University of Virginia Library

When Argalus no longer could abide
'Tis greif, not news to say, Parthenia dy'd;
Fates sad Decrees are not to be rever'st
Oth liv'd, both lov'd, both dy'd, and that's the worst,
But that which non-plust most that troubled Age,
Was that Dimagoras out-liv'd the rage
Of much incensed Argalus, whose fame
For noble Acts, advanc'd his honor'd name
Almost beyond extr'ordinary, and made
Conquest grow customary, yet 'tis said
That poor perplexed Argalus lay dead
Buried in greif, whilst vile Dimagoras fled
Unprosecuted, and for this respect
Some say Parthenia charg'd him with neglect;
But 'tis well known that Authors may incline
To errors, by mistake, and so does mine:
But this suspected matter is best try'd
By real hearted Lovers that abide
The like misfortune, for Parthenia's breath
Blasted with greif was fading into death,
And should distressed Argalus then goe
From his dear-dying Love, to seek a Foe
He knew not where, alas! he was at strife
Whether to lose Parthenia, or his life;
Suppose he had, to prosecute his rage,
Usurpt a sad and groaning pilgrimage,
And left his dear affections to the care
Of her own thoughts, then crowded with despair,
What then? at his return he might have found
His labour lost, Parthenia under ground:
But I'le desist, and recollect my thoughts,
That Love is only rare, that has no faults.
'Tis not my taxe to treat upon the dead,
But to persue Dimagoras that's fled,
We know not where, yet close persuit and time
May bring reward to his unheard of Crime.
My blood-hound Muse shall ransack all about
Till we have found this worst of Villains out,
And then we'le give what we can best afford,
A pen oft times cuts deeper then a Sword.

Frightn'd with his own fears, Dimagoras flies
He knows not where, and in his flight he cryes
He knows not why, and in his cryes, he vents
A flood of tears, then deep-mouth'd oaths prevent
A further deluge, then a curse succeeds
That hoast of oaths, and then he thinks his deeds
Are so Authentick, that he needs not flye,
Nor fear, nor swear, nor curse, nor grieve, nor dye;
But having claim'd the respite of a pause,
He thus discourst, Dimagoras thy cause
Is just and good, disturb not then thy mind
'Tis fit that men, when women prove unkind,
Should be as cruel, 'tis well known, thy fame
Thy worth, thy honor, might have lay'd a claim
To her deserts, what though her beauty swell'd
Beyond a Venus, what though she excell'd
Her Sex in wit, what though her ample parts
Did ravish, nay monopolize the Arts?
Art thou not rich, and great? is not thy Land
Unbounded, nay, and canst not thou command
Armies to wait thy pleasure? and wilt thou
Basely degenerate, and fondly bow
Unto a womans frowns, 'twas but a deed
Proportion'd to her fault, and wilt thou bleed
These inward drops? come, contemn thy pain
And grief, thou canst not act it or'e again.
Did not her tender hearted Mother grieve
To see thy sorrows, lab'ring to relieve
Thy sad extreamities, did not her care,
Her skill, her wit, endeavor to prepare
Parthenia's heart, and yet obdurate she
Learn'd to deny, by importunitie:
Her mother oft would say, ah who can find
The vast dimensions of a womans mind,
There's not a day, an hour, much less a minute,
That brings them not an alteration in it:
They're like unfixed Stars, that always move,
They hate to day, what they to morrow love:
But if the influence of one single Star,
Can so disorder man to make him jarr
With his own reason, nay, bid sense adieu,
Oh! what will then a Constellation do:
Thus walking, talking, pausing altogether,
His heedless feet brought him he knew not whither
But gazing towards the West, he soon espy'd
The aged day was grown so heavy-ey'd,
That being almost destitute of Light,
It shrunk away, and bid the world good-night;
Whil'st silent Vesper modestly exprest
A speedy reason for approaching rest,
To which Dimagoras yielding, soon repos'd
Upon his Mothers virdent lap, and clos'd
His slumbring eye lids, whil'st the whispering wind
And the conspiring leaves, as t'were combin'd
To grace his slumbers, but his panting breast
Being grown Stranger to accustom'd rest,
Denotes an inward conflict; for each part
Seems to disclaim the motions of his heart,
And at the twy-light of his dawning eye
His ears were entertained with a cry
Half drown'd in tears, and then a drilling tone
Would seem to be a trebble to each groan,
But at the last, these cryes, these groans, encreas'd
Into a voice distinct, and after ceas'd
Their wordless tones, and being well refin'd
Into a speech they cry'd Oh thou unkind
And most accursed Catiffe, dost thou live
T'out-brave revenge, or cannot vengeance give
Reward to villany, or hast thou got
A counter-mand to contradict thy lot,
Or are the Gods forgetful, can they see
A vessel laden with impiety
And yet not sink it, or did they create thee
Without a Soul, and so forget to date thee?
Is there no time for punishment; Oh thou
That thinkst thy self secure, and wilt allow
Of no contrition, know the time draws near
When horrid-ill-shap'd Vengeance shall appear
Ugly, beyond it self, and shall express
The life of horror in a lively dresse,
She's now attiring, and her robes shall be
Flame-colour'd, trim'd with lavish tyranny,
Her hair dishelving from her flaming head
Shall be hot-burning wyre, which shall be spread
Over her spacious shoulders; in her face
Shall be black spots of envy and disgrace,
Her eyes like fatal Comets, shall out flame
Two Firmaments of Brimstone, and thy name
Shall by the dreadful thunder of her tongue
Startle, even Hell it self, and live among
T'infernal Furies, and for ever be
An adding plague unto their misery;
Thy woes shall swell into so large a score
That quick invention shall invent no more.

Even as the weather-glass, which being prest
By a warm hand, its water cannot rest
But shrinks away, and hides it self, as 'twere
Within it self, yet will at last repair
(The hand remov'd) into its proper place,
Even such was sad Dimagoras his case,
His Spirits shrunk away being touch'd with fear,
His fear persu'd with guilt, made him appear
A senseless living statue, yet at length
Receiving some of his declining strength
He rais'd himself, and with a feeble tone
Began to speak; had not a sudden groan
Prevented th'inundation of his words
He had proceeded, but his grief affords
No speedy utt'rance, therefore he was forc'd
To walk, and leave the matter undiscours'd.
Thus walking to and fro his trembling brest
Strongly inclin'd him to a second rest,
But his perswasive fears would not allow
The least refreshment to his willing brow;
At last oppressed with a sudden gail
Of sighs, his wearied feet began to fail,
And in a melancholly valley, there
Repos'd Dimagoras, but not his fear,
His fear instructs him that his eyes behold
Strange visions, & his trembling heart grows cold
For as the Sea which cannot be at peace
Upon a sudden, though the tempest cease
Even so Dimagoras, though the former blast
Of his fierce rage was moderately past,
Yet his innated violence was such,
That like the living plant, at every touch
He shrunk into despair, and here we find
The dangerous Issues of a troubled mind:
And thus the flames of his encreasing fires
(Blown by the bellows of his own desires)
Consumes his reason, and his former deeds
Present themselves, he raging thus proceeds.

Oh ye immortal Powers, why have ye sent
So much of trouble, and so small content
Into my boiling breast, ah must my life
Become a woful Laborinth of strife!
Why do I live? since every moment brings
A thousand Serpents, with ten thousand stings
To torture me, and whilst I study why
And what I live for, I despair to dye?
What greater curse than this did ere attend
Mortality, how often must I spend
My sighs, my groans upon the idle air,
And hear no other language but despair,
Despair, and dye Dimagoras, 'tis a death
Nay worse, to live, go quarrel with thy breath:
Didst thou not hear thy most unequal'd Fate
Thund'red, nay worse, into thy eares of late,
Yet do'st thou dare to live, resolve, and dye,
And make the Devil guilty of a Lye.

Dost thou observe how yonder spreading tree
Would fain be proud to bear such fruit as thee,
Take courage in thy ruine, haste away,
He feeds a danger most that loves delay,
And he that lives for fear of being dead,
Spins out his grief unto the smallest thread.
What greater torment is then self-grief?
And what more Charity then self-relief?
Triffle no more, 'tis childish to complain,
And easier far to dye than live in pain.
Courage Dimagoras, come, march towards that place
Of speedy ease with a delightful grace;
Dost thou relent, what has a sudden wind
Rais'd a new tempest in thy stormy mind?
Wilt thou recede, fye, fye, spur up thy will
To a more certainty, why stand'st thou still?
Let not the dull commands of flesh and blood
Deterre thy heart from so approv'd a good.
Suppose thou sawst a wretch stretchd out at length
Upon the rack, and having spent his strength
In tedious groans, yet would refuse to be
(Though much entreated) set at liberty;
Wouldst thou not stile him mad, and say his grief
Was due desert that should deny relief
So freely proffer'd; Is not now thy case
The very same, thou knowst thou mayst displace
Thy Sorrows in a moment, yet thy heart
Combines with fear, and will not let them part;
Resolve, resolve, and let thy speedy breath
Express, 'tis better dye, than live in death.

Thus said, and thus resolv'd, he wastes no time,
But with extended armes, attempts to climb
The lofty tree, but ere he could aspire
Unto the height of his too rash desire,
His trembling arms disclaim'd their idle hold
And down he fell, and being down, his cold
And much affrightned senses thought it fit
To leave him reason equal to his wit.
There lay new-dropt-Dimagoras, till a Knight
And his enamored Lady put to flight
By adverse fortune, chanc'd to passe that way
Where dead, (as they suppos'd) Dimagoras lay,
But Fate Decreed it otherwise; for now
His almost sensless thoughts were pausing how
He came so low, nor could he think or tell
How he climb'd up the Tree, nor how he fell,
But turning on his back, his dazzled sight
Seem'd to assure him that the armed Knight
Was daring Argalus, and when his eye
Observ'd the beauteous Lady standing by,
His trembling heart inforc'd his tongue to say
Oh Argalus, oh wrong'd Parthenia!
And there he stopt, as if his heart had swore
After Parthenia's name to speak no more,
But yet the pleasure of her name did seem
Like a reviving Cordial to redeem
His senses from captivity, and thus
Outragiously he cryed, O Argalus!
Oh most divine Parthenia, here, here, lyes
The perfect mirror of all villanies,
'Twas I, 'twas I, conducted by the flame
Of my own lust, and clothed with the shame
Of my own crimes, that did attempt to do
A deed, that none but Hell, advis'd me to:
'Twas I, 'twas wretched I, that did commence
A wicked suite against thine Innocence!
Ah poor Parthenia, how did I delude
Thy ravish'd mind, and barbarously intrude
Upon thy privacy, and made thee know
(Instead of bliss expected) perfect woe;
Thy heart conceived that the joyful summe
Of all thy hopes, thy Argalus was come,
But all in vain, for thy deceived Love
Met with a Serpent seeking for a Dove.
Could I restore—And there his feeble voice
Chang'd, and recoy'ld into a dreadful noise:
With that the Knight being suddenly amaz'd
Stood silent for a time, and only gaz'd
Upon this dreadful object, but at length.
Being bold in courage, he imploy'd his strength
To raise him from the earth, which having done
Bold in a new attempt, he thus begun.

What art thou, say what art thou, that dost thus
Unman thy self to be afraid of us
That would be courteous, and redress thy grief
Wouldst thou be capable of our relief;
Let thy dull reason credit what we say,
I am not Argalus, nor I Parthenia
Reply'd the Lady: At which words he rais'd
His frenzy head, and for a while he gaz'd,
And then his lavish tongue began to cry
Oh Argalus, oh blest Parthenia, why
Why do ye thus torment a Ghost that strayes
It knows not where, these unaccustom'd ways
Prove dreadful to me, but me thinks I spye
By those pale looks ye' are Ghosts as well as I:
Oh do but hand me to the Elizian plains
Where ye recide, and lead me from these pains,
These racks, these tortures, oh what torments wait
Upon the ruines of a cursed state,
But stay, me thinks I see—And there his eyes
Decay'd, and seemingly Dimagoras dyes:
The courteous Knight perceiving by discourse
It was the strength of passion did divorce
His senses from their faculties, grew sad
To think no means, no med'cine could be had
To bring him from his trance, till at the last
His charitable Lady that had past
Much time in trouble, having heard the vain
And strange effusions of his idle brain,
Takes forth a glasse, within whose brittle wall
There was inclos'd a Spirit could recall
Revolted sense, then with a stretch'd out hand
She calls her Page, and gives him strict command
To take the glasse, and presently convey
Some drops into his mouth, and hast away:
The trembling Page with an affrighted look
(Obedient to his Ladyes pleasure) took
The proffer'd glass, and with a fearful speed
Approach'd Dimagoras and perform'd the deed,
Which being done, Dimagoras compos'd
Of nothing less then reason, soon disclos'd
His buried eyes, and gazing round about
(Pufft up with rage) his fury thus broke out,
Ye dreadful Tyrants is there all extent,
No diminution of my punishment;
Must I Epitomize your Plagues, did I
To humour you, thus play the fool, and dye
Before my time, I thought in pleasing you
To consummate those plagues which now renew:
I'm licenc'd by my torments, and I'le chide
Your dam'd injustice, were not you my guide
That led me hither, did not you advise me
To kill my self, and will ye thus dispise me?
Must plagues be my reward, must I be plough'd
And harrow'd with my torments, not allow'd
A minutes ease, are these, are the gains
That I was largely promis'd from my pains?
Oh Hell, and there his well-oath'd tongue let fall
A liberal showr, then he begun to call
Upon Parthenia, oh Parthenia, thou
That I abus'd on earth, how doest thou now
Plague my abuses, oh that I could boast
Of so much comfort, as to see thy Ghost
And ask forgiveness, how content I'd lye
In the dull shades of blind obscurity,
I know, I know, thy patience would engage
Thy Argalus to mittigate his rage:
Alas, my suff'rings much out run the power
Of my distracted patience, every hour
Brings every Plague, oh how I am opprest,
Parthenia's pardon gives Dimagoras rest,
But ah in vain, with that his gazing eye
Staring about did suddenly espye
His former objects which rejoyc'd him more
Then all his tortures tortur'd him before:
It was that amorous Pair which only stay'd
T'expect the Issue, whilst Dimagoras made
(After obeisance) more then usual speed,
And on his bended knees did thus proceed,

Oh ye immortal Ghosts that do inherit
Th'Elizian plains with a contented spirit,
Deign to behold, and do not frown to see
Your Prostitute upon his bended knee
Craving your pardon, which if I obtain
'Twill prove Physitian to a world of pain,
Deny me not, but ah Parthenia move
In my behalf, thy dear, thy dearest Love,
Thy constant Argalus, let him not rest
Till he has granted my enforc'd request:
At which the Knight, turning his head aside,
To break a long-keept smile; Dimagoras cry'd
Oh Argalus do not remove those sweet,
Those pleasing looks, but let my sorrows meet,
With thy calcining pity, pity take
Though not for mine, yet for Parthenia's sake.
Whereat the Knight (whose ears could not abide
The fierce Artillery of his tongue) reply'd,
Vain Self-deluder why dost thou devest
Thy troubled Spirits of their liberal rest?
Thy actions have inform'd me, and I can
Declare, thou art no Ghost, nay scarce a man,
Forget thy folly, strive to banish hence
Thy idle fancies, and recall thy sense
Into its proper Sphere, and cease to be
Deluded into cruel vanity;
Come hither, take my hand, and you shall find
That I am tangible, and that my mind
Is troubled for thee, view me well, and see
If thou canst call to mind my Phisnomie,
Observe this tender Lady, and you'l know
Whether she be Parthenia or no;
Nay start not back, approach, such Ghosts will do
No harm at all, especially to you:
At which Dimagoras with a fixed eye
Star'd in her lovely face, and seem'd t'espye
Something he knew, but yet his troubled sense
(Much discomposed) could not say from whence
Those Fancies should arise, but yet at length
Having arrived to a little strength
Of long absented reason, he confess'd
His shameful folly, whilst he thus exprest:

I am unghosted, and I now behold
What my amazed senses lately told
My heart ye are, and if I do mistake
Pardon I crave for Amoronzo's sake
Rare beauty: and if my request hall seem
Absurd, oh Amoronzo stand between
Your dear Celania's anger, and my brest;
For if she frown Dimagoras lives unblest:
With that, much-pleased Amoronzo took
Dimagoras by the hand, and with a look
As stedfast as his heart, he thus begun;
Unfortunate Dimagoras thou hast run
A most preposterous course, for at this time
Thy Land is in an uproar, and the crime
Falls upon thee, the blood that has bin spilt
Cryes out aloud, and testifies thy guilt;
Return, return, and let thy warlike hands
Mow down the courage of th' Arcadian bands,
Thy absence gives advantage, every hour
Thou stay'st, thou givest addition to their power,
Nay wonder not, nor do not stand to grieve
Or shake thy head, but practise to believe
Believe thy friend: And if thy low-ebb'd Fate
Wants those materials that become thy state,
Thou hast a friend, a friend, that will impart
The secrt Counsels of a faithful heart,
And if my weak instructions will allow
Advantage to thy will, I'le teach thee how
Thou shalt redeem thine honour, let's repair
To more conveniency, and I'le declare:

To which Dimagoras (being now supply'd
With an indifferent reason) thus reply'd;
True Friend, your words distilling from a brest
So full of truth instructs me not to jest
With my own fortune, I confess, the late
And sad disturbance of my inward state
Hath made me much incapable to be
A Favorite to my self; but since I see
Your liberal goodness which does truly tend
To my advice, Il'e own you as my friend;
And if my future fortunes chance to fall
In ballance with my wish, I only shall
Gaze at a distance, with a pleasing view,
And look upon those fortunes through you;
But since extreamities does now require
Action, not words, I'le cease, and we'l retire;
But stay, I know not where, for since that day
I lost my self, I never found my way,
But hark, what noise is this that seems t'affright
My new-come sense, come, let's provide for flight;
Flight, oh most horrid, oh most dismall word
That cuts and wounds much deeper then a Sword,
(Reply'd the Knight) and if I meet with Foes
That dare encounter, I shall dare oppose
Could they command the Cyclops to impail
And guard them round, I'd dye, or else prevail;
Look here Dimagoras (taking by the hand
His dear Celania, canst thou understand
These speaking looks, whose very thoughts advance
The dullest Soul above the reach of chance;
But let's retire, for hark, the noise I hear
Encreases more, because it draws more near;
Let's hast to yonder valley, where a while
I'le leave my dear Celania to beguile
The time with Prayers, and if you please, my Lord
Dimagoras, but to favour and afford
Your chearful company to my divine
And dear Celania, you will much incline
My heart to thank you; and for thee my sweet
And most indulgent Love, could I but meet
With thy consent, how quickly would I fly
Upon my Foes, and bring thee victory,
But ah those silent Streames that trickle down
Thy too too liquid Cheeks do almost drown
My hopes in deep despair, thy tears (my Dear)
Are worse then poysned darts, and do appear
Like Seas (but more outragious) for the flood
Of thy moist eye is not to be withstood,
And if the sullen world would learn t'invent
A way to kill me, let it but consent
To woe thee to a tear, a frown, a cry,
And let me see't, and then, I conquer'd dye,
Then clear those clouded Skies, and let me see
The Sun-shine of a smile, and I will be
More joyful then those Persians which adore
The rising Sun, grant this, I'le ask no more,
Nor canst thou grant a greater boon then this,
For ah thy smiles, my Joy, are all my bliss,
Ah do not speak in tears, nor let a glut
Of sighs make sorrow cheap, each sigh does cut
My very intralls, and my wounded heart
Transfixt with briny tears begins to smart;
'Tis in thy power t'extenuate my cares,
Cure me with smiles, or kill me with thy tears.

Have ye not seen with what a watry eye
After a shower the Sun begins to prye
Upon the earth, as if his bashful ray
Were grown asham'd to look upon the day,
Even so Celania gazed on the face
Of Amoronzo with a bashful grace,
Before the lustre of whose eye there stood
(Ready to be dissolv'd into a flood)
Some Chrystall bubbles which Eclip'st her light,
And sometimes dropt, yet would not rain downright
But at the last, poor Lover, she confines
Her tears, and for a time she spoke by signs,
But when she saw that Amoronzo went
To arm himself, sad Lady, then she sent
Both words, and sighs, and tears, whilst in her arms
She held him fast, and thus begun her charms.
Dear Amoronzo why dost thou deceive me,
Pretend to love, and yet intend to leave me,
Oh speak my joy, tell me my high-priz'd Treasure
What have I done to merit thy displeasure?
Alas thy poor Celania never knew
Disloyal flames, and when she proves untrue
To Amoronzo, may she ever be
A Prostitute to lustful villanie;
But ah (my Dearest) say what mean those Arms
Those Symptomes of departure, what Alarms
Hath lately frightned thee to these extreames,
'Tis too, too true, oh that they were but dreams:
Thou shalt not go, oh pity my sad heart,
I'd rather dye, then let my life depart.
The trembling wretch that's thrown into the deep
Unsensible of what he does, will keep
Fast hold of what he takes, as loath to dye,
Ah so does he my Love, and thus do I:
Couldst thou but spell my sighes & read my tears,
Thou soon wouldst apprehend how many fears
Flow in upon me, for alas I know
Nothing but grief (my Dear) thou shalt not go.
Oh that my tears were manacles to bind thee
Unto my Soul, then were I sure to find thee,
Dear do not leave me, but let pity move
Thy hand to kill, or else thy heart to Love,
For be assur'd there's nothing can delay
My speedy ruine, but thy speedy stay;
But since thy pleasure must be done, not mine,
Dear Amoronzo I must thus—decline
And so farewell. Thus being almost drown'd
In floods of grief, she gently kist the ground;
With that the almost broken-hearted Lover
Whose dear affections caus'd him to discover
A world of sorrow, rais'd her from the ground
And with the Balsom of a kiss made sound
Her bleeding heart, and when he had divorst
Rude Passion from her sense. He thus discourst.

Tell me my dear Celania, why dost thou
Intail such sorrows on thy stormy brow,
Believe me Dearest, if I should deny
To love thy virtues, I deserv'd to dye:
The convertible terms of life and love
Meet both in me, my Joy, and if I prove
Unkind to thee, oh may all Plagues combine
To meet in one, and afterwards prove mine;
Dost thou not hear how danger does approach
And will, if not prevented, soon encroach
Upon our safeties, therefore, now, my Dear,
Let loose my close-lockt arm, and stay thou here
Till my return, which questionless will be
Crown'd with the joy of happy victorie,
Sigh not my Dear, believe't, each sigh propounds
Unto my Soul more then a thousand wounds,
Come let this welcome parting kiss express
And seal th' assurance of a good success.
Farewell, farewell ------
------ Dimagoras all this while
Stood lab'ring, as it were, to reconcile
Himself to his own thoughts, but wit and art
Were in-sufficient to defend his heart
From servile fear, his very Looks exprest
The dismall horrour of a throbbing brest,
Although to him no danger could appear,
He fear'd, because he know not what to fear,
So he that should have taught Celania's heart
To rest contented, caus'd his own to smart
And with a trembling hand he smote his brest,
He sigh'd, nay worse, he sobb'd, and thus exprest.

Shall triffling honour make me to dispose
My life unto the pleasure of my Foes:
Suppose that Amoronzo chance to fall
In this encounter, how should I inthrall
Both life and safety, for when they shall see
Celania accompany'd with me,
Their present fury will be sure to light
Upon my head, I'le therefore save by flight
What I shall lose by stay, but if so be
That Amoronzo should return, and see
His dear Celania weeping all alone
And I (suppos'd her Comforter) am gone,
What then? but I'le not stay, me-thinks I hear
A thousand Swords now clashing in my ear;
Farewell to Antique honour, 'tis at life
I aim, I hate this honourable strife,
Ile hasten to yon Cave, and there I'le lye
And hug my self in blest security.

Dimagoras being gone, there seem'd t'arise
A glimmering joy, (which blusht through extasies
Of grief and care) In poor Celania's face,
Glad that Dimagoras had left the place:
But this, this short-liv'd joy did quickly end,
Her thoughts being busied on her absent friend,
Her sad expecting heart begun to grow
Into extreams, her pallid lips let flow
A flood of language: If the Reader please
T'observe the streams, they are most sadly these.

Ah me, and then she sigh'd, alas, and there
She wept, sad heart, and then she dry'd that tear
With a suceeding sigh: Oh stormy weather!
She wept, and sigh'd, she sigh'd, & wept together,
The sensless rocks at each alternate groan
Did seem to Sympathize, and sadly moan;
My Dear, my Life she cryes, my All, nay more,
If more may be, oh how I could adore
Thy empty shaddow, but I wish in vain
For that which is impossible to gain,
He's gone, he's gone, & there she wrang her hands
And tore her hair, whil'st on her cheeks there stands
The fruitful Issue of her brim fill'd eyes,
To Emblemize her real miseries;
She breath'd a while, but only to obtain
The more advantage how to grieve again.

Have ye observ'd a Tempest how it seems
A present calm, yet suddenly redeems
A greater force, and with a sturdy blast
Gives satisfaction for the time that's past:
Even so Celania musters up her fears,
Prologu'd with sighes, and Epilogu'd with tears,
And with full-blasted sorrow she prevailes
Against her self, and thus her self assailes.
Her trembling hand tears off her flaxen hair,
And smites her Ivory brest, as if it were
Ordained for that use, and then she vents
In sighes, the grandure of her discontents,
And then the tides of passion overflow
The banks of reason, she resolves to go
She knows not where, but yet the place seems blest
Because it entertain'd so sweet a Guest
As Amoronzo, nay, the senseless ground
Where he had sate, her silent eyes had drown'd
In briny floods, at last, her store being spent,
Passion prevailed, and away she went;
She went away, yet at a distant space
She oft would stand, and gaze upon the place,
Fuel'd with two extreames, her Soul did burn,
First to depart, and after to return,
If she departed, then her grief would stray
Into a madness that she went away,
And if she staid, sorrow would more ensnare
Her heart, for Amoronzo was not there:
Will it not prove a Paradox to say
Celania stay'd, and yet she went away,
She had (poor Lady) when she did depart
Progressive feet, a retrograding heart,
But she is gone, judg, Reader, how opprest
Being misfortunes sad, and chiefest Guest,
What hand, what Pen can copy out her woe
That knows not where, nay, hardly how to go;
Is it not pity then to leave her here
In a strange place, where all things do appear
Like sad Conspirators and there conspire
To make encroaching misery intire;
Poor Lady I must leave her, yet I know
Her pardon will persue me, for I go
To meet her Amoronzo, who is now
Return'd with conquest shining on his brow:
But to relate the combate, or each blow
His valour, and the courage of his Foe,
Would prove too tedious, 'tis enough that we
Find him return'd with dear-bought victorie.
Accept kind Reader, what is now exprest,
When time shall ripen thou shalt taste the rest.

Poor Lover, with what joy his hasty feet
Approach'd the place with longing hopes to meet
His dear Celania, but his nimble eye
Lightning with flamy looks, could not espye
His hearts chief Object, then his thoughts begin
To be disturb'd, and mutiny within,
He now inclines to fear he knows not what,
Sometimes he thinks on this, sometimes on that,
But at the last with a dejected look
He spies her glove, which he most sadly took
And recommended to his lips, and there
Sate down, and bath'd it in an amorous tear:
Thou consort of my Soul sayes he, what place
Is now so blest to entertain the grace
Of thy delightful presence, oh that I
Were half so blest to be a Stander by;
Why stay'st thou from me, and dost not appear
Thou seemst far off, but yet I hope th'art near;
Wrong not my hopes, let me not be forsook,
For I am almost famish'd for a look,
Appear, appear, and let no longer stay
Affront my hopes (my Dearest) come away,
Ah must thy longing Amoronzo sit
Cloth'd with dispair, why comst not, what, not yet;
Not yet, art thou asleep? Then dream my Dear,
That thy beloved Amoronzo's here,
He's here, and laden with as much distress
As either heart can wish, or tongue express;
I'le wait a while, perhaps it is thy will
To steal upon me unawarres, and fill
My thoughts with sudden joy, thou dost me wrong
For I expect too soon, thou stay'st too long:
With that, he cast his prying eyes about,
Hoping to find his dear Celania out,
But all in vain, for fortune which did mean
To dwell some time upon this troubled Scene,
Presented him an object, which indeed
Caus'd not his eyes to weep, but heart to bleed:
The wind, being then in love, did seem t'adore,
And play with that Celania had tore
From her distracted head, I mean the fair
And bounteous wealth of her neglected hair,
Which Amoronzo spying, with a mind
Enrag'd he run, and snatch'd it from the wind;
Half mad, because quite angry, he begins
To take the wind with multiplyed sins.
Thou impious nothing, how durst thou (cryes he)
Play with a relique of more sanctitie
Then can be utter'd, if so be you must
Be sportful, go, and wanton with the dust:
But thus this Lover minding more the pleasure
Of his own fury, lost his new-got treasure;
For angry Boreas in a high disdain
Inforc'd it from his trembling hand again,
Away it flew, he gaz'd, and then begun
To start away, resolving to out-run
The winged wind, and for Celania's sake
He almost lost his breath, to win the Stake,
By this approv'd example we may find,
The wings of Love, are swifter then the wind.

After this first, short conflict, he retreats
Unto his former station, where he seats
His melancholly self, and then his heart
Begins to fall into the second part
Of his first grief, that sorrow, which before
Spoke all by whispers, now begins to roar,
Poor Lover, he despairs, for having found
Her gloves, her hair, her partlet on the ground
He falls from sighs, to words, from words, to tears
From tears, to groans, and then at last despairs:
Despair, that worst of evils, now sits crown'd
Queen regent in his thoughts, his thoughts abound
With several contradictions, nay, the wind
Is constant, if compared to his mind,
Sometimes he thought, for fear, she had bin fled
Into some Cave; and then, he thought her dead:
He looks upon her glove, and in conclusion
He thought himself into a sad confusion:
At last inclining to a serious pause,
He then resolv'd Dimagoras was the cause,
Then like a fierce Revenger, he persues
His name to death, whilst every thought renews
Revengful thoughts, & with his sharp-edg'd wrath
Wounds him with curses, stabs him with an oath,
Accursed hour (cryes he) when first my eyes
Observ'd that Monster of all villanies,
Could not his former deeds instruct my thoughts
To have a care, could not his latter faults,
Induce me to distrust him, well, I'le trace
The world but I'le revenge this foul disgrace.
But ah Celania how can I expect
Thy pardon, that have us'd thee with neglect,
Unhandsom Fate, if Amoronzo live
Heav'ns grant it be to practise how to give
A due reward to him whose very name:
Poysons my Soul, and fills my cheeks with shame;
I'le run, and ransack all the world about
Not sparing, Hell it self, to find thee out,
And question not but thy malicious fate
Will still preserve thee to endure my hate;
Good fortune be my guide I'le not delay
Nor lavish time, but presently away:
Where now we'l leave him, for Dimagoras cryes
To be discover'd in his miseries.

It so fell out that the Arcadian King
And all his Nobles, (as a usual thing
For relaxation of their minds) did ride
One day a hunting, when there was espy'd
A hideous Bear lye lurking in the shade
Watching her prey, but that the Huntsmen made
A near approach, and with a dexterous Art
Did almost wound this Monster to the heart:
The Bear thus wounded makes a speedy flight
Being close persu'd: The Huntsmen with delight
Observ'd her windings, but half spent, she took
Into a Thicket, and by chance forsook
Her close Persuers, till at last betray'd
By her own blood, the careful Huntsmen made
What speed they could, and forc'd her to retire
Into a Cave, whilst they forthwith conspire
T'intrape their gain, making where she should pass
A secret Concave mantl'd o're with grass,
Stopping all passages, that she must stay
Close penn'd up in the Cave, or pass that way:
At last she roar'd as able to affright
The eager Huntsmen from their close delight;
But on a sudden they unstopt the Cave
Expecting by her speedy flight, to have
The end of their desires, to which intent
They watch'd the place & (more then usual) spent
An hour in patience, and at last surrounded
The Cave, and most confusedly they sounded
Their several Horns, but nothing could express
The lest resemblance of a quick success:
At last th'impatient Huntsmen curst and swore
At their ill fortune, thinking to give o're,
But yet resolving first to seek about
Thinking their ill-lookt Pris'ner might get out
At some concealed place, but when their eyes
Had satisfy'd their hearts, they soon devise
A new design, which questionless had caus'd
Th' effecting of their wills had they not paus'd,
Or rather started at, a sudden cry
That seem'd to be, they know not where, nor why;
At last they hearkening with a stricter ear,
Being almost half astonished, did hear
A dreadful noise, which issued from the Cave
And made th' expecting Huntsmen madly rave
And curse their Fate, forbearing not to swear
It was a man enchaunted to a Bear:
Whil'st they were thus discoursing, there appears
A Monster (as they thought) compos'd of fears,
Who, careless of himself, with speed came running
Out of the Cave, perceiving not the cunning
Of his amazed Foes, but quickly fell
As he suppos'd, into the jaws of Hell,
Which they perceiving, soon begun to ban,
And vow the Bear was turn'd into a man;
Yet for the better satisfaction, they
Ran to the Cave, where they observ'd there lay
The ugly Monster, buried in the flood,
The little Ocean of her reeking blood:
Finding her dead, immediately they went
Unto the King. declaring the event
Of their designs, who forthwith gave command
That they in silence for a time should stand
About the pit, and there expect that night
The future Issue of so strange a sight:
Th'obedient Huntsmen nimble to obey
Their Kings command made present speed away:
And so arriving at the place, they made
Silence their friend, which suddenly betray'd
Sad groans unto their ears, and doleful cryes,
Ballast with oaths, and wing'd with blasphemies:
At last they heard a voice, much more enlarg'd
And more distinct, which suddenly discharg'd
It self into these words, unhappy I,
The abstract of unpattern'd villany,
Why was I born, since all things thus agree
To make compleated misery in me?
Or else is life and death late grown at odds,
Which shall torment me most? and are the Gods
Spectators of my woes? must I endure
The Plagues of two such ills, and not procure
The least refreshment? ah Parthenia, now
Thou takest revenge at large, but when wilt thou
Abreviate my Sorrows, that I may
See but the twy-light of one smiling day;
For now I am in Hell, but here I find
No Divel but my self, and yet my mind
And Soul is tortur'd, nay I see no light
Nor know no darkness, my distracted sight
Possesses me with such a double being
That I am blind in light, in darkness, seeing,
And here I live perplexed with a doubt
How I got in, but harder, to get out:
How happy had I been, if I had stay'd
With sad Celania in the pleasing shade,
Perhaps the Gods would then some pity take
If not for mine, for their Celania's sake;
But I, unhappy wretch, nay most unkind
Unto my friend, whose goodness was confin'd
To my distress, yet basely did I prove
(Prompted by fear) false t' Amoronzo's Love
His dear Celania; but alas too late
I here bewail my miserable state.
Now envy, hatred, malice, all contrive
To do your worsts, but keep me not alive,
Alas I cannot grieve for what is past,
As fast as you torment, I'le curse as fast.
Th'impatient Huntsmen, having thus endur'd
Their Kings commands, at length were well assur'd
The voice was humane, so, they having made
Nearer approach, they thus begun, and said.
What art thou, say what art thou, thus constraines
Our hearts to pity? who is that complains
Of his misfortune? If thou art a Man,
Desire our aide, we'l help thee if we can,
Starve not the issue of a good success,
They're fools that must be courted from distress,
Be free, and answer, let's not long expect,
Favours prove curses when they find neglect:
To which he (hearkening with a willing ear,
Tim'rous to speak, because afraid to hear)
At last reply'd: And can the Gods incline
To so much pity? ah this heart of mine
Dares not prove so much traytour to the state
I am now in, as fondly to create
The meanest relish of a hope, for me
That am the copy of all miserie,
The Current of my woes are too too strong
To be resisted, do me not that wrong
What e're ye are, as to perswade my brest
That I shall ever be so fully blest,
As to be meanly miserable, no,
My ebb of happiness, must never flow;
But if the pleasing Streams of sweet relief
Should drop upon me, 'tis beyond belief:
Alas I dare not give so large a scope
To my own thoughts, to credit my own hope;
For 'tis well known (especially to me)
The ground of hope is possibility:
I'le say no more, he is excus'd to grieve
That has no faith to hope, nor to believe:
The close Attendants hearing this discourse,
Being fully fraught, and laden with remorse,
Descend the Pit, desiring him to be
Assistant to his own felicitie,
But he whose banck-rupt hopes had lately found
The horror of despair, could not propound
The least of comfort to himself, the more
He was perswaded, he the less gave or'e
His hellish noise ------
------ Ye Furies that are sent curse
Cry'd he, to adde unto my punishment,
Draw near and hark with what a grace I'le
And scorn these Plagues which cannot make me worse
Could ye shoot fire and brimstone from your eyes
Into my Soul, oh how I would despise
Such triffling torments, go, and blush to see
Ye are out-divel'd by my miserie;
But stay, what strange, what new-created light
Is this that courteth my amazed sight?
What meanes this sudden change? or does a dream
Possess my brain, can nothing but extream
Delight or grief assault me, since my Fate
Is so much checquor'd, I'le a while await,
And with a patient quietness expect
Future events, but as for your respects
That stand before me, if good fortune chance
To fall upon me, I'le not fail t'advance
The merit of your worth; for though I lye
Lockt in the Arms of tyrant miserie,
Yet my estate and ample fortunes are
Exuberant to my wish, but I'le forbear
This fond discourse, be serious, tell me then,
Are ye not Divels in the shapes of men?
Pray tell me true? for they that go about
To do me good, must strive to help me out
Of this Infernal place, that so I may
Once more behold the pleasure of a day:
To which they said: Sir if you please to trust
Your safety in our hands, we will be just,
And by a speedy means we'l set you free,
From this most sad, and blind captivity;
Follow us then, and you shall quickly know
That we intend your good, pray let us go.

Away they went, and when the welcome light
Had blest their eyes, they all imploy'd their sight
To gaze upon him, in whose looks they saw
That fear kept all his faculties in aw,
Away they led him to the King, and told
What they had heard, and how he did unfold
The nature of his grief, and that his heart
(For lost Celania's sake) endur'd a smart
Extreamly great, because as he exprest,
He left her weeping wofully distrest:
He mention'd Amoronzo, and his tongue
Declar'd, 'twas he that did Parthenia wrong,
Which words we plainly hearing thought it meet,
To bring him to be prostrate at the feet
Of your renowned Majesty, that so
You might by his confession truly know
Where fair Celania (your dear Neece) was fled,
To which intention we have hither led
And here we leave him, joyful that our art
Procur'd this news to your concristed heart;
At which the King with a delightful look
Commands him to him, and when he had took
A strict Survey of his most gashful face,
He knew it was Dimagoras whose disgrace
Made him so odious to the eyes of all
The Standers by, that they begun to spawl
And spit upon him, biding him confess
Where lost Celania was, and what distress
He left her in, and then they would incline
To moderation, and with speed, confine
Their present fury, but if he deny'd
What they requir'd, he should prepare t'abide
As many plagues as mischief could invent:
To which Dimagoras gave a free consent,
And said. I saw (I must confess 'tis true)
Both Amoronzo and Celania too,
But where they were at present did exceed
The power of his knowledg, for the speed
Of his departure, made him not enquire
Of their designs, nor where they would retire;
But Amoronzo fled, I know not why,
Nor to what place, whil'st sad Celania's eye
Drench'd her discolour'd cheeks in briny tears,
And with a storm of sighes exprest her fears,
But all in vain, for he, hard-hearted he
Slighted her sad, her groaning miserie,
And so he left her (oh my heart did burn)
Without the least engagement to return.
He being gone, my weak endeavours strove
To make her quit the solatory Grove
Wherein he left her, and forbear to vent
Such floods of tears for him that was content
To leave her in distress, but all in vain,
The more I su'd, the less she would retain
The good of my perswasions, but did woe
My present absence, that her grief might flow
Without controlement, so at last I took
Unwilling leave, and presently forsook
The dismall place, and left her close confin'd
To the strict limits of a troubled mind,
Poor Lady, thus I left her all alone
For ah her looks engag'd me to be gone,
And this is all my knowledg can relate
Of her (poor Lady) too too ridged state,
To which the King, with an enraged brow
Reply'd, if this be all you can allow
Our expectations, you shall be our guest
Till time and torture make you speak the rest;
Haste him away, our leisure shall compose
A plot to make him speak the truth he knows.
Where now we'l leave him, & transplant our eyes
From his, to more concerning miseries,
I mean our sad Celania, whose distress
May cost you tears to read, me to express.