University of Virginia Library

1

When Loue first read the title of this booke,
Wars, wars, against me now are wag'd (q;he)
O dayne thy Poet of a milder looke,
Condemne him not, that from offence is free.
VVho euer was Loues vowed Ancient,
Bearing his cullers with a true intent.

2

Not I Tydides, by whose cruel speare
Thy mother wounded, on Mars foming steeds
Fled into heauen, full of carefull feare,
Others sometime, in bitter fancy bleeds.
But I still burne: If thou the question moue
What now I do? I answere also Loue.

3

Yea, I haue taught how thou mightst be obtaind,
So learning reason, how to bridle force:
Yet not to thee, nor to mine Arts, containd
In papers, proue I foe without remorce.
Ne yet my Muse doth labour to vntwist;
Her old spun webbe, that doth of Loue consist.

4

He that hath built his fancie to his minde,
He happie loues, and happie liue he still;
Still fill thy sayles with that thrice prosperous wind;
But if thou be subiected to the will
Of any tyrant, or vnworthy mayd,
Least that thou perish, search our Arts for ayd.

5

VVhy, why should any basely hang and die?
To giue an instance of their desperate loue:
Or, why should any with such crueltie,
By selfe-inflicted wounds their soules remoue?
So thou that onely doest in peace delight,
Shalt gayne suspition of a murtherous wight.

6

If then he be, who least he scapes the snare;
And leaues to loue, must also leaue to liue;
O let him in due time thereof beware,
O let him leaue to loue, and leaue him giue.
Thus loue shall be esteem'd liues deerest friend,
Not cursed author of a desperate end.

7

Thou art a child, nor ought childhood fits,
But games, sports, playes, then game, sport, play;
Such gentler rule, becomes such childish wits:
Thy childish wit, that no high things must way.
Thou in thy wars maist naked arrowes vse,
Yet such as shall no deadly wounds infuse.

8

Let old Stepfathers war with sword and speare,
And in a Sea of blood win victorie:
Vse thou thy mothers fight, that yeelds no feare,
Nor for the sonnes losse makes the parent crie.
Let doores be broken in thy nocturne Iarres,
And be adornd with garlands midst those warres.

9

Let men and maidens take their sports by stealth,
Let maidens vse their words with cunning art:
Now let them kindly send their Louers health,
And suddenly with chiding wound their hart.
And barring fast the doores, shut out their loue,
VVhere let them waile, and yet no pitie moue.

10

These warres shall please thy gentle humor best,
In these teares shalt thou sport, not causd by death;
Death shall not see thy Torches at her feast,
Nor morning funerals thy fiers breath.
Thus hauing said, Loue shooke his golden wings,
And bid me end the worke my pen begins.

11

Come then sick youth vnto my sacred skill,
VVhose loue hath fallen crosse vnto your minde:
Learne how to remedie that pleasing ill,
Of him that taught you your owne harmes to finde.
For in that selfe same hand your helpe is found,
VVhence first ye did receiue your careful wound.

12

So th' earth which yeelds vs herbs of souerain grace
Doth nourish weeds, of vertue pestilent;
The burning nettle chuseth oft her place,
Next to the Rose, that yeelds so sweete a sent.
Achilles Speare, that wounded his sterne foe,
Restord him health, & curde the greeuous blow.

13

Now what prescriptions we do giue to men,
Maides thinke them spoken vnto you likewise:
To both parts we giue weapons, vse them then
With secret Art, and with discretion wise.
Of which if ought you finde that seemes not fit,
Know in examples many things are writ.

14

And profitable is our Argument,
To quench that secret and consuming flame:
To free thy minde from sin and ill intent,
To loose those bands that drew thee into shame.
Phillis had liu'd had I her Tutor been,
That three times thice walkt path she oft had seen.

15

Nor Dido dying from her stately Tower,
Should haue beheld the Troians thence to flye:
Sorrow should not haue had so strong a power,
To cause the mother do her owne to dye.
Tereus though Philomela might him please,
Should not through sin a graundsiers title seaze.

16

Giue me Pasiphae, she shall cease to Loue
The filthy shape of that straunge monstrous beast,
Bring Phædra forth, and I will soone remoue
Her deepe incestuous lust, that neuer ceast.
Liude Paris, Hellen he should not desire,
Nor shuld the Greekes waste Pergamus with fire.

17

Had wicked Scylla read our argument,
Nisus should not haue lost his fatall haire;
Ile teach you to asswage the greedy bent
Of burning lust, and make the weather faire:
Ile steare your Ship aright in seas of loue,
And from each rock I will you safely moue.

18

Ouid was to be read with studious care,
When first your loue began with fruite to growe,
Ouid is to be read, in your ill fare,
When first your loue with deep disdain shal flowe.
I do professe to gaine your libertie,
Then follow me, reuenge your miserie.

19

Be present ô thou Prophet, Poets praise,

Appollinorus medecina & Poesees Deus invocat.

Phisicks first finder out, and nurse alone;
Crowne me professing both, with lasting bayes,
For both are vnder thy protection.
Raine siluer shewers of skill into my brest,
That I may shewe each wretch the way to rest.

20

Whiles well thou maist, and ere that secret warre
Be throughly kindled in thy troubled minde,
If thou repent, ô run not on too far,
Retire, ere greater cause of griefe thou finde.
Tread down the starting seeds of springing wo,
And turne thy Steed, ere he vntamed grow.

21

Delay giues strēgth, time ripes the greenest grape,
And makes corn stiff, that was a weak spring-weed:
The greatest tree that farthest spreads his sape,
Was first a wand, or but a litle seed.
Then mought it be thrown down, drawne vp, soone broke,
Now stands it stiffe, & conquers euery stroke.

22

Consider first, where thou dost thrall thy hart,
To whom thou vowest thy seruice and thy loue,
And if the burthen cause thine inward smart
From out the yoke with speed thy neck remoue:
Stop the beginning, for Phisick comes too late,
When time hath drawn the wound to desperate state.

23

Defer not therefore to the comming hower,
For he that at the present is vnapt,
Shall finde delay diminish still his power,
Vntill at length he wholly be intrapt.
Louers excuses seeke of long delay,
And euer fittest deemes the following day.

24

But each small minute giues occasion
Of deeper thraldome, Fancy ties by slight:
See how by many streames collection,
There doth arise a flood of wondrous might.
Drops multiplied do grow to running springs,
And springs vnited forth a Riuer brings.

25

If that thou hadst foreseene how great a sinne,
Myrrha, thy wicked lust did powre on thee,
Thou neuer shouldst haue hid thy shamefull chin
Within the barke of that still weeping tree.
Oft haue I seene an easie soone curde ill
By times processe, surpasse the Leachmans skill.

26

But for we still delight to taste the fruites
Of melting pleasure, and bewitching Loue,
We wooe our selues with long protracting suites,
And daily promise from it to remoue:
Meane while the flame we feed within vs still,
For deeper rootes the weed and tree of ill.

27

But if the time of this first cure be past,
And long-fed loue doth lode thy fainting hart,
A worke of greater moment now is cast,
Vpon my promise, and of deeper Art.
Yet will I not cast off the sicke decaide,
Though late it be ere he implores my aide.

28

Pæantius sonne should haue redeemd his health,
By cutting off that first corrupted part,
Though after many yeares times gon by stealth,
He ending warfare was recurde by Art.
I that but now did launce the wound in haste,
Now wish thou slowly slying time to waste.

29

Yet seeke to quench those flames, that newly burn,
With those, whose furie past do now decline:
Giue Raynes to running rage, and do not turne
Her race, and she will kill her selfe with time.
Each violence at first is wondrous strong,
And hardly yeeldeth passage vnto wrong.

30

He is a foole that may the Riuer passe
By small declining vnto either side:
And yet will striue against the streame, alas,
And euer be far from his purpose wide.
Me thinks I see a minde impatient,
That neuer subiect was to Arts true bent.

31

Contemne this Counsell as of slender skill,
And scorne th' admonisher as fond and vaine:
But then will I apply me to his will,
And vndertake my promisde taske againe.
When as his wounds wil beare a touch, a straine,
And eke himselfe beliue I do not faine.

32

Who would forbid the mother for to weepe
Vpon the dead hearse of her dearest sonne:
This is no time that she should patience keepe,
This is no place to say she must haue done:
When with her teares her mind is satisfied,
By words her griefe may best be mollified.

33

By time must medicines be measur'd forth,
For in fit time wines profit and delight:
But out of season they are little worth,
And brings the body to eternal night.
Moreouer, vnto flax thou addest fire,
Forbidding vice, contraring his desire.

34

In vnfit times, by ill meanes, or straunge place,
Nor euer shalt thou so thy Patient cure:
When then thou seest thy selfe in better case,
Able or hard prescriptions to endure,
See first thou fly from sloathful Idlenesse,
And still be doing somewhat more or lesse.

35

Sloath drawes thee on, and leads thee vnto Loue,
Sloath the chiefe cause, and foode of pleasing ill:
Shake off but Sloath, and idle ease remoue,
Blinde Cupid shall his arrowes vainely spill:
His bowe shall breake, and to the ground shall fall,
Yea and his firy brands extinguish all.

36

Euen as the Palme-tree loues the Riuers sight,
And as the Alder ioyes the Waters side,
As Reeds in slymie Marishes delight,
So Loue doth euermore with sloath abide.
Loue hates all busie braines as deadly ill:
If then thou wilt not loue, be busie still.

37

Languor, and Feeblenesse, and sloathful play,
Time drownd in Wine, and lost in drowsie sleepe,
Steales from the mind her wonted strength & stay,
Whiles all her spirits dead, no watch do keepe:
Then in slips Traitor Loue her enemie,
And doth depriue her of her libertie.

38

Loue euermore a shadow is to Sloath,
Attending on her alwaies as her Page,
To be imployde with businesse its loath:
It hates all care, at trouble stil doth rage.
Adde then vnto thy minde some chiefe affaire,
Stil to preserue from Loues infectious ayre.

39

There are the seates of Iudgements Iustice see:
There are the Lawes go learn to plead for truth;
Thou hast some friend in trouble, set him free:
Thus shalt thou euer fly fond Fancies ruth.
Or clad thy selfe in steele and shining armes,
Pleasure shal fly, and neuer worke thy harmes.

40

Behold the Parthian, who flying fights,
Now Captiuate the cause of our new ioyes,
Conquer thou Cupid's sensual delights:
As then the Parthian hast to his annoy;
So in thy double conquest mayst thou weare
Two Trophies, and vnto thy Gods them beare.

41

As soone as Venus from th' Aeolian Speare
Receiude her wound, she left the bloodie field,
She left the care of that vnconstant feare
Vnto her Louer, by his strength to wield:
Some aske why fraile Aegistus burnd in sinne?
The cause is plaine, Sloath did his vertue winne.

42

Diuers were slack, and many proued slowe,
Some came but late, before proud Troyes wall,
To which the youth of Greece did daily goe,
Concluding their long toyle with Illions fall.
Would he the exercise of rough warres daine,
His nature could not suffer any paine.

43

Would he haue spent his speech to plead for right,
Greece wanted matter for his vehement tongue,
All that he could, he did euen to his might,
Least nought he should to Loue he tun'd his song:
So came that childe to vndertake some paine,
So stil he doth a childish boy remaine.

44

The Countrey also doth delight the minde,
With pleasant studies of sweet husbandry:
This care the greeuoust cares & griefes doth binde,
Quickly forgets and makes all sorrow flye.
Yoke then thy Oxen well taught to obay,
And furrow vp the earth in good aray.

45

Bury therein thy quicke and liuely seede,
Which thy fat fields in time shall multiply
Yeelding thee treble gaines with happie speede,
Behold the Apple bough how it doth ply.
And stoope with store of fruit that doth abound,
Scarce able to sustaine them from the ground.

46

Marke well the gentle musicke of each spring,
Whiles through the Peebles it doth make her way:
See how thy Lambes with tender teeth do wring,
And choysely crop the sweetest herbes away.
The gentle Lambes that alwaies heard togither,
Louers of companie, louing one another.

47

Loe how the Goates vnto the Rocks do speede,
Their empty dugs for their young kids to fill:
Attend the musick of the Shepheards Reede,
How his true Curre awaites to do his will.
O how the woods resound on euery part,
Of kyne that still bewaile their Calues depart.

48

How swarmes of Bees from bitter smoke do fly.
Easing the crooked Pillers of their neast:
How Autumne yeeldeth fruites aboundantly,
And Sommer welcomes Ceres to his feast.
The Spring with flowers guilds the pleasant field,
And Winters Frost with fier we beguilde.

49

The Husbandman in time conuenient,
Gathers his Grape, & thence draws pleasant Wine.
The Gardner hath his slips in order bent,
Refines the earth, and plots it with his line.
Euen thou maist plant, and graffe, and set, & sowe,
Cause water many miles through pipes to flowe,

50

Is it fit time to graffe? make then one Tree,
Adopt an other, and preserue his life,
There let him stand still couered and still free,
From th' iniuries of time, and weathers strife:
Thy minde thus busied with this pleasant care,
Loue disappointed from thee flyeth faire.

51

Or giue thy minde to Huntings sweet delight,
For stately Dian that pursues in chase,
And conquers each vntamed beast in fight,
Giues Venus still foule ouerthrowes and base.
Follow the fearefull hart with skilfull hound,
Or with thy net encompasse him around.

52

Adde diuers terrors to the flying hart,
And with thy Speare transfixe the cruell Bore,
So thou all wearie at the dayes depart,
Shalt soundly sleepe till Sun the day restore.
No idle thoughts shall rule thy fantasie,
Nor pleasing dreame thy weaker sense shall trie.

53

More gentle is that pleasant exercise,
To fowle with shaft, or closely hidden Net,
Nor do these sports of lesse reward dispise,
For also they do Cupids treason let:
Or hide thy compast Hooke with pleasing baite,
Deceiuing Fish that do for foode awaite.

54

With these, and other such, still feed thy minde,
For by thy selfe thy selfe must be deceiu'd,
Till thoughts of loue quite vanquished thou finde;
Thou onely (let me herein be beliu'd)
Though deerest loue implore thee still to stay,
Absent thy selfe by iorneyes euery day.

55

I know the sweet remembrance of thy loue,
(Which newly thou forsak'st wil cause thee weepe,)
And stay thy foote that it no step remoue,
Altring the purpose, which thou mindst to keepe.
But by how much thou shalt desire to stay,
So much the faster see thou spurre away.

56

Be patient, and learne by dayly vse,
To suffer these afflictions of sicke mindes:
Wish not for rayne, fit matter of excuse,
Or Sabboths that from iorneyes doe vs binde,
Nor Allium, that most vnlucky thing,
Which euermore with it mischance doth bring.

57

Thinke not how many thousands thou hast past,
But looke how many miles do yet remaine:
Nor with delay study the time to waste,
To stay neere home do no occasion finde:
Number thou not the dayes, the weekes the houres,
Nor look thou back vnto thine home-bred bowers.

58

But fly forth still and with the Parthian fight,
Who findes best safety in retyring still,
Some one will call my precepts hard, and right,
He sayes, yea I subscribe vnto his will.
But for to keepe our health in perfect state,
Much must we suffer of a desperate fate.

59

Oft haue I tasted Sirups of sharpe touch,
Against my will, to cure my maladie:
But when my appetite desired much,
All sorts of meates they did to me deny.
To free thy body from disease and paine,
Both sword, and fire, & what not wilt thou daine?

60

If that in greatest thirst and moistures lacke,
Thou must not touch one drop of shewring raine,
Then to redeeme thy minde from sorrowes wracke:
Wilt thou refuse to suffer any paine?
Sith it so far exceeds this humane mold
Of base borne flesh vnto corruption sold.

61

But yet the hardest entrance of our Art,
And greatest labour that surmounts the rest,
Is to endure, and beare the first times smart:
Behold how hard it is, to make th' young beast,
First brooke the yoke, or back an vntam'd Iade,
And yet in time they are most gentle made.

62

But thou art loath to leaue thy Countries bound,
Thy fathers cottage, and his dwelling place,
Yet shalt thou go beyond thy natiue ground,
Though to returne thou turnest still thy face:
Thou saignest faire excuse, not Countries lack,
But thy faire Mistresse Loue doth call thee back.

63

Well being past great comfort to thy minde,
Thy iourney, fellowes, and strange fields will bring,
Yet thinke not this sufficient, but beware,
Least thou returne, ere Loue hath tane her wing,
Still absent be, and still vnknowne paths tread,
Till euery sparke of Loue lie cold and dead.

64

For if thou do returne cur'd but in part,
Loue will againe renew his ciuill warre,
And euery day will still augment thy smart,
Sith thou returnest to thy griefe from farre.
But let him eate the hearbs of Thessalie,
That Magicke thinkes will cure his Maladie.

65

Yet auncient is that damned Socerie:
But wise Appollo, Poets chiefest guide,
Doth point vs out for better meanes to trie:
And certaine helpes, on which we must abide.
Then by my will no Magicke shalbe vsde,
No charming verse which many haue abusde.

66

No ghost shalbe commaunded to arise
Out of the graue, where it should sleepe in rest:
No witch, whose lims by age growen weatherwise,
Shall cause the earth rend open her wide brest
Corne shall not shift from field to field at all,
Nor shall the Sun growe dim, or wax and pall.

67

As erst it did, shall Romes faire Riuer pay,
He wonted tribute to the Midland Sea:
And stil shall Phœbe course her wonted way,
Drawne by her milk white steeds, that swiftest be.
No Wisard reading backward shall vncharme,
Or liuing Sulphure driue away Loues harme.

68

What remedy did Phasis flowers yeeld
Circe, when thou wouldst not from Cholcos god:
What helpt the weedes of all the Persian field
When as the windes Vlisses sayles did blow.
Each guile thou did'st attempt to make him stay,
A blast of winde yet wasted him away.

69

Yea thou did'st practise through thy deepest arte,
To quench those flames that did molest thy minde,
Yet did they euermore procure thy smart,
And vnto deeper sorow did thee binde,
Thou that could'st change men into diuers kinde
Could'st not reuerse the passions of thy minde.

70

And when he would depart, thou thought'st to stay
Him with sweet wordes, with which thou fild'st his eare,
I cannot hope, thou said'st, but humbly pray,
To make me your sole spouse, which much I feare:
Yet am I worthy it, though that thou skorne,
Daughter to Phœbus of a goddesse borne.

71

O yet delay thy iorney some small space
Short stay for great requitall I require,
With fauour may I aske a smaller grace:
See how the Sea contraires thy desire,
With troubled Billowes, which should cause thee feare:
Stay then for winde that will thee safely beare.

72

What cause hast thou to hasten thus thy flight?
Here stands no aduerse Troy to trouble thee:
No foe to call thee forth to bloody fight,
But loue and peace dwels here, from danger free.
Yet onely I from them haue tane this wound,
Which vnto thee subiected hath this ground.

73

This and much more in vaine her tongue did say,
But wise Vlisses alwayes stopt his eare;
And hoysing his braue sayles, fled fast away,
The winde her loue, and words away doth beare.
Yet still her torments did the more increase,
Yet stil of cursed spels she seeketh ease.

74

But all her magicke, and spright binding arte,
Diminisht nothing of her furious loue,
Ne ought did take from her consuming smart,
Ne ought her helish torments did remoue;
Ye then that fondly loue, and faigne would leaue,
In magicke spels doe not at all beleeue.

75

But if great cause of businesse thee retaine
Within the Citie, where thy mistris dwels,
Follow my counsaile freedome to regaine,
Which for the Cities presence I will tell.
He woonne his freedome and did quite him wel,
That once escapte vnworthy loues lowe Hell.

76

This thou desirest him, I wonder at,
And of my medicines he shall not need:
To thee alone my Rules I wil relate,
Whose inward wounds do neuer cease to bleed,
Who louest, & wouldst faigne that knot vnbinde,
And know'st not how, & seekst the way to finde.

77

Recount vnto thy selfe each suttle Art,
Each wicked Act of thine vnworthy Loue:
Vnfold before thine eyes each losse, each smart,
Which by her meanes and for her thou dost proue:
This hath she stolne, & that thus must you say,
Yet this or that will not her stealing stay.

78

But euen houshold goods, and gods, and all,
She quite hath fold with couetous desire:
Lo thus protesting she doth Record call
Her faith, yet falsifies it, O the stoute lyer,
How often hath she shut me out her gate?
There suffering me my sorrowes to relate.

79

Yea she applies her selfe to straungers last,
And scorne my loue, ô most vnhappie I,
Vnto her base apprentise she doth trust,
Those secrets which to me she doth denie:
The oft remembrance of such cruell wrong.
Wil root thy fancie vp though grounded strong.

80

Present them often then to thy sick minde,
For hence the spring shall rise of happy hate,
O would thou couldst seeme eloquent, to binde
More strong perswasions to thy sickly state.

81

Lately I set my fancy on a maide,
That fully answerd not to my desier,
And therefore striu'd my fancy to haue staide,
A poore Phisition to so great a fyer:
Yet the remembrance of her vilder parts,
Releast the furie of tormenting smarts.

82

How ill and excellent vnshapt her thigh,
Yet to confesse the truth, it was not so:
How foule her armes, thus would I say and sigh,
Yet if they were not thus, I well did know:
How short of stature, yet her stature tall;
Thus enuie loathsomnesse to me did call.

83

Good things do neighbour bad, and sit them by,
Oft vertue thus of vice doth beare that blame,
Faigne to thy selfe, and tell thy selfe a ly,
And cloath her vertues with foule vices shame.
Thus shalt thou change thy mind with subtill art,
And weare away thy still encombring smart.

84

If shee be fat, that shee is swollen say:
If browne, then tawny like the Affricke Moore:
If slender, leane, meger, and worne away,
If courtly, wanton, worst of worst before:
If modest, strange, as fitteth woman-head,
Say she is rusticke, clownish, and ill bred.

85

Yea whatsoeuer gift, (for none hath all)
Thy mistris wants, intreat her still to vse:
If that her voyce be ill, or cunning small,
Importune her to sing, nee'r let her chuse:
If that she cannot moue her feete in measure,
To see her daunce, still let it be thy pleasure.

86

Is shee of small discourse, and slender wit?
Conuerse with her, that she may wound thine eare,
To instruments hath shee not learn'd to fit
Her fingers? then desire a Lute to heare.
Hath she an ill vncomely and strange gate?
Cause her to walke both earely forth and late.

87

Hath shee a swelling, and downe hanging breast?
Desire thou still to see her faire white skinne;
Are her teeth blacke or wants shee of the best?
Relate some merry iest that shee may grinne:
Is shee compassionate? tell then some woful case,
So shall she shew thee Anticks in her face.

88

Earely desire to steale of her a sight,
Ere shee hath cloath'd her with her best attire:
We are seduced by vaine errors might,
And gay apparell kindles our desire.
Then is shee shrowded all in stone and golde,
And of her selfe, least part her selfe doth holde.

89

Oft seeke for whom thou lou'st in company,
And great resort of other goodly dames:
By this deuice new loues beguiles thine eye,
And drawes thy first desire to farther blame:
Come all vnthought of sudden in the place,
So shall she be vnarm'd in weaker case.

90

So shalt thou disappoint her in her guile,
See her defects, and coole thy burning loue;
Yet trust not to this rule, which other while
Fallacious and dangerous doth proue:
For carelesse hauiour that doth banish art,
Hath mighty force, to hold a wounded hart.

91

Yet whiles with curious skill shee paintes her face,
Be not asham'd, but presse thou to her sight:
Then shalt thou finde her boxes in the place,
Wherein her beauty lyes, and borrowed light.
Then shalt thou see her body all begreas'd
With ointments that hath thee so greatly pleas'd.

92

Of sauour worse then Phineûs tables were,
Whose filthinesse a plague to him was sent,
With these my stomack could not often beare,
But euermore to ease it selfe was bent;
But now euen what we vse in midst of Loue,
I will thee teach that passion to remoue.

93

For by all meanes we must this fier expell;
But I do shame euen needfull things to showe:
Yet thou by those which I to thee shall tell,
Mayst well conceiue the rest, and easie knowe.
For some dispraise my rimes to enuie bent,
And say my Muse is shamelesse impudent.

94

Yet since I see so many that I please,
That all the world my sporting lines receaue,
Let this, or that man enuie at my ease,
Dispraise my pen, and me of praise bereaue:
Detracting enuie Homers writ hath blam'd
Who ere thou be, he Zoilus hath nam'd.

95

Yea sacriligious tongues hath torne thy verse,
By whose good guide the Troyans gaind this land:
The loftiest things Ioues thunderbolts do perse;
And winds encounter what doth highest stand.
So enuie euer aymeth at the best,
And will not giue them any time to rest.

96

But thou, who ere thou be, that thus my Muse
So much offendes through looser libertie,
If in thy wrath discretion thou canst vse,
Then to each subiect, his apt verse applie:
Stout warres deserue a Homer to display
Their battailes, conflicts, and their good array.

97

What place may there be found for sweet delight,
For Reuels, Triumphs, Loues and merriment;
Matters of State, Tragedians do report,
For loftie Stiles becomes such drirement.
No humble muse must there sound his stil horne,
There buskins, but no base shoes must be worne.

98

The Iambicke freely taunts his enemie,
Whether his last foote slow, or swift doth proue,
The legicke sings of loue, and archerie,
With shafts, such as from louers eyes do roue,
And with her louer wantonly doth play,
And sweetly speake, and plead, implore and pray.

99

Achilles honor shines not in the verse
Of Cyrens Muse, where sports do better proue,
And stately Homer, thou must not reherse,
Cydippe, young Acontius deerest loue:
Who can endure Andromache should play,
The sports of Thais, and her wanton lay?

100

Who acteth Thais, wrongs Andromache,
One person cannot fit him to both parts:
But I will play that part, and Thais be,
Our sports are libertines, free are our hearts:
Sith then all shame we banish from our verse,
Thais is mine, I will her part rehearse.

101

If then my lines do fit a wantons lay,
Gnawe thine owne gall, fonde enuy hold thy peace,
For we haue wonne the lasting crowne of bay,
And cleerd the blame wherein we did displease:
Breake enuie, breake in thine owne foule despite,
For we haue got renowne, and glory bright.

102

For still with honour, fames desire doth grow;
But at the foote of this high climing hill,
My weary Steeds do pant and faintly goe;
As much to vs by their according will:
Our Elegies confesse to vs they owe,
As from his worke to Virgill praise doth flowe.

Æneas would from Dido part,
But Dido not content,
She mou'd him first with words,
And then this Letter sent.

So at Meanders streames,
when fates bids life be gone:
The snowe white Swan on mossie grasse,
out-stretched tunes his mone.
Not hoping thee to moue,
this suite I vndertake,
The heauens at the motion fround
when first we did it make:
But fame of due desert,
my body and my minde
So lewdly lost; the losse is light,
to loose these words of winde.
Resolu'd thou art to go,
and wofull Dido leaue:
Those windes shall blowe thy faith away
that shall thy sailes vpheaue.
Resolu'd thy ships at once,
and promise to vntie,
To seeke Italian Realmes, which yet
thou knowst not where they lie.
Nought mou'd, with Carthage new,
nor walles that growing be,
Nor that there was committed all
the soueraigntie to thee.
Thou leauest things full made,
thou seekest new to make,
To search about for Lands vnfound,
Land found thou doest forsake.
But graunt the land thou finde,
to thee who will it giue?
Why will the soyle to straungers yeeld,
whereon themselues do liue?
Thou must an other Loue,
An other Dido finde:
And which againe thou maist vndo,
An other promise binde.
When wilt thou into forme
a Towne like Carthage bring:
And from thy Pallace top behold,
thy subiects as their King?
If all things else succeed,
and nothing crosse thy minde:
What place will euer yeeld to thee
a wife to thee so kinde?
For I like waxen torch
in Sulphur rold do burne:
Each day, each night Æneas makes
vnto my thoughts returne.
Vnthankfull he indeed,
And deafe to what I giue:
And such, as were I not a foole,
I would without him liue.
Yet though his thoughts be ill,
I hate him not therefore:
Complaine I do of his vntroath,
complaining Loue therefore.
Thy daughter Venus spare,
thy brother hard embrace:
O brother Loue, within thy Campe,
point him a Souldiers place.
Or me, who first began,
for Loue I not disdaine,
Let him but onely subiect yeeld,
to this my carefull paine.
But ah I am beguilde,
his bostes are bosted lyes:
Of mothers line: from mothers kinde,
in all his course he flyes.
Thee some vnwieldie stone,
or Rockey Mountaines bred:
Or oakes which on high rocks do grow,
or beasts by Rauen fed.
Or Sea with windes turmoild,
as now thou seest it sho:
Yet thitherward art ready bent,
in spight of waues to go.
What mean'st thou? winter lets,
let winters suite preuaile:
See with what force the Easterne blasts
the rolling waues assaile.
Since windes and waters do,
then thou more iustice showe,
Let me, what more to thee I would,
to winde and waters owe.
I am not so much worth,
which sure thou dost not thinke.
That while on Seas from me thou flyest,
thy selfe in Seas shouldst shrinke.
Thou precious hatred bear'st,
and pearst exceeding hie:
If so thou mayst of me be rid,
thou count it cheape to die.
The windes their windie force
anon will lay aside:
And Triton will with Azure steeds
On leueld waters glide.
Now (would the gods) as they
so thou couldst chaunged be:
Thou wilt vnles thy hardnesse do
far passe the hardest tree.
What if of furious Seas
the force thou didst not know?
Which tride so oft and found so ill,
yet still to sea wilt go.
And though they serue at will,
when thou dost Anchors way:
Yet in so long a voyage, chaunce
no fewe mischaunces may.
And sure to crosse the Seas,
small fruite faith-breakers gaine:
That place on false deceiuers doth
inflict their falshoods paine.
But most when Loue is wrongd,
for why? of Loue the Dame,
First naked out of watrie waues,
about Cythera came.
Least hurt who hurteth me
vndone, vndo I shall,
I feare, and least by wrack on seas,
In seas my foes shall fall.
Liue: so I better shall
then thee by death destroy:
Thou of my death, not I of thine,
the Title shall enioy.
Suppose a whirlwinde swift,
God make these words but winde
Catch thee vnwares, what courage thē,
what thoughts will passe thy minde?
Loe, straight with falshood fraught,
thy periur'd tongue appeares:
And Dido driuen by Troians guile,
of life to short her yeares.
Of thy betraied wife,
will stand before thy sight:
The Image sad; disheneiled,
with bleeding wounds bedight.
Let come (then wilt thou say)
I haue deseru'd this all:
And bent at thee thou wilt suppose,
what euer lightnings fall.
Both seas and thou do rage,,
let both and breathing take:
This small delay (no small reward)
thy Iourney safe shall make.
For thee my care is least,
thy childe let spared be:
Thou hast the glory of my death,
sufficient that for thee.
What hath thy little sonne?
what hath thy gods deseru'd?
That them the waters swallow should
from fyers force preseru'd.
But false thou hast no such,
as me thy brags haue told,
Nor euer didst on shoulders lift,
thy gods and father old.
Thou lyest in this and all,
thy tongue his guilefull part
Begins not first on me to play,
nor I first feele the smart.
Aske where the mother is,
of faire Iulus gone:
Her stonie husband her forsooke,
and so she died alone.
It pittied me to heare,
which iust recompence:
For me had bene, but that such paine
is lesse then mine offence.
That thee thy gods condemne,
my heart doth me assure:
Who seuen yeares now on land on seas
such tossing doest endure.
I thee by wrack vpthrow'n
in harbour sure did saue,
And scarcely hauing heard thy name,
to thee my Kingdome gaue.
O would with these good turnes
I me content had found:
And that in famous fame of mine
were buried deepe in ground.
That day my woe was wrought,
when vnder stooping bower
Of mossie denne we met alone,
compeld by sodaine shower.
Some howling sounds I heard,
the Nymphs I thought did so,
They Furyes were, who in that sort
foretold my fatall woe.
Chast Law of shamefast Loue,
reuenge on me this blame:
Ill to Sicheus kept, to whom
aye me I go with shame.
Whose sacred Image I
in marble Chappell keepe,
With leauie branches hid from sight,
and wooll of whitest sheepe.
Hence thrice I heard me cald,
I knew his well knowne voyce,
Himselfe thrice sayd: Come Dido, Come:
with softly wispring noyse.
I come without delay,
which once was onely thine,
Yet me the more to linger makes,
this shamefull fact of mine.
But pardon thou my fault,
whose deed might well deceaue,
To others he in mine offence,
the lesse offence doth leaue.
His mother heauens Impe,
his sire a godly lode,
Vnto his sonne by reason bred
sure hope of his abode.
If needs I must haue er'd
mine error had good ground,
Put faith in him, he no way els
vnworthy shall be found.
My faults to end persist,
as they at first begun:
And their vnluckie spindels still
in one like tenor run.
My husband fell to ground
before the Altars slaine,
My brother of that wicked act
doth reape the wicked gaine.
My selfe exild, his graue
and countrey both forsake:
And forced am, by foe pursude
vneasie wayes to take.
I land on land vnknowne
escapt from foe and waue:
And bought the shore which freely yet
to thee false wretch I gaue.
A Towne I built, whose wals
far out extended lie:
Prouoking places neere about
maligning to enuie.
Wars grow, poore stranger I,
and woman vext with warres:
Scarse know how armour to prouide
and strength my gate with barres.
When thousands to me su'de:
now all against me come:
Grieu'd that before their beds, I haue
preferd I know not whom.
Why stick'st to yeeld me bownd
into Hiarbas hands,
I will not sticke to yeeld mine armes
to bide thy wicked bands.
A brother eke I haue,
who wicked hands anew,
Imbrewed first in husbands blood,
would faine in mine imbrew.
Lay downe thy sacred Gods,
whom touching dost pollute,
Vnseemly with vngodly hands
doth godly worship sute.
If they from fire escapt,
that thou mightst them adore:
That euer they escapt from fire
thy Gods repent them sore.
And what, ô wicked man,
with child if Dido be:
And of thy selfe some part of thee
there lies inclosde in me?
The Dame and ruthfull babe
at once shall be forlorne:
And by thy meanes to death be broght
who yet was neuer borne.
So with his parent shall
Iulus brother die:
One death at once shall two dispatch,
whose liues in one doth lie.
But God bids thee to go,
would God he had forbid
To come; that of thy Troian troupes
my Carthage had bin rid.
This God no doubt your guide,
doth you those tempests rayse:
And makes you on those flowing floods
so long to spend your dayes.
To Troy backe to turne,
it scarse were worth thy payne:
If as whiles Hector liu'd it was,
so now it were againe.
Not to Seamander you,
but Tibers streames doe goe,
Where graunt ariu'd, what are you els,
but such as no man know?
But as that land is hid,
and from thy fleet doth make,
It seemes old age will sooner thee,
then thou it ouertake.
Yet rather as my dower,
this Realme of mine receaue,
With all Pigmalions wealth I brought,
and farther wandering leaue.
And into Carthage Troy
with better hap translate,
Where thou shalt sacred Scepter beare,
enthron'd in royall state.
If thou do wars affect,
or if thy sonnes desire,
Of triumph matter to procure
by martiall meanes aspire:
That nought may wanting be,
such foes we will him yeild,
This place for lawes of peace is apt,
apt is for speare and sheeld.
Now by thy mother thou
thy brother quiuer'd boy,
By the companions of thy flight
thy gods, the gods of Troy.
So may thy remnant left,
in field all conquest win,
As Troian warre of all thy losse,
the finall end haue bin.
Ascanius liue his yeeres,
with all good fortune blest:
And softly may the buried bones
of old Anchises rest.
Spare now, ô spare thine house,
which giues it selfe to thee:
But that indeed I haue thee lou'd,
what fault canst find in me?
Of Pythia I am not,
nor great Mycenæ borne,
My husband nor my father hath
against thee armour worne,
Of wife if thou thinke skorne,
not wife, cut hostesse call:
So thine she be, what Dido be,
she nought regards at all.
The seas to me are knowne,
on Affricke coast that lie:
At times they do free passage graunt,
at times they do denie.
When weather will permit,
hoyse sayle and set from land:
For now the launching of thy shippes
the flowing weedes withstand.
Charge me to wait the time
thou shalt go sure away:
Not then, no though thy selfe desire,
my selfe will let thee stay.
Thy mates some rest require,
thy Fleet sore rent with waues:
And scarsely yet halfe rigd anew,
for some small respite craues.
For what haue I deseru'd?
what owe to thee I may
Henceforth, for all my marriage hopes,
I craue but small delay.
Whiles stormie seas grow calme,
while custome tempers loue:
How patiently mishaps to beare,
I shall the practise proue.
If not, my life to spill
with full intent I mind:
Of crueltie thou canst not long
in me a subiect find.
Would God thou didst but see
mine Image as I wright:
I wright, and full against my breast
thy naked sword is pight.
And downe my cheeks along
the teares do trickling fall:
Which by and by in stead of teares,
ingrayne in blood I shall.
How well with this my fate,
these gifts of thine agree,
To furnish out my funerall,
the cost will slender be.
My breast shall not be now
first pierced with this blade,
For why? there is a former wound,
which cruell Loue hath made.
Anne sister, sister Anne,
ill priuie to my falt,
Performe thy last obsequious loue,
vnto my bones thou shalt.
When flames haue me consum'd,
write not on marble graue:
Here Dido lies, Sicheus wife.
but this verse let me haue.
Æneas, Dido gaue
both cause and sword of death:
And Dido vsing her owne hand,
depriu'd her selfe of breath.

Æneas read what Dido wrote,
And sent her this replie;
And sought to cure the curelesse wound,
Which Dido made to die.