Her haire, that with such diligence was vsde To be kemb'd vp & did like clowdes appeare; Where many spangles, star-like were infus'd, To attend the lustre of so bright a haire, Whose beames like bright Arachnes web cōposed Taught Pallas a new enuie, now vnlosed, hiding her face, yet making it seeme rarer, as blazing Commets traine makes the star fairer.

Dispaire that teacheth holy ones to die, when as affliction ministers her part: Had breathing now in Mirrha, and well nie, Like Venus, made her graspe a flaming heart. Cupid was borne at Etna, a hot sprite, Whose violence takes edge off from delight. For men deepe louing, oft themselues so waste, that proffer'd dainties, they want power to taste.

Digresse no farther least thou proue obsceane, but tell by this how Nurse had broke the dore, And trembling both through age and feare, Forgot the naturall sence she had before Yet with her out-cries from the shades of death, cald Mirrhas spright, who with vnwilling breath re-enters flesh, scorning to giue it grace, with wonted beautie that adorn'd her face.

She tooke the haltar, and held vp her chin, chafing her temples with a violent heate: Making her soule returne with torments in, as it went out, being come vnto retrait, Nurse heau'd her trembling body on the bed, Where sinking as in graue, she seemed dead: Chast had my verse bin, blessed Mirrhas hap, if here my pen could write thy Epitaph.

When hauing gotten ope her heauie eyes, life-mocking death, with a fresh crimson hew, she thus bespake: if there be sorceries, Philters, inchauntments, any furie new That can inspire with irrelegious fire, The brest of mortall, that vntam'd desire Possesseth me, and all my bodies merrit, Shewes like a faire house, haunted with a spirit.

The foure and twentie windes are not so fierce, as what doth blow the fewel in my breast: Not the soft oyle, Apollo did disperse, on Phaitons brow, to keep his sun-beam'd crest From face of heauenly fires, could ought preuaile Gainst raging brāds which my poore heart assaile scorch'd with materiall flames, wee soone do die and to purge sins, we imbrace purgatorie.

But this a heate that nor in life or death, can render any humor but dispaire: Nor can it with the short cut of my breath, Take hence my shame, that shall suruiue mine heire Nor can the act (after tis done) content But brings with it eternall punishment, lesseneth the pleasure of the world to come, giues the iudge leaue, & strikes the guiltie dumb.

The iealious nurse, did apprehend her straite, yet would extract the quintessence of all: And therefore childe (quoth she) vse no deceipt, but tel me freely whence these teares doe fall I am thy nurse, and from my aged brest Thou hadst thy second being, tell the rest. I doe coniure thee, by these siluer haires, which are grown white, the sooner in their cares.

If any orped witch of Thessalie, haue powre vpon thee, gentle-girle relate: Or if thou haue prophan'd some dietie, wee shall some misticke fires propogate. To attone with them or if with barbarous hand devoy'd of thy first chastitie thou stand; Vnfold to me; griefes vttered finde redresse: fires vndescern'd burn the more pittilesse.

Or if the sunne of bewtie shoote at thee his fiery shafts, O tell me and the rather, Because thy confidence shal answer'd be, With this my childe Ile hide it from thy father As doth a dying man hold fast what so he grasps so she her feruent armes bout her Nurse claspes and nuzzels once more twixt those dugs her face whilst ore those Ilands flow salt teares apace.

That word of father was like Persey's shield, to make the poore maid stone, now nurse doth threat Vnlesse she will in gentle manner yeeld, she would to morrow shew how in a heat She would haue made away her desperate life, and she must tell the man that forc'd that strife within her brest through feare she thus did frame and made her toung the trumpet of her shame.

Her voyce halfe stopt with sighes (O fatal voice) pronounc'd these words, yet did the accēts faile: How blessed is my mother in her choise, How fully she with nature did preuaile. This said, her blushing face sinkes in her shroud like Cinthia muffel'd in an enuious cloud. When loe, the dying taper in his toombe, gaue darknes to it selfe and to the roome.

Now had she time to waile, and well she might, Guiltie of sorrow, there might you haue seene: As glow wormes adde a tincture to the night, Glimmering in pallid fire, vppon some greene, mixt with the dew, so did her eyes appeare, Each goulden glance ioyn'd with a dewy teare, oft shut her eyes, like starres that portend ill, with bloody deluge, they their orbes did fill.

The Nurse amated with the latter wordes, whose aged haires stood vp like siluer wire: Knew speech was vaine, where will the scope affords & whispering softly, saies childe thy desire Ile put into thy armes, sleepe, seize thy head, Tis now nights no one, all but the stars seem dead, Our vanities like fire-works will ascend, Vntil they breake, vncertaine where to end.

Neuer did mortall with a vicious thought, wish to bring vices Embrion to aforme: But still the prince of darknesse to them brought occasions fore-locke, which they off have torne. Sin like a Cedar shadowes all our good: Whilst vertues bounded like a narrow flood. As see now, how the occasion of misfortune; Mirrha's much abus'd-mother did importune.

Now came the time, of Ceres sacred rite, and Misteries, when all wives young and olde Cloathed in vailes, all of transparent white, Kneele to her, and to the Attick priest vnfolde, The firstlings of the fiel'd wreath'd gilded corne, Chaplets of dill, pluckt in a blushing morne, And many such, nor may they husbands see, In nine daies, till they end their misterie.

Now nurse was double diligent, watching her time and told old Cynitas a louely maide Sigh'd for him: and still with cupps of wine betwixt each word his pallat she assaide. Heated with wines, he bad the Nurse repaide, and bring to him the Maide that was so faire, Bacchus & Venus, Wine and frolicke lust, are sworne to blood, and keepe togither must.

Mirrha no sooner heard this glad reply, but as a poore bird long time in a snare, Ready for fammine and her woe to die, whom an vnskilful fouler vnaware hath guiuen freedome, to her foode doth hast, so Mirrha thought each houre an age was past: In her strict torments but being scapt away, her woes forgot, she thinkes vppon her prey.

And as she did ascend those staires to lust, in the midway, she heard her father speake: And nere lay partridge closer to the dust, at sound o' the Faulccons bell, then she too weak To encounter or resist: and feares are such, in loue by loue, that they enccrease loue much. Loue like to Monarkes, hath his state hie reared who euer wil be lou'd, where they are feared.

To a hundred seueral passions she doth yeeld, and as we see in Autumne of the yere Some gallant oake stand ready to be feld, vppon whose ribs a hundred wounds appeare Forc'd by the brawnie armes of Hynds vnlithe, who workes a passage to the weeping pith: Vncertaine (though wind shaken) where to fall: so stood her mynd doutful of rest at al.

Nurse opes the doore, and brings her to the bed the darkenesse of the night abated shame: And leaues her that must leaue her maiden head to the begetter of his owne defame, With faultring hams hauing got twixt the sheetes, In fearefull lust this Prodegiae meetes, He begs a kisse, then blusht she as he spake it, yet he must giue it, shee wants power to take it.

Now trembling lay she by her fathers side, like filly doue within the Eagles gripe: Nor doth she vse soft shrikes as doth a bride, (I meane a maide) when as the fruite so ripe Of maiden-head, forced from their wombe, Her fathers armes to her was as a tombe. She dead in pleasure, durst not shew her voice, least Cyniras should know this faire foule choice.

But when that Cupid once had whetted her, she twines her lilly stalks about his necke: So clings young Ivie bout the aged oake there, Venus smile, but frowning Iuno checks. Their stolne delight, no nuptiall tapers shone, No Virgin belt vntyed, but all vndone, the Athenian God, kindled no hallowed fires, darke was the night, suiting to their desires.

The morrow came, toyled with wakes and lust, she leaues her father, when as the rising Sun Couering the easterne Pines and mountaine dust, spyed Mirrha from her couch of sin to runne. Then blusht he first, and backward would ha fled And euer since in's rising hee's still red, Nere Turkas was at sicke blood more estrang'd, then Mirrha when her chastitie was chang'd.

Oft would she leane against her fathers knees, & tie his garter in a true loue's knot: And then vndoo't againe, as to shew she were vndone, yet he conceiu'd it not. And woman like that, keep not secrets long, she shewd her loue in dūb shewes with out tung, her lust she knew (yet hardly it concealde) like Fayries Treasur's vanish'd if reueal'd.

A third night came, darker then shores belowe, when Cyniras (father of feareful lust) Willing to see the foule that did bestowe So many pleasures on him (Ioue is iust) Did reach a taper, whose confusiue light, Strucke like a blasting at that horrid sight. The light fell from him loathing his defame, things senceles oft are mou'd, whē men not shame.

At length with bloodie eye fixed on her, out of an Iuorie scabberd hanging by: He drew a monumental Semiter, thinking with death that both their shames shold dye But night that oft befriended her with sinne, In her blacke wombe too, did her freedome win, For through the darke she slipt, and left her fire, to mourne his Fate, not execute his ire.

Sped with her lust, and flying thence apace, in feares and trembling, feare doth giue vs eies: For saftie to the Gods, she lifts her face, & her claspt hands to what she now not see's, loues browe was darke, Boetes had amaine Driuen his Oxen to the lower plaine. Phebae fled heauen, her face no tincture beares, Because shee saw a deed, worthie her teares.

The morning came, where yet the fatall print of Mirrha lay vpon the pillow: Cynix he Clog'd with distresse, a fathers cursse did hint, vpon that place of foule inchastitie, the sight of what we loath, breedes loathing more and vertue once renounc'd ingenders store, Leaue we him touz'd in care, for worldly wee, loue to leaue great men in their miserie.

Seauen winters nights, she fled before the Moone (who knew the vnchaste act she had inforc'd) Through Arabie, in feare she posteth soone, To odorous Panchaia, whose confines diuorc'd Her fathers land: here grew all choicest fumes: That to Ioues temples often men presumes: and on his altars them accumulate, and how they first sprung, here thereof the Fate.

Hebae now banish'd from th' Aetherian boule vppon a feast day mongst the Gods aboue, Where twas made lawfull, all without controule, might freely drink it chanc'd the Queen of loue Whether she long'd, or enuied Hebes starre, (Women are enuious, where they long for nectar) forc'd her to skinke so much, the iuice ran ore, so that Ioues drinke washt the defiled flore.

With this he storm'd, that's Priests from altars flie streight banish'd Hebae, & the world did thinke To a second Chaos they should turned be, the clouds for feare wept out th' immortal drinke and on Panchaia there this Nectar fell, Made rich th' adiacent lands with odorous smell, and such rare spices to the shoares are giuen, as Ioue would thinke no Nectar were in heauen.

There was a Satire rough and barbarous, pleasing his pallat at a trembling spring: Vnder a Beech with bowes frondiferous, though he had seene a nimph or rarer thing Then flesh and blood, for in the calmed streame, He saw her eyes like stars, whose raies did gleame Boue Phoebus farre, and so amazed stood, as if she had bin Goddesse of that flood.

And as you see a man that hath bin long Possessed with a furie of the shades: after some prayers and many a sacred song, with blessed signes, the euill spirit vades, so fell his rudenesse from him, and her shine, Made all his earthie parts pure and diuine. O potent loue, great is thy power be falne, That makes the wife mad, & the mad man calme.

Thus he begins, fairer then Venus farre, If Venus be, or if she be tis thee: Louelie as Lillies, brighter then the starre that is to earth the mornings Mercurie: Softer then Roses, sweeter breath'd then they, blush't boue Aurora, better cloath'd then May. lipt like a cherrie, but of rarer taste, Deuine as Dian, and as fully chaste.

Pardon my rude tongue, if I chance to erre, as Hermes selfe might erre being the God of Eloquence: for your bright eye doth beare all earthly blessings in a faire abode, Excuse me if I trip, I meane your weale, Error's no error, where tis done with zeale. Loue like materiall fires is made to flame: When tis supprest with fanning Fires first came.

With this, the Maid (so took) hung down her head wondring that such a shape had such a tongue: able to steale her loue, had she not fled, and from his ardent gripes, her body wrung. Flying like Phebae after strucken deere: and as he follow'd she fled more for feare. Zephire came foorth, to dally with her haire, while the poore Satire cried stay maide so faire.

But he on sudden like a subtill Snake, rould in a heape, shootes foorth himself at lēgth; and to his vigorous armes greedie doth take, his yeilding prey, won with his words not strēgth To be a woman, is by nature giuen, But to be constant, is a star, which heauen Hath seald on their sex forehead as a signe, That constancie in women is diuine.

Thou didst deceiue me Mirrha, when I saide, thou flew'st for feare, thou gau'st me cause to fear and I might iustlie haue this gainst thee laide, thou wentst t' auide by pathes that were so nere Who begin, ill most often end in ill, and she that doth her first pure youth so spill In lawles lust, though made a wife to one, Remaines like wax for each impression.

But see the goodnesse of the Deities, who still with grace preuents our ill presage, This groue was hallow'd to no Hiadres, but chast Diana, who with violent rage Discending from her towre of Christalline, To keepe the place still sacred and diuine: against her rites, brought with her thereupon white Poplar from the banckes of Acheron:

Then with a charme, that did her face eclips, And made her crescent quak, the iuice she powers Vpon the Satirs face, and prophane lipps, which quickly ouer all his body showers, Her borrow'd power of art being finished: (Deriued from Phoebus as her light) she saide, Nine-times the holy rime, which spok will clere, all prophane matter, and this spake she there.

Sleepe Poplar sleepe, that was the Satirs name, who had bin long a king within these woods, Since thou my sacred Groue, gan to prophane: a sleepe seize on thee, still as stigian floods, by Stix I vow the partiall destenies, Did they conspire, shold nere vnclaspe thin eies, hauing thus said, the Satire vanisht so, as mens prospect that from a mirrour goe.

I thinke (quoth she) accursed is this place, for heere the man, for whome I sorrow now, Heedelesse Acteon with immodest face, saw all our naked and did ouer-vewe: As men rich iuells doe, thinking there lies yet some rare vertue hidden from their eyes: And euen there quoth shee, & then did point, reuen'gd, I saw his hounds teare ioint from ioint.

But since saies she, thou as a King didst reigne, and art a Trophey too of Dians power: Thus much the Goddesse of the floods doth deign to change thy shape, into a vertick flower. Then thrice three words, thrice striking charmed wood The ground did crannie, and there out of hand, appeared greene Poplar, younger then before, which bow'd the head & dyan did adore.

The palefac'd Mirrha sat like guiltie spright, fore the infernall iudge, yet did not see Diana great, for dull are mortalls sight, (and all inuisible is chastitie) But heard a voice as she was vanishing, saying defild maide, doost wonder at this thing? O Mirrha ere my crescents beautie change, thou shalt be turn'd into a shape as strange.

With this the verdant new sprung Poplar plant (moou'd with the winde) seemd to bow down the head as cheering Mirrha, who did comfort want being amaz'd at what Diana saide, Hauing recouer'd sence, she flies the place, For feare of Phebaes comming to the chace: to Saba land she hies, where all affraide, my muse shall sing the downfall of the Maide.

Then first hung downe Poplar his heauie braine, for Mirrha's losse, whose loue brought him that and for he once in woods a King did raigne, a crowne hee still wear's, richly wrought with blew and yellow eke, as figures both of loue, Which Venus dropt downe him from aboue. Bacchus doth loue him, for in feasts of wine, he weares a poplar Garland mixt with vine.

The leaden God of sleepe, on his iuice feede, the vertues of him, sundry doe declare: His suddain taste a heauinesse doth breede, and drownes in rest, sences opprest with care, In places farre remote, he loues to growe, and eke by rivers that runne thicke and slowe, where drowsilie this woodish demie God, with euerie gale of winde his head doth nod.

Now to proceede after a small repose, that the accursed seede gan swell her wombe, whē her drie brain, no more teares could expose she weayting for a sad and heauie dombe. For often men offending, still doe feare, Though Ioue be farre off, yet his iudgements nere downe would she sit, and so vnfolde her moane that Eccho sight hirs and forgot her owne.

Distressed twixt the teadiousnesse of life, and trembling feare of death, she thus began: For when we cease to be the crimes are rife, which youth committed, and before vs then. For aged memorie doth clasp't containe, Those shapes of sin, which hot blood held as vain. O cursed Fates quoth she, that brought to passe this prodegie twixt me and Cyniras.

O leaue to leape for ioy, thou prettie childe, to Heare of Cyniras, or ile leaue rather: To speake of him, whose bed I haue defilde, & made him proue thy Grandsire & thy Father Was I predestin'd to select no other, But fated for the sister and the Mother, of thee my babe, heauen here hath beene sinister the childe shall call his grandsire, son his mother sister.

Oft doe two Roses grow out from one stem, and one of them is full blowne fore the other, So fares it now with thee my virgin iem, whome nature would call sonne but shame saies brother Shall I not blush when thou art ripe, to gather The circumstances of who was thy Father, yes sure I shall, yet shame forgets all shame, Ile charge thy father of a heauenly name.

But oh, I feare me least some Prodegie, the heauens agree, that I to light should bring; to fright ee'n the yron age, that chastitie might take example by my suffering. That I a monster-mother should be made, If soe, O ouer equall Gods, let Mirrha fade into some shape, worthy your high deuice, Pitty to me, would make Ioue seeme vnwise.

Alter O Gods, death that is due to birth, nor let the dead repine, that I should see Eliziums blest shades, nor the men of earth annoided be with my impuritie, Let them enioy the fieldes, and learned Songes, Of hye brow'd Orpheus, let the vnflesht thronges that haue deseru'd this, and much more be glad, my starres, my double life, and fate, are sad.

You wearyed race of Danans vnblest girles, In vaine leaue off your vnwomb'd tubs to fill, & with your teares that staynd ye Indyan pearles, Weepe out for Mirrha, and ere night you will at my sad story orebrim with your teares, Your whirle-poole vessells, which so many yeres return'd no interest, if you well deplore, you'le drowne in teares, or labour so no more.

Cōclude my fate, quicke you eternall counsell, or else I feare the nere-erturned dead Clad in the fearefull shapes of night and hell, will rife before the general day be spred; and hurrie me in flesh to Acheron, To taste hels torture both in soule and bone: Then blast me thunderer in righteous ire, and I like Semele wil meete thy fire.

The Gods to her last wish was tractable. her tongue percullist twice was as she spake: aire was her voice, and Mirrha now not able, to thanke the Gods, her ioynts in sunder brake. Leaues were her locks, of golden haire bereau'd, her armes long boughes, deem & be not deceiu'd tree gan she be, yet twixt her thing so staid, you could not say she was or tree or maide.

First grew her hayre vp like the Summer Corne, or as a blazing starre whose streames rise vpward & being changd, fell leaues, that vp were borne, by the rude windes, yet had you but haue heard You'd sware, a sigh for Mirrha's transmigration Had beene decreed by all the windie nation. and euerie Autume, since a thing moste rare, The falling leaues, resemble Mirrha's haire.

To barke her yuorie skin polisht congeald, each blew rig'd current into melting sap, Her nailes to bolssome faire, & what reueal'd with accents sad, the babe yet in her lap. Her fingers twigs, her bright eyes turn'd to gum, Buried on earth, and her owne selfe the toombe, her sences gone, yet this sence did she win, to aye relent, the horror of her sinne.

For euen as from a guilty man, that's pleading for remorse, teares follow teares, as hoping to preuaile, So from this tree, (though now a senceleffe course) flowe pretious teares, as seemes she doth bewaile In death, with euer liuing teares, the act fore-done These Pius drops, made densiue by the sunne, are kept for holy vses, and the Mir, That so distilles, doth beare the name of her.

The misbegotten babie, swels the tree, and loathing the defiled wombe sought vent: Those panges that mothers haue felt shee, and solemne sighes had issue, as they'd rent, and spoile the shape, she newly had assum'd, But wordes within the close bark were inhumbd Yet wept it out, as it to water would, Or seem'd it mockt Pactolus waues of golde.

Till chast Lucina, whome the Poets giue, The mid-wiues power in producing creatures, by whose change we last die, and first doe liue, (be they not violent each) she that giues features Forme or takes away, makes foule or faire, Discending from her Spheare next to our ayre: with armes yspred, vppon the melting mir, brought diuine comfort downe from heauē with her

Few wordes she spake, but euery sillable, of power to comfort the afflicted Ghostes; Or any other sencelesse thing make able, doe better deedes then those Alcides boastes, the tree streight craynes, & springs forth the child who the first minut, though his countenance smild cryed out a maine, our first propheticke breath, showes our first houre, is mother to our death.

The water Nymphes then caught him tenderly, who laid him streight on the enameled bankes, and bath'd him with his mothers teares, whereby they made him fairer, and in merry prankes The Ladies call a conuocation there, Some praise his nose, his lips, his eye, his eare. Some his streight fingers, whilst a fist doth sweare his verry breath yet smelleth of the mirre.

Another wishes, oh for such a face! Nor can I blame her though she did wish so: For sure, were I a wench, t'had bin my case, for nature heere, made both her ioy and woe, And spight that (but herself) commendeth none, Of force must say, this was a rarer one Then either nature did, or ere shall make, whose life holdes vp her age, whose deathe's her wrack.

Eyes like two stars falne from their proper sphears as if they scorn'd the beaten pathes of heauen: Or enuying of beautie of the beares, showne firmer heere, and brighter then the seauē Such was he as was Cupid wont to be In pictures lim'd, and that they may agree, furnish the babe with winges and quiuer light, or from loues God, take wings, and quier quite.

Nought may compare with Time in his swift race the babe ere while feeles now youths hot alarms And as in yeares, so beautious grew his face, that he is fit againe for Ladies armes: Nor Cupid now could wound more dames thē he That Venus who Captiues all, is not free From her own power, she loue's Adonis milde, That Mars doth storm, & wish he were no childe.

Nor Paphos, Amathus nor fishie Gnide, delights she now to haunt, nor Etna now Burnes more then her, she roans the wood so wide after her game, that to his game doth bow. And will not heare or see, for eies and eares, If they her heare or see, their vse forbeares Yet she persues, and leaues her power vn euen on heauen & earth, she loues him more thē heauē.

Oft would she say, and bathe those words in tears oh thou fair boy, wold God thou loudst like me but sure thou art not flesh, it well appeares, thou wert the stubborne issue of a tree, So hard thou art, then she a sigh would fet, and wish that Vulcan had not made his net, For boysterous Mars, shee'd fayner ha' bin sped with this choice floure, claspt in her yron bed.

Shee'd nere haue blusht, thē she does make a vow though al the Gods of both worlds had thē seen She raveth that she euer lou'd til now, that she might worthily ha bin loues Queene. wel, wel (quoth she) thou hast reueng'd the spight which from my accurst Sons bow did fowly light On thy faire Mother, O immortall boy, Though thou be faire, tis I that should be coy.

But stay my Muse in thine owne confines keepe, & wage not warre with so deere lou'd a neighbor, But hauing sung thy day song, rest & sleepe preserue thy small fame and his greater fauor: His song was worthie merrit (Shakspeare hee) sung the faire blossome, thou the withered tree Laurell is due to him, his art and wit hath purchast it, Cypres thy brow will fit.

FINIS.



Hiren: OR The faire Greeke:

By William Barksted, one of the seruants of his Maiesties Revels.

Ovid.

——nonparuas animo dat gloria vires, Et fecunda facit pectora laudis amor.

LONDON:

Printed for Roger Barnes, and are to be sold at his shop in Chancery lane, ouer against the Rolles. 1611.



TO THE HEROICKE HE ros, Henry Earle of Oxenford, Vicount Bulbeck, &c.

Sir, if my unpolish't pen, that dedicates new The bashfull utterance of a maiden Muse, May gracefully arrive onely to you, Which for her virgin sake, do not refuse, Time, and more studious howers shall we vow, To sing your vertues, which are now profuse. Kings haue drunke water from a louing hand, And truth's accepted, though we paint her poore. The Poets say, the Gods that can command, Haue feasted gladly on a poore mans store, Whereby great Sir, we haue to understand, That humble Riuers adde to the seashore. Liue long and happy, and with gray haires crown'd, Reade thy youths acts, which fame shall euer sound.

Your honors obseruant seruant,

Wil. Barksted.



The faire Greeke.

1

Of Amuraths yong spleenfull sonne I sing, His sonne, who to the Strand of Hellespont And to the great Sea-cost his bounds did bring, Whose Empire so the Grecians did confront, That euen from Pindus, and Thomao Mont. From darke Morea to Corinthian streights, From Burgon to Hungaria's broken wing, His Nauy fetch'd contributary freights.

2

Yong Mahomet, the wanton of her eie, Which teacheth wars, & caught his nonage daies That gaue such hansell of his tyranny, In those first battails, and apprentize sayes, Which did so hotly dart their early rayes, On Sigismond, or that wherein was tane, Philip the noble Duke of Burgondy, With him kept prisoner, o farre better slaine!

3

Yong Mahomet to Greece the fatall scourge, Which thither death, and desolation brought, Euen to the faire Constantinoples veirdge, The Grecian Empires chaire, the which he sought For which a huge digested army fought. And at the last, distressed Constantine, And of all Christians did the Citty purge, O shame to Europes Peeres, and Kings diuine.

4

Let Italy take heed, the New-moone threats, To reare his hornes on Romes great Capitall, And doth not Rome deserue such rough defeats, That should be mother of compassion all? And couenite the states, and principall In league, and loue, which now for trifles iarre, The Persian Sophy shames our Christian feats, Who with the Souldan ioynes gainst Turkish war.

5

Had Constantine, that three times sacred Prince, Beene rescu'd then by power of Christendome, Mathias neuer should haue cran'd defence, Of Germans, English, Spanish, France, and Rome, Taxes of warre, to these climes had not come: Nor yet the Turke with all his barbarous hoast, Durst with the Catholikes such war commence, Where now they haue heard their drums, & feard their hoast.

6

Who reads or heares the losse of that great town Constantinople but doth wet his eyes? Where litle babes frō windows were pusht down Yong Ladies blotted with adulteries, Old fathers scourg'd with all base villanies? O mourne her ruine, and bewish the Turke, eternall depriuation of his Crowne, That durst for paganisme such outrage worke.

7

When Mahomet had man'd the wals, the towne surpriz'd Great grew the slaughter, bloudy waxt the fight, Like Troy, where all was fir'd, and all despis'd, But what stood gracious in the victors sight. Such was the wo of this great citty right: Here lay a Saint throwne downe, & here a Nun, Rude Sarazens which no high God agnis'd, Made all alike our wofull course to run.

8

And in this deadly dealing of sterne death, And busie dole of euery Souldiers hand, Where swords were dul'd with robbing men of breath Whil'st rape with murder, stalk't about the land, And vengeance did performe her own command, and where 'twas counted sin to thinke amisse: There no man thought it ill to do all scath, O what doth warre respect of bale or blisse?

9

There stood an ancient Chappell next the Court, Where sacred Bishops said their morrow Masse. And sung sweet Anthems with a loud report, To that eternall God-head, whose sonne was, Sequestred from the Trinity to passe, Vnder the burthen of the holy Crosse, For our redemption, whose death did retort, The sting of Sathan, and restor'd our losse.

10

Hither was got of silly maides some few, Whom happily no Souldier yet had seas'd, Tendring their spotlesse vows, in child-cold dew, Of virgin teares, to haue the heauens appeas'd But teares too late, must be too soone displeas'd, And hither, like a Tyger from the chase, Recking in bloudy thoughts, and bloudy shew, Came Amurath himselfe to sacke the place.

11

In Armour clad, of watchet steele, full grim, Fring'd round about the sides, with twisted gold, Spotted with shining stars vnto the brim, Which seem'd to burn the spheare which did thē hold: His bright sword drawn, of temper good and old, A full moone in a fable night he bore, On painted shield, which much adorned him, With this short Motto: Neuer glorious more.

12

And as a Diamond in the dark-dead night, Cannot but point at beames on euery side, Or as the shine of Cassiopaea bright, Which make the zodiacke, where it doth abide, Farre more then other planets to be ey'd: So did faire Hirens eyes encounter his, And so her beames did terror strike his sight, As at the first it made e'm vale amisse.

13

O that faire beauty in distresse should fall, For so did she, the wonder of the east, At least, if it be wondrous faire at all, That staines the morning, in her purple nest, With guilt-downe curled Tresses, rosy drest, Reflecting in a cornet wise, admire, To euery eye whom vertue might appall. And Syren loue, inchant with amorous fire.

14

A thousand Bashawes, and a thousand more, Of Ianizaries, crying to the spoile, Come rushing in with him at euery dore, That had not Loue giuen Barbarisme the foile, The faire had beene dishonored in this while. But o when beauty strikes vpon the heart: What musicke then to euery sence is bore, All thought resigning them, to beare apart.

15

For as amongst the rest, she kneel'd sad weeping, In tender passion by an altars side, And to a blessed Saint begins her creeping, He stood loue-wounded, what should her betide, Whilst she saw him turnd round, & well nie died. Let darknes shroud quoth she, my soule in night, Before my honor be in Mahounds keeping, Prisoner to enuy, lust, and all vnright.

16

O, if thou beest a Souldier, lend thy sword, To ope the bosomes, where yet neuer lay, Ignoble Souldier, nor imperious Lord, Of all whom war hath grip'd into her sway, Onely remaine we few, let not this day, Begin with vs, who neuer did offend, Or else do all of vs one death afford, If not, kill me, who ne'r was Pagans friend.

17

But now (said Mahomet) thou shall be mine, Thine eies haue power to such a great mans hart, If then they worke on me to make me thine, Say thou art wrong'd? dishonor doth impart No loue, where he may force: but mine thou art, And shalt be only in thine own free choice, What makes me speake, makes me speak thus diuine Else could I threat thee with a conquerors voyce.

18

What you may do (said she) I do not know, But know you this, there is a thousand waies, To finde out night before my shamelesse brow, Shall meet that day in guilt of such misrayes. Oh how vniust art thou? the pagan sayes, To him which sues for a respecting eye, And no ignoble action doth allow, But honor, and thy faires to gratifie.

19

The effect of both is one (said she) both spils, And layes my shame o're mastred at thy feet, But greatnesse (said he) doth outface all ills, And maiesty (make sowre apparance sweete, Where other powers thē greatnes doth cut meet? It doth indeed, said she, but we adore, More thē a great Earth-monarch whō death kils, Mortall soules, thinke on th'immortall more.

20

Alas faire Christian Saint (said Mahomet) So yong, and full of gray hair'd purity, These are but shifts of Friers, tales farre fet. Dearest, I'le teach thee my diuinity, Our Mecha's is not hung with Imagery, To tell vs of a virgin-bearing-sonne, Our adoration to the Moone is set, That pardons all that in the darke is done.

21

O blinde religion, when I learne, said she) To hallow it, my body tombe my soule, And when I leaue the mid-day-sunne for thee, Blush Moone, the regent of the nether roule. What I hold deerest, that my life controule, And what I prize more precious then imagery, Heauens, grant the same my bane and ruine be, And where I liue, wish all my Tragedy.

22

A dreadfull curse replide the Saracen, But I will teach thee how to cousen it, An oath in loue may be vnsworne againe, Ioue markes not louers oathes euery whit, Thou wilt repent beside, when riper wit Shall make thee know the magicke of thine eies, How faire thou art, and how esteem'd of men, Tis no religion that is too precise.

23

Nor is this all, though this might woo a Greeke, To wantonize with princely Mahomet, Much more by loues inuention could I speake, By which the coldest temper might be heate: But I must hence, a fitter time I'le set, To conquer thee, Bashawes these spare or spill, Saue Mustapha this maid, since her we like, Conduct vnto our Tent, now warre he will.

24

She like Cassandra thral'd and innocent, Wrang her white hands, & tore her golden haire, Hal'd by the Eunuchs to the Pagans Tent, Speechlesse, and spotlesse, vnpittied, not vnfaire, Whiles he to make all sure, did repaire, To euery Souldier throughout the field, And gaue in charge matters of consequence, As a good generall, and a Souldier should.

25

Then sent he forth Polidamus to bid, The Drums & Trumpets sound that daies retreit, For in his soule their ratling noyse he chid: For startling Cupid, whose soft bosome streight, Had lodg'd him, & grew proud of such a freight. Beside the sword and fire had swept the streetes, And all did in the victors hands abide, Night likewise came, fit time for Loues stolne-sweets.

26

Thus tumbling in conceits, he stumbled home, In the darke couerture of shady night, Cal'd for a torch, the which his chamber groome, With more then speedy haste did present light: To bed he went, as heauy in his spright, As loue, that's full of anguish makes the minde: Faine would he sleepe away this martirdome, But loues eyes open, when all else are blinde.

27

What do you talke of sleepe? talke of the Greeke, For being laid, he now grew almost mad, What is she not as faire (quoth he) to like, As Phedria, whom in Corinth once I had? With that he knock't his Eunuchs vp, and bad, One aske the Grecian maide, what was her name, What she made there, & whom she came to see, And to what end into his Tent she came?

28

When he was gone, somewhat the fury staid, And beat more temperate in his liuer-vaine, Onely he could not choose but praise the maid, Whose eies frō his such womanish drops did strain Did not thy face (sigh'd he) such faires containe, It could not be, my heart thou couldst distract, But all abstracts of rarities are laid, In thy faire cheekes so feelingly compact.

29

Thus made, what maiest thou not command, In mighty Amuraths wide Empery? My tributary loue, and not my land, Shall pay it homage to thy proud bent eye, And they who most abhorre idolatry, Shall tender Catholicke conceites to thee, O arme not honor still for to withstand, And make a foyle of loue, which dwels in me.

30

By this time was the Carpet-page returned, And told the prince the Greeke was Hiren hight, But so she wept, & sigh'd, & grieu'd, & mourn'd, As I could get no more (said he to night, And weeps (said Amurath) my loue so bright, Hence villaine, borrow wings, flie like the winde, Her beauteous cheeks with hot tears wil be burnd Fetch her to me: o loue too deafe, too blinde!

31

Then crossing both his armes athwart his breast, And sinking downe, he set a soule taught grone, And sigh'd, and beat his heart, since loue possest, And dwelt in it which was before his owne. How bitter is sweet loue, that loues alone, And is not sympathis'd, like to a man? Rich & full cram'd, with euery thing that's best, Yet lyes bed-sicke, whom nothing pleasure can.

32

Sometimes he would inuoke sweet Poets dead, In their own shapes, to court the maid with words But then he fear'd least they her maidenhead Shold win frō him: thē somtimes arms & swords, His old heroike thoughts, new roome affoords, And to the field he would: but then loue speakes, And tels him Hiren comes vnto his bed, Which dasheth all, and all intendments breakes.

33

And lo indeed, the purple hangings drawne, In came faire Hiren in her night attire, In a silke mantle, and a smocke of lawne, Her haire at length, the beams of sweete desire) Her breasts all naked, o inchanting fire! And siluer buskins on her feet she wore, Though all the floore with Carpet-worke was strawn Yet were such feet too good to tread that floore.

34

Now Mahomet bethinke thee what is best, Said she, compell me I will speake thy shame, And tell thy hatefull fact, at euery feast, Singers in balads shall berime thy name, And for dishonoring me spot thy faire fame: But if—: No more chast maid said Mahomet: Though in thy grant consists all ioy and rest, I will not force thee, till thou giue me it.

35

But say I languish, faint, and grow forlorne, Fall sicke, and mourne: nay, pine away for thee, Wouldst then for euer hold me yet in scorne? Forbid my hopes, the comfort that should be In hopes in doating hopes which tire on me: O be not as some women be, for fashion, Like sun-shine daies in clouds of raine stil borne, The more you'l loue, the more shall grow my passion.

36

And then he clasp'd her frosty hand in his, An orient pearle betwixt two mother shels, And seal'd thereon a hearty burning kisse, Kisses in loue, force more then charmes or spels, And in sweet language; hopes-desires foretels, Ah louely Greeke, what heart hast thou (quoth he) What art thou made of? fire dissolueth yee, Tygers relent, yet thoul't not pitty me.

37

Dwel'st thou on forme? I can confirme thee than, Sibilla liues to tell she did repent. Let Latmus speake what it of Delia can, And it will eccho her loue-languishment. Chaste eyes somtimes reflect kind blandishment: Beside, thy foueraigne will thy subiect be, Once a great king, now a despised man, A vassall, and a slaue to Loue and thee.

38

Why dost thou weep? tis I shold drown mine eies And burst my heart with languor, and dispaire, I whom thy vnrelenting thoughts despise, I who can woo thee by no sute, nor prayer, Yet doating mad for thee, o cruell faire, I sweare by this diuine white daizy-hand, The loue I beare thee, in my heart it lies, Whose searching fire, no reason can withstand.

39

Wilt thou be mine? here shalt thou liue with me, Free'd from oppression, and the Souldiers lust, Who if thou passe my Tent, will seize on thee, And they are rude, and what they will thou must. O do not to the common Kestrels trust, They are not as the Eagles noble kinde, But rough, and daring in all villany: Honor with me, with them scarce safety finde.

40

Honor and safety, both in true loue is, And Mahomet is zealous, o loue him: With him ioy euery thing that tasts of blisse, Pompe, honor, pleasure, shews, and pastimes trim, Care dwels not where he dwels, nor sorrow grim Onely till now, that he for Hiren mournes: A Greeke whom he would bring to paradice, He ner'e took thought, but now he sighs & burns.

41

Wilt thou be his, on thee shall waite and tend, A traine of Nymphs, and Pages by thy side, With faunes, horse, coach, & musicke which shall lend The spheares new notes in their harmonies pride. When thou wilt walke, and publikly be ey'd, To bring thee in thy hie way, cloath'd with flowers Shall sent like Tempe when the graces send, To meet each other in those fragrant bowers.

42

At home shall comick Masques, & night disports Conduct thee to thy pillow, and thy sheetes, And all those reuels which soft loue consorts, Shall entertaine thee with their sweetest sweets. And as the warlike God with Venus meetes, And dallies with her in the Paphian groue, Shall Mahomet in bed shew thee such sports, As none shall haue, but she which is his loue.

43

Againe: No more againe (saies she) great king, I know you can do much, and all this to, But tell me when we loose so deere a thing, Shame can we take pride in, in publike shew: Think you the adulterate owle, then wold not so? No, no, nor state, nor honor can repure, Dishonor'd sheet's, nor lend the owle daies wing Ignoble shame a King cannot recure.

44

Now say mine eies & cheeks are faire, what then? Why so are yours, yet do I dote on you? Beauty is blacke, defam'd by wicked men, And yet must euery beauty make men sue? Too good is worse then bad, you seeme too true Too easie, passionate, loue-sicke, and kinde, Then blame not me, that cannot so soone ren Your course: the fault is in your forward minde.

45

But say great prince, I had a wanton eye, Would you adde Syrius to the sommer sunne? And whurle hote flaming fire where tow doth lie By which combustion all might be vndone? For loke how mightier greater Kings do run Amisse, the fault is more pernicious, And opens more to shame and obloquy, Then what we erre in, or is done by vs.

46

A Monarch, and a mighty Conquerour To doate, proues euery woman is his better, But I'le be true to thee (said he:) One houre (Said she;) but what for truth, when it is fitter We keepe our own, then haue a doubtful debter. But I will sweare, said he: So Iason did, Replide faire Hiren, yet who faithlesse more, or more inconstant to his sworne loues bed?

47

Too many mirrors haue we to behold, Of mens inconstancy, and womens shame. How many margent notes can we vnfold, Mourning for virgins that haue bene too blame? And shall I then run headlong to the flame? I blush, but it is you should be ashamed, For know, if that you neuer haue beene told, "Vertue may be inforc'd, but not defamed.

48

Faire louely Prince, let warre your triumphs be, Go forward in the glittering course you run, The kingly Eagle strikes through Atomie, Those little moates that barre him from the Sun, Then let not both of vs be here vndone, You of your Conquest, I of Chastitie. And pardon my rude specch, for lo you see, I plead for life, and who's not loath to dye?

49

Death of my fame, which oft proues mortal death Witnesse the Prince-forc'd chaste Lucretia, Ere I like her be rap'd, o reaue my breath, And gainst thy nature, take a yeelding pray, That will embrace death, before thee this day. If thou loue me, shew it in killing me, Thy sword had neuer yet a chaster sheath, Nor thou, nor Mahound a worse enemy.

50

He heard nor this, nor ought of what she said, For all his senses now were turn'd to eyes, And with such fired gaze he view'd this maid, That sure I thinke not Hermes mysteries, Nor all his Caducean nouelties, That flow from him like a slye winding streame, (To which the Gods gladly their eares haue laid) Could once haue mou'd him from this waking dreame.

51

But sighes he sends out on this embassie, Liegers that dye ere they returne againe, Poore substitutes to coape with chastity. She knew the pleading of their Liege was vaine, And all his teares like to a Mel-dew raine, That falles vpon the floures, to defloure. Yet, for twas tedious, she did aske him why, Each sigh was o're him such a conquerour.

52

By heauen he swore, and made his Eunuch start, I sigh to coole Loues fire, then kist her hand: For know, thou wonder of the Easterne part, He need not counterfeite that can command: But by thy middle, Cupids coniuring wand, I am all loue, and faire beleeue my vow, Sprung from a Souldier, now a louers heart, He sweares to loue, that neuer lou'd till now.

53

Not halfe so faire was Hellen, thy pre'cessor, On whom the firy brand of Troy did dote, For whom so many riuall kings to succour, Made many a mountaine pine on Symois floate, Whilst fame to this day, tels it with wide throat. Hector fell wounded in that warlike stir, Peleus did faint, Aiax that lusty warriour, Then blame not me, that loue one far 'boue her.

54

Nature deuis'd her owne despaire in thee, Thine eye not to be match'd, but by the other, Doth beare the influence of my destiny. And where they stray, my soule must wander thither Beauty of beauty, mother of Loues mother. All parts he praises, coming to her lip, Currall beneath the waues, vermilion dye, And being so neere, he wold not ouerslip.

55

Now tyres the famish'd Eagle on his pray, Incorporating his rude lips in hers, Sucking her balmey breath soft as he may: Which did more vigor, through his brest disperse, Such kisses louers vse at first conuerse. All parts were to that center drawne I wis, Close as the dew-wormes at the breake of day, That his soule shew'd, as t'were a melting kisse.

56

Till breathles now, he breath'd into her loue, Who scorn'd to take possession by degrees, No law with her strange passion, will he proue, But hauing interest, scorn'd one inch to leese, Cupid, sheele set thee free withouten fees. But though his wings she well nie set on fire, And burn'd the shaft, that first her brest did moue, Yet Cupid would be Lord of her desire.

57

Tis sayd, Aurora blushes euery morne, For feare that Titan should her fault espy, And blushes so did Hirens cheekes adorne, Fearing least Mahomet perceiu'd her eye. Louers are blind, and what could he espy. No, twas the hidden vertue of that kisse, That her chast lips were nere vs'd to beforne, That did vnframe her, and confirme her his.

58

Louers beleeue, lips are inchanted baites, After fifteene, who kisses a faire maide, Had need to haue friends trusty of the fates, For by my muse (I sweare) I am a afraid, Hee's Iourney-man already in Loues trade. A kiffe is porter to the caue of loue, Well see, and you may enter all the gates: "Women were made to take what they reproue.

59

A kisse is the first Tutor and instinct, The guider to the Paphian shrine and bowers. They who before ne're entred loues precinct, Kissing shall finde it, and his sundry powers. O how it moues this continent of aires, And makes our pulse more strong & hye to beat, Making vs know when lips are sweetly linck't, That to those Kickshawes 'longs more dainty meate.

60

And so indeed bewitched Hiren knowes, The pressure of his lips was not in vaine, Seldome proue women friends vnto their foes, But when with ouer kindnesse they are tane, So weake professors do swalow their owne bane: Shew them the axe they'l suffer martyrdome, But if promotion to them you propose, And flattery, then to the lure they come.

61

Thus Mahomet blinds her with Cupids vaile, And this new conuertite building on hope, Loue makes folks hardy, alas the flesh is fraile, Dispences now a little with the Pope: And frō restrictions giues her heart more scope. O Liberty, Author of heresie. Why with such violent wing dost thou assaile, To hurry vertue to impiety.

62

No pardon will she now implore of Rome, Her selfe she pardons twenty times an houre, Nor yet an heretike her selfe doth doome, Since she hath Mahomet within her power. O loue too sweet, in the digestion sower! Yet was he made, as nature had agreed, To match them both together from her wombe, And be a ioyfull grandam in their seed.

63

A face Nature intended for a maister peece, And louely as the maide (though a blacke pearle) Painters and women say, an Eben fleece, Doth well beseeme the shoulders of an Earle: Blacke snares they were, that did entrap this girle Each haire like to a subtile serpent taught her, Of the forbidden fruit to taste a peece, Whil'st Eue is stain'd againe here in her daughter.

64

His eyes were stuck like Comets in his head, As if they came to treate of nouelties, And bring the world and beautie into dread: That he must conquer chastest chastities. O who such tempting graces could despise, All voluntarie sinnes soules may refraine, But Natures selfe that of the flesh is bred, Such power she hath, that vice she will retaine.

65

Let me, faire Greeke, a little plead for thee, Like a vaine Orator, more for applause, And swolne commends, of those are standers by, Then profits sake, or goodnesse of the cause. If men that vpon holy vowes do pawse, Haue broke, alas, what shall I say of these, The last thing thought on by the Deitie, Natures step-children, rather her disease.

66

Maide, why commit you wilfull periurie? To you I speake that vowe a single life, I must confesse y'are mistresse of beauty: Which beautie with your oaths is still at strife. Then know of me, thou, widow, maide or wife, She that is faire and vowes still chast to stand, Shall find an opposite to constancie, Fooles Oracles last not, are writ in sand.

The end of the first Tome.



TO THE PERFECTION OF Perfection, and wisedome of Womanhood, the intelligent, and worthily admired, Elizabeth Countesse of Darby, wife to the thrice-noble William Earle of Darby.

VVhen as the skilfull Statuaries make, The image of some great & worthy one, They still, as they intend his forme to take, Forecast the Basis he shall rest vpon, Whose firme infixe thunders nor winds can shake, Nor Time, that Nature deeds to liue alone. So (worthiest Lady) may I proudly vaunt, (Being neuer guilty of that crime before) That to this Laye, which I so rudely chaunt, Your diuine selfe, which Dian doth adore, As her maids her, I haue select to daunt Enuy: as violent as these nam'd before.

Uertue and beauty both with you enioy, Gorgon and Hydra (all but death) destroy.

Your honors from youth oblig'd,

Wil. Barksted.



The second Tome.

67

Long did this beautious martyr keep her faith, Thinking that Mahomet was full of error: Treading that high coelestiall milkie path, Virginity, that did produce hels terror, Yet knowing loue in Princes turnes to wrath, She meanes to catch his fancies with her cunning: But so resistlesse is this Princes feruor, Though he imprison loue, still feares his cunning.

68

For like a Castle seated on a rocke, Besieg'd by thousands danger each way spread, That had withstood the battery of warres shock: The liuing making bulwarkes of the dead. So did this Virgins thoughts to her hart flock, Wiuing her danger, when her powers were lost: Hyrena will yeeld vp her maiden head, A gift to make Ioue proud, or silence bost.

69

He gently woes her with the misers God, The Indians ignorance, and vertues slaue, Bright flaming gold, for where that ha's abode, All doores flies open to the wish we craue. Gold is mans mercy, and his makers rod, She loues the King for honor and for riches, He makes her eyes his heauen, her lap his graue, A womans face oft Maiesties bewitches.

70

When news is brought him that his foes are come, He catches straite this maiden in his armes, Calling for musicke that is now his drumme: Ile keepe thee safe (quoth he) for other harmes, Tho spoke in thunder they to me are dumbe. To counsell now they call him with low duty, But her Idea so his sences charmes, He drownes all speech in praising of her beauty.

71

One tels him that the Christians are in field. You do not marke her beauty, he replies. Two mightie Cities to their power doth yeeld: Note but the lustre sparkling from her eyes. Your subiects hearts, against your life are steeld: Her tongue is musick, that strikes wonder dumbe. Your people struck with warre by millions dyes: If she but frowne then I shall ouercome.

72

Shall I feare this worlds losse enioying heauen, Or thinke of danger when an Angel guards me? Can greater glory to my life be giuen, Then her maiesticke beauty that rewards me? Nay is not he of happinesse bereau'd, That neuer saw her face nor heard her voyce, And those that win our loue, most regards me, Confesse that we are godlike in our choice.

73

He left his Ianisaries in a trance, And to her priuate chamber straite enioyes, His bloud within his azure veines doth dance: "In loue th' effects are seene before the cause: For nectar'd kisses and a smile by chance, Are but loue branches, though they grow vp first, And Cupid thus confines vs in his lawes, To tast the fountaine ere we quench our thirst.

74

Night like a Princes pallace full of light, Illumin'd all the earth with golden starres, Here Art crost Nature, making day of night: And Mahomet prepares him for loues warres. A banquet is ordain'd to feed delight, Of his Imperiall bountie with expences: A heauen on earth he presently prepares, To rauish in one hower all her sences.

75

Her eyes could glance no way but saw a iewell, As rich as Cleopatra gaue her loue. Pictures haue power to warme ice with loues fewell. The gentle treading of the Turtle-doue, The Camels lust that in his heate is cruell: And Iupiter transformed from a man, When with his breast the siluer streame did moue, And rauish Laeda like a snowy Swan.

76

The table furnisht, to delight the taste, With food aboue Ambrosia diuine, Such as would helpe consumptions that did wast: The life bloud, or the marrow, Greekish wine, So high one draught would make Dian vnchast. Nectar is water to this banquets drinke, Here AEsculapius did his art resigne, And pleasure drown'd with standing on the brink.

77

To please her hearing Eunuches sang as shrill, As if that nature had dismembred them, All birds that ecchoes musicke through the bill, Sang ioy to her in an vndittied antheme: An artificiall heauen stands open still, Filling the roofe with a sweet vnknowne noyse, Downe fals a clowd like a rich diadem, And showes a hundred naked singing boyes.

78

The sence of smelling with all rare deuises, That rich Arabia or the world can yeeld, The dew of Roses and choise Indian spices, The purest of the garden and the field. The earth to part with these rare gifts now rises, And vowes no more her nature so profuse, Shall let her sweets be from her breast distild, To feed their vanitie with her abuse.

79

Then in a rich imbroidred bed of downe, Pluck't from the cōstant Turtles fethered breast, Vpon her head he set imperiall crowne, And to her goes: Now is his soule at rest. This night he counts the end of his renowne, The sence of feeling, she feeles by his power, And like a subiect yeelds to his request, Whilest Mahomet a virgin doth deflower.

80

Now feares this flower deflowr'd his loue will waine, Wishing the lustfull act had bin vndoon, The pleasure cannot counteruaile the paine, For still she thinkes with torment ioy is woon, His loue growes full, she gets it now with gaine: He like a ring of gold insets his iewell, But fearing of his force she should disdaine, Till sighes and kisses did inflame Loues fewell.

81

Then like the God of Warre, caught in a net, He twin'd his Venus, danger was not nigh, And as a Diamond compar'd with Iet, So show'd her sparkling eye against his eye. The sunne-gaz'd Eagle now this done doth get, And gently gripes her, hurting not his pray, She sounds with pleasure, second sweets are high And wishes Phoebus blinde all night, no day.

82

The red-cheek't morning opens now her gate, And busie day breathes life into the world, The heauens great coachman mounted is in state, And darknesse from the aire to hell is hurld. Now pleasures king by day light sees his mate, Whil'st she lay blushing like the damaske rose, His ietty haire she with her fingers curld, He hug'd her fast, least he his ioyes should lose.

83

Her sight begot in him a new desire, For that is restlesse alwaies in extreames, Nought but saciety can quench loues fire. Now throgh the christal casemēt Phoebus beames Dazled those twinckling starres that did aspire, To gaze vpon his brightnesse being a louer. Tasting her petulans in waking dreames, To hide her from the sunne, he doth her couer.

84

Then sweet breath'd musicke, like the chime of spheares, Did rauish pleasure, till this paire did rise: More wonder then that sound was to men eares Was her rare beauty to the gazers eyes. Ioy was so violent, the rockes it teares, The noise and triumphs beates vpon the aire, And like ambition pierceth through the skies, That Ioue loo'kt downe on her that was so rare.

85

Thus Mahomet both day and night doth spend, In obseruation of her eyes and pleasure, Growing so iealous, least he should offend, His soules perfection, natures vnspent treasure. If she but speake to him, he low doth bend, And such a seruitude he doth discouer. Neglecting of himselfe in that grosse measure, That Hiren clips her slaue, no Emperour.

86

Her chamber is her prison (O most willing) And there like house-doues they each other woo At first shee'l shun him, after fall a billing, And with imagination make him doo. Thy eies quoth Mahomet, saues thousands killing For all my force vpon thee shall be spent, Thy warres directions I do best allow, Thy Armes my Armour, and thy bed my Tent.

87

Who doth offend this paramour, straight dyes, As certainly, as if pronounc'd by fate, Who doth with duty please her, needs must rise, Her face directeth both his loue and hate. The grosest flatterer is held most wise. Now reignes swolne gluttony, red lust, and pride: For when the heart's corrupted in a state, Needs must the other parts be putrifide.

88

The cōmons like wolues, bark againft the moone And sweare they wil depose him from his throne: The Nobles whisper, and intend, that soone. Some one shal let their griefe to him be knowne. To scape that office now is each mans boone, Who speakes against her whets a fatall knife, For he replyes, I loose but what's mine owne, As sure as we haue life, you loose that life.

89

They stand amaz'd, by hearing their own feares Each viewing other with a face extracted: Some praying, cursing, other shedding teares, To see a Louer by a Souldier acted. Patience doth foole vs that so long forbeares, To tell our Emperour hee's turn'd a monster, And to such ease and vices so contracted. The world, his birth, and titles doth mis-conster.

90

Then Mustapha, beloued of the Turke, Stood vp, and said, I hazard will my head, Know Countrymen, Ile vndertake this worke, And if I fall, lament me being dead. No flattery within this breast shall lurke: For that to Princes eares is now grown common Whilest Mahomet to haue his pleasure fed, Doth loose the worlds sway for a fickle woman.

91

Vnto her priuate chamber straight he goes, And findes his foueraigne sleeping on her lap, On suddaine wakes him: Sir, here are your foes, The sound amaz'd him like a thunder-clap: Although you sleep, awak't are all our woes. The franticke Emperour vpon him stares, Relate in briefe the worst of our mishap, Man cannot wrong vs, when a God not dares.

92

This danger Mehomet, attends thy reigne, The Gods are angry with thy lustfull ease, Thy priuate pleasure is the Empires paine, To please your selfe you all the world displease: The Sophy, German, and the King of Spaine, Begirt thy safety with the ribbes of death. Then worthy Prince, your wonted valour cease, And take my counsel, though it cost my breath.

93

You are but the shadow of an Emperour, Not really effecting what you are, A slothfull Epicure, a puling louer, That now en'e trembles at the name of warre, Obliuion all thy former acts do couer, Most willing to remoue you I will dye, The sunne of honour now is scarce a starre, Vertue at first was sire to Maiesty.

94

The Emperour vpon his subiect stares, As if a Gorgons head he there had seene, How comes it vassall, that thy proud tōgue dares, Speake to remoue mee frō this heauenly queene? The gods wold liue on earth, to haue their shares In my Hirena: Sirra, you want nurture: Thy life I will not touch now in my spleene, But in cold bloud it shall depart with torture.

95

I feare not death, repli'd bold Mustapha, At your command I'le clime a steepy rocke, Then headlong tumble downe into the sea, Or willingly submit me to the blocke, Disrobe my nature, and my body flea: Yet in that tyranny I'le speake my minde, And boldly like a Souldier stand deaths shocke, Concluding, lust can strike the Eagle blinde.

96

His haughty words amaz'd this king of loue, Thou wert not wont to speake thus without duty. Can her embraces so my soule remoue? And must he be a coward dotes on beauty? Such rarity of pleasure I do proue, In her enioying, that my soule is fed, With that variety, to speake her truly, Each night she giues me a new maiden-head.

97

Yet shall my subiects know my power in this, That I can rule mine own affection: I pardon freely what thou speak'st amisse, Knowing it sprung from loue, and thy subiection: Your eies shall see me rob the earth of blisse, A sight too sad, all heauen strike men with terror, And in that act cast such reflexion. That kings shall see thēselues in me their mirror.

98

Go, tell my Bashaes, and the noble bloud, I do inuite them to a royall dinner, And there I'le shew them loue can be withstood: Yet he that wrongs my Greeke is such a sinner, He cannot cleanse himselfe, washt in Ioues flood. Fortune this fate vpon my loue hath hurld, The Monarkes of the earth in hope to win her, Against her beauty would stake all the world.

99

Leaue vs: and be thou comforted my faire, I will aduance thee bou'e the stile of woman: Let not my words bring thee vnto dispaire, Thou shalt imbrace the Gods, for her's no man Worthy to taste thy sweetes, they are so rare. Drawn by the Phoenix thou through heauen shalt ride And Saturn woūded by loues litle bowman Shall get his sonne to haue thee stellifide.

100

Go decke thy beauty with heauens ornament, Shine Cinthia like with iewels in the night, As she with starres stucke in heauens firmament; But thine, the greater will deface her light, Making her yeeld to thee her gouernment. On Saturnes top thy face shall gaine opinion, Beyond cold Phoebe shining out so bright, Thou shalt be courted by her loue Endimion.

101

Let ioy possesse thy heart, and be thou proud, In sight of all the Turkish Emperours Peares, Let not thy sunne of beauty in a cloud, Be hid from those, whose eies with deawy teares, For want of thy pure heate in shades do shroud, Their drooping forheads, but thy beames exhales All misty vapours, and the welkin cleares, Like putrifying lightning, or Ioues balles.

102

Then hand in hand they passe out of the roome, Her beauty like a blazing starre admired, Well may I tearme it so, it shew'd the doome, Of her liues date that instant was expired. Now to the presence chamber they are come, Where all in reuerence kisse the humble earth, Here nature tooke her own, and death hath hir'd; To giue that backe againe, which she gaue birth.

103

Now stands in the midst, and thus begins, (Taking the faire Hirena by the hand:) Which of you here, that such a creature wins, Would part with her, for honor, loue, or land? The gods were enuious whē they made those sins Which are th crowns of this fraile worlds cōtent, Nor can it with their humane reason stand, To thinke our ioyes begets our punishiment.

104

View but her hand, her lip, her brow, her eyes, The smalnesse of her waste, and comely stature, And let your iudgement bou'e your hatred rise, Thē you must needs cōfesse, she excels in feature. That you are onely fooles, I truly wise, Doe not her presence admiration strike, And broken is her frame by angry nature, For feare she wrongs herselfe, and make the like.

105

What man that hauing toild in hidden Art, Spent all his youth, and substance to the bone, All bookes and knowledge in the deepest part, To finde that Phoenix, that gold-getting stone, And hauing it, to comfort his weake heart, Shall he his seruants, wife, or friends to please, With his owne eies go see that iewell throwne, Into the bottomelesse and gaping seas.

106

Or which of you can haue the fortitude, To lop a limbe off, or pull out an eye, Or being in a heauenly seruitude, To free your selues would with the damned lye? Of force with me you now must all conclude, That mortall men are subiect to loues rod, But heere you shall perceiue that onely I, Am natures conquerour, and a perfect God.

107

Then with a smiling looke, he came vnto her, And kist her, bad her pray, and then he smil'd, I must not in my constancy now erre, Since by mine owne tongue I a God am sti'ld. He drawes a fatall Turkish Simiter, With it he parts her body from her head. And though his tyranny did proue so vile, She seem'd to mocke him smiling being dead.

108

Vntill he tooke it in his bloudy power, And then a crimson floud gusht out a pace, The fauor chang'd frō smiling and look't sower. And senceles teares ran trickling downe her face, As who should say, I thought within this hower, For me thou wouldst haue oppos'd heauen with strife, That earthly being is like falling glasse, To thee I lost virginity and life.

109

Long stood he mute, and gaz'd vpon her forme, Till Mustapha came in to play his part, His eies shot lightning like a horrid storme, Thē with his fauchion runs him through the hart, O could this diuell my soule so tranforme, That I must eate that snake in him did lurke, But this is hels instruction, the blacke Art. To giue our sins the means by which they work.

110

O my Hirena, Mahomet then cries, Looke through the orbes, & see an Emperour sad Detaine her not you rulers in the skies, But send her once more, to make Monarkes glad. My soule to thine like Tartars shaft now flies, They held his arme, or else he had done the deed This mighty Mahomet with loue growne mad, Can nothing ease you, but your heart must bleed.

111

Where is that God-head due vnto your birth, Descended from the Prophet Mahomet, Recall your spirits to their former mirth, And keep your colour constant like the Iet. Now shew your fortitude, be God on earth, Marshall your men, giue eare vnto your Drum, And let your valour with the sunne being set, With the resplendancy burne Christendome.

112

Awake dull mate, and leaue this trance, Be perfect man, as thou hast here thy being, Not subiect vnto passion or chance; But like thy selfe, with Kingly thoughts agree, Our siluer moone to heauen we will aduance, And Christendome shall mourne for Hirens fall, That heathen Princes our braue acts seeing, Shall yeeld the world to vs, we king of all.

113

And for my loues vnkindly Tragedy, A thousand Citties for her death shall mourne, And as a relicke to posterity, Our priests shall keep her ashes in their vrne, And fame to future times with memory, Shall sound her glory, and my loues effects, For, till this vniuersall Masse doth burne, Her beauty rests the wonder of her sex.

114

Now order my affaires for bloudy warre, For heere I vow this loue shall be my last, No more shall downy pleasure, like a barre, Stop my designes that now at honour gast, Shoote prophet on my forhead a blessed starre, A Tygers fiercenesse, and my heart shall moue, Because with Hiren all affections past, I'le pitty none, for pitty begets loue.

FINIS.



THE LOVE OF AMOS AND LAVRA.

written by S. P.

LONDON

Printed for Richard Hawkins, dwelling in Chancery-Lane: neere Sarieants-Inne. 1613.



TO MY APPROVED AND MVCH RESPECTED FRIEND, Iz: Wa:

To thee thou more then thrice beloued friend, I too vnworthie of so great a blisse: These harsh tun'd lines I here to thee commend, Thou being cause it is now as it is: For hadst thou held thy tongue by silence might, These had bene buried in obliuions night.

If they were pleasing, I would call them thine, And disavow my title to the verse: But being bad, I needs must call them mine, No ill thing can be clothed in thy verse. Accept them then, and where I haue offended, Rase thou it out, and let it be amended.

S. P.



THE AVTHOR TO HIS BOOKE.

Go little booke into the largest world, And blase the chastnes of thy maiden Muse: Regardles of all enuie on thee hurld, By the vnkindnes that the readers vse: And those that enuie thee by scruples letter, Bid them take pen in hand and make a better.



THE LOVE OF Amos and Laura.

In the large confines of renowned France There liu'd a Lord, whom Fortune did aduance, VVho had a Daughter, Laura call'd the faire; So sweet, so proper, and so debonaire, That strangers tooke her for to be none other, Then Venus selfe, the God of Loues owne Mother. Not farre from thence was scituate a Towne, The Lord thereof a man of great renowne; VVhom likewise Fortune blessed with a Sonne, Amos by name, so modest, ciuill, yong, And yet in sight so wondrous and so bold, As that therein he passed vncontroul'd: So kinde to strangers, and so meeke to all; Of comely grace, and stature somewhat tall. As the wide world not two such Impes affords, As were the off-springs of these happy Lords. Hunting he lou'd, and therefore in a morne He shakes off sleepe (for ease he laughes to scorne) Before the sable Curtaines of the East Proclaim'd the Sunnes approach vnto the west; Or Tytan, Lordly Ruler of the morne, Had in his Chariot, left the night forlorne; Or sounded sleepe to them, with whom (men say) It's darksome night when we enioy the day: He brac'd his Hounds, and striding o'er his Steed, Hope with a conquest did the youngster feed: VVhich done, he hyes him to a mighty wood, That ioyn'd where Laura's Fathers Pallace stood. Thither being come, a Bore he rais'd, whose pace Did make our hunts-man loose his Hounds in chase: Ranging the woods, he light into a Groue, More pleasant farre then that where Venus stroue To win Adonis to her hearts desire, Moued by the burning zeale of sweet Loues fire. In this sweet Groue God Pan did keepe his Court, And summon'd all the petty Gods resort, As Satyres, Nymphes, and others, to the same, VVhere all sing prayses vnto Laura's name. Into this Groue (neare to her chamber side) (To take the Ayre) she comes forth; soone espide Of the yong Hunts-man, who made haste vnto her, And thus the Nouice there beginnes to wooe her: Parragon of beauty, diuine, though earthly creature, And yet Celestiall in thy heauenly feature. This sodaine courting, and vnwelcome sight, Made her adde wings to feare, and to that, flight: He following after, caught her by the traine, That in a rage the Maide turn'd backe againe, And did demaund why he without remorse, Durst cause her stay, against her will, by force. Mou'd by the rosiate colour of thy face, (VVherein consists (quoth he) all heauenly grace) I was too bold, I must confesse indeede, To touch the seluage of thy sacred weede: For which my selfe Ile punish as thou wilt, VVith any paine, for my deserued guilt. Doe but pronounce the sentence of my death, These hands shall be the butchers of my breath: But since the merit of my fault's no deeper, Oh let me be thy Prisoner, thou my Keeper; So shall thine eyes be witnesse of the woe, VVhich for my bold offence Ile vndergoe. Pronounce thy sentence then. VVherwith she spake, You are your Crafts-man Sir: and there she brake. Yet turning backe, quoth she, o would 'twere true, Your loue were firme to me, as mine to you! And here she ceased: for when he came neare her, She was afraid that he would ouer-heare her. And art thou so vnwilling then, quoth hee, To doome the sentence which I aske of thee? Perswade thy selfe it is thy purer minde That will not let thy heart proue so vnkinde: O would that minde were mine, to ioyne thy hart Eyther to end my life, or ease my smart. Loue is my sute. Nor hate is my reply, Quoth she. Quoth hee, I cannot court it I; They which but view the error in my lookes, May finde I neuer learn'd in Cupids bookes: But like a stone rough hewen from the rockes, And after polish'd by the Masons knockes, The former shewes but base then in compare, So to my loue my speech disgraces are: For were my speech true patterne of my minde, Not as it doth, should't come, but farre more kinde, Like as the Marchant hearing of a losse, Is vvondrous sory for so great a crosse; And after heareth by a true report, His goods are safely landed in the Fort, Cannot expresse the joy he doth conceiue: For why? it doth his senses quite bereaue; And yet with signe of sorrow blames th'euent, Although it seeme most plaine and euident. Or like a Ship toss'd by tempestuous weather, Now here, then there; now back againe, then thither That whirle-windes meeting (roaring out aloud) Make watry mountaines shew the ship each cloud: Then with such fury they descend the deepe, From top of triple-Cedar-mountaines steepe, As of the Seas rich orientall shew, Against their wils they take a counterview. So fares his minde, which tossed to and fro, Sometimes doth ioy, and other times is woe: Sometimes from depth ascends into the ayre, And though he hope, he hides it with despayre. So long with feruent zeale he mou'd his sute, Onely for want of words his tongue was mute. "VVhere true affection rules in hottest fires, "Dumbe signes and tokens then shew mens desires: For what he thought he shew'd, he could not vtter, Which made him oft when he shold speak to mutter. She that was wounded with the selfe-same dart, Reueal'd with tongue that which she wisht with hart And fram'd her answere, so much't could not grieue him, For 'twas a salue to wound and to relieue him. Say I could loue, quoth she, my milder minde, (Vnlesse you further moue) cannot vnkinde, Frame you an answere: for wee are by nature So much addicted to mans heauenly feature, That though your faults are great by your abuse, To blinde the same it is our womans vse. Then as thou found'st me, leaue me, if thou wilt; That shall be all I render for thy guilt. Further I will not credit thy report: Farewell; be gone, for I am mist in Court. With that shee flyes, and in her flight she leaues A well wrought Scarfe, which straight the winde vp heaues; And proud of such a prise, they doe infer With their embassage vnto Jupiter, And there presented it: who, as 'twas right, Did make the windes returne't with swiftest flight, Vnto the place where Amos stood amazed At that which hapt, who like a mad-man gazed, Wondring what she by this illusion meant, When to allure him was her whole intent: But led in admiration most of all, At the rich Scarfe which from the Maide did fall. He viewes the worke, where finding of Apollo Chasing a Nymph, who swifter then a Swallow Flyeth his armes, for feare did lend her wings To flye from him which after her soone flings. Himselfe a foole he cals, that wanting skill, Being allur'd, he had not knowne her will. Doubtfull, he feares offence committed to her, That he so rashly, gain'st her will, durst wooe her. To cleare himselfe of which offence he flyes, Resolu'd to winne the Maide, or lose the prize, With prosperous hast. Oh may thy hast well speed, Whose wondrous loue did vertuously proceed: Not from the flames of filthy lusts desire, As was that Rome-borne Tarquins lustfull fire: But as vnspotlesse from that filthy thought, From that most hell-deseruing thing of nought, As euer heart lodg'd in a loyall brest, Or tongue, vntaught to lye, euer exprest. But why doe I digresse the path I tread, Cloying your eares with that your eyes doe read? Pardon my boldnesse, and giue eare a while To that, of him, which my inferiour stile Shall now expresse: though't not with honor stands, He thinkes one paire of legs worth twice two hands. The arrow swift sent from the sturdy bow, May be accounted (to his flight) but slow: At last he gain'd the Court, to vvhich being come, It shew'd like to the Pallace of the Sunne Describ'd in Ouid: for in length and fairenesse, None might surpasse the workmanship and rarenes. Through which his way lies, & he needs must passe, The pauement Marble vvas, the vvals of Glasse: VVhereunder vvas so liuely caru'd the Story Of great Joues loue, his vvondrous vvorks, & glory, VVith many others loue: vvhich to rehearse VVould adde a mighty volume to my Verse, Besides mine owne weake vvit: for I doe know it, He vvas a better workeman, then I Poet. Yet could not this abate the Louers pace: For he still holds the louely Maide in chase. Passing the Court, he comes into a greene, VVhich vvas in middest of the Pallace seene: Thorough the midst there ranne a pleasant Spring, On each side with a vvall of Bricke hemm'd in, Onely in midst, a Stile; beyond, a Plancke, VVhich for a Bridge did serue to eyther bancke. Ouer this Stile as Laura lightly skips, In her rent garment happily it slips, And held her there a while till hee came to her, VVhere once againe the Nouice gins to wwoe her. Flye not thy friend, our Maker vvilleth so, Things reasonlesse approue and vvish it so, If vvithout sense and reason all things then Obserue a better course then humane men, How sauage were we then offending so, Committing that vvhich vve offence doe know? O were my tongue a second Orpheus Harpe, That to my loue I might allure thy heart! Or vvere thy loue but equall vnto mine, Then vvould thou seeke his fauor vvho seeks thine! Me thinkes vnkindnesse cannot come from thence, VVhere beauty raignes vvith such magnificence, I meane from thee, vvhom nature hath endow'd VVith more then Art would vvillingly allow'd: And though by nature you are borne most faire, Yet Art would adde a beautie to your share: But it being spotlesse doth disdaine receipt Of all vnpolish'd painting counterfeit. Your beautie is a snare vnto our wayes, VVherein once caught, wee cannot brooke delayes; VVhich makes vs oft through griefe of minde grow sad, Griefe follows grief, then malecontent & mad. Thus by deniall doe you cause our woe, And then doe triumph in our ouer-throw. What is it to be fayre? onely a vanitie, A fading blossome of no perpetuitie. Consider this: for beautie is a flower, Subiect to ill occasions euery hower; It is a tenure holden as wee see Durante Dei placito, not in fee. Measure my Loue then, proue it by a tryall: Let me not languish still by your deniall. If in my suite I erre, as by mischance, Blame not my Loue but count it ignorance. The tongue is but an instrument of nought, And cannot speake the largenesse of the thought: For when the minde abounds, and almost breaketh, Then through abundance of the heart it speaketh: No man can speake but what he hath in minde, Then what I speake I thinke; be not vnkinde Vnto your seruant, who obedience proffers, And makes firme loue the obiect of his offers. I will not boast of Parentage, or Lyne, For all are base, respecting thee diuine: Nor will I boast of wealth, or riches store, For in thy face consists all wealth, and more. Pure are my thoughts as skin betweene thy browes, And eke as chaste my speech, my oathes, & vowes. Speake sweetest fayre, but one kinde word to me, How can alas that be offence in thee? There was a Dame a moderne Poet sung, Hero by name, like thee, both faire and young: And both so faire, that you did others passe As farre as rarest Dyamonds common glasse. VVhom young Leander courted on a greene, A Maide so faire (but thee) was neuer seene. She granted loue, which he (alas) to gaine, To reape those ioyes, did crosse the brinish Maine. My loue to thee, I now compare to his; Accounting danger, so requited, blisse. There are no Seas to separate our ioy, No future danger can our Loue annoy: Then grant to me what she denide not him; If good in her, in thee it is no sinne. The Sunne hath shin'd thus long, o let not now The Sunne be darkened by thine angry brow. But rather let each looke a Comet be That may presage my happy destinie. I could to you a short discourse impart, That would relent the direst stony hart, VVer't not offence. It's no offence quoth she. Then thus the same Ile briefely tell, quoth he: A poore old man by chance did breake his leg, And he was told where he was wont to beg, That such a Surgion (telling of his name,) If that he pleas'd, could quickly cure the same. VVhich when he heard, to him for helpe he goes, And craues for Gods sake he would ease his woes. The Surgion greedy to haue coyne therefore, But finding none, he would not heale the sore: VVhich caus'd the poore old man to keepe his bed, That he for want of helpe in time was dead. Alas poore soule; (quoth shee) and did he dye? VVould I were Iudge, or hee were such as I, I so would vse the Surgion, as that hee Should feele the griefe which he before did see. Thus you confesse your wrong to me sweet Maid, If you performe (quoth he) the vvords you said. I am the man, who wounded, seeke reliefe: And you, the causer of my endlesse griefe; You are the Surgion, whom I vrge the more To cure the wound because you made the sore. Be not obdurate then, sith my disease Is quickly cured, if the Surgion please. And this I vow, water shall turne to fire, Huge massie mountaines to the clouds aspire; The Sun shall leaue his course, the Moon her brightnes, Night turne to day, and day shall lose his lightnes; Fishes shall flye, birds swimme; and Hare shall hunt The Hound, which to pursue the Hare vvas wont: Ayre, Earth, Fire, VVater, all things which you view Shall change their natures, ere I turne from you: And longer then I breathe a loyall friend, Let me (o heauens) endure a wicked end. Silence (quoth she) and here let cease thy sute, Cause of distrust in loue did make me mute: Aske why I yeelded in so short a season, Because I loue, that is a womans reason. Yet Maides are fearefull; for by mens abuse, Courting is turned to a common vse, How is he held, that cannot in these dayes Fash'on his words to each fantasticke phrase? VVhich makes vs oft with one word to debase Him from our bosomes, whom our hearts imbrace: And, as you men doe for a Prouerbe make it, That which we loue we oft say nay and take it. Delayes breede danger, wherefore what I said, And what agrees with Honour, and a Maid, I yeeld to thee, but yet on this condition, Thou shalt not dare t'attempt the least fruition Of my chaste thoughts, by drawing them aside, Before in wedlocke I am made thy Bride. This said; shee to the Court, hee to his Hounds, Where they had slaine a Bore, whose bloud abounds: Glad of his prey, he hastneth home amaine, VVith short returne he comes to her againe, And hauing ioyn'd themselues in Hymens bands, The sacred Priest vniteth heart and hands: They reape those ioyes which elder louers know, And thus my Tale doth end, thus ends their woe.

FINIS.



THE SCOVRGE OF VENVS.

OR,

The wanton Lady.

WITH

THE RARE BIRTH OF ADONIS.

Written by H. A.

LONDON

Printed by Nicholas Okes dwelling neere Holborne-bridge. 1613.



To the Reader.

Gentlemen, if your fancy will permit you to fauour this booke, I shall be thankfull, if not, I can but repent at the charge of the Impression, I meane but little gaine to my selfe, yet much pleasure to you, if it were my owne wit, and you condemne it, I should be ashamed of my publicke intrusion, but since it was the labour of a man wel-deseruing, forbeare open reprehending, for, as I haue heard, 'twas done for his pleasure, without any intent of an Impression; thus much I excuse him that I know not, and commend that which deserueth well, if I be partiall, I pray patience.



The Scourge of Venus.

Whilst that the Sunne was climing vp in haste, To view the world with his ambitious eye. Faire Myrha; yet alas, more faire then chaste. Did set her thoughts to descant wantonly; Nay most inhumane, more then bad, or ill, As in the sequell you may reade at will.

You that haue parents, or that parents be, Depart a space, and giue not eare at all To the foule tale that here shall vttered be: Some filthy shame let on all other fall, If possibly there can be any such, From nature to degenerate so much.

O then with Ouid, I am wonderous glad That this small world of ours is put so farre From those that such incestious people had: So rest thou still in glory as a starre. That scorning thrusts from other nations quite, And in thy vertues doth thy selfe delight.

And now faire Myrha in her youthly blood Doth on her father dote with fond desire. Each foule occasion is accounted good, That may increase her filthy lustfull fire. And as this shamefull matter wanted grace, So doubtfully she thus doth plead her case.

Why should not Gods this loue of mine permit? Or be offended with me for the same? It doth infringe their sacred lawes no whit, Adding dishonour, or deseruing blame. I will proceed, good reasons for to proue, 'Tis not vnlawfull to obtaine my loue.

In many countries I do certaine know, The parents with their children married be, Which they do most, their godlinesse to show, Because their loues increast thereby they see. Then shal this lucklesse plot of ground remaine, Th'occasion that my loue I not obtaine?

Each night hath Nature set at liberty: All things be cōmon, for she naught restrains: Then let the Daughter with the Father lye, Like president with all things else remaines. The Kid, the Heifer, and the birds we see, Affect the same of whom they gotten be.

In happy case then such her creatures are, That may do so, and yet do no offence, They be more happy then is mankinde farre: For they by some malicious base pretence Haue made a curbe to hold that still in thrall Which Nature would haue common vnto all.

But yet packe hence thou foule incestious loue, What, wilt vpon thy only father dote? I ought to loue him; yet as doth behoue, Not that the world therby my shame may note. O do resolue! the neerenesse of our kin, Cuts off all hope thy wished suit to win.

Did Cupid then ere shoot so yet before? Can Vulcan forge so foule an arrow now? Or further: will dame Venus euermore Such cruelty vnto her seruants show? No, no, I am deceiu'd; for now I see, With poisoned snakes some fury woūded thee.

How great (said she) o Venus mayst thou be, How was I rauished this present night, In feeling of your pleasant sports in me? I clipt a man in prime of his delight, What liuely pleasures did I there conceiue? No fault (alasse) but they too soone did leaue.

Would Cynarus thou hadst some other name, How fitly mightst thou haue a loue of me? How nobly mightst thereby increase thy fame, How quickly shouldst a son gaine vnto thee? I would inforce dull earthly thoughts, to craue, To kisse and clip, and other pastimes haue.

What meane my dreams? haue they effect at all? May dreames a future chance to vs portend? Let then to me such dreames more oft befall, In dreames no present witnesse can offend. In dreames we may as great a pleasure take, As in some sort is found we being awake.

But yet avaunt, packe hence foule filthy fire, Wring out some teares to quench this cursed flame No otherwise the daughter-like require Thy fathers loue, that blazons on thy shame. Yet put the case he first did seeke to me; No doubt I should to his request agree.