Hero and Leander Begun by Christopher Marloe; and Finished by George Chapman

HERO AND LEANDER:

Begun by Christopher Marloe; and finiſhed by George Chapman.

Vt Nectar, Ingenium. At London. Printed by Felix Kingston, for Paule Linley, and are to be ſold in Paules Church-yard, at the ſigne of the Black-beare. 1598.

To the Right Worſhipfull, Sir Thomas Walſingham, Knight.

Sir, we thinke not our ſelues diſcharged of the dutie we owe to our friend, when we haue brought the breathles bodie to the earth : for albeit the eye there taketh his euer farwell of that beloued obiect, yet the impreſſion of the man, that hath beene deare vnto vs, liuing an after life in our memorie, there putteth vs in mind of farther obſequies due vnto the deceaſed. And namely of the performance of what ſoeuer we may iudge ſhal make to his liuing credit, and to the effecting of his determinations preuented by the ſtroke of death. By theſe meditations (as by an intellectuall will) I ſuppoſe my ſelfe executor to the vnhappily deceaſed author of this Poem, vpon whom knowing that in his life time you bestowed many kind fauors, entertaining the parts of reckoning and woorth which you found in him, with good countenance and liberall affection: I cannot but ſee ſo far into the will of him dead, that whatſoeuer iſſue of his brain ſhould chance to come abroad, that the firſt breath it ſhould take might be the gentle aire of your liking: for ſince his ſelfe had ben accustomed therunto, it would proue more agreeable and thriuing to his right children, than any other foſter countenance what ſoeuer. At this time ſeeing that this vnfiniſhed Tragedy happens vnder my hands to be imprinted; of a double duty, the one to your ſelfe, the other to the diseaſed, I preſent the ſame to your moſt fauourable allowance, offring my vtmoſt ſelfe now and euer to be readie, at your VVorſhips diſpoſing:

E. B.

Hero and Leander.

 Heros deſcription and her Loues,

  The Phane of Venus; where he moues

  His worthie Loute-ſuite, and attaines;

  VVhoſe bliſſe the wrath of Fates restraines,

  For Cupids grace to Mercurie,

  VVhich tale the Author doth implie.

On Hellespont guiltie of True-loues blood,
In view and oppoſit two citties ſtood,
Seaborders, diſioin’d by Neptunes might:
The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight.
At Sestos, Hero dwelt; Hero the faire,
Whom young Apollo courted for her haire,
And offred as a dower his burning throne,
Where ſhe ſhould ſit for men to gaze vpon.
The outſide of her garments were of lawne,
The lining, purple ſilke, with guilte ſtarres drawne,
Her wide ſleeues greene, and bordered with a groue,
Where Venus in her naked glory ſtroue,
To pleaſe the careleſſe and diſdainfull eies,
Of proud Adonis that before her lies.
Her kirtle blew, whereon was many a ſtaine,
Made with the blood of wretched Louers ſlaine.
Vpon her head ſhe ware a myrtle wreath,
From whence her vaile reacht to the ground beneath.
Her vaile was artificiall flowers and leaues,
Whoſe workmanſhip both man and beaſt deceaues.
Many would praiſe the ſweet ſmell as ſhe paſt,
When t’was the odour which her breath foorth caſt.
And there for honie, Bees haue ſought in vaine,
And beat from thence, haue lighted there againe.
About her necke hung chaines of peble ſtone,
Which lightned by her necke, like Diamonds ſhone.
She ware no gloues, for neither ſunne nor wind
Would burne or parch her hands, but to her minde,
Or warme or coole them, for they tooke delite
To play vpon thoſe hands, they were ſo white.
Buskins of ſhels all ſiluered, vſed ſhe,
And brancht with bluſhing corall to the knee;
Where ſparrowes pearcht, of hollow pearle and gold,
Such as the world would woonder to behold:
Thoſe with ſweet water oft her handmaid fils,
Which as ſhe went would cherupe through the bils.
Some ſay, for her the faireſt Cupid pyn’d,
And looking in her face, was ſtrooken blind.
But this is true, ſo like was one the other,
As he imagyn’d Hero was his mother.
And oftentimes into her boſome flew,
About her naked necke his bare armes threw.
And laid his childiſh head vpon her breſt,
And with ſtill panting rocke, there tooke his reſt.
So louely faire was Hero, Venus Nun,
As nature wept, thinking ſhe was vndone;
Becauſe ſhe tooke more from her than ſhe left,
And of ſuch wondrous beautie her bereft:
Therefore in ſigne her treaſure ſuffred wracke,
Since Heroes time, hath halfe the world beene blacke.
Amorous Leander, beautifull and yoong,
(Whoſe tragedie diuine Muſæus ſoong)
Dwelt at Abydus, ſince him, dwelt there none,
For whom ſucceeding times make greater mone.
His dangling treſſes that were neuer ſhorne,
Had they beene cut, and vnto Colchos borne,
Would haue allu’rd the vent’rous youth of Greece,
To hazard more, than for the golden Fleece.
Faire Cinthia wiſht, his armes might be her ſpheare,
Greefe makes her pale, becauſe ſhe mooues not there.
His bodie was as ſtraight as Circes wand,
Ioue might haue ſipt out Nectar from his hand.
Euen as delicious meat is to the taſt,
So was his necke in touching, and ſurpaſt
The white of Pelops ſhoulder, I could tell ye,
How ſmooth his breſt was, & how white his bellie,
And whoſe immortall fingers did imprint,
That heauenly path, with many a curious dint,
That runs along his backe, but my rude pen,
Can hardly blazon foorth the loues of men.
Much leſſe of powerfull gods, let it ſuffiſe,
That my ſlacke muſe, ſings of Leanders eies.
Thoſe orient cheekes and lippes, exceeding his
That leapt into the water for a kis
Of his owne ſhadow, and deſpiſing many,
Died ere he could enioy the loue of any.
Had wilde Hippolitus Leander ſeene,
Enamoured of his beautie had he beene,
His preſence made the rudeſt paiſant melt,
That in the vaſt vplandiſh countrie dwelt,
The barbarous Thracian ſoldier moou’d with nought,
Was moou’d with him, and for his fauour ſought.
Some ſwore he was a maide in mans attire,
For in his lookes were all that men deſire,
A pleaſant ſmiling cheeke, a ſpeaking eie,
A brow for loue to banquet royallie,
And ſuch as knew he was a man would ſay,
Leander, thou art made for amorous play:
Why art thou not in loue, and lou’d of all?
Though thou be faire, yet be not thine owne thrall.
 The men of wealthie Sestos, euerie yeare,
(For his ſake whom their goddeſſe held ſo deare,
Roſe-cheekt Adonis) kept a ſolemne feaſt,
Thither reſorted many a wandring gueſt,
To meet their loues; ſuch as had none at all,
Came louers home, from this great feſtiuall.
For euerie ſtreet like to a Firmament
Gliſtered with breathing ſtars, who where they went,
Frighted the melancholie earth, which deem’d,
Eternall heauen to burne, for ſo it ſeem’d,
As if another Phaeton had got
The guidance of the ſunnes rich chariot.
But far aboue, the louelieſt Hero ſhin’d,
And ſtole away th’inchaunted gazers mind,
For like Sea-nimphs inueigling harmony,
So was her beautie to the ſtanders by.
Nor that night-wandring pale and watrie ſtarre,
(When yawning dragons draw her thirling carre,
From Latmus mount vp to the glomie ſkie,
Where crown’d with blazing light and maieſtie,
She proudly ſits) more ouer-rules the flood,
Than ſhe the hearts of thoſe that neere her ſtood.
Euen as, when gawdie Nymphs purſue the chace,
Wretched Ixions ſhaggie footed race,
Incenſt with ſauage heat, gallop amaine,
From ſteepe Pine-bearing mountains to the plaine:
So ran the people foorth to gaze vpon her,
And all that view’d her, were enamour’d on her.
And as in furie of a dreadfull fight,
Their fellowes being ſlaine or put to flight,
Poore ſoldiers ſtand with feare of death dead ſtrookẽ,
So at her preſence all ſurpriſdw and tooken,
Await the ſentence of her ſcornefull eies:
He whom ſhe fauours liues, the other dies.
There might you ſee one ſigh, another rage,
And ſome (their violent paſsions to aſſwage)
Compile ſharpe ſatyrs, but alas too late,
For faithfull loue will neuer turne to hate.
And many ſeeing great princes were denied,
Pyn’d as they went, and thinking on her died.
On this feaſt day, O curſed day and hower,
Went Hero thorow Sestos, from her tower
To Venus temple, where vnhappilye,
As after chanc’d, they did each other ſpie,
So faire a Church as this, had Venus none,
The wals were of diſcoloured Iaſper ſtone,
Wherein was Proteus caru’d, and ouer head
A liuely vine of greene ſea agget ſpread;
Where by one hand, light headed Bacchus hung,
And with the other, wine from grapes out wrung.
Of Chriſtall ſhining faire, the pauement was,
The towne of Sestos, calde it Venus glaſſe,
There might you ſee the gods in ſundrie ſhapes,
Committing headdie ryots, inceſt, rapes:
For know, that vnderneath this radiant flowre,
Was Danaes ſtatue in a brazen towre,
Ioue, ſlylie ſtealing from his ſiſters bed,
To dallie with Idalian Ganimed:
And for his loue Europa, bellowing lowd,
And tumbling with the Rainbow in a clowd,
Blood-quaffing Mars, heauing the yron net,
Which limping Vulcan and his Cyclops ſet:
Loue kindling fire, to burne ſuch townes as Troy,
Syluanus weeping for the louely boy
That now is turn’d into a Cypres tree,
Vnder whoſe ſhade the Wood-gods loue to bee,
And in the midſt a ſiluer altar ſtood,
There Hero ſacrificing turtles blood,
Taild to the ground, vailing her eie-lids cloſe,
And modeſtly they opened as ſhe roſe:
Thence flew Loues arrow with the golden head,
And thus Leander was enamoured.
Stone ſtill he ſtood, and euermore he gazed,
Till with the fire that from his countnance blazed,
Relenting Hero’s gentle heart was ſtrooke,
Such force and vertue hath an amorous looke.
 It lies not in our power to loue, or hate,
For will in vs is ouer-rulde by fate.
When two are ſtript long ere the courſe begin,
We wiſh that one ſhould loſe, the other win.
And one eſpecially doe we affect,
Of two gold Ingots like in each reſpect,
The reaſon no man knowes, let it ſuffiſe,
What we behold is cenſur’d by our eies.
Where both deliberat, the loue is ſlight,
Who euer lou’d, that lou’d not at firſt ſight?
 He kneel’d, but vnto her devoutly praid;
Chaſt Hero to her ſelfe thus ſoftly ſaid:
Were I the ſaint he worſhips, I would heare him,
And as ſhee ſpake thoſe words, came ſomewhat neere him.
He ſtarted vp, ſhe bluſht as one aſham’d;
Wherewith Leander much more was inflam’d.
He toucht her hand, in touching it ſhe trembled,
Loue deepely grounded, hardly is diſſembled,
Theſe louers parled by the touch of hands,
True loue is mute, and oft amazed ſtands,
Thus¹ while dum ſigns their yeelding harts entangled,
The aire with ſparkes of liuing fire was ſpangled,

And night deepe drencht in myſtie Acheron,
Heau’d vp her head, and halfe the world vpon,
Breath’d darkeneſſe forth (darke night is Cupids day)
And now begins Leander to diſplay
Loues holy fire, with words, with ſighs and teares,
Which like ſweet muſicke entred Heroes eares,
And yet at euerie word ſhee turn’d aſide,
And alwaies cut him off as he replide,
At laſt, like to a bold ſharpe Sophiſter,
With chearefull hope thus he accoſted her.
  Faire creature, let me ſpeake without offence,
I would my rude words had the influence,
To lead thy thoughts, as thy faire lookes doe mine,
Then ſhouldſt thou bee his priſoner who is thine.
Be not vnkind and faire, miſhapen ſtuffe
Are of behauior boiſterous and ruffe.
O ſhun me not, but heare me ere you goe,
God knowes I cannot force loue, as you doe.
My words ſhall be as ſpotleſſe as my youth,
Full of ſimplicitie and naked truth.
This ſacrifice (whoſe ſweet perfume deſcending,
From Venus altar to your footſteps bending)
Doth teſtifie that you exceed her farre,
To whom you offer, and whoſe Nunne you are,
Why ſhould you worſhip her, her you ſurpaſſe,
As much as ſparkling Diamonds flaring glaſſe.
A Diamond ſet in lead his worth retaines,
A heauenly Nimph, belov’d of humane ſwaines,
Receiues no blemiſh, but oft-times more grace,
Which makes me hope, although I am but baſe,
Baſe in reſpect of thee, diuine and pure,
Dutifull ſeruice may thy loue procure,
And I in dutie will excell all other,
As thou in beautie doeſt exceed loues mother.
Nor heauen, nor thou, were made to gaze vpon,
As heauen preſerues all things, ſo ſaue thou one.
A ſtately builded ſhip, well rig’d and tall,
The Ocean maketh more maieſticall:
Why voweſt thou then to liue in Sestos here,
Who on Loues ſeas more glorious wouldſt appeere?
Like vntun’d golden ſtrings all women are,
Which long time lie vntoucht, will harſhly iarre.
Veſſels of Braſſe oft handled, brightly ſhine,
What difference betwixt the richeſt mine
And baſeſt mold, but vſe? for both not vsde,
Are of like worth. Then treaſure is abuſde,
When miſers keep it; being put to lone,
In time it will returne vs two for one.
Rich robes, themſelues and others doe adorne,
Neither themſelues nor others, if not worne.
Who builds a pallace and rams vp the gate,
Shall ſee it ruinous and deſolate.
Ah ſimple Hero, learne thy ſelfe to cheriſh,
Loue women like to emptie houſes periſh.
Leſſe ſince the poore rich man that ſtarues himſelfe,
In heaping vp a maſſe of droſsie pelfe,
Than ſuch as you: his golden earth remains,
Which after his diſceaſſe ſome other gains.
But this faire iem, ſweet, in the loſſe alone,
When you fleet hence, can be bequeath’d to none.
Or if it could, downe from th’enameld skie,
All heauen would come to claime this legacie,
And with inteſtine broyles the world deſtroy,
And quite confound natures ſweet harmony.
Well therefore by the gods decreed it is,
We humane creatures ſhould enioy that blis.
One is no number, mayds are nothing then,
Without the ſweet ſocietie of men.
Wilt thou liue ſingle ſtill? one ſhalt thou bee,
Though neuer-ſingling Hymen couple thee.
Wild ſauages, that drinke of running ſprings,
Thinke water farre excels all earthly things:
But they that dayly taſte neat wine, deſpiſe it.
Virginitie, albeit ſome highly priſe it,
Compar’d with mariage, had you tride them both,
Differs as much, as wine and water doth.
Baſe boullion for the ſtampes ſake we allow,
Euen ſo for mens impreſsion doe we you.
By which alone, our reuerend fathers ſay;
Women receiue perfection euery way.
This idoll which you terme Virginitie,
Is neither eſſence ſubiect to the eie,
No, nor to any one exterior ſence,
Nor hath it any place of reſidence,
Nor is’t of earth or mold celeſtiall,
Or capable of any forme at all.
Of that which hath no being, doe not boaſt,
Things that are not at all, are neuer loſt.
Men fooliſhly doe call it vertuous;
What vertue is it, that is borne with vs?
Much leſſe can honour bee aſcrib’d thereto,
Honour is purchas’d by the deedes wee do.
Beleeue me, Hero, honour is not wone,
Vntill ſome honourable deed be done.
Seeke you for chaſtitie, immortall fame,
And know that ſome haue wrong’d Dianas name?
Whoſe name is it, if ſhe be falſe or not,
So ſhe be faire, but ſome vile toongs will blot?
But you are faire (aye me) ſo wondrous faire,
So yong, ſo gentle, and ſo debonaire,
As Greece will thinke, if thus you liue alone,
Some one or other keepes you as his owne.
Then Hero hate me not, nor from me flie,
To follow ſwiftly blaſting infamie.
Perhaps thy ſacred Prieſthood makes thee loath,
Tell me, to whom mad’ſt thou that heedleſſe oath?
 To Venus, anſwered ſhee, and as ſhee ſpake,
Foorth from thoſe two tralucent ceſternes brake,
A ſtreame of liquid pearle, which downe her face
Made milk-white paths, wheron the gods might trace
To Ioues high court. Hee thus replide: The rites
In which Loues beauteous Empreſſe moſt delites,
Are banquets, Dorick muſicke, midnight-reuell,
Plaies, masks, and all that ſterne age counteth euill.
Thee as a holy Idiot doth ſhe ſcorne,
For thou in vowing chaſtitie, hath ſworne
To rob her name and honour, and thereby
Commit’ſt a ſinne far worſe than periurie.
Euen ſacrilege againſt her Dietie,
Through regular and formall puritie.
To expiat which ſinne, kiſſe and ſhake hands,
Such ſacrifice as this, Venus demands.
  Thereat ſhe ſmilde, and did denie him ſo,
As put thereby, yet might he hope for mo.
Which makes him quickly re-enforce his ſpeech,
And her in humble maner thus beſeech.
 Though neither gods nor men may thee deſerue,
Yet for her ſake whom you haue vow’d to ſerue,
Abandon fruitleſſe cold Virginitie,
The gentle queene of Loues ſole enemie.
Then ſhall you moſt reſemble Venus Nun,
When Venus ſweet rites are perform’d and dun,
Flint-breſted Pallas ioyes in ſingle life,
But Pallas and your miſtreſſe are at ſtrife.
Loue Hero then, and be not tyrannous,
But heale the heart, that thou haſt wounded thus,
Nor ſtaine thy youthfull years with auarice,
Faire fooles delight to be accounted nice.
The richeſt corne dies, if it be not reapt,
Beautie alone is loſt, too warily kept.
Theſe arguments he vs’de, and many more,
Wherewith ſhe yeelded, that was woon before,
Heroes lookes yeelded, but her words made warre,
Women are woon when they begin to iarre.
Thus hauing ſwallow’d Cupids golden hooke,
The more ſhe ſtriv’d, the deeper was ſhe ſtrooke.
Yet euilly faining anger, ſtroue ſhe ſtill,
And would be thought to graunt againſt her will.
So hauing paus’d a while, at laſt ſhee ſaid:
Who taught thee Rhethoricke to deceiue a maid?
Aye me, ſuch words as theſe ſhould I abhor,
And yet I like them for the Orator.
 With that Leander ſtoopt, to haue imbrac’d her,
But from his ſpreading armes away ſhe caſt her,
And thus beſpake him. Gentle youth forbeare
To touch the ſacred garments which I weare.
  Vpon a rocke, and vnderneath a hill,
Far from the towne (where all is whiſt and ſtill,
Saue that the ſea playing on yellow ſand,
Sends foorth a ratling murmure to the land,
Whoſe ſound allures the golden Morpheus,
In ſilence of the night to viſite vs.)
My turret ſtands, and there God knowes I play
With Venus ſwannes and ſparrowes all the day,
A dwarfiſh beldame beares me companie,
That hops about the chamber where I lie,
And ſpends the night (that might be better ſpent)
In vaine diſcourſe, and apiſh merriment.
Come thither; As ſhe ſpake this, her toong tript,
For vnawares (Come thither) from her ſlipt,
And ſodainly her former colour chang’d,
And here and there her eies through anger rang’d.
And like a planet, moouing ſeuerall waies,
At one ſelfe inſtant, the poore ſoule aſſaies,
Louing, not to loue at all, and euerie part,
Stroue to reſiſt the motions of her hart.
And hands ſo pure, ſo innocent, nay ſuch,
As might haue made heauen ſtoope to haue a touch,
Did ſhe vphold to Venus, and againe,
Vow’d ſpotleſſe chaſtitie, but all in vaine,
Cupid beats downe her praiers with his wings,
Her vowes aboue the emptie aire he flings:
All deepe enrag’d, his ſinowie bow he bent,
And ſhot a ſhaft that burning from him went,
Wherewith ſhe ſtrooken, look’t ſo dolefully,
As made Loue ſigh, to ſee his tirannie.
And as ſhe wept, her teares to pearle he turn’d,
And wound them on his arme, and for her mourn’d.
Then towards the pallace of the deſtinies,
Laden with languiſhment and griefe he flies.
And to thoſe ſterne nymphs humblie made requeſt,
Both might enioy ech other, and be bleſt.
But with a ghaſtly dreadfull countenaunce,
Threatning a thouſand deaths at euerie glaunce,
They anſwered Loue, nor would vouchſafe ſo much
As one poore word, their hate to him was ſuch.
Harken a while, and I will tell you why:
Heauens winged herrald, Ioue-borne Mercury,
The ſelfe-ſame day that he aſleepe had layd
Inchaunted Argus, ſpied a countrie mayd,
Whoſe careleſſe haire, in ſtead of pearle t’adorne it,
Gliſt’red with deaw, as one that ſeem’d to ſkorne it:
Her breath as fragrant as the morning roſe,
Her mind pure, and her toong vntaught to gloſe.
Yet proud ſhe was, (for loftie pride that dwels
In tow’red courts, is oft in ſheapheards cels.)
And too too well the faire vermilion knew,
And ſiluer tincture of her cheekes, that drew
The loue of euerie ſwaine: On her this god
Enamoured was, and with his ſnakie rod,
Did charme her nimble feet, and made her ſtay,
The while vpon a hillocke downe he lay,
And ſweetly on his pipe began to play,
And with ſmooth ſpeech, her fancie to aſſay,
Till in his twining armes he lockt her faſt,
And then he woo’d with kiſſes, and at laſt,
As ſheap-heards do, her on the ground hee layd,
And tumbling in the graſſe, he often ſtrayd
Beyond the bounds of ſhame, in being bold
To eie thoſe parts, which no eie ſhould behold.
And like an inſolent commaunding louer,
Boaſting his parentage, would needs diſcouer
The way to new Eliſium: but ſhe,
Whoſe only dower was her chaſtitie,
Hauing ſtriu’ne in vaine, was now about to crie,
And craue the helpe of ſheap-heards that were nie.
Herewith he ſtayd his furie, and began
To giue her leaue to riſe, away ſhe ran,
After went Mercurie, who vſde ſuch cunning,
As ſhe to heare his tale, left off her running.
Maids are not woon by brutiſh force and might,
But ſpeeches full of pleaſure and delight.
And knowing Hermes courted her, was glad
That ſhe ſuch louelineſſe and beautie had
As could prouoke his liking, yet was mute,
And neither would denie, nor graunt his ſute.
Still vowd he loue, ſhe wanting no excuſe
To feed him with delaies, as women vſe:
Or thirſting after immortalitie,
All women are ambitious naturallie,
Impoſde vpon her louer ſuch a taske,
As he ought not performe, nor yet ſhe aske.
A draught of flowing Nectar, ſhe requeſted,
Wherewith the king of Gods and men is feaſted.
He readie to accompliſh what ſhe wil’d,
Stole ſome from Hebe (Hebe, Ioues cup fild,)
And gaue it to his ſimple ruſtike loue,
Which being knowne (as what is hid from Ioue)
He inly ſtorm’d, and waxt more furious,
Than for the fire filcht by Prometheus;
And thruſts him down frõ heauen, he wandring heere,
In mournfull tearmes, with ſad and heauie cheere
Complaind to Cupid, Cupid for his ſake,
To be reueng’d on Ioue, did vndertake,
And thoſe on whom heauen, earth, and hell relies,
I mean the Adamantine Deſtinies,
He wounds with loue, and forſt them equallie,
To dote vpon deceitfull Mercurie.
They offred him the deadly fatall knife,
That ſheares the ſlender threads of humane life,
At his faire feathered feet, the engins layd,
Which th’earth from ugly Chaos den vp-wayd:
Theſe he regarded not, but did intreat,
That Ioue, vſurper of his fathers ſeat,
Might preſently be baniſht into hell,
And aged Saturne in Olympus dwell.
They granted wat he crau’d, and once againe,
Saturne and Ops, began their golden raigne.
Murder, rape, warre, luſt and trecherie,
Were with Ioue clos’d in Stigian Emperie.
But long this bleſſed time continued not,
As ſoone as he his wiſhed purpoſe got;
He reckleſſe of his promiſe, did deſpiſe
The loue of th’euerlaſting Deſtinies.
They ſeeing it, both Loue and him abhor’d,
And Iupiter vnto his place reſtor’d.
And but that Learning, in deſpight of Fate,
Will mount aloft, and enter heauen gate,
And to the ſeat of Ioue it ſelfe aduance,
Hermes had ſlept in hell with ignoraunce.
Yet as a puniſhment they added this,
That he and Pouertie ſhould alwaies kis.
And to this day is euerie ſcholler poore,
Groſſe gold, from them runs headlong to the boore.
Likewiſe the angrie ſiſters thus deluded,
To venge themſelues on Hermes, haue concluded
That Midas brood ſhall ſit in Honors chaire,
To which the Muſes ſonnes are only heire:
And fruitfull wits that in aſpiring are,
Shall diſcontent, run into regions farre;
And few great lords in vertuous deeds ſhall ioy,
But be ſurpris’d with euery gariſh toy.
And ſtill inrich the loftie ſeruile clowne,
Who with incroching guile, keepes learning downe.
Then muſe not, Cupids ſute no better ſped,
Seeing in their loues the Fates were iniured.

The end of the firſt Sestyad.

THE ARGVMENT OF THE SECOND SESTYAD.

  Hero of louve takes deeper ſence

  And doth her loue more recompence.

  Their firſt nights meeting, where ſweet kiſſes

  Are th’only crownes of both their bliſſes.

  He ſwims t’Abydus, and returnes;

  Cold Neptune with his beautie burnes,

  Whoſe ſuite he ſhuns, and doth aſpire

  Heros faire towre, and his deſire.

By this, ſad Hero, with loue vnacquainted,
Viewing Leanders face, fell downe and fainted.
He kiſt her, and breath’d life into her lips,
Wherewith as one diſpleaſde, away ſhe trips.
Yet as ſhe went, full often lookt behinde,
And many poore excuſes did ſhe finde,
To linger by the way, and once ſhe ſtayd,
And would haue turnde againe, but was afraid,
In offring parlie, to be counted light.
So on ſhe goes, and in her idle flight,
Her painted fanne of curled plumes let fall,
Thinking to traine Leander therewithall.
He being a nouice, knew not what ſhe meant,
But ſtayd, and after her a letter ſent.
Which ioyfull Hero anſwerd in ſuch ſort,
As he had hope to ſcale the beauteous fort,
Wherein the liberall graces lock’d their wealth,
And therefore to her tower he got by ſtealth.
Wide open ſtood the doore, hee need not clime,
And ſhe her ſelfe before the pointed time,
Had ſpread the boord, with roſes ſtrowed the roome,
And oft look’t out, and mus’d he did not come.
At laſt he came, O who can tell the greeting,
Theſe greedie louers had, at their firſt meeting.
He askt, ſhe gaue, and nothing was denied,
Both to each other quickly were affied.
Looke how their hands, ſo were their hearts vnited,
And what he did, ſhe willingly requited.
(Sweet are the kiſſes, the imbracements ſweet,
When like deſires and affections meet,
For from the earth to heauen, is Cupid rais’d,
Where fancie is in equall ballance pais’d)
Yet ſhe this raſhneſſe ſodainly repented,
And turn’d aſide, and to her ſelfe lamented.
As if her name and honour had been wrong’d,
By being poſſeſt of him for whom ſhe long’d:
I, and ſhee wiſht, albeit not from her hart,
That he would leaue her turret and depart.
The mirthfull God of amorous pleaſure ſmil’d,
To ſee how he this captiue Nymph beguil’d.
For hitherto hee did but fan the fier,
And kept it downe that it might mount the hier.
Now waxt ſhe iealous, leaſt his loue abated,
Fearing, her owne thoughts made her to be hated.
Therefore vnto him haſtily ſhe goes,
And like light Salmacis, her body throes
Vpon his boſome, where with yeelding eyes,
She offers vp her ſelfe a ſacrifice,
To ſlake his anger, if he were diſpleas’d,
O what god would not therewith be appeas’d?
Like Æſops cocke, this iewell he enioyed,
And as a brother with his ſiſter toyed,
Suppoſing nothing elſe was to be done,
Now he her fauour and good will had wone.
But know you not that creatures wanting ſence,
By nature haue a mutuall appetence,
And wanting organs to aduaunce a ſtep,
Mou’d by Loues force, vnto ech other lep?
Much more in ſubiects hauing intellect,
Some hidden influence breeds like effect.
Albeit Leander rude in loue, and raw,
Long dallying with Hero, nothing ſaw
That might delight him more, yet he ſuſpected
Some amorous rites or other were neglected.
Therefore vnto his bodie, hirs he clung,
She, fearing on the ruſhes to be flung,
Striu’d with redoubled ſtrength, the more ſhe ſtriued,
The more a gentle pleaſing heat reuiued,
Which taught him all that elder louers know,
And now the ſame gan ſo to ſcorch and glow,
As in plaine termes (yet cunningly) he crau’d it,
Loue alwaies makes thoſe eloquent that haue it.
Shee, with a kind of graunting, put him by it,
And euer as he thought himſelfe moſt nigh it,
Like to the tree of Tantalus ſhe fled,
And ſeeming lauiſh, ſau’de her maydenhead.
Ne’re king more ſought to keepe his diademe,
Than Hero this ineſtimable gemme.
Aboue our life we loue a ſtedfaſt friend,
Yet when a token of great worth we ſend,
We often kiſſe it, often looke thereon,
And ſtay the meſſenger that would be gon:
No maruell then, though Hero would not yeeld
So ſoone to part from that ſhe deerely held.
Iewels being loſt are found againe, this neuer,
Tis loſt but once, and once loſt, loſt for euer.
 Now had the morne eſpy’de her louers ſteeds,
Whereat ſhe ſtarts, puts on her purple weeds,
And red for anger that he ſtayd ſo long,
All headlong throwes her ſelfe the clouds among,
And now Leander fearing to be miſt,
Imbraſt her ſodainly, tooke leaue, and kiſt,
Long was he taking leaue, and loath to go,
And kiſt againe, as louers vſe to do,
Sad Hero wroong him by the hand, and wept,
Saying, let your vowes and promiſes be kept.
Then ſtanding at the doore, ſhe turnd about,
As loath to ſee Leander going out.
And now the ſunne that through th’orizon peepes,
As pittying theſe louers, downeward creepes.
So that in ſilence of the cloudie night,
Though it was morning, did he take his flight.
But what the ſecret truſtie night conceal’d,
Leanders amorous habit ſoone reueal’d,
With Cupids myrtle was his bonet crownd,
About his armes the purple riband wound,
Wherewith ſhe wreth’d her largely ſpreading heare,
Nor could the youth abſtaine, but he muſt weare
The ſacred ring wherewith ſhe was endow’d,
When firſt religious chaſtitie ſhe vow’d:
Which made his loue through Seſtos to be knowne,
And thence vnto Abydus ſooner blowne,
Than he could ſaile, for incorporall Fame,
Whoſe waight conſiſts in nothing but her name,
Is ſwifter than the wind, whoſe tardie plumes,
Are reeking water, and dull earthlie fumes.
Home when he came, he ſeem’d not to be there,
But like exiled aire thruſt from his ſphere,
Set in a forren place, and ſtraight from thence,
Alcides like, by mightie violence,
He would haue chac’d away the ſwelling maine,
That him from her vniuſtly did detaine.
Like as the ſunne in a Dyameter,
Fires and inflames obiects remooued farre,
And heateth kindly, ſhining lat’rally;
So beautie, ſweetly quickens when t’is ny,
But being ſeparated and remooued,
Burnes where it cheriſht, murders where it loued.
Therefore euen as an Index to a booke,
So to his mind was yoong Leanders looke.
O none but gods haue power their loue to hide,
Affection by the count’nance is deſcride.
The light of hidden fire it ſelfe diſcouers,
And loue that is conceal’d, betraies poore louers.
His ſecret flame apparently was ſeene,
Leanders Father knew where he had beene,
And for the ſame mildly rebuk’t his ſonne,
Thinking to quench the ſparckles new begonne.
But loue reſiſted once, growes paſſionate,
And nothing more than counſaile, louers hate.
For as a hote prowd horſe highly diſdaines,
To haue his head control’d, but breakes the raines,
Spits foorth the ringled bit, and with his houes,
Checkes the ſubmiſsiue ground: ſo hee that loues,
The more he is reſtrain’d, the woorſe he fares,
What is it now, but mad Leander dares?
O Hero, Hero, thus he cry’de full oft,
And then he got him to a rocke aloft.
Where hauing ſpy’de her tower, long ſtar’d he on’t,
And pray’d the narrow toyling Helleſpont,
To part in twaine, that hee might come and go,
But ſtill the riſing billowes anſwered no.
With that hee ſtript him to the yu’rie skin,
And crying, Loue I come, leapt liuely in.
Whereat the ſaphir viſag’d god grew prowd,
And made his capring Triton ſound alowd,
Imagining, that Ganimed diſpleas’d,
Had left the heauens, therefore on him hee ſeaz’d.
Leander ſtriu’d, the waues about him wound,
And puld him to the bottome, where the ground
Was ſtrewd with pearle, and in low corrall groues,
Sweet ſinging Meremaids, ſported with their loues
On heapes of heauie gold, and tooke great pleaſure,
To ſpurne in careleſſe ſort, the ſhipwracke treaſure.
For here the ſtately azure pallace ſtood,
Where kingly Neptune and his traine abode,
The luſtie god imbra’ſt him, cald him loue,
And ſwore he neuer ſhould return to Ioue.
But when he knew it was not Ganimed,
For vnderwater he was almoſt dead,
He heau’d him vp, and looking on his face,
Beat downe the bold waues with his triple mace,
Which mounted vp, intending to haue kiſt him,
And fell in drops like teares, becauſe they miſt him.
Leander being vp, began to ſwim,
And looking backe, ſaw Neptune follow him.
Whereat agaſt, the poore ſoule gan to crie,
O let mee viſite Hero ere I die.
The god put Helles bracelet on his arme,
And ſwore the ſea ſhould neuer doe him harme.
He clapt his plumpe cheekes, with his treſſes playd,
And ſmiling wantonly, his loue bewrayd.
He watcht his armes, and as they opend wide,
At euery ſtroke, betwixt them would he ſlide,
And ſteale a kiſſe, and then run out and daunce,
And as he turnd, caſt many a luſtfull glaunce,
And threw him gawdie toies to pleaſe his eie,
And diue into the water, and there prie
Vpon his breſt, his thighs, and euerie lim,
And vp againe, and cloſe beſide him ſwim.
And talke of loue: Leander made replie,
You are deceau’d, I am no woman I,
Thereat ſmilde Neptune, and then told a tale,
How that a ſhepheard ſitting in a vale,
Playd with a boy ſo faire and kind,
As for his loue, both earth and heauen pyn’d;
That of the cooling riuer durſt not drinke,
Leaſt water-nymphs ſhould pull him from the brinke.
And when hee ſported in the fragrant lawnes,
Gote-footed Satyrs, and vp-ſtaring Fawnes,
Would ſteale him thence. Ere halfe this tale was done,
Aye me, Leander cryde, th’enamoured ſunne,
That now ſhould ſhine on Thetis glaſsie bower,

Deſcends vpon my radiant Heroes tower.
O that theſe tardie armes of mine were wings,
And as he ſpake, vpon the waues he ſprings.
Neptune was angrie that hee gaue no eare,
And in his heart reuenging malice bare:
He flung at him his mace, but as it went,
He cald it in, for loue made him repent.
The mace returning backe, his owne hand hit,
As meaning to be veng’d for darting it.
When this freſh bleeding wound Leander viewd,
His colour went and came, as if he rewd
The greefe which Neptune felt. In gentle breſts,
Relenting thoughts, remorſe and pittie reſts.
And who haue hard harts, and obdurat minds,
But vicious, harebraind, and illit’rat hinds?
The god ſeeing him with pittie to be moued,
Thereon concluded that he was beloued.
(Loue is too full of faith, too credulous,
With follie and falſe hope deluding vs.)
Wherefore Leanders fancie to ſurprize,
To the rich Ocean for gifts he flies.
Tis wiſedome to giue much, a gift preuailes,
When deepe perſwading Oratorie failes.
By this Leander being neere the land,
Caſt downe his wearie feet, and felt the ſand
Breathleſſe albeit he were, he reſted not,
Till to the ſolitarie tower he got.
And knockt and cald, at which celeſtiall noiſe,
The longing heart of Hero much more ioies
Then nymphs & ſheapheards, when the timbrell rings,
Or crooked Dolphin when the ſailer ſings;
She ſtayd not for her robes, but ſtraight aroſe,
And drunke with gladneſſe, to the dore ſhe goes.
Where ſeeing a naked man, ſhe ſcriecht for feare,
Such ſights as this, to tender maids are rare.
And ran into the darke her ſelfe to hide,
Rich iewels in the darke are ſooneſt ſpide.
Vnto her was he led, or rather drawne,
By thoſe white limmes, which ſparckled through the lawne.
The neerer that he came, the more ſhe fled,
And ſeeking refuge, ſlipt into her bed.
Whereon Leander ſitting, thus began,
Through numming cold, all feeble, faint and wan:
 If not for loue, yet loue for pittie ſake,
Me in thy bed and maiden boſom take,
At leaſt vouchſafe theſe aremes ſome little roome,
Who hoping to imbrace thee, cherely ſwoome.
This head was beat with manie a churliſh billow,
And therefore let it reſt vpon thy pillow.
Herewith afrighted Hero ſhrunke away,
And in her luke-warme place Leander lay.
Whoſe liuely heat like fire from heauen fet,
Would animate groſſe clay, and higher ſet
The drooping thoughts of baſe declining ſoules,
Then drerie Mars, carowſing Nectar boules.
His hands he caſt vpon her like a ſnare,
She ouercome with ſhame and ſallow feare,
Like chaſt Diana, when Acteon ſpyde her,
Being ſodainly betraide, dyu’d downe to hide her.
And as her ſiluer body downeward went,
With both her hands ſhe made the bed a tent,
And in her owne mind thought her ſelfe ſecure,
O’recaſt with dim and darkſome couerture.
And now ſhe lets him whiſper in her eare,
Flatter, intreat, promiſe, proteſt and ſweare,
Yet euer as he greedily aſſayd
To touch thoſe dainties, ſhe the Harpey playd,
And euery lim did as a ſoldier ſtout,
Defend the fort, and keep the foe-man out.
For though the riſing yu’rie mount he ſcal’d,
Which is with azure circling lines empal’d,
Much like a globe, (a globe may I tearme this,
By which loue ſailes to regions full of blis,)
Yet there with Syſiphus he toyld in vaine,
Till gentle parlie did the truce obtaine.
She trembling ſtroue, this ſtrife of hers (like that
Which made the world) another world begat,
Of vnknowne ioy. Treaſon was in her thought,
And cunningly to yeeld her ſelfe ſhe ſought.
Seeming not woon, yet woon ſhe was at length,
In ſuch warres women vſe but halfe their ſtrength.
Leander now like Theban Hercules,
Entred the orchard of Th’eſperides.
Whoſe fruit none rightly can deſcribe, but hee
That puls or ſhakes it from the golden tree:
Wherein Leander on her quiuering breſt,
Breathleſſe ſpoke ſome thing, and ſigh’d out the reſt;
Which ſo preuail’d, as he with ſmall ado,
Inclos’d her in his armes and kiſt her to.
And euerie kiſſe to her was as a charme,
And to Leander as a freſh alarme.
So that the truce was broke, and ſhe alas,
(Poore ſillie maiden) at his mercie was.
Loue is not ful of pittie (as men ſay)
But deaffe and cruell, where he meanes to pray.
Euen as a bird, which in our hands we wring,
Foorth plungeth, and oft flutters with her wing.
And now ſhe wiſht this night were neuer done,
And ſigh’d to thinke vpon th’approching ſunne,
For much it greeu’d her that the bright day-light,
Should know the pleaſure of this bleſſed night.
And then like Mars and Ericine diſplayd,
Both in each others armes chaind as they layd.
Againe ſhe knew not how to frame her looke,
Or ſpeake to him who in a moment tooke,
That which ſo long charily ſhe kept,
And faine by ſtealth away ſhe would haue crept,
And to ſome corner ſecretly haue gone,
Leauing Leander in the bed alone.
But as her naked feet were whipping out,
He on the ſuddaine cling’d her ſo about,
That Meremaid-like vnto the floore ſhe ſlid,
And halfe appear’d the other halfe was hid.
Thus neere the bed ſhe bluſhing ſtood vpright,
And from her countenance behold ye might,
A kind of twilight breake, which through the heare,
As from an orient cloud, glymſe here and there.
And round about the chamber this falſe morne,
Brought foorth the day before the day was borne.
So Heroes ruddie cheeke, Hero betrayd,
And her all naked to his ſight diſplayd
Whence his admiring eyes more pleaſure tooke,
Than Dis, on heapes of gold fixing his looke.
By this Apollos golden harpe began,
To ſound foorth muſicke to the Ocean,
Which watchfull Hesperus no ſooner heard,
But he the day bright-bearing Car prepar’d.
And ran before, as Harbenger of light,
And with his ſtaring beames mockt ougly night,
Till ſhe o’recome with anguiſh, ſhame, and rage,
Hurld downe to hell her loathſome carriage.

The end of the ſecond Sestyad.

TO MY BEST ESTEEMED AND WORTHELY HONORED LADY, THE LADY WALSINGHAM, one of the Ladies of her Maieſties Bed-Chamber.

I Preſent your Ladiſhip with the laſt affections of the firſt two Louers that euer Muſe ſhrinde in the Temple of Memorie; being drawne by ſtrange instigation to employ ſome of my ſerious time in ſo trifeling a ſubiect, which yet made the firſt Author, diuine Muſæus, eternall. And were it not that wee muſt ſubiect our accounts of theſe common receiued conceits to ſeruile custome; it goes much against my hand to ſigne that for a trifling ſubiect, on which more worthines of ſoule hath been ſhewed, and weight of diuine wit, than can vouchſafe reſidence in the leaden grauitie of any Mony-Monger; in whoſe profeſſion all ſerious ſubiects are concluded. But he that ſhuns trifles muſt ſhun the world; out of whoſe reuerend heapes of ſubstance and austeritie, I can, and will, ere long, ſingle, or tumble out as brainles and paſſionate fooleries, as euer panted in the boſome of the moſt ridiculous Louer. Accept it therfore (good Madam) though as a trifle, yet as a ſerious argument of my affection: for to bee thought thankefull for all free and honourable fauours, is a great ſumme of that riches my whole thrift intendeth.

Such vncourtly and ſillie diſpoſitions as mine, whoſe contentment hath other obiects than profit or glorie; are as glad, ſimply for the naked merit of vertue, to honour ſuch as aduance her, as others that are hired to commend with deepeliest politique bountie.

It hath therefore adioynde much contentment to my deſire of your true honour to heare men of deſert in Court, adde to mine owne knowledge of your noble diſpoſition, how gladly you doe your beſt to preferre their deſires; and haue as abſolute reſpect to their meere good parts, as if they came perfumed and charmed with golden incitements. And this moſt ſweet inclination, that flowes from the truth and eternitie of Nobles; aſſure your Ladiſhip doth more ſuite your other Ornaments, and makes more to the aduancement of your Name, and happines of your proceedings, then if (like others) you displaied Enſignes of ſtate and ſowrenes in your forehead; made ſmooth with nothing but ſenſualitie and preſents.

This poore Dedication (in figure of the other vnitie betwixt Sir Thomas and your ſelfe) hath reioynd you with him, my honoured beſt friend; whoſe continuance of ancient kindnes to my ſtill-obſcured estate, though it cannot encreaſe my loue to him, which hath euer been entirely circulare; yet ſhall it encourage my deſerts to their vtmost requitall, and make my hartie gratitude ſpeake; to which the vnhappines of my life hath hetherto been vncomfortable and painfull dumbnes.

By your Ladiſhips vowd in moſt wiſhed ſeruice:

George Chapman.

THE ARGVMENT OF THE THIRD SESTYAD.

  Leander to the enuious light

  Reſignes his night-ſports with the night,

  And ſwims the Helleſpont againe;

  Theſme the Deitie ſoueraigne

  Of Customes and religious rites

  Appeares, improuing his delites

  Since Nuptiall honors he neglected;

  VVhich ſtraight he vowes ſhall be effected.

  Faire Hero left Deuirginate

  VVaies, and with furie wailes her ſtate:

  But with her loue and womans wit

  She argues, and approueth it.

NEw light giues new directions, Fortunes new

To faſhion our indeuours that enſue,

More harſh (at leſt more hard) more graue and hie

Our ſubiect runs, and our ſterne Muſe muſt flie,

Loues edge is taken off, and that light flame,

Thoſe thoughts, ioyes, longings, that before became,

High vnexperienſt blood, and maids ſharpe plights,

Muſt now grow ſtaid, and cenſure the delights,

That being enioyd aske iudgement; now we praiſe,

As hauing parted: Euenings crowne the daies.

  And now ye wanton loues, and yong deſires,

Pied vanitie, the mint of ſtrange Attires;

Ye liſping Flatteries, and obſequious Glances,

Relentfull Muſicks, and attractiue Dances,

And you deteſted Charmes conſtraining loue,

Shun loues ſtolne ſports by that theſe Louers proue.

  By this the Soueraigne of Heauens golden fires,

And yong Leander, Lord of his deſires,

Together from their louers armes aroſe:

Leander into Helleſpontus throwes

His Hero-handled bodie, whoſe delight

Made him diſdaine each other Epethite.

And as amidſt the enamourd waues he ſwims,* 7.1

The God of gold² of purpoſe guilt his lims,

That this word guilt, including double ſence,

The double guilt of his Incontinence,

Might be expreſt, that had no ſtay t’employ

The treaſure which the Loue god let him ioy

In his deare Hero, with ſuch ſacred thrift,

As had beſeemed ſo ſanctified a gift:

But like a greedie vulgar Prodigall

Would on the ſtock diſpend, and rudely fall

Before his time, to that vnbleſſed bleſſing,

Which for luſts plague doth periſh with poſſeſſing.

  Ioy grauen in ſence, like ſnow in water wasts;

  VVithout preſerue of vertue, nothing lasts.

What man is he that with a welthie eie,

Enioyes a beautie richer than the ſkie,

Through whoſe white skin, ſofter then ſoundeſt ſleep,

With dam aſke eyes, the rubie blood doth peep,

And runs in branches through her azure vaines,

Whoſe mixture and firſt fire, his loue attaines;

Whoſe both hands limit, both Loues deities,

And ſweeten humane thoughts like Paradiſe;

Whoſe diſpoſition ſilken is and kinde,

Directed with an earth-exempted minde;

Who thinks not heauen with ſuch a loue is giuen?

And who like earth would ſpend that dower of heauē,

With ranke deſire to ioy it all at firſt?

What ſimply kils our hunger, quencheth thirſt,

Clothes but our nakednes, and makes vs liue?

Praiſe doth not any of her fauours giue:

But what doth plentifully miniſter

Beautious apparell and delicious cheere,

So orderd that it ſtill excites deſire,

And ſtill giues pleaſure freenes to aſpire

The palme of Bountie, euer moyſt preſeruing:

To loues ſweet life this is the courtly caruing.

Thus Time, and all-ſtates-ordering Ceremonie

Had baniſht all offence: Times golden Thie

Vpholds the flowrie bodie of the earth,

In ſacred harmonie, and euery birth

Of men, and actions makes legitimate,

Being vſde aright; The vſe of time is Fate.

  Yet did the gentle ſtood transfer once more,

This prize of Loue home to his fathers ſhore;

Where he vnlades himſelfe of that falſe welth

That makes few rich; treaſures compoſde by ſtelth

And to his ſiſter kinde Hermione,

(Who on the ſhore kneeld, praying to the ſea

For his returne) he all Loues goods did ſhow

In Hero ſeaſde for him, in him for Hero.

  His moſt kinde ſiſter all his ſecrets knew,

And to her ſinging like a ſhower he flew,

Sprinkling the earth, that to their tombs tooke in

Streames dead for loue, to leaue his iuorie ſkin,

Which yet a ſnowie fome did leaue aboue,

As ſoule to the dead water that did loue;

And from thence did the firſt white Roſes ſpring,

(For loue is ſweet and faire in euery thing)

And all the ſweetned ſhore as he did goe,

Was crownd with odrous roſes white as ſnow.

Loue-bleſt Leander was with loue ſo filled,

That loue to all that toucht him he inſtilled.

And as the colours of all things we ſee,

To our ſights powers communicated bee:

So to all obiects that in compaſſe came

Of any ſence he had; his ſences flame

Flowd from his parts, with force ſo virtuall,

It fir’d with ſence things meere inſenſuall.

  Now (with warme baths and odours comforted)

When he lay downe he kindly kiſt his bed,

As conſecrating it to Heros right,

And vowd thereafter that what euer ſight

Put him in minde of Hero, or her bliſſe,

Should be her Altar to prefer a kiſſe.

  Then laid he forth his late inriched armes,

In whoſe white circle Loue writ all his charmes,

And made his characters ſweet Heros lims,

When on his breaſts warme ſea ſhe ſideling ſwims.

And as thoſe armes (held vp in circle) met,

He ſaid; ſee ſiſter Heros Carquenet,

Which ſhe had rather weare about her neck,

Then all the iewels that doth Iuno deck.

  But as he ſhooke with paſsionate deſire,

To put in flame his other ſecret fire,

A muſick ſo diuine did pierce his eare,

As neuer yet his rauiſht ſence did heare:

When ſuddenly a light of twentie hews

Brake through the roofe, and like the Rainbow views

Amazd Leander; in whoſe beames came downe

The Goddeſſe Ceremonie, with a Crowne

Of all the ſtars, and heauen with her deſcended,

Her flaming haire to her bright feete extended,

By which hung all the bench of Deities;

And in a chaine, compact of eares and eies,

She led Religion; all her bodie was

Cleere and tranſparent as the pureſt glaſſe:

For ſhe was all preſented to the ſence.

Deuotion, Order, State, and Reuerence,

Her ſhadowes were. Societie, Memorie;

All which her ſight made liue; her abſence die.

A rich diſparent Pentackle ſhe weares,

Drawne full of circles and ſtrange characters;

Her face was changeable to euerie eie;

One way lookt ill, another graciouſlie;

VVhich while men viewd, they cheerfull were & holy:

But looking off, vicious, and melancholy:

The ſnakie paths to each obſerued law,

Did Policie in her broad boſome draw:

One hand a Mathematique Chriſtall ſwayes,

VVhich gathering in one line a thouſand rayes

From her bright eyes Confuſion burnes to death,

And all eſtates of men diſtinguiſheth.

By it Morallitie and Comelineſſe,

Themſelues in all their ſightly figures dreſſe.

Her other hand a lawrell rod applies,

To beate back Barbariſme, and Auarice,

That followd eating earth, and excrement

And humane lims; and would make proud aſcent

To ſeates of Gods, were Ceremonie ſlaine;

The Howrs and Graces bore her glorious traine,

And all the ſweetes of our ſocietie

VVere Spherde, and treaſurde in her bountious eie.

Thus ſhe appeard, and ſharply did reproue

Leanders bluntnes in his violent loue;

Tolde him how poore was ſubſtance without rites,

Like bils vnſignd, deſires without delites;

Like meates vnſeaſond; like ranke corne that growes

On Cottages, that none or reapes or ſowes;

Not being with ciuill forms confirm’d and bounded,

For humane dignities and comforts founded:

But looſe and ſecret all their glories hide,

Feare fils the chamber, darknes decks the Bride.

  She vaniſht, leauing pierſt Leanders hart

VVith ſence of his vnceremonious part,

In which with plaine neglect of Nuptiall rites,

He cloſe and flatly fell to his delites;

And inſtantly he vowd to celebrate

All rites pertaining to his maried ſtate.

So vp he gets and to his father goes,

To whoſe glad eares he doth his vowes diſcloſe:

The Nuptials are reſolu’d with vtmoſt powre,

And he at night would ſwim to Heros towre.

From whence he ment to Sestus forked Bay

To bring her couertly, where ſhips muſt ſtay,

Sent by her father throughly rigd and mand,

To waft her ſafely to Abydus Strand.

There leaue we him, and with freſh wing purſue

Aſtoniſht Hero, whoſe moſt wiſhed view

I thus long haue forborne, becauſe I left her

So out of countnance, and her ſpirits bereft her.

To looke of one abaſht is impudence,

VVhen of ſleight faults he hath too deepe a ſence.

Her bluſhing hether chamber: ſhe lookt out,

And all the ayre ſhe purpled round about,

And after it a foule black day befell,

Which euer ſince a red morne doth foretell:

And ſtill renewes our woes for Heros wo,

And foule it prou’d, be cauſe it figur’d ſo

The next nights horror, which prepare to heare;

I faile if it prophane your daintieſt eare.

  Then how moſt ſtrangely-intellectuall fire,

That proper to my ſoule haſt power t’inſpire

Her burning faculties, and with the wings

Of thy vnſpheared flame viſitſt the ſprings

Of ſpirits immortall, Now (as ſwift as Time

Doth follow Motion) finde th’eternall Clime

Of his free ſoule, whoſe liuing ſubiect ſtood

Vp to the chin in the Pyer can flood,

And drunke to me halfe this Muſean ſtorie,

Inſcribing it to deathles Memorie:

Confer with it, and make my pledge as deepe,

That neithers draught be conſecrate to ſleepe.

Tell it how much his late deſires I tender,

(If yet it know not) and to light ſurrender

My ſoules darke offſpring, willing it ſhould die

To loues, to paſſions, and ſocietie.

  Sweet Hero left vpon her bed alone,

Her maidenhead, her vowes, Leander gone,

And nothing with her but a violent crew

Of new come thoughts that yet ſhe neuer knew,

Euen to her ſelfe a ſtranger; was much like

Th’Iberian citie that wars hand did ſtrike

By Engliſh force in princely Eſſex guide,

VVhen peace aſſur’d her towres had fortifide;

And golden-fingred India had beſtowd

Such wealth on her, that ſtrength and Empire flowd

Into her Turrets; and her virgin waſte

The wealthie girdle of the Sea embraſte:

Till our Leander that made Mars his Cupid,

For ſoft loue-ſutes, with iron thunders chid:

Swum to her Towers, diſſolu’d her virgin zone;

Lead in his power, and made Confuſion

Run through her ſtreets amazd, that ſhe ſuppoſde

She had not been in her owne walls incloſde:

But rapt by wonder to ſome forraine ſtate,

Seeing all her iſſue ſo diſconſolate:

And all her peacefull manſions poſſeſt

With wars iuſt ſpoyle, and many a forraine gueſt

From euery corner driuing an enioyer,

Supplying it with power of a deſtroyer.

So far’d fayre Hero in th’expugned fort

Of her chaſt boſome, and of euery ſort

Strange thoughts poſſeſt her, ranſacking her breſt

For that that was not there, her wonted reſt.

She was a mother ſtraight and bore with paine,

Thoughts that ſpake ſtraight and wiſht their mother ſlaine;

She hates their liues, & they their own & hers;

Such ſtrife ſtill growes where ſin the race prefers.

Loue is a golden bubble full of dreames,

That waking breakes, and fils vs with extreames.

She mus’d how ſhe could looke vpon her Sire,

And not ſhew that without, that was intire.

For as a glaſſe is an inanimate eie,

And outward formes imbraceth inwardlie:

So is the eye an animate glaſſe that ſhowes

In-formes without vs. And as Phœbus throwes

His beames abroad, though he in clowdes be cloſde,

Still glancing by them till he finde oppoſde,

A looſe and rorid vapour that is fit

T’euent his ſearching beames, and vſeth it

To forme a tender twentie-coloured eie,

Caſt in a circle round about the skie.

So when our firie ſoule, our bodies ſtarre,

(That euer is in motion circulare)

Conceiues a forme; in ſeeking to diſplay it

Through all our clowdie parts, it doth conuey it

Forth at the eye, as the moſt pregnant place,

And that reflects it round about the face.

And this euent vncourtly Hero thought,

Her inward guilt would in her lookes haue wrought:

For yet the worlds ſtale cunning ſhe reſiſted

To beare foule thoughts, yet forge what lookes ſhe liſted,

And held it for a very ſillie ſleight,

To make a perfect mettall counterfeit:

Glad to diſclaime her ſelfe; proud of an Art,

That makes the face a Pandar to the hart.

Thoſe be the painted Moones, whoſe lights prophane

Beauties true Heauen, at full ſtill in their wane.

Thoſe be the Lapwing faces that ſtill crie,

Here tis, when that they vow is nothing nie.

Baſe fooles, when euery mooriſh fowle can teach

That which men thinke the height of humane reach.

But cuſtome that the Apoplexie is

Of beddred nature, and liues led amis,

And takes away all feeling of offence:

Yet brazde not Heros brow with impudence;

And this ſhe thought moſt hard to bring to pas,

To ſeeme in countnance other then ſhe was.

As if ſhe had two ſoules; one for the face,

One for the hart; and that they ſhifted place

As either liſt to vtter, or conceale

What they conceiu'd: or as one ſoule did deale

With both affayres at once, keeps and eiects

Both at an inſtant contrarie effects;

Retention and eiection in her powrs

Being acts alike: for this one vice of ours,

That forms the thought, and ſwaies the countenance,

Rules both our motion and our vtterance.

  Theſe and more graue conceits toyld Heros ſpirits;

For though the light of her diſcourſiue wits,

Perhaps might finde ſome little hole to pas

Through all theſe worldly cinctures; yet (alas)

There was a heauenly flame incompaſt her;

Her Goddeſſe, in whoſe Phane ſhe did prefer

Her virgin vowes; from whoſe impulſiue ſight

She knew the black ſhield of the darkeſt night

Could not defend her, nor wits ſubtilſt art:

This was the point pierſt Hero to the hart.

Who heauie to the death, with a deep ſigh

And hand that languiſht, tooke a robe was nigh,

Exceeding large, and of black Cypres made,

In which ſhe ſate, hid from the day in ſhade,

Euen ouer head and face downe to her feete;

Her left hand made it at her boſome meete;

Her right hand leand on her hart-bowing knee,

Wrapt in vnſhapefull foulds; twas death to ſee

Her knee ſtayd that, and that her falling face

Each limme helpt other to put on diſgrace.

No forme was ſeene, where forme held all her ſight:

But like an Embrion that ſaw neuer light:

Or like a ſcorched ſtatue made a cole

With three-wingd lightning: or a wretched ſoule

Muffled with endles darknes, ſhe did ſit:

The night had neuer ſuch a heauie ſpirit.

Yet might an imitating eye well ſee,

How faſt her cleere teares melted on her knee

Through her black vaile, and turnd as black as it,

Mourning to be her teares; then wrought her wit

With her broke vow, her Goddeſſe wrath, her fame,

All tooles that enginous deſpayre could frame:

Which made her ſtrow the floore with her torne haire,

And ſpread her mantle peece-meale in the aire.

Like Ioues ſons club, ſtrong paſſion ſtrook her downe,

And with a piteous ſhrieke inforſt her ſwoune:

Her ſhrieke, made with another ſhrieke aſcend

The frighted Matron that on her did tend:

And as with her owne crie her ſence was ſlaine,

So with the other it was calde againe.

She roſe and to her bed made forced way,

And layd her downe euen where Leander lay:

And all this while the red ſea of her blood

Ebd with Leander: but now turnd the flood,

And all her fleete of ſprites came ſwelling in

With childe of ſaile, and did hot fight begin

With thoſe ſeuere conceits, ſhe too much markt,

And here Leanders beauties were imbarkt.

He came in ſwimming painted all with ioyes,

Such as might ſweeten hell: his thought deſtroyes

All her deſtroying thoughts; ſhe thought ſhe felt

His heart in hers; with her contentions melt,

And chid her ſoule that it could ſo much erre,

To check the true ioyes he deſeru’d in her.

Her freſh heat blood caſt figures in her eyes,

And ſhe ſuppoſde ſhe ſaw in Neptunes skyes

How her ſtar wandred, waſht in ſmarting brine

For her loues ſake, that with immortall wine

Should be embath'd, and ſwim in more hearts eaſe,

Than there was water in the Seſtian ſeas.

Then ſaid her Cupid prompted ſpirit; ſhall I

Sing mones to ſuch delightſome harmony?

Shall ſlick-tongde fame patcht vp with voyces rude,

The drunken baſtard of the multitude,

(Begot when father Iudgement is away,

And goſsip-like, ſayes becauſe others ſay,

Takes newes as if it were too hot to eate,

And ſpits it ſlauering forth for dog-fees meate)

Make me for forging a phantaſtique vow,

Preſume to beare what makes graue matrons bow?

Good vowes are neuer broken with good deedes,

For then good deedes were bad: vowes are but ſeedes,

And good deeds fruits; euen thoſe good deedes that grow

From other ſtocks, than from th’ obſerued vow.

That is a good deede that preuents a bad:

Had I not yeelded, ſlaine my ſelfe I had.

Hero Leander is, Leander Hero:

Such vertue loue hath to make one of two.

If then Leander did my mayden head git,

Leander being my ſelfe I ſtill retaine it.

We breake chaſt vowes when we liue looſely euer:

But bound as we are, we liue looſely neuer.

Two conſtant louers being ioynd in one,

Yeelding to one another, yeeld to none.

We know not how to vow, till loue vnblinde vs,

And vowes made ignorantly neuer binde vs.

Too true it is that when t’is gone men hate

The ioyes as vaine they tooke in loues eſtate:

But that’s, ſince they haue loſt, the heauenly light

Should ſhew them way to iudge of all things right.

When life is gone death muſt implant his terror,

As death is foe to life, ſo loue to error.

Before we loue how range we through this ſphere,

Searching the ſundrie fancies hunted here:

Now with deſire of wealth tranſported quite

Beyond our free humanities delight:

Now with ambition climing falling towrs,

Whoſe hope to ſcale, our feare to fall deuours;

Now rapt with paſtimes, pomp, all ioyes impure;

In things without vs no delight is ſure.

But loue with all ioyes crownd, within doth ſit;

O Goddeſſe pitie loue and pardon it.

This ſpake he weeping: but her Goddeſſe eare

Burnd with too ſterne a heat, and would not heare.

Aie me, hath heauens ſtraight ſingers no more graces,

For ſuch as Hero, then for homelieſt faces?

Yet ſhe hopte well, and in her ſweet conceit

Waying her arguments, ſhe thought them weight:

And that the logick of Leanders beautie,

And them together would bring proofes of dutie.

And if her ſoule, that was a skilfull glance

Of Heauens great eſſence, found ſuch imperance

In her loues beauties; ſhe had confidence

Ioue lou’d him too, and pardond her offence.

  Bedutie in heauen and earth this grace doth win,

  It ſupples rigor, and it leſſens ſin.

Thus, her ſharpe wit, her loue, her ſecrecie,

Trouping together, made her wonder why

She ſhould not leaue her bed, and to the Temple?

Her health ſaid ſhe muſt lieu; her ſex, diſſemble.

She viewd Leanders place, and wiſht he were

Turnd to his place, ſo his place were Leander.

Aye me (ſaid ſhe) that loues ſweet life and ſence

Should doe it harme! My loue had not gone hence,

Had he been like his place, O bleſſed place,

Image of Conſtancie. Thus my loues grace

Parts no where but it leaues ſome thing behinde

Worth obſeruation: he renownes his kinde.

His motion is like heauens Orbibuler:

For where he once is, he is euer there.

This place was mine: Leander now ’tis thine;

Thou being my ſelfe, then it is double mine:

Mine and Leanders mine, Leanders mine.,

O see what wealth it yeelds me, nay yeelds him:

For I am in it, he for me doth ſwim.

Rich, fruitufll loue, that doubling ſelfe eſtates

Elixer-like contracts, though ſeparates.

Deare place, I kiſſe thee, and doe welcome thee,

As from Leander euer ſent to mee.

The end of the third Sestyad.

THE ARGVMENT OF THE THIRD SESTYAD.

  Hero, in ſacred habit deckt,

  Doth priuate ſacrifice effect.

  Her Skarfs deſcription wrought by fate,

  Oſtends that threaten her estate.

  The ſtrange, yet Phiſicall euents,

  Leanders counterfeit preſents.

  In thunder, Ciprides deſcends,

  Preſaging both the louers ends.

  Ecte the Goddeſſe of remorce,

  VVith vocall and articulate force

  Inſpires Leucote, Venus ſwan,

  T’ excuſe the beautious Seſtian.

  Venus, to wreake her rites abuſes,

Creates the monster Eronuſis;³

  Enflaming Heros Sacrifice,

  VVith lightning darted from her eyes:

  And thereof ſprings the painted beaſt,

  That euer ſince taints euery breaſt.

NOw from Leanders place ſhe roſe, and found

Her haire and rent robe ſcattered on the ground:
Which taking vp, ſhe euery peece did lay

Vpon an Altar; where in youth of day

She vſde t’exhibite priuate Sacrifice:

Thoſe would ſhe offer to the Deities

Of her faire Goddeſſe, and her powerful ſon,

As relicks of her late-felt paſſion:

And in that holy ſort ſhe vowd to end them,

In hope her violent fancies that did rend them,

Would as quite fade in her loues holy fire,

As they ſhould in the flames ſhe ment t’inſpire.

Then put ſhe on all her religious weedes,

That deckt her in her ſecret ſacred deedes:

A crowne of Iſickles, that ſunne nor fire

Could euer melt, and figur’d chaſt deſire.

A golden ſtar ſhinde in her naked breaſt,

In honour of the Queene light of the Eaſt.

In her right hand ſhe held a ſiluer wand,

On whoſe bright top Peristera did ſtand,

Who was a Nymph, but now tranſformd a Doue,

And in her life was deare in Venus loue:

And for her ſake ſhe euer ſince that time,

Chuſde Doues to draw her Coach through heauens blew clime.

Her plentious haire in curled billowes ſwims

On her bright ſhoulder; her harmonious lims

Suſtainde no more but a moſt ſubtile vaile

That hung on them, as it durſt not aſſaile

Their different concord: for the weakeſt ayre

Could raise it ſwelling from her bewties fayre:

Nor did it couer, but adumbrate onelie

Her moſt heart-piercing parts, that a bleſt eie

Might ſee (as it did ſhadow) fearfullie,

All that all-loue-deſeruing Paradiſe:

It was as blew as the moſt freezing skies

Neere the Seas hew, for thence her Goddeſſe came:

On it a skarfe ſhe wore of wondrous frame;

In midſt whereof ſhe wrought a virgins face,

From whoſe each cheeke a firie bluſh did chace

Two crimſon flames, that did two waies extend,

Spreading the ample skarfe to either end,

Which figur’d the diuiſion of her minde,

Whiles yet ſhe reſted baſhfully inclinde,

And ſtood not reſolute to wed Leander.

This ſeru’d her white neck for a purple ſphere,

And caſt it ſelfe at full breadth downe her back.

There (ſince the firſt breath that begun her wrack

Of her free quiet from Leanders lips)

She wrought a Sea in one flame full of ſhips:

But that one ſhip where all her wealth did paſſe

(Like ſimple marchants goods) Leander was:

For in that Sea ſhe naked figured him;

Her diuing needle taught him how to ſwim,

And to each thred did ſuch reſemblance giue,

For ioy to be ſo like him, it did lieu.

  This ſenceles lieu by art, and rationall die,

  By rude contempt of art and industrie.

Scarce could ſhe work but in her ſtrength of thought,

She feard ſhe prickt Leander as ſhe wrought:

And oft would ſhrieke ſo, that her Guardian frighted,

Would ſtaing haſte, as with ſome miſchiefe cited.

  They double life that dead things grief ſustayne:

  They kill that feele not their friends liuing payne.

Sometimes ſhe feard he ſought her infamie,

And then as ſhe was working of his eie,

She thought to pricke it out to quench her ill:

But as ſhe prickt, it grew more perfect ſill.

  Trifling attempts no ſerious acts aduance;

  The fire of loue is blowne by dalliance.

In working his fayre neck ſhe did ſo grace it,

She ſtill was working her owne armes t’imbrace it:

That, and his ſhoulders, and his hands were ſeene

Aboue the ſtreame, and with a pure Sea-greene

She did ſo queintly ſhadow euery lim,

All might be ſeene beneath the waues to ſwim.

In this conceited skarfe ſhe wrought beſide

A Moone in change, and ſhooting ſtars did glide

In number after her with bloodie beames,

Which figur’d her affects in their extreames,

Purſuing Nature in her Cynthian bodie,

And did her thoughts running on change implie:

For maids take more delights when they prepare

And think of wiues ſtates, than when wiſes they are.

Beneath all theſe ſhe wrought a Fiſherman,

Drawing his nets from forth that Ocean;

Who drew ſo hard ye might diſcouer well,

The toughned ſinewes in his neck did ſwell:

His inward ſtraines draue out his blood-shot eyes,

And ſprings of ſweat did in his forehad riſe:

Yet was of nought but of a Serpent ſped,

That in his boſome flew and ſtung him dead.

And this by fate into her minde was ſent,

Not wrought by meere inſtinct of her intent.

At the skarfs other end her hand did frame,

Neere the forkt point of the deuided flame,

A countrie virgin keeping of a Vine,

Who did of hollow bulruſhes combine

Snares for the ſtubble-louing Graſhopper,

And by her lay her skrip that nouriſht her.

Within a myrtle ſhade ſhe ſate and ſung,

And tufts of wauing reedes about her ſprung:

Where lurkt two Foxes, that while ſhe applide

Her trifling ſnares, their theeueries did deuide:

One to the vine, another to her skrip,

That ſhe did negligently ouerſlip:

By which her fruitful vine and holeſome fare,

She ſuffred ſpoyld to make a childiſh ſnare.

Theſe omenous fancies did her ſoule expreſſe,

And euery finger made a Propheteſſe,

To ſhew what death was hid in loues diſuiſe,

And make her iudgment conquer deſtinies.

O what ſweet formes fayre Ladies ſoules doe ſhrowd,

Were they made ſeene & forced through their blood,

If through their beauties like rich work through lawn,

They would ſet forth their minds with vertues drawn,

In letting graces from their fingers flie,

To ſtill their yas thoughts with induſtrie:

That their plied wits in numbred ſilks might ſing

Paſsions huge conqueſt, and their needels leading

Affection priſoner through their owne built citties,

Pinniond with ſtories and Arachnean ditties.

  Proceed we now with Heros sacrifice.

She odours burnd, and from their ſmoke did riſe

Vnſauorie fumes, that ayre with plagues inſpired,

And then the conſecrated ſticks ſhe fired.

On whoſe pale flame an angrie ſpirit flew,

And beate it downe ſtill as it vpward grew.

The virgin Tapers that onth’altar ſtood,

When ſhe inflam’d them burnd as red as blood:

All ſad oſtents of that too neere ſuccesse,

That made ſuch mouing beauties motionleſſe.

The Hero wept; but her affrighted eyes

She quickly wreſted from the ſacrifice:

Shute them and inwards for Leander lookt,

Searcht her ſoft boſomoe, and from thence ſhe pluckt

His louely picture: which when ſhe had viewd,

Her beauties were with all loues ioyes renewd.

The odors ſweetned, and the fires burnd cleere,

Leanders forme left no ill obiect there.

Such was his beautie that the force of light,

Whoſe knowledge teacheth wonders infinite.

The ſtrength of number and proportion,

Nature had plaſte in it to make it knowne.

Art was her daughter, and what humane wits

For ſtudie loſt, intombd in droſsie ſpirits.

After this accident (which for her glorie

Hero could not but make a hiſtorie)

Th’inhabitants of Sestus, and Abydus,

Did euery yeare with feaſts propitious,

To fayre Leanders picture ſacrifice,

And they were perſons of eſpeciall prize

That were allowd it, as an ornament

T’inrich their houſes; for the continent

Of the ſtrange vertues all approu’d it held:

For euen the very looke of it repeld

All blaſtings, witchcrafts, and the ſtrifes of nature

In thoſe diſeases that no hearbs could cure.

The woolfie ſting of Auarice it would pull,

And make the rankeſt miſer bountifull.

It kild the feare of thunder and of death;

The diſcords that conceits ingendereth

Twixt man and wife, it for the time would ceaſe:

The flames of loue it quencht, and would increaſe:

Held in a princes hand it would put out

The dreadfulſt Comet: it would eaſe all doubt

Of threatned miſchiefes; it would bring aſleepe

Such as were mad: it would enforce to weepe

Moſt barbarous eyes: and many more effects

This picture wrought, and ſprung Leandrian ſects,

Of which was Hero firſt: For he whoſe forme

(Held in her hand) cleerd ſuch a fatall ſtorme,

From hell ſhe thought his perſon would defend her,

Which night and Helleſpont would quickly ſend her.

With this confirmd, ſhe vowd to baniſh quite

All thought of any check to her delite

And in contempt of ſillie baſhfulnes,

She would the faith of her deſires profeſſe.

Where her Religion ſhould be Policie,

To follow loue with zeale her pietie:

Her chamber her Cathedrall Church ſhould be,

And her Leander her chiefe Deitie.

For in her loue theſe did the gods forego;

And though her knowledge did not teach her ſo,

Yet did it teach her this, that what her hart

Did greateſt hold in her ſelfe greateſt part,

That ſhe did make her god; and t’was leſſe nought

To leaue gods in profeſsion and in thought,

Than in her loue and life: for therein lies

Moſt of her duties, and their dignities,

And raile the brain-bald world at what it will;

Thats the grand Atheiſme that raignes in it ſtill.

Yet ſingularitie ſhe would vſe no more,

For ſhe was ſingular too much before:

But ſhe would pleaſe the world with fayre pretext;

Loue would not leaue her conſcience perplext.

Great men that will haue leſſe doe for them ſtill,

Muſt beare them out though th’acts be nere ſo ill.

Meannes muſt Pandar be to Excellencie,

Pleaſure attones Falſhood and Conſcience:

Diſſembling was the worſt (thought Hero then)

And that was beſt how ſhe muſt liue with men.

O vertuous loue that taught her to doe beſt,

When ſhe did worſt, and when ſhe thought it leſt.

Thus would ſhe ſtill proceed in works diuine,

And in her ſacred ſtate of prieſthood ſhine,

Handling the holy rites with hands as bold,

As if therein ſhe did Ioues thunder hold;

And need not feare thoſe menaces of error,

Which ſhe at others threw with greateſt terror.

O louely Hero, nothing is thy ſin,

Wayd with thoſe foule faults other Prieſts are in;

That hauing neither faiths, nor works, nor bewties,

T’engender any ſcuſe for ſlubberd duties;

With as much countnance fill their holie chayres,

And ſweat denouncements gainſt prophane affayres,

As if their liues were cut out by their places,

And they the only fathers of the Graces.

  Now as with ſetled minde ſhe did repaire,

Her thoughts to ſacrifice, her rauiſht haire

And her torne robe which on the altar lay,

And only for Religions fire did ſtay;

She heard a thunder by the Cyclops beaten,

In ſuch a volley as the world did threaten,

Giuen Venus as ſhe parted th’ayrie Sphere,

Diſcending now to chide with Hero here:

When ſuddenly the Goddeſſe waggoners,

The Swans and Turtles that in coupled pheres,

Through all worlds boſoms draw her influence,

Lighted in Heros window, and from thence

To her fayre ſhoulders flew the gentle Doues.

Gracefull Ædone that ſweet pleaſure loues,

And ruffoot Chreſte with the tufted crowne,

Both which did kiſſe her, though their Goddes frownd.

The Swans did in the ſolid flood her glaſſe,

Proyne their fayre plumes; of which the faireſt was,

Ioue-lou’d Leucote, that pure brightnes is;

The other bountie-louing Dapſilis.

All were in heauen, now they with Hero were:

But Venus lookes brought wrath, and vrged feare.

Her robe was ſkarlet, black her heads attire,

And through her naked breaſt ſhinde ſtreames of fire,

As when the rarefied ayre is driuen

In flaſhing ſtreames, and opes the darkned heauen.

In her white hand a wreath of yew ſhe bore,

And breaking th’icie wreath ſweet Hero wore,

She forſt about her browes her wreath of yew,

And ſayd, now minion to thy fate be trew,

Though not to me, indure what this portends;

Begin where lightnes will, in ſhame it ends.

Loue makes thee cunning; thou art currant now,

By being counterfeit: thy broken vow,

Deceit with her pide garters muſt reioyne,

And with her ſtampe thou countnances muſt coyne:

Coynes, and pure deceits for purities,

And ſtill a mayd wilt ſeeme in coſoned eies,

And haue an antike face to laugh within,

While thy ſmooth lookes make men digeſt thy ſin.

But ſince thy lips (leſt thought forſworne) forſwore,

Be neuer virgins vow worth truſting more.

  When Beauties deareſt did her Goddeſſe heare,

Breathe ſuch rebukes gainſt that ſhe could not cleare;

Dumbe ſorrow ſpake alowd in teares, and blood

That from her griefe-burſt vaines in piteous flood,

From the ſweet conduits of her ſauor fell:

The gentle Turtles did with moanes make ſwell.

Their ſhining gorges; the white black-eyde Swans

Did ſing as wofull Epicedians,

As they would ſtraight waies dye: when pities Queene

The Goddeſſe Ecte, that had euer beene

Hid in a watrie clowde neere Heros cries,

Since the firſt inſtant of her broken eies,

Gaue bright Leucote voyce, and made her ſpeake,

To eaſe her anguiſh, whoſe ſwolne breaſt did breake

With anger at her Goddeſſe, that did touch

Hero ſo neere for that ſhe vſde ſo much.

And thruſting her white neck at Venus, ſayd;

Why may not amorous Hero ſeeme a mayd,

Though ſhe be none, as well as you ſuppreſſe

In modeſt cheekes your inward wantonneſſe?

How often haue wee drawne you from aboue,

T’exchange with mortals, rites for rites in loue?

Why in your preiſt then call you that offence

That ſhines in you, and is your influence?

With this the furies ſtopt Leucotes lips,

Enioynd by Venus; who with Roſie whips

Beate the kind Bird. Fierce lightning from her eyes

Did ſet on fire faire Heros ſacrifice,

Which was her torne robe, and inforced hayre;

And the bright flame became a mayd moſt faire

For her aſpect:⁴ her treſſes were of wire,

Knit like a net, where harts all ſet on fire,

Strugled in pants and could not get releaſt:

Her armes were all with golden pincers dreſt,

And twentie faſhiond knots, pullies, and brakes,

And all her bodie girdled with painted Snakes.

Her doune parts in a Scorpions taile combinde,

Freckled with twentie colours; pyed wings ſhinde

Out of her ſhoulders; Cloth had neuer die,

Nor ſweeter colours neuer viewed eie,

In ſcorching Turkie, Cares Tartarie,

Than ſhinde about this ſpirit notorious;

Nor was Arachnes web ſo glorious.

Of lightning and of ſhreds ſhe was begot;

More hold in baſe diſſemblers is there not.

Her name was Eronuſis. Venus flew

From Heros ſight, and at her Chariot drew

This wondrous creature to ſo ſteepe a height,

That all the world ſhe might command with ſleight

Of her gay wings; and then ſhe bad her haſt,

Since Hero had diſſembled, and diſgraſt

Her rites ſo much, and euery breaſt infect

With her deceits, ſhe made her Architect

Of all diſſimulation, and ſince then

Neuer was any truſt in maides nor men.

             O it ſpighted,

Fayre Venus hart to ſee her moſt delighted.

And one ſhe chuſde for temper of her minde,

To be the only ruler of her kinde,

So ſoone to let her virgin race be ended;

Not ſimply for the fault a whit offended:

But that in ſtrife for chaſtnes with the Moone,

Spitefull Diana bad her ſhew but one,

That was her ſeruant vowd, and liu'd a mayd,

And now ſhe thought to anſwer that vpbrayd,

Hero had loſt her anſwer; who knowes not

Venus would ſeeme as farre from any ſpot

Of light demeanour, as the very ſkin

Twixt Cynthias browes; Sin is aſham’d of Sin.

Vp Venus flew, and ſcarce durſt vp for feare

Of Phœbes laughter, when ſhe paſt her Sphere:

And ſo moſt vgly clowded was the light,

That day was hid in day; night came ere night,

And Venus could not through the thick ayre pierce,

Till the daies king, god of vndanted verſe,

Becauſe ſhe was ſo plentifull a theame,

To ſuch as wore his Lawrell Anademe:

Like to a firie bullet made deſcent,

And from her paſſage thoſe fat vapours rent,

That being not throughly rarefide to raine,

Melted like pitch as blew as any vaine,

And ſcalding tempeſt made the earth to ſhrinke

Vnder their feruor, and the world did thinke

In euery drop a torturing Spirit flew,

It pierſt ſo deeply, and it burnd ſo blew.

  Betwixt all this and Hero, Hero held

Leanders picture as a Perſian ſhield:

And ſhe was free from feare of worſt ſucceſſe;

The more ill threats vs, we ſuſpect the leſſe:

As we grow haples, violence ſubtle growes,

Dumb, deafe, & blind, & comes when no man knowes.

The end of the fourth Sestyad.

THE ARGVMENT OF THE FIFT SESTYAD.

  Day doubles her accustomd date,

  As loth the night, incenſt by fate,

  Should wrack our louers; Heros plight,

  Longs for Leander, and the night:

  VVhich, ere her thirſtie wiſh recouers,

  She ſends for two betrothed louers,

  And marries them, that (with their crew

  Their ſports and ceremonies due)

  She couertly might celebrate,

  VVith ſecret ioy her owne estate.

  She makes a feaſt, at which appeares

  The wilde Nymph Teras, that ſtill beares

  An Iuory Lute, tels Omenous tales,

  And ſings at ſolemne festiuales.

NOw was bright Hero weary of the day,

Thought an Olympiad in Leanders ſtay.

Sol, and the ſoft-foote Howrs hung on his armes,

And would not let him ſwim, foreſeeing his harmes;

That day Aurora double grace obtainde

Of her loue Phœbus; ſhe his Horſes rainde,

Set on his golden knee, and as ſhe liſt

She puld him back; and as ſhe puld, ſhe kiſt

To haue him turne to bed; he lou’d her more,

To ſee the loue Leander Hero bore.

Examples profit much ten times in one,

In perſons full of note, good deedes are done.

  Day was ſo long, men walking fell aſleepe,

The heauie humors that their eyes did ſteepe,

Made them feare miſchiefs. The hard ſtreets were beds

For couetous churles, and for ambitious heads,

That ſpight of Nature would their buſines plie.

All thought they had the falling Epilepſie,

Men groueld ſo vpon the ſmotherd ground,

And pittie did the hart of heauen confound.

The Gods, the Graces, and the Muſes came

Downe to the Deſtinies, to ſtay the frame

Of the true louers deaths, and all worlds teares;

But death before had ſtopt their cruell eares

All the Celeſtials parted mourning then,

Pierſt with our humane miſeries more then men.

Ah, nothing doth the world with miſchiefe fill,

But want of feeling one anothers ill.

  With their deſcent the day grew ſomething fayre,

And caſt a brighter robe vpon the ayre.

Hero to ſhorten time with merriment,

For yong Alcmane, and bright Mya ſent,

Two louers that had long crau'’ mariage dues

At Heros hands; but ſhe did ſtill refuſe,

For louely Mya was her conſort vowd

In her maids ſtate, and therefore not allowd

To amorous Nuptials; yet faire Hero now

Intended to diſpence with her cold vow,

Since hers was broken, and to marrie her:

The rites would pleaſing matter miniſter

To her conceits, and ſhorten tedious day.

They came; ſweet Muſick vſherd th’odorous way,

And wanton Ayre in twentie ſweet forms danſt

After her fingers; Beautie and Loue aduanſt

Their enſignes in the downles roſie faces

Of youths and maids, led after by the Graces.

For all theſe, Hero made a friendly feaſt,

Welcomd them kindly, did much loue proteſt,

Winning their harts with all the meanes ſhe might,

That when her fault ſhould chance t’abide the light,

Their loues might couer or extenuate it,

And high in her worſt fate make pittie ſit.

  She married them, and in the banquet came

Borne by the virgins; Hero ſtriu’d to frame

Her thoughts to mirth. Aye me, but hard it is

To imitate a falſe and forced blis.

Ill may a ſad minde forge a merrie face,

Nor hath conſtrained laughter any grace.

Then layd ſhe wine on cares to make them ſinke;

VVho feares the threats of fortune, let him drinke.

To theſe quick Nuptials entred ſuddenly,

Admired Teras with the Ebon Thye,

A Nymph that haunted the greene Sestyan groues,

And would conſort ſoft virgins in their loues,

At gay ſome Triumphs, and on ſolemne dayes,

Singing prophetike Elegies and Layes;

And fingring of a ſiluer Lute ſhe tide,

With black and purple skarfs by her left ſide.

Apollo gaue it, and her skill withall,

And ſhe was term’d his Dwarfe ſhe was ſo ſmall.

Yet great in vertue, for his beames encloſde

His vertues in her: neuer was propoſde

Riddle to her, or Augurie, ſtrange or new,

But ſhe reſolu’d it: neuer ſleight tale flew

From her charmd lips, without important ſence,

Shewne in ſome graue ſucceeding conſequence.

  This little Siluane with her ſongs and tales,

Gaue ſuch eſtate to feaſts and Nuptiales,

That though oft times ſhe forewent Tragedies,

Yet for her ſtrangenes ſtill ſhe pleaſde their eyes,

And for her ſmalnes they admir’d her ſo,

They thought her perfect borne and could not grow

  All eyes were on her: Hero did command

An Altar deckt with ſacred ſtate ſhould ſtand,

At the Feaſts vpper end cloſe by the Bride,

On which the pretie Nymph might ſit eſpide.

Then all were ſilent; euery one ſo heares,

As all their ſences climbd into their eares;

And firſt this amorous tale that fitted well,

Fayre Hero and the Nuptials ſhe did tell:

The tale of Teras.

  Hymen that now is god of Nuptiall rites,

And crownes with honor loue and his delights,

Of Athens was a youth ſo ſweet of face,

That many thought him of the ſemall race:

Such quickning brightnes did his cleere eyes dart,

Warme went their beames to his beholders hart.

In ſuch pure leagues his beauties were combinde,

That there your Nuptiall contracts firſt were ſignde.

For as proportion, white, and crimſine, meet

In Beauties mixture, all right cleere, and ſweet;

The eye reſponſible, the golden haire,

And none is held without the other, faire:

All ſpring together, all together fade;

Such intermixt affections ſhould inuade

Two perfect louers; which being yet vnſeene,

Their vertues and their comforts copied beene,

In Beauties concord, ſubiect to the eie;

And that, in Hymen, pleaſde ſo matchleſlie,

That louers were eſteemde in their full grace,

Like forme and colour mixt in Hymens face;

And ſuch ſweete concord was thought worthie then

Of torches, muſick, feaſts, and greateſt men:

So Hymen lookt, that euen the chaſteſt minde

He mou’d to ioyne in ioyes of ſacred kinde:

For onely now his chins firſt doune conſorted

His heads rich fleece, in golden curles contorted;

And as he was ſo lou’d, he lou’d ſo too,

So ſhould beſt bewties, bound by Nuptialls doo.

  Bright Eucharis, who was by all men ſaide

The nobleſt fayreſt, and the richeſt maide,

Of all the Athenian damzels, Hymen lou’d;

With ſuch tranſmiſſion, that his heart remou’d

From his white breſt to hers, but her eſtate

In paſſing his, was ſo interminate

For wealth and honor, that his loue durſt feede

On nought but ſight and hearing, nor could breede

Hope of requitall; the grand priſe of loue;

Nor could he heare or ſee but he muſt proue

How his rare bewties muſick would agree

With maids in conſort: therefore robbed he

His chin of thoſe ſame few firſt fruits it bore,

And clad in ſuch attire, as Virgins wore,

He kept them companie, and might right well,

For he did all but Eucharis excell

In all the fayre of Beautie: yet he wanted

Vertue to make his owne deſires implanted

In his deare Eucharis; for women neuer

Loue beautie in their ſex, but enuie euer.

His iudgement yet (that durſt not ſuite addreſſe,

Nor paſt due meanes preſume of due ſucceſſe)

Reaſon gat fortune in the end to ſpeede

To his beſt prayes; but ſtrange it ſeemd indeede,

That fortune ſhould a chaſt affection bleſſe,

Preferment ſeldome graceth baſhfulneſſe.

Nor graſt it Hymen yet; but many a dart

And many an amorous thought enthrald his hart,

Ere he obtaind her, and he ſick became,

Forſt to abſtaine her ſight, and then the flame

Rag’d in his boſome O what griefe did fill him:

Sight made him ſick, and want of ſight did kill him.

The virgins wondred where Dietia ſtayd,

For ſo did Hymen, terme himſelfe a mayd.

At length with ſickly lookes he greeted them:

Tis ſtrange to ſee gainſt, what an extreame ſtreame

A louer ſtriues; poore Hymen lookt ſo ill,

That as in merit he increaſed ſtill,

By ſuffring much, ſo he in grace decreaſt.

Women are moſt wonne when men merit leaſt:

If merit looke not well, loue bids ſtand by,

Loues ſpeciall leſſon is to pleaſe the eye.

And Hymen ſoone recouering all he loſt,

Deceiuing ſtill theſe maids, but himſelfe moſt.

His loue and he with many virgin dames,

Noble by birth, noble by beauties flames,

Leauing the towne with ſongs and hallowed lights,

To doe great Ceres Eleuſina rites

Of zealous Sacrifice; were made a pray

To barbarous Rouers that in ambuſh lay,

And with rude hands enforſt their ſhining ſpoyle,

Farre from the darkned Citie, tir’d with toyle.

And when the yellow iſſue of the ſkie

Came trouping forth, ielous of crueltie,

To their bright fellowes of this vnder heauen,

Into a double night they ſaw them driuen,

A horride Caue, the theeues black manſion,

Where wearie of the iourney they had gon,

Their laſt nights watch, and drunke with their ſweete gains,

Dull Morpheus entred, laden with ſilken chains,

Stronger then iron, and bound the ſwelling vaines

And tyred ſences of theſe lawles Swaines.

But when the virgin lights thus dimly burnd;

O what a hell was heauen in how they mournd

And wrung their hands, and wound their gentle forms

Into the ſhapes of ſorrow! Golden ſtorms

Fell from their eyes; As when the Sunne appeares,

And yet it raines, ſo ſhewd their eyes their teares.

And as when funerall dames watch a dead corſe,

Weeping about it, telling with remorſe

What paines he felt, how long in paine he lay,

How little food he eate, what he would ſay;

And then mixe mournfull tales of others deaths,

Smothering thēſelues in clowds of their owne breaths.

At length, one cheering other, call for wine,

The golden boale drinks teares out of their eine,

As they drinke wine from it; and round it goes,

Each helping other to relieue their woes;

So caſt theſe virgins beauties mutuall raies,

One lights another, face the face diſplaies;

Lips by reflexion kiſt, and hands hands ſhooke,

Euen by the whitenes each of other tooke.

  But Hymen now vſde friendly Morpheus aide,

Slew euery theefe, and reſcude euery maide.

And now did his enamourd paſsion take

Hart from his hartie deede, whoſe worth did make

His hope of bounteous Eucharis more ſtrong;

And now came Loue with Proteus, who had long

Inggl’d the little god with prayers and gifts,

Ran through all ſhapes, and varied all his ſhifts,

To win Loues ſtay with him, and make him loue him:

And when he ſaw no ſtrength of ſleight could moue him

To make him loue, or ſtay he nimbly turnd

Into Loues ſelfe, he ſo extreamely burnd.

And thus came Loue with Proteus and his powre,

T’encounter Eucharis; firſt like the flowre

That Iunos milke did ſpring the ſiluer Lillie,

He fell on Hymens hand, who ſtraight did ſpie

The bounteous Godhead, and with wondrous ioy

Offred it Eucharis. She wondrous coy

Drew back her hand: the ſubtle flowre did woo it,

And drawing it neere, mixt ſo you could not know it.

As two cleere Tapers mixe in one their light,

So did the Lillie and the hand their white:

She viewd it, and her view the forme beſtowes

Amongſt her ſpirits; for as colour flowes

From ſuperficies of each thing we ſee,

Euen ſo with colours formes emitted bee:

And where Loues forme is, loue is, loue is forme;

He entred at the eye, his ſacred ſtorme

Roſe from the hand, loues ſweeteſt inſtrument:

It ſtir’d her bloods ſea ſo, that high it went,

And beate in baſhfull waues gainſt the white ſhore

Of her diuided cheekes; it rag’d the more,

Becauſe the tide went gainſt the haughtie winde

Of her eſtate and birth: And as we finde

In fainting ebs, the flowrie Zephire hurles

The greene-hayrd Helleſpont, broke in ſiluer curles

Gainſt Heros towre: but in his blaſts retreate,

The waues obeying him, they after beate,

Leauing the chalkie ſhore a great way pale,

Then moyſt it freſhly with another gale:

So ebd and flowde the blood in Eucharis face,

Coyneſſe and Loue ſtriu’d which had greateſt grace,

Virginitie did fight on Coyneſſe ſide;

Feare of her parents frownes, and femall pride,

Lothing the lower place, more then it loues

The high contents, deſert and vertue moues.

With loue fought Hymens beautie and his valure,

Which ſcarce could ſo much fauour yet allure

To come to ſtrike, but fameles idle ſtood,

Action is firie valours ſoueraigne good.

But Loue once entred, wiſht no greater ayde

Then he could find within; thought, thought betrayd,

The bribde, but incorrupted Garriſon,

Sung Io Hymen; there thoſe ſongs begun,

And Loue was growne ſo rich with ſuch a gaine,

And wanton with the eaſe of his free raigne,

That he would turne into her rougheſt frownes

To turne them out; and thus he Hymen crownes

King of his thoughts, mans greateſt Emperie:

This was his firſt braue ſtep to deitie.

  Home to the mourning cittie they repayre,

With newes as holeſome as the morning ayre,

To the ſad parents of each ſaued maid:

But Hymen and his Eucharis had laid

This plat, to make the flame of their delight

Round as the Moone at full, and full as bright.

  Becauſe the parents of chaſt Eucharis

Exceeding Hymens ſo, might croſſe their blis;

And as the world rewards deſerts, that law

Cannot aſſiſt with force: ſo when they ſaw

Their daughter ſafe, take vantage of their owne,

Praiſe Hymens valour much, nothing beſtowne.

Hymen muſt leaue the virgins in a Groue

Farre off from Athens, and go firſt to proue

If to reſtore them all with fame and life,

He ſhould enioy his deareſt as his wife.

This told to all the maids; the moſt agree:

The riper ſort knowing what t’is to bee

The firſt mouth of a newes ſo farre deriu’d,

And that to heare and beare newes braue folks liu’d,

As being a carriage ſpeciall hard to beare,

Occurrents, theſe occurrents being ſo deare,

They did with grace proteſt, they were content

T’accoſt their friends with all their complement,

For Hymens good: but to incurre their harme,

There he muſt pardon them. This wit went warme

To Adoleſhes braine, a Nymph borne hie,

Made all of voyce and fire, that vpwards flie:

Her hart and all her forces neither traine,

Climbd to her tongue, and thither fell her braine,

Since it could goe no higher: and it muſt go,

All powers ſhe had, euen her tongue did ſo.

In ſpirit and quicknes ſhe much ioy did take,

And lou’d her tongue, only for quicknes ſake,

And ſhe would haſt and tell. The reſt all ſtay,

Hymen goes on, the Nymph another way:

And what became of her Ile tell at laſt:

Yet take her viſage now: moyſt lipt, long fa’ſt,

Thin like an iron wedge, ſo ſharpe and tart,

As twere of purpoſe made to cleaue Loues hart.

Well were this louely Beautie rid of her,

And Hymen did at Athens now prefer

His welcome ſuite, which he with ioy aſpirde:

A hundred princely youths with him retirde

To fetch the Nymphs; Chariots and Muſick went,

And home they came: heauen with applauſes rent.

The Nuptials ſtraight proceed, whiles all the towne,

Freſh in their ioyes might doe them moſt renowne.

Firſt gold-lockt Hymen did to Church repaire,

Like a quick offring burnd in flames of haire.

And after, with a virgin firmament,

The Godhead-prouing Bride, attended went

Before them all, ſhe lookt in her command,

As if forme-giuing Cyprias ſiluer hand

Gripte all their beauties, and cruſht out one flame,

She bluſht to ſee how beautie ouercame

The thoughts of all men. Next before her went

Fiue louely children deckt with ornament

Of her ſweet colours, bearing Torches by,

For light was held a happie Augurie

Of generation, whoſe efficient right

Is nothing elſe but to produce to light.

The od diſparent number they did chuſe,

To ſhew the vnion married loues ſhould vſe,

Since in two equall parts it will not ſeuer,

But the midſt holds one to reioyne it euer,

As common to both parts; men therfore deeme,

That equall number Gods doe not eſteeme,

Being authors of ſweet peace and vnitie,

But pleaſing to th’infernall Emperie,

Vnder whoſe enſignes Wars and Diſcords fight,

Since an euen number you may diſunite

In two parts equall, nought in middle left,

To reunite each part from other reft:

And fiue they hold in moſt eſpeciall priſe,

Since t’is the firſt od number that doth riſe

From the two formoſt numbers vnitie

That od and euen are; which are two, and three,

For one no number is; but thence doth flow

The powerfull race of number. Next did go

A noble Matron that did ſpinning beare

A huſwifes rock and ſpindle, and did weare

A Weathers ſkin, with all the ſnowy fleece,

To intimate that euen the daintieſt peece,

And nobleſt borne dame ſhould induſtrious bee,

That which does good, diſgraceth no degree.

  And now to Iunos Temple they are come,

Where her graue Prieſt ſtood in the mariage rome.

On his right arme did hang a ſkarlet vaile,

And from his ſhoulders to the ground did traile,

On either ſide, Ribands of white and blew;

With the red vaile he hid the baſhfull hew

Of the chaſt Bride, to ſhew the modeſt ſhame,

In coupling with a man ſhould grace a dame.

Then tooke he the diſparent Silks, and tide

The Louers by the waſts, and ſide to ſide,

In token that thereafter they muſt binde

In one ſelfe ſacred knot each others minde.

Before them on an Altar he preſented

Both fire and water: which was firſt inuented,

Since to ingenerate euery humane creature,

And euery other birth produ’ſt by Nature,

Moyſture and heate muſt mixe: ſo man and wife

For humane race muſt ioyne in Nuptiall life.

Then one of Iunos Birds, the painted Iay,

He ſacrifiſde, and tooke the gall away.

All which he did behinde the Altar throw,

In ſigne no bitternes of hate ſhould grow

Twixt maried loues, nor any leaſt diſdaine.

Nothing they ſpake, for twas eſteemd too plaine

For the moſt ſilken mildnes of a maid,

To let a publique audience heare it ſaid

She boldly tooke the man: and ſo reſpected

Was baſhfulnes in Athens; it erected

To chaſt Agneia, which is Shamefaſtneſſe,

A ſacred Temple, holding her a Goddeſſe.

And now to Feaſts, Masks, and triumphant ſhowes,

The ſhining troupes returnd, euen till earths throwes

Brought forth with ioy the thickeſt part of night,

When the ſweet Nuptiall ſong that vſde to cite

All to their reſt, was by Phemonor ſung:

Firſt Delphian Propheteſſe, whoſe graces ſprung

Out of the Muſes well, ſhe ſung before

The Bride into her chamber: at which dore

A Matron and a Torch-bearer did ſtand;

A painted box of Confits in her hand

The Matron held, and ſo did other ſome

That compaſt round the honourd Nuptiall rome.

The cuſtome was that euery maid did weare,

During her maidenhead, a ſilken Sphere

About her waſte, aboue her inmoſt weede,

Knit with Mineruas knot, and that was freede

By the faire Bridegrome on the mariage night,

With many ceremonies of delight:

And yet eterniſde Hymens tender Bride,

To ſuffer it diſſolu’d ſo ſweetly cride.

The maids that heard, ſo lou’d, and did adore her,

They wiſht with all their hearts to ſuffer for her.

So had the Matrons, that with Confits ſtood

About the chamber, ſuch affectionate blood,

And ſo true feeling of her harmeles paines,

That euery one a ſhowre of Confits raines.

For which the Bride youths ſcrambling on the ground,

In noyſe of that ſweet haile their cryes were drownd.

And thus bleſt Hymen ioyde his gracious Bride,

And for his ioy was after deifide.

  The Saffron mirror by which Phœbus loue,

Greene Tellus decks her, now he held aboue

The clowdy mountaines; and the noble maide,

Sharp-viſag’d Adoleſche, that was ſtraide

Out of her way, in haſting with her newes,

Not till this houre th’Athenian turrets viewes,

And now brought home by guides; ſhe heard by all

That her long kept occurrents would be ſtale,

And how faire Hymens honors did excell

For thoſe rare newes, which ſhe came ſhort to tell.

To heare her deare tongue robd of ſuch a ioy,

Made the well-ſpoken Nymph take ſuch a toy,

That downe ſhe ſunke: when lightning from aboue,

Shrunk her leane body, and for meere free loue,

Turnd her into the pied-plum’d Pſittacus,

That now the Parrat is ſurnam’d by vs,

Who ſtill with counterfeit confuſion prates,

Nought but newes common to the commonſt mates.

This tolde, ſtrange Teras toucht her Lute and ſung

This dittie, that the Torchie euening ſprung.

Epithalamion Teratos.

COme come deare night, Loues Mart of kiſſes,

Sweet cloſe of his ambitious line,

The fruitfull ſummer of his bliſſes,

Loues glorie doth in darknes ſhine.

O come ſoft reſt of Cares, come night,

Come naked vertues only tire,

The reaped harueſt of the light,

Bound vp in ſheaues of ſacred fire.

  Loue cals to warre,

  Sighs his Alarmes,

  Lips his ſwords are,

  The field his Armes.

Come Night and lay thy veluet hand

On glorious Dayes outfacing face;

And all thy crouned flames command,

For Torches to our Nuptiall grace.

  Loue cals to warre,

  Sighs his Alarmes,

  Lips his ſwords are,

  The field his Armes.

No neede haue we of factious Day,

To caſt in enuie of thy peace,

Her bals of Diſcord in thy way:

Here beauties day doth neuer ceaſe,

Day is abſtracted here,

And varied in a triple ſphere.

Hero, Alcmane, Mya, ſo outſhine thee,

Ere thou come here let Thetis thrice refine thee.

  Loue cals to warre,

  Sighs his Alarmes,

  Lips his ſwords are,

  The field his Armes,

The Euening ſtarre I ſee,

Riſe youths the Euening ſtarre,

Helps Loue to ſummon warre,

Both now imbracing bee.

Riſe youths, loues right claims more thẽ banquets, riſe.

Now the bright Marygolds that deck the skies,

Phœbus celeſtiall flowrs, that (contrarie

To his flowers here) ope when he ſhuts his eie,

And ſhuts when he doth open, crowne your ſports;

Now loue in night, and night in loue exhorts

Courtſhip and Dances; All your parts employ,

And ſuite nights rich expanſure with your ioy,

Loue paints his longings in ſweet virgins eyes;

Riſe youths, loues right claims more thẽ banquets, riſe.

Riſe virgins, let fayre Nuptiall loues enfolde

Your fruitles breaſts; the maidenheads ye holde

Are not your owne alone, but parted are;

Part in diſpoſing them your Parents ſhare,

And that a third part is; ſo muſt ye ſaue

Your loues a third, and you your thirds muſt haue.

Loue paints his longings in ſweet virgins eyes;

Riſe youths, loues right claims more thẽ banquets, riſe.

  Herewith the amorous ſpirit that was ſo kinde

To Teras haire, and combd it downe with winde,

Still as it Comet-like brake from her braine,

Would needes haue Teras gone, and did refraine

To blow it downe: which ſtaring vp, diſmaid

The timorous feaſt, and ſhe no longer ſtaid:

But bowing to the Bridegrome and the Bride,

Did like a ſhooting exhalation glide

Out of their ſights; the turning of her back

Made them all ſhrieke, it lookt ſo ghaſtly black.

O haples Hero, that moſt haples clowde,

Thy ſoone-ſucceeding Tragedie foreſhowde.

Thus all the Nuptiall crew to ioyes depart,

But much-wrongd Hero, ſtood Hels blackeſt dart:

Whoſe wound becauſe I grieue ſo to diſplay,

I vſe digreſſions thus t’encreaſe the day.

The end of the fift Sestyad.

THE ARGVMENT OF THE SIXT SESTYAD.

  Leucote flyes to all the windes,

  And from the fates their outrage bindes,

  That Hero and her loue may meete.

  Leander (with Loues compleate Fleete

  Mand in himſelfe) puts forth to Seas,

  VVhen ſtraight the ruthles Deſtinies,

  VVith Ate ſtirre the windes to warre

  Vpon the Helleſpont: Their iarre

  Drownes poore Leander. Heros eyes

  VVet witneſſes of his ſurpriſe

  Her Torch blowne out: Griefe caſts her downe

  Vpon her loue, and both doth drowne.

  In whoſe iuſt ruth the God of Seas,

  Transformes them to th’Acanthides.

NO longer could the day nor Deſtinies

Delay the night, who now did frowning riſe

Into her Throne; and at her humorous breſts,

Viſions and Dreames lay ſucking: all mens reſts

Fell like the miſts of death vpon their eyes,

Dayes too long darts ſo kild their faculties.

The windes yet, like the flowrs to ceaſe began:

For bright Leucote, Venus whiteſt Swan,

That held ſweet Hero deare, ſpread her fayre wings,

Like to a field of ſnow, and meſſage brings

From Venus to the Fates, t’entreate them lay

Their charge vpon the windes their rage to ſtay,

That the ſterne battaile of the Seas might ceaſe,

And guard Leander to his loue in peace.

The Fates conſent, (aye me diſſembling Fates)

They ſhewd their fauours to conceale their hates,

And draw Leander on, leaſt Seas too hie

Should ſtay his too obſequious deſtinie:

Who like a fleering ſlauiſh Paraſite,

In warping profit or a traiterous ſleight,

Hoopes round his rotten bodie with deuotes,

And pricks his deſcant face full of falſe notes,

Prayſing with open throte (and othes as fowle

As his falſe heart) the beautie of an Owle,

Kiſsing his skipping hand with charmed ſkips,

That cannot leaue, but leapes vpon his lips

Like a cock-ſparrow, or a ſhameles queane

Sharpe at a red-lipt youth, and nought doth meane

Of all his antick ſhewes, but doth repayre

More tender fawnes, and takes a ſcattred hayre

From his tame ſubiects ſhoulder; whips, and cals

For euery thing he lacks; creepes gainſt the wals

With backward humbleſſe, to giue needles way:

Thus his falſe fate did with Leander play.

  Firſt to black Eurus flies the white Leucote,

Borne mongſt the Negros in the Leuant Sea,

On whoſe curld head the glowing Sun doth riſe,

And ſhewes the ſoueraigne will of Deſtinies,

To haue him ceaſe his blaſts, and downe he lies.

Next, to the fennie Notus, courſe ſhe holds,

And found him leaning with his armes in folds

Vpon a rock, his white hayre full of ſhowres,

And him ſhe chargeth by the fatall powres,

To hold in his wet cheekes his clowdie voyce,

To Zephire then that doth in flowres reioyce.

To ſnake-foote Boreas next ſhe did remoue,

And found him toſsing of his rauiſht loue,

To heate his froſtie boſome hid in ſnow,

Who with Leucotes ſight did ceaſe to blow.

Thus all were ſtill to Heros harts deſire,

Who with all ſpeede did conſecrate a fire

Of flaming Gummes, and comfortable Spice,

To light her Torch, which in ſuch curious price

She held, being obiect to Leanders ſight,

That nought but fires perfum’d muſt giue it light.

She loud it ſo, ſhe grieu’d to ſee it burne,

Since it would waſte and ſoone to aſhes turne:

Yet if it burnd not, twere not worth her eyes,

What made it nothing, gaue it all the prize.

Sweet Torch, true Glaſſe of our ſocietie;

What man does good, but he conſumes thereby?

But thou wert lou’d for good, held high, giuen ſhow:

Poore vertue loth’d for good, obſcur’d, held low.

Doe good be pinde, be deedles good, diſgraſt:

Vnles we feede on men, we let them faſt.

Yet Hero with theſe thoughts her Torch did ſpend.

When Bees makes waxe, Nature doth not intend

It ſhall be made a Torch: but we that know

The proper vertue of it make it ſo,

And when t’is made we light it: nor did Nature

Propoſe one life to maids, but each ſuch creature

Makes by her ſoule the beſt of her free ſtate,

Which without loue is rude, diſconſolate,

And wants loues fire to make it milde and bright,

Till when, maids are but Torches wanting light.

Thus gainſt our griefe, not cauſe of griefe we fight,

The right of nought is gleande, but the delight.

Vp went ſhe, but to tell how ſhe deſcended,

Would God ſhe were not dead, or my verſe ended.

She was the rule of wiſhes, ſumme and end

For all the parts that did on loue depend:

Yet caſt the Torch his brightnes further forth;

But what ſhines neereſt beſt, holds trueſt worth.

Leander did not through ſuch tempeſts ſwim

To kiſſe the Torch, although it lighted him:

But all his powres in her deſires awaked,

Her loue and vertues cloth’d him richly naked.

Men kiſſe but fire that only ſhewes purſue,

Her Torch and Hero, figure, ſhew, and vertue.

Now at oppoſde Abydus nought was heard,

But bleating flocks, and many a bellowing herd,

Slaine for the Nuptials, cracks of falling woods,

Blowes of broad axes, powrings out of floods.

The guiltie Helleſpont was mixt and ſtainde

With bloodie Torrents, that the ſhambles raind;

Not arguments of feaſt, but ſhewes that bled,

Foretelling that red night that followed.

More blood was ſpilt, more honors were addreſt,

Then could haue graced any happie feaſt.

Rich banquets, triumphs, euery pomp employes

His ſumptuous hand: no miſers nuptiall ioyes.

Ayre felt continuall thunder with the noyſe,

Made in the generall mariage violence:

And no man knew the cauſe of this expence,

But the two haples Lords, Leanders Sire,

And poore Leander, pooreſt where the fire

Of credulous loue made him moſt rich ſurmiſde,

As ſhort was he of that himſelfe he priſde,

As is an emptie Gallant full of forme,

That thinks each looke an act, each drop a ſtorme,

That fals from his braue breathings; moſt brought vp

In our Metropolis, and hath his cup

Brought after him to feaſts; and much Palme beares,

For his rare iudgement in th’attire he weares,

Hath ſeene the hot Low Countries, not their heat,

Obſerues their rampires and their buildings yet.

And for your ſweet diſcourſe with mouthes is heard,

Giuing inſtructions with his very beard.

Hath gone with an Ambaſſadour, and been

A great mans mate in trauailing, euen to Rhene,

And then puts all his worth in ſuch a face,

As he ſaw braue men make, and ſtriues for grace

To get his newes forth; as when you deſcrie

A ſhip with all her ſayle contends to flie

Out of the narrow Thames with windes vnapt,

Now croſſeth here, then there, then this way rapt,

And then hath one point reacht; then alters all,

And to another crooked reach doth fall

Of halfe a burdbolts ſhoote; keeping more coyle,

Then if ſhe danſt vpon the Oceans toyle:

So ſerious is his trifling companie,

In all his ſwelling ſhip of vacantrie.

And ſo ſhort of himſelfe in his high thought,

Was our Leander in his fortunes brought.

And in his fort of loue that he thought won,

But otherwiſe, he ſkornes compariſon.

  O ſweet Leander, thy large worth I hide

In a ſhort graue; ill fauourd ſtormes muſt chide

Thy ſacred fauour; I, in floods of inck

Muſt drowne thy graces, which white papers drink,

Euen as thy beauties did the foule black Seas;

I muſt deſcribe the hell of thy diſeaſe,

That heauen did merit: yet I needes muſt ſee

Our painted fooles and cockhorſe Peſſantrie

Still ſtill vſurp, with long liues, loues, and luſt,

The ſeates of vertue, cutting ſhort as duſt

Her deare bought iſſue; ill, to worſe conuerts,

And tramples in the blood of all deſerts.

  Night cloſe and ſilent now goes faſt before

The Captaines and their ſouldiers to the ſhore,

On whom attended the appointed Fleete

At Sestus Bay, that ſhould Leander meete.

Who fainde he in another ſhip would paſſe:

Which muſt not be, for no one meane there was

To get his loue home, but the courſe he tooke.

Forth did his beautie for his beautie looke,

And ſaw her through her Torch, as you beholde

Sometimes within the Sunne a face of golde,

Form’d in ſtrong thoughts, by that traditions force,

That ſaies a God ſits there and guides his courſe.

His ſiſter was with him, to whom he ſhewd

His guide by Sea: and ſayd, oft haue you viewd

In one heauen many ſtarres, but neuer yet

In one ſtarre many heauens till now were met.

See louely ſiſter, ſee, now Hero ſhines

No heauen but her appeares; each ſtar repines,

And all are clad in clowdes, as if they mournd,

To be by influence of Earth out-burnd.

Yet doth ſhe ſhine, and teacheth vertues traine,

Still to be conſtant in Hels blackeſt raigne:

Though euen the gods themſelues do ſo entreat them

As they did hate, and Earth as ſhe would eate them.

  Off went his ſilken robe, and in he leapt;

Whom the kinde waues ſo licorouſly cleapt,

Thickning for haſte one in another ſo,

To kiſſe his skin, that he might almoſt go

To Heros Towre, had that kind minuit laſted.

But now the cruell fates with Ate haſted

To all the windes, and made them battaile fight

Vpon the Helleſpont, for eithers right

Pretended to the windie monarchie.

And forth they brake, the Seas mixt with the ſkie,

And toſt diſtreſt Leander, being in hell,

As high as heauen; Bliſſe not in height doth dwell.

The Deſtinies ſate dancing on the waues,

To ſee the glorious windes with mutuall braues

Conſume each other: O true glaſſe to ſee,

How ruinous ambitious Statiſts bee

To their owne glorieſ! Poore Leander cried

For help to Sea-borne Venus; ſhe denied

To Boreas, that for his Atthæas ſake,

He would ſome pittie on his Hero take,

And for his owne loues ſake, on his deſires;

But Glorie neuer blowes cold Pitties fires.

Then calde he Neptune, who through all the noiſe,

Knew with affright his wrackt Leanders voice:

And vp he roſe, for haſte his forehead hit

Gainſt heauẽs hard Chriſtall; his proud waues he ſmit

With his forkt ſcepter, that could not obay,

Much greater powers then Neptunes gaue them ſway,

They lou’d Leander ſo, in groanes they brake

When they came neere him; and ſuch ſpace did take

Twixt one another, loth to iſſue on,

That in their ſhallow furrowes earth was ſhone,

And the poore louer tooke a little breath:

But the curſt Fates ſate ſpinning of his death

On euery waue, and with the ſeruile windes

Tumbled them on him: And now Hero findes

By that ſhe felt her deare Leanders ſtate,

She wept and prayed for him to euery fate,

And euery winde that whipt her with her haire

About the face, ſhe kiſt and ſpake it faire,

Kneeld to it, gaue it drinke out of her eyes

To quench his thirſt: but ſtill their cruelties

Euen her poore Torch enuied, and rudely beate

The bating flame from that deare foode it eate:

Deare, for it nouriſht her Leanders life,

Which with her robe ſhe reſcude from their ſtrife:

But ſilke too ſoft was, ſuch hard hearts to breake,

And ſhe deare ſoule, euen as her ſilke, faint, weake,

Could not preſerue it: out, O out it went.

Leander ſtill cald Neptune, that now rent

His brackiſh curles, and tore his wrinckled face

Where teares in billowes did each other chace,

And (burſt with ruth) he hurld his marble Mace

At the ſterne Fates, it wounded Lacheſis

That drew Leanders thread, and could not miſſe

The thread it ſelfe, as it her hand did hit,

But ſmote it full and quite did ſunder it.

The more kinde Neptune rag’d, the more he raſte

His loues liues fort, and kild as he embraſte.

Anger doth ſtill his owne miſhap encreaſe;

If any comfort liue, it is in peace.

O theeuiſh Fates, to let Blood, Fleſh, and Sence,

Build two fayre Temples for their Excellence,

To rob it with a poyſoned influence.

Though ſoules gifts ſtarue, the bodies are held deare

In vglieſt things; Sence-ſport preſerues a Beare.

But here nought ſerues our turnes; O heauen & earth,

How moſt moſt wretched is our humane birth?

And now did all the tyrannous crew depart,

Knowing there was a ſtorme in Heros hart,

Greater then they could make, & skornd their ſmart.

She bowd her ſelfe ſo low out of her Towre,

That wonder twas ſhe fell not ere her howre,

With ſearching the lamenting waues for him;

Like a poore Snayle, her gentle ſupple lim

Hung on her Turrets top ſo moſt downe right,

As ſhe would diue beneath the darknes quite,

To finde her Iewell; Iewell, her Leander,

A name of all earths Iewels pleaſde not her,

Like his deare name; Leander, ſtill my choice,

Come nought but my Leander; O my voice

Turne to Leander: hence-forth be all ſounds,

Accents, and phraſes that ſhew all griefes wounds,

Analiſde in Leander. O black change!

Trumpets doe you with thunder of your clange,

Driue out this changes horror, my voyce faints;

Where all ioy was, now ſhrieke out all complaints.

Thus cryed ſhe, for her mixed ſoule could tell

Her loue was dead: And when the morning fell

Proſtrate vpon the weeping earth for woe,

Bluſhes that bled out of her cheekes did ſhow,

Leander brought by Neptune, bruſde and torne,

With Citties ruines he to Rocks had worne,

To filthie vſering Rocks that would haue blood,

Though they could get of him no other good.

She ſaw him, and the ſight was much much more,

Then might haue ſeru’d to kill her; ſhould her ſtore

Of giant ſorrowes ſpeake? Burſt, dye, bleede,

And leaue poore plaints to vs that ſhall ſucceede.

She fell on her loues boſome, hugg’d it faſt,

And with Leanders name ſhe breath’d her laſt.

  Neptune for pittie in his armes did take them,

Flung them into the ayre, and did awake them.

Like two ſweet birds ſurnam’d th’Acanthides,

Which we call Thiſtle-warps, that neere no Seas

Dare euer come, but ſtill in couples flie,

And feede on Thiſtle tops, to teſtifie

The hardnes of their firſt life in their laſt:

The firſt in thornes of loue, and ſorrowes paſt,

And ſo moſt beautifull their colours ſhow,

As none (ſo little) like them: her ſad brow

A ſable veluet feather couers quite,

Euen like the forehead cloths that in the night,

Or when they ſorrow, Ladies vſe to weare:

Their wings, blew, red and yellow mixt appeare,

Colours, that as we conſtrue colours paint

Their ſtates to life; the yellow ſhewes their ſaint,

The deuill Venus left them; blew their truth,

The red and black, enſignes of death and ruth.

And this true honor from their loue-deaths ſprung,

They were the firſt that euer Poet ſung.

FINIS.