| FROM off a hill whose concave womb re-worded |
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| A plaintful story from a sistering vale, |
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| My spirits to attend this double voice accorded, |
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| And down I laid to list the sad-tun’d tale; |
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| Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, |
5 |
| Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain, |
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| Storming her world with sorrow’s wind and rain. |
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| Upon her head a platted hive of straw, |
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| Which fortified her visage from the sun, |
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| Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw |
10 |
| The carcass of a beauty spent and done: |
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| Time had not scythed all that youth begun, |
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| Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven’s fell rage, |
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| Some beauty peep’d through lattice of sear’d age. |
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| Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, |
15 |
| Which on it had conceited characters, |
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| Laundering the silken figures in the brine |
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| That season’d woe had pelleted in tears, |
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| And often reading what content it bears; |
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| As often shrieking undistinguish’d woe |
20 |
| In clamours of all size, both high and low. |
|
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| Sometimes her levell’d eyes their carriage ride, |
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| As they did battery to the spheres intend; |
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| Sometime diverted, their poor balls are tied |
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| To the orbed earth; sometimes they do extend |
25 |
| Their view right on; anon their gazes lend |
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| To every place at once, and nowhere fix’d, |
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| The mind and sight distractedly commix’d. |
|
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| Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat, |
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| Proclaim’d in her a careless hand of pride; |
30 |
| For some, untuck’d, descended her sheav’d hat, |
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| Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside; |
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| Some in her threaden fillet still did bide, |
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| And true to bondage would not break from thence |
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| Though slackly braided in loose negligence. |
35 |
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| A thousand favours from a maund she drew |
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| Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet, |
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| Which one by one she in a river threw, |
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| Upon whose weeping margent she was set; |
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| Like usury, applying wet to wet, |
40 |
| Or monarch’s hands that let not bounty fall |
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| Where want cries some, but where excess begs all. |
|
|
| Of folded schedules had she many a one, |
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| Which she perus’d, sigh’d, tore, and gave the flood; |
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| Crack’d many a ring of posied gold and bone, |
45 |
| Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud; |
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| Found yet more letters sadly penn’d in blood, |
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| With sleided silk feat and affectedly |
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| Enswath’d, and seal’d to curious secrecy. |
|
|
| These often bath’d she in her fluxive eyes, |
50 |
| And often kiss’d, and often ’gan to tear; |
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| Cried ‘O false blood! thou register of lies, |
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| What unapproved witness dost thou bear; |
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| Ink would have seem’d more black and damned here.’ |
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| This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, |
55 |
| Big discontent so breaking their contents. |
|
|
| A reverend man that graz’d his cattle nigh— |
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| Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew |
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| Of court, of city, and had let go by |
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| The swiftest hours, observed as they flew— |
60 |
| Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew; |
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| And, privileg’d by age, desires to know |
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| In brief the grounds and motives of her woe. |
|
|
| So slides he down upon his grained bat, |
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| And comely-distant sits he by her side; |
65 |
| When he again desires her, being sat, |
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| Her grievance with his hearing to divide: |
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| If that from him there may be aught applied |
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| Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage, |
|
| ’Tis promis’d in the charity of age. |
70 |
|
| ‘Father,’ she says, ‘though in me you behold |
|
| The injury of many a blasting hour, |
|
| Let it not tell your judgment I am old; |
|
| Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power: |
|
| I might as yet have been a spreading flower, |
75 |
| Fresh to myself, If I had self-applied |
|
| Love to myself and to no love beside. |
|
|
| ‘But, woe is me! too early I attended |
|
| A youthful suit, it was to gain my grace, |
|
| Of one by nature’s outwards so commended, |
80 |
| That maidens’ eyes stuck over all his face. |
|
| Love lack’d a dwelling, and made him her place; |
|
| And when in his fair parts she did abide, |
|
| She was new lodg’d and newly deified. |
|
|
| ‘His browny locks did hang in crooked curls, |
85 |
| And every light occasion of the wind |
|
| Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls. |
|
| What ’s sweet to do, to do will aptly find: |
|
| Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind, |
|
| For on his visage was in little drawn |
90 |
| What largeness thinks in Paradise was sawn. |
|
|
| ‘Small show of man was yet upon his chin; |
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| His phoenix down began but to appear |
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| Like unshorn velvet on that termless skin |
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| Whose bare out-bragg’d the web it seem’d to wear; |
95 |
| Yet show’d his visage by that cost more dear, |
|
| And nice affections wavering stood in doubt |
|
| If best were as it was, or best without. |
|
|
| ‘His qualities were beauteous as his form, |
|
| For maiden-tongu’d he was, and thereof free; |
100 |
| Yet, if men mov’d him, was he such a storm |
|
| As oft ’twixt May and April is to see, |
|
| When winds breathe sweet, untidy though they be. |
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| His rudeness so with his authoriz’d youth |
|
| Did livery falseness in a pride of truth. |
105 |
|
| ‘Well could he ride, and often men would say |
|
| “That horse his mettle from his rider takes: |
|
| Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, |
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| What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!” |
|
| And controversy hence a question takes, |
110 |
| Whether the horse by him became his deed, |
|
| Or he his manage by the well-doing steed. |
|
|
| ‘But quickly on this side the verdict went: |
|
| His real habitude gave life and grace |
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| To appertainings and to ornament, |
115 |
| Accomplish’d in himself, not in his case: |
|
| All aids, themselves made fairer by their place, |
|
| Came for additions; yet their purpos’d trim |
|
| Piec’d not his grace, but were all grac’d by him. |
|
|
| ‘So on the tip of his subduing tongue |
120 |
| All kinds of arguments and question deep, |
|
| All replication prompt, and reason strong, |
|
| For his advantage still did wake and sleep: |
|
| To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep, |
|
| He had the dialect and different skill, |
125 |
| Catching all passions in his craft of will: |
|
|
| ‘That he did in the general bosom reign |
|
| Of young, of old; and sexes both enchanted, |
|
| To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain |
|
| In personal duty, following where he haunted: |
130 |
| Consents bewitch’d, ere he desire, have granted; |
|
| And dialogu’d for him what he would say, |
|
| Ask’d their own wills, and made their wills obey. |
|
|
| ‘Many there were that did his picture get, |
|
| To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind; |
135 |
| Like fools that in the imagination set |
|
| The goodly objects which abroad they find |
|
| Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assign’d; |
|
| And labouring in more pleasures to bestow them |
|
| Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them. |
140 |
|
| ‘So many have, that never touch’d his hand, |
|
| Sweetly suppos’d them mistress of his heart. |
|
| My woeful self, that did in freedom stand, |
|
| And was my own fee-simple, not in part, |
|
| What with his art in youth, and youth in art, |
145 |
| Threw my affections in his charmed power, |
|
| Reserv’d the stalk and gave him all my flower. |
|
|
| ‘Yet did I not, as some my equals did, |
|
| Demand of him, nor being desired yielded; |
|
| Finding myself in honour so forbid, |
150 |
| With safest distance I mine honour shielded. |
|
| Experience for me many bulwarks builded |
|
| Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain’d the foil |
|
| Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil. |
|
|
| ‘But, ah! who ever shunn’d by precedent |
155 |
| The destin’d ill she must herself assay? |
|
| Or forc’d examples, ’gainst her own content, |
|
| To put the by-pass’d perils in her way? |
|
| Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay; |
|
| For when we rage, advice is often seen |
160 |
| By blunting us to make our wits more keen. |
|
|
| ‘Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood, |
|
| That we must curb it upon others’ proof; |
|
| To be forbid the sweets that seem so good, |
|
| For fear of harms that preach in our behoof. |
165 |
| O appetite! from judgment stand aloof; |
|
| The one a palate hath that needs will taste, |
|
| Though Reason weep, and cry “It is thy last.” |
|
|
| ‘For further I could say “This man ’s untrue,” |
|
| And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling; |
170 |
| Heard where his plants in others’ orchards grew, |
|
| Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling; |
|
| Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling; |
|
| Thought characters and words merely but art, |
|
| And bastards of his foul adulterate heart. |
175 |
|
| ‘And long upon these terms I held my city, |
|
| Till thus he ’gan besiege me: “Gentle maid, |
|
| Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity, |
|
| And be not of my holy vows afraid: |
|
| That ’s to ye sworn to none was ever said; |
180 |
| For feasts of love I have been call’d unto, |
|
| Till now did ne’er invite, nor never woo. |
|
|
| ‘“All my offences that abroad you see |
|
| Are errors of the blood, none of the mind; |
|
| Love made them not: with acture they may be, |
185 |
| Where neither party is nor true nor kind: |
|
| They sought their shame that so their shame did find, |
|
| And so much less of shame in me remains, |
|
| By how much of me their reproach contains. |
|
|
| ‘“Among the many that mine eyes have seen, |
190 |
| Not one whose flame my heart so much as warm’d, |
|
| Or my affection put to the smallest teen, |
|
| Or any of my leisures ever charm’d: |
|
| Harm have I done to them, but ne’er was harm’d; |
|
| Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free, |
195 |
| And reign’d, commanding in his monarchy. |
|
|
| ‘“Look here, what tributes wounded fancies sent me, |
|
| Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood; |
|
| Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me |
|
| Of grief and blushes, aptly understood |
200 |
| In bloodless white and the encrimson’d mood; |
|
| Effects of terror and dear modesty, |
|
| Encamp’d in hearts, but fighting outwardly. |
|
|
| ‘“And, lo! behold these talents of their hair, |
|
| With twisted metal amorously impleach’d, |
205 |
| I have receiv’d from many a several fair, |
|
| Their kind acceptance weepingly beseech’d, |
|
| With the annexions of fair gems enrich’d, |
|
| And deep-brain’d sonnets, that did amplify |
|
| Each stone’s dear nature, worth, and quality. |
210 |
|
| ‘“The diamond; why, ’twas beautiful and hard, |
|
| Whereto his invis’d properties did tend; |
|
| The deep-green emerald, in whose fresh regard |
|
| Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend; |
|
| The heaven-hu’d sapphire and the opal blend |
215 |
| With objects manifold: each several stone, |
|
| With wit well blazon’d, smil’d or made some moan. |
|
|
| ‘“Lo! all these trophies of affections hot, |
|
| Of pensiv’d and subdu’d desires the tender, |
|
| Nature hath charg’d me that I hoard them not, |
220 |
| But yield them up where I myself must render, |
|
| That is, to you, my origin and ender; |
|
| For these, of force, must your oblations be, |
|
| Since I their altar, you enpatron me. |
|
|
| ‘“O! then, advance of yours that phraseless hand, |
225 |
| Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise; |
|
| Take all these similes to your own command, |
|
| Hallow’d with sighs that burning lungs did raise; |
|
| What me your minister, for you obeys, |
|
| Works under you; and to your audit comes |
230 |
| Their distract parcels in combined sums. |
|
|
| ‘“Lo! this device was sent me from a nun, |
|
| Or sister sanctified, of holiest note; |
|
| Which late her noble suit in court did shun, |
|
| Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote; |
235 |
| For she was sought by spirits of richest coat, |
|
| But kept cold distance, and did thence remove, |
|
| To spend her living in eternal love. |
|
|
| ‘“But, O my sweet! what labour is ’t to leave |
|
| The thing we have not, mastering what not strives, |
240 |
| Playing the place which did no form receive, |
|
| Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves? |
|
| She that her fame so to herself contrives, |
|
| The scars of battle ’scapeth by the flight, |
|
| And makes her absence valiant, not her might. |
245 |
|
| ‘“O! pardon me, in that my boast is true; |
|
| The accident which brought me to her eye |
|
| Upon the moment did her force subdue, |
|
| And now she would the caged cloister fly; |
|
| Religious love put out Religion’s eye: |
250 |
| Not to be tempted, would she be immur’d, |
|
| And now, to tempt, all liberty procur’d. |
|
|
| ‘“How mighty then you are, O! hear me tell: |
|
| The broken bosoms that to me belong |
|
| Have emptied all their fountains in my well, |
255 |
| And mine I pour your ocean all among: |
|
| I strong o’er them, and you o’er me being strong, |
|
| Must for your victory us all congest, |
|
| As compound love to physic your cold breast. |
|
|
| ‘“My parts had power to charm a sacred nun, |
260 |
| Who, disciplin’d, ay, dieted in grace, |
|
| Believ’d her eyes when they to assail begun, |
|
| All vows and consecrations giving place. |
|
| O most potential love! vow, bond, nor space, |
|
| In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine, |
265 |
| For thou art all, and all things else are thine. |
|
|
| ‘“When thou impressest, what are precepts worth |
|
| Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame, |
|
| How coldly those impediments stand forth |
|
| Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame! |
270 |
| Love’s arms are peace, ’gainst rule, ’gainst sense, ’gainst shame, |
|
| And sweetens, in the suffering pangs it bears, |
|
| The aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears. |
|
|
| ‘“Now all these hearts that do on mine depend, |
|
| Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine; |
275 |
| And supplicant their sighs to you extend, |
|
| To leave the battery that you make ’gainst mine, |
|
| Lending soft audience to my sweet design, |
|
| And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath |
|
| That shall prefer and undertake my troth.” |
280 |
|
| ‘This said, his watery eyes he did dismount, |
|
| Whose sights till then were levell’d on my face; |
|
| Each cheek a river running from a fount |
|
| With brinish current downward flow’d apace. |
|
| O! how the channel to the stream gave grace; |
285 |
| Who glaz’d with crystal gate the glowing roses |
|
| That flame through water which their hue encloses. |
|
|
| ‘O father! what a hell of witchcraft lies |
|
| In the small orb of one particular tear, |
|
| But with the inundation of the eyes |
290 |
| What rocky heart to water will not wear? |
|
| What breast so cold that is not warmed here? |
|
| O cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath, |
|
| Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath. |
|
|
| ‘For, lo! his passion, but an art of craft, |
295 |
| Even there resolv’d my reason into tears; |
|
| There my white stole of chastity I daff’d, |
|
| Shook off my sober guards and civil fears; |
|
| Appear to him, as he to me appears, |
|
| All melting; though our drops this difference bore, |
300 |
| His poison’d me, and mine did him restore. |
|
|
| ‘In him a plenitude of subtle matter, |
|
| Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives, |
|
| Of burning blushes, or of weeping water, |
|
| Or swounding paleness; and he takes and leaves, |
305 |
| In either’s aptness, as it best deceives, |
|
| To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes, |
|
| Or to turn white and swound at tragic shows: |
|
|
| ‘That not a heart which in his level came |
|
| Could ’scape the hail of his all-hurting aim, |
310 |
| Showing fair nature is both kind and tame; |
|
| And, veil’d in them, did win whom he would maim: |
|
| Against the thing he sought he would exclaim; |
|
| When he most burn’d in heart-wish’d luxury, |
|
| He preach’d pure maid, and prais’d cold chastity. |
315 |
|
| ‘Thus merely with the garment of a Grace |
|
| The naked and concealed fiend he cover’d; |
|
| That the unexperient gave the tempter place, |
|
| Which like a cherubin above them hover’d. |
|
| Who, young and simple, would not be so lover’d? |
320 |
| Ay me! I fell; and yet do question make |
|
| What I should do again for such a sake. |
|
|
| ‘O! that infected moisture of his eye, |
|
| O! that false fire which in his cheek so glow’d, |
|
| O! that forc’d thunder from his heart did fly, |
325 |
| O! that sad breath his spongy lungs bestow’d, |
|
| O! all that borrow’d motion seeming ow’d, |
|
| Would yet again betray the fore-betray’d, |
|
| And new pervert a reconciled maid.’ |
|
