The History Of the Most Vile Dimagoras :: :: University of Virginia Library

The History Of the Most Vile Dimagoras

Who by Treachery and Poison blasted the incomparable Beauty of Divine Parthenia: Inter-woven with the History of Amoronzo and Celania. By John Quarles

Quarles, John (1624-1665)

[dedication]

[section]

THE HISTORY OF Dimagoras,

II.

III.

IV.

Collapse All | Expand All expand section

THE HISTORY OF Dimagoras,

Interwoven with the History OF AMORONZO AND CELANIA.

BOOK I.

When Argalus no longer could abide
'Tis greif, not news to say, Parthenia dy'd;
Fates sad Decrees are not to be rever'st
Oth liv'd, both lov'd, both dy'd, and that's the worst,

But that which non-plust most that troubled Age,
Was that Dimagoras out-liv'd the rage
Of much incensed Argalus, whose fame
For noble Acts, advanc'd his honor'd name
Almost beyond extr'ordinary, and made
Conquest grow customary, yet 'tis said
That poor perplexed Argalus lay dead
Buried in greif, whilst vile Dimagoras fled
Unprosecuted, and for this respect
Some say Parthenia charg'd him with neglect;
But 'tis well known that Authors may incline
To errors, by mistake, and so does mine:
But this suspected matter is best try'd
By real hearted Lovers that abide
The like misfortune, for Parthenia's breath
Blasted with greif was fading into death,
And should distressed Argalus then goe
From his dear-dying Love, to seek a Foe
He knew not where, alas! he was at strife
Whether to lose Parthenia, or his life;
Suppose he had, to prosecute his rage,
Usurpt a sad and groaning pilgrimage,
And left his dear affections to the care
Of her own thoughts, then crowded with despair,
What then? at his return he might have found
His labour lost, Parthenia under ground:

But I'le desist, and recollect my thoughts,
That Love is only rare, that has no faults.
'Tis not my taxe to treat upon the dead,
But to persue Dimagoras that's fled,
We know not where, yet close persuit and time
May bring reward to his unheard of Crime.
My blood-hound Muse shall ransack all about
Till we have found this worst of Villains out,
And then we'le give what we can best afford,
A pen oft times cuts deeper then a Sword.

Frightn'd with his own fears, Dimagoras flies
He knows not where, and in his flight he cryes
He knows not why, and in his cryes, he vents
A flood of tears, then deep-mouth'd oaths prevent
A further deluge, then a curse succeeds
That hoast of oaths, and then he thinks his deeds
Are so Authentick, that he needs not flye,
Nor fear, nor swear, nor curse, nor grieve, nor dye;
But having claim'd the respite of a pause,
He thus discourst, Dimagoras thy cause
Is just and good, disturb not then thy mind
'Tis fit that men, when women prove unkind,
Should be as cruel, 'tis well known, thy fame
Thy worth, thy honor, might have lay'd a claim
To her deserts, what though her beauty swell'd
Beyond a Venus, what though she excell'd

Her Sex in wit, what though her ample parts
Did ravish, nay monopolize the Arts?
Art thou not rich, and great? is not thy Land
Unbounded, nay, and canst not thou command
Armies to wait thy pleasure? and wilt thou
Basely degenerate, and fondly bow
Unto a womans frowns, 'twas but a deed
Proportion'd to her fault, and wilt thou bleed
These inward drops? come, contemn thy pain
And grief, thou canst not act it or'e again.
Did not her tender hearted Mother grieve
To see thy sorrows, lab'ring to relieve
Thy sad extreamities, did not her care,
Her skill, her wit, endeavor to prepare
Parthenia's heart, and yet obdurate she
Learn'd to deny, by importunitie:
Her mother oft would say, ah who can find
The vast dimensions of a womans mind,
There's not a day, an hour, much less a minute,
That brings them not an alteration in it:
They're like unfixed Stars, that always move,
They hate to day, what they to morrow love:
But if the influence of one single Star,
Can so disorder man to make him jarr
With his own reason, nay, bid sense adieu,
Oh! what will then a Constellation do:

Thus walking, talking, pausing altogether,
His heedless feet brought him he knew not whither
But gazing towards the West, he soon espy'd
The aged day was grown so heavy-ey'd,
That being almost destitute of Light,
It shrunk away, and bid the world good-night;
Whil'st silent Vesper modestly exprest
A speedy reason for approaching rest,
To which Dimagoras yielding, soon repos'd
Upon his Mothers virdent lap, and clos'd
His slumbring eye lids, whil'st the whispering wind
And the conspiring leaves, as t'were combin'd
To grace his slumbers, but his panting breast
Being grown Stranger to accustom'd rest,
Denotes an inward conflict; for each part
Seems to disclaim the motions of his heart,
And at the twy-light of his dawning eye
His ears were entertained with a cry
Half drown'd in tears, and then a drilling tone
Would seem to be a trebble to each groan,
But at the last, these cryes, these groans, encreas'd
Into a voice distinct, and after ceas'd
Their wordless tones, and being well refin'd
Into a speech they cry'd Oh thou unkind
And most accursed Catiffe, dost thou live
T'out-brave revenge, or cannot vengeance give

Reward to villany, or hast thou got
A counter-mand to contradict thy lot,
Or are the Gods forgetful, can they see
A vessel laden with impiety
And yet not sink it, or did they create thee
Without a Soul, and so forget to date thee?
Is there no time for punishment; Oh thou
That thinkst thy self secure, and wilt allow
Of no contrition, know the time draws near
When horrid-ill-shap'd Vengeance shall appear
Ugly, beyond it self, and shall express
The life of horror in a lively dresse,
She's now attiring, and her robes shall be
Flame-colour'd, trim'd with lavish tyranny,
Her hair dishelving from her flaming head
Shall be hot-burning wyre, which shall be spread
Over her spacious shoulders; in her face
Shall be black spots of envy and disgrace,
Her eyes like fatal Comets, shall out flame
Two Firmaments of Brimstone, and thy name
Shall by the dreadful thunder of her tongue
Startle, even Hell it self, and live among
T'infernal Furies, and for ever be
An adding plague unto their misery;
Thy woes shall swell into so large a score
That quick invention shall invent no more.

Even as the weather-glass, which being prest
By a warm hand, its water cannot rest
But shrinks away, and hides it self, as 'twere
Within it self, yet will at last repair
(The hand remov'd) into its proper place,
Even such was sad Dimagoras his case,
His Spirits shrunk away being touch'd with fear,
His fear persu'd with guilt, made him appear
A senseless living statue, yet at length
Receiving some of his declining strength
He rais'd himself, and with a feeble tone
Began to speak; had not a sudden groan
Prevented th'inundation of his words
He had proceeded, but his grief affords
No speedy utt'rance, therefore he was forc'd
To walk, and leave the matter undiscours'd.
Thus walking to and fro his trembling brest
Strongly inclin'd him to a second rest,
But his perswasive fears would not allow
The least refreshment to his willing brow;
At last oppressed with a sudden gail
Of sighs, his wearied feet began to fail,
And in a melancholly valley, there
Repos'd Dimagoras, but not his fear,
His fear instructs him that his eyes behold
Strange visions, & his trembling heart grows cold

For as the Sea which cannot be at peace
Upon a sudden, though the tempest cease
Even so Dimagoras, though the former blast
Of his fierce rage was moderately past,
Yet his innated violence was such,
That like the living plant, at every touch
He shrunk into despair, and here we find
The dangerous Issues of a troubled mind:
And thus the flames of his encreasing fires
(Blown by the bellows of his own desires)
Consumes his reason, and his former deeds
Present themselves, he raging thus proceeds.

Oh ye immortal Powers, why have ye sent
So much of trouble, and so small content
Into my boiling breast, ah must my life
Become a woful Laborinth of strife!
Why do I live? since every moment brings
A thousand Serpents, with ten thousand stings
To torture me, and whilst I study why
And what I live for, I despair to dye?
What greater curse than this did ere attend
Mortality, how often must I spend
My sighs, my groans upon the idle air,
And hear no other language but despair,
Despair, and dye Dimagoras, 'tis a death
Nay worse, to live, go quarrel with thy breath:

Didst thou not hear thy most unequal'd Fate
Thund'red, nay worse, into thy eares of late,
Yet do'st thou dare to live, resolve, and dye,
And make the Devil guilty of a Lye.

Dost thou observe how yonder spreading tree
Would fain be proud to bear such fruit as thee,
Take courage in thy ruine, haste away,
He feeds a danger most that loves delay,
And he that lives for fear of being dead,
Spins out his grief unto the smallest thread.
What greater torment is then self-grief?
And what more Charity then self-relief?
Triffle no more, 'tis childish to complain,
And easier far to dye than live in pain.
Courage Dimagoras, come, march towards that place
Of speedy ease with a delightful grace;
Dost thou relent, what has a sudden wind
Rais'd a new tempest in thy stormy mind?
Wilt thou recede, fye, fye, spur up thy will
To a more certainty, why stand'st thou still?
Let not the dull commands of flesh and blood
Deterre thy heart from so approv'd a good.
Suppose thou sawst a wretch stretchd out at length
Upon the rack, and having spent his strength
In tedious groans, yet would refuse to be
(Though much entreated) set at liberty;

Wouldst thou not stile him mad, and say his grief
Was due desert that should deny relief
So freely proffer'd; Is not now thy case
The very same, thou knowst thou mayst displace
Thy Sorrows in a moment, yet thy heart
Combines with fear, and will not let them part;
Resolve, resolve, and let thy speedy breath
Express, 'tis better dye, than live in death.

Thus said, and thus resolv'd, he wastes no time,
But with extended armes, attempts to climb
The lofty tree, but ere he could aspire
Unto the height of his too rash desire,
His trembling arms disclaim'd their idle hold
And down he fell, and being down, his cold
And much affrightned senses thought it fit
To leave him reason equal to his wit.
There lay new-dropt-Dimagoras, till a Knight
And his enamored Lady put to flight
By adverse fortune, chanc'd to passe that way
Where dead, (as they suppos'd) Dimagoras lay,
But Fate Decreed it otherwise; for now
His almost sensless thoughts were pausing how
He came so low, nor could he think or tell
How he climb'd up the Tree, nor how he fell,
But turning on his back, his dazzled sight
Seem'd to assure him that the armed Knight

Was daring Argalus, and when his eye
Observ'd the beauteous Lady standing by,
His trembling heart inforc'd his tongue to say
Oh Argalus, oh wrong'd Parthenia!
And there he stopt, as if his heart had swore
After Parthenia's name to speak no more,
But yet the pleasure of her name did seem
Like a reviving Cordial to redeem
His senses from captivity, and thus
Outragiously he cryed, O Argalus!
Oh most divine Parthenia, here, here, lyes
The perfect mirror of all villanies,
'Twas I, 'twas I, conducted by the flame
Of my own lust, and clothed with the shame
Of my own crimes, that did attempt to do
A deed, that none but Hell, advis'd me to:
'Twas I, 'twas wretched I, that did commence
A wicked suite against thine Innocence!
Ah poor Parthenia, how did I delude
Thy ravish'd mind, and barbarously intrude
Upon thy privacy, and made thee know
(Instead of bliss expected) perfect woe;
Thy heart conceived that the joyful summe
Of all thy hopes, thy Argalus was come,
But all in vain, for thy deceived Love
Met with a Serpent seeking for a Dove.

Could I restore—And there his feeble voice
Chang'd, and recoy'ld into a dreadful noise:
With that the Knight being suddenly amaz'd
Stood silent for a time, and only gaz'd
Upon this dreadful object, but at length.
Being bold in courage, he imploy'd his strength
To raise him from the earth, which having done
Bold in a new attempt, he thus begun.

What art thou, say what art thou, that dost thus
Unman thy self to be afraid of us
That would be courteous, and redress thy grief
Wouldst thou be capable of our relief;
Let thy dull reason credit what we say,
I am not Argalus, nor I Parthenia
Reply'd the Lady: At which words he rais'd
His frenzy head, and for a while he gaz'd,
And then his lavish tongue began to cry
Oh Argalus, oh blest Parthenia, why
Why do ye thus torment a Ghost that strayes
It knows not where, these unaccustom'd ways
Prove dreadful to me, but me thinks I spye
By those pale looks ye' are Ghosts as well as I:
Oh do but hand me to the Elizian plains
Where ye recide, and lead me from these pains,
These racks, these tortures, oh what torments wait
Upon the ruines of a cursed state,

But stay, me thinks I see—And there his eyes
Decay'd, and seemingly Dimagoras dyes:
The courteous Knight perceiving by discourse
It was the strength of passion did divorce
His senses from their faculties, grew sad
To think no means, no med'cine could be had
To bring him from his trance, till at the last
His charitable Lady that had past
Much time in trouble, having heard the vain
And strange effusions of his idle brain,
Takes forth a glasse, within whose brittle wall
There was inclos'd a Spirit could recall
Revolted sense, then with a stretch'd out hand
She calls her Page, and gives him strict command
To take the glasse, and presently convey
Some drops into his mouth, and hast away:
The trembling Page with an affrighted look
(Obedient to his Ladyes pleasure) took
The proffer'd glass, and with a fearful speed
Approach'd Dimagoras and perform'd the deed,
Which being done, Dimagoras compos'd
Of nothing less then reason, soon disclos'd
His buried eyes, and gazing round about
(Pufft up with rage) his fury thus broke out,
Ye dreadful Tyrants is there all extent,
No diminution of my punishment;

Must I Epitomize your Plagues, did I
To humour you, thus play the fool, and dye
Before my time, I thought in pleasing you
To consummate those plagues which now renew:
I'm licenc'd by my torments, and I'le chide
Your dam'd injustice, were not you my guide
That led me hither, did not you advise me
To kill my self, and will ye thus dispise me?
Must plagues be my reward, must I be plough'd
And harrow'd with my torments, not allow'd
A minutes ease, are these, are the gains
That I was largely promis'd from my pains?
Oh Hell, and there his well-oath'd tongue let fall
A liberal showr, then he begun to call
Upon Parthenia, oh Parthenia, thou
That I abus'd on earth, how doest thou now
Plague my abuses, oh that I could boast
Of so much comfort, as to see thy Ghost
And ask forgiveness, how content I'd lye
In the dull shades of blind obscurity,
I know, I know, thy patience would engage
Thy Argalus to mittigate his rage:
Alas, my suff'rings much out run the power
Of my distracted patience, every hour
Brings every Plague, oh how I am opprest,
Parthenia's pardon gives Dimagoras rest,

But ah in vain, with that his gazing eye
Staring about did suddenly espye
His former objects which rejoyc'd him more
Then all his tortures tortur'd him before:
It was that amorous Pair which only stay'd
T'expect the Issue, whilst Dimagoras made
(After obeisance) more then usual speed,
And on his bended knees did thus proceed,

Oh ye immortal Ghosts that do inherit
Th'Elizian plains with a contented spirit,
Deign to behold, and do not frown to see
Your Prostitute upon his bended knee
Craving your pardon, which if I obtain
'Twill prove Physitian to a world of pain,
Deny me not, but ah Parthenia move
In my behalf, thy dear, thy dearest Love,
Thy constant Argalus, let him not rest
Till he has granted my enforc'd request:
At which the Knight, turning his head aside,
To break a long-keept smile; Dimagoras cry'd
Oh Argalus do not remove those sweet,
Those pleasing looks, but let my sorrows meet,
With thy calcining pity, pity take
Though not for mine, yet for Parthenia's sake.
Whereat the Knight (whose ears could not abide
The fierce Artillery of his tongue) reply'd,

Vain Self-deluder why dost thou devest
Thy troubled Spirits of their liberal rest?
Thy actions have inform'd me, and I can
Declare, thou art no Ghost, nay scarce a man,
Forget thy folly, strive to banish hence
Thy idle fancies, and recall thy sense
Into its proper Sphere, and cease to be
Deluded into cruel vanity;
Come hither, take my hand, and you shall find
That I am tangible, and that my mind
Is troubled for thee, view me well, and see
If thou canst call to mind my Phisnomie,
Observe this tender Lady, and you'l know
Whether she be Parthenia or no;
Nay start not back, approach, such Ghosts will do
No harm at all, especially to you:
At which Dimagoras with a fixed eye
Star'd in her lovely face, and seem'd t'espye
Something he knew, but yet his troubled sense
(Much discomposed) could not say from whence
Those Fancies should arise, but yet at length
Having arrived to a little strength
Of long absented reason, he confess'd
His shameful folly, whilst he thus exprest:

I am unghosted, and I now behold
What my amazed senses lately told

My heart ye are, and if I do mistake
Pardon I crave for Amoronzo's sake
Rare beauty: and if my request hall seem
Absurd, oh Amoronzo stand between
Your dear Celania's anger, and my brest;
For if she frown Dimagoras lives unblest:
With that, much-pleased Amoronzo took
Dimagoras by the hand, and with a look
As stedfast as his heart, he thus begun;
Unfortunate Dimagoras thou hast run
A most preposterous course, for at this time
Thy Land is in an uproar, and the crime
Falls upon thee, the blood that has bin spilt
Cryes out aloud, and testifies thy guilt;
Return, return, and let thy warlike hands
Mow down the courage of th' Arcadian bands,
Thy absence gives advantage, every hour
Thou stay'st, thou givest addition to their power,
Nay wonder not, nor do not stand to grieve
Or shake thy head, but practise to believe
Believe thy friend: And if thy low-ebb'd Fate
Wants those materials that become thy state,
Thou hast a friend, a friend, that will impart
The secrt Counsels of a faithful heart,
And if my weak instructions will allow
Advantage to thy will, I'le teach thee how

Thou shalt redeem thine honour, let's repair
To more conveniency, and I'le declare:

To which Dimagoras (being now supply'd
With an indifferent reason) thus reply'd;
True Friend, your words distilling from a brest
So full of truth instructs me not to jest
With my own fortune, I confess, the late
And sad disturbance of my inward state
Hath made me much incapable to be
A Favorite to my self; but since I see
Your liberal goodness which does truly tend
To my advice, Il'e own you as my friend;
And if my future fortunes chance to fall
In ballance with my wish, I only shall
Gaze at a distance, with a pleasing view,
And look upon those fortunes through you;
But since extreamities does now require
Action, not words, I'le cease, and we'l retire;
But stay, I know not where, for since that day
I lost my self, I never found my way,
But hark, what noise is this that seems t'affright
My new-come sense, come, let's provide for flight;
Flight, oh most horrid, oh most dismall word
That cuts and wounds much deeper then a Sword,
(Reply'd the Knight) and if I meet with Foes
That dare encounter, I shall dare oppose

Could they command the Cyclops to impail
And guard them round, I'd dye, or else prevail;
Look here Dimagoras (taking by the hand
His dear Celania, canst thou understand
These speaking looks, whose very thoughts advance
The dullest Soul above the reach of chance;
But let's retire, for hark, the noise I hear
Encreases more, because it draws more near;
Let's hast to yonder valley, where a while
I'le leave my dear Celania to beguile
The time with Prayers, and if you please, my Lord
Dimagoras, but to favour and afford
Your chearful company to my divine
And dear Celania, you will much incline
My heart to thank you; and for thee my sweet
And most indulgent Love, could I but meet
With thy consent, how quickly would I fly
Upon my Foes, and bring thee victory,
But ah those silent Streames that trickle down
Thy too too liquid Cheeks do almost drown
My hopes in deep despair, thy tears (my Dear)
Are worse then poysned darts, and do appear
Like Seas (but more outragious) for the flood
Of thy moist eye is not to be withstood,
And if the sullen world would learn t'invent
A way to kill me, let it but consent

To woe thee to a tear, a frown, a cry,
And let me see't, and then, I conquer'd dye,
Then clear those clouded Skies, and let me see
The Sun-shine of a smile, and I will be
More joyful then those Persians which adore
The rising Sun, grant this, I'le ask no more,
Nor canst thou grant a greater boon then this,
For ah thy smiles, my Joy, are all my bliss,
Ah do not speak in tears, nor let a glut
Of sighs make sorrow cheap, each sigh does cut
My very intralls, and my wounded heart
Transfixt with briny tears begins to smart;
'Tis in thy power t'extenuate my cares,
Cure me with smiles, or kill me with thy tears.

Have ye not seen with what a watry eye
After a shower the Sun begins to prye
Upon the earth, as if his bashful ray
Were grown asham'd to look upon the day,
Even so Celania gazed on the face
Of Amoronzo with a bashful grace,
Before the lustre of whose eye there stood
(Ready to be dissolv'd into a flood)
Some Chrystall bubbles which Eclip'st her light,
And sometimes dropt, yet would not rain downright
But at the last, poor Lover, she confines
Her tears, and for a time she spoke by signs,

But when she saw that Amoronzo went
To arm himself, sad Lady, then she sent
Both words, and sighs, and tears, whilst in her arms
She held him fast, and thus begun her charms.
Dear Amoronzo why dost thou deceive me,
Pretend to love, and yet intend to leave me,
Oh speak my joy, tell me my high-priz'd Treasure
What have I done to merit thy displeasure?
Alas thy poor Celania never knew
Disloyal flames, and when she proves untrue
To Amoronzo, may she ever be
A Prostitute to lustful villanie;
But ah (my Dearest) say what mean those Arms
Those Symptomes of departure, what Alarms
Hath lately frightned thee to these extreames,
'Tis too, too true, oh that they were but dreams:
Thou shalt not go, oh pity my sad heart,
I'd rather dye, then let my life depart.
The trembling wretch that's thrown into the deep
Unsensible of what he does, will keep
Fast hold of what he takes, as loath to dye,
Ah so does he my Love, and thus do I:
Couldst thou but spell my sighes & read my tears,
Thou soon wouldst apprehend how many fears
Flow in upon me, for alas I know
Nothing but grief (my Dear) thou shalt not go.

Oh that my tears were manacles to bind thee
Unto my Soul, then were I sure to find thee,
Dear do not leave me, but let pity move
Thy hand to kill, or else thy heart to Love,
For be assur'd there's nothing can delay
My speedy ruine, but thy speedy stay;
But since thy pleasure must be done, not mine,
Dear Amoronzo I must thus—decline
And so farewell. Thus being almost drown'd
In floods of grief, she gently kist the ground;
With that the almost broken-hearted Lover
Whose dear affections caus'd him to discover
A world of sorrow, rais'd her from the ground
And with the Balsom of a kiss made sound
Her bleeding heart, and when he had divorst
Rude Passion from her sense. He thus discourst.

Tell me my dear Celania, why dost thou
Intail such sorrows on thy stormy brow,
Believe me Dearest, if I should deny
To love thy virtues, I deserv'd to dye:
The convertible terms of life and love
Meet both in me, my Joy, and if I prove
Unkind to thee, oh may all Plagues combine
To meet in one, and afterwards prove mine;
Dost thou not hear how danger does approach
And will, if not prevented, soon encroach

Upon our safeties, therefore, now, my Dear,
Let loose my close-lockt arm, and stay thou here
Till my return, which questionless will be
Crown'd with the joy of happy victorie,
Sigh not my Dear, believe't, each sigh propounds
Unto my Soul more then a thousand wounds,
Come let this welcome parting kiss express
And seal th' assurance of a good success.
Farewell, farewell ------
------ Dimagoras all this while
Stood lab'ring, as it were, to reconcile
Himself to his own thoughts, but wit and art
Were in-sufficient to defend his heart
From servile fear, his very Looks exprest
The dismall horrour of a throbbing brest,
Although to him no danger could appear,
He fear'd, because he know not what to fear,
So he that should have taught Celania's heart
To rest contented, caus'd his own to smart
And with a trembling hand he smote his brest,
He sigh'd, nay worse, he sobb'd, and thus exprest.

Shall triffling honour make me to dispose
My life unto the pleasure of my Foes:
Suppose that Amoronzo chance to fall
In this encounter, how should I inthrall

Both life and safety, for when they shall see
Celania accompany'd with me,
Their present fury will be sure to light
Upon my head, I'le therefore save by flight
What I shall lose by stay, but if so be
That Amoronzo should return, and see
His dear Celania weeping all alone
And I (suppos'd her Comforter) am gone,
What then? but I'le not stay, me-thinks I hear
A thousand Swords now clashing in my ear;
Farewell to Antique honour, 'tis at life
I aim, I hate this honourable strife,
Ile hasten to yon Cave, and there I'le lye
And hug my self in blest security.

Dimagoras being gone, there seem'd t'arise
A glimmering joy, (which blusht through extasies
Of grief and care) In poor Celania's face,
Glad that Dimagoras had left the place:
But this, this short-liv'd joy did quickly end,
Her thoughts being busied on her absent friend,
Her sad expecting heart begun to grow
Into extreams, her pallid lips let flow
A flood of language: If the Reader please
T'observe the streams, they are most sadly these.

Ah me, and then she sigh'd, alas, and there
She wept, sad heart, and then she dry'd that tear

With a suceeding sigh: Oh stormy weather!
She wept, and sigh'd, she sigh'd, & wept together,
The sensless rocks at each alternate groan
Did seem to Sympathize, and sadly moan;
My Dear, my Life she cryes, my All, nay more,
If more may be, oh how I could adore
Thy empty shaddow, but I wish in vain
For that which is impossible to gain,
He's gone, he's gone, & there she wrang her hands
And tore her hair, whil'st on her cheeks there stands
The fruitful Issue of her brim fill'd eyes,
To Emblemize her real miseries;
She breath'd a while, but only to obtain
The more advantage how to grieve again.

Have ye observ'd a Tempest how it seems
A present calm, yet suddenly redeems
A greater force, and with a sturdy blast
Gives satisfaction for the time that's past:
Even so Celania musters up her fears,
Prologu'd with sighes, and Epilogu'd with tears,
And with full-blasted sorrow she prevailes
Against her self, and thus her self assailes.
Her trembling hand tears off her flaxen hair,
And smites her Ivory brest, as if it were
Ordained for that use, and then she vents
In sighes, the grandure of her discontents,

And then the tides of passion overflow
The banks of reason, she resolves to go
She knows not where, but yet the place seems blest
Because it entertain'd so sweet a Guest
As Amoronzo, nay, the senseless ground
Where he had sate, her silent eyes had drown'd
In briny floods, at last, her store being spent,
Passion prevailed, and away she went;
She went away, yet at a distant space
She oft would stand, and gaze upon the place,
Fuel'd with two extreames, her Soul did burn,
First to depart, and after to return,
If she departed, then her grief would stray
Into a madness that she went away,
And if she staid, sorrow would more ensnare
Her heart, for Amoronzo was not there:
Will it not prove a Paradox to say
Celania stay'd, and yet she went away,
She had (poor Lady) when she did depart
Progressive feet, a retrograding heart,
But she is gone, judg, Reader, how opprest
Being misfortunes sad, and chiefest Guest,
What hand, what Pen can copy out her woe
That knows not where, nay, hardly how to go;
Is it not pity then to leave her here
In a strange place, where all things do appear

Like sad Conspirators and there conspire
To make encroaching misery intire;
Poor Lady I must leave her, yet I know
Her pardon will persue me, for I go
To meet her Amoronzo, who is now
Return'd with conquest shining on his brow:
But to relate the combate, or each blow
His valour, and the courage of his Foe,
Would prove too tedious, 'tis enough that we
Find him return'd with dear-bought victorie.
Accept kind Reader, what is now exprest,
When time shall ripen thou shalt taste the rest.

Poor Lover, with what joy his hasty feet
Approach'd the place with longing hopes to meet
His dear Celania, but his nimble eye
Lightning with flamy looks, could not espye
His hearts chief Object, then his thoughts begin
To be disturb'd, and mutiny within,
He now inclines to fear he knows not what,
Sometimes he thinks on this, sometimes on that,
But at the last with a dejected look
He spies her glove, which he most sadly took
And recommended to his lips, and there
Sate down, and bath'd it in an amorous tear:
Thou consort of my Soul sayes he, what place
Is now so blest to entertain the grace

Of thy delightful presence, oh that I
Were half so blest to be a Stander by;
Why stay'st thou from me, and dost not appear
Thou seemst far off, but yet I hope th'art near;
Wrong not my hopes, let me not be forsook,
For I am almost famish'd for a look,
Appear, appear, and let no longer stay
Affront my hopes (my Dearest) come away,
Ah must thy longing Amoronzo sit
Cloth'd with dispair, why comst not, what, not yet;
Not yet, art thou asleep? Then dream my Dear,
That thy beloved Amoronzo's here,
He's here, and laden with as much distress
As either heart can wish, or tongue express;
I'le wait a while, perhaps it is thy will
To steal upon me unawarres, and fill
My thoughts with sudden joy, thou dost me wrong
For I expect too soon, thou stay'st too long:
With that, he cast his prying eyes about,
Hoping to find his dear Celania out,
But all in vain, for fortune which did mean
To dwell some time upon this troubled Scene,
Presented him an object, which indeed
Caus'd not his eyes to weep, but heart to bleed:
The wind, being then in love, did seem t'adore,
And play with that Celania had tore

From her distracted head, I mean the fair
And bounteous wealth of her neglected hair,
Which Amoronzo spying, with a mind
Enrag'd he run, and snatch'd it from the wind;
Half mad, because quite angry, he begins
To take the wind with multiplyed sins.
Thou impious nothing, how durst thou (cryes he)
Play with a relique of more sanctitie
Then can be utter'd, if so be you must
Be sportful, go, and wanton with the dust:
But thus this Lover minding more the pleasure
Of his own fury, lost his new-got treasure;
For angry Boreas in a high disdain
Inforc'd it from his trembling hand again,
Away it flew, he gaz'd, and then begun
To start away, resolving to out-run
The winged wind, and for Celania's sake
He almost lost his breath, to win the Stake,
By this approv'd example we may find,
The wings of Love, are swifter then the wind.

After this first, short conflict, he retreats
Unto his former station, where he seats
His melancholly self, and then his heart
Begins to fall into the second part
Of his first grief, that sorrow, which before
Spoke all by whispers, now begins to roar,

Poor Lover, he despairs, for having found
Her gloves, her hair, her partlet on the ground
He falls from sighs, to words, from words, to tears
From tears, to groans, and then at last despairs:
Despair, that worst of evils, now sits crown'd
Queen regent in his thoughts, his thoughts abound
With several contradictions, nay, the wind
Is constant, if compared to his mind,
Sometimes he thought, for fear, she had bin fled
Into some Cave; and then, he thought her dead:
He looks upon her glove, and in conclusion
He thought himself into a sad confusion:
At last inclining to a serious pause,
He then resolv'd Dimagoras was the cause,
Then like a fierce Revenger, he persues
His name to death, whilst every thought renews
Revengful thoughts, & with his sharp-edg'd wrath
Wounds him with curses, stabs him with an oath,
Accursed hour (cryes he) when first my eyes
Observ'd that Monster of all villanies,
Could not his former deeds instruct my thoughts
To have a care, could not his latter faults,
Induce me to distrust him, well, I'le trace
The world but I'le revenge this foul disgrace.
But ah Celania how can I expect
Thy pardon, that have us'd thee with neglect,

Unhandsom Fate, if Amoronzo live
Heav'ns grant it be to practise how to give
A due reward to him whose very name:
Poysons my Soul, and fills my cheeks with shame;
I'le run, and ransack all the world about
Not sparing, Hell it self, to find thee out,
And question not but thy malicious fate
Will still preserve thee to endure my hate;
Good fortune be my guide I'le not delay
Nor lavish time, but presently away:
Where now we'l leave him, for Dimagoras cryes
To be discover'd in his miseries.

It so fell out that the Arcadian King
And all his Nobles, (as a usual thing
For relaxation of their minds) did ride
One day a hunting, when there was espy'd
A hideous Bear lye lurking in the shade
Watching her prey, but that the Huntsmen made
A near approach, and with a dexterous Art
Did almost wound this Monster to the heart:
The Bear thus wounded makes a speedy flight
Being close persu'd: The Huntsmen with delight
Observ'd her windings, but half spent, she took
Into a Thicket, and by chance forsook
Her close Persuers, till at last betray'd
By her own blood, the careful Huntsmen made

What speed they could, and forc'd her to retire
Into a Cave, whilst they forthwith conspire
T'intrape their gain, making where she should pass
A secret Concave mantl'd o're with grass,
Stopping all passages, that she must stay
Close penn'd up in the Cave, or pass that way:
At last she roar'd as able to affright
The eager Huntsmen from their close delight;
But on a sudden they unstopt the Cave
Expecting by her speedy flight, to have
The end of their desires, to which intent
They watch'd the place & (more then usual) spent
An hour in patience, and at last surrounded
The Cave, and most confusedly they sounded
Their several Horns, but nothing could express
The lest resemblance of a quick success:
At last th'impatient Huntsmen curst and swore
At their ill fortune, thinking to give o're,
But yet resolving first to seek about
Thinking their ill-lookt Pris'ner might get out
At some concealed place, but when their eyes
Had satisfy'd their hearts, they soon devise
A new design, which questionless had caus'd
Th' effecting of their wills had they not paus'd,
Or rather started at, a sudden cry
That seem'd to be, they know not where, nor why;

At last they hearkening with a stricter ear,
Being almost half astonished, did hear
A dreadful noise, which issued from the Cave
And made th' expecting Huntsmen madly rave
And curse their Fate, forbearing not to swear
It was a man enchaunted to a Bear:
Whil'st they were thus discoursing, there appears
A Monster (as they thought) compos'd of fears,
Who, careless of himself, with speed came running
Out of the Cave, perceiving not the cunning
Of his amazed Foes, but quickly fell
As he suppos'd, into the jaws of Hell,
Which they perceiving, soon begun to ban,
And vow the Bear was turn'd into a man;
Yet for the better satisfaction, they
Ran to the Cave, where they observ'd there lay
The ugly Monster, buried in the flood,
The little Ocean of her reeking blood:
Finding her dead, immediately they went
Unto the King. declaring the event
Of their designs, who forthwith gave command
That they in silence for a time should stand
About the pit, and there expect that night
The future Issue of so strange a sight:
Th'obedient Huntsmen nimble to obey
Their Kings command made present speed away:

And so arriving at the place, they made
Silence their friend, which suddenly betray'd
Sad groans unto their ears, and doleful cryes,
Ballast with oaths, and wing'd with blasphemies:
At last they heard a voice, much more enlarg'd
And more distinct, which suddenly discharg'd
It self into these words, unhappy I,
The abstract of unpattern'd villany,
Why was I born, since all things thus agree
To make compleated misery in me?
Or else is life and death late grown at odds,
Which shall torment me most? and are the Gods
Spectators of my woes? must I endure
The Plagues of two such ills, and not procure
The least refreshment? ah Parthenia, now
Thou takest revenge at large, but when wilt thou
Abreviate my Sorrows, that I may
See but the twy-light of one smiling day;
For now I am in Hell, but here I find
No Divel but my self, and yet my mind
And Soul is tortur'd, nay I see no light
Nor know no darkness, my distracted sight
Possesses me with such a double being
That I am blind in light, in darkness, seeing,
And here I live perplexed with a doubt
How I got in, but harder, to get out:

How happy had I been, if I had stay'd
With sad Celania in the pleasing shade,
Perhaps the Gods would then some pity take
If not for mine, for their Celania's sake;
But I, unhappy wretch, nay most unkind
Unto my friend, whose goodness was confin'd
To my distress, yet basely did I prove
(Prompted by fear) false t' Amoronzo's Love
His dear Celania; but alas too late
I here bewail my miserable state.
Now envy, hatred, malice, all contrive
To do your worsts, but keep me not alive,
Alas I cannot grieve for what is past,
As fast as you torment, I'le curse as fast.
Th'impatient Huntsmen, having thus endur'd
Their Kings commands, at length were well assur'd
The voice was humane, so, they having made
Nearer approach, they thus begun, and said.
What art thou, say what art thou, thus constraines
Our hearts to pity? who is that complains
Of his misfortune? If thou art a Man,
Desire our aide, we'l help thee if we can,
Starve not the issue of a good success,
They're fools that must be courted from distress,
Be free, and answer, let's not long expect,
Favours prove curses when they find neglect:

To which he (hearkening with a willing ear,
Tim'rous to speak, because afraid to hear)
At last reply'd: And can the Gods incline
To so much pity? ah this heart of mine
Dares not prove so much traytour to the state
I am now in, as fondly to create
The meanest relish of a hope, for me
That am the copy of all miserie,
The Current of my woes are too too strong
To be resisted, do me not that wrong
What e're ye are, as to perswade my brest
That I shall ever be so fully blest,
As to be meanly miserable, no,
My ebb of happiness, must never flow;
But if the pleasing Streams of sweet relief
Should drop upon me, 'tis beyond belief:
Alas I dare not give so large a scope
To my own thoughts, to credit my own hope;
For 'tis well known (especially to me)
The ground of hope is possibility:
I'le say no more, he is excus'd to grieve
That has no faith to hope, nor to believe:
The close Attendants hearing this discourse,
Being fully fraught, and laden with remorse,
Descend the Pit, desiring him to be
Assistant to his own felicitie,

But he whose banck-rupt hopes had lately found
The horror of despair, could not propound
The least of comfort to himself, the more
He was perswaded, he the less gave or'e
His hellish noise ------
------ Ye Furies that are sent curse
Cry'd he, to adde unto my punishment,
Draw near and hark with what a grace I'le
And scorn these Plagues which cannot make me worse
Could ye shoot fire and brimstone from your eyes
Into my Soul, oh how I would despise
Such triffling torments, go, and blush to see
Ye are out-divel'd by my miserie;
But stay, what strange, what new-created light
Is this that courteth my amazed sight?
What meanes this sudden change? or does a dream
Possess my brain, can nothing but extream
Delight or grief assault me, since my Fate
Is so much checquor'd, I'le a while await,
And with a patient quietness expect
Future events, but as for your respects
That stand before me, if good fortune chance
To fall upon me, I'le not fail t'advance
The merit of your worth; for though I lye
Lockt in the Arms of tyrant miserie,

Yet my estate and ample fortunes are
Exuberant to my wish, but I'le forbear
This fond discourse, be serious, tell me then,
Are ye not Divels in the shapes of men?
Pray tell me true? for they that go about
To do me good, must strive to help me out
Of this Infernal place, that so I may
Once more behold the pleasure of a day:
To which they said: Sir if you please to trust
Your safety in our hands, we will be just,
And by a speedy means we'l set you free,
From this most sad, and blind captivity;
Follow us then, and you shall quickly know
That we intend your good, pray let us go.

Away they went, and when the welcome light
Had blest their eyes, they all imploy'd their sight
To gaze upon him, in whose looks they saw
That fear kept all his faculties in aw,
Away they led him to the King, and told
What they had heard, and how he did unfold
The nature of his grief, and that his heart
(For lost Celania's sake) endur'd a smart
Extreamly great, because as he exprest,
He left her weeping wofully distrest:
He mention'd Amoronzo, and his tongue
Declar'd, 'twas he that did Parthenia wrong,

Which words we plainly hearing thought it meet,
To bring him to be prostrate at the feet
Of your renowned Majesty, that so
You might by his confession truly know
Where fair Celania (your dear Neece) was fled,
To which intention we have hither led
And here we leave him, joyful that our art
Procur'd this news to your concristed heart;
At which the King with a delightful look
Commands him to him, and when he had took
A strict Survey of his most gashful face,
He knew it was Dimagoras whose disgrace
Made him so odious to the eyes of all
The Standers by, that they begun to spawl
And spit upon him, biding him confess
Where lost Celania was, and what distress
He left her in, and then they would incline
To moderation, and with speed, confine
Their present fury, but if he deny'd
What they requir'd, he should prepare t'abide
As many plagues as mischief could invent:
To which Dimagoras gave a free consent,
And said. I saw (I must confess 'tis true)
Both Amoronzo and Celania too,
But where they were at present did exceed
The power of his knowledg, for the speed

Of his departure, made him not enquire
Of their designs, nor where they would retire;
But Amoronzo fled, I know not why,
Nor to what place, whil'st sad Celania's eye
Drench'd her discolour'd cheeks in briny tears,
And with a storm of sighes exprest her fears,
But all in vain, for he, hard-hearted he
Slighted her sad, her groaning miserie,
And so he left her (oh my heart did burn)
Without the least engagement to return.
He being gone, my weak endeavours strove
To make her quit the solatory Grove
Wherein he left her, and forbear to vent
Such floods of tears for him that was content
To leave her in distress, but all in vain,
The more I su'd, the less she would retain
The good of my perswasions, but did woe
My present absence, that her grief might flow
Without controlement, so at last I took
Unwilling leave, and presently forsook
The dismall place, and left her close confin'd
To the strict limits of a troubled mind,
Poor Lady, thus I left her all alone
For ah her looks engag'd me to be gone,
And this is all my knowledg can relate
Of her (poor Lady) too too ridged state,

To which the King, with an enraged brow
Reply'd, if this be all you can allow
Our expectations, you shall be our guest
Till time and torture make you speak the rest;
Haste him away, our leisure shall compose
A plot to make him speak the truth he knows.
Where now we'l leave him, & transplant our eyes
From his, to more concerning miseries,
I mean our sad Celania, whose distress
May cost you tears to read, me to express.

The end of the first Book.

THE Second Book.

Come sad Melpomene, it is thy part
To teach me to decipher such a heart
As sorrow never knew, nor envious Fate
Could ever dare to boast of, till of late;
Come, give me tears for ink, and ink, for tears;
An iron pen, that may ingrave the fears,
The woes of our Celania: Come, be brief,
A world of tears may drown a world of grief:
And you sad hearted Ladies that have known
Th'extreams of love, let now your tears be shown;
It is, me-thinks, the least that ye can do,
(For every word) to drop a tear or two.
Sighs, tears, and groans, were ever known to be
Loves proper Method, Cupids Diarie
Confirms this truth, moreover, he declares
That Lovers hearts are circumscrib'd with cares;
If any justly can this truth deny,
'Tis Cupid's in an error, and not I.

The Streams of Love run swifter than—but stay
Hark, our Celania groans, my Muse, away.
Bad tidings makes sad hearts, th'unwelcom news
Of her unheard of sufferings cannot chuse
But raise a tempest in each tender heart;
For she, poor Lady, felt th'increasing smart
Of Amoronzo's absence, and her breath
Proclaim'd his absence was the present death
Of all her comforts, and she wept, as 'twere
By Patent, Seal'd with sad and black despair;
'Twas she that taught the Turtle how to morn
For her absented Mate, 'twas she, forlorn,
Distressed Lady, that did first intice
The twatling Eccho to the avarice
Of imitation, every groan she spent
Out of the Store-house of her brest, was sent
Trebbl'd into the world. The Eccho took
Such pleasure in her name, that she forsook
Her naturall voice, but yet she was to blame
So much to wanton with her amorous name
Had Amoronzo heard it, earth had bin
Too small a circle to contain him in,
Nay, and Cèlania too, would often cry,
Who dare use Amoronzo's name but I;
And thus this babling Nymph would still proclaim
And run division on his pleasing name,

As if she had (for poor Celania's sake)
Cry'd him throughout the world, but could not make
Return of his abode, so by consent
They both agreed to groan in discontent,
Under the shadow of a spreading tree,
Whose drooping branches made it seem to be
A Nursery of grief, Celania plac'd
Her melancholly life, whose presence grac'd
The kindness of the place, which now seem'd blest
In entertaining so divine a Guest.
But by and by, there chanc'd to pass that way
A greedy Lyon, roaring for his prey,
Who gazing on Celania, made a stand
(As if her eyes had given counter-mand
To his designs) and star'd upon her face,
Whil'st she, whose Innocency gave a grace
To every look, undauntedly exprest
A welcom entertainment to her Guest:
But see what graceful Majesty doth lye
Within the circuit of a harmless eye;
The Lyon seem'd so satisfied, that he
Forgot to hunger, and began to be
As 'twere enamor'd, and would not commence
His bloody suite against her Innocence,
But fawning on her, seemed to express
An inward sorrow for her sad distress,

Sad Lady, she amazed at the sight
Begun as 'twere to take some sad delight
In her Companion, and would gently clap
His sturdy head which in her tender lap
He softly laid, by which we truly see
The Lyon and the Lamb may well agree:
Nor yet could this strange accident remove
Her wandring thoughts from her endeared Love,
But still her tears were sadly subsequent
Unto her sighes: at last away she went,
Leaving (as she suppos'd) her fawning friend
Lockt up in sleep ------
She had not pac'd much ground, but she espy'd
Two, which in running towards her, had discry'd
The plenty of her beauty, which enforc'd
Their speedy stay, who staying, thus discours'd.
'Tis not to court you Madam, nor to stray
Into vain words enforc'd us to this stay,
But 'tis t'enjoy our pleasures, therefore do
What our perswasions shall advise you to,
Or else we shall (to shorten our discourse)
What you deny to yield, command by force,
At which the Lady (half distracted) cry'd
I will not yield, nor can the Gods abide
So much impiety, but they will send
A speedy vengeance, e're ye can befriend

Or satisfie your lusts, the Gods are just,
And hate, although it be well worded lust,
Therefore desist, except ye will proceed
Unto my death, for that's the nobler deed;
Kill me, and welcom, but defile me not,
Lust is a living stain, and death no blot:
To which they both most desperately reply'd
They that resolve to do cannot abide
The least perswasions, yield, and so deprive
Danger of sad effects, nay do not strive
Nor cry, for know, this dismall place affords
No ears to entertain imploring words,
Yield then without compulsion: Give me leave
Reply'd Celania, ere ye do bereave
And rob me of my treasure, but to take
A silent leave of what I must forsake,
And then I shall submit unto your lust,
Or yield my self a Sacrifice to dust:
She stept aside, and cry'd, Heav'n be my shield,
I neither dare, nor can, nor will I yield,
Look up, look up vile Creatures, and behold
A swelling Cloud even ready to unfold
It self in vengeance, for ye may be sure
The Gods will not behold, and yet endure,
Desist, and let your passions be allay'd,
For they will shield what they themselves have made,

I mean mine innocence, and therefore know
I will be chast because they made me so,
And they which truly call upon the Gods
In their distress, have more than trebble odds
Against their Foes. ------
------ You rather blow the fire
By this discourse, then quench our hot desire
They both reply'd, come, come, we have done wrong
To our desires in keeping them so long
Without their natural food, nay do not strive,
Let virtue dye, but keep your self alive:
Nay leave those tempting cryes, for know, that ear
You call unto, is deaf, and will not hear;
Heaven is a great way off: 'Twill so appear
To you in mercy, but in Judgment, near,
Reply'd Celania; for I'm sure, and know
The Gods are just in all their actions—Oh,
And as she cry'd that Oh, Oh they discry'd
A roaring Lyon which did soon divide
Their thoughts from their intents, for they begun
To leave their base beginnings and to run
To save their lives, repenting of their crime,
(Strange alteration in so short a time!)
But she, poor Lady, laden with remorse
Did, whil'st her time permitted, thus discourse.

I grieve, said she, to see the state y'are in,
Heavens couchant Judgment, finds your rampant sin,
Think not t'avoyd by running what ye'l meet
Your hands are now more useful then your feet.
'Tis truth, they both reply'd, and now we must
Joyntly confess the Gods are good and just:
But see our Executioner draws nigh,
And we must yield, for 'tis in vain to flie;
With that the Lady (being pity strook)
Observe, sayes she, I'le charm him with a look,
He shall not hurt; for know, the Gods can be
To pity, as to punish equall free;
With that, as if her eyes had sent a charm
Into the Tyrants heart, he did no harm,
But gently lay'd him at her feet, to show
The humble meekness of a Convert Foe.
Even as the wretch condemn'd, that finds reprieve
Cannot at present well forget to grieve,
But with a quivering heart, does first display
The colours of his joy; even so did they
(Both timorously joyful) thus proclaim
The goodness of Celania, and their shame.
Admired goodness, that can thus engage
The angry Gods to mitigate their rage
To us, that by just Judgment were decreed
To speedy death, but by free mercy, free'd!

For which (most divine Lady) unto you
(After the Gods) we must acknowledge due
The mercy of our lives, for our attempt
We here confess, most justly might exempt
Your heart from pity, but in you, we found
A soveraign Balsom, in our selves a wound,
A deadly wound, which to departing breath
Is far more harsh, more terrible then death,
We see our grim-lookt Martial, how he lyes
Subjected at your feet, and dare not rise
To execute that fury which is prone
To him by nature, but doth now disowne
Nature it self, converted to fulfill
The gracious pleasure of your virtuous will.
Oh what a sudden alteration's bred!
Here lyes a Lyon, but his nature's fled!
But Madam, since 'tis so, that unto you
The worthless tribute of our lives are due,
Command us what you please, and you shall find
Us ready, nay, and winged like the wind
To execute your pleasure, Madam, these
Are only words, command us what you please,
And by our quick obedience you shall see
The true effects of our integritie,
Injoyn us to some pennance, that we may
T'expiate our crimes be forc'd t'obey,

For (pardon our boldness Madam) we discry
Hard, and misterious Characters in your eye,
Which we, by your permission, will unfold,
And tell you that which never yet was told:
We'l take the liberty without consent
To say, we know you groan in discontent,
And so does he, that is the dayly food
Of your affections, Madam, 'tis not good
To dwell upon delayes; in short, we know
You love even to despair, and that your woe
Is bleeding new. And that it may appear,
Madam, believe, that Amoronzo's here,
I mean in wish, I would not have him nigh,
Except his dear Celania were by,
Whom we suppose you are, or else his tongue
By false description, Madam, did you wrong;
For 'twas our hapless fortunes to be near
Unto his groans, when we did sadly hear
The thunder of his passion (oh hard hap)
And then a sigh would usher in each clap
Like flames or lightning, sometimes he would say,
My Dearest, oh divine Celania!
Here, here, thy tortur'd Amoronzo lyes
Bewitch'd to death by his own miseries:
Do not believe thy self, if thou shouldst chance
To think me cruel, let thy thoughts advance

To better notions, ah my Dearest, know
The Gods can testifie, it is not so,
Heav'n knows I love thee—There he stopt, & then
Even like a Torrent he brake forth again
And thus exprest. ------
------ What Love-sick-God hath made
An errand from the Heavens, and thus betray'd
My Dearest from me, oh it was unkind
Unkindly done, to leave me here behind
To weep her absence, well, the Gods may frown
But I'le unseile the Heavens, and reach her down;
I cannot breath, for she that is my breath
Is ravish'd from me, and is now my death,
And there—oh what, reply'd Celania, what
If it be death, be sparing, name it not,
Such stories please me not: Then Madam, know
There he left off to speak, but not to flow
In floods of tears, he being thus distrest,
We ran unto him, made it our request
To know the reason of his grief, but he
With a mixt look, reply'd do ye not see
Can ye not spell my miserable state
(Far easier to endure, than to relate,)
Perplex me not with questions, but be brief,
And tell me, can you mitigate my grief?

Can ye inform me, where th'indeared Guest
Of my now widdowed, melancholly brest
Makes her abode, if this ye can assure me,
Ye'l prove Physitians, and for ever cure me:
Within the fatal confines of this place
I left her with a Villain, whose disgrace
Black Hell does seeme to blush at, nay, and I
(The wofull Authour of her tragedy)
Am buried in despair, oh horrid truth
Dimagoras was a Villain from his youth;
But I'le pursue the Traytour, nay unhinge
The Cerbrean gates, and bring him to revenge.
Murther does non-plus Hell, which knows not how
To get provisioary Plagues enough
To punish it, but stay, behold, oh see
These are the grounds of my just miserie,
(Shewing Celania's Partlet, Gloves, and hair)
Then judg, have I not reason to despair
Sayes he. Thus having lavishly expended
His profuse rage, he tore his hair, and ended,
And there we left him, Madam, having now
Exprest the truth we know, we further bow
To your commands, believe it, we assure
Our selves, that you do equally endure
The like misfortune, neither do we doubt
By your permission but to finde him out,

Or else we'l lose our selves in the pursute,
Then let your Faith encrease, and be not mute,
Your silence tells us that you love, and we
By our own confidence resolve 'tis he,
'Tis him you love, then please for his dear sake
To be perswaded, and some pity take
Upon your self, believ't, those blushes do
Confirm, what we have told you, must be true,
Nay, and the more t'establish your belief,
We'l tell you what we are ------
------ Then know in brief
We are Arcadians, and from thence we came
Being impowered in your Uncles name
(Our royal King) to ransack all about
To see if we could find Celania out;
We had not long pursu'd, but by a chance
We heard which way, and how you did advance
With Amoronzo, so we soon forsook
Our lazy pace, and suddenly o'retook
Your most renowned Lover, whose report
For feats of Armes, shall spread about the Court
At our return, although it much redown
To our disparagement, to heap renown
Upon a Stranger, and eclipse that glory
Which ought t'advance the credit of our story;

If Mars had come in person to oppose
And give encounter to so many Foes
So well appointed, he had quickly known
Th' unhappy Fate of being overthrown;
For Amoronzo (much like lightning) flew
About our ears, and in a moment slew
Our stoutest Leaders: Nothing could asswage
Or quench the fire of his consuming rage;
Our lives were only sav'd, but not by slight,
Or feats of Armes, but by a timely flight,
So that we must confess our lives were due
To Amoronzo first, and now to you,
For which, as duty binds us, we shall be
Faithful to you in this extreamitie,
But Madam, let us crave, before we fall
To our intentions, that you would recall
Those ill opinions of us which do rest
Within the Realm of your disturbed brest,
Believe us then, we did it but to trye
And prove th' effects of your known Chastitie,
And if this be not truth which we declare,
Then may your grim-Attendant cease, and tear
Our perjur'd hearts: Now Madam, if you please
To walk to more conveniency, and ease
Your wearied body, we will forthwith trye
Our chiefest skills, to bring a quick supply

Of comfort to you, and we hope to find
A Balsom to refresh your troubled mind:
To which Celania without further oath
(Made confident by knowledg of them both)
Reply'd—Extreams of grief and care hath made
This alteration in me, and betray'd
The freedom of my Spirit, yet I dare
With confidence assure my self, ye are
Relations to my Uncle, whose severe
And more then usual passions, made me fear
The weight of his displeasure, which you know
Falls heavy: Heaven protect me from a Foe
So wrapt in fury, that he is by odd,
Far more implacable than the Gods,
Nor do I think it possible for Art
T'allay the flames of his incensed heart,
And were it in my choice, I'd chuse to dye
Rather than feel the lightning of his eye;
Therefore, as I suppose, 'tis much in vain
To waste your time in lab'ring to obtain
The renovation of his Love. What thing
Can be more fierce than an incensed King;
This Lyon, if compar'd to him, may be
Esteem'd a Lamb, experience let's you see
That he is pitiful; therefore, return
And leave me here alone, that I may burn

In my own flames: Thus let us end this strife,
Who brings me Amoronzo, brings me life:
The noble Knights (for so they were) reply'd,
Madam, this truth, is not to be deny'd,
Which you have utter'd; but since your distress
As we conceive, requires a quick redress,
Be pleas'd t'accept those proffers which will tend
To your advantage, Madam, do not spend
More time, in more delays, the homely place
Of my abode, is not above the space
Of half a League, which by our help, you may
Quickly approach to, Madam, let's away,
And be assured that you shall command
As free an entertainment as will stand
With my estate: Celania, heavy-hearted,
Consented slowly, slowly, she departed;
Where now we'l leave them for a time, and treat
Upon Dimagoras, who is now compleat
In his distress, being business'd in a strife
Whether to kill himself, or lose his life
By condemnation; for it so fell out
That the Lyconians gave a totall rout
To the Arcadian Army, and pursu'd
Their victory, until they had subdu'd
Their chief Commanders, and at last they sent
Unto th' Arcadian King, to know th'intent

Of his proceedings, whether he would yield
To their desires, they having won the field;
To which th'inraged King sent this reply.

Know ye Lyconians that I much defie
To yield, till death requires, nor is it all
Your strength can make me yield unto your call,
As for your Lord Dimagoras, who is now
My Captive, I will quickly make him bow
To my commands, his head, his head shall be
The Prophesie of future victorie
To my recruited Army, therefore know
I am your hearty, your undaunted Foe,

KALANDER.

Having dispatch'd this Message, he retires
And (as his speed commands him) soon requires
Th' Assistance of his Council, to advise
Which way to steer in these extreamities;
Who being met, considering well the speed
Of their occasions, gravely thus proceed:

Most sacred Sir, perpending well the state
You now are in, we boldly thus debate,
And first grave Sir, we humbly do propose
Life for Dimagoras; because your Foes
Being flesht with victory, will quickly be
(If not oppos'd by potent pollicie)

Upon your quarters, therefore we'l prepare
And make the best advantage of his fear,
We have already, strongly nois'd about
That you have lately gave a total rout
To the Lyconian Army, and this news
Being posted to his ears, sure cannot chuse
But fright him into any thing, 'tis known
His mungrel disposition dare not own
The least misfortune, therefore we'l present
To him (as 'twere by Lanskip) your intent:
We will imploy an Agent who shall speak
By circumambitues, and slyly break
The Ice of your desires, by which we'l find
Which way the Byas of his tortur'd mind
Does most incline: Thus having laid the ground
Of our designs, we quickly can propound
What Fabrick to erect, fear seldom's clad
With reason to distinguish good from bad;
Therefore, most sacred Sir, if you approve
Of our advice, we quickly will remove
Your now-incroaching Foes; for we'l indite
And make Dimagoras sign to what we write,
We therefore wait your pleasure ------
------ To which the King
Gravely reply'd, I fear 'twill prove a thing

Of small effect; Lyconia does afford
But mean respects to him, although their Lord;
Suppose he should command them to retire
A League, or two, they'd laugh at his desire,
For they are now in armes, and are made bold
By victory, and what they get, they'l hold:
‘When Subjects once get head, they bid farewell
‘To duty, make it conscience to rebell;
‘The sword knowes no obedience, for it makes
‘Disloyalty a Law, and rudly shakes
‘Truths Fundamentals, seldom wanting friends
‘To brandish it into sinister ends;
Therefore I well conceive that 'tis unfit
To act by him that has not power, nor wit;
For though it be State policy, we know
To seem unwise, 'tis madness, to be so;
For States-men must, like water-men still show
Their faces East-ward, when they West-ward row:
But to the purpose, 'tis our only way
To labour, by contrivance, how to play
Our after gain, giving them blots by flight,
Which if they hit, they fall, we stand upright:
You know, I sent for aid, which I expect
Within few dayes, therefore I'le not neglect
To prosecute my ends; for I intend
If Fate permit, this very night to send

My Carriages before, and when the Sun
Gives them intelligence, I'le seem to run
With these my scattered forces, but I'le leave
This Garrison well man'd, for I perceive
That they intend a siege, and to persue
With their remaining force, which if they do,
I'le flye with speed to the Olympian Plains
And joyn with those recrutes which there remains
In expectation of me, if th'event
Prove well, thank Heav'n, for this is my intent:
As for Dimagoras, I will prepare
An Antidote, he shall not dye with fear,
I'le cure him with a Message, which shall be
Welcome, being ballast with his libertie,
He shall have freedom to enjoy the air
Under a watchful eye left he despair
And so we lose him; for 'tis my intent
To make Dimagoras finish the event
Be what it will: 'Tis policy to have
In such uncertainties, a royal Slave:
Delay breeds danger, let's away, I long
To be in action; Courage makes us strong.

Reader, I crave thy favour to excuse
My quick retreat; for know my tim'rous Muse
Is not so military to withstand
The dreadful thunderings of a Martial hand;

For she complains that Mars was once before
Discourteous to her, and she'l fight no more
Except—but hark, who calls? Celania, how
Celania call? then Reader turn thy brow
From Mars to Venus, for Mars seldom saves,
Nor gives he any other Crowns then Graves:
We'l leave him for a time, and if there be
Occasion that we must return and see
His well flesht shambles, we'l not fear nor run,
'Tis better far to see, then feel what's done.

All you whose Virgin-hearts have never known
The painfull issues of a Love sick groan,
Draw near; and you, whose barren eyes did never
Let fall a tear, come now, and weep for ever;
And you, whose infant eyes could never prove
Or speak the proper Dialects of Love,
Approach, for here are to be taught in brief,
Your hearts, your eyes, your tongues, the rules of grief,
Here breaths your lively copy, you may see
The exact portraiture of miserie;
Observe how every Linament doth speak
Its excellency, and attempts to break
More hearts then she has woes, whose dismal cry
Eccho's; alas, I'm griefs Anatomy,
See how she is disected, how each part
Of her much wounded, yet more constant heart.

Lies open to your view, and how each vein
Usurpt by death, lyes bleeding to obtain
That blood-stone of her Soul, I mean, her dear
Her dearest Amoronzo, who's more near
Unto her Soul, then all the wealth that can
Be apprehended by the thoughts of Man,
'Tis he must cure my pains, sayes she, or I
Must languish in his absence, pine, and dye:
These were Celania's groans, which had more
And more enlarg'd, had not the fast lockt door
Receiv'd a sudden knock, which made her stay
The current of her grief, and haste away
To give an entrance, but her thoughts begin
To mutiny, unwilling to let in
Unwelcome newes, so drawing back her hand,
Her trembling hand, she made a sudden stand;
And gazing towards the door, she said, must I
Must I be Porter to my misery;
No, no I will not, yet I will—but stay,
I dare not, oh I dare not, why? I may
And will, I will; Misfortune do thy worst,
I may be made more blest, not more accurst:
With that scarce knowing what she did, she run
Unto the door, and hastily begun
To turn the Key, but e're she could fulfill
The sensless pleasure of her captiv'd will,

She heard a voice, a voice, that seem'd to bear
(Being made more sad, more terrible by fear)
A dreadful horror, and it seem'd to cry
Harken Celania, harken to what I
Shall say, fear not, for know, my Message gives
This comfort, that your Amoronzo lives,
He lives, but I must tell, what's sadly true,
Voyd of all comforts, but the thoughts of you:
Yet know Celania, 'tis my business hither
To tell you that you must meet both together.
But where, or when, or how, that must be hid
From both, because I strictly am forbid,
Yet this I'le say; it will be ere the Sun
(Times painful journey-man) hath fully run
His three dayes course; but I must sadly say,
Ye will not know each other, and that day
Will prove unfortunate; for one whose name
Stands now recorded in the rolls of shame,
Will by an accident, betray and bring
You both before the presence of the King:
These things must happen, and you'l not do well
T'endeavour a prevention: So farewell.

Who ever saw a trance revived Soul
With what a sad aspect his lips condole
His ridged Fate, that he must live to be
As t'were enjoyn'd t'imbrace his miserie?

Even so Celania waking from her trance
Crav'd pity by each look, and did advance
Her drooping head, then for a time she stood
As loath t'acquaint her self with flesh and blood,
But at the last, death. which did seem before
To sojourn in her eyes, did now restore
Lifes due prerogatives, but I'le not wrong
The real truth (though rare) to say, her tongue
Was first in motion, for her hands, her eyes
Did seem to descant on her miseries:
'Tis more then strange, her sorrows wanting vent
And grown quite lawless, had not tore and rent
Her grapling Soul, each sigh which did depart
Seem'd (like a boysterous storm) to tear her heart
Up by the roots, at last, her sighs made way
For words (like Pyoneers) and without stay
She thus proceeded ------
------ Since the powers above
Have thus resolv'd to contradict my Love,
It will prove vain to strive, the Gods will do
What their firm resolutions prompt them to:
Ah must these eyes of mine behold and see
My Amoronzo, and not know 'tis he,
Impossible! for sure there cannot rise
So great a mist before my feeble eyes:

Lovers are ey'd like Lyncius, can discover
Though wall'd about, their real hearted Lover:
But stay, what should this dark Enigma show
(Strange kind of riddle) see, and yet not know,
Oh miserable happiness! sad Face!
See, and not know, did ever wit create
A greater mistry, well, I'm sure that I
Shall know him, though it be by Sympathy,
'Tis neither time nor Art can so much change
My Amoronzo's looks as to estrange
Or hid him from my knowledg, for my heart
Retains his true effigies, and no art
Can so disguise him, but even like the Sun
(The worlds great eye) that may be over-run
And cloth'd with Clouds, yet sure it cannot be
Chang'd in aspect, but we must know 'tis he;
But were this all, ah then my raging grief
Might in some sort be subject to relief,
But ah my sorrows more and more rebell
Against my Soul, and rings a doleful knell
To all my comforts, nothing can prevent
The rude incursions of my discontent:
Judge Ladies, judge, if ever grief could be
More acted to the life then 'tis in me,
Observe my Laborinths, and if ye find
The relish of a comfort in my mind,

Judg me to more extreams, if art can show
A way to make a more exuberous woe
Then mine, inflict it on me, let your eyes
Weep me to death, or drown my miseries,
I care not which; oh tell me is't not woe
More then enough, to see, and yet not know
My Amoronzo: here's a flaming rod,
Here's grie s full stop, but not her period.
Sad consequence, I see there is no reason
In grief, that loves to tyrannize by treason!
Oh pevish Fate, why dost thou thus devise
New ways, new means, new woes to tyrannize!
But Heav'n prevent the Traytor, may his death
Betray the treason, or his feeble breath
Want utt'rance to express it, Heav'n defend
My Amoronzo from so base an end,
But if it be decreed; The Gods are just
In taking both, we'l marry in the dust,
The grave shall swell with mirth, our lofty tomb
Shall be both nuptial bed and dining room,
The worms shall be our Guests, nay, they shall be
Both Mask and Musick to our jollitie;
We'l revell in our ashes, lively death
Shall dance for joy, then having taken breath
Shall post away, and thus nights vail being spread,
The Curtains drawn by time, we'l shrink to bed:

Rest then my heart, purchase a free content,
Observe with care, and thou shalt see th' event
Come fluttering on the wings of time, 'tis near,
'Tis near, and will with winged speed appear:
With that (the Rose and Lilly being met)
I mean her hand and cheek, she seem'd to let
Her eye-lids slumber, but she could command
No pleasing rest; for in her eyes did stand
Grief's watch-men (tears) so in an angry vain
She snatch'd her Lute, and thus begun to strain
Her Magick voice, I cannot well say whether
She wept, and sung, she sung and wept together.

Celania's Song.

1

Come gentle Lute, and let's relate
In warbling Notes my ridged Fate,
That these (now sensless) walls and stones
Hearing my well divided groans,
May from their dulness frightned be
Into a sensibilitie,
And hearing, say, I've reason to bewail
That am both Ocean, Tempest, Ship, and Sail.

2

I am an Ocean, and my eyes
Send me (like Rivolets) supplyes
Only in this, unlike the Main,
I flow, but never ebb again,
My brackish tides cannot return
Nor drown (like that) but always burn:
And thus my sorrows licence me to weep,
My eyes (though narrow Seas) are very deep.

3

I am a Tempest, and I know
There seldom comes a calm in woe,
When Boreas harbours in a brest,
'Tis fondness then to think on rest,
And needs must they be void of peace,
Whose tempests never, never cease:
Then blame me not when thus my stormes arise,
To strive t'allay them with my raining eyes.

4

I am a Ship full fraught with fears
Tost in the Ocean of my tears,
Rackt in a storm of sighes I run
Upon the Rocks, and am undone;
My Pilot's lost, I know not where,
And I am buried in despair.
Thus am I brought unto deaths fatal brink,
My Pilot being lost I needs must sink.

5

I am a Sail, and every hour
Submits me to the lawless power
Of Boreas, whose most envious breath
Assaults, and tares me unto death.
Needs must he have a stormy mind
That's subject unto every wind.
Then blame me not that thus my woes bewail,
That am both Ocean, Tempest, Ship, and Sail.

Thus having ended (may I say) her Song
Her tears (like swelling Surges) grew too strong
For her restraint, and fain she would have vented
More vocal grief, hut that her eyes prevented

And drownd her speech, yet she was heard to cry,
Sum all misfortune up, and that am I.
Where now we'l leave her pickl'd in her tears,
Opprest with sighes, and buried in her fears;
For now the Knight's return'd, and in his eye
Dwells the sad Character of misery:
Each look imports misfortune; he enquires
After Celania's welfare, and retires
In private with his Lady, to relate
His fruitless progress, and th'unhappy Fate
Of Amoronzo, who as fame assur'd
Was lost at Sea, after he had endur'd
A fearful Ship-wrack: This unwelcom newes
Floated in tears: alas, and who can chuse
But lend a drop, poor Lady, who shall keep
Celania company in tears, or weep
Equivolent streams, the Knight, who having paid
The tribute of his eyes, lookt up, and said
What's best to do, which way shall we contrive
T'express this fatal newes, and keep alive
Our Guest, Celania; for I'm sure, that breath
That utters his, proclaims aloud, her death:
Come then, resolve, mans judgment must resign
In these extreams unto the Feminine?
What shall we do? for if misfortune should
Reveal Celania to the King, it would

Be my destruction, or if I should go
Unto the King, and utter what I know,
He might reward me; but the horrid name
Of Traytor fills me with insulting shame,
I dare not, oh I cannot prove a death
To her whose virtue priviledg'd my breath.
To which the Lady thus reply'd ------
------ 'tis true
I apprehend what dangers may accrue
By our concealment, yet I'le rather be
A Prostitute to all extreamitie
Then let my name (the jewell of my age)
Bear treasons image, what can more enrage
The Heavens then treason; I could well afford
To curse each letter, of so dam'd a word;
But since 'tis thus, if you (my Lord) think fit
To trust this business to a womans wit,
I shall endeavour both with speed and care
T'extenuate Celania's, and your fear,
And thus I will contrive: First then present
Your self unto her, let no discontent
Dwell on your brow, 'tis easie to discry
Th' afflicted hearts distemper by the eye,
Then have a care (my Lord) and let each word
Be bitter-sweet, that so you may afford

Equal of both, for if you should declare
His certain death, 'twould fill her with despair,
Or if with too much joy you should relate
The happy tidings of his prosperous Fate,
'Twould so transport her, that no skill nor art
Will moderate the raptures of her heart;
‘For 'tis well known that womens minds are such,
‘That they must neither joy, nor grief too much.
But to proceed, you having thus declar'd
Your doubtful mind, there shall be soon prepar'd
An ancient Pilgrim, who may by his wise
Discourse, aleviate her miseries:
Our house hath bin (my Lord) these three days blest
In giving entertainment to this Guest
He is a man, except his tongue belye
His heart, judicious in Divinitie,
He's sparing in discourse, yet kind to all,
Gravely facetious, sweetly musical,
Nay, and Celania wish't, that she might be
A consort in his pleasing melodie,
And he as often (noting her distress)
Hath wisht her griefs might find a quick redress;
To which intent he told me, if his skill
Might any way be useful to fulfill
Or further her desires, that she should find
A readiness, crown'd with a cheerful mind;

If she intended) as he thought) to be
Shrowded within a sacred Nunnerie,
Which in my judgment very well may sute
With her condition, and in time confute
Her powerful adversary, grief, which now
Usurps, and sits in triumph on her brow:
(Poor Lady) when at last this news is spread
That Amoronzo, her lifes life is dead
What can she do but dye? 'twould be hard measure
Onely who dyes for Love, sure dyes for pleasure:
But stay, farewell, let's follow our design,
Act you your part (my Lord) I'le warrant mine.
Away they went, the Knight without delay
Compos'd his countenance, and took his way
To visit sad Celania, who then sat
Disconsolate, as if she had forgot
She liv'd, till at the last she heard one say
Madam, be pleas'd to cast your eye this way
Upon your Servant who hath thus made bold
T'intrude, unlicenc'd, Madam, please to hold
Your self contented, let not sorrow have
The whole dominion of your thoughts, but save
Some room for Amoronzo ------
------ Have ye seen
The Pris'ner at the bar striving between

Hope and despair, with what a piercing eye
He views his Judges, fearing to discry
His death, cloth'd in their looks: Even so did she,
Poor Lady, strive to read her destinie
Regester'd in his looks; stand still she cryes,
That I may read my ruine in your eyes,
The Characters are legible, I know
How to spell death it self, and construe woe:
First in your face (my Lord) is to be read
A tragick story: Amoronzo's dead,
He's dead, my Lord, nor shal't be long before
I'le follow; claspe your book, I'le read no more,
And thus I'le finish lifes accursed summe
I come my Amoronzo—Dear—I come.
Hold Madam, spare your life, he is not dead
Reply'd the Lord, you only have misread
And made a false construction in my looks,
Madam, pray read again, or burn the books;
He is not dead, the Fates have now decreed
To make you happy: How! nay then proceed
Reply'd Celania, will the Gods at last
Take pity on a wretch that's overcast
With black despair, what shall I wish to give
In recompence: Does Amoronzo live?
His name creates new life; for now I find
A new creation in my infant mind;

Oh how grown in comfort, every minute
Brings me a Heaven, and Amoronzo in it;
See where he comes, Love, lend me wings to fly
Into his bosom, come my joy, draw nigh,
Imbrace thine own Celania, oh how blest
Am I, Love never found so sweet a rest.
The Lord (unus'd to Love sick raptures) knew
Not what to say, but suddenly he flew
Like lightning from her presence, where he met
The Lady and the Pilgrim, who were set
To wait her long'd-for coming, that they might
Intice her to some musical delight,
But Fate design'd it otherwise, for now
They all complot, and joyntly study how
To wean her from her raptures, and at last
The Pilgrim (sadly hearing what was past)
Being fill'd with pity, took his Lute, and went
Near to her Chamber, where he forthwith sent
His airy Messengers unto her ear
To summon all her senses to appear
Before his melody, at last, she rais'd
Her drooping head, and after she had gaz'd
About the room; where is (said she) my Dear,
What, stole away, and left Celania here?
Or was it but a dream? but hark, that hand
Which playes, is his, and sure I understand

Each pleasing touch, but stay, what voice is this,
I'le swear it is an Angels, or else his,
'Tis his, and he is mine: I'le rest content
To hear his Song, and then expect th'event.

The Pilgrims Song.

1

Sail gentle Soul, the wind blows fair
Despair is buried in despair;
For wind and tide now seem to court
And lead us to our wisht-for port,
The wanton Billows seem in state to dance
To see our safe, our blest deliverance.

2

The Pilot smiles, the Ship prevailes,
The storm submits, the swelling sailes
Puft up with Pride, does seem to run
More then Post-haste to kiss the Sun.
Then cease sad heart, thou needest not to bewail,
For thou art neither Tempest, Ship, nor Sail.

The Song thus finished, Celania calls
Her thoughts in question, and she forthwith falls
Into a serious study, well, sayes she,
I cannot be mistaken, sure 'tis he,
Or I am not my self, both voice, and hand
Invite my tortur'd Soul to understand
It must be he, but oh that I could see
That Saint, which gave this voice that libertie;
Impatience hates delay, I must be bold
In spite of modesty; I cannot hold
But must attempt: Ye Fates prove not unkind,
The eye, not ear, must satisfie the mind:
With that, with Eagle-speed (she that before
Could hardly creep) now flyes unto the door,
Which being open, suddenly her eye
Surveys each corner, but could not espye
The treasure of her heart, but having found
Her hopes in vain, she fell upon the ground,
Being intranc'd, the Pilgrim that had view'd
Her passion (though unseen himself) pursu'd
His resolutions, so with speed he takes
His Lute, and with a willing heart he makes
A near approach, and sent unto her ears
(As if he had Epitomiz'd the Spheres)
Such Heav'n-bred strains, that in dispite of death
He re-inforc'd her to her former breath,

This being done, she gently mov'd her head,
Which was repos'd upon too hard a bed.
Oh that my Soul had wings, she cryes, that I
Might quit these vain delusions, and fly
To my delight, this world affords no treasure
To me, but base-bred joyes, and spurious pleasure;
Oh that I could—with that a sudden glance
Betray'd the Pilgrim to her eyes, whose chance
It was t'observe her, as the purple dye
Usurpt her cheeks; she blusht, but knew not why,
And yet the more she labour'd to restrain
Her blushes, still the more she blusht again;
At last, with bashful modesty, she rais'd
Her feeble self, stood still awhile, and gaz'd
Upon the Pilgrim, who admir'd the grace
And majesty united in her face,
Whil'st she, did equally admire to see
So much of meekness, cloth'd in gravitie;
Resolving then, that pity needs must rest
In such a Soul; she thus her thoughts exprest.
Grave Sir, sayes she, although it disagree
Unto my Sex to take the libertie
Of speech, before requir'd, yet I depend
Upon your liberall goodness to befriend
My errors with a pardon, that I may
Return deserved thanks, and haste away.

To which the Pilgrim ------
------ Madam, if your haste
Depend upon my pardon, I shall waste
Some time before I grant it; for I have
An humble favour, which I needs must crave;
My hopes assure me you will not deny
To crown my wishes; Madam pray reply.
To which Celania: Sir, it is not best
To grant, before I know what you request,
Yet my assured confidence is such,
That you will neither ask, I grant, too much;
Therefore propose your will: Then Madam, know
I have observ'd, nay, copy'd out your woe,
In which (excuse my boldness) I do find
The sad extreames of a tormented mind,
Therefore be pleas'd to say (for I respect
The cause, there is no judging by th'effect)
The reason of your grief, whith once being known
The cure is more then half perfection:
Stand not to ruminate, but be assur'd
What you relate, shall safely be secur'd
Within the strong-fenc'd bull-wark of my heart,
Not to be taken by the force of Art:
Believe it Madam, and from that belief
Derive to me the reason of your grief:

I am a Pilgrim, treason cannot dwell
More in my brest, than in a Hermits Cell,
My calling makes me bold, and I must say
Your Conscience ought t'inforce you to obey;
Some days have pass'd since these mine aged eyes
Have truly witness'd your extremities,
And 'tis my Conscience bids me to require
The reason: Madam, this is my desire;
Or if my Judgment or my Reason fail,
I have a Conscience that will stand my Bail,
Nay weep not Lady, lay aside those fears
I understand your tongue, but not your tears,
Tears are good signs, but words are understood
More in one breath, then tears are in a flood;
I could drop tear for tear, but to what use?
Tears in some sense are only words excuse;
'Tis a known truth, that Nature, which affords
An eye for tears, has given tongue for words;
Therefore be pleas'd as long as I stand by,
To let your tongue be flowing, not your eye.
To which Celania, after she had dry'd
Her watry eyes, lookt up, and thus reply'd.
Grave Sir excuse me that I must deny
At present, what you claim as courtesie;
For my disordered thoughts cannot invent
As yet away t'express my full intent,

But be assur'd time shall not lose much sand
Before your heart shall fully understand
The nature of my grief; for I will throw
My life into your hands, and then bestow
It as you please; In the mean time consent
To grant my pardon, and I'le rest content:
And so all peace attend you, may your eyes,
See as much joys, as mine have miseries.

The end of the second Book.

THE Third Book.

Post on, my Muse, for hark, the Readers say
What, is Dimagoras lost, and shrunk away?
Or has th' unmindful Author quite forgot
To bring him on the Stage, why comes he not?
Reader he comes, be pleased to prepare
To see him only come to take the air
After his love-sick passion, which indeed
I shall relate; And thus in short proceed:

The King was pleased (but I know not whether,
Pity or pollicy, or both together
Mov'd him) to give Dimagoras leave to shew
Himself abroad, confining him to go
Guarded without regard; which newes being brought
Unto his willing ears, he forthwith thought
Himself in Heav'n, for after a restraint
Who would not think that man a happy Saint

That brought him newes of liberty: But now
I must implore the Reader to allow
Pardon for an omission, which in brief,
Is this: Dimagoras being fill'd with grief,
Not knowing, and worse doubting, what would be
The issue of his sad captivity;
But still his thoughts (inclining to despair
More then to comfort) often would prepare
An instrument of death; but still his heart
Prov'd the worst Actor, of the chiefest part,
And would not let him; but he oft would cry
Were't not for fear of dying, I could dye;
Oh life! Oh death! said he, why should there be
Between you two, such an Antipathie?
Alas 'tis nothing but this trifling breath
That makes such diffrence between life and death;
And what is breath? 'tis nothing but a blast,
A smoak, a vapour, and it cannot last,
Only in me it riots but to spight
And plague me with the still approaching light,
Or else succeeding darkness; thus am I
The subject of curst Fortunes cruelty:
See now the grim-lookt night is come, and all
The worlds inhabitants provide, and fall
To rest; but I (the watch-man of the world)
Am like an abject creature, tost, and hurld

Into obscurity; but yet I'le try
If sleep will lend a visit to mine eye;
With that he threw himself upon his bed,
Reposes his much discomposed head;
But all in vain, the flatterers of sleep,
(I mean short slumbers) would not let him keep
Decorum in his rest, for now, and then
He starts, now speaks, and then lies still agen;
Sometimes his voluntary tongue would cry,
Parthenia, ah Parthenia, why, Oh why
Dost thou perplex—and there a sigh would part
His words, and leave him with a throbing heart:
At last he wakes, and yet I cannot say
He wak'd, because he slept not, for he lay
Charm'd in a dream, which soon shall be exprest;
(He that dreams most, still takes the lest of rest.)

At first he dream'd, he saw Parthenia stand
Cloathed in white, with Lawrel in one hand
And Palm in th' other, at whose feet she spread
The Palm, and plac'd the Lawrel, on his head;
At which Dimagoras (much delighted) vented
His joy, in tears, and seemingly lamented
His own unworthiness, whilst she stood by,
And with a pitying smile did seem to dry
His blubber'd cheecks; but (as he after swore)
The more she wipt his eyes, he cry'd the more;

At last she seem'd to lay her gentle head
Upon his Pillow, and retire to bed;
With that ('tis quickly judg'd in what delight
He thought to spend each minute of the night)
He went to welcome her with an embrace,
And found a Spirit snugging in her place:
His warm embraces now are turn'd to cold
And frosty fears; alas he cannot hold
A joint from trembling, for his gashly eye
Being fix'd upon that object which lay by,
Did strive t' out stare the Devil; but at length
Fancy retreats, and he receives new strength;
So finding it a Dream, he turns, and then
He falls asleep, and sleeping, dreams again,
And dreaming, thought he saw bold Argalus
Smiling upon him, and salute him thus:
My Lord Dimagoras, I am come to tell
A story, which, I'm sure, will please you well:
The Gods have seen your suff'rings, and now
Intend to view you with a serene brow;
As for your wrongs to me, I freely do
Forget them, and in that, I pardon you;
I freely pardon, and Parthenia shall
Be my Engagement, that I pardon all
Your vile abuses, nay, her hand shall sign
Your gracious pardon too, as well as mine;

But I must tell you, though the Gods now please,
After an age of grief to send you ease;
yet if your care contrive not to fulfill
Each particle of their commanding will,
Be well assur'd that Hell himself near knew
A greater fall, then shall befall to you;
And as for plagues and torments, be assur'd
You shall find such as cannot be endur'd;
Thus I advise you; but because th' intent
Of this, my speech, is charitably bent
I'le shew you more, observe, ------
------ With that appears
A manly shape, more grave in looks, then years,
Nor did he come alone, for in his hand
He led a Lady, on whose cheeks did stand
A showr of speaking tears, which seem'd to say,
Oh miserable, miserable day:
These are those two, says Argalus, which you
Would willingly betray, but if you do,
Expect the plague of plagues, to vex thy heart,
And re-instate thee in eternal smart;
Observe, and weigh my words, and let not fear
Bribe thee to so much baseness, have a care;
And when you see them, seem to see them not,
So shall you purchase a most happy lot;

But one thing more: Before I dis-appear,
I needs must recommend unto your ear
A serious truth, which will be ere this night,
Chas'd by th' approaching morning, takes its flight;
'Twill so fall out, that your distracted head
Will fall much lower then your lofty bed;
You shall receive a fall, which fall, indeed
Shall cause your heart, as well as head, to bleed;
But at which time, a Damosel shall present
Her self unto you with a good intent
To salve your several hurts, her virgin name
Shall be Lutosa, whose renowned fame
Shall eccho through the world; her virtues shall
Precede her Beauty, and her beauty, all:
The wings of fame shall mount her to the skies,
She's fair, she's rich; and what is best, she's wise;
She's wise, because she's humble, and she's fair,
Because she's wise, she's rich, because she's heir
Unto Apollo, Venus, Cræsus; Nay,
She's more then second to Parthenia:
This Lady, whose perfections far transcend
Perfection, shall be proud to recommend
Her dear affections to your constant brest,
And so farewell: Th' event shall speak the rest,
And there he vanish'd ------

------ Now Dimagoras dreams
Of Cupid, Venus, and of all th' extreams
Of Love; his over-busie thoughts are now
In consultation, sweetly ploting how
To Pen an amorous Letter; first he writes,
And then blots out, and afterwards, indites;
And now his trembling hand begins to hold
The Paper, where loves stories must be told;
He sighs, and then begins; My dearest Dear,
May these my rude unpolish'd Lines,—and here
He stops, dislikes, then likes, dislikes again.
Throws by that Paper; then another strain
Must be constrain'd, and now his matter flows;
He smites his brest, looks up, and too't he goes:
The Letter's finish'd, now it must be read;
Hark how he sighs, see how he shakes his head.
He reads, and cryes, the matter is not good,
The manner's naught, and 'twill be understood
More Complement, then love; yet he is bent
To send it; What is love but Complement?
And now 'tis seal'd, seal'd with a bleeding heart
Transfixt, and wounded with an amorous dart:
Away 'tis sent; Oh how his spirits burn
In expectation of a quick return:
The allmost breathless Messenger is now
Return'd again, who with a sweating brow

Presents a Letter, which with trembling speed
He took, and kist; and then began to read;
He reads, then studies, reads again, and then
Cryes out, Oh cruel women, wretched men;
These women-Sophisters can make that sense
That's Present, be the Preterfect-tense,
These she Grammarians often times displace,
And put the Verb before the Nom'native Case;
There Rhetorick kisses and their Logick looks,
Would make an Aristotle burn his Books;
Their smiles are Tropes, & figures, & their words
Are dark Enigma's, every look affords
Large Volumns of discourse; their tears, they are
Who can tell what, my Genious, stop thou there;
Women, like Globes, do always love to be
In motion, still confin'd to liberty;
In this they differ, That no art can find
The perfect Centure of a womans mind:
But stay, me thinks this Letter does express
More then an ordinary dubiousness;
Her tongue must be th' interpreter, for I
Am unacquainted in loves mistery;
I'le haste unto her, for this cannot be
Her proper Language, no, I know that she
Is more ingenious, yet a womans heart
Is always wav'ring, ------ There a sudden start

Gave motion to his Limb, yet sleep at length
Did captivate his brain, and gave new strength
Unto his fancy, then his fancy brought
Him to his Lady: Now each forward thought
Corrects the former; so that he could find.
No means t'express th' affections of his mind;
Now sighs, and steadfast looks must only prove,
The sad, and powerful Orators of love;
They counter-look each other, for her eye
Still thwarted his, and yet she knew not why;
She blush'd because he look'd and he again
Would look, because she blush'd, but all in vain,
For on a sudden (starting from his dream)
He wakes, and waking cries, Oh how extream
Unquiet, are my slumbers, yet I find
The more I slumber, I am more confin'd
To slumber; but I hope the welcome day
Will come, and chase these falcities away:
Till then,—and there a slumber did surprise
The yeilding Fort of his besieged eyes;
He had not long engag'd himself to sleep
Before an other vision seem'd to creep
Into his fancy, which rejoyc'd his brest
And brought more comfort to him then the rest:
He dream'd he saw Parthenia, in whose face
He read the pleasing Charracters of grace,

He lookt upon her, and her Commet-eye
Portended liberal pardon; by and by
(Approaching nearer) she began to break
Her lipps; he seem'd to hear, and she to speak
To this effect: Know then, that I am come
To tell you that your time of Martyrdom
Is near at hand, nay start not, for I mean
No harm; I'le be an Actor in this Scene:
Mistake me not, you are not like to prove
A Martyr, only in the flames of love;
Be careful, that no envious fate incline
To cross your love, as once it did do mine:
Remember who it was, that to fulfill
The cruel pleasure of his greedy will
Surpriz'd me when my busie thoughts were crown'd
With Argalus; Who drag'd me on the ground?
Revil'd, and kickt me? nay, and what is worse
Poyson'd my face, and made my life a curse:
This was the cause which made me to deny
My Argalus, and say, It is not I;
And yet I lov'd him, but my love was such
I wav'd it, why? Because I lov'd him much:
Ah was it fit that Argalus should be
Match'd to so much extream deformity;
Yet in what love-sick tearms would he express
How much he lov'd deformed happiness;

How did he curse the day-light for revealing
So foul a face, the darkness for concealing
The treasure of his heart; Thus night nor day
Could please him, when his dear Parthenia
Deny'd her Argalus; ah can there be
In man, so unbeliev'd a constancy;
Nor was this all, for when, nor word, nor vow;
Could tempt my stubborn heart once to allow
A grant to his desires, away I stole,
Unknown to any, left him to condole
My unknown absence, for 'twas my intent
To lose my self; I knew not where I went,
Nor what I did; that passion of the mind,
Which make us dumb, as well can make us blind;
But see the will of fortune, I that stray'd
I knew not how, nor where, nay never made
The least enquiry, was by well-pleas'd Fate
Brought to my Aunts, (the Queen of Corinths) Gate,
Where being come, my near relations, made
(After they knew) me welcome, where I stay'd
Till time had wrought my cure, which being done
My well composed thoughts began to run
Upon my Argalus, the more each part
Was cur'd, the more I found, a wounded heart;
At last I sent to see if I could find
(There is no sickness to a love-sick mind)

My Love; but when the Messenger return'd
I froze with fear to ask, and yet I burn'd
With a desire to know; and who can blame
Long smothered Love, to break into a flame;
But Fate (which then was courtious) brought about
My wishes, for at last, I found him out:
Nor was I then content; my zealous mind
Began to plot, and try if I could find
A flaw in his affections, but I found
His heart as constant, and his love as sound
As heart could wish; 'tis true, I laid this plot
To see if Argalus had quite forgot
His Dear Parthenia; but I could espy
(And read within the volumn of his eye)
Th' affections of his heart; but he at first
Took me for what I was, yet after burst
Into a storm of tears, because his eye
Cheated his thoughts, I told him t'was not I;
But that I came t'invite him now to take
A heart on trust, for dead Parthenias sake:
But he refused; yet the more I made
My strong attempt, and resolutely said;
My Lord, you must accept; He shook his head,
And cry'd, Oh Heavens! and is Parthenia dead?
If she be dead, what heart have I to give?
And how can I receive. that cannot live

To make requital, Earth shall sooner move
Then I will yeild unto a second love,
Although I must confess, says he, you are
Parthenia's Image, and might be her heir
In worth, and beauty; but alass, she's fled,
And I am flying; Is Parthenia dead,
Oh then—with that I flew into his arms,
And so restor'd him with my wofull charms,
Nay it was long before I could perswade
His heart to credit what my tongue had said;
Yet at the last, loves circumstances prov'd
That I was once his lost, yet well-belov'd
And true Parthenia; thus by lucky art
My face was cur'd before, and then, my heart:
Thus after all this turbulent confusion
Fate brought our wishes to a good conclusion,
And you to punishment, which seem'd to glory,
In being Authour of this Tragick story;
But I forgive you, wishing you to be
A Philalethes, not a fallsie:
And now because that you may fully know
That you are pardon'd, follow where I go;
Be confident of what I say; and tell
Th' enquiring world, what hath this night befell;
So follow me: Impatient of delay
He rises in his sleep, and hasts away;

And being up, he ransacks all about
To see if he could find Parthenia out;
But she was gone, and yet he blindly gropes
About the Room, being fill'd with fruitless hopes
At last to find her; but his sleepy pace
Brings him with speed unto the fatal place
Of execution; down the stairs he falls,
And falling wakes, and waking, swears, and bawls
For Justice on Parthenia, whilst he cryes,
Revenge, revenge, my swelling injuries
Upon that cursed Hagg; Oh let her be
Confin'd to Hell for perpetuity;
Oh where am I, cryes he, can any tell
Except the Devil; Am I not in Hell;
Or do I dream; yet Dreams do seldom show
Reality; I'm bruis'd and batter'd,—Oh—
My head, my shoulders, nay, and every part
Does now contrive to breed an aching heart;
What Devil toss'd me hither, must I be
The Tennis-ball of Hell? Oh tyranny;
What, have they drencht me in the Stigian Lake?
For I am wet, my head, my shoulders ake;
What streams are these, that run, and flow about
My face, and ears, what are my brains beat out?
Oh help, for pitty help,; what shall I lye
Brainless, and helpless, and unpitied dye;

What is the world grown deaf? or do I call
Without regard? Oh most accursed fall;
I cannot help my self, 'tis therefore vain
For me to strive to crawl up stairs again;
Well then, since none will pity, farewel breath,
I'le be content to groan my self to death:
Thus lay Dimagoras, groaning forth a curse,
His cryes were terrible, his groans were worse.

The trembling Goaler heard his groans, his cryes;
But had as little power to pray, as rise;
He is all fear, no hopes can reconcile
His thoughts to Heaven, his actions are so vile;
He call'd his sins before him with intent
To add unto them, but not to repent;
Goalers are Hells pawn-brokers, for they take
Forty, per Cent. and doe't for pity sake;
Sometimes they'l carry (with a dexterous art)
Heav'n in their face, the Devil in their heart;
And 'tis well known, th' oppressed pris'ners cry,
Is their delight; their groans, their melody:
Reader, consider but a Goaler well,
You'l find him Devil, and his prison, Hell:
But whither run I: must Dimagoras lie
Pickled in blood without a remedy:
The day appears, the Goaler now begins
To stare about him, and forget his sins,

He now starts up; His Wife being grave & wise,
Bids him confess his faith before he rise;
Faith (says the Goaler) what should that thing be?
If I keep faith, in troth 'twill not keep me:
Tell me of faith, Hell bury thee alive;
'Tis sweet oppression makes a Goaler thrive:
She speaks again; why, Minion, what dost ayle
Says he; Faith will not silver-lace thy tail,
Nor feed your wants: No more; for if you do,
Your Faith shall be your meat, and clothing too;
The name of that bare word will make me fail,
'Twill prove a poyson, and break ope my Goal;
'Tis much like Mercury, because 'twill eat
Through Iron bars, nay, 'tis a thing will cheat,
The Devil, nay, I tell thee without doubt,
If we keep that, 'twill let our pris'ners out;
I fear, I fear, this very word portends
Some mischief unto us, or to our friends:
My dreams were sad this night, me thoughts the great
Lyconian Lord was grown so spruce, and neat,
That all the world admir'd him, nay, his brain
(Untun'd by frenzy) was now tun'd again,
And at the last me thoughts I saw him lye
Upon a Couch, and our Lutosa by,
Braiding his hair; he gently seem'd to play
And toy with her,, but in a civil way;

At last me thoughts I heard a noise, that made
My trembling unprovided heart afraid;
I started from my sleep, made haste, and went
To rise, but that thy Language did prevent,
And hinder my design; I thank my Fate
I never heard a word did more abate
My courage, for, indeed, I was inclin'd
To rise, and run to quarrel with the wind;
But such another word (I'le tell thee true)
Would make me use a pris'ner like a Jew:
But now I'le rise, but prethee speak no more,
Nor name that word which once you nam'd before;
But now I think on't, I must haste and go
Unto my Lord Dimagoras, and know
What he intends; the King hath gave him leave
To take the air; but yet I can perceive
No great desire he hath to leave this place;
My Paradice sure pleases well his grace;
But e're he stirs, I will be sure that he
(Were he my flesh and blood) shall pay his Fee;
I'le hast and see what his wise Lordship saith,
Good morrow Wife; Pray not a word of faith:

Away he goes; no sooner was he come
Within the door of the scarce-twilight room,
But he espies confusion; for the Bed
Was thrown quite open, and Dimagoras fled:

The Goaler, much affrighted, hasts away
Unto his Wise, and thus began to say;

I am undone, cryes he, undone, Good Wife
Be civil to me, quickly take a knife
And cut my throat, Dimagoras is fled,
I shall be hang'd, Oh that I now were dead;
Prethee dispatch me, for 'twill be disgrace
To see thy husband hang'd before thy face;
Call up my servants quickly, whilst I stay
And see if I can force my self to pray;
Good Wife make haste, be quick; away she flyes,
And runs down stairs with light'ning in her eyes;
She calls her servants, but they could not hear,
For sleep had barrocado'd every ear;
At last, away she runs, thinking to call
Her Daughter; but she stumbling, catch'd a fall;
They say that women stumble at a straw;
But this I'm sure was none, because she saw
It was Dimagoras, who begun to cry
Torment me not Parthenia, let me dye,
I am half dead, Oh do me not the wrong
To hinder me, I'have liv'd too too long
Too long: with that up gets the Goalers wife,
Runs to her husband, husband safe thy life,
Dimagoras, Dimagoras ------ and there
She wanting breath, was forc'd to gape for air;

100

With that the Goaler, for a little space
Stood still, and she stood staring in his face;
They both were mute; the Goaler thought it vain
To speak to her that could not speak again;
But looking strictly on her, he espies
Her hands, her cloths all bloody, then he cryes
Out murther, murther: and by this time, all
The house was up, who hearing him to call,
And cry out murther, came all arm'd to see
What was the matter; but by this time, she
Had taken breath, and told her husband, that
Dimagoras was not fled, but to say what
The matter was, she knew not; but her haste
Made her to trip, and tumble cross his wast.
The Goaler now looks big, begins to swear
By Hercules, that all things were not fair;
He snatch'd his sword into his hand, and run
Down stairs, to see the things that had been done,
Where being come (attended with his Guard)
He lookt about, but could not see, yet heard
Sad groans, as could by horror be exprest;
(But to find pity in a Goalers brest
Is more then miracle) he hunts about,
Yet could not find (what he expected) out;
He calls his Wife, and says, 'tis strange that she
Should stumble at a thing, he could not see.

101

Prepostrous fool, says she, suppose that men,
Should know how oft their wives did fall; what then?
By this I see your zealesie appears,
Your horns, good man, are longer then your ears,
Says she; Come follow me, I'le shew you where
Your Pris'ner lyes, lift up your horns, look there,
Look well upon him, judge him if you can
To be a knowing able womans man;
The Goaler now provides him, to debate
The cause, and reason, of his low estate;
Goes nearer to him, wills him to express
The dismal cause of this unhappiness;
But all in vain, Dimagoras, whose eyes
Were glew'd with blood, cou'd not behold his wise
And careful Goaler, neither did he find
Whose voice it was, being, deaf, as well as blind;
With that the Goaler seeing 'twas in vain
To question him, whose fear, more then his pain,
Made him elingued, gave command that he
Should be committed to his bed, and be
Observ'd with care, whilst he himself, would run
And fetch a Chirurgion, which thing being done,
He brings him in, who presently provides
To patch his head, and plaister up his sides;
He wash'd his head, then takes his Probe, and tries
The deepness of his wounds; Dimagoras cryes,

102

What you mean, ye Hell-hounds, are ye come
To bring me to a second martyrdom;
Torment me not, 'tis known that I have store
Of plagues already, then what need I more?
Oh that my eyes were open, that I might
But see the day, how blest a thing is light?
Say, are ye men, or Devils? by and by,
Reply'd the Chirurgeon your observing eye
Shall testifie the truth, so by degrees
Unglews his eye-lids, and Dimagoras sees,
And knows them all; he being gently drest,
Tells his misfortune, and so goes to rest;
After some hours of sleep, Dimagoras wakes,
Finding himself at ease, he gently shakes
His slumbers off; and then begins to call
To minde the fate of his unlucky fall;
He well remember'd that he dream'd he should
Receive a sudden fall, a fall that would
Prove prejudicial, which he found too true;
But mist the Damosel promis'd to ensue,
And dress his wounds; nay, and he calls to mind
Her name, and cryes Lutosa was unkind
Not to appear; but yet he hop'd his fate,
Would yet prove kind, it being not too late:
His longing soul now groans, and sighs to see
Some good, after so much of miserie;

103

Alas, says he, has providence forgot
To send thee hither, ah why com'st thou not
In spight of Fate? be certain I will prove
A constant lover' never to remove
My well-fix't thoughts: Love has a secret art,
I am already wedded in my heart;
I hugg thee in my soul; Oh do not stay
My dear Lutosa, come, Oh come away;
My thoughts, are by thy absence, much increast;
And thus I take up love at interest;
Save these extream expences, and command
That I may take it at a better hand;
Oh come: Having so said (half void of hope)
The door being softly mov'd, did gently ope;
In comes a thing, whose worth is best exprest
By saying nothing, Reader, judge the rest;
And yet because truth may be clearly shown,
It was the Goalers daughter, who was known,
And call'd Lutosa,; this is she, whose beauty,
As it commanded, so it proffer'd, duty
Unto Dimagoras; Reader, wouldst thou hear
Her Character; be patient, and give ear:
‘First, she was natures over-sight, and then
‘Her fathers darling, and a scorn to men:
‘Her mother oft would say, she was begot,
‘When peevish nature did, she knew not what;

104

And this is she, (Dimag'ras dream'd) was fair,
Was rich, was wise, nay, and Apollo's heir;
But let me whisper, and I'le tell thee what,
Believe quite contrary, and she was that:
'Tis more then double misery to dwell
Upon a name, whose Character, is Hell;
She was a Goalers daughter; what need more?
The consequence denotes her to be—W---
Yet good enough for him, whose lep'rous name
Deserves no other Wife, then lasting shame;
She stares upon Dimagoras, who now
Begins to view her with a wrinkled brow;
His faith depending on his flattering dream,
Makes him believe that she is all extream;
His love-sick thoughts are plotting how to praise
And court her beauty, in an amorous phrase;
He calls her to him, she (not being coy)
Stradles unto him, and begins to toy
And wanton with his hair, entreats, desires,
To dress his wounds, and with much zeal, requires
The reason of his raging grief; whilst he
Is ravish'd with her affabilitie;
His trembling hand seizes her dirty paw,
Her daring Nose still keeps her mouth in awe,
Or else she had, (more to compleat his bliss)
Crown'd his pale lips, with a be-slabbering kiss;

105

He sighs, and she, as willing to requite
His pains, endeavours with much speed and might
To answer him, but counld not, for she knew
Not how to sigh, but gave a grunt, or two,
Which (to speak truth) did very much content
Dimagoras, who thought that she had rent,
Her heart in pieces; after that, she throws
Her goggle-eyes about, and then bestows
A wide-mouth'd smile upon him, which exprest
Ten thousand joys, he thinks himself as blest
As bliss can make him, and begins to take
Couragious boldness, passionate to make
Humble addresses to her; She begins
T' admire her self, he courts her and she grins,
Grows now a little coy; and will not stay,
But by compulsion; strives to go away,
Because she knows she cannot; Oh what pains
He takes to hold her, whilst she strives and strains
T' unscrew her self; why, let me go, says she,
Or I will tell your incivilitie
Unto my father, who will make you know
What 'tis to use his virgin Daughter so;
I will be gon, with that Dimagoras vents
A showr of tears, and shews his discontents,
By his too-stedfast looks, which made her show
An angry brow, although it were not so:

106

'Tis importunity makes women prove
Insulting tyrants over proffer'd love:
Dimagoras sues, and begs, whilst she replies,
Away with these your false, fond flateries;
My mother told me, that I must not yeild
At first; and they are Cowards quit the field
At the first on-set; nay, my mother told me,
Men do not always love me, when they hold me;
She charg'd me too, when men desir'd to know
Whether I could affect; at first, say no:
And here she whisper'd, Oh unhappy I,
It goes against my stomack to deny;
And though I dare not in a present sense
Yet I may love you in the Future Tense;
Then let me go, you shall not be withstood
If you'l but keep in the Optative Mood:
Away she trundles, whilst his nimble eye
Pursues her to the last discovery.
The door being shut, and his Lutosa fled,
He then composed his distracted head;
Begins to ruminate, and call to mind
Her several graces, and with what a kind
Aspect she look't upon him, then to say
She had no crime, but that she went away;
But Oh ye powers, cryes he, do but befriend
My wishes with success, and quickly send

107

My soul unto me, for alas I own
Nothing of life, when my Lutosa's gone:
I am a Statue, nay, and what is worse,
Her present absence makes my life a curse;
Ah, where art thou my dearest, do not stay
Too long but come; Oh quickly come away,
Here, here, thy languishing Dimagoras lyes
Wounded, with what must cure, thy balmy eyes;
Let thy disquiet heart permit no rest
To crowd into thy heart, till thou hast blest
Thy dearest with a visit: Couldst thou see
My heart, my dear, Oh thou wouldst pity me.
The door (which seem'd to pitty) by degrees
Was op'ned, but alas Dimagoras sees,
Not what he lookt for, for it prov'd to be
The Goaler, and Chirurgion, come to see,
And dress his wounds, so after he had done
Departs; And then the Goaler thus begun.

My Lord, I thought it fit to let you know
If you desire to take the air, and go
A mile or two; I shall this afternoon
Be ready to attend you, and as soon
As with conveniency your Lordship shall
Give me command, I will attend your call;
To which Dimagoras (after thanks) reply'd,
Your civil kindness shall not be deny'd;

108

Therefore this afternoon, I shall prepare
My self, and willingly enjoy the air;
But being (you know a stranger) must depend
Vpon your interest, for I have no friend
To welcome me; Thus having understood
What I intend; do what you shall think good:
To which the Goaler thus reply'd, My Lord,
Arcadia it a Country doth afford
Both courtesie and plenty, 'tis well known,
That civil entertainmet's always shown,
Especially to strangers; never doubt,
My Lord, we'l finde good entertainment out:
There is a Knight, not two Leagues from this place
(Whose hospitable goodness gives a grace,
And life to fame) whose seat, is truly, call'd
The Pallace of delight, being fenc'd, and wall'd
About with Marble; Art and Nature, were
A long time plotting how to make it rare;
And many curious eyes, have often went
To see, and judge, which was most excellent,
Nature, or Art; but none could justly tell,
Because they both endeavour'd to excell:
Unto this place, my Lord, if you think fit,
We'l steer our course, but let us not omit
Our oppertunity, my Lord, time flies
Without reclaim, conveniency bids rise,

109

Whilst I, my Lord, will hasten to prepare
Accomodations, this shall be my care.
Away the Goaler went, who being gone,
Dimagoras began to think upon
His dear Lutosa, nothing could proclaim
Him happy, but this crooked piece of shame;
But time draws on, Dimagoras now prepares
To take his Journey, loaded with more cares
Then ever; Now he labours to pretend
An indispose, as hoping to befriend
Himself with an advantage how to speak
With his Lutosa, or his heart must break;
But see how all things seemingly concurr
To make compleat his happiness in her;
For in she comes, I will not now expres;
Her comely carriage, or her dirty dress;
Her graceful dopps, no, nor her sheep-like eyes,
It is enough, Dimagoras discries
Nothing but beauty joyn'd with equal parts,
Sufficient to subdue the stontest hearts;
He stroaks his Beard, and with a well-pleas'd look
He step'd unto her, chring'd, and after took
Her by the hand; judge then what follows next,
Not much of consequence from such a Text:
He look'd as if his hopeless heart were breaking,
Nor could he speak for sighs, she ligh, for speaking

110

But at the last, perpending well, how short
The time would be, he treated in this sort:
My dear Lutosa, wonder not, I know
Thy name, for fancy told me it was so;
Moreover, I was warned in a dream
T' adore that beauty which I found extream:
Then blame me not (because in thee I finde
My dream fulfill'd) to proffer thee my kinde,
And true affections, for by all that's good
I love thee equal with my dearest blood;
The world shall not exclude thee from my arms,
I will defend, and guard thee from all harms;
Oh that I were in Arms, that I might try;
For love gives courage, courage victory:
I'le plough the Ocean, rip up Mountains, make
The knit brow'd-surly-cragged Rocks to quake
At my appearance; nay, if Hell shall dare
To contradict me, he shall feel a share
Of my impos'd revenge, there's nothing can
Withstand th' attempts of a resolved man;
I am resolv'd, let all the world conspire
Against me, I will crown my blest desire
With good effect; If my Lutosa say
It shall be done, 'tis done, who dare gain-say?
If any dare oppose, let him be shown
To me in Arms; I'le warrant thee mine own:

111

If Mars should come in person, and propound
But love to thee. I'de make him kiss the ground:
What were Knight Errants, only arrant knaves,
And base Impostors, nay, the very slaves
Of time, and fortune, prating thus, and thus;
And such an other thing was Argalus,
Compar'd to me; I'm confident that fate
Dares not to make me less then fortunate:
Suppose (my dear affected) thou wert now
Inclos'd with Bulls, and Bears, dispairing how
To save thy life, and I by chance come by,
And view my Dearest in such misery;
Oh how I'de make those Tyrants fly, and run
Like subject mists before the Princely Sun:
What says my Love, wilt thou accept a heart
Unconquerable, but by thee, who art
Commandress of my soul; wilt thou incline
To my request, and tell me thou art mine?
Forget that female custome, do not say
The child of Love, cannot be in one day
Begot, nay bred, and born; for it must be
Encreast, brought forth, by times maturitie;
Believe not these fond falseties, for know
Love is an active, sprightly thing, will grow
Insensible; 'tis more then petty treason
Against the God of Love, to love by reason:

112

What reason was there, that there should be seen
So much intire affection between
Vulcan and Venus; Cupids Arrows fly
Not always constant, sometimes low, then high;
For I have known, a Noble Lord, express
Affection to an humble Shepherdess;
How many high-born Kings did often prove
Sad Martyrs in the common flames of love;
But this (I must confess) discretion must
Not attribute to Love, so much as Lust;
There may be Love, in Lust, but 'tis well known
To be a spurious, and a bastard one;
Such Love, like Mother-pearl, does oft send forth
A glorious luster, but is little worth:
Or like that foolish fire, which men say
Only mis guids, and leads men from their way,
And then it leaves them like a sudden blast,
Whose fierce extreams portend it cannot last;
This is a mock-love, only fit to be
The subject of our hatred; thus you see,
My (Dear Lutosa) and may well infer
From hence, that perfect Love can never err;
For notwithstanding love may like the fire,
Whose rapid flames, do often times aspire;
And sometimes wanting fuel to maintain
It's strength, does seemingly go out again;

113

Yet, without doubt, the fire is still the same,
The cause being gon, th'effect must needs be lame;
Love is the ground of Love, a thing divine,
And truly Noble, such a Love is mine;
My dear Lutosa come, let me infold,
And lock thee in mine Arms, er'e time grows old.
Let not the prime of Love be spent in toys,
At my return I will compleat my joys
By sacred Matrimony; speak, my Dear,
And let a speedy, free consent appear,
Though usher'd with a blush; 'tis always known
The Rose does never blush until 'tis blown;
Reply (my Dearest) time cannot allow
A fitter opportunity then now;
Wilt thou compleat the blessings of my life,
And crown me with the comforts of a Wife;
Speak, speak my Joy, or let thy silence be
The proclamation of our unitie;
I must be gone: She stares upon his face,
As if her looks would speak, and for a space
She held him by the hand, with an intent
To speak, but that the Goaler did prevent
Her resolutions; so being heavy hearted,
He sighs, she grunts, he sighs again, and parted:
Away he went, scarce knowing what he did,
And love sick passions are not eas'ly hid:

114

At last when he had made a near approach,
He spies a Guard stand round about his Coach,
Which unexpected object made him vent
In whispers, his unruly discontent;
He calls the Goaler to him, makes his ear
The privy-Chamber of his new-bred fear;
His fear was so extream, that every part
Declar'd in trembles, his afflicted heart:
The Goaler wonders at this sudden change,
Speaking but softly, said, my Lord, 'tis strange
To see what alteration's newly bred;
You that but now advanc'd your stately head
As high as Heav'n, do now abuse your birth
Make honour blush, to see you court the earth
With your depending crest; my Lord, advance
Your drooping soul, fear not, nor fate, nor chance
Shall do you wrong, this Guard is to attend,
And wait upon your Honour, to defend
Your noble Person; well, if good success
Proves this a truth, says he, that you express,
Be well assur'd, that thou shalt ever find
A grateful friend; but prethee prove so kind
To tell me truly, is it not intended
That I shall dye, because I am befriended
With such a Guard, I fear 'tis too too true
But you are loath to tell me, prethee do:

115

Let these few Angels tutor thee to speak
The speedy truth, or else my heart will break:
With that the Goaler, (Oh th' effect of gold,
What Town? What Garrison is that can hold
Against such Batteries?) suddenly reply'd:
May all the plagues of Hell, my Lord, betide
And fall upon me, may they be encreast
To more then infinite, if in the least
Your death's intended; now, my Lord, be free
In your beleif, enjoy your liberty;
As for the Guard, assure your self they are
To wait in honour, till you take the aire:
And so my Lord, be pleased to possess
Your Coach, and you shall see their readiness
To do you honour; so away they went,
Dimagoras being mod'rately content,
Until he came into the Street and spy'd
Such throngs of people, and how he was ey'd
By every one, who lookt, but on this score
As he suppos'd, never to see him more;
Nay that which more confirm'd him, was, his ear
(Which then was much attentive) seem'd to hear
Some curse and say Now may the hang-man take
And truss the villain for Parthenia's sake:
These words were bitter Corasives; now he
Curses the Goalers infidelitie;

116

He thinks to quit the Coach, but then his thoughts
Presents before him his unequal faults;
Resolves to stay, because he thinks the Rout
Would have no mercy till his Brains were out:
At last seeing himself begin t' appear
Without the City, he begins to cheer,
And stroak his Beard, his peaceful heart doth now
Begin to sit in tryumph on his brow:
‘Fear is the senses whirlewind, for it blows
‘The minds chief faculties away, and throws
‘The reason out of order, judgment must
‘Be whirl'd in to the lofty aire, like dust:
Dimagoras can witness this conclusion.
‘Folly and fear are parents of confusion:
‘And he whose fear exceeds his reason, borrows
‘A fair advantage to encrease his sorrows;
But now Dimagoras his stormy mind
Grows calm, and quiet; now he is enclin'd
T' observe the Countries pleasure, which indeed
Does justly claim the priviledge to exceed:
She's natures eldest Daughter, wears the Crown
Of pleasure, plenty, jewel'd with Renown;
And to speak truth, she truly can invite
The strictest eye, to banquet with delight;
But in respect she has been prais'd before
By better Pens then mine, I'le say no more:

117

Thus having brought Dimagoras, though with fear
Yet with much safety, out of Town, I'le steer
My course towards his Lutosa, who is now
In labour with her thoughts, complotting how
With most advantage, to declare her mind
Unto her Mother; Fortune proving kind
Just at that instant, brought her Mother in,
Which gave Lutosa courage to begin,
And thus proceed:—Mother, says she, I must
Commit a secret, to your care, and trust,
Which is as follows: ------
------ Our Lyconian Lord
Of late hath pleas'd in passion to afford
Large promises of Love; but Mother, know
Because you bid me, I still answer'd, No;
But still the more that I deny'd, the more
He importun'd me, and would not give o're
His strong requests, swearing by all the powers
Above, before th' expence of many hours,
He would; though with the hazard of his life,
Finish his joys, by making me his wife;
Oh how he vow'd; And there, with much ado,
She wrings, and squeezes out, a tear or two;
And then she cryes, Mother I must confess
I love the man more then I can express:

118

Oh Mother! how his circling Arms did twine
About my waste, he call'd me his Divine
And Dear Lutosa, holding fast my hand,
And staring in my face, whilst there did stand
A Pearly showre within his pretty eyes,
As Arguments of his extreamities;
Oh how he wrong my hands, and would not let
Me go, but like an Owl catch'd in a Net
I flutter'd up, and down, but all in vain
The more I strove, the more he would constrain,
And keep me, swearing that he car'd not whither
His life, or I went first, or both together;
So dearly does he love me, and I'm sure
His stedfast love will constantly endure,
It will, it will; Oh how my Spirits burn,
I am inflam'd, I long for his return;
Mother, 'twil add unto your aged life
A score of years, to see your daughter, wife
Unto a Noble Lord: Ah Daughter, Daughter,
Reply'd the Mother, mind what follows after;
'Tis no such happiness to be his Spouse
That makes (with an intent to break) his vows
Besides, what joy, what pleasure can there be
In this his love's extream extremitie.
Extreams, like bubles, swell, but cannot last,
Nor claim more durance then a sudden blast;

119

Suppose you were invited as a Guest
To some rich Banquet, or a Marriage Feast,
Tell me, nay quickly tell me, would you eat
By well-cram'd handfulls, such delitious meat,
Or by degrees? Reason, and Nature are
For moderate uses; they that eat to spare,
Spare oft to eat; Thus consequence may prove
There is no surfeit like a whole-sale love;
Moreover, do you think that wit or art
Can make it good to my experienc'd heart,
That he, vile man, (that never yet was true
To any) will be constant unto you;
Beleive it not; but yet, for ought I know,
He being mad, perhaps has made you so;
Only in this, the match is very fit,
Because you truly equal him in wit;
Moreover, call to mind how he abus'd
Divine Parthenia, nay, and basely us'd
Our most Renown'd Celania, whom I wish
The Gods defend and guard from prejudice:
He is a Traytor to the Laws of Reason,
Begot by murther, and brought forth by treason:
And do you think that he which was content
To'abuse those Beauties which were excellent
Can dote on you, that only have a beauty
Can boast equivolency to your duty.

120

Which (to speak truth) is nothing; you inherit
Your Fathers baseness, with as base a spirit:
Nature did crowd into the world a curse
When thou wert born, and could not make thee worse;
But now you fondly hope to change your life;
You'l be a Lords, and I a Goalers wife;
Your cruel Father, doubtless will be proud
To hear this news, pray tell it him aloud;
With that away she flung, clapps to the door,
Being tyr'd with what she heard, would hear no more,
Where now I'le leave them, for I am to make
What haste, what speed I can, to overtake
Dimagoras in his Journey; but a while
I'le rest, not turn a pleasure to a toyl.

The end of the Third Book.

121

THE Fourth Book.

Fly gentle Pegasus, it now must cost
Us labour, to redeem the time that's lost,
Dimagoras has gone much ground, whilst we
Loyt'ring behind, have lost the libertie
Of hearing his discourse, which, without doubt
Was pleasing; Come let's hast to find him out.
My Muse has overtaken him, and now
He's very busie in observing how
The Country lay, whilst his observing eye
Upon a hills assent, did soon discry
A Stately Pallace, which indeed gave more
Content, then all that he had seen before;
It was Kalanders Pallace, who indeed
(As 'twas impossible he should exceed
His Fathers virtues) equally exprest
As much of bounty, with a noble breast:

122

Dimagoras (much contented) makes a stand,
First views the house, and then surveys the Land;
Observes each herd of Cattel, how they browse
And inter-weave themselves amongst the boughs;
Then his obliquor eyes (with living chear
Banquet themselves) observes the well-fed Deer
Crusted within a wall, that would invite
Meer gluttony unto an appetite:
Then with a more, then half reverted eye
(Being greedy in his looks) he did espye
Hugh flocks of well-fleec'd sheep, whose frisking Lambs
Would (in obedience to their blating Dams,
And their own hunger) oft kneel down, and tugg
The swelling bounty of th' exuberous dugg;
Nor did his eye alone Monopolize
These several pleasures; for his ears, likewise
Were courted with delight; in this they got
The upper hand, the eyes could see them not;
Yet by the ears direction they could see
The happy Authors of this melodie:
It was four Damosels, sitting on the ground
Cussion'd with Hillocks, lab'ring to confound
Their sorrows in a Ditty; having took
There several seats neer to a neighbouring Brook,
Whose silver streams, being proud to overflow
Their virdent banks, stood still, as't twere, to show

123

An admiration, seeming to express
An humble duty to each Shepherdess;
At last (having not Neptunes grant to stay)
They shrunk within their bounds, & danc't away:
Dimagoras (though well-pleas'd) was not content
To hear at distance, crav'd the free consent
Of his attentive Goaler, to go near
Unto the place, and undiscovered hear
Their Amarous Songs; The Goaler gave consent,
They quit the Coach, and so away they went;
But er'e they could arrive unto the end
Of their desires they were enforc'd to lend
Their ears to new delights, a voice was sent
Into their souls, to cause a ravishment;
They both amazed, thought, they knew not what
Both wondring what it was they wondred at;
They now imploy their eyes to pry about
To see if they could find this Angel out;
At last their heedless paces brought them nigh
Unto a Jes'mine Grove, being thick and high;
Yet was it not so thick, but that the ear
strictly attending, could prevail to hear,
And understand these words, which in regard
They pleas'd him not, Dimagoras wish'd unheard.

124

Feighn would I love, but dare not trust
Because I know the hearts of Men
Glory oft times to be unjust,
Therefore I'le love I know not when.
Happy and blest is she that can
Live without this thing call'd Man.

Were I like fair Parthenia,
And had an Argalus to wo me,
Experience bids me sadly say
A vile Dimagoras might undo me.
Happy and blest is she that can
Live without this thing call'd Man.

I will not love, nor will I hate,
But constant to my vows I'le prove,
I'le be contented in this State,
When men prove just I'le learn to love.
Happy and blest is she that can
Live without this thing call'd Man.

Then farewell all those flatt'ring toys
Which some esteem the greatest pleasure,
They are but out-side painted joys,
Virginity's the best of treasure.
How truly blest is she that can
Live without this thing call'd Man.

125

And here Dimagoras, though he did not care
T' applaud the matter, yet he lik'd the aire;
But his disturbed thoughts were all this while
Boyling with rage to hear himself call'd vile:
And now he (like a blood-hound) sents about;
To see if he can find this party out,
Who sent this pleasing, most displeasing Song
Into his ears; he had not hunted long
Before was represented to his sight
(Which indeed pleas'd him not) an armed Knight
Who with undaunted courage thus exprest
Himself: What are ye Friends that have transgrest
Our strict-kept Laws; go back, look up, and see
That fair Inscription, read your destinie;
With that Dimagoras lifting up his head,
Observes th' Inscription, stares upon't, and read
To this effect.
Let none presume to pass this way,
But such as do intend to stay,
And give Encounter to a Knight
Who will forthwith come in sight;
Let him that overcomes remain
Till he be overcome again,
Or else if he in several fights
Can conquer two and fifty Knights

126

He may, at that self same hour
Release Corinda from this Bower;
And to period all his strife,
He is to take her for his Wife;
She is a Princess, whose Renown
Justly deserves to wear the Crown.
Dimagoras having read this dismal story,
Not greatly thirsting after short liv'd glory,
Looks pale and wan; The Goaler thinks of flying,
Trembles, and almost dyes, for fear of dying:
Th' impatient Knight forthwith imploys his Page
To fetch Accoutrements, whilst with a sage
And well-composed countenance he told
Dimagoras, that good fortune made him bold
In these attempts; for he had often shown
Himself a Conqueror, and over-thrown
Forty six Knights already, and before
We part, says he, I hope to want but four,
As now I do but six, for by that fate
That sent you hither, I'le expire the date
Of both your lives; the world hath truly known
Amphialus was never overthrown,
Nor ever was my courage fully try'd,
Or match'd, except by Argalus, that dy'd

127

By my unequall'd Sword: These thundring words
(Though modestly exprest) prov'd two edg'd swords
Unto Dimagoras his heart, who made
(His fear permitting) this reply, and said,
Think not (most worthy Champion) that I fear
Because you are Amphialus, or care
To meet you in a Combate: 'tis well known
Unto this Knight, that I have overthrown
More then you boast of; Nay, indeed 'tis true,
Reply'd the Goaler; Sir, be pleas'd to view
This powerful Warrant, whose Contents will be
A bar to your intended Victorie:
This is the Lord Dimagoras, who is now
My Pris'ner, being one that scorns to bow,
Or stoop unto the hardiest Knight that lives;
And this is he to whom that Warrant gives
A priviledge to take the aire: But when
Dimagoras heard those words, he cry'd, what then?
Must my concealed, well-known valour, lye
Dorment because I want my liberty;
Accursed Fate, cryes he, and there he swore;
The more perswaded, still he rag'd the more;
The courteous Knight desir'd him to surcease
His passion, and enjoy a quiet peace;
For know, says he, Honour will not permit
A present Combate; for, my Lord, as yet

128

You are a Pris'ner (as I understand
By this informing Paper in my hand)
Therefore (my Lord) If I should boldly enter
A Combate with you, I should more then venture
My life at once; Suppose (My Lord) that Fate
Should Crown me Conqueror, what's my Estate,
Or Fortunes worth? I must be sure to stand
(For boldly breaking of our Kings Command)
In danger of my life; Nor is this all,
For this (thy Keeper) will be sure to fall
Into the hands of Justice: Therefore now
My Lord be satisfy'd, unknit your brow;
Go get your Liberty, then fight, and spare not,
For now I dare not fight, because I dare not,
Your Warrant tyes my hands; What tongue can tell
My sorrows for this chance: My Lord farewel.
The Knight departs, Dimagoras now would fain
Follow, but that the Goaler does restrain,
And keep him back; when he begun to know
He could not, he the more desires to go;
Oh that I had this cursed villain here,
Says he, that I might make my worth appear
In his disaster! Does he think his Arm
Is able to inflict the least of harm

129

Upon my body, no, I'd make him feel
The full reward of my chastising steel;
Oh how I'd carbonado every part
Of his imperious, his perfidious heart;
I'de make the wretch revoke his former vows,
Or I would hack his body into mouths
To plead for pity; Oh my Spirits boyl
T' obtain the tryumph of so sweet a spoil:
Audatious wretch, that told me to my face
That he would bring us both to quick disgrace,
If we encounter'd him, yet I dare say,
The fool was glad we let him go away;
And so were you, my friend, your looks betray'd
The troubles of your heart, you were afraid:
I must confess, reply'd the Goaler, I
Hate fighting with a true sincerity,
Except I am enforc'd, and then I show
No mercy, for I kill at every blow;
And had that proud, and vap'ring Rascal stay'd
A little, till my fear had been allay'd,
You should have seen with what a dext'rous ski'l
I would have wrought the Traytor to my will,
Nor do not think my fear did wholly rise
From cowardise, but from a quick surprise:
Man were not Man, except he were inclin'd
To feel the several passions of the mind,

130

As love, and fear, which often discontents
The mind with several obvious accidents;
Then blame me not; he's valiant can abide,
When danger tells him that he must be try'd;
But now he's gon, Nor will I so much strain
My Valour, as to wish him back again:
But now (my Lord) occasion does invite
After this storm, to take a fresh delight:
Let's haste away, for now our time draws on,
My Lord, forget your passion, let's be gon;
Away they went into the Coach, and eas'd
('Tis hard to judge which was the better pleas'd)
Their trembling limbs, where for a little space
We'l leave them, and return unto the place
From whence they came; I hope the Reader will
Pardon a small digression; whilst my Quill
Steps to Corinda's Bowr, and enquire
Of several passages, and then retire:
First we must know this pleasing Bowr, wherein
Corinda was, has for a long time bin
A pleasant reseptacle for all such
Distressed Ladies, that had griev'd too much
For their unconstant Lovers; There they find
So many rare diversions of the mind,
That fright'ned Melancholy seems to be
A non-apparent in that Libertie.

131

Here liv'd the fair Corinda, who indeed
In Virtue, Riches, Beauty, did exceed
Most of her time, nay, I may boldly say
She did exceed, all, but Celania:
This Lady, who to safe-guard her delights
Was still attended with a hundred Knights,
And fifty Damosels, who were still t' invent
New Rarities to crown her with content;
And whatsoever pastime seem'd to be,
Without the Bowr, she stood unseen, to see:
It so fell out, Dimagoras was espy'd
(With his plump Goaler walking by his side)
To pass that way, who being known by most
Of all the Knights, they soon began to boast
Of their approching past-time, which they knew
(If plotted well) would presently ensue;
And knowing that Dimagoras his ear
Was always very courteous to hear
Harmonious strains; they presently made choice
Of one, whose more then ordinary voice
Would tame a Tyger, nay make sorrow glad
Having an Art which Orpheus never had,
She has been often times mistook to be
An Angel in a Damosels Liverie;
And first, this Lady was desir'd to strain
Her magick voice, that so they might obtain,

132

And bring him near the Bowr; that so his ear
Might with more ease, and more distinctly hear,
Himself revil'd, and scorn'd; and how his name
Was eccho'd to the world in lasting shame;
Nay, that which vext him most, was, in regard
Th' attentive Goaler, listning, over heard
The same expressions, which indeed enforc'd
His present fury, whilst he thus discours'd:
From whence proceeds those Philomelian airs
Cloath'd in such angry words; whose's that dispairs
And wil not love, if Argalus should wo them
For fear a vile Dimagoras should undo them?
What Hellish tongue pronounc'd so damn'd a word?
It is well known Dimagoras is a Lord,
Of more obliging courtesie; his Arm
Was always ready to defend from harm
Distressed Ladies? If I speak a lye,
Oh may some well-prov'd Knight appear, and try
What I dare act; ------
------ At that time did resort
(As if that fortune meant to crown the sport
With good success) a Clown, whose well-known name
Was Clinias, much admired for his Fame,
In being infamous; and this was he
That strove t' obtain a glorious Victorie

133

Over Demetas; But in short, the Knights
(Being covetous to feast with new delights
Corinda's eyes) did forthwith send away
For Clinias, who arriv'd without delay;
And being come, they presently declare
Their minds unto him, bid him to prepare,
And arm himself; for now it must be try'd
Whether his well-prov'd valour will abide
A fierce assault: Clinias receives this news
With an astonish'd brest, begins to muse;
Non plust for want of words, thinks he, should I
Shew my self so unworthy to deny
This first Command, I should for ever be
Disrob'd of honour, cloth'd with infamie;
But what care I; What honour can proceed
From blood? besides, I truly hate to bleed:
May he, whose steely brow invented first
This thing call'd fighting, ever be accurst;
I hate it with my soul; besides, I vow'd
The last Encounter (if I was allow'd
The favour of a Conquest) I would never
Be valiant more, but live at peace for ever;
The very thoughts of fighting is enough
To kill me; pish; this honour's but a puff;
I'le tell an honourable lye, and say
I'm troubl'd with an Ague, and this day

134

'Twill sojorn in my bones, I'le not dissemble,
For I have fear enough to make me tremble,
And they shall see't, which sure will make them cease
Their importunity, and yeild me peace:
But haste requir'd an answer, therefore they
Bid him resolve whether he would obey
Corinda's pleasure; Clynias having got
An Ague in his tongue, replyed not
So soon as was expected; but at last
(Compounding with his fear) and having past
The trouble of his thoughts, he soon displays
The colours of his heart, looks up and says,
Think not (you most Renowned Knights) that I
Have studyed, by my silence, to deny
The honour you impose for I protest
And swear by sweet Corinda, that my breast
Is ready to defend her; but I find
A weakness in my body (not my mind)
Just at this instant, I am half asleep,
(And there he stop'd) I feel a spirit creep
Into my bones; Alas I am all frost:
Oh how I shake, my strength, my limbs, are lost:
Action's the best of cure for this desease
Reply'd the Knight, Now therefore if you please
To mount your Steed, you'le very much endeare
Your self unto Corinda, and appear

135

The object of our praises, for behold
How near they come, and will, if not control'd,
Attempt the Bowr; with that, sad Clinias, cast
His eyes about, and looking, had at last
Observ'd it was Dimag'ras, then he cryes,
Give me my Horse, my Armour, I despise
This thing call'd cold, hereafter, I'le proclaim
True valour turns a frost into a flame;
Oh how I'le slice the slaves within this hour,
And bring the villains heads into the Bowr,
And lay them at Corinda's feet, that she
May tryumph in my glorious victorie:
Now Clinias strives to mount his well-known Steed
On the wrong side, whose, allmost cripple, speed
Answers his Riders valour; being plac'd
Within the Sadle, seem'd to make great hast:
Away he goes, and meeting with his foes,
He told them, they must labour to oppose
His valour, having wilfully transgrest
In their approch, as was before exprest:
Corinda and the Knights were all this while
Within the Bowr, and could not chuse but smile,
To hear, and see, how Clinias did behave
Himself, observing very much his grave
Deportment towards them, for he soon descry'd
Their servile fear, which made him swel with pride;

136

But yet he fearing that Dimagoras might,
Being (as 'twere) compel'd, presume to fight,
He spake bigg words; and to advance his fame,
And quell their courage, he usurp'd the name
Of bold Amphialus, which sadly made
Dimag'ras, more then usually afraid;
But when they saw the Page was near at hand
With Horse and Arms, they all three jointly stand,
Gazing upon each other; Clinias thought
T' excuse the matter, and remit the fault,
Because it was the first; but that prov'd vain,
For then he fear'd, when he return'd again
Unto the Bowr, Corinda would command
His speedy death; time would not let him stand
To reason longer, neither could he stay,
So he in short, concludes to run away;
Which he had done, had not the Goaler shown
His Warrant to him, which was after known
To be an amorous Ballad, for indeed
Clinias (though looking on it) could not read;
But took it in his hand, and for a while
He seems to read and now, and then to smile
At the Contents; the Goaler having spy'd
The wrong end upwards, smil'd, being satisfy'd
Of his transcendent ignorance, declar'd
What was before related, and prepar'd

137

To march away, desiring first to know
Whether that he were satisfy'd or no:
I dare not now (said Clinias) but reveal
My satisfaction, having hand, and seal
To warrant me, and if you please, you may
Take your own liberty, and hast away:
At which Dimagoras (though much pleas'd) exprest
Much discontent with an inraged Brest;
But at the last his seeming discontent
Gladly abated, and away he went;
And so did Clinias, glad withall his heart
Of such a fair advantage to depart;
And now he thinks each munite is an age
Before his near arrival could engage
Corinda to a thankfulness; for he
Thinks he has more then got a Victorie;
At last approaching near the Bowr, a Knight
Came forth unto him, wisht him to alight,
And enter in, that so he might possess
The honour due unto his worthiness;
Who having enter'd, presently was brought
Unto Corindas presence, whilst he thought
Himself in Heaven, and that the time drew near
That his long promis'd glory should appear;
Corinda viewing him, was well content
To see his clownish garb, and after sent

138

The favour of a look, to let him know
(As he suppos'd) her goodness to bestow
Reward upon his merits; but at last
More, then half ravish'd Clinias, having past
The bounds of silence, opn'd wide, and said,
Most Oderiferous, most refulgent Maid,
I, thy notorious friend, that stand before thee
Will fight for thee, because I do adore thee;
Tell me, my Pigeon, didst thou see how I
Behav'd my self, and made the Rascals fly,
That would have done thee wrong; pish, I can make
An Army fly before me for thy sake;
I'le hop o're Walls, and Mountains, nay, I'le dive
Into the Ocean to keep thee alive;
Me thinks the world's too small, for when I come
To fight for thee, I groan for Elbow room;
These narrow Confines allmost make me sweat
My self to death, for I am grown so great
That I must stretch the world; I here profess
I will enlarg't, or that shall make me less;
How dost thou like me, Wench, come, prethee say
Art thou not blest, to see this happy day
And me, (thy most Renowned Champion) here
To take thy part, when danger shall appear.
With that a noble Knight, which then stood by
Corinda, made to Clinias this Reply,

139

And said, Sir Knight, this Lady much does wonder
She saw no light'ning, when she heard it thunder;
She saw your pastime, but she heard no blows,
You courted them like friends (she says) not foes;
Moreover, 'tis her pleasure you should be
Respondent to some questions, which shall be
Forth-with propos'd unto you. First you are
With speed, and freedom forthwith to declare
Why you mis-call'd your self, and said your name
Was bold Amphialus, that you had slain
So many Knights; she says this must appear
To be untrue, Amphialus is here,
Now looking on you, and ere you depart
Will take revenge upon your perjur'd heart:
Clinias takes courage (for it is conceit
Makes all our actions either small or great)
And thus reply'd; Sir Knight, I do conceive
My self much injur'd, for you would bereave
And rob me of my honour, when as I
Have dearly bought it of mine enemy;
As for Amphialus, I must confess,
(In the relation of his hardiness)
I did him honour, not appropriate
His name, but sung the glory of his fate;
And this was all; moreover, when I saw
The Kings broad Seal, and Hand, it was a Law

140

To warrant my forbearance, I protest
My vexed soul was never more opprest
Then at that present; What is, to a Knight
Of valour, more delightful then a fight?
But being charm'd by power, what could I do
More then I did; Sir Knight, I speak to you.
Corinda, and her Ladies (all this while
Being in labour with a hearty smile)
Were now delivered, which truly sent
To Clinias his heart no small content;
For fools love all extreams, because, sometimes
They censure smiles to be the greatest crimes;
But when their apter faiths perswades their brest
That every word's a meritorious jest
(Because it is most non-sense) then they toyl
(And he commits a fault that does not smile)
And tugg for jests; But yet in Reasons School
Who laughs because, another is a fool,
‘Condems himself; I therefore only shall
‘Say Clinias was a fool, and that is all;
‘How many great pretenders to the Sword
‘(As well as he) could never read a word?
‘Yet what a bluster in the world they make;
The Sword's their Pen, their Book, with which they take
Such large accounts, that 'twill at last be known
They have expended more then was their own;

141

But I must haste Dimagoras now draws near
To his desires, where all things do appear
Delightful to his wish; his greedy eyes
(Being satiated with varieties)
Conceal'd themselves, that so they might obtain
(When reinvited to observe again)
New strength; but at the last they were descry'd
('Tis known great persons seldom go uney'd)
By several servants, which did then attend
Upon Kalander, who did forthwith send
(Being then a time of war) to prove, and know
Whether that they were enemies or no;
But when Dimagoras was for certain told
This real truth, his troubled heart grew cold,
Not knowing what the matter was, for he
Thought every bush a fatal enemy:
By which example we may sadly find
The strange effects of a tormented mind,
At last 'twas known Kalander only sent
To know for certain what was the intent
Of their approach, which when Dimagoras knew,
He soon lookt up, endeavouring to renew
His former courage, giving that respect
Was due; And after, spake to this effect:
I well perceive (my friends) says he, ye are
Attendants to this Lord, whose pleasant aire,

142

And stately Pallace, makes me bold to be
His Orator, desiring libertie
A while to be his Guest, I'le therefore stay
To wait his favourable answer; Nay
Reply'd the Servants, you may please, my Lord,
T' approach, we know his goodness will afford
A lib'ral wellcome; 'tis well known, that he
Is not a niggard of his Courtesie.
Therefore be pleas'd t' approach without delay,
And we'le be bold (my Lord) to lead the way;
Away they went; At last they drawing near
Unto the house, Kalander did appear
Nobly attended, which Dimagoras spy'd,
And soon dis-Coach'd himself, and thus aply'd
Himself unto him; If my unhandsome Fate,
My Lord, says he, makes me unfortunate
In my obtaining favour from your hands
For my presumption, here your servant stands
To wait your will; With that, Kalander stayd
The Current of his Language, and thus sayd.
My Lord, if your offences be so great
As you express, 'tis fit I should retreat
From thoughts of pardon; unto which intent
Walk in my Lord, and take your punishment;
I must assure you that 'twill much exceed
The merit of your crime; My Lord, you need

143

Have more then usual patience: This discourse
Had allmost made Dimagoras divorce
His thoughts, from his intents, his wit affords
No sense to understand Kalanders words;
These are but homely Complements, thinks he,
Is this the effect of his lib'ralitie?
Let what will happen, I am fully bent,
Thinks he to enter, and expect th' event;
So being led into a spacious Hall
Whose uniformity might justly call
It self most Excellent, and could supply
The ear with rare delights, as well as th' eye,
Where being come, Kalander does address
Himself unto him, with a chearfulness
Disconsonant to what Dimagoras did
Expect, and with a graceful presence bid
Him freely welcome, which did much repair
His drooping spirits, and decrease his care;
So after mutual Ceremonies past
They both sat down, Dimagoras often cast
His eyes upon the Pictures; but before
His nimble senses could half look them o're.
His ears were courted with such melodies
That now he's turn'd all ears, that was all eyes;
He lookt about, but could not apprehend
From whence those Heav'n-bred Raptures should descend

144

But on a sudden (just before his eyes)
Two folding doors flyes ope, and he espyes
Variety of objects; Now his ears,
And eyes are grown at variance, and he fears
One sense disturbs another, for the eyes,
And ears are so antartique, that it lyes
Not in the power of nature to unite
Or reconcile the ears unto the sight;
Although 'tis not deny'd they often are
Assistant to each other; yet I dare
Presume to ask this question; tell me whither
That they can see, and hear, and judge together,
Both at one instant; but it is in part
Answer'd, because Dimagoras his heart
Did truly wish it lay within his power,
To be or deaf, or blind, for half an hour;
My judgement's satisfy'd enough to know
Both eyes, and ears, were captivated so,
That 'twas, nay very difficult, to tell
Which object did most please, which most excel:
The first thing represented to his eye,
Was a rare Fountain, whose curiosity
Was known by this Inscription writ thereon,
I'm Made For Wonder Not Description.
Under whose fluent eyes Dame Flora lay
Nursing her off-spring for the Month of May;

145

Each swelling Hillock gladly seem'd to be
Much pleas'd at their so near deliverie;
Whilst from the Christal Fountain there did flow
Like April showrs, fresh streams to make them grow
Against the general Mid-wife of the earth
Should shew the world a party-colour'd birth;
Nor was this all; for there, the lofty Pine,
The Beech, the Cedar, did as 'twere combine
To in wilderness this Fountain; but yet so,
That the refreshing Sun might come, and go
To court her streams, being welcom'd by a quire
Of warbling Nightingals, who would retire
Into the Thickets, and at every noat
Ravish the Sun, and make him seem to doat
Upon their harmony, and pry about
(As 'twere) to find these feathered Syrens out,
Whilst Zepherus being favourably kind,
Would with a sober, and refreshing wind
Move back the dangling-boughs, whose leaves conceal'd
A pleasure not much fit to be reveal'd;
It was Diana, and her Virgin crew,
Going (as often times they use to do)
To bathe themselves; but being near undrest,
The doors clapt too, and would not let the rest
For modesty be seen, so without stay,
Dimagoras curst the doors, and went away;

146

By which it does most perfectly appear
His eye was better pleased then his ear;
The sight, and musick ending both together,
Dimagoras knew not what to think, nor whether
'Twere Art, or Nature that had all this while
With sweet delusions labour'd to beguile
His ravish'd senses, neither did he much
Desire to know, for his delights were such,
That he (inspir'd with an enlivening mirth)
Beleiv'd himself in Heaven, and not on earth;
And it had past for current I dare sware
Had he not spy'd his ill-look'd Goaler there
Kalander all this while sate still, and took
A perfect Character of every look;
And so perceiving that his ravisht brest
Inclin'd him to extreams; he thus exprest.
My Lord, your punishment does now present
It self unto you, in the small extent
Of my abilities to entertain
Your Noble self, and your most worthy Train;
But be assur'd, my Lord, if wishes could
Creat a real Feast, I quickly would
Wish Cleopatra's dainties to delight,
And bring refreshment to your appetite;
But since my wishes, and my fortunes are
Extreamly different, I shall forbear

147

Further discourse, my Lord, 'tis my intent
To lead you to your further punishment,
Therefore I crave excuse; My Lord, reply'd
Dimagoras, I will follow, and abide
What you shall please t' inflict, because I know
No danger can proceed from such a foe:
At last (discoursing as they went) they came
Into a stately Room, the very same
Wherein disguis'd Parthenia met her dear,
Her Dearest Argalus, after a year
Of hopeless separation; being brought
Into this Room, Dimagoras forthwith thought
There was variety of Heavens, begins
To think what he did there with all his sins;
He turn'd his head, and as he lookt, he spy'd
His well-paunch'd Goaler staring by his side;
To whom his ready lipps begun t'express;
His new-bred joy for this his happiness,
But being soon prevented by a Train
Of Ladies, was enforced to restrain
His nimble tongue, and forthwith turn the stream
Of his discourse; having so good a Theam,
He thus began:

Most splendent Stars, says he,
Your Beauties give my tongue the Liberty

148

To call you excellent, I must confess
I want a flood of language to express
Those innate virtues which do truly rest
Discovered by each eye, in every brest;
Therefore my admiration shall supply
My tongues defect: My Lord, you soar too high
In your hyperboles, reply'd the fair.
And virtuous Ladies, neither do we care
To hear such vain Encomiums; and we can
Presume to slight the flateries of man;
(Dimagoras being charm'd, he only took
(Though not to speak) the priviledge to look,
And gaze about him; but at last he spy'd
Parthenias Picture, which he sadly ey'd,
And blusht at every look, his eyes exprest
A world of passion warring in his brest,
Which grave Kalander seeing, soon addrest
Himself unto him, whilst he thus exprest
Your tell-tale looks (my honoured Lord) declare
That you are struck with death, and that you are
Now drawing on, 'tis therefore good to be
My Lord, prepar'd for such a certaintie,
Death is a speedy change, were his conclusion
Like his exordium, what a strange confusion
Would fall upon us; but our finite pains
Are crown'd at last, with everlasting gains;

149

But since 'tis so, that death begins t'appear
Upon your Stage of life, My Lord, draw near
Unto your self, for you will find that death
(Whose entrance gives an exit to your breath)
Will prove a rugged, an intrusive guest;
When he's in earnest, 'tis in vain to jest;
Therefore, My Lord, since time will not permit
Further conveniency, if you think fit
To make my brest the office of your will,
I will be just, my Lord, pray stand not still,
It is a busie time: These words being spoke
With serious gravity, had almost broke
Dimagoras his heart, yet after he
(Consulting with himself) did plainly see
There was no signs of death, although his heart
Indeed was wounded with a sudden dart
Shot from Parthenias image; he reply'd,
And said, my Lord, those sorrows which abide,
And riot in me, are no signs of death,
But the disturbers of my feeble breath;
However, for your good advice, I do
Return those thanks which reason says is due;
But as for death, my Lord, were it as near
As you suppose, ide neither start, nor fear,
For death is but a period to our strife,
A noble passage to a better life;

150

But I perceive, my Lord, nature does make
It usual for the wisest to mistake;
To which, well pleas'd Kalander, smiling said,
My Lord, you are mistaken, and have made
A false construction of my Text, 'tis true,
I must confess, I said, I thought that you
Were struck with death, which if it be deny'd,
I'le undergo your censure, and abide
The merit of my crime; to which intent
I will expatiate my self, and vent
The reason of my speech. I did discry
When I observ'd, my Lord, your greedy eye
Survey Parthenias Image, that your blood
Retreated to your heart, and frightned stood
A distance from your cheeks, by which I know
This Image was that death which wrought your woe;
And be assur'd this Image never yet
Was view'd by any, but they would forget
Their present reason, and would seem to be
In love with that they could but only see:
But if a silent, empty shadow, can
Make such impressions on the heart of man;
What would the substance do? Oh this was she
Whose latter days were fill'd with miserie;
Yet in the flowr of age, she was the flowr
Of all her Sex, nor was it in the power

131

Of Nature to do more; she must excell
That liv'd, and dy'd without a Parralel;
This, this was she, that both in life and death,
Left an example to succeeding breath;
This is that fair Parthenia, whose glory,
Encreast into an everlasting story;
This, this was she whose Tragi comick age
Begun with pleasure to conclude in rage:
Walk further on, My Lord, and you shall see
Her cloathed in her Robes of miserie;
But I must crave excuse, because indeed
The emblems of her suff'rings far exceed
The valour of my patience; And, my Lord,
The Laws of consanguinity afford
A reason for my absence; yet if I
Intreat these Noble Ladies to supply,
And execute my place; I hope 'twill be
Sufficient warrant for my libertie;
And so, my Lord, I'le leave you to behold
The saddest story ever yet was told;
And so they parted. Now Dimagoras grows
Conscious unto himself, because he knows,
Or at the least suspects, and fears th' event
Would prove injurious; so away they went:
At last being brought into a stately place
Furnisht with Pictures, where each lovely face,

152

Did seem, as 'twere, ambitiously to strive
In silent terms to plead themselves alive;
But walking further, they did soon discover
Abus'd Parthenia, and her raging Lover,
Her noble Argalus, whose very look
Exprest so much of terror, that it struck
Dimagoras to the heart; for when his eye
(Although unwilling) saw Parthenia lye
Rackt on a bed of horror; he began,
Oh miserable Lady, wrethed man!
What fury hatch'd this mischief? and displac'd
The Pride of nature; she that once embrac'd
Perfection in her Beauty, now does lye
Perfect in nothing but deformity;
Alas, alas; And is it even so?
Or is't the Painters Tyranny, to show
His cruel skill? Oh most untimely art,
See how death lodges in each senseless part;
I must be gone, or else my heart will break,
I dare not stay for fear her wrongs should speak:
My Lord, you being unconcern'd, may stay,
Reply'd the Ladies, or else pass this way,
Where shall be represented to your sight
An object of less horror, more delight;
Away they went; Dimagoras all the while
Check'd his own thoughts, forgeting not how vile

153

He had been to Parthenia; but at last
Comming into a Room being over-cast,
And rooft with horror, where his gashly eye
Observ'd Parthenia, and himself stand by,
Drawn to the life; at which displeasing sight,
His heart grew cold, his thoughts were turn'd to night,
And lowring with revenge, his tongue let fall
A showr of words, he spake unto them all,
To this effect:

Ladies, says he, this dismal place retains
More shapes of horror then deserves our pains
In staying in it, and our quick recess
Would make our joys be more, our griefs be less,
Therefore be pleas'd to let us now retire,
And learn to pity what we now admire;
For now, alas she's dead, let's therefore strive
T' express our griefs that once she was alive
T' indure such misery; 'tis always known
Extreams are changeable, and seldome own
An hour of certainty; for she whose heart
Boasted it self above the power of art,
Or fate to make her happier, was quite
Bereav'd of all; her day being turn'd to night:

Even as a stately Fabrick, which but now
We see insulting with a lofty brow

154

Over the lesser, which would seem as fair,
And much admired if that were not there;
But if a tempest comes, it fails, and why?
Things most in danger, often stand most high;
Even so the fair Parthenia, which indeed
(I hope I speak offenceless) did exceed
Her Sex in beauty, and had so much store
Of pleasure, that her heart could wish no more;
Her joys were sum'd in Argalus, and he
Compris'd in her, and yet we sadly see
Fates sudden change; her beauty soon was thrown
And blasted into ruine, she could own
Nothing but woe: Since thus it was decreed,
Oh blame not him so much that did the deed;
Not blame him, cry'd the Ladies, may he never
See happy minute, but be curs'd for ever,
May plagues, and growing horror dwell about
His cursed heart, and keep all comfort out;
May all his meat turn scorpions, and his drink
Prove fiery-flames; and let all them that think
Upon his cursed name, cry out, and say,
Most vile Dimagoras, wrong'd Parthenia:
Draw near, my Lord, said they, behold, and see
This treacherous Monster, whose grand Tyranny
Exceeds, almost beleif, behold each part,
How they proclaim the treason of his heart:

155

Behold his dangling locks, which now appears
Like Serpents circling round about his ears;
Observe his megre looks, his hollow eyes,
The silent Heraulds of his tyrannies;
See how his griping hands tares off the fair
And bounteous treasure of her flaxen hair;
See how his fury labours to dispence
His rage upon her youthful innocence;
See how he makes her tender Limbs adore
By sad compulsion, the, now happy floor;
Happy, because Parthenia Oh sad fate!
Did there bewail her miserable state;
Happy, because it keeps, and sadly bears
A Monument of her defused tears;
Alas how poor are all the Indian Mines
Compar'd to this, to this, which far out shines
A Contenent of Rubies, for there lies
Th' unvalued treasure of Parthenias eyes;
I mean, her tears, her tears, that truly woe
And begg for pity from her cruel foe,
That most accurst Dimagoras, that stands
Darkening the Sun with his prodigious hands;
See how he clouds her beauty with the veil
Of horrid poison; Nothing can prevail
To stop his fury, which resolves to run,
And spend it self until the dreggs are done;

156

Observe, my Lord, would not her looks prevent
A petty fury in a bad intent;
But this grand Pluto, who resolves to show
The abstract of his malice, and o're throw
The Idol of the world, does make her cryes,
Her groans, her tears, her sighs; his melodies:
And thus, my Lord, because I sadly see
You seem to sympathize in miserie,
With poor Parthenia, I will turn the stream
Of my discourse, and chuse another Theam:
It only now remains to let you know
The punishments of her unequall'd foe
The vile Dimagoras, which if you, my Lord,
Will please to walk a little, and afford
A willing ear) I shall in short relate,
And let you know the changes of his fate.

It so fell out, that after this most vile,
And perjur'd wretch, had triumph'd o're the spoil
Of poor Parthenia's beauty, that he fled
(Firmly supposing he had murthered
Her body with her beauty) from that place
Into a wood, where he a little space
Pamper'd his soul with the delightful dyet
Of full revenge; Thus in a calm of quiet
He floated for a minute; but at last
His wounds being chil'd with the impetuous blast

157

Of sharp dispair, his conscience, which before
Did hardly grumble, then began to roar;
Fear (which indeed does evermore controle
Within the confines of a guilty soul)
Did now begin to riot in each part,
And play the Devil in his treacherous heart:
My Lord, pray mind this story, for indeed
It justly claims the priv'ledge to exceed
All stories of this nature ------
------ Madam, said
Dimagoras, if I humbly might perswade,
And woe you to a silence, I should stand
Ever obliged to your strict command;
For at the present my distracted mind
Is rackt with thoughts, and will not be confin'd
To any thing that's serious; For of late
I have been dogg'd with an unlucky fate;
Beleive me Madam, I can hardly own
A minutes rest; The story is best known
Unto my self; It burns within my brest,

Those griefs are greatest which are least exprest.
Madam divert your thoughts, me thinks I see
A Cloud, which darkens our felicitie,
I mean, your Window, which does even woe
My hand to open it, that I might know

158

What pleasures are without; Excuse, that I
Madam, am bold, to satisfie my eye;
With that away he went, and having set
The window open, he begun to let
His eye survey each rariety; but he
(The more he saw, the more desir'd to see)
At last espy'd the Pilgrim, in whose eye
He read the Characters of gravity;
The serious Pilgrim often times would shed
A tear or two, then sigh, and shake his head;
He whisper'd to himself, and seem'd afraid
Himself, should hear himself, but what he said
Dimagoras could not hear, because indeed
Those Ladies that were with him did proceed
In their discourse, which very much opprest
His troubled mind; but what they then exprest
I will not now relate, for time invites,
And calls us unto new, though sad delights;
But yet I hope my Reader will suppose
Th' effect of their discourse; for he that knows
Dimagoras is their subject, well may guess
Th' event, and save me labour to express.
—. It so fell out, when the declining Sun
Declar'd unto the world, that he had run
Th' extreamest of his labour, for that day
That sad Celania chanc'd to pass that way

159

Where the deep thoughted Pilgrim sate, who minded
Nothing but his own mind, and being blinded
With contemplation, did not then discover
The near approach of this distressed Lover;
But like a sluggard, who is loath to rise
Until the Sun intrench upon his eyes:
Even so the Pilgrim, when Celania glanc'd
Before his eyes; rous'd up, and soon advanc'd
His drooping head; but this amazed sight
Could nor endure th' approach of so much light;
Which she perceiving, suddenly did shrowd
Her beauty underneath a Cypress cloud;
Which when the Pilgrim saw, he soon addrest
Himself unto her, and his thoughts exprest
To this effect ------

Most pensive Virgin, if my serious thoughts
Hath made me guilty of too many faults
In this my bold attempt, which may indeed
Justly assure you that it did proceed
From your own promise, which I claim as due;
Then pardon him who lives to honour you:
And since I see your virtues have enclin'd
(If I mistake not) your perplexed mind
To the performance of your promise made
To me, after your sorrows had betray'd,

160

And brought you to my sight, I crave to know
The reason of your grief; Madam, bestow
Your confidence upon me; for I vow
By these my sacred Weeds, that I will bow
My whole endeavours, to procure your peace,
Though by my own disquiet; therefore cease
Those bashful tears which I perceive distill
Out of the Limbick of your tim'rous will;
Beleive me then, each word that shall depart
Out of your lips, shall drop into my heart,
Which now lies open, with a full intent
To take them in when you shall give them vent;
Therefore uncaptivate those thoughts, which lye
Struggling within your brest for liberty:
To which Celania, after she had made
A short, though seeming pause, lookt up, and said:

Grave Sir, since thus your Oratorious skill,
Hath made me yeild to your inviting will;
I shall in short, though sadly, thus relate
The grandure of my miserable state,
By which relation, I shall boldly thrust
(With an assurance that you will be just)
My life into your hands: May, Heaven, reply'd
(The Pilgrim) strike me dumb, when I divide
Your secrets from my heart; I will forbear
To tell them to my self, for fear the air,

161

Being infected with an envious spight,
Should bring your secrets to untimely light;
Therefore with confidence proceed to show,
And tell the reason of your lavish woe;
At which Celania (all her joys being fled)
Contemning life, because her life was dead,
(I mean her Amoronzo) did express
Her self as follows

Know (grave Sir) this dress
You see me in, is but a sad disguise
To change my person, not my miseries:
I had a Father, whose indulgent care,
And carefull indulgency did not spare
For cost to educate me to the best
Advantage of the times: I made request
Upon a time unto him, that I might
(Being of years sufficient) take delight
In what I had acquir'd, and forthwith show
My self at Court; Ah there began my woe!
But to proceed, My Father to fulfill
The wilfull humour of my eager will
Perpending not the danger might arise
(Parents affections often wanting eyes)
From my request, did forthwith give consent
For my departure, So away I went,

162

Where being come, I forthwith did apply
My self unto the choicest company;
My Birth and Fortune was at last declar'd
Unto the Court, then every one prepar'd
To do me homage; for indeed, the Court
(That grand Idolater) did soon report,
And Idolize my worth, which made me look
Above my self, I presently forsook
That glorious thing call'd Virtue, and became
(Having lost the honour of a virtuous Name)
A perfect Courtier, and I soon forgot
How to be good, because I us'd it not;
And to speak truth, the Court will scarce allow,
Or give acceptance to a modest brow;
They that come there, must forthwith dis-ingage
Themselves of virtue, learn to court the rage
Of every humour; Courtiers, all men know,
Like Butter-flyes, are only good in show;
Yet I'le not blame them all, because I've seen
Bees amongst flyes, The Lawrel will be green
In spight of frost, yet every one supposes
A Wilderness yeilds Nettles more then Roses,
And they that live a perfect Courtiers life
As I have done, change true content, for strife;
Virtue at Court is like a blazing Star
Gaz'd at for wonder—But I run too far

163

In this discourse, I therefore will return
Unto my self (who although green) did burn
In flames of Love, not doubting but to find
A sweet refreshment for my tortur'd mind;
But all in vain, for my distracted brest
(Being subject unto every thing, but rest)
Was so tormented, that I was enforc'd
To vent my thoughts, And thus in short discourst
With my own thoughts: Cindana, why dost thou
(For that's my name) thus play the fool, and bow
To every passion? tell me, canst thou show
A reason for thy love? dost thou not know
Extreams are dangerous; Ah cruel he
That flatter'd me into this miserie;
Ah Theophrastus! how hast thou betrayd—
But here the current of her speech was stayd
By an approaching Lady, who desir'd
Some secrecy; the Pilgrim soon retyr'd,
And gave them opportunity; but he
Began to muse, and wonder what would be
The sequel of her Story, whilst indeed
She was, her self, unwilling to proceed;
So being glad of this advantage, took
Her leave, and so immediately forsook
The Garden, telling him withal, that she
(Having begun t' unfold her miserie

164

Unto his ears) would take another day,
To perfect what she then begun to say,
Away she went. The Pilgrims heart affords
Nothing but wonder; her promiscuous words
Torment his soul, because he could not find
(Although he labour'd with a serious mind)
The aim of her discourse; he therefore broke
His silence into language, and thus spoke
Unto himself: What, are my senses grown
So dull, so stupid, that they cannot own
So much as common reason? sure my brain
Is very empty, or her words are vain;
The time has been when I could understand
Cloudy Enigma's, when I could command
The knottiest intricacies to appear
Before my apprehension, plain, and clear;
But to be baffl'd by a womans wit
Is more then peevish nature can forget;
Yet I must needs confess, and say I lye
Under a most ingenious tyranny;
But why was I so curious, as to know,
And hear the reason of her stubborn woe?
What have I gain'd, but wonder, doubt, & trouble?
Inquisitive hearts are still tormented double;
Her story was so clouded, that the eye
Of my dull sense, cannot at all discry,

165

Or guess the sequel: First she said, her life
Was wrapt up in each word, which made a strife
Within my thoughts, for fear that they should be
Born into words, and make discoverie
Of her disigns; well, may she never rest
Till I have heard, and she has spoke the rest;
And so farewell vain thoughts, my serious mind
Must aim at higher things, farewel, unkind
And cruel Virgin; I will now retire
Into my self, and never more enquire
After thy endless story, for indeed
I fear that thou wer't fearful to proceed,
Or, at the least, asham'd; The Court, I know
Receives the good, but seldom keeps them so;
But stay, my thoughts, me thinks I did espye
Something within the circuit of her eye
That I have seen before; Me thinks her face
Is radiated with a glorious grace;
But being mask'd with sorrow, she lies hid
From my remembrance, and I am forbid
To make enquiry, therefore I'le surcease
My present thoughts, and shrowd my self in peace;
And thus we'le leave them both, and now return
Unto Dimagoras, who begins to burn,
And flame with anger, every word they spoke
Batter'd his conscience, and had almost broke

166

His treacherous heart; The Ladies, did indeed
At that time all endeavour to exceed
Their usual passions, every one did throw
A dagger at him, and would oft bestow,
The name of Villain on him: Thus his ear
(Although unwilling) was enforc'd to hear
Himself revil'd, but yet he durst not show
His rage in words, for fear that they should know,
Or at the least, mistrust, that it was he,
That was the Authour of that villanie,
And they, as being willing still to add
To his beleif, would often wish they had
The Traytor there, that they might jointly take
Revenge in part, for wrong'd Parthenias sake.

Dimagoras being tyr'd, does now prepare
For his return, but scarcely could forbear
To shew his anger; Yet at last, he took
His solime leave, return'd his thanks, forsook
Kalanders house, being not a little proud
To think that he had pass'd so great a crowd
Of difficulties; He does now begin
To think what an unpardonable sin
He had committed, in respect he staid
So long from his Lutosa, who had made
A battery in his soul: But here 'tis best
To take th' advantage of a breathing rest;

167

Therefore (My Muse) retire, we must not play
Too much at first, but begg another day
From our more serious thoughts; till then, desire
The Reader to excuse thee, and retire.

The end of the fourth Book.