University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The poems of William Habington

Edited with introduction and commentary by Kenneth Allott

collapse section1. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A Dialogue betweene ARAPHILL and CASTARA.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand section2. 
expand section3. 
expand section 
expand section 
expand section 

A Dialogue betweene ARAPHILL and CASTARA.

Araph.
Dost not thou Castara read
Am'rous volumes in my eyes?
Doth not every motion plead
What I'de shew, and yet disguise?
Sences act each others part.
Eyes, as tongues, reveale the heart.


26

Cast.
I saw love as lightning breake
From thy eyes, and was content
Oft to heare thy silence speake.
Silent love is eloquent.
So the sence of learning heares,
The dumbe musicke of the Spheares.

Araph.
Then there's mercy in your kinde,
Listning to an unfain'd love.
Or strives he to tame the wind,
Who would your compassion move?
No y'are pittious as y're faire.
Heaven relents, o'recome by prayer.

Cast.
But loose man too prodigall
Is in the expence of vowes;
And thinks to him kingdomes fall
When the heart of woman bowes:
Frailty to your armes may yeeld;
Who resists you wins the field.

Araph.
Triumph not to see me bleede,
Let the Bore chas'd from his den,
On the wounds of mankinde feede,
Your soft sexe should pitty men.
Malice well may practise Art,
Love hath a transparent heart.

Cast.
Yet is love all one deceit,
A warme frost, a frozen fire.
She within her selfe is great,
Who is slave to no desire.
Let youth act, and age advise,
And then love may finde his eyes.

Araph.
Hymens torch yeelds a dim light,
When ambition joynes our hands,
A proud day, but mournefull night,
She sustaines, who marries lands.
Wealth slaves man, but for their Ore,
Th' Indians had beene free, though poore.


27

Cast.
And yet wealth the fuell is
Which maintaines the nuptiall fire,
And in honour there's a blisse,
Th'are immortall who aspire.
But truth sayes no joyes are sweete,
But where hearts united meete.

Araph.
Roses breath not such a sent,
To perfume the neighb'ring groves;
As when you affirme content,
In no spheare of glory moves.
Glory narrow soules combines:
Noble hearts Love onely joynes.