University of Virginia Library

The .x. Epistle.

Ariadne to Theseus.

More friendly haue I founde
than thee the brutish kinde:
A worser garde than thou hast beene
I deeme I mought not finde.
Theseus: the lynes thou vewste
from that selfe shore I wright:
From whence (forsaking me by meane
of sayle) thou tookste thy flight.
Where mee, my sleepe, and thou,
(a wofull wight) betrayde:
Thou (out alas) that chose thy stemme
when I to sleepe was layde.
It was the time when soyle
with foggie Deaw was dight
But lately falne: and shrowded Foules
in shadie bushes shright.
Where I were waking then
or slumbring I wote nere:
But out I flong my fist to feele
where Theseus were there.
Was none such. Backe I drewe
my hande: and out againe
I rousde mine armes about the bed,
but (oh) it was in vaine.
The feare all sleepe exilde,
I rose in gastly dred:
And from my widdowish Couch I fell
and foule forsaken bed.
Forthwith with ruthlesse handes,
I strake my bared brest:
And rent my locks, that hoong (as I
abrayde from sleepe) vndrest.
The Moone gaue light I lookte
to vewe the countrie rounde:
But saue the stronde, and stonie rudge,
was nothing to be founde.
Now hither, thither then
I ranne and too and fro
I raungde, the sande did lode my legges
I had much worke to go.
Thus whilste about the shore
on Theseus name I crie:
The hollow rocks at erie call
and cleaping did replie.
How oft I callde, the place
so often Theseus namde:
As though it would a wofull wight
hir ayde and succour framde.
There was a mount, whereon
fewe trees aloft did growe:
Which now is woxe a hanging rocke
yfret with waues that flowe.
Whereto I clambe, the heart
my limmes doth strengthen so:
As rounde about the surging seas
my wandring eyes I throw.
From thence (for tho the windes
on me did vse their powre)
I saw how with a Southren gale
thy strouting sayles did scowre.
I saw it: or at least
for that I so surmisde,
More colde I woxe than yse, and dead-
ly pangues my hart surprisde.
Whome long to languish griefe
would not permit as than:
Abrayde from traunce, vpryste to call
on Theseus I began.
Why? whither fleest? (quoth I)
retire vnthriftie wight:
Do turne thy Barck that lacks his loade,
and is not throughly fright.
Looke what my voyce might not
my plangor did supplie:
And with my wordes I medled strokes,
eche blowe ensude a crie.
Put case thou didst not heare:
yet mightst thou see it plaine:
My handes displayde gaue siker signes
and tokens of my paine.
Upon a pole I hoong
a flittering Kerchiffe white:
That might reuoke to minde, that thou
hadst mee forgotten quite.
At length I lost thy sight
then teares gan flush apace:
My cheekes long earst were woxen wan
and flecked was my face.
What should mine eyes haue done
but waylde my wofull plight?
When that they saw they might no more
haue Theseus ship in sight?
Or I with tresses then
depending sole did runne,
Incited by the Ogigian God
as doth the drowsie Nunne:
Or casting eye to sea
did sit vpon a stone,
My selfe as much a rocke as was
the seate I sate vpon.
Oft times to bed that had
receiude vs both I hast:
The bed which could not yeelde againe
the man that thence was past.
And as (I might) for thee
thy steps I did imbrace:
And eke the couch not throughly colde
where thou thy corps didst place.
I laie me downe, when teares
my deadly cheekes distaine:
And crie, reyeelde account of two
that hast receyued twaine.
Since hither both we came,
why part we not yfeare?
Thou trayterous couch, the chiefest part
make shewe where is it? where?
What might I doe? or sole
why whither should I flee?
Within this Ile ne workes of men
nor toyles of Oxen bee.
The Sea enuirons rounde
the Lande on euery side:
No shipman here, nor Hulck that dares
on perillous Sandes to ride.
Put case I had both Mates
and windes with wished saile:
My Syre debarres me to returne,
what shall the rest preuaile?
Though in a blissefull Barck
through calmed Seas I passe:
Though Æole pease the windes, I shall
be banisht naythelasse.
Not Crete, that fostred Ioue
is leefull for to see:
Wherein of great renoumed fame
a hundreth Cities bee,
For not alone the soyle
where Minos beares the sway,
But eke my Father by my fact
I fowly did betray.
When least thou vanquisht, shouldst
in Laborinth haue dide,
I gaue thee twist thy skillesse foote
and twine thy steppes to guide,
When thou me spakste (by these
my present perills I
Protest that thou shalt aye be mine
till both of vs doe die.)
As yet we both doe liue
and I am not thy Make,
(If women may be saide to liue
whom periurde men forsake)
If with the Mace, that reft
my brother monsters breath,
Thou me hadst slaine, thy Hest had beene
accomplisht by my death.
Not now to minde alone
my future happes I call,
Which must ensue: but such as to
forsaken wightes doe fall.
Unto my troubled thought
a thousande kindes of death
Resort, which lesse would grieue my ghost,
than this my lingred breath.
Now feare I shagheard Woolues
from euery coast that come:
With gnashing teeth, and ramping pawes
my griefull guttes to noome.
Perhaps the sauage soyle
the Lyon browne doth breede:
Who wottes the ruthlesse Tygres where
this yrkesome yle doth feede?
To that, the Seas are sayde
great Whales to cast on lande:
And who (if I with sworde were wrongde)
by mee would freendly stande?
Oh let me not be bound
as Uassell caught in bande:
Ne waste the day at turne and twist,
or carde with captiue hande:
That Minos haue to Sire
and Pasiphae to Dame:
And (that I chiefly fixe in thought)
thy pacted spouse that am.
When I suruey the Seas,
the lande, or stonie fleate:
The grounde doth manace many things,
the waters eke doth threate.
Then onely skies were left
the formes of Gods I feare:
A pray in wilde Desart forlorne
for hungrie beastes to teare.
Though men possesse the spoyle
I giue no trust at all:
For wronged once, the forraines fayth
into suspect I call.
O would Androgeus liude,
nor Athens bought so deare
His doolefull death, by yeelding such
a tribute by the yeare.
Ne thou with knottie Mace
hadst done to death the beast
That was a man for vpper partes,
a Bullock for the reast.
O that I ne had giuen
to thee the twisted Clewe,
Whereby the darksome denne to scape,
when thou the Monster slewe.
That thou art Victor aye
I nothing muse perdie:
Nor that thou madste the vgly beast
of Creta so to die.
Thy steelie heart could not
be pierst with hurtfull horne
Thy breast was garded well, thereon
though were none armour borne.
Thou thither flints conueydst,
and Adamant didst beare:
And that which flints doth farre surmount,
a Theseus hadst thou there.
O cruell sleepes, why did
you tho my lymmes detaine?
I should as then with ruthlesse death
but once for all beene slaine.
Ye windes were spitefull eke
and readie (oh) to soone;
Yee puffing blastes to force my teares
yee haue your deuour doone.
The hande was cruell that
my brother and mee hath slaine:
And fayth ygraunted mee, that was
a name requirde in vaine.
Sleepe, winde, and gaged troth
did all at once coniure:
One sielie Nymph by triple cause
was guilde without recure.
Oh that my mothers teares
I dying shall not see:
Nor any for to close mine eyes
with friendly fist will bee.
My haplesse ghost to straunge
and vncouth skyes will flye:
No louing hande will noynt my limmes
and carkasse when I dye.
But for my bones vngraude
the Seafoule fowle will striue:
A worthy Sepulture for one
that well deserude aliue.
To Athens thou wilt passe,
where in the Citie when
Thou art receyude, and plaste in pride
amids thy Countrie men:
And shalt declare the death
of dubble shaped beast:
And stonie lodge to doubtfull wayes
that doth so often wreast:
Display how me forlorne
thou leftst in Desart tho,
I must not be forgot, ne seeme
to spoyle thy title so.
Not Ægeus was my sire,
Nor Æthra gaue the brest:
Of rocks and waues that thou were bred
may easily be gest.
From ship top would thou mightst
mee miser wight haue vewde:
My grisly picture would haue forst
thy stonie heart t'haue rewde.
Now not with eye beholde
but in thy minde suruay,
Mee clinging to the beaten rocke
which makes the waues to stay.
See how my locks doe hang
in wailefull mourning moode:
Beholde my clothes with teares as moyst
as they were washt in flood.
My carkas quakes as corne
enforst with Boreas might:
My trembling fist the letters marres
as I my lynes doe wright.
By no desert of mine
(for that it framde awrie)
I sue to thee: let not my factes
deserue such thanks perdie:
Ne griefull paynes procure,
for though thy liuely breath
I ne did saue: yet hast thou no
iust cause to hast my death.
These fainting fistes, with bea-
ting of my breast a good,
I (wofull wretch) extende to thee
through ouerwandring flood.
These locks (which yet are left)
in doolefull wise I showe:
And by these teares I pray, which teares
thy facts enforce to flowe:
(Good Theseu) turne thy ship
with wrested winde retoure:
Though ere thou come I die, yet of
the bones thou shalt be sure.