University of Virginia Library

The minde of the Frontspiece.

Reader, behinde this silken Frontspiece lyes
The Argument of our Booke; which, to your eyes
Our Muse (for serious causes, and best knowne
Vnto her selfe) commands should be vnshowne;
And therefore, to that end, she hath thought fit
To draw this Curtaine, t'wixt your eye and it.

ARGALVS AND PARTHENIA.

The first Booke.

My Lord,

Had your strong Oratory but the Art,
To make me conscious of so great desert,
As you perswade, I should be bound in duty
To praise your Rhet'ricke, as you prize my beauty;
Or if the frailty of my iudgement could
Flatter my thoughts so grosly, as to hold
Your words for currant, you might boldly dare
Count me as foolish, as you terme me faire.
If you vye Courtship, fortune knowes that I
Haue not so strong a Game, to see the vye:
Alas, my skill durst neuer vndertake
To play the game, where hearts be set at stake;
Needs must the losse be great, when such haue bin
Seldome obseru'd to saue themselues that win:
You craue my heart; My Lord, you craue withall,
Too great a mischiefe; My poore heart's too small
To fill the concaue of so great a brest,
Whose thoughts can scorne the amorous request
Of loue sicke Queenes, and can requite the vaine,
And factious suits of Ladies with disdaine:
Stoope not so low beneath your selfe (great Lord)
To loue Parthenia: Shall so poore a word
Staine your faire lips? whose merits doe proclaime
A more transcendent fortune, then that name
Can giue: Call downe Ioues winged Pursuiuant,
And giue his tongue the power to enchant
Some easie Goddesse, in your name, and treat
A mariage fitting so sublime, so great
A mind as yours, and fill the fruitfull earth
With Heroes, sprung from so diuine a birth:
Partheniaes heart could neuer yet aspire
So high: Her homebred thoughts durst ne're desire
So fond an honour, matcht with so great pride,
To hope for that, which Queenes haue beene denyde.
Be wise, my Lord; vouchsafe not to repeat
S'vnfit a suit; Be wise, as you are great:
Aduance your noble thoughts: hazard no more
To wrack your fortunes on so fleet a shore,
That, to the wiser world, it may be knowne
The lesse y'are mine, the more you are your owne.

Madam,

The hopefull thriuing of my suit depends
Vpon your goodnesse, and it recommends
It selfe vnto your fauour, from whose hand
It must haue sentence, or to fall, or stand;
Thirce three times hath the Soueraigne of the night,
Repaird her empty hornes with borrowed light,
Since these sad eyes, these beauty blasted eyes
Were stricken by a light, that did arise
From your blest wombe, whose vnasswaged smart
Hath peirc'd my soule, and wounded my poore heart;
It is the faire Parthenia, whose diuine
And glorious vertue led these eyes of mine
To their owne ruine; Like a wanton fly,
I dallied wit the flames of her bright eye,
Till I haue burn'd my wings: O, if to loue
Be held a sinne, the guilty gods aboue
(Being fellow-sinners with vs, and commit
The selfe same crimes) may eas'ly pardon it.
O thrice diuine Parthenia, that hast got
A sacred priuiledge which the gods haue not,
If thou hast doom'd that I shall be bereauen
Of my loath'd life, yet let me dye forgiuen:
And welcome death, that with one happy blow
Giues me more ease, then life could euer doe.
Madam, to whom should my sad words appeale
But you? Alas, to whom should I reueale
My dying thoughts, but vnto you, that gaue
Being to her, that hath the power to saue
My wasted life? The language of a mother
Moues more then teares, that trickle from another.
With that a well dissembled drop did slide
From his false eyes. The Lady thus replyde.

My Honorable Lord,

If my vntimely answer hath preuented
Some further words your passion would haue vented,
Pardon my haste; which, in a ruder fashion
Sought onely to diuide you, from your passion:
The loue you beare Parthenia must claime
The priuiledge of mine eare, and in her name,
(Though from an absent mind as yet vnknowne)
Returne I thankes, with intrest of my owne.
The little iudgement, that the gods haue lent
Her downy yeares (though in a small extent)
Does challenge the whole freedome of her choyce,
In the resignement of a mothers voice:
The sprightly fancies of a virgins mind
Enter themselues, and hate to be confinde;
The hidden Embers of a louers fire
Desire no bellowes, but their owne desire,
And like to Dedalus his forge, if blowne
Burnes dimme and dyes; blazes, if let alone;
Louers affect, without aduisement, that
Which being most perswaded to, they hate.
My Lord, adiourne your passion, and refer
The fortune of your suite to time, and her.
Like to a Pinace is a louers minde,
The Saile his fancy is; A storme of winde,
His vncontrouled passion; the Stear's
His reason; Rocks and Sands, are doubts and feares;
Your storme being great, like a wise Pilot, beare
But little Saile, and stoutly ply the Steare.
Leaue then the violence of your thoughts to me,
My Lord, too hasty Gamesters ouersee.
Goe, moue Parthenia, and let Iuno's blessing
Attend your hopefull suite, in the suppressing
Loues common euills; and if her warme desire
Show but a sparke, leaue me to blow the fire.
Goe, lose no time: Louers must be laborious;
My Lord goe prosperous, and returne victorious.

Madam,

Thinke not Parthenia, vnder a pretence
Of silence, studies disobedience:
Or by the crafty slownesse of reply,
Borrowes a quick aduantage to deny:
It lyes not in your power, to command
Beyond my will: vnto your tender hand,
I here surrender vp that little All
You gaue me, freely to dispose withall.
The gods forbid, Parthenia should resist
What you command, command you what you list:
But pardon me, the young Laconian Lord
Hath made assault, but neuer yet could board
This heart of mine: I wept, I wept indeed,
But my misconsterd streames did ne're proceed
From Cupids spring: This blubber'd book makes known,
Whose griefes I wept; I wept not for mine owne;
My lowly thoughts durst neuer yet aspire
The least degree, towards the proud desire
Of so great honour, to be call'd his wife,
For whom, ambitious Queenes haue bin at strife;
He su'd for loue, and strongly did importune
My heart, more pleased with a meaner fortune;
My brest was marble, and my heart forgot
All pitty; for, indeed, I lou'd him not;
But Madam; you, to whose more wise directions
I bend the stoutest of my rash affections,
You haue commanded, and your will shall be
The square to my uneauen desires, and me;
I'le practise duty, and my deeds shall show it;
I'le practise loue, though Cupid neuer know it.

Madam,

The angry gods haue late conspir'd to show
The vtmost their enraged hands could doe,
And hauing laid aside all mercy, stretch
Their power, to make one miserable wretch,
Whose curst and tortur'd soule must onely be
The subiect of their wrath; and I am she.
Hard is the case! my deare desires must faile;
My vowes must cracke; my plighted faith be fraile;
Or else affection must be so exil'd
A mothers heart, that she renounce her child.

The Second Booke.

Sayle gentle Pinace: Now the heauens are cleare,
The winds blow faire: Behold the harbour's neere.
Trydented Neptune hath forgot to frowne;
The rocks are past; The storme is ouerblowne;
Vp wetherbeaten voyagers; and rouze yee,
Forsake your loathed Cabbins; vp, and louze ye
Vpon the open decks, and smell the land;
Cheare vp; the welcome shoare is nigh at hand:
Sayle gentle Pinace, with a prosperous gale,
To th'Isle of peace: Saile gentle Pinace, saile;
Fortune conduct thee; Let thy keele diuide
The siluer streames, that thou mast safely slide
Into the bosome of thy quiet Key,
And quite thee fairely of th'iniurious Sea.
Great Seaborne Queene, thy birthright giues thee power
T'assist poore suppliants; grant one happy houre.
O, let these wounded louers be possest,
At length, of their so long desired rest.
Now, now the ioyfull mariage day drawes on;
The Bride is busie, and the Bridegroome's gone
To call his fellow Princes to the feast;
The Girland's made; The bridall chamber's drest;
The Muses haue consulted with the Graces,
To crowne the day, and honour their embraces
With shadow'd Epithalmes: Their warbling tongues
Are perfect in their new made Lyrick songs;
Hymen begins to grumble at delay,
And Bacchus laughs to think vpon the day;
The virgin tapors, and what other rights
Doe appertaine to Nuptiall delights,
Are all prepar'd, whereby may be exprest
The ioyfull triumph of this mariage feast.
But stay! who lends me now an yron pen,
T'engraue within the marble hearts of men
A tragick sceane; which whosoe're shall reade,
His eyes may spare to weepe, and learne to bleed
Carnation teares: If time shall not allow
His death preuented eyes to weepe enow,
Then let his dying language recommend
What's left to his posterity to end.
Thou saddest of all Muses; come; afford
Thy studious helpe, that each confounding word
May rend a heart (at least;) that euery line
May pickle vp a kingdome in the brine
Of their owne teares: O teach me to extract
The spirit of griefe, whose vertue may distract
Those brests, which sorrow knowes not how to kill;
Inspier, ô inspire my melting Quill,
And, like sad Niobé, let euery one
That cannot melt, be turn'd into a stone:
Teach me to paint an oft-repeated sigh
So to the life, that whosoe're be nigh
May heare it breathe, and learne to doe the like
By imitation, till true passion strike
Their bleeding hearts: Let such as shall rehearse
This story, houle like Irish at a Herse.
Th'euent still crownes the act: Let no man say,
Before the euening's come; Tis a faire day:
When as the Kalends of this bridall feast
Were entred in, and euery longing brest
Waxt great with expectation, and all eyes
(Prepar'd for entertaining nouelties)
Were growne impatient now, to be suffis'd
With that, which Art and Honour had deuis'd
T'adorne the times withall, and to display
Their bounty, and the glory of that day,
The rare Parthenia taking sweet occasion
To blesse her busie thoughts, with contemplation
Of absent Argalus, whose too long stay
Made minutes seemes as dayes; and euery day
A measur'd age; into her secret bower
Betooke her weary steps, where euery houre
Her greedy eares expect to heare the summe
Of all her hopes, that Argalus is come.
She hopes, she feares at once; and still she muses
What makes him stay so long; she chides; excuses;
She questions; answers; and she makes reply,
And talkes, as if her Argalus were by;
Why com'st thou not? Can Argalus forget
His languishing Parthenia? what, not yet?
But as she spake that word, she heard a noise,
Which seem'd as if it were the whispering voice
Of close conspiracy: she began to feare
She knew not what, till her deceiued eare,
Instructed by her hopes, had singled out
The voice of Argalus from all the rout,
Whose steps (as she supposed) did prepare
By stealth to sieze vpon her vnaware:
She gaue aduantage to the thriuing plot,
Hearing the noyse, as if she heard it not.
Like as young Doues, which ne're had yet forsaken
The warme protection of their nests, or taken
Vpon themselues a selfe-prouiding care,
To shift for food, but with paternall fare
Grow fat and plump; think euery noise they heare,
Their full cropt parents are at hand, to cheare
Their crauing stomacks, whilst th'impartiall fist
Of the false Cater, rifling where it list
In euery hole, surprises them, and sheds
Their guiltlesse blood, and parts their gasping heads
From their vaine struggling bodies; so; euen so
Our poore deceiu'd Parthenia, (that did owe
Too much to her owne hopes) the whilst her eyes
Were set, to welcome the vnualued prize
Of all her ioyes, her dearest Argalus,
Steps in Demagoras, and salutes her thus:
Base Trull; Demagoras comes to let thee see,
How much he scornes thy painted face, and thee;
Foule Sorceresse! Could thy prosperous actions think
To scape reuenge, because the gods did wink
At thy designes? Think'st thou thy mothers blood
Cryes in a language, not to be'vnderstood?
Hadst thou no closer stratagem, to further
Thy pamper'd lust, but by the saluage murther
Of thine owne aged parent, whose sad death
Must giue a freedome to the whisp'ring breath
Of thy enioy'd adult'rer? who (they say)
Will cloake thy whoredome, with a mariage day;
Nay struggle not; here's none that can reprieue
Such pounded beasts; It is in vaine to striue,
Or roare for helpe: why do'st not rather weepe,
That I may laugh? Perchance, if thou wilt creepe
Vpon thy wanton belly, and confesse
Thy selfe a true repentant murtheresse,
My sinfull Page may play the soole, and gather
Thy early fruit into his barne, and father
Thy new got Cyprian bastard, if that he
Be halfe so wise, that got it, but to flee.
Hah! dost thou weepe? or doe false mists but mocke
Our cheated eyes? From so obdure a rock
Can water flow? weeping will make thee faire;
Weepe till thy mariage day; that who repaire
To grace thy feast, may fall a weeping too,
And, in a mirrour, see what teares can doe.
Vile strumpet! did thy flattering thoughts e're wrong
Thy iudgement so; to thinke, Demagoras tongue
Could so abuse his honour, as to sue
For serious loue? So base a thing as you
(Me thinks) should rather fixe your wanton eyes
Vpon some easie groome, that hopes to rise
Into his masters fauour, for your sake;
I; this had beene preferment, like to make
A hopefull fortune: thou presumptuous trash!
What was my courtship? but the minuts dash
Of youthfull passion, to allay the dust
Of my desires, and exuberous lust?
I scorne thee to the soule, and here I stand
Bound for reuenge, whereto I set my hand.
With that, he caught her rudely by the faire
And bounteous treasure of her Nymph-like hayre;
And, by it, dragd her on the dusty floore:
He stopt her mouth, for feare she should implore
An aid from heauen, she swounding in the place,
His salvage hands besmear'd her liuelesse face
With horrid poyson, thinking she was dead,
He left her breathlesse, and away he fled.
Come, come ye Furies, you malignant spirits,
Infernall Harpies, or what, else, inherits
The land of darknesse; you, that still conuerse
VVith damned soules; you, you that can rehearse
The horrid facts of villanies, and can tell
How euery hell hound lookes, that roares in hell;
Suruey them all; and, then, informe my pen,
To draw in one, the monster of all men;
Teach me to limme a villaine, and to paint
With dextrous art, the basest Sycophant,
That e're the mouth of insolent disdaine
Vouchsaf'd to spit vpon; the ripened blaine
Of all diseased humours, fit for none
But dogs to lift their hasty legs vpon:
So cleare mens eyes, that whosoe're shall see
The type of basenesse, may cry, This is Hee;
Let his reproach be a perpetuall blot
In Honours booke: Let his remembrance rot
In all good mindes: Let none but villaines call
His bugbeare name to memory, wherewithall
To fright their bauling bastards: Let no spell
Be found more potent, to preuaile in hell,
Then the nine letters of his charme like name;
Which, let our bashfull Chriscrosse row disclaime
To the worlds end, not fitting to be set
As mutes, within the Iewish Alphabet.
But harke! Am I deceiu'd, or doe I heare
The voice of Arg'lus sounding in mine eare?
He calls Parthenia: No, that tongue can be
No counterfeit: He's come: 'tis he, 'tis he.
Welcome too late, that art now come too soone;
Hadst thou bin here, this deed had ne're bin done.
Alas! when louers linger, and outgoe
Their promis'd date, they know not what they doe:
Men fondly say, that women are too fond;
At parting, to require so strict a bond
For quicke returne: Poore soules! 'tis they endure
Oft times the danger of the forfeiture;
I blame them not; for mischiefe still attends
Vpon the too long absence of true friends.
Well; Argalus is come, and seekes about
In euery roome, to finde Parthenia out;
He askes, enquiers; but all lips are sparing
To be the authors of ill newes, not daring
To speake the truth; they all amazed stand;
And now, my Lord's as fearfull to demand;
Dares not enquire her health, lest his sad eare
Should heare such words, as he's afraid to heare:
All lips are boulted with a linnen barre,
And euery eye does, like a blazing star,
Portend some euill; no language findes a leake;
The lesse they speake, the more he feares to speake.
Faces grow sad; and euery priuate eare
Is turn'd a Closet for the whisperer;
He walkes the roome, and like an vnknowne stranger
They eye him; from each eye, he picks a danger;
At last, his lips not daring to importune
What none dare tell him, vnexpected fortune
Leads his rash steps into a darkned roome,
A place more black then night; No sooner come,
But he was welcom'd with a sigh, as deepe
As a spent heart could giue; he heard one weepe,
And by the noise of groanes and sobs was led
(Hauing none other guide) to the sad bed.
Who is't (said he) that calls vntimely night
To hide those griefes that thus abiure the light?
With that, as if her heart had rent in two,
She past a sigh, and said, O aske not who?
Vrge not my tongue to make a forc'd reply
To your demand: Alas! it is not I:
Not I (said he?) what language doe I heare;
Darknesse may stop mine eye, but not mine eare.
It is my deare Parthenia's voice; ah me,
And can Parthenia, not Parthenia be?
What meanes this word, (Alas! it is not I)?
What sudden ill hath taught thee to deny
Thy selfe? or what can Argalus then claime,
If his Parthenia be not the same,
She was; alas, it seemes to me all one
To say, Thou art not hers, that's not her owne.
Can hills forget their pondrous bulk, and flye,
Like wandring Atomes, in the empty sky?
Or can the heauens, (growne idle) not fulfill
Their certaine reuolutions, but stand still,
And leaue their constant motion, for the winde
T'inherit? Can Parthenia change her minde?
Heauen sooner shall stand still, and earth remoue,
E're my Parthenia falsifie her loue:
Vnfold thy Riddle then; and tell me, why
Those lips should say, (Alas it is not I.)
Whereto she thus reply'd; O doe not thou
So wrong thy noble thoughts, as once t'allow
That cursed name a roome, within thy brest,
Let not so foule a prodigy be blest
With thy lost breath; Let it be held a sin
Too great for pardon, e're to name't agen;
Let darknesse hide it in eternall night;
May it be clad with horror, to affright
A desp'rate conscience; He that knowes not how
To mouthe a curse, O let him practise now
Vpon this name; Let him that would contract
The body of all mischiefe, or extract
The quint'ssence of all sorrowes, onely claime
A secret priuiledge to vse that name:
Far be it from thy language, to commit
So soule a sin, as once to mention it:
Liue happy Arg'lus; doe not thou partake
In these my miseries: O forbeare to make
My burthen greater, by thy tender sorrow;
Alas, my heart is strong, and needs not borrow
Thy needlesse helpe: O be not thou so cruell
To feed my flaming fiers, with thy fuell;
Why dost thou sigh? O wherefore should thy heart
Vsurpe my stage, and act Parthenia's part?
It is my proper taske: what dost thou meane,
Without my licence, to intrude my Sceane?
Alas! thy sorrowes ease not my distresse;
God knowes, I weepe not one poore teare the lesse:
My patent's sign'd and past; whereby appeares
That I haue got the Monopoly of teares:
In me, let each mans torment finde an end:
I am that Sea, to which all Riuers tend:
Let all spent mourners, that can weepe no more,
Take teares on trust, and set them on my score.
And as she spake that word, his heart not able
To beare a language so vnsufferable,
But being swolne so big, must either breake
Or vent, his darkned reason grew too weake
T'oppose his quickned passion (like a man
Transported from himselfe) he thus began;
Accursed darknesse! Thou sad type of death!
Infernall Hagge, whose dwelling is beneath!
What meanes thy boldnesse to vsurpe this roome,
And force a night, before the night be come?
Get, get thee downe, and keepe within thy lifts;
Goe reuell there; and hurle thy hideous mists
Before those cursed eyes, that take delight
In vtter darkenesse, and abhorre the light;
Returne thee to thy dungeon, whence thou came
And hide those faces, whose infernall flame
Cals for more darknesse, and whose tortur'd soules
Craue the protection of th'obscurest holes,
To scape some lashes, and auoid those strict
And horrid plagues, the furies doe inflict:
But if thou needs must ramble here, aboue;
Goe to some other Clymate, and remoue
Thy vgly presence from our darkned eyes,
That hate thy Tyranny: Goe exercise
Thy power in Groues, and solitary springs,
Where Bats are subiects, and where Owles are kings;
Goe to the graues, and fill those empty roomes,
That such as slumber in their silent Toombs
May blesse thy welcome shades, and lie possest
Of vndisturbed and eternall rest:
Or if thy more ambitious fogs desire
To haunt the liuing; hast thee, and retire
Into some Cloyster, and there stand betweene
The light, and those that faine would sin, vnseene;
Assist them there; and let thy vgly shapes
Count'nance close treasons, and incestuous rapes:
Benight those roomes; and ayd all such, as feare
The eye of heauen; Goe; close thy curtaines there;
We need thee not (foule witch,) away, away;
Thou hid'st more beauty then the noone of day
Can giue; O thou, that hast so rudely hurl'd
On this darke bed, the glory of the world.
So said; Abruptly he the roome departs,
His cheeks looke pale, his curled hayre vpstarts
Like quills of Porcupines, and from his eye
Quicke flashes like the flames of lightning flye;
He calls for light; the light no sooner come,
But his owne hand conuayes it to the roome
From whence he came, and as he entred in
He blest himselfe; he blest himselfe agin;
Thrice did he blesse himselfe, and after said,
Foule witch, begon; and let thy dismall shade
Forsake this place; Let thy darke fogs obey
Great Vulcans charge; In Vulcans name, away;
Or if thy stout rebellion shall disclaime
His soueraignty, in my Parthenia's name
I charme thee hence. And as that word flew out,
He steps to that sad bed, where round about,
Clos'd were the curtaines, as if darknesse did
Command that such a Iewell should be hid:
His left hand held the tapour, and his right
Enforc'd the curtaines, to absolue the light;
Which done; appear'd before his wondring eye
The truest pourtrait of deformity,
As e're the Sun beheld: That louely face
That was, of late, the modell of all grace
And peerelesse beauty, whose imperious eyes
Rauisht where e're they lookt, and did surprise
The very soules of men; she, she of whom
Nature her selfe was proud, is now become
So loath'd an obiect, so deform'd, disguiz'd,
As darknesse, for mans sake, was well aduis'd
To cloath in mists, lest any were incited
To see that face, and so depart affrighted.
All this when Argalus beheld, and found
It was no dreame, he fell vpon the ground;
And rau'd; and rose agen; stood still; and gaz'd;
At first he startled, then he stood amaz'd;
Lookes now vpon the light; and now on her;
One while his tyred fancy does refer
His thoughts to silence; as his thoughts encrease,
His passion striues for vent, and breakes that peace,
Which conquer'd reason had, of late, concluded,
And thus began; Are these false eyes deluded?
Or haue inchanted mists stept in betweene
My abused eyes, and what mine eyes haue seene?
No; mischiefe cannot act so faire a part,
T'affright in iest; it goes beyond the art
Of all blacke bookes, to maske, with such disguise,
So sweet a face; I know, that these are eyes;
And this a light; False mists could neuer be
Betwixt my poore Parthenia, and me.
Accursed Tapour! what infernall spright
Breath'd in thy face? what Fury gaue thee light?
Thou impe of Phlegetor; who let thee in,
To force a day, before the day begin?
Who brought thee hither? I? did I? From whom,
What leane chapt fury did I snatch thee from?
When as this cursed hand did goe about
To bring thee in, why went not these eies out?
Be all such Tapours cursed, for thy sake;
Ne're shine, but at some Vigill, or sad Wake;
Be neuer seene, but when as sorrow cals
Thy needfull helpe to nightly funerals;
Be as a May-game for th'amazed Bat
To sport about; and Owles, to wonder at:
Still haunt the Chancels at a midnight knell,
To fright the Sexton from his passing Bell:
Giue light to none but treasons, and be hid
In their darke lanthorns: Let all mirth forbid
Thy treacherous flames the roome: and if that none
Shall deigne to put thee out, goe out alone;
Attend some misers table, and then waste
Too soone, that he may curse thee for thy haste;
Burne dimme for euer: Let that flatt'ring light
Thou feed'st, consume thy stock: be banisht quite
From Cupids Court: When louers goe about
Their stolne pleasures, let your flames goe out;
Henceforth be vsefull to no other end,
But onely to burne day light, or attend
The midnight Cups of such as shall resigne,
VVith vsurie, thir indigested wine:
VVhy dost thou burne so cleare? Alas! these eyes
Discerne too much; Thy wanton blaze doth rise
Too high a pitch: Thou burnst too bright, for such
As see no comfort; O thou shin'st too much:
Why dost thou vext me? Is thy flame so stout
T'endure my breath? This breath shall puffe thee out.
Thus, thus my ioyes are quite extinguisht, neuer
To be reuiu'd: Thus gone, thus gone for euer.
With that, transported with a furious hast,
He blew it out: but marke, that very blast
(As if it meant, on purpose, to disclaime
His desp'rate thoughts) reuiu'd th'extinguisht flame.
He stands amaz'd; and, hauing mus'd a while,
Beholds the Tapour, and begins to smile.
And can the gods themselues (said he) contriue
Away for hope? Can my past ioyes reuiue,
Like this rekindled fier? If they doe,
I'le curse my lips (bright Lamp) for cursing you.
Eternall Fates! Deale fairely; dally not:
If your hid bounties haue reseru'd a lot
Beyond my wained hopes, be it exprest
In open view; make haste; and doe your best:
But if your Iustice be determin'd so,
To exercise your vengeance on my woe,
Strengthen not what at length you meane to burst;
Strike home betimes; dispatch; and doe your worst:
That burthen is too great for him to beare,
That's eauenly poised betwixt hope and feare.
And there he stopt; as fearing to molest
The silent peace of her dissembled rest.
He gaz'd vpon her; stood as in a trance;
Sometimes her liuelesse hand he would aduance
To his sad lips; then steale it downe agen;
Sometimes, a teare would fall vpon't; and then
A sigh must dry it; Euery kisse did beare
A sigh; and euery sigh begat a teare:
He kist; she sigh'd; he wept; and, for a space,
He fixt his eye vpon her wounded face;
And, in a whispering language, he disburs'd
His various thoughts; thus, with himselfe, discours'd.
Before the sound of his last breath was gon,
Her speech (being marshall'd with a powerfull groan,
Through the rude confluence, and amazed throng
Of her distracted thoughts) her feeble tongue
Wept forth these words; Thus fleet, thus transitory
Is mans delight, and all that painted glory,
Poore earth can giue; Nor wealth, nor blood, nor beauty,
Can quit that debt, that necessary duty,
They owe to Change and Time; but, like a flower,
They flourish now, and fade within an houre.
The world's compos'd of Change; there's nothing stayes
At the same point; all alters; all decayes:
The world is like a Play, where euery age
Concludes her Sceane, and so departs the stage;
And when Times hasty Houre glasse is run,
Change strikes the Epilogue, and the Play is done.
Who acts the King to day, by change of lot,
Perchance to morrow begs, and blushes not:
Whose beauty was ador'd o're night, next morning,
May finde a face, like mine, not worth the scorning:
Looke where we list, there's nothing to the eye
Seemes truly constant, but Inconstancy.
Most deare Parthenia (Argalus reply'd)
Had thy deceiued eye but stept aside,
And lookt vpon thy Argalus his brest;
I know, I know, thy language had profest
Another faith: thy lips had ne're let flie,
At vnawares, so great an Heresie:
Tis not the change of fauour, that can change
My heart; nor Time, nor Fortune can estrange
My best affections, so for euer fixt
On thee; nothing, but Death, can come betwixt
My soule, and thine; If I had lou'd thy face,
Thy face alone; my fancy had giuen place,
Ere this, to fresh desiers, and attended
Vpon new fortunes, and the old had ended.
If I had lou'd thee, for thy heauenly eye,
I might haue courted the bright maiesty
Of Tiran: If thy curious lips had snar'd
My lick'rish thoughts, I might haue soone prepar'd
A blushing Currall, or some full ripe Chery,
And pleas'd my lips, vntill my lips were weary;
Or if the smoothnesse of thy whiter brow
Had charm'd mine eyes, and made my fancy bow
To outwards obiects, polisht Marble might
Haue giuen as much content, as much delight;
In briefe, had Argalus his flatter'd eye
Bin pleas'd with beauties bare Epitomy,
Thy curious picture might haue then supply'd
My wants, more full, then all the world beside;
No, no; 'Twas neither brow, nor lip, nor eye
Nor any outward exc'lence vrg'd me, why
To loue Parthenia: 'Twas thy better part,
Which mischiefe could not wrong, surpris'd my heart.
Thy beauty was but like a Christall case,
Through which, the Iewell of admired grace
Transparent was, whose hidden worth did make
Me loue the Casket, for the Iewels sake;
No, no; my well-aduised eye pierc'd in
Beyond the filme; sunk deeper then the skin;
Else, had I now bin chang'd, and that firme duty
I owe my vowes, had faded, with thy beauty;
Nay, weepe not (my Parthenia;) let those teares
Ne're waile that losse, which a few after yeares
Had claim'd as due; Cheare vp; thou hast forsaken
But that, which sicknesse would (perchance) haue taken,
With greater disaduantage; or else age,
That common euill, which Art cannot asswage;
Beauty's but bare opinion: White and Red
Haue no more priuiledge, but what is bred
By humane fancie; which was ne're confinde
To certaine bounds, but varies like the winde;
What one man likes, another disrespects;
And what a third most hates; a fourth, affects;
The Negro's eye thinkes blacke beyond compare,
And what would fright vs most, they count most faire:
If then opinion be the Tutch, whereby
All beautie's tride; Parthenia, in my eye
Out shines faire Hellen; or who else she be,
That is more rich in beauties wealth, then she.
Cheare vp: The soueraignty of thy worth, enfranches
Thy captiue beauty; and thy vertue blanches
These staines of fortune; Come; it matters not
What others thinke: a letter's but a blot
To such as cannot reade; but, who haue skill,
Can know the faire impression of a Quill
From grosse and heedlesse blurres; and such can thinke
No paper foule, that's fairely writ with Inke:
VVhat others hold a blemish in thy face,
My skilfull eyes reade Characters of grace;
VVhat hinders then; but that without delay,
Triumph may celebrate our nuptiall day?
She that hath onely vertue to her guide,
Though wanting beautie, is the fairest Bride.
A Bride? (said she) such Brides as I, can haue
No fitter bridall Chamber, then a Graue;
Death is my bridegroome; and to welcome Death,
My loyall heart shall plight a second faith;
And when that day shall come, that ioyfull day,
Wherein transcendent pleasures shall allay
The heat of all my sorrowes, and conioyne
My palefac'd Bridegrooms lingring hand, with mine;
These Ceremonies, and these Triumphs shall
Attend the day, to grace that Day withall.
Time with his empty Howreglasse shall lead
The Triumph on; His winged hoofes shall tread
Slow paces; After him, there shall ensue
The chast Diana, with her Virgin crew,
All crown'd with Cypresse girlands; After whom
In ranke, th'impartiall Destinies shall come;
Then, in a sable Chariot faintly drawne
With harnast Virgins, vail'd with purest lawne,
The Bride shall sit; Despaire and Griefe shall stand,
Like heartlesse bridemaids, vpon either hand.
Vpon the Chariot top, there shall be plac'd
The little winged god, with arme vnbrac'd,
And bow vnbent; his drooping wings must hide
His naked knees; his Quiuer by his side
Must be vnarm'd, and either hand must hold
A banner; where, with Characters of gold
Shall be decipher'd, (fit for euery eye
To read, that runs; Faith, Loue, and Constancy.
Next after, Hope, in a discoloured weed,
Shall sadly march alone: A slender reed
Shall guide her feeble steps; and, in her hand,
A broken Anchor, all besmear'd with sand.
And after all, the Bridegroome shall appeare
Like Ioues Lieutenant, and bring vp the Reare;
He shall be mounted on a Coale-black steed;
His hand shall hold a Dart; on which, shall bleed
A pierced heart; wherein, a former wound
Which Cupids Iauelin entred shall be found.
When as these Triumphes shall adorne our feast,
Let Argalus be my inuited guest,
And let him bid me nuptiall Ioy: from whom
I once expected all my ioyes should come.
With that; as if his count'nance had thought good
To weare Death's colours; or as if his blood
Had beene imployed to condole the smart
And torment of his poore afflicted heart,
He thus bespake: Vnhappiest of all men,
Why doe I liue? Is Death my Riuall then?
Vnequall chance! Had it bin flesh and blood,
I could haue grapled, and (perchance) withstood
Some stout encounters: Had an armed host
Of mortall riualls ventur'd to haue crost
My blest desiers; my Partheniaes eye
Had giuen me power to make that army fly
Like frighted Lambs, before the Wolfe; But thou
Before whose presence, all must stoope and bow
Their seruile necks! what weapon shall I hold
Against thy hand, that will not be controll'd?
Great enemie! whose kingdome's in the dust
And darkesome Caues; I know that thou art iust;
Else had the gods ne're trusted to thy hand
So great a priuiledge, so large command
And iurisdiction o're the liues of men,
To kill, or saue euen whom thou please, and when;
O, suffer not Partheniaes tempting teares
To moue thy heart; Let thy hard hearted eares
Be deafe to all her suits: If she professe
Affection to thee, beleeue nothing lesse;
She's my betrothed spouse, and Hymens bands
Haue firmely ioyn'd our hearts, though not our hands.
Where plighted faith, and sacro-sanctius vowe
Hath giuen possession, dispossesse not thou.
Be iust; and though her briny lips bewaile
Her griefe with teares, let not those teares preuaile.
Whom heauens haue ioyn'd, thy hands may not disioyne,
I am Partheniaes; and Partheniaes mine.
Alas! we are but one; Then thou must either
Refuse vs both; or, else, take both together.
My deare Parthenia, let no cloudy passion
Of dull despaire molest thee, or vnfashion
Thy better thoughts, to make thy troubled mind
Either forgetfull, or thy selfe vnkind.
Starue not my pining hopes, with longer stay
My loue hath wings, and brookes no long delay.
It houers vp and downe, and cannot rest
Vntill it light, and perch vpon thy brest.
Torment not him, within these lingring fires,
That's rackt already on his owne desires.
Seale and deliuer as thy deed, that band,
Whereto thy promist faith hath set her hand;
And what our plighted hearts, and mutuall vow
Haue so long since begun, O finish now;
That our imperfect and halfe pleasures may
Receiue perfection, by a mariage day:
Whereto, she thus; Had the pleas'd God aboue,
Forgiuen my faults, and made me fit for Ioue
To blesse at large; Had all the powers of heauen
(To boast the vtmost of their bounty) giuen
As great addition to my slender fortune
As they could giue, or couetous mind importune,
I vow to heauen, and all those heauenly powers,
They should no sooner beene made mine, but yours.
Nay, had my fortunes staid but at the rate
They were; had I remained in that state
I was (although, at best, vnworthy farre
Of such a peerlesse blessing as you are)
My deare acceptance should haue fill'd my heart
As full of ioyes, as now it is of smart;
But, as I am, let angry Ioue then vent
On me his plagues, till all his plagues be spent.
And when I roare, let heauen my paines deride,
When I match Argalus to such a Bride.
Liue happy, Argalus, let thy soule receiue
What blessings poore Parthenia cannot haue;
Liue happy: May thy ioyes be neuer done,
But let one blessing draw another on:
O may thy better Angell watch and ward
Thy soule, and pitch an euerlasting guard
About the portals of thy tender heart,
And showre downe blessings wheresoere thou art;
Let all thy ioyes be as the month of May,
And all thy dayes be as a mariage day.
Let sorrow, sicknesse, and a troubled minde
Be strangers to thee; Let them neuer finde
Thy heart at home; Let Fortune still alot
Such lawlesse guests to those that loue thee not:
And let those blessings, which shall wanting be
To such as merit none, alight on thee.
That mutuall faith, betwixt vs, that of late
Hath past, I giue thee freedome to translate
Vpon the merits of some fitter spouse:
I giue thee leaue, and freely quit thy vowes.
I call the gods to witnesse, nothing shall
More blesse my soule; no comfort can befall
More truely welcome to me, then to see
My Argalus, (what ere become of me)
So linckt in wedlocke, as shall most augment
His greater honour, and his true content.
With that, a sudden and tempestuous tyde
Of teares orewhelm'd her language, and denyde
A passage, but when passions flood was spent,
She thus proceeds: You gods, if you are bent
To act my Tragedy, why doe you wrong
Our patience so, to make the play so long?
Your Sceanes are tedious; Gainst the rules of Art,
You dwell too long; too long, vpon one part.
Be briefe, and take aduantage of your odds;
One simple mayde against so many gods?
And not be conquer'd yet? Conioyne your might,
And send her soule into eternall night,
That liues too long a day; Ile not resist,
Prouided you strike home, strike where ye list.
Accursed be that Day, wherein these eyes
First saw the light; Let desp'rate soules deuise
A curse sufficient for it; Let the Sun
Ne're shine vpon it; and what ere's begun
Vpon that fatall day, let heauen forbid it
Successe; if not, to ensnare the hand, that did it.
Why was I borne? Or, being borne, O why
Did not my fonder nurses Lullaby
(Euen whilst my lips were hanging on her brest)
Sing her poore Babe to euerlasting rest?
O then my infant soule had neuer knowne
This world of griefe, beneath whose weight I groane.
No, no, it had not: He that dyes in's prime,
Speeds a long businesse, in a little time.
But Argalus (whose more extreame desire,
Vnapt to yeeld, like water-sprinkled fire,
Did blaze the more) impatient of denyall,
Gaue thus an onset to a further tryall;
Life of my Soule; By whom, next heauen, I breath,
Excepting whom, I haue no friend but Death,
How can thy wishes ease my griefe, or stand
My miserie in stead, when as thy hand,
And nothing but thy helping hand can giue me
Reliefe, and yet refuses to relieue me?
Strange kinde of Charity! when, being afflicted,
I finde best wishes, yet am interdicted
Of those best wishes, and must be remou'd
From loues enioyment; why? Because belou'd.
Alas! alas! How can thy wishes be
A blessing to me, if vnblest in thee?
Thy beauty's gone, (thou saist;) why, let it goe;
He loues but ill, that loues but for a show;
Thy beauty is supply'd in my affection;
That neuer yet was slaue to a complexion.
Shall euery day, wherein the earth does lacke
The Suns reflex, b'expell'd the Almanacke?
Or shall thy ouer-curious steps forbeare
A garden, 'cause there be no Roses there?
Or shall the sunset of Parthenia's beauty
Enforce my iudgement to neglect that duty,
The which my best aduis'd affection owes
Her sacred vertue, and my solemne vowes?
No, no; it lyes not in the power of Fate,
To make Parthenia too vnfortunate,
For Argalus to loue.
It is as easie for Parthenia's heart
To proue lesse vertuous, as for me to start
From my firme faith: The flame that honours breath
Hath blowne, nothing hath powre to quench, but death.
Thou giu'st me leaue to chuse a fitter spouse,
And freedome to recall, to quit those vowes
I tooke: VVho gaue thee license to dispense
VVith such false tongues, as offer violence
To plighted faith? Alas, thou canst not free
Thy selfe, much lesse hast power to license me:
Vowes can admit no change; They still perseuer
Against all chance, they binde, they binde for euer:
A vow's a holy thing; no common breath;
The limits of a vow, is heauen, and death;
A vow that's past, is like a bird that's flowne
From out thy hand; can be recall'd by none;
It dies not, like a time beguiling Iest,
As soone as vented; liues not in thy brest,
VVhen vtterd once; but is a sacred word,
Straight enterd in the strict and close record
Of heauen; It is not like a Iuglers knot,
Or fast, or loose, as pleases vs, or not.
Since then thy vowes can finde no dispensation,
And may not be recall'd, recall thy passion;
Performe, performe, what now it is too late
T'vnwish againe; too soone to violate;
Seeke not to quit, what heauen denies to free,
Performe thy vowes to heauen; thy vowes to me.
Thrice dearer then my soule, (she thus replide)
Had my owne pamper'd fancy beene the guide
To my affection, I had condescended
Ere this to your request, which had befriended
My best desiers too; I lou'd not thee
For my owne pleasure, in that base degree,
As gluttons doe their diet, who dispense
With vnwash'd hands, (lest they should giue offence
To their grip'd stomackes, when a minutes stay
Will make them curse occasion all the day.)
I lou'd not so; My first desires did spring
From thy owne worth; and, as a sacred thing,
I alwaies view'd thee, whom my zeale commands
Me not prophane with these defiled hands:
Tis true; Performance is a debt we owe
To Vowes, and nothing's dearer then a Vow;
Yet when the gods doe rauish from our hand
The meanes to keepe it, 'tis a countermand.
He that hath vow'd to sacrifice each day
At Iuno's Altar's bound, and must obey.
But if (being vnder vow) the gods doe please
To strike him with a leperous disease,
Or foule infection; which is better now,
Prophane the Altar, or to breake the vow?
The case is mine; where then the gods dispense,
We may be bold, yet tender no offence.
Admit it were an euill; 'tis our behest
Of necessary ills, to choose the least.
The gods are good: The strickt recognisance
Of vowes, is onely taken to aduance
The good of man; Now if that good proue ill,
We may refuse, our vowes entire still.
I vow a mariage; why? because I doe
Entirely affect that man, my vowes are to;
But if some foule disease should interpose
Betwixt our promis'd mariage, and our vowes.
The strict performance of these vowes must proue
I wrong; and therefore loue not, whom I loue.
Then vrge no more: Let my deny all be
A pledge sufficient twixt my loue and thee.
So ended sire: But vehement desire,
(That can be quencht with No; no more, then fire,
With oyle; and can submit to no condition)
Lends him new breath: Loue makes a Rethoritian.
He speaks: she answers: He, afresh, replyes;
He stoutly sues; As stoutly she denyes.
He begs in vaine; and she denies in vaine;
For she denies againe; He begs againe;
At last, both weary, he his suite adiournes,
For louers dayes are good, and bad by turnes.
He bids farewell: As if the heart of either
Gaue but one motion, they both sigh'd together.
She bids farewell; and yet she bids it so,
As if her farewell ended, if he goe;
He bids farewell; but so, as if delay
Had promis'd better farewells to his stay.
She bids farewell; but holds his hand so fast,
As if that farewell, should not be the last.
Both sigh'd, both wept, and both, being heauy harted,
She bids farewell; He bids farewell; and parted.
So parted they: Now Argalus is gone;
And now Parthenia's weeping all alone;
And, like the widowed Turtle, she bewailes
The absence of her mate: Passion preuailes
Aboue her strength: Now her poore heart can tell,
What's heauen, by wanting heauen; and what is hell
By her owne torments: Sorrow now does play
The Tyrants part; Affection must obey;
And, like a weathercocke, her various minde
Is chang'd, and turn'd with euery blast of winde.
In desp'rate language she deplores her state;
She faine would wish; but then, she knowes not what;
Resolues of this; of that; and then of neither;
She faine would flee, but then she knows not whither;
At length (consulting with the heartlesse paire
Of ill aduisers, Sorrow, and Despaire)
Resolues to take th'aduantage of that night,
To steale away; and seeke for death, by flight;
A Pilgrims weed her liuelesse limmes addrest
From hand to foot: A thong of leather blest
Her wasted loynes; Her feeble feet were shod
With Sandalls; In her hand a Pilgrims rod.
When as th'illustrious Soueraigne of the Day
Had now begun his Circuit, to suruay
His lower kingdome, hauing newly lent
The vpper world to Cynthiaes gouernment,
Forth went Parthenia, and begins t'attend
The progresse now, which only Death can end.
Goe haplesse virgin! Fortune be thy guide,
And thine owne vertues; and what else beside,
That may be prosperous: may thy merits find
More happinesse, then thy distressed mind
Can hope; Liue, and to after ages proue
The great example of true Faith and Loue:
Gone, gone she is; but whither she is gone,
The gods, and fortune can resolue alone;
Pardon my Quill, that is enforc'd to stray
From a poore Lady, in an vnknowne way.
To number forth her weary steps, or tell
Those obvious dangers, that so oft befell
Our poore Parthenia, in her pilgrimage,
Or bring her miseries on the open stage;
Her broken slumbers; her distracted care;
Her hourely feares, and frights; her hungry fare;
Her daily perils; and her nightly scapes
From rauenous beasts, and from attempted rapes,
Is not my taske; who care not to incite
My Readers passion to an appetite.
We leaue Parthenia now; and our discourse
Must cast an eye, and bend a settled course
To Argalus. When Argalus (returning
To visit his Parthenia, the next morning)
Perceiued she was fled, not knowing whither;
He makes no stay; Consults not with the weather;
Stayes not to thinke, but claps his hasty knees
To his fleet Courser; and away he flees;
His haste enquires no way; (he needs not feare
To lose the roade, that goes he knowes not where;)
One while he pricks vpon the fruitfull plaines;
And now, he gently flicks his prouder reines,
And climbes the barren hills: with fresh Careers
He tryes the right hand way; and then he veres
His course vpon the left: One while he likes
This path; when, by and by, his fancy strikes
Vpon another tract. Sometimes, he roues
Among the Springs, and solitary Groues,
Where, on the tender barkes of sundry trees,
H'engraues Parthenia's name, with his: then flees
To the wild Champian: his proud Steed remoues
The hopefull fallowes, with his horned hooues;
He baulkes no way; rides ouer rocke, and mountaine;
When led by fortune to Diana's Fountaine,
He straight dismounts his steed; begins to quench
His thirsty lippes; and after that, to drench
His fainting limmes, in that sweet streame, wherein
Parthenia's dainty fingers oft had bin.
The Fountaine was vpon a steepe descent,
Whose gliding current nature gaue a vent
Through a firme rock; which Art (to make it known
To after ages) wall'd, and roof'd with stone;
Aboue the Christall fountaines head, was plac'd
Diana's Image (though of late defac'd:)
Beneath, a rocky Cysterne did retaine
The water, sliding through the Cocks of Cane;
Whose curious Current, the worlds greater eye
Ne're viewed, but in his mid-day Majestie:
It was that Fountaine; where, in elder times
Poore Corydon compos'd his rurall rimes,
And left them closely hid, for his vnkinde
And marble hearted Phyllida to finde.
All rites perform'd, he re-amounts his Steed,
Redeemes his losse of time with a new speed:
And with a fresh supply, his strength renewes
His progresse, God knowes whither; He pursues
His vow'd aduenture, brooking no delay,
And (with a minde as doubtfull as the way)
He iournies on; he left no course, vnthought;
No traueller, vnask'd; no place, vnsought.
To make a Iournall of each Circumstance;
His change of fortunes, or each obuious chance
Befell his tedious trauell: to relate
The braue attempt of this exploit, or that;
His rare atchieuements, and their faire successe;
His noble courage, in extreame distresse;
His desp'rate dangers; his deliuerance:
His high esteeme with men, which did enhanse
His meanest actions to the throne of Ioue:
And what he sufferd, for Partheniaes loue,
Would make our volume endlesse, opt to try
The vtmost patience of a studious eye;
All which, the bounty of a free conceit
May sooner reach too, then my pen relate.
But till bright Cynthiaes head had three times thrise
Repayr'd her empty hornes, and fill'd the eyes
Of gazing mortalls, with her globe of light,
This restlesse louer ceas'd not, day and night,
To wander, in a sollitarie Quest
For her, whose loue had taught him to digest
The dregges of sorrow, and to count all ioyes
But follyes (weigh'd with her) at least, but toyes.
It hapned now that twise six months had run,
Since wandring Argalus had first begun
His toylesome progresse; who, in vaine, had spent
A yeare of houres, and yet no euent,
When fortune brought him to a goodly Seat
(Wall'd round about with Hills) yet not so great
As pleasant; and lesse curious to the sight,
Then strong; yet yeelding euen as much delight,
As strength; whose onely outside did declare
The masters Iudgement, and the builders care.
Arround the Castle, nature had laid out
The bounty of her treasure; round about,
Well fenced meadowes (fill'd with summers pride)
Promis'd prouision for the winter tide,
Neere which the neighb'ring hills (well stockt and stor'd
With milkewhite flocks) did seuerally afford
Their fruitfull blessings, and deseru'd encrease
To painfull husbandry, the childe of peace;
It was Kalanders seat, who was the brother
Of lost Parthenia's late deceased mother.
He was a Gentleman, whom vaine ambition
Nere taught to vnderualue the condition
Of priuate Gentry; who preferr'd the loue
Of his respected neighbours, farre aboue
The apish congies of th'vnconstant Court;
Ambitious of a good, not great report.
Beloued of his Prince, yet not depending
Vpon his fauours so, as to be tending
Vpon his person: and, in briefe, too strong
Within himselfe, for fortunes hand to wrong:
Thither came wandring Argalus; and receiu'd
As great content, as one that was bereau'd
Of all his ioyes, could take, or who would striue
T'expresse a welcome to the life, could giue:
His richly furnisht table more exprest
A common bounty, then a curious feast;
Whereat, the choice of precious wines were profer'd
In liberall sort; not vrg'd, but freely offer'd;
The carefull seruants did attend the roome,
No need to bid them either goe or come:
Each knew his place, his office, and could spy
His masters pleasure, in his masters eye.
But what can rellish pleasing to a taste
That is distemper'd? Can a sweet repast
Please a sicke pallate? no, there's no content
Can enter Argalus, whose soule is bent
To tyre on his owne thoughts: Kalanders loue,
(That other times would rauish) cannot moue
That fixed heart, which passion now incites
T'abiure all pleasures, and forsweare delights.
It fortun'd; on a day, that dinner ending,
Kalander and his noble guests, intending
T'exchange their pleasures in the open ayre,
A messenger came in; and did repaire
Vnto Kalander; told him, That the end
Of his imployment, was to recommend
A noble Lady to him (neare allyde
To faire Queene Hellen) whose vnskilfull guide
Had so misled, that she does make request,
This night, to be his bold, and vnknowne guest;
And by his helpe, to be inform'd the way
To finde to morrow, what she lost to day.
Kalander (the extent of whose ambition
Was to expresse the bountious disposition
Of a free heart, as glad of such occasion
To entertaine) return'd the salutation
Of an vnknowne seruant; and withall profest,
A promis'd welcome to so faire a guest.
Forthwith Kalander, and his noble friends
(All but poore Argalus, who recommends
His thoughts to priuate vses, and confines
His secret fancy to his owne designes)
Mounted their praunsing Steeds, to giue a meeting
To his faire guest, they met, but at first meeting
Kalander stood amaz'd; (for he suppos'd
It was Parthenia) and thus his thoughts disclos'd;
Maddam (said he) if these mine aged eyes
Retaine that wonted strength, which age denies
To many of my yeares, I should be bold
(In viewing you) to say, I doe behold.
My neece Parthenia's, face: Nor can I be
Perswaded (by your leaue) but you are she?
Thrice noble Sir (she thus replide) your tongue
(Perchance) hath done the faire Parthenia wrong,
In your mistake, and too much honour'd me,
That (in my iudgement) was more fit to be
Her foyle, then picture; yet hath many an eye
Giuen the like sentence, she not being by;
Nay, more; I haue bin told; that my owne mother
Fail'd often to distinguish t'one from t'other.
Said then Kalander: If my rash conceit
Hath made a fault, mine error shall await
Vpon your gratious pardon; I alone
VVas not deceiu'd; for neuer any one
That view'd Parthenia's visage, but would make
As great an error, by as great mistake.
But (Maddam) for her sake, and for your owne,
(VVhose worth may challenge to it selfe alone,
More seruice then Kalander can expresse)
Y'are truly welcome. Enter, and possesse
This Castle as your owne; which can be blest
In nothing, more, then in so faire a guest.
Whereto, the Lady (entring) thus replide.
Let euerlasting ioyes be multiplide
VVithin these gentle gates; and let them stand
As lasting monuments in th'Arcadian land,
Of rare and bounteous hospitalitie
To after-times. Let strangers passing by
Blesse their succeeding heires as shall descend
From such a Lord, from such a noble Friend.
When as a little respite had repair'd
Her weary limmes, which trauell had impair'd,
The freenesse of occasion did present
New subiects to discourse; wherein they spent
No little time; among the rest, befell
Kalander (often stopt with teares) to tell
Of Argalus, and lost Parthenia's loue,
Whose vndissembled passion did moue
A generall griefe; the more that they attended
To his sad tale, the more they wish'd it ended.
Maddam (said he) although your visage be
Like hers; yet may your fortunes disagree;
Poore girle! and as he spake that word, his eyes
Let fall a teare. The Lady thus replyes;
My soule doth suffer for Parthenia's sake;
But tell me, Sir, did Argalus forsake
His poore Parthenia whom he lou'd so deare?
How hath he spent his daies e're since? and where?
Maddam (said he) when as their marriage day
Drew neare; mischiefe, that now was bent to play
Vpon the Stage, her studied master prize,
With ougly leprosie did so disguise
Her beauteous face, that she became a terrour
To her owne selfe: But Argalus the mirrour
Of truest constancy, (whose loyall heart,
Not guided by his eye, disdain'd to start
From his past vowes) did, in despight of fortune,
Pursue his fixt desires, and importune
Th'entended mariage ne'erthelesse: But she,
Whom reason now had taught to disagree
VVith her distracted thoughts, stands deafe and mute,
And at the last, to auoyd his further suit,
Not making any priuie to her slight,
She quits the house, and steales away by night;
But Maddam, when as Argalus perceiu'd
That she was fled; and being quite bereau'd
Of his last hope poore louer, he assayes
By toylesome pilgrimage to end his dayes,
Or finde her out: Now twice sixe months haue run
Their tedious courses, since he first begun
His fruitlesse iourney, ranging farre and neare,
Suffering as many sorrowes as a yeare
Could send; and made by the extreames of weather
Vnapt for trauell, fortune brought him thither;
VVhere he as yet remaines, till time shall make
His wasted bodie fit to vndertake
His discontented progresse, and renew
His great enquest for her, who at first view,
Maddam, you seem'd to be.
So said; The Lady from whose tender eyes
Some drops did slide, whose heart did sympathize
With both their sorrowes, said; And is their then
Such vnexpected constancy in men?
Most noble Sir;
If the too rash desires of a stranger
May be dispens'd withall, without the danger
Of too great boldnesse, I should make request
To see this noble Lord, in whose rare brest
(By your report) more honour doth reside,
Then in all Greece; nay, all the world beside;
I haue a message to him, and am loath
To doe it, were I not ingag'd by oath.
Whereat, Kalander, not in breath, but action
Applies himselfe to giue a satisfaction
To her propounded wish: protraction wasts
No time; but vp to Argalus he hasts:
Argalus comes downe; and after salutation
Giuen, and receiu'd, she accosts him on this fashion

My noble Lord,

VVhereas the loud resounding trump of fame
Hath nois'd your worth, and glorifide your name
Aboue all others, let your goodnesse now
Make good that faire report; that I may know
By true experience, what my ioyfull eare
Had but, as yet, the happinesse to heare.
And if the frailty of a womans wit
May chance t'offend; be noble, and remit.
Then know (most noble Lord) my natiue place,
Is Corinth; of the selfe same blood and race,
VVith faire Queene Hellen, in whose princely Court
I had my birth, my breeding: To be short;
Thither not many daies agoe, there came,
Disguis'd and chang'd in all things but her name,
The rare Parthenia, so in shape transform'd,
In feature altred, and in face deform'd.
That (in my iudgement) all this region could
Not show a thing, more vgly to behold.
Long was it, ere her oft repeated vowes
And solemne protestations could rouze
My ouer dull beliefe; till, at the last,
Some passages, that heretofore had past
In secret, twixt Parthenia and me,
Gaue full assurance 't could be none but she;
Abundant welcome, (as a soule so sad
As mine, and hers, could giue or take) she had
So like we were in face, in speech, in growth,
That whosoeuer saw the one, saw both.
Yet were we not alike in our complexions
So much as in our loues, in our affections:
One sorrow seru'd vs both; and one reliefe
Could ease vs both, both partners in one griefe:
Much priuate time we ioyntly spent; and neither
Could finde a true content, if not together.
The strange occurrents of her dire misfortune
She oft discourst, which strongly did importune
A world of teares from these suffused eyes,
The true partakers of her miseries.
And as she spake, the accent of her story
Would alwaies point vpon th'eternall glory
Of your rare constancy, which whosoere
In after-ages shall presume to heare
And not admire, let him be proclaim'd
A rebell to all vertue, and (defam'd
In his best actions) let his leprous name
Or die dishonour'd, or suruiue with shame.
But ah! what simples can the hand of art
Finde out to stanch a louers bleeding heart?
Or what (alas) can humane skill apply
To turne the course of loues Phlebotomie?
Loue is a secret sire, inspir'd and blowne
By fate; which wanting hopes, to feed vpon,
Workes on the very soule, and does torment
The vniuerse of man: which being spent
And wasted in the Conflict, often shrinkes
Beneath the burthen; and, so conquerd sinkes;
All which, your poore Parthenia knew too well,
VVhose bed rid hopes, not hauing power to quell
Th'imperious fury of extreame despaire,
She languisht, and not able to contraire
The will of her victorious passion; cryed,
My dearest Argalus, farewell, and dyed:
My Lord, not long before her latest breath
Had freely paid the full arrears to death,
She cald me to her; In her dying hand
She strained mine, whilst in her eyes did stand
A showre of teares, vnwept; and in mine eare
She whisperd so, as all the roome might heare.
Sister (said she) (That title past betweene vs
Not vndeseru'd; for, all that ere had scene vs,
Mistooke vs so, at least) The latest sand
Of my spent hower-glasse is now at hand.
Those ioyes, which heauen appointed out for me,
I here bequeath to be possest by thee.
And when sweet death shall clarifie my thoughts,
And draine them from the dregs of all my faults,
Enioy them thou, wherewith (being so refinde
From all their drosse) full fraught thy constant minde
And let thy prosprous voyage be addrest
To the faire port of Argalus his brest,
As whom the eye of noone did ne'er discouer
So loyall, so renownd, so rare a louer:
Cast anchor there, for by this dying breath
Nothing can please my soule more, after death,
And make my ioyes more perfect, then to see
A mariage twixt my Argalus and thee;
This Ring the pledge betwixt his heart and mine,
As freely as he gaue me, I make thine:
With it, vnto thy faithfull heart I tender
My sacred vowes: with it, I here surrender
All right and title, that I had, or haue
In such a blessing, as I now must leaue;
Goe to him, and coniure him in my name
What loue he bare to me, the very same
That he transferre on thee: take no deniall.
VVhich granted, liue thou happy, constant, loyall.
And as she spake that word, her voice did alter;
Her breath grew cold, her speech began to faulter;
Faine would she vtter more, but her spent tongue
(Not able to goe further) faild, and clung
To her dry roofe. A while, as in a trance,
She lay; and, on a sudden, did aduance
Her forced language to the height, and cryed,
Farewell my dearest Argalus: and died.
And now, my Lord, although this office be
Vnsutable to my sex, and disagree
Too much perchance, with the too mean condition
Of my estate, more like to finde dirision,
Then satisfaction; yet, my gratious Lord,
Extr'ordinary merits doe afford
Extr'ordinary meanes, and can excuse
The breach of custome, or the common vse;
VVherefore, incited by the deare directions
Of dead Parthenia, by mine owne affections,
And by the exc'lence of your high desert,
I here present you with a faithfull heart,
A heart, to you deuoted; which assures
It selfe no happinesse, but in being yours.
Pardon my boldnesse. They that shall reproue
This, as a fault, reproue a fault in loue.
And why should custome doe our sex that wrong,
To take away the priuiledge of our tongue?
If nature giue vs freedome, to affect,
Why then should custome barre vs to detect
The gifts of nature? She that is in paine
Hath a sufficient warrant to complaine.
Then giue me leaue (my Lord) to reinforce
A virgins suit, (thinking ne're the worse
Of proferd loue) let my desiers thriue,
And freely 'accept what I so freely giue.
So ending; silence did enlarge her eare,
(Prepar'd with quicke attention) to heare
His gracious words: But Argalus whose passion
Had put his amorous Courtship out of fashion,
Return'd no answer, till his trickling eies
Had giuen an earnest of such obsequies,
As his adiourned sorrow had entended
To doe at full, and therefore recommended
To priuacy; True griefe abhorres the light,
Who grieues without a witnesse, grieues aright.
His passion thus suspended for a while,
(And yet not so, but that it did recoyle
Strong sighes) he wip'd his teare-bedewed eyes,
And turning to the Lady, thus replyes.

Madam,

Your no lesse rare, then noble fauours show
How much you merit, and how much I owe
Your great desert, which claimes more thankfulnesse,
Then such a dearth of language can expresse.
But most of all, I stand for euer bound
To that your goodnesse, my Parthenia found
In her distresse, for which respect (in duty
As I am tyed) poore Argalus shall repute ye
The flowre of noble courtesie, and proclaime
Your high deseruings. Lady; as I am,
A poore vnhappy wretch, the very scorne
Of all prosperitie, distrest, forlorne,
Vnworthy the least fauour you can giue;
I am your slaue, your Beadsman will I liue:
But for this weighty matter you propound,
Although I see how much it would redound
To my great happinesse, yet heauen knowes
(Most exc'llent Lady) I cannot dispose
Of my owne thoughts; nor haue I power to doe
What, else, you needed not perswade me to;
For trust me, were this heart of mine, mine owne,
To carue according to my pleasure, none
But you should challenge it; but while I liue
It is Parthenia's, and not mine to giue.
Whereto she thus replies: Most noble Sir,
Death, that hath made diuorse 'twixt you, and her,
Hath now returned you your heart againe,
Dissolu'd your vowes, dislink'd that sacred chaine,
Which tide your soules; nay more, her dying breath
Bequeath'd your heart to me; which by her death
Is growne a debt, that you are bound to pay;
Then know (my Lord) the longer you delay,
The longer time her soule is dispossest
(And by your meanes) of her desired rest.
Whereto the poore distressed Argalus
Pausing a while return'd his answere thus;

Incomparable Lady,

When first of all, by heauens diuine directions,
VVe lou'd, we lik'd, we linkt our deare affections,
And with the solemne power of an oath,
In presence of the better gods, we both
Exchang'd our hearts: in witnesse of which thing,
I gaue, and she receiued this deare Ring,
Which now you weare, by which she did resigne
Her heart to me; for which, I gaue her mine.
Now, Maddam, by a mutuall commerce,
My exchang'd heart is not my owne, but hers;
Which if it had the power to suruiue,
She being dead, what heart haue I to giue?
Or if that heart expired in her death,
VVhat heart had shee (poore Lady!) to bequeath?
Maddam, in her began my deare affection;
In her, it liu'd; in her, it had perfection;
In her, it ioy'd, although but ill befriended
By Fate; in her begun, in her, it ended.
If I had lou'd, if I had onely lou'd
Parthenia's beautie, I had soone beene mou'd
To moderate my sorrowes, and to place
That loue on you, that haue Parthenia's face,
But 'twas Parthenia's selfe I lou'd, and loue;
VVhich as no time hath power to remoue
From my fixt heart, so nothing can diminish,
No fortune can dissolue; no death can finish.
With mingled frownes and smiles, she thus replide,
Halfe in a rage, And must I be denide?
Are those the noble fauours I expected?
To finde disgrace? and goe away reiected?
Most noble Lady, if my words (said he)
Suit not your expectation, let them be
Imputed to the miserie of my state,
Which makes my lips to speake they know not what;
Mistake not him, that onely studies how,
VVith most aduantage still to honour you.
Alas! what ioyes I euer did receiue
From fortune's buried in Parthenia's graue,
VVith whom, ere long (nor are my hopes in vaine)
I hope to meet, and neuer part againe.
So said; with more then Eagle winged hast,
She flew into his bosome and embrac'd,
And her clos'd armes, his sorrow-wasted wast;
Surcharg'd with ioy, she wept, not hauing power
To speake. Haue you beheld an Aprill shower
Send downe her hasty bubbles, and then stops,
Then storms afresh, through whose transparent drops
The vnobscured lampe of heauen conuaies
The brighter glory of's refulgent rayes;
Euen so, within her blushing cheeks resided
A mixt aspect, 'twixt smiles and teares diuided,
So euen diuided; no man could say, whether
She wept, or smil'd, she smil'd, and wept together,
She held him fast, and like a fainting louer,
Whose passion now had license to discouer
Some words; Since then thy heart is not for me,
Take, take thy owne Parthenia (said she)
Cheare vp, my Argalus; these words of mine
Ate thy Parthenia's, as Parthenia's thine;
Beleeue it (Loue) these are no false alarmes;
Thou hast thine owne Parthenia in thine armes.
Like as a man, whose hourely wants implore
Each meales reliefe, trudging from doore to doore,
That heares no dialect from churlish lippes,
But newes of Beadles, and their torturing whips,
Takes vp (perchance) some vnexpected treasure,
New lost; departs; and, ioyfull beyond measure,
Is so transported, that he scarce beleeues
So great a truth; and what his eye perceiues
Not daring trust, but feares it is some vision,
Or flattering dreame, deseruing but derision.
So Argalus amazed at the newes,
Faine would beleeue, but daring not abuse
His easie faith too soone, for feare his heart
Should surfeit on conceit, he did impart
The truth vnto his fancie by degrees,
VVhere stopp'd by passion, falling on his knees,
He thus began; O you eternall powers
That haue the guidance of these soules of ours,
Who by your iust prerogatiue can doe
What is a sin for man to diue into;
Whose vndiscouer'd actions are too high
For thought; too deepe for man t'enquier, why?
Delude not these mine eyes with the false show
Of such a ioy, as I must neuer know
But in a dreame: Or if a dreame it be,
O let me neuer wake againe, to see
My selfe deceiu'd, that am ordain'd t'enjoy
A reall griefe, and but a dreaming ioy.
Much more he spake to this effect, which ended;
He blest himselfe, and (with a sigh) vnbended
His aking knees; and rising from the ground,
He cast his rolling eyes about, and found
The roome auoyded, and himselfe alone;
The doore halfe clos'd, and his Parthenia gone,
His new distemper'd passion grew extreame;
I knew, I knew, (said he) 'twas but a dreame;
A minutes ioy; a flash; a flattering bubble
Blowne by the fancy, full of pleasing trouble;
Which waking breakes; and empties into ayre,
And breathes into my soule a fresh despaire.
I knew 'twas nothing but a golden dreame,
Which (waking) makes my wants the more extreame;
I knew 'twas nothing but a dreaming ioy,
A blisse, which (waking) I should ne're enioy.
My deare Parthenia tell me, where, O where
Art thou that so delud'st mine eye, mine eare?
O that my wak'ned fancy had the might
To represent vnto my reall sight
What my deceiued eyes beheld, that!
Might surfeit with excesse of ioy, and die.
With that the faire Parthenia (whose desire
Was all this while, by fire, to draw out fire;
And by a well aduised course to smother
The fury of one passion with another)
Stept in, and said; Then Argalus take thou
Thy true Parthenia: Thou dream'st not now;
Behold this Ring, whose Motto does impart
The constancy of our diuided heart:
Behold these eyes, that for thy sake haue vented
A world of teares, vnpittied, vnlamented:
Behold the face; that had of late the power
To curse all beauty; yet it selfe, secure:
Witnesse that Tapour, whose prophetick snuffe
VVas outed and reuiued with one puffe:
And that my words may whet thy dull beliefe,
'Twas I, that roard beneath the scourge of griefe,
VVhen thou did'st curse the Darknesse, for concealing
My face; and then the Tapour, for revealing
So foule a face; 'Twas I, that, ouercome
VVith violent despaire, stood deafe and dumbe
To all thy vrg'd perswasions. It was I,
That, in thy absence, did resolue to die
A wandring pilgrime, trusting to be led
By fortune, to my death; and therefore fled:
But see; the powers aboue can worke their ends,
In spight of mortals: and what man intends,
The heauens dispose, and order the euent:
For when my thoughts were desperately bent
To mine owne ruine, I was led by fate
(Through dangers, now too tedious to relate)
To faire Queene Hellens court, not knowing whither
My vnaduised steps were guided. Thither
My Genius brought me; where, vnknowne to any,
I mournd in silence; though obseru'd by many,
Relieu'd by none. At length, they did acquaint
The faire Queene Hellen with my strange complaint,
Whose noble heart did truly sympathize
With mine, partaking in my miseries:
Who, fill'd with pitty, strongly did importune
The wofull cause of my disastrous fortune,
And neuer rested, till she did inforce
These lips t'acquaint her with the whole discourse.
VVhich done, her gratious pleasure did command
Her owne Physitian, to whose skilfull hand
She left my foule disease; who in the space
Of twice ten dayes, restor'd me to this face:
The cure perfected, straight she sent about
(Without my knowledge) to enquier out
That party, for whose sake I was contented
T'endure such griefe with patience, vnrepented.
Hoping (since by her meanes, and help of Art)
My face was cur'd) euen so to cure my heart.
But when the welcome messenger return'd
Thy place of boad, ô how my spirits burnd
To kisse her hands, and so to leaue the Court;
But she (whose fauours did transcend report
As much, as they exceeded my desert)
Detain'd me for a while, as loath to part
VVith her poore handmaid; till at last, perpending
A louers haste, and freely apprehending
So iust a cause of speed, she soone befriended
My best desiers, and sent me thus attended,
VVhere (vnder a false maske) I laid this plot,
To see how soone my Argalus had forgot
His dead Parthenia, but my blessed eare
Hath heard, what few or none must hope to heare:
Now farewell sorrow, and let old despaire
Goe seeke new brests: let mischiefe neuer dare
Attempt our hearts: let Argalus inioy
His true Parthenia; let Parthenia's ioy
Reuiue in him: let each be blest in eyther,
And blest be heauen, that brought vs both together.
With that, the well-nigh broken hearted louer,
Rauisht with ouer-ioy, did thus discouer
His long pent words: And doe these eyes once more
Behold what their extreame despaire gaue o're
To hope for? Doe these wretched eyes attaine
The happinesse, to see this face againe?
And is there so much happinesse yet left
For a broke heart, a heart that was bereft
Of power t'enioy, what heauen had power to giue?
Breathes my Parthenia? Does Parthenia liue?
Who euer saw the Septentrionall stone,
By hidden power, (a power as yet unknowne
To our confinde and darkned reason) draw
The neighb'ring steele; which, by the mutuall law
Of natures secret working, striues as much
To be attracted, till they ioyne and touch;
Euen so these greedy Louers meet, and charmes
Each other strongly in each others armes;
Euen so they meet; and with vnbounded measure
Of true content, and time beguiling pleasure,
Enioy each other with a world of kisses,
Sealing the patent of true worldly blisses;
Where for a while I leaue them to receiue,
What pleasures new met louers vse to haue.
Readers forbeare; and let no wanton eye
Abuse our Sceane: Let not the stander by
Corrupt our lines, or make an obsceane glosse
Vpon our sober Text, and mixe his drosse
With our refined gold, extracting sower
From sweet, and poyson from so faire a flower.
Correct your wandring thoughts, and doe not feare
To thinke the best: Here is no Tarquine here;
No lustfull, no insatiate Messaline,
Who thought it gaine sufficient to resigne
An age of honour, for a night of pleasure;
Whose strength t'endure lust, was the iust measure
Of her adust desire: Yee need not feare
Our priuate Louers, who esteeme lesse deare
Their liues then honours, daring not to doe,
But what vnsham'd the Sun may pry into.
If any itching eares desire to know,
What seret conf'rence past betwixt these two;
To them my Muse thus answers; When your case
Shall proue the like, she wils you to embrace
True honour, as these noble louers did,
And you shall know; Till then you are forbid
To enquire further: Onely this she pleases
To let you vnderstand, that loues diseases
Being throughly cured, by their meeting, they
Haue once againe prefixt a Mariage day;
Which that it might succeed with fairer fortune,
Readers, she moues your pleasures, to importune
The better gods, that they would please t'appay
Their griefes with ioy, and smile vpon that Day.

The third Booke.

VVhen sturdy Marches stormes are ouerblowne
And Aprill, gentle show'rs are slidden downe
To close the windchapt earth, succeeding May
Enters her month, whose earely breaking day
Calls Ladies from their hasty beds to view
Sweet Maias pride, and the discolour'd hiew
Of dewy-brested Flora, in her bower
Where euery hand hath leaue to picke the flowre
Her fancy likes, wherewith to be possest,
Vntill it fade, and wither in her brest.
Now smooth-fac'd Neptune, with his gladder smiles
Visits the bankes of his beloued Isles;
Eolus calls in the winds, and bids them hold
Their full mouth'd blasts, that breathles are controlld;
Each one retyres and shrinks into his seat
And seagreene Triton sounds a shrill retreat:
And thus at length, our Pinace is past o're
The barre; and rides before the Maiden-Towre.
Vp, now in earnest (voyagers) and stand yee
On your faint legs; Our long boat straight shal land ye.
Forget your trauels now, and lead your eyes
From your past dangers to your present prize.
You traffick'd not for toyes; The gods haue set
No other price to things of price, but sweat.
Cheare vp; call home your hearts, and be aduis'd,
Goods eas'ly purchas'd, are as eas'ly priz'd.
You traffick'd not for trifles; and your trauell
Was not to compasse the almightie grauell
Of th'Indian Mines, to ballace your estates;
'Twas not for blasts of Honour; whose poore dates
Depend on regall smiles, and haue no measures,
But Monarchs wils, expiring with their pleasures.
'Twas not to conquer Kingdomes, or obtaine
The dangerous title of a Soueraigne;
These are poore things: It is but false discretion
To toyle, where hopes are sweeter then possession.
No, we are bound vpon more braue aduentures;
True Honour, Vertue, beauty, are the Centers
To which we point, whereto our thoughts doe tend,
And heauen hath brought our voyage to an end.
Haile noble Argalus; now the Cock boate stands
Secure: step forth, and reach thy widened hands,
And take thy fairest Bride into thine armes;
Strike vp (braue spirit) Cupids fresh alarmes
Vpon her melting lips: Take Toll, before
Thou set her dainty foot vpon the shore;
So let her slide vpon thy gentle brest,
And feele the ground: then lead her to her rest.
Goe Imps of honour; let the morning Sun
Gild your delights, and spend his beames vpon
Your marriage triumphs; let his westerne light
Decline apace, and make a early Night.
Goe, Turtles, goe; let trebble ioyes betide
The faithfull Bridegroome, and his fairest Bride.
Let your owne vertues light you to your rest;
To morrow come we to your nuptiall feast.
By this the curld pate VVaggoner of heauen
Had finish'd his diurnall course, and driuen
His parting Steeds adowne the Westerne hill,
When siluer Cynthia, rising to fulfill
Her nightly course, lets fall an euening teare,
To see her brother leaue the Hemisphere,
Which, by the ayre dispers'd, is early found
(And call'd a pearlly dew) vpon the ground:
Still was the night, no language did molest
The waking ear; All mortals were at rest;
No breath of wind had power to prouoke
The Aspine leafe, or quell the aspiring smoake;
Sweet was the ayre, and cleare; no Starre was hid;
No enuious cloud was stirring, to forbid
The wilde Astronomer, to gaze, and looke
Into the secrets of his spangled booke;
Whilst round about, in each resounding groue,
(As if the Choristers of night had stroue
T'excell the warbling Philomele compares.
And vie, by turnes her Polyphonian ayres.
And now the horn-mouth'd Belman of the night
Had sent his midnight summons, to inuite
Nights rauenous rebids, from their secret holds
To rome, and visite the securer folds,
Whilst drouzie Morpheus, with his leaden keyes,
Locks vp the Shepherds eye-lids, and betrayes
The scattered flocks, which lye like sacrifices,
Expecting fire when the Sun-god rises.
By this the pale fac'd Empresse of the night
Had resurrendred vp her borrowed light,
And to the lower world she now retires,
Attended with her traine of lesser fires,
And early Hesper shoots his golden head,
To vsher Titan from his purple bed.
The gray ey'd Ianitor does not begin
To ope his Easterne portals, and let in
The new borne Day; who hauing lately hurld
The shades of night into the lower world,
The dewy cheek'd Aurora does vnfold
Her purple Curtaines, all befring'd with gold;
And from the pillow of his Crocian bed,
Don Phœbus rouzes his refulgent head;
That with his all discerning eye suruayes,
And gilds the mountaines with his morning rayes.
Now, now the wakefull Bridegroome (whose last night
Had made her shades too long) salutes the light,
Salutes the welcome light, which now at length,
Shall crown his heart with ioyes, beyond the strength
Of mortall language, whose religious fires
Shall light these louers to their wisht defires:
Vp Argalus, and d'on thy nuptiall weeds
T'enioy that ioye, from whence all ioy proceeds:
Enter those ioyes, from whence all ioy proceeds:
Vp Argalus; and d'on thy nuptiall weeds.
And thou faire Bride, more beautious then the day,
Thy Day is come, and Hymen eats away;
Awake, and rouze thee from thy downy slumber;
Thy Day is come: and may thy ioyes outnumber
Thy minutes that are past, and to ensue;
Arise, and bid thy maiden bed, adieu;
Put on thy nuptiall robes, Time cals away:
O may thy after dayes be like this Day.
By this, bright Phœbus with redoubled glorie
Had halfe way mounted to the highest storie
Of his Olympicke Palace: there to see
This long expected Dayes solemnitie:
When all on sudden, there was heard (around
From euerie quarter) the Maiestick sound
Of many Trumpets: all in consort running
One point of warre, transcending farre the cunning
Of mortall blasts; and what did seeme more strange,
The shrill mouth'd musicke did as sudden change
To Dorick straines, to sweet mollitious ayres,
To Lyrick songs, and voyces, like to theirs
That charm'd Vlysses: whil'st th'amazed eare
Stood rauisht at these changes, it might heare
Those voyces, (by degrees) transforme to Lutes,
To Shaulms, deepe throated Sackbuts, and to Flutes,
And Eccho-forcing Cornets; which surpast
The Art of man: this Harmony did last
Vntill the Bridegroome came: But all men wondred
To heare the noyse: some thought the heauens had thundred
To a new tune; and some more wiser eares
Conceiu'd, it was the Musick of the Spheares:
All wonderd, all men gaz'd; and all could heare,
But none knew whence the Musicke was, or where.
Forthwith, as if a second Sun had rose,
And stroue with greater brightnesse, to depose
The glory of the first, the Bridegroome came,
Vsher'd along with Eagle-winged Fame,
Whose twice fiue hundred mouthes did at one blast
Inspire a thousand Trumpets, as he past.
His nuptiall vesture was of Scarlet Dye
So deepe, as it would dazle a weake eye
To gaze vpon't; to which, the curious Art
Of the laborious needle did impart
So great a glorie, that you might behold
A rising Sunne, imbost with purest gold,
From whence ten thousand trailes of gold came down
In waued poynts, like Sunbeames from that Sun:
Thus from his Chamber, midd'st the vulgar Crowd
(Like Titan breaking through a gloomy cloud)
The long expected Bridegroome came, and past
Th'amazed multitude, till at the last,
His Herauld brought him to the Hall of State,
When all th'Arcadian Nobles did awaite
To welcome his approach, and to discharge
The lowder volley of their ioyes at large.
The Hall was spacious, lightsome, and bestrow'd
With Flora's wealth (a bountie that she ow'd
This glorious feast) The wals were richly clad
With curious Tap'strie; (such as Greece ne're had
Before this day) wherein you might behold,
Wrought to the life, in colourd silkes, and gold,
This present Story of these peerelesse Louers,
Which, like a silent Chronicle, discouers
The seuerall passages, that did befall
'Twixt their first meeting, and their nuptiall;
Deuis'd and wrought by Virgins borne in Greece,
Presented to this Triumph, as a peece
Deuoted to the memorie and fame
Of Argalus, and his Parthenia's name.
No sooner was the Ceremony ended,
(Wherein each noble spirit more contended
T'expresse affection, then affect th'expession
Of courtly Rhet'rick, in a bare profession
Of ayrie friendship) but a sudden shout
Of rudely mingled voyces flew throughout
The spatious Castle, which confus'dly cry'd
Ioy to Parthenia, to the fairest Bride.
Forthwith (as if that heauens had broken loose,
And Deities had meant to enterpose
Their heauenly bodies, with the mortall tribe
Of men; or, else, intending to ascribe
Their pers'nall honour to this nuptiall)
In more then princely state, enters the Hall
A glorious Show of Ladies, all aray'd
In rare and costly robes, and richly laid
With Iems vnualued; and each Lady wore
A Scarfe vpon her arme, embroidered o'er
With gold and pearle; Thus hand in hand they past
Into the Hall, but oft their eyes did cast
A backward looke, as if their thoughts did minde
Some greater glory, comming on behinde:
Next after them, came in the virgin crew
In milke white robes (virgins that neuer knew
The sacred mysteries of the mariage bed,
Nor, finding trouble in a Maidenhead,
Ere lent a thought to nuptiall ioyes, till now)
Thus past these buds of nature; two, by two,
Their long dissheueld tresses dingled downe
With carelesse Art, and on each head a crowne
Of golden Laurell stood. Their faces shrowded
Beneath a vaile, seem'd as the Stars were clouded.
Haue ye beheld in frosty winters Euen,
When all the lesser twinkling lamps of heauen
Are fully kindled, how the ruddy face
Of rising Cynthia lookes with what a grace
She views the Throne of darkenesse, and aspires
Th'Olympick brow, amidst the smaller fires?
So after all these sparkes of beauty, came
(They were but sparks to such a glorious flame)
The fayre Parthenia, thus the rose-cheek'd Bride
Enters the roome; A milke white vayle did hide
Her blushing face; which, ne'erthelesse discloses
Some glymps of red, like Lawne o're spreading roses;
Thus entred she; The garments, that she wore,
Were made of Purple silke, bespangled o're
With Starres of purest gold, and round about
Each seuerall Starre went, winding in, and out,
A trayle of orient pearle, so rarely wrought,
That as the garments moou'd, you would haue thought,
The Starres had twinckled; Her dissheueld hayre
Hung downe behind, as if the onely care
Had bin to reconcile neglect and Art,
Hang loosely downe, and vayl'd the backer part
Of those her sky-resembling robes; but so,
That euery breath would waue it too and fro,
Like flying clouds; through which, you might discouer
Sometimes one glim'ring Starre, sometimes another:
Thus on she went; her ample traine supported
By thrice three virgins, euenly siz'd and sorted
In purple robes: forthwith, the Bridegroome rises
From off his chaire; bowes downe; and sacrifices
The peacefull offring of a morning kisse,
Vpon her lips: To such a Saint as this,
O, what rebellious heart could chose but bowe,
And offer freely the perpetuall vowe
Of choyce obedience?
With that, each Noble moues him from his place,
And with a posture, full of Princely grace,
Salutes the louely Bride, with words, expressing
The ioyfull modell of a kingdomes blessing.
But harke! The Hymenean trumpet sends
Her latest summons forth: Hymen attends
The noble payre, and is prepar'd to yoke
Their promis'd hands; the sacred Altars smoake
With Mirrh and Frankinsence, The wayes are strowd
With Flora's pride; and the expecting crowd
Haue throng'd the streets, and euery greedy eye
Attends, to see the Tryumph passing by:
At length, the gates flew open. And on this fashion
Began the Tryumph; first a Proclamation
Was made, with a loud voyce: If any be,
Or Lord, or Knight, or whatsoere degree,
Professing armes, or honour in the land,
That at this time, can chalenge, or pretend
A title to Parthenia's heart, or claime
A right, or interest in her loue, or name;
Let him come forth in person; or, appeare
By noble Proxy, if not present here;
And by the exc'lent honour of a Knight,
He shall receiue such honourable right
As the iust sword can giue; Let him now come,
And speake; or, else, for euermore be dumme.
Thrice was it read; which done; forthwith there came
True honours Eaglewinged Herauld, Fame,
Sounding a siluer Trump; and as she past,
She shooke the earths foundation, with her blast.
Next after whom in vndissembled state
The Bridegroome came; on his right hand did wait
The god of Warre, in Martiall robes of greene,
All stain'd with bleeding hearts, as they had beene
But newly wounded, and from euery wound,
Fresh bloud due seeme to trickle on the ground;
And as the garments moou'd, each dying heart
Would seeme to pant a while, and then depart.
Vpon the Bridegroomes left hand there attended
Heauens Pursuiuant, whose brawny arme extended
A winged Caduce; He had scarce the might
To curbe his feet; his feet were wing'd for flight.
Aboue his head their hands did ioyntly hold
A crimzon Canopie embost with gold.
Next them, twice twenty famous Nobles follow'd,
Braue men at armes, whose names the world had hallow'd
For rare exploits, and twice as many Knights,
Whose bloods haue ransom'd, and redeem'd the rights
Of wronged Ladies: These were all aray'd
In robes of Needle worke, so rarely made,
That he which sees them, thinkes he doth behold
Armours of steele, faire filletted with gold:
And as they marcht, their Squires did aduance
Before each Knight: his warlike Shield and Lance.
And after these, the Princely virgin Bride,
On whom all eyes were fastned, did diuide
Her gentle paces, being led betweene
Two Goddesses, the one arai'd in greene,
On which the curious needle vndertooke
To make a forest: here a bubling brooke
Diuides two thickets: through the which doth flie
The singled Deere, before the deepe-mouth'd Crie,
That closely followes: There th'affrighted Herd
Stands trembling at the musicke, and afeard
Of euery shadow, gazes to and fro,
Not knowing where to stay, or where to goe;
Where, in a Launskip, you may see the Faunes,
Following their crying mothers o're the Lawnes;
The other was in robes, the purer dye
Whereof, did represent the midday sky,
Full of black clouds; through which, the glorious beams
Of the obscured Sun appeares, and seemes
As 'twere to scatter; and at length, to shed
His brighter glory, on a fruitfull bed
Of noisome weeds; from whence, you might discerne
A thousand painfull Bees extract and earne
Their sweet prouision; and, with laden thighes,
To beare their waxy burthens: On this wise
The princely Bride was led betwixt these two,
The first, was she, that on Acteons brow
Reueng'd her naked Chastity; the other
Was she, to whom Ioues pregnant braine was mother
Through Vulcans helpe; and these did iointly hold
Vpon her head, a Coronet of gold;
Whose traine Dianas virgin crew, all crown'd
With golden wreathes, supported from the ground.
Next after her, vpon the triumph waited
An order, by Diana new created,
And styl'd the Ladies of the Maidenhead,
In white, wrought here and there with spots of red,
And euery spot appeared as a staine
Of louers blood, whom their hard hearts had slaine:
Ranckt three, and three; and on each head a crowne
Of Primeroses, and Roses not yet blowne.
Next whom, the beauties of th'Arcadian Court
March'd two and two, whose glory came not short
Of what th'vnlimited, and studied art
Of glory-vying Ladies could impart
To such solemnities; where euery one
Stroue to excell, and to b'excell'd of none.
Thus came they to the Temple; where attended
The sacred Priests, whose voices recommended
The dayes successe to heauen, and did diuide
A blessing 'twixt the Bridegroome, and the Bride:
Which done; and after low obeysance made,
The first (whilst all the rest kept silence) said:
Welcome to Iuno's sacred Courts; Draw neare:
Vnspotted Louers, welcome: Doe not feare
To touch this holy ground; Passe on secure;
Our gates stand open to such guests, as you are;
Our gracious Goddesse grants you your desires,
And hath accepted of those holy fires,
We offered in your name, and takes a pleasure
To smell your Incense in so great a measure
Of true delight, that we are bold to say,
She crownes your vowes, and smiles vpon this Day .
So said; they bowed to the ground, and blest
Themselues; that done, they singled from the rest
The noble Bridegroome, and his princely Bride,
And said; Our gracious goddesse be our guide,
As we are yours; and as they spake that word,
Their well-tun'd voices sweetly did accord
With Musick from the Altar: As along
They past, they ioyntly warbled out this song:
No sooner was this Nuptiall Caroll ended,
But bowing to the ground, they recommended
This princely paire (both prostrate on the floore)
And with their hands presented them before
The sacred Altar, whereunto they brought
Two milke white Turtles; and with prayers besought
That Iuno's lasting fauours would descend,
And make their pleasures, pleasures without end.
With that, a horrid cracke of dreadfull thunder
Possest each fainting heart, with feare and wonder:
The rafters of the holy Temple shooke,
As if accursed Archimagoes booke
(That cursed Legion) had beene newly read:
The ground did tremble, and a mist ore-spread
The darkned Altar.
At length, deepe silence did possesse and fill
The spatious Temple, all was whist and still;
When, from the clouded Altar, brake the sound
Of heauenly Musicke; such, as would confound
With death, or rauishment the earth bred eare,
Had not the Goddesse giuen it strength, to beare
So strong a rapture. As the Musicke ended,
The Mist on sudden vanisht, and ascended
From whence it came. The Altar did appeare,
And ashes lying, where the Turtles were:
Neere which, great Hymen stood, not seene before:
His purple Mantle was embroidred o're
With Crownes of Thorne; mongst which, you might behold
Some, here and there (but very few) of gold;
Vpon each little space, that did diuide
The seuerall Crownes, a Gordian knot was tied:
And, turning to the Priest, he thus began;
What meane these fumes? Say, what hath mortall man
To doe with vs? What great request, what suite
Does now attend vs, that they thus salute
Our nostrills, with such acceptable sauours?
Tell vs, wherein doe they implore the sauours
Of the pleas'd gods; for by the eternall throne,
And Maiesty of heauen, it shall be done.
Whereto, with bended knees, they thus replide;
Great God, this noble Bride-groome, and his Bride
Whom we, most humbly here, present before
Great Iuno's sacred altar, doe implore
Your gracious aide: that with your nuptiall bands,
Your Grace would please to tie their promist hands.
With that, he straight descends the holy stayres,
And with his widened armes diuides and shares
An equall blessing twixt them both, and said,
Noble Youth, and louely Maide,
Heauen accepts your pleasing fires,
And hath granted your desires:
By the mystry of our power,
First, we consecrate this howre
To Iuno's name, that she would blesse
Our prosprous actions with successe.
With this Oyle (which we appoint
For holy vses) we annoint
Your temples, and with nuptiall bands
Thus we firmly ioyne your hands:
Be ioyn'd for euer: and let none
Presume t'vndoe, what we haue done.
Be ioyn'd till lawlesse Death shall seuer
Both hands & hearts: be ioyn'd for euer:
Eternall curses we alot
To those, till then, shall loose this knot.
So said, he blest them both in Iuno's name,
And from their sight he vanisht in a flame.
That done, they rose, and with new fumes saluted
The smoaking altar. Thrice they prostituted
Their bended bodies on the holy ground,
Where sending forth the well accepted sound
Of thankes and vowes, from their diuided heart,
They kisse the sacred Altar and depart;
And with the selfe same Triumph as the came,
Returned; whil'st the louder Trumpe of Fame
With a full blast, sends forth a shrill retreate,
And reconducts them to the Hall of State;
Whose richly furnisht table would inuite
A bed rid stomacke to an Appetite,
And make the wastfull Glutton, that does eate
His vnearn'd diet with his daily sweat,
Behold his heauen in a more ample measure,
Then he had hopes to purchase, with the treasure
Of his best faith; such were the dainties: such
The vyands, that I dare not thinke too much
To tearme it Paradise, where all things did
Offer themselues, and nothing was forbid.
Soone as the Martial of this Princely feast,
Had in his rightfull seat, plac'd euery guest,
A soft harmonious rapture did confine
All tongues with wonder, as a thing diuine.
Forthwith; with ioyned hands, and smiling faces,
With habits more vnequall then their paces,
A iolly paire drew neare the table; the one
In greene; His pamper'd body had outgrowne
His seame-ript garments, all embroyder'd ouer
With spreading Vines, whose fruitful leaues did couer
Her swelling Clusters, his outstrutting eyes
Star'd in his head: his dropsie swollen thighes
Quagg'd as he went; his purple colour'd snout
Was freely furnisht, and enricht about
With Carbuncles; around his browes did twine
Full laden Clusters, rauisht from the Vine:
The other was a Lady, whom the Sun
With his bright rayes had too much gaz'd vpon:
The colour of her silken Mantle was
Twixt greene and yellow, like the faded grasse;
On which were wrought enclosed fields of Corne,
Some reap'd, some bound in sheaues, & some vnshorne
Well fauour'd was her count'nance; plump & round;
Her golden Tresses dangled to the ground;
Her temples bound with full ripe eares of wheate,
Made like a Girland: frequent drops of sweat
Downe from her swarty browes did slily trickle,
And in her Sun-burnt hand she bare a sickle.
Thus vsherd, with a Bag-pipe, to the Table,
They both stood mute: Bacchus as yet vnable
To challenge language from his breathlesse tongue,
Till smiling Ceres thus began the Song.
Ceres.
Welcome , fairest virgin Bride;
Welcome to our iolly feast;
Tast what Ceres did prouide
For so faire, so faire a guest.

Bacch.
Tast what Bacchus did prouide
For so faire, so faire a guest:
Welcome fairest Virgin Bride;
VVelcome to our iolly feast.

Chor.
Our conioyned bounties doe
Make Mars smile and Venus to.

Ceres.
VVelcome noble Bridegroome hither;
VVorlds of blisse and ioyes attend ye:
Freely welcome both together;
See what Ceres bounty sends ye.

Bacch.
Freely welcome both together;
See what Bacchus bounty sends yee:
VVelcome noble Bridegroome hither;
VVorlds of blisse, and ioyes attend yee.

Chor.
Our conioyned bounties doe
Make Mars smile, and Venus to.

Ceres.
Here is that whose sweet variety
Giues you pleasure and delight;
Makes you full, without sacietie;
Wasts the day, and hasts the night.

Bacch.
This will rouze the man of warr,
When the drum shall beate in vaine;
When his spirits drooping are,
This will make them rise againe.

Chor.
You that ioyntly doe inherit
Venus beautie, Mars his spirit,
Freely taste our bountie; so
Mars shall smile, and Venus to.

The song thus ended; ioyning hands together,
They bow'd; and vanisht, none knew how, nor whither.
To make relation of each quaint Deuise,
That Art presented their vnwearied eyes;
The nature of their mirth, of their discourse;
The dainties of the first, the second course;
The secret glances of the Bridegroomes eye
On his faire Bride; how oft she blusht, and why;
Were but to robbe the Bridegroome of his right,
Who counts each houre a Summers day, till night.
Me thinke it grieues me, that my pen should wrong
Poore Louers disappointed hopes so long;
And it repents me so, that oftentimes,
Me thinkes, I could be angry with my Rimes,
And for the cruell sins, that they commit,
In being tedious; some I wish vnwrit.
Let it suffice, what glory, what delight,
What state; or, what to please the appetite,
The eye, the eare, the fancy. In a word,
What ioy so short a season could afford
To well prepared hearts, was here exprest
In this our Nuptiall, this our princely feast.
Thus when the board was voided, and the Sewer
Had now resignd his office with the Ewer,
The curious linnen gone, and all the rights
Perform'd, that long to festiuall delights,
The light foot Hermes enters in the Hall,
Holds forth his Caduce, and adiures them all
To depth of silence; Tells them; 'tis his taske;
To let them know, the Gods intende a Maske,
To grace these nuptialls; and, with that, he spred
His ayre-diuiding pinions, and fled:
VVhen silence thus had charmed euery eare

The Masque of the Gods.

VVith wonder, and attention; they might heare
The winged Quristers of night, about
In euery corner sweetly warbling out
Their Philomelian ayres, and wilder note
VVhich nature taught them to diuide, by rote;
So that the Hall did seeme a shady groue,
VVherein by turnes, the ambitious Quier stroue
T'xcell themselues.
VVhile thus their eares were feeding with delight
Vpon these straines; the Goddesse of the night
Enters her Sceane; Her body was confind
VVithin a coale black Mantle thorow linde
VVith sable Furres; Her tresses were, of hiew,
Like Ebonie; on which, a Pearely dewe
Hung, like a spiders Webb; Her face did shrowd
A swarth Complexion, vnderneath a Cloud
Of black curld Cypresse: On her head, she wore
A crowne of burnisht Gold, beshaded o're
VVith Foggs and rory mists; Her hand did beare
A Scepter, and a sable Hemispheare;
She sternely shooke her dewly lockes, and brake
A melancholly smile, and thus bespake,
Driue on, driue on, (dull Waggoner) Let slippe
Your louser reines, and vse thine idle whippe;
Thy pamperd Steeds are pursie; Driue away;
The lower world thinkes long to see the day;
Darkenesse befits vs best; and our delight
Will rellish farre more sweeter, in the night;
Approach (yee blessed shadowes) and extend
Your early Iurisdiction, to befriend
Our nightly sports; Approach; make no delay;
It is your Queene, your Soueraigne calls away.
VVith that a sudden darknesse fill'd the Hall:
The light was banisht, and the windowes all
So neerely clos'd their eye lids, round about
That day could not get in; nor darknesse, out;
Thus while the death resembling shades of night
Had drawne their misty Curtaines twixt the light
And euery darkned eye, which was denide
To see, but that, which darkenesse could not hide;
The iealous God, fearing he knowes not whom
(Indeed, whom feares he not?) enters the roome,
And, with his clubfoot, groping in the shade
Of night, he mutter'd forth these words and said.

Vulcans speech.

Where is this wanton Harlot now become?
Is light so odious to her? or is home
So homely in her wandring eyes, that she
Must still be rambling, where vnknowne to me?
Can nothing be concluded, nothing done,
But intermedling Venus must be one?
Is't not enough that Phebus does applaud
Her lust, but must nights Goddesse be her baud?
Darkenesse, be gon, Thou patronesse to Lust;
If faire meanes may not rid thee, fouler must:
Away; my power shall outcharme thy charmes,
And find her, painting, in her louers armes,
Enter you Lamplets of terrestriall fire,
And let your golden heads (at least) conspire
To counterfeit a day, and on the night
Reuenge the wrongs of Phebus, with your light.
So said; The darkned Hall was garnisht round
With lighted Tapors: Euery obiect found
An eye to owne it, and each eye was fill'd
VVith pleasure, in the obiect it beheld.
As these deuisefull changes did incite
Their quickned fancies, with a fresh delight,
Morpheus came in; His dreaming pace was so,
That none could say, he moou'd; he moou'd so slow;
His folded armes, athwart his brest, did knit
A sluggards knot; His nodding chinne did hit
Against his panting bosome, as he past;
And often times his eyes were closed fast;
He wore a Crowne of Poppy on his head;
And, in his hand, he bore a Mace of lead:
He yauned thrice, and, after Homage done
To nights blacke soueraigne, he thus begun:

Morpheus speech.

Great Empresse of the world; to whom, I owe
My selfe, my seruice, by perpetuall vowe;
Before the footstoole of whose dreadfull Throne,
The Princes of this lower world, lay downe
Their Crownes, their Scepters; whose victorious hand,
In twice twelue houres did conquer and command
This Globe of earth; your seruant (whose dependance
Quickens his power) comes, to giue attendance
Vpon thy early shaddowes, and to seize
Vpon these wearied mortals, when you please
T'appoint; till then, your seruant is at hand,
To put in execution your Command.
To whom the smiling Goddesse thus replide;
Morpheus; Our pleasure is to set aside

The Goddesse of the nights speech

This night to mirth, and time-beguiling sports;
Our sleepe restrayning buisnesse much imports
Your welcome absence, whil'st our eares shall number
The flying houres: our mirth admits no slumber.
That word scarce ended; but the Queene of Loue
Descended from her vnseene seate aboue;
In her faire hand she led her winged Son,
And like a full mouth'd tempest, thus begun;
Disloyall Sicophant; deaths bastard brother;

Venus speech to Morpheus

Accursed spaune, cast from a cursed Mother;
That with thy base impostures, riflest man
Of halfe his daies, of halfe that little spanne,
Nature hath lent his life; that with thy wiles,
Hugg'st him to death; betray'st him with thy smiles;
What mak'st thou here, and to vsurpe my right,
Perfideous Caitife? Venus day is night.
Goe to the frozen world; where mans desire
Is made of Ice, and melts before the fire,
Yet ne're the warmer: Goe, and visit fooles,
Or Phlegmatick old age, whose spirit cooles
As quickly as their breath: Goe; what haue we
To doe (dull Morpheus) with thy Mace, or thee
As leaden as thy Mace? th'art made for nought,
But to still Children, or to ease the thought
Of brain-sick Phranticks; or with ioyes to flatter
Poore slumbring soules; which wak'd, finde no such matter.
Goe succour those, that vent by quick retaile
Their wits, vpon deare penny-worths of Ale;
Or marrow'd Eunuchs, whose adust desire
Wants meanes to slake the fury of their false fire.
O that I were a Basiliske, that I
Might dart my venome; or else venom'd, die.
Boy, bend thy Bow; and with thy forked dart,
Drawne to the head, thrill, thrill him to the heart:
Let flie Deaths arrow; or if thou had none,
In deaths name send an arrow of thine owne;
We are both wrong'd, and in the same degree;
Shoot then; at once, reuenge thy selfe and me.
VVith that the little angry god did bend
His steelen Bow, and in deaths name did send
His winged messenger, whose faithfull hast
Dispatch'd his irefull errand and stuck fast
Within his pierced liuer, and did hide
His singing feathers, in his wounded side.
Morpheus fell downe as dead; and on the ground
Lay for a little season in a sound,
Gasping for breath; And Louers dreames they say,
Haue euermore beene wanton since that day.
Venus was pleas'd; The Goddesse of the night
Grew angry; she would needs resigne her right
Of gouernment; and in a spleene threw downe
Her Hemispheare, her Scepter, and her Crowne;
And with a duskie fogge, she did besmeare
The face of Venus; soyld her golden haire,
VVith her blacke shades; and, with foule tearmes reuil'd
Both her, her cuckold mate, and bastard childe;
VVhereat the God of Warre, being much offended,
Forsooke both seat and patience, and descended;
And, to the world, he proffer'd to make good
Faire Venus honour, with his dearest blood.
To whom poore Vulcan (puffing in a rage,
To heare his well knowne fortune on the stage)
Scrap'd many a thanke; and, with his crouching knee
Profest true loue, to such true friends, as hee.
And euer since, experience lets vs know,
Cuckolds are kind, to such as makes them so.
By this, god Morpheus, waking from his swound,
Began to groane; and, from his aking wound
Drew forth the buried shaft: but Mars (whose word
Admits no other Organ, but his sword)
Vnsheath'd his furious brondyron, and let flye
A blow at Morpheus head, which had wellnye
Clouen him in twaine, had not the Queene of night
Hurl'd hasty mists, before his darkned sight;
So that the sword, by a false guided ayme,
Struck Vulcans foot, which euer since, was lame.
At last, the gods came downe, and thought it good,
To nippe this earely quarrell in the bud.
VVho fearing vprores, with a friendly cup
Of blest Nepenthé, tooke the quarrell vp;
And, for th'offence committed, did proclame
This sentence, in offended Iuno's name.
Morpheus, from hence is banisht, for this night,

The sentence.

And not to approch before the morning light;
Mars is exilde for euer, as a guest,
Adiudg'd vnfitting for a mariage feast.
Cupid is doom'd to rome and roue about
To the worlds end, and both his eyes put out.
Venus is censur'd to perpetuall night,
And not (vnlesse by stealth) to see the light:
Her chiefest ioy to be but pleasing folly,
Perform'd wth madnes, dog'd with melancholly.
And there the Musicke did inuite their paces
To measure time; and, by exchange of places,
To lead the curious beholders eye,
A willing captiue to variety.
Thus, with the sweet vicissitude of mirth
They spent the time, as if that heauen and earth
Had studied to please man, in such a measure,
That Art could not doe more, t'augment their pleasure;
And so they vanisht.
Now Ceres euening bounty reinuites
Her noble guests, to her renew'd delights;
And frolicke Bacchus, to refresh their soules,
With a full hand, presents his swelling Bowles.
Wine came vnwish'd like water from a sourse,
And delicates were mingled with discourse.
What Art could doe, to make a welcome guest,
Was liberally presented at that feast.
It was no sooner ended, but appeares
An old gray pilgrime, deeply strucke in yeares,
In tatterd garments; In his wrinkled hand
An houreglasse, labouring with her latest sand.
Beneath his arme, a buffen knapsacke hung,
Stuft full of writings, in an vnknowne tongue;
Chronologies, outdated Almanacks,
And Patents, that had long suruiu'd their waxe.
Vnto his shoulders, Eagles wings were ioyn'd;
His head ill thatch'd before, but bal'd behind:
And leaning on his crooked Sythe he made
A little pause, and after that, he said,
Mortalls, 'Tis out: My glasse is runne,
And with it, the day is done.
Darke shadows haue expell'd the light,
And my glasse is turn'd for night.
The Queene of darkenesse bids me say,
Mirth is fitter for the day.
Vpon the day, such ioyes attend;
With the day such ioyes must end.
Thinke not, Darknesse goes about,
Like death, to puffe your pleasures out.
No, no, sheele lend you new delights;
She hath pleasures for the nights.
When as her shadows shall benight yee,
She hath what shall still delight ye.
Aged Time shall make it knowne,
She hath dainties of her owne.
Tis very late; Away, away,
Let day sports expire with Day.
For this time, we adiourne your feast;
The Bridegroome faine would be at rest.
And if night pastimes shall displease yee,
Day will quickly come, and ease yee.
With that, a sweet vermillian tincture stayn'd
The Brides faire cheekes; The more that she restrayn'd
Her blush, the more her disobedient blood
Did ouerflow; as if a second flood
Had meant to rise, and, for a little space,
To drowne that world of beauty in her face
She blusht; (but knew not why) And like the Moone
She look'd most red, vpon her going downe.
But see: the smiling Ladies doe begin
To ioyne their whispring heads, as there had beene
A plot of treason; till at length, vnspide,
They stole away, the vnwilling-willing Bride;
Their busie hands disrob'd her, and so led
The timorous virgin to her Nuptiall bed.
By this, the Nobles hauing recommended
Their tongues to silence, their discourse being ended,
They look'd about, and thinking to haue done
Their seruice to the Bride; the Bride was gone.
And now, the Bridegroome (vnto whom delay
Seem'd worse then death) could brook no longer stay:
Attended by his noble guests, he enters
That roome, where th'enterchangeable Indenters
Of dearest loue, lay ready to be seal'd
With mutuall pleasures, not to be reueald.
His garments grow too tedious, and their waight
(Not able to be borne) doe ouerfraight
His weary shoulders; Atlas neuer stoopt
Beneath a greater burthen, and not droopt;
No helpe was wanting; for he did receiue
What sudden ayde he could expect, or haue
From speedy hands, from hands that did not wast
The time, vnlesse (perchance) by ouer hast;
Meane while, a dainty warbling brest, not strong,
As sweet, presents this Epithalamion song.
Man of warre, march brauely on,
The field's not easie to be wonne;
There's no danger in that warre,
Where lips both swords and bucklers are.
Here's no cold to chill thee;
A bed of downe's thy field:
Here's no sword to kill thee,
Vnlesse thou please to yeeld;
Here is nothing will incumber,
Here will be no scars to number.
These are warres of Cupids making,
These be warres will keepe yee waking,
Till the earely breaking Day
Call your forces hence, away.
These are warres that make no spoyle,
Death shoots his shafts in vaine;
Though the souldier get a foyle,
He will rouze, and fight againe.
These be warres that neuer cease,
But conclude a mutuall peace.
Let benigne and prosp'rous starres
Breathe successe vpon these warres,
And when thrice three months be runne,
Be thou father of a sonne;
A son, that may deriue from thee
The honor of true merit,
And may to ages, yet to be,
Conuay thy blood thy spirit;
Making the glory of his fame
Perpetuate, and crowne thy name;
And giue it life in spight of death,
When fame shal want both trump and breath.
Haue you beheld in a faire summers euen,
The golden-headed Charioter of heauen,
With what a speed, his prouder reynes doe bend
His panting horses, to their iourneyes end?
How red he lookes; with what a swift careire
Her hurries to the lower Hemisphere;
And in a moment, shootes his golden head
Vpon the pillow of blushing Thetis bed.
Euen so the bridegroome (whose desire had wings
More swift then Time, switcht on wth pleasure) springs
Into his nuptiall bed; and looke how fast
The stooping Faulkon clips; and, with what hast,
Her tallons seize vpon the timorous prey,
Euen so, his armes (impatient of delay)
His circling armes embrac'd his blushing Bride,
While she (poore soule) lay trembling by his side.
The Bridegroome now growes weary of his guests:
What mirth of late was pleasing, now molests
His tyred patience: Too much sweet offends;
Sometime, to be forsaken of our friends,
In Cupids moralls, is obseru'd to be
The fruits of friendship, in the best degree.
And thus, at last, the Curtaines being clos'd,
They left them, each, in others armes repos'd.
And here my Muse bids, draw our Curtaines too,
Tis vnfit to see, what priuate louers doe.
Reader, let not thy thoughts grow ouer rancke;
But vaile thy vnderstanding, with a Blancke.
Thinke not on what thou think'st; and, if thou canst,
Yet vnderstand not, what thou vnderstandst.
Sow not thy fruitfull heart with so poore seeds;
Or if, perchance, (vnsowne) they spring like weeds,
Vse them like weeds, thou knowst not how to kill;
Sleight them; and let them thriue against thy will.
View them like euills, which Art cannot preuent,
But see, thou take no pleasure in their sent.
And one thing more; When as the morrow light
Shall bring the bashfull Bride into thy sight;
Be not too cruell; Let no wanton eye
Disturbe, and wrong her conscious modesty;
And if she blush, examine not for what;
Nay, though thou see it (Reader) see it not.
And shall our story discontinue here?
Or want a period, till another yeare?
Shall we befriend these louers, with the night,
And leaue them buried in their owne delight?
And so conclude? No, it shall ne're be sed,
That mariage ioyes end in the mariage bed.
Fond, and adulterate is that loue, which founds
Her happinesse on such vnstable grounds:
And, like a sudden blaze, it neuer lasts,
But as the pleasure waxes cold, it wasts.
Now Argalus awakes; and now the light
Is euen as welcome to him, as the night:
His eyes are fixt vpon his louely Bride,
While she lyes sweetly slumbring by his side.
She sleepes; He views her; Thrice, his mind was bent,
To call Parthenia, and thrice it did repent.
Sometimes, his lips, with a stolne kisse would greet
Her guiltlesse lips; (They say stolne goods are sweet)
At length, she wakes; and hides her blushing cheekes
In his warme bosome; where, she safely seekes
For Sanctuary, whereunto should fly
The guilt of her protected modesty.
He smiles, and whispers in her deafned eare;
(Women can vnderstand, and yet not heare)
He speakes, but she (euen whilst his lips was breaking
Their words) with hers, did stop his lips frō speaking
When thrice three Suns had now almost, out-worne
The rare solemnities, that did adorne
These princely nuptialls, and had made report
Grow something sparing in th'Arcadian Court,
Argalus, whose endeuours were addrest,
To practise what might please Parthenia best,
Resolu'd to leaue Kalanders house, and crowne
Parthenia sole Commandresse of her owne.
Long was it, ere Kalanders liberall eare
Could be vnlockt; It had no power to heare
The word, Farewell; Still Argalus entreated,
And fram'd excuses; which, he soone defeated;
But as the stout Alcides did casheire
One rising head, another would appeare,
Euen so, whilst his ingenious loue did smother
One cause of parting, he would find another.
Kalander thus at last, (being ouerwrought
With words, which importunity had taught
Inexorable Argalus) was faine
To yeeld, what he so long gainsaid, in vaine;
Tis now concluded, Argalus must goe,
But yet Kalander must not leaue them so;
There is no parting, till the aged sire
Shall warme his fingers, by Partheniaes fire;
Parthenia sues; Kalander must not rest,
Till he become Partheniaes promis'd guest.
The morrow next, when Titans earely ray
Had giuen faire earnest of a fairer Day;
And, with his trembling beames, had repossest
The eyes of mortalls, newly rouz'd from rest,
They left Kalanders Castle, and that night,
Arriu'd they at the Pallace of delight,
(For so 'twas call'd) it was a goodly seate,
Well chosen; not capatious, as neate;
Yet was it large enough, to entertaine
A potent Prince with all his Princely trayne;
It seem'd a Center to a Parke, welstor'd
With Deere; whose well thriuen bounty did afford
Continuall pleasure, and delight; nay what,
That earth cals good, this Seat afforded not?
Th'impatient Falkner here may learne to say
Forgotten pray'rs, and blesse him euery day.
The patient Angler, here may tire his wish;
And (if he please) may sweare, and yet catch fish.
The sneaking Fouler, may goe boldly on,
And ne're want sport vntill his powder's done.
And to conclude, there was no stint, no measure
To th'old mans profit, or the young mans pleasure:
Thither this night the nuptiall troope is gone;
And now Parthenia's welcome to her owne:
But would yee heare what entertainment past?
Conceiue it rather; for my quill would wast
Th'vnthriuing stock of my bespoken time,
While such free bounty cannot stand with rime:
But that, which most did season, and imbellish
Their choyce delights, and gaue the truest relish
To their best mirth, and pleasures; was to see
With what a sweet conjugiall harmony
All things were carried: Euery word did proue
To adde some acquisition to their loue;
So one they were, that none could iusty say,
Which of them rul'd, or whether did obey;
He rul'd; because she would obey, and she
In thus obeying, rul'd as well as he:
What pleased him, would need no other cause,
To please her to, but onely his applause;
A happy paire! whose double life, but one,
Made one life double, and the single, none.
Thus when th'vnconstant Lady of the night
Had chang'd her sharpned horns, for an orbe of light,
Kalander (whose occasions grew too strong,
And may not be dispenc'd withall too long)
Takes leaue, and (being equall heauy hearted
With sad Parthenia for his hast) departed.
But Argalus (who neuer yet could owne
Himselfe with more aduantage then alone)
And faire Parthenia (whose well pleas'd desire
Hopes nothing else, if Argalus be by her)
Need not the helpe of any, to augment
The better ioyes of their retir'd content:
Sometimes the curious garden would inuite
Their gentle paces, to her proud delight;
Sometimes the welstor'd Parke would change their pleasure,
And tender to her view, her light foot treasure;
Where th'vnmolested Herd would seeme to stand,
And craue a death at faire Parthenia's hand.
Sometimes their steps would clime th'ambitious Tower,
From whose aspiring top they might discouer
A little commonwealth of land, which none
But Argalus durst challenge as his owne.
Sometimes (for change of pleasure) he would read
Selected stories, whilst her eares would feed
Vpon his lips, and now and then a kisse
Would interpose, like a parenthesis
Betweene their semicircled armes, enclos'd;
(O what dull spirit could be indispos'd
To read such lines!) and whilst vpon the booke
His eyes were fix'd her pleased eyes would look
Vpon the gracefull Reader, and espie
A story farre more pleasing in his eye.
Vpon a day, as they were closely seated;
Her eares attending, whil'st his lips repeated
A story, treating the renown'd aduentures
And famous acts of great Alcides; enters,
A Messenger, whose countenance did bewray
A hast too serious, to admit delay;
His hand presents him letters, which did bring
Their sealed errand from th'Arcadian King;
Whereat Parthenia rose, and stept aside;
Her thoughts were troubled, euer as she eyed
The Messenger, her colour comes and goes;
Parthenia feares; and yet Parthenia knowes
Not what to feare; Her iealous heart knowes how
To feare an Euill, because it feares to know;
And as he read the lines her eye was fixt
Vpon his eye, which seem'd to striue betwixt
A thousand thwarting passions: Once he cast
His eye on hers; and finding hers so fast
On his, he blusht; she blusht; both blusht together,
Because they blusht for what, vnknowne to either.
The letter being read (and hauing kist
Basilius name) he speedily dismist
The messenger; with promise to obey
Basilius iust commands, without delay.
That done; he tooke Pathenia by the hand,
His deare Parthenia, by the trembling hand;
And to her greedy eye he straight presents
The Paper, ballac'd with it's sad contents:
Parthenia, with a fearefull slownesse tooke it;
And with a fearefull hast did ouerlooke it:
Her face being blanched with the pallide signes
Of what she fear'd too soone, she read these lines.

Basilius Rex.

VVhereas the famous and victorious name
Of great Amphialus, makes the trumpe of Fame
Breathe nothing but his conquests and renowne;
VVhose lawlesse actions fortune striues to crowne
(In spight of Iustice) with a Victors merit,
Respecting more the greatnesse of his spirit,
Then iustnesse of his cause, to the dishonour
Of vertue, and all such as watte vpon her.
And furthermore; whereas his power is knowne
T'oppugne the welfare of our State and Crowne,
VVith strong rebellion, to the high aduancement
Of his disloyall glory, and inhancement
Of his perfidious name, the great increase
Of factions, and disturbance of our peace.
Likewise, whereas his high preuailing hand
(Against the force whereof no flesh can stand)
Could ne're be equall'd yet, much lesse o'recome,
But with loud triumph, still does carry home
The spoyles of our lost honour, to the fame
Of his rebellious glory, and our shame.
We therefore in our Princely care, perpending
The serious premises, and much depending,
On your knowne courage, haue selected you
To stand our Champion royall, and renew
Our wasted honour, with your sword and launce,
In equall Duell; Thus you shall aduance
The glorious pitch of your renowned name,
With the braue purchase of eternall fame:
In this you shall reuiue our dying glorie,
And liue the subiect of this ages story,
(VVhich shall be read till time shall haue an end)
And tye Basilius your perpetuall friend.
But as she read, a teare did trickle downe
Vpon the lines, as if it meant to drowne
Th'vnwelcome message, and at length she said;
Ah me! my Argalus was't this you made
Such hast to answere? did that answere need
To be returned with so great a speed?
Can you, oh can you be so quickly won,
To leaue your poore Parthenia, and be gon?
To whom resolued Argalus (whose eye
Was fixt vpon his honour) made replie;
My deare Parthenia; were it to obtaine
The vnsumm'd welth of Pluto; or to gaine
The soueraignty of the earth, without th'expence
Of blood or sweate, without the least pretense
Of danger, my ambition would despise
The easie conquest of so great a prize,
If purchas'd by thy discontent, or by
The poorest teare that trickles from thine eye;
But to recall my promise, or forsake
That resolution honour bid me make
In this behalfe; or to betray that trust
Repos'd in me, the gods would be vniust,
(And not themselues) if they should but command
Or vrge me, with an ouerswaying hand.
My deare Parthenia; Let no false suggestion
Abuse thy passion, or presume to question
My dearest loue; Though honour bids vs part,
Yet honor can not robbe thee, of my heart:
Honour, that calls me with her loud alarmes,
VVill bring me back, with Tryumph, to thine armes;
So said; the sad Parthenia, (whose teares
Are turnd Lieutenants to her tongue) forbeares
To tempt her language: Griefes, that are but small,
Can speake, when great ones cannot vent at all:
But tender hearted Argalus (to whom
Such silence speakes too loud) forsooke the roome;
And, with a brest, as full of pensiue care,
As honor, gaue directions to prepare
His warlike Steed, his Martiall attire
And all things, such imployment does require.
And here O thou, thou great supreame protectresse
Of bolder spirits, and the sole directresse
Of lofty flying quills, which shall deriue
To after times, what glorious swords acchiue;
And mak'st the actions of heroick spirits
Perpetuate, and crowne their names their merits;
Illustrious Clio: Aide me, and inspire
My ragged rimes, with thy diviner fire;
Teach me to raise my stile, and to attaine
A pitch, that may transcend the vulgars straine;
Reach me a quill, rent from an Eagles wing;
And let my Incke be blood; that I may sing
Death to the life: let him; that reads, expound
Each dash, a sword; and euery word, a wound,
By this, the Champion royall had put on
His martial weeds; and hasting to be gone,
The poore Parthenia, whose cold sir, past:
(Like those in Agues) now does burne as fast:
She leaues the lonely roome; and comming out,
She finds her Argulus, enclosed about
With glittering walls of steele, apparell'd round
In his bright armes, (whom she had rather found
Lockt vp in her's) and wanting nothing now,
But what her lips could not (poore soule) allow,
Without sea of teares, her last farewell;
She ranne vnto him; and wept; and, weeping fell
Vpon her knees; she claspt him by the arme,
And looking vp, she thus began to charme;
My Argalus; my Argalus: my deare,
And wilt thou goe, and leaue Parthenia here?
VVilt thou forsake me then? And can these teares
Not intercede betwixt thy deafned eares,
And my sad suit? Canst thou, ô canst thou goe,
And leaue thy poore distrest Parthenia so?
Parthenia sues; Parthenia does implore;
Parthenia begges, that neuer begg'd before;
Remember, O remember you are, now,
Vnder the power of a sacred vow:
Honour must stoope to vowes, which once being crackt,
You cannot doe an honourable act:
I haue a Right vnto you; you are mine;
I haue that Interest, which Ile ne're resigne,
Till death: Ile neuer hazard to forgoe
My whole estate of happinesse, at one throw,
No, no, I will not: I will hold thee fast
In spight of Honor and her nine dayes blast;
Your former acts haue giuen sufficient proofe
To the wide world, your valour's knowne enough
VVithout a further tryall: There's enow
To lose their liues (lesse worthy) besides you;
'Twas then a time for armes, when you had none,
None other life to venture, but your owne;
Excuse me then, that onely doe endeauor
To hold mine owne; which now I must, or neuer;
Mine, mine you are, and you can vndertake
No danger, but Parthenia must partake;
Shall your Parthenia be indanger'd then?
Parthenia shall be present, euen when
The strokes fall thickest; and Parthenia shall
Suffer what ere to Argalus may befall;
Parthenia, in your greatest paines, shall smart;
Your blood shall trickle from Parthenia's heart:
Can prayers obtaine no place? By this deare hand,
The sacred pledge of our coniugiall band;
By all the pleasures of our dearest loue;
By heauen, and all the heauenly powers aboue;
Or if those motiues cannot finde a roome,
Yet by the tender fruit, that in my wombe
Begins to budde, or if ought else appeare
To thy best thoughts more pretious or more deare,
By that, forsake me not, although the rest
Preuaile not. Grant this first, this last request:
To whom the broken hearted Argalus,
VVearied, but not o'recome, made answer thus;
My deare Parthenia; Thy desires neuer
Gainesaid my will, till now: Doe not perseuer
To craue that boone, I cannot grant: forbeare
To vrge me: Resolution hath no eare:
VVeepe not (my Ioy:) Let not those drops of thine,
That trickle from so faire an eye, diuine
A soule successe; Cheare vp; A smile, or two
Would make me halfe a Conqueror, ere I goe:
Shineforth; and let no enuious cloud benight
The glorious luster of so faire a light;
Doubt not my life: The iustnesse of my cause,
That brings me on, will quite me with applause;
Feare not, that such a blessing, such a wife
Was e're intended for so short a life.
Expect my safe returne; as quicke, as glorious;
My Genius tells me, I shall liue, victorious.
So said, as if that passion had forgot
Her mother tongue, her tongue replyed not:
But, like to one, new stricken with the thunder,
She stood betwixt amazement, feare, and wonder:
His lips tooke leaue, and as his armes surrounded
Her feeble wast, she straight fell down, and swounded;
But Argalus, transported with the tide
And tyranny of honour, could abide
No longer stay; He trusts her to the guard
Of her owne women; left her, and repair'd
Vnto the Campe; wherein, he spent some dayes,
In parley, with Amphialus; and assayes,
By all perswasiue meanes, to make him yeeld
To iust demands, and not to staine the field
With needlesse blood; But finding him vnapt
For peacefull counsell (being strongly rapt
With his owne fame) and scorning to afford
His eare to any language, but the sword,
He ceas'd t'aduise him; and (enforc'd to try
A rougher Dialect) wrote him this defie.
Renown'd Amphialus,
If strong perswasions, backt with reasons could
Bin honour'd with your eare; your wisedome would,
In yeelding to so faire a peace, haue won
As ample glory, as your sword hath done.
You should haue conquer'd soules where now, at most,
You can subdue but bodies, that haue lost
The power to resist: But since my suit,
Sowne on so barren soyle, can find no fruit;
Receiue a mortall challenge, from a hand,
Whose iustice takes a glory to withstand
So foule a cause, and labours to subdue
Your heedlesse errors, whilst it honours you.
Compose you then, to make a preparation,
According to your noble wonted fashion;
And thinke not sleight, of ne're so weake an arme,
That strikes, when Iustice strikes vp her alarme.
No sooner had he read it, but his pen,
With noble speed, return'd these lines agen.
Much more renowned Argalus,
Your faithfull seruant, whose victorious brow
Was neuer daunted yet, is daunted now,
By your braue curtesie, being stricken dumbe
With your rare worth, and fairly ouercome;
Yet doubting not the iustnesse of my Cause
(That's ouer ruled by the sacred lawes
Of dearest loue) will giue my sword the power,
Euen to maintaine it, to the latest houre.
I shall expect your comming in the Isle,
Where, with a heart, (not poyson'd with the bile
Or gall of malice) with my dearest blood,
Your seruant shall be ready to make good
His iust designes; assured of no lesse
Then treble fame, if crowned with successe;
If not, There's no dishonour can accrew,
In being conquer'd, and o'recome by you,
Soone after, Argalus, (whose blood did boyle
To be in action) comes into the Isle;
Clad in white armour, gilt, and strangely drest
With knots of womans hayre, which from his crest
Hung dangling down; and, with their bountious treasure,
Orespred his Corslet in a liberall measure;
His curious furniture was fashion'd out,
Like to a flying Eagle, round about
Beset with plumes; whose crooked beake (being cast
Into a costly Iewell) was made fast
To th'saddle bow: Her spredden traine did couer
His crooper, whilst the trappers seem'd to houer
Like wings; that, to the fixt beholders eye,
As the Horse pranc'd, the Eagle seem'd to fly;
Vpon his arme, (his threatning arme) he wore
A sleeue, all curiously embroydred ore
With bleeding hearts, which faire Parthenia made,
(In those crosse times, when fortune so betraid
Their secret loue, and with a smiling frowne
Dasht their false hopes) as copies of her owne;
Vpon his shield (for his deuice) he set
Two neighbring Palmes whose budding branches met
And twin'd together; the obscure Imprese
Imported this, Thus flourishing, as these:
His Horse was of a fiery Sorrell: Blacke
His maine, his feet, his taile; on his proud backe,
A coaleblacke List: His nostrells, open wide,
Breath'd warre, before his sparkling eye descryde
An enemy to encounter; vp by turnes,
He lifts his hasty hoofes, as if he scornes
The earth, or if his tabring feet had found
Away, to goe, and yet ne're change the ground.
By this Amphialus (who all this while
Thought minuts yeares) was landed in the Isle,
In all respects prouided, to afford
As bountious intertainment, as the sword
And Launce could giue: And at the Trumpets sound,
Their Steeds, (that needed not a pricke to wound
Their bleeding flanks) both start, & with smooth running
Their staues declining with vnshaken cunning
Perform'd their masters will, with angry speed;
But Argalus his well instructed Steed
Being hot, and full of courage (fiercely led
By his owne pride) prest in his prouder head,
The which when stout Amphialus espide,
(Well knowing it vnsafe to giue his side)
Prest likewise in; so that both men, and horse
Shouldring each other, with a double force
Fell to the ground. But by accustom'd skill,
And help of Fortunes hand, that succours still
Bold spirits, shunn'd the danger of the fall,
And had (lesse fear'd then hurt) no harme at.
They rose, drew forth their swords; which now begun
To doe what their left staues had left vndone.
Haue ye beheld a Leaguer? In what sort
The deepe mouth'd Cannon playes vpon the Fort,
And how by peecemeales it doth batter downe
The yeelding walls of the besieged towne?
Euen so their swords (whose oft repeated blowes
Could finde no patience yet to interpose
A breathing respite) with redoubled strength
So hew'd their proofelesse armours, that at length
Their failing trust began to proue vnsound,
And peece by peece, they dropt vpon the ground,
Trusting their bodies to the bare defence
Of vertue, and vnarmed innocence.
Such deadly blowes were dealt, and such requited,
That Mars himselfe stood rauisht and affrighted
To see the cruell Combate: Euery blow
Did act two parts; both strucke and guarded too
At selfe-same instant. So incomparable
Their skilfull quicknesse was, that none was able
To say (although their watchfull eyes attended
The strokes) who made the blow, or who defended.
Long was it ere their equall skill and force
Of armes could show a better, or a worse.
Neither preuail'd as yet; yet both excell'd
In not preuailing. Neuer eye beheld
More equall ods: No wound as yet could show
A droppe of wasted blood, yet euery blow
Was full of death. When skilfull Gamesters play,
The Christmas box gaines often more then they.
At length the sword of Argalus (that neuer
Thirsted so long in vaine till now; nor euer
Made victory doubtfull for so long a space)
Fastned a wound on the disarmed face
Of stout Amphialus, who now does feele
The equall temper of his enemies steele,
Yet was not daunted, by the blow receiu'd,
Nor of his wonted courage so breau'd,
As by the saucy daring of one thrust
To faint or yeeld: rather a braue distrust
Of his old worth, call'd a new anger on,
And fir'd him to a sudden talion:
When as directed by some fate-blest charme
He made a second stroake that pierc'd the arme
Of haughty Argalus, and made him know
Amphialus would rather dye then owe.
Argalus blush't for want of blood. Expecting
A quicke reuenge, which was not long effecting;
For whilst Amphialus (whose hopes inflam'd
His tyrannous thoughts with conquest, & proclaim'd
Vndoubted victory) heapt his strokes so fast,
As if each blow had scorn'd to be the last.
The watchfull Argalus (whose nimble eye
Dispos'd his time, in onely putting by)
Put home a thrust, (his right foot comming in)
And pierc'd his Nauell; that the wound had bin
No lesse then death, if Fortune, (that can turne
A mischiefe to aduantage) had forborne
To show a miracle; for with that blow,
Amphialus last made, his arme had so
Orestrucke it selfe; that sideward to the ground
He fell; and falling, he receiu'd that wound
Which (had he stood) had enter'd in, point blancke,
But, falling, only graz'd vpon his flancke.
Being downe; braue Argalus his threatning sword
Bids yeeld; Amphialus answering not a word,
(As one, whose mighty spirit did disdaine
A life of almes) but striuing to regaine
His legs, and honour, Argalus let driue,
With all the strength, a wounded arme could giue,
Vpon his head; but his hurt arme (not able
To doe him present seruice, answerable
To his desires) let his weapon fall;
With that, Amphialus (though daz'd withall)
Arose; but Argalus ran in, and graspt
(Being clos'd together) with him; where, both claspt
And grip'd each in th'unfriendly armes of either;
A while they grappled; grappling, fell together,
And on the ground, with equall fortune stroue;
Sometime Amphialus was got aboue,
And sometimes Argalus; Both ioyntly vow'd
Reuenge; Both wallowed in their mingled blood,
Both bleeding fresh: Now, Argalus bids yeeld.
And now, Amphialus: Both would win the field,
Yet neither could; At last, by free consent,
They rose; and to their breathed swords they went,
The Combat's now renew'd, both laying on,
As if the fight had beene but new begon.
New wounds asswage the smarting of the old,
And warme blood entermingles with the cold.
But Argalus (whose wounded arme had lost
More blood, then all his body could almost
Supply; and like an vnthrift, that expends
So long as he hath either stocke, or friends)
Bled more then his spent Fountains could make good
His spirit could giue courage, but not blood.
As when two wealthy Clyents, that waxe old
In suit, (whose learned councell can vphold
And glaze the cause alike, on either side)
During the time their tearmly golden tide
Shall flow alike, from both, 'tis hard to say
Who prospers best, or who shall get the Day.
But he, whose water first shall cease to flow,
And ebbe so long, till it shall ebbe too low.
His cause, (though richly laden to the brincke,
With right) shall strike vpon the barre and sincke,
And then an easie Councell may vnfold
The doubt; The question's ended, with the gold.
Euen so our Combatants, the whil'st their blood
Was equall spilt; the Cause seem'd equall good,
The Victory equall; equall was their armes;
Their Hopes were equall: equall was their harmes.
But when poore Argalus his wasting blood
Ebb'd in his veines, (although it made a flood
A pretious flood, in the vngratefull field)
His cause, his strength, (but not his heart) must yeeld:
Thus wounded Argalus the more he fail'd,
The more, the proud Amphialus preuail'd:
With that, Amphialus (whose noble strife
Was but to purchase honour, and not life)
Perceiuing what aduantage, in the fight,
He gained, and the valour of the Knight,
Became his suitor, that himselfe would please
To pitty himselfe, and let the Combat cease;
Which noble Argalus (that neuer vs'd
In honour to part stakes) with thankes, refus'd:
(Like to a lucklesse gamester; who, the more
He loses, is lesse willing to giue o're)
And filling vp his empty veines, with spite,
Begins to summe his forces, and vnite
His broken strength, and (like a Lampe that makes
The greatest blaze at going out) he takes
His sword in both his hands; and, at a blow,
Cleft armour, shield, and arme, almost, in two;
But now enrag'd Amphialus forgets
All pitty; and, trusting to his Cards, he sets
That stock of courage, treasur'd in his brest,
Making his whole estate of strength, his Rest;
And vies such blowes, as Arg'lus could not see
Without his losse of life: so thundred he
Vpon his wounded body, that each wound
Seem'd like an open Sluce of blood, that found
No hand to stop it, till the dolefull cry.
Of a most beautious Lady (who well nie
Had run her selfe to death) restrain'd his arme
(Perchance too late) from doing further harme.
It was the faire Parthenia, who that night
Had dream'd, she saw her husband in that plight
She now had found him: Feare and loue together,
Gaue her no rest, till they had brought her hither:
The nature of her feare did now begin
T'expell the feare of Nature; stepping in,
Betweene their pointing swords, she prostrate lay
Before their blood-bedabbled feet, to say
She knew not what; for as her lips would striue
To be deliuer'd, a deepe sigh would driue
The abortiue issue of her language forth;
Which, borne vntimely, perisht in the birth;
And if her sighes would giue her leaue to vent it,
O then a teare would trickle, and preuent it;
But when the winde of her loud sighes had laid
The shower of her teares, she sobb'd, and said:
O wretched eyes of mine! O wailfull sight!
O day of darknesse! O eternall night!
And there she stopt; her eyes being fixt vpon
Amphialus; she sigh'd, and thus went on:

My Lord,

'Tis said you loue: Then, by that sacred power
Of loue, as you'd finde mercy in the houre
Of greatest misery, leaue off; and sheathe
Your bloody sword: or else if nought but death
May slake your anger, O let mine, let mine
Be a sufficient offring at the Shrine
Of your appeased thoughts; or, if you thirst
For Argalus his life, then take mine first:
Or, if for noble blood you seeke, if so
Accept of mine; my blood is noble too,
And worth the spilling: Euen for her deare sake,
Your tender soule affects, awake, awake,
Your noble mercy: Grant, I care not whether;
Let me dye first; or, kill vs both together.
With that Amphialus was about to speake,
But Argalus (whose heart did almost breake
To heare Partheniaes words) made this reply,
Parthenia, ah Parthenia; Then must I
Be bought and sold for teares? Is my condition
So poore, I cannot liue, but by petition?
So said; He stept aside (for feare, by chance,
The fury of some misguided blow may glance
And touch Parthenia) and, fill'd with high disdaine,
Would haue began the Combat fresh againe.
But now, Amphialus was charm'd; his hand
Had no sufficient warrant to withstand
Parthenia's suit, from whose faire eyes there came
Such precious teares, in so belou'd a name;
His eyes grew tender, and his melting heart
Was ouercome; his very soule did smart;
He stirred not, but kept him at a distance,
And (putting by some blowes) made no resistance.
But what can long endure? Lamps wanting oyle,
Must out at last, although they blaze a while;
Trees wanting Sap, must wither; strength and beauty
Can claime no priuiledge to quit that duty
They owe to Time and Change; but like a Vine
(The vnsound supporters failing) must decline:
Poore Argalus growes faint, and must giue o're
To strike; his feeble arme can strike no more;
And natures palefac'd Bayly now destraines
His blood, for that small debt that yet remaines
Vnpaid; His arme that cannot vse the poynt,
Now leanes vpon the pomell; euery ioynt
Disclaimes their idle sinews; and his eye
Begins to double euery obiect by;
Nothing appeares the same it was; the ground,
And all thereon does seeme to daunce the round.
His legs grow faint; and thinking to sit downe,
He mist his Chaire, and fell into a swoune.
With that Amphialus and Parthenia ran,
Ran in with hast, Amphialus began
To loose his Helmet, whil'st her busie palme
Chaf'd his cold Temples, and (distilling Balme
Into his wounds) her hasty fingers tore
Her linnen sleeues, and Partlet that she wore,
No wipe the teare mixt blood away, and wrap
His wounds withall; vpon her panting lappe
She laide his liuelesse head, and (wanting bands
To binde the bloody cloathes) her nimble hands
(As if it were ordained for that end,
And therefore made so long) did freely rend
Her dainty haire, by handfuls from her head;
But as she wrapt the wounds, her eyes would shed
And wet the rags so much, that she was faine
With sighs and sobs to drie it vp againe.
Thus halfe distracted with her griefes and feares,
These words she entermingles with her teares;
Distrest Parthenia! Into what estate
Hath fortune, and the direfull hand of Fate
Driuen thy perplexed soule? O thou, O thou,
That wert the president of all ioyes, but now;
Now turn'd th'example of all misery,
For torments worse then death to practise by!
How lesse then nothing art thou? and how more
Then miserable! Thou that wert before
All Ladies of the earth for happinesse
But very now; (ah me) now, nothing lesse!
O angry heauens; what hath Parthenia done,
To be thus plagu'd, or why not plagu'd alone
If guilty? what shall poore Parthenia doe?
To whom shall she complaine? alas! or who
Shall giue reliefe? nay who can giue reliefe
To her, that hopes for succour from her griefe?
O death! Must we be parted then? for euer?
And neuer meet againe? what, neuer? neuer?
Or shall Parthenia now be so vnkinde,
Te leaue her Argalus, and stay behind?
No, no, my dearest Argalus, make roome,
(There's roome enough in heauen) I come, I come.
Who euer saw a dying coale of fire,
Lurke in warme embers (till some breath inspire
A forc'd reuiuall) how obscure it lies;
And being blowne, glimmers a while, and dies?
So Argalus, to whom Parthenia's breath
Giuing new life, (a life in spite of death)
Recall'd him from his death-resembling traunce;
Who from his panting Pillow did aduance
His feeble head; and looking vp, he made
Hard shift to force a language, and thus said;

Argalus last speech.

My deare Parthenia: Now my glasse is runne;
The Tapours tell me that the Play is done;
My dayes are summ'd; Death seizes on my heart;
Alas! the time is come, and we must part:
Yet by my better hopes; grimme death does bring
No griefe to Argalus, no other sting
But this, that I must leaue thee, euen before
My gratefull actions can crosse the score
Of thy deare merits:
But since it pleases him, whose wisedome still
Disposes all things by his better will,
Depend vpon his goodnesse, and relye
Vpon his pleasure, not inquiring why:
And trust that one day we shall meet, and then
Enioy each other, ne're to part agen:
Meane while liue happy: Let Parthenia make
No doubt, but bessed Argalus shall partake
In all her ioyes on earth, which shall encrease
His ioyes in heauen, and soules eternall Peace.
Loue well the deare remembrance of thy true
And faithfull Argalus; let no thought renew
My last disgrace; thinke not the hand of Fate
Made me vnworthy, though vnfortunate.
And as he spake that word, his lips did vent
A sigh, whose vio'lence had well nigh rent
His heart in twaine; and when a parting kisse
Had giuen him earnest of appoaching blisse,
He snatch his sword into his hand and cryed;
O death! thou art the Conquerour; and dyed.
With that; Parthenia', whose liuelihood was founded
Vpon his life, bow'd downe her head and swounded;
But griefe, that (like a Lyon) loues to play
Before it kils, gaue death a longer day;
Else had Parthenia dy'd, since death depriued
Him of his life, in whose deare life she liued.
But ah! Parthenia's sorrow was too deepe,
Too too vnruly, to be lull'd asleepe
By ought but Death: She startles from her swound;
And nimbly rising from the loathed ground,
Kneeles downe; and layes her trembling hand vpon
His lukewarme lips, but finding his breath gone,
Griefe playes the Tyrant; fierce distraction driues her
She knowes not where; vnbounded rage depriues her
Of sense and language; here and there she goes,
Not knowing what to doe; nor what she does;
Somtimes her faire misguided hand would teare
Her beautious face; sometimes, her bountious haire,
As if their vse could stand her in no stead,
Since her beloued Argalus was dead.
But now Amphialus (that all this space
Stood like an Idol, fastned to his place;
Where with a world of teares, he did bemoane
The deed, that his vnlucky hands had done)
Well knowing; that his words would aggrauate,
Not ease the miserie of her woefull state,
Spake not, but caus'd her women that came with her
To vrge her to the Ferrie; where together
With her dead Argalus, she' embrackt; from whom
She would not part: no sooner was she come
To t'other shore, but all the funerall state
Of militarie discipline did waite
Vpon the Corps, whil'st troopes of trickling eyes
Fore-ran the well perform'd solemnities:
The Martiall Trumpet breath'd her dolefull sound,
Whil'st others traild their Ensignes on the ground;
Thus was the most lamented Corpes conuaid,
Vpon a Chariot, lin'd, and ouerlaid
With Sables, to his house; a house, then night
More black, no more the Palace of Delight;
Where now we leaue him to receiue the Crowne
Prepar'd for vertue, and deseru'd renowne;
Where now we leaue him to be full possest
Of endlesse peace, and euerlasting Rest.
But who shall comfort poore Parthenia now?
What Oratory can preuaile? or how
Can counsell chuse but blush to vndergoe
So vaine taske, and be contemned too?
May Counsell mooue a heart, whose best releefe
Consists in desperate yeelding to a griefe?
Of what aduice can rellish in her eares,
That weepes, and takes a pleasure in her teares?
Readers, forbeare: sorrowes that are lamented,
Are but exulcerated, but augmented;
Forbeare attempt, where there is no preuayling;
A desperate griefe growes stronger by bewaying.
Leaue her to time and fortune: let your eyes
No longer prye into her miseries;
True mourners loue to be beheld of none;
Who truly grieues, desire to grieue alone.
But now our bloodhound Muse must draw, and track
Amphialus, and bring the Murtherer backe
To a new Combate: Where if fortune please
To crowne our Tragick Sceane, and to appease
The crying blood of Argalus, with blood;
Our better rellisht story (making good
Your hopefull expectations) shall befriend
The teares of our Parthenia, and end.
Soone as the stout Amphialus had out worne
The danger of his wounds, and made returne
Into the Martiall Campe; there, to maintaine
His new got honor, and to entertaine
Aggrieued challengers, that shall demand,
Or seeke for satisfaction from his hand;
An armed Knight came praunsing o're the plaine,
Denouncing warre, and breathing forth disdaine.
Foure dam'sells vsherd him, in sable weeds;
And foure came after; all on mourning Steedes;
His curious Armour was so painted ouer
With liuely shadowes, that you might discouer
The image of a gaping Sepulchre;
About the which, were scattered here and there
Some dead mens bones: His horse was black as Iet;
His furniture was round about beset
With branches, slipt from the sad Cypresse tree;
His Bases (reaching farre below the knee)
Embroydred were with wormes: vpon his shield,
For his Imprese, he had a beautious childe,
Whose body had two heads; whereof the t'one
Appear'd quite dead; the t'other (drawing on)
Did seeme to gaspe for breath; and vnderneath,
This Motto was subscrib'd, From death, by death.
Thus arm'd to point, he sent his bold defie
T'Amphialus, who sent as quick replye.
Forthwith, being summon'd by the Trumpets found,
They start; but braue Amphialus, that found,
The Knight had mist his Rest, (as yet not met)
Scorning to take aduantage, would not let
His Launce descend, nor (brauely passing by)
Encounter his befriended enemy.
Whereat the angry Knight (not apt to brook
Such vnsupportable mishappe forsooke
His white mouth'd Steed; throwing his Launce aside,
(Which too too partiall fortune had denide
A faire successe) drew forth his glittering sword;
Whereat Amphialus lighted (who abhorr'd
A conquest meerely by aduantage gain'd,
Esteeming it but robb'd, and not obtain'd)
Drew forth his sword; and, for a little space,
Their strokes contended with an equall pace,
And fiercenesse: He did more discouer
A brauery, then anger; whil'st the other
Bewray'd more spleene, then either skill, or strength,
To manage it: Amphialus, at length,
With more then wonted ease, did batter so
His ill defended armour, that each blow,
Open'd a doore, for death to enter in;
And now the noble Conquerour does begin
To hate so poore a conquest, and disdain'd
To take a life, so easily obtain'd.
And mou'd with pitty, (stepping backe) he staid
His vnresisted violence, and said,
Sir Knight, contest no more; but take the peace
Of your owne passion; Let the Combate cease,
Seeke not your causlesse ruine; Turne your arme
(Better imployd) gainst such, as wish you harme.
Husband your life, before it be too late,
Fall not by him, that ne're deseru'd your hate.
To whom, the Knight return'd these words againe,
Thou lyest, false Traitor; and I here disdaine
Both words and mercy, with a base defie,
And to thy throat, my sword shall turne the lye.
To whom Amphialus: vnciuill Knight,
Couragious in nothing, but in spight,
And base discourtesie; thou soone shalt know,
Whether thy tongue betrayes thy heart or no.
And as he spake, he gaue him such a wound
Vpon the necke, as strucke him to the ground.
And, with the fall, his sword (that now denyde
All mercy) deepely pierc'd into his side;
That done; he loos'd his Helmet, with intent,
To make his ouerlauish tongue repent
Of those base words, he had so basely said,
Or else, to crop him shorter, by the head.
Who euer saw th'illustrious eye of noone
(New broken from a gloomy cloud) send downe
His earth reioycing glory, and display
His golden beames vpon the sonnes of Day:
Euen so, the Helmet being gone, a faire
And costly treasure of vnbraided haire
O'respred the shoulders of the vanquisht Knight,
Whose, now discouer'd visage (in despight
Of neighb'ring death) did witnesse and proclaime
A soueraigne beautie in Parthenia's name,
And she it was indeed; see how she lies
Smiling on death, as if her blessed eyes
(Blest in their best desires) had espied
His face already, for whose sake she died.
The Lillies, and the Roses (that while e're
Stroue in her Cheekes, till they compounded there)
Haue broke their truce, and freshly falne to blows;
Behold; the Lilly hath o'recome the Rose.
Her Alablaster neck (that did outgoe
The Doues in whitenesse; or the new falne snow)
Was stain'd with blood, as if the red did seeke
Protection there, being banisht from her cheeke:
So full of sweetnesse was her dying face,
That death had not the power to displace
Her natiue beautie; onely by translation,
Moulded, and cloath'd it in a newer fashion.
But now Amphialus (in whom griefe and shame
Of this vnlucky victorie, did claime
An equall interest) prostrate on the earth,
Accurs'd his sword, his arme, his houre of birth;
Casting his Helmet, and his gauntlet by,
His vndissembled teares did testifie,
What words could not: But finding her estate
More apt for helpe, then griefe, (though both too late)
Crept on his knees, and begging pardon of her,
His hands (his often cursed hands) did proffer
Their needlesse helpe, and with his life to shew
What honour a deuoted heart could doe.
Whereto Parthenia (whose expiring breath
Gaue speedy signes of a desired death)
Turning her fixt (but oft recalled eyes)
Vpon Amphialus, faintly thus replies:
Sir you haue done enough; and I require
No more; Your hands haue done, what I desire;

Parthenia last speech.

What I expect; and if against your will,
The better; So I wish your fauours still;
Yet one thing more, (if enemies may sue)
I craue, which is, To be vntoucht by you;
And as for Honour, all that I demand
Is not to purchase honour from your hand.
No, no; 'twas no such bargaine made; That he
Whose hands had kill'd my Argalus, should helpe me;
Your hands haue done enough; I craue no more;
And for the deed sake, I forgiue the Doer;
What then remaines? but that I goe to rest
With Argalus, and to be repossest
Of him; with him for euer to abide,
E're since whose death, I haue so often died.
And there she fainted (euen as if the Clock
Of death had giuen a warning, e're it struck)
But soone returning to her selfe againe;
Welcome sweet death, said she, whose minutes paine,
Shall crowne this soule with euerlasting pleasure;
Come, come, and welcome; I attend thy leasure:
Delay me not; O doe me not that wrong,
My Argalus will chide, I stay so long;
O now I feele the Gordian-knotted bands,
Of life vntied; O heauens! into your hands,
I recommend my better part with trust,
To finde you much more mercifull, then iust;
(Yet truly iust withall) O life, O death,
I call you both to witnesse, that this breath
Ne're drew a dram of comfort, since that houre
My Argalus dyed: O thou eternall power,
Shroud all my faults beneath the milkewhite veile
Of thy deare mercy; and when this tongue shall faile
To speake, O then:
And as she spake (O then) O then she left
To speake; and, being suddenly bereft
Of words, the fatall Sister did diuide
Her slender twine of life, and so she dyed.
So dyed Parthenia; in whose closed eyes
The world of beauty and perfection lyes
Lockt vp by Angels (as a thing diuine)
From mortall eyes, the whilst her vertues shine
In perfect glory, in the throne of glory,
Leauing the world no Relique, but the story
Of earths perfection, for the mouth of Fame
To consecrate to her eternall name:
Which shall suruiue, (if Muses can diuine)
(Though not in these poore monuments of mine)
To th'end of dayes; and, by these looser rimes,
Shall be deliuer'd to succeeding times:
So long as beauty shall but finde a friend,
Partheniaes lasting fame shall neuer end.
Till, to be truly vertuous, to be chast,
Be held a sinne, Partheniaes name shall last.
Thus when Amphialus had put out this Lampe,
This Lampe of honour, he forsooke the Campe;
And, like a willing pris'ner, was confinde
To the strict limits of a troubled minde;
No Iury need b'impanell'd, or agreed
Vpon the verdict; none, to attest the deed;
None to giue sentence, in the Iudgement hall;
Himselfe was witnesse, Iury, Iudge, and all;
Where now we leaue him, whilst we turne our eyes
Vpon Partheniaes women, whose fierce cryes
Inforce a helplesse audience. It is said,
When Troy was taken, such a cry was made.
One snatcht Partheniaes sword, resolu'd to dye
Partheniaes death: another, rauing by,
Stroue for the weapon; through which eager strife,
They both were hindred; and each sau'd a life:
Others, whom wiser passion had taught how
To grieue at easier rates, did rudely throw
Their carelesse bodies on the purple floore;
Where, sprinkling dust vpon their heads, they tore
Their tangled haire, and garments, drencht in teares;
And cryed, as if Partheniaes blessed eares
Could heare the voice of griefe; such griefes as would
Returne her from her glory, if they could;
Each heart was turn'd a wardrobe of true passion,
Where griefes were cloathed in a seuerall fashion;
Sometimes their sorrow would recall to view
Her vertue, chastnesse, sweetnesse, and renew
Their wasted passions; and, oft-times, they bann'd
Themselues, for obeying her vniust command.
And now by this, the mournfull Trumpe of Fame
(Growne hoarse with very sorrow) did proclaime
And spred her dolefull tidings, whilst all eares
And eyes were fill'd with death, and sliding teares;
Pitty and Sorrow, mixt with Admiration,
Became the threefold subiect of all passion;
Griefe went her progresse through all hearts; and none
From the poore Cottage, to the princely Throne,
Could own a thoght, whose best aduice could borrow
The smallest respite from th'extreames of sorrow.
But all this while, Basilius princely brest,
As it commanded, so outgrieu'd the rest;
His share was treble: hearts of Kings are deepe
And close; what once they entertaine, they keepe
With violence: The violence of his passion
Admits no meane, as yet, no moderation;
But soone as griefe had done her priuate rights
And dues to Honour; Honour (that delights
In publique seruice, and can make the breath
Of sighes and sobs to triumph ouer death).
Call'd in solemnity, with all her traine,
And military pompe, to entertaine
Our welcome Mourners, whose slow paces tread
The paths of death; and, with sad triumph lead
The slumbring body, to that bed of rest,
Where nothing can disquiet, or molest
Her sacred ashes: There, intombed, lay
The valiant Argalus; and there, they say,
Ere since that time, th'Arcadians, once a yeare,
Visit the ruines of their Sepulchre;
And, in memoriall of their faithfull loues,
There, built an Altar; where, two milk white Doues
They yearly offer to the hallowed Fame
Of Argalus, and his Partheniaes name.

Hos ego versiculos.

The Authors Dreame.