Albions England A Continued Historie of the same Kingdome, from the Originals of the first Inhabitants thereof: With most the chiefe Alterations and Accidents theare hapning, vnto, and in the happie Raigne of our now most gracious Soueraigne, Queene Elizabeth: Not barren in varietie of inuentiue and historicall Intermixtures: First penned and published by William Warner: and now reuised, and newly inlarged by the same Author: Whereunto is also newly added an Epitome of the whole Historie of England |
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CHAP. IX.
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CHAP. IX.
Albions England |  |
CHAP. IX.
King
Aganippus ere his death had with his Lords decreed
His onely daughter Daphles should in Empire him succeed:
A fairer Ladie liu'd not then, and now her like doth lack,
And nature, thinke I, neuer will a second She compact.
The King intombed, Daphles of his Scepter was possest:
And one there was, a Noble man, that could it not disgest.
Who (for he was of fame and force) did bid her battaile, and
In doubtfull end of victorie their ciuill quarrels stand.
At length the Argiue Maiden Queene she Doracles subdued:
But (Cacus) of this Stratagem a Tragedie ensued.
Now Loues, not Launces came in vre, the man that lost the day,
And lies in Chaines, left her in cares, her Conquest was his pray.
Full often did she blame her selfe for louing him her Foe,
But oftner thought she it more blame not to haue erred so.
Thus whom in Campe she loathed late, in chaines she loued now,
And thought him sure, because so sure. To Princes prisoners bow,
Thinks she: and watching fitting time, vnto the Prison went,
Where at the dore of such his Lodge a many teares she spent.
But entring, when her eyes beheld the Image of her hart,
To her still peerelesse, though his bands had altred him in part,
She casting downe her bashfull eyes stood senceles then a space,
Yeat what her tonguelesse loue adiornd was extant in her face:
And now the Goaler left to her the Prisoner and the place.
His onely daughter Daphles should in Empire him succeed:
A fairer Ladie liu'd not then, and now her like doth lack,
And nature, thinke I, neuer will a second She compact.
The King intombed, Daphles of his Scepter was possest:
And one there was, a Noble man, that could it not disgest.
Who (for he was of fame and force) did bid her battaile, and
In doubtfull end of victorie their ciuill quarrels stand.
At length the Argiue Maiden Queene she Doracles subdued:
38
Now Loues, not Launces came in vre, the man that lost the day,
And lies in Chaines, left her in cares, her Conquest was his pray.
Full often did she blame her selfe for louing him her Foe,
But oftner thought she it more blame not to haue erred so.
Thus whom in Campe she loathed late, in chaines she loued now,
And thought him sure, because so sure. To Princes prisoners bow,
Thinks she: and watching fitting time, vnto the Prison went,
Where at the dore of such his Lodge a many teares she spent.
But entring, when her eyes beheld the Image of her hart,
To her still peerelesse, though his bands had altred him in part,
She casting downe her bashfull eyes stood senceles then a space,
Yeat what her tonguelesse loue adiornd was extant in her face:
And now the Goaler left to her the Prisoner and the place.
Then, cheering carefull Doracles, let it suffice (quoth she)
That I repent me of thy bands, and frankly set thee free:
And let that Grace grace-out the rest (for more remaines behind
Then, being said, may decent seeme to such as faults will find)
My selfe, my Land, my Loue, my life, and all what so is mine
Possesse: yet loue, and saue my life, that now haue saued thine.
Then sownes She at his sullen feete, that yet abode in thrall:
Which to auoid, he faintly rubs his Liuer on his gall:
And with his hand, not with his heart, did reare her sinking downe,
And faining to approue her Choise, had promise of the Crowne.
That I repent me of thy bands, and frankly set thee free:
And let that Grace grace-out the rest (for more remaines behind
Then, being said, may decent seeme to such as faults will find)
My selfe, my Land, my Loue, my life, and all what so is mine
Possesse: yet loue, and saue my life, that now haue saued thine.
Then sownes She at his sullen feete, that yet abode in thrall:
Which to auoid, he faintly rubs his Liuer on his gall:
And with his hand, not with his heart, did reare her sinking downe,
And faining to approue her Choise, had promise of the Crowne.
But neither Crowne, nor Countries care, nor She (worth all the rest)
Nor grace, nor dutie, reconcile whom enuie had possest:
No sooner was he got at large, and wealth suppli'd his lack,
But he to seeke her ouerthrow to forren aids did pack.
Demaund not how the wronged Queene disgested such her wrong,
But aske if she, the tidings tolde, to heare them liu'd so long.
She liu'd in deede, yet sowned oft, and sowning ouerpast,
From her mistempered head she teares her louely Tresses fast.
And beareth on her Iuorie brests, and casts her on the ground,
And wrings her hands, and scricheth out, and flingeth vp and downe.
Her Ladies pittying her distresse had got their Queene to rest:
From whenceforth outward signes & sighs her inward griefe exprest:
Her sparing Diet, seldome sleepe, her silence, and what not?
Had framd her now right Louer-like, when thus to him she wrot.
Nor grace, nor dutie, reconcile whom enuie had possest:
No sooner was he got at large, and wealth suppli'd his lack,
But he to seeke her ouerthrow to forren aids did pack.
Demaund not how the wronged Queene disgested such her wrong,
But aske if she, the tidings tolde, to heare them liu'd so long.
She liu'd in deede, yet sowned oft, and sowning ouerpast,
From her mistempered head she teares her louely Tresses fast.
And beareth on her Iuorie brests, and casts her on the ground,
39
Her Ladies pittying her distresse had got their Queene to rest:
From whenceforth outward signes & sighs her inward griefe exprest:
Her sparing Diet, seldome sleepe, her silence, and what not?
Had framd her now right Louer-like, when thus to him she wrot.
What fault of mine hath causd thy flight doth rest in cloudes to me,
But faultles haue I heard of none, and faultie may I be.
Yet not my Scepter, but my selfe, haue kingly Suters sought:
Did all amisse, saue thou alone, that settest both at nought?
At nought, said I? Yea well I said, because so easily cought.
One crime but cite, and I for it will shead a million teares:
And to be penitent of faults with it a pardon beares.
Ah, Doracles, if our extreames, thy malice and my loue,
The formers euer ill shall not the latters good remoue.
I heare thou doest frequent the warres, and war thou wilt with mee,
Forgetfull that my Argiue men impatient Warriours bee:
Sweet, hassard not the same to sword that Loue doth warrant thee.
Ech Speare that shal but crosse thy Helme hath force to craese my hart:
But if thou bleede, of that thy blood my fainting soule hath part.
With thee I liue, with thee I dye, with thee I loose or gaine,
Liue safe therefore, for in thy life consists the liues of twaine.
Most wisely valiant are those men that backe their armed Steeds
In beaten Paths, ore boorded Tylthes to break their staffe-like Reeds:
Wheare not the dint of wounding Launce, but some deuise of loue,
Sans danger, hath sufficient wait their manhoods to approue.
Wheare braue Aspects of louely Dames Tantara to the fight,
Whose formes perhaps are weg'd in harts, when Fauours wag in sight.
Whearas the Victors Prize is praise, and Trumpets sound ech blow,
Wheare all is well, that seemes but well, in courage or in show.
Wheare Ladies doffe their Champions Helmes, and kisse wheare Beauers hid,
And parlie vnder Canapies how well or ill they did.
Retire therefore, sweet heart retire: or, if thou wilt be arm'd,
Then fight as these where all things make that all escape vnharm'd.
Such manhood is a merriment: things present are regarded:
Not perillous wounds in warre, but here wars perill is rewarded.
In few, the warres are full of woes, but here euen words of warre
Haue brauer grace thē works thēselues, for Courts from Campes be far.
Than are the valiant, who more vaine? Than Cowards who more wise?
Not men that trauell Pegasus, but Fortunes fooles doe rise.
Me thinks I see how churlish lookes estrange thy cheerefull face,
Me thinks thy gestures, talke, & gate, haue changd their wonted grace:
Me thinks thy sometimes nimble Limbs with armour now are lame:
Me thinks I see how scars deforme where Swords before did maime:
I see thee faint with Summers heat, and droup with winters cold:
I see thee not the same thou art, for young thou seemest old:
I see not, but my soule doth feare, in fight thou art too bold:
I sorrow, lastly, to haue seene whom now I wish to see,
Because I see loues Oratresse pleads tediously to thee.
If words, nor weepings, loue, nor lines, if ease, nor toyle in fight,
May waine thee from a pleasing ill, yet come thou to my sight:
Perchance my presence may disswade, or partnership delight.
But wo am I, dead paper pleads, a sencelesse thing of woe:
It cannot weepe, nor wring the hands, but say that she did so:
And saieth so vncredited, or if, then thought of corse:
Thus thus, because not passionate, to paper failes remorse.
O that my griefes, my sighes, and teares, might muster to thy viewe,
The woes, not words, the paine, not pen, should vouch my writing true.
Yeat fare thou well, whose fare-well brings such fare-ill vnto me:
Thy fare-well lacks a welcome home, and welcome shalt thou be.
But faultles haue I heard of none, and faultie may I be.
Yet not my Scepter, but my selfe, haue kingly Suters sought:
Did all amisse, saue thou alone, that settest both at nought?
At nought, said I? Yea well I said, because so easily cought.
One crime but cite, and I for it will shead a million teares:
And to be penitent of faults with it a pardon beares.
Ah, Doracles, if our extreames, thy malice and my loue,
The formers euer ill shall not the latters good remoue.
I heare thou doest frequent the warres, and war thou wilt with mee,
Forgetfull that my Argiue men impatient Warriours bee:
Sweet, hassard not the same to sword that Loue doth warrant thee.
Ech Speare that shal but crosse thy Helme hath force to craese my hart:
But if thou bleede, of that thy blood my fainting soule hath part.
With thee I liue, with thee I dye, with thee I loose or gaine,
Liue safe therefore, for in thy life consists the liues of twaine.
Most wisely valiant are those men that backe their armed Steeds
In beaten Paths, ore boorded Tylthes to break their staffe-like Reeds:
Wheare not the dint of wounding Launce, but some deuise of loue,
Sans danger, hath sufficient wait their manhoods to approue.
Wheare braue Aspects of louely Dames Tantara to the fight,
Whose formes perhaps are weg'd in harts, when Fauours wag in sight.
Whearas the Victors Prize is praise, and Trumpets sound ech blow,
Wheare all is well, that seemes but well, in courage or in show.
Wheare Ladies doffe their Champions Helmes, and kisse wheare Beauers hid,
And parlie vnder Canapies how well or ill they did.
Retire therefore, sweet heart retire: or, if thou wilt be arm'd,
40
Such manhood is a merriment: things present are regarded:
Not perillous wounds in warre, but here wars perill is rewarded.
In few, the warres are full of woes, but here euen words of warre
Haue brauer grace thē works thēselues, for Courts from Campes be far.
Than are the valiant, who more vaine? Than Cowards who more wise?
Not men that trauell Pegasus, but Fortunes fooles doe rise.
Me thinks I see how churlish lookes estrange thy cheerefull face,
Me thinks thy gestures, talke, & gate, haue changd their wonted grace:
Me thinks thy sometimes nimble Limbs with armour now are lame:
Me thinks I see how scars deforme where Swords before did maime:
I see thee faint with Summers heat, and droup with winters cold:
I see thee not the same thou art, for young thou seemest old:
I see not, but my soule doth feare, in fight thou art too bold:
I sorrow, lastly, to haue seene whom now I wish to see,
Because I see loues Oratresse pleads tediously to thee.
If words, nor weepings, loue, nor lines, if ease, nor toyle in fight,
May waine thee from a pleasing ill, yet come thou to my sight:
Perchance my presence may disswade, or partnership delight.
But wo am I, dead paper pleads, a sencelesse thing of woe:
It cannot weepe, nor wring the hands, but say that she did so:
And saieth so vncredited, or if, then thought of corse:
Thus thus, because not passionate, to paper failes remorse.
O that my griefes, my sighes, and teares, might muster to thy viewe,
The woes, not words, the paine, not pen, should vouch my writing true.
Yeat fare thou well, whose fare-well brings such fare-ill vnto me:
Thy fare-well lacks a welcome home, and welcome shalt thou be.
These lines, subscribed with her name, when Doracles did viewe,
He was so far from liking them, that loathing did ensue.
And, least that hope should ease her heart, or he not seeme vnkinde,
In written Tables he to her returned thus his minde.
He was so far from liking them, that loathing did ensue.
And, least that hope should ease her heart, or he not seeme vnkinde,
In written Tables he to her returned thus his minde.
The best of Bees doe beare, besides sweet hony, smarting stings,
And beautie doth not want a baite that to repentance brings.
Cōtēt thee, Daphles, Mooles take mads, but mē know Mooles to catch,
And euer wakes the Dawlian bird to ward the sloe-wormes watch.
I haue perus'd, I wot not what, a scrole, forsooth, of loue,
As if to Dirus in his Tent should Cupid cast his gloue.
A challenge proper to such Sottes as you would fashion me,
But I disdaine to talke of Loue, much more in Loue to be.
Nor thinke a Queene, in case of Loue, shall tie me to consent,
But holde the contrarie more true, and it no consequent:
For persons must in passions iumpe, els Loue it proueth lame:
Nor thinke I of a Womans graunt, but as a Woers game.
Your Sex withstands not place and speach: for be she base or hie,
A Womans eye doth guide her wit, and not her wit her eye.
Then senceles is he, hauing speach, that bids not for the best:
Euen Carters Malkines will disdaine when Gentrie will disgest.
The better match the brauer Mart, and willinger is sought:
And willing sute hath best euent: so Vulcan Venus cought.
I argue not of her estate, but set my Rest on this:
That opportunitie can win the coyest She that is.
Then he that rubs her gamesome vaine, and tempers toyes with Arte,
Brings loue that swimmeth at her eyes to diue into her hart.
But since the best, at best, is bad, a Shrow or els a Sheepe,
Iust none at all are best of all, and I from all will keepe.
Admit I come, and come I then because I come to thee?
No, when I come, my comming is contrarie sights to see.
My leasure serues me not to loue till fish as falcons flie,
Till Sea shall flame, till Sunne shall freese, till mortall men not die,
And Riuers, climing vp their bankes, shall leaue their channels dry.
When these shall be, and I not be, then may I chance to Loue,
And then the strangest change will be that I a Louer proue.
Let Beuers hide, not busses hurt, my lips for lips vnfit:
Let skarred limbes, not carefull Loues, to honor honor get.
I skorne a face effeminate, but hate his bastarde minde
That, borne a man, prepostrously by Arte doth alter kinde:
With fingers, Ladie-like, with lockes, with lookes, and gauds in print,
With fashions barbing formeles beards, and robes that brooke no lint,
With Speare in wrest, like painted Mars, frō thought of battaile free,
With gate, and grace, and euery gaude, so womanly to see,
As not in nature, but in name, their manhood seemes to bee.
Yea sooner then that maiden heares bud on his Boyish chinne
The furie of the fierie God doth in the foole beginne.
And yeat to winne, whō would be wonne, these wow with lesser speed,
Then might be wun a towne of warre, the croppe not worth the seede.
But let them trauaile till they tire, and then be ridde for Iaides,
If Gamesters faire, if Souldiers milde, or Louers true of Maides?
Who loue in sporte, or leaue in spight, or if they stoupe to luer,
Their kindnes must haue kindely vse: faults onely make them suer.
Did fancie? no, did furie? yea, hang vp the Thracian Maide,
The wonders seuen should then be eyght, could loue thee so perswaide.
But loue or hate, fare ill or well, I force not of thy fare:
My welcome, which thou doest pretend, shall proue a thankelesse care.
And beautie doth not want a baite that to repentance brings.
41
And euer wakes the Dawlian bird to ward the sloe-wormes watch.
I haue perus'd, I wot not what, a scrole, forsooth, of loue,
As if to Dirus in his Tent should Cupid cast his gloue.
A challenge proper to such Sottes as you would fashion me,
But I disdaine to talke of Loue, much more in Loue to be.
Nor thinke a Queene, in case of Loue, shall tie me to consent,
But holde the contrarie more true, and it no consequent:
For persons must in passions iumpe, els Loue it proueth lame:
Nor thinke I of a Womans graunt, but as a Woers game.
Your Sex withstands not place and speach: for be she base or hie,
A Womans eye doth guide her wit, and not her wit her eye.
Then senceles is he, hauing speach, that bids not for the best:
Euen Carters Malkines will disdaine when Gentrie will disgest.
The better match the brauer Mart, and willinger is sought:
And willing sute hath best euent: so Vulcan Venus cought.
I argue not of her estate, but set my Rest on this:
That opportunitie can win the coyest She that is.
Then he that rubs her gamesome vaine, and tempers toyes with Arte,
Brings loue that swimmeth at her eyes to diue into her hart.
But since the best, at best, is bad, a Shrow or els a Sheepe,
Iust none at all are best of all, and I from all will keepe.
Admit I come, and come I then because I come to thee?
No, when I come, my comming is contrarie sights to see.
My leasure serues me not to loue till fish as falcons flie,
Till Sea shall flame, till Sunne shall freese, till mortall men not die,
And Riuers, climing vp their bankes, shall leaue their channels dry.
When these shall be, and I not be, then may I chance to Loue,
And then the strangest change will be that I a Louer proue.
Let Beuers hide, not busses hurt, my lips for lips vnfit:
Let skarred limbes, not carefull Loues, to honor honor get.
I skorne a face effeminate, but hate his bastarde minde
That, borne a man, prepostrously by Arte doth alter kinde:
42
With fashions barbing formeles beards, and robes that brooke no lint,
With Speare in wrest, like painted Mars, frō thought of battaile free,
With gate, and grace, and euery gaude, so womanly to see,
As not in nature, but in name, their manhood seemes to bee.
Yea sooner then that maiden heares bud on his Boyish chinne
The furie of the fierie God doth in the foole beginne.
And yeat to winne, whō would be wonne, these wow with lesser speed,
Then might be wun a towne of warre, the croppe not worth the seede.
But let them trauaile till they tire, and then be ridde for Iaides,
If Gamesters faire, if Souldiers milde, or Louers true of Maides?
Who loue in sporte, or leaue in spight, or if they stoupe to luer,
Their kindnes must haue kindely vse: faults onely make them suer.
Did fancie? no, did furie? yea, hang vp the Thracian Maide,
The wonders seuen should then be eyght, could loue thee so perswaide.
But loue or hate, fare ill or well, I force not of thy fare:
My welcome, which thou doest pretend, shall proue a thankelesse care.
When Daphles heard him so vnkind, she held her selfe accurst:
And little lacked of so well but that her heart did burst:
And wheare she read the churlish scrole, she fell into a sowne,
But, brought againe, vpon a bed her selfe she casteth downe,
Not rising more: and so her loue and life together end:
Or (if I so may gesse) in death her soule did liue his friend.
And little lacked of so well but that her heart did burst:
And wheare she read the churlish scrole, she fell into a sowne,
But, brought againe, vpon a bed her selfe she casteth downe,
Not rising more: and so her loue and life together end:
Or (if I so may gesse) in death her soule did liue his friend.
The Queene enterr'd, and Obbit kept (as she in charge did giue)
A Knight was shipt to Calidon, wheare Doracles did liue,
To offer him, as her bequest, the Argiue Throne and Crowne.
Not that we force, or feare (quoth he) thy fauour or thy frowne
We moue this peace, or make thee Prince, but Daphles swore vs so,
Who louing more then thou couldst hate, nor liu'd nor died thy Foe.
And is she dead (quoth Doracles) that liued to my wrong?
I gladly doe accept these newes, expected for of long.
A Knight was shipt to Calidon, wheare Doracles did liue,
To offer him, as her bequest, the Argiue Throne and Crowne.
Not that we force, or feare (quoth he) thy fauour or thy frowne
We moue this peace, or make thee Prince, but Daphles swore vs so,
Who louing more then thou couldst hate, nor liu'd nor died thy Foe.
And is she dead (quoth Doracles) that liued to my wrong?
I gladly doe accept these newes, expected for of long.
The Lord and Legate were imbarkt, and Ship ran vnder saile,
Vntill into the Argiue Strond the Mariners did haile.
To Daphles, by adoption, theare inthronized a King,
He diuers yeares good fortune had successiue in each thing,
All friends, no Foes, all wealth, no want, still peace, and neuer strife,
And what might seeme an earthly Heauen to Doracles was rife.
A Subiect, but a Noble man, did ritchly feast the King,
And after meat presented him with many a sight and thing.
Theare was a chamber in the which, portraied to the quick,
The Picture of Queene Daphles was: and deepely did it prick
The King his conscience, and he thought her like did not remaine:
So, whom her person could not pearce, her Picture now did paine.
A kissing Cupid, breathing loue into her breast, did hide
Her wandring eies, whilst to her hart his hand a Death did guide:
Non mœrens morior, for the Mott, inchased was beside.
Her curtesie and his contempt he calleth then to minde,
And of her beautie in himselfe he did a Chaos finde.
Recalling eke his late degree, and reckning his desart,
He could not thinke (or faintly thought) his loue to sterne her heart:
And to the Maker of the feast, did such his thoughts impart
Vntill into the Argiue Strond the Mariners did haile.
43
He diuers yeares good fortune had successiue in each thing,
All friends, no Foes, all wealth, no want, still peace, and neuer strife,
And what might seeme an earthly Heauen to Doracles was rife.
A Subiect, but a Noble man, did ritchly feast the King,
And after meat presented him with many a sight and thing.
Theare was a chamber in the which, portraied to the quick,
The Picture of Queene Daphles was: and deepely did it prick
The King his conscience, and he thought her like did not remaine:
So, whom her person could not pearce, her Picture now did paine.
A kissing Cupid, breathing loue into her breast, did hide
Her wandring eies, whilst to her hart his hand a Death did guide:
Non mœrens morior, for the Mott, inchased was beside.
Her curtesie and his contempt he calleth then to minde,
And of her beautie in himselfe he did a Chaos finde.
Recalling eke his late degree, and reckning his desart,
He could not thinke (or faintly thought) his loue to sterne her heart:
And to the Maker of the feast, did such his thoughts impart
And doubtes your Grace (the Feaster said) if Daphles lou'd or no?
I wish (I hope I wish no harme) she had not loued so,
Or you more liked than you did, then she had liued yet:
To what her latest speech did tend I neuer shall forget.
My selfe, with diuers noble men, whose teares bewraid our care,
Was present, when her dying tongue of you did thus declare.
My hap (quoth she) is simply bad that cannot haue, nor hope:
Was euer wretch (I wretch except) held to so skant a scope?
I see him roue at other markes, and I vnmarkt to be:
I finde my fault, but follow it, whilest death doth followe me.
Ah death (my Lords) dispaire is death, and death must ransome blisse,
Such Ransome pleaseth Doracles and Daphles pliant is.
Not bootlesse then (since breathles strait) sweet Loue doth flames contriue,
The which shall burne me vp at once that now do burne aliue.
Alas (then did she pause in teares) that Doracles were by,
To take it from his eies, not eares, that I for him doe die:
At least, perhaps, he would confesse my loue to be no lie.
But (Want-wit I) offensiue sights to Doracles I craue:
Long liue, deare Hart, not minding me when I am laid in graue.
And you (my Lords) by those same Goddes, whose sight I hope anon,
I coniure that ye him inuest your King when I am gon.
Alonely say I liu'd and died to him a Louer true,
And that my parting Ghost did sound, sweete Doracles adue.
A sigh concluding such her words, she closed vp her eye:
Not one of vs, beholding it, that seemed not to die.
Thus to your Grace I leaue to gesse how tragick Daphles died:
In Loue, my Lord, yea louing you, that her of Loue denied.
I wish (I hope I wish no harme) she had not loued so,
Or you more liked than you did, then she had liued yet:
To what her latest speech did tend I neuer shall forget.
My selfe, with diuers noble men, whose teares bewraid our care,
Was present, when her dying tongue of you did thus declare.
My hap (quoth she) is simply bad that cannot haue, nor hope:
Was euer wretch (I wretch except) held to so skant a scope?
I see him roue at other markes, and I vnmarkt to be:
I finde my fault, but follow it, whilest death doth followe me.
Ah death (my Lords) dispaire is death, and death must ransome blisse,
Such Ransome pleaseth Doracles and Daphles pliant is.
Not bootlesse then (since breathles strait) sweet Loue doth flames contriue,
The which shall burne me vp at once that now do burne aliue.
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To take it from his eies, not eares, that I for him doe die:
At least, perhaps, he would confesse my loue to be no lie.
But (Want-wit I) offensiue sights to Doracles I craue:
Long liue, deare Hart, not minding me when I am laid in graue.
And you (my Lords) by those same Goddes, whose sight I hope anon,
I coniure that ye him inuest your King when I am gon.
Alonely say I liu'd and died to him a Louer true,
And that my parting Ghost did sound, sweete Doracles adue.
A sigh concluding such her words, she closed vp her eye:
Not one of vs, beholding it, that seemed not to die.
Thus to your Grace I leaue to gesse how tragick Daphles died:
In Loue, my Lord, yea louing you, that her of Loue denied.
The picture, and this same discourse afford sufficient woe
To him, that, maimed in his minde, did to his Pallace goe.
Theare Doracles did set abroach a world of things forgot:
What meanest thou man? (ah frantick man) how art thou ouershot
(He said) to hate the substance then, and loue the shadow now,
Her painted boord, whose amorous hart did breake whilst I not bow?
And couldst thou churlish wretch, cōtemn the loue of such a Queene?
O Gods, I graunt for such contempt I iustly bide your teene.
Her onely beautie (worthy Ioue, that now on me hath power)
Was worthie of farre worthier Loue, without a further dower.
But gaze thou on her senceles Signe, whose selfe thou mad'st thy pray,
And gazing perish: for thy life is debt to her decay.
Time going on, greefe it grewe on, of dolour sprung dispaire,
When Doracles to Daphles Tombe did secretly repaire:
Theare (teares a preface to the rest) these only words he spake:
Thy Loue was losse, for losse my life in recompence do take,
Deare Daphles. So a daggers stab a Tragedie did make.
To him, that, maimed in his minde, did to his Pallace goe.
Theare Doracles did set abroach a world of things forgot:
What meanest thou man? (ah frantick man) how art thou ouershot
(He said) to hate the substance then, and loue the shadow now,
Her painted boord, whose amorous hart did breake whilst I not bow?
And couldst thou churlish wretch, cōtemn the loue of such a Queene?
O Gods, I graunt for such contempt I iustly bide your teene.
Her onely beautie (worthy Ioue, that now on me hath power)
Was worthie of farre worthier Loue, without a further dower.
But gaze thou on her senceles Signe, whose selfe thou mad'st thy pray,
And gazing perish: for thy life is debt to her decay.
Time going on, greefe it grewe on, of dolour sprung dispaire,
When Doracles to Daphles Tombe did secretly repaire:
Theare (teares a preface to the rest) these only words he spake:
Thy Loue was losse, for losse my life in recompence do take,
Deare Daphles. So a daggers stab a Tragedie did make.
Well did this Tragicke matter sort to Cacus Tragicke vaine:
But merrier matter did behoue such humour to restraine.
That knew the second Sister well, who (smiling ere she spake)
Began her turne, and of her Tale the next report I make.
But merrier matter did behoue such humour to restraine.
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Began her turne, and of her Tale the next report I make.
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CHAP. IX.
Albions England | |