●VIDS HEROICAL ●●ISTLES, englished BY 〈◊〉 Sherburne. G  ●●●●●ur tenues— 
LONDON Printed by E.G. for W. Cook, at his shop in Holborn, near Furnivalle Inn 16●●.  W. Martial. sculpsit.  engraved title page   

OVID'S HEROICAL EPISTLES, ENGLISHED BY John Sherburne. Gent.  Conamur tenues— 
LONDON, Printed by E. G. for William Cook, and are to be sold at his shop in Holborn, near Furnivalls Inn. 1639.   

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL SIR EDWARD BASH, Knight, etc. One of the Chamberlains of his Ma.tie Exchequer.  
THat I have thus chosen patron, and by a dedication singled you, know Sir, it is an act not enterprised without consulted thoughts: I often levelled, and you still became my mark: For if we bear (as indeed we should,) a thankful commemoration, even of all by-respects, how much more than ought we to intent the main, and more immediate? Had my choice been made otherwise I should have swerved Ab officio; and there is a grateful remembrance rests in me, which would have prompted me I had done amiss. Large courtesies, ask large acknowledgements. Many there are, who by endeavours of this kind, have sought to render satisfaction for benefits received: but no such construction must be made of mine; whose utmost end and scope, is only to show you the ready will I bear to do you service. And if you shall vouchsafe to esteem them, but as the shadows, of what I desire to demonstrate by more real effects; you have then took the height of my intentions. The subject I confess somewhat too light for your ear: oft conversant in more serious studies. wherefore it is taught a becoming distance; nor is it to harbour least hope of your perusal, until you have taken truce with time, and mean to pass it with variety: then if you shall read, it may perhaps not displease you. My errors in the performance, (some being necessarily incident to humanity,) I submit unto your censure: which I know will be like yourself; mild, and candid. I had rather be imputed ignorant, then ingrateful. Receive then (Noble Sir) these first fruits of my pen; a present (I ingenuously acknowledge) fare beneath your merits: yet, how much the less that is in quality, so much the more shall be your praise in the acceptance: and you shall for ever bind me to be, as well in act, as word  
Your servant, I. SHERBURNE.   

The Preface. Scribimus indocti, doctique Poemaesa passim.  
IT was the complaint of old; yet never could it more justly be taken up then now: In this Papirivorous Age, wherein that Scripturientum Pruritus, doth every where, so more than abundantly reign; the swarming issues of whose petulant brains, have induced such a nauseousness, and utter loathing of the Muse's banquets, as it is a thing almost past hope, to find an unperverted . The very Title of a Poem even startled at, and the work itself, to some scarce less odious than a Libel. So great a mischief hath licentious scribbling, brought on that more excellent kind of writing. But this I leave unto the satirist. And that I may not be thought censoriously arrogant to blame that act in others, which I may seem myself to have committed; the judicious Reader may be pleased to take notice, that no vain desire of praise, nor giddy humour to be seen in print, hath thus brought me into public view. But an humble, and modest hope, of rectifying the wrongs our Author hath sustained through the rude attempts of a tootoo busy pen: And although this was the chief and sole cause of this publication (the work having a long time lain by me:) yet will I not say, that herein I have wrought an actual performance of the same; But the success thereof, I leave to the censure of the conferring Reader. I am not ignorant of a sort of curious ones, that look for wonders from a translation: when indeed they ought rather to check, and limit their expectation: far different is the case with one who in his course exspatiates at random, and with another, who is forced to tread the steps of a forerunner. Yet if they will vouchsafe to come without prejudicated, and peremptory opinions; they may herein meet with a strictness (such as is requisite) in the words, and a respective care towards the meaning of our Author; a sweetness too, as much as could conveniently be attained; having throughout observed a verse for verse traduction. For although in the Latin Elegiac, that same In pedibus vitium be Causa decoris; Yet through the often close of the Pentameter, the genuine, sweet, and fluent stateliness of the English Decasyllable, is much enerved. To plead my pains in the translation, were a thing which I will not, nor cannot do: since I never made it other than my recreation, my sport. Though indeed the work is such as might well deserve both a knowing, and a labouring Quill; and which that seldom erring critic, Scaliger hath thought good thus to censure. Epistolae omnium (Ovidii) librorum politissimae, nam & sententiae sunt illustres facilitas, & composita, & numeri Poetici. If through my unskilful copying I have any ways impaired the worth and lustre of the principal; so as it may now seem unworthy of those Eulogies; yet through kind acceptance of this my first draught, & a friendly advertisement I shall hereafter endeavour to render it somewhat agreeable. For as I shall contemn, and neglect, whatsoever proceeds from ignorance and detraction: so again, shall I always be most ready (as Polyclete of old with his more curious pieces) to amend whatsoever the judicious censurer shall think worthy the correcting pencil.   


To his loving brother M. john Sherburn on his Translation of OVID'S Heroical Epistles.  

WErt thou like those whose works and selves; depend  
For praise, on the fond largess of some friend;  
My verse might here a welcome room obtain:  
Which now perhaps, will name of flattery gain.  
'tis hard to write when praises may offend;  
And such my fate were, should I here commend.  
I am too near. Yet know thy pains shall live;  
What I cannot, others thy work will give:  
Thy work which shall to aftertimes endure  
'Gainst Sciolists, and Zoilists secure.   
Ed. Sherburne.   

Ejusdem in interpretem, & opus HEXASTICON.  

ANglia, quos meritis, ingrata negavit honores  
Roma, iterum Publi, reddidit alma, tuis.  
Ecce ut conversâ florent tua carmina linguâ!  
Nec minus haec dederint, quam decus illa tibi.  
Romanos fertur Cantare Britannia Versus:  
Discet at Angliacos Roma superba modos.   
E. S.   

To his worthy friend M. john Sherburne.  

INgenious Ovid, these heroic lays,  
Thou didst not chant with Cypress crowned, but bays.  
Being Phoebus sweetest swan in Tiber's streams,  
Hatched by his heat, eternised by his beams.  
No Tyrant's spleen had exiled thee as yet,  
Had exiled thee; that is, Rome's choicest wit.  
Smooth as thy fortune ran thy happy lines,  
Sweet as thy Cupid's tresses, lovers twines.  
Soft as the lips of Venu● Mars his greet,  
White as dame junos' wrists, or T●etis feet.  
Thy quill was either plucked from Paphian doves,  
Or from the wings of him who darts out loves.  
And thine, my friend, Thalia did he send  
From the same pinions; with this one commend,  
That thou shouldst vindicate thy Bard; being penned  
In a fare worse than Tomos banishment.  
You have released him, this your fame shall be:  
Caesar checkmate, reversed is thy decree.   
Edm. Colman.    

ERRATA.  
PAg. 18. lin. 14. far unnatural re●d incestuous. p. 29. l. 29. for owe read give. p. 32. l. 17. for she read sly. p. 35. l. 12. for Mace read Mate. p. 36. l. 9 for Lemnian deeds read Lemnian's deed. ●tem l. 10. for s●nds read lends. p. 61. l. 18. for this read thus. p. 62. l. 7. for this read thus. Item l. 29. for me read we. p. 85. l. 1. for Troy read Greece. p. 97. l. 16. for then read the. p. 102. l. 30. for hop read hap. for weight read wight. p. 105. l. 8. for the read thee. p. 107. l. 20. for woeful read ireful. p. 108. l. 3. for waves read gales. p. 111. l. 2. for the read to. Item l. 27. for these read thee. p. 115. l. 29. for subtle, read supple. p. 118. l. 17. for heaven re-iuspheard, read heaven-inspheard. p. 119. l. 6. for lovely read lonely. Item l. 20. for some read fame. Item l. 31. for sail read fail p. 122. l. 17. for So read G●●.   

THE ARGUMENT of PENELOPE'S Epistle to ULYSSES.  
THe Grecians intending to revenge the Rape of Helen, having prepared a powerful Army, in which most of the Achaean Princes adventured themselves: Ulysses the son of Laertes, and Anticlea, lately married to the fair Penelope, and hath to be so soon divorced from her embraces, to shun employment feigned himself mad: but was discovered by Palamedes, and forced with the rest to embark for Troy. After many valiant actions, the ten year's war, and final destruction of the City; returning homewards he was (through the malice of Minerva) severed from the fleet, and as many years wandered on unknown seas, whose absence much grieved the chaste Penelope, who now solicited with a troop of lascivious suitors, whom with her deluding web she still delayed, moved with doubts both of her husband's love, and welfare, her young Son's danger through this riotous rout, Laertes old age, and many other urging accidents, she wrote this Epistle to her long absent Lord.  

TO thee Ulysses, that too long dost stay,  
Sends thy dear wife: writ not, but come thy way.  
Troy's now destroyed that Grecian maids did grudge,  
Scarce Priam and his town was worth so much.  
Would God, (when first to Lacedamon bound)  
Th'adulterer had i'th'angry waves been drowned.  
In no cold bed I mateless then had lain,  
Nor of days slow paced hours should thus complain,  
No spindle then my widowed hands should tire,  
Whilst I to spend nights tedious watch desire.  
When feared not I'worse than indeed things were!  
True love is always filled with anxious fear,  
Oft I suppose fierce Trojans thee assail;  
And Hector's name but heard, I strait grow pale.  
Of young Antilochus by Hector slain  
If any tell, his fate procures my pain,  
Or stout Patroclus fall in feigned dress,  
Oft weep I, doubting of thy wiles Success  
That Lycian lance Tlepolem's blood did warm  
My care's renewed through his dismal harm.  
Lastly, whosore amongst the Argives fell:  
My heart in coldness doth the Ice excel.  
But Hymen my chaste love did not despise,  
My spouse is safe, and Troy in ashes lies.  
The Greek peers are returned, the altars smoke,  
And to the Gods are given the spoils they took.  
Each nymph to her safe spouse, glad gifts doth bring▪  
And they to them, the Trojan fates do sing,  
Old men and maids admiring silence keep,  
And th'longing wife hangs at the tellers lip.  
Some set at table tell their wars annoy,  
And in a little wine, depaint whole Troy,  
Here Simois flowed, there lies Sigeian land,  
Here did old Priam's stately Palace stand,  
Here pitched Achilles' Tents, Ulysses there:  
Here did torn Hector, the swift horses scare.  
whatsoever was done, unto thy son (whom we  
Had sent to seek thee) Nestor told, he me.  
How Rhesus and how Dolon both were slain,  
This in his sleep, that by deceitful train.  
Dar'dst thou that too too much thine own dost slight  
Enter the Thracian camp in shade of night?  
And slay so many helped by one alone,  
Fare, fare more wary thou wert one day known,  
How my heart beat when first I heard men say  
Through troops thou stolest th' Ismorian horse away!  
What boots it me that Troy's by you or'ethrowne  
That now there's soil, where was a wall of stone?  
If I as when it stood, do still remain,  
And thou thyself dost from my bed abstain?  
Troy's down to some, to me alone it stands,  
Although with ox the victor blow those lands:  
Well rip'ned corn now grows where once Troy stood;  
And ●h' ground Luxuriats' with Phrygian blood.  
Half buried bones of men, by crooked ploughs  
Are torn, and grass on ruined houses grows:  
Yet thou art absent, nor wilt let me know  
Where thou abid'st, or why thou ling'rest so.  
Whose're his wand'ring vessel puts to shore,  
He still goes thence, of thee asked o'er and o'er,  
And from my hands receives (if thee he see)  
A letter, to deliver unto thee.  
I sent to Pylon ancient Nestor's seat,  
But I from Pylon no sure news could get.  
From thence to Sparta: Sparta could not tell  
Where thou abod'st, or in what place didst dwell.  
Oh that Apollo's walls did yet remain,  
(But I am angry with that wish again)  
Then should I know, and wars should only fear,  
Then should I meet with partners in my care.  
What I should fear I know not, fear yet do,  
And a broad path lies open to my woe.  
What dangers are on land, or else on sea,  
I deem them causes of thy stay to be.  
Thus whilst I care, what lust in thee doth move?  
Thou mayst be taken with some foreign love,  
To whom perhaps thou jeer'st thy rustic wife,  
How she at spinning spends her homely life.  
But I'm deceived: hence idle thoughts away!  
And thou that mayst return, O do not stay.  
My father urges me again to wed,  
And blames thy long absentment from my bed.  
But let him chide, I'm thine; whilst fates lend life  
Penelope will be Ulysses' wife.  
Yet he, by my mild prayers, and speeches kind,  
At length was pleased, and calmed his angry mind.  
Luxurious troops of Suitors to me come,  
From Zazinth, Samos, and Dulichium.  
And uncontroled in thine own palace reign,  
Wasting (our stay, our life) thy well got gain,  
Pysander, Medon, and stern polybus,  
Greedy Eurimachus, and Antinous,  
With many more, what need I here recite?  
All whom thou feedstiwith purchase of thy fight.  
Poor Ire, Melanthius, both thy store do waste;  
And are 'mongst those that work thy loss, the last.  
We are but three in all, thy wife for one,  
Laertes old, Telemachus thy son;  
Who late, through their vile plot, was almost slain,  
Whilst he to Pylon would his way have ta'en.  
But heavens be pleased, and to my wish incline;  
That he my eyes may close, and close up thine.  
For this the Herdsman, Swinheard, old Nurse too  
Withearnest vows, and fervent prayers do sue.  
Feeble Laertes, as unapt through age,  
Amongst his foes no rule, no sway can wage.  
Telemachus in time may grow more strong,  
He should be guarded by thee now he's young,  
I have no force to drive my foes from home,  
Oh thou, that art our only safeguard, come.  
Thou hast a son, (long mayst thou have I pray,)  
Should now be trained up in his father's way,  
Think on La●rtes, whose dim shrunk eyes thou  
Oughtest to close, he even bears his last days now.  
Nay I, who when thou wentest youths dress did wear,  
At thy return, shall old, & crazed appear.    

THE ARGUMENT OF PHILLIS her EPISTLE to DEMOTHOON.  
DEmophoon the son of Theseus and Phaedra, returning homewards from the Trojan wars, was by adverse storms driven on the Thracian shores; where he was totally entertained both at Board and Bed, by Phillis, daughter of Lycurgus and Crustumena, King and Queen of Thrace: with whom, after be had a while remained, hearing of the death of Mnestheus, the deposer of his father, he went to take possession of his rea●me of Athens. Yet with vows and prowises to return unto her within the space of one mo●eth. B●t being detained past the apppointed time, with sundry businesses of a distracted kingdom, be gave occasion unto Phillis, impatient of delays, and griefs, to write unto him this Epistle: wherein she conjures him to be mindful of his promise, and to return to her as her just & vowed husband; which if ●ee refuse, she desperately concludes by death to vindicate the wrongs done unto her maiden Chastity.  

THine Hostess R●odop●ian Phillis, thee  
Blames absent past thy promised time to be.  
Soon as the Moon's horns met in a full round,  
Thouswor'st again to anchor on my ground.  
Four times sh'hath been i'th' full, four in the wain,  
Yet seas bring no Actean ships again.  
If you'll but count the time, as lovers do,  
You'll find my plaint comes not too soon to you.  
Long did I hope: for slowly we believe  
Ill haps, which now too sore my soul doth grieve.  
Oft to myself I've lied for thee, oft thought  
The winds thy swollen sails back again had brought.  
Oft Theseus cursed, as one that caused thy stay,  
And yet perhaps he hindered not thy way.  
Oft feared, to Haebrus whilst you bent your course,  
Your Bark might suffer in the foaming source.  
Oft for thy health have I with bended keees,  
And spice-flamed Altars, prayed to th'Deities.  
Oft seeing winds with heavens and seas agreed;  
I've said, if he be well, he'll come with speed.  
Lastly, whatsoever might hasting loves restrain,  
I thought: nay, I was witty stays to feign.  
Yet thee, the witnessed powers no whit do sway;  
Nor comest, as took with love of me, thy way.  
Both winds, and sails thou gav'st unto the wind,  
Thy words want faith, thy sails returne● find.  
What have I done, save rashly loved thee pray?  
And through that crime, I have deserved thy stay.  
One fault I had, that thee received untrue,  
And yet that fault hath worth and merit due.  
where's now thy vows, thy faith, hands joined to hand?  
And th'God with thy false mouth so oft profaned?  
Where's Hymen now, both pledge and surety too  
Of our blessed match, that should e'er long ensue?  
First by the sea, with winds tossed to and fro,  
Through which thou oft hadst gone, were't then to go.  
Next by thy Grandsire (if thou didst not feign  
Him too) thou sworest, that doth moved seas restrain.  
By Venus, by love's Torches and his Bow,  
Weapons that have procured me all this woe,  
By juno, that takes charge of married wights,  
And by the Taper bearing Goddess rites.  
If each of these wronged powers should venge on thee  
Their wrath, thou couldst not bear their cruelty.  
Nay, that the keel with which I was forsook,  
Might able be, I rigged thy ships late broke,  
And gave thee Oars that thou mightst blow the main  
Thus wounds, by mine own weapons I sustain.  
Thy flattering words thy Gods thy kindred all,  
Within the compass of my faith did fall.  
Trusted thy tears; can tears be said to feign?  
Even those had craft, and when thou wouldst, would rain,  
What needed there so many pledges be  
Between us? half might soon have captived me.  
Nor that in need I helped thee, am I moved  
This should the sum of my rash love have proved  
But foully thee in bed to entertain.  
And there to dally causes all my pain,  
The night 'fore that would it had been my last  
Phyllis might then have honest died and chaste.  
My hopes were better 'cause I thought I might  
Through this deserve thee, and that hope's but right.  
To wrong an easy maid, no praise can prove;  
My simpleness did well deserve thy love.  
A lover, and a maid, hast thou betrayed;  
Heavens grant that this, thy chiefest praise be said.  
In Athens when thy statue shall be placed,  
And thy great Father 'fore his spoils so graced,  
When Scyron, and Procrustes, shall be read,  
The Mimtaure, and Scinis conquered,  
Thobes wan by war, the Centaurs bick'ring,  
And knocked at Palace of the shady King:  
Mongst these, shall stand thy Image, with this Style.  
This, this is he who Phyllis did beguile.  
Of all thy father's facts thou bearest in mind  
But one of Ariadne left behind,  
What he condemned that thou esteemest as rare;  
And only of thy father's fraud, art heir.  
But she (nor spite I it) hath a better mate,  
And drawn by harnessed tigers rides in state.  
The once scorned Thracians now my bed despise,  
'Cause before them I did a stranger prize.  
Whilst some cry out, let her to Athens go;  
There's those can rule the warlike Thrace we trow.  
The end still crownes the act: may his intent  
Be crossed yet, that still judges from th'event.  
For shouldst to come to me but cross the flood,  
They'll say again I sought my country's good,  
But I have not, yet thou nor to my court  
Or Bystons glassy streams dost make resort.  
Thy gestures in my mind still fixed be,  
Which thou didst use when first thou went'st from me,  
How dar'dst thou then embrace me so, & join  
Such long-breathed kisses, with these lips of mine?  
And with my tears, thy moist tears mix, & wail  
As loath to part, thy too too prosperous gale,  
And to me say, now ready to be gone,  
Phyllis, see thou expect thy Demophon.  
Shall I expect thee that wilt ne'er again  
Return, or ships denied unto my Main?  
And yet I do: oh, come to me though late,  
That thy vowed faith may prove but false in dare.  
What wish I wretch? perhaps some strange maid thee  
Retains, and love, that lightly favours me,  
Thou hast forgot thy Phyllis sure; if thou  
But ask'st who I am, or from whence wouldst know:  
Why I am she, Demophoon that same friend,  
In need that did thee board, and harbour lend,  
Whose wealth did thine increase, who to thee poor  
Gave many gifts, and would have given far more,  
Who yielded thee Lycurgus' spacious land,  
A rule unsitting for a woman's hand,  
As fare as Rhodope, and Haemus goes,  
And sacred Haebrus with his soft streams flows.  
Whose chaster Zone thou to unloose hadst pour,  
And Virgin bud to crop (disastrous hour)  
Tisiphone did howl those rites among,  
And th'ominous owl screecht our sad marriage song.  
Allecto there crowned with her snakes did stand,  
The rapers' light with her sepulchroll brand,  
Oft to the Rocks and sedgy shores I hie,  
And view the vastle as with a wand'ring eye,  
Oft in the day, oft in the starry night,  
I look what winds 'gainst stubborn waves do fight,  
What sails so ere from fare I coming see,  
I deem them strait my household Gods to be.  
Down then I run, spite of resisting waves,  
Fare as the sea with streams the moist shore laves,  
But nearer they, the worse I remain,  
I faint and fall down midst my following train.  
A Bay there is, that like a bend bow lies,  
Whose farthest points in rugged horns do rise.  
From thence myself I meant t'have thrown and will,  
Since me thoust thus deceived perform it still,  
May yielding streams me to thy shores convey,  
And unintered me may thine eyes survey.  
Then though then adamant thou harder be,  
Thou'lt say, would thus thou hadst not followed me.  
Oft have I thought by poyscous, draughts to dye,  
Or by a sword to act ●y Tragedy.  
Or 'bout my neck that did itself bequeath  
To thy false arms a fatal cord to wreath,  
With mature death i'll recompense my wrong,  
Nor in the choice thereof will dally long.  
And that thou mayst be known as th'cause i'll have  
This, or the like inscription on my grave.  
Demophoon Phyllis guest did Phyllis kill,  
He gave the cause, she th'●and, that wrought the ill.    

THE ARGUMENT OF BRISEIS, her Epistle to ACHILLES.  
THe Grecians at their arrival in Phrygia, besieged and took most of the adjoining Cities near to Troy, amongst which the City Lyrnesses was utterly razed by Achilles, from whence he brought captive with him, amongst others of the noblest Damsels, Astinome, the daughter of Chryses, the Priest of Apollo Smintheus; and Hippodamia, the daughter of Briseis: both which were afterwards called by their father's names. Chryses by lot fell to Agamemnon, Briseis to Achilles. But Agamemnon to allay the raging plague inflicted on the host by Apollo, for the contempt offered to his Priest, was warned to deliver Chriseis back to her father. In li●w of whom, he took Briseis from Achilles; which injury he so beynously brooked, that with implacable wrath he forsook the camp, vowing never more to take arms again Troy, or meddle in his country qu●rrell, though solicited by Agamemnon with large gifts, and even Briseis herself, both which be obstinately refused. Which when the sad-sould Bryseis did perceive, with all the womanish Oratory her grieved thoughts would afford her, she thus at length adventured to write unto the valiant Greek.  

THE lines thou readest from ravished Briseis came,  
whose rude hand scarce can Greekish letters frame.  
What blots soe'er thou seest, my tears did make,  
And yet those tears the weight of words partake.  
If of my Lord, and Spouse, it lawful be  
For to complain, I'll then complain of thee.  
That I was given to the King, alas!  
Was not thy fault, yet in some sort it was.  
For being sent for, I without delay,  
Was rendered them, a partner of their way.  
Each on each others face casting their eye,  
Wondered in silence where our Love did lie.  
Well could I have deferred, nay loved my stay;  
Not one kiss gave I when I went away:  
But tears like floods I shed, and hair displayed  
I rend, again deeming me captive made.  
Oft thought I from my watchful guard to fly,  
But that I feared the scouting enemy,  
Lest in the night they me might apprehend,  
And as a gift to Priam's daughters send.  
But being promised, I must go; yet thou  
Alas neglectest me, and thine ire's grown slow.  
For parting, stout Pairoclus in mine ear  
Whispered, why weep'st? thou shalt not stay long there.  
Yet thou not seekest me, but withstand'st the same.  
Go now and purchase an hot lover's name.  
Ajax and Phoenix to thee came, the one  
Thy cousin, t'other thy companion.  
With these Lasts son, who each by turn,  
With prayers and gifts, did plead for my return.  
Twice ten braffe Caldrons shining wondrous bright,  
And seven stools equal both in art and weight.  
To these ten talents of the purest gold,  
And twice six horses, spirited and bold.  
And what might well be spared, a beauteous train beside  
Of Lesbian damsels, that were lately ta'en  
'Mongst which (but thou needest none) there came  
One of Atrides daughters for thy bride.  
And is it like thou e'er wouldst me reprieve,  
That wilt not take now, what thou then shouldst give?  
Ah me, what fatal crime of mine could move  
'Gainst me thy scorn, how have I lost thy love?  
Will fortune the distressed still disease?  
Nor will a gentler gale my woes appease,  
Lyrnessian walls I saw by thee or'ethrowne,  
Whereof myself no slender part did own.  
Three near allied to me by blood, by death,  
There fell, 'mongst which my mother lost her breath.  
I saw (his soul disseized through many a wound)  
My husband's bloudyed corpse distain the ground.  
Yet all these lost I had amends in thee,  
For thou wert husband, brother Lord, to me.  
By Azure Thetis ample deep's bright power  
Thou sworest my bondage should my weal procure,  
To wit that I with all my dowry, high prized,  
Should by Achilles be contemned, despised,  
Besides 'tis famed, how with the rising morn  
Thou'lt hoist thy sails and leave me here forlorn.  
Which news no sooner did mine ears arrest,  
Then blood, and soul fled from my fainting breast,  
Wilt go? to whom will't wretched me bequeath,  
Who to my woes shall any comfort breath.  
First may I swallowed be in earth's dark womb,  
Or by some missive thunder find my doom,  
 without me seas froth with Pythian Oar,  
Or I behind thy ships  quit the shore,  
If thou'lt return thy native home to see,  
I shall no burden to thy vessel be.  
Not as thy wife, but captive I'll be seen,  
To wait on thee, I have a hand can spin,  
May 'mongst the Achaean Nymphs the fairest maid  
Be wise to thee and in thy bed be laid:  
One that grave Peleus might not seem to shun,  
Whom Nereus might for his great grandchild own.  
Poor humble I my work will only mind,  
And threads from distaff on my spindle wind.  
Only I pray let not thy wife afflict  
My sufferance; she I fear, will be too strict,  
Nor let her yet my scattered tresses tear,  
But gently say this once was mine, forbear.  
Yet so thou scornest me not I'll bear't and more,  
The fear of that alas torments me sore,  
What wouldst Atrides' doth repent the ill,  
And saddened Greece lies prostrate at thy will.  
Oh thou that conquerest others curb thine ire.  
See how stout Hector doth thy Grecians tire,  
Take up thine arms; but first resume thy love,  
And force thy foes thy vengeful wrath to prove.  
For me 'twas moved, oh let it cease for me:  
May I thy cause, and end of sorrow be.  
Nor think it scorn to yield unto my prayer,  
Oenides took arms to please his fair.  
I oft have heard it, thou dost know't and how  
His life his mother to hel's powers did vow.  
Fierce was he in the wars, yet he laid by  
His arms and did his country help deny,  
Whom Ata●anta moved, oh happy she,  
But my slight words 'las of no moment be.  
Nor think I much at it, I ne'er was thought  
Thy wife but to thy bed as servant brought.  
Once me a captive Lady called said I,  
That name's a burden to captivity.  
Now by my husbands half toombed bones I swear,  
Of whom I still a reverend thought do bear,  
By my three brothers sacred souls, who well,  
For their loved country with their Country sell,  
By both our heads we oft have joined as one,  
And by thy sword, too dear to me known,  
That since my parture Agamemnon knew,  
No bed of mine, forsake me as it is true.  
Should I ask thee that question, couldst deny  
That thou with any, save with me, didst lie?  
The Grecians think thou mourn'dst, but thee soft strains  
Delight, thy love thee in her lap retains.  
If any ask why thou deniest to fight,  
War's harsh, but night, and music breed delight.  
'tis safer fare to sport with amorous fire,  
Or nimbly warble on thy Thracian lyre,  
Then for to wield a shield, or shake a spear,  
Or on thy smooth hair heavy Helmet bear.  
Thee once fare better deeds than these did please,  
And thou didst love fame got by war, not ease.  
Wert only stout when I was captive made?  
Or with my country, did thy courage fade?  
The Gods forbidden, oh mayst thou one day hide  
Thy Pelian javeline in stern Hector's side.  
Ye Greeks', send me as legate to my Lord,  
I with my words sweet kisses will afford.  
Not Phoenix shall, not sly Ulysses too,  
Nor Teucer's brother plead as I will do.  
'tis much his neck t'embrace with these known arms  
And with my powerful eye, to tie loves charms.  
Though then the Sea less merciful thou be,  
I mute, my speaking tears shall work on thee.  
Nay now even now (so may thy aged sire  
Be blessed with years, and Pyrrhus fame acquire)  
Be mindful of me, nor (whilst ire bears sway)  
Consume thy Briseis through thy long delay.  
But if thy love convert to hate, whom thou  
Forcest without thee live, to fate make bow.  
And so thou dost: my limbs and colour fade,  
Yet hope of thee my parting soul hath stayed.  
Of which deprived unto my spouse I'll high,  
And brothers, worthy act to cause me die!  
But why thus bid'st me die? oh! rather kill  
Me with thine own hands, I've some blood left still.  
And let that sword, which had not Pallas stayed,  
Had pierced Atrides breast, my breast invade.  
No rather spare my life, and to thy friend,  
Contribute that thou to thy foe didst lend,  
Oh let the proud Neptun an Troy afford  
Thee foes and matter for thy Warlike sword,  
And whether that thou meanest to part, or stay,  
As my just Lord, command me come away.    

THE ARGUMENT of PHAEDRA'S Epistle to Hippolytus.  
THESEUS, the son of Aegeus having escaped the Labyrinth, and returning homewards with his adjutrix A●iadne, axd her sister Phaedra, the d●u●●●ers of Minos, King of Crect, in the way he to●cted at the Island of Naxos; where he leaves Ariadu●, and with Phaedra (whom he afle wards mar●●a) 〈◊〉 away. But in process of time Theseus, being a●s●●t) Phaedra falls in love w●th Hippolytus, the son of ●●heseus by Hippolita, Queen ●f the Amazon●. But ●eem love rather with manly actions, and Dia●●●'s sports, than with women, often frequenting the solitary woods, hearest her of all means to sp●ake unto him. The wily stepuame resolves to write: and laying all motherly modeslie aside, stung with unnatural lust, attempts the bashful youth with this insinuating Epistle.  

THe health she wants, except the same thou lend  
Phaedra to th● A●azonian youth doth send.  
Pray read my letter, how can it annoy?  
Perhaps there's in it, that may cause thy joy.  
By these are secrets borne through seas and land,  
And one foe reads what comes from th''others hand.  
Thrice did I strive to speak, thrice my weak tongue  
Failed me; and in my mouth my words still hung.  
Oft I with shame did mix my love, too light:  
But what I blushed to speak, love bade me write.  
What love commands, we ought not to despise,  
Who rules and awes the powerful Deities.  
He first to me in doubt to write, did say,  
Phaedra, writ on, thy love he shall obey.  
Aid me great Love, and as thou rul'st in me,  
So cause in him a mutual sympathy.  
By no base sin I'll break my marriage vows,  
My fame, shouldst thou inquire, no stain yet knows.  
Love comes more heavy through its sloth: I hide  
Within me flames, my breast doth wounds abide.  
As the first yoke the tender Heifer pains,  
As new backed Colt the curbing hit disdains:  
So rude, so rawly love's by me endured,  
Nor is my mind to the new load enured.  
Full hard in giddy youth we learn loves Art,  
But in our riper years, with pain and smart.  
●ly fame's first sacrifice shall be to thee,  
And both of us alike will guilty be.  
'Tis something from fraught boughs ripe fruit to cull,  
And budding rose with nimble hand to pull.  
Yet though my life hath hitherto been chaste,  
Nor by impurer spots, or taints defaced;  
I grieve not, since I noble love embrace,  
A foul adulterer makes his sin more base.  
Should juno yield to me her thunderer,  
I before jove would Hippolyta prefer.  
Nay, trust me, I do now delight in new  
And unknown sports, wild beasts in chase pursue.  
No goddess now but Delia pleaseth me,  
Graced with her Bow, I love, I like, as thee.  
Dark groves I visit, Dear to toils constrain,  
And cheer my full-mouthed hounds o'er empty plain.  
The tremulous dart, with arm advanced, I shake,  
Or on the grassy ground, repose do take.  
And oft in winged chariots while I ride,  
With curbing raines the swift-heeld coursers guide.  
Now like th' ‛ Eleides whom fury fil●,  
Or those who Timbrels ring on Ida's hills.  
Or like to them whom the strange uncouth sight  
Of Driad's, or the horned Fawns affright,  
I madly run: for when my fury's ceased,  
They tell me all: close fires do scorch my breast.  
Perhaps by Fate we thus to love are bend,  
And Venus tribute seeks from th'whole descent.  
First jove of fair Europa made a rape,  
(For thence we spring) through Bulls assumed shape:  
My mother doting too on such a beast,  
Foully her burden and her crime increased.  
Faithless Aegides by a clew of thread,  
And through my sister's aid, his prison fled.  
And lo! lest I should seem degenerate,  
Alike I yield unto my kindred's fate.  
It is ordained our love thus cross should prove,  
I thee, thy father did my sister love.  
By thee, and Theseu●, are two sisters won,  
Erect two Trophies of our house alone.  
What time that I unto Eleusis went,  
Would Gnossian land had kept me from th'intent.  
Oh! than it was (though thou before didst please)  
Fierce love my quiet members did disease.  
White were thy garments, chaplets crowned thy head,  
And modest redness did thy cheeks o'erspread.  
That visage which to others harsh did seem,  
I for a stout and valiant look did deem.  
I hate your youths in womanish attires,  
A manly feature little dress requires.  
Thee that thy sternness, hairs so loosely placed,  
And dust-soyld cheeks became, and sweetly graced.  
When thou with rains dost cause thy Courser bound,  
I'dmire to see thee nimbly ride the round.  
Or when with ablearme thou throwest the dart,  
Mine eyes are fixed on thy agile art.  
Or when thy hunting Pole thou tak'st, with bright  
Steel tipped: whatsoever thou dost doth please my sight.  
Thy harshness to the ridged woods bequeath:  
Nor is it fit for thee I suffer death.  
Why so in Cynthia's sports dost so delight,  
And take from Venus all her due, her right?  
" What wants successive rest, can ne'er endure:  
" This cheers the limbs, and doth new strength procure.  
Mark thou thy Delia's arms, her shafts, and Bow;  
Which should it still stand bend, would limber grow.  
Famous was Shafalus in woods: much game  
Fell by his hands inevitable aim.  
Yet he Aurora loved: who oft would come  
To sport with him in aged Tython's room.  
Adonis oft, and Cytherea fair,  
Under some Okes large shade, the grass did bear.  
Oenides did Atalanta love;  
And by his spoils did his affection prove.  
Let us at length be numbered then with these;  
Take love away, and th'wood's must needs displease.  
I'll thy companion be, and follow o'er  
Dark rocky groves, nor fear the tusked Boar.  
Two Seas their waves do against Isthmos rear:  
And the small earth dothboth their batteries hear.  
There in Traezena we'll together reign,  
I now for this my native soil disdain.  
Theseus is hence, long may he keep away,  
The young Pirithous him forsooth doth stay.  
Whom (except we 'gainst truth opposers be)  
He before Phaedra doth prefer, or thee.  
Nor have I felt his injuries alone,  
But both of us his wrongs have largely known.  
My brother's bones, with his three knotted Mace,  
He broke; and left my sister in diff●esse.  
The chiefest 'mongst the Axe-armed maids brought forth  
Thee to the world, a parent full of worth.  
Yet her the cruel Theseus slew; nor was  
So great a son's brave-mother safe, alas!  
And that 'fore marriage, lest thou mightst perchance  
Obtain his kingdom as inheritance.  
Brothers thou hadst by me too: which not I,  
I do protest, but he enforced to dye.  
And may she oh! thou fairest, that doth mind  
To hinder thee, death in her labour find.  
Why now dost reverence thy father's bed,  
Which he himself disclaims, and thence is fled?  
Let not vain names aff●ight thy manly mind,  
'Cause I thy step dame am to thee so kind.  
That needless piety was in Satarnes time  
Esteemed: but future years shall call't a crime.  
Saturne's now gone, with him his law's decay:  
And Jove the world now rules; then love obey.  
Who hath ordained that just, which doth delight,  
And brothers may with sisters join as right.  
That kindred's chaine● the surer linked, whose bands  
Venus herself tie, with conjugal hands.  
Nor need we cloak our love, we'll thrive from thence,  
Our kindred's name shall smother our offence.  
If our embraces should be seen, each shall  
Commend, and me a courteous stepdame call,  
Nor needest thou in the dark to open my gate,  
Or gull my Porterin thy coming late.  
We in one house did, in one house will live,  
Thou gav'st known kisses, shalt known kisses give.  
With me thou shalt be safe, and freely seen  
Laid in my bed, nay praised for this thy sin.  
Oh! then delay not, but let's straightway join.  
So may love spare thy breast, which scorcheth mine.  
Thou seest I scorn not humbly to entreat.  
Where's now my pride become, my speeches great!  
I once resolved not for to yield at all,  
(If in our loves we ought resolved may call.)  
Yet lo! my princely arms are raised to thee,  
'Las! lovers know not what things fitting be!  
Foiled shame hath fled his colours: oh! thou fair,  
Grant my just suit, and to be coy forbear.  
What though my father rule a farre-stretcht sea,  
And thunder-darting jove great Grandsire be?  
What though my Grand-sire's front's impaled with rays:  
Who in his purple chariot guides the days?  
Nobility submits to love: incline  
To pity then; if not for me, for mine.  
I for my dow●e possess Crect, joves' loved land:  
There my whole Court shall be at thy command.  
My mother moved a Savage Bull: wilt thou  
Then fierce and stubborn beasts, more cruel grow?  
For Vews' sake, thy Phaedr● not disdain:  
So mayst thou love, and still be loved again.  
So may Diana aid thee at thy will;  
So may the woods yield store of game to kill.  
So love the Satyrs, and each turall Pane,  
So may the Boar fall by thy javeline slain.  
So may the Nymphs, though thou to maids art cursed  
Bring thee cool streams to quench thy burning thirst.  
To these I add my tears, do thou surmise  
(And read) to see them falling from mine eyes.    

THE ARGUMENT of OENONE'S Epistle to PARIS.  
HEcuba the wise of Priam, being with child of Paris, dreamt that she was brought to bed of a Firebrand: Priam consults with his prophet: who answers, that the child she went with, should prove the fatal instrument of Troy's destruction. No sooner was it borne, than Priam commands it to be exposed to the mercy of wild beasts. But the mother secretly conveys it to mount Ida, there to be soslered by the shepherds, where (grown to man's estate) he fell in love with the Nymph Oenone, and married her. Not long after, made judge in that contention of the goddesses, about the golden apple: and for his judgement on Venus' side, being by her promised the fairest of women, at length known and acknowledged by his father; he sailed into Greece, and from thence brought with him Helena, the wife of Menclaus. Of which when Oenone heard, troubled at his unexpected change, she wrote unto him this following Epistle, wherein she endeavours to recall him to her love again, lays open the perils that are like to ensue on this his rape. And lastly, persuades him to send back Helen, and take her again, in whose love she affirms her only joy, nay lise consisteth.  

TO Paris hers, though hers alas! he scorn  
To be; from Ida sends a Nymph for lost.  
Dost read? or thy new wife forbids? yet do,  
No Mycenaan hand these letters drew.  
Oenene famed through Phrygian woods and plains,  
Paris, so thou permit, of thee complains,  
What power? what god did our chaste loves disjoin?  
Or what's my fault I should not still be thine?  
" Ills justly merited we lightly bear,  
But those that come desertless, heavy are.  
Thou wert not then so great when first I wooed  
Thee for my spouse, the offspring of a flood.  
Who now Priamides (forsooth) art proved,  
Servant thou wert, as servant thee I loved,  
Oft in the shade we both our flocks have fed,  
Whilst leaves and grass, afforded us a bed,  
Oft we on straw, on hay we oft did rest,  
The hoary frost in homely Cot depressed.  
Who now shall show thee lands for game most fit?  
And caves where wild beasts with their young do sit?  
Oft have I helped to spread thy nets distained,  
And o'er the tops of hills thy cheered hounds trained  
Each Beech my name carved out by thee doth bear;  
And thy Oenone is read every where.  
As they increase, so spreads my name along;  
Grow, grow, and rise a witness of my wrong.  
Close by a purling silverie brook, there grows  
A Poplar, which of me fresh record shows.  
Long mayst thou live, I pray, live happy years,  
That in thy rind this carved Distich bears.  
When Paris lives, and doth Oenone shun,  
Shall Xanthus' streams back to their fountains run.  
Xanthus' recoil, flow streams unto your head,  
Paris the false is from Oexone fled.  
That day my sat produced, that day did prove  
The frosty winter of our changed love.  
When for thy judgement, Venus, loves proud Dame,  
And Pallas (armed more comely) naked came.  
Which when thou toldst to me, my timorous breast,  
And limbs, were with a gelid sear oppressed.  
The aged I consul● with, they reply  
And thence aver, some ominous ill was nigh.  
Strait was there timber fored, a Fleet prepared,  
And brimmed vessels on the blue seas reared.  
Yet wept'st thou parting: do not this deny:  
(On thy last love the greatest shame doth lie.)  
Thou wept'st (I say) and saw'st my tears abound;  
Whilst both like sad, did tears with tears confound.  
Not so the Elme's encircled by the Vine,  
As was my neck clasped by those arms of thine.  
How oft didst feign the wind contrary stood?  
Though smiling, thy companions saw 'twas good.  
H●w oft thy numbered kisses didst retell?  
How loath was thy sad tongue to say, Farewell!  
An easy gale thy hoist sails filled: all o'er  
Seas froathed with labour of thy nimble Oar.  
I, whilst I could, thy flying vessel viewed:  
And the dry sands with falling tears embrued.  
Invoked the green Nereids, that e'er long  
Thou mightst return, to wit, unto my wrong.  
Alas thee my prayers to others use brought home,  
And for a harlot did I kind become.  
A mount there is, that overlookes the seas,  
Securely scorning waves vain batteries.  
Hence I thy ship viewed, as I gazing stood:  
For joy I'd almost leapt into the 'slud.  
But when I saw a purple streamer shine  
On the carved stern, I feared 'twas none of thine.  
The ship's now nearer, and to shore applied,  
A female face with trembling heart I spied.  
That not enough (oh my stupidity!)  
The lustful dame did in thy bosom lie.  
Then I my garments rend, my barebreasts beat:  
And tore my cheeks, with brackish tears .  
The sacred Ida with my force ching filled.  
And thence, unto my home, moist tears distilled.  
May Helen so weep, robbed of hapless love,  
And what sh'hath made me suffer, may she prove.  
Now home thou bringst one, who hath basely fled  
The sweet contentments of a lawful bed.  
Yet when a Swains poor life thou didst embrace,  
None then thy wife, save chaste Oenone was.  
'Tis not thy wealth, or palace, moves me aught:  
Nor strive I to be Priam's daughter thought.  
Though Priam need not think himself reviled  
In me; or Hecub scorn me for her child.  
I worthy am, and might a Princess be:  
Well with my hands a Sceptre would agree.  
Nor scorn me, since with thee, on Beech leaves spread  
I lay: I'm fitter for a purple bed.  
Lastly, my love is safe; no wars disease  
Thy rest, no vengeful vessels furrow seas.  
Helen is sued for with infestive Arms,  
And brings a dowry only great in harms.  
Whether't be fit she be returned or no,  
Thy brothers, or Polydamas will show,  
Ask Priam's, ask Antenor's grave advice,  
Whose long experienced age hath made them wise.  
'Tis base a rape before thy country's love  
To prise: just arms her husband's wrongs do move,  
Nor canst her faithful warrant, who so soon  
With ease was to thy strange embraces won:  
As young Atrides wails his harder fate,  
By foreign love wronged in his nuptial state.  
Which thou shalt one day do: no Art can be  
Sufficient to regain lost chastity.  
Say she love thee, so did she Atreus son;  
Who now lies mateless in his bed alone.  
Thrice happy Hector's fair Andromache,  
As she by him, should I be loved by thee,  
But thou fare lighter art than leaves when dry,  
Which 'fore each easy gale diffusely fly.  
Less weight, less constancy in thee is borne,  
Than in the slender Sun-parcht ears of corn.  
Thy sister once, with hairs that loosely hung,  
Thus in prophetic raptures to me sung.  
What dost Oenone? why on sands dost thou  
Sow seeds? and shores with gainlesse oxen blow?  
A Greekish heifer, which shall thee, thy home,  
And country spoil (yet fate defend) doth come.  
With speed, the obscene vessel sink, what store  
Alas! of Phrygrand blood it brings to shore!  
This said, her handmaids her with ●rew: my hair  
Like stubborn bristles, stood on end for fear.  
Ah wretch, too true a prophet wert to me,  
Behold that heifer in my bounds lives free.  
What though she beauteous be, she's yet unchaste,  
And fled from home, a strange guests love embraced.  
What Theseus' 'twas I know not; but before,  
One Theseus' named, her from her country bore.  
And canst thou her thus ransomed, chaste surmise?  
My love alas! in this hath made me wise.  
Call it a rape, do, own thy crime that name:  
Sure she that was so oft rap't, liked the same.  
Oenone though forsook, doth chaste remain,  
Though thine own laws thou oughtest to sustain.  
Me nimble Satyrs did in troops frequent,  
Whilst woods concealed me from their bad intent.  
Me horned Faunus, crowned with wreathes of Pine,  
Did o'er Idaean hills to search incline.  
Me Troy's great Champion loved, and he alone,  
He only, did possess my virgin Throne.  
And that by force, yet not without torn hair,  
And scornful scars left on his face so fair.  
Nor gold, nor precious gems did I require:  
'tis base to prostitute the corpse for hire.  
Yet he his physic did to me impart,  
And taught my ruder hands his helpful Art.  
What powerful herb, or healing plant doth grow,  
It's secret virtues, and effects I know.  
Woes me, that love no powerful herb can cure!  
That stored with Art, I should in Art be poor!  
Even Phoebus did Phaerean Oxen feed,  
And inly wounded with my flames, did bleed.  
And yet the help, no simple-bearing field,  
Nor th'unshornegod can give; thou, thou, canst yield.  
Thou canst, I say, and oughtest: a virgin spare:  
I with the Greeks, 'gainst thee no Arms do bear.  
But thine I am: from childhood linked to thee:  
And whilst I live, thine wish, thine pray to be.    

THE ARGUMENT OF HIPSYPHILE'S Epistle to jason.  
PElias being told by the Oracle, that he should then be near his death, when as at the sacrifice of Neptune he should see a youth coming towards him with one foot bare; jason happening to have lost his shoe in the mudef the River Avaurus, whilst he hasted to the Cerem my, and observed by his uncle, was by him (both to secure, and prolong his reign) animated, to sail unto Colchos, to setch thence the goiden Fleet. The ambitious Jason condescends to the adventure, and forthwith building him a ship, (which of 〈◊〉 the Architect's name, he called Argo) together with the slower of the Grecian youth, commits himself unto the sea: by the way he touched at the Island of Lemnos; where Hipsyphile (who alone in the massacre of the men, by the women of that country; had saved her father Thoas) then reigned: by whom he was courteously entertained: where having slayed for the space of two years (Hipsyphile left with child) by the insligation of his companions, he proceeded in his expedition, and shortly arrived at Colchos; where Medea favouring (Mars his brass booved Oxen, and the watchful Dragon overcome) he was made moster both of the golden Fleece, and her: with whom he secretly sailed from thence, and landed in Thessaly. Hipsyphile hearing of his return, in this her following Epistle, she first congratulates his fortune, then blames his remissness in not writing unto her, inveighs against Medea, and (urged with memomorie of her undeserved wrongs) concludes with execrable curses against them both.  

FAme sings, that thou unto Thessa●ia's shore  
Artsafe returned, rich in thy fleeced Ore.  
I gratulate thy health, though 'thad been good  
By thine own hands I this had understood.  
Perhaps when thou didst to my kingdom mindo  
To come, thou wert withstood by adverse wind.  
And yet though winds were cross, it would have been  
Small charge, t'have sent a greeting to thy Queen.  
Why first did fame, and not thy letters, show  
How Mars his Bulls, tamed, drew the hated plough?  
How from sown seeds a race of Soldiers grew:  
In whose spilt blood, thou didst no hand imbrue.  
How the she Dragon charmed, did sleep obey,  
Whilst thence his golden charge thou borest away.  
Oh blessed me! if to incredulous wights  
I could but say, 'tis true, so jason writes.  
But why do I at thy neglect repine?  
I have enough so I may still be thine.  
'Tis famed, a barbarous witch with thee is come.  
And made thy beds sole partner in my room.  
" Love lightly credits: yet may I be said  
Thee fond rash, of feigned crimes t'upbraidupbrayd.  
Late from Haemonia one unto me came,  
Who scarce within my doors, when I exclaim  
Lives, lives, my jason: who with down cast eyes,  
Fixed steadfast on the earth, no word replies.  
Forth than I leapt, my vesture rend, and said,  
Oh! lives he, or in his; is my death made?  
He lives said he: to which I made him swear,  
And scarcely could believe him, yet through fear  
Revived somewhat; I of thy facts domand:  
Who told how Mars his Oxen ploughed the land:  
How from sown serpents teeth there strait arose  
A dreadful host of ready harnessed foes.  
Which earth born race slain through their own debate,  
Fulfilled the limits of their one days fate.  
And of the Serpent foiled, then ask again:  
Whilst fear and hope strange faiths in me maintain.  
Thus whilst he talked, and did each thing display,  
He somewhat closely did my wrongs bewray.  
Where's now thy plighted faith? thy vows? ah vile!  
And torch more fit t'have light my funeral pile,  
Yet knewest me not by stealth: for juno there,  
And Rose-crowned Hymen, at my nuptials were.  
Nor juno, nor yet Hymen, were at hand,  
But dire Erynnis bore the ominous brand.  
With Myniae why dealt I? Tritonian Pine?  
Or why did Typhis to my shores incline?  
Here was no golden Fleeced Ram, nor here  
The old Acëta's stately mansions were.  
At first I meant (but fate did it deny)  
Hence with a feminine band to force thee fly:  
(For Lemnian Ladies too too-well have fought:  
With such a guard I should have safety sought.  
But thee no sooner saw I, than I loved:  
Two springs, two winters, here thou staid'st unmoved:  
The third year come; when thou must needs away,  
With intermingled tears thou thus didst say,  
" My Deer, I must be gone (so gods decree)  
" Thine I go hence, thine will I ever be.  
" And may thy wombs blessed burr then live, we prove  
" To it each happy parents, full of love.  
This said, thy treacherous eyes strait ruined a shore:  
And well I mind it, thou couldst speak no more.  
Thou were't the last that did the ship ascend,  
That scuds, fresh gales did hollow sails extend:  
And furrowing keel, the bluish billows tore:  
I to the seas still gazed, thou to the shore.  
Close by, a tower there stood, to which I flew,  
Whilst tears my bosom, and my face imbrue.  
Through them I looked: and my souls favouring eye  
Did seem beyond its wont space to spy:  
Add my chaste prayers, and many a fear-mixt vow,  
All which (thee safe) must be performed now.  
But what? shall I vows for Medea pay?  
My heart to grief, my love to rage gives way.  
Shall I bear gifts to th'Temple for thy loss?  
Shall sacrifices fall for such a cross?  
Still feared I, lest thy Father should have chose,  
And entertained a Grecian maid thy spouse:  
The Greeks' I feared, a harlot breeds my woe,  
And wounds are given me by an unknown foe.  
In faee, nor merits can she please; by charms,  
Herbs by dire sickle cropped, she works thy harms.  
She from her sphere to draw the Moon essays,  
And in dark clouds t'obscure the Suns bright rays;  
She streams, and headlong torrents makes to stand,  
And woods, and mountains moves at her command.  
O'er graves she wanders with dishevelled hairs,  
And from warm piles the half-burnt bones she bears.  
The absent curses, waxed models frames;  
And with sharp pins their tortured livers maims.  
And thus (which, would I knew not) she makes sure  
Her love; which form and virtue should procure.  
And canst this wretch embrace? join breast to breast?  
And in the silent night securely rest?  
But as the Bulls, and Serpent by her Art  
She tamed; so hath she wrought, so won thy Heart.  
Besides, to thy achievements she her name  
Doth add, and is a blot unto thy fame:  
Whilst some of Pelias faction do give out,  
Charms wrought thy deeds, believed too 'mongst the rout.  
And say, not Lsoa, but Medea bore  
The rich Phryxean Fleece from Colchian shore.  
Thy parents both do this thy match withstand,  
By thee brought home from Hyperborean strand:  
Let her from Tanais, Scythian fens, the wide  
Phasis, her native soil, a Mace provide.  
Inconstant thou! more light than springtide Airel  
Why do thy words no weight of promise bear?  
Mine thou went'st hence, again why cam'st not mine?  
I thine was going, coming still am thine.  
If high descent, great blood, thy mind can bend,  
I from Minoan Thoas do descend.  
Bac●h●s my grandsire is, whose star-crownd Bride  
With rays excels each lesser sign beside.  
Lemnos shall be my Dowry, a fruitful land;  
And with all these, thou shalt myself command.  
Who now am brought to bed, (thy heart with joy  
Possess) the author sweetened my annoy.  
Blessed in my number too: for me the chaste  
Lucina with a double birth hath graced.  
Who like their father are in face, and smile,  
Save that they want their father's fraud, and guile.  
These two, as Legates, I to thee had sent,  
Had not their cruel stepdame changed m'intent.  
I feared Medea: (worse than stepdame) she  
Hath hands still pressed to all impiety.  
She that could her own brother's limbs disjoin,  
Would she have spared, thinkest thou, these babes of mine?  
Yet her (oh charmed madam) thou dost fare  
Before thine own Hipsyphile prefer.  
She first knew thee in an adulterate bed,  
But with chaste souls did we each other wed.  
My sire I saved, hers she betrayed to ill:  
She Colchos fled: my Lemnos holds me still.  
But what need this? if bad the good o'ercome,  
And she in crimes rich only, joys my room.  
I blame, but not the Lemnian deeds admire,  
For g●●●fe sends arms unto distracted ire.  
Suppose (which should have been) cross winds had boar  
False thee, and thy companions on my shore.  
And I t'have met thee with my double birth,  
Couldst not have hid thee in the yawning earth?  
With what face me or them couldst thou have seen?  
Of what strange death, wretch, hadst thou worthy been?  
And yet by me thou hadst been safe, & free;  
Not for thy worth, but love that dwells in me.  
But with her blood I would my face have died,  
And thine, through charms, which she hath me denied.  
I to Medea would Medea be;  
(And if the gods will to just prayers agree)  
As I lament, so may she mourn, so grieve,  
And her own laws with pain enough perceive.  
As with two children spouselesse left am I,  
Like fate may she with spouse and children try.  
Nor ill-got goods long keep, but basely lose,  
And banished, range the world without repose.  
As to her brother, and her Sire proved she,  
Such to her spouse and children may she be.  
Seas and earth past, let her attempt the sky,  
Poo●e, in despair, and by self slaughter d●e.  
Thus wronged Thbantias prays; both man and wife,  
Live in a cursed bed, a wretched life.    

THE ARGUMENT OF DIDO her EPISTLE to AENEAS.  
AFter the destruction of Troy, Aeneas the son of Anchises, and Venus, (having freed his children, house hold gods, and aged father from the flames) prepared a fleet, & committed himself to the sea, in quest of Latium: by tempests he was driven on the coasts of Lybia: where (if we may rely on the authority of Virgil) both he and his companions were courteously entertained by Dido, daughter of Belus, K●●g●o Tyre, who had fled thither to avoid the cruelty of her brother Hiarbas, the inhuman murderer of her beloved husband Sichaeus, Priest of Hercules. Not long stayed he with her, ere Mercury was sent to admonish him, and urge him on to his intended journey. The wretched Dido having with many persuasions endeavoured to restrain him from this his hoted purpose; but seeing both them, and her love lightly regarded, oppressed with grief, even unto death, she wrote this her sarewell Epistle to the relentless Heroc.  

SO when fates call, near to Meander's spring,  
Midst the moist sedge, the snowy Swan doth sing.  
Not that by words I hope thou mayst be moved,  
I writ: I know by th'gods that's disapproved.  
But since my fame, pure mind, and body chaste,  
I thus have lost, 'tis light my words to waste.  
Art then resolved to leave thy Dido here?  
Shall one wind hence thy sails and promise bear?  
And wilt thou with thy ships unloose thy vow?  
And Latium seek, but where thou dost not know?  
Doth new built Carthage, nor the rising wall,  
Or kingdom given thee, move thee not at all?  
Deeds done thou fliest, undone thou seek'st, & 'bout  
The world thou'lt go, to find a strange land out.  
Which when thou findest, therein who'll let thee live?  
Or who their fields to unknown folks will give?  
Another love, and Dido thou'lt go seek,  
And plight more troths, which thou again mayst break.  
When like to Carthage wilt thou build a Town?  
And on such people from thy Towers look down?  
Should these succeed, and nothing cross thy vow,  
Where wilt thou finde a wife shall love thee so?  
Like to a sulphurous Taper I consume,  
Or Incense wasting in the sacred fume.  
Aeneas still fixed 'fore my wakeful eyes:  
On him in days, in nights my fancy lies.  
That thankless wretch, that scorned my gifts, & me,  
Whom I might want, if I my good could see.  
Yet him I hate not, though he mean but ill:  
But his untruth bewail, and love more still.  
Oh Venus spare thy daughter: and thou Love,  
Let thy false brother, thy sweet warfare prove.  
Or else let him I once did love, (nor now  
Do I disdained) at least not scorn me though.  
But I'm deceived, deluded, now I find,  
For he quite differs from his mother's mind.  
Thee stones, and rocks, and oaks on mountains bred,  
And savage beasts brought forth, and fostered.  
Or else the sea, through which (though waves say nay)  
Adventurous man, thou meanest to force thy way.  
Where fliest? see storms withstand thee: but for me  
They do conspire: how Eurus swells the sea!  
For what to thee I'd rather owe, let me  
To winds be bound; fare, fare, more just than thee.  
Nor would I thou (vile wretch that weighest not these)  
Shouldst meet thy ruin on the foraged seas.  
At a dear rare thou dost thy hatred buy,  
If to shun me thou thinkest it slight to dye.  
Winds strait will'lye, and seas their rage restrain,  
And Triton scud about the watery plain.  
Oh that with winds thy mind were changed, & sure  
It will; oxcept than Oak thou'rt more obdure.  
What wouldst didst thou not know feas rage? that thou  
Having so often tried wilt trust them now.  
Though thou put forth from out a calmed bay,  
yet the vast deep may yield thee much dismay.  
Besides seas favour no perfidious men,  
But sharply plague them for so foul a sin.  
Chief when love is wronged, 'cause loves great dame  
They say, from Cytherean billows came:  
Yet lost I, fear lest thou that caused my woe,  
Shouldst be destroyed, or seas entomb my foe.  
No live: for so I may revenged be;  
And men shall say, thou wroughtest my Tragedy.  
Suppose thou wert (yet be this Omen vain)  
Seized with a storm: how would thy mind remain?  
Strait would occur thy false tongues perjury,  
And Dido by thy fraud constrained to dye.  
Thy wronged wife's shape shall to thy sight repair,  
Sad, and all bloody, with dishevelled hair.  
Then wouldst thou say, these, these, deserved be,  
And think what thunder falls, should light on thee.  
A while to seas, and thine own ire give way:  
Good will thy stay be, safer too thy way.  
And though not me, I●sus spare; since thou  
Hast in my death's dire title coin enough.  
What hath Ascanius, or thy gods deserved?  
Shall waves devour them, late from flames preserved?  
But thou, vile wretch, for all the oaths thou sworest,  
Nor gods, nor father, on thy shoulders borest.  
All, all, were lies; nor didst with me begin,  
Nor fell I first in thy deceitful gin.  
A●●'st for Creusa? know vile wretch, that she  
Died in despair, alone forsook by thee.  
This me thou toldst, and it my tears did move,  
My pain fare lesser than my crime shall prove.  
Nor that the gods do hate thee, can I doubt,  
Seven years on lands, on seas, thou roam'st about.  
Then I received thee, on my borders thrown,  
And gave a kingdom to thee, yet scarce known.  
Oh would with these I had contented been!  
Or were the mention silenced of my sin.  
That day wherein the thick descending rain  
Forced us to take one cave, first caused my pain.  
A voice I heard, and thought the Nymphs did sing,  
But they were Imps fore told my ruining.  
On me wronged faith I did Sichaeus owe,  
Take vengeance; unto whom with shame I go.  
His statue, shrined in Marble have I made,  
Which leavy boughs, and snowy fleeces shade.  
And that, me thought, I heard, four times to say,  
With trembling voice, Eliza, come away.  
I come, I come, thy once vowed wife, though now  
My shameful deed doth make my speed more slow.  
Forgive me pray, the author of the same  
Was one that might extenuate my blame.  
His heavenly mother, and his pious load  
Of father, gave me hopes of his abode.  
And though I erred, yet my intents were good,  
Nor would it irk me, had his frail faith stood.  
But as my life at first was ill begun;  
So doth the tenor of the same hold on.  
My husband fell, at holy Altar slain,  
And from that deed, accrued my brother's gain.  
My spouse dear ashes, and my country I  
Exiled left: forced by following foes to fly.  
The seas & brother 'scaped, 'mongst strangers brought,  
There I the land I gave to thee, first bought.  
I built a City, raised wide walls without,  
Envied by all the neighbouring towns about.  
Strait wars arose, with which I was beset,  
 I rude gates, or arms could ready get.  
A thousand Suitors did me like, and woe,  
Complaining that I loved they knew not who▪  
Why yield'st me not unto Hiarba's hands?  
I'll give my Arms, up to thy cursed commands.  
Besides my brother's hands would be imbrued  
As well in mine, as in my husband's blood.  
Lay by thy Relics, by thy touch profaned,  
" Vile is the service of an impious hand.  
Rather than thou their worshipper shouldst be,  
'Twere better they from flames had ne'er 'scaped free.  
Perhaps thy Dido's left with child, and part  
Of thee rests in my womb, as well as heart.  
The babe shall join in its sad mother's fall,  
So shalt thou cause th'unborn child's funeral.  
Iülus brother, with me wretch, shall dye:  
And oneself pain, two bodies shall destroy.  
But th'god bids go: would he had barred thy way.  
Nor Trojans e'er had trod on Tyrian Bay.  
Through him thou thus by adverse storms art crossed,  
And thy de●re time, on rapid streams is lost.  
If Hector lived, and Troy now stood again,  
Thou'dst scarce go seek it to endure such pain.  
Not Simcis, but Ty●●●'s sought by thee,  
Where when thou comest, thou'lt but a stranger be.  
And whilst that it obscure, and hidden lies,  
Thou'lt scarce attain it, save with aged eyes.  
Oh rather take for Dowry, (doubts laid aside)  
These people, and Pigmilions wealthy pride!  
With prosperous luck place Troy in Tyrian land:  
And as a King, rule, govern, and command.  
If thou wish war, or that Iülus fain  
Would vaunt it with a proud triumphant train:  
'Cause nought shall want, we I find a foe to wound  
This place with peace, this doth with Arme● abound.  
Now by thy Father, and thy Brothers how,  
And by thy gods, fellows in flight, and woe.  
(So may Troy's remnant still victorious be;  
And mayst a period to thy perils see.  
So may Ascanius years with joy increase,  
And old Anchis●, bones still rest in peace.)  
Spare thou the house, that offers to be thine!  
What fault, save love, canst thou object as mine?  
From Phthian, nor Mycenean land came I;  
Nor did my spouse, or sire, thy peace deny.  
If thou disdainest me for thy wife, I'll be  
Thine hostess: any thing, to live with thee.  
I know the waves on Africa shores that play,  
Sometimes they give, sometimes deny men way.  
When winds are calm, then hoist thy sails, you see  
Thy ships now moored in the harbour be.  
Let me observe thy tide, and time, to go:  
Nor shalt thou stay then, though thyself wish so.  
Thy wearied mates ask rest to free their care,  
And thy torn Fleet craves yet some small repair.  
By my deserts, or thee what more I own,  
And by my hopes of marriage, do not go.  
Stay whilst the seas are calm, or else my love,  
That I may learn my heavier Fate to prove.  
If not: by death I vow to right my wrong,  
Nor shalt thou cruel be against me long.  
Oh! that my writing posture thou couldst spy:  
Upon my lap the Dardan sword doth lie.  
Whilst on the blade, tears from my pale cheeks slide,  
Which shall in stead of tears, with blood be died.  
How well thy gifts do with my fate agree!  
At easy rate thou'st built a Tomb for me.  
Nor doth my breast now first endure a wound:  
For elder scars of love, may there be found.  
Dear sister A●●e, that knewest my amorous play,  
Shalt thy last duties to my ashes pay.  
Nor will I then Sichaeus wife be said,  
But on my Marble shall this verse be read.  
The cause and sword that Dido slew, alone  
Aeneas gave; but th'hand she used, her own.    

THE ARGUMENT OF HERMIONE'S Epistle to Orestes.  
HErmione the daughter of Menelaus and Helena, was by her Grandsire Tyndarus (in the absence of her father, then at the wars of Troy) betrothed to Orestes, the son of Agamemnon and Clytaemnestra. But Achilles being slain, and Pyrrhus succeeding, at their return from Troy, her father (ignorant of the former contract) gave her in marriage unto Pyrrhus: who by force took her to his bed. Of whose unjust proceeding she h●rd complains to her Orestes, urging him in to attempt her rescue, with examples), and the possibility of her freedom: concluding with an irreconciliable hatred against her tyrannising Lord, and a constant resolution to l●ve the votary, or dye the sacrifice of her first chosen lover.  

TO thee my Spouse, and Cousin, once I writ,  
Now Cousin only, robbed of husband's right.  
Me Pyrrhus stout, true image of his sire,  
Vuniustly keeps unto himself entire.  
What might be done, I did, his force to quail;  
Nor more could an effeminate hand prevail.  
Pyrrhus, said I, what dost? more love afford,  
I can revenge, and know I have a Lord:  
But he more deaf than seas, no whit forbears,  
But drags me home by my disordered hairs.  
What worse could I have done, had Sparta's soil,  
And Grecian maids, been to the foes a spoil?  
Fare better used Achaia Hector's fair,  
When Danaish fires did Phrygian wealth impair.  
But dear Orestes, if a care of me  
In thee remain, thine own from bondage free.  
If any stole thy cattle, wouldst thou go  
To rescue them, and for thy wife be slow?  
Let Menelaus thy example be:  
Who moved just arms, his ravished wife to free.  
If he at home content had idly slept,  
The Trojan swain fair Helen still had kept.  
Thou needest prepare no fleet, no arms, or store  
Of men, come thou thyself, I wish no more.  
Though so I might be rescued: 'tis no shame  
To war in the defence of wedlock's fame.  
Atreus to both of us was grandsire, so  
If not my husband, thou'rt my cousin though.  
As spouse thy wife, cousin thy cousin mind;  
These double names a double duty bind.  
My Grandsire, (than my guardian) did assign,  
And with my liking me for ever thine;  
My father, after, me to Pyrrhus gave:  
My grandsire though, as chiefest, most right should have.  
When thee I married, none I wronged: if I  
Should Pyrrhus marry, thee I harm thereby.  
My father sure will pardon this our love,  
Since he himself the winged gods shafts did prove.  
The love he suffered, he'll to us afford:  
Th'examp●e of my mother doth accord.  
What he to her was, thou'rt to me: of old  
What the Dardanian guest, is Pyrrhus bold.  
What though he vaunt the deeds his fire did do?  
Thou well canst boast th'achievements thine did too  
Tantalides though great Achilles lead,  
A Soldier this, of Captains that the head.  
Pelops, and Pelops sire, were kin to thee:  
Count, and thyself from love the fifth will be.  
Nor want'st thou heart, dire arms thou borest, 'tis true,  
How couldst do less? 'twas she thy Father slew.  
Would juster quarrels had thy courage proved,  
And yet by thee they were not raised, nor moved.  
Though thou didst cause Aegistus blood to stain  
The floor, as did before thy Father slain.  
Which deed (thy praise) Pyrrhus thy crime implies,  
Yet still endures my person 'fore his eyes.  
My face, and mind, swell with disdainful ire;  
And my breast burns with a suppressed sire.  
Before my face shalt thou upbraided be?  
Nor force, nor Arms have I to fight for thee.  
But weep I can, and so my griefs allay,  
Whilst ceares like rivers, on my breast make way.  
The'e, these, alone I have, these forth I pour;  
My cheeks are wet with a continual shower.  
Nor could our Ancestors this fate escape:  
Each Nymph of Tantal's line, is borne a rape.  
No tales will I of Milky Swan unfold,  
Nor love descending in a shower of gold.  
Or how where Isthwos doth two seas divide,  
Hyppodamie on waxed wheels did ride.  
Fair Tyndaris by Theseus long detained,  
By Amyclaean brethren was regained.  
Next by Idean guest, from home conveyed,  
Argolick hands she armed unto her aid:  
I scarce remembered, yet remember do;  
How each breast than was filled with fear and woe.  
Both Grandsire, Sister, Brother, all shed tears,  
And Leda her own live in vokt with prayers.  
Nay I, with hairs as than not long, yet torn,  
Exclaimed dear mother, leav'st thou me forlorn?  
Who now lest my descen● I should gainsay,  
Behold to Pyrrhus am become a prey.  
Had great Athilles 'scaped Apollo's bow;  
His sons rash deed he would have blamed, I know.  
It ne'er pleased him, nor would if he had lived,  
A mournful wife should be of spouse deprived.  
What fault of mine did angry heavens incense?  
What star withstands me with dire influence?  
Young I my Mother lost, my Sire waged war;  
And though both lived, to me both strangers were.  
No babbling speeches in my blooming years  
Of mine (dear mother) did delight thine ears.  
Nor threw I 'bout thy neck mine arms abroad,  
Nor sat I in thy lap, a grateful load,  
No care of clothing me, did vex thy head,  
Nor didst thou lead me to my marriage bed.  
Though thee at thy return I met, I vow,  
A mother's face in thee I did not know.  
But by thy beauty thee for Helen took:  
Nay thou though seen, yet for thy child didst look.  
One comfort yet Orestes was, and he  
Except he fight, will be debarred from me.  
Th'unmanly Pyrrhus me retains a thrall,  
This is the good I've gained by Ilium's fall.  
When Phoebus from on high his beams displays,  
A gentler ease my pensive grief allays.  
But when the nights black mantles spread, and I  
Upon my sad and loathed bed doely,  
In stead of sleep, tears from mine eyes do spring,  
And fare off from him, as a foe I fling.  
Oft grown unmindful through distractive cares  
His Scyrian limbs I've touched at unawares.  
Which when perceived, the hated corpse I fly,  
And deem my hands to be defiled thereby.  
Orestes oft for Pyrrhus I miscall,  
And love the error of my tongue withal.  
By our unhappy race, by jove I pray,  
Who seas, vast earth, and heavens with power doth sway.  
By thy sire's bones, my uncles, which by thee  
Beneath their marble well revenged be;  
Either my breath, may I to death resign,  
Or once again become for ever thine.    

THE ARGUMENT OF DEIANIRA'S Epistle to Hercules.  
Hercules' the son of Tupiter and Alcmene, after the conquest of many tedious labours imposed on him by Euristheus, and the spiteful Juno: at length having slain Eurytus, King of Oechalia, and den o●shed the City, he took captive his daughter jole, form lie promised him in marriage, and again dexied him by her father, with whom be retired into Eubaea: and there as fond doted on her, as be had for merly done on the Lydian Omphale. Mean time Deianeira, daughter of Oeneus king of Calydon, hearing of his unlooked for, and unmanly actions, wrote this her following Epistle unto him: wheriu she endeavours by the mention of his f●●mer glorious enterprise, to recall him from his lawless love. But whilst she was yet writing, news was brought unto her of the violent pains her Hercules sustained, caused by the shirt she sent him, dipped in the blood of the Contaure Nestus, credulously by her supposed to have had the power to regain her husband's languishing affection towards her. Much troubled at the sad event, she abou●s to purge herself of guilt: and to instance a real example of her love to him, vows to lay violent hands upon herself, and so sums up her Epistle with a tragical conclusion.  

OEchalia won I joy, yet grieve withal,  
That victor thou, shouldst to the vanquished fall.  
Swift fame to Grecian towns report hath brought  
Of deeds that scarce can worthy thine be thought.  
How he, whom juno, nor her endless toil,  
Can quail, hath ta'en by Iöle the foil.  
This would Euristheus, this the Thunderers wife,  
Who glories in this blemish of thy life.  
Sure thou'rt not he, to th'framing of whose might,  
Can not suffice the pleasures of a night.  
Thee Venus more than juno harms; her spleen  
Hath raised thy fame, by this t'hath ruined been.  
Behold the world by thee with soft peace crowned,  
As fare as ambient seas wide earth surround.  
To thee both earth, and seas, their quiet owe,  
Both Phoebu● houses do thy merits know,  
Heaven thou upheld'st; shall once hold thee; lent'st aid  
To weary Atlas, with his load o'er laid.  
But what 'mongst these, save shame dost thou obtain,  
If thus with lust thy former deeds thou stain?  
Wast thee when young (of love then worthy known)  
Whom men report t'have slain two snakes alone.  
Fare better didst begin than end; ah me!  
How much that child, this man do disagree!  
Whom savage beasts, whom Sthenele●an foe,  
Nor juno could o'ercome, doth love o'erthrow.  
Yet am I thought well matched, 'cause jove to me's  
Father in law, and husband Hercules.  
As different Steers to draw do ill accord,  
So a mean wife joined to a greater Lord.  
No honour, but a burden 'tis to me,  
If well thou'lt match, match in thine own degree.  
To me my spouse a stranger is, wild beasts  
And monsters, he with daily force infests.  
Whilst I am busied with chaste prayers at home,  
Lest by his direful foes he be o'ercome.  
'Mongst Serpents, Boars, and Lions angry paws  
I'm tossed, on him me thinks dogs feast their jaws.  
Beast's entrails idle dreams of careful night,  
And ominous fancies do my mind affright.  
Each flickering breath of fame I catch at: fear,  
And hope, like rule, like sway in me do bear.  
Thy mother's absent, and lamenteth now  
She pleased a God: thy Sire, and Hyllus too.  
Eur●stheus, that fell Juno's wrath doth move,  
Enough I feel; too long her ire doth prove.  
But this is small, strange love thou add'st to these,  
By thee each one may mother be that please.  
Not Auge in Parthenian vale defiled,  
Nor the base births of Astydamia mild  
Will I relate: nor the Teuthrantian Choir,  
Of which from thee none did a maid retire.  
That recent crime doth me the most upbraid,  
By which to Linus I am stepdame made.  
Meander, that in one redoubled course  
So often flows, and rowles his wheeling source,  
Hath seen about thy neck a golden chain,  
That once did heavens fair starry vault sustain.  
Ah! didst not shame, about thine arms t'enfold  
Rich bracelets, set with glittering gems & gold?  
Those arms, by which the Nemaean Lion died,  
Whose bristled skin in triumph graced thy side.  
Darest thou (more worthy fare of Poplar twine)  
With a acquaint tire crown those harsh hairs of thine?  
Didst thou not blush, when in effeminate guise,  
Meonian zone did thy vast waist comprise?  
Thou thoughtst not sure of Diomedes then,  
Who fed his pampered Steeds with flesh of men.  
So dressed, had thee the fell Busiris seen,  
He would have scorned by thee t'have conquered been.  
Let bold Antaeus lose those amorous bands.  
Lest he too grieve, t'have fallen by womanish hands.  
'Tis said, thou 'mongst Ionian maids didst set,  
And balely spin, fearing thy mistress threat.  
Nor dost refrain t'apply thy conquering hand  
To Osier mands, and like a Spinstresse stand.  
Gross threads thou drawest with thy unwieldy thumb,  
And yield'st thy fair faced dame thy daily sum.  
How oft hast thou through boisterous fingers struck  
Thy course-spun-threads, nay even thy spindle broke?  
And then for fear of rod, and mistress too,  
Laid prostrate at her feet, for mercy sue.  
Besides, which most of all thy glory soils,  
Thou brag'st and boast'st of thy, triumphant spoils.  
How in thy tender years with generous spirit,  
Thou overcam'st too horrid snakes in fight.  
And the Tegaean Boar, that wrought such ills,  
On Cypresse-bearing Erimonthus hills.  
Nor spar'●st t●ou Diomedes door. nailed head,  
Nor Steeds with humane flesh (dire dainties) fed.  
The triformed Geryon. Nature's prodigy,  
Large herds possessing, doth thy tale supply.  
Nor silent lies the triple-headed hound,  
Whose ugly jaws black hissing snakes surround.  
The fertile serpent, she whose numerous store  
Increased, and still grew rich by being poor.  
Antaeus, with torn jaws, the ponderous weight  
Of thy broad side, thou dost at large relate.  
And troops ill trusting to their double force,  
Which thou o'er steep thessalian hills didst coarse.  
●nd couldst thou clad in soft Sydonian veil,  
Tell these, and shame not cause thy tongue to fail:  
Whilst with thine arms the Jardan nymph adorns  
Herself, an● makes them trophies of thy scorns.  
Go now and blaze thy facts, thy glory scan,  
'Tis she that's now become the abler man.  
To whom so far inferior thou art grown,  
As thou'rt more great than those thou hast o'erthrown  
To her thy fame, worth, actions, forfeit be.  
Give way: for she's thy praises lawful heir.  
Oh shame! thy harsh, and shaggy Lions hide,  
Now veils a woman's smooth, and nicer side.  
Thou art deceived: those spoils no Lions be,  
But thine, the beast thou over cam'st; she thee.  
Nay she that scarce could distaff rule before,  
Now bears thy shafts dipped in Lernaean gore.  
Teaching her hands to wield thy club (grown bold)  
And in her glass doth thy famed Arms behold.  
All this I heard, yet scarce did credit fame,  
Till through mine ears sly grief my heart o'ercome.  
But now mine eyes the harlot have espied,  
And such my grief is, I no more can hide.  
Nor her concealest thou from me, but i● spite  
Bring'st through the City, to upbraid my sight.  
Not with lose hairs, beneath a captives fate,  
By her veiled face, confessing her estate.  
But most conspicuous in embroidered gold:  
In such as Phrygia once did thee behold.  
And looks so stately on the following train,  
As though the razed Oechdlia stood again.  
Perhaps poor me divorced, thou meanest that she,  
A harlot's name laid by, thy wife shall be.  
And guilty Hymen shall the hands combine  
Of Eurytaean Iöle with thine.  
My mind's astonished at the ominous ill,  
My hands faint, cold doth all my members fill.  
Yet once, and with chaste fires, thou me didst love,  
And in my cause didst twice thy courage prove.  
Achelous' sad his fronts rend ruins bore,  
And shrunk his maimed brow 'twixt the reedy shore.  
The Contaure Nessus by thy shafts was slain,  
And with his crimson gore the streams did stain.  
But wretchl what write I ● Fame report hath spread,  
The shirt I sent thee, hath thy torment bred.  
Ah me! what hath my rash love forced me try,  
Why impious Deianeira doubtest to dye?  
Shall flames thy husband's flesh on Oeta rive;  
And thou the cause of such an ill survive?  
What shall I do that to the world may prove  
I was thy wife, my death shall show my love.  
And thou, dear brother, shalt in me descry  
A sister, Deianeira, straightway dye.  
Oh cursed house! the kingdom Agrius holds,  
Deserted Oeneus feeble age enfolds.  
One brother banished, strays in foreign land.  
Th'other died, living in his fatal brand.  
My mother fell by direful steel: then why  
O impious Deianeira doubtest to dye?  
Yet by our nuptial rites I thee require,  
Not to surmise I did thy death conspire.  
For when thy shafts had pierced the Centaur's breast,  
This blood, saith he, is with love's power possessed.  
A shirt I sent, dipped in the poisonous die,  
Why impious Deianeira doubtest to dye?  
And now my Father, Gorge, and native soil,  
Dear brother, banished into sad exile:  
And thou, the latter light, mine eyes shall view,  
My spouse (oh that thou wert) and child adieu.    

THE ARGUMENT OF ARIADNE'S Epistle to THESEUS.  
Minos', King of Crect, having by sharp war revenged the death of his son Androgeus, murdered by the Athenians, enforced them yet (as tribute) to send him every ninth year, seven youths, and as many virgins; which be cast into the Labyrinth, to be devoured of the Minotaur. The lot at length fell on Theseus; who being thrown into the den, nevertheless by the aid of Ariadne, slew the Monster, and by a clew of thread which she gave him, returned safe from out the prison. With whom, and her sister Phaedra, he makes escape, and arrives at Naxus. Where Bacchus warns him to leave his beauteous rape Ariadne. Night came, & she fast bound in sleeps soft fetters, with Phaedra he sails away, and forsakes the innocent vi●g●n: who when awaked, and seeing herself so foully betrayed; distracted, with pietifull exclamations, she ranges the shore to and fro: At length, more calm, she writes, and fills her teare-dropt paper with many sad complaints, and earnestly requests him again to come unto her.  

MOre kind than thee, all kind of beasts I see,  
To none worse trusted, could I have been than thee  
The lines thou readest, I send thee from that shore,  
Whence without me, filled sails thy vessel bore.  
Where sleep, and thou with it combined, betrayed  
(Hard hearted man, vile deed) an harmless maid.  
'Twas 'bout the time when silver dew first falls,  
And warbling birds perch in their leavy stalls.  
Not full awake, nor sleeping, towards thy place  
My arms I stretched, my Theseus to embrace.  
But there was none: again mine arms are thrown  
About the still warm couch, but there was none.  
Fear sleep exiled: affright I rose, and fled  
With speed, my now unhappy widowed bed:  
Forthwith my bosom doth with strokes resound,  
Tearing my locks, through sleep, unloosed, unbound.  
'Twas moonlight, and I looked if I could spy  
Ought save the shore, but nought else sees mine eye.  
Now here, now there, I randisordred ways,  
Whilst the deep sands my virgin feet o're-layes.  
Then crying out on Theseus, all around  
The hollow murmuring rocks thy name resound.  
Still as I called, the place the same still said,  
As 'twould have lent my woes a mutual aid.  
A mount there was, on which few shrubs did grow,  
Now a steep rock, fret with the waves below.  
Up which I crawled: my mind lent force: and thence,  
With wand'ring sight survey the seas immense.  
And there (forev'n the winds were harsh to me)  
Thy strutting sails filled with fresh gales, I see.  
Either I saw't, or if I thought but so,  
I'm sure half dead, more cold I was than snow.  
But grief would not permit me languish● long:  
On Theseus I exclaim with high-raised tongue,  
Whither, ah! whither fliest? vile wretch, retreat;  
Turn back thy ship, it hath not yet its freight.  
Where words were wanting, there a blow supplies,  
Each word with strokes weas mixed, each stroke with cries.  
And though thou heard'st not yet thou needs must see  
My outstretched arms gave ample signs to thee.  
Upon a wand a milk white veil I hung,  
T'admonish thee of thy neglect, my wrong.  
And now thou'rt out of sight: and I to tears  
Now thawd: which grief had freeze before, & fears.  
What better office could mine eyes have done,  
Than weep my woes, when thou their aim wert gone?  
Or with lose hairs I run, like those that be  
Possessed by the Ogygian Deity.  
Or viewing seas set on a rock alone;  
More stone-like seem, than that I set upon.  
Oft to the bed I run, that did contain  
Us both, though not restore us both again.  
And (as I may) thy steps with mine I trace,  
And hug in steed of thee, thy lukewarm place.  
I lay me down, the bed with tears bedew,  
And cry, two pressed thee, oh! restore thou two!  
Both hither came, why went not both away?  
False bed! where, where's my souls best part? oh say.  
What shall I do? the land untild doth lie,  
No deeds of man, of beasts no deed I spy.  
On all sides seas the earth surround: no where  
A Forth-bound ship, or Pilot doth appear.  
Suppose I had both ships, and mates at will,  
My country shuts me out, I'm helpless still.  
Though I should safely sail on smooth-calmed sea,  
And winds my friends, I should an exile be.  
No more dear Crect, which hundred Cities crown,  
Shall I behold: to jove an infant known.  
For both my father, and my native soil,  
(Dear names) betrayed I by my treacherous wile.  
When, lest the Labyrinth should prove thy tomb,  
I gave thee threads to guide thee through each room.  
When, by the dangers that thou didst decline,  
Thou sworest, whilst living, I should still be thine.  
Behold, I live, yet am not thine: if she  
Can live, that's slain by false man's perjury  
Wretch! would by that dire Mace I'had died, which slew  
My brother, than thy vow had still been true.  
What I must suffer, not so much I mind,  
As what poor souls forsook, like me, may find.  
A thousand forms of death my fancy press,  
And death itself then th'fear thereofs fa●re less.  
Now here, now there, me thinks I coming see  
Fierce wolves, to glut their appetite on me.  
Perhaps this Isle bright-crested Lions breeds,  
Who knows if it the swifter Tiger feeds.  
And seas may send forth monsters too beside,  
Who shall forbid the sword to pierce my side.  
Or that I be not thralled in captive band,  
Or spin forth harsher threads with servile hand:  
Whose Sire is Minos, mother Phoebus' seed,  
And what is more, who once was thine decreed.  
If since, or far-stretcht shores mine eye surveys,  
Much me the seas, much me the land dismays.  
If heaven, the gods, celestial signs, I fear;  
Thus left a prey for ravenous beasts to tear.  
If men inhabit it, in them there's danger:  
My wrongs have taught me not to trust a stranger;  
Would that Androgeu● lived, or that thy fate  
Cecropian soil, th'hadst bought at cheaper rate.  
Nor hadst thou, perjured Theseus, done to death  
That Monster, man above, and beast beneath.  
Would thee I ne'er had given that cunning twine,  
By which those abstruse vaults thou didst decline,  
Nor marvel I that thee strange conquest crowned,  
And than the Cretan monster strewed the ground.  
His horns could not have harmed thee: safe enough,  
Th'hadst been unarmed: for even thy breast was proof.  
There flints, there adamants thou borest, nay there  
What them doth pass, thou didst a Theseus bear.  
Dire sleep, why did you vainly me surprise?  
Nor in eternal night compress mine eyes.  
Ye cruel winds, that tootoo ready were,  
Th'officious blasts to blow me into tears.  
Cruel the hand me and my brother slew,  
And plighted faith (that empty name) untrue.  
Sleep, winds, and faith, their plots against me laid;  
And by three means, one Virgin was betrayed.  
Shall I, not dying then, with latest light  
Behold my mother's tears? none close my fight?  
And must my spirit flit through unknown air:  
Nor friendly hands anoint my limbs with care?  
But on my untombed bones must sea-fowle feed?  
Are these the funeral rites my merits plead  
When thou to Athens art returned, and when  
Raised high with honour 'mongst thy countrymen;  
Thou shalt relate the double monster slain,  
And stony vaults cut out in doubtful train.  
Pray tell my story too: I must not be  
Left out o'th'catalogue of deeds done by thee.  
Nor Aethra, nor Aegeus, parents were  
To thee: thee flinty rocks, thee stones did bear.  
Oh! that thine eyes me from the ship had seen!  
That sight to move thee had sufficient been.  
Nay now, though not with eyes, with mind conceive  
And see, how to a wave-beat rock I cleave.  
Behold in mournful sort, my scattered hairs,  
And garments heavy (as with rain) with tears.  
Like corn with north winds shaken, I quaking stand,  
The lines I writ, marred by my trembling hand.  
By no deserts (since ill they sped) I sue  
To thee: no thankes unto my deeds be due,  
Yet I no pain was, though no cause to thee  
Of safety: then be not death's cause to me  
These hands, now faint with beating to disease  
My breast, to thee I stretch over ampleseas,  
These hairs that yet are left, to thee I spread,  
By these tears pray, tears for thy actions shed:  
Turn back thy ship, turn with the changing wind,  
Though I am dead, collect my bones you find.    

THE ARGUMENT of CANACE'S Epistle to MACAREUS.  
MAcareus and Canace, son and daughter to Aeolus, beyond the bounds of natural affection, incestuously loved each other. In fine, Canace is brought ●o bed. The nurse secretly conveys the child; which now at the door exclaims: is heard by Aeolus, who detecting the crime, moved wi●h rage and sha●e against so hideous a fact, commands it to be exposed unto the fury of wild beasts. To Canace he sends asword, and would that she should expiate her crime by death: which sh● accordingly intends. Yet before the a●● as prologue to her Tragedy, she writes unto herbrother (who before had taken Sanctuary at Delphos) this her fate condoling Epistle.  

IF any blots in these my lines appear,  
They by their mistress murder caused were.  
This hand a pen, that doth a sword comprise,  
And in my lap the limber paper lies.  
This is my posture whilst to thee I writ:  
This my obdurate parent I delight.  
Whom I now wish were present; that so he  
Might my ends author, and spectator be.  
And fare more fierce than his own winds (dire show)  
With tearlesse cheeks, my gaping wounds review.  
'Tis much'mongst boisterous winds still versed to be;  
Just with his people's nature doth he 'gree.  
The South, the West, and Northern winds he school●;  
And Eurus with his stubborn wings he rules.  
He o'er his winds, but not his wrath bears sway:  
And his less Realm, t'his greater vice gives way.  
What boots it me, by Grandsires raised to skies,  
To reckon powerful jove 'mongst my allies?  
If this, in trembling hand, sad gift, I bear,  
This ominous steel, (di●e motive of my fear)  
Oh Macareu! the day that us conjoined  
In one, would it fate for my last had signed.  
To me, why more than brother didst thou prove?  
To thee, why more than sister showed I love?  
I burned with hidden fires: nor yet did know  
What God within me did indame me so.  
Pale grew my cheeks, leanness my limbs consumed,  
And my forced stomach little meat assumed.  
My sleeps were broken, each night seemed a year,  
Of sighed I, when no cause there did appear,  
Nor why I did it, could a reason move.  
Knew not what lovers were, and yet did love.  
My nurse, with aged mind, the ill first spied;  
And Canace, thou art in love, she cried.  
I blushy: and in my bosom cast mine eyes,  
Sufficient signs did from my silence rise.  
And now my wombs foul load began t'increase,  
And th'growing burden did my limbs disease.  
What herbs, what medicines did my Nurse not try!  
And with her bold, and ready hand apply;  
(Which me alone did from thy knowledge hide)  
To force the clinging infant from my side!  
But that alas! too quick withstood her Art,  
And all the help her Physic could impart.  
Nine Moons were passed he tenth with silver bright  
Steeds drawn, unto the world now showed her light.  
When sudden gripes cause my unwonted pain:  
Unapt the throes of childbirth to sustain;  
I strait cried out, and wilt thou then unfold  
Thy crimes (saith she) and did my mouth withhold.  
What should I do? pain urged me to exclaim:  
But fear, my nurse, and shame, forbade the same.  
My groans I then'supprest, and words forbear:  
Forced as I lay to drink each falling tear.  
Death was at hand, Lucina chaste denied  
All help; and then t'had been a sin t'have died:  
When thou (laid by me with torn hair) didst join,  
And cherish my cold dying breast with thine.  
And saidst, dear sister live, oh! live my joy!  
Nor in one body do thou two destroy.  
Let hope revive thee, thou shalt once be said  
His wife, by whom thou art a mother made.  
Trust me, half dead, I at thy words revived:  
And was at once of crime and load deprived.  
Why at my birth doth joy thy hea●t surprise?  
When ' 'tmust be hid (alas) from my father's eyes.  
The busy Nurse, with Olive branches round,  
And gentle fillets the poor infant bound.  
A sacrifice she feigned, and loud did pray:  
My father and the people gave her way.  
When near the door the child cries out, & bears  
Its own sad message to my father's ears.  
The babe he caught: and feigned rites espies:  
The Palace rung with his incensed cries.  
As gentle gales cause trembling seas to quake,  
As sof● southwinds light Aspen leaves do shake:  
So mightst  seen my quiv'ting limbs with fear:  
To move the bed, that did my burden bear:  
When in he rushed; prool liming my disgrace:  
And scarce withheld his hands from off my face.  
I blushing, answered in dumb tears alone:  
Through gelid fear my tongue was speechless grown  
The child he then common ●s be made a prey  
To beasts, or laid in some untrodden way.  
Which strait cried out: as if (poor soul) it knew  
Its Grandsire's wrath, and did for mercy sue.  
What heart I then had, I to censure leave,  
Which, brother, you may by your own conceive.  
When fore mine eyes my ravished child was borne,  
To be by mountain wolves in pieces torn.  
My father gone, I (filled with black despair)  
Beat my barred breast, and bloodless cheeks did tear.  
When soon a sad faced guard appears, and bears  
This harsh unwelcome message to mine ears.  
Eole to thee this sword (than gave it) sends:  
And bids by merit know to what it tends.  
We know, said I: well shall this sword be tried:  
My father's gifts I'll in my bosom hide.  
And meanest thou thus to grace my nuptial hour?  
And raise thy daughter's wealth by such a Dowry?  
Mocked Hymen, hence thy bridal Tapers take,  
And nimbly these detested roofs forsake.  
You Furies with your brands to me retire,  
That from you flame● may spring my funeral fire.  
And may ye (Sisters) mindful of my state,  
All better marry, moved by better fate.  
What hath my poor child done? by what offence,  
Can that scarce borne its grandsires wrath incense?  
Alas! he could not merit death: no, he  
(Innocuous) for my crimes, must punished be.  
Oh! son, thy mother's grief and wild beasts pray!  
Untimely rap't hence, on thy births (cursed) day!  
Thou wretched pledge of my unlucky love!  
One day thy first, one day thy last did prove.  
I was not suffered to embalm with tears  
Thy corpses, or on thy tomb to strew my hairs.  
Not one cold kiss I from thy lips received;  
But am of thee by savage beasts bereaved.  
Dear soul! I soon myself will follow thee,  
Nor mother long, nor childless will I be.  
And thou, oh brother! hoped for but in vain,  
Collect thy child's small relics that remain,  
And with its mother place them in one tomb;  
Let one cold urn (though strait) lend both a room.  
Forget me not, but let me have thy tear;  
Nor lover thou, thy lover's body fear.  
Thy dying sister, last request, I pray  
Perform: whilst I my Fathers will obey.    

THE ARGUMENT of MEDEA'S Epistle to JASON.  
IAson being arrived at Colchos then in his flourishing & vigorous youth, and adorned with all the exquisite accomplishments of form & behaviour; was by Medea, daughter of Aeta, king of Colchos no sooner seen, then fancied, & by her (upon promise of Marriage) aided in the effecting his designs with whom, (together with the golden fleece,) he makes a difficult escape and lands in Thessaly. There she reduces feeble Aeson to fresh and lusty youth. There she persuades Pelias his daughters to let out their Father's blood; whose veins she promised again to fill with ●outhfull heat, but deceitfully left them guilty of Parricide In the end (for these, and other more heinous crimes by her committed) Jason cast her off; and takes to wife Creusa, daughter of Creon king of Corinth, upon which the furioufly enraged Medea, wrote this her complaining, suing and menacing Epistle unto him.  

WHat time I Queen of Colchos did impart  
To thee my help, when thou implor'dst my Art;  
The Sisters, that do Mortals fates dispense,  
Should have unwound my thread of life, and sense.  
Well might Medea then have died: what breath  
Since that I've drawn, hath been a pain, a death.  
Ah mell why ere by youthful arms from Greece,  
Came Pelian keel to fetch the Phrygian Fleece?  
Why e'er at Colcheses, was thy Argos viewed?  
Why e'er drunk Grecian troops of Phasian flood?  
Why more than aught, pleased me thy golden hair?  
Thy tongues false grace, and sweetness, feature rare?  
No doubt (since strange the ship that touched our shore  
And in her men bold, and resolved bore)  
Th'ungrateful jason had unphysickt, run  
On Bulls flamed breath, or on their horns had gone.  
Or sown his seeds, and foes as many seen:  
And tiler so, of tillage slain had been.  
How much deceit (vile wretch) with thee had died!  
And how much ill had been to me denied!  
'Tis some delight t'upbraid ungrateful men:  
That means I'll use, and so revenge again.  
When hither first thou stee●'dst with doubtful helm,  
And first settest foot within my father's realm:  
There I was then, what here's this Bride of thine 3  
How rich was hers, so rich a Sire was mine.  
This, Ephyre, did with double seas command;  
That, snowy Scythia, and the Pontic strand.  
The youthful Greeks' A●e●● entertains,  
Embroidered couches hold the following trains.  
There first I saw, first knew thee who thou wert;  
That time did prove first ruin of my heart.  
I saw and perished, burnt as 'fore some shrine,  
Or sacred Altar doth a torch of Pine.  
Fair was thy hue, and me my fate drew on:  
Mine eyes quite dazzled, by thine eyes bright Sun.  
Which soon thou spy'dst: for who can love conceal?  
That doth itself by its own flames reveal.  
Mean time the king (hard task) commands that thou  
The Bulls stiff necks shouldst yoke to th'unfelt plow.  
Mars' Bulls they were, dreadful at more than horn:  
Their very breath, a fire, within them borne.  
Brasse-hooved: their nostrils armed too with the same:  
Like Tunnels, black with the evapored flame.  
Besides the seed which men for corn would yield,  
Thou wert enjoined to sow in furrowed field.  
Who with born blades would strait have sought thy foil,  
A thankless crop to recompense thy toil.  
Thy last attempt, was by some charm to keep  
The wakeful dragon in a powerful sleep.  
Thus spoke Aeetes: when with heavy look  
Each ●ose; and th'board the purple beds forsook.  
How fare then pray was thy Creusa's dowry?  
And Creon's daughter, Creon great in power.  
Sad thou went'st thence: whom I with eyes pursue.  
Bedewed with tears, and softly bad adieu.  
Deep wounded to my careful couch I went,  
And what of night remained, in tears I spent.  
The dreadful Bulls, the baleful seed, the sly,  
And sleepless Dragon, still before mine eye.  
Here love there fear, and fear increased my flame:  
With th'rising Sun to me my sister came.  
Where, with torn hairs, and on my face she found  
Me sadly lying, with my tears all drowned.  
She help for th'Miniae asked; what she did crave,  
The same, to the Aesonian youth we gave.  
A grove there is, with spreading oaks thick sprays  
All gloomy dark: nor pierced by Phoebus' rays.  
Wherein stands Dial's Fane, at least did stand,  
Her golden image wrought by barbarous hand.  
Perhaps with me that's too forgot: but there  
We came: when thus thou 'ganst to speak me fair,  
" Fortune to thee hath given the power, and will  
" Of all my hopes: thou canst both save and kill.  
" Suffice that power: (if such a power can please.)  
" Yet I preserved, thy fame shall more increase.  
" By these my ills, which thou mayst help, I pray;  
" By thy descent, and Grandsire, king of day.  
" By triple Diane's sacred mystery,  
" And by what gods soe'er here worshipped be.  
" Fair virgin pity me, oh pity mine!  
" By thy deserts chain me for ever thine.  
" And so a Grecian you not scorn in mind,  
" (But whence should I expect the gods so kind?  
" Sooner my soul shall flit to empty air,  
" Than I enjoy a spouse but thee (breast fair)  
" Be witness she who sways the Genial band,  
" And th'goddess in whose Temple now we stand.  
These, or the least of these, a simple maid  
Might soon have moved, hands joined with hands to aid.  
Besides thy tears I saw, doth guile there dwell?  
Thus was I won, thus by thy falsehood fe●l.  
Safe thou the brasse-hooved Bulls didst yoke, and tear  
The solid earth with thy directed share.  
Sowd'st it with Serpent's teeth, in stead of corn:  
Whence strait a ready armed so was born.  
As I, who gave the medicine, yet for fear  
Grew pale, to see a troop such weapons bear.  
Until that earthborn race, in their own blood,  
(A horrid deed) their hostile hands imbrued.  
The Dragon than came on, with hissing sound;  
And crackling scales, his wreathed breast swept the ground.  
Where was thy dowrythen, thy royal bride.  
And Istbmos that doth double seas divide?  
'Twas I alone, even I, who now am thought  
So barbarous, hurtful, poor, a thing of nought:  
That with charmed sleeps, closed up his burning eyes,  
And sately purchased thee thy golden prize.  
My Sire, and country I betrayed, forsook,  
And what mighthap in exile under taken.  
My virgin-treasure made a thief's base prey:  
From mother, and loved sister fled away.  
But thee, dear brother, fled I not: oh! here  
My hand, and letter faint, and fail, for fear.  
What it dared do, it now dares scarce to write:  
So, so, with thee, should I have died by right.  
Norfeared I: (for me then what fear could seize?)  
Stained with fresh guilt, t'embarke on dangerous seas.  
Where be the gods? why suffered we not there?  
Thou for deceit, for my credulous ear.  
Oh! would those justling Isles had met: between  
Which, our pashed bones, with thine might mixed have been.  
Or Scylla sent us to her barking den;  
Scylla, that aught to plague ungrateful men.  
O● had that whirlpool, raging gulf, our graves  
Afforded us, in her Trinacrian waves.  
But safe, and victor to Aemonia thou  
Art come; and to thy gods paid Fleece, and vow.  
What need I Pelias daughters here relate,  
Harmful in pity, and their father's fate?  
Though others blame, thou needs must praise me still,  
For whom so often I was urged to ill.  
And dar'dst thou yet (oh had I words in woe)  
Dar'dst thou from Aesons house, to bid me go?  
Yet. charged, I went: my children both with me,  
And what forsakes me never, love of thee.  
But to mine ears when chanted Hymen came,  
And kindled tapers, shone with dazzling flame:  
When lowd-breathed Shawms, your Hymencals sang,  
To me more harsh than warlike Trumpets clang,)  
Much, much I feared, though not so great an ill.  
My breast with heart-benumming cold grew i'll.  
The people ran, and Hymen, Hyphen cry:  
The more my woe, how much the noise more nigh.  
My servants wept, yet strove to hide their tears:  
For willing who would tell such ills, such fears?  
Nor would myself have known it: but (too true)  
(As known) my mind within me heavy grew.  
When of my boys the youngest, who before  
Earnest to see, stood at the outn  door:  
Hence mother, hence, my father comes, he cried,  
And clothed in gold, drawn by chained steeds doth ride  
I strait with vesture rend, invade my breast;  
Nor was my face free from my hands arrest.  
Once thought I to have snatched amid the press,  
The rosy chaplets from thy braided Tress.  
Scarce I forbore (dressed as I was) to cry  
he's mine, and scarce from laying hands on thee.  
Wronged Sire rejoice, ye Colchians too, and boast  
These said infernals of my brother's ghost.  
For forsook (my Country, Kingdom lost before)  
Even by my Spouse, to me all these, and more.  
Serpents I overcame, and Bulls so fell,  
Yet one poor man alas! I cannot quell.  
And I, who raging fires by Art put by,  
Mine own close flames, I can by no means fly.  
Me now my charms, my spells, my simples fail,  
The goddess now, nor Hecate ought avail.  
The day's unpleasant, and the nights of rest  
Devoid: no gentle slumbers stroke my breast.  
I who mine own cannot, the Serpent's eyes  
Yet closed: mine Art others, not me supplies.  
The limbs I saved, an harlot now retains,  
And reaps the fruit of my solicitous pains,  
Whilst thou, perhaps, unto thy nice-fond fair  
Boasting, to please her more inquisitive ear,  
Vent●st 'gainst my face and manners crimes at will.  
She laughs, and jeers at my defective ill.  
We I, let her laugh; high throned in Tyrion dye.  
She once shall weep, and flames as scorching try.  
Whilst fire, whilst sword, whilst deadly poisons be,  
No foe Medea hath, shall e'er scape free.  
Yet to thy heart, if prayers can passage find,  
Lend ears to words, fare, fare, beneath my mind.  
I am thy suppliant now, who oftwered mine:  
And prostrate 'fore thy feet my limbs decline.  
Though I seem vile, yet for my birth's sake hear,  
Full hard their stepdame will they find, I fear.  
Ah! tootoo much they thee resemble, who  
Oft as I view, tears do mine eyes bedew.  
Now by the gods, and by my grandsires fire,  
My merits, Babes, dear pledges, I require.  
Restore thy bed, for which I all did flee:  
And to thy words add faith, and help to me.  
Against nor men, nor Bulls, I crave thy aid,  
Nor that the Dragon should asleep be laid:  
For thee alone, whom I deserved, I sue.  
By whom a parent, I was parent too.  
Demandest a Dowry? I in that dreadful field,  
Thou plow'dst for golden fleece, a dowry did yield.  
That Fleece my dowry was; the which, if I  
Should ask again, thou wouldst again deny.  
Thou safe, art it: and Grecian youth beside:  
Go now, and weigh with these, Sisyphian pride.  
That thou dost live, enjoyest that spouse of thine;  
And that thou now canst be ingrate, is mine.  
Whom e'er't be long, I will— But to foretell  
The pains what boots? wrath with high threats doth swell.  
Where rage shall lead, I'll follow, & it may be  
Thou mayst lament, as I, t'have trusted thee.  
The God that rules my breast, behold these ends:  
I know not what great act my mind intends.    

THE ARGUMENT OF LAODAMIA'S Epistle to PROTESILAUS.  
PRotefilaus with the rest of the Greeks', sailing for Troy, through tempest was driven into, and a long while detained in Port Aulis. Which Laodamia understanding, wrote unto him this Epistle: wherein she bewails his absence, relates unto him her nightly troubled dreams, puts him in mind of the Oracle, which had pronounced that he who first landed on the Trojan strand, should perish by th● sword: and implores his care both of himself and her. Thi● was the subject of her lines: Thus she begun.  

TO thee thy Laodamia health doth send:  
And wisheth where'tis sent, 'tmay thither tend  
'Tis famed in Aulis, that you wind-bound lie:  
Ah! where were winds when thou from me didst fly  
Then stubborn waves should have thine oars withstood  
〈◊〉 aging seas had at that time been good.  
More Risses, charges more, to thee my dear  
I then had given, and more had told thine ear.  
But headlong wert thou hurried hence; pressed gales  
By sailors wished, not me, strait swelled thy sails.  
A wind for seamen fit, not those that loved:  
Too soon was I from thy loved arms removed.  
Lame were my words from faltering tongue that fell;  
Scarce brought I forth that sadder word, Farewell.  
The winds blew stiff, and ample sails did stretch:  
And now thou'rt passed mine eyes discerning reach.  
Yet whilst I might (dear sight) I strongly viewed;  
And thy departing eyes with mine pursued.  
But when nor fleeting sails I saw, nor thee;  
Nor ought but th'uncouth sea was left to see,  
With thee my light too fled: and all around  
Beset with sudden darkness, fell to ground.  
Whom scarce thy father, nor Acaslus old,  
Or mother could revive with water cold.  
A pious deed, yet fruitless did they try:  
Why did they not permit me then to die?  
Together with my life my griefs I found:  
And lawful love my loyal breast did wound.  
No care have I to brayed my curious Tress,  
Or  my limbs in an embroidered dress,  
Like those the horned god strikes with viny spear,  
Where fury leads, I run; now here, now there.  
Phylacean matrons to me come, and cry  
Put on thy royal robes Laodame.  
Shall I wear garments of a Tyrian stain?  
And thou fierce wars at Ilium's walls sustain?  
I braid my locks, and thou an helmet wear?  
I gentle robes, thou stubborn armour bear?  
No (as I may) attired like thee I'll go:  
And parallel thy warfare in my woe.  
Thou fatally-faire Paris, mayst thou prove  
As bad a foe in fight, as guest in love.  
Would Helen's face thou hadst not liked, or she,  
(Though seen) might never so have fancied thee.  
And thou that toil'st thy ravished wife to fre●  
To some how sad a Victor wilt thou be!  
The gods from us the ominous chance remove:  
May my sase spouse yield up his arms to jove.  
But yet at thought of that dire war, in streams,  
Tears flow, like snow, thawed by the midday beams.  
Troy, Xant, I'd, Simois, Tenedos, when heard,  
Are names that in their sounds are to be feared.  
Nor would h'have dared a rape, but that he knew  
To keep it won: and what his strength could do.  
'Tis famed he came in glittering gold clothed o'er;  
As one that on his back Troy's riches bore.  
Well stored with ships, & men, wars fuel; and  
Almost his Empire under his command.  
Those troops which had the power to vanquish thee  
Helen, I fear to us may noxious be.  
One, Hector, but who 'tis, I do not know,  
Paris reports, deals with a deadly blow.  
Him fly, if care of me in thee do rest:  
Still bear his name graved in thy mindful breast.  
And as from him, so from the rest still flee,  
And think all there so many Hectors be.  
And say, whens'ere thou dost to fight prepare,  
My Laodamia willed me to forbear.  
If Troy must needs fall by a Grecian foe,  
Without thy wounds, O let it find its woe.  
Let Menelaus fight, and strive t'obtain  
From Paris, that which Paris took again.  
And foil in arms whom he in cause o'erthrows,  
Wives must be sought, though midst a thousand foes.  
Thy cause fare different is, fight thou to scape:  
And safe retreat unto thy Lady's lap.  
Ye dardan's 'mongst so many, spare me one:  
Nor cause my blood from out his body run.  
Alas! he's none of those with glittering sword  
Can combat, or stern breast to foes afford.  
He better may, whom bridal flames do move:  
Let others fight, let Protesilaus love.  
And him I fain would have called back: my will  
Served well; though tongue (for Omen bade) stood still.  
When from thy father's gates thou wentest towards Troy  
Th'obnoxious threshold did thy foot annoy.  
I saw't, and sighed: and murmuring soft did say,  
Be this a sign of thy return, I pray.  
These I relate, to quail thy adventurous mind:  
But do thou cause my fears may turn to wind.  
Besides, by fate he doomed to death doth stand,  
Who first of Greeks' sets foot on Trojan strand.  
And cursed is she first wails her slaughtered love:  
Grant heavens in this thou mayst a coward prove.  
'Mongst thousand ships let thine the thousandth be:  
And last of all disturb the troubled sea.  
Be thou the last from out the ship doth come:  
The land thou seekest, is not thy native home.  
At thy return then plied, with sails and oar;  
And strive with nimble steps t'attain the shore.  
Whether the Sun be set, or beams displays,  
Thou art my care, my grief, in nights, in days.  
But most in nights; a time for such most sweet,  
Whose wide-stretcht arms their wished embracements meet.  
Vain dreams I catch at, lonely laid at ease,  
And whilst I want true joys, even false joys please.  
But why pale-hewed dost thou so oft appear?  
And seem with sad complaints to strike mine ear?  
With which affright, I shades of night invoke,  
Nor wants an Altar my appeasing smoke.  
Incense, and tears, I offer on each shrine;  
Which sparkling blaze, like flames, by powr'd-on-wine.  
When shall I thee again embrace? and lie  
Languishing, rap't in loves sweet ecstasy.  
Or when both joined in sportful bed wilt thou  
The splendid actions of thy warefare show?  
Which whilst thou tellest, though me they joy to hear,  
Mixed kisses shalt thou give, mixed kisses bear.  
By these sweet pauses words more graceful be:  
By such delays the tongue becomes more free.  
But when the sea I mind, the winds, and Troy,  
Solicitous fear doth all my hopes destroy.  
Besides, your wind-bound navy much dismays  
My thoughts, through adverse streams you force your ways.  
Who 'gainst the wind would seek his home? yet you  
Fly from't, and though the seas forbidden, you'll through.  
Even ' Neptune's self debars you from his Town:  
Men whither rush you? to your homes each one.  
Where fly ye Greeks'? hark how the winds say no?  
Not chance, but heaven hath wild you must not go.  
But why divine I? Omens hence: and may  
Soft-breathing gales afford you prosperous way.  
The Trojan dames I envy, that can stand  
And see their slaughtered friends, their foes at hand,  
The new made wife, her husband's head will there  
Clasp in an helm, and give him Arms to bear.  
Arms will she give, and with those Arms a kiss:  
An office unto both of equal bliss.  
And ushering forth her spouse with charge of love,  
Command him haste, and yield his Arms to love.  
He mindful of her charge, and recent doom,  
Will wisely fight, and have an eye towards home.  
When she at his return his helm and shield  
Will lose, and rest in her warm bosom yield.  
But I in doubt still live, and fear makes me  
Think all that might, already done to be.  
Yet in strange coasts whilst thou stern Arms dost bear,  
In lively wax have I thy visage here.  
That do I court, to that words only due  
To thee I give, and kind embraces too.  
Trust me 'tis more than what it seems to be:  
Had it a voice, each one would swear 'twere thee.  
That view I, that for real spouse retain,  
And plain to that, as it could speak again.  
By thy return, and corpse (dear Saints to me)  
And by our minds and wedlock's parity.  
By thy loved head (which decked with silver hair  
May I behold, and safe brought home) I swear.  
Where thou commandest I'll follow, whether thou  
Or living art, or what I fear fare more.  
This charge my letters utmost clause shall be,  
Look to thyself, and have a care of me.    

THE ARGUMENT OF HIPERMNESTRA'S Epistle to Linus.  
Danaus' the son of Belus, had by sundry wives fistie daughters; his brother Aegyptus had as many sons: betwixt these Aegyptus desires wedlock. But Danaus (foretold by the Oracle, that his son-in-law should bereave him of his life) to avoid the match, sails to Argos. This contempt his brother storms at: and forthwith sends his sons with an Army, and strictly chargeth them, never to return unto him, but either with the head of Danaus, or his daughters for their wives. Danaus' by s●ege is compelled to yield unto his brother's suit. But the virgins were commanded by their father, on the marriage night, (with weapons for that purpose given them) to destroy their husbands: which they all (excepting Hypermnestra) performed. But she awaked hers, and counselled him to take his slight. The morning come, Danaus finds the deed perpetrated by all save Hypermnestra: whom he most cruelly caused to be cast into prison: whence beneath her loading gyves, she writes unto her saved spouse this Epistle, entreating him either to rescue her from her miserable bondage, or if death should be her lot, to take care for her sepulture.  

TO thee, (that 'mongst so many didst decline  
Their wives dire steel) sends Hypermnestra thine.  
Chained in strong gyves, am I in prison penned;  
Being good, to me's a cause of punishment.  
And since no sword against thy throat I raised,  
I'm guilty made: which done, I'had then been praised▪  
Then so t'have pleased, thus let me guilty be:  
The●'s none can grieve, t'have hands from bloodshed free.  
Me let my sire with fire I never wronged,  
Consume, or lights to nuptial rites belonged.  
Or take with sword, which ill he gave, my life;  
That th'death the husband scaped, may seize the wife.  
Yet shall he never force my tongue to tell  
I do repent; it irks not t'have done well.  
Let Danaus, let my sisters, mourn their ill:  
Such sad events, such actions follow still.  
My heart at thought of that black bloodstained night,  
Yet quakes; and fear forbids my hand to write.  
She that her husband's death should have drawn on,  
Even shakes to write of murder never done.  
Yet I'll essay: when dubious glimmering light  
Had made days evening, and the morn of night.  
To the Pelasgians stately towers we came,  
To his armed guests doth Egypt welcome frame.  
On every side gold-garnisht lamps did shine,  
And impious fumes smoked on th'indifferent shrine.  
The people Hymen chant, who shuns their cry,  
And angry juno did her Argos fly.  
Behold the wine-gorged youths with clamours round,  
Their balmy locks with fragrant chaplets crowned:  
To bridal beds (their funeral piles) address:  
And fatal Down with death-doomed bodies press.  
And now with wine and sleep ore-load they lay:  
The peaceful town to silent rest gave way.  
When round about, me thought, the groans there slew  
Of slaughtred-men, and what I thought, was true.  
My blood strait failed: heat fled my limbs: and I  
Upon my new-tryed bed did trembling lie.  
As, moved by Zephyre, shake light ears of corn,  
A● poplar leaves by airs cool breath are borne:  
Even so; or more, shaken I; thou lay'dst secure:  
The wine thou drank'st, had soporiferous power.  
My fears exiled through my stern sire's command,  
I rose; and grasped the blade in quivering hand.  
'Tis truth I speak: the steel I thrice upheld,  
Which thrice together with mine arm rebelled.  
Yet, by my father's charge, still urged and made  
Bold, on thy guiltless throat the sword I laid.  
But fear, and pity, my attempts withstood.  
And my chaste hand abhorred that deed of blood.  
My robes I rend, my dangling Tresses wrung:  
And these few words breathed forth with murmuring tongue.  
" Thy father's cruel Hyp●rmnestra, tend  
" His will: thine husband to his brothers send.  
" But I a virgin am, and mild thereto:  
" With such dire tools weak hands have nought to do.  
" What though? take heart, & with joint courage run  
" With thy bold sisters, who by this have done.  
" No, if this hand could act a murderous deed,  
" Stained with its mistress gore, it than should bleed.  
" How 'cause they hold their uncle's realm, have they  
" Offended; since with strangers ' 'tmust away?  
" Suppose they death deserve, yet what's my ill?  
" What have I done, I may not good be still?  
" What's sword, or warlike weapons unto me!  
" Soft wool, and distaff fare more sitting be.  
T●us●: and with my plaints tears flowed withal:  
Which from mine eyes down on thy lim●s did fall.  
Whilst thou t'embrace, threw'st, thy drunk arms around.  
They'd almost by my sword received a wound.  
But I that feared my sire, his men, and day,  
With these my words chased thy dull sleep away.  
Rise Linus, rise, thou sole-surviving wight:  
Hast, or with thee 'twill prove eternal night.  
Affright thou startled'st up, sleep fled: dismayed  
Within my hand thou view'dst the dreadful blade.  
Ask the cause; whilst night serve, fly said I,  
Whilst night yet served, thou fledst, and I stayed by.  
And now 'twas morn, when Danaus came to see  
His slaughtered sons, the sum proved short by thee.  
Ill brooks he that escape of death in one,  
And grieves more acts of bloodshed were not done.  
Strait from my father by my Tresses trayld,  
(Is this Love's meed?) was I to prison hailed.  
Since first fair Io to a Cow was turned,  
And thencet'a goddess, Juno's ire hath burned.  
Alas! 'tis pain enough for her poor soul  
To lowgh; nor satisfy her I●ves control.  
On banks of liquid Sire she stood alone;  
And views large horns which erst were not her own.  
And as to speak she strove, she lowghed: afraid  
Of her strange form, and at her voice dismayed.  
Wretch whither fliest? and why in streams that fleet,  
Admirst thyself, and numbrest so thy feet?  
Thou whom once juno feared, who scornedst her rage,  
With leaves & sedges dost thine hunger suage.  
Cool springs thou drinkest, 'maz'd at thy form thou starest,  
Fearing the Arms should hurt thee which thou bearest.  
And who the mighty jove didst please erewhile,  
Once rich, liest naked on the naked soil.  
By seas, lands, kindred streams, thou wild didst stray:  
Seas, lands, and kindred streams do yield thee way.  
What is thy cause of flight, why roam'st thou so?  
Alas, thou canst not these thy looks forgo!  
What thou still fliest thou followest, and (too true)  
Thou lead'st thyself, and dost thyself pursue.  
At length where seven-mouthed Nil● to seas doth run,  
She changed her beasts, and human shape put on.  
But what need these gray-headed tales, when lo●●  
My years afford as ample themes of woe.  
My sire, and uncle both wage war; and we  
Fare from our home, and kingdom banished be.  
Whilst cruel he doth realm and sceptre sway,  
And needy we, with needy sire do stray.  
The remnant of my brothers left, is small;  
Whom I bewail, with those that wrought their fall.  
In brothers, sisters, equal loss I bear:  
And for both parts let fall my pitying tear.  
Lo! 'cause thou liv'st, am I reserved for pain,  
If virtue thus, what would my guilt sustain?  
Who late to hundred kin, was ne'er ally  
With one poor Brother living, now must dye.  
But thou dear Ly●us, if a care or thought  
Of me rests in thee; or my gifts thinkest aught;  
Or lend me help, or death; if I expire  
By stealth convey my corpse to funeral fire.  
And ●ombe my bones embalmed in many a tear▪  
And let my Marble this brief Distych bear.  
(An barshreward of love) the death before  
She saved her Spouse from, Hypermnestra bore.  
More would I write, but that the ponderous chains  
My hands o'erload, and fear my force restrains.    

THE ARGUMENT of PARIS his Epistle to HELEN.  
Parish sailing to Troy, as Ambassador to mediate for the restoring of his Aunt Hesione, was royally received by Menelaus: who immediately after his arrival sails to Crect, to dispose of his dead father's goods. His absence gave occasion to the young Prince to solicit his wife: The better to win her to his l●re, be writes unto her this artificial Epistle: wherein with admiration he extols her heautie, makes deep profession of his love's vaunts of his stately kindred, promises largely, and endeavours all that he may, to incline his beauteous hostess to yield unto his suit.  

HEalth to the beauteous Helen, Paris sends,  
Whose only health upon thy love depends.  
What shall I speak? or need my flames no tongue?  
My love already known but too too long.  
Though I could wish it hid, till time might rear  
And set our joys beyond the reach of fear.  
But ill I cloak it: who loves fire can hide?  
That by its proper flames is still descried.  
If yet thou doubtst what may my meaning prove,  
Thou hast my mind in these few words, I love.  
Pardon confession then, and with such grace  
Read thou t●e rest, as may become thy faces.  
I joy to think my lines received by thee:  
And hope persuades me once so I shall be.  
Which Loves fair mother perfect; nor in vain  
May I for thee, through her, this task sustain.  
For (that thou mayst not ignorantly sin)  
With heaven's advice I did this act begin.  
The prize is great, yet but my due I crave:  
Thee for my spouse bright Cytherea gave.  
She guide, Sigaean shores I left, and 'ssay  
In Phereclean keel my dangerous way.  
She calmed the waves, and gave me prosperous gales:  
Nor marvel, sea borne she, on seas prevails.  
As seas she calmed, so may she calm my breast,  
And bring my wishes to their wished rest.  
My flames with me I brought, not found them here;  
They, they, the causes of my journey were.  
For me nor storms, nor error, hither brought,  
Of purpose I Tanarian port have sought.  
Nor think me hither stored with wares to tend;  
The goods I have the favo'ring gods defend.  
Nor yet your Grecian cities to survey,  
Since mine own realms are fare more rich than they,  
Thee, thee I seek, whom golden Venus' grace  
Betrothed me, wished for ere I knew thy face.  
Thee mine Idaa saw, before mine eyes,  
When Fame had first drawn thine effigies.  
Nor let it yet thy strange amazement prove,  
That loves swift darts from far have caused me love.  
The fates have willed it: and lest their decree  
Thou break, receive these truths I'll tell to thee.  
When in my mother's womb detained I lay.  
She now full gone, and at th'expected day  
Dreamt that in stead of a wisht-birth, there came  
From her unburthend womb, a mighty flame.  
Affright she rose, and unto Priam told  
The same, which he doth to his Priest unfold:  
Who answers Paris sires should Ilium burn:  
Which I to these my flames of love do turn.  
My form and haughty mind, though I might seem  
Plebeian, showed I came of noble stem.  
A place in Ida's shady vales, unknown  
To most there is; with spreading Holmes o'ergrown.  
Where never bleating sheep, cliffe-climbing goat,  
Nor bellowing ox ere filled his greedy throat.  
Here whilst I leaned myself unto a tree,  
Dardanian seas, and lofty towers to see,  
The trampled earth me thought began to move:  
(ti's truth I speak, truth that thou'lt scarce approve)  
When (borne with winged speed) before mine eye  
Stood th'niece of Atlas, and fair Plione.  
(What lawful was to see be lawful told)  
Within his hand he held a rod of gold.  
When strait bright Venus, Pallas, heavens great Queen  
All gently lighted on the verdant green.  
Amazed I stood, my hairs stiffe-raised a bide:  
When cast off fear the winged Herald cried,  
thou'rt here a judge of beauty, stay and tell,  
Which of these three doth in rich form excel.  
And adds joves' charge thereto: which soon as said,  
His way unseen through empty air he made.  
My mind now roused, and somewhat bolder grown,  
I feared not to survey them one by one.  
All worthy seemed t'o'ercome, but yet I feared  
The glory could not 'mongst them all be shared.  
For one in looks did fare surpass the rest;  
As her thyself for Love's fair Queen had guest.  
So great a strife there was to overcome,  
As with large gifts each sought to buy my doom.  
Jove's wife a realm, Pallas doth virtue boast,  
As I 'twixt great, and good, was almost lost.  
When Venus smiling said, let not the sense  
Of these possess thee, filled with harsh suspense.  
I'll give thee love, to thy embraces won,  
Shall the fair Leda's more fair daughter run.  
This said for gifts, and form, the chief approved;  
Triumphant to her heavenly sphere she moved.  
Mean while (my fortune now more prosperous grown)  
By certain signs I Priam's son am known.  
Received, the Court with joy was filled, and all  
In Troy, that day still keep a festival.  
As I seek thee, so maids sought me, though vain,  
Whose laboured wish thou mayst alone attain.  
Great Princes daughters, nobles liked me well,  
In nymphs a care, and love of me did dwell.  
Whose births and forms were both despised by me,  
When once I entertained a hope of thee.  
Thee in the day my fancy views: in night  
Thee my delicious dreams present my sight.  
Present what wouldst, that absent thus didst please?  
I burned, though fare the sire that did me seize.  
Nor more to hope would I indebted be,  
But meant t'obtain my wishes through the sea.  
Strait Trojan Pines by Phrygian Axe were field:  
And all trees else for shipping useful held.  
Sceepe Gargarus was robbed of woody crown,  
And store of Timber Ida sent me down:  
Strong Okes for ships substantial keels were laid,  
Whose ample sides were with crooked ribs arrayed.  
Saile-yards, tall masts, and sails on them we place,  
And carved gods our painted vessels grace.  
But in the ship in which I sought my joy,  
Stood my loves surery; Venus and her boy.  
My navy now past Arts last labouring hand,  
Strait (onward) for Aegean seas I stand.  
My sire and mother both did urge my stay,  
And strove to hinder my intended way.  
My sister too with hairs all loosely dressed,  
Even when our sails for lucky gales were pressed.  
Where fliest she cried: thou'lt bring back flames with thee  
Thou know'st not what a fire thou seek'st through sea.  
And true she spoke; those very fires are found,  
And scorching love my tender breast doth wound.  
The Port I quit, and helped by furth'ring wind,  
Unto thy shores, Oebalian nymph, inclined.  
Thy spouse received me kindly: nor was this  
Done but by purpose of the Deities.  
And whats'oere rare, or conspicuous be,  
Or worth the sight in Sparta, showed to me.  
But I, whose fancy still on thee did lie,  
Can let no other object greet mine eye.  
Whom when I saw, amazed I stood; unwares  
I felt my heart to fage with new-sprung cares.  
Such looks as I remembered, such a grace,  
When she my judgement sought, had Cypris face.  
Hadst thou with her in that acquaint strife been seen,  
Fair Venus' palm still in suspense had been.  
Large Eulogies 'tis true, there rumoured be,  
Nor is there land that's ignorant of thee.  
In Phrygia none, none from the Suns up rise,  
With thee for beauty bears an equal prize.  
Yet trust me, all thy praise to truth gives place;  
Fame hath been almost envious 'gainst thy face.  
More here I find, than she ere promised, by  
Thy real form, thy fame doth conquered lie.  
Nor without cause th'all-knowing Theseus loved,  
And worthy him, thee for a rape approved.  
Whilst in the Cirque (thy country's custom then)  
Thou naked sport'st thyself midst naked men.  
That thee he forced I like: restored admire:  
So good a prey did constant guard require.  
First from my bloodied trunk should part my head,  
 thou shouldst have been ravished from my bed.  
Should ere these hands of mine thy limbs forgo?  
Or living let thee leave my bosom so?  
And if restored, I something yet had ta'en,  
Nor wholly should have Venus idly laid.  
Or I thy virgin fruit had cropped: or what  
Might have been taken without the loss of that.  
Yield then to Paris, and his firm love try:  
Whose flames, in funer all flames shall only dye.  
Thee I preferred before a kingdom's state,  
Proffered to me by juno but of late.  
And so I might thine I vorie neck embrace,  
Virtue (though Pallas gift) was thought but base.  
When the three Power disclosed on Ida's hill,  
Their naked beauties to my censuring skill.  
Yet grieve I not, nor think my choice is ill:  
My mind stands fixed unto my first vote still.  
This only boon (oh! wots thy all this toil!)  
Of thee I crave, give not my hopes the foil.  
No base-born wretch it is that sues to thee,  
Nor shalt my wife with loss of credit be.  
If thou enquirest, thou'lt find that Jove's our kin,  
Electra too, besides the rest between.  
My Sire rules Asia, than the which there's found  
No land more rich, almost without a bound.  
There shalt innumerous Cities, roofs of gold,  
And temples that become their gods behold.  
There Troy thou'lt see, and Turrets that aspire  
On walls, first raised by the Phaebeian Lyre.  
What need I here the populous crowd relate?  
The land's scare able to sustain its weight.  
Troy's dames will meet thee in a thronging train,  
Scarce will the streets the Phrygian wives contain.  
How oft thou'st call Achaia poor, and bare!  
When each house here is worth a City there.  
Yet let not Sparta be contemned by me,  
The land thou'rt borne in needs must happy be.  
Yet Sparta's small, thou worthy pomp and grace:  
That place doth suit but ill to such a face.  
A face that should in various dress be dight,  
And each day revel in a new delight.  
When thou our men's attire thus rich dost see,  
What habit (thinkest thou) will the women's be?  
O be not coy then, nor a Trojan scorn  
For spouse, fair nymph, in famed Therapnae borne.  
He was a Trojan, and our kin, who now  
Allays Jove's Nectar with his cooling snow.  
A Trojan Tithon was, yet rapt away  
By her who gives night bounds, and birth to day.  
A Trojan he, with whom Loves dame is said  
T'have dallied oft in the Idaean shade.  
Nor do I think Atrides even by thee,  
For years, and form, would be compared with me.  
No father-in-law we bring, to cause the Son  
From his dire banquets with scared Steeds to run.  
No grandsire stained with slaughter of his kin,  
That gives to seas a Title through his sin.  
No Ancestor of ours in Stygian lake  
Gapes at vain fruit, midst streams, nor thirst can slake  
But why these vaunts? if their ally thy bed  
Possess, joves' forced to be this houses head.  
That vile unworthy wretch (oh shameful spite)  
Freely enjoys thy sweet embrace all night.  
By me, except at board, thou scarce art spied,  
In which short space I pain enough abide.  
Such feasts I wish may to my foes redound,  
As I oft meet with when the Table's crowned.  
I hate my entertainment, loatheed, when I  
Behold that clown on thy fair neck to lie.  
And fretting vex, (but what need this be known?)  
When thy choice limbs he wraps within his gown.  
If (killing sight) ye do to kiss begin,  
To bar my sight I hold the cup between.  
At each close hug mine eyes to ground I throw,  
My meat within my mouth doth irksome grow.  
Oft have I sighed, and noted too the while  
(Fair wanton) from my sighs, to spring thy smile.  
Oft I with wine have sought to quench my flame,  
But that, like fire, in fire, more fierce became.  
To shun such sights, with head reversed I've laid,  
Yet hope of thee called back mine eyes again.  
What shall I do? they are a grief to see,  
Yet greater grief to lose the sight of thee.  
Well as I may I cloak these flames of mine,  
Yet even dissembled love doth clearly shine.  
To thee alas! full we I my wounds are known,  
And would to God they were to thee alone.  
Howoft, tears issuing, have I turned awry,  
Lest he should see, and ask the reason why?  
How oft have! some amorous tale begun,  
Still gazing till my whole discourse were done?  
And in feigned names bewrayed my love to thee:  
'Tis I that lover am, 'tis I am he.  
Oft, that I so more lavishly might prate,  
Have I become a drunken counterfeit.  
Once I remember thy lose garments fell,  
And to mine eyes did thy naked breast reveal.  
Breasts that for white, with newfallen snow contest,  
Pure milk, or jove when he thy mother pressed.  
And ravished with a sight did so excel,  
The wreathed goblet from my fingers fell.  
If thou thy daughter kiss, I not refrain,  
But with a kiss take that kiss off again.  
Supinely laid oft sung of ancient love,  
And by a beck some secret sign would move.  
Late I essayd by flattering words to woe  
The help of Clymene, and Aethra too.  
Who answered in the dialect of fear,  
And left me in the midst of all my prayer.  
Would heaven would thee some combats prise decree.  
That so thou mightst become the victors fee.  
Then, as Hippomenes Allanta bore  
From all the suitors foiled in race before;  
And as to Phrygia Hippodomia came:  
So like a Queen shouldst thou have done the same.  
As fierce Alcides' rent Achelous' horn,  
(For thy embrace fair Deianira borne.)  
With like effect my courage should take course,  
And show thou wert sole subject of my force.  
But now nought rests for me, but to entreat  
Or humbly (so thou please) to kiss thy feet.  
Oh thou! thy brothers only glorious grace!  
And, but that kin, well worthy joves' embrace.  
Or may I bear thee to Sygaean strand,  
Or be entombed here in Taenarian land.  
With no slight scars my breast is touched; but sound  
Rooted in inmost marrow, lies my wound.  
And right (I mind) Cassandra spoke when she  
Said that an heavenly shaft should light on me.  
Cease then to scorn a fore-driv'n lover; so  
May to thy wish the gods propitious grow.  
Much could I say, to tell my tale outright,  
Receive me to thy bed in silent night.  
What art ashamed? dost blush at it? and dread  
To violate the bond of lawful bed?  
Ah! foolish wretch; nay rustic may I say,  
Thinkest such a face can e'er want sins Allay.  
Or change thy face, or mind, one needs must be,  
"  life and beauty seldom can agree.  
jove joys in stealths. Venus' the same doth love,  
Such sports as these, gave thee a sire of jove.  
'Tis strange, if any force in love do last,  
That joves', and Leda's daughter, should be chaste.  
Then live thou chaste, when thee my Troy shall see;  
And mayst thou know no other crimes but me.  
Now let's do that which marriage hour shall mend.  
If Venus did not vainly things pretend.  
And this, though not his words, his deeds exhort:  
H'hath left his home, lest he should spoil our sport.  
He could not have picked out a time more fit  
To visit Crect: oh man of monstrous wit!  
Nay when he went, saith he, I charge you bear  
To this my Trojan guest, respectful care.  
Yet thou neglectest thy husband's kind request,  
Nor hast a care of thy commended guest.  
And canst thou think this brainless wretch to be  
One that doth throughly prise thy form, or thee?  
No, no, he skills them not; for did he know  
He ne'er would trust them with a stranger so.  
Though thee my love nor words do move, yet see  
weare urged unto't by opportunity.  
We were stark fools, more void than he of sense,  
Should so secure a time pass idly hence.  
With his own hands he gave me unto thee,  
Pray use the honest man's simplicity!  
In empty bed thou these long nights dost lie,  
In empty bed so lie, (yet rest not) I.  
Let mutual joys us to each other join,  
Oh night! that wilt the clearest day outshine!  
Then would I swear by all the gods that be,  
And tie myself in sacred bands to thee.  
Then (if my steadfast faith do prove but true)  
I'll make thee quickly wish my country's view.  
If fear or shame possess thee, lest thy fame  
Suffer in following me, I'll bear the blame.  
Thy brother's deeds, and Theseus I pursue,  
Nor canst be moved with types more near, or true.  
Thee Theseus rapt, the two Leucippa they;  
And I'll the fourth be numbered in the fray.  
My Fleet's at hand, well maned, with armed array,  
Whilst O ears, and wind, shall wing us out our way.  
Queen-like shalt ride through each Dardanian town,  
Whilst the rout think some goddess is come down.  
wheresoever thou treadest, shall odorous scents abound,  
And slaughtered Victims strew the bloodied ground.  
My brothers, sisters, mother, sire shall bring  
Ilians, all Troy to thee their Offering.  
Alas! I've scarce spoke aught of what shall be:  
More than these lines can tell, thou there shalt see.  
Nor fear being rap't fierce war should us pursue,  
Or that all Greece should raise its force thereto.  
Pray who 'mongst former rapes did arms regain?  
Believe't, all fears are in this case but vain.  
Orythia fair the Thracians forced from fare,  
And yet Bistonion coasts were free from war.  
jason Medea in Tritonian keel,  
Conveyed, nor felt Thessalia Colchos steel.  
He who raped thee, rap't Phaedra; no Alarms  
Made Minos yet, nor raised his Crect to Arms.  
" Terror in these exceeds the danger still;  
" Things to be feared, to over-feare, is ill.  
Yet, so thou please, suppose a war ensue:  
Know I have force, and wounding weapons too.  
Nor is my Asia less in bounds, or force,  
Than Greece, a land well stored with men and horse.  
Nor yet Atrides Paris ought exceeds  
In manly courage, or in warlike deeds.  
Even but a boy, from slaughtered foes I gained  
My by-driv'n heard; and thence my name attained.  
Even but a boy, I men in fight o'erthrew;  
Deiphobus, Ilioneus too.  
Nor think in handfight I have only Art,  
Full well from fare, is fixed my thirled dart.  
Nor canst thou say, his youth did these fulfil,  
Nor furnish thy Atrides with my skill.  
Grant these, yet Hector can't his brother be:  
Who stands in stead of numerous troops to me.  
Thou knowst me not, nor what's my strength: no● yet  
What kind of man thou for thy spouse shalt get.  
Or by no war thou shalt be sought in fine,  
Or Doric camps shall yield in Arms to mine.  
Nor think I much to war for such a wife:  
Such great rewards may well maintain a strife,  
Nay thou, should the whole world contend for thee;  
To times eternal, fresh in fame shalt be.  
Then (gods still favouring) boldly leave the land.  
And with full faith, my plighted vows demand.    

THE ARGUMENT OF HELEN'S Epistle to PARIS.  
HEllen having received and read the Trojans letter, with much indignation reprehends and tannts her wanton guest, and (for the better maintaining of her honour) labours to confute, and withstand his reason's and persuasions: yet so, that amidst her slighting, her disdains, there appeared some glimmering ●f her affection: With cunning a long time sh● discourseth: sometimes she speaks him fair, then che●kes his hope; now promises, again exies, now believes him, anon she doubts. Till ●t length sh●●n part condescends to his desires; and adviseth him in the further prosecution o● his suit, not by letter to solicit her, but to impart b●t mind to Aethra and Clymene, her companions both, and of counsel with her in this design.  

SInce these thy lines have thus abused my sight,  
The glory of an answer seems not slight.  
And darkest thou then, than laws of nostage broke,  
A spoused wives firm vowed faith provoke?  
Was it for this, that tossed on boisterous seas,  
Taenarian port at length did yield thee ease?  
For this, that though thou cam'st from regions fare,  
Our palace gates did not thine entrance bar?  
That thou such wrong for my desert shouldst show?  
Thou that thus cam'st, wert thou a guest, or foe?  
I doubt not but my just complaint by thee  
Will be esteemed full of rustieitie.  
Rude let me seem, so not devoid of shame:  
And so my life knows no foul blot, nor blame.  
Although my face no sad-fained look doth hear,  
Though on my front no wrinkled brow I wear:  
Yet my fame's clear, I've lived without a stain:  
No lecher yet of me could boast his gain.  
Which makes me more to wonder, what gave head  
To thy rash boldness, thus to hope my bed.  
With me, because once Theseus made a escape,  
Am I deemed worthy of a second rape?  
Had I been won, the fault on me might lie;  
But being forced, what save to nill could I?  
Nor did he yet attain the fruit he sought:  
And except fear itself, I suffered nought.  
A kiss or so, struggling with much ado  
The wretch obtained, but ne'er could further go.  
With these thy vileness would not sated be:  
But heavens were kind, he was not like to thee.  
Untouched he let me go: his mild intent  
Lessened his crime: nay th'youth did sure repent.  
Theseus reputes that Paris might ensue!  
For fear my fame should not be blazed enough.  
Yet I'm not wrath (a lover who can chide?)  
If these thy flames no feigned slights do hide.  
And that I doubt: not 'cause my faith is small,  
Or that my face I do mistrust at all;  
But 'cause belief is oft a woman's woe,  
And men's words want of faith a gtaine or two.  
Let others sin: though rarea chaste wife be,  
Who shall forbid that rare one to be me?  
Because my mother seemed soon won, from thence  
Dost think I'll yield unto the like offence?  
My mother may a just excuse assume  
For her misdeeds; th' adulterer lurked in plume.  
I cannot say I knew not: nor call in  
An error to lend shadow to my sin.  
By th'author well did she her crime redeem:  
But by what jove, shall I pray happy seem?  
Thou vauntest thy stock, kin, many a Princely name,  
This house in worth is of sufficient fame.  
jove, Atreus Grandsire, Tantall's, Pelops. I  
And the Tyndarian Off spring here pass by.  
Leda gives jove my sire, who credulous soul  
took to her bosom a deceitful foul.  
Go now, and brag thy Troy's original,  
Aged Priam, and Laomedon withal:  
Both whom I reverence: yet know from thee  
Jove's removed five, from me but one degree.  
And though Troy's sceptres bear a potent sway,  
Yet do I think ours are no less than they.  
Grant it in wealth, in men, the upper hand;  
Yet nevertheless 'tis but a barbarous land.  
Such ample gifts thy rich-veined lines do move,  
As even may tempt a goddess unto love.  
But would I now to pass shames bounds begin;  
'Tis thou shouldst be my greatest cause of sin.  
Or I would blameless lead my life still true,  
Or rather thee than all thy gifts pursue.  
As them I scorn not, so the best I take  
Those, which the giver still doth precious make.  
But most thy love, thy toil I prise: for me  
That thy strong hopes should tempt the wide stretched sea.  
Full well at board (though with dissembling show  
I cloak the same) I note the tricks you ●oe.  
Sometimes thou viewst me with a wanton eye,  
Whose bold fixed gaze turns my chaste sight awry.  
Sometimes thou sight'st; then tak'st my cup, & where  
Thou saw'st me drink, thou straightways drinkst just there.  
How oft with fingers, & with speaking brow,  
Have I observed thee secret signs to show?  
Oft feared I lest my husband should have seen,  
And blushed in that they have not closer been.  
Oft to myself in whispers would I say,  
This wretch is shameless; nor from truth did stray.  
Oft have I read, writ on the board above  
in wine, my name; and underneathed, I love.  
Yet seemed to slight it with averted eye:  
Which, now, ah me! myself hath learned to cry.  
If sin I would, with such sweet slights as these,  
Thou both my heart, myself, and all mightst cease.  
Nor wants thou, I confess, a beauteous face,  
That might a virgin win to thy embrace.  
Guiltless by thee yet others happy prove:  
Then  my fame be foiled by foreign love.  
Learn then by me to want what's fair with ease:  
" 'tis virtue to abstain from things that please.  
How many thinkest have wished thy wish their prize?  
Hath Paris only the discerning eyes?  
Thou seest not more, but (bold) dost more essay;  
Nor hast more heart, but fare more front than they.  
Would with swift keel thou then hadst reached our  
When thousand suitors sought my virgin flower. shore  
Once seen, of thousands thou the first hadst been;  
My husband needs must pardon me herein.  
To things possessed thou comest, to tasted joys:  
And (slow) another what thou seekest, enjoys.  
Yet as I wish to be thy wife, so know  
Not 'gainst my will A rides holds me now.  
Cease then my breast with winning words to move,  
Nor seek to hurt whom thou pretendest to love.  
What lot chance gave me, let me keep the same;  
Nor wear the spoil of my defiled shame.  
But Venus me betrothed thee, when on Ide  
Three naked powers to thee themselves applied:  
A kingdom one, th'other a warlike name,  
And me the third, did for thy wife proclaim.  
I scarce believe such heavenly wights should come,  
And prostitute their beauty to thy doom.  
Grant this for truth, yet that needs false must be,  
Where I am said to be thy judgements fee.  
Nor am I so self proud, myself to deem  
So high-prized in a goddesses esteem.  
'Tis enough my beauty humane eyes approve;  
That Venus praised it shows her spite, not love.  
Yet I not doubt, but like those praises; why  
What my heart longs for, should my tongue deny?  
Nor think it much th●u wert believed so ill;  
" In things of weight our faith is tardy still.  
My chief joys then't'have pleased fair Venus' eyes,  
Next, to have seemed to thee the greatest prize:  
And that dame juno's (Helen's beauty heard)  
And Pallas gifts were not by thee preferred.  
So I thy virtue, I thy kingdom prove,  
Steeled were my heart, should I not lend thee love.  
But steeled I am not, yet to love decline  
Him whom I think can hardly  be mine.  
Why should I seek to plough the thirsty sands,  
Or follow hope which even the place withstands?  
I'm rude to Venus' thefts: nor e'er as yet  
(Heavens witness!) gulled my spouse, by any sleight.  
That now my words I writ in Tablets, know  
'T's a task they ne'er before did undergo.  
Happy who use it; I unskilled therein,  
Think all paths rough, that lead me to the sin.  
Even fear's a plague; abashed, me thinks I see  
All eyes (as wondering) set at gaze on me.  
Nor think I false; I've heard th'ill-murm'ring rout:  
And Aethra told me what they late gave out.  
Dissemble then: unless thou'dst quit thy suit.  
But why desist? dissemble, thou canst do't.  
Sport; but yet close: greater, not greatest sway  
W'enjoy, in that Atrides is away.  
Who now from hence to distant coasts is gone,  
Urgent, and just; was the occasion.  
I, when he once made doubt to go indeed,  
Said go my dear, and make return with speed.  
Pleased with the omen, me he kissed: and see  
Of house, my state, and guest,  care saith he.  
Scarce held I laughter; striving which to stay,  
Save, Sir I shall, I not one word could say.  
Forthwith, winds fair, his sails for Greece he set.  
But think not therefore all things lawful yet.  
So is he hence, that gone, he guards me here:  
knowst not that kings far-stretching arms do bear?  
Fame too, annoys us, for the more you praise  
My face, the more his jealous fears you raise.  
What was my pleasure, now's mine hurt become,  
Bettered had been if fame had still been dumb.  
Nor wonder that alone I'm left with thee:  
he's confident of my integrity.  
He doubts my face, but trusts my life; secure  
My faith, my beauty makes him fears endure.  
Thou warn'st me not to let time slip nor slight  
A hop so fit, caused by this simple weight.  
I would, and fear: my wills not yet exact,  
And my mind staggers in a dubious tract.  
My spouse is hence, thou mateless liest at ease,  
Thy beauty me, my beauty thee doth please  
Long nights with long discourse we entertain:  
Thou gentle, sweet, one house doth both contain.  
May I not live if all things plead not sin,  
I know not yet what strange fear holds me in.  
What ill thou fu'st would thou couldst well constrain,  
Then mightst thou soon shake off my coy disdain.  
Oft wrongs to some have been commodious held:  
How blessed were I, could I be so compelled!  
Yet whilst 'tis young, let's rather quench desire:  
Small flames by sprinkled water soon expire,  
And stranger's love is frail and errs as they,  
And when thou thinkest it sure then flies away.  
This Thoas, this did Minos' daughter prove,  
Who both embraced, and rued their lawless love;  
Nay thou (false man) though long time loved, art said  
T'have left Oenon●, that desertful maid.  
Nor canst thyself deny't: and know that we  
Had care to inquire all that we could of thee.  
Though thou in love wouldst constant fain prevail,  
Thou canst not see thy Phrygians pressed for sail,  
Whilst we confer, when hoped for night shall come,  
Strait blows a wind that serves to bear thee home.  
And in mid course of our delightful play,  
Our joy shall cease, and love with winds away.  
Shall I then go and see praised Troy, be known  
Daughter in law to great Laomedon?  
No, no, I weigh fame more than so: that she  
Should each where trumpet forth mine Obloquy.  
What might my Sparta think of me, or what  
All Greece, or Asia, or thy Troy to that?  
What might old Priam, and thy mother say,  
Thy brothers, and thy sister's tool pray?  
Nay thou, how canst me faithful hope, nor find  
Thine own example crucify thy mind?  
whosoever from fare enters Troy's harbour, he  
Will cause thy doubt, and by anxiety.  
How oft in age wilt me adultress call?  
Forgetful thou the author wert of all.  
Thou my faul●s cause and blamer wilt become:  
 that earth hide me in a darksome tomb.  
But I shall I●●an wealth enjoy, rich dyesse,  
And gifts fare larger than thy promises.  
Robes rarely wrought, and weeds of Tyrian die;  
Huge heaps of glittering gold shall greet mine eye.  
Pardon me Sir: I count not gifts so dear;  
I know not how that land may treat me there.  
If wronged, in Phrygia who'll my wrongs correct?  
Whence shall I Sires, whence brothers aid expect?  
Large vows false jason to Medea past,  
Yet she's expulsed from Aesons house at last.  
No Aeta there, to whom she might return,  
No mother, there no sister was to mourn.  
The like I fear not though, no more did she:  
" Hope's oft deceived through its own Augury.  
The Ships now tossed upon the billowie Maine,  
At leaving Port, found it a glass like plain.  
That brand much frights me, which with fiery gleans  
Ushered thy birthday in thy mother's dream.  
And those prophetic Saws which have foretold  
Pelasgian flames should Ilium's Towers enfold.  
And as fair Venus favours thee, alone  
'Cause she two Trophies, by thy judgement won:  
So fear I those, (if thy report be true)  
Whose claim was consured and condemned by you.  
Nay, should I go, I'm sure wars rage to feel:  
And our love's passage must be forced through steel.  
Can Hippodimia in her cause compel  
Thracians and Centaurs, to a war so fell?  
And thinkest my spouse, Brothers, and Sire, will show,  
Moved with a wrath more just, themselves more slow?  
Though thou for valour dost so largely vie,  
Trust me, thy face doth give thy words the lie.  
More fit for Venus thou, than Mars wouldst prove.  
Let Champions fight, but Paris only love.  
Let Hector you so praise, supply thy room.  
The loves sweet warfare better would become.  
Which I myself would try, could I but grow  
More bold, or wise, and Maids, if wife, will do.  
Perhaps e'er long I may more gentle be,  
(Shame laid aside) and yield my hands to thee.  
That thou dost urge a private conference,  
I'guesse your talk, and what you mean from thence▪  
But thou'rt too quick, thy crops but in the blade,  
Perhaps 'tmay prove commodious to have stayed.  
Thus fare my letter shows my mind's disease,  
Here cease this work, here my tired hand take case.  
What rests we will by Clymene confer,  
And Aethra, each my Mate, and Counsellor.    

THE ARGUMENT of LEANDER'S Epistle to HERO.  
AT Sestos, a maritime village in Europe, direlt the fair & lovely Hero: entirely affected by Leander, a noble youth, & dwelling on the opposite shore in Abydos, a village of Asia, to whom he nightly accustomed to swim through the Hellespont, and to return back again at break of day. At length the seas with boisterous winds incensed, debarred Leander of his wont passage. Seven nights were passed, since the earnest lover had seen his Hero's face. By chance, a hold and fea● less Mariner puts forth for Sestos: by whom he sends unto her this his following Epistle: wherein he recomforts her hopes, protests his faithful love, complains against the stormy tide, & vows (despite of rigorous seas) to swim to her at last; and put his life unto a hazard, rather than be debarred the sight of her, in whose love he avers, remains his only bliss.  

HEslth unto Hero doth Leander send;  
Which he had rather bring, would seas rage's end.  
Were the gods kind, and to my love agreed,  
With eyes unwilling thou these lines shouldst read.  
But they're not: why do they my wishes stay?  
Nor suffer me to run my wont way.  
The heavens thou seest pitch-blacke, with winds the seas  
Incensed: by ships scarce to be passed with ease,  
Save one, (and he too hold) by whom we sent  
Our lines to thee, from shore his journey bend.  
I was embarking too; but whilst w'had been  
Weighing anchor, all Abydos would have seen:  
Nor could I (as before) my parents blind,  
Nay th'love we would have hid, would then have shined.  
Forthwith I writ, and said, blessed letter go,  
A friendly welcome will her hand bestow.  
Perhaps to kiss thee with her rosy lips,  
Whilst the signed wax with Iv'rie teeth she rips.  
This softly said unto myself: the rest  
Was to my paper by my hand expressed.  
That hand, I wish might rather swim than writ,  
And bear me through th'accustomed waves with might.  
More fitting fare to clap the smooth browed flood,  
Yet now 'tmay serve to make me understood.  
'Tis now seven nights (to me a year and more)  
Since the hoarse sea with troubled waves did roar.  
In all this space, if one soft sleep did suage  
My breast, may feas hold on their woeful rage.  
Sad setting on some rock thy shores I see,  
Present in mind where body cannot be.  
Besides mine eyes unto thy tower addressed,  
Thy lights do spy, or seem to spy at least.  
Thrice I my garments on dry sands did lay,  
Thrice naked did attempt my dangerous way.  
But seas my youthful enterprise withstood,  
And over-whelmd me in the adverse flood.  
And thou of all the swift-winged winds the worst,  
Why thus with me dost wage a war so cursed?  
'Gainst me (stern wretch) not seas, thou ravest, ok me!  
What wouldst, if love had ne'er been known to thee!  
Cold as thou art, thou canst not yet deny,  
But in Actaan flames thou once didst fry.  
And should one then have barred the acry way  
To thy love's thefts, how wouldst have brooked it pray?  
Oh spare me then, and thy rough ways appease,  
So favour thee the kind Hippo●ades.  
But all's in vain, he murmurs 'gainst my prayers;  
And the moved waves not calms, but higher rears.  
Would me, Cree●s Artist, would his wings assign!  
Although th' lcarian shore doth nigh adjoin.  
I'd suffer all; so wings my corpse might bear,  
And leaving water, cut the liquid air.  
Mean time, whilst all things hinder, seas, and wind,  
My first loves stealths I will recall to mind.  
'Twas night ('tis still my joy to think) when I  
A lover, first my father's gares did fly.  
Strait casting off my clothes, and fear with these,  
I plunged myself into the sparkling seas.  
The moon afforded me her trembling rays,  
As an officious partner in my ways.  
Her viewed, I said, bright virgin aid my will,  
And to thy mind revoke the Latmean hill.  
Endymion keeps soft temper in thy heart:  
Thy friendly face to these my stealths convert.  
Thou, though a goddess, didst a mortal woe:  
And she's a goddess whom I now pursue.  
I pass her virtues, worthy breast, divine!  
Scarce doth such form, say in a goddess shine.  
Set Venus and thyself aside, and she  
The None-such is; be thine own judge e, and see.  
How much (when as thyself with silver ray  
Appear'st) dim stars unto thy fire give way.  
So much more fair, than a●l that fair we find  
Is she; dost doubt? troth than thy fight's but blind.  
Such words I spoke, or not unlike to these,  
A lustill 〈◊〉 I passed the yielding seas.  
The radiant Moon, with beam of glistering light  
Tinseled the ways; and made a day of night.  
No noise was heard, (all calmly quiet) lave  
The murmurs which the moved waters gave.  
Th' Halcyons only mindful that remain  
Of Ceyx's loss, notes sadly sweet did strain.  
Mine arms now ty'rd with forcing way along.  
Unto the summit of the waves I sprung.  
And spying light fare off, my fires said I  
Burn there, that place contains my deity.  
When strait fresh force supplied my wasted store,  
And seas seemed fame more gentle than before.  
Nor freezing streams annoy: for love (behold)  
Had armed me with a medicine 'gainst the cold.  
The nearer still I to thy shores drew nigh,  
More apt to swim, and fare more brisk was I.  
But thou once seen, unto my mind new force  
Thou gav'st, and madst'st me abler in my course.  
Then I by swimming striven to please thine eye,  
And threw mine arms to be discerned on high.  
Scarce from the seas could thee thy nurse restrain.  
Nor didst deceiveme, I perceived it plain.  
Nor could she so withhold thee, though she strave,  
But that thy foot was drenched in the wave.  
Arrived, thine arms and kisses crowned my rest:  
Kisses that gods might swim for, and be blessed  
Thine own fair shoulders, of rich robes didst bare,  
To furnish me, and dry'dst my wave wet hair.  
The rest the night, we, and thy tower do know,  
And that bright lamp, whose light did guide me through.  
As soon that night's delights may numbered be,  
As can the weeds of th' Hellespontick sea.  
The least the space, did for our loves remain,  
The more our care, it might not pa●●e in vain.  
And now morn's herald Luciser 'gan rise,  
And fresh Aurora to unmask the skies.  
O how our huddled kisses walked, and how  
Wailed we night's shortness, & wished day more slow!  
At length (harsh news) warned by thy nurse, thy tower  
I left, and hied me to the uncouth shore.  
Both parting, wept; I to the virgin's sea  
Went; whilst I might, still looking back on thee.  
Trust me, me thinks when I to thee do come,  
I seem to swim, but shipwrecked going home.  
Nay more, in all my tedious course to thee,  
The way proves plain, backward a cliffy sea.  
Ill pleased return I to my country still,  
And mine own home detains me 'gainst my will.  
Our soul, are linked, why are our corpse disjoynd?  
Why holds not both one land, since both one mind?  
Thee let Abydos, Sestos me contain;  
My land likes thee, thine pleases me again.  
Why am I vexed when boisterous billows move?  
Cannot winds blow, but ' 'tmust my hindrance prove?  
The crooked Dolphins know my love; not one  
Small fish there swims, to whom I am unknown.  
By me a path is opened in the waves,  
Like that which by a wheel, pressed earth receives.  
I once complained of that my toil, but now  
That by the winds I am debarred it so.  
The Hellespont with frothy waves doth foam,  
And ships are scarce safe in their harbour home.  
Nor do I think 'twas with more fury swayed,  
When first 'twas christened by the drowned maid.  
Poor Helles loss hath stigmatised its fame,  
'Tmay well spare me, ' thath a sufficient name.  
I envy Phryxus fate; who backed with ease,  
A gold-fleeced Ram, and fasely past these seas.  
But I, no sheep help, nor a ships implore,  
Were the streams such, that I might swim the shore.  
No Art I'd crave, so swimming were but free,  
Myself the ship, pilot, and oars would be.  
Nor will I either Bear for guidance chose,  
My love scorns all such common stars as those.  
Others Andromads, the crown of gold,  
And the North gilding Parasis behold.  
Yet neither Perseus, Jove's, nor Bacchus' love,  
In doubtful way, I for my guides approve.  
Another star more sure than these, have I,  
That marked, my love shall never sail awry.  
That s●●n, I soon could pass the Colchian shore,  
Or utmost tracks of the Thessalian Oar.  
Palaemon's self I could out-swim by odd,  
Or him whom the strange herb transformed a god.  
Oft in this task my wearied arms do shrink,  
And scarce are heaved above the warers brink.  
But when I say, Cheer up, ye shall embrace  
My Hero's neck, your toils reward, and grace.  
They strait recover strength, and forward tend  
Like horse, that from Elean bounds we send.  
Thus I my scorching flames reserve, and you  
Fair heavenly maid, with servant zeal pursue.  
Well worthy heaven indeed, on earth yet stay:  
Or draw me out unto the gods away.  
Hence 'tis, that these so seldom I enjoy,  
And hence that iroubled seas my mind annoy.  
What though the sea's but small that parts us? since  
As well that bars us, as one more immense.  
As lief had I in th'utmost world remain,  
As thus to live, and love, and hope in vain.  
The nearer thee, slames seize my heart more near:  
My hope's still great, though small effects appear.  
My hands even touch my bliss, which ofttimes I  
Lament with tears, to miss, yet be so nigh.  
Like Tantal midst chin-kissing streams I stand,  
And catch at dangling fruit, which mocks my hand.  
And must I not enjoy thee, but when sea  
Gives way? No winter see me blessed with thee?  
Since nought less firm, than winds & waves we find;  
Must all my hopes, still rest on waves, and wind?  
If thus in Summer, what will be the seas  
When the Bear reigns, the Goat, the Pleyades?  
I know not yet my boldness; but I fear,  
Love then will force me to a  share.  
And, lest thou think the time I promise vain,  
 long I'll give a pledge shall make it plain.  
Let seas a whi●e their boisterous rage pursue.  
 long spite them, I'll force my passage through.  
Or happy boldness shall my safety prove,  
Or death lend rest unto my anxious love.  
If dead; I wish 'tmay be my luckier doom,  
That my wracked limbs unto thy shores may come.  
I know thou'lt weep, embrace me too withal,  
And say, thou wert sole author of my fall.  
Perhaps this Omen doth offend thine ear,  
And in this part my lines unpleasing are.  
Cease thy fond fear: that seas prove gentle, join  
Thy fervent prayers, with zealous vows of mine.  
Small space will serve to waft me to thy shore;  
Once there, let winter to the utmost ●ore.  
A fitting harbour for my keel lies there,  
Nor can my bark ride safer any where.  
Let Boreas keep me, I shall love my stay,  
Fearful to stir, and slow to go away.  
Nor rail 'gainst deafer waves, nor yet laments  
Seas are not pliant, to a swimmers bend.  
Let winds detain me and thy tender arms,  
And may I be withheld with double charms,  
When storms shall cease, I mean to try my skill;  
Be sure (my dear) thy light be ready still,  
Mean time, for me, lodge these my lines with you,  
Which heavens vouchsafe I nay with speed pursue.    

THE ARGUMENT OF HERO'S Epistle to LEANDER.  
HEro having received the Epistle of her amorous Leander, reanswers it with terms of mutual affection: desires his company, exclaims against the seas, is zealous of his slay, rejects that conceit, tells him her dream. And lastly, admonisheth him not to come, except in a peaceful and a gentle tide.  

THe health thou send'st in words, that I indeed  
May have (Leander) come thyself with speed.  
All stays are irksome that my joys remove:  
Pardon me pray, I do not slightly love.  
Our flames are equal, but fare short of thee  
Am I in strength; men's spirits the ablest be.  
As maids limbs, so their minds, are weak and faint:  
I die, except thou come without rostraint.  
You men, in various pastimes time may spend,  
Your minds to tillage, or to hunting bend.  
Sometimes i'th' Court, now in the cirque again,  
Or with your nimble Coursers scour the plain.  
Now birds with nets, now fish deceive with line,  
Or wash away the tedious hours with wine.  
Though less myflames, these sports I could not prove;  
Nought rests for me to do, but only love.  
And that I do, and with more earnest might  
Than thou'lt believe I can, my sole delight!  
Or with my nurse I sit, and talk of thee,  
And wonder what thy cause of stay should be.  
Or seeing winds to swell the justling tide,  
In thine own terms, the spiteful waves I chide.  
Or when th'enraged seas more calm become,  
I say thou mayst, but yet thou wilt not come.  
Whilst thus I wail, salt tears do drown mine eyes:  
Which with her trembling hand my old nurse dries.  
Oft search I if on shore thy steps appear,  
As though the sands could still th'impression bear.  
Oft I inquire, that I thy health may know,  
Who from Abydos comes, or who doth go.  
What need I tell how oft I kissed o'er  
The  thou lefts behind thee on the shore?  
Day past and nights more friendly hour drawn nigh,  
When glitting stars have spangled all the sky:  
On my towers top a watchful torch I place:  
The sign that guides thee in thy wont race.  
Then slender threads, with thirled spindle wove;  
And by that womanish art slow time deceive.  
Askest what my talk in all this space may be?  
My whole discourse is only framed of thee.  
Nurse, dost thou think my joy's come forth of door?  
Do any watch him, and he fear the more?  
Say, are his garments off? doth he anoint  
As yet with subtle oil, each curious joint?  
When strait she nods; not that she minds my love,  
But sleep alas, her aged head doth move.  
Then by and by aloud I cry, now, now,  
He swims, and's arms doth midst the billows throw.  
And ere a thread or two I scarce have spun,  
Fain would I know if half thy course were done.  
Then look I forth again, and softly pray  
That prosperous gales may give thee easy way.  
Sometimes a voice we hear; and think all be,  
The noises, that forerun th'approach of thee.  
Thus when the nights most it kesome space is past,  
Slye sleep invades my wearied eyes at last.  
Then, though unwilling here thou sleepest with me;  
Present, although thou wouldst not present be.  
Sometimes me thinks I see thee swimming nigh,  
Then that thine arms upon my shoulders lie.  
Now for to  thy limbs with waves oppressed;  
Or hug thee, laid upon my warmer breast.  
Much more beside, which I forbear to tell;  
I shame to speak't, though done they liked me well.  
Oh! yet these joys but transitory be!  
For still with sleep, thou fliest away from me.  
Let us at length, ourselves more firmly chain,  
And let our joys be real, and not vain.  
Why have I passed so oft the widowed night?  
Why (slow) so long art absent from my sight?  
'Tis true the seas are rough and boisterous now,  
But yet last night fare gentler gales did blow.  
Why lettest that slip? why fear'dst not future doom?  
Why lost so good a means, and thou not come?  
Though strait thou mee●'st as fit a time to pass,  
Ye● 'cause 'twas sooner, that the better was.  
Seas fickle state is changed in an hour,  
A willing haste will quickly waft thee o'er,  
Once here, thou shalt not need to grieve I trow,  
Locked in mine arms, no storms shall work thy woe  
Then I with joy should hear the winds and then  
Wish seas might never more be calm again.  
But whence prey comes it, that the seas you fear  
Now, which once scorned and contemned were?  
For well I mind, when first to me you came,  
The stream was near as rough as is this same.  
When I cried out, do not so desperate be:  
Lest that thy courage be bewailed by me.  
Whence springs this feare-where are thy bold thoughts fled?  
Where he that not a thousand seas did dread?  
Yet still be thus then desperate as before;  
And stay till thou mayst safely reach the shore.  
So thou'lt the same, and as thou writ'st dost love.  
And so thy flames do no cold embers prove.  
Yet not so much the hindering winds I fear,  
As lest thy love like to the winds should err.  
Or east thou think thy danger pass the gain;  
Or me too small a purchase for thy pain.  
Oft I my Country doubt: or lest there be  
Too great an odds betwixt thyself and me.  
Yet could I well bear this, so thou incline  
To no base love with any concubine.  
So no strange arms thy softer neck enfold:  
Nor new found love, prescribe an end to old.  
First let me dye, then by such base wounds bleed:  
And may my fate outstrip so foul a deed.  
Not that thyself or any new sprung fame  
Hath given me cause of grief I writ this same.  
But cause I fear (who ere secure did love?)  
The place the absent oft to fear doth move.  
Thrice happy they who present do enjoy,  
And know their crimes; whom false ones not annoy.  
As well forged crimes, as true, my mind do strike:  
Error, and fear, in me cause griefs alike.  
Oh that thou'dst come! or winds or father may  
(No woman) be the cause of this thy stay.  
Which should I hear my death from grief would grow:  
And much thou'lt sinne, if thou shouldst kill me so.  
But thou wilt not; and all in vain I fear,  
Fierce winter is the cause thou comest not here.  
Ah! how the shores with battering waves resound!  
Day's light within a watery cloud yes drowned.  
Sure good Nephele, Helles loss deplores:  
Whilst waves with her, do (breaking) weep in showers.  
Or else her stepdame plague's this noxious sea,  
Lately transformed a watery deity.  
This place befriends no maids, for hence did grow  
Poor Hills death; and here I suffer too.  
But Neptune, if thy former flames thou mind,  
Me thinks no love should be impeached by wind.  
If bright Amimone, and Tyro be  
No lying fables of thy love, and thee  
Halcyone, and Iphim●din fair,  
Medusa, then without her snaky hair:  
Laodice, Celaeno heaven re-inspheard;  
And many more, whose names I oft have heard.  
All these, and more, as Poets sing, would join  
In am'orous sports, their softer sides to thine.  
Why then dost thou, who oft loves power didst try,  
Sea's wont passage through thy rage deny?  
Cruel forbear; and in the wide seas reign!  
Small is the stream that parts these lands in twain.  
T'infest great ships were for thy state more meet;  
Or fiercely to assault some mighty fleet,  
What praise to thee can from a drowned youth rise?  
Each petty lake would scorn so poor a prize.  
'Tis true he's high, and nobly borne, yet he  
Descends from no Vlyssian progeny.  
Cease then; save two in one: for though he swim  
Alone; yet lies my hope, my life, in him.  
Mean while my taper (for by one I writ)  
Crackles, a sign some prosperous luck should light.  
Forthwith my nurse wine in the fire doth power:  
Then drinks, and cries next morn we shall be more.  
Come through the seas and make us more by one,  
Oh thou beloved of my heart alone!  
Come to thy camp then that thy love dost fly:  
In empty bed why do I lovely lie?  
Thou needest not fear; love aids the bold essay:  
The sea borne Goddess will the seas allay.  
Oft I myself could even attempt the sea;  
But that these waves men's friends not women's be.  
Elle why when Phryxus first did pass the same,  
Did H●lle only give the flood a name?  
Perhaps your strength for to return you fear.  
And that you scarce the double task should bear.  
In mid-sea then let us together meet:  
And with sweet kisses there, each other greet.  
That done turn back again, though this be small,  
Yet is it better fare than nought at all.  
Would God our bashful shame, or timorous love  
Might yield to some, and known, and open prove.  
Ill joined (in us) is love with shame, 'twixt these  
My choice I doubt; this seemly, that doth please.  
As soon as jason reached the Colchian shore,  
Away with him the Phasi●n Dame he bore.  
No sooner Paris Lacedaemon eyes,  
But he returns, blessed with his beauteous prize.  
Oft as thou com'st as oft thou leav'st thy love  
Behind; and swimm'st, when ships can hardly move.  
But yet thou victor of the seas, so care,  
So scorn its rage, as scorning still to fear.  
Oft well wrought vessels in the flood do sail,  
And thinkest thine arms can past their oars prevail?  
Where thou desir'st, stout seamen fear to tend:  
In such attempts wracked ships have found their end.  
I would not yet persuade, what I advise:  
And may thy courage, 'bove my counsels rise.  
So thou in satetie come; and on my breast  
At last, thy wave dividing arms dost rest.  
Yet still as I convert mine eyes to seas,  
A chilling cold my daunted heart doth seize.  
No less I me troubled with my dream last night,  
Though expiated since with sacred rite.  
In dawn of day, my Taper almost out:  
(A time when dreams are most devoid of doubt.)  
From out my fingers fell my twisted thread,  
And towards my pillow I inclined my head.  
When strait, me thought I really did see  
A Dolphin, swimming in the windy sea.  
Whom, when the waves on soaking sands had tossed,  
At once the wretch both life, and water lost.  
It's meaning much I dread: scorn not my dreams:  
Nor do thou venture save in quiet streams.  
If not thyself, at least yet pity me:  
Whose only well fare is deriv' from thee.  
There's hope e'er long 'twill prove a peaceful tide;  
Then thou the waves with earnest breast divide.  
Mean time, cause seas do hinder thee thy way,  
Let these my lines, assuage thy lingering stay.    

THE ARGUMENT OF Acontius his Epistle to Cydippe.  
AContius happening to be present at the sacrifice of Diana in Delos, to whose Temple many virgins did resort, amongst the rest espies (and was surprised with the love of) Cydippe, a damsel of noble parentage. But considering the disparity of his birth, durst not adventure openly to woo her. Wherefore on a fair and goodly apple he writes his device, and subtly entraps her in this rhyme: 
By Diana's mystic rites I vow to thee,  
That I thy consort, and thy spouse will be.   
The fruit he trolls unto her: Cydippe takes it up, and reads: and unawares bet oaths herself unto him. For what vows soever were made in the presence of Diana, were to be observed, and not revoked. Her father after this (ignorant of his daughter's contract) promiseth her in marriage to another. Mean while Cydippe is taken with a violent Fever. Acontius lays hold on the occasion; and labours to induce in her a belief, that this sickness was inflicted on her by Diana, for delaying to fulfil her promise. And sirives to render him, to whom her f●ther had affied her, odious in her thoughts, by persuading her sh●e could by no means attain her health, unless sh● utterly reject him.  

Fear not; no more thou to thy love shalt swear,  
'T's enough for me, that you once promised were.  
Peruse my lines; so from thy limbs may part  
That pain, made mine, by thy enduring smart.  
Why blush you? (for I deem a crimson stain  
Now dies your cheeks, as carst in Diane's fane.)  
Wedlock, and plighted faith, no crimes, I move,  
Nor as adultrer, but just spouse I love.  
Call but to mind the words engraved that stand  
I' th'fruit, by me thrown to thy virgin-hand.  
There thou shalt find thy promise to my plea,  
Except with words, thy faith forgotten be.  
And that I feared, Diane's incensed, yet thou,  
And not the goddess, shouldst have marked thy vow.  
Nay, now the like I fear, but more; for lo  
Through lingering stay, thy flames augmented grow.  
So doth my love, which never yet was small,  
Fed by the hopes thou gav'st, and time withal.  
Thou gav'st me hope, my love gave faith to thee,  
Thou canst not (Diana witness) this deny.  
She present was, and noted every word,  
And with moved tress did her assent afford.  
So then, report thou wert by fraud betrayed;  
Whilst love, the cause of my deceit be said.  
What drift had I, save to be joined with thee?  
This thou dost blame, may our atonement be.  
Nor nature me, nor art, hath subtle made,  
Trust me (fair soul) thou taughtst me first this trade.  
If ought our art, ingenuous love, not I  
Prevailed: and did the knot so firmly tie.  
He the words prompted, I the charm did frame,  
And crafty, through consulted love, became  
Be I termed subtle, and this deed bear style  
Of craft: if what we love, to win, be guile.  
Behold again I send; entreaties writ,  
Complain again, here is another slight.  
If what I love, I hurt, I shall so ever:  
Thee I must seek, and seeking still persever.  
Others by sword their fancied loves have sought,  
And shall a witty letter be my fault?  
Would god, more snares I could invent for thee,  
That thy vowed faith might on no side scape free.  
There rests a thousand ways, in one we wade:  
My love shall suffer nothing unessayd.  
Thou shalt be captived, though thou now art free,  
Gods know th'event, but thou shalt captived be.  
Though some, thou canst not all those nets evade,  
Which love for thee, more than thou thinkest, hath laid.  
If arts will not avail, than arms we'll move,  
And to my longing bosom force thy love.  
I not the fact of Paris reprehend,  
Nor any such, who so have sought their end.  
Nay I, (but I forbear) though death ensues  
Thy rape, we'll meet it, before I thee will lose.  
Were't thou less fair, I should more calmly sue,  
Thy beauty makes me I thus boldly woo.  
Thou, and those eyes, to which bright stars appear,  
Like foils, of these my flames first causers were:  
Thy golden hairs, neck which pure white doth grace,  
And arms, which oh! may once my limbs embrace  
Thy graceful looks, not coy, yet blushing fair,  
And fear, which may with Thetis self compare.  
Blessed, could I praise the rest; sure they agree  
All, in a sweet proportioned symmetry.  
No marvel then, if by such form constrained  
I would of thee, a verbal pledge have gained.  
Whilst by our Art you say you captive are  
Why do you not the laws of captived be are  
I'll suffer envy, so I may obtain,  
Why should the fruit, from such a crime be ta'en?  
His love Achilles forced, his Telamonius,  
Yet they to love their ravishers were won.  
Accuse me do: be angry too, and coy,  
So I may thee, though angry, but enjoy.  
I that first caused it, will thy wrath allay,  
If thou'st but give me ne'er so little way:  
Weeping before thy face let me a pear,  
And at each word I speak, let fall a tear.  
Like slaves that fear severer chastisement,  
My hands unto thy feet for mercy bend.  
Why am I absent blamed? assume thy right;  
Command me as a Mrs: plead in sight  
Then though thou proudly tear my hair, or raze  
In scornful manner with thy nails my face;  
I'll suffer all, and only fearful stand  
Lest my rude body hurt thy tender hand.  
Thou needest not chains on me, or fettets try,  
Thy love will me, stronger than fetters cie.  
As thou shalt say (when once thy wrath is spent)  
How firm is he in love? how patiented?  
And vow, when how I suffer, thou shalt see,  
Who serves so well, sure shall my servant be.  
Why am I guilt esse, then condemned through hate,  
My just cause lost, wanting an advocate?  
The verse love bade me write, is all my blame,  
Nor canst object aught else against my fame.  
With me yet Delia ought not couzined be:  
Keep promise then with her, if not with me.  
She saw thee when entrapped thou blush'st: was there,  
And laid thy words up in her mindful ear.  
Forbidden it heavens! yet there is none than she  
More fierce 'gainst those that scorn her deity.  
Witness the Boar she sent, unknown to none:  
Althaea no less cruel to her son.  
Witness Actaeon, changed t'a Hart, and made  
A prey for those, that erst on wild beasts Prayed.  
Proud Niobe, whose corpse in marble penned,  
In Migdon stands, a weeping monument.  
Ah me! Cydippe I the truth restrain,  
Lest in my cause, thou thinkest I idly fain.  
Yet speak I must: this is it (trust me) why  
At point of marriage thou thus sick dost lie.  
The goddess seeks thy good, not perjury.  
And would, by saving of thy saith, save thee.  
Hence 'tis, as oft you with your oath dispense,  
That she as oft doth punish your offence.  
Cease then, t'incense the stern Virago's ire;  
Whose wrath if thou'st obey, will soon expire.  
Preserve those tender limbs from Fevers free,  
Oh spare that face, to be enjoyed by me.  
Spare, spare those looks, made for our love's delight,  
And cheeks enameled with pure red and white.  
Who seeks our loves contracted to does join,  
May he, as I, for thy affliction pine.  
I know not which my greatest cross would prove,  
To see thee sick, or made another's love.  
Sometimes I vex, and think I cause thy pain,  
So that thou grief dost through my craft sustain.  
And wish upon my head thy perjury  
Might light, and thou from punishment be free.  
Oft I with troubled thoughts about thy gare  
Make needless walks, to understand thy state.  
And following of thy man or maid entreat  
By stealth, to know how thou dost sleep, or eat.  
Woes me, I not the Doctor's room supply!  
Nor fitting on thy bed, thy pulse do try;  
But more unhappy whilst I being hence,  
He's there, whom I do chief wish from thence.  
He takes thee by the hand; and sets by thee  
A hated person to the gods, and me.  
Whilst on thy beating vein his thumb he holds,  
And by that means thy whiter arms infolds.  
Thy breast oft touches, perhaps kisses too,  
A blessed reward, and fare beyond his due.  
Pray who to reap our harvest gave thee leave?  
Or showed thee how thou mightst our hopes deceive?  
Those breasts thou feelest, kisses thou tak'st, are mine,  
Wretch! from her body take those hands of thine.  
Remove thy hands, she's mine; shouldst do the same,  
Henceforth, thou'lt merit an adultrers' name.  
Choose one whom none can claim, one that is free.  
To tell you true, this only is for me.  
Believest me not? the contract hear, or let  
Her read it, lest thou think it counterfeit.  
Be gone: to thee this can no harbour lend;  
What right canst thou t'anothers' bed pretend?  
Suppose thou promised wert she should be thine;  
Yet is thy cause far, fare, unlike to mine.  
I by herself, byh'r sire you promised were.  
But to herself, than father she's more near.  
Her sire thee promised, but she swore to me:  
He men attested, she a Deitle.  
He but of word, she breach of oath doth fear,  
Of these, thinkest which the greatest sin will bear?  
Last to discerned, to the event but look,  
he's well in health, she is with sickness strooke.  
Then in our minds unequal strifes we bear,  
Nor is our hope alike, unlike our fear.  
Indifferent thou: Repulse my death would prove:  
In present I (what you perhaps may) love:  
If care of equity, or right you weigh,  
You needs must to my lawful flames give way.  
Since than thy love ●njustly he doth sue,  
What good Cydippe will my letter do?  
'Tis he thy pain, and Diane's hate hath wrought,  
Bar him thy house, if thou wilt wise be thought.  
He did the hazard of thy life procure;  
Would he that caused them might thy pains endure.  
Him if thou leave, nor love whom Diana hates,  
We both shall then enjoy our healthful states.  
Fear not, thou shalt enjoy thy health sweet maid,  
But conscious Diana must be first obeyed.  
Not in a sacrifice the gods delight:  
But in a faith that is sincere, and right.  
Some fire, and lancing, for their health sustain,  
And bitter potions take, to ease their pain.  
Thou needest not these, only ahy oath observe,  
And me, thyself, and plighted faith preserve.  
For thy past fault, thy ignorance may plead,  
That to the written pledge thou took'st no heed.  
Now thou art warned by me, and this event.  
Which thou still sufferest striving to prevent.  
Say thou escape this sickness! thou'lt be made  
In childbed yet t'entreat Lucina's aid.  
When she shall hear, and ponder on thy prayer,  
she'll ask whose father to the child you bear.  
Vow'st thou? she knows thy vows are false. Wilt swear?  
In that she knows the gods abused are.  
Not for myself (fare greater griefs I find)  
'Tis for thy life, cares thus perplex my mind.  
Why do thy parents mourn to see thee ill?  
Whilst witless of the cause thou keep'st them still.  
And why? go, make it to thy mother known:  
Thou needest not be ashamed of what thou'st done.  
In order all explain; first, how whilst you  
To Diana offered, we acquainted grew.  
Where (if you marked) when thee I once did spy,  
I on thy features fixed my steadfast eye.  
And gazing thus (a note that love doth tell)  
My loosened vesture from my shoulders fell.  
Then how a rolling apple did appear,  
That words compact in subtle verse did bear.  
Which since in Diane's presence they were read,  
Have bound thy faith not to be forfeited.  
And that the meaning she may know more plain,  
As once thou didst, so read them now again.  
Then will she say, O marry him alone,  
Whom heavens have joined to thee; he, he's my son.  
Who e'er since Diana's pleased, I am content,  
Thus if a mother, will she give consent.  
If who I am to know, she questions move,  
Tell her I'm he the goddess did approve.  
Famed for Corycian Nymphs: Cea, an Isle  
Which the Aegean seas from lands exile,  
My country is: if blood, or noble name  
You weigh, from no base parentage I came.  
We wealth possess, and manners without crime,  
And love, than which naught ampler speaks me thine.  
And such a husband (if thou couldst have got)  
Hadst thou not sworn, yet sure thou mightst have sought.  
This sleeping Phoehe did to me indite,  
This waking love commanded me to write.  
As I already loves fierce darts have found,  
Take heed least thou D●aua's arrows wound.  
Our safeties joined, pity thyself, and me:  
Why stickest to both, at once an help to be?  
Which if obtained: when the loud signals strain,  
And votive blood shall Delian Altars stain.  
The likeness of that happy fruit I'll frame  
In gold; and writ these verses on the same.  
By this, thus much Acontius intimates,  
What here is writ, was ratified by Fates.  
Lest I too long, on thy weak patience dwell,  
I bid thee (in my wont style) farewell.    

THE ARGUMENT of CYDIPPE'S Epistle to ACONTIUS.  
CYdippe having received Acontius Epistle, and by that means understanding,, that her flcknesse happened unto her through Diana's wrath, conceived against her for not observing heroath; she intent, (though against her parents will) to yield unto Acontius his desire, rather than endure a further torment: and withal craves his assistance in the appeasing of the goadesses ire.  

AFraid, I silent read thy lines, lest I  
Again were forced to swear unwittingly,  
And sure I had been once more ensnared; but thou  
Confessest my engaged faiths enough.  
Scarce had I read, save (had I stubborn been)  
I deemed 'twould have increased the goddess spleen●  
whatsoever I do, or offer, yet still she  
Is more propitious to thy cause, than me.  
As thou hop'st faith; (than her own Hippolyta  
To thee more kind) she vindicates thy right.  
A maid me thinks should virgins years befriend;  
Which now, I fear lest she too soon will ●nd.  
No outward Symptom shows my grief; and I  
Wearied past help of any med'cinelye.  
Think but how weak I am, when I scarce these  
Can w●ite● or turn me in my bed with ease.  
Oft fear I, save my nurse, lest any spy  
Our letters interchanging colloquy.  
She (that I safe may write) the doors doth keep,  
And to my health enquirers, says, I sleep.  
But when the time hath been too long delayed,  
And sleep no more can our excuse be made:  
When one whom she must needs admit she spies,  
She spits, or by some sign prevents surprise.  
Then hastily I leave my words half framed,  
My wary letter in my bosom crammed.  
Then strait I take them forth, and write, you see  
How great a toil thou art become to me!  
Which trust me thou but ill deserv'st: yet know,  
My goodness, shall thy merits, fare outgo.  
For thee, through thy deceit, have I this pain  
So oft endured; and do as yet sustain.  
This gain accrues my beauty through thy praise,  
And now 'tis hurtful that I once did please.  
Would God as one deformed thou me hadst seen!  
Useless to me then physics help had been.  
Praised now I suffer; by your strifes betrayed,  
And what was late my good, my hurt is made.  
Whilst thou'lt be chief, nor he a second will,  
Thou his desires, he thine, doth hinder still.  
Myself like to a ship, which to the main  
The northwind drives, forced back by tides again.  
When to my friends the longed day arrives,  
In my parched limbs excessive fervour strives.  
And at the point of marriage oh my fare,  
At my sad doors, death, and the suries wait.  
Ashamed I fear (though I from guilt am free)  
Lest wrathful Gods might be displeased with me.  
Some hold this accidental, some maintain  
The heavens for me did not this man ordain.  
Others, that I (to set thee free from blame,)  
By veneficious arts have caused the same.  
The cause is hid, griefs open; you procure  
Devoid of peace stern strifes; but I endure.  
I'll tell thee now, slight not my plainer style,  
If thus thy love, how will thy envy spoil?  
If what thou lov'st thou hurt'st, then love thy foe:  
But wish my ruin, and preserve me so.  
Or thou regard'st not her thou hop'st for thine,  
Whom thou relentless, sufferest thus to pine:  
Or if in vain thou dost on Diana call,  
Why braggest? with her thou hast no grace at all.  
What s'ere thou talk'st, thou wilt not calm her yet,  
Thou canst not do't, thou me, she thee, doth slight.  
Would ne'er, (at least would it not then had been)  
I Delos in Aegean seas had seen.  
Ill launched my vessel on the wayward sea,  
Cursed hour, in which our purpose found decree.  
With what foot went I? with what ominous fare,  
Did I unto my painted barque repair?  
Twice adverse winds did flat my swelling sails,  
Fond wretch I lie, those, those, were prosperous gales,  
Fair prosperous gales, that did me backward force,  
And sought to hinder my intended course,  
And would they had persisted still the same!  
But folly 'tis the wavering winds to blame.  
Moved with its fame I Delos longed to view:  
And deemed my ship with lazy canvas flew.  
How oft the sluggish oars I chid? the sails  
I thought too scant, to take in speeding gales.  
Now Tenon, Micone, and Andron passed,  
White Delos cliffs appeared in sight at last.  
Which seen fare off; why fliest thou me, I cried?  
As erst, still float'st thou, on the wand'ring tide?  
I land, and day now lent a dying gleam:  
And Phoebus began t'unyoke his purple team.  
Which, soon as called to the next morn's uprise,  
To comb my l●ckes my careful mother hies.  
With rings my hands, my head with gold she trims;  
And with rich vestures she adorns my limbs.  
Then issuing forth to th'Island deities,  
We wines, ●nd odorous incense sacrifice.  
And whilst my mother doth the'altars' stain  
With votive blood; burns th'entrails of the slain:  
My busy nurse leads me another way.  
And wondering, through the sacred place we stray.  
We walked the spacious Terrace, and there viewed  
The gifts of Kings, and images that stood.  
W'admired the horn-built Altar, and no less  
The tree that helped Latona in distress.  
And what besides (for I not all do bear  
In mind, nor list to tell) in Del●● were  
And here thou first behedst me, and from thence  
Soughtest to beguile my easy innocence.  
Back to Diana's high raised fane we w●n●:  
Then that, what place could have more safety lent?  
Strait rowls a fruit that did these verses bear:  
(Woes me, how near was I again to swear●●)  
Which soon my nurse took up: lo here, she said;  
Where I thy craft, thou famous Poet read.  
The name of marriage heard, with shame abashed,  
My virgin cheeks with glowing blushes flashed.  
Mine eyes fast fixed upon my bosom bend:  
Mine eyes the ministe's of thy intent!  
Bad man, why joy'st? what glory hast thou won,  
Or praise, that thus a virgin hast undone?  
Armed with no Axe stood I, nor moon-like shields,  
As Penthesilea in the Trojan fields.  
No Belt embossed with Amazonian gold  
Lost I, as did Hyppolita of old.  
Why so exults thou of this slight? that I  
Poor soul, am captived by thy treachery?  
As me, an apple did Atlanta cease,  
thou'rt now become a new Hippomenes.  
Better'thad been thou hadst the boy obeyed,  
Whom thou reportest with burning shafts arrayed.  
By honest means, not fraud, thy hope t'have sought,  
I should have been entreated, and not caught.  
Why didst not so profess thy love, so sue,  
As we might even have done the like to you?  
Why us wouldst rather have enforced than won,  
If we might yield upon condition?  
What now avails hy formal oath that I  
Reading, for witness called a Deity?  
'Twas with my tongue I swore, not with my mind;  
And that alone an oath can strictly bind.  
The mind confirms: all bonds do serve for nought,  
Nor can avail, without consenting thought.  
If e'er to thee, myself I promised,  
Then take the dues of thy betrothed bed.  
But if what then I spoke, my heart deny,  
You but on uneffectuall words rely.  
I swore nor, only did the words repeat:  
Thou must not be my Spouse at such a rate.  
Cheat other a so; more oaths, more apples send,  
If these avail, some miser's riches rend.  
Make Kings their Empires, and their Crowns resign,  
And cause whatsoever the world contains, be thine.  
Trust me, far greater you than Diana are,  
If that thy words such ample power do bear.  
Yet when I thus have said, thus firm denied,  
And have my breach of promise justified:  
I must confess I fear Diana's ire;  
And deem from thence, proceeds my scorching fire  
Else, why as oft as Nuptials are addressed,  
Languish my limbs, with deadly pain oppressed?  
Thrice Hymen's cheerful noise mine ears did greet,  
Thrice he my threshold fled with nimble feer.  
Scarce could he make his kindled taper blaze,  
Which scarce, though shaken, a dusky flame would raise.  
Oft precious sweets his rose crowned hairs bedew,  
Oft  himself in Robes of saffron hue.  
Approached; when cries, and dread of death he hears,  
Things far from him, and hateful to his cares:  
From his sad front his curious garland tears,  
And wipes the unguents from his liquid hairs.  
A shamed midst sadness to rejoice alone,  
As in his cheeks, his garments die was shown.  
Whilst feeble me my scorching fevers pain,  
Scarce can my limb my or'espread  sustain.  
Whilst over me my grieved parents mourn,  
And deaths dire brand for Hymen's torch doth burn.  
Oh spare thy patiented quiver bearing maid!  
And lend thy health-restoring brother's aid.  
'Tis shame for thee, he deadly ills should cure,  
And thou the title of my death endure.  
Did ever I, unwarily mistook,  
Behold thee bathing in the shady brook?  
Were not thy altars still by me adorned;  
Was e'er thy mother, by my mother scorned?  
Faulty in nothing but in this alone,  
In an unlucky distich skilful grown.  
And thou Acontius (if you truly love)  
Thy offerings bring my hurt my help may prove.  
Oh why should she our plighted loves disjoin,  
Who late seemed angry cause I was not thine?  
Whilst yet I live, thou well mayst hope: then why  
Me doth she life, and thee thine hope deny?  
Think not that he to whom I am assyd;  
Hath to my sickly limbs his ' hands applied.  
True he sets by that's all he's favoured;  
But still is mindful of my virgin bed.  
Nor do I know what ●●●ughts of me he bears;  
For oft his che●ke● he baths with falling tears.  
Bashfully courts me, seldom takes a kiss;  
And with a timorous voice he calls me his.  
Nor marvel I if he perceive my scorn:  
Still when he comes; away from him I turn.  
Speak not, with eyes shut, seem to sleep; and when  
My hand he touches, pull it back again.  
He sighs, and mourns, and inly grieves to see,  
With him I causeless should offended be.  
When thou more justly, since thou joy dost show;  
And pleasure tak'st in my revealed woe,  
(Can I but use my tongue) my spite shouldst bear;  
And have my scorn, that thus hast wrought mysnare,  
Thou writ'st that thou mightst come to see me here:  
Far off thou art, yet hurt'st sufficient there.  
Oft why thou wert Acontius named I muse,  
Thou hast a sting can wounds from far infuse,  
Scarce am I yet recovered of the blow,  
Which thy sly rhyme, did like a dart bestow.  
Why wouldst thou hither come? thou canst but see  
(Thy double spoil) awretched coarse of me.  
My flesh consumed, face of a bloodless hue.  
Such as I once did in thy apple view.  
No rosy red in pallid cheeks appears,  
Such form, a new-wrought Marble statue bears.  
Such is the silvers hue which oft we see  
In banquets pale with chilling waters be.  
Shouldst see me now, thou wouldst denie'twere I,  
And say this not deserves our art to try.  
Nay send me back my plighted faith for fear.  
And pray that Diana would forget it clear.  
Perhaps procure me to unswear again;  
And wilt anew, contrary letter fain.  
Yet nevertheless would God (as thou dost sue)  
Thou didst thy loves tormented limbs but view.  
Though harder be thy breast then steel, yet sure  
Thou wouldst a pardon for my fault procure.  
And know to learn how we might this decline,  
 sought the fate foretelling Delphieke shrine.  
And he (I know not, but) as rumour saith,  
Complains of breach of a recorded faith.  
This th'God, the prophet and my verse have said:  
Thou seest thy vote doth want no verses aid.  
Whence comes this grace? unless some lines by thee  
Late fromed, have caught the Gods, as well as me.  
Since then the Gods thou'st ta'en, I them ensue;  
And willing yield my conquered self thy due.  
My heedless vow I to my mother showed,  
Who much perplexed with eyes dejected stood,  
The rest care thou for: I have done I fear,  
In writing thus, more than a maid should dare.  
Enough my limbs are tired with this my quill,  
And my sick hand no farther duty will.  
What, (save my longing love with thee to dwell)  
Rests there for me to write? but bid farewell.    

THE ARGUMENT OF SAPPHO'S Epistle unto PHAO.  
PHaon, a Lesbian youth, of an exquisite and admirable feature, had alured the eyes and hearts of most of the women in Mitylen: amongst which, none affected him with such a desperate love, as Sappho: a famous Poetresse, who lived about the time of Tarqvinius Priscus, admired even by Plato himself, for her excellent numbers. Phao happeneth to sail into Sicily, at whose departure, the loveenraged Sapph becomes almost distracted; deeming herself to be disdained by him: she resolves to cast herself from Leucate, a promontory of Epirus, into the sea, and so to extinguish her hopeless flames. Yet before she did attempt it, she thought good to write unto him, and strives by all the means her wit could suggest unto her, to recall him back again: she lays open her griefs, relates their former pleasures: and lastly, desires him if he be resolved to forsake his Sapph, at least by his cruel letter to make known his mind unto her.  

Soon as thou saw'st my letter, didst thou know  
If 'twere my right hands character, or no?  
Or if the authors name thou hadst not seen,  
Couldst not have told whence this short work had been?  
Perhaps thou'lt muse, why in this sadder verse  
I writ, since I in Lyric airs converse.  
My love is to be wept; no Barbit strains  
Suit with my tears; but Elegies soft veins.  
Like to a field, whose dried corn on fire,  
The East wind fans, I burn with hot desire.  
Typhaean Aetna now detaineth thee,  
Yet grent as Aetna's flames remains with me.  
No verse that I to well disposed strings  
May set (the work of care freed thoughts) there springs.  
Nor Dryads, nor Pyerian maids, now me,  
At all delight, nor once loved Lesbian fry.  
Vile's Amython, vile Cydno too the white,  
Vile Althis, once most grateful in my sight.  
And hundreds more with whom my sins are known:  
Thou (wretch) of all partak'st the love alone.  
Thou hast a face, and years too, fit for play:  
Oh treacherous face that stolest mine eyes away!  
Take Harp, and Bow, and thou'lt Apollo be,  
Take horns, and Bacchus will be like to thee.  
Phoebus' loved Daphne, Bacchus Gnossis too,  
Yet neither she, nor she, sweet Lyrics knew.  
But me the Muses smooth veined numbers teach,  
And my name's sung fare as the world doth reach.  
Nor wins Alceus (fellow both of Lyre,  
And country) more, though in his subject higher.  
Though nature hath denied me beauty, yet,  
My want of beauty I repay with wit.  
I am but low, but my famed name, and skill,  
Are tall, and do the world's  regions fill.  
And though not fair; Andromeda, 'tis known,  
Did please her Perseus, yet a tawny brown.  
Oft Doves do join with birds of different hue,  
And the gay jay, doth the black Turtle woo.  
If (save thy like) thou thinkest none worthy thee;  
None such (alas!) none such shall ever be.  
Yet when thou readst my lines, I then seemed fair,  
And none like me, became my words wouldst swear.  
And whilst I sung (we lovers all things mind:)  
Thou on my lips didst amorous kisses bind.  
Both them, and each part else did please thee well:  
But chief, when to love's choice sports we fell.  
My wantonness did much increase thy joy,  
My nimble motion, and words apt for toy:  
And that sweet languor in the which I lay,  
When we had acted our delicious play.  
Sicilian maids are now thy prey I see,  
Lesbos adieu, I'll be of Sicily.  
You Nisean dames; fair daughters that excel,  
The wand'ring youth from out your bounds expel.  
Nor let his lies beguile your faiths, my cares  
Have oft heard that, which now to you he swears.  
And thou who celebrat'st Sican●an hills,  
Bright Erycine, redress thy Poet's ills.  
Will Fortune still be cruel, and hold on  
In that harsh course to me she hath begun.  
My tender youth had scarcely seen six years,  
 I my parents bones embalmed with tears.  
My needy brother with a strumpets love  
O'ercome, base loss, with base shame doth prove.  
Turned Pirate, ploughs with oars and sails the main,  
And ill-lost goods as badly seeks again.  
Who, cause I blamed the wretched course he run,  
Now hates me: this the thankes my freeness won.  
And lest my woes might some appeasement find,  
My wanton daughter wounds with cares my mind.  
Thou art, the last cause of my plaints, with gales  
Contrary still, m'unhappy vessel sails.  
Behold my once combed tresses rudely placed,  
Nor are, my fingers with bright jewels graced.  
My garments vile: no gold adorns my hairs:  
Nor do my locks smell of Arabian tears.  
Whom should I strive to please, now in distress,  
Since he's away, who caused my neater dress?  
My tender breast each gentle dart doth wound,  
And that I still love, still some cause is found.  
The fatal Sisters sure at first decreed,  
To spin my life forth with so cross a thread.  
Or else my studies do the course maintain;  
And soft Thalia rules my love sick brain.  
Nor marvel if a smooth-chinned youth doth move  
My heart; and years, that man in man might love.  
Oft feared I lest Aurora thee should cease,  
Who had; but that 'twould her first love displease.  
Should Phoebe, that sees all things, thee but spy,  
Phaön in long lived slumbers cast, should lie.  
Venus to heaven had carried thee; but she  
Nor without cause, feared Mars might dote on thee.  
Oh! thou nor boy, nor yet full man, life's prime!  
Oh! thou sole grace, and glory of thy time,  
Into my bosom come; 'las! I of thee  
Love beg not, but that thou'lt be Ioved by me.  
Whilst thus I writ, tears from my eye springs rain;  
Do thou behold how they my letter stain.  
If thou must needs have gone, yet't had been well  
Hadst thou but said, dear Lesbian maid farewell.  
But thou took'st with thee, nor my kiss, nor tear,  
Little feared I the grief that now I bear.  
Save wrong, I nothing have of thine, nor move  
(Thou weighest them not) the pledges of my love.  
No charge I gave thee when thou went'st away,  
Nor would; but such, Remember me, I pray.  
By love, that never quits this breast of mine,  
I swear, and by the thrice-three maids divine,  
That when they told me thou wert gone away,  
Nor tears to shed, nor words I had to say.  
Mine eyes were dried, tongue dumb (through cares distraught,  
And fears) my breast with chilling cold was fraught.  
My griefs assuaged, yet did I not forbear  
To beat my breast, and wail with scattered hair.  
Much like some mother, (whom sad rage inspires)  
That bears her child unto its funeral fires.  
Charaxus pleasure takes in this my woe,  
And jeering jets before me to and fro.  
And (which more shame adds to my grief, and me)  
Asks why I weep, thy daughter lives, saith he.  
Ah! shame and love agree not: all the rout  
Viewed me with breasts torn bare; and thronged about.  
Thou, thou, my care art; thee my dreams display:  
Dreams that make nights far brighter than the day.  
There thee I meet, though thou fare hence remain.  
(But oh! these joys are transitory vain.)  
Oft think I that thine arms my neck enclose,  
And on thy shoulders that I mine impose.  
I know thy tongue-kisse thou wert wont to give,  
And with like pleasure from my lips receive.  
Sometimes I dally, words (as real) speak;  
And have my tongue still to my sense awake.  
The rest I shame to speak, or write, though me  
They pleased being done: who live not but with thee.  
But when bright Ploebus shows his ruddy rays,  
(With them all else) I curse my dreams short stays.  
Dark groves and caves I seek, as if their fight  
Can help me, conscious once of our delight▪  
Thither distraught, like those Erichtho bears  
I run, with careless and dishevelled hairs.  
The hanging vaults with T●phus clothed I see,  
Which like Migdotian marble seem to me.  
The wood I find, wherein we oft have made  
Our hearby bed, whose leaves did lend us shade.  
But there (of them, and me the Lord) thy face  
I miss, thou wert the Dowry of the place.  
I knew the flowers, on which we oft did rest;  
And grass declining by our burdens pressed.  
I lay me down, there where thy shape appears;  
But first the grateful herbs do drink my tears.  
Each leavelesse bow a kind of grief retains,  
And no birds on them, vent their warbling strains:  
Only the Daulian bird, her woes to quail,  
Chants out sad notes: and Itys doth bewail.  
Itys the Bird, Sapph forsaken love,  
Laments; whilst all things else soft slumbers prove.  
A purling spring there is, than glass more clear,  
Sacred, some think a god inhabits there.  
o'er which a watery Lotos' boughs extends;  
Alone a grove: cool turfs, the green earth lends.  
Here as I lay, in brackish tears half drowned;  
A Naïd stands before me on the ground,  
And thus began: Since fires unequal breed  
Thy scorching pain, unto Ambracia speed.  
There Phoebus from on high, the deep doth face:  
Actaeum, some, Leucadia call the place,  
Deucalion thence, enraged with Pyrrha's love,  
jumped down, & safe the under waves did prove.  
Forthwith changed love, fled the detained breast  
Of drenched Deucalion; and his fires surceased.  
This place that virtue keeps, strait thither go;  
And fear not from the rock thyself to throw.  
This said, it vanished: I affrighted rose,  
Whilst my pale face with flushing tears o'erflows.  
Fair Nymph I go: nor will I slow appear:  
Fare from distracted love be abject fear.  
Worst chance will better this; Air underset  
My prone descending corpse, my load's not great.  
And thou O Love, thy wings afford! lest all  
Should curse Leucadia's streams, through this my fall.  
There, Phoebus, will I consecrate to thee  
My Lyre, on which some such like verse shall be.  
Sapph to thee her Harp assigns (last care)  
In which, with thee, she bore an equal share.  
Ah! why shouldst wretched me to Actia send,  
Since by thy coming thou my griefs mightst end!  
More wholesome than those waters thou mayst be;  
And for thy form, Apollo unto me.  
Canst thou then seas, and rocks, fare more obdure;  
I dead, the title of my death endure.  
Ah how much better were't, my breast with thine  
Should meet, than perish in the weltering brine?  
That breast (oh Phaou!) which thou oft didst praise  
For form, and wit's divinely sparkling rays.  
Oh that my once famed Rhetoric moved my quill!  
But ' l as! my wit now stoops to every ill.  
My verse first power now fruitless is become,  
My speaking quill, and harp for grief are dumb.  
You Lesbian matrons and you younger Choir,  
You Lesbians, oft named on Aeolian Lyre.  
And you who caused my loves more shameful doom;  
No more in numbers to my music come.  
Phaön, hath all that did to please incline;  
Wretch that I am, I'd almost called him mine.  
Bring him, and then your Poet comes again:  
He dulls, and he revives my spriteful brain.  
Do prayers prevail? and his stern mind orsway?  
Or bear the winds my idle words away?  
Oh! that the winds which mock my words would swell  
Thy sails, a work that would become thee well.  
If thou intend'st return, (for we prepare  
Vowed gifts for thee) with speed redress my care.  
Put forth: the wave-born Queen the seas will still;  
And prosperous goles thy wished-for sails shall fill.  
Cupid himself shall steer thy course nor fail  
Nimbly to hoist, and to take in each sail.  
If from thy Sapph thou resolv'st to fly,  
(In whom thou'lt find no cause thereof doth lie)  
At least let thy harsh letter send me word,  
To end my life in the Lencadian ford.   
FINIS.