Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

The King sends for the Queene; the Queene
Denies to come; His hasty spleene
Inflames, unto the Persian Lawes
He leaves the censure of his cause.

To adde more honour to this royall Feast,
That Glory may with Glory be increast,
Vashti the Queene (the fairest Queene on earth)
She made a Feast, and put on jolly mirth,

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To bid sweet welcome with her Princely cheere
To all her Guests; Her Guests all, women were.

By this, the Royall bounty of the King
Hath well-nigh spent the seven dayes banquetting.
Sixe ioviall dayes have run their howers out,
And now the seventh revolves the Weeke about,
Vpon which day, (the Queenes unlucky Day)
The King, with jollity intic'd away,
And gently having slipt the stricter reynes
Of Temperance, (that over-mirth restraines)
Rose up, commanded that without delay,
(Howe're the Persian custome doe gain-say
That men and married Wives shold feast together)
That faire Queene Vashti, be conducted thither,
For him to shew the sweetnes of her face,
And peerelesse beauty mixt with Princely Grace;
To wound their wanton hearts, and to surprize
The Princes with th'Artill'ry of her eyes.

But fairest Vashti, (in whose scornfull Eyes
More haughty pride, then heav'nly beauty lies)
With bold deniall of a flinty brest,
Answer'd the longing of the Kings request;
And (fill'd with scorne) return'd this message home
Queene Vashti cannot, Vashti will not come,
Whereat, as Boreas with his blustering,
(When sturdy Aries ushers in the Spring)
Here fells an aged Oke, there cleaues a Tree,
Now holds his full-mouth'd blast, now lets it flee,
So stormes the King; now pale, now fiery red,
His colour comes and goes, his angry head
He sternly shakes, spits his inraged spleene,
Now on the messenger, now on the Queene:
One while he deeply weighs the foule contempt,
And then his passion bids his wrath attempt

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A quicke revenge; now creepe into his thought
Such things as aggravate the peevish fault;
The place, the persons present, and the time
Increase his wrath, increase his Ladies Crime.

But soone as Passion had restor'd the Reyne
To righteous Reason's goverment againe;
The King (unfit to judge his proper Cause)
Referr'd the triall to the Persian Lawes:
He call'd his learned Counsell, and display'd
The nature of his Grievance thus, and said:

By vertue of a Husband, and a King,
(To make compleat our Royall banquetting)
We gave command, we gave a strict command,
That by the office of our Eunuchs band,
Queene Vashti should in state attended be
Into the presence of our Majestie,
But in contempt she slacks our dread behest
Neglects performance of our deare Request,
And (through disdaine) disloyally deny'd,
Like a false subject, and a faithlesse bride:
Say then (my Lords) for you (being truely wise)
Have braines to judge, and judgements to advise;
Say, boldly (say) what doe the Lawes assigne?
What punishment? or what deserved Fine?
Assuerus bids, the mighty King commands;
Vashti denyes, the scornefull Queene withstands.

Medit. 2.

Evil manners breed good Lawes: & that's the best
That e're was made of bad: The Persian feast
(Finding the mischiefe that was growne so rife)
Admitted not with men a married wife.

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How carefull were they in preserving that,
Which we so watchfull are to violate!
O Chastity the Flower of the soule,
How is thy perfect fairenesse turn'd to foule!
How are thy Blossomes blasted all to dust,
By sudden Lightning of untamed Lust!
How hast thou thus defil'd thy Iv'ry feet!
Thy sweetnesse that was once, how far from sweet!
Where are thy maiden-smiles, thy blushing cheeke?
Thy Lamb-like countenance, so faire, so meeke?
Where is that spotlesse Flower, that while-ere
Within thy lilly bosome thou didst weare?
Has wanton Cupid snatcht it? Hath his Dart
Sent courtly tokens to thy simple heart?
Where dost thou bide? the Country halfe disclaimes thee;
The City wonders when a body names thee.
Or have the rurall woods engrost thee there,
And thus fore-stall'd our empty markets here?
Sure th'art not, or kept where no man showes thee;
Or chang'd so much, scarce man or woman knowes thee.

Our Grandame Eve, before it was forbid,
Desired not the fruit, she after did:
Had not the Custome of those times ordain'd
That women from mens feasts should be restrain'd,
Perhaps (Assuerus) Vashti might have dyed
Vnsent for, and thy selfe beene undenyed:
Such are the the fruits of mirth's and wine's abuse,
Customes must crack, & love must breake his truce,
Conjugall bands must loose, and sullen Hate
Ensues the Feast, where Wine's immoderate.

More difficult it is, and greater skill
To beare a mischiefe, 'than prevent an ill:
Passion is naturall, but to bridle Passion,
Is more divine, and vertues operation:

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To doe amisse, is Natures act; to erre,
Is but a wretched mortalls Character;
But to prevent the danger of the ill,
Is more then Man, surpassing humane skill:
Who playes a happy game with crafty slight,
Confirmes himselfe but fortunes Favorite;
But he that husbands well an ill-dealt game,
Deserves the credit of a Gamesters name;

Lord, if my Cards be bad, yet lend me skill
To play them wisely and make the best of ill.