University of Virginia Library

The .xxj. Epistle.

Cydippe to Acontius.

Afright in silence I thy lines suruayde,
Least yt vnwares my tong to witnes should
Haue callde the Gods, and for records appealde.
I deeme thou wouldst haue bourded me againe.
With craft, hadst yu not thought in iudging mind
One Hest (as thou confest) to haue suffisde.
Ne had I vewde thy lines and Letters sent,
But that I thought the yrefull Goddesse wrath
By duresse woulde to further rage increast.
For all that I can doe, though incense I
To Dian offer, yet she freendes thee more
Than reason willes she should: & as thou crauste
Credit to winne: so she with mindefull wrath
Upon my corse for thee awroken is.
So stiffely scarce by Hippolyte she stoode.
But she (a Uirgin) rather would haue showne
Fauor vnto a siely maydens yeares:
Which to abridge least she doe long I feare.
For why the cause of this my languor lurckes
And hidden lyes by Phisick not recurde,
So meager am I wore, so leane and bare,
As scarce I had suffising force to write,
With leaning on mine Elbowe able scarce
My pined limmes and carkasse pale to raise.
Now dreade I least beside my Beldame nurce
Some one discrie our entercommoning.
Tofore the gate she sittes, to askers how
I fare (that I may write) she sayes I sleepe.
But when within a space suspected is
Excessiue sleepe, and slumber ouerlong,
And such she sees repaire whome to debarre
Were duresse: then she spits and giues a hem,
A feygned signe that some is at the doore.
I leaue my lynes vnperfite then for hast.
And to my bosome thrust the scroll eftsoone.
Forthwith in speede I plie the same againe,
And set my hande and pen to former taske.
Which thing how yrkesome toyle it was to me,
Thy selfe mayst well descerne, and be the iudge.
Which thou (in fayth) hast passing yll deserude.
But thy merites and iust deserued hire
My ruthfull clemencie shall farre surmount.
By thee, vncertaine of dispaired health,
So oft by thy deceit I haue, and yet
Endure tormenting fits and troublous tene.
This is the good my vaunted beautie gaines
So oft axtolde by thee aboue the starres.
It me annoyes thee to haue likte so well.
If in thy sight I had deformed beene,
(Which rather I could wishe) my blamed corps
In neede of Phisicks helpe had neuer stoode.
Now being praysde I mourne by your discord
Betrayde: my proper good doth forge my woes.
Whilst thou dost scorne to yeelde, and he repines
To lose his roome or be in second place,
Thou barrste his wish, and he doth hinder thine.
I like a ship am tost, whome Boreas blast
Into the chanell driues, but surge and tyde
Repelles to shore, from deeper foorde againe.
And of my Parents when the wished day
Arriues, excessiue heate my limmes besiedge
And at the cruell mariage day, my doores
In yrefull rage Proserpina doth shake.
I blush & dread (though guiltlesse in my minde)
Least I by ought haue stirrde the Gods to wrath.
Some plead it commes by hap, and some surmise
This man to be dislikte of heauenly powres,
And fame of thee hath also hir reporte:
Some deeme it done by my inchauntments eke:
The cause is hid: my hurts to plaine appeere.
Ye wage a restlesse warre and endlesse strife:
But I meane while am she that bide the smart.
I now will say as I was woont of yore,
By louing if thou thus annoy thy loue,
Howe wouldst thou hurt by hate the hated thing?
If whome thou loue thou hurt, go loue thy foe,
Wish me full yll to fare, and saue my life.
Or now of hoped spouse thou hast no carke,
Whom vndeserude, thou ruthlesse letst to pine:
Or if in vaine thou to the Goddesse sue,
To me why dost thou so auaunt thy selfe
That standest nought in Dians grace at all?
Say what thou wilt, thou wilt not swage hir yre,
I cleane am out of thought: thou canst not, thou
Appease the Goddes, thou art quite forgot.
Or would I neuer had, or not as then
Delos (that is inuironde with the sea
Ægæum) knowne: a haplesse Ile to mee.
Tho was my ship to surging Chanell brought
Unluckily, sinister was the houre
Wherin I shoope to take the cursed seas.
How set I forth my foote? from Threshold with
What foote went I? or to my painted Barck
With what vnluckie foote did I repaire?
Yet twise with froward winds my ship recoylde,
And made retoure to shore: but oh I lie,
That winde was blissefull and no froward gale:
A blessed blast that brought me back to baye,
And went about to barre my haplesse course.
And would it had contended with my sayles,
And stoode in longer strife and greater warre.
But folly is the fickle windes to blame.
Mooude with the place his fame, and fresh reporte,
To Delos I my hastie voyage shoope:
And in a nymble Barck did passe the flood.
How oft did I controll the sluggish Oares,
Complaining that the sayle clothes did not strout
But flagging flue, not stuft with gladsome gale?
Nowe Mycone, Tenos, and Andros I
Had past, and Delos was drscouerde plaine.
Which when I scride afarre. Ile why (quoth I)
Dost thou me flee? Where yet (as earst thou didst)
Doste thou in largie seas and Chanell rode
Aye fleeting to and fro? I came to lande
When day was put to flight, and Phœbus gan
His wearie steedes from purple wheeles discharge
Whome when he had to woonted rising brought,
Againe at morne (my mother giuing charge)
My comely tresses were in order laide,
And frisled locks in brauest maner trimde.
Hir selfe bespangde my handes wt curious Gems,
And purlde my heare with golde: hir self applide
Unto my shoulders vesture passing fine.
Then issuing out to Rulers of the Ile
And sacred Gods incense with wine we gaue.
And whilst my mother with hir vowed blood
The Altar staines, and bowels broyles on coales
In ranges casting fume to loftie skies:
The busie carefull nurce led me about
From place to place, frō Church to sacred Fane:
In Porches now I passe, now musing at
The giftes of kings, and sundrie sightes I sawe.
Then gasing on the Aultars made with hornes
And tree, gainst which the wandring Goddesse at
Hir time of bearing childe did rest hir corse:
And what beside (for I ne all to minde
Can call, or lawfull is I say, to tell)
Was to be seene in daintie Delos tho.
Whilst I (Aconce) of these so straunchie sights
Was taking vewe thou me perhaps discridste:
Who for so simple was and voide of fraude,
Did sitting seeme to be entrap of thee.
By steppes I came into a stately Church
Where Dian was: might any place more safe
Or sicker bee than where the Goddesse stoode?
Tofore my feete the trilling Apple came
Gliding on paued ground whereas I sate,
Hauing this Uerse ingraude. (Aye me well nigh
I had to thee another Hest ymade)
Which Beldame Nurce tooke vp, & said (beholde)
Where I thy craft (O noble Poet) read.
The name of marrige read, blushing I felt
My chaunged cheekes to glow with sodayne flash.
In bosome fixed fast mine eyes I helde,
Mine eyes that workers were of thine intent.
Unthrift, why doste thou ioy? what glorie hast
Thou gainde? what praise shalt yu (a mā) atchieue
By crast one sielie Uirgin to deuoure?
Not I in armour cladde with Pollaxe stoode
As ventrous Penthesilea did at Troie:
No Belt with Amazonian golde beset
Thou me hast reft, as Queene Hippolyte was.
Why leapst thou so for ioy? in that thy wordes
Haue fowly me beguilde, and I by dole
And subtill sleight, a siely Nymph was tane?
Cydip an Apple tooke, Atlanta did
The lyke: another Hippomenes now thou art.
More better were it if thou hadst beene thrall
Unto the Boy, who hath by thy report
(I wote not well) what flaming fierie brands.
After the guise of honest wightes (by fraude
Not to fordoe thy hope) I rather was
To beene intreated, than by craft intrapt,
Why thou ne me displaydst in time of sute
Such things as I in thee should haue belikte?
Why rather to enforce then to perswade
Mee didst thou choose, if thy condition redde
By mee had powre to make the bargaine sure?
What now to thee auailes the former othe,
And Goddesse prest for true recorde appealde
With tongue? it is the minde that makes the hest
(Wherewith I neuer sware) it onely addes
Faith to the wordes, and makes the stable othe.
It is pretenced minde and purpose set
That bindes the bargaine sure: no band auailes,
Or is of force without consenting thought.
If so it were my will to ioyne with thee,
Then spare thou not to claime thy marrige right.
But if I spake the worde and ment it not,
The forcelesse words & nothing else thou gainst,
I sware not, but pronounst the wordes of othe.
I must not so select thee for my spouse.
Guile other so, certes if that be good
And take effect, the rich mans wealth bereaue,
Procure that Princes sweare that thou shalt haue
Their Scepters, & their soueraigne seates possesse,
And let be thine what so the worlde enioyth.
In faith thou dost surpasse Diana farre,
If that thy letters haue in them inrolde
Such present Godhead and auayling powre.
Yet when I haue thus sayde, and flat affirmde
Mee not to be thy spouse, and pleaded haue
My promesse in best forme that euer I may:
I graunt, I dread Dianas yrefull wrath,
Deeming frō thence my grieful pangues to come,
That plague my wretched corse & limmes tormēt.
For why, as oft as spousals are addrest,
Languish my limmes ransackt with deadly teene?
Thrise Hymens clamour comming to mine eares
Fled from my chamber doore, and did astart.
Scarce could he make th' infused flame to flashe,
Scarce would the stirred bronds & faggots burne.
Oft sithes his head furnisht with garlands gaye,
Annoynted dropt, and oft his Scarlet Robe
And costly vesture was in hand to d'on.
When he approcht the doore, and wayling sawe,
With flowing teares and feare of griesly death,
And other such abhorring his attyre:
Straight from his forhead he the garlands floong,
And from his perfumde locks the Dile did wring.
Shaming with mirth amiddes so sadde a route
To rushe, his garments hue his face distainde.
But miser I with Feuers am attachte,
And frie with burning fittes: my vestures are
More weightie than they shoulden weightie be.
Upon my cheekes I see my parents showre
Their drearie teares and saltish brine for woe,
And sted of marrige wand, deaths brond appeeres.
Thou Goddesse that in quiuerst doste reioyce,
And bended bowe, fauor a sickly Nymph,
And lende me now thy skilfull Brothers helpe,
To ridde my corse of this my vexing smart.
T'is shame for thee that he abandons griefe,
And thou dost seeke the title of my death.
Where I vnwares approched haue the place,
Whilst yu didst bathe thy chastfull limmes in ford?
Haue I, of all the Gods thy Altars left
And ouerpast withouten sacrifice?
Or did my Dame the Ladie Mother scorne?
I not aguilt, saue that I periure radde.
And skilfull was in an vnluckie verse.
Doe thou (vnlesse thy loue be fayned) cast
Incense for me into the flaming fire.
The handes that hurt, let them my helpe procure.
Why she that frettes that I behight to thee
Am not thy spouse, makes that I can not be?
Hope well thou mayst whilst yet I liue & breath:
But (cruell) why bereues she me my lyfe,
And thee dispoyles of thy well hoped boone?
Surmise not him whose wife I am assignde
And lotted spouse, my payned limmes to touch
And feele with griping hande Certes he sittes
Him downe by mee, as lawfull is to doe,
Minding my couch to be a Maydens lodge.
And I wote neere what he doth iudge of mee.
For oft the (cause vnknowne) he baynes his breast
With showres of trickling teares: Not ouerbolde
He coyes mee, and doth seldome kisse among,
Whispering with fearefull voyce, that I am his.
Ne maruaile I if he discrie my minde,
That doe my selfe so openly bewray.
When he repayres, I wry mee round about,
And vse no woordes, but winking faine to sleepe,
Shunning his fist that would me gladly touch.
He mournes & drawes his sighes frō silent breast,
And not aguilting hath my high disdaine.
More iustly thou that laughste at my distresse,
And pleasure takste therein (If I could speake
And vse my tongue) shouldst my yll will acquire,
And haue my hate, that such a Panther pight,
By letter leaue and licence thou dost craue
To see my wretched plight, and feebled corse:
Farre off thou makste abode, and yet annoyst.
I not a little maruailde that thy name
Acontius was: in deede thou hast an edge
So sharpe as farre can lende a lurching wounde.
I scarce am yet recured of the hurt,
Mee like a Dart thy lynes haue scarde aloofe.
Why wouldst thou hither come? a wretched corse
(Thy double spoyle committed) mayst thou see,
My flesh is falne away, my colour fled
And bloodlesse is my face, a semblant hue
(As I remember) had the subtile fruite.
In visage wanne no scarlet red appeares.
Of Marble picture hewen but of late
Such is the forme: Such is the siluers hue
At bankets that with chillie water toucht
In Basan cast, is pale for deadly colde.
If now thou sawste mee, thou wouldst quite denie
Me earst with eye of thine to haue beene seene.
And say: by Arte and subtile sleight, in sooth
She not deserude to bene atchiude of me:
Sending me back (for feare I should by othe
In marrige shocke with thee) my plighted Hest:
Desirous that Diana would forget
And cleane put frō hir thought the bargain made,
Procuring eke perhaps contrarie othe
And quite repugnant to my former vowe,
Sending a nouell verse for me to vewe.
Yet naythelesse (as thou hast longed earst)
I would thou sawste thy Miser spouses plight,
And limmes with languor passingly opprest.
(Aconce) more harder than the stubborne steele
Though be thy ruthlesse breast, yet pardon thou
In my behalfe wouldst purchase me I knowe.
To shewe the meane howe I may be recurde
And come by health againe. At Delphos is
A God forespeaking things that are to come,
Displaying future fates, his counsell seeke.
He eke (as whispring fame doth flie) complaines
Of one (I wote neare whome) that broken hath
And scornde a promise made before recorde.
This both the God, the Prophet, and my verse
Declare, thy vowe doth want no verse his ayde
Such fauour how shouldst thou procure? vnlesse
Some letter late deuisde by thee, the haulte
And stately Gods had tane? Since yu dost stande
In grace and fauour of the Gods so great,
I will ensue the name of heauenly powres,
And willing yeelde my handes vnto thy hest.
Unto my dame by my vnwitting tongue
Of plighted promesse I haue made a showe:
She down to ground hir blushing countnāce cast.
Looke what remaynes be thine the care & charge,
More than a Uirgin should (in that my hande
Drad not to write these lines to thee) I did
Now long ynough my sickly corse with quill
Molested is, my pained hande denies
A farther dutie: What remaynes there now,
(Saue that I long to lincke my selfe with thee)
For these my lines, but thee to bid adue?