Cephalus and Procris Narcissus. By Thomas Edwards. From the unique copy in the Cathedral library, Peterborough. Edited by Rev. W. E. Buckley ... with an appendix from divers sources |
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 | Cephalus and Procris |  |
6
CEPHALVS and Procris.
To the Honorable Gentlemen & true fauourites of Poetrie.
Faire and bright Cynthia, Ioues great ornament,
Richly adorning nightes darke firmament,
Scoured amidst the starry Canapie
Of heauens celestiall gouernement, well nie
Downe to the euer ouer-swelling tide,
Where old Oceanus was wont t'abide,
At last began to crie, and call amaine,
Oh what is he, my loue so long detaines!
Or i'st Ioues pleasure Cynthia shall alone,
Obscure by night, still walke as one forlorne:
Therewith away she headlong postes along
Salt washing waues, rebellious cloudes among,
So as it seem'd minding the heauens to leaue,
And them of light, thus strangely to bereaue.
Richly adorning nightes darke firmament,
Scoured amidst the starry Canapie
Of heauens celestiall gouernement, well nie
Downe to the euer ouer-swelling tide,
Where old Oceanus was wont t'abide,
At last began to crie, and call amaine,
Oh what is he, my loue so long detaines!
Or i'st Ioues pleasure Cynthia shall alone,
Obscure by night, still walke as one forlorne:
Therewith away she headlong postes along
Salt washing waues, rebellious cloudes among,
So as it seem'd minding the heauens to leaue,
And them of light, thus strangely to bereaue.
With that Aurora starting from her bed,
As one that standes deuising, shakes his head,
Not minding either this or that to doe,
So are her thoughtes, nor quicke, nor ouerslow;
As one that standes deuising, shakes his head,
Not minding either this or that to doe,
So are her thoughtes, nor quicke, nor ouerslow;
Phebus halfe wrothe to see the globe stand still,
The world want light, a woman haue her will:
To post foorth gan another Phaeton,
And swore once more, he should the world vppon,
Or as tis thought to trie th'aduentrous boy.
Yet some suppose, he meant vpon this day,
A Sympathy of sorrowes to aduaunce.
The boy thus proude-made, hotly gan to praunce,
And now heauens coape, Ioues pallace chrystaline
Downe dingeth Atlas, and straight doth decline
In such aboundant measure, as tis said,
Since that same day the light of heauens decaide;
A metamorphosis on earth 'mongst men,
As touching constancy hath bene since then,
And this is true maidens, since that same day,
Are saide for louers neuer more to pray.
The world want light, a woman haue her will:
7
And swore once more, he should the world vppon,
Or as tis thought to trie th'aduentrous boy.
Yet some suppose, he meant vpon this day,
A Sympathy of sorrowes to aduaunce.
The boy thus proude-made, hotly gan to praunce,
And now heauens coape, Ioues pallace chrystaline
Downe dingeth Atlas, and straight doth decline
In such aboundant measure, as tis said,
Since that same day the light of heauens decaide;
A metamorphosis on earth 'mongst men,
As touching constancy hath bene since then,
And this is true maidens, since that same day,
Are saide for louers neuer more to pray.
But to returne, Phebe in million teares,
Moanes to her selfe, and for a time forbeares,
Aurora she her swift bright shining rayes,
On Phebus charyot tosse, and oft assayes,
With her sweete lookes, her fathers wroth t'appease,
But all she doth, he tels her, doth disease,
Like to the vncorrected headstrong childe,
That neuer felt his parentes strokes but milde,
Growne vp to ryper yeares, disdaines a checke:
(For nature ouergon comes to defect:)
Moanes to her selfe, and for a time forbeares,
Aurora she her swift bright shining rayes,
On Phebus charyot tosse, and oft assayes,
With her sweete lookes, her fathers wroth t'appease,
But all she doth, he tels her, doth disease,
Like to the vncorrected headstrong childe,
That neuer felt his parentes strokes but milde,
Growne vp to ryper yeares, disdaines a checke:
(For nature ouergon comes to defect:)
So now Aurora hauing felt the pride
Of heauen and earth, turning her selfe a side,
Rapt with a suddaine extasie of minde,
Vnto her selfe (thus saide) Goddesse diuine:
How hapt that Phebus mou'd amid his chase,
Should such kinde frendship scorne for to imbrace,
I will no more (quoth she) godd it along
Such vnaccustom'd wayes, ne yet among
Such as is Titan, better fittes it me,
With Vesper still to liue, then such as he,
Though well I wot, honor is set on high,
Yet gentle Humilitie is best, say I.
No more she spake, but like the swelling tide,
That hauing passage skymes, scorning a guide,
Vntill the vaste receipte of Neptunes bower,
Kils the hoat fume, euen so, away she skoures,
Lawlesse as twere sans thought or any dread,
Like to banditos mong'st the mountaine heard.
Of heauen and earth, turning her selfe a side,
Rapt with a suddaine extasie of minde,
Vnto her selfe (thus saide) Goddesse diuine:
How hapt that Phebus mou'd amid his chase,
Should such kinde frendship scorne for to imbrace,
I will no more (quoth she) godd it along
Such vnaccustom'd wayes, ne yet among
8
With Vesper still to liue, then such as he,
Though well I wot, honor is set on high,
Yet gentle Humilitie is best, say I.
No more she spake, but like the swelling tide,
That hauing passage skymes, scorning a guide,
Vntill the vaste receipte of Neptunes bower,
Kils the hoat fume, euen so, away she skoures,
Lawlesse as twere sans thought or any dread,
Like to banditos mong'st the mountaine heard.
And now vpon her gentle louely
mother,
Bright as the morning, comes the mornings honor,
All snowy white, saue purpled heere and there,
So beautifull as beauty might despaire,
And stand amaz'd, noting her wanton eie,
Which at a trice could all the world espie,
Vpon her head, a coronet did stand,
Of seuerall flowers gathered by Titan.
A vale she wore downe trayling to her thighes,
The stuffe whereof, I gesse, of such emprize,
As Gods themselues are doubtfull of the arte,
Seeming as aire with otomie disperst,
Her handes, a meny Poets dead and gone,
Haue heretofore (excelling) wrote vpon.
It shall suffize Venus doth grace to her,
In that she waites before, like to a Starre,
Directing of her steps along'st the zone,
Neuer ouertaken by the Horizon,
Ne yet in daunger put of any Lake,
The frozen Pole she warnes her to forsake:
And all Licurgus daughters Dion noates,
Base in respect of duetie, and out-coates,
Each God and Goddesse, such is beauties pride,
That Neptunes honor hath no larger tide:
One lastes but a time, till time is come againe,
The other euer ouer-rules too certaine.
Bright as the morning, comes the mornings honor,
All snowy white, saue purpled heere and there,
So beautifull as beauty might despaire,
And stand amaz'd, noting her wanton eie,
Which at a trice could all the world espie,
Vpon her head, a coronet did stand,
Of seuerall flowers gathered by Titan.
A vale she wore downe trayling to her thighes,
The stuffe whereof, I gesse, of such emprize,
As Gods themselues are doubtfull of the arte,
Seeming as aire with otomie disperst,
Her handes, a meny Poets dead and gone,
Haue heretofore (excelling) wrote vpon.
It shall suffize Venus doth grace to her,
In that she waites before, like to a Starre,
Directing of her steps along'st the zone,
Neuer ouertaken by the Horizon,
Ne yet in daunger put of any Lake,
The frozen Pole she warnes her to forsake:
And all Licurgus daughters Dion noates,
Base in respect of duetie, and out-coates,
9
That Neptunes honor hath no larger tide:
One lastes but a time, till time is come againe,
The other euer ouer-rules too certaine.
Thus at the last, Aurora vanquishing
Heauens glory, and earthes cause of mourning:
“For now the sparckling vault of Ioues high seate,
“Was not so fild with ouer-swaying heate:
“Red-hoat disdaine gaue beauty place, for why?
“Venus had conquered base necessitie.
Along'st she passed by Hesperides,
Laden with honor of those golden eies:
And stately bode them stoupe to honor vs,
And stoupe they did, thinking twas Venus.
Then from this golden Orchard to the Tower,
Where Ioue in likenes of a golden shower,
Rauisht faire Danae, she in rauishment
Of strange delightes, the day there almost spent.
Thence to th'Idalian mount, where Venus doues,
Plume on the feathers, sent by their true loues:
As Itis Pheasant feathers, Progne, and
Tereus, they the Lapwincke winges did send:
Faire Philomela from the Nightingale
Sent likewise feathers, plucked from her taile,
And many others that denying loue,
Dide with despight, and here their cause did moue,
Then on her swift-heeld Pegasus, amaine
Of Colchos golden Fleece a sight to gaine,
And with the swift windes Harrould Mercury,
The golden Sonne-beames of Apolloes tree:
Where valorous warlike Knightes, for feates ydone
Are registred, yclept Knightes of the Sonne:
Knightes of the Garter, auncient knightes of Rhodes,
She mainely postes, and there a time abodes,
Heauens glory, and earthes cause of mourning:
“For now the sparckling vault of Ioues high seate,
“Was not so fild with ouer-swaying heate:
“Red-hoat disdaine gaue beauty place, for why?
“Venus had conquered base necessitie.
Along'st she passed by Hesperides,
Laden with honor of those golden eies:
And stately bode them stoupe to honor vs,
And stoupe they did, thinking twas Venus.
Then from this golden Orchard to the Tower,
Where Ioue in likenes of a golden shower,
Rauisht faire Danae, she in rauishment
Of strange delightes, the day there almost spent.
Thence to th'Idalian mount, where Venus doues,
Plume on the feathers, sent by their true loues:
As Itis Pheasant feathers, Progne, and
Tereus, they the Lapwincke winges did send:
Faire Philomela from the Nightingale
Sent likewise feathers, plucked from her taile,
And many others that denying loue,
Dide with despight, and here their cause did moue,
Then on her swift-heeld Pegasus, amaine
Of Colchos golden Fleece a sight to gaine,
And with the swift windes Harrould Mercury,
The golden Sonne-beames of Apolloes tree:
Where valorous warlike Knightes, for feates ydone
Are registred, yclept Knightes of the Sonne:
10
She mainely postes, and there a time abodes,
I do not tell you all that she did see,
In honor done of this same golden tree.
Knightes did their due, and Poets had no lesse,
Then what for Triumphes euery one can gesse.
Hence twas that Hermes stole from heauen the power,
To soueranize on schollers idle howres,
And had not Ioue bene fauourable then,
They never should haue bene accounted men,
But liu'd as pesants, shaddowes, imagies,
And nere haue had the princes similies.
In honor done of this same golden tree.
Knightes did their due, and Poets had no lesse,
Then what for Triumphes euery one can gesse.
Hence twas that Hermes stole from heauen the power,
To soueranize on schollers idle howres,
And had not Ioue bene fauourable then,
They never should haue bene accounted men,
But liu'd as pesants, shaddowes, imagies,
And nere haue had the princes similies.
Hence post we foorth vnto an Ocean
That beats against the bankes of Helycon,
Whereon if so the ruler of the East,
But cast an eie, we are not meanely blest,
No more but so, for more were ouer much,
Gold is approu'd but by a slender touch.
That beats against the bankes of Helycon,
Whereon if so the ruler of the East,
But cast an eie, we are not meanely blest,
No more but so, for more were ouer much,
Gold is approu'd but by a slender touch.
And now bright Phebus mounted, gan display
His Orient sunne-beames, on the liuely day,
Aurora made vnto the Siluan shore,
Where Satyres, Goat-heardes, Shepheards kept of yore,
A sacred and most hallowed cristall spring,
Long'st which oft Cephalus yode on hunting,
And much delighted in the murmyring water,
Whose silent noates gaue Eccho of their author,
And as in Rondelaies of loue they sung,
It aunsweare made, yet bod them hold their toung:
No base groome durst his case here to bemoane,
But quench his thirst, and so part, and be gone.
But Cephalus, a man of some compare,
Bore hound, and horse, through depth without despaire,
And when the heate of Sommer stung him thro,
His yuorie limbes heere bath'd, and washt he to,
His Steede orecome with anger in the chase,
His dogs halfe tir'd, or put vnto disgrace,
Heere, and but here, he sought for remedie,
Nor durst the Siluans shrincke, but aide him presently.
What shall I say in pride of him and his?
Man, horse, and dogs, pleasd th'inamored Procris:
But how with him Aurora was in loue,
A richer braine the taske would highly moue.
His Orient sunne-beames, on the liuely day,
Aurora made vnto the Siluan shore,
Where Satyres, Goat-heardes, Shepheards kept of yore,
A sacred and most hallowed cristall spring,
Long'st which oft Cephalus yode on hunting,
And much delighted in the murmyring water,
Whose silent noates gaue Eccho of their author,
And as in Rondelaies of loue they sung,
It aunsweare made, yet bod them hold their toung:
No base groome durst his case here to bemoane,
But quench his thirst, and so part, and be gone.
But Cephalus, a man of some compare,
Bore hound, and horse, through depth without despaire,
11
His yuorie limbes heere bath'd, and washt he to,
His Steede orecome with anger in the chase,
His dogs halfe tir'd, or put vnto disgrace,
Heere, and but here, he sought for remedie,
Nor durst the Siluans shrincke, but aide him presently.
What shall I say in pride of him and his?
Man, horse, and dogs, pleasd th'inamored Procris:
But how with him Aurora was in loue,
A richer braine the taske would highly moue.
Vpon a milke white courser swift as winde,
Betrapt with yssyckles of gold, that chim'bde;
By sweete Zephirus, and the gentle aire,
That breathed life (as twere) to kill despaire,
Rode he vpright as any heisell wan,
His Steede was wrought, & now would needes be gon:
Whose ouer head-strong prauncing checkt the earth,
In scornefull sorte, and whose loude neighing breath
Rent throgh the clouds, like Ioues swift quickning thũder,
And passage bod, or it would pash't in sunder.
So war-like Mars-like fit for Venus Court,
Hotly the gallant gentleman did sort,
Now here, now there, his Steede began to rage,
And sent foorth some to bid the cloudes a badge
Of his proud stomacke, who would not be proude,
That is well backt, and in his pride alloude?
“Heere could I tell you many a prettie storie,
“Of some eterniz'd by an others glory,
“Of men transfourm'd to apes, of womens euils,
“Of fiendes made Angels, and of angels diuels,
“Of many braue knightes done to shame, and more,
“How schollers fauourites waxe ouer poore,
“But oh faire Muse, let slip to treate of such,
“A taske thou hast, that tyres thee too too much,
“And none (Gods know) thy boldnesse will out backe,
“But naked trueth, that garded coates doth lacke.
“Heroicke Parramore of Fairie land,
“That stately built, with thy immortall hand,
“A golden, Angellike, and modest Aulter,
“For all to sacrifice on, none to alter.
“Where is that vertuous Muse of thine become?
“It will awake, for sleepe not prooues it dumme.
“And thou Arcadian knight, earthes second Sunne,
“Reapt ere halfe ripe, finisht ere halfe begunne,
“And you that tread the pathes, were these haue gone,
“Be your soules agentes in our tragicke song,
“And when the daughter of dispaire is dead,
“And ougly nightes blacke Æthiopian head,
“Ycoucht, and woxen pale, for griefe and shame,
“Then shall our quill, lift honor to your name.
O high Apollo, giue thou skill to vs,
That we may queintly follow Cephalus,
That now is mounted, ready to surprize,
What game so ere is seaz'd-on by his eies;
Aurora met him, in his furious chase,
As winde doth reigne, so did she him embrace,
And his fierce courage, on the harmefulle Boare,
Ere he did part, should be asswag'd she swore.
His amber-couloured tresses, neuer yet cut,
Into her luke-warme bussome she did put.
She wringes his handes, and hugges him twixt her armes,
(Apes die by culling) yet he tooke no harme:
Anone with smiles, she threates his chast conceites,
And (looking on his eies) him she entreates,
With kisses, sighes, and teares reuying them,
As though their sexe of duetie should woe men,
He striuing to be gone, she prest him downe:
She striuing to kisse him, he kist the growne,
And euermore on contrarieties,
He aunsweare made, vnto her Deitie,
Her garland deckt with many a prettie gemme,
And flowers sweete as May, she gaue to hem:
Her feete (immodest dame) she bear'd to show him,
And askt him, yea, or no, if he did know them,
And therewithall, she whispers in his eare,
Oh, who so long, is able to forbeare!
A thousand prettie tales she tels him too,
Of Pan his Sirinx, of Ioues Io,
Of Semele, the Arcadian Nimphes disport,
Their stealth in loue, and him in couert sorte,
Like to th'vnhappie Spider, would intangle;
He flie-like striues, and to be gone doth wrangle:
And tels, he can no more of loue or beautie,
Then ruffe-beard Satyres, that nere heard of duetie,
Therefore to cut of all disquietnesse,
Rudely he throwes her from his down-soft brest:
And with his Steede cuts through the riotouse thornes,
That shipwracke make of what is not their owne:
His speare halfe bleeding, with a sharpe desire,
To taint the hot-Boare seemed to aspire:
The ruffe and hidious windes, twixt hope and feare,
Whisle amaine into his greedie eares,
His Steede vpstartes, and courage freshly takes,
The Rider fiercely, after hotly makes.
Halfe droncke, with spitefull mallice gainst the Boare,
He prickt him forward, neuer prickt before.
The toyling dogs therewith do mainely runne,
And hauing found the game, their Lord to come
They yalpe couragiously, as who would say,
Come maister come, the footing serues this way.
Therewith more fierce then Aoris did hie,
In his swift chase the game for to espie,
He gets him gon, nor neede wa'st to say goe,
O cruell men, that can leaue wemen so!
Betrapt with yssyckles of gold, that chim'bde;
By sweete Zephirus, and the gentle aire,
That breathed life (as twere) to kill despaire,
Rode he vpright as any heisell wan,
His Steede was wrought, & now would needes be gon:
Whose ouer head-strong prauncing checkt the earth,
In scornefull sorte, and whose loude neighing breath
Rent throgh the clouds, like Ioues swift quickning thũder,
And passage bod, or it would pash't in sunder.
So war-like Mars-like fit for Venus Court,
Hotly the gallant gentleman did sort,
Now here, now there, his Steede began to rage,
And sent foorth some to bid the cloudes a badge
Of his proud stomacke, who would not be proude,
That is well backt, and in his pride alloude?
“Heere could I tell you many a prettie storie,
“Of some eterniz'd by an others glory,
“Of men transfourm'd to apes, of womens euils,
“Of fiendes made Angels, and of angels diuels,
“Of many braue knightes done to shame, and more,
“How schollers fauourites waxe ouer poore,
12
“A taske thou hast, that tyres thee too too much,
“And none (Gods know) thy boldnesse will out backe,
“But naked trueth, that garded coates doth lacke.
“Heroicke Parramore of Fairie land,
“That stately built, with thy immortall hand,
“A golden, Angellike, and modest Aulter,
“For all to sacrifice on, none to alter.
“Where is that vertuous Muse of thine become?
“It will awake, for sleepe not prooues it dumme.
“And thou Arcadian knight, earthes second Sunne,
“Reapt ere halfe ripe, finisht ere halfe begunne,
“And you that tread the pathes, were these haue gone,
“Be your soules agentes in our tragicke song,
“And when the daughter of dispaire is dead,
“And ougly nightes blacke Æthiopian head,
“Ycoucht, and woxen pale, for griefe and shame,
“Then shall our quill, lift honor to your name.
O high Apollo, giue thou skill to vs,
That we may queintly follow Cephalus,
That now is mounted, ready to surprize,
What game so ere is seaz'd-on by his eies;
Aurora met him, in his furious chase,
As winde doth reigne, so did she him embrace,
And his fierce courage, on the harmefulle Boare,
Ere he did part, should be asswag'd she swore.
His amber-couloured tresses, neuer yet cut,
Into her luke-warme bussome she did put.
She wringes his handes, and hugges him twixt her armes,
(Apes die by culling) yet he tooke no harme:
Anone with smiles, she threates his chast conceites,
And (looking on his eies) him she entreates,
13
As though their sexe of duetie should woe men,
He striuing to be gone, she prest him downe:
She striuing to kisse him, he kist the growne,
And euermore on contrarieties,
He aunsweare made, vnto her Deitie,
Her garland deckt with many a prettie gemme,
And flowers sweete as May, she gaue to hem:
Her feete (immodest dame) she bear'd to show him,
And askt him, yea, or no, if he did know them,
And therewithall, she whispers in his eare,
Oh, who so long, is able to forbeare!
A thousand prettie tales she tels him too,
Of Pan his Sirinx, of Ioues Io,
Of Semele, the Arcadian Nimphes disport,
Their stealth in loue, and him in couert sorte,
Like to th'vnhappie Spider, would intangle;
He flie-like striues, and to be gone doth wrangle:
And tels, he can no more of loue or beautie,
Then ruffe-beard Satyres, that nere heard of duetie,
Therefore to cut of all disquietnesse,
Rudely he throwes her from his down-soft brest:
And with his Steede cuts through the riotouse thornes,
That shipwracke make of what is not their owne:
His speare halfe bleeding, with a sharpe desire,
To taint the hot-Boare seemed to aspire:
The ruffe and hidious windes, twixt hope and feare,
Whisle amaine into his greedie eares,
His Steede vpstartes, and courage freshly takes,
The Rider fiercely, after hotly makes.
Halfe droncke, with spitefull mallice gainst the Boare,
He prickt him forward, neuer prickt before.
14
And hauing found the game, their Lord to come
They yalpe couragiously, as who would say,
Come maister come, the footing serues this way.
Therewith more fierce then Aoris did hie,
In his swift chase the game for to espie,
He gets him gon, nor neede wa'st to say goe,
O cruell men, that can leaue wemen so!
By this the sport grew hot on either part,
Aurora she was bitten to the hart,
A dogged part it was, she telleth oft,
To bite so deadfully a hart so soft,
Aie me, had Cupid bene a rightfull lad,
He neuer should haue shot a dart so bad.
But what preuailes? a meny sad laments,
And Madrigals with dolefull tunes she sent,
Vnto the heauens Lampe Phebus mournefully,
All balefull, treating pittie from his eies,
She does her orizons, and tels how many
Haue loued her, before nere scorn'd by any:
Her handes so white as yuorie streame,
That through the rockes makes passage vnto him:
Halfe blacke with wrathfull wringing them together
She reares to heauen, and downe vnto her mother,
Anon she faintly lets them fall againe,
To heauen, earth, father, mother, all in vaine,
“For loue is pittilesse, rude, and impartiall,
“When he intendes to laugh at others fall.
Aurora she was bitten to the hart,
A dogged part it was, she telleth oft,
To bite so deadfully a hart so soft,
Aie me, had Cupid bene a rightfull lad,
He neuer should haue shot a dart so bad.
But what preuailes? a meny sad laments,
And Madrigals with dolefull tunes she sent,
Vnto the heauens Lampe Phebus mournefully,
All balefull, treating pittie from his eies,
She does her orizons, and tels how many
Haue loued her, before nere scorn'd by any:
Her handes so white as yuorie streame,
That through the rockes makes passage vnto him:
Halfe blacke with wrathfull wringing them together
She reares to heauen, and downe vnto her mother,
Anon she faintly lets them fall againe,
To heauen, earth, father, mother, all in vaine,
“For loue is pittilesse, rude, and impartiall,
“When he intendes to laugh at others fall.
Afresh the sport of Cephalus began,
Erewhile at fault, his dogges now liuely ran,
And he quicke-lifted, when he list to heare,
Ore tooke them straight, and with his venum'd speare,
Gashly did wound the Boare couragiously,
The dogs vpon him likewise liuely flie,
His entrals bleeding-ripe before for feare,
Now twixt their grim chaps, pel mel they do teare,
The master proude at such a stately prize,
Fils his high thoughtes, and gluts his greedie eies,
He bathes himselfe, (as twere) in Seas of blisse;
But what is victorie, where no praise is?
Pittilesse he scornes the plaintes Aurora sendeth,
For where her loue beginneth, his loue endeth,
And seeme she neuer so ore-gone with griefe,
He treble ioyes; o bare and base reliefe!
“Euen like two Commets at one instant spred,
“The one of good, the other shame and dread:
“Pestering th'aire with vapours multiplying,
“So is our Theame now quicke, and then a dying.
Erewhile at fault, his dogges now liuely ran,
And he quicke-lifted, when he list to heare,
Ore tooke them straight, and with his venum'd speare,
15
The dogs vpon him likewise liuely flie,
His entrals bleeding-ripe before for feare,
Now twixt their grim chaps, pel mel they do teare,
The master proude at such a stately prize,
Fils his high thoughtes, and gluts his greedie eies,
He bathes himselfe, (as twere) in Seas of blisse;
But what is victorie, where no praise is?
Pittilesse he scornes the plaintes Aurora sendeth,
For where her loue beginneth, his loue endeth,
And seeme she neuer so ore-gone with griefe,
He treble ioyes; o bare and base reliefe!
“Euen like two Commets at one instant spred,
“The one of good, the other shame and dread:
“Pestering th'aire with vapours multiplying,
“So is our Theame now quicke, and then a dying.
Once more she met him, and thus gently spake,
(If wemen had no tounges, their hartes would breake,)
Oh Cephalus for pittie loue me sweete!
Or if not loue, yet do me gently greete,
Tis Action shewes th'intent, but smile vpon me,
Or giue a kisse, a kisse hath not vndone thee:
(Quoth he) these desertes haue I meny a time,
In winters rage, and in the Sommers prime,
Mounted as now with horse, and houndes good store,
Chaste, and encountred with the gag tooth'd Boare,
Rousd vp the fearefull Lion from his caue,
(That duld the heauens, when he began to raue)
Pursu'd the Lizard, Tyger and a crew
Of vntam'd beastes; yet none tam'd me as yew.
Admit that woemen haue preheminence,
To make men loue; yet for so foule offence,
As for to violate the marriage bed,
Were ouer much to be inamored;
Her who I honor, and am tied to,
Would deeply scorne, I should another woe:
Admit the contrary, is it no sinne,
In loue to end, where I did not begin?
Oh tis a fault, a sinne exceeding any!
Then pardon me, for I scorne to loue many.
(If wemen had no tounges, their hartes would breake,)
Oh Cephalus for pittie loue me sweete!
Or if not loue, yet do me gently greete,
Tis Action shewes th'intent, but smile vpon me,
Or giue a kisse, a kisse hath not vndone thee:
(Quoth he) these desertes haue I meny a time,
In winters rage, and in the Sommers prime,
Mounted as now with horse, and houndes good store,
Chaste, and encountred with the gag tooth'd Boare,
Rousd vp the fearefull Lion from his caue,
(That duld the heauens, when he began to raue)
Pursu'd the Lizard, Tyger and a crew
Of vntam'd beastes; yet none tam'd me as yew.
Admit that woemen haue preheminence,
To make men loue; yet for so foule offence,
16
Were ouer much to be inamored;
Her who I honor, and am tied to,
Would deeply scorne, I should another woe:
Admit the contrary, is it no sinne,
In loue to end, where I did not begin?
Oh tis a fault, a sinne exceeding any!
Then pardon me, for I scorne to loue many.
Twixt shame and feare scorn'd, and denied so,
Poore soule she blusht, not wotting what to do,
Her teares were issuelesse, her speech was done,
“The spring being stopt, how can the riuer runne,
Her hart (poore hart) was ouercharg'd with griefe,
“Tis worse then death to linger on reliefe.
Poore soule she blusht, not wotting what to do,
Her teares were issuelesse, her speech was done,
“The spring being stopt, how can the riuer runne,
Her hart (poore hart) was ouercharg'd with griefe,
“Tis worse then death to linger on reliefe.
At last she spake, and thus she mildly said,
Oh, who to choose, would liue, and die a maide!
What heauenly ioy may be accounted better,
Then for a man to haue a woman debter?
Now thou art mine in loue: Loue me againe.
Then I am thine, is it not heartie gaine,
Vpon aduantage to take double fee?
Thou shalt haue double, treble, pleaseth thee:
These curled, and vntewed lockes of thine,
Let me but borrow vpon pawne of mine.
These (oh immortall) eies, these sacred handes,
Lend me I pray thee, on sufficient bandes:
Wilt thou not trust me? By the sacred throne,
That Phebus in the mid day sits vpon,
I will not kepe them past a day or twaine,
But Ile returne them safely home againe,
Oh, who to choose, would liue, and die a maide!
What heauenly ioy may be accounted better,
Then for a man to haue a woman debter?
Now thou art mine in loue: Loue me againe.
Then I am thine, is it not heartie gaine,
Vpon aduantage to take double fee?
Thou shalt haue double, treble, pleaseth thee:
These curled, and vntewed lockes of thine,
Let me but borrow vpon pawne of mine.
These (oh immortall) eies, these sacred handes,
Lend me I pray thee, on sufficient bandes:
Wilt thou not trust me? By the sacred throne,
That Phebus in the mid day sits vpon,
I will not kepe them past a day or twaine,
But Ile returne them safely home againe,
These lockes (quoth he) that curled I do weare,
Within their folding billowes they do beare,
The deere remembrance twixt my loue and mee,
Therefore I cannot lend them vnto thee,
These eies delight, those eies did them mainetaine,
And therefore can not lend them foorth againe,
These handes gaue faith of my true faithfulnesse,
And therefore will not lend them; pardons vs.
“All sad, and in her widdow-hood of sorrow,
“Like to the Pilgrim longing for the morrow,
“Tires on the tedious day, and tels his case
“Vnto the ruthelesse Eccho what he was.
Within their folding billowes they do beare,
17
Therefore I cannot lend them vnto thee,
These eies delight, those eies did them mainetaine,
And therefore can not lend them foorth againe,
These handes gaue faith of my true faithfulnesse,
And therefore will not lend them; pardons vs.
“All sad, and in her widdow-hood of sorrow,
“Like to the Pilgrim longing for the morrow,
“Tires on the tedious day, and tels his case
“Vnto the ruthelesse Eccho what he was.
So doth Aurora rioteously complaine
Of loue, that hath her hart vniustly slaine,
And furiously she throwes her armes about him,
As who would say, she could not be without him;
Fast to his girted side she neately clinges,
Her haire let loose about his shoulders flinges:
Nay twere immodest to tell the affection
That she did show him, least it draw to action.
Of loue, that hath her hart vniustly slaine,
And furiously she throwes her armes about him,
As who would say, she could not be without him;
Fast to his girted side she neately clinges,
Her haire let loose about his shoulders flinges:
Nay twere immodest to tell the affection
That she did show him, least it draw to action.
“Faire Cytherea, mistris of delight,
“Heere was accompanied with foule despight,
“The boy woxt proude to see the morning pale,
“And hence it was Ioue plucked of his vale,
“That he might pittie her, and note his wrath,
“But scornefully he smiles, and helpeth nothe:
“Whereat reuengefully to loue he gaue,
“Perpetuall blindnes in his choice to haue,
“And too too true we finde it euery day;
“That loue since then hath bene a blinded boy,
“And knowes not where (unhappy wegg) to dart,
“But desperately, vncounceld slayes the hart.
By this deepe chat on either part was one,
And Cephalus would now perforce be gone.
What can a woman more then to entreate?
Is it for men to practise on deceite?
Like to the toiling Sisiphus in vaine,
She roules the stone, that tumbleth backe againe,
And striue she ne're so much to conquer him,
It will not be for he hates such, so sinne:
Againe she pleades his constancie to misse,
Requitall in the lowest degree by Procris;
Inferring more to proue her argument,
That woemen cannot be with one content.
“Heere was accompanied with foule despight,
“The boy woxt proude to see the morning pale,
“And hence it was Ioue plucked of his vale,
“That he might pittie her, and note his wrath,
“But scornefully he smiles, and helpeth nothe:
“Whereat reuengefully to loue he gaue,
“Perpetuall blindnes in his choice to haue,
“And too too true we finde it euery day;
“That loue since then hath bene a blinded boy,
“And knowes not where (unhappy wegg) to dart,
“But desperately, vncounceld slayes the hart.
By this deepe chat on either part was one,
And Cephalus would now perforce be gone.
18
Is it for men to practise on deceite?
Like to the toiling Sisiphus in vaine,
She roules the stone, that tumbleth backe againe,
And striue she ne're so much to conquer him,
It will not be for he hates such, so sinne:
Againe she pleades his constancie to misse,
Requitall in the lowest degree by Procris;
Inferring more to proue her argument,
That woemen cannot be with one content.
Cephalus as now vnto her speech gaue heede,
Againe (quoth she) attir'd in marchants weede,
Home to thy faire spouse, moue her vnto ruth,
Pleade tediously on loue, boast of thy youth,
And if not youth, nor loue, can her obtaine,
Promise rewardes for some consent for gaine:
I say no more, but if I were a man,
These cheekes for loue should neuer look so wan.
Againe (quoth she) attir'd in marchants weede,
Home to thy faire spouse, moue her vnto ruth,
Pleade tediously on loue, boast of thy youth,
And if not youth, nor loue, can her obtaine,
Promise rewardes for some consent for gaine:
I say no more, but if I were a man,
These cheekes for loue should neuer look so wan.
Drown'd in a sea of ouerswelling hate,
As one that lies before his enimie prostrate,
Willing to liue, yet scorning to beg life,
So feares he now (as twere) with his false wife;
Sometimes he cals her faire, chast, wise, and graue,
Anon with too too wrathfull tauntes he raues,
(Quoth he) shall I, where erst I might commaunde,
Goe and intreate with knee, and cap in hand,
Or shall I die, tormented thus in minde,
Iust Radamanth, what torture canst thou finde,
For woemen that disloyall, counterfeite,
Loue to their peeres, and yet would slay their hartes?
Hast thou no more tubs bottomelesse to fill?
Hast thou no more stones to rowle vp the hill?
Hast thou no more wheeles to teare of their flesh,
That so disloyally in loue transgresse?
Hast thou no torment, neuer yet inflicted
On woemens flesh, and all this while neglected?
If so I pray thee graunt this boone to mee,
That Procris therewith may tormented be,
Oh! he is deafe, and damned let him liue,
He will not heare, his kingdome too well thriues.
Proserpina, great goddesse of the Lake,
Some pittie sweete on the distressed take:
And when the Chaos of this worldes disdaine,
Hath sent this bodie to th'Elizium plaine,
And left this Center barren of repast,
Ile honor thee eternall with my ghost,
Which said, “as one that banisht doth remaine,
“Would rather die then longing be detained,
Desperate he goes vnto his innocent wife,
What's she would wed t'abide so bad a life?
And now the tombe that closeth rotten bones,
(Deceitfull man) disguised is come home,
He asketh for himselfe, himselfe being there,
Would it not make a thousand woemen feare?
He tels her of his long indur'd laments,
By sea and land, that he for her hath spent,
And would haue said more, but she straight was gone,
Is not the fault especiall in the man?
Then after makes he by her slender vale,
He holdes her fast, and tels her meny a tale,
He threw her downe vpon the yeelding bed,
And swore he there would loose his maiden-head,
She (as some say, all woemen stricktly do,)
Faintly deni'd what she was willing too:
But when he saw her won to his desire,
(Discourteous man) did heape flax on the fire,
What there did want in wordes most subtilly,
By liberall giftes he did the same supply,
Hauing pursued so egerly his drift,
Procris vnarm'd suspecting not his shifte;
What for desire of stealth in loue commended,
Or gold s' aboundant dealt, she him befrended,
At least gaue notice of her willing minde,
(Æsopian snakes will alwaies proue vnkind,)
At first content to parley hand in hand,
After steale kisses, talke of Cupids band,
And by degrees applide the tex so well,
As (cunning counter-feite) he did excell,
And what but now gently he might obtaine,
O what but now, she wisht cald backe againe,
“The duskie vapours of the middle earth,
“Drawne from contagious dewes, & noisome breathes,
“Choakt the cleere day; and now from Acheron,
“Blacke dismall night was come the world vppon,
“Fitting true louers, and their sweete repast,
“Cinthia arose from Neptunes couch at last.
Oh! then this scape of Cephalus was spide,
Treason may shadowed be but neuer hid;
Vnhappy woman, she the dull night spent
In sad complaintes, and giddie merrymentes,
Sometimes intending to excuse her crime,
By vowes protesting, and an other time,
(Remotiue woman) would haue done worse harme,
Hymen therewith sent forth a fresh alarme,
But Chauntecleere that did the morne bewray,
With his cleere noates gaue notice of the day,
Whereat she starts, and in a desperate moode,
Skipt from the bed, all wrathfull where she stoode,
Vow'd to herselfe perpetuall banishment,
Mournefull complaintes, out-cries, and languishment;
Then to the craggie vaulted caues, whose sound
Small mourning doth a treble griefe resound,
Amid the thickest of the desertes, she
Distressed woman, forlorne, sollitarie,
With many a direfull song, fits the thicke groue,
And heere and there in vncouth pathes doth roue.
As one that lies before his enimie prostrate,
Willing to liue, yet scorning to beg life,
So feares he now (as twere) with his false wife;
Sometimes he cals her faire, chast, wise, and graue,
Anon with too too wrathfull tauntes he raues,
(Quoth he) shall I, where erst I might commaunde,
Goe and intreate with knee, and cap in hand,
Or shall I die, tormented thus in minde,
Iust Radamanth, what torture canst thou finde,
For woemen that disloyall, counterfeite,
Loue to their peeres, and yet would slay their hartes?
Hast thou no more tubs bottomelesse to fill?
Hast thou no more stones to rowle vp the hill?
19
That so disloyally in loue transgresse?
Hast thou no torment, neuer yet inflicted
On woemens flesh, and all this while neglected?
If so I pray thee graunt this boone to mee,
That Procris therewith may tormented be,
Oh! he is deafe, and damned let him liue,
He will not heare, his kingdome too well thriues.
Proserpina, great goddesse of the Lake,
Some pittie sweete on the distressed take:
And when the Chaos of this worldes disdaine,
Hath sent this bodie to th'Elizium plaine,
And left this Center barren of repast,
Ile honor thee eternall with my ghost,
Which said, “as one that banisht doth remaine,
“Would rather die then longing be detained,
Desperate he goes vnto his innocent wife,
What's she would wed t'abide so bad a life?
And now the tombe that closeth rotten bones,
(Deceitfull man) disguised is come home,
He asketh for himselfe, himselfe being there,
Would it not make a thousand woemen feare?
He tels her of his long indur'd laments,
By sea and land, that he for her hath spent,
And would haue said more, but she straight was gone,
Is not the fault especiall in the man?
Then after makes he by her slender vale,
He holdes her fast, and tels her meny a tale,
He threw her downe vpon the yeelding bed,
And swore he there would loose his maiden-head,
She (as some say, all woemen stricktly do,)
Faintly deni'd what she was willing too:
20
(Discourteous man) did heape flax on the fire,
What there did want in wordes most subtilly,
By liberall giftes he did the same supply,
Hauing pursued so egerly his drift,
Procris vnarm'd suspecting not his shifte;
What for desire of stealth in loue commended,
Or gold s' aboundant dealt, she him befrended,
At least gaue notice of her willing minde,
(Æsopian snakes will alwaies proue vnkind,)
At first content to parley hand in hand,
After steale kisses, talke of Cupids band,
And by degrees applide the tex so well,
As (cunning counter-feite) he did excell,
And what but now gently he might obtaine,
O what but now, she wisht cald backe againe,
“The duskie vapours of the middle earth,
“Drawne from contagious dewes, & noisome breathes,
“Choakt the cleere day; and now from Acheron,
“Blacke dismall night was come the world vppon,
“Fitting true louers, and their sweete repast,
“Cinthia arose from Neptunes couch at last.
Oh! then this scape of Cephalus was spide,
Treason may shadowed be but neuer hid;
Vnhappy woman, she the dull night spent
In sad complaintes, and giddie merrymentes,
Sometimes intending to excuse her crime,
By vowes protesting, and an other time,
(Remotiue woman) would haue done worse harme,
Hymen therewith sent forth a fresh alarme,
But Chauntecleere that did the morne bewray,
With his cleere noates gaue notice of the day,
21
Skipt from the bed, all wrathfull where she stoode,
Vow'd to herselfe perpetuall banishment,
Mournefull complaintes, out-cries, and languishment;
Then to the craggie vaulted caues, whose sound
Small mourning doth a treble griefe resound,
Amid the thickest of the desertes, she
Distressed woman, forlorne, sollitarie,
With many a direfull song, fits the thicke groue,
And heere and there in vncouth pathes doth roue.
Cephalus we leaue vnto his secrete muse,
Lamie by chaunce some sacred herbe to vse,
On deere compassion of some louers plaintes,
Among the woods and moorie fennes she hauntes,
Such euill pleasing humours, fairie elues,
Obserue and keepe autenticke mong'st themselues;
And now was she of purpose trauailing,
Intending quietly to be a gathering
Some vnprophane, or holy thing, or other:
Good Faierie Lady, hadst thou bene loues mother,
Not halfe so meny gallants had bene slaine,
As now in common are with endlesse paine,
This Lady compassing her secret fauour;
Procris espi'd wondring at her behauiour,
Amaz'd she stoode at such a heauenly sight,
To see so debonary a saint at such a hight,
Her haire downe trailing, and her robes loose worne,
Rushing through thickets, and yet neuer torne,
Her brest so white as euer womans was,
And yet made subiect to the Sunnes large compasse:
Each so officious, and became her so,
As Thames doth Swannes, or Swans did euer Po,
Lamie by chaunce some sacred herbe to vse,
On deere compassion of some louers plaintes,
Among the woods and moorie fennes she hauntes,
Such euill pleasing humours, fairie elues,
Obserue and keepe autenticke mong'st themselues;
And now was she of purpose trauailing,
Intending quietly to be a gathering
Some vnprophane, or holy thing, or other:
Good Faierie Lady, hadst thou bene loues mother,
Not halfe so meny gallants had bene slaine,
As now in common are with endlesse paine,
This Lady compassing her secret fauour;
Procris espi'd wondring at her behauiour,
Amaz'd she stoode at such a heauenly sight,
To see so debonary a saint at such a hight,
Her haire downe trailing, and her robes loose worne,
Rushing through thickets, and yet neuer torne,
Her brest so white as euer womans was,
And yet made subiect to the Sunnes large compasse:
Each so officious, and became her so,
As Thames doth Swannes, or Swans did euer Po,
22
Procris in steede of tearmes her to salute,
With teares and sighes, (shewing her toung was mute)
She humbly downe vnto her louely feete,
Bow'd her straight bodie Lamie to greete:
Therewith the Lady of those pretie ones,
That in the twylight mocke the frozen zone,
And hand in hand daunce by some siluer brooke,
One at an other pointing, and vp looke,
(Like rurall Faunes) vpon the full fa'st Moone,
Intreating Venus some heroicke boone,
Gently gan stoupe, and with her sacred haire,
Her louely eies, and face so ouer faire,
She neatly couers, and her vngirt gowne,
Deafely commits vnto the lowly growne,
She dandleth Procris thereon prettily,
And chaunteth soueraigne songs full merrily,
And gins to prancke her vp with many a flower,
And vow'd she should be Oboron's parramore.
“Euen like to one thats troubled in his sleepe,
“Amazed startes of nothe scarce taking keepe,
“But in a furie tels what he hath done,
So she of Cephalus a tale begun,
Whereby the Lady quickely vnderstood,
The cause she was so grieued and so wood,
Aie me, who can (quoth Lamie) be so cruell,
As to conuert the building Oake to fuell?
Or rob the Ceder from his royall armes,
That spread so faire, or do a woman harme?
Wast not inough for Læda's Swanly scape,
That Iupiter was author of the rape?
What can be more for Cephalus then this,
That Cephalus was author of thy misse?
The fault ydone must be to him alluded,
That in the complot hath thee so abused,
I pray thee tell me, who would not consent,
Amorously boorded, and in merriment?
Say that thou hadst not yeelded therevnto,
As one vnknowne, vnmaskt thou would'st it do,
Methinkes the pastime had bene ouer pleasing,
So sweetely stolne, and won by such false leasing,
A wonder sure that Cephalus a man,
Giuen to hunting, with the game not ran;
But thou wilt say, he gaue thee too much law,
Whereby to course, his dogs the game not saw,
Tut twas in thee to bring the sport to passe,
Knowing his dogs, and where the huntsman was,
In soothe, if he had hunted cunningly,
He should haue prickt out where the game did lie,
But peraduenture I will not say so,
His dogs were tir'd: and if new sport not kno,
For some a moneth, and meny men a weeke,
Cherrish their curs before for game they seeke,
And then no maruaile though they backe did beate,
When they were strengthlesse, and orecome with heate,
If it be royall too, I heard some say,
Till warrant had, ther's none must coorse or play,
But it is wonder, he on his owne land,
Would not strik't dead, hauing't so faire at stand,
A was not halfe couragious on the sport,
For who would yeeld when he hath won the fort?
An other time he vowes (perhaps) to kill,
But in meane while poore Procris wants her will,
It is but game (quoth she) doth stand betweene you,
And what but sporting doth he disallow?
To end which controuersie (quoth she) againe,
Shew him an other course vpon the plaine,
And if he then beate backe, or sleeping follow,
Once more giue notice by a siluer hollow,
It may be he will haue some deep surmize,
That ther's new footing, note his greedie eies,
For thei' le be pliant, sheuering in his head,
Like to a greedie Priapus in bed,
For pittie, ruthe, compassion, loue, or lust,
He can not choose but yeeld perforce he must,
Perswade thy selfe, a womans wordes can wound,
Her teares oh they are able to confound:
Then Procris cease, and prey thee mourne no more,
There be that haue done ten times worse before.
With teares and sighes, (shewing her toung was mute)
She humbly downe vnto her louely feete,
Bow'd her straight bodie Lamie to greete:
Therewith the Lady of those pretie ones,
That in the twylight mocke the frozen zone,
And hand in hand daunce by some siluer brooke,
One at an other pointing, and vp looke,
(Like rurall Faunes) vpon the full fa'st Moone,
Intreating Venus some heroicke boone,
Gently gan stoupe, and with her sacred haire,
Her louely eies, and face so ouer faire,
She neatly couers, and her vngirt gowne,
Deafely commits vnto the lowly growne,
She dandleth Procris thereon prettily,
And chaunteth soueraigne songs full merrily,
And gins to prancke her vp with many a flower,
And vow'd she should be Oboron's parramore.
“Euen like to one thats troubled in his sleepe,
“Amazed startes of nothe scarce taking keepe,
“But in a furie tels what he hath done,
So she of Cephalus a tale begun,
Whereby the Lady quickely vnderstood,
The cause she was so grieued and so wood,
Aie me, who can (quoth Lamie) be so cruell,
As to conuert the building Oake to fuell?
Or rob the Ceder from his royall armes,
That spread so faire, or do a woman harme?
Wast not inough for Læda's Swanly scape,
That Iupiter was author of the rape?
What can be more for Cephalus then this,
That Cephalus was author of thy misse?
23
That in the complot hath thee so abused,
I pray thee tell me, who would not consent,
Amorously boorded, and in merriment?
Say that thou hadst not yeelded therevnto,
As one vnknowne, vnmaskt thou would'st it do,
Methinkes the pastime had bene ouer pleasing,
So sweetely stolne, and won by such false leasing,
A wonder sure that Cephalus a man,
Giuen to hunting, with the game not ran;
But thou wilt say, he gaue thee too much law,
Whereby to course, his dogs the game not saw,
Tut twas in thee to bring the sport to passe,
Knowing his dogs, and where the huntsman was,
In soothe, if he had hunted cunningly,
He should haue prickt out where the game did lie,
But peraduenture I will not say so,
His dogs were tir'd: and if new sport not kno,
For some a moneth, and meny men a weeke,
Cherrish their curs before for game they seeke,
And then no maruaile though they backe did beate,
When they were strengthlesse, and orecome with heate,
If it be royall too, I heard some say,
Till warrant had, ther's none must coorse or play,
But it is wonder, he on his owne land,
Would not strik't dead, hauing't so faire at stand,
A was not halfe couragious on the sport,
For who would yeeld when he hath won the fort?
An other time he vowes (perhaps) to kill,
But in meane while poore Procris wants her will,
It is but game (quoth she) doth stand betweene you,
And what but sporting doth he disallow?
24
Shew him an other course vpon the plaine,
And if he then beate backe, or sleeping follow,
Once more giue notice by a siluer hollow,
It may be he will haue some deep surmize,
That ther's new footing, note his greedie eies,
For thei' le be pliant, sheuering in his head,
Like to a greedie Priapus in bed,
For pittie, ruthe, compassion, loue, or lust,
He can not choose but yeeld perforce he must,
Perswade thy selfe, a womans wordes can wound,
Her teares oh they are able to confound:
Then Procris cease, and prey thee mourne no more,
There be that haue done ten times worse before.
Carelesse of what the eluish wanton spake,
Procris begins a fresh her plaintes to make,
She kneeleth downe close by the riuers side,
And with her teares did make a second tide,
She vp to heauen heaues her immortall eies,
Casting them downe againe she seem'd to die,
No shew of pleasance from her face did come,
Except the teares ioyd on her cheekes to runne,
Her handes full often would haue helpt each other,
But were so weake they could not meete together:
Some orizons I gesse she would haue done,
But they alack were finisht ere begun.
Thus for a season liuelesse she doth liue,
And prayes to death, but deafe he nothing giues;
Continuing for a space thus desolate,
The new sprung flowers her sences animate,
Her head and eies then she ginnes to mainetaine,
As one halfe sorrowing that she liu'd againe,
Their former strength her handes possesse at last,
Which serue to drie the teares that she doth wast.
Procris begins a fresh her plaintes to make,
She kneeleth downe close by the riuers side,
And with her teares did make a second tide,
She vp to heauen heaues her immortall eies,
Casting them downe againe she seem'd to die,
No shew of pleasance from her face did come,
Except the teares ioyd on her cheekes to runne,
Her handes full often would haue helpt each other,
But were so weake they could not meete together:
Some orizons I gesse she would haue done,
But they alack were finisht ere begun.
Thus for a season liuelesse she doth liue,
And prayes to death, but deafe he nothing giues;
Continuing for a space thus desolate,
The new sprung flowers her sences animate,
Her head and eies then she ginnes to mainetaine,
As one halfe sorrowing that she liu'd againe,
25
Which serue to drie the teares that she doth wast.
Thus in distressefull wise, as though she had
Bene rauisht, wounded, or at least halfe mad,
Like a Thessalian Metra, of our storie
To haue no part, nor rob vs of our glory,
She fiercely raues, and teares in carelesse sorte,
The louely flowers (God wot) that hurteth not.
At length the silent Morpheus with his lute,
About her tyring braine gan to salute
Her vnto rest, the Driades consent,
With downe of thissels they made her a tent,
Where softly slumbering shadowed from the Sunne,
To rest herselfe deuoutly she begun.
Bene rauisht, wounded, or at least halfe mad,
Like a Thessalian Metra, of our storie
To haue no part, nor rob vs of our glory,
She fiercely raues, and teares in carelesse sorte,
The louely flowers (God wot) that hurteth not.
At length the silent Morpheus with his lute,
About her tyring braine gan to salute
Her vnto rest, the Driades consent,
With downe of thissels they made her a tent,
Where softly slumbering shadowed from the Sunne,
To rest herselfe deuoutly she begun.
But note the sequel, an vnciuill Swaine,
That had bene wandring from the scorched plaines,
Espi'd this Amoretta where she lay,
Conceited deedes base Clownes do oft bewray,
Rude as he was in action, roughe, and harsh,
Dull, sluggish, heauie, willfull, more then rash,
He paces long'st, and round about her tent,
And which way he had gone againe he went;
His rude borne basenesse holdes him thus excus'd,
In age we do the like in youth we vs'd,
Nor stood he long on tearmes, but rusheth in,
And boldly thus to boord her doth begin.
That had bene wandring from the scorched plaines,
Espi'd this Amoretta where she lay,
Conceited deedes base Clownes do oft bewray,
Rude as he was in action, roughe, and harsh,
Dull, sluggish, heauie, willfull, more then rash,
He paces long'st, and round about her tent,
And which way he had gone againe he went;
His rude borne basenesse holdes him thus excus'd,
In age we do the like in youth we vs'd,
Nor stood he long on tearmes, but rusheth in,
And boldly thus to boord her doth begin.
O gentle Goddesse loues owne louely mother!
(For fairer then thy selfe, I know no other,)
What sacrilegious obsequies vndone,
Art thou perfourming to thy winged Sonne?
Or are these cloistred willow walles the show,
Of thy fell hate to him that thou doest owe,
Tis mercenary toyling thus alone,
Tell me (I pray thee) wherefore doest thou moane?
Amid extreames who would not show his griefe?
The riuer pent seldome yeeldes reliefe:
But being deuided flowes and nurseth many,
Sorrow (I gesse) did neuer good to any,
Thou art too peeuish, faith, be rul'd by me;
Who liues content, hath not securitie,
And sooner fades the flower then the weede,
Woemen are onely made on for their deedes,
Few reape the stubble, when the corne is gon,
A Hermitage compared to a region,
Hath no exceede, but takes disgrace therein:
So woemen liuing sollitarie, sin,
More by the wrong they do commit thereby,
Then mong'st many acting the contrary:
This said, he bow'd his body to embrace her,
Thinking thereby, that he should greatly grace her,
And would haue told her something in her eare,
But she orecome with melancholy feare,
Diu'd downe amid the greene and rosey briers,
Thinking belike with teares to quench desire,
Aie me (I wot) who euer the like tried,
Knowes tis a hell to loue, and be denied.
And who so is most politicke, true loue
Will send his wits, or headlong, or to Ioue.
The dowdy yongster had by this so well
Perswaded Procris from her solemne Cell,
That now as heeretofore through thicke and thin,
Like some pernitious hegg surpriz'd with sin,
Cutting the aire with braine-sick shreekes and cries,
Like a swift arrow with the winde she highes,
For that same Swaine yspoken of, did tell her,
Where and with what Nimphe Cephalus did err,
Still doth the morning add vnto our muse,
And of Auroraes sweete some sweete to vse,
Lets mount couragiously, ha done with hate,
Tis seruile still on sorrow to dilate.
“The staring massacres, blood-dronken plots,
“Hot riotous hell-quickeners, Italian-nots:
“That tup their wits with snaky Nemesis,
“Teate-sucking on the poyson of her mis,
“With ougly fiendes ytasked let them bee,
“A milder fury to enrich seeke wee,
“If Homer did so well the feates ypaint
“Of an Vlysses, then how much more quaint,
“Might his sweete verse th'immortall Hector graced,
“And praise deseruing all, all haue imbraced?
“But what is more in vre, or getteth praise,
“Then sweete Affection tun'd in homely layes?
“Gladly would our Cephalian muse haue sung
“All of white loue, enamored with a tounge,
“That still Styll musicke sighing teares together,
“Could one conceite haue made beget an other,
“And so haue ransackt this rich age of that,
“The muses wanton fauourites haue got
“Heauens-gloryfier, with thy holy fire,
“O thrise immortall quickener of desire,
“That scorn'st this vast and base prodigious clime,
“Smyling at such as beg in ragged rime,
“Powre from aboue, or fauour of the prince,
“Distilling wordes to hight the quintessence
“Of fame and honor: such I say doest scorne,
“Because thy stately verse was Lordly borne,
“Through all Arcadia, and the Fayerie land,
“And hauing smale true grace in Albion,
“Thy natiue soyle, as thou of right deserued'st,
“Rightly adornes one now, that's richly serued:
“O to that quick sprite of thy smooth-cut quill,
“Without surmise of thinking any ill.
“ I offer vp in duetie and in zeale,
“This dull conceite of mine, and do appeale,
“With reuerence to thy
“On will I put that breste-plate and there on,
“Riuet the standard boare in spite of such:
“As thy bright name condigne or would but touch,
“Affection is the whole Parenthesis,
“That here I streake, which from our taske doth misse.
(For fairer then thy selfe, I know no other,)
What sacrilegious obsequies vndone,
Art thou perfourming to thy winged Sonne?
Or are these cloistred willow walles the show,
Of thy fell hate to him that thou doest owe,
26
Tell me (I pray thee) wherefore doest thou moane?
Amid extreames who would not show his griefe?
The riuer pent seldome yeeldes reliefe:
But being deuided flowes and nurseth many,
Sorrow (I gesse) did neuer good to any,
Thou art too peeuish, faith, be rul'd by me;
Who liues content, hath not securitie,
And sooner fades the flower then the weede,
Woemen are onely made on for their deedes,
Few reape the stubble, when the corne is gon,
A Hermitage compared to a region,
Hath no exceede, but takes disgrace therein:
So woemen liuing sollitarie, sin,
More by the wrong they do commit thereby,
Then mong'st many acting the contrary:
This said, he bow'd his body to embrace her,
Thinking thereby, that he should greatly grace her,
And would haue told her something in her eare,
But she orecome with melancholy feare,
Diu'd downe amid the greene and rosey briers,
Thinking belike with teares to quench desire,
Aie me (I wot) who euer the like tried,
Knowes tis a hell to loue, and be denied.
And who so is most politicke, true loue
Will send his wits, or headlong, or to Ioue.
The dowdy yongster had by this so well
Perswaded Procris from her solemne Cell,
That now as heeretofore through thicke and thin,
Like some pernitious hegg surpriz'd with sin,
Cutting the aire with braine-sick shreekes and cries,
Like a swift arrow with the winde she highes,
27
Where and with what Nimphe Cephalus did err,
Still doth the morning add vnto our muse,
And of Auroraes sweete some sweete to vse,
Lets mount couragiously, ha done with hate,
Tis seruile still on sorrow to dilate.
“The staring massacres, blood-dronken plots,
“Hot riotous hell-quickeners, Italian-nots:
“That tup their wits with snaky Nemesis,
“Teate-sucking on the poyson of her mis,
“With ougly fiendes ytasked let them bee,
“A milder fury to enrich seeke wee,
“If Homer did so well the feates ypaint
“Of an Vlysses, then how much more quaint,
“Might his sweete verse th'immortall Hector graced,
“And praise deseruing all, all haue imbraced?
“But what is more in vre, or getteth praise,
“Then sweete Affection tun'd in homely layes?
“Gladly would our Cephalian muse haue sung
“All of white loue, enamored with a tounge,
“That still Styll musicke sighing teares together,
“Could one conceite haue made beget an other,
“And so haue ransackt this rich age of that,
“The muses wanton fauourites haue got
“Heauens-gloryfier, with thy holy fire,
“O thrise immortall quickener of desire,
“That scorn'st this vast and base prodigious clime,
“Smyling at such as beg in ragged rime,
“Powre from aboue, or fauour of the prince,
“Distilling wordes to hight the quintessence
“Of fame and honor: such I say doest scorne,
“Because thy stately verse was Lordly borne,
28
“And hauing smale true grace in Albion,
“Thy natiue soyle, as thou of right deserued'st,
“Rightly adornes one now, that's richly serued:
“O to that quick sprite of thy smooth-cut quill,
“Without surmise of thinking any ill.
“ I offer vp in duetie and in zeale,
“This dull conceite of mine, and do appeale,
“With reuerence to thy
“On will I put that breste-plate and there on,
“Riuet the standard boare in spite of such:
“As thy bright name condigne or would but touch,
“Affection is the whole Parenthesis,
“That here I streake, which from our taske doth misse.
And now conclude we in a word or twaine,
Viragon-like, Procris the woods containe;
Where by direction from the Swaine she lay,
Shrowded with smale bowes from the scorching day,
Close by th'accustom'd harbour of her loue,
Where he to sollace did him selfe approue,
It was his guize through melancholy anger,
Heere to oppose his body, as no straunger,
But well affected, and acquainted too,
With strange perfourmances, that oft did doo
Him honor, seruice, in respect of her,
That in the skie sits honoured as a Starre,
Soft stealing bare-foote Faieries now and then,
(That counted are as Iewels worne of men,)
Together with the scornefull mocking Eccho,
Nymphes, Driades, and Satyres many mo
Then I can tell you, would full oft most trim,
Like gliding ghoastes about his cabine swim,
As what might seeme to imitate delight,
Sweete thoughts by day, and musicke in the night,
Causing the one so to confirme the other,
As Reuels, Maskes, and all that Cupids mother,
Could summon to the earth, heere was it done,
A second heauen, (aie me) there was begunne.
Viragon-like, Procris the woods containe;
Where by direction from the Swaine she lay,
Shrowded with smale bowes from the scorching day,
Close by th'accustom'd harbour of her loue,
Where he to sollace did him selfe approue,
It was his guize through melancholy anger,
Heere to oppose his body, as no straunger,
But well affected, and acquainted too,
With strange perfourmances, that oft did doo
Him honor, seruice, in respect of her,
That in the skie sits honoured as a Starre,
Soft stealing bare-foote Faieries now and then,
(That counted are as Iewels worne of men,)
Together with the scornefull mocking Eccho,
Nymphes, Driades, and Satyres many mo
Then I can tell you, would full oft most trim,
Like gliding ghoastes about his cabine swim,
29
Sweete thoughts by day, and musicke in the night,
Causing the one so to confirme the other,
As Reuels, Maskes, and all that Cupids mother,
Could summon to the earth, heere was it done,
A second heauen, (aie me) there was begunne.
She waues herselfe, supposing that thereby,
Aurora to embrace he would come nie;
But he mistrusting some deuouring beast,
Till he could finde some pray, himselfe did rest,
Vnder that thicket, eft-soone with the dart,
He of Aurora had acted a part,
Fitter for some rude martialist then one,
That should haue bene the accent of her moane.
Now in her bowels bathes the dart a good,
The liuely, fresh, and rosey couloured blood
Then did rebate, in steade whereof pale death,
Lay with his surquedie to draw her breath,
Her speach past sence, her sences past all speaking,
Thus for prolonged life he fals entreating.
Thou saffron God (quoth he) that knits the knot
Of marriage, do'st, heauēs know, thou knowest not what,
How art thou wrath, that mak'st me of this wrong
Author and Actor, and in tragicke song,
Doest binde my temples, eke in sable cloudes,
Encampes the honor thereto is allowde,
O Hymen hast thou no remorse in loue?
Then Hyems hencefoorth be till I approoue
Againe the fruites, and comfort issuelesse,
Of Iealousie in marriage had a mis.
Aurora to embrace he would come nie;
But he mistrusting some deuouring beast,
Till he could finde some pray, himselfe did rest,
Vnder that thicket, eft-soone with the dart,
He of Aurora had acted a part,
Fitter for some rude martialist then one,
That should haue bene the accent of her moane.
Now in her bowels bathes the dart a good,
The liuely, fresh, and rosey couloured blood
Then did rebate, in steade whereof pale death,
Lay with his surquedie to draw her breath,
Her speach past sence, her sences past all speaking,
Thus for prolonged life he fals entreating.
Thou saffron God (quoth he) that knits the knot
Of marriage, do'st, heauēs know, thou knowest not what,
How art thou wrath, that mak'st me of this wrong
Author and Actor, and in tragicke song,
Doest binde my temples, eke in sable cloudes,
Encampes the honor thereto is allowde,
O Hymen hast thou no remorse in loue?
Then Hyems hencefoorth be till I approoue
Againe the fruites, and comfort issuelesse,
Of Iealousie in marriage had a mis.
Heere was no want of hate, foule Achoron,
Styx, and Cocytus, duskie Phlegyton,
Eumenydes, and all the hell houndes then,
Spued foorth disgrace, oh what hath Cupid done!
Pherecydes, Puppius, and Philocles mourne,
Mourne with Cephalus, and your Hymni turne
To dismall nightes darke ougly stratagems,
To tragicke out-cries, wonderment of men,
And those that take delight in amorous loue,
Be their Heraclian wits subiect to moue
An other Sunne to grace our Theater,
That sadly mournes in blacke, with heauy cheere,
Duld with a still continuing heauinesse;
O! in extreames who comes to visite vs?
Styx, and Cocytus, duskie Phlegyton,
30
Spued foorth disgrace, oh what hath Cupid done!
Pherecydes, Puppius, and Philocles mourne,
Mourne with Cephalus, and your Hymni turne
To dismall nightes darke ougly stratagems,
To tragicke out-cries, wonderment of men,
And those that take delight in amorous loue,
Be their Heraclian wits subiect to moue
An other Sunne to grace our Theater,
That sadly mournes in blacke, with heauy cheere,
Duld with a still continuing heauinesse;
O! in extreames who comes to visite vs?
FINIS.
| Cephalus and Procris | |