A Small Treatise betwixt Arnalte and Lucenda Entituled The Evill-intreated Lover, Or The Melancholy Knight Originally written in the Greeke Tongue, by an unknowne Author. Afterwards Translated into Spanish; after that, for the Excellency thereof, into the French Tongue by N. H. next by B. M. into the Thuscan, and now turn'd into English Verse by L. L. [i.e. Leonard Lawrence] a well-wisher to the Muses |
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Arnalte to the Traveller.
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 | A Small Treatise betwixt Arnalte and Lucenda Entituled The Evill-intreated Lover, Or The Melancholy Knight |  |
Arnalte to the Traveller.
M'epistle being in the custodyOf faire Lucenda, I did long to see
How she would use't, for this intent did I
With stedfast looke fixe still on her my eye;
Yet could I nought perceive the which might ease
My longing thoughts, or my expectance please:
For still the doubts I had, or the mistrust
Expell'd my hopes, and then obey I must.
Besides my selfe I was, yea, so amaz'd,
My friend I answer not to what he sayes,
But in a shivering passion I conferr'd,
And trembling voice which from the purpose err'd,
Alas! had any but approacht, my heart
Panting for life, o'recome with cruell smart,
They might have knowne that unkind Loves assaults
Did torture me for her offensive faults.
Now Silver'd Cinthia in her spangled spheare
Gan to decline, and not to shine so cleare;
And Nights blacke Queene had almost run her race,
For she from farre might spy Aurora's face,
Which gave an end unto the Maske and sport,
And every one returned home from Court:
Some in their Coaches, some on foot depart.
But I addicted rather to my smart,
Than to repose my selfe, I having seene
Lucenda bid good-night unto the Queene,
In my disguised habite I did trace
Her Angell-foot-steps to her dwelling-place.
Nor did I leave her there, but did aspire
To mount her Chamber, being a storie higher;
And being there, I then did strive to see
What would the issue of my Letter be:
But all the while that I with her did stay,
I could not see her to my sight display
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My hope being frustrate, I did then retire:
But watchfull Love, who never falls asleepe,
With sundry thoughts awake did strive to keepe
My drowsie selfe, and so he chas't away
My quiet slumbers: but as soone as Day
I saw to peepe, (and that the Negro Queene
Was fled away, for feare she should be seene
Of bright Apollo, whose bright beames did shine
Through my Glasse-windows, as he 'gan to clime
Th'Easterne Hills with his fire-breathing Teeme,
Whose hoofes like Brasse, or else like Gold did seeme)
Vnto her Mansion I my Page then sent
To make a search, but 'twas with this intent,
Onely to see if he should chance to finde
Some pieces of th'Embassage of my minde.
For this discovery I did him encharge
No place to leave unsought, to looke at large
In every corner, with great heed to pry
In common roomes, and those of privacy.
Not to passe by the place where they did use
To cast their ordure, that of all to chuse:
My Page his duty did, yet could not he
Bring any newes the which might flatter me,
Or cause me hope, and so extenuate
The burning flame of my prodigious Fate.
But like to Sisyphus I rowle a Stone,
And turne a whirling Wheele like Ixion:
The further still I went some helpe to finde,
I found it absent, staying still behind,
So that I could not hide my flaming fire,
Kindled by Love, continu'd by Desire,
But 'twas perceived through the sweltry smoake
Of my hot sighs, which did me well-nigh choake:
And the consuming flame, by which my heart
Did suffer torments 'yond Perillus Art.
This caus'd me grow so wondrous solitary,
That I kept house, being of my selfe a weary:
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In my misfortunes claim'd a part, as right
Belonging to her, and with me would share,
And so a world of sorrow for me beare.
For on a day as we did both devise,
She burst out teares, which flowed from her eyes
In such aboundant manner, as if all
The rainy showers had beene forc't to fall;
Beseeching me the cause not to conceale
Of my sad sorrow, but it to reveale.
Her plaints did move me that I was compell'd
To manifest, what I would faine have held
Secret and private; yet e're I did't rehearse,
Drying her eyes these words she did expresse.
| A Small Treatise betwixt Arnalte and Lucenda Entituled The Evill-intreated Lover, Or The Melancholy Knight | |