forsaken
But that, which sicknesse would (perchance) haue taken,
With greater disaduantage; or else age,
That common euill, which Art cannot asswage;
Beauty's but bare opinion: White and Red
Haue no more priuiledge, but what is bred
By humane fancie; which was ne're confinde
To certaine bounds, but varies like the winde;
What one man likes, another disrespects;
And what a third most hates; a fourth, affects;
The Negro's eye thinkes blacke beyond compare,
And what would fright vs most, they count most faire:
If then opinion be the Tutch, whereby
All beautie's tride; Parthenia, in my eye
Out shines faire Hellen; or who else she be,
That is more rich in beauties wealth, then she.
Cheare vp: The soueraignty of thy worth, enfranches
Thy captiue beauty; and thy vertue blanches
These staines of fortune; Come; it matters not
What others thinke: a letter's but a blot
To such as cannot reade; but, who haue skill,
Can know the faire impression of a Quill
From grosse and heedlesse blurres; and such can thinke
No paper foule, that's fairely writ with Inke:
VVhat others hold a blemish in thy face,
My skilfull eyes reade Characters of grace;
VVhat hinders then; but that without delay,
Triumph may celebrate our nuptiall day?
She that hath onely vertue to her guide,
Though wanting beautie, is the fairest Bride.
A Bride? (said she) such Brides as I, can haue
No fitter bridall Chamber, then a Graue;
Death is my bridegroome; and to welcome Death,
My loyall heart shall plight a second faith;
And when that day shall come, that ioyfull day,
Wherein transcendent pleasures shall allay
The heat of all my sorrowes, and conioyne
My palefac'd Bridegrooms lingring hand, with mine;
These Ceremonies, and these Triumphs shall
Attend the day, to grace that Day withall.
Time with his empty Howreglasse shall lead
The Triumph on; His winged hoofes shall tread
Slow paces; After him, there shall ensue
The chast Diana, with her Virgin crew,
All crown'd with Cypresse girlands; After whom
In ranke, th'impartiall Destinies shall come;
Then, in a sable Chariot faintly drawne
With harnast Virgins, vail'd with purest lawne,
The Bride shall sit; Despaire and Griefe shall stand,
Like heartlesse bridemaids, vpon either hand.
Vpon the Chariot top, there shall be plac'd
The little winged god, with arme vnbrac'd,
And bow vnbent; his drooping wings must hide
His naked knees; his Quiuer by his side
Must be vnarm'd, and either hand must hold
A banner; where, with Characters of gold
Shall be decipher'd, (fit for euery eye
To read, that runs; Faith, Loue, and Constancy.
Next after, Hope, in a discoloured weed,
Shall sadly march alone: A slender reed
Shall guide her feeble steps; and, in her hand,
A broken Anchor, all besmear'd with sand.
And after all, the Bridegroome shall appeare
Like Ioues Lieutenant, and bring vp the Reare;
He shall be mounted on a Coale-black steed;
His hand shall hold a Dart; on which, shall bleed
A pierced heart; wherein, a former wound
Which Cupids Iauelin entred shall be found.
When as these Triumphes shall adorne our feast,
Let Argalus be my inuited guest,
And let him bid me nuptiall Ioy: from whom
I once expected all my ioyes should come.
With that; as if his count'nance had thought good
To weare Death's colours; or as if his blood
Had beene imployed to condole the smart
And torment of his poore afflicted heart,
He thus bespake: Vnhappiest of all men,
Why doe I liue? Is Death my Riuall then?
Vnequall chance! Had it bin flesh and blood,
I could haue grapled, and (perchance) withstood
Some stout encounters: Had an armed host
Of mortall riualls ventur'd to haue crost
My blest desiers; my Partheniaes eye
Had giuen me power to make that army fly
Like frighted Lambs, before the Wolfe; But thou
Before whose presence, all must stoope and bow
Their seruile necks! what weapon shall I hold
Against thy hand, that will not be controll'd?
Great enemie! whose kingdome's in the dust
And darkesome Caues; I know that thou art iust;
Else had the gods ne're trusted to thy hand
So great a priuiledge, so large command
And iurisdiction o're the liues of men,
To kill, or saue euen whom thou please, and when;
O, suffer not Partheniaes tempting teares
To moue thy heart; Let thy hard hearted eares
Be deafe to all her suits: If she professe
Affection to thee, beleeue nothing lesse;
She's my betrothed spouse, and Hymens bands
Haue firmely ioyn'd our hearts, though not our hands.
Where plighted faith, and sacro-sanctius vowe
Hath giuen possession, dispossesse not thou.
Be iust; and though her briny lips bewaile
Her griefe with teares, let not those teares preuaile.
Whom heauens haue ioyn'd, thy hands may not disioyne,
I am Partheniaes; and Partheniaes mine.
Alas! we are but one; Then thou must either
Refuse vs both; or, else, take both together.
My deare Parthenia, let no cloudy passion
Of dull despaire molest thee, or vnfashion
Thy better thoughts, to make thy troubled mind
Either forgetfull, or thy selfe vnkind.
Starue not my pining hopes, with longer stay
My loue hath wings, and brookes no long delay.
It houers vp and downe, and cannot rest
Vntill it light, and perch vpon thy brest.
Torment not him, within these lingring fires,
That's rackt already on his owne desires.
Seale and deliuer as thy deed, that band,
Whereto thy promist faith hath set her hand;
And what our plighted hearts, and mutuall vow
Haue so long since begun, O finish now;
That our imperfect and halfe pleasures may
Receiue perfection, by a mariage day:
Whereto, she thus; Had the pleas'd God aboue,
Forgiuen my faults, and made me fit for Ioue
To blesse at large; Had all the powers of heauen
(To boast the vtmost of their bounty) giuen
As great addition to my slender fortune
As they could giue, or couetous mind importune,
I vow to heauen, and all those heauenly powers,
They should no sooner beene made mine, but yours.
Nay, had my fortunes staid but at the rate
They were; had I remained in that state
I was (although, at best, vnworthy farre
Of such a peerlesse blessing as you are)
My deare acceptance should haue fill'd my heart
As full of ioyes, as now it is of smart;
But, as I am, let angry Ioue then vent
On me his plagues, till all his plagues be spent.
And when I roare, let heauen my paines deride,
When I match Argalus to such a Bride.
Liue happy, Argalus, let thy soule receiue
What blessings poore Parthenia cannot haue;
Liue happy: May thy ioyes be neuer done,
But let one blessing draw another on:
O may thy better Angell watch and ward
Thy soule, and pitch an euerlasting guard
About the portals of thy tender heart,
And showre downe blessings wheresoere thou art;
Let all thy ioyes be as the month of May,
And all thy dayes be as a mariage day.
Let sorrow, sicknesse, and a troubled minde
Be strangers to thee; Let them neuer finde
Thy heart at home; Let Fortune still alot
Such lawlesse guests to those that loue thee not:
And let those blessings, which shall wanting be
To such as merit none, alight on thee.
That mutuall faith, betwixt vs, that of late
Hath past, I giue thee freedome to translate
Vpon the merits of some fitter spouse:
I giue thee leaue, and freely quit thy vowes.
I call the gods to witnesse, nothing shall
More blesse my soule; no comfort can befall
More truely welcome to me, then to see
My Argalus, (what ere become of me)
So linckt in wedlocke, as shall most augment
His greater honour, and his true content.
With that, a sudden and tempestuous tyde
Of teares orewhelm'd her language, and denyde
A passage, but when passions flood was spent,
She thus proceeds: You gods, if you are bent
To act my Tragedy, why doe you wrong
Our patience so, to make the play so long?
Your Sceanes are tedious; Gainst the rules of Art,
You dwell too long; too long, vpon one part.
Be briefe, and take aduantage of your odds;
One simple mayde against so many gods?
And not be conquer'd yet? Conioyne your might,
And send her soule into eternall night,
That liues too long a day; Ile not resist,
Prouided you strike home, strike where ye list.
Accursed be that Day, wherein these eyes
First saw the light; Let desp'rate soules deuise
A curse sufficient for it; Let the Sun
Ne're shine vpon it; and what ere's begun
Vpon that fatall day, let heauen forbid it
Successe; if not, to ensnare the hand, that did it.
Why was I borne? Or, being borne, O why
Did not my fonder nurses Lullaby
(Euen whilst my lips were hanging on her brest)
Sing her poore Babe to euerlasting rest?
O then my infant soule had neuer knowne
This world of griefe, beneath whose weight I groane.
No, no, it had not: He that dyes in's prime,
Speeds a long businesse, in a little time.
But Argalus (whose more extreame desire,
Vnapt to yeeld, like water-sprinkled fire,
Did blaze the more) impatient of denyall,
Gaue thus an onset to a further tryall;
Life of my Soule; By whom, next heauen, I breath,
Excepting whom, I haue no friend but Death,
How can thy wishes ease my griefe, or stand
My miserie in stead, when as thy hand,
And nothing but thy helping hand can giue me
Reliefe, and yet refuses to relieue me?
Strange kinde of Charity! when, being afflicted,
I finde best wishes, yet am interdicted
Of those best wishes, and must be remou'd
From loues enioyment; why? Because belou'd.
Alas! alas! How can thy wishes be
A blessing to me, if vnblest in thee?
Thy beauty's gone, (thou saist;) why, let it goe;
He loues but ill, that loues but for a show;
Thy beauty is supply'd in my affection;
That neuer yet was slaue to a complexion.
Shall euery day, wherein the earth does lacke
The Suns reflex, b'expell'd the Almanacke?
Or shall thy ouer-curious steps forbeare
A garden, 'cause there be no Roses there?
Or shall the sunset of Parthenia's beauty
Enforce my iudgement to neglect that duty,
The which my best aduis'd affection owes
Her sacred vertue, and my solemne vowes?
No, no; it lyes not in the power of Fate,
To make Parthenia too vnfortunate,
For Argalus to loue.
It is as easie for Parthenia's heart
To proue lesse vertuous, as for me to start
From my firme faith: The flame that honours breath
Hath blowne, nothing hath powre to quench, but death.
Thou giu'st me leaue to chuse a fitter spouse,
And freedome to recall, to quit those vowes
I tooke: VVho gaue thee license to dispense
VVith such false tongues, as offer violence
To plighted faith? Alas, thou canst not free
Thy selfe, much lesse hast power to license me:
Vowes can admit no change; They still perseuer
Against all chance, they binde, they binde for euer:
A vow's a holy thing; no common breath;
The limits of a vow, is heauen, and death;
A vow that's past, is like a bird that's flowne
From out thy hand; can be recall'd by none;
It dies not, like a time beguiling Iest,
As soone as vented; liues not in thy brest,
VVhen vtterd once; but is a sacred word,
Straight enterd in the strict and close record
Of heauen; It is not like a Iuglers knot,
Or fast, or loose, as pleases vs, or not.
Since then thy vowes can finde no dispensation,
And may not be recall'd, recall thy passion;
Performe, performe, what now it is too late
T'vnwish againe; too soone to violate;
Seeke not to quit, what heauen denies to free,
Performe thy vowes to heauen; thy vowes to me.
Thrice dearer then my soule, (she thus replide)
Had my owne pamper'd fancy beene the guide
To my affection, I had condescended
Ere this to your request, which had befriended
My best desiers too; I lou'd not thee
For my owne pleasure, in that base degree,
As gluttons doe their diet, who dispense
With vnwash'd hands, (lest they should giue offence
To their grip'd stomackes, when a minutes stay
Will make them curse occasion all the day.)
I lou'd not so; My first desires did spring
From thy owne worth; and, as a sacred thing,
I alwaies view'd thee, whom my zeale commands
Me not prophane with these defiled hands:
Tis true; Performance is a debt we owe
To Vowes, and nothing's dearer then a Vow;
Yet when the gods doe rauish from our hand
The meanes to keepe it, 'tis a countermand.
He that hath vow'd to sacrifice each day
At Iuno's Altar's bound, and must obey.
But if (being vnder vow) the gods doe please
To strike him with a leperous disease,
Or foule infection; which is better now,
Prophane the Altar, or to breake the vow?
The case is mine; where then the gods dispense,
We may be bold, yet tender no offence.
Admit it were an euill; 'tis our behest
Of necessary ills, to choose the least.
The gods are good: The strickt recognisance
Of vowes, is onely taken to aduance
The good of man; Now if that good proue ill,
We may refuse, our vowes entire still.
I vow a mariage; why? because I doe
Entirely affect that man, my vowes are to;
But if some foule disease should interpose
Betwixt our promis'd mariage, and our vowes.
The strict performance of these vowes must proue
I wrong; and therefore loue not, whom I loue.
Then vrge no more: Let my deny all be
A pledge sufficient twixt my loue and thee.
So ended sire: But vehement desire,
(That can be quencht with No; no more, then fire,
With oyle; and can submit to no condition)
Lends him new breath: Loue makes a Rethoritian.
He speaks: she answers: He, afresh, replyes;
He stoutly sues; As stoutly she denyes.
He begs in vaine; and she denies in vaine;
For she denies againe; He begs againe;
At last, both weary, he his suite adiournes,
For louers dayes are good, and bad by turnes.
He bids farewell: As if the heart of either
Gaue but one motion, they both sigh'd together.
She bids farewell; and yet she bids it so,
As if her farewell ended, if he goe;
He bids farewell; but so, as if delay
Had promis'd better farewells to his stay.
She bids farewell; but holds his hand so fast,
As if that farewell, should not be the last.
Both sigh'd, both wept, and both, being heauy harted,
She bids farewell; He bids farewell; and parted.
So parted they: Now Argalus is gone;
And now Parthenia's weeping all alone;
And, like the widowed Turtle, she bewailes
The absence of her mate: Passion preuailes
Aboue her strength: Now her poore heart can tell,
What's heauen, by wanting heauen; and what is hell
By her owne torments: Sorrow now does play
The Tyrants part; Affection must obey;
And, like a weathercocke, her various minde
Is chang'd, and turn'd with euery blast of winde.
In desp'rate language she deplores her state;
She faine would wish; but then, she knowes not what;
Resolues of this; of that; and then of neither;
She faine would flee, but then she knows not whither;
At length (consulting with the heartlesse paire
Of ill aduisers, Sorrow, and Despaire)
Resolues to take th'aduantage of that night,
To steale away; and seeke for death, by flight;
A Pilgrims weed her liuelesse limmes addrest
From hand to foot: A thong of leather blest
Her wasted loynes; Her feeble feet were shod
With Sandalls; In her hand a Pilgrims rod.
When as th'illustrious Soueraigne of the Day
Had now begun his Circuit, to suruay
His lower kingdome, hauing newly lent
The vpper world to Cynthiaes gouernment,
Forth went Parthenia, and begins t'attend
The progresse now, which only Death can end.
Goe haplesse virgin! Fortune be thy guide,
And thine owne vertues; and what else beside,
That may be prosperous: may thy merits find
More happinesse, then thy distressed mind
Can hope; Liue, and to after ages proue
The great example of true Faith and Loue:
Gone, gone she is; but whither she is gone,
The gods, and fortune can resolue alone;
Pardon my Quill, that is enforc'd to stray
From a poore Lady, in an vnknowne way.
To number forth her weary steps, or tell
Those obvious dangers, that so oft befell
Our poore Parthenia, in her pilgrimage,
Or bring her miseries on the open stage;
Her broken slumbers; her distracted care;
Her hourely feares, and frights; her hungry fare;
Her daily perils; and her nightly scapes
From rauenous beasts, and from attempted rapes,
Is not my taske; who care not to incite
My Readers passion to an appetite.
We leaue Parthenia now; and our discourse
Must cast an eye, and bend a settled course
To Argalus. When Argalus (returning
To visit his Parthenia, the next morning)
Perceiued she was fled, not knowing whither;
He makes no stay; Consults not with the weather;
Stayes not to thinke, but claps his hasty knees
To his fleet Courser; and away he flees;
His haste enquires no way; (he needs not feare
To lose the roade, that goes he knowes not where;)
One while he pricks vpon the fruitfull plaines;
And now, he gently flicks his prouder reines,
And climbes the barren hills: with fresh Careers
He tryes the right hand way; and then he veres
His course vpon the left: One while he likes
This path; when, by and by, his fancy strikes
Vpon another tract. Sometimes, he roues
Among the Springs, and solitary Groues,
Where, on the tender barkes of sundry trees,
H'engraues Parthenia's name, with his: then flees
To the wild Champian: his proud Steed remoues
The hopefull fallowes, with his horned hooues;
He baulkes no way; rides ouer rocke, and mountaine;
When led by fortune to Diana's Fountaine,
He straight dismounts his steed; begins to quench
His thirsty lippes; and after that, to drench
His fainting limmes, in that sweet streame, wherein
Parthenia's dainty fingers oft had bin.
The Fountaine was vpon a steepe descent,
Whose gliding current nature gaue a vent
Through a firme rock; which Art (to make it known
To after ages) wall'd, and roof'd with stone;
Aboue the Christall fountaines head, was plac'd
Diana's Image (though of late defac'd:)
Beneath, a rocky Cysterne did retaine
The water, sliding through the Cocks of Cane;
Whose curious Current, the worlds greater eye
Ne're viewed, but in his mid-day Majestie:
It was that Fountaine; where, in elder times
Poore Corydon compos'd his rurall rimes,
And left them closely hid, for his vnkinde
And marble hearted Phyllida to finde.
All rites perform'd, he re-amounts his Steed,
Redeemes his losse of time with a new speed:
And with a fresh supply, his strength renewes
His progresse, God knowes whither; He pursues
His vow'd aduenture, brooking no delay,
And (with a minde as doubtfull as the way)
He iournies on; he left no course, vnthought;
No traueller, vnask'd; no place, vnsought.
To make a Iournall of each Circumstance;
His change of fortunes, or each obuious chance
Befell his tedious trauell: to relate
The braue attempt of this exploit, or that;
His rare atchieuements, and their faire successe;
His noble courage, in extreame distresse;
His desp'rate dangers; his deliuerance:
His high esteeme with men, which did enhanse
His meanest actions to the throne of Ioue:
And what he sufferd, for Partheniaes loue,
Would make our volume endlesse, opt to try
The vtmost patience of a studious eye;
All which, the bounty of a free conceit
May sooner reach too, then my pen relate.
But till bright Cynthiaes head had three times thrise
Repayr'd her empty hornes, and fill'd the eyes
Of gazing mortalls, with her globe of light,
This restlesse louer ceas'd not, day and night,
To wander, in a sollitarie Quest
For her, whose loue had taught him to digest
The dregges of sorrow, and to count all ioyes
But follyes (weigh'd with her) at least, but toyes.
It hapned now that twise six months had run,
Since wandring Argalus had first begun
His toylesome progresse; who, in vaine, had spent
A yeare of houres, and yet no euent,
When fortune brought him to a goodly Seat
(Wall'd round about with Hills) yet not so great
As pleasant; and lesse curious to the sight,
Then strong; yet yeelding euen as much delight,
As strength; whose onely outside did declare
The masters Iudgement, and the builders care.
Arround the Castle, nature had laid out
The bounty of her treasure; round about,
Well fenced meadowes (fill'd with summers pride)
Promis'd prouision for the winter tide,
Neere which the neighb'ring hills (well stockt and stor'd
With milkewhite flocks) did seuerally afford
Their fruitfull blessings, and deseru'd encrease
To painfull husbandry, the childe of peace;
It was Kalanders seat, who was the brother
Of lost Parthenia's late deceased mother.
He was a Gentleman, whom vaine ambition
Nere taught to vnderualue the condition
Of priuate Gentry; who preferr'd the loue
Of his respected neighbours, farre aboue
The apish congies of th'vnconstant Court;
Ambitious of a good, not great report.
Beloued of his Prince, yet not depending
Vpon his fauours so, as to be tending
Vpon his person: and, in briefe, too strong
Within himselfe, for fortunes hand to wrong:
Thither came wandring Argalus; and receiu'd
As great content, as one that was bereau'd
Of all his ioyes, could take, or who would striue
T'expresse a welcome to the life, could giue:
His richly furnisht table more exprest
A common bounty, then a curious feast;
Whereat, the choice of precious wines were profer'd
In liberall sort; not vrg'd, but freely offer'd;
The carefull seruants did attend the roome,
No need to bid them either goe or come:
Each knew his place, his office, and could spy
His masters pleasure, in his masters eye.
But what can rellish pleasing to a taste
That is distemper'd? Can a sweet repast
Please a sicke pallate? no, there's no content
Can enter Argalus, whose soule is bent
To tyre on his owne thoughts: Kalanders loue,
(That other times would rauish) cannot moue
That fixed heart, which passion now incites
T'abiure all pleasures, and forsweare delights.
It fortun'd; on a day, that dinner ending,
Kalander and his noble guests, intending
T'exchange their pleasures in the open ayre,
A messenger came in; and did repaire
Vnto Kalander; told him, That the end
Of his imployment, was to recommend
A noble Lady to him (neare allyde
To faire Queene Hellen) whose vnskilfull guide
Had so misled, that she does make request,
This night, to be his bold, and vnknowne guest;
And by his helpe, to be inform'd the way
To finde to morrow, what she lost to day.
Kalander (the extent of whose ambition
Was to expresse the bountious disposition
Of a free heart, as glad of such occasion
To entertaine) return'd the salutation
Of an vnknowne seruant; and withall profest,
A promis'd welcome to so faire a guest.
Forthwith Kalander, and his noble friends
(All but poore Argalus, who recommends
His thoughts to priuate vses, and confines
His secret fancy to his owne designes)
Mounted their praunsing Steeds, to giue a meeting
To his faire guest, they met, but at first meeting
Kalander stood amaz'd; (for he suppos'd
It was Parthenia) and thus his thoughts disclos'd;
Maddam (said he) if these mine aged eyes
Retaine that wonted strength, which age denies
To many of my yeares, I should be bold
(In viewing you) to say, I doe behold.
My neece Parthenia's, face: Nor can I be
Perswaded (by your leaue) but you are she?
Thrice noble Sir (she thus replide) your tongue
(Perchance) hath done the faire Parthenia wrong,
In your mistake, and too much honour'd me,
That (in my iudgement) was more fit to be
Her foyle, then picture; yet hath many an eye
Giuen the like sentence, she not being by;
Nay, more; I haue bin told; that my owne mother
Fail'd often to distinguish t'one from t'other.
Said then Kalander: If my rash conceit
Hath made a fault, mine error shall await
Vpon your gratious pardon; I alone
VVas not deceiu'd; for neuer any one
That view'd Parthenia's visage, but would make
As great an error, by as great mistake.
But (Maddam) for her sake, and for your owne,
(VVhose worth may challenge to it selfe alone,
More seruice then Kalander can expresse)
Y'are truly welcome. Enter, and possesse
This Castle as your owne; which can be blest
In nothing, more, then in so faire a guest.
Whereto, the Lady (entring) thus replide.
Let euerlasting ioyes be multiplide
VVithin these gentle gates; and let them stand
As lasting monuments in th'Arcadian land,
Of rare and bounteous hospitalitie
To after-times. Let strangers passing by
Blesse their succeeding heires as shall descend
From such a Lord, from such a noble Friend.
When as a little respite had repair'd
Her weary limmes, which trauell had impair'd,
The freenesse of occasion did present
New subiects to discourse; wherein they spent
No little time; among the rest, befell
Kalander (often stopt with teares) to tell
Of Argalus, and lost Parthenia's loue,
Whose vndissembled passion did moue
A generall griefe; the more that they attended
To his sad tale, the more they wish'd it ended.
Maddam (said he) although your visage be
Like hers; yet may your fortunes disagree;
Poore girle! and as he spake that word, his eyes
Let fall a teare. The Lady thus replyes;
My soule doth suffer for Parthenia's sake;
But tell me, Sir, did Argalus forsake
His poore Parthenia whom he lou'd so deare?
How hath he spent his daies e're since? and where?
Maddam (said he) when as their marriage day
Drew neare; mischiefe, that now was bent to play
Vpon the Stage, her studied master prize,
With ougly leprosie did so disguise
Her beauteous face, that she became a terrour
To her owne selfe: But Argalus the mirrour
Of truest constancy, (whose loyall heart,
Not guided by his eye, disdain'd to start
From his past vowes) did, in despight of fortune,
Pursue his fixt desires, and importune
Th'entended mariage ne'erthelesse: But she,
Whom reason now had taught to disagree
VVith her distracted thoughts, stands deafe and mute,
And at the last, to auoyd his further suit,
Not making any priuie to her slight,
She quits the house, and steales away by night;
But Maddam, when as Argalus perceiu'd
That she was fled; and being quite bereau'd
Of his last hope poore louer, he assayes
By toylesome pilgrimage to end his dayes,
Or finde her out: Now twice sixe months haue run
Their tedious courses, since he first begun
His fruitlesse iourney, ranging farre and neare,
Suffering as many sorrowes as a yeare
Could send; and made by the extreames of weather
Vnapt for trauell, fortune brought him thither;
VVhere he as yet remaines, till time shall make
His wasted bodie fit to vndertake
His discontented progresse, and renew
His great enquest for her, who at first view,
Maddam, you seem'd to be.
So said; The Lady from whose tender eyes
Some drops did slide, whose heart did sympathize
With both their sorrowes, said; And is their then
Such vnexpected constancy in men?
Most noble Sir;
If the too rash desires of a stranger
May be dispens'd withall, without the danger
Of too great boldnesse, I should make request
To see this noble Lord, in whose rare brest
(By your report) more honour doth reside,
Then in all Greece; nay, all the world beside;
I haue a message to him, and am loath
To doe it, were I not ingag'd by oath.
Whereat, Kalander, not in breath, but action
Applies himselfe to giue a satisfaction
To her propounded wish: protraction wasts
No time; but vp to Argalus he hasts:
Argalus comes downe; and after salutation
Giuen, and receiu'd, she accosts him on this fashion

My noble Lord,

VVhereas the loud resounding trump of fame
Hath nois'd your worth, and glorifide your name
Aboue all others, let your goodnesse now
Make good that faire report; that I may know
By true experience, what my ioyfull eare
Had but, as yet, the happinesse to heare.
And if the frailty of a womans wit
May chance t'offend; be noble, and remit.
Then know (most noble Lord) my natiue place,
Is Corinth; of the selfe same blood and race,
VVith faire Queene Hellen, in whose princely Court
I had my birth, my breeding: To be short;
Thither not many daies agoe, there came,
Disguis'd and chang'd in all things but her name,
The rare Parthenia, so in shape transform'd,
In feature altred, and in face deform'd.
That (in my iudgement) all this region could
Not show a thing, more vgly to behold.
Long was it, ere her oft repeated vowes
And solemne protestations could rouze
My ouer dull beliefe; till, at the last,
Some passages, that heretofore had past
In secret, twixt Parthenia and me,
Gaue full assurance 't could be none but she;
Abundant welcome, (as a soule so sad
As mine, and hers, could giue or take) she had
So like we were in face, in speech, in growth,
That whosoeuer saw the one, saw both.
Yet were we not alike in our complexions
So much as in our loues, in our affections:
One sorrow seru'd vs both; and one reliefe
Could ease vs both, both partners in one griefe:
Much priuate time we ioyntly spent; and neither
Could finde a true content, if not together.
The strange occurrents of her dire misfortune
She oft discourst, which strongly did importune
A world of teares from these suffused eyes,
The true partakers of her miseries.
And as she spake, the accent of her story
Would alwaies point vpon th'eternall glory
Of your rare constancy, which whosoere
In after-ages shall presume to heare
And not admire, let him be proclaim'd
A rebell to all vertue, and (defam'd
In his best actions) let his leprous name
Or die dishonour'd, or suruiue with shame.
But ah! what simples can the hand of art
Finde out to stanch a louers bleeding heart?
Or what (alas) can humane skill apply
To turne the course of loues Phlebotomie?
Loue is a secret sire, inspir'd and blowne
By fate; which wanting hopes, to feed vpon,
Workes on the very soule, and does torment
The vniuerse of man: which being spent
And wasted in the Conflict, often shrinkes
Beneath the burthen; and, so conquerd sinkes;
All which, your poore Parthenia knew too well,
VVhose bed rid hopes, not hauing power to quell
Th'imperious fury of extreame despaire,
She languisht, and not able to contraire
The will of her victorious passion; cryed,
My dearest Argalus, farewell, and dyed:
My Lord, not long before her latest breath
Had freely paid the full arrears to death,
She cald me to her; In her dying hand
She strained mine, whilst in her eyes did stand
A showre of teares, vnwept; and in mine eare
She whisperd so, as all the roome might heare.
Sister (said she) (That title past betweene vs
Not vndeseru'd; for, all that ere had scene vs,
Mistooke vs so, at least) The latest sand
Of my spent hower-glasse is now at hand.
Those ioyes, which heauen appointed out for me,
I here bequeath to be possest by thee.
And when sweet death shall clarifie my thoughts,
And draine them from the dregs of all my faults,
Enioy them thou, wherewith (being so refinde
From all their drosse) full fraught thy constant minde
And let thy prosprous voyage be addrest
To the faire port of Argalus his brest,
As whom the eye of noone did ne'er discouer
So loyall, so renownd, so rare a louer:
Cast anchor there, for by this dying breath
Nothing can please my soule more, after death,
And make my ioyes more perfect, then to see
A mariage twixt my Argalus and thee;
This Ring the pledge betwixt his heart and mine,
As freely as he gaue me, I make thine:
With it, vnto thy faithfull heart I tender
My sacred vowes: with it, I here surrender
All right and title, that I had, or haue
In such a blessing, as I now must leaue;
Goe to him, and coniure him in my name
What loue he bare to me, the very same
That he transferre on thee: take no deniall.
VVhich granted, liue thou happy, constant, loyall.
And as she spake that word, her voice did alter;
Her breath grew cold, her speech began to faulter;
Faine would she vtter more, but her spent tongue
(Not able to goe further) faild, and clung
To her dry roofe. A while, as in a trance,
She lay; and, on a sudden, did aduance
Her forced language to the height, and cryed,
Farewell my dearest Argalus: and died.
And now, my Lord, although this office be
Vnsutable to my sex, and disagree
Too much perchance, with the too mean condition
Of my estate, more like to finde dirision,
Then satisfaction; yet, my gratious Lord,
Extr'ordinary merits doe afford
Extr'ordinary meanes, and can excuse
The breach of custome, or the common vse;
VVherefore, incited by the deare directions
Of dead Parthenia, by mine owne affections,
And by the exc'lence of your high desert,
I here present you with a faithfull heart,
A heart, to you deuoted; which assures
It selfe no happinesse, but in being yours.
Pardon my boldnesse. They that shall reproue
This, as a fault, reproue a fault in loue.
And why should custome doe our sex that wrong,
To take away the priuiledge of our tongue?
If nature giue vs freedome, to affect,
Why then should custome barre vs to detect
The gifts of nature? She that is in paine
Hath a sufficient warrant to complaine.
Then giue me leaue (my Lord) to reinforce
A virgins suit, (thinking ne're the worse
Of proferd loue) let my desiers thriue,
And freely 'accept what I so freely giue.
So ending; silence did enlarge her eare,
(Prepar'd with quicke attention) to heare
His gracious words: But Argalus whose passion
Had put his amorous Courtship out of fashion,
Return'd no answer, till his trickling eies
Had giuen an earnest of such obsequies,
As his adiourned sorrow had entended
To doe at full, and therefore recommended
To priuacy; True griefe abhorres the light,
Who grieues without a witnesse, grieues aright.
His passion thus suspended for a while,
(And yet not so, but that it did recoyle
Strong sighes) he wip'd his teare-bedewed eyes,
And turning to the Lady, thus replyes.

Madam,

Your no lesse rare, then noble fauours show
How much you merit, and how much I owe
Your great desert, which claimes more thankfulnesse,
Then such a dearth of language can expresse.
But most of all, I stand for euer bound
To that your goodnesse, my Parthenia found
In her distresse, for which respect (in duty
As I am tyed) poore Argalus shall repute ye
The flowre of noble courtesie, and proclaime
Your high deseruings. Lady; as I am,
A poore vnhappy wretch, the very scorne
Of all prosperitie, distrest, forlorne,
Vnworthy the least fauour you can giue;
I am your slaue, your Beadsman will I liue:
But for this weighty matter you propound,
Although I see how much it would redound
To my great happinesse, yet heauen knowes
(Most exc'llent Lady) I cannot dispose
Of my owne thoughts; nor haue I power to doe
What, else, you needed not perswade me to;
For trust me, were this heart of mine, mine owne,
To carue according to my pleasure, none
But you should challenge it; but while I liue
It is Parthenia's, and not mine to giue.
Whereto she thus replies: Most noble Sir,
Death, that hath made diuorse 'twixt you, and her,
Hath now returned you your heart againe,
Dissolu'd your vowes, dislink'd that sacred chaine,
Which tide your soules; nay more, her dying breath
Bequeath'd your heart to me; which by her death
Is growne a debt, that you are bound to pay;
Then know (my Lord) the longer you delay,
The longer time her soule is dispossest
(And by your meanes) of her desired rest.
Whereto the poore distressed Argalus
Pausing a while return'd his answere thus;

Incomparable Lady,

When first of all, by heauens diuine directions,
VVe lou'd, we lik'd, we linkt our deare affections,
And with the solemne power of an oath,
In presence of the better gods, we both
Exchang'd our hearts: in witnesse of which thing,
I gaue, and she receiued this deare Ring,
Which now you weare, by which she did resigne
Her heart to me; for which, I gaue her mine.
Now, Maddam, by a mutuall commerce,
My exchang'd heart is not my owne, but hers;
Which if it had the power to suruiue,
She being dead, what heart haue I to giue?
Or if that heart expired in her death,
VVhat heart had shee (poore Lady!) to bequeath?
Maddam, in her began my deare affection;
In her, it liu'd; in her, it had perfection;
In her, it ioy'd, although but ill befriended
By Fate; in her begun, in her, it ended.
If I had lou'd, if I had onely lou'd
Parthenia's beautie, I had soone beene mou'd
To moderate my sorrowes, and to place
That loue on you, that haue Parthenia's face,
But 'twas Parthenia's selfe I lou'd, and loue;
VVhich as no time hath power to remoue
From my fixt heart, so nothing can diminish,
No fortune can dissolue; no death can finish.
With mingled frownes and smiles, she thus replide,
Halfe in a rage, And must I be denide?
Are those the noble fauours I expected?
To finde disgrace? and goe away reiected?
Most noble Lady, if my words (said he)
Suit not your expectation, let them be
Imputed to the miserie of my state,
Which makes my lips to speake they know not what;
Mistake not him, that onely studies how,
VVith most aduantage still to honour you.
Alas! what ioyes I euer did receiue
From fortune's buried in Parthenia's graue,
VVith whom, ere long (nor are my hopes in vaine)
I hope to meet, and neuer part againe.
So said; with more then Eagle winged hast,
She flew into his bosome and embrac'd,
And her clos'd armes, his sorrow-wasted wast;
Surcharg'd with ioy, she wept, not hauing power
To speake. Haue you beheld an Aprill shower
Send downe her hasty bubbles, and then stops,
Then storms afresh, through whose transparent drops
The vnobscured lampe of heauen conuaies
The brighter glory of's refulgent rayes;
Euen so, within her blushing cheeks resided
A mixt aspect, 'twixt smiles and teares diuided,
So euen diuided; no man could say, whether
She wept, or smil'd, she smil'd, and wept together,
She held him fast, and like a fainting louer,
Whose passion now had license to discouer
Some words; Since then thy heart is not for me,
Take, take thy owne Parthenia (said she)
Cheare vp, my Argalus; these words of mine
Ate thy Parthenia's, as Parthenia's thine;
Beleeue it (Loue) these are no false alarmes;
Thou hast thine owne Parthenia in thine armes.
Like as a man, whose hourely wants implore
Each meales reliefe, trudging from doore to doore,
That heares no dialect from churlish lippes,
But newes of Beadles, and their torturing whips,
Takes vp (perchance) some vnexpected treasure,
New lost; departs; and, ioyfull beyond measure,
Is so transported, that he scarce beleeues
So great a truth; and what his eye perceiues
Not daring trust, but feares it is some vision,
Or flattering dreame, deseruing but derision.
So Argalus amazed at the newes,
Faine would beleeue, but daring not abuse
His easie faith too soone, for feare his heart
Should surfeit on conceit, he did impart
The truth vnto his fancie by degrees,
VVhere stopp'd by passion, falling on his knees,
He thus began; O you eternall powers
That haue the guidance of these soules of ours,
Who by your iust prerogatiue can doe
What is a sin for man to diue into;
Whose vndiscouer'd actions are too high
For thought; too deepe for man t'enquier, why?
Delude not these mine eyes with the false show
Of such a ioy, as I must neuer know
But in a dreame: Or if a dreame it be,
O let me neuer wake againe, to see
My selfe deceiu'd, that am ordain'd t'enjoy
A reall griefe, and but a dreaming ioy.
Much more he spake to this effect, which ended;
He blest himselfe, and (with a sigh) vnbended
His aking knees; and rising from the ground,
He cast his rolling eyes about, and found
The roome auoyded, and himselfe alone;
The doore halfe clos'd, and his Parthenia gone,
His new distemper'd passion grew extreame;
I knew, I knew, (said he) 'twas but a dreame;
A minutes ioy; a flash; a flattering bubble
Blowne by the fancy, full of pleasing trouble;
Which waking breakes; and empties into ayre,
And breathes into my soule a fresh despaire.
I knew 'twas nothing but a golden dreame,
Which (waking) makes my wants the more extreame;
I knew 'twas nothing but a dreaming ioy,
A blisse, which (waking) I should ne're enioy.
My deare Parthenia tell me, where, O where
Art thou that so delud'st mine eye, mine eare?
O that my wak'ned fancy had the might
To represent vnto my reall sight
What my deceiued eyes beheld, that!
Might surfeit with excesse of ioy, and die.
With that the faire Parthenia (whose desire
Was all this while, by fire, to draw out fire;
And by a well aduised course to smother
The fury of one passion with another)
Stept in, and said; Then Argalus take thou
Thy true Parthenia: Thou dream'st not now;
Behold this Ring, whose Motto does impart
The constancy of our diuided heart:
Behold these eyes, that for thy sake haue vented
A world of teares, vnpittied, vnlamented:
Behold the face; that had of late the power
To curse all beauty; yet it selfe, secure:
Witnesse that Tapour, whose prophetick snuffe
VVas outed and reuiued with one puffe:
And that my words may whet thy dull beliefe,
'Twas I, that roard beneath the scourge of griefe,
VVhen thou did'st curse the Darknesse, for concealing
My face; and then the Tapour, for revealing
So foule a face; 'Twas I, that, ouercome
VVith violent despaire, stood deafe and dumbe
To all thy vrg'd perswasions. It was I,
That, in thy absence, did resolue to die
A wandring pilgrime, trusting to be led
By fortune, to my death; and therefore fled:
But see; the powers aboue can worke their ends,
In spight of mortals: and what man intends,
The heauens dispose, and order the euent:
For when my thoughts were desperately bent
To mine owne ruine, I was led by fate
(Through dangers, now too tedious to relate)
To faire Queene Hellens court, not knowing whither
My vnaduised steps were guided. Thither
My Genius brought me; where, vnknowne to any,
I mournd in silence; though obseru'd by many,
Relieu'd by none. At length, they did acquaint
The faire Queene Hellen with my strange complaint,
Whose noble heart did truly sympathize
With mine, partaking in my miseries:
Who, fill'd with pitty, strongly did importune
The wofull cause of my disastrous fortune,
And neuer rested, till she did inforce
These lips t'acquaint her with the whole discourse.
VVhich done, her gratious pleasure did command
Her owne Physitian, to whose skilfull hand
She left my foule disease; who in the space
Of twice ten dayes, restor'd me to this face:
The cure perfected, straight she sent about
(Without my knowledge) to enquier out
That party, for whose sake I was contented
T'endure such griefe with patience, vnrepented.
Hoping (since by her meanes, and help of Art)
My face was cur'd) euen so to cure my heart.
But when the welcome messenger return'd
Thy place of boad, ô how my spirits burnd
To kisse her hands, and so to leaue the Court;
But she (whose fauours did transcend report
As much, as they exceeded my desert)
Detain'd me for a while, as loath to part
VVith her poore handmaid; till at last, perpending
A louers haste, and freely apprehending
So iust a cause of speed, she soone befriended
My best desiers, and sent me thus attended,
VVhere (vnder a false maske) I laid this plot,
To see how soone my Argalus had forgot
His dead Parthenia, but my blessed eare
Hath heard, what few or none must hope to heare:
Now farewell sorrow, and let old despaire
Goe seeke new brests: let mischiefe neuer dare
Attempt our hearts: let Argalus inioy
His true Parthenia; let Parthenia's ioy
Reuiue in him: let each be blest in eyther,
And blest be heauen, that brought vs both together.
With that, the well-nigh broken hearted louer,
Rauisht with ouer-ioy, did thus discouer
His long pent words: And doe these eyes once more
Behold what their extreame despaire gaue o're
To hope for? Doe these wretched eyes attaine
The happinesse, to see this face againe?
And is there so much happinesse yet left
For a broke heart, a heart that was bereft
Of power t'enioy, what heauen had power to giue?
Breathes my Parthenia? Does Parthenia liue?
Who euer saw the Septentrionall stone,
By hidden power, (a power as yet unknowne
To our confinde and darkned reason) draw
The neighb'ring steele; which, by the mutuall law
Of natures secret working, striues as much
To be attracted, till they ioyne and touch;
Euen so these greedy Louers meet, and charmes
Each other strongly in each others armes;
Euen so they meet; and with vnbounded measure
Of true content, and time beguiling pleasure,
Enioy each other with a world of kisses,
Sealing the patent of true worldly blisses;
Where for a while I leaue them to receiue,
What pleasures new met louers vse to haue.
Readers forbeare; and let no wanton eye
Abuse our Sceane: Let not the stander by
Corrupt our lines, or make an obsceane glosse
Vpon our sober Text, and mixe his drosse
With our refined gold, extracting sower
From sweet, and poyson from so faire a flower.
Correct your wandring thoughts, and doe not feare
To thinke the best: Here is no Tarquine here;
No lustfull, no insatiate Messaline,
Who thought it gaine sufficient to resigne
An age of honour, for a night of pleasure;
Whose strength t'endure lust, was the iust measure
Of her adust desire: Yee need not feare
Our priuate Louers, who esteeme lesse deare
Their liues then honours, daring not to doe,
But what vnsham'd the Sun may pry into.
If any itching eares desire to know,
What seret conf'rence past betwixt these two;
To them my Muse thus answers; When your case
Shall proue the like, she wils you to embrace
True honour, as these noble louers did,
And you shall know; Till then you are forbid
To enquire further: Onely this she pleases
To let you vnderstand, that loues diseases
Being throughly cured, by their meeting, they
Haue once againe prefixt a Mariage day;
Which that it might succeed with fairer fortune,
Readers, she moues your pleasures, to importune
The better gods, that they would please t'appay
Their griefes with ioy, and smile vpon that Day.