Parthenophil and Parthenophe :: :: University of Virginia Library

Then, first with lockes disheueled, and bare,
Straite guirded, in a chearefull calmie night:
Hauing a fier made of greene Cypresse woode,
And with male franckincense on alter kindled
I call on threefould Hecate with teares,
And here (with loude voyce) inuocate the furies:

For their assistance, to me with their furies:
Whilst snowye steedes in coach bright Phoebe bare.
Ay me Parthenophe smiles at my teares,
I neither take my rest by day, or night:
Her cruell loues in me such heate haue kindled.
Hence goate and bring her to me raging woode:

Hecate tell which way she comes through the woode.
This wine aboute this aulter, to the furies
I sprinkle, whiles the Cypresse bowes be kindled,
This brimstone earth within her bowelles bare,
And this blew incense sacred to the night.
This hand (perforce) from this bay this braunche teares.

So be she brought which pittied not my teares.
And as it burneth with the Cypresse woode
So burne she with desier by day and night.
You goddes of vengance, and auenge-full furies
Reuenge, to whom I bende on my knees bare.
Hence goate, and bring her with loues outrage kindled.

Hecate make signes if she with loue come kindled.
Thinke on my passions Hec'ate, and my teares:
This Rosemariene (whose braunche she cheefely bare
And loued best) I cut both barke and woode,
Broke with this brasen Axe, and in loues furies

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I treade on it, reioycing in this night:

And saying, let her her feele such woundes this night.
About this alter, and rich incense kindled
This lace and Veruine to loues bitter furies
I binde, and sirewe, and with sadde sighes and teares
About I beare her Image raging woode.
Hence goate and bring her from her bedding bare:

Hecate reueale if she like passions bare.
I knitte three true loue knottes (this is loues night)
Of three discolour'd silkes, to make her woode,
But she scornes Venus till her loues be kindled,
And till she finde the greefe of fighes and teares:
Sweet Queene of loues for mine vnpittied furies,

A like torment her with such scaulding furies:
And this turtle (when the losse she bare
Of her deare make) in her kinde did shed teares,
And mourning did seeke him all day, and night:
Let such lament in her for me be kindled,
And mourne she still, till she runne raging woode:

Hence goate and bring her to me raging woode.
These letter's, and these verses to the furries
(Which she did write) all in this flame be kindled:
Me (with these papers) in vayne hope she bare
That she to day would turne mine hopelesse night,
These as I rent, and burne, so furie teares.

Her hardned hart, which pittied not my teares.
The winde shaked trees make murmure in the woode,
The waters roare at this thrise sacred night,
The windes come whisking still to note her furies:
Trees, woodes, and windes, a part in my plaintes bare,
And knew my woes, now ioy to see her kindled:

See whence she comes with loues enrag'd and kindled!

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The pitchye cloudes (in droppes) send downe there teares,
Owles scritche, Dogges barke to see her carried bare,
Wolues yowle, and cry: Bulles bellow through the wood,
Rauens croape, now, now, I feele loues fiercest furies:
See'ste thou that blacke goate, brought this silent night

Through emptie cloudes by 'th daughters of the night?
See how on him she fittes, with loue rage kindled,
Hether perforce brought with auenge-full furies?
Now I waxe drousie, now cease all my teares,
Whilst I take rest and slumber neare this woode:
Ah me! Parthenophe naked and bare,

Come blessed goate, that my sweet Lady bare:
Where hast thou beene (Parthenophe) this night?
What could? sleepe by this fier of Cypresse woode
Which I much longing for thy sake haue kindled,
Weepe not, come loues and wipe away her teares:
At length yet, wilt thou take away my furies?

Ay me, embrace me, see those ouglye furies.
Come to my bed, least they behold thee bare
And beare thee hence the will not pittie teares,
And these still dwell in euerlasting night:
Ah loues, sweet loue, sweet fiers for vs hath kindled,
But not inflam'd, with franckinsense, or woode,

The furies, they shall hence into the woode,
Whiles Cupid shall make calmer his hot furies,
And stand appeased at our fier's kindled.
Ioyne ioyne (Parthenophe) thy selfe vnbare,
None can perceiue vs in the silent night,
Now will I cease from sighes, lamentes, and teares,

And cease (Parthenophe) sweet cease thy teares:
Beare golden Apples thornes in euery woode,
Ioyne heauens, for we conioyne this heauenly night:

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Let Alder trees beare Apricockes (dye furies)
And Thistles Peares, which prickles lately bare.
Now both in one with equall flame be kindled:

Dye magicke bowes, now dye, which late were kindled:
Here is mine heauen: loues droppe in steede of teares.
It ioynes, it ioynes, ah both embracing bare.
Let Nettles bring forth Roses in each woode,
Last euer verdant woodes: hence former furies:
Oh dye, liue, ioye: what? last continuall night,

Sleepe Phoebus still with Thetis: rule still night.
I melt in loue, loues marrow-flame is kindled:
Here will I be consum'd in loues sweet furies.
I melt, I melt, watche Cupid my loue-teares:
If these be furies, oh let me be woode!
If all the fierie element I bare

Tis now acquitted: cease your former teares,
For as she once with rage my bodie kindled,
So in hers am I buried this night.