University of Virginia Library

You heard some few leaves past Alexis had
A Dream that troubled him, and made him sad.
Now being come home it 'gan revive a fresh
Within his memory, and much oppress
The pensive King: Sylvanus, who you heard
Was good at Divinations, had steer'd
His course, as fate would have him, then to Court,
Belov'd and reverenc'd of the nobler sort,
And Sainted by the vulgar: that that brought
The old man thither, was, for that he thought
To meet Anaxus there; but he you heard
Was otherways employ'd: the Nobles chear'd
Their love-sick King with the welcome report
Of old Sylvanus coming to the Court;
For he had heard great talk of him before,
And now thought long to see him, and the more
Because he hop'd to learn from his try'd arr,
What his Dream meant, that so disturb'd his heart.
Sylvanus soon was sent for, and soon came,
At his first greeting he began to blame
Th'amorous King for giving way to grief
Upon so slight occasion, but relief
Was rather needful now than admonition
That came too late, his mind lack'd a Physician,
And healing comforts were to be apply'd
Unto his Wounds before they mortifi'd.
Sylvanus therefore wish'd him to disclose
The troublous Dream he had, and to repose
His trust in that strong pow'r that only could
Discover hidden secrets, and unfold
The riddle of a Dream, and that his skill
Was but inspir'd by that great power, whose will
By weakest means is oftentimes made known.
Methought (Alexis said) I was alone
By the Sea side noting the prouder Waves,
How Mountain-like they swell, and with loud braves
Threaten the bounden Shore; when from the Main
I see a Turtle rise, the Wings and Train
Well-nigh deplum'd, and making piteous moan,
And by a mark I guess'd it was mine own;
And flying tow'rd me, suddenly a Kite
Swoopt at the Bird, and in her feeble flight
Soon seiz'd upon her, crying, as I thought,
To me for help: no sooner was she caught,
When as an Eagle seeking after prey,
Flew tow'rd the main Land from the Isles this way,
Aud spying of the Kite, the kingly Fowl
Seiz'd on her strait; the Turtle pretty soul
Was by this means set free, and faintly gate
Upon the Eagles back, ordain'd by fate
To be preserv'd: full glad was I to see
Her so escape; but the Eagle suddenly
Soaring aloft to Seaward, took her flight,
And in a moment both were out of sight,
And left me betwixt joy and sorrow; sad
For the Birds flight, yet for her freedom glad.
Then, to my thinking, I espy'd a Swain,
Running affrighted tow'rd me ore the Plain.
Upon his wrist methought a Turtle sate,
Not much unlike th'other mourning for's Mate:
Only this difference was; upon her head
She had a tuft of Feathers blue and red,
In fashion of a Crown; it did me good
To see how proudly the poor Turtle stood
Pruning her self, as if she scorn'd her thrall.
If harmless Doves can scorn that have no Gall.
I was so much in love with the poor Bird,
I wish'd it mine, methought the Swain I heard
Cry out for help to me: with that I spy'd
A Lion running after him glare-ey'd,
And full of rage; fear made the Swain let go
The lovely Turtle to escape his foe.
The Bird no sooner loose, made to the Beast,
And in his curled Locks plats out a Nest.
The Beast not minding any other prey
Save what he had, ran bellowing away,
As over-joy'd; and as methought I strove
To follow him I wak'd, and all did prove
But a deluding Dream; yet such a one
As nightly troubles me to think upon.
The pow'rs above direct thee to unfold
The myst'ry of it; 'twas no sooner told,
When old Sylvanus with a chearful smile,
Answer'd the King in a familiar stile.
You are in love, dread Souereign, and with two,
One will not serve your turn, look what you do,
You will go near to lose them both; but fate
At length will give you one to be your mate.
She that loves you, you must not love as Wife,
And she that loves another as her life
Shall be th' Arcadian Queen; take comfort then,
The two lost Turtles you will find agen.
Thus much my Art doth tell me, more than this
I dare not let you know: my counsel is
You would with patience note the working fates,
That Joy proves best that's bought at dearest rates.
He would not name Anaxus, tho he knew
He should make one in what was to ensue;
And would not hasten sorrow sooner on him,
Than he himself would after pull upon him.
The King was somewhat satisfied with what
Sylvanus told him; and subscrib'd to fate.
He puts on chearful looks, and to his Lords
No little comfort by his health affords.
He sits in Council, and recals those Peers
That liv'd conceal'd in Exile many years.
'Mongst whom was Rhotus, Memnon, and some others;
And tho with cunning his desire he smothers,
Yet did he not forget fair Florimel,
Of whom my stragling Muse is now to tell.
Memnon, you heard, was going to his Child,
When the King left him with a heart e're fill'd
With Joy and Hopes: some marks he had espy'd
About Alexis, which so fortified
His strong conjecture, that he was the man
He ever took him for, thar he began
With youthful chearfulness to chide his Age,
That stole so soon upon him with presage,
Sweetning his saucy sorrows that had sowr'd
Lifes blessing to him; many tears he showr'd
With thought of what had pass'd, and tho not sure
Alexis was his Son, those thoughts did cure,
Or at the least wise eas'd his troubled mind.
The good old man no sooner saw his Child,
And bless'd her for her Duty, when he smil'd
At what he was to say, and glad she was
To see her Sire so chearful; to let pass
The long discourse between them: 'twas his will
She should prepare for Court, chiding her still
For mentioning Anaxus; nor did he
Give her long time to think on, what might be
The cause that mov'd her Father to such haste.
But by the way he had given her a taste
Of what might follow: three days were assign'd
Her for to get things ready; 'twas his mind
It should be so, and Duty must obey:
When Fathers bid, 'tis sin to say them nay.
Well then he meant to send for her, till when
He leaves her to her thoughts, and home agen
The joyful old man wends; that very night
Before the day prefix'd, the fates to spight
Secure Alexis, sent Anaxus thither,
And brought his long-sought Love and him together.
You know we left him with old Eubolus,
A wisely discreet man and studious.
In Liberal Arts well seen, and State Affairs,
Yet liv'd retir'd to shun the weight of cares.
That greatness fondly sues for: All that night
Was spent in good discourse too long to write,
He told the Prince the story of the War,
And Pourtray'd out Alexis character
So to the life, that he was fir'd to see
The man he spake of, and disguised he
Intended in his thoughts next day to prove
The truth of what he heard: but cruel Jove
That loves to tyrannize for pleasure, stay'd
His purposed Journey, and unawares betray'd
Anaxus to an ambush of sad woes
That set on him, when he least dream'd of Foes.
Amongst the various discourse that pass'd
Between these two, it fortuned at last
Eubolus fell in talk of Florimel,
And of her Father Memnon, who full well
He knew to be a Lemnian, howsoe're
He gave it out for otherwise for fear
Of double-ey'd suspicion to the Prince.
He set his Virtues forth, and how long since
He left his native Soil; the Prince conceiv'd
Good hope of what he aim'd at, and believ'd
By all conjectures that this Memnon might
Be banish'd Codrus, whom he meant to right,
If ever he was King. Eubolus went on
In praises of him and of Florimel.
Friend (quoth the Prince Anaxus) canst thou tell
Where this fair Virgin is? yes, he reply'd,
I can and will, 'tis by yon River side,
Where yonder tuft of Trees stands, day then brake,
And he might well discern it; for loves sake,
Answer'd Anaxus, may one see this Maid,
That merits all these praises; yes, he said,
But thro a grate, no man must enter in
Within the Cloyster, that they hold a sin:
Yet, she hath liberty some time to go
To see her Father, none but she hath so.
What e're the matter is, unless when all
Arm'd with their Bows go to some Festival
Upon a noted Holiday, and then
These Female Army, out and home agen
In comely order marcheth: th'other day
It was my luck to see her, when this way
The King came from the Wars, she with her Train,
(For she seem'd Captain) met him on this Plain.
Her coming thither, as I heard her say,
Was for her lifes preserving to repay
A debt of thanks she ow'd him: many words
Did pass between them, and before the Lords
Most graciously he kiss'd her, and did woe
Her for a longer stay; but she in scorn,
Or finding him too am'rous, blew her Horn,
To call her Troop together; all like Roes
Ran swiftly tow'rd their Cloyster, she is fair,
And you know Beauty is a tempting snare.
Hers is no common one, her very eye
That sparkled with a kind of Majesty,
Might without wonder captivate a King;
But this is too too high a strain to sing.
It was enough that Eubolus had said,
If not too much, to him that throughly weigh'd
Each circumstance a kind of jealous fire
Stole to his heart, and spurr'd on his desire
To see and prove her; taking Pen and Ink
He writ his mind, foreseeing (as I think)
She might not come alone unto the Grate,
And so could not so privately relate
(If she should prove Clarinda) his intent.
So for an hour in vain to sleep he went,
But restless thoughts did keep him still awake,
Still musing on the words the old man spake.
Well, Sun being up, with thanks he takes his leave
Of his kind Host, that did not once perceive
Him to be troubled: with such cunning he
Dissembled what had mov'd him, jealousie.
His man and he toward the Cloyster go,
Casting in's mind what he were best to do
To win a sight of her: his nimble Brain
Soon hatch'd a polity, that prov'd not vain.
The Cloyster outward Gate was newly ope,
When he came there; and now 'twixt fear and hope
He boldly enters the base Court, and knocks
At th'inner Gate fast shut with divers Locks:
At length one came, the Portress, as I guess,
For she had many Keys, her stranger dress
Much took Anaxus, who ne're saw till then
Women attir'd so prettily like men.
In courteous wise she ask'd him what he would?
Fair Dame, said he, I have been often told
(By one I make no question) whom you know,
Old Memnon, (to whose tender care I owe
For my good breeding) that within this place
I have a Kinswoman, that lately was
Admitted for a Holy Sister here,
My Uncle Memnon's Daughter; once a year
As Duty binds me, I do visit him,
And in my Journey homeward at this time
A Kinsmans love prompted me to bestow
A visit on my Cousin; who I know
Will not disdain to own me: Gentle Sir,
Answer'd the man-like Maid, is it to her
Youl'd pay your loving tender? Yes, said he,
To Florimel if in this place she be?
And so my Uncle told me. Yes replied
The grave Virago, she is here: Yet, Sir,
You must content your self to speak with her
Thorough this Grate; her Father comes not in,
And by our Laws it is esteem'd a sin
To interchange ought else, save words with men.
I ask no more, the Prince reply'd agen.
That cannot be deny'd, said she, stay here
With patience a while, and do not fear
But you shall see her; so away she went,
Leaving the glad Anaxus to invent
Excuses for his boldness, if by hap
She might not prove Clarinda, and intrap
Him in a lye: Clarinda came at last
With all her Train, who as along she pass'd
Thorough the inward Court, did make a lane,
Op'ning their ranks, and closing them again.
As she went forward with obsequious gesture,
Doing their reverence; her upward Vesture
Was of blue Silk, glistering with Stars of Gold
Girt to her Waste, by Serpents that enfold,
And wrap themselves together, so well wrought,
And fashion'd to the life, one would have thought
They had been real. Underneath she wore
A Coat of Silver Tinsel, short before,
And fring'd about with Gold white Buskins hide
The naked of her Leg, they were loose ty'd
With Azure Ribbands, on whose knots were seen
Most costly Gemms, fit only for a Queen.
Her Hair bound up like to a Coronet,
With Diamonds, Rubies, and rich Saphyrs set;
And on the top a Silver Crescent plac'd,
And all the Lustre by such Beauty grac'd,
As her reflection made them seem more fair,
One would have thought Diana's self were there,
For in her hand a Silver Bow she held,
And at her back there hung a Quiver fill'd
With Turtle-feather'd Arrows: thus attir'd,
She makes towards Anaxus, who was fir'd
To hear this Goddess speak; when they came near,
Both star'd upon each other, as if fear
Or wonder had surpriz'd them; for a while
Neither could speak, at length with a sweet smile
Grac'd with a comely blush, she thus began.
Good morrow Cousin, are not you the man
That I should speak with? I may be deceiv'd;
Are not you kin to Memnon? I believ'd
My Maid that told me so; he is my Father.
If you have ought to say to me, fair Soul,
Answer'd Anaxus; many doubts controul
My willingness to answer; pardon me,
Divinest Creature, if my answer be
Somewhat impertinent; read here my mind,
I am Anaxus, and I fain would find
A chast Clarinda here: she was about
To call the Port'ress to have let her out.
But wisely she call'd back her thought for fear
Her Virgin Troop might see, or over-hear
What pass'd between them, doubts did rise
Within her, whether she might trust her eyes.
It was Anaxus voice, she knew that well,
But by his disguis'd look she could not tell
Whether 'twere he or no; all that she said
Was, I may prove Clarinda too; and pray'd
Him stay a little, till her short return
Gave him a better welcom; all her Train
Thought she had fetch'd some Jewel for the Swain.
And as they were commanded, kept their station
Till her return. The Prince with expectation
Feeds his faint hopes; she was not long from thence,
And in a Letter pleads her innocence,
Which he mistrusted; now she could not speak
But wept her thoughts, for fear her heart should break.
And casting o're a Vail to hide her tears,
She bid farewel, and leaves him to his fears.
With that the Gate was shut: Anaxus reads,
And with judicious care each sentence heeds;
And now he knew't was she whom he so long
Had sought for; now he thinks upon the wrong
His rash mistruct had done her, 'twas her will,
What e're he thought of her, to love him still:
Nor could th' Arcadian Crown tempt her to break
Her promise with Anaxus: Now to seek
For an excuse to gild o're this offence;
Yet this did somewhat chear him, two hours thence
He was enjoyn'd to come unto a Bower
That over-look'd the Wall; and at his hour
Anaxus came; there she had often spent
One hour or two each day alone, to vent
Her private griefs: she came the sooner then
To meet Anaxus, and to talk agen
With him, whom yet her fears mis-gave her, might
Be some disguised Cheat: at the first sight
She frown'd upon him, and with angry look,
A Title that but ill became the Book
Wherein her milder thoughts were writ: Are you
(Said she) Anaxus? these loose lines do show
Rather you are some counterfeit; set on
By some to tempt my honor, here are none
That love the world so well to sell her Fame,
Or violate her yet unspotted Name,
To meet a Kings Embraces, tho a Crown,
And that the richest Fortune can stake down
Should be the hire; I tell thee sawcy Swain,
Whoever sent thee; I so much disdain
To yield to what these looser lines import,
That rather than I will be drawn to Court
To be Alexis Whore; nay, or his Wife,
I have a thousand ways to let out life.
But why do'st thou abuse Anaxus so?
To make him Pander to my overthrow:
Know'st thou the man thou wrong'st; uncivil Swain?
Thou hast my Answer, carry back disdain.
With that she was about to fling away,
When he recall'd her; loth to go away,
What e're she seem'd: before sh'had turn'd about
He pull'd off his false Hair, and cur'd her doubt.
My dearest Florimel, said he, and wept:
My sweet Clarinda; and hath Heaven kept
Thee yet alive to recompence my love;
My yet unchang'd affection, that can move
But in one Sphere in thee and thee alone,
Forgive me, my Clarinda, what is done
Was but to try thee, and when thou shalt know
The reason why I did so; and what woe
My love to thee hath made me willingly
To undergo: thou wilt confess that I
Deserve Clarinda's love: poor Florimel
Would fain have sooner answer'd; but tears fell
In such abundance that her words were drown'd
Ev'n in their birth; at length her passions found
Some little vent to breath out this reply:
O my Anaxus, if it be no sin
To call you mine, methinks I now begin
To breath new life, for I am but your creature,
Sorrow had kill'd what I receiv'd from nature
Before I see you; tho this piece of Clay
My body seem'd to move, until this day
It did not truly live: my Heart you had,
And, that you pleas'd to have it, I was glad:
Yet, till you brought it home, the life I led,
If it were any, was but nourished
By th'warmth I had from yours, which I still cherish'd
With some faint hopes, or else I quite had perish'd.
But time steals on, and I have much to say,
Take it in brief, for I'd be loth my stay
Above my usual hour should breed suspect
In my chaste Sisterhood: bless'd pow'rs direct
Me what to do; my soul's in such a strait
And labyrinth of doubts and fears that wait
Upon my weakness, that I know no way
How to wade out: to morrow is the day,
Th'unwelcom day when I must to the Court,
For what intent I know not; to be short,
I would not go, nor dare I here to stay,
The King so wills it: yet should I obey
It might perhaps undo me; besides this,
My Father so commands it, and it is
A well becoming duty in a child
To stoop unto his will: yet to be stil'd,
For doing what he bids me, a loose Dame,
And cause report to question my chaste Fame;
'Twere better disobey; a Father's will
Binds like a law, in goodness, not in ill.
I hope I sin not, that so ill conceive
Of th'end I'm sent for; and, can I believe
That honor's aim'd at in't? Court-Favors shine
Seldom on mean ones, but for some design.
Are not these fears to startle weak-built Women,
A Virgin Child of Virtue should she summon
Her best and stout'st resolves; with that, in tears
And sighs, she speaks the remnant of her fears,
And sinks beneath their weight; Anaxus soon
Caught hold of her, so that she fell not down,
And shaking of her, pluck'd her to the Grate
And with a Kiss reviv'd her; 'twas now late,
The Cloyster Bell had summon'd all to bed,
And she was missing, little more she said,
Save help me my Anaxus, keep the Jewel,
My love once gave thee: swift time was so cruel
He could not answer; for her Virgin Train
Flock'd to the Lodg, and she must back again.
She had enjoyn'd him silence, and to speak
Anaxus durst not, tho his heart should break:
As it was more than full of care and grief
For his Clarinda, thirsting for relief.
And in his looks one might have read his mind,
How apt it was t'afford it, still sh'enjoyn'd
Him not to speak; such was her wary fears
To be discovered; kisses mix'd with tears
Was their best Oratory: then they part,
Yet turn agen t'exchange each others heart.
Something was still forgot; it is loves use
In what chaste thoughts forbid to find excuse.
Her Virgins knock, in vain she wipes her eyes
To hide her passions, that still higher rise.
She whispers in his ear; think on tomorrow,
They faintly bid farewel, both full of sorrow.
The window shuts, and with a fained cheer
Clarinda wends unto her Cloyster, where
A while we'l leave her to discourse with fear.