Cvpid and Psiche Or an Epick Poem of Cupid, and his Mistress. As it was lately presented to the Prince Elector. Written by, Shakerly Marmion |
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To his worthy friend Master Shackerley Marmion, upon his Poem of Cupid and Psyche.
To give the world assurance, in this coldAnd leaden age, that Love must ne're be old,
Cupid and Psyche thou hast renderd more
Youthfull and faire, than did the age of gold:
And if the sweetnesse they had heretofore
Found least decay; thou dost it now restore
With large encrease, instructing Love to love,
And in his Mistresse more affection move,
In this thy Poem; which thou hadst a pen
From Loves owne wing to write, powerfull above
His shafts: For thou some Iron hearts of men
Hast made in Love with Poesie; that till then
Could not discerne her beauty, and lesse see
Her exc'lence, as it is drawne out by thee,
In perfect Love-lines: Cupid smiles to see't,
And crownes his Mistresse with thy Poetry,
Compos'd of syllables, that kisse more sweete
Then Violets and Roses when they meeet:
And we, thine Arts just Lovers, as we looke
On Cupid kissing Psyche, kisse thy Booke.
Rich. Brome.
To his loving friend, Mr. Shackerley Marmion, the Authour.
Friend, I have read thy Poem, full of wit,A Master-piece, Ile set my seale to it:
Let Judges reade, and ignorance be gone:
'Tis not for vulgar thumbs to sweat upon
This learned worke: thy Muse flies in her place:
And Eagle-like, lookes Phœbus in the face.
Let those voluminous Authours, that affect
Fame rather great, than good, thy worth reject.
Jewels are small: how'nlike art thou to those,
That tire out Rime, and Verse, till they trot Prose?
And ride the Muses Pegasus, poore jade,
Till he be foundred; and make that their trade:
And to fill up the sufferings of the beast,
Foot it themselves three hundred miles at least.
These have no mercy on the Paper rheames,
But produce plaies, as schole-boys do write theams.
Thou keepst thy Muse in breath, and if men wage
Gold on her head, will better runne the stage:
And 'tis more praise, than hadst thou labour'd in't,
To brand the world with twenty such in print.
Francis Tuckyr.
To his true friend the Author, Maister Shackerley Marmion, &c.
What need I racke the limbs of my weake Muse,To fill a page might serve for better use?
Then make some squint-ey'd Reader censure me
A Flatterer, for iustly praysing thee?
It is enough, (and in that causes right
Many thy former workes may boldly fight)
He for a good one must this piece allow,
Reades but the Title, and thy Name below.
Tho. Nabbes.
Of my worthy friend, Mr. Shackerley Marmion, upon his Poem, of Cupid and Psyche.
Love and the Soule are two things, both Divine,Thy task (friend Marmion) now, which once was mine.
What I writ was Dramatical; thy Muse
Runnes in an Epick straine, which they still use,
Which when I read, I could not praise too much.
The Argument is high, and not within
Their shallow reach to catch, who hold no sin
To taxe, what they conceive not; the best minds
Iudge trees by fruit, not by their leaves and rinds.
And such can find (full knowledge having gain'd)
In leaden Fables, golden truths contain'd.
Thy subjects of that nature, a sublime
And weighty rapture, which being cloath'd in ryme,
Carries such sweetnesse with't, as hadst thou sung
Vnto Apollo's Harpe, being newly strung.
These, had they issued from an others Pen,
A stranger, and unknowne to me, I then
Could not have bin so pleas'd: But from a Friend,
Where J might enuy, I must now commend.
And glad J am this faire course thou hast runne,
Vnvext to see my selfe so farre out done.
Twixt Jntimates, who mutuall love professe,
More's not requir'd, and mine could show no lesse.
Thomas Heywood.
A Morall Poem, Jntituled the Legend of Cupid and Psiche.
The Argument.
There were inhabitant in a certaine Cittie, a King and Queene, who had three Daughters; the elder two of a moderate, and meane beauty; but the yongest was of so curious, so pleasing a feature, and exact symmetry of body, that men esteem'd her generally a Goddesse, and the Venus of the earth. Her sisters being happily married to their desires and dignities, shee only out of a super-excellency of perfection, became rather the subject of adoration, then Love. Venus conceiving an offence, and envious of her good parts, incites Cupid to a revenge, and severe vindication of his mothers honour. Cupid like a fine Archer, comming to execute his mothers designe, fals in love with the maide, and wounds himselfe. Apollo, by Cupids subornation, adjudges her in
The Mitheology
By the City is Meant the World: by the King and Queene, God, and Nature: by the two elder sisters, the flesh and the will: by the last the soule, which is the most beautifull, and the youngest, since she is infused, after the body is fashioned: Venus, by which is understood lust, is feigned to envy her, and stirre up Cupid, which is Desire, to destroy her: But because Desire has equall relation both to good and evill, he is here brought in to love the soule, and to be ioynd with her, whom also he perswades not to see his face; that is, not to learne his delights and vanities: for Adam, though he were naked, yet he saw it not, till he had eaten of the tree of concupiscence. And whereas, she is said to burne him, with the despumation of the Lampe; by that is understood, that she vomits out the flames of desire, which was hid in her breast; for desire the more it is kindled, the more it burnes, and makes as it were a blister in the minde. thus, like Eve, being naked through desire, she is
[The First Booke.]
THE FIRST SECTION.
Truth sayes of old, and we must owe that truth
Vnto tradition, when the world in youth,
Wch was the goldēage, brought forth the pen,
Love and the Muses, which since gave to men
Inheritance of Fame, for these began
At once, and were all coëtanean.
A happy season, when the ayre was cleare;
No sicknesse, nor infection did appeare,
No sullen change of seasons did molest
The fruitfull soyle, but the whole yeare was blest
With a perpetuall Spring, no Winter storme
Did crispe the Hills, nor mildew blast the Corne:
Yet happier farre, in that it forth did bring
The subject of this verse, whereof I sing
Vnder the Zenith of Heavens milke-white way,
Is a faire country called Lusinia,
'Tis Natures chiefest Wardrop, where doe lye
Her ornaments of rich variety:
Where first her glorious Mantle she puts on,
When through the world she rides procession;
Here dwelt a King and Queene of mighty power,
Iudg'd for their vertues, worthy such a dower.
They had betwixt themselves three Daughters born,
Conspicuous for their comlinesse and forme.
The elder two did neither much excell,
But then the younger had no parallel;
Whose lovely cheekes with Heavenly luster shone,
And eyes were farre too bright to looke upon:
Nay, it is credible, though fancies wing
Should mount above the Orbes, and thence downe bring
Th' Elixar of all beauty, and dispence
Vnto one creature, the whole influence,
And harmony of the Speares, it might not dare
VVith her for face and feature, to compare
Zeuxis the painter, who to draw one peece,
Survay'd the choycest Virgins of all Greece,
Had rested here, his Art without this stir,
Might have beene bounded, and confin'd in her.
Looke how the spiced fields in Autumne smell,
And rich perfumes, that in Arabia dwell:
Such was her fragrant sweetnesse, the Sunnes Bird,
The Phænix fled farre off, and was afeard
To be seene neere, least she his pride should quell,
Or make him seeme a common spectacle.
Nor did the painted Peacocke once presume,
Within her presence to display his plume.
Nor Rose, nor Lilly durst their Silkes unfold,
But shut their leaves up like the Marygold.
They all had beene ill favour'd, she alone
Was judg'd the Mistresse of perfection.
Her fame spread farre abroad, and thither brought
Thousands, that gazing worshipt her, and thought
The Goddesse, whom the greene-fac'd Sea had bred,
And dew of foaming waves had nourished.
Venus her selfe, regardlesse of her honour,
Did live with mortals, whosoe'r lookt on her,
Even most prophane, did think she was divine,
And grudg'd not to doe worship to her shrine.
For this cause, Venus Temples were defac'd,
Her sacrifice, and Ceremonies rac'd;
Her widdowed Altars in cold ashes mourn'd,
Her Images uncrown'd, her Groves deform'd:
Her Rites were all polluted with contempt,
For none to Paphos, nor Cytheros went.
This Maide was sole ador'd, Venus displeas'd,
Might in this Virgin onely be appeas'd:
The people in the street to her would bow,
And as she past along, would Garlands strow.
Venus at this conceiv'd a jealous ire,
(For heavenly minds burne with an earthly fire)
And spake with indignation, what shall I,
Mother of Elements, and loftiest skie,
Beginner of the world, Parent of Nature,
Pertake mine honour with an earthly creature?
Shall silly girles destin'd to death, and Fate,
My high-borne name, and stile contaminate?
In vaine did then the Phrygian Shepheard give
The Ball to me, when three of us did strive
Who should excel in beauty, and all stood
Naked before the Boy, to tempt his blood,
When they with Royall gifts sought to beguile
His judgement, I alur'd him with a smile:
But this usurper of my dignities,
Shall have but little cause to boast the prize;
With that she call'd her rash, and winged child
Arm'd with Bow, Torch, and quiver: that is wild
With mischiefe; he that with his evil waies
Corrupts all publick discipline, and straies
Through chambers in the night, & with false beames,
Or with his stinging Arrowes, or with dreames,
Tempts unto lust, and does no good at all:
This childe I say did Venus to her call,
And stirres him up with words malitious,
That was by nature too licentious:
For bringing him where Psyche dwelt, for so
This Maid was call'd, she there unfolds her woe,
And emulous tale. Cupid quoth she, my stay,
My onely strength, & power, whose boundles sway,
Contemnes the thunder of my Father Iove,
I here intreate thee by thy Mothers love,
Those wounding sweets, and sweet wounds of thy Quiver,
And honey burnings of thy torch, deliver
My Soule from griefe, revenge me on this mayd
And all her boasted beauty see decay'd,
Or else strike her in love with one so poore,
So miserably lost, stript of all store
Of meanes, or vertue; so deform'd of limb,
That none in all the world may equall him.
To move her Sonne, no flattering words she spar'd,
But breath'd on him with kisses, long and hard,
This done; she hasts to the next ebbing shore,
And with her rosie feet insulting ore
The submisse waves, a Dolphin she bestrides,
And on the utmost Billows proudly rides.
A troupe of Tritons were straight sounding heard,
And rough Portumnus with his mossy beard,
Salacia heavy with her fishy traine,
And Nereus daughters came to entertaine
The Sea-borne Goddesse; some plaid on a shell,
Some with their Garments labour'd to expell
The scorching heat, and Sun-shine from her face,
And other some did hold a looking-glasse:
All these in triumph by the Dolphin swam,
And followed Venus to the Ocean;
Phyche the while, in this great height of blisse,
Yet reapes no fruit of all her happinesse,
For neither King, nor Prince, nor Potentate,
Nor any durst attempt her for a mate,
But as a polisht picture her admire,
And in that admiration cease desire:
Her Sisters both, whose moderate beauty none
Did much despise, nor much contemplate on,
VVere to their wishes happily contracted,
And by two Kings espous'd. Psyche distracted
Because she had no lover, pensive sate
In mind, and body, and began to hate,
And curse that beauty, and esteeme at nought,
Which, but was excellent, had no other fault.
Cupid now in a causelesse rage was gone,
To whet his Arrowes on a bloody stone,
As if he were t'encounter with some maine
Monster, like Python, by Apollo slaine,
Or Iove, or Titan lame; or once agen,
Draw the pale Moone downe to the Latmian Den,
Or with Loves fire great Pluto to annoy,
For these were workes of labour, and the Boy
Was ignorant, how matters would succeed,
Or what the fate of Beauty had Decreed.
Therefore he fyl'd his arrowes sharpe and smal,
To pierce what ever they should meet withal.
And vow'd, if cause were, he his shafts would shiver,
'Gainst Psyches breast, and empty all his Quiver.
Themis a Goddesse, whom great Iove had sent
Into the World, for good, or punishment,
As justice should require, when she did heare
Cupid so proudly boast, againe did sweare,
That she his haughty malice would abate,
And turne the edge, both of his shafts, and hate.
And having thus disarm'd him, ten to one,
VVould change his fury to affection.
A clap of Thunder all about them shooke,
To ratifie, what Themis undertooke.
Then both together went, and entring found,
Faire Psyche, with her looks fixt on the ground.
Honor and Modesty, with equall grace,
Simplicity and truth, smil'd in her face.
But rising up, there shot from eyther eye,
Such beames, as did Loves senses stupefie.
And as in this distraction he did stand,
He let his arrowes fall out of his hand.
VVhich Themis laughing tooke, and thence conuay'd,
VVhilst Cupid minded nothing but the Mayde.
Then did he crye amaz'd, what fence is here?
Beauty and Vertue have no other spheare.
Her brow's a Castle, and each lip a Fort,
Where thousand armed Deities resort
To guard the golden fruit from all surprize,
Chastly, and safe, as the Hesperides.
Pardon me, Venus, if I thee abridge
Of this unjust revenge; 'twere sacrilidge,
Beyond Prometheus theft, to quench such fire,
Or steale it from her eyes, but to inspire
Cupids owne breast, in all Loves spoyles, I yet
Never beheld so rich a Cabinet.
Iove, here for ever, here, my heart confine,
And let me all my Empery resigne.
Then looking downe, he found himselfe bereft
Of his loose armes, and smil'd at Themis theft;
Because he knew, she might as soone abide
Fire in her bosome, as Loves arrows hide.
But that they must againe with shame be sent,
And claime, for the possession, a deare rent:
Yet one dropt out by chance, and 'twas the best
Of all the bundle, and the curiousest.
The plumes were colour'd azure, white, and red,
The shaft painted alike downe to the head,
Which was of burnisht Gold: this Cupid tooke,
And in revenge, through his owne bosome strooke:
Then sighing call'd, You Lovers all, in chiefe)
Whom I have wrong'd, come tryumph at my griefe;
See, and be satisfied for all my sinne,
'Tis not one place that I am pained in,
My Arrows venome is dispersed round,
And beauties signe is potent in each wound.
Thus he with pitty did himselfe deplore,
For never pitty enter'd him before.
Ill as he was, he tooke his flight, and came
Vnto the palace of the Sun, whose flame
VVas farre inferiour to what Cupid felt;
And said, deare Phœbus, if I still have dealt
Like a true friend, and stood thee in some steed,
VVhen thou for love didst like a shepheard feed,
Admetus Cattle, now thine helpe impart,
Tis not for Phisicke, though I am sick at heart,
That I implore, but through thy skill devine
The fairest Psyche for my wife assigne:
Phœbus assents, and did not long delay,
To make it good by a Prophetick way;
Her Father fearing for the injury,
Offerd to Venus sacred Deity,
Consults the Delpick Oracle, who thus
Expounds his mind in tearmes ambiguous.
Vnto tradition, when the world in youth,
Wch was the goldēage, brought forth the pen,
Love and the Muses, which since gave to men
Inheritance of Fame, for these began
At once, and were all coëtanean.
A happy season, when the ayre was cleare;
No sicknesse, nor infection did appeare,
No sullen change of seasons did molest
The fruitfull soyle, but the whole yeare was blest
With a perpetuall Spring, no Winter storme
Did crispe the Hills, nor mildew blast the Corne:
Yet happier farre, in that it forth did bring
The subject of this verse, whereof I sing
Is a faire country called Lusinia,
'Tis Natures chiefest Wardrop, where doe lye
Her ornaments of rich variety:
Where first her glorious Mantle she puts on,
When through the world she rides procession;
Here dwelt a King and Queene of mighty power,
Iudg'd for their vertues, worthy such a dower.
They had betwixt themselves three Daughters born,
Conspicuous for their comlinesse and forme.
The elder two did neither much excell,
But then the younger had no parallel;
Whose lovely cheekes with Heavenly luster shone,
And eyes were farre too bright to looke upon:
Nay, it is credible, though fancies wing
Should mount above the Orbes, and thence downe bring
Th' Elixar of all beauty, and dispence
Vnto one creature, the whole influence,
And harmony of the Speares, it might not dare
VVith her for face and feature, to compare
Zeuxis the painter, who to draw one peece,
Survay'd the choycest Virgins of all Greece,
Had rested here, his Art without this stir,
Might have beene bounded, and confin'd in her.
Looke how the spiced fields in Autumne smell,
And rich perfumes, that in Arabia dwell:
Such was her fragrant sweetnesse, the Sunnes Bird,
The Phænix fled farre off, and was afeard
To be seene neere, least she his pride should quell,
Or make him seeme a common spectacle.
Nor did the painted Peacocke once presume,
Within her presence to display his plume.
But shut their leaves up like the Marygold.
They all had beene ill favour'd, she alone
Was judg'd the Mistresse of perfection.
Her fame spread farre abroad, and thither brought
Thousands, that gazing worshipt her, and thought
The Goddesse, whom the greene-fac'd Sea had bred,
And dew of foaming waves had nourished.
Venus her selfe, regardlesse of her honour,
Did live with mortals, whosoe'r lookt on her,
Even most prophane, did think she was divine,
And grudg'd not to doe worship to her shrine.
For this cause, Venus Temples were defac'd,
Her sacrifice, and Ceremonies rac'd;
Her widdowed Altars in cold ashes mourn'd,
Her Images uncrown'd, her Groves deform'd:
Her Rites were all polluted with contempt,
For none to Paphos, nor Cytheros went.
This Maide was sole ador'd, Venus displeas'd,
Might in this Virgin onely be appeas'd:
The people in the street to her would bow,
And as she past along, would Garlands strow.
Venus at this conceiv'd a jealous ire,
(For heavenly minds burne with an earthly fire)
And spake with indignation, what shall I,
Mother of Elements, and loftiest skie,
Beginner of the world, Parent of Nature,
Pertake mine honour with an earthly creature?
Shall silly girles destin'd to death, and Fate,
My high-borne name, and stile contaminate?
In vaine did then the Phrygian Shepheard give
The Ball to me, when three of us did strive
Naked before the Boy, to tempt his blood,
When they with Royall gifts sought to beguile
His judgement, I alur'd him with a smile:
But this usurper of my dignities,
Shall have but little cause to boast the prize;
With that she call'd her rash, and winged child
Arm'd with Bow, Torch, and quiver: that is wild
With mischiefe; he that with his evil waies
Corrupts all publick discipline, and straies
Through chambers in the night, & with false beames,
Or with his stinging Arrowes, or with dreames,
Tempts unto lust, and does no good at all:
This childe I say did Venus to her call,
And stirres him up with words malitious,
That was by nature too licentious:
For bringing him where Psyche dwelt, for so
This Maid was call'd, she there unfolds her woe,
And emulous tale. Cupid quoth she, my stay,
My onely strength, & power, whose boundles sway,
Contemnes the thunder of my Father Iove,
I here intreate thee by thy Mothers love,
Those wounding sweets, and sweet wounds of thy Quiver,
And honey burnings of thy torch, deliver
My Soule from griefe, revenge me on this mayd
And all her boasted beauty see decay'd,
Or else strike her in love with one so poore,
So miserably lost, stript of all store
Of meanes, or vertue; so deform'd of limb,
That none in all the world may equall him.
To move her Sonne, no flattering words she spar'd,
But breath'd on him with kisses, long and hard,
And with her rosie feet insulting ore
The submisse waves, a Dolphin she bestrides,
And on the utmost Billows proudly rides.
A troupe of Tritons were straight sounding heard,
And rough Portumnus with his mossy beard,
Salacia heavy with her fishy traine,
And Nereus daughters came to entertaine
The Sea-borne Goddesse; some plaid on a shell,
Some with their Garments labour'd to expell
The scorching heat, and Sun-shine from her face,
And other some did hold a looking-glasse:
All these in triumph by the Dolphin swam,
And followed Venus to the Ocean;
Phyche the while, in this great height of blisse,
Yet reapes no fruit of all her happinesse,
For neither King, nor Prince, nor Potentate,
Nor any durst attempt her for a mate,
But as a polisht picture her admire,
And in that admiration cease desire:
Her Sisters both, whose moderate beauty none
Did much despise, nor much contemplate on,
VVere to their wishes happily contracted,
And by two Kings espous'd. Psyche distracted
Because she had no lover, pensive sate
In mind, and body, and began to hate,
And curse that beauty, and esteeme at nought,
Which, but was excellent, had no other fault.
Cupid now in a causelesse rage was gone,
To whet his Arrowes on a bloody stone,
As if he were t'encounter with some maine
Monster, like Python, by Apollo slaine,
Draw the pale Moone downe to the Latmian Den,
Or with Loves fire great Pluto to annoy,
For these were workes of labour, and the Boy
Was ignorant, how matters would succeed,
Or what the fate of Beauty had Decreed.
Therefore he fyl'd his arrowes sharpe and smal,
To pierce what ever they should meet withal.
And vow'd, if cause were, he his shafts would shiver,
'Gainst Psyches breast, and empty all his Quiver.
Themis a Goddesse, whom great Iove had sent
Into the World, for good, or punishment,
As justice should require, when she did heare
Cupid so proudly boast, againe did sweare,
That she his haughty malice would abate,
And turne the edge, both of his shafts, and hate.
And having thus disarm'd him, ten to one,
VVould change his fury to affection.
A clap of Thunder all about them shooke,
To ratifie, what Themis undertooke.
Then both together went, and entring found,
Faire Psyche, with her looks fixt on the ground.
Honor and Modesty, with equall grace,
Simplicity and truth, smil'd in her face.
But rising up, there shot from eyther eye,
Such beames, as did Loves senses stupefie.
And as in this distraction he did stand,
He let his arrowes fall out of his hand.
VVhich Themis laughing tooke, and thence conuay'd,
VVhilst Cupid minded nothing but the Mayde.
Then did he crye amaz'd, what fence is here?
Beauty and Vertue have no other spheare.
Where thousand armed Deities resort
To guard the golden fruit from all surprize,
Chastly, and safe, as the Hesperides.
Pardon me, Venus, if I thee abridge
Of this unjust revenge; 'twere sacrilidge,
Beyond Prometheus theft, to quench such fire,
Or steale it from her eyes, but to inspire
Cupids owne breast, in all Loves spoyles, I yet
Never beheld so rich a Cabinet.
Iove, here for ever, here, my heart confine,
And let me all my Empery resigne.
Then looking downe, he found himselfe bereft
Of his loose armes, and smil'd at Themis theft;
Because he knew, she might as soone abide
Fire in her bosome, as Loves arrows hide.
But that they must againe with shame be sent,
And claime, for the possession, a deare rent:
Yet one dropt out by chance, and 'twas the best
Of all the bundle, and the curiousest.
The plumes were colour'd azure, white, and red,
The shaft painted alike downe to the head,
Which was of burnisht Gold: this Cupid tooke,
And in revenge, through his owne bosome strooke:
Then sighing call'd, You Lovers all, in chiefe)
Whom I have wrong'd, come tryumph at my griefe;
See, and be satisfied for all my sinne,
'Tis not one place that I am pained in,
My Arrows venome is dispersed round,
And beauties signe is potent in each wound.
Thus he with pitty did himselfe deplore,
For never pitty enter'd him before.
Vnto the palace of the Sun, whose flame
VVas farre inferiour to what Cupid felt;
And said, deare Phœbus, if I still have dealt
Like a true friend, and stood thee in some steed,
VVhen thou for love didst like a shepheard feed,
Admetus Cattle, now thine helpe impart,
Tis not for Phisicke, though I am sick at heart,
That I implore, but through thy skill devine
The fairest Psyche for my wife assigne:
Phœbus assents, and did not long delay,
To make it good by a Prophetick way;
Her Father fearing for the injury,
Offerd to Venus sacred Deity,
Consults the Delpick Oracle, who thus
Expounds his mind in tearmes ambiguous.
The Oracle.
Your Daughter bring to a steepe mountaine spire,Invested with a funerall attire;
Expect no good, but bind her to a stake,
No mortall wight, her for a wife shall take:
But a huge venomn'd Serpent, that does fly
With speckled wings, above the starry sky.
And downe againe, does the whole Earth molest
With fire, and sword, and all kind of unrest,
So great in malice, and so strong in might,
That Heaven, and hell doe tremble at his flight.
The King affrighted what this speech should weene
Goes slow, and sadly home unto his Queene,
Both ponder in their mind the strange prediction,
VVhether it were a riddle, or a fiction:
What glosse it might endure, and what pretence,
Whither a verball, or a mistick sence;
Which cast about in vaine, they both bewaile
Their Daughters chance, but griefe can not prevaile,
But that she must fulfill the Delpicke doome,
Or worser plagues are threatned in the roome:
And now the pitchy torches lighted are,
And for her fatall Marriage they prepare,
Songs are to howlings turn'd, bright fire to fume,
And pleasant musicke to the Lydian tune:
For Hymens Saffron weed, that should adorne
Young blushing Brides, Psyche is forc'd to mourne,
And for her mourning a blacke mantle weares,
With which she gently wipes away her teares.
Thus all the City waite her in sad wise,
Not to her wedding, but her obsequies;
But whilst her parents weake excuses make,
And vaine delaies, thus Psyche them bespake?
Why doe you thus with deepe fetch't sighs perplex
Your most unhappy age? why doe you vexe
Your spirit, which is mine, and thus disgrace
With fruitlesse teares, your venerable face?
Why doe you teare your haire, and bear your brest?
Are these the hopefull issues, and the blest
Rewards for beauty? then ought you lament,
When all the City with a joyn'd consent
Did stile me the new Venus, and ascrib'd
Those honours which to mortals are deny'd.
'Twas your ambition first pluckt on my shame,
I see, and feele my ruine in her name:
'Tis now to late, we suffer under those
Deepe wounds of envy, which the Gods impose;
Where is the rocke? why doe you linger so?
Leade hence, my thinks I long to undergoe
This happy Marriage, and I long to see
My noble Husband, whatsoere he bee:
Into his armes, ô let me soone be hurl'd,
That's borne for the destruction of the world.
This said, each stander by, with hang'd downe head
And mournfull pompe the Virgin followed,
And to the place prefixt her armes they tye,
Then howling forth a dolefull Elegy,
Depart from her in teares, wishing from farre
Some winged Perseus might deliver her.
Psyche affrighted thus, and they all gone,
A gentle gale of wind came posting on,
Who with his whispers having charm'd her feares,
The maid asleep on his soft bosome beares.
This wind is called Zephirus, whose mild
And fruitfull breath gets the young spring with child,
Filling her wombe with such delicious heat,
As breeds the blooming Rose, and Violet:
Him Cupid for his delicacy chose,
And did this amorous taske on him impose,
To fetch his Mistresse; but least he should burne
With beauties fire, he bad him soone returne:
But all in vaine, for promises are fraile,
And vertue flyes, when love once blowes the sayle,
For as she slept, he lingred on his way,
And oft embrac'd, and kist her as his praye,
And gaz'd to see how farre she did surpasse
Erichthens Daughter, wife to Boreas,
Faire Orythia; and as she began
To waxe hot through his motion, he would fan
And coole her with his wings, which did disperse
A perfum'd sent, through all the vniverse;
For 'fore that time, no fragrant smell did live
In any thing, till Psyche did it give:
Hearbes, Gummes, and spices had perhaps a name,
But their first odours from her breathing came:
And in this manner Zephirus flew on
With wanton gyres, through every region
Of the vast ayre, then brought her to a vale,
Where thousand severall flowers her sweets exhale:
The whilst her parents rob'd of her deare sight,
Devote themselves to everlasting night.
Goes slow, and sadly home unto his Queene,
Both ponder in their mind the strange prediction,
VVhether it were a riddle, or a fiction:
Whither a verball, or a mistick sence;
Which cast about in vaine, they both bewaile
Their Daughters chance, but griefe can not prevaile,
But that she must fulfill the Delpicke doome,
Or worser plagues are threatned in the roome:
And now the pitchy torches lighted are,
And for her fatall Marriage they prepare,
Songs are to howlings turn'd, bright fire to fume,
And pleasant musicke to the Lydian tune:
For Hymens Saffron weed, that should adorne
Young blushing Brides, Psyche is forc'd to mourne,
And for her mourning a blacke mantle weares,
With which she gently wipes away her teares.
Thus all the City waite her in sad wise,
Not to her wedding, but her obsequies;
But whilst her parents weake excuses make,
And vaine delaies, thus Psyche them bespake?
Why doe you thus with deepe fetch't sighs perplex
Your most unhappy age? why doe you vexe
Your spirit, which is mine, and thus disgrace
With fruitlesse teares, your venerable face?
Why doe you teare your haire, and bear your brest?
Are these the hopefull issues, and the blest
Rewards for beauty? then ought you lament,
When all the City with a joyn'd consent
Did stile me the new Venus, and ascrib'd
Those honours which to mortals are deny'd.
'Twas your ambition first pluckt on my shame,
I see, and feele my ruine in her name:
'Tis now to late, we suffer under those
Deepe wounds of envy, which the Gods impose;
Leade hence, my thinks I long to undergoe
This happy Marriage, and I long to see
My noble Husband, whatsoere he bee:
Into his armes, ô let me soone be hurl'd,
That's borne for the destruction of the world.
This said, each stander by, with hang'd downe head
And mournfull pompe the Virgin followed,
And to the place prefixt her armes they tye,
Then howling forth a dolefull Elegy,
Depart from her in teares, wishing from farre
Some winged Perseus might deliver her.
Psyche affrighted thus, and they all gone,
A gentle gale of wind came posting on,
Who with his whispers having charm'd her feares,
The maid asleep on his soft bosome beares.
This wind is called Zephirus, whose mild
And fruitfull breath gets the young spring with child,
Filling her wombe with such delicious heat,
As breeds the blooming Rose, and Violet:
Him Cupid for his delicacy chose,
And did this amorous taske on him impose,
To fetch his Mistresse; but least he should burne
With beauties fire, he bad him soone returne:
But all in vaine, for promises are fraile,
And vertue flyes, when love once blowes the sayle,
For as she slept, he lingred on his way,
And oft embrac'd, and kist her as his praye,
And gaz'd to see how farre she did surpasse
Erichthens Daughter, wife to Boreas,
Faire Orythia; and as she began
To waxe hot through his motion, he would fan
A perfum'd sent, through all the vniverse;
For 'fore that time, no fragrant smell did live
In any thing, till Psyche did it give:
Hearbes, Gummes, and spices had perhaps a name,
But their first odours from her breathing came:
And in this manner Zephirus flew on
With wanton gyres, through every region
Of the vast ayre, then brought her to a vale,
Where thousand severall flowers her sweets exhale:
The whilst her parents rob'd of her deare sight,
Devote themselves to everlasting night.
The Second Section.
Thus Psyche on a grassy bed did lye,Adorn'd with Floraes richest tapestry,
Where all her sences with soft slumber bound,
At last awakt, and rising from a swound
She spies a wood, with faire trees beautif'd,
And a pure christall Fountaine by the side;
A Kingly Palace stood not farr apart,
Built not with humane hands, but devine Art;
For by the structure men might guesse it be
The habitation of fome Deity:
The Roofe within was curiously, o're spread
With Ivory, and Gold enamelled;
The Gold was burnisht, glistering like a flame,
And Golden pillers did support the same;
The walles were all with Silver wainscott lin'd,
With severall Beasts, and Pictures there inshrin'd,
The Floure, and Pavement with like glory shone,
Cut in rare figures, made of pretious Stone,
You might behold the house through its owne day.
Sure 'twas some wondrous power by arts extent
That fancied forth so great an argument:
And no lesse happy they, that did command,
And with their feet trod on so rich a land,
Psyche amaz'd, fixt her delighted eye,
On the magnificence, and treasury,
And wondred most, that such a masse of wealth
Was by no doore, nor guard, preserv'd from stealth:
For looking when some servant should appeare,
She onely heard voices attending there,
That said, faire Mistresse why are you afraide?
All these are yours, and we to doe you ayd.
Come up into the roomes, where shall be showne
Chambers all ready furnisht, all your owne:
From thence descend, and take the spiced aire,
Or from your bath unto your bed repaire,
Whilst each of vs, that Eccho represents,
Devoyd of all corporeall instruments,
Shall waite your Minister: no Princely fare
Shall wanting be, no dilligence, no care,
To doe you service. Psyche had the sence
To tast, and thanke the Gods beneficence:
VVhen straight, a mighty golden dish was brought,
Repleat with all the dainties can be thought;
And next a bowle was on the table set,
Fraught with the richest Nectar, that ere yet
Faire Hebe fill'd to Iuno, Heavens Queene,
Or Ganimed to Iove; yet none was seene,
Nor creature found to pledge, or to begin,
But some impulsive spirit brought it in.
A consort of celestiall harmony:
And Musick, mixt with sounds articulate,
That Phœbus selfe might strive to emulate.
All pleasures finisht, Psyche went to rest,
But could finde none, because her troubled breast
Labour'd with strange events, and now the noone
Of night began t'approach, and the pale Moone
Hid her weake beames, and sleepe had seiz'd all eyes,
But Lovers, vext with feares and jealousies.
What female heart, or conscience so strong
Through the discharge of sinne? but yet among
So many fancies of her active braine,
She must a hundred terrours entertaine?
And more, and greater her amazements were,
Because she knew not, what she was to feare.
In came her dreadfull husband, so conceiv'd,
Till his sweet voyce told her, she was deceiv'd.
For drawing neare, he sate upon the bed,
Then laid his gentle hand upon her head,
And next embrac'd, and kist, and did imbrew
Her balmy lips with a delicious dew:
So, so, sayes he, let each give up his treasure,
Quite bankrupt through a rich exchange of pleasure.
So lets sweet Loves preludiums begin,
My armes shall be thy Spheare to wander in,
Circled about with spells, to charme thy feares.
Instead of Morpheus to provoke thy teares,
With horrid dreames, Venus shall thee entrance
With thousand shapes of wanton dalliance:
Each of thy senses thou shalt perfect find,
All but thy sight, for Love ought to be blind.
Enjoy'd his spouse, and got her Maydenhead:
And least that sly his feature should disclose,
He went away before the morning rose:
Her vocall servants watching at the dore,
With their mild whispers enterd in before
Psyche awak't, and joy'd the bride to see,
And cheer'd her for her slaine virginity.
These things being acted in continued time,
And as all humane natures doe incline
To take delight by custome, Psyche so
With these aëreall comforts eas'd her woe:
But yet her Parents with unwearied griefe
Waxt old in teares, and hated all reliefe.
Her Sisters too forsooke their house, and home,
And came to adde unto their fathers moane.
That night her husband Psyche thus bespake,
Alas sweet heart, what comfort can I take,
That spend the day in sighes, when you are gone,
Rob'd of all humane conversation:
My undistinguisht friends are banisht quite,
That almost weepe their eyes out for my sight,
Not one of all to beare me company:
O let me see my sisters, or I dye.
Her husband her imbrac'd, and kist away
Those hurtfull teares, and thus began to say:
Psyche my sweet, and dearest wife, I see,
Fortune beginnes to threat thy misery.
What envious Fate suggests this banefull boone,
To force my griefe, and thy destruction?
Thy sisters both, through their vaine fancies led,
And troubled with the thought that thou art dead,
Their fruitlesse teares, or speake to them a word,
Or by their wicked counsell seeke to pry
With sacrilegious curiosity,
And view my shape, how quickly wouldst thou throw
Thy selfe downe headlong to the depth of woe?
Thy wretched state for ever to deplore,
Nor must thou hope to touch me any more.
Psyche regardlesse, what his love, or feares
Did prompt unto her good, still perseveres
In her rash vote: for all (though to their cost)
Desire forbidden things; but women most.
My honey husband, my sweet love, quoth she,
How doe I prize thee, whatsoere thou be?
Above my soule, more then my owne deare life:
Nor would I change to be young Cupids wife.
And rather vow'd a thousand deaths to dye,
Then live divorc'd from his society.
Her husband overcome through his owne fire,
VVhich her impressive kisses did inspire:
Gives way to his new spouse, and a strict charge
To Zephirus, that he should spread at large
His plumy sayles, and bring her sisters twaine,
Both safe in presence of his wife, in paine,
To be in prison, and strict durance bound,
VVith the earths weighty fetters under ground,
And a huge mountaine to be laid upon
His ayerie backe, which if it once were done,
No power could e're redeeme his liberty,
Nor Æolus himselfe might set him free.
Lovers commands are still imperious:
VVhich made the fierce and haughty Zephyrus
To see his service slighted so, but yet
Not daring to proclaime his discontent,
Made a soft noise, and murmur'd as he went.
By chance her sisters at that instant time,
With long laborious steps the Hill did clime,
Where Psyche first was left, and with their plaine,
Waken the rocks, still they result againe.
Calling their sister by her proper name,
With hideous cryes, untill the west winde came,
And as command was, in a winged chaire,
With harmelesse portage bore them through the aire.
All three together by this meanes combin'd,
Embrace each other with a mutuall mind.
Vntill their spirits, and the day was spent
In long, and ceremonious complement.
Sometimes faire Psyche, proud her friends were by,
To witnesse her majestick bravery:
Vshering her sisters with affected gate,
VVould shew them all her glory, and her state,
And round about her golden house display
The massie wealth that unregarded lay.
Sometimes she would demonstrate to their eares
Her easie power on those familiars,
That like a numerous family did stand,
To execute the charge of her command.
Nor was there wanting any thing, that might
Procure their admiration, or delight:
That whereas erst they pittied her distresse,
Now swell with envy of her happinesse.
There is a Goddesse flyes through the earths globe
Girt with a cloud, and in a squalid robe,
Whose direfull presence does the Sun affright.
Her name is Ate, venome is her food,
The very Furies and Tartarian brood
Doe hate her for her uglinesse, she blacks
Her horrid visage with so many Snakes:
And as her tresses 'bout her necke she hurles,
The Serpents hisse within their knotty curles.
Sorrow, and shame, death, and a thousand woes,
And discord waites her, wheresoe're she goes,
Who riding on a whirle wind through the sky,
She saw faire Psyche in her jollity,
And grudg'd to see it; for she does professe
Her selfe a foe, to every good successe:
Then cast to ruine her; but found no way,
Lesse she could make her sisters her betray.
Then dropt foure Snakes out of her hayry nest,
And as they slept, cast two on eithers brest;
Who peircing through their bosomes in a trice,
Poyson'd their soules, but made no Orifice:
And all this while the powerfull bane did lurke
Within their hearts, and now began to worke:
For one of them, too farre inquisitive,
With crafty malice did begin to dive
Into her councell, studious for to learne,
Whom so divine possession might concerne;
But all in vaine, no lineall respect,
No Syren charmes, might move her to reject
His precepts; nothing they could doe, or say,
Might tempt her, his sweet councell to betray.
Yet least too much suspence of what he is,
Should trouble their loose thoughts, shee told them this,
Was newly deckt with natures coverin,
And he that vs'd with hunting still to rome
About the woods, and seldome was at home:
But fearing their discourse might her entrap,
She powres forth gold and jewels in their lap,
And turning all their travell to their gaine,
Commands the windes to beare them back againe.
This done, her sisters after their returne,
With envies fuell, both begin to burne,
Vnable to containe their discontent,
And to their swell'd up malice give a vent.
Sayes one unto the other, what's the cause
That we both priviledg'd by natures lawes,
And of the selfe-same parents both begot,
Should yet sustaine such an indifferent lot?
You know that we are like to hand-maids wed
To strangers, and like strangers banished.
When she, the off-spring of a latter birth,
Sprung from a wombe, that like the tyred earth
Grew old with bearing, nor yet very wise,
Enjoyes that wealth, whose use, whose worth, whose prize
She knowes not; what rich furniture there shone,
What Gemmes, what gold, what silkes we trode upon?
And if her husband be so brave a man
As she affirmes and boasts, what woman can
In the whole world compare with her? at length
Perhaps by customes progresse, and the strength
Of Love, he may her like himselfe translate
And make her with the gods participate:
She has already for to come, and goe
Voyces her hand-maids, and the windes, 'tis so;
And breath'd out nothing but Divinity:
But I poore wretch, the more to aggravate
My cares, and the iniquity of Fate,
Have got a Husband, elder then my Sire,
And then a boy farre weaker in desire;
Who, though he have nor will, nor power, to use
What he enjoyes, does miser like refuse,
To his owne wife this benefit to grant,
That others should supply, his, and my want:
Her Sister answers, Doe not I embrace
A man farre worse, and is't not my owne case?
I have a husband too not worth a point,
And one, that has the Gout in every joynt:
His Nose is dropping, and his eyes are gumm'd,
His body crooked, and his fingers numm'd:
His head, which should of wisedome be the place,
Is growne more bald than any Looking-glasse;
That I am faine the part to undergoe,
Not of a wife, but a Physitian too;
Still plying him, how ere my sense it loaths,
VVith Oyles and Balmes, and cataplasmes & cloaths:
Yet you see, with what patience I endure
This servile office, and this fruitlesse cure,
The whilst the minkes our Sister, you beheld
With how great pride, and arrogance she swell'd,
And though much wealth lay scatter'd all along,
Yet out of it, how small a portion
She gave to us, and how unwillingly,
Then blew, or hist us from her company.
Let me not breath, nor me a woman call,
Vnlesse I straight her ruine, or enthrall
In this one poynt, i'll render her accurst.
We will not any into wonder draw,
Nor comfort, by relating what we saw;
For they can not be sayd true joy to owne,
Whose neither wealth nor happinesse is knowne.
It is enough that we have seene, and grieve
That we have seene it, let none else believe
The truth from our report. So let's repaire
To our own home, and our owne homely fare,
And then returne to vindicate her pride,
With fraud and malice strongly fortifi'd:
Which to confirme, ungratefull as they were,
(For wicked counsell ever is most deare
To wicked people,) home againe they drew
And their fain'd griefe most impiously renew.
The third Section.
By this faire Psyches wombe began to breed,And was made pregnant by immortall seed;
Yet this condition was on her impos'd,
That it should mortall prove, if she disclos'd
Her husbands counsels: who can now relate
The joy that she conceiv'd, to propagate
A Divine birth? she reckons every day,
And week, and month, and does her wombe survay,
And wonders since so little was instill'd
So small a vessell should so much be fill'd:
Her husband smelling of her sisters drift,
Began to call faire Psyche unto shrift,
And warne her thus, the utmost day, sayes he,
And latest chance, is now befalne to thee;
Has taken armes up to withstand thy good.
Againe thy sisters with regardlesse care
Of love, or pietie, come to ensnare,
And tempt thy faith, which I forbad before,
That thou my shape and visage shouldst explore:
In liew of which take up a like defence,
Protecting with religious continence,
Our house from ruine, and thy selfe prevent,
And our small pledge from dangers imminent.
Psyche with sighes and teares together blent,
Breakes off his speech, since you a document
Have of my silence, and my love, quoth she,
Why should you feare to trust my constancie?
Which to confirme, bid Zephirus fulfill
Once more his duty, and obey my will.
That since your long'd for sight I am deny'd,
I may behold my sisters by my side.
Turne not away my love, I thee beseeke,
By thy curld haire, and by thy silken cheeke:
Deigne from thy bounty this small boone to spare,
Since the forc'd ignorance of what you are,
Must not offend me, nor the darkest night,
Where I embrace you in a greater light.
Charm'd with her sugred words, he gives consent,
That the swift winde, with haste incontinent,
Although unwilling, should display his wing,
And the she traytors to faire Psyche bring.
Thus all together met, her sisters twaine,
Embrace their prey, and a false love doe faine.
Psyche sayes one, you are a mother growne,
My thinkes your wombe like a full Rose is blowne.
Vnto our friends and family from you?
Certs this your child, if it be halfe so faire
As is the mother, must be Cupids heire.
Thus they with flatteries, and with many a smile,
Pretending false affection, her beguile.
And she out of her innocence, poore mayd,
Gave easie credit unto all they sayd:
And too too kinde, to a faire chamber led,
Where with celestiall dainties she them fed.
She speakes unto the Lute, and straight it heares;
She calles for raptures, and they swell their eares.
All sorts of musicke sound, with many a lay,
Yet none was present seene to sing or play.
But as no mirth is pleasant to a dull
And heavie soule, no lesse, they that are full
Of cankred malice, all delight disdaine,
But what doth nourish their delighted paine.
So that no gifts nor price might mollifie,
Nor no reward, nor kindnesse qualifie
Ther hardned hearts, still they are on fire,
To sound her through, and make a strict inquire,
What was her husband, what his forme, and age,
And whence he did deduce his parentage:
You read, how from simplicity at first,
She fram'd a formall story, and what erst
Shee told, she had forgot, and gan to faine
Another tale, and of another straine:
How that he was a man both rich, and wise,
Of middle yeeres, and of a middle size:
A Merchant by profession, that did deale
For many thousands in the common-weale.
Of her discourse, sayes one, nay sister deare,
Pray doe not strive thus to impose upon
Your loving friends, sure this description
Must to his person needs be contrary,
When in it selfe your speech does disagree.
You lately boasted, he was young and faire;
What does the soyle, or nature of the aire
Bring age so soone? and that he us'd to range
About the woods, loe there's another change.
Doe you conceit so ignorantly of us,
We know not Tethis from Hippolitus?
Green fields from seas, a billow from a hill,
Fishes from beasts? then we had little skill.
You much dissemble, or you have forgot
His forme, and function, or you know them not.
Then with the pressure of her eyes, she freed
One teare from prison, and did thus proceed:
Psyche we grieve, and pitty you, that thus
Are growne so carelesse, and incurious
Of what you ought to feare: you thinke your selfe
Much happy in your husband, and your selfe,
But are deceiv'd, for we that watch,
And at each opportunity doe catch,
To satisfie our doubts, for truth have found,
Both by his crawling footsteps on the ground,
And by report of neighbouring husbandmen,
That have espy'd him flying from his den.
When he to them most hideously has yeeld,
From his huge throat, with blood and poyson swel'd,
That this your husband is of Serpent breed,
Either of Cadmus, or of Hydra's seed.
That you to such hard destiny assign'd,
And think not all your art, or policy,
Can cancell his propheticall decree.
Let not his Monsters usage for awhile,
Your soule of just suspicion beguile,
As that yon still shall live at such high rate,
And that these happy dayes shal ne're have date.
Far be it, that my words should ill portend,
Yet trust me, all these joyes must have an end:
The time will come, when this your Paramour,
In whom you so delight, shall you devoure.
And when your womb casts her abortive brood,
Then Saturne like, he will make that his food.
For this prediction also bore a share,
In what the god fore-told, but lest despaire
Should load you with too great oppression,
It was conceal'd, and therefore stands vpon,
Whether through our advice, you will be sav'd,
Or in his beastly entrayles be engrav'd.
Now if this uncouth life, and solitude
Please you, then follow it, and be still stew'd
In the ranke lust of a lascivious worme:
Yet we our pious duties shall performe.
Psyche that tender was, grew wan, and pale,
And swoone for dread of this so sade a tale.
Then fell she from the spheare of her right mind,
And forgot all those precepts she combin'd,
And vow'd to keepe, and her selfe headlong threw
Into a thousand griefes, that must ensue.
At last reviv'd, having her selfe upheav'd,
With fainting voyce, thus half her words out breathd:
How you persist in constant piety:
Nor did they, who suggest such words as these,
In my opinion altogether lease:
For to this houre, I never did survay
My husbands shape, but forc'd am to obay
What he commands, and doe embrace i'th night,
A thing uncertaine, and that shunnes the light:
Therefore to your assertious I assent,
That with good reason seeme so congruent;
For in my thoughts I can not judge at least
But he must be a monster, or some beast;
Hee uses so much cautionary care,
And threatens so much ill, if I should dare
To view his face; so I referre me to
Your best advice, t'instruct me what to doe:
Her sisters now ariv'd at the full scope
Of their base plots, and seeing the gate ope
That kept her heart, scorne any artfull bayt,
But use their downe right weapons of deceit:
Saying, deare Psyche, nature should prevaile
So much with us, if mischiefe did assaile
Your person, in our sight: we were too blame
Should we permit, and not divert the same;
Yet wise men have their waies, and eyes still cleare,
And leave no mists of danger, or of feare:
You doe but brave your death, when you repell
The whispers of your Genius, which would tell
The perill you are in; nor are you sure
Of longer life, till you are quite secure:
Which to effect, provide a sword that's keene,
And with it, a bright Lampe, and both unseene
Shall call them, to assist you with their power:
Trust me, such spies, and counsellors are mute,
And never nice, or slow to execute
Any designe; so when your husbands eyes
Are seal'd with sleepe, from your soft couch arise,
And seaze this Dragon, when he least takes heed,
Like Pallas arm'd, and to his death proceed;
And where his necke, and head, are joyn'd in one,
Make me a speedy seperation:
Alcides sonne of Iove, as rumour goes,
Strangled two Serpents in his swadling cloathes:
And can your strength faile to bring that to passe,
Which halfe the labour of an infant was?
Such wicked words they poure into her eare,
More poysonous then her husband could appeare.
Psyche was troubled, as the sea, in mind
Approv'd their councell, and againe declin'd
What they perswade; now hastens, now delayes,
Dares, and not dares, and with a blush betrayes
Her wandring passion, which knowes no meane,
But travels from extreame, unto extreame:
She loves him now, and does againe detest,
Loves as a husband, hates him as a beast.
The onely checke, and bridle to her hate,
Was the fam'd story, and revengefull fate
Of Danans daughters, who in hell are bound
To fill a Vessell, they can never sound:
She told the story to them, how all these
Were fifty Virgins, call'd the Belides;
Her Sisters list, while Psyche does discover,
How each was too in humane to her lover:
With hearts, hard as the steele, that did the deed:
Yet one sayes she, most worthy of the name
Of wife, and to it everlasting fame:
Hight Hypermnestra, with officious lye,
Met with her Father; and his perjury:
Who said unto her husband, youth arise,
Least a long sleepe unfear'd, doe thee surprize.
I will not hold thee captive, nor will strike
This to thy heart; although my sisters, like
So many cruell Lyonesses, voyd
Of mercy, all their husbands have destroy'd.
I am of nature soft, nor doe I dare
To view, much lesse to act thy massacre;
What though my Father me in prison lay,
Or loade with Iron chaines, or send away
Farre from his Kingdome, into banishment,
Or tortures use, cause I would not consent
To murder thee; however take thy flight,
Post for thy life, whilst Venus and the night
Doe fauour thee, and onely this vouchsafe
VVhen I am dead, to write my Epitaph:
The meere remembrance of this vertuous deed,
Did a remorce, and kind of pitty breed
In Psyches brest, for passions are infus'd,
According to the stories, we are us'd
To reade; and many men doe amorous prove,
By viewing acts, and monuments of loue:
But yet her sisters malice, that still stood
In opposition, against all thats good,
Ceases not to precipitate her on,
Till they had gain'd this confirmation;
Thus fury like, they did her soule inspire:
Night and her husband came, and now the sport
Of Venus ended, he began to snort,
Psyche, though weake of mind, and body both,
Yet urg'd by cruell fate, and her rash oath,
Rose up to make provision for her sinne;
Lye still faire maide, thou mayst more honour win,
And make thy murder glory, not a crime,
If thou wouldst kill those thoughts, that doe beslime
And knaw upon thy breast, and never cease
With hishing clamours to disturbe thy peace,
When thine owne heart with Serpents doth abound;
Seeke not without, that may within be found.
Yet was she not so cruell in her hast,
But ere she kild him, she his lips would tast,
Wishing she neede not rise out from her bed,
But that she had the power to kisse him dead:
Now with her lips she labours all she may,
To sucke his soule out, whilst he sleeping lay,
Till she at last through a transfused kisse,
Left her owne soule, and was inspir'd with his;
And had her soule within his body stay'd,
Till he therein his vertues had convay'd,
And all pollution would from thence remove,
Then after all her thoughts had beene of love;
But since she could not both of them retaine,
She restor'd his, and tooke her owne againe:
Sorry, that she was forc'd it to transferr,
And wisht though dead, that he might live in her:
Then in the one hand she held the emulour light,
And in the other tooke the sword, so bright
And she thus arm'd, became more masculine.
But when by friendship of the Lampe, her eye
Had made a perfect true discovery
Of all was in the roome, what did she see?
Object of Love, wonder of Deity.
The god of love himselfe, Cupid the faire,
Lye sweetly sleeping in his golden haire:
At this so heavenly sight, the lampy spire
Encreas'd his flames, and burnt more pure, and higher.
The very sencelesse sacrilegious steele,
Did a strong vertue from his presence feele,
Which turn'd the edge, poore Psyche all amaz'd,
With joy, and wonder on his beauty gaz'd.
His necke so white, his colour so exact,
His limbes, that were so curiously compact:
His body sleeke, and smooth, that it might not
Venus repent, t'have such a sonne begot.
A bright reflexion and perfumed sent,
Fill'd all the roome with a mixt blandishment,
Shot from his wings, and at his feete did lye
His bow, and arrows, and his armory.
And in this extasie she thought to hide
The cursed steele, but in her owne deare side;
And had perform'd it sure, had not the sword,
Flew from her hand, out of its owne accord.
Glansing on all with eyes unsatisfied,
At last she his artillerye spyed.
The Quiver was of needle-worke wrought round
With trophies of his owne, where Cupid crown'd
Sate in the midst, with a Bay-wreath, which he
Had proudly pluckt from the Peneian tree.
The one of love, the other of disdaine:
There Iove in all his borrowed shapes was drest,
His thefts, and his adulteries exprest,
As Emblemes of Loves tryumph; and these were
Drawne with such lively colours, men would sweare,
That Læda lay within a perfect bower,
And Danaes golden streames, were a true shower.
Saturns two other sonnes did seeme to throw
Their Tridents at his feete, and him allow
For their Supreme; and there were kneeling by
Gods, Nymphs, and all their Geneology
Since the first Chaos, saving the abuse,
And Cupids pride, none could the worke traduce.
Pallas in envy of Aracknes skill,
Or else to curry favour, and fulfill
Cupids behest, which she durst not withstand,
Had fram'd the emulous peece with her owne hand.
And there were portray'd more a thousand loves
Besides himselfe; the skinnes of Turtle-doves
Lin'd it within, and at the upper end,
A silver plate the Quiver did extend,
Full of small holes, where his bright shafts did lye;
Whose plumes were stiffe with gummes of Araby.
His Bow was of the best, and finest Yew
That in all Ida, or faire Tempe grew:
Smooth as his cheeke, and checkerd as his wing,
And at each end, tipt with a Pearle; the string
Drawne from the Optick of a Ladies eye,
That whensoere he shoots, strikes harmony.
Psyche with timorous heed, did softly touch
His weapons, least her prophane hand might smutch
Was wrought of Gold, for some are done with Lead,
And laid her fingers end upon the Dart,
Tempting the edge, untill it caus'd a smart:
For being pointed sharpe, it raz'd the skin,
Till drops of blood did trickle from within.
She wounded with the poison, which it bore,
Grew more in love, than ere she was before.
Then as she would her selfe incorporate,
She did her numerous kisses equall make
Vnto his haires, that with her breath did play,
Steept with rich Nectar, and Ambrosia.
Thus being ravisht with excesse of joy,
With kissing, and embracing the sweet Boy.
Loe, in the height of all her jollity,
Whether from envy, or from treachery:
Or that it had a burning appetite,
To touch that silken skin, that lookt so white.
The wicked Lampe, in an unlucky houre,
A drop of scalding oyle did let downe powre
On his right shoulder, whence in horrid wise
A blister, like a bubble did arise,
And boyl'd up in his flesh, with a worse fume,
Then blood of Vipers, or the Lernean spume.
Neere did the Dog-starre rage with so great heate
In dry Apulia, nor Alcides sweat
Vnder his shirt so. Cruell oyle, that thou
Who of all others hast the smoothest brow,
Shouldst play the traytor? who had any thing
Worse than thy selfe; as fire, or venom'd sting,
Or Sulphur blasted him, shouldst first have came,
And with thy powerfull breath suckt out the flame.
To thinke he should be privilidg'd from paine.
For we in Homer have like wounded read,
Of Mars, and Venus, both by Diomed.
But for this haynous and audacious fact,
Cupid among his statutes did enact,
Henceforth all lights be banisht, and exempt,
From bearing office in Loves government.
And in the day, each should his passage marke,
Or learne to finde his Mistresse in the darke.
Sure all the crew of lovers shall thee hate,
Nor blest Minerva hold thee consecrate.
When Cupid saw his counsells open laid,
Psyches deare faith, and his owne plots betrayd,
He buckled on his wings, away to fly;
And had she not caught hold upon his thigh,
And hung as an appendix of his flight,
He questionlesse had vanisht from her sight.
But as when men are in deepe rivers drown'd,
And tane up dead, have their close fingers found,
Clasping the weeds; so, though her armes were rackt
With her more bodies weight, and sinews crackt,
To follow him through the forc'd Element:
Yet held she fast, untill he did relent,
And his ambitious wings gan downward steere,
And stoope to earth, with a mild Cancileere.
The fourth Section.
Thus lighted on the earth, he tooke her wrist,
And wrung it hard, and did her hands untwist:
And having freed himselfe, he flew on high,
Vnto a Cypresse tree that grew thereby,
And on the utmost branches being sate,
He did the matter thus capitulate,
Was it for this indeed, for this reward,
Thou silly girle, that I should disregard
My mothers vowes, her teares, her flatteries?
When she, with all the power she might devise,
Provok't me to thy hurt, and thee assign'd
In Marriage, to a groome of some base kind,
And lowest ranke, had not my too much hast
Redeem'd thy shame, and my owne worth disgrac'd;
Was it for this I did thy plagues remove,
To paine my selfe? strike mine owne heart in love,
With mine owne shaft, that after all this geare,
I should no better then a beast appeare?
For this, wouldst thou cut off my head, which bore
Those eyes, that did thy beauty so adore?
And yet thou knowst ungratefull wretch, how I
Did with my feares, thy mischeifes still imply,
And every day my cautions did renew,
The breach of which thou must for ever rue:
And each of these thy sisters, that were guide
To thy ill act, shall dearely it abide:
Yet will I punish thee no other way
But onely this, I will for ever stray
Farre from thy sight, and having said so, fled,
Whilst she to heare this newes, lay almost dead:
Yet prostrate on the ground, her eyes up cast,
Ty'd to his winged speed; untill at last,
She could no more discerne; as Dido, then,
Or Ariadne, by some Poets pen,
Are fayn'd to grieve; whose artfull passions flow
In such sweet numbers, as they make their woe
Appeare delightfull, telling how unkind
Their lovers stole away, and the same wind,
That blew abroad their faith, and oathes before,
Then fill'd their sayles, and how the troubled shore
Answer'd the Ladies groanes, so Psyche faints,
And beates her breast with pittifull complaints.
There ran a River neere, whose purling streames,
Hyperion oft, did with his golden beames
Delight to gild, and as it fled along
The pleasant murmurs, mixt with the sweet song
Of aged Swannes, detayn'd the frequent eare
Of many a Nymph, which did inhabitt there:
Poore Psyche thither went, and from the brim,
In sad despaire threw her selfe headlong in.
The Rivers God; whither 'twere out of feare,
Duty, or love, or honour he did beare
Her husband; or least her spilt blood should staine
His christall current, threw her up againe:
But it is thought, he would not let her sinke,
Cause Cupid oft times would descend to drinke,
Or wash him in the Brooke, and when he came
To coole his owne heat, would the floud inflame.
Pan at that time sate playing on a reed,
Whilst his rough Goates did on the meddowes feed,
And with intentive eyes observed all,
That to the fayrest Psyche did befall;
Who seeing her thus pittiously distrest,
He ran to take her up, and did the best
He could to comfort her; faire maid, sayes he,
Though I a rustick, and a shepheard be,
Scorne not for that my counsell, and advice;
Nor let my trade become my prejudice,
Forby the benefit of time well spent,
I am indued with long experiment:
And if I doe conjecture it aright,
The cause of all this Phrensie, and dispight,
Which your sad lookes, and palenesse doe imply,
With other signes in Physiognomy,
By which wise men the truth of Art doe prove,
And know the state of minds, you are in love.
And wrung it hard, and did her hands untwist:
And having freed himselfe, he flew on high,
Vnto a Cypresse tree that grew thereby,
He did the matter thus capitulate,
Was it for this indeed, for this reward,
Thou silly girle, that I should disregard
My mothers vowes, her teares, her flatteries?
When she, with all the power she might devise,
Provok't me to thy hurt, and thee assign'd
In Marriage, to a groome of some base kind,
And lowest ranke, had not my too much hast
Redeem'd thy shame, and my owne worth disgrac'd;
Was it for this I did thy plagues remove,
To paine my selfe? strike mine owne heart in love,
With mine owne shaft, that after all this geare,
I should no better then a beast appeare?
For this, wouldst thou cut off my head, which bore
Those eyes, that did thy beauty so adore?
And yet thou knowst ungratefull wretch, how I
Did with my feares, thy mischeifes still imply,
And every day my cautions did renew,
The breach of which thou must for ever rue:
And each of these thy sisters, that were guide
To thy ill act, shall dearely it abide:
Yet will I punish thee no other way
But onely this, I will for ever stray
Farre from thy sight, and having said so, fled,
Whilst she to heare this newes, lay almost dead:
Yet prostrate on the ground, her eyes up cast,
Ty'd to his winged speed; untill at last,
She could no more discerne; as Dido, then,
Or Ariadne, by some Poets pen,
Are fayn'd to grieve; whose artfull passions flow
In such sweet numbers, as they make their woe
Their lovers stole away, and the same wind,
That blew abroad their faith, and oathes before,
Then fill'd their sayles, and how the troubled shore
Answer'd the Ladies groanes, so Psyche faints,
And beates her breast with pittifull complaints.
There ran a River neere, whose purling streames,
Hyperion oft, did with his golden beames
Delight to gild, and as it fled along
The pleasant murmurs, mixt with the sweet song
Of aged Swannes, detayn'd the frequent eare
Of many a Nymph, which did inhabitt there:
Poore Psyche thither went, and from the brim,
In sad despaire threw her selfe headlong in.
The Rivers God; whither 'twere out of feare,
Duty, or love, or honour he did beare
Her husband; or least her spilt blood should staine
His christall current, threw her up againe:
But it is thought, he would not let her sinke,
Cause Cupid oft times would descend to drinke,
Or wash him in the Brooke, and when he came
To coole his owne heat, would the floud inflame.
Pan at that time sate playing on a reed,
Whilst his rough Goates did on the meddowes feed,
And with intentive eyes observed all,
That to the fayrest Psyche did befall;
Who seeing her thus pittiously distrest,
He ran to take her up, and did the best
He could to comfort her; faire maid, sayes he,
Though I a rustick, and a shepheard be,
Scorne not for that my counsell, and advice;
Nor let my trade become my prejudice,
I am indued with long experiment:
And if I doe conjecture it aright,
The cause of all this Phrensie, and dispight,
Which your sad lookes, and palenesse doe imply,
With other signes in Physiognomy,
By which wise men the truth of Art doe prove,
And know the state of minds, you are in love.
Now list to me, and doe not with fond hast
The sacred oyle of your lifes taper wast:
Vse no sinister meanes, to hasten on,
But labour to adjourne destruction,
Cast not away your selfe by too much griefe,
But courage take; for care is beauties thiefe:
Cupid I know, whose humour is to strive,
Then yeeld, then stay, then play the fugitive.
Be not dismayd for that, but shew your duty,
And above all things doe not spoyle your beauty,
Hee's delicate, and wanton, prayers may win,
And faire demeaoure may demerit him,
These are the medicines I would have you chuse,
To cure your minds health, and redresse abuse:
She gave him thankes, then rose from where she lay,
And having done obeysance went her way;
Thence did she wander on with weary feet,
And neither track, nor passenger could meet,
Vntill at length she found a Kingly roade
Which led unto a Palace, where aboade
Her eldest sister. Psyche enter'd in,
Then sent up newes, how one of her neere kin,
Was come to visite her, returne being made,
Psyche was brought before her; each invade
The other with embraces, and fulfill
A tedious scene of countefeit good will.
But when they had discours'd a while together,
She askt Psyche the cause, that brought her thither,
Who did recount the passages, and tell,
In order all the story that befell,
Which by degrees had ruind her; and laid
The blame on their lewd counsell, that betray'd
Her innocent soule, and her firme faith misled,
To murder her deare husband in his bed:
She told how she his certaine death decreed,
And how she rose to execute the deed:
She told, how like a Lyonesse she far'd,
And like an armed fury, how she star'd,
Or like a blazing comet in the ayre,
With fire, and sword, and with disshevell'd haire,
She told the trouble, and Epitasis,
When she beheld his Metamorphosis:
A spectacle, that ravisht her with joy,
A Serpent turn'd into a lovely boy,
Whose young, smoth face, might speake him boy or maid:
Cupid himselfe in a soft slumber lay'd,
She told too of the drop of scalding oyle,
That burnt his shoulder, and the heavy coyle
He kept, when he awakt, caus'd by the smart;
And how he chid, and how at last did part:
And for revenge, had threatned in her stead,
To make her sisters partners of his bed,
And twixt each word, she let a teare downe fall,
Which stopt her voyce, and made it musicall.
Thus Psyche at the last, finisht her story
Season'd with sharpe griefe, and sweet oratory,
Which was as long by her relation made,
As might have serv'd to stuffe an Iliade.
Such as Æneas unto Dido told,
Full of adventures, strange, and manifold.
Her sister by her lookes great joy did show,
Resolv'd in that, she did her husband know;
And therefore heard her out, with much applause,
And gave great heed, but chiefly to that clause
VVhere 'twas declar'd, that he her pompe, and state
To one of her owne sisters would translate.
VVhence gathering, that her selfe might be his bride,
She swelld with lust, with envy, and with pride;
And in this heate of passion did transcend
The Rock, where Zephirus us'd to attend
To waft her up and downe, and there call'd on
Him, that had now forsooke his station.
Yet through the vanity of hope made blind,
Though then there blew a contrary wind:
Invoking Cupid, that he would receive
Her for his spouse, she did her selfe bequeath
Vnto a fearefull precipice, and threw
Her body headlong downe, whose weight it drew
Towards the Center; for without support,
All heavy matter thither will resort.
In this her fall, the hard stones by the way,
Did greet her limbes with a discourteous stay:
Bruising her in that manner, that she dyed,
As if that she her Jury had denyed.
Her younger sister missing thus the chiefe
Copartner of her sorrows, pin'd for griefe.
This craggy rocke did overlook the sea,
Where greedy Neptune had eate in a bay,
And undermining it, much ground did win,
Where silver-footed Thetis, riding in
Vpon a bridled Dolphin, did explore,
And every tyde her armes stretcht on the shore,
Searching each creeke, and cranny, to augment
The confines of her watry regiment.
The sacred oyle of your lifes taper wast:
Vse no sinister meanes, to hasten on,
But labour to adjourne destruction,
Cast not away your selfe by too much griefe,
But courage take; for care is beauties thiefe:
Cupid I know, whose humour is to strive,
Then yeeld, then stay, then play the fugitive.
Be not dismayd for that, but shew your duty,
And above all things doe not spoyle your beauty,
Hee's delicate, and wanton, prayers may win,
And faire demeaoure may demerit him,
These are the medicines I would have you chuse,
To cure your minds health, and redresse abuse:
She gave him thankes, then rose from where she lay,
And having done obeysance went her way;
Thence did she wander on with weary feet,
And neither track, nor passenger could meet,
Vntill at length she found a Kingly roade
Which led unto a Palace, where aboade
Her eldest sister. Psyche enter'd in,
Then sent up newes, how one of her neere kin,
Was come to visite her, returne being made,
Psyche was brought before her; each invade
A tedious scene of countefeit good will.
But when they had discours'd a while together,
She askt Psyche the cause, that brought her thither,
Who did recount the passages, and tell,
In order all the story that befell,
Which by degrees had ruind her; and laid
The blame on their lewd counsell, that betray'd
Her innocent soule, and her firme faith misled,
To murder her deare husband in his bed:
She told how she his certaine death decreed,
And how she rose to execute the deed:
She told, how like a Lyonesse she far'd,
And like an armed fury, how she star'd,
Or like a blazing comet in the ayre,
With fire, and sword, and with disshevell'd haire,
She told the trouble, and Epitasis,
When she beheld his Metamorphosis:
A spectacle, that ravisht her with joy,
A Serpent turn'd into a lovely boy,
Whose young, smoth face, might speake him boy or maid:
Cupid himselfe in a soft slumber lay'd,
She told too of the drop of scalding oyle,
That burnt his shoulder, and the heavy coyle
He kept, when he awakt, caus'd by the smart;
And how he chid, and how at last did part:
And for revenge, had threatned in her stead,
To make her sisters partners of his bed,
And twixt each word, she let a teare downe fall,
Which stopt her voyce, and made it musicall.
Thus Psyche at the last, finisht her story
Season'd with sharpe griefe, and sweet oratory,
As might have serv'd to stuffe an Iliade.
Such as Æneas unto Dido told,
Full of adventures, strange, and manifold.
Her sister by her lookes great joy did show,
Resolv'd in that, she did her husband know;
And therefore heard her out, with much applause,
And gave great heed, but chiefly to that clause
VVhere 'twas declar'd, that he her pompe, and state
To one of her owne sisters would translate.
VVhence gathering, that her selfe might be his bride,
She swelld with lust, with envy, and with pride;
And in this heate of passion did transcend
The Rock, where Zephirus us'd to attend
To waft her up and downe, and there call'd on
Him, that had now forsooke his station.
Yet through the vanity of hope made blind,
Though then there blew a contrary wind:
Invoking Cupid, that he would receive
Her for his spouse, she did her selfe bequeath
Vnto a fearefull precipice, and threw
Her body headlong downe, whose weight it drew
Towards the Center; for without support,
All heavy matter thither will resort.
In this her fall, the hard stones by the way,
Did greet her limbes with a discourteous stay:
Bruising her in that manner, that she dyed,
As if that she her Jury had denyed.
Her younger sister missing thus the chiefe
Copartner of her sorrows, pin'd for griefe.
This craggy rocke did overlook the sea,
Where greedy Neptune had eate in a bay,
Where silver-footed Thetis, riding in
Vpon a bridled Dolphin, did explore,
And every tyde her armes stretcht on the shore,
Searching each creeke, and cranny, to augment
The confines of her watry regiment.
Whilst here she sate within a peerly chaire,
And round her all the Sea-gods did repaire,
To whom her lawes she did prescribe, by hap,
The mangled corps fell full into her lap.
Thetis, that once a child her selfe had borne,
Seeing so faire a body, fouly torne,
And bleeding fresh, judging some ravisher
Had done this injury, she did conferre
About the cure, and there were many found
Whose trade in Surgery, could heale a wound,
But none that might restore to life agen.
Such was the envy of the gods: for when
The scatter'd limbes of chast Hippolitus,
Were re-inspir'd by Æsculapius,
And by his Arts command together came,
And every bone and joynt put into frame:
That none with emulous skill, should dare the like,
Iove him to Hell did with his thunder strike.
But though she could not by her power controule
The Fates decree, to reunite the soule,
Into another shape she made it passe,
A doctrine held by old Pythagoras:
For stripping off her clothes, she made her skin
To weare a soft, and plumy coverin.
Her grisly nose was hardned to a bill,
And at each fingers end grew many a quill.
Her armes to pennons turn'd, and she in all
Chang'd to a Fowle, which men a Sea-gull call.
A Bird of evill nature, and set on
Much mischiefe, to whose composition,
A great part of her former malice went,
And was the principle ingredient.
For being thus transfigur'd, straight she swam
Into the bottom of the Ocean,
Where Neptune kept his Court, and pressing neere
To Venus seat, she whisper'd her i'th' eare,
How that her sonne lay desperately griev'd,
Sicke of a burne he lately had receiv'd,
And many by that meanes at her did scoffe,
And her whole family was ill spoken off.
For whilst that she her selfe, thus liv'd recluse,
And he his close adulteries did use:
No sport, or pleasure; no delight, or grace,
Friendship, nor marriage could find any place.
In Love no pledge, no harmony in life,
But every where confusion was, and strife.
Thus the vile Bird maliciously did prate,
And Cupids credit did calumniate.
Venus replyd, impatient, and hot,
What has my good sonne then a Mistresse got?
Which of the Nymphs, or Muses is his joy?
Who has inveigled the ingenious Boy?
VVhich of the Howers, or of the Graces all?
None of these, said the Bird, but men her call
Psyche. So soone as Venus heard her nam'd,
O how with indignation she exclaim'd?
VVhat my owne beauties rivall, is it she?
That plant, that sucker of my dignity,
And I his Bawd? VVith these words she ascended
To the Seas superficies, where attended
Her Doves both ready harnest, up she got,
And flew to Paphos in her chariot.
The Graces came about her, and in hast
VVhat the rough seas, or rude winds had misplac'd,
Did recompose with art and studious care,
Kembing the Cerule drops from her loose haire:
VVhich dry'd with Rosie powder, they did fold,
And bind it round up in a brayd of Gold.
These waite about her person still, and passe
Their judgement on her, equall with her glasse.
These are the onely Criticks, that debate
All beauty, and all fashions arbitrate:
These temper her Ceruse, and paint, and lim
Her face with oyle, and put her in her trim.
Twelve other Handmaids clad in white array,
Call'd the twelve Houres, and daughters of the day,
Did helpe to dresse her: there were added more,
Twelve of the night, whose eyes were shadowed ore
VVith dusky, and black vailes, least Vulcans light,
Or vapours should offend their bleared sight,
When they her linnen starch, or else prepare.
Strong distillations to make her faire.
These bring her bathes, and ointments for her eyes,
And provide Cordialls, 'gainst she shall arise.
These play on Musick, and perfume her bed,
And snuffe the Candle, while she lyes to read
Her selfe asleepe: thus all assign'd unto
Their severall office, had enough to doe.
And had they twenty times as many beene,
They all might be imploy'd about the Queene.
For though they vs'd more reverence, then at prayer,
And sate in counsell upon every haire,
And every pleat, and posture of her gowne,
Giving observance to each frequent frowne.
And rather wisht the state disordered were,
Then the least implement, that she did weare.
As if, of all, that were the greatest sin,
And that their fate were fastned to each pin:
Though their whole life, and study were to please,
Yet such a sullen humour, and disease
Raign'd in her curious eyes, she ever saught,
And scowling lookt, where she might find a fault,
Yet felt she no distemper from the care
Of other businesse, nor did any dare
To interpose, or put into her mind,
A thought of any, either foe, or friend,
Receipt, or payment, but they all were bent
To place each jewell, and each ornament.
And when that she was drest, and all was done,
Then she began to thinke upon her sonne,
And being absent, spake of him at large,
And lay'd strong aggravations to his charge.
She ript her wrongs up, how she had past by,
In hope of mendment, many an injury:
Yet nothing could reclaime his stubborne spleene
And wanton loosenesse, though she still had beene
Indulgent to him, as they all did know.
She talkt to of the duty, children owe
Vnto their parents, and did much complaine;
Since she had bore, and bred him up with paine,
Now for requitall, had receiv'd offence;
And sorely taxt his disobedience,
Then askt the Graces, if they could disclose
Where his new haunts were, and his Randevous,
For, she had trusted them, to over looke
As Guardians, and to guide, as with a hooke
His stragling nature, and they had done ill,
To slacke their hand, and leave him to his will;
Who, as she said, was a weake child, and none
Being neere, might soone into much mischiefe run.
They blushing smile, and thus alleadg; since she,
His Mother could not rule him, how can we
That are but Servants? whom he does despise,
And brandishes his torch against our eyes,
And in defiance, threats what he will doe,
Vpon the least distast, to shoote us through.
When Venus heard, how the world stood in awe
Of her sonnes desperate valoure, and no law
Might curbe his fiercenesse, flattery, nor force
Prevaile, she then resolv'd upon a course,
With open libels, and with hue and cry,
To publish to the world his infamy:
And therefore caus'd in every towne, and street,
And in all tryviall places, where wayes meet,
In these words or the like, upon each post,
A chartell to be fixt, that he was lost.
The wanton Cupid, t'other day,
And round her all the Sea-gods did repaire,
To whom her lawes she did prescribe, by hap,
The mangled corps fell full into her lap.
Thetis, that once a child her selfe had borne,
Seeing so faire a body, fouly torne,
And bleeding fresh, judging some ravisher
Had done this injury, she did conferre
About the cure, and there were many found
Whose trade in Surgery, could heale a wound,
But none that might restore to life agen.
Such was the envy of the gods: for when
The scatter'd limbes of chast Hippolitus,
Were re-inspir'd by Æsculapius,
And by his Arts command together came,
And every bone and joynt put into frame:
That none with emulous skill, should dare the like,
Iove him to Hell did with his thunder strike.
But though she could not by her power controule
The Fates decree, to reunite the soule,
Into another shape she made it passe,
A doctrine held by old Pythagoras:
For stripping off her clothes, she made her skin
To weare a soft, and plumy coverin.
Her grisly nose was hardned to a bill,
And at each fingers end grew many a quill.
Chang'd to a Fowle, which men a Sea-gull call.
A Bird of evill nature, and set on
Much mischiefe, to whose composition,
A great part of her former malice went,
And was the principle ingredient.
For being thus transfigur'd, straight she swam
Into the bottom of the Ocean,
Where Neptune kept his Court, and pressing neere
To Venus seat, she whisper'd her i'th' eare,
How that her sonne lay desperately griev'd,
Sicke of a burne he lately had receiv'd,
And many by that meanes at her did scoffe,
And her whole family was ill spoken off.
For whilst that she her selfe, thus liv'd recluse,
And he his close adulteries did use:
No sport, or pleasure; no delight, or grace,
Friendship, nor marriage could find any place.
In Love no pledge, no harmony in life,
But every where confusion was, and strife.
Thus the vile Bird maliciously did prate,
And Cupids credit did calumniate.
Venus replyd, impatient, and hot,
What has my good sonne then a Mistresse got?
Which of the Nymphs, or Muses is his joy?
Who has inveigled the ingenious Boy?
VVhich of the Howers, or of the Graces all?
None of these, said the Bird, but men her call
Psyche. So soone as Venus heard her nam'd,
O how with indignation she exclaim'd?
VVhat my owne beauties rivall, is it she?
That plant, that sucker of my dignity,
To the Seas superficies, where attended
Her Doves both ready harnest, up she got,
And flew to Paphos in her chariot.
The Graces came about her, and in hast
VVhat the rough seas, or rude winds had misplac'd,
Did recompose with art and studious care,
Kembing the Cerule drops from her loose haire:
VVhich dry'd with Rosie powder, they did fold,
And bind it round up in a brayd of Gold.
These waite about her person still, and passe
Their judgement on her, equall with her glasse.
These are the onely Criticks, that debate
All beauty, and all fashions arbitrate:
These temper her Ceruse, and paint, and lim
Her face with oyle, and put her in her trim.
Twelve other Handmaids clad in white array,
Call'd the twelve Houres, and daughters of the day,
Did helpe to dresse her: there were added more,
Twelve of the night, whose eyes were shadowed ore
VVith dusky, and black vailes, least Vulcans light,
Or vapours should offend their bleared sight,
When they her linnen starch, or else prepare.
Strong distillations to make her faire.
These bring her bathes, and ointments for her eyes,
And provide Cordialls, 'gainst she shall arise.
These play on Musick, and perfume her bed,
And snuffe the Candle, while she lyes to read
Her selfe asleepe: thus all assign'd unto
Their severall office, had enough to doe.
And had they twenty times as many beene,
They all might be imploy'd about the Queene.
And sate in counsell upon every haire,
And every pleat, and posture of her gowne,
Giving observance to each frequent frowne.
And rather wisht the state disordered were,
Then the least implement, that she did weare.
As if, of all, that were the greatest sin,
And that their fate were fastned to each pin:
Though their whole life, and study were to please,
Yet such a sullen humour, and disease
Raign'd in her curious eyes, she ever saught,
And scowling lookt, where she might find a fault,
Yet felt she no distemper from the care
Of other businesse, nor did any dare
To interpose, or put into her mind,
A thought of any, either foe, or friend,
Receipt, or payment, but they all were bent
To place each jewell, and each ornament.
And when that she was drest, and all was done,
Then she began to thinke upon her sonne,
And being absent, spake of him at large,
And lay'd strong aggravations to his charge.
She ript her wrongs up, how she had past by,
In hope of mendment, many an injury:
Yet nothing could reclaime his stubborne spleene
And wanton loosenesse, though she still had beene
Indulgent to him, as they all did know.
She talkt to of the duty, children owe
Vnto their parents, and did much complaine;
Since she had bore, and bred him up with paine,
Now for requitall, had receiv'd offence;
And sorely taxt his disobedience,
Where his new haunts were, and his Randevous,
For, she had trusted them, to over looke
As Guardians, and to guide, as with a hooke
His stragling nature, and they had done ill,
To slacke their hand, and leave him to his will;
Who, as she said, was a weake child, and none
Being neere, might soone into much mischiefe run.
They blushing smile, and thus alleadg; since she,
His Mother could not rule him, how can we
That are but Servants? whom he does despise,
And brandishes his torch against our eyes,
And in defiance, threats what he will doe,
Vpon the least distast, to shoote us through.
When Venus heard, how the world stood in awe
Of her sonnes desperate valoure, and no law
Might curbe his fiercenesse, flattery, nor force
Prevaile, she then resolv'd upon a course,
With open libels, and with hue and cry,
To publish to the world his infamy:
And therefore caus'd in every towne, and street,
And in all tryviall places, where wayes meet,
In these words or the like, upon each post,
A chartell to be fixt, that he was lost.
Did from his mother Venus stray.
Great paines she tooke, but all in vaine
How to get her Sonne againe:
For since the boy is sometimes blind,
He his owne way cannot find.
Or take him captive in a Gin,
And bring her word, she for this,
Will reward him with a kisse.
That you the felon may descry,
These are signes to know him by:
His skin is red with many a staine
Of Lovers, which by him were slaine;
Or else it is, the fatall doome,
Which foretells of stormes to come:
Though he seeme naked to the eye,
His mind is cloath'd with subtlety,
Sweet speach he uses, and soft smiles,
To intice where he beguiles:
His words are gentle, as the ayre,
But trust him not, though he speake faire;
And confirme it with an oath:
He is fierce, and cruell both,
He is bold, and carelesse too,
And will play as wantons doe:
But when you thinke the sport is past,
It turnes to earnest at the last.
His evill nature none can tame,
For neither reverence, nor shame,
Are in his lookes; his curled hayre
Hangs like Nets, for to ensnare.
His hands though weake, and slender; strike
Age, and Sexes, all alike,
And when he list, will make his nest,
In their Marrow, or their breast:
Those poyson'd Darts shot from his Bow,
Hurt Gods above, and men below.
Whose flame the very same will scorch;
And not hell it selfe is free,
From this Impes impiety.
The wounds he makes, no Salve can cure;
Then if you catch him, bind him sure.
Take no pitty, though he cry,
Or laugh, or smile, or seeme to dye,
And for his ransome would deliver
His Arrowes, and his painted Quiver.
Refuse them all, for they are such,
That will burne, where ere they touch.
When this edict was openly declar'd
And Venus importunity; none dar'd
To be so much of counsell, as to hide,
And not reveale, where Cupid did abide.
There was an old Nimph of th' Idalian grove,
Grand-child to Faune, a Dryad; whom great Iove
Had ravisht in her youth, and for a fee,
In recompence of her Virginity,
Did make Immortall, and with wisedome fill,
And her endewed with a Prophetick skill,
And knowledge of all Hearbes; she could apply
To every greife a perfect remedy,
Were it in mind, or body, and was sage,
And waighty in her counsell, to aswage
Any disease; she had the goverment
Of the whole Pallace, and was president
Of all the Nimphs, for Venus did commit
Such power, to doe; what ever she thought fit.
And would have hid his shame with all her heart:
But that she fear'd her Mistresse to displease,
If it should after chance the Dryades
Betray'd her; therefore she durst doe no other,
But to send private word unto his Mother,
Where her sonne was, and how he hid his head,
And groaning lay upon his Mothers bed.
Soone as this newes was brought her, Venus went,
Blowne with the winde, and her owne discontent.
And there began to scold, and rayle, before
She did arrive within the chamber dore.
Are these things honest, which I heare sayes she,
And suiting with our fame and pedegree?
Seducing trisler, have you set at large
Mine enemy, whom I gave up in charge,
That thou shouldst captivate, and set on fire,
With sordid, but unquenchable desire?
But since; that thou mightst the more stubborn prove,
Hast fetter'd her unto thy selfe in love;
Seemes you presume, that you are onely he,
The Chick of the white Hen, and still must be.
And I, by reason of my age, quite done,
Cannot conceive, nor beare another sonne.
Yes know I can, and for thy more disgrace,
I will adopt another in thy place.
I'le take away that wicked stuffe, with which
Thou dost abuse thy betters, and bewitch
Each age, and sexe, and not without delight,
Thine Vncle Mars, and thine owne Mother smite.
Then burne those armes, which were ordain'd to doe
Better exploits, then thou imploy'st them to.
And dost without all reverence, or regard,
Provoke thy elders, but Iove, here I wish,
I ne're may eate of a celestiall dish:
Vnlesse I turne this tryumph to offence,
This sweet to sower, this sport to penitence.
But I thus scorned, wither shall I fly?
There is a Matron call'd Sobriety,
Whom I have oft offended, through his vaine
Luxurious riot, yet I must complaine
To her, and at her hands expect the full
Of my revenge, she shall his quiver pull,
Vnhead his arrows, and his Bow unstring;
Put out his Torch, and then away it fling.
His golden locks with Nectar all imbrewd,
Which I from my owne bosome have bedew'd.
His various wings, the Raine-bow never yet,
Was in such order, nor such colours set:
She shall without remorse both cut, and pare,
And every feather clip, and every haire.
And then, and not till then, it shall suffice,
That I have done my wrongs this sacrifice.
Thus full of choler, did she Cupid threat,
And having eas'd her mind, did backe retreat.
But making haste, with this distemper'd looke,
Ceres, and Iuno both, she overtooke:
Who seeing her with such a troubled brow,
Did earnestly demand, the manner how
She came so vext, and who had power to shrowd
Her glorious beauty in so black a clowd.
You cannot chuse but heare, Venus reply'd,
How I have beene abus'd, on every side.
And caught Mars, and my selfe, both in his net:
And then expos'd us naked to the eyes
Of Heaven, and the whole bench of Deities.
'Tis a knowne tale; and to make up the jest,
One god, lesse supercilious then the rest,
Told Mars, if those his fetters made him sweat,
He would endure the burthen, and the heat.
Time wore out this disgrace, but now your art
Must drive another sorrow from my heart:
And if you love me, use your best of skill,
To seeke out Psyche, she hath done this ill.
Cupid my sonne, has chose her for his spouse,
That is the onely plague vnto my house.
Lady, said they, alack what hurt is done,
Or crime in this committed by your sonne?
Is this a cause, fit to provoke your spight;
T'impugne his sports, and hinder his delight?
What imputation on your house were layd,
Though he should set his fancy on a Maid?
You may allow his Patent for to passe,
That he may love a blith, and bonny Lasse.
What you forget, that he is well in yeeres,
And tis a comfort to you, that he beares
His age so well; therefore you must not pry
Into his actions so narrowly.
For with what Justice can you disapprove
That in your sonne, which in your selfe you love?
Is't fit, that seeds of love by you be sowne
In others hearts, and banisht from your owne?
You have an interest, in all that's his:
Both prais'd for good, both blam'd for what's amisse.
Held wise, and must give way: thus they for feare
Of Cupids Arrowes, did him patronize.
But Venus scorning that her injuries
VVere no more pittied, her swift Doves did raigne,
And took her way towards the Sea againe.
The end of the first Booke.
The Second Booke.
THE FIRST SECTION.
Psyche
this while wandred the world about
With various errors to find Cupid out,
Hoping, although no matrimoniall way,
Or Beauties force his anger might allay;
Yet Prayers, and duty somewhat might abate,
And humble Service him propitiate.
She travell'd forth, untill at length she found
A pleasant plaine, with a faire Temple crown'd.
Then to her selfe she said, ah who can tell,
Whether or no, my husband there doe dwell?
And with this thought she goes directly on,
Led with blind hope, and with Devotion:
Then entred in, she to the Altar bended,
And there perform'd her Orizons: which ended,
Casting her eyes about, she did espy,
A world of instruments for husbandry:
As Forkes, & Hookes, & Rakes, Sickles, & Sithes,
Garlands, and Sheares, & Corne for Sacrifice.
Those eares, that were confused, she did sever,
And those, that scatter'd lay, she put together;
Thinking, she ought no worship to decline
Of any thing, that seem'd to be Divine.
Ceres farre oft did Psyche over looke,
When this laborious taske she undertooke,
And as she is a Goddesse, that does love
Industrious people, spake to her from above;
Alas poore Psyche, Venus is thy foe,
And strives to find thee out with more a doe,
Then I my Proserpine; the Earth, the Sea,
And the hid confines of the Night and Day,
Have all beene ransackt; she has sought thee forth,
Through both the Poles, & Mantions of the North,
Not the Riphean snow, nor all the drougth,
That parches the vast desarts of the south,
Have stay'd her steps. She has made Tethis sweepe,
To find thee out, the bottome of the deepe,
And vowes that Heaven it selfe shall thee resigne,
Though Iove had fixt thee, there his concubine.
She never rests, for since she went to bed,
The Rosie Crowne is wither'd from her head:
Thou carelesse wretch. Thus Venus all enrag'd,
Seekes for thy life, whilst thou art heere ingag'd
'Bout my affaires, and thinkst of nothing lesse,
Then thine owne safety, and lost happinesse.
Psyche fell prostrate on her face, before
Faire Ceres throne, and did her helpe implore,
Moystning the Earth with teares, and with her haire
Brushing the ground; she sent up many a Prayer,
By thy fruit-scattering hand, I thee entreate,
And the Sicilian Feilds, that are the seat
Of thy fertility, and by the glad,
And happy ends, the harvest ever had;
And by thy coach, with winged Dragons drawne,
And by the darkesome hell, that gan to dawne
At the bright marriage of faire Proserpine:
And by the silent rites of Elusine,
Impart some pitty, and vouchsafe to grant
This small request, to your poore supplyant.
I may lye hid among these sheaves of Corne,
Vntill great Venus fury be out-worne;
Or that my strength, and faculties subdu'd
By weary toyle, a little be renew'd.
But as the worlds accustom'd, when they see,
Any orewhelm'd with a deepe misery,
Afford small comfort to their wretched state;
But onely are in words compassionate.
So Ceres told her, she did greatly grieve
At her distresse, but durst her not releive;
For Venus was a good, and gratious Queene,
And she her favour highly did esteeme.
Nor would she succour a contrary side,
Being by love, and kin to her ally'd.
Poore Psyche thus repuls'd, soone as she saw
Her hopes quite frustrate, did her selfe withdraw,
And journied on, unto a neighbouring wood,
Where likewise a rich Fane, and Temple stood,
Of goodly structure, and before the house,
Hung many gifts, and garments pretious,
That by the name engrav'd, and dedication,
Exprest without, to whom they had relation.
Here Psyche enterd, her low knees did bend,
And both her selfe, and fortunes recommend
To mighty Iuno, and thus spake to her.
Thou wife, and sister to the thunderer,
Whether thou dost in ancient Samos lye,
The place of thy first birth, and nursery.
Or by the bankes of Inacus abide,
Or thy lou'd Carthage, or round Heaven dost ride
Vpon a Lyons backe; that art i'th East
Call'd Zigia, and Lucina in the west;
Looke on my griefes extremity, and deigne
To ease me, of my labour, and my paine.
Thus having prayed, straight Iuno from on high,
Presents her selfe in all her Majesty,
And said, Psyche I wish you had your ends,
And that my Daughter, & your selfe were friends:
For Venus I have ever held most deare,
In as high place, as she my daughter were:
Nor can that, which one Goddesse has begun,
By any other Deity b'undone,
Besides the Stigian lawes allow no leave,
That we anothers Servant should receive;
Nor can we by the league of friendship, give
Reliefe to one, that is a fugitive.
Faire Psyche shipwrackt in her hopes againe,
And finding no wayes, how she might obtaine
Her winged husband, cast the worst of all;
And thus her thoughts did into question call:
What meanes can be attempted, or apply'd
To this my strange calamity, beside
What is already us'd? for though they wood,
The Gods themselves, can render me no good,
Why then should I proceed, and unawares
Tender my foot unto so many snares?
VVhat darknesse can protect me? what disguise
Hide me from her inevitable eyes?
Some women, from their crimes, can courage gather,
Then why not I from misery? and rather,
VVhat I cannot deferre, nor long withstand,
Yeeld up my selfe a prisoner to her hand.
For timely modesty may mitigate
That rage, which absence does exasperate.
And to confirme this, who knows, whether he,
VVhom my soule longs for, with his Mother be?
Venus now sicke of earthly businesse,
Commands her Coach be put in readinesse:
Whose subtile structure was all wrought upon,
With gold, with purple, and Vermilion.
Vulcan compos'd the fabrick, 'twas the same
He gave his wife, when he a woing came.
Then of those many hundred Doves, that soare
About her palace, she selected foure,
Whose checkred necks to the small traces ty'd,
With nimble gyres they up to Heaven did glide:
A world of sparrows did by Venus fly,
And Nightingales, that sung melodiously.
And other birds accompany'd her Coach,
With pleasant noise, proclaiming her approach:
For neither hardy Eagle, Hawke, nor Kite,
Durst her sweet sounding family affright.
The clouds gave way, and Heaven was open made,
Whilst Venus, Ioves high Turrets did invade.
Then having silenc'd her obstreperous quire,
She boldly calls for Mercury the cryer,
Ioves messenger, who but a while before
Return'd with a loose arrant, which he bore
To a new Mistresse, and was now t'advise
Vpon some tricke, to hide from Iuno's eyes
Ioves bawderie, for he such feats can doe,
Which are his vertues, and his office to.
When Venus saw him, she much joy did show,
And said, kind brother Mercury, you know,
How I esteeme your love, at no small rate,
With whom my minde I still communicate:
Without whose counsell I have nothing done,
But still preferr'd your admonition.
And now you must assist me; ther's a mayd
Lyes hid, whom I have long time fought, and layd
Close waite to apprehend, but cannot take;
Therefore I'de have you proclamation make,
With a reward propounded, to requite,
Who e're shall bring, and set her in my sight.
Make knowne her markes, and age, lest any chance,
Or after dare to pretend ignorance.
Thus having said, she gave to him a note,
And libell, wherein Psyches name was wrote.
Hermes the powerfull, and all charming god
Taking in hand his soule constraining rod,
VVith which he carries, and brings backe from hell,
VVith Venus went, for he lov'd Venus well;
Cause he in former time her love had wonne,
And in his dalliance, had of her sonne
Begot, call'd the Hermaphrodite, which is
The Boy, that was belov'd by Salmacis.
Thus both from Heaven descended, open cry
In expresse words, was made by Mercury,
With various errors to find Cupid out,
Hoping, although no matrimoniall way,
Or Beauties force his anger might allay;
Yet Prayers, and duty somewhat might abate,
And humble Service him propitiate.
She travell'd forth, untill at length she found
A pleasant plaine, with a faire Temple crown'd.
Then to her selfe she said, ah who can tell,
Whether or no, my husband there doe dwell?
And with this thought she goes directly on,
Led with blind hope, and with Devotion:
Then entred in, she to the Altar bended,
And there perform'd her Orizons: which ended,
Casting her eyes about, she did espy,
A world of instruments for husbandry:
As Forkes, & Hookes, & Rakes, Sickles, & Sithes,
Garlands, and Sheares, & Corne for Sacrifice.
And those, that scatter'd lay, she put together;
Thinking, she ought no worship to decline
Of any thing, that seem'd to be Divine.
Ceres farre oft did Psyche over looke,
When this laborious taske she undertooke,
And as she is a Goddesse, that does love
Industrious people, spake to her from above;
Alas poore Psyche, Venus is thy foe,
And strives to find thee out with more a doe,
Then I my Proserpine; the Earth, the Sea,
And the hid confines of the Night and Day,
Have all beene ransackt; she has sought thee forth,
Through both the Poles, & Mantions of the North,
Not the Riphean snow, nor all the drougth,
That parches the vast desarts of the south,
Have stay'd her steps. She has made Tethis sweepe,
To find thee out, the bottome of the deepe,
And vowes that Heaven it selfe shall thee resigne,
Though Iove had fixt thee, there his concubine.
She never rests, for since she went to bed,
The Rosie Crowne is wither'd from her head:
Thou carelesse wretch. Thus Venus all enrag'd,
Seekes for thy life, whilst thou art heere ingag'd
'Bout my affaires, and thinkst of nothing lesse,
Then thine owne safety, and lost happinesse.
Psyche fell prostrate on her face, before
Faire Ceres throne, and did her helpe implore,
Moystning the Earth with teares, and with her haire
Brushing the ground; she sent up many a Prayer,
By thy fruit-scattering hand, I thee entreate,
And the Sicilian Feilds, that are the seat
And happy ends, the harvest ever had;
And by thy coach, with winged Dragons drawne,
And by the darkesome hell, that gan to dawne
At the bright marriage of faire Proserpine:
And by the silent rites of Elusine,
Impart some pitty, and vouchsafe to grant
This small request, to your poore supplyant.
I may lye hid among these sheaves of Corne,
Vntill great Venus fury be out-worne;
Or that my strength, and faculties subdu'd
By weary toyle, a little be renew'd.
But as the worlds accustom'd, when they see,
Any orewhelm'd with a deepe misery,
Afford small comfort to their wretched state;
But onely are in words compassionate.
So Ceres told her, she did greatly grieve
At her distresse, but durst her not releive;
For Venus was a good, and gratious Queene,
And she her favour highly did esteeme.
Nor would she succour a contrary side,
Being by love, and kin to her ally'd.
Poore Psyche thus repuls'd, soone as she saw
Her hopes quite frustrate, did her selfe withdraw,
And journied on, unto a neighbouring wood,
Where likewise a rich Fane, and Temple stood,
Of goodly structure, and before the house,
Hung many gifts, and garments pretious,
That by the name engrav'd, and dedication,
Exprest without, to whom they had relation.
Here Psyche enterd, her low knees did bend,
And both her selfe, and fortunes recommend
Thou wife, and sister to the thunderer,
Whether thou dost in ancient Samos lye,
The place of thy first birth, and nursery.
Or by the bankes of Inacus abide,
Or thy lou'd Carthage, or round Heaven dost ride
Vpon a Lyons backe; that art i'th East
Call'd Zigia, and Lucina in the west;
Looke on my griefes extremity, and deigne
To ease me, of my labour, and my paine.
Thus having prayed, straight Iuno from on high,
Presents her selfe in all her Majesty,
And said, Psyche I wish you had your ends,
And that my Daughter, & your selfe were friends:
For Venus I have ever held most deare,
In as high place, as she my daughter were:
Nor can that, which one Goddesse has begun,
By any other Deity b'undone,
Besides the Stigian lawes allow no leave,
That we anothers Servant should receive;
Nor can we by the league of friendship, give
Reliefe to one, that is a fugitive.
Faire Psyche shipwrackt in her hopes againe,
And finding no wayes, how she might obtaine
Her winged husband, cast the worst of all;
And thus her thoughts did into question call:
What meanes can be attempted, or apply'd
To this my strange calamity, beside
What is already us'd? for though they wood,
The Gods themselves, can render me no good,
Why then should I proceed, and unawares
Tender my foot unto so many snares?
Hide me from her inevitable eyes?
Some women, from their crimes, can courage gather,
Then why not I from misery? and rather,
VVhat I cannot deferre, nor long withstand,
Yeeld up my selfe a prisoner to her hand.
For timely modesty may mitigate
That rage, which absence does exasperate.
And to confirme this, who knows, whether he,
VVhom my soule longs for, with his Mother be?
Venus now sicke of earthly businesse,
Commands her Coach be put in readinesse:
Whose subtile structure was all wrought upon,
With gold, with purple, and Vermilion.
Vulcan compos'd the fabrick, 'twas the same
He gave his wife, when he a woing came.
Then of those many hundred Doves, that soare
About her palace, she selected foure,
Whose checkred necks to the small traces ty'd,
With nimble gyres they up to Heaven did glide:
A world of sparrows did by Venus fly,
And Nightingales, that sung melodiously.
And other birds accompany'd her Coach,
With pleasant noise, proclaiming her approach:
For neither hardy Eagle, Hawke, nor Kite,
Durst her sweet sounding family affright.
The clouds gave way, and Heaven was open made,
Whilst Venus, Ioves high Turrets did invade.
Then having silenc'd her obstreperous quire,
She boldly calls for Mercury the cryer,
Ioves messenger, who but a while before
Return'd with a loose arrant, which he bore
Vpon some tricke, to hide from Iuno's eyes
Ioves bawderie, for he such feats can doe,
Which are his vertues, and his office to.
When Venus saw him, she much joy did show,
And said, kind brother Mercury, you know,
How I esteeme your love, at no small rate,
With whom my minde I still communicate:
Without whose counsell I have nothing done,
But still preferr'd your admonition.
And now you must assist me; ther's a mayd
Lyes hid, whom I have long time fought, and layd
Close waite to apprehend, but cannot take;
Therefore I'de have you proclamation make,
With a reward propounded, to requite,
Who e're shall bring, and set her in my sight.
Make knowne her markes, and age, lest any chance,
Or after dare to pretend ignorance.
Thus having said, she gave to him a note,
And libell, wherein Psyches name was wrote.
Hermes the powerfull, and all charming god
Taking in hand his soule constraining rod,
VVith which he carries, and brings backe from hell,
VVith Venus went, for he lov'd Venus well;
Cause he in former time her love had wonne,
And in his dalliance, had of her sonne
Begot, call'd the Hermaphrodite, which is
The Boy, that was belov'd by Salmacis.
Thus both from Heaven descended, open cry
In expresse words, was made by Mercury,
O yes, if any can true tidings bring
Of Venus hand-maid, daughter to a King,
Psyche the fugitive, of stature tall,
Of tender age, and forme celestiall:
To whom, for dowry, Art, and Nature gave
All grace, and all the comlinesse they have.
This I was bid to say, and be it spoken
Without all envy, each smile is a token
Sufficient to betray her. In her gate
She Phœbus sister does most imitate.
Nor does her voyce sound mortall; if you spy
Her face, you may discerne her by the eye,
That like a starre, dazels the Optick sense,
Cupid has oft his Torch brought lighted thence.
If any finde her out, let him repaire
Straight wayes to Mercury, and the newes declare;
And for his recompence, he shall have leave,
Even from Venus owne lips, to receive
Seven fragrant kisses, and the rest among,
One honey-kisse, and one touch from her tongue.
Of Venus hand-maid, daughter to a King,
Of tender age, and forme celestiall:
To whom, for dowry, Art, and Nature gave
All grace, and all the comlinesse they have.
This I was bid to say, and be it spoken
Without all envy, each smile is a token
Sufficient to betray her. In her gate
She Phœbus sister does most imitate.
Nor does her voyce sound mortall; if you spy
Her face, you may discerne her by the eye,
That like a starre, dazels the Optick sense,
Cupid has oft his Torch brought lighted thence.
If any finde her out, let him repaire
Straight wayes to Mercury, and the newes declare;
And for his recompence, he shall have leave,
Even from Venus owne lips, to receive
Seven fragrant kisses, and the rest among,
One honey-kisse, and one touch from her tongue.
Which being published, the great desire
Of this reward, set all mens hearts on sire.
So that poore Psyche durst no more forbeare
To offer up her selfe: then drawing neare
To Venus house, a Maid of hers, by name
Call'd Custome, when she saw her, did exclaime,
O Madam Psyche, Iove your honour save:
VVhat doe you feele now, you a Mistresse have?
Or does your rashnesse, or your ignorant worth
Not know, the paines we tooke to find you forth?
Sweet, you shall for your stubbornesse be taught:
VVith that, rude hold upon her locks she caught,
And drag'd her in, and before Venus brought.
Of this reward, set all mens hearts on sire.
So that poore Psyche durst no more forbeare
To offer up her selfe: then drawing neare
To Venus house, a Maid of hers, by name
Call'd Custome, when she saw her, did exclaime,
O Madam Psyche, Iove your honour save:
VVhat doe you feele now, you a Mistresse have?
Or does your rashnesse, or your ignorant worth
Not know, the paines we tooke to find you forth?
Sweet, you shall for your stubbornesse be taught:
VVith that, rude hold upon her locks she caught,
And drag'd her in, and before Venus brought.
The second Section.
So soone as Venus saw her, she like one,
That looks 'twixt scorne, and indignation,
Rais'd a loud laughter, such as does proceed
From one, that is vext furiously indeed.
Then shaking of her head, biting her thumb,
She sayd, what my good daughter are you come
Your Mother to salute? But I beleeve,
You would your husband visite, who does grieve
For the late burne, with which you did inure
His tender shoulder, but yet rest secure;
I shall provide for you, nor will I swerve
From any needfull office you deserve.
Thus winking Venus did on Psyche leere,
And with such cruell kindnesse did her jeere.
Then for her entertainment, cryes, where are
My two rough hand-maids, Solitude, and Care?
They enter'd; she commands her hands to tye,
And take the poore mayd to their custody.
Which done accordingly, with whips they beate,
And her with torments miserably intreate.
Thus us'd, and in this shamefull manner dight,
They her, with scorne, reduce to Venus sight:
Who smiling said, 'tis more then time, that I
Should set my Nymphs all to worke sempstery,
And make your Baby-clouts: why this is brave,
And you shall Iuno for your Mid-wife have.
VVhere will you lye in? how farre are you gone?
That's a great motive to compassion.
And I my stile must rather boast, than smother,
That in my youth shall be call'd Grandmother.
But by your leave, I doubt these Marriages,
That are solemniz'd without witnesses:
Without consent of friends, the parties state
Vnequall to, are scarse legitimate,
And so this child, they shall a bastard call:
If yet thou bringst forth any child at all.
Then to begin with some revenge, she rose;
And all her ornaments did discompose,
And her discolour'd Gowne in peices pull,
And what soever made her beautifull.
But least her sufferings should all passive be,
She turnes her punishment to industry,
And takes of severall Seedes, a certaine measure;
Wheat, Barley, Oates, and a confused treasure
Of Pease, and Lentiles, then all mixt, did poure
Into one heape; with a prefixed houre,
That ere her selfe should on our Hemispheare,
That might, as the bright evening Starre appeare.
Psyche each Graine should rightly segregate,
A tasque for twenty to elaborate.
This worke assign'd, Venus from thence did passe,
To a Marriage Feast, where she invited was.
Poore Psyche all alone amaz'd did stand,
Nor to this labour would once set her hand:
In her owne thoughts judging her selfe unable,
To vanquish that, was so inextricable;
When loe, a numerous multitude of Ants,
Her neighbours, the next feilds inhabitants,
Came thronging in, sent thether by some power,
That pitty tooke on Cupids Paramour.
Nor would that wrong should be without defence,
And hated Venus for her insolence.
All these by an instinct together met,
Themselves in a tumultuous method set
On worke, and each graine Arithmetically
Substract, devide, and after multiply.
And when that this was done, away they fled:
Each graine being by its kind distinguished.
That looks 'twixt scorne, and indignation,
Rais'd a loud laughter, such as does proceed
From one, that is vext furiously indeed.
Then shaking of her head, biting her thumb,
She sayd, what my good daughter are you come
Your Mother to salute? But I beleeve,
You would your husband visite, who does grieve
For the late burne, with which you did inure
His tender shoulder, but yet rest secure;
I shall provide for you, nor will I swerve
From any needfull office you deserve.
Thus winking Venus did on Psyche leere,
And with such cruell kindnesse did her jeere.
Then for her entertainment, cryes, where are
My two rough hand-maids, Solitude, and Care?
They enter'd; she commands her hands to tye,
And take the poore mayd to their custody.
Which done accordingly, with whips they beate,
And her with torments miserably intreate.
Thus us'd, and in this shamefull manner dight,
They her, with scorne, reduce to Venus sight:
Who smiling said, 'tis more then time, that I
Should set my Nymphs all to worke sempstery,
And make your Baby-clouts: why this is brave,
And you shall Iuno for your Mid-wife have.
VVhere will you lye in? how farre are you gone?
That's a great motive to compassion.
And I my stile must rather boast, than smother,
That in my youth shall be call'd Grandmother.
That are solemniz'd without witnesses:
Without consent of friends, the parties state
Vnequall to, are scarse legitimate,
And so this child, they shall a bastard call:
If yet thou bringst forth any child at all.
Then to begin with some revenge, she rose;
And all her ornaments did discompose,
And her discolour'd Gowne in peices pull,
And what soever made her beautifull.
But least her sufferings should all passive be,
She turnes her punishment to industry,
And takes of severall Seedes, a certaine measure;
Wheat, Barley, Oates, and a confused treasure
Of Pease, and Lentiles, then all mixt, did poure
Into one heape; with a prefixed houre,
That ere her selfe should on our Hemispheare,
That might, as the bright evening Starre appeare.
Psyche each Graine should rightly segregate,
A tasque for twenty to elaborate.
This worke assign'd, Venus from thence did passe,
To a Marriage Feast, where she invited was.
Poore Psyche all alone amaz'd did stand,
Nor to this labour would once set her hand:
In her owne thoughts judging her selfe unable,
To vanquish that, was so inextricable;
When loe, a numerous multitude of Ants,
Her neighbours, the next feilds inhabitants,
Came thronging in, sent thether by some power,
That pitty tooke on Cupids Paramour.
Nor would that wrong should be without defence,
And hated Venus for her insolence.
Themselves in a tumultuous method set
On worke, and each graine Arithmetically
Substract, devide, and after multiply.
And when that this was done, away they fled:
Each graine being by its kind distinguished.
Venus now from the Nuptiall feast was come,
Her breath perfum'd with wine, and Balsamum,
Her body was with twines of Mirtles bound,
Her head with Garlands of sweet Roses crown'd.
And seeing this accomplisht taske, she said
Huswife, twas not your handy worke convay'd
These seedes in order thus; but his, that still
Persists in love; to thine, and his owne ill.
Then on the ground she threw a crust of bread,
For Psyches supper, and so went to bed.
Cupid the while, in a backe roome was put
Vnder the same roofe, and in prison shut:
A punishment for his old luxury,
Least he with Psyche should accompany:
And so by too much strayning of his side,
Might hurt his wound, before twas scarrify'd:
But when the Rosie morning drew away,
The sable curtaine, which let in the day,
Venus to Psyche calls, and bids awake,
Who standing up, she shewes to her a Lake;
Environ'd with a rock, beyond whose steepe
And craggy bottome, graz'd a flock of sheepe:
They had no shepheard, them to feede, or fold,
And yet their well growne fleeces were of gold.
Pallas sometimes, the pretious lockes would cull,
To make great Iuno vestures of the wooll:
Fetch me, sayes Venus, some of that rich haire,
But how you'll doe it, I nor know, nor care.
Psyche obayes, not out of hope to win,
So great a prize, but meaning to leape in,
That in the marish she might end her life,
And so be free'd from Venus, and her strife:
When drawing neere, the wind inspired reed,
Spake with a tunefull voice. Psyche take heed,
Let not despaire, thee of thy soule beguile,
Nor these my waters with thy death defile:
But rest thee heere, under this Willow tree,
That growing drinkes of the same streame with me;
Keepe from those sheepe, that heated with the sun,
Rage like the Lyon, or the Scorpion;
None can their stony browes, nor hornes abide,
Till the dayes fire be somewhat qualifi'd.
But when the vapour, and their thirst is quencht,
And Phebus horses in the Ocean drencht,
Then you may fetch, what Venus does desire,
And find their fleecy gold on every bryer:
Th' oraculous Reed full of humanity,
Thus from her hollow wombe did Prophesie:
And she observing strictly what was taught,
Her apron full of the soft mettle brought,
And gave to Venus; yet her gift, and labour,
Gayn'd no acceptance, nor found any favour.
I know the author of this fact, sayes she,
How 'twas the price of his adultery.
But now I will a serious tryall make,
Whether you doe these dangers undertake
With courage, and that wisedome you pretend.
For see that lofty Mountaine, whence descend
Black-colour'd waters, from earths horrid dennes,
And with their boylings wash the Stygian fennes.
From thence augment Cocytus foaming rage,
And swell his channell with their surplussage.
Goe now, and some of that dead liquor skim,
And fill this Christall Pitcher to the brim:
Bring it me straight, and so her browes did knit,
Threatning great matters, if she fail'd of it.
With this injunction Psyche went her wayes,
Hoping even there to end her wretched dayes.
But comming neere to the prefixed place,
Whose height did court the clouds, & lowest base,
Gave those black streames their first originall,
That wearing the hard rocks, did headlong fall
Into the Stygian vallies, underneath
She saw a fatall thing, and full of death.
Two watchfull Dragons the straight passage kept,
Whose eyes were never seal'd, nor ever slept.
The waters too said something, Psyche, flye;
What doe you here? depart, or you shall dye.
Psyche with terrour of the voyce dejected,
And thought of that might never be effected,
Like Niobe, was chang'd into a stone,
In body present, but her minde was gone.
And in the midst of her great griefe, and feares,
Could not enjoy the comfort of her teares.
When Iove, whose still protecting providence
Is ever ready to helpe innocence:
Sent the Saturnian Eagle, who once led
By Loves impulsion, snatcht up Ganimed
To be Ioves Cup-bearer, from Ida hill,
And ever since bore Cupid a good-will:
And what he could not to his person show,
Resolv'd upon his Mistresse to bestow.
Then with Angelick speed, when he had left
The Ayres high tracts, and the three Regions cleft,
Before her face he on the meadow sate,
And said, alasse, thou inconsiderate,
And foolish Maid, returne back, goe not nigh
Those sacred streames, so full of majesty.
What hope hast thou those waters to procure,
VVhich Iove himselfe does tremble to abjure?
No mortall hand may be allowd to touch,
Much lesse to steale a drop, their power is such.
Give me the Pitcher, she it gave; he went
To Styx, and fain'd that Venus had him sent.
Psyche the Vrne did to his tallons tye,
Then with his plumed oares poiz'd equally,
He lets it sinke betwixt the very jawes
Of those fierce Dragons, and then up it drawes,
And gives it Psyche; she the same convay'd
To Venus, yet her paines were ill apayd.
Nothing her rage might expiate, but still
The end of one, begins another ill.
For ought, sayes Venus, that I gather can,
You are a VVitch, or some Magitian.
What else can be concluded out of these
Experienc'd impossibilities?
If your commerce be such then, you may venter
Boldly to Hell, and when you there shall enter,
Me to my cousen Proserpine commend,
And in my name intreat her, she would send
Some of her Boxe of beauty to me; say,
So much as may suffice me for a day:
Excuse me to her, that my owne is spent,
I know not how, by an ill accident.
I am asham'd to speake it, but 'tis gone,
And wasted all in curing of my sonne.
But be not slack in your returne; for I
Must with the gods feast of necessity.
Nor can I thither goe, without disgrace,
Till I have us'd some art unto my face.
Psyche conceiv'd now, that her life, and fate,
And fortunes all were at their utmost date,
Being by Venus cruelty thrust on,
Towards a manifest destruction:
Which she collects by argument, that thus
With her owne feete, must march to Tænarus.
Her breath perfum'd with wine, and Balsamum,
Her body was with twines of Mirtles bound,
Her head with Garlands of sweet Roses crown'd.
And seeing this accomplisht taske, she said
Huswife, twas not your handy worke convay'd
These seedes in order thus; but his, that still
Persists in love; to thine, and his owne ill.
Then on the ground she threw a crust of bread,
For Psyches supper, and so went to bed.
Cupid the while, in a backe roome was put
Vnder the same roofe, and in prison shut:
A punishment for his old luxury,
Least he with Psyche should accompany:
And so by too much strayning of his side,
Might hurt his wound, before twas scarrify'd:
But when the Rosie morning drew away,
The sable curtaine, which let in the day,
Venus to Psyche calls, and bids awake,
Who standing up, she shewes to her a Lake;
Environ'd with a rock, beyond whose steepe
And craggy bottome, graz'd a flock of sheepe:
They had no shepheard, them to feede, or fold,
And yet their well growne fleeces were of gold.
Pallas sometimes, the pretious lockes would cull,
To make great Iuno vestures of the wooll:
But how you'll doe it, I nor know, nor care.
Psyche obayes, not out of hope to win,
So great a prize, but meaning to leape in,
That in the marish she might end her life,
And so be free'd from Venus, and her strife:
When drawing neere, the wind inspired reed,
Spake with a tunefull voice. Psyche take heed,
Let not despaire, thee of thy soule beguile,
Nor these my waters with thy death defile:
But rest thee heere, under this Willow tree,
That growing drinkes of the same streame with me;
Keepe from those sheepe, that heated with the sun,
Rage like the Lyon, or the Scorpion;
None can their stony browes, nor hornes abide,
Till the dayes fire be somewhat qualifi'd.
But when the vapour, and their thirst is quencht,
And Phebus horses in the Ocean drencht,
Then you may fetch, what Venus does desire,
And find their fleecy gold on every bryer:
Th' oraculous Reed full of humanity,
Thus from her hollow wombe did Prophesie:
And she observing strictly what was taught,
Her apron full of the soft mettle brought,
And gave to Venus; yet her gift, and labour,
Gayn'd no acceptance, nor found any favour.
I know the author of this fact, sayes she,
How 'twas the price of his adultery.
But now I will a serious tryall make,
Whether you doe these dangers undertake
With courage, and that wisedome you pretend.
For see that lofty Mountaine, whence descend
And with their boylings wash the Stygian fennes.
From thence augment Cocytus foaming rage,
And swell his channell with their surplussage.
Goe now, and some of that dead liquor skim,
And fill this Christall Pitcher to the brim:
Bring it me straight, and so her browes did knit,
Threatning great matters, if she fail'd of it.
With this injunction Psyche went her wayes,
Hoping even there to end her wretched dayes.
But comming neere to the prefixed place,
Whose height did court the clouds, & lowest base,
Gave those black streames their first originall,
That wearing the hard rocks, did headlong fall
Into the Stygian vallies, underneath
She saw a fatall thing, and full of death.
Two watchfull Dragons the straight passage kept,
Whose eyes were never seal'd, nor ever slept.
The waters too said something, Psyche, flye;
What doe you here? depart, or you shall dye.
Psyche with terrour of the voyce dejected,
And thought of that might never be effected,
Like Niobe, was chang'd into a stone,
In body present, but her minde was gone.
And in the midst of her great griefe, and feares,
Could not enjoy the comfort of her teares.
When Iove, whose still protecting providence
Is ever ready to helpe innocence:
Sent the Saturnian Eagle, who once led
By Loves impulsion, snatcht up Ganimed
To be Ioves Cup-bearer, from Ida hill,
And ever since bore Cupid a good-will:
Resolv'd upon his Mistresse to bestow.
Then with Angelick speed, when he had left
The Ayres high tracts, and the three Regions cleft,
Before her face he on the meadow sate,
And said, alasse, thou inconsiderate,
And foolish Maid, returne back, goe not nigh
Those sacred streames, so full of majesty.
What hope hast thou those waters to procure,
VVhich Iove himselfe does tremble to abjure?
No mortall hand may be allowd to touch,
Much lesse to steale a drop, their power is such.
Give me the Pitcher, she it gave; he went
To Styx, and fain'd that Venus had him sent.
Psyche the Vrne did to his tallons tye,
Then with his plumed oares poiz'd equally,
He lets it sinke betwixt the very jawes
Of those fierce Dragons, and then up it drawes,
And gives it Psyche; she the same convay'd
To Venus, yet her paines were ill apayd.
Nothing her rage might expiate, but still
The end of one, begins another ill.
For ought, sayes Venus, that I gather can,
You are a VVitch, or some Magitian.
What else can be concluded out of these
Experienc'd impossibilities?
If your commerce be such then, you may venter
Boldly to Hell, and when you there shall enter,
Me to my cousen Proserpine commend,
And in my name intreat her, she would send
Some of her Boxe of beauty to me; say,
So much as may suffice me for a day:
I know not how, by an ill accident.
I am asham'd to speake it, but 'tis gone,
And wasted all in curing of my sonne.
But be not slack in your returne; for I
Must with the gods feast of necessity.
Nor can I thither goe, without disgrace,
Till I have us'd some art unto my face.
Psyche conceiv'd now, that her life, and fate,
And fortunes all were at their utmost date,
Being by Venus cruelty thrust on,
Towards a manifest destruction:
Which she collects by argument, that thus
With her owne feete, must march to Tænarus.
In this delusive agony she rose,
And by degrees, up to a Turret goes,
Whose top orelook't the hills, it was so high,
Resolv'd to tumble headlong from the skie:
Conceiting as her fancy did her feed,
That was the way to goe to Hell indeed.
But then a suddaine voice to her did call,
Which brake out of the cavernes of the wall,
That said, ah coward wretch, why dost thou yeeld
To this last labour, and forsake the field?
Whilst Victory her Banner does display,
And with a profer'd Crowne, tempts thee to stay.
The way to Hell is easie, and the gate
Stands ope; but if the soule be separate
Once from the body, true, she goes to Hell:
Not to returne, but there for ever dwell.
Vertue knows no such stop, nor they, whom Iove
Either begot, or equally does love.
Now list to me, there is a fatall ground
In Greece, beyond Achaia's farthest bound,
Neare Lacedemon, famous for the rape
Paris on Hellen made, and their escape.
Tis quickly found; for with its steemy breath
It blasts the fields, and is the port of death.
The path, like Ariadnes clue does guide
To the darke Court, where Pluto does abide:
And if you must those dismall regions see,
Then carry in your hand a double fee.
For Charon will doe nothing without money;
And you must have sops made of meale, and honey.
It is a doubtfull passage, for there are
Many Decrees, and Lawes peculiar
Must strictly be observ'd, and if once broke,
No ransome, nor entreaty can revoke.
Nor is there prosecution of more strife,
But all are penall statutes on your life.
The first that you shall meete with, as you passe,
Is an old man come driving of an asse,
Decrepid as himselfe, they both shall sweat
VVith their hard labour, and he shall intreat,
That you would helpe his burthen to unty;
But give no eare, nor stay when you goe by.
And next you shall arrive without delay
To slow Avernus Lake, where you must pay
Charon his wastage, as before I said,
For avarice does live among the dead:
And a poore man, though tyde serve, and the wind,
If he no stipend bring, must stay behind.
Here as you sayle along, you shall see one
Of squalid hue, they call Oblivion,
Heave up his hands, and on the waters floate,
Praying, you would receive him in your Boate:
But know, all those that will in safety be,
Must learne to disaffect such piety.
When you are landed, and a little past
The Stygian Ferry, you your eyes shall cast,
And spy some busie at their wheele, and these
Are three old women, call'd the Destinies;
They will desire you, to sit downe, and spin,
And shew your owne lifes thread upon the pin.
Yet are they all but snares, and doe proceed
From Venus malice, to corrupt your creed.
For should you lend your helpe to spin, or card,
Or meddle with their dislaffe, your reward
Might perhaps slip out of your hand, and then
You must hope never to come back againe.
Next, a huge Mastiffe shall you see, before
The Palace-gate, and Adamantine dore
That leads to Dis, who when he opens wide
His triple throate, the ghosts are terrifi'd
With his loud barkins, which so farre rebound,
They make all Hell to Eccho with their sound:
Him with a morsell you must first asswage,
And then deliver Venus Embassage.
For Proserpine shall kindly you intreat,
And will provide a banquet, and a seat.
But if you sit, sit on the ground, and taste
None of her dainties, but declare in haste
VVhat you desire, which she will straight deliver:
Then with those former rules, passe backe the river.
Give the three-headed dogge his other share,
And to the greedy Marriner his fare.
Keepe fast these precepts whatsoere they be,
And thinke on Orpheus, and Euridice.
But above all things, this observe to doe,
Take heed, you open not, nor pry into
The beauties Boxe, else shall you there remaine;
Nor see this Heaven, nor these Starres againe.
The stone inclosed voyce, did friendly thus
Psyche forewarne, with signes propitious.
And by degrees, up to a Turret goes,
Whose top orelook't the hills, it was so high,
Resolv'd to tumble headlong from the skie:
Conceiting as her fancy did her feed,
That was the way to goe to Hell indeed.
But then a suddaine voice to her did call,
Which brake out of the cavernes of the wall,
That said, ah coward wretch, why dost thou yeeld
To this last labour, and forsake the field?
Whilst Victory her Banner does display,
And with a profer'd Crowne, tempts thee to stay.
The way to Hell is easie, and the gate
Stands ope; but if the soule be separate
Once from the body, true, she goes to Hell:
Not to returne, but there for ever dwell.
Vertue knows no such stop, nor they, whom Iove
Either begot, or equally does love.
In Greece, beyond Achaia's farthest bound,
Neare Lacedemon, famous for the rape
Paris on Hellen made, and their escape.
Tis quickly found; for with its steemy breath
It blasts the fields, and is the port of death.
The path, like Ariadnes clue does guide
To the darke Court, where Pluto does abide:
And if you must those dismall regions see,
Then carry in your hand a double fee.
For Charon will doe nothing without money;
And you must have sops made of meale, and honey.
It is a doubtfull passage, for there are
Many Decrees, and Lawes peculiar
Must strictly be observ'd, and if once broke,
No ransome, nor entreaty can revoke.
Nor is there prosecution of more strife,
But all are penall statutes on your life.
The first that you shall meete with, as you passe,
Is an old man come driving of an asse,
Decrepid as himselfe, they both shall sweat
VVith their hard labour, and he shall intreat,
That you would helpe his burthen to unty;
But give no eare, nor stay when you goe by.
And next you shall arrive without delay
To slow Avernus Lake, where you must pay
Charon his wastage, as before I said,
For avarice does live among the dead:
And a poore man, though tyde serve, and the wind,
If he no stipend bring, must stay behind.
Here as you sayle along, you shall see one
Of squalid hue, they call Oblivion,
Praying, you would receive him in your Boate:
But know, all those that will in safety be,
Must learne to disaffect such piety.
When you are landed, and a little past
The Stygian Ferry, you your eyes shall cast,
And spy some busie at their wheele, and these
Are three old women, call'd the Destinies;
They will desire you, to sit downe, and spin,
And shew your owne lifes thread upon the pin.
Yet are they all but snares, and doe proceed
From Venus malice, to corrupt your creed.
For should you lend your helpe to spin, or card,
Or meddle with their dislaffe, your reward
Might perhaps slip out of your hand, and then
You must hope never to come back againe.
Next, a huge Mastiffe shall you see, before
The Palace-gate, and Adamantine dore
That leads to Dis, who when he opens wide
His triple throate, the ghosts are terrifi'd
With his loud barkins, which so farre rebound,
They make all Hell to Eccho with their sound:
Him with a morsell you must first asswage,
And then deliver Venus Embassage.
For Proserpine shall kindly you intreat,
And will provide a banquet, and a seat.
But if you sit, sit on the ground, and taste
None of her dainties, but declare in haste
VVhat you desire, which she will straight deliver:
Then with those former rules, passe backe the river.
Give the three-headed dogge his other share,
And to the greedy Marriner his fare.
And thinke on Orpheus, and Euridice.
But above all things, this observe to doe,
Take heed, you open not, nor pry into
The beauties Boxe, else shall you there remaine;
Nor see this Heaven, nor these Starres againe.
The stone inclosed voyce, did friendly thus
Psyche forewarne, with signes propitious.
The last Section.
So soone as Psyche got all things together,
That might be usefull for her going thither,
And her returne, to Tanarus she went,
And the Infernall passage did attempt:
VVhere all those strange, and fatall prophesies
Accomplisht were in their occurrences.
For first she passes by with carelesse speed,
The old man, and his Asse, and gave no heed
Either unto his person, or desire.
And next she payes the Ferry-man his hire;
And though Oblivion, and the Fates did woe her,
VVith many strong temptations, to undoe her,
Vlisses like, she did their prayers decline,
And came now to the house of Proserpine.
Before the Palace was a stately Court,
Where forty Marble-pillars did support
The roofe, and frontis-piece, that bore on high
Pluto's owne statue, grav'd in Ebony.
His face, though full of majesty, was dim'd
With a sad cloud, and his rude throne untrim'd:
His golden Scepter was eate in with rust,
And that againe quite overlayd with dust.
Ceres was wrought him by, with weeping eyne,
Lamenting for the losse of Proserpine.
Her daughters rape was there set downe at full,
Who while that she too studiously did pull
The purple Violet, and sanguine Rose,
Lillies, and low growne Pansies; to compose
Wreathes for the Nymphes, regardles of her health
'Twas soone surpriz'd, and snacht away by stealth.
Forc'd by the King of the infernall powers,
And seem'd to cry, and looke after her flowers.
Enceladus was strecht upon his backe,
While Plutoes Horse hoofes, and coach did wracke
His bruised body. Pallas did extend
The Gorgons head. Delia her bow did bend;
And Virgins both, their Vncle did defy
Like Champions, to defend virginity.
The Sun, and Stars were wrapt in sable weedes,
Dampt with the breath, of his Tænarian Steedes.
All these, and more were portray'd round about,
VVhich filth defac'd, or time had eaten out.
Three headed Cerberus the gate did keepe,
VVhom Psyche with a sop first layd to sleepe;
And then went safely by, where first she saw
Hells Iudges sit, and urging of the law:
The place was parted in two severall wayes,
The right hand to Elysium convayes;
But on the left, were malefactors sent,
The seate of tortures, and strange punishment.
There Tantalus stands thirsty to the chin,
In water, but can take no liquor in.
Ixion too, and Sisiphus; the one
A wheele, the other turnes a restlesse stone.
A Vulture there on Titius does wreake
The Gods just wrath, and pounding with his beake,
On his immortall liver still does feed,
For what the day does wast, the night does breed:
And other soules are forced to reveale,
VVhat unjust pleasures they on Earth did steale;
Whom fiery Phlegeton does round inclose,
And Stix his waves does nine times interpose.
The noyse of whipps, and Furies, did so fright
Poore Psyches eares, she hasted to the right.
That path way straight, for on each side there grew
A Grove of mournefull Cypresse, and of Yew:
It is the place of such as happy dye.
There, as she walked on, did Infants cry,
Whom cruell death snacht from their teats away,
And rob'd of sweet life, in an evill day.
There Lovers live, who living here, were wise;
And had their Ladies, to close up their eyes.
There Mighty Heroes walke, that spent their bloud,
In a just cause, and for their Countries good.
All these beholding through the glimering ayre,
A mortall; and so exquisitely faire,
Thicke as the motes, in the Sun beames came running
To gaze, and know the cause too of her comming;
Which she dissembled; onely askt to know,
Where Pluto dwelt, for thither she must goe:
A guide was straight assign'd, who did attend,
And Psyche brought safe to her journies end,
Who being entred, prostrate on her knee,
She humbly tenders Venus Embassy.
Great Plutoes Queene presented to her guest,
A Princely Throne to sit on, and a feast,
Wishing her tast, and her tyr'd limbes refresse,
After her journey, and her wearinesse.
Psyche excus'd it, that she could not stay,
And if she had her arrant would away.
That might be usefull for her going thither,
And her returne, to Tanarus she went,
And the Infernall passage did attempt:
VVhere all those strange, and fatall prophesies
Accomplisht were in their occurrences.
For first she passes by with carelesse speed,
The old man, and his Asse, and gave no heed
Either unto his person, or desire.
And next she payes the Ferry-man his hire;
And though Oblivion, and the Fates did woe her,
VVith many strong temptations, to undoe her,
Vlisses like, she did their prayers decline,
And came now to the house of Proserpine.
Before the Palace was a stately Court,
Where forty Marble-pillars did support
The roofe, and frontis-piece, that bore on high
Pluto's owne statue, grav'd in Ebony.
His face, though full of majesty, was dim'd
With a sad cloud, and his rude throne untrim'd:
His golden Scepter was eate in with rust,
And that againe quite overlayd with dust.
Lamenting for the losse of Proserpine.
Her daughters rape was there set downe at full,
Who while that she too studiously did pull
The purple Violet, and sanguine Rose,
Lillies, and low growne Pansies; to compose
Wreathes for the Nymphes, regardles of her health
'Twas soone surpriz'd, and snacht away by stealth.
Forc'd by the King of the infernall powers,
And seem'd to cry, and looke after her flowers.
Enceladus was strecht upon his backe,
While Plutoes Horse hoofes, and coach did wracke
His bruised body. Pallas did extend
The Gorgons head. Delia her bow did bend;
And Virgins both, their Vncle did defy
Like Champions, to defend virginity.
The Sun, and Stars were wrapt in sable weedes,
Dampt with the breath, of his Tænarian Steedes.
All these, and more were portray'd round about,
VVhich filth defac'd, or time had eaten out.
Three headed Cerberus the gate did keepe,
VVhom Psyche with a sop first layd to sleepe;
And then went safely by, where first she saw
Hells Iudges sit, and urging of the law:
The place was parted in two severall wayes,
The right hand to Elysium convayes;
But on the left, were malefactors sent,
The seate of tortures, and strange punishment.
There Tantalus stands thirsty to the chin,
In water, but can take no liquor in.
Ixion too, and Sisiphus; the one
A wheele, the other turnes a restlesse stone.
The Gods just wrath, and pounding with his beake,
On his immortall liver still does feed,
For what the day does wast, the night does breed:
And other soules are forced to reveale,
VVhat unjust pleasures they on Earth did steale;
Whom fiery Phlegeton does round inclose,
And Stix his waves does nine times interpose.
The noyse of whipps, and Furies, did so fright
Poore Psyches eares, she hasted to the right.
That path way straight, for on each side there grew
A Grove of mournefull Cypresse, and of Yew:
It is the place of such as happy dye.
There, as she walked on, did Infants cry,
Whom cruell death snacht from their teats away,
And rob'd of sweet life, in an evill day.
There Lovers live, who living here, were wise;
And had their Ladies, to close up their eyes.
There Mighty Heroes walke, that spent their bloud,
In a just cause, and for their Countries good.
All these beholding through the glimering ayre,
A mortall; and so exquisitely faire,
Thicke as the motes, in the Sun beames came running
To gaze, and know the cause too of her comming;
Which she dissembled; onely askt to know,
Where Pluto dwelt, for thither she must goe:
A guide was straight assign'd, who did attend,
And Psyche brought safe to her journies end,
Who being entred, prostrate on her knee,
She humbly tenders Venus Embassy.
Great Plutoes Queene presented to her guest,
A Princely Throne to sit on, and a feast,
After her journey, and her wearinesse.
Psyche excus'd it, that she could not stay,
And if she had her arrant would away.
But Proserpine reply'd, you doe not know
Faire Mayd, the joyes and pleasures are below,
Stay and possesse, what ever I call mine,
For other Lights, and other Starres doe shine
VVithin our-territories, the day's not lost,
As you imagine, in the Elysian coast.
The Golden Age, and Progeny is heere,
And that Fam'd Tree, that does in Autumne beare
Clusters of Gold, whose Apples thou shalt hoard,
Or each meale, if thou please, set on the board.
The Matrons of Elysium at thy becke,
Shall come and goe; and buried Queenes shall deck
Thy body, in more stately ornaments,
Then all Earths fayned Majesty presents:
The pale and squalid region shall rejoyce,
Silence shall breake forth a pleasant voice:
Sterne Pluto shall himselfe to mirth betake,
And crowned Ghosts shall banquet for thy sake;
New Lampes shall burne, if thou wilt here abide,
And nights thicke darkenesse shall be rarifi'd,
What ere the winds upon the Earth doe sweepe
Rivers, or Fennes embrace, or the vast deepe,
Shall be thy tribute; and I will deliver
Vp for thy Servant, the Lethean River:
Besides the Parcæ shall thy Hand-maides be,
And what thou speak'st, stand for a destiny.
Faire Mayd, the joyes and pleasures are below,
Stay and possesse, what ever I call mine,
For other Lights, and other Starres doe shine
VVithin our-territories, the day's not lost,
As you imagine, in the Elysian coast.
The Golden Age, and Progeny is heere,
And that Fam'd Tree, that does in Autumne beare
Clusters of Gold, whose Apples thou shalt hoard,
Or each meale, if thou please, set on the board.
The Matrons of Elysium at thy becke,
Shall come and goe; and buried Queenes shall deck
Thy body, in more stately ornaments,
Then all Earths fayned Majesty presents:
The pale and squalid region shall rejoyce,
Silence shall breake forth a pleasant voice:
Sterne Pluto shall himselfe to mirth betake,
And crowned Ghosts shall banquet for thy sake;
New Lampes shall burne, if thou wilt here abide,
And nights thicke darkenesse shall be rarifi'd,
What ere the winds upon the Earth doe sweepe
Rivers, or Fennes embrace, or the vast deepe,
Shall be thy tribute; and I will deliver
Vp for thy Servant, the Lethean River:
Besides the Parcæ shall thy Hand-maides be,
And what thou speak'st, stand for a destiny.
Psyche gave thankes; but did her plainely tell,
She would not be a Courtier unto hell:
When wondring that such honours did not please,
She offerd gifts, farre richer, then all these.
For as a Dowry, at her feet she laid
The mighty engines, which the world upwaigh'd,
And vow'd to give her immortality,
And all the pleasures, and the royalty
Of the Elysian Fields; which wisely she
Refus'd, for Hell, with all their power, and skill,
Though they allure, they cannot force the will:
She would not be a Courtier unto hell:
She offerd gifts, farre richer, then all these.
For as a Dowry, at her feet she laid
The mighty engines, which the world upwaigh'd,
And vow'd to give her immortality,
And all the pleasures, and the royalty
Of the Elysian Fields; which wisely she
Refus'd, for Hell, with all their power, and skill,
Though they allure, they cannot force the will:
This vext faire Proserpine, any should know
Their horrid secrets, and have power to show,
Vnto the upper world, what she had seene
Of Hell, and Styx, of Pluto, and his Queene,
Yet since she might not her owne lawes withstand,
She gave the boxe of beauty in her hand.
And Psyche, with those precepts us'd before,
The Sunnes bright beames did once againe adore
Then, as she thought, being out of all controule,
A curious rashnesse did possesse her soule,
That slighting of her charge, and promis'd duty,
She greatly itcht, to adde to her owne beauty;
Saying, ah foole, to beare so rich a prize,
And yet through feare, dost envy thine owne eyes
The happy object, whose reflexion might,
Gaine thee some favour, in young Cupids sight:
The voyce forbad me, but I now am free,
From Venus vision, and Hells custody.
And so without all scruple, she unlocks,
And lets forth the whole treasure of the boxe,
VVhich was not any-thing to make one faire,
But a meere Stygian, and infernall ayre;
Whose subtle breathings through her pores did creepe,
And stuft her body with a cloud of sleepe,
Their horrid secrets, and have power to show,
Vnto the upper world, what she had seene
Of Hell, and Styx, of Pluto, and his Queene,
Yet since she might not her owne lawes withstand,
She gave the boxe of beauty in her hand.
And Psyche, with those precepts us'd before,
The Sunnes bright beames did once againe adore
Then, as she thought, being out of all controule,
A curious rashnesse did possesse her soule,
That slighting of her charge, and promis'd duty,
She greatly itcht, to adde to her owne beauty;
Saying, ah foole, to beare so rich a prize,
And yet through feare, dost envy thine owne eyes
The happy object, whose reflexion might,
Gaine thee some favour, in young Cupids sight:
The voyce forbad me, but I now am free,
From Venus vision, and Hells custody.
And so without all scruple, she unlocks,
And lets forth the whole treasure of the boxe,
VVhich was not any-thing to make one faire,
But a meere Stygian, and infernall ayre;
And stuft her body with a cloud of sleepe,
But Cupid now, not able to endure
Her longer absence, having gain'd his cure,
And prun'd his ruffled wings, flew through the gate
Of his close prison, to seeke out his Mate:
Where finding her in this dull Lethargy,
He drew the foggy vapour from her eye,
And that her stupid spirits might awake,
Did all the drowsie exhalation shake
From off her sence; she shut it up, and seal'd
The Boxe so fast, it ne're might be reveal'd.
Next, with his harmlesse Dart, small as a pin,
He prick't the superficies of her skin:
Saying, what wondrous frailty does possesse
This female kind, or rather wilfulnesse?
For loe, thy foolish curiosity,
Has tempted thee againe to perjury.
VVhat proud exploit was this? what horrid fact?
Be sure, my mother Venus will exact
A strict accompt, of all that has beene done,
Both of thy selfe, and thy commission.
But yet for all this trespasse, be of cheere,
And in a humble duty persevere,
Detaine from Venus nought, that is her owne,
And for what else remaines, let me alone.
Thus Psyche by her Lover being sent,
And waxing strong, through his encouragement,
The Boxe of beauty unto Venus brings,
Whilst Cupid did betake him to his wings:
For when he saw his Mother so austere,
Forc'd by the violence of love, and feare,
He pierced the Marble concave of the sky,
To Heaven appeal'd, and did for Justice cry;
Pleading his cause, and in the sacred presence
Of Iove himselfe, did his Love-suit commence.
Her longer absence, having gain'd his cure,
And prun'd his ruffled wings, flew through the gate
Of his close prison, to seeke out his Mate:
Where finding her in this dull Lethargy,
He drew the foggy vapour from her eye,
And that her stupid spirits might awake,
Did all the drowsie exhalation shake
From off her sence; she shut it up, and seal'd
The Boxe so fast, it ne're might be reveal'd.
Next, with his harmlesse Dart, small as a pin,
He prick't the superficies of her skin:
Saying, what wondrous frailty does possesse
This female kind, or rather wilfulnesse?
For loe, thy foolish curiosity,
Has tempted thee againe to perjury.
VVhat proud exploit was this? what horrid fact?
Be sure, my mother Venus will exact
A strict accompt, of all that has beene done,
Both of thy selfe, and thy commission.
But yet for all this trespasse, be of cheere,
And in a humble duty persevere,
Detaine from Venus nought, that is her owne,
And for what else remaines, let me alone.
Thus Psyche by her Lover being sent,
And waxing strong, through his encouragement,
The Boxe of beauty unto Venus brings,
Whilst Cupid did betake him to his wings:
For when he saw his Mother so austere,
Forc'd by the violence of love, and feare,
To Heaven appeal'd, and did for Justice cry;
Pleading his cause, and in the sacred presence
Of Iove himselfe, did his Love-suit commence.
Iove at his sight, threw by his rayes, so pure,
That no eyes but his owne might them endure:
Whom Cupid thus bespake: Great Iove, if I
Am borne your true, and lawfull progeny:
If I have playd betweene your armes, and sate
Next to your selfe, but since growne to a state
Of riper yeeres, have beene thought fit to beare
An equall sway, and move in the same speare
Of honour with you, by whose meanes, both men,
And gods have trembled at my Bow, as when
Your selfe have darted thunder-bolts, and slaine
The earth bred Gyants, in the Phlegrian Plaine.
And when in severall scales my shafts were layd
With your owne Trident, neither has out-waigh'd.
I come not now, that you should either give,
Confirme, or adde to my prerogative.
But setting all command, and power aside,
Desire by law, and justice to be try'd.
For whither else should I appeale? or bring
My cause, but to your selfe, that are a King,
And father to us all, and can dispence
What right you please, in Court, and Conscience?
I have beene wrong'd, and must, with griefe indite
My Mother of much cruelty, and spight
To me, and my poore Psyche: there's but one,
In the whole world, that my affection,
And fancy likes, where others doe enjoy
So many; the diversity does cloy
Their very appetite: yet who but owes
All his delight to me? and Venus knows,
By her owne thoughts, the uncontrouled fire
That reignes in youth, when love does him inspire.
Yet she without all pitty, or remorse,
Me, and my Mistresse, labours to divorce.
I covet no ones spouse, nor have I taken
Anothers Love; there's not a man forsaken,
Or god, for my sake, that bewayles his deare,
Or bathes his spoyled bosome with a teare:
Then why should any, me, and my Love sever?
That joyne all other hearts, and loves together?
Iove heard him out, and did applaud his speach,
And both his hand, and Scepter to him reach.
Then calling Cupid, his smooth fingers layd
On his Ambrosiack cheeke, and kissing sayd,
My little youngster, and my sonne, 'tis true;
That I have never yet receiv'd from you
Any due reverence, or respective meed,
Which all the other gods to me decreed.
For this my heart, whose high preheminence
Gives Edicts to the Starres, and does dispence
The like to Nature, your fine hand the while,
With earthly lusts still labours to defile;
And contrary to publick discipline,
And 'gainst all lawes, both Morall, and Divine,
Chiefly the Iulian, thou dost fill mine eyes
With many foule, and close adulteries.
For how ofttimes, have I through vaine desire
Beene chang'd to beasts, birds, serpents, and to fire:
Which has procur'd ill censures, and much blame,
And hurt my estimation, and my fame:
Yet being pleas'd with this thy foolish sport,
I'me loath to leave it, though I'me sorry for't;
And on condition thou wilt use thy wit,
In my behalfe, and minde the benefit,
I will performe all thy demands: if when
Thou seest faire Damsells on the earth agen,
Remembring thou wast brought up on my knee,
That every such Mayd thou wilt bring to mee.
That no eyes but his owne might them endure:
Whom Cupid thus bespake: Great Iove, if I
Am borne your true, and lawfull progeny:
If I have playd betweene your armes, and sate
Next to your selfe, but since growne to a state
Of riper yeeres, have beene thought fit to beare
An equall sway, and move in the same speare
Of honour with you, by whose meanes, both men,
And gods have trembled at my Bow, as when
Your selfe have darted thunder-bolts, and slaine
The earth bred Gyants, in the Phlegrian Plaine.
And when in severall scales my shafts were layd
With your owne Trident, neither has out-waigh'd.
I come not now, that you should either give,
Confirme, or adde to my prerogative.
But setting all command, and power aside,
Desire by law, and justice to be try'd.
For whither else should I appeale? or bring
My cause, but to your selfe, that are a King,
And father to us all, and can dispence
What right you please, in Court, and Conscience?
I have beene wrong'd, and must, with griefe indite
My Mother of much cruelty, and spight
To me, and my poore Psyche: there's but one,
In the whole world, that my affection,
And fancy likes, where others doe enjoy
So many; the diversity does cloy
All his delight to me? and Venus knows,
By her owne thoughts, the uncontrouled fire
That reignes in youth, when love does him inspire.
Yet she without all pitty, or remorse,
Me, and my Mistresse, labours to divorce.
I covet no ones spouse, nor have I taken
Anothers Love; there's not a man forsaken,
Or god, for my sake, that bewayles his deare,
Or bathes his spoyled bosome with a teare:
Then why should any, me, and my Love sever?
That joyne all other hearts, and loves together?
Iove heard him out, and did applaud his speach,
And both his hand, and Scepter to him reach.
Then calling Cupid, his smooth fingers layd
On his Ambrosiack cheeke, and kissing sayd,
My little youngster, and my sonne, 'tis true;
That I have never yet receiv'd from you
Any due reverence, or respective meed,
Which all the other gods to me decreed.
For this my heart, whose high preheminence
Gives Edicts to the Starres, and does dispence
The like to Nature, your fine hand the while,
With earthly lusts still labours to defile;
And contrary to publick discipline,
And 'gainst all lawes, both Morall, and Divine,
Chiefly the Iulian, thou dost fill mine eyes
With many foule, and close adulteries.
For how ofttimes, have I through vaine desire
Beene chang'd to beasts, birds, serpents, and to fire:
Which has procur'd ill censures, and much blame,
And hurt my estimation, and my fame:
I'me loath to leave it, though I'me sorry for't;
And on condition thou wilt use thy wit,
In my behalfe, and minde the benefit,
I will performe all thy demands: if when
Thou seest faire Damsells on the earth agen,
Remembring thou wast brought up on my knee,
That every such Mayd thou wilt bring to mee.
Cupid assents, then Iove bids Maya's sonne,
Publish a royall Proclamation,
Through the Precincts of Heaven, and call at once
A generall councell, and a Sessions,
That the whole bench, and race of Deities,
Should in their severall rankes, and pedegrees,
Repaire straight to his Court, this to be done,
In paine of Ioves displeasure, and a summe
Of money to be laid upon his head,
And from his lands, and goods belevied,
If any god should dare himselfe absent,
For any cause, from this great Parliament:
And that whoever had his name i'th' booke,
His fyne, but his excuse should not be tooke.
This being nois'd abroad, from every where,
The lesser gods came thronging out of feare,
And the Celestiall Theater did thwack,
That Atlas seem'd to groane under his pack.
Then Iove out of his Ivory throne did rise,
And thus bespake them: Conscript Deities,
For so the Muses with their whitest stone,
Have writ your Names, and Titles, every one.
You know my Nephew Cupid; for the most
Of us, I'me sure, have felt him to our cost:
Whose youthfull heat I have still sought in vaine,
And his licentious ryot to restraine.
But that his lewd life be no farther spread,
His lusts, nor his corruptions published.
I hold it fit, that we the cause remove,
And bind him in the fetters of chast love:
And since that he has made so good a choice,
Of his owne wife, let each god give his voice,
That he enjoy her, and for ever tye
Vnto himselfe, in bands of Matrimony.
Then unto Venus turning his bright face,
Daughter, he sayes, conceive it no disgrace,
That Psyche marries with your sonne; for I,
That where I please, give immortality,
Will alter her condition, and her state,
And make all equall, and legitimate.
With that, command to Mercury was given,
That he should fetch faire Psyche unto Heaven:
And when that she into their presence came,
Her wondrous beauty did each god inflame.
Publish a royall Proclamation,
Through the Precincts of Heaven, and call at once
A generall councell, and a Sessions,
That the whole bench, and race of Deities,
Should in their severall rankes, and pedegrees,
Repaire straight to his Court, this to be done,
In paine of Ioves displeasure, and a summe
Of money to be laid upon his head,
And from his lands, and goods belevied,
If any god should dare himselfe absent,
For any cause, from this great Parliament:
And that whoever had his name i'th' booke,
His fyne, but his excuse should not be tooke.
This being nois'd abroad, from every where,
The lesser gods came thronging out of feare,
And the Celestiall Theater did thwack,
That Atlas seem'd to groane under his pack.
Then Iove out of his Ivory throne did rise,
And thus bespake them: Conscript Deities,
For so the Muses with their whitest stone,
Have writ your Names, and Titles, every one.
You know my Nephew Cupid; for the most
Of us, I'me sure, have felt him to our cost:
And his licentious ryot to restraine.
But that his lewd life be no farther spread,
His lusts, nor his corruptions published.
I hold it fit, that we the cause remove,
And bind him in the fetters of chast love:
And since that he has made so good a choice,
Of his owne wife, let each god give his voice,
That he enjoy her, and for ever tye
Vnto himselfe, in bands of Matrimony.
Then unto Venus turning his bright face,
Daughter, he sayes, conceive it no disgrace,
That Psyche marries with your sonne; for I,
That where I please, give immortality,
Will alter her condition, and her state,
And make all equall, and legitimate.
With that, command to Mercury was given,
That he should fetch faire Psyche unto Heaven:
And when that she into their presence came,
Her wondrous beauty did each god inflame.
Then Jove reacht forth a cup with Nectar fraught,
And bad her be immortall with the draught:
So joyn'd them hand in hand, and vow'd beside,
That she with her deare Cupid should abide;
Ne're to be separate; and more t'enlarge
His bounty, made a Feast at his owne charge,
Where he plac'd Cupid at the upper end,
And amorous Psyche on his bosome lean'd.
Next sate himselfe, and Iuno, then each guest,
And this great Dinner was by Vulcan drest.
The Graces strewd the roome, and made it smile
With blushing Roses, and sweet flowers; the while
The spheares danc'd harmony. Apollo ran
Division on his Harpe, Satyr, and Pan
Play'd on their Pipes: the Quire of Muses sang,
And the vast concave of Olimpus rang,
VVith pious acclamations to the Bride;
And joy'd that Psyche was thus deify'd.
Hermes, and Venus mov'd their gracefull Feet,
And did in artificiall measures meet;
The Phrygian boy fill'd wine at this great feast,
Only to Iove, and Bacchus to the rest.
And bad her be immortall with the draught:
So joyn'd them hand in hand, and vow'd beside,
That she with her deare Cupid should abide;
Ne're to be separate; and more t'enlarge
His bounty, made a Feast at his owne charge,
Where he plac'd Cupid at the upper end,
And amorous Psyche on his bosome lean'd.
Next sate himselfe, and Iuno, then each guest,
And this great Dinner was by Vulcan drest.
The Graces strewd the roome, and made it smile
With blushing Roses, and sweet flowers; the while
Division on his Harpe, Satyr, and Pan
Play'd on their Pipes: the Quire of Muses sang,
And the vast concave of Olimpus rang,
VVith pious acclamations to the Bride;
And joy'd that Psyche was thus deify'd.
Hermes, and Venus mov'd their gracefull Feet,
And did in artificiall measures meet;
The Phrygian boy fill'd wine at this great feast,
Only to Iove, and Bacchus to the rest.
Thus Cupid had his love, and not long after,
Her wombe by Iuno's helpe, brought forth a daughter.
A child, by nature different from all,
That laught when she was borne, and men did call
Her Pleasure; one, that does exhilarate
Both Gods, and men, and does her selfe dilate
Through al societies, chiefly the best,
VVhere there is any tryumph, or a feast.
Shee was the Authour, that did first invent
All kinds of sport, conceits, and meriment:
And since to all mens humours does incline,
Whether, that they be sensuall, or Divine.
Is of a modest, and a loose behaviour,
And of a setled, and a wanton favour:
Most dangerous, when she appeares most kind,
For then shee'll part, and leave a sting behind:
But happy they, that can her still detaine,
For where she is most fixt, she is least vaine.
Her wombe by Iuno's helpe, brought forth a daughter.
A child, by nature different from all,
That laught when she was borne, and men did call
Her Pleasure; one, that does exhilarate
Both Gods, and men, and does her selfe dilate
Through al societies, chiefly the best,
VVhere there is any tryumph, or a feast.
Shee was the Authour, that did first invent
All kinds of sport, conceits, and meriment:
And since to all mens humours does incline,
Whether, that they be sensuall, or Divine.
Is of a modest, and a loose behaviour,
And of a setled, and a wanton favour:
Most dangerous, when she appeares most kind,
For then shee'll part, and leave a sting behind:
But happy they, that can her still detaine,
For where she is most fixt, she is least vaine.
FINIS.
| Cvpid and Psiche | |