HERO AND LEANDER:  
Begun by Christopher Marlow; and finished by George Chapman.  
Vt Nectar, Ingenium.  
At London Printed by Felix Kingston, for Paul Linley, and are to be sold in Paul's Churchyard, at the sign of the Blacke-beare. 1598.   

To the Right Worshipful, Sir Thomas Walsingham, Knight.  
SIr, we think not ourselves discharged of the duty we own to our friend, when we have brought the breathless body to the earth: for albeit the eye there taketh his ever farewell of that beloved object, yet the impression of the man, that hath been dear unto us, living an after life in our memory, there putteth us in mind of farther obsequies due unto the deceased. And namely of the performance of whatsoever we may judge shall make to his living credit, and to the effecting of his determinations prevented by the stroke of death. By these meditations (as by an intellectual will) I suppose myself executor to the unhappily deceased author of this Poem, upon whom knowing that in his life time you bestowed many kind favours, entertaining the parts of reckoning and worth which you found in him, with good countenance and liberal affection: I cannot but see so far into the will of him dead, that what soever issue of his brain should chance to come abroad, that the first breath it should take might be the gentle air of your liking: for since his self had been accustomed thereunto, it would prove more agreeable and thriving to his right children, than any other foster countenance whatsoever. At this time seeing that this unfinished Tragedy happens under my hands to be imprinted; of a double duty, the one to yourself, the other to the diseased, I present the same to your most favourable allowance, offering my utmost self now and ever to be ready, at your Worship's disposing:  
E. B.   

Hero and Leander.  
THE ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST SESTYAD.  

Heros description and her Loves,  
The Fane of Venus; where he moves  
His worthy love-suit, and attains;  
Whose bliss the wrath of Fates restrains,  
For Cupid's grace to Mercury,  
Which tale the Author doth imply.   

ON Hellespont guilty of True loves blood,  
In view and opposite two cities stood,  
Seaborders, disioined by Neptune's might:  
The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight.  
At Sestos, Hero dwelled; Hero the fair,  
Whom young Apollo courted for her hair,  
And offered as a dower his burning throne,  
Where she should sit for men to gaze upon.  
The outside of her garments were of lawn,  
The lining, purple silk, with guilt stars drawn,  
Her wide sleeves green, and bordered with a grove,  
Where Venus in her naked glory strove,  
To please the careless and disdainful eyes,  
Of proud Adonis that before her lies.  
Her kirtle blew, whereon was many a stain,  
Made with the blood of wretched Lovers slain.  
Upon her head she ware a myrtle wreath,  
From whence her vail reached to the ground beneath.  
Her vail was artificial flowers and leaves,  
Whose workmanship both man and beast deceives.  
Many would praise the sweet smell as she passed,  
When 'twas the odour which her breath forth cast.  
And there for honey, Bees have sought in vain,  
And beat from thence, have lighted there again.  
About her neck hung chains of pebble stone,  
Which lightened by her neck, like Diamonds shone.  
She ware no gloves, for neither sun nor wind  
Would burn or parch her hands, but to her mind,  
Or warm or cool them, for they took delight  
To play upon those hands, they were so white.  
Buskins of shells all silvered, used she,  
And branched with blushing coral to the knee;  
Where sparrows perched, of hollow pearl and gold,  
Such as the world would wonder to behold:  
Those with sweet water oft her handmaid fills,  
Which as she went would cherupe through the bills.  
Some say, for her the fairest Cupid pined,  
And looking in her face, was strooken blind.  
But this is true, so like was one the other,  
As he imagined Hero was his mother.  
And oftentimes into her bosom flew,  
About her naked neck his bare arms threw.  
And laid his childish head upon her breast,  
And with still panting rock, there took his rest.  
So lovely fair was Hero, Venus' Nun,  
As nature wept, thinking she was undone;  
Because she took more from her than she left,  
And of such wondrous beauty her bereft:  
Therefore in sign her treasure suffered wrack,  
Since Hero's time, hath half the world been black.  
Amorous Leander, beautiful and young,  
(Whose tragedy divine Musaeus song)  
Dwelled at Abydus, since him, dwelled there none,  
For whom succeeding times make greater moan.  
His dangling tresses that were never shorn,  
Had they been cut, and unto Colchos borne,  
Would have allu'rd the venturous youth of Greece,  
To hazard more, than for the golden Fleece.  
Fair Cynthia wished, his arms might be her sphere,  
Grief makes her pale, because she moves not there.  
His body was as strait as Circe's wand,  
jove might have sipped out Nectar from his hand.  
Even as delicious meat is to the taste,  
So was his neck in touching, and surpassed  
The white of Pelops shoulder, I could tell ye,  
How smooth his breast was, and how white his belly,  
And whose immortal fingers did imprint,  
That heavenly path, with many a curious dint,  
That runs along his back, but my rude pen,  
Can hardly blazon forth the loves of men.  
Much less of powerful gods, let it suffice,  
That my slack muse, sings of Leander's eyes.  
Those orient cheeks and lips, exceeding his  
That leapt into the water for a kiss  
Of his own shadow, and despising many,  
Died ere he could enjoy the love of any.  
Had wild Hippolytus Leander seen,  
Enamoured of his beauty had he been,  
His presence made the rudest peasant melt,  
That in the vast uplandish country dwelled,  
The barbarous Thracian soldier moved with nought,  
Was moved with him, and for his favour sought.  
Some swore he was a maid in man's attire,  
For in his looks were all that men desire,  
A pleasant smiling cheek, a speaking eye,  
A brow for love to banquet royally,  
And such as knew he was a man would say,  
Leander, thou art made for amorous play:  
Why art thou not in love, and loved of all?  
Though thou be fair, yet be not thine own thrall.  
The men of wealthy Sestos, every year,  
(For his sake whom their goddess held so dear,  
Rose-cheeked Adonis) kept a solemn feast,  
Thither resorted many a wandering guest,  
To meet their loves; such as had none at all,  
Came lovers home, from this great festival.  
For every street like to a Firmament  
Glisteren with breathing stars, who where they went,  
Frighted the mealancholie earth, which deemed,  
Eternal heaven to burn, for so it seemed,  
As if another Phaeton had got  
The guidance of the suns rich chariot.  
But far above the loveliest Hero shined,  
And stole away th'enchanted gazers mind,  
For like Sea-nymphs inveigling harmony,  
So was her beauty to the standers by.  
Nor that night wandering pale and watery star,  
(When yawning dragons draw her thirling car,  
From Latmus' mount up to the gloomy sky,  
Where crowned with blazing light and majesty,  
She proudly sits) more overrules the flood,  
Than she the hearts of those that near her stood.  
Even as, when gaudy Nymphs pursue the chase,  
Wretched Ixion's shaggy footed race,  
Incensed with savage heat, gallop amain,  
From steep Pine-bearing mountains to the plain:  
So ran the people forth to gaze upon her,  
And all that viewed her, were enamoured on her.  
And as in furl of a dreadful fight,  
Their fellows being slain or put to flight,  
Poor soldiers stand with fear of death dead strooken,  
So at her presence all surprised and token,  
Await the sentence of her scornful eyes:  
He whom she favours lives, the other dies.  
There might you see one sigh, another rage,  
And some (their violent passions to assuage)  
Compile sharp satyrs, but alas too late,  
For faithful love will never turn to hate.  
And many seeing great princes were denied,  
Pined as they went, and thinking on her died.  
On this feast day, O cursed day and hour,  
Went Hero thorough Sestos, from her tower  
To Venus' temple, where unhappily,  
As after chanced, they did each other spy,  
So fair a Church as this, had Venus none,  
The walls were of discoloured jasper stone,  
Wherein was Proteus carved, and over head  
A lively vine of green sea agate spread;  
Where by one hand light headed Bacchus hung,  
And with the other, wine from grapes out wrung,  
Of Crystal shining fair, the pavement was,  
The town of Sestos, called it Venus' glass,  
There might you see the gods in sundry shapes,  
Committing headdie riots, incest, rapes:  
For know, that underneath this radiant flower,  
Was Danae's statue in a brazen tower,  
jove, slily stealing from his sister's bed,  
To dally with Idalian Ganymede:  
And for his love Europa, bellowing loud,  
And tumbling with the Rainbow in a cloud,  
Blood-quaffing Mars, heaving the iron net,  
Which limping Vulcan and his Cyclops set:  
Love kindling fire, to burn such towns as Troy,  
Sylvanus weeping for the lovely boy,  
That now is turned into a Cypress tree,  
Ander whose shade the Wood-gods love to be,  
And in the midst a silver altar stood,  
There Hero sacrificing turtles blood,  
Tailed to the ground, veiling her eyelids close,  
And modestly they opened as she rose:  
Thence flew loves arrow with the golden head,  
And thus Leander was enamoured.  
Stone still he stood, and evermore he gazed,  
Till with the fire that from his countenance blazed,  
Relenting Hero's gentle heart was struck,  
Such force and virtue hath an amorous look.  
It lies not in our power to love, or hate,  
For will in us is over-rulde by fate.  
When two are stripped long ere the course begin,  
We wish that one should lose, the other win.  
And one especially do we affect,  
Of two gold Ingots like in each respect,  
The reason no man knows, let it suffice,  
What we behold is censured by our eyes.  
Where both deliberate, the love is slight,  
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?  
He kneeled, but unto her devoutly prayed;  
chaste Hero to herself thus softly said:  
Were I the saint he worships, I would hear him,  
And as she spoke those words, came somewhat near him.  
He started up, she blushed as one ashamed;  
Wherewith Leander much more was inftamed.  
He touched her hand, in touching it she trembled,  
Love deeply grounded, hardly is dissembled,  
These lovers parled by the touch of hands,  
True love is mute, and oft amazed stands,  
Thus while dumb signs their yielding hearts entangled,  
The air with sparks of living fire was spangled, 
A periphrasis of night.   
And night deep drenched in misty Acheron,  
Heaved up her head, and half the world upon,  
Breathed darkness forth (dark night is Cupid's day)  
And now gins Leander to display  
loves holy fire, with words, with sighs and tears,  
Which like sweet music entered Heroes ears,  
And yet at every word she turned aside,  
And always cut him off as he replied,  
At last, like to a bold sharp Sophister,  
With cheerful hope thus he accosted her.  
Fair creature, let me speak without offence,  
I would my rude words had the influence,  
To lead thy thoughts, as thy fair looks do mine,  
Then shouldst thou be his prisoner who is thine.  
Be not unkind and fair, misshapen stuff  
Are of behaviour boisterous and ruff.  
O shun me not, but hear me ere you go,  
God knows I cannot force love, as you do.  
My words shall be as spotless as my youth,  
Full of simplicity and naked truth.  
This sacrifice (whose sweet perfume descending,  
From Venus' altar to your footsteps bending)  
Doth testify that you exceed her far,  
To whom you offer, and whose Nun you are,  
Why should you worship her, her you surpass,  
As much as sparkling Diamonds flaring glass.  
A Diamond set in lead his worth retains,  
A heavenly Nymph, beloved of human swains,  
Receives no blemish, but oft-times more grace,  
Which makes me hope, although I am but base,  
Base in respect of thee, divine and pure,  
Dutiful service may thy love procure,  
And I in duty will excel all other,  
As thou in beauty dost exceed loves mother.  
Nor heaven, nor thou, were made to gaze upon,  
As heaven preserves all things, so save thou one.  
A stately builded ship, well rig'd and tall,  
The Ocean maketh more majestic all:  
Why vowest thou then to live in Sestos here,  
Who on loves seas more glorious wouldst appear?  
Like untuned golden strings all women are,  
Which long time lie untouched, will harshly jar.  
Vessels of brass oft handled, brightly shine,  
What difference betwixt the richest mine  
And basest mould, but use? for both not used,  
Are of like worth. Then treasure is abused,  
When misers keep it; being put to lone,  
In time it will return us two for one.  
Rich robes, themselves and others do adorn,  
Neither themselves nor others, if not worn.  
Who builds a palace and rams up the gate,  
Shall see it ruinous and desolate.  
An simple Hero, learn thyself to cherish,  
Love women like to empty houses perish.  
Less since the poor rich man that starves himself,  
In heaping up a mass of drossy pelf,  
Than such as you: his golden earth remains,  
Which after his disease some other gains.  
But this fair iem, sweet, in the loss alone,  
When you fleet hence, can be bequeathed to none.  
Or if it could, down from th'enameled sky,  
All heaven would come to claim this legacy,  
And with intestine broils the world destroy,  
And quite confound natures sweet harmony.  
Well therefore by the gods decreed it is,  
We human creatures should enjoy that bliss.  
One is no number, maids are nothing then,  
Without the sweet society of men.  
Wilt thou live single still? one shalt thou be,  
Though never-singling Hymen couple thee.  
Wild savages, that drink of running springs,  
Think water far excels all earthly things:  
But they that daily taste neat wine, despise it.  
Virginity, albeit some highly prize it,  
Compared with marriage, had you tried them both,  
Differs as much, as wine and water doth.  
Base boullion for the stamps sake we allow,  
Even so for men's impression do we you.  
By which alone, our reverend fathers say;  
Women receive perfection every way.  
This idol which you term Virginity,  
Is neither essence subject to the eye,  
No, nor to any one exterior sense,  
Nor hath it any place of residence,  
Nor is't of earth or mould celestial,  
Or capable of any form at all.  
Of that which hath no being, do not boast,  
Things that are not at all, are never lost.  
Men foolishly do call it virtuous,  
What virtue is it, that is borne with us?  
Much less can honour be ascribed thereto,  
Honour is purchased by the deeds we do.  
Believe me Hero, honour is not won,  
Until some honourable deed be done.  
Seek you for chastity, immortal fame,  
And know that some have wronged Diana's name?  
Whose name is it, if she be false or not,  
So she be fair, but some vile tongues will blot?  
But you are fair (ay me) so wondrous fair,  
So young, so gentle, and so debonair,  
As Greece will think, if thus you live alone,  
Some one or other keeps you as his own.  
Then Hero hate me not, nor from me fly,  
To follow swiftly blasting infamy.  
Perhaps, thy sacred Priesthood makes thee loath,  
Tell me, to whom mad'st thou that heedless oath?  
To Venus, answered she, and as she spoke,  
Forth from those two tralucent cisterns broke,  
A stream of liquid pearl, which down her face  
Made milk-white paths, whereon the gods might trace  
To Ioues high court. He thus replied: The rites  
In which loves beauteous Empress most delights,  
Are banquets, Doric music, midnight-revell,  
Plays, masks, and all that stern age counteth evil.  
Thee as a holy Idiot doth she scorn,  
For thou in vowing chastity, hast sworn  
To rob her name and honour, and thereby  
Committest a sin far worse than perjury.  
Even sacrilege against her Deity,  
Through regular and formal purity.  
To expiate which sin, kiss and shake hands,  
Such sacrifice as this, Venus' demands.  
There at she smiled, and did deny him so,  
As put thereby, yet might he hope for more.  
Which makes him quickly reinforce his speech,  
And her in humble manner thus beseech.  
Though neither gods nor men may thee deserve,  
Yet for her sake whom you have vowed to serve,  
Abandon fruitless cold Virginity,  
The gentle queen of loves sole enemy.  
Then shall you most resemble Venus' Nun,  
When Venus sweet rites are performed and dun,  
Flint-brested Pallas joys in single life,  
But Pallas and your mistress are at strife.  
Love Hero then, and be not tyrannous,  
But heal the heart that thou hast wounded thus,  
Nor stain thy youthful years with avarice,  
Fair fools delight to be accounted nice.  
The richest corn dies, if it be not reaped,  
Beauty alone is lost, too warily kept.  
These arguments he used, and many more,  
Wherewith she yielded, that was won before,  
Heroes looks yielded, but her words made war,  
Women are won when they begin to jar.  
Thus having swallowed Cupid's golden hook,  
The more she strived the deeper was she struck.  
Yet evilly feigning anger, strove she still,  
And would be thought to grant against her will.  
So having paused a while, at last she said:  
Who taught thee Rhetoric to deceive a maid?  
Ay me, such words as these should I abhor,  
And yet I like them for the Orator.  
With that Leander stooped, to have embraced her,  
But from his spreading arms away she cast her,  
And thus bespoke him. Gentle youth forbear  
To touch the sacred garments which I wear.  
Upon a rock, and underneath a hill,  
Far from the town (where all is whist and still,  
Save that the sea playing on yellow sand,  
Sends forth a rattling murmur to the land,  
Whose sound allures the golden Morpheus,  
In silence of the night to visit us.)  
My turret stands, and there God knows I play  
With Venus' swans and sparrows all the day.  
A dwarfish beldame bears me company,  
That hops about the chamber where I lie,  
And spends the night (that might be better spent)  
In vain discourse, and apish merriment.  
Come thither; As she spoke this, her tongue tripped,  
For unawares (Come thither) from her slipped,  
And suddenly her former colour changed,  
And here and there her eyes through anger ranged.  
And like a planet, moving several ways,  
At one self instant, she poor soul assays,  
Loving, not to love at all, and every part,  
strove to resist the motions of her heart.  
And hands so pure, so innocent, nay such,  
As might have made heaven stoop to have a touch,  
Did she uphold to Venus, and again,  
Vowed spotless chastity, but all in vain,  
Cupid beats down her prayers with his wings,  
Her vows above the empty air he flings:  
All deep enraged, his sinewy bow he bend,  
And shot a shaft that burning from him went,  
Wherewith she strooken, looked so dolefully,  
As made Love sigh, to see his tyranny.  
And as she wept, her tears to pearl he turned,  
And wound them on his arm, and for her mourned.  
Then towards the palace of the destinies,  
Laden with languishment and grief he flies.  
And to those stern nymphs humbly made request,  
Both might enjoy each other, and be blest.  
But with a ghastly dreadful countenance,  
Threatening a thousand deaths at every glance,  
They answered Love, nor would vouchsafe so much  
As one poor word, their hate to him was such.  
hearken a while, and I will tell you why:  
heavens winged herald, jove-borne Mercury,  
The self-same day that he asleep had laid  
Enchanted Argus, spied a country maid,  
Whose careless hair, in stead of pearl t'adorn it,  
glistered with dew, as one that seemed to scorn it:  
Her breath as fragrant as the morning rose,  
Her mind pure, and her tongue untaught to gloze.  
Yet proud she was, (for lofty pride that dwells  
In towered courts, is oft in shepherds cells.)  
And too too well the fair vermilion knew,  
And silver tincture of her cheeks, that drew  
The love of every swain: On her this god  
Enamoured was, and with his snaky rod,  
Did charm her nimble feet, and made her stay,  
The while upon a hillock down he lay,  
And sweetly on his pipe began to play,  
And with smooth speech her fancy to assay,  
Till in his twining arms he locked her fast,  
And then he wooed with kisses, and at last,  
As shepherds do, her on the ground he laid,  
And tumbling in the grass, he often strayed  
Beyond the bounds of shame, in being bold  
To eye those parts, which no eye should behold.  
And like an insolent commanding lover,  
Boasting his parentage, would needs discover  
The way to new Elysium: but she,  
Whose only dower was her chastity,  
Having striu'ne in vain, was now about to cry,  
And crave the help of shepherds that were nigh.  
Herewith he stayed his fury, and began  
To give her leave to rise, away she ran,  
After went Mercury, who used such cunning,  
As she to hear his tale, left off her running.  
Maids are not won by brutish force and might,  
But speeches full of pleasures and delight.  
And knowing Hermes courted her, was glad  
That she such loveliness and beauty had,  
As could provoke his liking, yet was mute,  
And neither would deny, nor grant his suit.  
Still vowed he love, she wanting no excuse  
To feed him with delays, as women use:  
Or thirsting after immortality,  
All women are ambitious naturally,  
Imposed upon her lover such a task,  
As he ought not perform, nor yet she ask.  
A draft of flowing Nectar she requested,  
Where with the king of Gods and men is feasted.  
He ready to accomplish what she wild,  
Stole some from Hebe (Hebe, Ioues cup filled,)  
And gave it to his simple rustic love,  
Which being known (as what is hid from love)  
He inly stormed, and waxed more furious,  
Than for the fire filched by Prometheus;  
And thrusts him down from heaven, he wandering here,  
In mournful terms, with sad and heavy cheer  
Complained to Cupid, Cupid for his sake,  
To be revenged on jove, did undertake,  
And those on whom heaven, earth, and hell relies,  
I mean the Adamantine Destinies,  
He wounds with love, and forced them equally,  
To dote upon deceitful Mercury.  
They offered him the deadly fatal knife,  
That shears the slender threads of human life,  
At his fair feathered feet, the engines laid,  
Which th'earth from ugly Chaos den up-wayd:  
These he regarded not, but did entreat,  
That jove, usurper of his father's seat,  
Might presently be banished into hell,  
And aged Saturn in Olympus dwell.  
They granted what he craved, and once again,  
Saturn and Ops, began their golden reign.  
Murder, rape, war, lust and treachery,  
Were with jove closed in Stygian Empery.  
But long this blessed time continued not,  
As soon as he his wished purpose got;  
He reckless of his promise, did despise  
The love of th'everlasting Destinies.  
They seeing it, both Love and him abhorred,  
And jupiter unto his place restored.  
And but that Learning, in despite of Fate,  
Will mount aloft, and enter heaven gate,  
And to the seat of jove itself advance,  
Hermes had slept in hell with ignorance.  
Yet as a punishment they added this,  
That he and poverty should always kiss.  
And to this day is every scholar poor,  
Gross gold from them runs headlong to the boor.  
Likewise the angry sisters thus deluded,  
To venge themselves on Hermes, have concluded  
That Midas brood shall sit in honours chair,  
To which the Muse's sons are only heir:  
And fruitful wits that in aspiring are,  
Shall discontent run into regions far;  
And few great Lords in virtuous deeds shall joy,  
But be surprised with every garish toy.  
And still enrich the lofty servile clown,  
Who with encroaching guile, keeps learning down.  
Then muse not Cupid's suit no better sped,  
Seeing in their loves the Fates were injured.   
The end of the first Sestyad.   

THE ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND SESTYAD.  

Hero of love takes deeper sense,  
And doth her love more recompense.  
Their first night's meeting, where sweet kisses  
Are th'only crowns of both their blisses.  
He swimst ' Abydus, and returns;  
Cold Neptune with his beauty burns,  
Whose suit he shuns, and doth aspire  
Heros fair tower, and his desire.   

BY this, sad Hero, with love unacquainted,  
Viewing Leander's face, fell down and fainted.  
He kissed her, and breathed life into her lips,  
Wherewith as one displeased, away-she trips.  
Yet as she went, full often looked behind,  
And many poor excuses did she find,  
To linger by the way, and once she stayed,  
And would have turned again, but was afraid,  
In offering parley, to be counted light.  
So on she goes, and in her idle flight.  
Her painted fan of curled plumes let fall,  
Thinking to train Leander there with all.  
He being a novice, knew not what she meant,  
But stayed, and after her a letter sent.  
Which joyful Heor answered in such sort,  
As he had hope to scale the beauteous fort,  
Wherein the liberal graces locked their wealth,  
And therefore to her tower he got by stealth.  
Wide open stood the door, he need not climb;  
And she herself before the pointed time,  
Had spread the board, with roses strewed the room,  
And oft looked out, and mused he did not come.  
At last he came, O who can tell the greeting,  
These greedy lovers had, at their first meeting.  
He asked, she gave, and nothing was denied,  
Both to each other quickly were affied.  
Look how their hands, so were their hearts united,  
And what he did, she willingly requited.  
(Sweet are the kisses, the embracements sweet,  
When like desires and affections meet,  
For from the earth to heaven, is Cupid raised,  
Where fancy is in equal balance poised)  
Yet she this rashness suddenly repent,  
And tur'd aside, and to herself lamented.  
As if her name and honour had been wronged,  
By being possessed of him for whom she longed:  
I, and she wished, albe it not from her heart,  
That he would leave her turret and departed.  
The mirthful God of amorous pleasure smiled,  
To see how he this captive Nymph beguiled.  
For hitherto he did but fan the fire,  
And kept it down that it might mount the hire.  
Now waxed she jealous, lest his love abated,  
Fearing, her own thoughts made her to be hated.  
Therefore unto him hastily she goes,  
And like light Salmacis, her body throes  
Upon his bosom, where with yielding eyes,  
She offers up herself a sacrifice.  
To slake his anger, if he were displeased,  
O what god would not therewith be appeased?  
Like Aesop's cock, this jewel he enjoyed,  
And as a brother with his sister toyed,  
Supposing nothing else was to be done,  
Now he her favour and good will had won.  
But know you not that creatures wanting sense,  
By nature have a mutual appetence,  
And wanting organs to advance a step,  
Moved by loves force, unto each other leap?  
Much more in subjects having intellect,  
Some hidden influence breeds like effect.  
Albeit Leander rude in love, and raw,  
Long dallying with Hero, nothing saw  
That might delight him more, yet he suspected  
Some amorous rites or other were neglected:  
Therefore unto his body, hers he clung,  
She, fearing on the rushes to be fling,  
Strived with redoubled strength, the more she strived,  
The more a gentle pleasing heat revived,  
Which taught him all that elder lovers know,  
And now the same 'gan so to scorch and glow,  
As in plain terms (yet cunningly) he craved it.  
Love always makes those eloquent that have it.  
She, with a kind of granting, put him by it,  
And ever as he thought himself most nigh it,  
Like to the tree of Tantalus she fled,  
And seeming lavish, saved her maidenhead.  
ne'er king more sought to keep his diadem,  
Than Hero this inestimable gem.  
Above our life we love a steadfast friend,  
Yet when a token of great worth we send,  
We often kiss it, often look thereon,  
And stay the messenger that would be gone:  
No marvel then, though Hero would not yield  
So soon to part from that she dearly held.  
jewels being lost are found again, this never,  
'tis lost but once, and once lost, lost for ever.  
Now had the morn espy'de her lovers steeds,  
Whereat she starts, puts on her purple weeds,  
And red for anger that he stayed so long,  
All headlong throws herself the clouds among,  
And now Leander fearing to be missed,  
Embraced her suddenly, took leave, and kissed,  
Long was he taking leave, and loath to go,  
And kissed again, as lovers use to do,  
Sad Hero wrong him by the hand, and wept,  
Saying, let your vows and promises be kept.  
Then standing at the door, she turned about  
As loath to see Leander going out.  
And now the sun that through th'orizon peeps,  
As pitying these lovers, downward creeps.  
So that in silence of the cloudy night,  
Though it was morning, did he take his flight.  
But what the secret trusty night concealed,  
Leander's amorous habit soon revealed,  
With Cupid's myrtle was his bonnet crowned,  
About his arms the purple ribbon wound,  
Wherewith she wreathed her largely spreading hear,  
Nor could the youth abstain, but he must wear  
The sacred ring wherewith she was endowed,  
When first religious chastity she vowed:  
Which made his love through Sestos to be known,  
And thence unto Abydus sooner blown,  
Than he could sail, for incorporal Fame,  
Whose weight consists in nothing but her name,  
Is swifter than the wind, whose tardy plumes,  
Are reeking water, and dull earthly fumes.  
Home when he came, he seemed not to be there,  
But like exiled air thrust from his sphere,  
Set in a foreign place, and strait from thence,  
Alcides' like, by mighty violence,  
He would have chased away the swelling main,  
That him from her unjustly did deataine.  
Like as the sun in a diameter,  
Fires and inflames objects removed far,  
And heateth kindly, shining lat'rally;  
So beauty, sweetly quickens when 'tis nigh,  
But being separated and removed,  
Burns where it cherished, murdrs where it loved.  
Therefore even as an Index to a book,  
So to his mind was young Leander's look,  
O none but gods have power their love to hide,  
Affection by the countenance is descried.  
The light of hidden fire itself discovers,  
And love that is concealed betrays poor lovers.  
His secret name apparently was seen,  
Leander's Father knew where he had been,  
And for the same mildly rebuked his son,  
Thinking to quench the sparkles new begun.  
But love resisted once, grows passionate,  
And nothing more than council lovers hate.  
For as a hot proud horse highly disdains,  
To have his head controlled, but breaks the rains,  
Spits forth the ringled bit, and with his hooves,  
checks the submissive ground: so he that loves,  
The more he is restrained, the worse he fares,  
What is it now, but mad Leander dares?  
O Hero, Hero, thus he cried full oft,  
And then he got him to a rock aloft.  
Where having spied her tower, long stared he on't,  
And prayed the narrow toiling Hellespont,  
To part in twain, that he might come and go,  
But still the rising billows answered no.  
With that he stripped him to the yu'rie skin,  
And crying, Love I come, leapt lively in.  
Whereat the saphir visaged god grew proud,  
And made his capering Triton sound aloud,  
Imagining, that Ganymede displeased,  
Had left the heavens, therefore on him he seized.  
Leander strived, the waves about him wound,  
And pulled him to the bottom, where the ground  
Was strewed with pearl, and in low coral groves  
Sweet singing Meremaids, sported with their loves  
On heaps of heavy gold, and took great pleasure,  
To spurn in careless sort, the shipwreck treasure.  
For here the stately azure palace stood,  
Where kingly Neptune and his train abode,  
The lusty god imbra'st him, called him love,  
And swore he never should return to jove.  
But when he knew it was not Ganymede,  
For under water he was almost dead,  
He heaved him up, and looking on his face,  
Beat down the bold waves with his triple mace,  
Which mounted up, intending to have kissed him,  
And fell in drops like tears, because they missed him.  
Leander being up began to swim,  
And looking back, saw Neptune follow him.  
Whereat aghast, the poor soul ganto cry,  
O let me visit Hero ere I die.  
The god put Helles bracelet on his arm,  
And swore the sea should never do him harm.  
He clapped his plump cheeks, with his tresses played,  
And smiling wanton, his love bewrayed.  
He watched his arms, and as they opened wide,  
At every stroke, betwixt them would he slide,  
And steal a kiss, and then run out and dance,  
And as he turned, cast many a lustful glance,  
And threw him gaudy toys to please his eye,  
And dive into the water, and there pry  
Upon his breast, his thighs, and every limb,  
And up again, and close beside him swim.  
And talk of love: Leander made reply,  
You are deceived, I am no woman I,  
There at smiled Neptune, and then told a tale,  
How that a shepherd sitting in a vale,  
Played with a boy, so fair and kind,  
As for his love, both earth and heaven pined;  
That of the cooling river durst not drink,  
Lest water-nymphs should pull him from the brink.  
And when he sported in the fragrant lawns,  
Gote-footed Satyrs, and up-staring Fawns,  
Would steal him thence. Ere half this tale was done,  
Ay me, Leander oryde, th'enamoured sun,  
That now should shine on Thetis glassy bower,  
Descends upon my raiant Hero's tower.  
O that these tardy arms of mine were wings,  
And as he spoke, upon the waves he springs.  
Neptune was angry that he gave no ear,  
And in his heart revenging malice bare:  
He fling at him his mace, but as it went,  
He called it in, for love made him repent.  
The mace returning back, his own hand hit,  
As meaning to be venged for darting it.  
When this fresh bleeding wound Leander viewed,  
His colour went and came, as if he rued.  
The grief which Neptune felt. In gentle breasts,  
Relenting thoughts, remorse and pity rests.  
trooping together, made her wonder why  
She should not leave her bed, and to the Temple?  
Her health said she must live; her sex dissemble.  
She viewed Leander's place, and wished he were  
Turned to his place; so his place were Leander.  
Ay me (said she) that loves sweet life and sense  
Should do it harm! my love had not gone hence,  
Had he been like his place. O blessed place,  
Image of Constancy. Thus my loves grace  
Parts no where but it leaves some thing behind  
Worth observation: he renowmes his kind.  
His motion is like heavens Orbiculer:  
For where he once is, he is ever there.  
This place was mine: Leander now 'tis thine;  
Thou being myself, than it is double mine:  
Mine, and Leander's mine, Leander's mine.  
O see what wealth it yields me, nay yields him:  
For I am in it, he for me doth swim.  
Rich, fruitful love, that doubling self estates  
Elixer-like contracts, though separates.  
Dear place I kiss thee, and do welcome thee,  
As from Leander ever sent to me.   
The end of the third Sestyad.   

THE ARGUMENT OF THE FOURTH SESTYAD.  

Hero, in sacred habit decked,  
Doth private sacrifice effect.  
Her Skarves description wrought by fate,  
Ostents, that threaten her estate.  
The strange, yet Physical events,  
Leander's counterfeit presents.  
In thunder, Ciprides descends,  
Presaging both the lovers ends.  
Ecte the Goddess of remorse,  
With vocal and articulate force  
Inspires Leucote, Venus' swan,  
T'excuse the beauteous Sestian.  
Venus, to wreak her rites abuses,  
Creates the monster Eronusis; 
  
inflaming Heros Sacrifice,  
With lightning darted from her eyes:  
And thereof springs the painted beast,  
That ever since taints every breast.   

NOw from Leander's place she rose, and found  
Her hair and rend rob scattered on the ground:  
Which taking up, she every piece did lay  
Upon an Altar; where in youth of day  
She used t'exhibite private Sacrifice:  
Those would she offer to the Deities  
Of her fair Goddess, and her powerful son,  
As relics of her late-felt passion:  
And in that holy sort she vowed to end them,  
In hope her violent fancies that did rend them,  
Would as quite fade in her loves holy fire,  
As they should in the flames she meant t'inspire.  
Then put she on all her religious weeds,  
That decked her in her secret sacred deeds:  
A crown of Isickles, that sun nor fire  
Can ever melt, and figured chaste desire.  
A golden star shined in her naked breast,  
In honour of the Queene-light of the East.  
In her right hand she held a silver wand,  
On whose bright top Peristera did stand,  
Who was a Nymph, but now transformed a Dove,  
And in her life was dear in Venus' love:  
And for her sake she ever since that time,  
Choosed Doves to draw her Coach through heavens blue clime.  
Her plenteous hair in curled billows swims  
On her bright shoulder: her harmonious limbs  
Sustained no more but a most subtle vail  
That hung on them, as it durst not affair  
Their different concord: for the weakest air  
Can raise it swelling from her beauties fair:  
Nor did it cover, but adumbrate only  
Her most heart-piercing parts, that a blessed eye  
Might see (as it did shadow) fearfully,  
All that all-love-deserving Paradise:  
It was as blue as the most freezing skies  
Near the Sea show, for thence her Goddess came:  
On it a scarf she wore of wondrous frame;  
In midst whereof she wrought a virgin's face,  
From whose each cheek a fiery blush did chase  
Two crimson flames, that did two ways extend,  
Spreading the ample scarf to either end,  
Which figured the division of her mind,  
Whiles yet she rested bashfully inclined,  
And stood not resolute to wed Leander.  
This served her white neck for a purple sphere,  
And cast itself at full breadth down her back.  
There (since the first breath that begun the wrack  
Of her free quiet from Leander's lips)  
She wrought a Sea in one flame full of ships:  
But that one ship where all her wealth did pass  
(Like simple merchants goods) Leander was:  
For in that Sea she naked figured him;  
Her diving needle taught him how to swim,  
And to each thread did such resemblance give,  
For joy to be so like him, it did live.  
Things senseless live by art, and rational die,  
By rude contempt of art and industry.  
Scarce could she work but in her strength of thought,  
She feared she pricked Leander as she wrought:  
And oft would shriek so, that her Guardian frighted,  
Would staring haste, as with some mischief cited.  
They double life that dead things griefs sustdyne:  
They kill that feel not their friends living pain.  
Sometimes she feared he sought her infamy,  
And then as she was working of his eye,  
She thought to prick it out to quench her ill:  
But as she pricked, it grew more perfect still.  
Trifling attempts no serious acts advance;  
The fire of love is blown by dalliance.  
In working his fair neck she did so grace it,  
She still was working her own arms t'embrace it:  
That, and his shoulders, and his hands wereseene  
Above the stream, and with a pure Sea green  
She did so quaintly shadow every limb,  
All might be seen beneath the waves to swim.  
In this conceited scarf she wrought beside  
A Moon in change, and shooting stars did glide  
In number after her with bloody beams,  
Which figured her affects in their extremes,  
Pursuing Nature in her Cynthian body,  
And did her thoughts running on change imply:  
For maids take more delights when they prepare  
And think of wives states, than when wives they are.  
Beneath all these she wrought a Fisherman,  
Drawing his nets from forth that Ocean;  
Who drew so hard ye might discover well,  
The toughned sinews in his neck did swell:  
His inward strains drove out his bloodshot eyes,  
And springs of sweat did in his forehead rise:  
Yet was of nought but of a Serpent sped,  
That in his bosom flew and stung him dead.  
And this by fate into her mind was sent,  
Not wrought by mere instinct of her intent.  
At the scarves other end her hand did frame,  
Near the forked point of the divided flame,  
A country virgin keeping of a Vine,  
Who did of hollow bulrushes combine  
Snares for the stubble-loving Grasshopper,  
And by her lay her skrip that nourished her.  
Within a myrtle shade she sat and sung,  
And turts of waving reeds about her sprung:  
Where lurked two Foxes, that while she applied  
Her trifling snares, their thieveries did divide:  
One to the vine, another to her skrip,  
That she did negligently overslip:  
By which her fruitful vine and wholesome fare,  
She suffered spoiled to make a childish share.  
These ominous fancies did her soul express,  
And every finger made a Prophetess,  
To show what death was hid in loves: disguise,  
And make her judgement conquer destinies.  
O what sweet forms fair Ladies souls do shroud,  
Were they made seen & forced through their blood,  
If through their beauties like rich work through lawn,  
They would set forth their minds with virtues drawn,  
In letting graces from their fingers fly,  
To still their yas thoughts with industry:  
That their plied wits in numbered silks might sing  
Passions huge conquest, and their needle's leading  
Affection prisoner through their own-built cities,  
Pinioned with stories and Arachnean ditties.  
Proceed we now with Heros sacrifice;  
She odours burnt, and from their smoke did rise  
Unsavoury fumes, that air with plagues inspired,  
And then the consecrated sticks she fired.  
On whose pale flame an angry spirit flew,  
And beat it down still as it upward grew.  
The virgin Tapers that on th'altar stood,  
When she inflamed them burnt as red as blood:  
All sad ostents of that too near success;  
That made such moving beauties motionless.  
Then Hero wept; but her affrighted eyes  
She quickly wrested from the sacrifice:  
Shut them, and inwards for Leander looked,  
Searched her soft bosom, and from thence she plucked  
His lovely picture: which when she had viewed,  
Her beauties were with all loves joys renewed.  
The odours sweetened, and the fires burnt clear,  
Leander's form left no ill object there.  
Such was his beauty that the force of light,  
Whose knowledge teacheth wonders infinite.  
The strength of number and proportion,  
Nature had placed in it to make it known.  
Art was her daughter, and what human wits  
For study lost, entombed in drossy spirits.  
After this accident (which for her glory  
Hero could not but make a history)  
Th'inhabitants of Sestus, and Abydus,  
Did every year with feasts propitious,  
To fair Leander's picture sacrifice,  
And they were persons of especial prize  
That were allowed it, as an ornament  
T'enrich their houses; for the continent  
Of the strange virtues all approved it held:  
For even the very look of it repelled  
All blast, witchcrafts, and the strifes of nature  
In those diseases that no herbs could cure.  
The woolfie sting of Avarice it would pull,  
And who have hard hearts, and obdurate minds,  
But vicious, harebrained, and illit'rat hinds?  
The god seeing him with pity to be moved,  
Thereon concluded that he was beloved.  
(Love is too full of faith, too credulous,  
With folly and false hope deluding us.)  
Wherefore Leander's fancy to surprise,  
To the rich Ocean for gifts he flies.  
'tis wisdom to give much, a gift prevails,  
When deep persuading Oratory fails,  
By this Leander being near the land,  
Cast down his weary feet, and felt the sand  
Breathless albeit he were, he rested not,  
Till to the solitary tower he got.  
And knocked and called, at which celestial noise,  
The longing heart of Hero much more joys  
Than nymphs & shepherds, when the timbrel rings,  
Or crooked Dolphin when the sailor sings;  
She stayed not for her robes, but strait arose,  
And drunk with gladness, to the door she goes.  
Where seeing a naked man, she scriecht for fear,  
Such sights as this, to tender maids are rare.  
And ran in to the dark herself to hide,  
Rich jewels in the dark are soon spied.  
Unto her was he led, or rather drawn,  
By those white limbs, which sparkled through the lawn.  
The nearer that he came, the more she fled,  
And seeking refuge, slipped into her bed.  
Whereon Leander sitting, thus began,  
Though numbing cold, all feeble, faint and wan:  
If not for love, yet love for pity sake,  
Me in thy bed and maiden bosom take,  
At least vouchsafe these arms some little room,  
Who hoping to embrace thee, cheerly swoome.  
This head was beat with many a churlish billow,  
And therefore let it rest upon thy pillow.  
Herewith affrighted Hero shrunk away,  
And in her lukewarm place Leander lay.  
Whose lively heat like fire from heaven fet,  
Would animate gross clay, and higher set  
The drooping thoughts of base declining souls,  
Then dreary Mars, carousing Nectar bowls.  
His hands he cast upon her like a snare,  
She overcome with shame and sallow fear,  
Like chaste Diana, when Actaeon spied her,  
Being suddenly betrayed, dyued down to hide her.  
And as her silver body downward went,  
With both her hands she made the bed a tent,  
And in her own mind thought herself secure,  
overcast with dim and darksome coverture.  
And now she lets him whisper in her ear,  
Flatter, entreat, promise, protest and swear,  
Yet ever as he greedily assayed,  
To touch those dainties, she the Harpey played,  
And every limb did as a soldier stout,  
Defend the fort, and keep the foeman out.  
For though the rising yu'rie mount he scaled,  
Which is with azure circling lives impaled,  
Much like a globe, (a globe may I term this,  
By which love sails to regions full of bliss,)  
Yet there with Sisyphus he toiled in vain,  
Till gentle parley did the truce obtain.  
She trembling strove, this strife of hers (like that  
Which made the world) another world begat,  
Of unknown joy. Treason was in her thought,  
And cunningly to yield herself she sought.  
Seeming not won, yet won she was at length,  
In such wars women use but half their strength.  
Leander now like Theban Hercules,  
Entered the orchard of Th●esperides.  
Whose fruit none rightly can describe, but he  
That pulls or shakes it from the golden tree:  
Wherein Leander on her quivering breast,  
Breathless spoke some things, and sighed out the rest;  
Which so prevailed, as he with small ado,  
Enclosed her in his arms and kissed her to.  
And every kiss to her was as a charm,  
And to Leander as a fresh alarm.  
So that the truce was broke, and she alas,  
(Poor silly maiden) at his mercy was.  
Love is not full of pity (as men say)  
But deaf and cruel, where he means to pray.  
Even as a bird, which in our hands we wring,  
Fourth plungeth, and oft flutters with her wing.  
And now she wished this night were never done.  
And sighed to think upon th' approaching sun,  
For much it grieved her that the bright daylight,  
Should know the pleasure of this blessed night.  
And then like Mars and Ericine displayed,  
Both in each others arms chained as they laid.  
Again she knew not how to frame her look,  
Or speak to him who in a moment took,  
That which so long so charily she kept,  
And feign by stealth away she would have crept,  
And to some corner secretly have gone,  
Leaving Leander in the bed alone.  
But as her naked feet were whipping out,  
He on the sudden clinged her so about,  
That Meremaid-like unto the floor she slid,  
And half appeared the other half was hid.  
Thus near the bed she blushing stood upright,  
And from her countenance behold ye might,  
A kind of twilight break, which through the hear,  
As from an orient cloud, glimpse here and there.  
And round about the chamber this false morn,  
Brought forth the day before the day was borne.  
So Heroes ruddy cheek Hero betrayed.  
And her all naked to his sight displayed  
Whence his admiring eyes more pleasure took,  
Than Dis, on heaps of gold fixing his look.  
By this Apollo's golden harp began,  
To sound forth music to the Ocean,  
Which watchful Hesperus no sooner heard,  
But he the day bright-bearing Car prepared.  
And ran before, as Harbinger of light,  
And with his flaring beams mocked ugly night,  
Till she o'ercome with anguish, shame, and rage,  
Hurled down to hell her loathsome carriage.   
The end of the second Sestyad.   

TO MY BEST ESTEEMED AND WORTHILY HONOURED LADY, THE LADY WALSINGHAM, one of the Ladies of her majesties Bedchamber.  
I Present your Ladyship with the last affections of the first two Lovers that ever Muse shrined in the Temple of Memory; being drawn by strange instigation to employ some of my serious time in so trifling a subject, which yet made the first Author, divine Musaeus, eternal. And were it not that we must subject our accounts of these common received conceits to servile custom; it goes much against my hand to sign that for a trifling subject, on which more worthiness of soul hath been showed, and weight of divine wit, than can vouchsafe residence in the leaden gravity of any Mony-Monger; in whose profession all serious subjects are concluded. But he that shuns trifles must shun the world; out of whose reverend heaps of substance and austerity, I can, and will, ere long, single, or tumble out as brainless and passionate fooleries, as ever panted in the bosom of the most ridiculous Lover. Accept it therefore (good Madam) though as a trifle, yet as a serious argument of my affection: for to be thought thankful for all free and honourable favours, is a great sum of that riches my whole thrift intendeth.  
Such uncourtly and silly dispositions as mine, whose contentment hath other objects than profit or glory; are as glad, simply for the naked merit of virtue, to honour such as advance her, as others that are hired to commend with deepliest politic bounty.  
It hath therefore adjoinde much contentment to my desire of your true honour to hear men of desert in Court, add to mine own knowledge of your noble disposition, how gladly you do your best to prefer their desires; and have as absolute respect to their mere good parts, as if they came perfumed and charmed with golden incitements. And this most sweet inclination, that flows from the truth and eternity of Nobles; assure your Ladyship doth more suit your other Ornaments, and makes more to the advancement of your Name, and happiness of your proceed, then if (like others) you displayed Ensigns of state and sourness in your forehead; made smooth with nothing but sensuality and presents.  
This poor Dedication (in figure of the other unity betwixt Sir Thomas and yourself) hath rejoined you with him, my honoured best friend; whose continuance of ancient kindness to my still-obscured estate, though it cannot increase my love to him, which hath ever been entirely circular; yet shall it encourage my deserts to their utmost requital, and make my hearty gratitude speak; to which the unhappiness of my life hath hitherto been uncomfortable and painful dumbnes.  
By your Ladyships vowed in most wished service: George Chapman.   

THE ARGUMENT OF THE THIRD SESTYAD.  

Leander to the envious light  
Resigns his night-sports with the night,  
And swims the Hellespont again;  
Thesme the Deity sovereign  
Of Customs and religious rites  
Appears, improving his delights  
Since Nuptial honours he neglected;  
Which strait he vows shall be effected.  
Fair Hero left Devirginate  
Ways, and with fury wails her state:  
But with her love and woman's wit  
She argues, and approveth it.   

NEw light gives new directions, Fortunes new  
To fashion our endeavours that ensue,  
More harsh (at least more hard) more grave and high  
Our subject runs, and our stern Muse must fly,  
loves edge is taken off, and that light flame,  
Those thoughts, joys, long, that before became,  
High unexperienst blood, and maids sharp plights,  
Must now grow stayed, and censure the delights,  
That being enjoyed ask judgement; now we praise,  
As having parted: Evenings crown the days.  
And now ye wanton loves, and young desires,  
Pied vanity, the mint of strange Attires;  
Ye lisping Flatteries, and obsequious Glances,  
Relentful Musics, and attractive Dances,  
And you detested Charms constraining love,  
Eat loves stolen sports by that these Lovers prove.  
By this the Sovereign of heavens golden fires,  
And young Leander, Lord of his desires,  
Together from their lovers arms arose:  
Leander into Hellespontus throws  
His Hero-handled body, whose delight  
Made him disdain each other Epithet.  
And as amidst the enamoured waves he swims, 
He calls Phoebus the God of Gold, since the virtue of his beams creates it.   
The God of gold of purpose guilt his limbs,  
That this word guilt, including double sense,  
The double guilt of his Incontinence,  
Might be expressed, that had no stay t'employ  
The treasure which the Love god let him joy  
In his dear Hero, with such sacred thrift,  
As had beseemed so sanctified a gift:  
But like a greedy vulgar Prodigal  
Would on the stock dispend, and rudely fall  
Before his time, to that unblessed blessing,  
Which for lust's plague doth perish with possessing.  
joy graven in sense, like snow in water wastes;  
Without preserve of virtue, nothing lasts.  
What man is he that with a wealthy eye,  
Enjoys a beauty richer than the sky,  
Through whose white skin, softer than soundest sleep,  
With dam ask eyes, the ruby blood doth peep,  
And runs in branches through her azure veins,  
Whose mixture and first fire, his love attains;  
Whose both hands limit, both loves deities,  
And sweeten human thoughts like Paradise;  
Whose disposition silken is and kind,  
Directed with an earth-exempted mind;  
Who thinks not heaven with such a love is given?  
And who like earth would spend that dower of heaven,  
With rank desire to joy it all at first?  
What simply kills our hunger, quencheth thirst,  
Clothes but our nakedness, and makes us live?  
Praise doth not any of her favours give:  
But what doth plentifully minister  
Beauteous apparel and delicious cheer,  
So ordered that it still excites desire,  
And still gives pleasure freeness to aspire  
The palm of Bounty, ever moist preserving:  
To loves sweet life this is the courtly carving.  
Thus Time, and all-states-ordering Ceremony  
Had banished all offence: Times golden Thy  
Upholds the flowery body of the earth,  
In sacred harmony, and every birth  
Of men, and actions makes legitimate,  
Being used aright; The use of time is Fate.  
Yet did the gentle stood transfer once more,  
This prize of Love home to his father's shore;  
Where he unlades himself of that false wealth  
That makes few rich; treasures composed by stealth  
And to his sister kind Hermione,  
(Who on the shore kneeled, praying to the sea  
For his return) he all loves goods did show  
In Hero seized for him, in him for Hero.  
His most kind sister all his secrets knew,  
And to her singing like a shower he flew,  
Sprinkling the earth, that to their tombs took in  
Streams dead for love, to leave his ivory skin,  
Which yet a snowy foam did leave above,  
As soul to the dead water that did love;  
And from thence did the first white Roses spring,  
(For love is sweet and fair in every thing)  
And all the sweetened shore as he did go,  
Was crowned with odrous roses white as snow.  
Love-blest Leander was with love so filled,  
That love to all that touched him he instilled.  
And as the colours of all things we see,  
To our sights powers communicated be:  
So to all objects that in compass came  
Of any sense he had; his senses flame  
Flowed from his parts, with force so virtual,  
It fired with sense things mere insensuall.  
Now (with warm baths and odours comforted)  
When he lay down he kindly kissed his bed,  
As consecrating it to Heros right,  
And vowed thereafter that what ever sight  
Put him in mind of Hero, or her bliss,  
Should be her Altar to prefer a kiss.  
Then laid he forth his late enriched arms,  
In whose white circle Love writ all his charms,  
And made his characters sweet Heros limbs,  
When on his breasts warm sea she sideling swims.  
And as those arms (held up in circle) met,  
He said; see sister Heros Carquenet,  
Which she had rather wear about her neck,  
Then all the jewels that doth juno deck.  
But as he shook with passionate desire,  
To put in flame his other secret fire,  
A music so divine did pierce his ear,  
As never yet his ravished sense did hear:  
When suddenly a light of twenty hews  
Broke through the roof, and like the Rainbow views  
Amazed Leander; in whose beams came down  
The Goddess Ceremony, with a Crown  
Of all the stars, and heaven with her descended,  
Her flaming hair to her bright feet extended,  
By which hung all the bench of Deities;  
And in a chain, compact of ears and eyes,  
She led Religion; all her body was  
Clear and transparent as the purest glass:  
For she was all presented to the sense▪  
Devotion, Order, State, and Reverence,  
Her shadows were▪ Society, Memory;  
All which her sight made live; her absence die.  
A rich disparent Pentackle she wears,  
Drawn full of circles and strange characters:  
Her face was changeable to every eye;  
One way looked ill, another graciously;  
Which while men viewed, they cheerful were & holy:  
But looking off, vicious, and melancholy:  
The snaky paths to each observed law,  
Did Policy in her broad bosom draw:  
One hand a Mathematique Crystal sways,  
Which gathering in one line a thousand rays  
From her bright eyes Confusion burns to death,  
And all estates of men distinguisheth.  
By it morality and Comeliness,  
Themselves in all their sightly figures dress.  
Her other hand a laurel rod applies,  
To beat back Barbarism, and Avarice,  
That followed eating earth, and excrement  
And human limbs; and would make proud ascent  
To seats of Gods▪ were Ceremony slain;  
The Hours and Graces bore her glorious train,  
And all the sweets of our society  
Were Spherde, and treasurde in her bounteous eye.  
Thus she appeared, and sharply did reprove  
Leander's bluntness in his violent love;  
Told him how poor was substance without rites,  
Like bills unsignd, desires without delights;  
Like meats unseasond; like rank corn that grows  
On Cottages, that none or reaps or sows:  
Not being with civil forms confirmed and bounded,  
For human dignities and comforts founded:  
But lose and secret all their glories hide,  
Fear fills the chamber, darkness decks the Bride.  
She vanished, leaving pierced Leander's heart  
With sense of his unceremonious part,  
In which with plain neglect of Nuptial rites,  
He close and flatly fell to his delights:  
And instantly he vowed to celebrate  
All rites pertaining to his married state.  
So up he gets and to his father goes,  
To whose glad ears he doth his vows disclose:  
The Nuptials are resolved with utmost power,  
And he at night would swim to Heros tower.  
From whence he meant to Sestus forked Bay  
To bring her covertly, where ships must stay,  
Sent by her father thoroughly rigged and manned,  
To waft her safely to Abydus Strand.  
There leave we him, and with fresh wing pursue  
Astonished Hero, whose most wished view  
I thus long have forborn, because I left her  
So out of countenance, and her spirits bereft her.  
To look of one abashed is impudence,  
When of slight faults he hath too deep a sense.  
Her blushing hither chamber: she looked out,  
And all the air she purpled round about,  
And after it a foul black day befell,  
Which ever since a red morn doth foretell:  
And still renews our woes for Heros woe,  
And foul it proved, be cause it figured so  
The next night's horror, which prepare to hear;  
I fail if it profane your daintiest ear.  
Then how most strangely-intellectuall fire,  
That proper to my soul hast power t'inspire  
Her burning faculties, and with the wings  
Of thy unspheared flame visitst the springs  
Of spirits immortal, Now (as swift as Time  
Doth follow Motion) find th'eternal Clime  
Of his free soul, whose living subject stood  
Up to the chin in the pier can flood,  
And drunk to me half this Musean story,  
Inscribing it to deathles Memory:  
Confer with it, and make my pledge as deep,  
That neither's draft be consecrate to sleep.  
Tell it how much his late desires I tender,  
(If yet it know not) and to light surrender  
My souls dark offspring, willing it should die  
To loves, to passions, and society.  
Sweet Hero left upon her bed alone,  
Her maidenhead, her vows, Leander gone,  
And nothing with her but a violent crew  
Of new come thoughts that yet she never knew,  
Even to herself a stranger; was much like  
Th' Iberian city that wars hand did strike  
By English force in princely Essex guide,  
When peace assured her towers had fortified;  
And golden-fingred India had bestowed  
Such wealth on her, that strength and Empire flowed  
Into her Turrets; and her virgin waste  
The wealthy girdle of the Sea embraced:  
Till our Leander that made Mars his Cupid,  
For soft love-sutes, with iron thunders chid:  
Swum to her Towers, dissolved her virgin zone;  
Led in his power, and made Confusion  
Run through her streets amazed, that she supposed  
She had not been in her own walls enclosed:  
But rapt by wonder to some foreign state,  
Seeing all her issue so disconsolate:  
And all her peaceful mansions possessed  
With wars just spoil, and many a foreign guest  
From every corner driving an enjoyer,  
Supplying it with power of a destroyer.  
So fared fair Hero in th'expugned fort  
Of her chaste bosom, and of every sort  
Strange thoughts possessed her, ransacking her breast  
For that that was not there, her wont rest.  
She was a mother strait and bore with pain,  
Thoughts that spoke strait and wished their mother slain;  
She hates their lives, & they their own & hers:  
Such strife still grows where sin the race prefers.  
Love is a golden bubble full of dreams,  
That waking breaks, and fills us with extremes.  
She mused how she could look upon her Sire,  
And not show that without, that was entire.  
For as a glass is an inanimate eye,  
And outward forms embraceth inwardly:  
So is the eye an animate glass that shows  
Informs without us. And as Phoebus throws  
His beams abroad, though he in clouds be closed,  
Still glancing by them till he find opposed,  
A lose and rorid vapour that is fit  
T'euent his searching beams, and useth it  
To form a tender twentie-coloured eye,  
Cast in a circle round about the sky.  
So when our fiery soul, our body's star,  
(That ever is in motion circular)  
Conceives a form; in seeking to display it  
Through all our cloudy parts, it doth convey it  
Forth at the eye, as the most pregnant place,  
And that reflects it round about the face.  
And this event uncourtly Hero thought,  
Her inward guilt would in her looks have wrought:  
For yet the world's stolen cunning she resisted  
To bear foul thoughts, yet forge what looks she listed,  
And held it for a very silly sleight,  
To make a perfect metal counterfeit:  
Glad to disclaim herself; proud of an Art,  
That makes the face a Pander to the heart.  
Those be the painted Moons, whose lights profane  
Beauties true Heaven, at full still in their wane.  
Those be the Lapwing faces that still cry,  
Here 'tis, when that they vow is nothing nigh.  
Base fools, when every moorish fowl can teach  
That which men think the height of human reach.  
But custom that the Apoplexy is  
Of beddred nature, and lives led amiss,  
And takes away all feeling of offence:  
Yet brazde not Heros brow with impudence;  
And this she thought most hard to bring to pass,  
To seem in countenance other than she was.  
As if she had two souls; one for the face,  
One for the heart; and that they shifted place  
As either list to utter, or conceal  
What they conceived: or as one soul did deal  
With both affairs at once, keeps and ejects  
Both at an instant contrary effects:  
Retention and ejection in her powers  
Being acts alike: for this one vice of ours,  
That forms the thought, and sways the countenance,  
Rules both our motion and our utterance.  
These and more grave conceits toiled Heros spirits:  
For though the light of her discursive wits,  
Perhaps might find some little hole to pass  
Through all these worldly cinctures; yet (alas)  
There was a heavenly flame encompassed her;  
Her Goddess, in whose Fane she did prefer  
Her virgin vows; from whose impulsive sight  
She knew the black shield of the darkest night  
Can not defend her, nor wits subtilst art:  
This was the point pierced Hero to the heart.  
Who heavy to the death, with a deep sigh  
And hand that languished, took a rob was nigh,  
Exceeding large, and of black Cypress made,  
In which she sat, hid from the day in shade,  
Even over head and face down to her feet;  
Her left hand made it at her bosom meet;  
Her right hand leaned on her hart-bowing knee,  
Wrapped in unshapefull folds: 'twas death to see  
Her knee stayed that, and that her falling face  
Each limb helped other to put on disgrace.  
No form was seen, where form held all her sight:  
But like an embryon that saw never light:  
Or like a scorched statue made a coal  
With three-wingd lightning: or a wretched soul  
Muffled with endless darkness, she did sit:  
The night had never such a heavy spirit.  
Yet might an imitating eye well see,  
How fast her clear tears melted on her knee  
Through her black vail, and turned as black as it,  
Mourning to be her tears: then wrought her wit  
With her broken vow, her Goddess wrath, her fame,  
All tools that enginous despair could frame:  
Which made her strew the floor with her torn hair,  
And spread her mantle piece-meal in the air.  
Like Ioues sons club, strong passion struck her down,  
And with a piteous shriek enforced her swoon:  
Her shriek, made with another shriek ascend  
The frighted Matron that on her did tend:  
And as with her own cry her sense was slain,  
So with the other it was called again.  
She rose and to her bed made forced way,  
And laid her down even where Leander lay:  
And all this while the red sea of her blood  
Ebbed with Leander: but now turned the flood,  
And all her fleet of spirits came swelling in  
With child of sail, and did hot fight begin  
With those severe conceits, she too much marked,  
And here Leander's beauties were embarked.  
He came in swimming painted all with joys,  
Such as might sweeten hell: his thought destroys  
All her destroying thoughts: she thought she felt  
His heart in hers: with her contentions melt,  
And chid her soul that it could so much err,  
To check the true joys he deserved in her.  
Her fresh heat blood cast figures in her eyes,  
And she supposed she saw in Neptune's skies  
How her star wandered, washed in smarting brine  
For her loves sake, that with immortal wine  
Should be embathed, and swim in more hearts ease,  
Than there was water in the Sestian seas.  
Then said her Cupid prompted spirit; shall I  
Sing moans to such delightsome harmony?  
Shall slick-tongde fame patched up with voices rude,  
The drunken bastard of the multitude,  
(Begot when father judgement is away,  
And gossip-like, says because others say,  
Takes news as if it were too hot to eat,  
And spits it slavering forth for dog-fees meat)  
Make me for forging a fantastic vow,  
Presume to bear what makes grave matrons bow?  
Good vows are never broken with good deeds,  
For then good deeds were bad: vows are but seeds,  
And good deeds fruits; even those good deeds that grow  
From other stocks, than from th' observed vow.  
That is a good deed that prevents a bad:  
Had I not yielded, slain myself I had.  
Hero Leander is, Leander Hero:  
Such virtue love hath to make one of two.  
If then Leander did my maiden head get,  
Leander being myself I still retain it.  
We break chaste vows when we live loosely ever:  
But bound as we are, we live loosely never.  
Two constant lovers being joined in one,  
Yielding to one another, yield to none.  
We know not how to vow, till love unblinde us,  
And vows made ignorantly never bind us.  
Too true it is that when 'tis gone men hate  
The joys as vain they took in loves estate:  
But that's, since they have lost, the heavenly light  
Should show them way to judge of all things right▪  
When life is gone death must implant his terror,  
As death is foe to life, so love to error.  
Before we love how range we through this sphere,  
Searching the sundry fancies hunted here:  
Now with desire of wealth transported quite  
Beyond our free humanity's delight:  
Now with ambition climbing falling towers,  
Whose hope to scale, our fear to fall devours:  
Now rapt with pastimes, pomp, all joys impure;  
In things without us no delight is sure.  
But love with all joys crowned, within doth sit;  
O Goddess pity love and pardon it.  
This spoke he weeping: but her Goddess ear  
burnt with too stern a heat, and would not hear.  
Aye me, hath heavens strait singers no more graces,  
For such as Hero, then for homeliest faces?  
Yet she hoped well, and in her sweet conceit  
Weighing her arguments, she thought them weight:  
And that the logic of Leander's beauty,  
And them together would bring proofs of duty.  
And if her soul, that was a skilful glance  
Of heavens great essence, found such imperance  
In her loves beauties; she had confidence  
jove loved him too, and pardoned her offence.  
Bedutie in heaven and earth this grace doth win,  
It supples rigour, and it lessens sin.  
Thus, her sharp wit, her love, her secrecy,  
And make the rankest miser bountiful.  
It killed the fear of thunder and of death;  
The discords that conceits engendereth  
Twixt man and wife, it for the time would cease:  
The flames of love it quenched, and would increase:  
Held in a prince's hand it would put out  
The dreadfulst Comet: it would ease all doubt  
Of threatened mischiefs: it would bring asleep  
Such as were mad: it would enforce to weep  
Most barbarous eyes: and many more effects  
This picture wrought, and sprung Leandrian sects,  
Of which was Hero first: For he whose form  
(Held in her hand) cleared such a fatal storm,  
From hell she thought his person would defend her,  
Which night and Helle spont would quickly send her.  
With this confirmed, she vowed to banish quite  
All thought of any check to her delight  
And in contempt of silly bashfulness,  
She would the faith of her desires profess.  
Where her Religion should be Policy,  
To follow love with zeal her piety:  
Her chamber her Cathedral Church should be,  
And her Leander her chief Deity.  
For in her love these did the gods forego;  
And though her knowledge did not teach her so,  
Yet did it teach her this, that what her heart  
Did greatest hold in herself greatest part,  
That she did make her god▪ and 'twas less nought  
To leave gods in profession and in thought,  
Than in her love and life: for therein lies  
Most of her duties, and their dignities,  
And rail the brain-bald world at what it will;  
That's the grand Atheism that reigns in it still.  
Yet singularity she would use no more,  
For she was singular too much before:  
But she would please the world with fair pretext;  
Love would not leave her conscience perplexed.  
Great men that will have less do for them still,  
Must bear them out though th'acts be near so ill.  
meanness must Pander be to Excellency,  
Pleasure atones Falsehood and Conscience:  
Dissembling was the worst (thought Hero then)  
And that was best how she must live with men▪  
O virtuous love that taught her to do best,  
When she did worst, and when she thought it lest.  
Thus would she still proceed in works divine,  
And in her sacred state of priesthood shine,  
Handling the holy rites with hands as bold,  
As if therein she did Ioues thunder hold;  
And need not fear those menaces of error,  
Which she at others threw with greatest terror.  
O lovely Hero, nothing is thy sin,  
Weighed with those foul faults other Priests are in;  
That having neither faiths, nor works, nor beauties,  
T'engender any excuse for slubbered duties;  
With as much countenance fill their holy chairs,  
And sweat denouncements 'gainst profane affairs,  
As if their lives were cut out by their places,  
And they the only fathers of the Graces.  
Now as with settled mind she did repair,  
Her thoughts to sacrifice, her ravished hair  
And her torn rob which on the altar lay,  
And only for Religion's fire did stay;  
She heard a thunder by the Cyclops beaten,  
In such a volley as the world did threaten,  
Given Venus as she parted th'airy Sphere,  
Descending now to chide with Hero here:  
When suddenly the Goddess wagoners,  
The Swans and Turtles that in coupled feres,  
Through all world's bosoms draw her influence,  
Lighted in Heros window, and from thence  
To her fair shoulders flew the gentle Doves.  
Graceful Aedone that sweet pleasure loves,  
And ruffoot Chreste with the tufted crown,  
Both which did kiss her, though their Gods frowned.  
The Swans did in the solid flood her glass,  
Prune their fair plumes; of which the fairest was,  
Jove-loved Leucote, that pure brightness is;  
The other bountie-loving Dapsilis.  
All were in heaven, now they with Hero were:  
But Venus looks brought wrath, and urged fear.  
Her rob was scarlet, black her heads attire,  
And through her naked breast shined streams of fire,  
As when the rarefied air is driven  
In flashing streams, and opes the darkened heaven.  
In her white hand a wreath of yew she bore,  
And breaking th'icy wreath sweet Hero wore,  
She forced about her brows her wreath of yew,  
And said, now minion to thy fate be true,  
Though not to me, endure what this portends;  
Begin where lightness will, in shame it ends.  
Love makes thee cunning; thou art currant now,  
By being counterfeit: thy broken vow,  
Deceit with her pied garters must rejoin,  
And with her stamp thou countnances must coin:  
Coins, and pure deceits for purities,  
And still a maid wilt seem in cozened eyes,  
And have an antic face to laugh within,  
While thy smooth looks make men digest thy sin.  
But since thy lips (lest thought forsworn) forswore,  
Be never virgins vow worth trusting more.  
When Beauties dearest did her Goddess hear,  
breath such rebukes 'gainst that she could not clear;  
Dumb sorrow spoke aloud in tears, and blood  
That from her griefe-burst veins in piteous flood,  
From the sweet conduits of her savour fell:  
The gentle Turtles did with moans make swell.  
Their shining gorges: the white black-eyde Swans  
Did sing as woeful Epicedians,  
As they would strait ways die: when pities Queen  
The Goddess Ecte, that had ever been  
Hid in a watery cloud near Heros cries,  
Since the first instant of her broken eyes,  
Gave bright Leucote voice, and made her speak,  
To ease her anguish, whose swollen breast did break  
With anger at her Goddess, that did touch  
Hero so near for that she used so much.  
And thrusting her white neck at Venus, said;  
Why may not amorous Hero seem a maid,  
Though she be none, as well as you suppress  
In modest cheeks your inward wantonness?  
How often have we drawn you from above,  
T'exchange with mortals, rites for rites in love?  
Why in your priest then call you that offence  
That shines in you, and is your influence?  
With this the furies stopped Leucotes lips,  
Enjoind by Venus; who with Rosy whips  
Beat the kind Bird. Fierce lightning from her eyes  
Did set on fire fair Heros sacrifice,  
Which was her torn rob, and enforced hair;  
And the bright flame became a maid most fair  
For her aspect: 
Description and creation of Dissimulation.  her tresses were of wire,  
Knit like a net, where hearts all set on fire,  
Struggled in pants and could not get released:  
Her arms were all with golden pincers dressed,  
And twenty fashioned knots, pulleys, and brakes,  
And all her body girdled with painted Snakes.  
Her down parts in a Scorpion's tail combined,  
Freckled with twenty colours; pied wings shined  
Out of her shoulders; Cloth had never die,  
Nor sweeter colours never viewed eye,  
In scorching Turkey, Cares Tartary,  
Than shined about this spirit notorious;  
Nor was Arachne's web so glorious.  
Of lightning and of shreds she was begot;  
More hold in base dissemblers is there not.  
Her name was Eronusis. Venus flew  
From Heros sight, and at her Chariot drew  
This wondrous creature to so steep a height,  
That all the world she might command with sleight  
Of her gay wings: and then she bade her haste,  
Since Hero had dissembled, and disgraced  
Her rites so much, and every breast infect  
With her deceits, she made her Architect  
Of all dissimulation, and since then  
Never was any trust in maids nor men.  
O it spited,  
Fair Venus' heart to see her most delighted.  
And one she choosed for temper of her mind,  
To be the only ruler of her kind,  
So soon to let her virgin race be ended;  
Not simply for the fault a whit offended:  
But that in strife for chasteness with the Moon,  
Spiteful Diana bade her show but one,  
That was her servant vowed, and lived a maid,  
And now she thought to answer that upbraid,  
Hero had lost her answer; who knows not  
Venus would seem as far from any spot  
Of light demeanour, as the very skin  
Twixt Cynthia's brows; Sin is ashamed of Sin.  
Up Venus flew, and scarce durst up for fear  
Of Phoebe's laughter, when she passed her Sphere:  
And so most ugly clouded was the light,  
That day was hid in day; night came ere night,  
And Venus could not through the thick air pierce,  
Till the days king, god of undaunted verse,  
Because she was so plentiful a theme,  
To such as wore his Laurel Anademe:  
Like to a fiery bullet made descent,  
And from her passage those fat vapours rend,  
That being not thoroughly rarefide to rain,  
Melted like pitch as blue as any vain,  
And scalding tempest made the earth to shrink  
Under their fervour, and the world did think  
In every drop a torturing Spirit flew,  
It pierced so deeply, and it burnt so blue.  
Betwixt all this and Hero, Hero held  
Leander's picture as a Persian shield:  
And she was free from fear of worst success;  
The more ill threats us, we suspect the less:  
As we grow hapless, violence subtle grows,  
Dumb, deaf, & blind, & comes when no man knows.   
The end of the fourth Sestyad.   

THE ARGUMENT OF THE FIFT SESTYAD.  

Day doubles her accustomed date,  
As loath the night, incensed by fate,  
Should wrack our lovers; Heros plight,  
Longs for Leander, and the night▪  
Which, ere her thirsty wish recovers,  
She sends for two betrothed lovers,  
And marries them, that (with their crew  
Their sports and ceremonies due)  
She covertly might celebrate,  
With secret joy her own estate.  
She makes a feast, at which appears  
The wild Nymph Teras, that still bears  
An ivory Lute, tells Ominous tales,  
And sings at solemn festivales.   

NOw was bright Hero weary of the day,  
Thought an Olympiad in Leander's stay.  
Sol, and the soft-foote Hours hung on his arms,  
And would not let him swim, foreseeing his harms:  
That day Aurora double grace obtained  
Of her love Phoebus; she his Horses rained,  
Set on his golden knee, and as she list  
She pulled him back; and as she pulled, she kissed  
To have him turn to bed; he loved her more,  
To see the love Leander Hero bore.  
Examples profit much ten times in one,  
In persons full of note, good deeds are done.  
Day was so long, men walking fell asleep,  
The heavy humours that their eyes did steep,  
Made them fear mischiefs. The hard streets were beds  
For covetous churls, and for ambitious heads,  
That spite of Nature would their business ply.  
All thought they had the falling Epilepsy,  
Men groveld so upon the smothered ground,  
And pity did the heart of heaven confound.  
The Gods, the Graces, and the Muses came  
Down to the Destinies, to stay the frame  
Of the true lovers deaths, and all world's tears:  
But death before had stopped their cruel ears  
All the Celestials parted mourning then,  
Pierced with our human miseries more than men▪  
Ah, nothing doth the world with mischief fill,  
But want of feeling one another's ill.  
With their descent the day grew something fair,  
And cast a brighter rob upon the air.  
Hero to shorten time with merriment,  
For young Alcmane, and bright Mya sent,  
Two lovers that had long craved marriage dues  
At Heros hands: but she did still refuse,  
For lovely Mya was her consort vowed  
In her maid's state, and therefore not allowed  
To amorous Nuptials: yet fair Hero now  
Intended to dispense with her cold vow,  
Since hers was broken, and to marry her:  
The rites would pleasing matter minister  
To her conceits, and shorten tedious day.  
They came; sweet Music usherd th'odorous way,  
And wanton Air in twenty sweet forms danced  
After her fingers; Beauty and Love advanced  
Their ensigns in the downles rosy faces  
Of youths and maids, led after by the Graces.  
For all these, Hero made a friendly feast,  
Welcomed them kindly, did much love protest,  
Winning their hearts with all the means she might,  
That when her fault should chance t'abide the light,  
Their loves might cover or extenuate it,  
And high in her worst fate make pity sit.  
She married them, and in the banquet came  
Borne by the virgins: Hero strived to frame  
Her thoughts to mirth. Ay me, but hard it is  
To imitate a false and forced bliss.  
Ill may a sad mind forge a merry face,  
Nor hath constrained laughter any grace.  
Then laid she wine on cares to make them sink;  
Who fears the threats of fortune, let him drink.  
To these quick Nuptials entered suddenly,  
Admired Teras with the Ebon Thy,  
A Nymph that haunted the green Sestyan groves,  
And would consort soft virgins in their loves,  
At gay some Triumphs, and on solemn days,  
Singing prophetic Elegies and Lays:  
And fingering of a silver Lute she tied,  
With black and purple scarves by her left side.  
Apollo gave it, and her skill withal,  
And she was termed his Dwarf she was so small.  
Yet great in virtue, for his beams enclosed  
His virtues in her: never was proposed  
Riddle to her, or Augury, strange or new,  
But she resolved it: never slight tale flew  
From her charmed lips, without important sense,  
Shown in some grave succeeding consequence.  
This little Sylvan with her songs and tales,  
Gave such estate to feasts and Nuptiales,  
That though oft times she forewent Tragedies,  
Yet for her strangeness still she pleased their eyes,  
And for her smallness they admired her so,  
They thought her perfect borne and could not grow  
All eyes were on her: Hero did command  
An Altar decked with sacred state should stand,  
At the Feasts upper end close by the Bride,  
On which the pretty Nymph might sit espied.  
Then all were silent; every one so hears,  
As all their senses climbed into their ears:  
And first this amorous tale that fitted well,  
Fair Hero and the Nuptials she did tell:   

The tale of Teras.  
Hymen that now is god of Nuptial rites,  
And crowns with honour love and his delights,  
Of Athens was a youth so sweet of face,  
That many thought him of the semall race:  
Such quickening brightness did his clear eyes dart,  
Warm went their beams to his beholder's heart.  
In such pure leagues his beauties were combined,  
That there your Nuptial contracts first were signed.  
For as proportion, white, and crimson, meet  
In Beauty's mixture, all right clear, and sweet;  
The eye responsible, the golden hair,  
And none is held without the other, fair:  
All spring together, all together fade;  
Such intermixed affections should invade  
Two perfect lovers: which being yet unseen,  
Their virtues and their comforts copied been,  
In Beauty's concord, subject to the eye;  
And that, in Hymen, pleased so matchleslie,  
That lovers were esteemed in their full grace,  
Like form and colour mixed in Hymen's face;  
And such sweet concord was thought worthy then  
Of torches, music, feasts, and greatest men:  
So Hymen looked, that even the chastest mind  
He moved to join in joys of sacred kind:  
For only now his chins first down consorted  
His heads rich fleece, in golden curls contorted;  
And as he was so loved, he loved so too,  
So should best beauties, bound by Nuptials do.  
Bright Eucharis, who was by all men said  
The noblest fairest, and the richest maid,  
Of all the Athenian damsels, Hymen loved;  
With such transmission, that his heart removed  
From his white breast to hers, but her estate  
In passing his, was so interminate  
For wealth and honour, that his love durst feed  
On nought but sight and hearing, nor could breed  
Hope of requital; the grand prize of love;  
Nor could he hear or see but he must prove  
How his rare beauties music would agree  
With maids in consort: therefore rob he  
His chin of those same few first fruits it bore,  
And clad in such attire, as Virgins wore,  
He kept them company, and might right well,  
For he did all but Eucharis excel  
In all the fair of Beauty: yet he wanted  
Virtue to make his own desires implanted  
In his dear Eucharis; for women never  
Love beauty in their sex, but envy ever.  
His judgement yet (that durst not suit address,  
Nor past due means presume of due success)  
Reason got fortune in the end to speed  
To his best prays: but strange it seemed indeed,  
That fortune should a chaste affection bless,  
Preferment seldom graceth bashfulness.  
Nor graced it Hymen yet; but many a dart  
And many an amorous thought enthralled his heart,  
Ere he obtained her, and he sick became,  
Forced to abstain her sight, and then the flame  
Raged in his bosom O what grief did fill him:  
Sight made him sick, and want of sight did kill him.  
The virgins wondered where Dietia stayed,  
For so did Hymen, term himself a maid.  
At length with sickly looks he greeted them:  
'tis strange to see 'gainst, what an extreme stream  
A lover strives; poor Hymen looked so ill,  
That as in merit he increased still,  
By suffering much, so he in grace decreased.  
Women are most won when men merit least:  
If merit look not well, love bids stand by,  
loves special lesson is to please the eye.  
And Hymen soon recovering all he lost,  
Deceiving still these maids, but himself most.  
His love and he with many virgin dames,  
Noble by birth, noble by beauty's flames,  
Leaving the town with songs and hallowed lights,  
To do great Ceres Eleusina rites  
Of zealous Sacrifice; were made a prey  
To barbarous Rovers that in ambush lay,  
And with rude hands enforced their shining spoil,  
far from the darkened City, tired with toil.  
And when the yellow issue of the sky  
Came trooping forth, jealous of cruelty,  
To their bright fellows of this under heaven,  
Into a double night they saw them driven,  
A horrid Cave, the thieves black mansion,  
Where weary of the journey they had gone,  
Their last night's watch, and drunk with their sweet gains,  
Dull Morpheus entered, laden with silken chains,  
Stronger than iron, and bound the swelling veins  
And tired senses of these lawless Swains.  
But when the virgin lights thus dimly burnt;  
O what a hell was heaven in how they mourned  
And wrung their hands, and wound their gentle forms  
Into the shapes of sorrow! Golden storms  
Fell from their eyes: As when the Sun appears,  
And yet it rains, so showed their eyes their tears.  
And as when funeral dames watch a dead corpse,  
Weeping about it, telling with remorse  
What pains he felt, how long in pain he lay,  
How little food he eat, what he would say;  
And then mix mournful tales of others deaths,  
Smothering themselves in clouds of their own breaths.  
At length, one cheering other, call for wine,  
The golden bowl drinks tears out of their eine,  
As they drink wine from it; and round it goes,  
Each helping other to relieve their woes:  
So cast these virgin's beauties mutual rays,  
One lights another, face the face displays;  
Lips by reflection kissed, and hands hands shook,  
Even by the whiteness each of other took.  
But Hymen now used friendly Morpheus' aid,  
Slew every thief, and rescued every maid.  
And now did his enamoured passion take  
heart from his hearty deed, whose worth did make  
His hope of bounteous Eucharis more strong;  
And now came Love with Proteus, who had long  
Inggled the little god with prayers and gifts,  
Ran through all shapes, and varied all his shifts,  
To win Loves stay with him, and make him love him:  
And when he saw no strength of sleight could move him  
To make him love, or stay he nimbly turned  
Into loves self, he so extremely burnt.  
And thus came Love with Proteus and his power,  
T'encounter Eucharis: first like the flower  
That junos' milk did spring the silver Lillie,  
He fell on Hymen's hand, who strait did spy  
The bounteous Godhead, and with wondrous joy  
Offered it Eucharis. She wondrous coy  
Drew back her hand: the subtle flower did woe it,  
And drawing it near, mixed so you could not know it.  
As two clear Tapers mix in one their light,  
So did the Lily and the hand their white:  
She viewed it, and her view the form bestows  
Amongst her spirits: for as colour flows  
From superficies of each thing we see,  
Even so with colours forms emitted be:  
And where loves form is, love is, love is form;  
He entered at the eye, his sacred storm  
Rose from the hand, loves sweetest instrument:  
It stirred her blood's sea so, that high it went,  
And beat in bashful waves 'gainst the white shore  
Of her divided cheeks; it raged the more,  
Because the tide went 'gainst the haughty wind  
Of her estate and birth: And as we find  
In fainting ebbs, the flowery Zephir hurls  
The greene-hayrd Hellespont, broke in silver curls  
'Gainst Heros tower: but in his blasts retreat,  
The waves obeying him, they after beat,  
Leaving the chalky shore a great way pale,  
Then moist it freshly with another gale:  
So ebbed and flowed the blood in Eucharis face,  
Coyness and Love strived which had greatest grace,  
Virginity did fight on Coyness side;  
Fear of her parents frowns, and female pride,  
Loathing the lower place, more than it loves  
The high contents, desert and virtue moves.  
With love fought Hymen's beauty and his valour,  
Which scarce could so much favour yet allure  
To come to strike, but fameles idle stood,  
Action is fiery valours sovereign good.  
But Love once entered, wished no greater aid  
Than he could find within; thought, thought betrayed,  
The bribed, but incorrupted Garrison,  
Sung Io Hymen; there those songs begun,  
And Love was grown so rich with such a gain,  
And wanton with the ease of his free reign,  
That he would turn into her roughest frowns  
To turn them out; and thus he Hymen crowns  
King of his thoughts, man's greatest Empery:  
This was his first brave step to deity.  
Home to the mourning city they repair,  
With news as wholesome as the morning air,  
To the sad parents of each saved maid:  
But Hymen and his Eucharis had laid  
This plat, to make the flame of their delight  
Round as the Moon at full, and full as bright.  
Because the parents of chaste Eucharis  
Exceeding Hymen's so, might cross their bliss;  
And as the world rewards deserts, that law  
Cannot assist with force: so when they saw  
Their daughter safe, take vantage of their own,  
Praise Hymen's valour much, nothing bestown.  
Hymen must leave the virgins in a Grove  
far off from Athens, and go first to prove  
If to restore them all with fame and life,  
He should enjoy his dearest as his wife.  
This told to all the maids; the most agree:  
The riper sort knowing what 'tis to be  
The first mouth of a news so far derived,  
And that to hear and bear news brave folks lived,  
As being a carriage special hard to bear,  
Occurrents, these occurrents being so dear,  
They did with grace protest, they were content  
T'accost their friends with all their complement,  
For Hymen's good: but to incur their harm,  
There he must pardon them. This wit went warm  
To Adoleshes' brain, a Nymph borne high,  
Made all of voice and fire, that upwards fly:  
Her heart and all her forces neither train,  
Climbed to her tongue, and thither fell her brain,  
Since it could go no higher: and it must go,  
All powers she had, even her tongue did so.  
In spirit and quickness she much joy did take,  
And loved her tongue, only for quickness sake,  
And she would hast and tell. The rest all stay,  
Hymen goes on, the Nymph another way:  
And what became of her I'll tell at last:  
Yet take her visage now: moist lipped, long fa'st,  
Thin like an iron wedge, so sharp and tart,  
As 'twere of purpose made to cleave loves heart.  
Well were this lovely Beauty rid of her,  
And Hymen did at Athens now prefer  
His welcome suit, which he with joy aspired:  
A hundred princely youths with him retired  
To fetch the Nymphs: Chariots and Music went,  
And home they came: heaven with applauses rend.  
The Nuptials strait proceed, whiles all the town,  
Fresh in their joys might do them most renown.  
First gold-lockt Hymen did to Church repair,  
Like a quick offering burnt in flames of hair.  
And after, with a virgin firmament,  
The Godhead-proving Bride, attended went  
Before them all, she looked in her command,  
As if forme-giving Cypria silver hand  
Gripped all their beauties, and crushed out one flame,  
She blushed to see how beauty overcame  
The thoughts of all men. Next before her went  
Five lovely children decked with ornament  
Of her sweet colours, bearing Torches by,  
For light was held a happy Augury  
Of generation, whose efficient right  
Is nothing else but to produce to light.  
The odd disparent number they did choose,  
To show the union married loves should use,  
Since in two equal parts it will not sever,  
But the midst holds one to rejoin it ever,  
As common to both parts: men therefore deem,  
That equal number Gods do not esteem,  
Being authors of sweet peace and unity,  
But pleasing to th'infernal Empery,  
Under whose ensigns Wars and Discords fight,  
Since an even number you may disunite  
In two parts equal, nought in middle left,  
To reunite each part from other reft:  
And five they hold in most especial prize,  
Since 'tis the first odd number that doth rise  
From the two foremost numbers unity  
That odd and even are; which are two, and three,  
For one no number is: but thence doth flow  
The powerful race of number. Next did go  
A noble Matron that did spinning bear  
A housewives rock and spindle, and did wear  
A Wether's skin, with all the snowy fleece,  
To intimate that even the daintiest piece,  
And noblest borne dame should industrious be,  
That which does good, disgraceth no degree.  
And now to junos' Temple they are come,  
Where her grave Priest stood in the marriage room.  
On his right arm did hang a scarlet vail,  
And from his shoulders to the ground did trail,  
On either side, Ribbons of white and blue;  
With the red vail he hid the bashful hue  
Of the chaste Bride, to show the modest shame,  
In coupling with a man should grace a dame.  
Then took he the disparent Silks, and tied  
The Lovers by the wastes, and side to side,  
In token that thereafter they must bind  
In one self sacred knot each others mind.  
Before them on an Altar he presented  
Both fire and water: which was first invented,  
Since to ingenerate every human creature,  
And every other birth produ'st by Nature,  
Moisture and heat must mix: so man and wife  
For human race must join in Nuptial life.  
Then one of junos' Birds, the painted jay,  
He sacrificed, and took the gall away.  
All which he did behind the Altar throw,  
In sign no bitterness of hate should grow  
Twixt married loves, nor any least disdain.  
Nothing they spoke, for 'twas esteemed too plain  
For the most silken mildness of a maid,  
To let a public audience hear it said  
She boldly took the man: and so respected  
Was bashfulness in Athens: it erected  
To chaste Agneia, which is Shamefastness,  
A sacred Temple, holding her a Goddess.  
And now to Feasts, Masks, and triumphant shows,  
The shining troops returned, even till earth's throws  
Brought forth with joy the thickest part of night,  
When the sweet Nuptial song that used to cite  
All to their rest, was by Phemonor sung:  
First Delphian Prophetess, whose graces sprung  
Out of the Muses well, she sung before  
The Bride into her chamber: at which door  
A Matron and a Torchbearer did stand;  
A painted box of Confits in her hand  
The Matron held, and so did other some  
That compassed round the honoured Nuptial room.  
The custom was that every maid did wear,  
During her maidenhead, a silken Sphere  
About her waste, above her inmost weed,  
Knit with Minerva's knot, and that was freed  
By the fair Bridegroom on the marriage night,  
With many ceremonies of delight:  
And yet eternized Hymen's tender Bride,  
To suffer it dissolved so sweetly cried.  
The maids that heard, so loved, and did adore her,  
They wished with all their hearts to suffer for her.  
So had the Matrons, that with Confits stood  
About the chamber, such affectionate blood,  
And so true feeling of her harmless pains,  
That every one a shower of Confits rains.  
For which the Bride youth's scrambling on the ground,  
In noise of that sweet hail their cries were drowned.  
And thus blessed Hymen joyed his gracious Bride,  
And for his joy was after deified.  
The Saffron mirror by which Phoebus' love,  
Green Tellus decks her, now he held above  
The cloudy mountains: and the noble maid,  
Sharp-visaged Adolesche, that was strayed  
Out of her way, in hasting with her news,  
Not till this hour th' Athenian turrets views,  
And now brought home by guides: she heard by all  
That her long kept occurrents would be stolen,  
And how fair Hymen's honours did excel  
For those rare news, which she came short to tell.  
To hear her dear tongue robbed of such a joy,  
Made the wellspoken Nymph take such a toy,  
That down she sunk: when lightning from above,  
Shrunk her lean body, and for mere free love,  
Turned her into the pied-plumed Psittacus,  
That now the Parrot is surnamed by us,  
Who still with counterfeit confusion prates,  
Nought but news common to the commonest mates.  
This told, strange Teras touched her Lute and sung  
This ditty, that the Torchie evening sprung.   

Epithalamion Teratos.  

COme come dear night, loves Mart of kisses,  
Sweet close of his ambitious line,  
The fruitful summer of his blisses,  
loves glory doth in darkness shine.  
O come soft rest of Cares, come night,  
Come naked virtues only tyre,  
The reaped harvest of the light,  
Bound up in sheaves of sacred fire.  
Love calls to war,  
Sighs his Alarms,  
Lips his swords are,  
The field his Arms.  
Come Night and lay thy velvet hand  
On glorious Days outfacing face;  
And all thy crowned flames command,  
For Torches to our Nuptial grace.  
Love calls to war,  
Sighs his Alarms,  
Lips his swords are,  
The field his Arms.  
No need have we of factious Day,  
To cast in envy of thy peace,  
Her balls of Discord in thy way:  
Here beauties day doth never cease,  
Day is abstracted here,  
And varied in a triple sphere.  
Hero, Alcmane, Mya, so outshine thee,  
Ere thou come here let Thetis thrice refine thee.  
Love calls to war,  
Sighs his Alarms,  
Lips his swords are,  
The field his Arms,  
The Evening star I see,  
Rise youths the Evening star,  
Helps Love to summon war,  
Both now embracing be.  
Rise youths, loves right claims more the banquets, rise.  
Now the bright marigolds that deck the skies,  
Phoebus' celestial flowers, that (contrary  
To his flowers here) open when he shuts his eye,  
And shuts when he doth open, crown your sports:  
Now love in night, and night in love exhorts  
Courtship and Dances: All your parts employ,  
And suit nights rich expansure with your joy,  
Love paints his long in sweet virgins eyes:  
Rise youths, loves right claims more than banquets, rise.  
Rise virgins, let fair Nuptial loves enfold  
Your fruitless breasts: the maidenheads ye hold  
Are not your own alone, but parted are;  
Part in disposing them your Parent's share,  
And that a third part is: so must ye save  
Your loves a third, and you your thirds must have.  
Love paints his long in sweet virgins eyes:  
Rise youths, loves right claims more than banquets, rise.   

Herewith the amorous spirit that was so kind  
To Teras hair, and combed it down with wind,  
Still as it Comet-like brake from her brain,  
Would needs have Teras gone, and did refrain  
To blow it down: which staring up, dismayed  
The timorous feast, and she no longer stayed:  
But bowing to the Bridegroom and the Bride,  
Did like a shooting exhalation glide  
Out of their sights: the turning of her back  
Made them all shriek, it looked so ghastly black.  
O hapless Hero, that most hapless cloud,  
Thy soon-succeeding Tragedy foreshowed.  
Thus all the Nuptial crew to joys depart,  
But much-wrongd Hero, stood Hell's blackest dart:  
Whose wound because I grieve so to display,  
I use digressions thus t'increase the day.   
The end of the fift Sestyad.    

THE ARGUMENT OF THE sixth SESTYAD.  

Leucote flies to all the winds,  
And from the fates their outrage binds,  
That Hero and her love may meet.  
Leander (with loves complete Fleet  
Manned in himself) puts forth to Seas,  
When strait the ruthless Destinies,  
With Ate stir the winds to war  
Upon the Hellespont: Their jar  
Drowns poor Leander. Heros eyes  
Wet witnesses of his surprise  
Her Torch blown out: Grief casts her down  
Upon her love, and both doth drown.  
In whose just ruth the God of Seas,  
Transforms them to th'Acanthides.   

NO longer could the day nor Destinies  
Delay the night, who now did frowning rise  
Into her Throne; and at her humorous breasts,  
Visions and Dreams lay sucking: all men's rests  
Fell like the mists of death upon their eyes,  
Days too long darts so killed their faculties.  
The winds yet, like the flowers to cease began:  
For bright Leucote, Venus' whitest Swan,  
That held sweet Hero dear, spread her fair wings,  
Like to a field of snow, and message brings  
From Venus to the Fates, t'entreat them lay  
Their charge upon the winds their rage to stay,  
That the stern battle of the Seas might cease,  
And guard Leander to his love in peace.  
The Fates consent, (ay me dissembling Fates)  
They showed their favours to conceal their hates,  
And draw Leander on, least Seas too high  
Should stay his too obsequious destiny:  
Who like a fleering slavish Parasite,  
In warping profit or a traitorous sleight,  
Hoops round his rotten body with devotee's,  
And pricks his descant face full of false notes,  
Praising with open throat (and oaths as fowl  
As his false heart) the beauty of an Owl,  
Kissing his skipping hand with charmed skips,  
That cannot leave, but leaps upon his lips  
Like a cock-sparrow, or a shameless quean  
Sharp at a red-lipt youth, and nought doth mean  
Of all his antic shows, but doth repair  
More tender fawns, and takes a scattered hair  
From his tame subjects shoulder; whips, and calls  
For every thing he lacks; creeps 'gainst the walls  
With backward humblesse, to give needles way:  
Thus his false fate did with Leander play.  
First to black Eurus flies the white Leucote,  
Borne 'mongst the Negroes in the Levant Sea,  
On whose curled head the glowing Sun doth rise,  
And shows the sovereign will of Destinies,  
To have him cease his blasts, and down he lies.  
Next, to the fenny Notus, course she holds,  
And found him leaning with his arms in folds  
Upon a rock, his white hair full of showers,  
And him she chargeth by the fatal powers,  
To hold in his wet cheeks his cloudy voice,  
To Zephir then that doth in flowers rejoice.  
To snake-foote Boreas next she did remove,  
And found him tossing of his ravished love,  
To heat his frosty bosom hid in snow,  
Who with Leucotes sight did cease to blow.  
Thus all were still to Heros hearts desire,  
Who with all speed did consecrate a fire  
Of flaming Gums, and comfortable Spice,  
To light her Torch, which in such curious price  
She held, being object to Leander's sight,  
That nought but fires perfumed must give it light.  
She loud it so, she grieved to see it burn,  
Since it would waste and soon to ashes turn:  
Yet if it burnt not, 'twere not worth her eyes,  
What made it nothing, gave it all the prize.  
Sweet Torch, true Glass of our society;  
What man does good, but he consumes thereby?  
But thou wert loved for good, held high, given show:  
Poor virtue loathed for good, obscured, held low.  
Do good be pined, be deedless good, disgraced:  
Unless we feed on men, we let them fast.  
Yet Hero with these thoughts her Torch did spend.  
When Bees makes wax, Nature doth not intend  
It shall be made a Torch: but we that know  
The proper virtue of it make it so,  
And when 'tis made we light it: nor did Nature  
Propose one life to maids, but each such creature  
Makes by her soul the best of her free state,  
Which without love is rude, disconsolate,  
And wants loves fire to make it mild and bright,  
Till when, maids are but Torches wanting light.  
Thus 'gainst our grief, not cause of grief we fight,  
The right of nought is gleaned, but the delight.  
Up went she, but to tell how she descended,  
Would God she were not dead, or my verse ended.  
She was the rule of wishes, sum and end  
For all the parts that did on love depend:  
Yet cast the Torch his brightness further forth;  
But what shines nearest best, holds truest worth.  
Leander did not through such tempests swim  
To kiss the Torch, although it lighted him:  
But all his powers in her desires awaked,  
Her love and virtues clothed him richly naked.  
Men kiss but fire that only shows pursue,  
Her Torch and Hero, figure, show, and virtue.  
Now at opposed Abydus nought was heard,  
But bleating flocks, and many a bellowing herd,  
Slain for the Nuptials, cracks of falling woods,  
Blows of broad axes, powrings out of floods.  
The guilty Hellespont was mixed and stained  
With bloody Torrents, that the shambles rained;  
Not arguments of feast, but shows that bled,  
Foretelling that red night that followed.  
More blood was spilled, more honours were addressed,  
Then could have graced any happy feast.  
Rich banquets, triumphs, every pomp employs  
His sumptuous hand: no misers nuptial joys.  
Air felt continual thunder with the noise,  
Made in the general marriage violence:  
And no man knew the cause of this expense,  
But the two hapless Lords, Leander's Sire,  
And poor Leander, poorest where the fire  
Of credulous love made him most rich surmised,  
As short was he of that himself he prisde,  
As is an empty Gallant full of form,  
That thinks each look an act, each drop a storm,  
That falls from his brave breathe; most brought up  
In our Metropolis, and hath his cup  
Brought after him to feasts; and much Palm bears,  
For his rare judgement in th'attire he wears,  
Hath seen the hot Low Countries, not their heat,  
Observes their rampires and their buildings yet.  
And for your sweet discourse with mouths is heard,  
Giving instructions with his very beard.  
Hath gone with an Ambassador, and been  
A great man's mate in travailing, even to Rhine,  
And then puts all his worth in such a face,  
As he saw brave men make, and strives for grace  
To get his news forth; as when you descry  
A ship with all her sail contends to fly  
Out of the narrow Thames with winds unapt,  
Now crosseth here, then there, than this way rapt,  
And then hath one point reached; then altars all,  
And to another crooked reach doth fall  
Of half a burdbolts shoot; keeping more coil,  
Then if she danced upon the Ocean's toil:  
So serious is his trifling company,  
In all his swelling ship of vacantrie.  
And so short of himself in his high thought,  
Was our Leander in his fortunes brought.  
And in his fort of love that he thought won,  
But otherwise, he scorns comparison.  
O sweet Leander, thy large worth I hide  
In a short grave; ill favoured storms must chide  
Thy sacred favour; I, in floods of ink  
Must drown thy graces, which white papers drink,  
Even as thy beauties did the foul black Seas:  
I must describe the hell of thy disease,  
That heaven did merit: yet I needs must see  
Our painted fools and cockhorse Pessantrie  
Still still usurp, with long lives, loves, and lust,  
The seats of virtue, cutting short as dust  
Her dear bought issue; ill, to worse converts,  
And tramples in the blood of all deserts.  
Night close and silent now goes fast before  
The Captains and their soldiers to the shore,  
On whom attended the appointed Fleet  
At Sestus Bay, that should Leander meet.  
Who feigned he in another ship would pass:  
Which must not be, for no one mean there was  
To get his love home, but the course he took.  
Forth did his beauty for his beauty look,  
And saw her through her Torch, as you behold  
Sometimes within the Sun a face of gold,  
Formed in strong thoughts, by that traditions force,  
That says a God sits there and guides his course.  
His sister was with him, to whom he showed  
His guide by Sea: and said, oft have you viewed  
In one heaven many stars, but never yet  
In one star many heavens till now were met.  
See lovely sister, see, now Hero shines  
No heaven but her appears: each star repines,  
And all are clad in clouds, as if they mourned,  
To be by influence of Earth out-burnd.  
Yet doth she shine, and teacheth virtues train,  
Still to be constant in Hell's blackest reign:  
Though even the gods themselves do so entreat them  
As they did hate, and Earth as she would eat them.  
Off went his silken rob, and in he leapt;  
Whom the kind waves so licorously cleapt,  
Thickening for haste one in another so,  
To kiss his skin, that he might almost go  
To Heros Tower, had that kind minuit lasted.  
But now the cruel fates with Ate hasted  
To all the winds, and made them battle fight  
Upon the Hellespont, for either's right  
Pretended to the windy monarchy.  
And forth they broke, the Seas mixed with the sky,  
And tossed distressed Leander, being in hell,  
As high as heaven; Bliss not in height doth dwell.  
The Destinies sat dancing on the waves,  
To see the glorious winds with mutual braves  
Consume each other: O true glass to see,  
How ruinous ambitious Statists be  
To their own glories! Poor Leander cried  
For help to Seaborn Venus; she denied  
To Boreas, that for his Atthaeas' sake,  
He would some pity on his Hero take,  
And for his own loves sake, on his desires:  
But Glory never blows cold Pities fires.  
Then called he Neptune, who through all the noise,  
Knew with affright his wracket Leander's voice:  
And up he rose, for haste his forehead hit  
'Gainst heavens hard Crystal; his proud waves he smit  
With his forked sceptre, that could not obey,  
Much greater powers than Neptune's gave them sway,  
They loved Leander so, in groans they broke  
When they came near him; and such space did take  
Twixt one another, loath to issue on,  
That in their shallow furrows earth was shone,  
And the poor lover took a little breath:  
But the cursed Fates sat spinning of his death  
On every wave, and with the servile winds  
Tumbled them on him: And now Hero finds  
By that she felt her dear Leander's state,  
She wept and prayed for him to every fate,  
And every wind that whipped her with her hair  
About the face, she kissed and spoke it fair,  
Kneeled to it, gave it drink out of her eyes  
To quench his thirst: but still their cruelties  
Even her poor Torch envied, and rudely beat  
The bating flame from that dear food it eat:  
Dear, for it nourished her Leander's life,  
Which with her rob she rescued from their strife:  
But silk too soft was, such hard hearts to break,  
And she dear soul, even as her silk, faint, weak,  
Can not preserve it: out, O out it went.  
Leander still called Neptune, that now rend  
His brackish curls, and tore his wrinkled face  
Where tears in billows did each other chase,  
And (burst with ruth) he hurled his marble Mace  
At the stern Fates, it wounded Lachesis  
That drew Leander's thread, and could not miss  
The thread itself, as it her hand did hit,  
But smote it full and quite did sunder it.  
The more kind Neptune raged, the more he razed  
His loves lives for't, and killed as he embraced.  
Anger doth still his own mishap increase;  
If any comfort live, it is in peace.  
O thievish Fates, to let Blood, Flesh, and Sense,  
Build two fair Temples for their Excellence,  
To rob it with a poisoned influence.  
Though soul's gifts starve, the bodies are held dear  
In ugliest things; Sence-sport preserves a Bear.  
But here nought serves our turns; O heaven & earth,  
How most most wretched is our human birth?  
And now did all the tyrannous crew departed,  
Knowing there was a storm in Heros heart,  
Greater than they could make, & scorned their smart.  
She bowed herself so low out of her Tower,  
That wonder 'twas she fell not ere her hour,  
With searching the lamenting waves for him;  
Like a poor Snail, her gentle supple limb  
Hung on her Turret's top so most down right,  
As she would dive beneath the darkness quite,  
To find her jewel; jewel, her Leander,  
A name of all earth's jewels pleased not her,  
Like his dear name; Leander, still my choice,  
Come nought but my Leander; O my voice  
Turn to Leander: henceforth be all sounds,  
Accents, and phrases that show all griefs wounds,  
Analisde in Leander. O black change!  
Trumpets do you with thunder of your clang,  
Drive out this changes horror, my voice faints:  
Where all joy was, now shriek out all complaints.  
Thus cried she, for her mixed soul could tell  
Her love was dead: And when the morning fell  
Prostrate upon the weeping earth for woe,  
Blushes that bled out of her cheeks did show,  
Leander brought by Neptune, bruised and torn,  
With cities ruins he to Rocks had worn,  
To filthy usering Rocks that would have blood,  
Though they could get of him no other good.  
She saw him, and the sight was much much more,  
Then might have served to kill her; should her store  
Of giant sorrows speak? Burst, die, bleed,  
And leave poor plaints to us that shall succeed.  
She fell on her loves bosom, hugged it fast,  
And with Leander's name she breathed her last.  
Neptune for pity in his arms did take them,  
Fling them into the air, and did awake them.  
Like two sweet birds surnamed th' Acanthides,  
Which we call Thistle-warps, that near no Seas  
Dare ever come, but still in couples fly,  
And feed on Thistle tops, to testify  
The hardness of their first life in their last:  
The first in thorns of love, and sorrows past,  
And so most beautiful their colours show,  
As none (so little) like them: her sad brow  
A sable velvet feather covers quite,  
Even like the forehead clothes that in the night,  
Or when they sorrow, Ladies use to wear:  
Their wings, blue, red and yellow mixed appear,  
Colours, that as we construe colours paint  
Their states to life; the yellow shows their saint,  
The devil Venus left them; blew their truth,  
The red and black, ensigns of death and ruth.  
And this true honour from their love-deaths sprung,  
They were the first that ever Poet sung.   
FINIS.