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Argalvs and Parthenia

Written by Fra: Quarles

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So said; with more then Eagle winged hast,
She flew into his bosome and embrac'd,
And her clos'd armes, his sorrow-wasted wast;
Surcharg'd with ioy, she wept, not hauing power
To speake. Haue you beheld an Aprill shower
Send downe her hasty bubbles, and then stops,
Then storms afresh, through whose transparent drops
The vnobscured lampe of heauen conuaies
The brighter glory of's refulgent rayes;
Euen so, within her blushing cheeks resided
A mixt aspect, 'twixt smiles and teares diuided,
So euen diuided; no man could say, whether
She wept, or smil'd, she smil'd, and wept together,
She held him fast, and like a fainting louer,
Whose passion now had license to discouer
Some words; Since then thy heart is not for me,
Take, take thy owne Parthenia (said she)
Cheare vp, my Argalus; these words of mine
Ate thy Parthenia's, as Parthenia's thine;
Beleeue it (Loue) these are no false alarmes;
Thou hast thine owne Parthenia in thine armes.
Like as a man, whose hourely wants implore
Each meales reliefe, trudging from doore to doore,
That heares no dialect from churlish lippes,
But newes of Beadles, and their torturing whips,
Takes vp (perchance) some vnexpected treasure,
New lost; departs; and, ioyfull beyond measure,

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Is so transported, that he scarce beleeues
So great a truth; and what his eye perceiues
Not daring trust, but feares it is some vision,
Or flattering dreame, deseruing but derision.
So Argalus amazed at the newes,
Faine would beleeue, but daring not abuse
His easie faith too soone, for feare his heart
Should surfeit on conceit, he did impart
The truth vnto his fancie by degrees,
VVhere stopp'd by passion, falling on his knees,
He thus began; O you eternall powers
That haue the guidance of these soules of ours,
Who by your iust prerogatiue can doe
What is a sin for man to diue into;
Whose vndiscouer'd actions are too high
For thought; too deepe for man t'enquier, why?
Delude not these mine eyes with the false show
Of such a ioy, as I must neuer know
But in a dreame: Or if a dreame it be,
O let me neuer wake againe, to see
My selfe deceiu'd, that am ordain'd t'enjoy
A reall griefe, and but a dreaming ioy.
Much more he spake to this effect, which ended;
He blest himselfe, and (with a sigh) vnbended
His aking knees; and rising from the ground,
He cast his rolling eyes about, and found
The roome auoyded, and himselfe alone;
The doore halfe clos'd, and his Parthenia gone,
His new distemper'd passion grew extreame;
I knew, I knew, (said he) 'twas but a dreame;
A minutes ioy; a flash; a flattering bubble
Blowne by the fancy, full of pleasing trouble;

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Which waking breakes; and empties into ayre,
And breathes into my soule a fresh despaire.
I knew 'twas nothing but a golden dreame,
Which (waking) makes my wants the more extreame;
I knew 'twas nothing but a dreaming ioy,
A blisse, which (waking) I should ne're enioy.
My deare Parthenia tell me, where, O where
Art thou that so delud'st mine eye, mine eare?
O that my wak'ned fancy had the might
To represent vnto my reall sight
What my deceiued eyes beheld, that!
Might surfeit with excesse of ioy, and die.