University of Virginia Library

The Knight to the Traveller.

Sir, I doe thinke that I should injure thee
Beyond all Reason, in a high degree,
If I should faile those secrets to unshrowd,
Which now are vailed under silence Cloud;
Or to declare of my demands the cause,
With their effects, and what the reason was
That mov'd me to them; for it's not of late
That I the King and Queene, their Princely state
Have truely knowne; for by their high renowne,
Their vertuous goodnesse which their acts do crown,
Their fames divulg'd, the world enough doth know,
Their honour'd worths; but for your paines I owe
Some kind requitall, since you have declar'd
All what you knew, and thereof nothing spar'd:
My thankes I'le tender for to gratifie
In some respects thy noble courtesie.
But other reasons mov'd me to demand
Those fained questions, and my speech was fram'd
Unto another end; for I meane t'impart
The grieving passions of my sorrowing heart
Unto thy selfe, and so conferre on thee
The Treasureship of all my miseries:
For I beleeve thou wilt vouchsafe to rest
Some sort of pitty in thy manly breast,
Which will incite thee to bewaile my Fate,
And the oppressions of my wretched state,
Causing thee harbour in thy solid braine,
What I recount, that so you may proclaime
In future times the summe of all my griefe,
And how I live stil hopelesse of reliefe.
Attend me then with silence, but first know
I thankes to Thebes for my nurture owe,
For that's my Nation, which Agenors sonne,
Cadmus did build, when as he durst not turne
Facke to his Father, 'cause he could not gaine
His deare Europa, whom great Jove had taine.
With this same Cadmus, the Bœotian King,
I for a long time nourished have beene,
And eke a long time's past, since unkind Death
Depriv'd my Father of his vitall breath,
Whose honour'd selfe was nam'd as I, Arnalte:
But I'le refraine to certifie unto thee
What that he was; for it will ill become
Me for to praise him, since I am his sonne.
In these past dayes King Cadmus kept his Court
Within faire Thebes, and his chief'st resort
Was oftnest thither; for which reason, I
Did there recide, and live most constantly;
Following my study, mixt with recreation,
Sometimes with sport, sometimes in contemplation,
Voyd of all care I liv'd, my Heart was free,
From Love-sicke passions, or his tyranny:
Whilst thus I liv'd, in hight of perfect blisse,
Vnconstant Fortune (who e're whirling is)
Cast me from forth the seat of mans chiefe hap,
And flung me head long in Pandoreas lap;
For one a day, when as my selfe I found
Quiet in minde, and eke in all parts sound,
Free from disturbance of unquiet cares,
Or pensive thoughts, commixt with palid feares,
An eminent man, in Thebes City knowne:
For Fame his worth on her shrill Trumpe had blown;
Yeelded himselfe unto pale ashie death;
Who Victor-like exhal'd his fainting breath:
Vnto whose fun'rall Rites and Obsequies,
The stately Courtier and the Burgeous hyes,
And divers others, who did all intend
To grace the body of their deceast friend,
Whose life-lesse Corps with many watrey eyes
Was brought to Church in a most solemne wise:
Where when arriv'd, it in the midst was plac'd,
During such time the Ceremonies last:
And there abode, whilst that with weeping eyes,
His nighest kinne the Rites did solemnize:
Chiefely his Daughter; who, alas did seeme
Like faire fac'd Venus, Loves Cœlestiall Queene,
When shee wore mourning for the timelesse death
Of sweete Adonis, wonder of the earth:
For shee with shreekes, and sad lamenting cryes,
Distil'd salt teares, which flowed from her eyes,
In that aboundant manner, as if all
The rainy showres had beene forc'd to fall,
Trickling along her cheekes, which to my view
Seem'd like transparent drops of Pearly Dew
On fragrant Roses, e're the bright-fac'd Sunne
Had kist them drye: teares did not only runne
From her bright Christall Fountaines, for she tare
Her silken Vestments, and her flaxe-like haire:
The Cypresse Vaile, which her faire face did shrowd,
Like golden Phœbus in a watry Cloud,
Shee rent in peeces, with her snow-white bands
Dishevel'd her curious breded bands,
The winds enamour'd, ravish'd with delight
At the faire prospect of so rich a sight,
Breath forth their milder gales, and gently blew
Their fanning windes, by which her bright haire flew
In amorous dangling, frisling her faire tresses,
Which in Meanders hung, and curled esses:
And like the surges of the rowling maine
They rise and fall, or as upon some plaine,
Wee see the pretty rising Hillocks stand,
Or as the furrowes of the plowd up Land;
These Sunne-like Tresses twin'd in artlesse knots
Where in close ambush wanton Cupid lurkes,
Shee did unroote without the least respite,
She wag'd a Warre, maintain'd a deadly fight,
'Twixt her faire Hands, and those dishevel'd haires,
Which without pitty from her Head she teares;
And they not able to with-stand her might,
O'recome in battaile, trembling tooke their flight
In scatter'd troopes, and some quite dead did lye
On her spread shoulders, obvious to the eye
Of the beholders; in that pittious hew,
That those that did this cruell conflict view,
At their rare beauty did not onely wonder,
But griev'd to see them sever'd so assunder,
Pittying their usage, and their ruin'd state,
Seeking to save them, though, alas, too late:
O'recome with passion, and distracting woe,
Halfe mad with sorrow; she, oh she did throw
Her tender body on the sencelesse ground,
And there lay grov'ling with her teares e'ne drownd
Her acclamations mixt with grievous groanes,
Her sighes, her sobs, her sad lamenting moanes
Were powred forth, in that distracted wise,
That all who saw her joyntly sympathiz'd
With her in sorrow; some bewail'd her Fate,
Others her losse, the rest compassionate:
Those out-rages, the which she did inflict
On her faire selfe; alas, she did commit
Such cruelty, that pitty moov'd all those
That were spectators of her grievous woes,
To have a feeling of her inward smart,
Whose cruell tortures did infest her heart:
For ev'ry one did taxe this Virgins Fate,
And her sad sorrowes caus'd them Lachrymate:
Since in her passions she was so extreame,
For to her griefe she limited no meane;
Which so surprest her, that she seem'd ro bee
The very abstract of calamity.
But now, alas! she of whom I speake,
Whose sad Remembrance makes my heart to break;
Oh shee it is! yea, she that beares the name
Of faire Lucenda! my e're honour'd Dame.
Then list awhile, and my sad tongue shall tell,
How she in worth all others doth excell:
Ile thus describe her in each sev'rall eye:
A Cupid sits inthron'd with Majesty,
Vertue attends her, modesty doth grace
The Rose-like blushes of her lovely face:
Her pure complexion doth surpasse the snow,
And staines the Lillies in their milke-white show
The pleasing Grace, which makes her lovely seeme,
May claime precedence of the Paphian Queene:
Like polish'd Ivory doth her fore-head shine;
Her soft silke Tresses in Meanders twine;
And are so bright, that Phœbus he doth shroud,
If her he spies, his face behind a Cloud:
As sparkling Diamonds shine her splendent eyes,
Or as bright stars, which twinkle in the skies,
Whose radient beames doe such a luster dart,
That with a flash they have consum'd my heart:
Her nose's well featur'd, of the handsom'st mould,
Not long, or peaked, signes that grace a scould:
Her cheekes resemble two fresh flowry banks,
Where bright Carnations grow in disperst rankes;
And in those cheekes the red and whit discloses.
Such pleasing glimps, as Lawne o're spreading Roses:
Her Lips like Rubies, which by Art are joyn'd,
Doe sweetely close, and friendly are combin'd;
And for their colour, they by farre exceede
The Rosiate blood, which purple Grapes doe bleed;
Who when they move, they presently doe shew
Of Orient Pearles, a well-ranged row:
Her Organ-voyce it may paralell
The sweete-tun'd notes of pretty Philomel;
Nay, farre surpasse, the Spheares it may exceed,
For if she sing her tones doe raptures breed:
Her breath so fragrant, that it doth surscent
Th'Arabian Spices, those from India sent:
A lovely Dimple setteth forth her Chin,
And wanton Cupid plaies bo-peepe therein:
A snow-white necke supporteth eke her head,
And from that neck two faire large shoulders spread:
Her Virgin bosome branch'd with swelling veines,
Distil'd from Heaven in Aprilian raines;
Whose Azur'd Dye doth staine the Saphiers hew,
And make 'em yeeld that they are not so blew;
Beares two white hils, whose whitenes may compare
With snow, or Doun, the which the Swan doth weare;
Soft as white wooll, or as the airy bed,
Whereon Queene Iuno lost her maiden-head;
Vpon whose tops, two pretty Arbours stand,
Compos'd of Roses, fram'd by Natures hand:
Betwixt those Hills a pleasant Vale doth lye,
And 't's consecrated to Loves Deity;
Much like unto that shadie Grove 'tis seated,
Where faire Idalia her Adonis treated
For to embrace her, whilst the unkind Lad
Reject her suite, and left her vexing sad.
Her hands and armes, they like unto the rest,
Are well proportion'd, and for to be prest
Within their folds there is no greater blisse:
Oh wer't my hap that I may purchase this!
For other parts, the which I doe not know,
I will not mention, lest I speake too low:
There's onely this, as there are sev'rall graces,
In sev'rall limbs they have their sev'rall places;
And this I'le say, and speake it evermore,
Nature in her hath laid up all her store.
Nor is this all, it's but the Cabinet
Wherein a Jemme of greater worth is kept;
A Soule unspotted, free from vulgar staine,
Immaculate, an honourable Name:
A gentle heart, a truely-noble minde,
Not proud, but humble, very courteous, kind;
Rich in good thoughts, of vertues having store,
Judicious, witty, but in vices poore.
In briefe, to praise her goes beyond my skill,
'Twould fit a Pensill, or some Poets quill.
But to the purpose; I was sore agash't
At this rare Lady, whose strange acts abasht,
M'admiring selfe possest with suddaine feare,
For I did doubt that she would lend an eare
Unto th'alurements of dispaire; for why,
Shee did afflict her selfe most cruelly,
And wonder rapt me with amazement, when
I had the prospect of so rich a Jemme,
Being so perfect in each linament,
That like an Angell from Joves Palace sent,
Shee did appeare unto my trembling view,
So faire, so bright, so glorious was her hew.
The Corps being laid with order in his Tombe,
And publickly before the world inhum'd,
Lucenda thence did wailing home returne;
And I likewise, who then began to burne
With new-felt Fire, whose tormenting flame
Tortur'd my heart with an unusuall paine.
Thus being wounded with Loves fiery Dart,
I did endeavour to recure my heart:
Which to effect, the Groves I did frequent,
The Woods, the Fields, that so I might prevent
Love of his purpose; but in vaine the fields,
Or silent Woods, no comfort to me yeeld;
Though solitude I did accompany,
No ease I gain'd, no helpe, no remedy:
'Twas labour lost, the place affords no ease,
I still was tortur'd with my strange disease,
And well I knew incontinent I found
That solitude did not alone abound:
Nor get that hope at randome from me sped;
But that all solace from my heart was fled.
The twice Twelve Sisters clad in blacke and white:
The Day attending, and the darksome Night,
Their charge observing, suffer'd for to passe,
Thus many a day that runned through their glasse;
Whilst I endeavour'd for to entertaine
Dreaming Oblivion, and to steepe my braine
In Lethean water, that I might forget
The fixt Resolves whereon my minde was set:
For since my entrance I so prickly found,
So cruell, cragged, and such thorny ground,
I knew the issue would more tedious be,
And farre more rugged unto love-sicke me.
Yet this avail'd not, albeit time did haste
With flying wings; nor would a minute waste,
The more he flew, the more my paines drew nye,
In whose hot flames my wounded heart did fry:
'Twas water throwne with Smiths upon the fire,
Which doth not quench, but makes it flame the higher
For as my griefes increase and multiply,
With winged speed my helps from me did flye:
Thus in a Lab'rinth I was strangely got,
And there I wander'd, having not the knot
To re-conduct me forth, I seeking, stray
In untrod paths, I found no ready way.
Ten thousand thoughts lay hamm'ring in my braines,
Who forg'd out meanes how to asswage my paines.
But prov'd so brittle, that they did not hold
Whilst I assay'd them; thus my hopes grew cold
For want of succour, and most wretched I
Endur'd much anguish, then necessity,
The slye Inventor of unheard of facts,
Th'accomplisher of more than common acts,
By her sage counsell shew'd me by what wayes
I might released be from this strange maize;
And thus advis'd me, that I by a Page
Who waited on me in his equipage,
And to Lucendas house did oft resort,
Her Brother to associate and disport,
Might certifie, I having the fit meanes
To faire Lucenda, (whose transpiercing beames
Inflam'd my heart) the passion that I felt
For her sweet selfe, though I did often melt
To brackish teares, and from my eyes did flow
Such Rivolets as might an Ocean grow.
My thoughts thus having prompt me, I 'gan spy
In every place for opportunity:
T'obviate which I did encharge my Page
For to frequent more oft, and to engage
Himselfe more dearely to Lucendas Brother;
Yet on his life m'intents not to discover.
This his imposed charge he modestly
Did execute, with speed sought remedy
In such a wise, that he went in and out
My Ladies Mansion, none did him mis-doubt;
And having divers times him well advis'd
For to be secret, and unto his eyes
Presented divers chastisements, if he
Unto my secrets should disloyall be;
Gave him a Letter, the which did containe
These following Lines written with great paine.