The Faire Aethiopian Dedicated to the King and Qveene. By their Maiesties most humble Subiect and Seruant, William Lisle |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. | [Booke VI.] |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
 | The Faire Aethiopian |  |
87
[Booke VI.]
The Princesse lay with daught'r of Nausicles,
A faire young maid, yet little tooke her ease;
And Cnemon thought it long with Calasire,
Before they went Theagenes t'enquire.
They raise their Host therefore by breake of day,
And him to Mitranes conduct them pray.
Content is he; faine would Chariclia
Then with them goe; but they perswade her stay,
Her promising, before they far remoue,
To come againe, and bring her lookt-for Loue.
So left her doubtfull, whether to be sad
For their depart, or, for their promise glad.
A faire young maid, yet little tooke her ease;
And Cnemon thought it long with Calasire,
Before they went Theagenes t'enquire.
They raise their Host therefore by breake of day,
And him to Mitranes conduct them pray.
Content is he; faine would Chariclia
Then with them goe; but they perswade her stay,
Her promising, before they far remoue,
To come againe, and bring her lookt-for Loue.
So left her doubtfull, whether to be sad
For their depart, or, for their promise glad.
Now when they neere approach'd the banks of Nile,
There rusht them by a monstrous Crocodile.
A Serpent strongly scal'd, head, backe, and legge,
And twelue yards long, yet bred but of an egge.
Note when he gapes, his lower chap stands fast,
And th'vpper moues, some fiue foot long and past.
And this deuourer hauing fed his fill,
Will suffer Trochilos with slender bill
To picke his teeth, a bird no bigger, then
The little Titmouse, or the Iynny Wren:
Will follow such as run away, and run
From such as follow, both in shade and Sun.
There rusht them by a monstrous Crocodile.
A Serpent strongly scal'd, head, backe, and legge,
And twelue yards long, yet bred but of an egge.
Note when he gapes, his lower chap stands fast,
And th'vpper moues, some fiue foot long and past.
And this deuourer hauing fed his fill,
Will suffer Trochilos with slender bill
To picke his teeth, a bird no bigger, then
The little Titmouse, or the Iynny Wren:
Will follow such as run away, and run
From such as follow, both in shade and Sun.
Now these Ægyptians vs'd to such a sight,
Were nothing mou'd; but Cnemon much affright,
Start backe, and ready was to run away:
Whereat the Merchant laught; and Priest gan say,
I thought (Sir Cnemon) nothing could you feare
But in the darke, as th'other nights Bug-beare.
What's that (quoth Nausicles)? then Calasire,
To passe the time, and satisfie desire,
Him told how Cnemon tooke Chariclia
For Thisbe, when at Chemmis first she lay.
Then Nausicles could laugh no more, but thought
Why name of Thisbe so on Cnemon wrought;
And askt the cause whereof he was to seeke,
And so to laughter now prouokt the Greeke:
Who said, behold how strange a name is this,
To moue my minde so first, and now so his.
I thought our noble Host had beene more stout,
Than now be dampt, who late could others flout.
Ha'done, ha'done (quoth Nausicles) you have
Reueng'd your selfe enough: but let me craue;
By all that may to you most pleasing bee,
And by the Gods of Hospitalitee;
This name of Thisbe whence it is, and why
You turn't vpon me now so meerily.
Then Calasiris, Cnemon, time you see
Requires you satisfie both him and mee.
Then let vs heare your storie from the sourse:
For well is trauell eased with discourse.
He yeelds, and tels them what not many weekes
He told before vnto his fellow Greekes.
And how with them acquaint he grew, and frend,
Among the theeues; and of that Thisbes end.
And left out nought that was not, as their owne,
To Nausicles and Calasiris knowne.
It mou'd the Merchant so, that he full well
Could finde in heart the rest of her to tell,
And of himselfe; confest and said, 'tis I
That was that Merchant then of Naucratie;
And brought her out of Greece. Here one they meet
With Nausicles acquaint of Chemmis-street;
Who told them newes; that where as Mitranes
Had sent a young man vnt' Orondates,
To serue the great King; he by Thyamis
Now Chiefe of Bessans intercepted is;
And Mitranes with all his force is gone,
In iust reuenge their Towne to set vpon:
So past them by in hast. Then Nausicles
Perswades returne; and for Theagenes,
Because the iourney longer was, to goe
Prouided better: they determine so,
And comming home, at doore Chariclia found
Them looking-for: for, Loue is like a hound
That for his master waits. But, when she saw
They brought him not, she gan her haire to claw,
And tore asunder Natures finest thred,
And wept, and cry'd, alas my Loue is dead!
What all alone, and, as you went, returne?
O tell me quickly, lest I longer mourne
With griefe suspended. 'Tis a courtesie
Not to delay report of miserie.
Why doe you (then quoth Cnemon) so foretell
The worst, and false? Theagenes is well;
And told her how, and where. O blame her not,
Quoth Calasiris; felt you but a iot
Of loue so true, you would her soone excuse:
For such are ne're content with hearsay-newes:
But thinke they cannot each from oth'r absent
Without some sad and fearfull accident.
When such as you (Sir Cnemon) well I know
So speake of Loue as neuer bent his bow.
Aske Saints how faire in Heau'n, for they can tell;
And aske ye Fiends how foule it is in hell.
Then like a father led her in by th'hand,
And there not long they either sit or stand;
But Nausicles, to put them out of dump,
And hauing some thing else there with to iump,
Prepar'd a feast that night with cheere and wine,
And made his daughter more than wonted fine.
And toward banquets end them spoke-to thus;
As heretofore so shall be still with vs;
My welcome guests (that so you are I call
The Gods to witnesse, and continue shall,
If please you stay) what I at sea or land
Haue any where, 'tis all at your command;
Not now as guests; but as my deerest frends.
But know my trade on Merchandise depends;
My ship my plow is, and the Southerne windes
Me call to Greece: then let me know your mindes;
That whether here I leaue, or with me lead you,
I may my voyage frame some way to stead you.
Were nothing mou'd; but Cnemon much affright,
88
Whereat the Merchant laught; and Priest gan say,
I thought (Sir Cnemon) nothing could you feare
But in the darke, as th'other nights Bug-beare.
What's that (quoth Nausicles)? then Calasire,
To passe the time, and satisfie desire,
Him told how Cnemon tooke Chariclia
For Thisbe, when at Chemmis first she lay.
Then Nausicles could laugh no more, but thought
Why name of Thisbe so on Cnemon wrought;
And askt the cause whereof he was to seeke,
And so to laughter now prouokt the Greeke:
Who said, behold how strange a name is this,
To moue my minde so first, and now so his.
I thought our noble Host had beene more stout,
Than now be dampt, who late could others flout.
Ha'done, ha'done (quoth Nausicles) you have
Reueng'd your selfe enough: but let me craue;
By all that may to you most pleasing bee,
And by the Gods of Hospitalitee;
This name of Thisbe whence it is, and why
You turn't vpon me now so meerily.
Then Calasiris, Cnemon, time you see
Requires you satisfie both him and mee.
Then let vs heare your storie from the sourse:
For well is trauell eased with discourse.
He yeelds, and tels them what not many weekes
He told before vnto his fellow Greekes.
And how with them acquaint he grew, and frend,
Among the theeues; and of that Thisbes end.
And left out nought that was not, as their owne,
To Nausicles and Calasiris knowne.
It mou'd the Merchant so, that he full well
Could finde in heart the rest of her to tell,
And of himselfe; confest and said, 'tis I
That was that Merchant then of Naucratie;
89
With Nausicles acquaint of Chemmis-street;
Who told them newes; that where as Mitranes
Had sent a young man vnt' Orondates,
To serue the great King; he by Thyamis
Now Chiefe of Bessans intercepted is;
And Mitranes with all his force is gone,
In iust reuenge their Towne to set vpon:
So past them by in hast. Then Nausicles
Perswades returne; and for Theagenes,
Because the iourney longer was, to goe
Prouided better: they determine so,
And comming home, at doore Chariclia found
Them looking-for: for, Loue is like a hound
That for his master waits. But, when she saw
They brought him not, she gan her haire to claw,
And tore asunder Natures finest thred,
And wept, and cry'd, alas my Loue is dead!
What all alone, and, as you went, returne?
O tell me quickly, lest I longer mourne
With griefe suspended. 'Tis a courtesie
Not to delay report of miserie.
Why doe you (then quoth Cnemon) so foretell
The worst, and false? Theagenes is well;
And told her how, and where. O blame her not,
Quoth Calasiris; felt you but a iot
Of loue so true, you would her soone excuse:
For such are ne're content with hearsay-newes:
But thinke they cannot each from oth'r absent
Without some sad and fearfull accident.
When such as you (Sir Cnemon) well I know
So speake of Loue as neuer bent his bow.
Aske Saints how faire in Heau'n, for they can tell;
And aske ye Fiends how foule it is in hell.
Then like a father led her in by th'hand,
And there not long they either sit or stand;
90
And hauing some thing else there with to iump,
Prepar'd a feast that night with cheere and wine,
And made his daughter more than wonted fine.
And toward banquets end them spoke-to thus;
As heretofore so shall be still with vs;
My welcome guests (that so you are I call
The Gods to witnesse, and continue shall,
If please you stay) what I at sea or land
Haue any where, 'tis all at your command;
Not now as guests; but as my deerest frends.
But know my trade on Merchandise depends;
My ship my plow is, and the Southerne windes
Me call to Greece: then let me know your mindes;
That whether here I leaue, or with me lead you,
I may my voyage frame some way to stead you.
The Priest of Memphis, after pause repli'de,
Good Nausicles, haue happie winde and tide!
Let all the Gods of Merchandise attend you,
And home with gaine full-fraught in safetie send you!!
That, stay or goe we, doeso perfectly
The lawes obserue of hospitalitie.
Vnwilling we to part from such a frend,
Yet must be gone, you know, and for what end.
Thus much for me, and for Chariclia;
What Cnemon meanes to doe I cannot say.
The Greeke, about to speake, with sob is staid;
At last with sighs and bitter weeping said;
O this vncertaine state of humane life!
How full of doubt, and variable strife!
Depriu'd of fathers house, of Countrey and Towne
So deere to me, still rome I vp and downe?
Not long it is, a plurall scarce of weekes,
Since hope I had, with such two noble Greekes,
(Though hard put-to, as I) to finde some ease;
And shall I now bereaue my selfe of these?
What shall I doe? or which way shall I bend?
Tell (O) that can! I am at my wits-end.
To leaue Chariclia, can it but displease,
Before she finde-out her Theagenes?
Or if I seeke with her, O who can tell
How, where to finde him; when all will be well?
So shall I wander still: what if I craue
Of you, sweet Lady (shall I pardon haue?)
To take th'occasion giu'n by Nausicles,
And home returne, now call vs winde and seas?
Though helpe I little, I willing shall me show;
True seruants loue will creepe wher't cannot goe.
She had perceiu'd (and quickly, by your leaue,
A Louer can a Louers minde perceiue)
That Cnemon lou'd the daught'r of Nausicles;
And that it did the father greatly please:
Wherefore she said; I beare you thankfull heart,
Sir Cnemon, for your thus far friendly part;
And gladly shall requite it: for the rest,
I see no reason you be further prest
To follow mine affaires; but minde your owne,
And take th'occasion now so fitly showne.
My fath'r and I to th'end shall hold-out still;
Though no man else assist, the Gods yet will.
Good Nausicles, haue happie winde and tide!
Let all the Gods of Merchandise attend you,
And home with gaine full-fraught in safetie send you!!
That, stay or goe we, doeso perfectly
The lawes obserue of hospitalitie.
Vnwilling we to part from such a frend,
Yet must be gone, you know, and for what end.
Thus much for me, and for Chariclia;
What Cnemon meanes to doe I cannot say.
The Greeke, about to speake, with sob is staid;
At last with sighs and bitter weeping said;
O this vncertaine state of humane life!
How full of doubt, and variable strife!
Depriu'd of fathers house, of Countrey and Towne
So deere to me, still rome I vp and downe?
Not long it is, a plurall scarce of weekes,
Since hope I had, with such two noble Greekes,
(Though hard put-to, as I) to finde some ease;
And shall I now bereaue my selfe of these?
91
Tell (O) that can! I am at my wits-end.
To leaue Chariclia, can it but displease,
Before she finde-out her Theagenes?
Or if I seeke with her, O who can tell
How, where to finde him; when all will be well?
So shall I wander still: what if I craue
Of you, sweet Lady (shall I pardon haue?)
To take th'occasion giu'n by Nausicles,
And home returne, now call vs winde and seas?
Though helpe I little, I willing shall me show;
True seruants loue will creepe wher't cannot goe.
She had perceiu'd (and quickly, by your leaue,
A Louer can a Louers minde perceiue)
That Cnemon lou'd the daught'r of Nausicles;
And that it did the father greatly please:
Wherefore she said; I beare you thankfull heart,
Sir Cnemon, for your thus far friendly part;
And gladly shall requite it: for the rest,
I see no reason you be further prest
To follow mine affaires; but minde your owne,
And take th'occasion now so fitly showne.
My fath'r and I to th'end shall hold-out still;
Though no man else assist, the Gods yet will.
This hearing, Nausicles began to pray,
All good successe attend Chariclia,
So wise, so gracious! and (Cnemon) now
Vnt' Athens going, neuer grieue it you,
That Tib you bring not, sith you bring the man,
Who tooke her thence: and if you like it can
As well as I, now well I know your straine,
You shall both house, and land, and wife attaine
With dowrie great, this same mine only childe;
He gaue a quicke consent thereto, and smil'de;
And tooke her straight, of purpose ready drest,
And turn'd the supper to a marriage-feast.
While all the rest attending were the Bride,
The Princesse vnt' her chamber flipt aside;
And shut the doore, and (as she were distract)
Her rayment tore, and haire about her shakt.
Then wept, lamented, howled, beat her brest,
And said, this danse becomes my marriage-feast.
My bed-fellow Nausiclia from me taken?
And I now left alone, of all forsaken?
Is Cnemon married now at full hearts ease?
And still in bondage my Theagenes?
At their successe (O Gods) I not repine;
Though grieue you make no better his and mine.
But O Theagenes my sweet delight,
And only care, to thee I giue this night;
I consecrate these locks, then haire she tore,
And laid them on her bed, and wept them-o're.
So fell asleepe with griefe and passion tir'd,
And slept so long as next day was admir'd.
For Calasiris missing her, before
That wont rise early, knockt hard at her doore;
And wak'd her suddenly with such a din,
That, as she was, she rose and let him in.
But when he saw her haire and vesture rent,
And lookes vnsettled, ghessing what they ment;
He lookt aside, she slipt halfe into bed;
Then thus he chid her, while she drest her head.
All good successe attend Chariclia,
So wise, so gracious! and (Cnemon) now
Vnt' Athens going, neuer grieue it you,
That Tib you bring not, sith you bring the man,
Who tooke her thence: and if you like it can
As well as I, now well I know your straine,
You shall both house, and land, and wife attaine
With dowrie great, this same mine only childe;
He gaue a quicke consent thereto, and smil'de;
And tooke her straight, of purpose ready drest,
And turn'd the supper to a marriage-feast.
92
The Princesse vnt' her chamber flipt aside;
And shut the doore, and (as she were distract)
Her rayment tore, and haire about her shakt.
Then wept, lamented, howled, beat her brest,
And said, this danse becomes my marriage-feast.
My bed-fellow Nausiclia from me taken?
And I now left alone, of all forsaken?
Is Cnemon married now at full hearts ease?
And still in bondage my Theagenes?
At their successe (O Gods) I not repine;
Though grieue you make no better his and mine.
But O Theagenes my sweet delight,
And only care, to thee I giue this night;
I consecrate these locks, then haire she tore,
And laid them on her bed, and wept them-o're.
So fell asleepe with griefe and passion tir'd,
And slept so long as next day was admir'd.
For Calasiris missing her, before
That wont rise early, knockt hard at her doore;
And wak'd her suddenly with such a din,
That, as she was, she rose and let him in.
But when he saw her haire and vesture rent,
And lookes vnsettled, ghessing what they ment;
He lookt aside, she slipt halfe into bed;
Then thus he chid her, while she drest her head.
What meane you (Lady) so your selfe to vex?
I thought you had in courage past your Sex:
And now me thinkes, but only for the name,
(So chang'd you are) you should not be the same.
Why will you kill your selfe, and not expect
Your better hopes? O doe not so neglect
Theagenes and me! a while she staid,
A blushing while, and modestly then said;
Good father pardon! 'tis no strange desire,
Nor common cause that sets me thus asire.
You know the loue I beare Theagenes,
And his to me; my heart cannot haue ease,
For his long absence, most because I feare,
And, wheth'r he liue, or dead be, cannot heare.
Feare not, quoth he; for that of him and you
Fore-told by th'Oracle must needs be true.
Nor doubt y' of that was told vs yesterday,
How he by Thyam carri'd was away:
But thinke him safe as with acquainted frend;
And vnto Bessa let vs goe or send,
As both haue cause; you for Theagenes,
And I my sonnes intended war t'appease;
But rather goe: she paus'd, and said, your sonne?
If that be Thyamis, I am vndone.
How so? quoth he. You know (quoth she) and where
Theagenes and I his prisners were.
My seeming beautie, mischieuous to me,
So there enflam'd your sonne (if this be he)
That I, to saue our libertie and life,
Delaying promise made to be his wife.
My sonne is not so far run out of way,
Quoth Calasire, but I shall make him stay.
Or if you doubt, inuent some how, I pray,
(For cunning y'are I see to make delay)
Some how we may enquire, and not be knowne.
She smil'd, and said; Sir, my way or your owne,
In iest or earnest, little skilth it now,
Theagenes and I had such a how:
But were preuented e're we could prepare;
And 'twas, in forme of beggars clad, to fare.
This (if you please) now let us put in vre;
For pouertie makes all men walke secure,
Be pitti'd, not enui'd; and victailes get,
Which vnto trauellers are deerest set:
And world so false is now (that by your leaue)
Who will not be deceiued, must deceiue.
But thinke we not so long what must be wrought,
That we forget to practise that is thought.
He could not choose but at her reason smile,
And all in haste prepares them for that wile
Then there in Chemmis; after parted faire
With Nausicles and his new marri'd paire.
I thought you had in courage past your Sex:
And now me thinkes, but only for the name,
(So chang'd you are) you should not be the same.
Why will you kill your selfe, and not expect
Your better hopes? O doe not so neglect
Theagenes and me! a while she staid,
A blushing while, and modestly then said;
Good father pardon! 'tis no strange desire,
Nor common cause that sets me thus asire.
93
And his to me; my heart cannot haue ease,
For his long absence, most because I feare,
And, wheth'r he liue, or dead be, cannot heare.
Feare not, quoth he; for that of him and you
Fore-told by th'Oracle must needs be true.
Nor doubt y' of that was told vs yesterday,
How he by Thyam carri'd was away:
But thinke him safe as with acquainted frend;
And vnto Bessa let vs goe or send,
As both haue cause; you for Theagenes,
And I my sonnes intended war t'appease;
But rather goe: she paus'd, and said, your sonne?
If that be Thyamis, I am vndone.
How so? quoth he. You know (quoth she) and where
Theagenes and I his prisners were.
My seeming beautie, mischieuous to me,
So there enflam'd your sonne (if this be he)
That I, to saue our libertie and life,
Delaying promise made to be his wife.
My sonne is not so far run out of way,
Quoth Calasire, but I shall make him stay.
Or if you doubt, inuent some how, I pray,
(For cunning y'are I see to make delay)
Some how we may enquire, and not be knowne.
She smil'd, and said; Sir, my way or your owne,
In iest or earnest, little skilth it now,
Theagenes and I had such a how:
But were preuented e're we could prepare;
And 'twas, in forme of beggars clad, to fare.
This (if you please) now let us put in vre;
For pouertie makes all men walke secure,
Be pitti'd, not enui'd; and victailes get,
Which vnto trauellers are deerest set:
And world so false is now (that by your leaue)
94
But thinke we not so long what must be wrought,
That we forget to practise that is thought.
He could not choose but at her reason smile,
And all in haste prepares them for that wile
Then there in Chemmis; after parted faire
With Nausicles and his new marri'd paire.
Now on the way, in place conuenient,
They change their clothes, and as a begging went;
She Doxy-like, and he, as Patrikoe,
With hundred-patched cloke lent on her bow,
And halted when he met or man or page,
And crookt his shoulders more than had his age;
Or as a blinde man poring on the land,
Sometime Chariclia led him by the hand.
He bore her quiuer bound-vp at his backe,
Like some thing else; and she in slubber'd packe
Her best attire, and jewels; then besmut
Her face, and hardly counterfeits a slut.
When fouler faces vse a Painters knacke,
To make them faire, she needs be painted blacke.
O all that looke in glasse, and finde you faire,
Doe nothing that the credit might impaire
Of those sored and white, and comely graces;
If beautie faile, with vertue mend your faces.
A shew may soone deceiue the vulgar eye;
But he that lookt on her iudicially,
Might well perceiue in black-well-featur'd face,
Of nose, of lip, of cheeke, eye, brow, the grace:
As when a cloud is o're Diana drawne,
Or Uenus looking th'row blacke cobweb lawne.
Was neuer seene a Maiden comlier,
Nor vnder duskie cloud so bright a sterre.
Yet Sir (quoth she) you seeme one of the Bench;
O, good your Worship, pitie a poore young wench:
Good Dame, quoth he; my right hand is me reft,
And no true finger leaft is on my left.
And she againe; once poore, and euer poore;
For wealth is giu'n to none, but had before.
Then he againe; yet winde in driuing snow,
From higher places oft fils vp the low.
They change their clothes, and as a begging went;
She Doxy-like, and he, as Patrikoe,
With hundred-patched cloke lent on her bow,
And halted when he met or man or page,
And crookt his shoulders more than had his age;
Or as a blinde man poring on the land,
Sometime Chariclia led him by the hand.
He bore her quiuer bound-vp at his backe,
Like some thing else; and she in slubber'd packe
Her best attire, and jewels; then besmut
Her face, and hardly counterfeits a slut.
When fouler faces vse a Painters knacke,
To make them faire, she needs be painted blacke.
O all that looke in glasse, and finde you faire,
Doe nothing that the credit might impaire
Of those sored and white, and comely graces;
If beautie faile, with vertue mend your faces.
A shew may soone deceiue the vulgar eye;
But he that lookt on her iudicially,
Might well perceiue in black-well-featur'd face,
Of nose, of lip, of cheeke, eye, brow, the grace:
As when a cloud is o're Diana drawne,
Or Uenus looking th'row blacke cobweb lawne.
Was neuer seene a Maiden comlier,
Nor vnder duskie cloud so bright a sterre.
Yet Sir (quoth she) you seeme one of the Bench;
O, good your Worship, pitie a poore young wench:
95
And no true finger leaft is on my left.
And she againe; once poore, and euer poore;
For wealth is giu'n to none, but had before.
Then he againe; yet winde in driuing snow,
From higher places oft fils vp the low.
Thus when between themselues they had protested,
As beggars doe, and each at other iested;
To Bessa-ward they trudge; and by Sun-set
Had seene the Towne; but see what was their let!
Dead bodies many finde they laid aground
On heapes, and all of some yet bleeding wound.
And while they view'd the carkasses they meet
An aged woman creeping hands and feet,
And much lamenting o're a young man slaine;
And t'aske of her they thought it not in vaine,
As Calasiris did in Gypsie toung,
What mischiefe had so many laid along.
And what was he whom she lamented so.
She said, my sonne, late forc'd to battell go
With Thyamis our Chiefe, against the powre
Of Mitranes and all his Persian flowre;
He came to sacke our Towne for one mans sake,
Whom he had sent to Memphis from the Lake:
This man by Thyamis pretending right
Was entercepted; cause of all this fight:
And willb' of more: for slaine is Mitranes,
And all his men by ours; Orondates
Will seeke reuenge; which our men to preuent,
And vnawares to take the Foe, haue sent
A puissant armie Memphis to beleaguer;
And Chiefe, and all, are thereon set more eager,
To get his right of Priesthood, by none other
With-held, but eu'n his owne, and younger brother,
But you are strangers here full well I see;
And whither goe yee? to the towne, quoth hee.
You cannot safely lodge (quoth she) in towne,
So late in time of war, and both vknowne.
Yet if you please (quoth he) vs entertaine,
We may (I trust) to night well there remaine.
Th'old woman answer'd, I haue now in hand
An earnest night-worke; if you further stand
Till all be done (and best you keepe aloofe)
To morrow will I doe for your behoofe.
Then what she said, he told the Lady in Greeke,
And they repose them in a bushie creeke.
He slept a while with quiuer vnd'r his head,
Chariclia made her packet serue for bed;
But only sate, and slept not on't, for feare;
And vnto Philomela's song gaue eare:
Till Cynthia rose, and shew'd (as tales imply)
Her man and bush, or (as Philosophy)
Her spoongie part; though we now vnderstand
'Tis nothing else, but face of sea and land,
As 'twere in glasse; for in the Torrid Zone,
Betwixt the Moon and th'earth thicke cloud is none:
She cleerly shining, three dayes dayes past the full,
Made seene how this old witch heau'd vp the skull
Of her dead sonne, and with her negromancie,
(A vice that Gypsie women greatly fancie)
Him forc'd to speake yet once more vnt' his mother,
And tell her if her second sonne, his brother,
Should safe returne from war; he told her no,
And that her selfe should soone receiue a blow
For iust reward; and specially because
She made the liuing know the dead-man lawes:
For here's a Priest (quoth he) and here's a Maid
That see your pranks: by him may be allaid
The war betwixt his sonnes, so bee't he haste:
And she shall get her Loue, and reigne at last.
Chariclia wakt th'old man at first, to see
And heare this all, and all interprets hee.
And hearing this, the witch, all in a rage,
So playes her Scene vpon this deadly stage,
With sword in hand, that had she stranger found,
Sh' had laid them soone among the dead aground.
But as by Moon-light flourishing she lope,
Now here, now there, to hit vncertaine scope;
At vnawares, vpon the sharpest part
Of broken speare, she ran her selfe to th'heart.
So punisht was th'abominabl' offence:
So works of darknesse haue their recompence.
As beggars doe, and each at other iested;
To Bessa-ward they trudge; and by Sun-set
Had seene the Towne; but see what was their let!
Dead bodies many finde they laid aground
On heapes, and all of some yet bleeding wound.
And while they view'd the carkasses they meet
An aged woman creeping hands and feet,
And much lamenting o're a young man slaine;
And t'aske of her they thought it not in vaine,
As Calasiris did in Gypsie toung,
What mischiefe had so many laid along.
And what was he whom she lamented so.
She said, my sonne, late forc'd to battell go
With Thyamis our Chiefe, against the powre
Of Mitranes and all his Persian flowre;
He came to sacke our Towne for one mans sake,
Whom he had sent to Memphis from the Lake:
This man by Thyamis pretending right
Was entercepted; cause of all this fight:
And willb' of more: for slaine is Mitranes,
And all his men by ours; Orondates
Will seeke reuenge; which our men to preuent,
And vnawares to take the Foe, haue sent
A puissant armie Memphis to beleaguer;
And Chiefe, and all, are thereon set more eager,
To get his right of Priesthood, by none other
With-held, but eu'n his owne, and younger brother,
But you are strangers here full well I see;
96
You cannot safely lodge (quoth she) in towne,
So late in time of war, and both vknowne.
Yet if you please (quoth he) vs entertaine,
We may (I trust) to night well there remaine.
Th'old woman answer'd, I haue now in hand
An earnest night-worke; if you further stand
Till all be done (and best you keepe aloofe)
To morrow will I doe for your behoofe.
Then what she said, he told the Lady in Greeke,
And they repose them in a bushie creeke.
He slept a while with quiuer vnd'r his head,
Chariclia made her packet serue for bed;
But only sate, and slept not on't, for feare;
And vnto Philomela's song gaue eare:
Till Cynthia rose, and shew'd (as tales imply)
Her man and bush, or (as Philosophy)
Her spoongie part; though we now vnderstand
'Tis nothing else, but face of sea and land,
As 'twere in glasse; for in the Torrid Zone,
Betwixt the Moon and th'earth thicke cloud is none:
She cleerly shining, three dayes dayes past the full,
Made seene how this old witch heau'd vp the skull
Of her dead sonne, and with her negromancie,
(A vice that Gypsie women greatly fancie)
Him forc'd to speake yet once more vnt' his mother,
And tell her if her second sonne, his brother,
Should safe returne from war; he told her no,
And that her selfe should soone receiue a blow
For iust reward; and specially because
She made the liuing know the dead-man lawes:
For here's a Priest (quoth he) and here's a Maid
That see your pranks: by him may be allaid
The war betwixt his sonnes, so bee't he haste:
And she shall get her Loue, and reigne at last.
97
And heare this all, and all interprets hee.
And hearing this, the witch, all in a rage,
So playes her Scene vpon this deadly stage,
With sword in hand, that had she stranger found,
Sh' had laid them soone among the dead aground.
But as by Moon-light flourishing she lope,
Now here, now there, to hit vncertaine scope;
At vnawares, vpon the sharpest part
Of broken speare, she ran her selfe to th'heart.
So punisht was th'abominabl' offence:
So works of darknesse haue their recompence.
Finis Libri sexti.
| The Faire Aethiopian | |