University of Virginia Library

OMPHALE,

OR, THE INCONSANT SHEPHEARDESSE.

In bondage free, in freedome bound I am,
A hopelesse, haplesse, loue-sicke, life-sicke man;
When I write ought, streight loue preuenteth me,
And bids me write of nought but Omphale:
When I ride East, my heart is in the West,
Lodg'd in the center of her virgin-breast.
The homeliest cell would chearefull seeme to me,
If I in it might liue with Omphale.
My youth growes ag'd, for though I'me in my prime,
Loue hath made furrowes in this face of mine;
So as last day (aye me vnhappie else)
Looking in th' glasse, I scarce could know my selfe.
And I, from whom these sharpe extreames did grow,
Was not content, but I must tell her too,
Which made her proud, for few or none there are,
(If women) but they'r proud if they be faire.
All this last Sommer hath it bene my hap,
To sport, toy, play, and wanton in her lap,
And euer th' more I plaid, if so I could,
Or strength admitted meanes, the more I would:
For truth confirmes that Maxime, where we find
A louing, loyall, well-disposed mind,
Prest for encounter, there we loue to plant,
Feeding on Loues delights in midst of want;
For Loue contemnes all want, and counts't a gaine,
To purchase one houres ioy with two yeares paine.
Alas how oft (too oft thou well may say)
Haue I in priuate spent with her the day,
Inuoking th' Sunne, plants, heauen, and earth and all,
If fall I should, she did procure my fall?
And still she vow'd, and bit her lip, and stept
Apart from me, and wip'd her eyes and wept,
And stood and chid, and call'd me most vniust,
To harbour in my bosome such distrust.
And I (too credulous I) as one dismaid,
Was forced to recant what I had said,
Swearing I was resolu'd that th' constancie,
Of

Or Hypermnestra, one of the fiftie daughters of Danaus, who out of a tender nuptiall affectiō, saued her husband Lynceus from that great slaughter which was committed by her sisters, in slaying their husbands.

Hypemnestra match'd not Omphale.
Thus did I gull my selfe to sooth my loue,
Who prou'd a Serpent, though she seem'd a Doue:
For vowes, protests, and all that she had spoken,
Were by her light affection quickly broken.
And whence came this? not frō me, heauen thou knowes,
But from my loue who triumphs in my woes;
My loue; raze out that name: she was indeed,
When thou and she your lanbkins vs'd to feede
On Arnus flowrie banks, being wont to make
Posies and nosegaies for her shepheards sake,
And bind them to his hooke; but let that passe,
She is not she, nor time the same it was.
For then (ô then) suspicious eyes were free,
And none but heauenly bodies lookt on thee;
(Too faire spectators,) though we now and then
Dispence with Gods sight rather then with men.
And can she thinke on this and not relent,
Or thinking not of this, can she consent
To leaue Admetus? Yes, why can she not!
Now loues she Cloris, and I feare his lot
Will proue as fatall, for her very eye
Tells me she meanes to tread her shoe awry.
And this I saw before, and durst not see,
For th' loue I bore to her, perswaded me
She could not be so thankelesse, as requite
My faithfull seruice with such strange despite:
Yet I perceiu'd, not by suspicious feare,
But by the Organs both of eye and eare,
That loue was fained which to me she bore,
Reseruing others to supply her store.
And I confesse in th' end I iealous grew,
For some had many fauours, I but few;
Others had smiles, I frownes, so as I say,
I found her former fancie fall away,
Which gaue increase to griefe, cause to my eye
To looke into her steps more narrowly;
So as poore foole (so vainely did I erre)
I thought each bush did play th' Adulterer,
So violent was this passion; which to show,
Though of Actæons there be store enow,
I briefly meane, (and let all others passe)
To tell you how my iealous humour was.
Each thing I ey'd, did represent to me,
The louely feature of my Omphale,
Yet so, as still that precious forme I saw,
Did by attractiue power another draw,
To make her forme more complete, for we know,
Number can ne're consist of lesse then two.
Streight did I see, (suspition made me see)
My selfe made cuckold in a phantasie,
Which in my thoughts such deepe impression tooke,
As now and then I threw away my booke,
Calling my selfe an Asse, to pore on that
Which gaue my wench time to cornute my pate;
And to confirme the height of my disgrace,
Suffer the rifling of her common place.
Sometimes in silent nights, when hoarie care
Is charm'd asleepe, and men exempted are
From day-bred passions, would I start from bed,
And sweare, the night had me dishonoured;
While she (sleepe-lulled soule) did thinke no harme,
But lay entwining me with arme in arme:
Yet hearing me she wakt, and chid me too,
For doing (humerous foole) what I did do,
And as she chid I wept, yet inward faine,
My dreames prou'd false, I went to bed againe.
If I but found her in discourse with any,
I streight renounc'd her loue, and swore too many
Were factors in my Pinnace, yet one frowne
Sent from her brow, subdude me as her owne.
If she receiu'd a letter from a friend,
I streight coniectur'd what it did intend;
Supposing (vaine suppose) where th' place should be,
That witnesse might the shame of Omphale:
To which I vow'd reuenge, though nothing were,
But my owne thoughts that ministred this feare.
Oft would I faine (for what were all my thoughts,
But fictions meerely) that she played nought
With her owne shadow, and Narcissus-like,
That in her forme she tooke such quaint delight,
As forced now to surfet on her store,
She prou'd this true: Much plentie made her poore.
Thus did her presence cause me to admire her,
Her absence like occasion to desire her;
Without whose presence, though the Sunneshone faire,
All seemed darke, because she was not there.
Last time we parted with teare-trickling eye,
Hand ioyn'd in hand right ceremonially,
I calld the heauens and sacred powers aboue,
To witnesse with me my vnfained loue,
And vow'd withall, if ere it should appeare,
I broke the faith which I had plight to her,
Or entred any bed lasciuiously,
Intending to play false with Omphale,
Or entertain'd least thought of disrespect
To her or hers in nature of neglect,
Or euer cancell'd th' deed, which (heauens you know,
Was seal'd and was deliuer'd twixt vs two)
Or euer chang'd my fancie, to deuide
My shared loue vnto another Bride,
Or ere disclaim'd what I in secret vow'd,
Or disallow what Hymen had allow'd;
If this or that, or any of these all,
Should censure me of lightnesse, that my fall
Might recompence my shame (which heauens forbid)
And this I vow'd to do, and this I did.
Nor did she spare to second me in this,
But wish'd if ere she chanc'd to do amisse,
With an intent of ill, or violate
Those solemne hests our loues had consummate,
Or stain'd that spousall rest, that blest repose,
Where two encountred, yet were neither foes;
Or disesteem'd my loue, or prized it
Lesse then a constant louer did befit,
Or let one day or night passe carelesly,
Without recalling me to memory,
Or giue occasion to the world to say,
She loues another when her loue's away,
Or entertaine a fauour, or descry
Least of affection by alluring eye,
Or riot in my absence, or consort
With any that might blemish her report,
Or frequent publicke presence, which might moue
A subiect for varietie of loue:
If this or that, or any should begin
To taxe her life, might vengeance plague her sinne.
Thus we both vow'd, and thus we parted too,
But heare how soone my loue infring'd her vow;
No sooner had the region of the West,
Remou'd me from my loue, and reft me rest,
Where steepie mountaines ragged and vneuen,
Ossa and Pelion-like do menace heauen,
Where scalpie hils and sandie vales imply,
The ploughmans toile's requited slenderly;
Where their course feeding and their homely fare,
Makes their wits lumpish, and their bodies spare:
Then she (inconstant she) forgot me cleane,
And all her vowes, as if I had not bene.
Distance of place, made distance in our loue,
And as my body mou'd, her loue did moue
From her first center: thus euen in my Prime,
Did my loue change, when I did change my clime.
Thus like blind Cupids ball (by fancie crost)
Was I to euery hazard strangely tost;
Thus was my seruice guerdon'd with disgrace,
While Cloris crept into Admetus place:
And can her height of sinne be thus forgot?
No, wanton no, who is it knowes it not?
So as thy crime thy nature will display,
And make thy storie worse then Cressida,
Who in contempt of faith, (as we do reade)
Reiected Troilus for Diomede!
Canst thou make shew of loue to me or any,
That art expos'd to louing of so many?
Canst thou haue heart to vow, when thou forsooke,
And didst infringe the oath which thou first tooke?
Canst thou haue face to come in open light,
That hast incurr'd reuenge in his pure sight,
Whose vengeance thou inuok't? canst thou repaire
Unto thy sex, or taste the common ayre,
Hauing, (by making of thy faith so common)
Infected th' ayre, impeach'd the Sex of women?
Canst thou looke on that faithlesse hand of thine,
And giue it to another being mine?
Canst thou, and see that face, not blush to see
Those teares thou shed, and vowes thou made to me?
Or canst embrace another in thy bed,
Hearing thy first espoused friend not dead?
Suppose I should surprize thee, could I long
Restraine my hand, and not reuenge my wrong?
Could I allay my passion vnexprest,
Or see th' Adulterer sleepe within thy brest?
Could I endure my bed should be abus'd,
Or see her strumpeted, whom I had chus'd?
Could I content my selfe to see my shame,
And coward-like, not to redresse the same?
No, no insatiate thou, sooner could time
Leaue his gradation, or the Sunne to shine,
Light bodies to ascend and leaue their center,
Riuers their downeward course, then I should venter
My patience on that odds: but foolish I,
That gaue no credit to mine eare or eye,
But made my senses all Cassandra'es, where
Mine eare presag'd, yet I'de not trust mine eare:
Such strange distempers doth this Circe breed,
This phrensie-fancie in a louers head,
That though he heare, see, taste, and touch, & smell
His loues vnkindnesse, yet he dare not tell,
But must renounce th' instruction of all these,
Yea, (euen himselfe) that he his wench may please.
O why should man tearme woman th' weaker kind,
Since they are stronger, as we daily find,
In will, and head, although their husbands browes,
Oft to a harder kind of temper growes?
So as for all that we do style them weaker,
They oft become to be their husbands maker!
But now Admetus, wilt thou pine and die,
And waste thy selfe for her inconstancie?
Wilt thou lament the losse of such an one,
As hath resolu'd to keepe her faith with none?
Or canst thou dote on her, that longs to be
Affected of each youth that she doth see?
No, no Admetus, since she proues vntrue,
Shed not one teare nor sigh, for none is due,
But offer Pan the chiefe of all thy flocke,
That thou art rid of such a weathercocke.
Now maist thou pipe vpon thy oaten reede,
Whilest thy Mug-sheepe on Arnus pastures feede:
Where bonnie Clytus will attend on thee,
And Mopsus too will keepe thee companie.
There the late-freed Capnus will repaire,
And ioy to taste the freedome of the ayre;
Where he will descant on no rurall theame,
But on Ambitions curbe, the golden meane.
And ioy he may, for who did euer heare
Such alterations as in him appeare?
Where long restraint hath labour'd to restore
That loue to him, which he had lost before.
With whom Admetus may in consort ioyne,
Comparing of your fortunes one by one;
He to regaine the loue which he had lost,
Thou to forget her loue that wrong'd thee most.
And well would this beseeme Admetus straine,
“For shepheards should not laugh at others paine,
But in compassion of their grieues and them,
To imitate their passions in the same.
And this's a better course, and safer too,
Then to do that which thou so late didst do,
Pining and puling, wishing death appeare,
Which for thy wishes was no whit the neare.
“For death (whē we are happie) will come nie vs,

Iobe in Oet. Her.

“But if we wretched be, then death will flie vs.
How oft hath my experience made this good,
When wishing death, I was by death withstood?
For still I thought my woes would haue an end
If Death arriu'd, afflictions welcome friend.
But th' more I sought, the more he fled from me,
To make me riper in my miserie:
“For griefe is of that nature, as it growes
“In age, so new effects it daily showes.
Yet now thou liues (and thanks to th' powers aboue)
Hast neare by this, supprest the thoughts of loue.
Now canst thou feed, and sleepe, and laugh, & talke,
Sport, and tell tales, refresh thy selfe, and walke
In flowrie Meedes, whilest thou seest Cloris hing
His iealous head to heare the Cuckow sing.
Alas (poore man) what bondage is he in,
To serue a Swaine that's cauteriz'd in sin,
Expos'd to shame, and prostitute to lust,
In whom nor's grace, nor faith, nor loue, nor trust?
And heauen I wish, she may in time reclaime
Her former course, and rectifie the same:
But th' Pumice stone will hardly water yeeld,
Or grace appeare in such a barren field:
For such light mates encompasse her about,
As Vertue's choak't before it can take roote.
O Cloris, if thou knew Admetus mind,
And th' hard conceit he h'as of womankind,
Whose fairest lookes, are lures, affections, baits,
Words, wind, vowes, vaine, and their protests deceits,
Songs, charms, teares, traines to trace vs to our end,
Smiles, snares, frowns, fears, which to our ruine tend:
Then wouldst thou (Cloris) censure Omphale,
The pregnant mirror of inconstancie,
And curbe thy fancie, ere it haue least part
In one can vow so often with one heart.
For heare me (Cloris) she did neuer show
More loue to thee, then she to others too:
Yet what art thou (if man) maist build thee more
Upon her faith then others did before?
What art thou canst perswade thy selfe of this,
She'le not tread right, h'as trod so long amisse,
Or that she'le now proue constant, that h'as prou'd,
So faithlesse to the most, that she has lou'd?
No, Cloris no, the Prouerbe it is true,
And is confirm'd in her whom thou doest sue;
“To wash the Moore, is labouring in vaine,
“For th' colour that he h'as, is di'd in graine.
So th' more thou striues to make her blacknes white,
Thou drawes heauens curtaine to display her night.
Her night indeed, saue that no starres appeare,
(No lights of grace) within her hemi-spheare,
But th' changing Moone, whose lightnesse doth expresse
That light-inconstant mind of Omphales:
“Where Vertue seemes at Nature to complaine,
“That vice should be at full, and she at waine.
Yet Nature answers, she h'as done her part,
And that the fault is rather in her heart,
That is so spacious, to entertaine
The wauering loue of euery wanton Swaine.
And I assent to Nature, for it's showne,
By her rare workemanship, what she h'as done,
In giuing beautie lustre, her content;
In forming her, her selfe to represent.
And reason good; for when I thinke vpon,
That Zeuxes, Phydias, and Pigmalion,
(Those natiue artists) who indeed did striue
To make their curious statues seeme aliue,
Reducing art to Nature; then I find,
Nature had cause to satisfie her mind
In something aboue art, that after-time
Might moue her to reioyce, art to repine.
And what more mouing patterne could there be,
Then the admired forme of Omphale,
Whose feature equall'd Nature, and did show
The very Spring whence fancie's said to flow?
For first her stature's seemely, which I call,
Neither too dwarfish low, nor giant-tall;
Her front a rising-mount, her eyes two lamps,
Which, wheresoere she lookes impression stamps;
Her cheeke twixt rosie red and snowie white,
Attracts an admiration with delight;
Her nose nor long nor short, nor high nor low,
Nor flat, nor sharpe, the token of a shrow;
Her mouth nor ferret-straite, nor callet-broade,
But of an apt proportion, as it should;
Her breath the fragrant odour, which loue sips
From these two cherrie portels of her lips;
Where those two iuory pales or rowes of teeth,
Accent her speech, perfumed by her breath;
Her chin th' inclining vale, deuided is,
By th' daintie dimple of loues choisest blisse,
Which, as maine flouds from smallest currents flow,
Deriues her sweets to th' riuelings below;
Her necke a rocke enazur'd with pure veines
Of orient pearle, which with amorous chaines
Of lou's desir'd embraces, charmes the eye,
And tyes it to her obiect, when she's by;
Her breasts two Orbs or Mounts, or what you will
That may include perfection, which to fill
The world with admiration, are layd out,
To worke the feate her lightnesse goes about;
Two prettie nipples, one oppos'd gainst t'other,
Challenge the name of Nurse as well as Mother:
Though some (for state makes loue to children worse)
Scorne, being mothers to become their nurse.
In briefe her all, (because Ple not descend,
In praise of that, where praises haue no end)
Is beauties faire Idæa, which implies
Height of content, to loues amazed eyes.
And yet this she, the modell of delight,
Though outward faire, seemes to my inward sight,
As spotted as the Ermine, whose smooth skin,
Though it be faire without, is foule within.
For what more foule then vice? but chiefly that
Which makes a woman to degenerate,
From her more shamefast Sex, where modestie
Should sit vpon her cheeke, to verifie
What th' Comick said: straid thoughts find neuer rest,
“But shamefast lookes become a woman best.
Indeed they do; for there is greater sence,
That shame should moue man more then impudence;
For bashfull lookes adde fuell to loues fire,
While th' spirit of lust doth with her flame expire.
Which makes me wonder, that th' interiour light
Whence man resembles God, should lose his sight,
By doting on an Idoll, that can take
To charme loues dazled eyes a Syrens shape,
Making Art vye with Nature for the best,
And soiling that which should surpasse the rest.
For what is faire, if that be all there is,
But an eye-pleasing thing, that yeelds no blisse,
Wanting that inward faire, which who enioyes,
Esteemes all outward ornaments as toyes,
Compared to that beauty, which no Art
Could euer equall, or expresse in part?
Indeed the grace of vertue is more rare,
And exquisite, when she that's good is faire,
For she becomes most complete well we know,
That's grac'd with vertue and with beautie too.
Whence that experienst

Socrates.

Morall vs'd to reach
A looking-glasse to such as he did teach;
Wherein, if such were faire themselues did eye,
He would exhort them rather to apply
Their minds to vertue, for great pittie twere,
Foule soules (quoth he) should haue a face so faire:
But if deform'd, he streight would counsell them,
With wholesome precepts to supply the same;
For fit it were (quoth he) a face so foule,
Should be prouided of a beauteous soule.
But rare's this composition, for we find,
Seldome that double blisse in woman-kind,
Where she that's faire can soone admire her owne,
And knowes what Nature for her selfe hath done:
Yea she by this can learne another straine,
Put on coy looks, and th' fashion of disdaine,
Mins-speech, huff-pace, sleeke-skin, and perfum'd breath,
Goats-haire, brests-bare, plume-fronted, fricace-teeth,
All which infuse new motions into man,
Late borrow'd of th' Italian Curtezan.
But now to thee thou wanton, will I come,
To taxe, not visit that polluted tombe,
Of all infection, which to giue it due,
Is now become no Temple but a stue;
Tell me, disdainfull faire, if I ere wrong'd,
Or thee, or any that to thee belong'd!
Haue I incurr'd dishonour, or deuoted
My loue to many, whereby I am noted?
Haue I bene too profuse in my respect,
To othersome, and blancht thee with neglect?
Haue I incurr'd a merited disgrace,
In begging loue when thou was out of place?
Haue I by courting any, ere exprest,
My selfe ought lesse then what I still profest?
Didst euer see a fauour worne by me,
But that poore bracelet I receiu'd of thee,
Twisted with gold, and with thy faithlesse haire,
Which now I'ue throwne away with all my care?
Did I ere vow and breake, as thou hast done,
Or plight my faith (saue thee) to any one?
Why then shouldst thou infringe that sacred oath,
Which with a kisse was sealed to vs both,
When scarce one houre did vs occasion giue,
(So short was time) to take our lasting leaue?
But I can guesse where thou wilt lay the blame;
Not on thy selfe, but on them whence thou came,
That lustfull stocke I meane, which gaue beginning
To thee of being first, and then of sinning.
It's true indeed, we know a poisoned spring,
Can seld or neuer wholesome water bring,
Nor can we looke that any barren field,
Should ought saue tares or fruitlesse Darnell yeeld:
For this from Scripture may collected be,
“Such as the fruite is, such is still the tree.
Too late I find this true, and heauens I wish,
My former harmes may caution me of this;
For what is ill descendeth in a blood,
Sooner and surer too, then what is good.
“For th' fathers vertues still attend his bere,
“And being dead, with him lie buried there;
“But th' vices which he had are not content
“To die with him, but liue in his descent.
So natiue is thy ill, hauing her birth
From that corrupted stock which brought thee forth,
As sooner may the Æthiope become white,
Th' Cymmerian pitchie shade transparent light,
The Tiger leaue his nature, th' Wolfe his prey,
The Sunne to guide the chariot of the day,
The Pellican her desart, or the Craine,
That nat'rall loue which in her doth remaine
Unto her parents; then thy parents shame,
Got by their sinne, be wiped from thy name.
No wanton, no, thy darknesse is displayd,
Which can by no meanes re-disperse her shade,
But shall suruiue all time; for it's the will
Of Powers aboue, there should be life in ill,
As well as good: that th' memory of the first
Might make succeeding ages count her curst.
For I haue red (and thou was cause I red)
Some fickle Dames in stories mentioned,
Whose small respect to th' honour of their name,
Hath made them since the lasting heires of shame:
And such were Messalina, Martia,
Faustina, Lays, Claudia,

Portia the famous Curtizan; and that noble Ladie, an eminent patterne of modestie, wife to Port. Cato the Senatour.

Portia,
Two of which name there were of different kind,
In th' various disproportion of their mind;
“One good, one ill, one light, one constant prouing,
“One spousall-lothing, one her honour louing.
But which of these can equall Omphale?
Or which of these liue more licentiously?
All patternes in their time (as well they might)
And cautions too, to moue vs tread aright
That do succeed them: yet obserue this staine,
This wedlocks-blemish, and you will complaine,
Of th' present times, that they'r more ripe in sinne,
And breach of faith, then former times haue bin.
More ripe indeed, for where's that age become,
“Folke di'd for loue, as we haue red of some,
Who their affections so implanted haue,
As nought could bury fancie but their graue?
But these were childish times; indeed they were,
For rather then for her I'de shed one teare,
That disesteemes my loue, or send one grone,
Or sigh, or sob, or pule, or make a mone,
Or fold my armes, as forlorne louers vse,
Or grieue to lose, when she doth others chuse,
Or breake my sleepe, or take a solemne fast,
I wish that taske might be Admetus last.
No Omphale, though time was when I mourn'd,
That time is chang'd, and now my humour's turn'd;
So as I scarce remember what thou art,
That once lay neare and deare vnto my heart.
Now is my Pasture greene and flourishing,
And poore Melampus which was wont to hing
His heauie head (kind curre) for's maisters sake,
Begins his sullen humour to forsake.
Now is my bottle mended, and my hooke,
My bag, my pipe, so as if thou should looke,
And see Admetus with his woollie store,
Thou'de say, he were not th' man he was before;
And iudge him too, (to see him now reuiue,
And change his note) the happiest man aliue.
And so I am, to liue and leaue to loue.
(Though faithfull mates would flinty natures moue)
Whose rare effects the Poet seemes to show,
When wiues expresse th' affections which they owe.
“Turtle with Turtle, husband with his mate,
“In distinct kindes one loue participate.
But since affection is so rare to find,
Where th' face weares not the liuerie of the mind,
And womans vowes (as th' Satyre rightly saith)
Be rather made for complement then faith;
Be free from loue Admetus: if not free,
At least from loue of such as Omphale.