The Golden Aphroditis A pleasant discourse, penned by John Grange ... Whereunto be annexed by the same Authour asvvell certayne Metres upon sundry poyntes, as also divers Pamphlets in prose, which he entituleth His Garden: pleasant to the eare, and delightful to the Reader, if he abuse not the scente of the floures |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The description of the loue of a Gentleman and a Gentlevvoman.
|
 | The Golden Aphroditis |  |
The description of the loue of a Gentleman and a Gentlevvoman.
In the tyme of Lady Ver, the sweete and fragrant smellOf each delight, it doth a rangyng foote compell.
For when the Aprill showers, descende with westerne windes,
Each hearbe, ech floure, and plante, doe florish in their kindes.
Each leafe vpon the tree, the grasse vpon the grounde,
The Hatherne buddes new sprung, on earth what may be founde,
Doth yeelde as pleasant scentes, as nature can deuise:
All things in lusty greene, appeares displaying wise.
And eurye birde that liues, then strayneth forth his voyce:
So that of each delight, each man may take his choyce.
Thus in this merry moneth, he tooke delight to vewe,
Ought that of nature was, most pleasaunt in his hewe.
Yea, many a tyme and oft, in springs and groues alone,
There in distilling wise, she tooke delight to see,
The chirpyng birdes full ofte, from bushe to bushe to flee.
Whose warbling notes him thought, inforced to beleue,
That nothing vnder Sunne, such merry liues did liue.
In euery bushe againe, the Primerose did appeere,
The Uiolet at hande, was prest to be his feere:
Which cast such fragrant smelles, amid this pleasant spring,
That eury bushe it did, a newe delight forth bring.
But walking all alone, in this his whole delight,
The Primerose as him thought, and Uiolet did fight.
Wherewith as one amazde, at large he them behelde,
Hoping at length to see, the one or other yelde.
But lighting in a vayne, which fortune had not tryed,
Beholde euen neare at hande, a damsell he espied,
Whose beauty was so braue, and eke so Christall cleere,
That nature could not frame, the like to be hyr peere.
Hir peere I neuer sawe, for beautie in the face,
The like was neuer seene, such was hir comely grace.
And where he tooke delight, before in fragrant scente,
Now hir to gaze vpon, his minde was wholy bente.
And as good fortune would, he stoode behinde a bushe,
Where well he might beholde, and neede not starte the thrushe.
For while she tooke delight, to vewe this pleasant fielde,
He did obtayne his will, at large he hir behelde.
And nought she did suspect, for here he lay vnknowne,
Untill such time as loue, his kindling coles had blowne.
Hir rounde and cherry lippes, and eke hir skarlet hewe,
Hir crymson cheekes was cause, the more he did them vewe.
Hir rosed lookes him thought, his tentiue eares forth tolde,
The more that them he did, the more he should beholde.
So fell it forth at length, he could not haue his fill,
The more he did hir vewe, the more he wisht his will.
When long he vewed had through many a pleasant tune,
Him thought this Aprill month, was turnde to ioly June.
In liuely forme did seeme, with other for to fighte.
The Columbine likewise, whiche commendable is,
With Dasies did contend, that delectable blisse.
And as a Marygolde amazde, he hyr behilde,
Untill hir dasing dentes, his rufull harte it filde.
Then out alasse he cried, but all it was in vayne,
His harte fro him was gone, and did with hir remayne.
This damsell single was, and eke did wante a mate,
And he to feede hyr reume, did wante a dayntie date.
But yet his harte was good, and loue did make him bolde,
He spared not at length, his meanyng to vnfolde.
For hir he went vnto, and greeted in this wise,
Alhayle deare dame he sayde, the chiefe of vertues pryse.
I see that Lady Ver, with sweete and fragrant scente,
Inflames your harte to see, whereto dame nature lente.
The Nightingale likewise, with hyr recorded song,
Hath giuen you this desire, this groue to walke along.
For now each thing that is, doth florishe in his kinde,
And is of force (me thinkes) to recreate the minde.
And eke no greater health, vpon the earth is founde,
Then early and late to walke, vpon this pleasaunt grounde:
The scente whereof will so, restore your liuely bloud,
That you your selfe will say, therefore tis very good.
A thousande fancies more, for to delight the minde,
Within this pleasaunt groue, by walking you may finde.
A floure by chaunce I spie, whose beautie freshe and gay,
Doth force against my will, what I to you doe say.
It rauisht hath my wittes, wherefore I craue your ayde,
Herewith my garlande make, let me not be denayed.
For you the floure are, wherewith agast I stande,
And choyce there resteth none, for beautie at your hande.
With you my harte shall reste, when as my corpse is slayne,
Take pitie on my woe, take pittie on my payne.
At which she floode agast, not knowing what to say,
So friendly Venus is, so friendly Cupid was,
That fancie brought hir soone, vnto my wisshed passe.
She answered againe, a floure likewise I see,
Wherein the profe declares, my constant harte to be.
And where I heretofore, was movde by many a voyce,
Yet none my hart coulde gayne, so curious was my choyce.
The sap now creepeth vp, and vapors do increace,
Lust doth inforce the fleshe, to warre and not to peace.
When Ver is in hyr pryme, each one desires a mate:
And now the thing doth please, whiche I before did hate.
For earst I did detest, to see a gallant dame,
But now I take delight, of thee to heare the name.
And sithe that none before, did please my gazing eye,
Untill such time I did, your presence here espie.
So now your loue I craue, my loue for to requite,
Least cause I haue to curse, the canckred Cupides spight.
Betake your selfe I say, vnto a trustie friende,
In me repose such trust, as ye in me shall finde.
For why, in you I liue, and in my selfe I dye:
Whiche as a rampire is, your loue agayne to trye.
My harmes so huge would crie, if it I should not gayne,
And none aliue I thinke, should suffer the like payne.
But hope a Castle is, for me to winter in,
And biddes me not to feare, nor yet my suyte to lin.
With this she walked home, vnto hir mansion place:
And all the way he sued, of hir to purchace grace.
Who fancide him asmuch, as he did fancie hyr,
Though it she kept vnknowne, as best was thought to hyr.
The end it tried all, such loue to him she bare,
He was hir whole delight for him was all hir care.
His sight it did hir good, his absence bredde anoye,
His presence was hir meate, hir drinke, and all hir ioye.
For if he missing were, at most but halfe a day,
Hir eyes like springs of teares would runne in like aray.
As salte as brine, and eke hir skalding sighes vnknowne,
Most ready were sometimes, to ende hir lothsome life,
Or els in haste she callde for Atropos hir knife.
Thus nothing was to much for him that was so kynde,
And yet the more he sought, the lesse his lucke to finde.
Suche peeuishe lucke had he, in vayne to spende his winde,
That, looke the more he ranne, the more he came behinde.
Ioue would it so, I thinke, dame fortune beyng coye,
Delay it daunger bred, and absence bredde anoye.
Though eyther was most true, and faithfull eke in harte,
If fortune turne hyr whele, then pleasure is but tarte.
So quaynte by proofe she was, and totling in hir chaunce,
That where Dame pleasure stoode, she rygor did aduaunce.
For why? it hapned so, the trumpe of Muse had blowne,
Unto hir eares, that he far forth was better knowne
To other than to hir, and eke betrothed had
His hande, his harte, and faith vnto an other Dame,
So that she did dispayre, and yet he not in blame.
But farther it was noysde, that he nought else did seeke
Of hir, but for to haue his pleasure for a weeke.
Whiche though it was most false, and blased in despight,
Yet it hir rauisht had of all hir fore delight.
For she beleeued straight, how that these wordes were true,
And in this wise began to rage and eke to rue.
Haue I long fostred vp, a naughtie soaring Hauke.
That now forsakes the lure, when I to hir it shake?
May whistling nought preuayle, needes wilt thou checke at fiste,
Then soare alofte at will, and take thee vp whose liste.
In deede thy slicknesse shewed, thou wast a rolling stone,
Wherefore adewe my ioy, sith needes thou wilt be gone.
Sithe fortune was so quaynte, and nothing could preuayle,
With griefe she curste hir hap, and thus began to rayle.
An other hath my right, and it inioyes perforce,
The Goddes reuenge it wil, for this thy sought deuorce.
See that he constant be, for so it dothe behoue.
Too late now am I wise, be warned all by mee,
By others harmes, beware the snare ye do not see.
The beste that now I can, is others to forewarne,
Least they as I haue done, do light in such like harme.
Wherefore I wishe you all, whom Cupid doth assault.
Him to deuide in twayne, least through your owne default,
To late you do repent, the force of Cupids bowe,
And curse the time ye wist, what Venus meant to know.
And learne each one by me, whiche way to frame your loue,
Be constant, iust and true, as is the turtle Doue.
But yet beware on whome, ye let your loue to light,
Least want of rendring like, both put your ioyes to flight.
Know first his nature well, and then repose your trust,
Let nothing be to deare, if so yee finde him iust.
Spende not your loue on those, that will it not requite,
For why? that wante of loue, it can no one delight.
Thus ponder well my wordes, let Pallas be your guyde,
Least that in wanton lust, your feete beginne to slyde,
Adewe my pleasures all, adewe my chiefe delight,
Loue hath me wounded now, and put you all to flight.
Wherefore.
Yee Tigres whelpes vnkinde, and eke yee rauening Wolues,
The Stigian poole and eke, the Acherontes gulues.
Yea, yea, the Manticors, the Lyons in their rage,
Cerborus, Alecto, with the Leopardes sauage.
And (to be shorte) drawe neare, yet furies all of Hell,
Yee Fayries with the reste, elsewhere where so you dwell.
And Clotho now leaue off, thy distaffe aye to hed,
Lachesis sitte still, and spinne no longer thred.
But Atropos make haste, and with thy shredding knyfe,
Asunder cut the threede, which doth prolong my lyfe.
For why? Milecian maydes, your steppes I meane to trace,
And as Lucrecia did, my lyfe for to vnlace.
Come rue the wretched chaunce, whiche did to me befall.
Come Heraclitus nowe, to weepe and eke to wayle,
And Ladies now to rue, hoyste vp your mourning sayle.
Melpomene likewise, now take thy penne in hande,
In mourning wise to paint, how fortune doth withstande.
Likewise I thee beseeche, Sulpicia of Rome,
Some poste to indite, to set vpon my tome.
That all whiche heares or sees, may rue my wretched cace,
And know the cause wherefore, my life I did vnlace.
This sayde, with bloudy hande, she tooke hir dyrefull knife,
And to hir harte it thrust, to ende hir lothsome life.
Whiche blowne vnto his eares, he rued in raging wise,
But nought he could withstande, hir fonde and foolish guyse.
Why liue I on the earth, that thus am lefte alone?
Why seeke I not to die, and first to make my mone?
Alas my gem of ioy, and eke my Dymande deere,
Ah fountayne of delight, as dead why liest thou heere.
What shall of me become, my ioyes exiled are,
My harte with griefe will burst, hope lodged is so farre.
Hath Paris, Leander, Pyrame or Troylus,
Aye truer bene than I, to thee my prety mus?
Pesistratus in fayth, or Romeus in truth?
What cause then hast thou had, to fall in such a ruth?
These wordes are but in vayne, I do but seeke to drowne
Thy crased corps in teares, of certaine this is knowne.
It shall not aye be sayde, that thou for me shalt die,
For I the like to doe, thy former deede will trie.
Bloud shall be shedde for bloud, and life shall pay for lyfe,
I haue like force I know, like hande, and eke like knyfe.
With lyke, adewe my ghost, adewe my latter breath,
Adewe each pleasure that is founde vpon the earth.
Yet Ladies thus much graunt, our corpse one tome to haue,
One Epitaphe thereon, this onely thing I craue.
This sayde, he kiste hir corpse, ten thousand times and more,
He callde vpon hir name, ten thousand times and more,
But life it yeelded had to cruel death his lore.
Hir eyes they were clong fast, prest downe with heauie death,
Adewe my deare he saydt, and thus he stopte his breath.
| The Golden Aphroditis | |