ovidius Naso HIS REMEDY OF LOVE. Translated and Entitled to the Youth of England. Plautus in Trinummo. — mill modis Amor Ignorandu'st, procul adhibendus est, atque abstinendus. Nam qui in Amore precipitavit, peius perit, quam si saxe saliat. VIR EST SIT VULNERE VERITAS LONDON Printed by T. C. for john Browne, and are to be sold at his shop in Fleetstreet, at the sign of the Bible. 1600. TO HIS SOMEtimes Tutor, at all times dearest friend, M. I. better reward for his deserts. etc. I Have lived to be the cause of thy wrong; I may live to do thee right; the first by casualty, contrary to my desire, the latter voluntarily, according to thy desert. Accept therefore these few lines, whatsoever they are, and howsoever attired, yet as true witnesses of my everlasting love. If they seem unpolished (as I fear) hide them, for thou gavest them their beginning: If possessing any thing of worth or pleasure, (as yet I hope) joy in it, and enjoy it, for thou wert the first mover of my Muses circular conceits, which had never beginning but by thee, and never shall end, but in thee: and whatsoever they do, all shall be for thee. Farewell. Time's truest child. F. L. The first book of ovidius Naso, entitled The Remedy of love. 1 WHen Love first read the title os this book, Wars, wars, against me now are waged (que he) O deign thy Poet of a milder look, Condemn him not, that from offence is free. Who ever was Loves vowed Ancient, Bearing his colours with a true intent. 2 Not I Tydides, by whose cruel spear Thy mother wounded, on Mars foaming steeds Fled into heaven, full of careful fear, Others sometime, in bitter fancy bleeds. But I still burn: If thou the question move What now I do? I answer also love. 3 Yea, I have taught how thou mightst be obtained, So learning reason, how to bridle force: Yet not to thee, nor to mine Arts, contained In papers, prove I foe without remorse. Ne yet my Muse doth labour to untwist, Her old spun web, that doth of Love consist. 4 He that hath built his fancy to his mind, He happy loves, and happy live he still; Still fill thy sails with that thrice prosperous wind; But if thou be subjecteth to the will Of any tyrant, or unworthy maid, Lest that thou perish, search our Arts for aid. 5 Why, why should any basely hang and die? To give an instance of their desperate love: Or, why should any with such cruelty, By selfe-inflicted wounds their souls remove? So thou that only dost in peace delight, Shalt gain suspicion of a murderous wight. 6 If than he be, who lest he escapes the snare; And leaves to love, must also leave to live; O let him in due time thereof beware, O let him leave to love, and leave him give. Thus love shall be esteemed lives dearest friend, Not cursed author of a desperate end. 7 Thou art a child, nor ought childhood fits, But games, sports, plays, than game, sport, play; Such gentler rule, becomes such childish wits: Thy childish wit, that no high things must way. Thou in thy wars mayst naked arrows use, Yet such as shall no deadly wounds infuse. 8. Let old Stepfathers' war with sword and spear, And in a Sea of blood win victory: Use thou thy mother's fight, that yields no fear, Nor for the sons loss makes the parent cry. Let doors be broken in thy nocturne jars, And be adorned with garlands midst those wars. 9 Let men and maidens take their sports by stealth, Let maidens use their words with cunning art: Now let them kindly send their lovers health, And suddenly with chiding wound their heart. And barring fast the doors, shut out their love, Where let them wail, and yet no pity move. 10. These wars shall please thy gentle humour best, In these tears shalt thou sport, not caused by death; Death shall not see thy Torches at her feast, Nor morning funerals thy fires breath. Thus having said, Love shook his golden wings, And bid me end the work my pen begins. 11. Come then sick youth unto my sacred skill, Whose love hath fallen cross unto your mind: Learn how to remedy that pleasing ill, Of him that taught you your own harms to find. For in that self-same hand your help is found, Whence first ye did receive your careful wound. 12 So th' earth which yields us herbs of sovereign grace Doth nourish weeds, of virtue pestilent; The burning nettle chooseth oft her place, Next to the Rose, that yields so sweet a scent. Achilles' Spear, that wounded his stern foe, Restored him health, & cured the grievous blow. 13. Now what prescriptions we do give to men, Maids think them spoken unto you likewise: To both parts we give weapons, use them then With secret Art, and with discretion wise. Of which if ought you find that seems not fit, Know in examples many things are writ. 14 And profitable is our Argument, To quench that secret and consuming flame: To free thy mind from sin and ill intent, To lose those bands that drew thee into shame. Phillis had lived had I her Tutor been, That three times thice walked path she oft had seen. 15. Nor Dido dying from her stately Tower, Should have beheld the Troyans' thence to fly: Sorrow should not have had so strong a power, To cause the mother do her own to die. Tereus though Philomela might him please, Should not through sin a graundsiers' title seize. 16. Give me Pasiphae, she shall cease to Love The filthy shape of that strange monstrous beast, Bring Phaedra forth, and I will soon remove Her deep incestuous lust, that never ceased. Lived Paris, Helen he should not desire, Nor should the greeks waste Pergamus with fire. 17. Had wicked Scylla read our argument, Nisus should not have lost his fatal hair; I'll teach you to assuage the greedy bent Of burning lust, and make the weather fair: I'll steer your Ship aright in seas of love, And from each rock I will you safely move. 18. Ovid was to be read with studious care, When first your love began with fruit to grow, Ovid is to be read, in your ill fare, When first your love with deep disdain shall flow. I do profess to gain your liberty, Then follow me, revenge your misery. 19 Be present o thou Prophet, Appollinem medicine & Poëseos Deus invocat. Poet's praise, Physics first finder out, and nurse alone; Crown me professing both, with lasting bays, For both are under thy protection. Rain silver showers of skill into my breast, That I may show each wretch the way to rest. 20. Whiles well thou mayst, and ere that secret war Be thoroughly kindled in thy troubled mind, If thou repent, o run not on too far, Retire, ere greater cause of grief thou find. Tread down the starting seeds of springing woe, And turn thy Steed, ere he untamed grow. 21. Delay gives strength, time ripes the greenest grape, And makes corn stiff, that was a weak spring-weed: The greatest tree that farthest spreads his sape, Was first a wand, or but a little seed. Then mought it be thrown down, drawn up, soon broke, Now stands it stiff, & conquers every stroke. 22. Consider first, where thou dost thrall thy heart, To whom thou vowest thy service and thy love, And if the burden cause thine inward smart From out the yoke with speed thy neck remove: Stop the beginning, for Physic comes too late, When time hath drawn the wound to desperate state. 23. Defer not therefore to the coming hour, For he that at the present is unapt, Shall find delay diminish still his power, Until at length he wholly be entrapped. lovers excuses seek of long delay, And ever fittest deems the following day. 24. But each small minute gives occasion Of deeper thraldom, Fancy ties by slight: See how by many streams collection, There doth arise a flood of wondrous might. Drops multiplied do grow to running springs, And springs united forth a River brings. 25. If that thou hadst foreseen how great a sin, Myrrah, thy wicked lust did power on thee, Thou never shouldst have hid thy shameful chin Within the bark of that still weeping tree. Oft have I seen an easy soon cured ill By times process, surpass the Leachmans' skill. 26. But for we still delight to taste the fruits Of melting pleasure, and bewitching Love, We woo ourselves with long protracting suits, And daily promise from it to remove: Mean while the flame we feed within us still, For deeper roots the weed and tree of ill. 27. But if the time of this first cure be past, And long-fed love doth load thy fainting heart, A work of greater moment now is cast, Upon my promise, and of deeper Art. Yet will I not cast off the sick decayed, Though late it be ere he implores my aid. 28. Paeantius son should have redeemed his health, By cutting off that first corrupted part, Though after many years times gone by stealth, He ending warfare was recured by Art. I that but now did lance the wound in haste, Now wish thou slowly flying time to waste. 29. Yet seek to quench those flames, that newly burn, With those, whose fury passed do now decline: Give reins to running rage, and do not turn Her race, and she will kill herself with time. Each violence at first is wondrons strong, And hardly yieldeth passage unto wrong. 30. He is a fool that may the River pass By small declining unto either side: And yet will strive against the stream, alas, And ever be far from his purpose wide. Me thinks I see a mind impatient, That never subject was to Arts true bent. 31. Contemn this Counsel as of slender skill, And scorn th' admonisher as fond and vain: But then will I apply me to his will, And undertake my promised task again. When as his wounds will bear a touch, a strain, And eke himself believe I do not feign. 32. Who would forbid the mother for to weep Upon the dead hearse of her dearest son: This is no time that she should patience keep, This is no place to say she must have done: When with her tears her mind is satisfied, By words her grief may best be mollified. 33. By time must medicines be measured forth, For in fit time wines profit and delight: But out of season they are little worth, And brings the body to eternal night. Moreover, unto flax thou addest fire, Forbidding vice, contraring his desire. 34. In unfit times, by ill means, or strange place, Nor ever shalt thou so thy Patient cure: When then thou seest thyself in better case, Able or hard prescriptions to endure, See first thou fly from slothful Idleness, And still be doing somewhat more or less. 35. Sloth draws thee on, and leads thee unto Love, Sloth the chief cause, and food of pleasing ill: Shake off but Sloth, and idle ease remove, Blind Cupid shall his arrows vainly spill: His bow shall break, and to the ground shall fall, Yea and his fiery brands extinguish all. 36. Even as the palm-tree loves the rivers sight, And as the Alder joys the Water's side, As Reeds in slimy Marshes delight, So Love doth evermore with sloth abide. Love hates all busy brains as deadly ill: If then thou wilt not love, be busy still. 37. Languor, and Feebleness, and slothful play, Time drowned in Wine, and lost in drowsy sleep, Steals from the mind her wont strength & stay, Whiles all her spirits dead, no watch do keep: Then in slips Traitor Love her enemy, And doth deprive her of her liberty. 38. Love evermore a shadow is to Sloth, Attending on her always as her Page, To be employed with business its loath: It hates all care, at trouble still doth rage. Add then unto thy mind some chief affair, Still to preserve from loves infectious air. 39 There are the seats of judgements justice see: There are the Laws go learn to plead for truth; Thou hast some friend in trouble, set him free: Thus shalt thou ever fly fond Fancies ruth. Or clad thyself in steel and shining arms, Pleasure shall fly, and never work thy harms. 40. Behold the Parthian, who flying fights, Now captivate the cause of our new joys, Conquer thou Cupid's sensual delights: As then the Parthian haste to his annoy; So in thy double conquest mayst thou wear Two Trophies, and unto thy Gods them bear. 41. As soon as Venus from th' Aeolian Spear Received her wound, she left the bloody field, She left the care of that unconstant fear Unto her Lover, by his strength to wield: Some ask why frail Aegistus burnt in sin? The cause is plain, Sloth did his virtue win. 42. divers were slack, and many proved slow, Some came but late, before proud Troy's wall, To which the youth of Greece did daily go, Concluding their long toil with Illion's fall. Would he the exercise of rough wars deign, His nature could not suffer any pain. 43. Would he have spent his speech to plead for right, Greece wanted matter for his vehement tongue, All that he could, he did even to his might, Lest nought he should to Love he tuned his song: So came that child to undertake some pain, So still he doth a childish boy remain. 44. The Country also doth delight the mind, With pleasant studies of sweet husbandry: This care the greevoust cares & griefs doth bind, Quickly forgets and makes all sorrow fly. Yoke then thy Oxen well taught to obey, And furrow up the earth in good array. 45. Bury therein thy quick and lively seed, Which thy fat fields in time shall multiply Yielding thee treble gains with happy speed, Behold the Apple bough how it doth ply. And stoop with store of fruit that doth abound, Scarce able to sustain them from the ground. 46. Mark well the gentle music of each spring, Whiles through the Pebbles it doth make her way: See how thy Lambs with tender teeth do wring, And choysely crop the sweetest herbs away. The gentle Lambs that always heard together, Lovers of company, loving one another. 47. Lo how the Goats unto the Rocks do speed, Their empty dugs for their young kids to fill: Attend the music of the shepherds Reed, How his true Cur awaits to do his will. O how the woods resound on every part, Of kine that still bewail their calves depart. 48. How swarms of Bees from bitter smoke do fly, Easing the crooked Pillars of their nest: How Autumn yieldeth fruits abundantly, And Summer welcomes Ceres to his feast. The Spring with flowers guilds the pleasant field, And Winter's Frost with fire we beguiled. 49. The Husbandman in time convenient, Gathers his Grape, & thence draws pleasant Wine. The Gardener hath his slips in order bend, Refines the earth, and plots it with his line. Even thou mayst plant, and graff, and set, & sow, Cause water many miles through pipes to flow, 50. Is it fit time to graff? make then one Tree, Adopt an other, and preserve his life, There let him stand still covered and still free, From th'injuries of time, and weather's strife: Thy mind thus busied with this pleasant care, Love disappointed from thee flieth fair. 51. Or give thy mind to Hunt sweet delight, For stately Diana that pursues in chase, And conquers each untamed beast in fight, Gives Venus still foul over throws and base. Follow the fearful hart with skilful hound, Or with thy net encompass him around. 52. Add divers terrors to the flying heart, And with thy Spear transfix the cruel Boar, So thou all weary at the days depart, Shalt sound sleep till Sun the day restore. No idle thoughts shall rule thy fantasy, Nor pleasing dream thy weaker sense shall try. 53. More gentle is that pleasant exercise, To fowl with shaft, or closely hidden Net, Nor do these sports of less reward despise, For also they do Cupid's treason let: Or hide thy compassed Hook with pleasing bait, Deceiving Fish that do for food await. 54. With these, and other such, still feed thy mind, For by thyself thy self must be deceived, Till thoughts of love quite vanquished thou find; Thou only (let me herein be beliud) Though dearest love implore thee still to stay, Absent thyself by journeys every day. 55. I know the sweet remembrance of thy love, (Which newly thou forsakest will cause thee weep,) And stay thy foot that it no step remove, Altering the purpose, which thou mindst to keep. But by how much thou shalt desire to stay, So much the faster see thou spur away. 56. Be patient, and learn by daily use, To suffer these afflictions of sick minds. Wish not for rain, fit matter of excuse, Or sabboth's that from journeys do us bind, Nor Allium, that most unlucky thing, Which evermore with it mischance doth bring. 57 Think not how many thousands thou hast passed, But look how many miles do yet remain: Nor with delay study the time to waste, To stay near home do no occasion find: Number thou not the days, the weeks the hours, Nor look thou back unto thine homebred bowers. 58. But fly forth still and with the Parthian fight, Who finds best safety in retiring still, Some one will call my precepts hard, and right, He says, yea I subscribe unto his will. But for to keep our health in perfect state, Much must we suffer of a desperate fate. 59 Oft have I tasted syrups of sharp touch, Against my will, to cure my malady: But when my appetite desired much, All sorts of meats they did to me deny. To free thy body from disease and pain, Both sword, and fire, & what not wilt thou deign? 60. If that in greatest thirst and moistures lack, Thou must not touch one drop of shewring rain, Then to redeem thy mind from sorrows wrack: Wilt thou refuse to suffer any pain? Sith it so far exceeds this human mould Of base borne flesh unto corruption sold. 61. But yet the hardest entrance of our Art, And greatest labour that furmounts the rest, Is to endure, and bear the first times smart: Behold how hard it is, to make th'young beast, First brook the yoke, or back an untamed lade, And yet in time they are most gentle made. 62. But thou art loath to leave thy Countries bound, Thy father's cottage, and his dwelling place, Yet shalt thou go beyond thy native ground, Though to return thou turnest still thy face: Thou feignest fair excuse, not Countries lack, But thy fair Mistress Love doth call thee back. 63. Well being past great comfort to thy mind, Thy journey, fellows, and strange fields will bring, Yet think not this sufficient, but beware, Lest thou return, ere Love hath ta'en her wing, Still absent be, and still unknown paths tread, Till every spark of Love lie cold and dead. 64. For if thou do return cured but in part, Love will again renew his civil war, And every day will still augment thy smart, Sith thou returnest to thy grief from far. But let him eat the herbs of Thessaly, That Magic thinks will cure his Malady. 65. Yet ancient is that damned Socerie: But wise Apollo, Poet's chiefest guide, Doth point us out for better means to try: And certain helps, on which we must abide. Then by my will no Magic shallbe used, No charming verse which many have abused. 66. No ghost shallbe commanded to arise Out of the grave, where it should sleep in rest: No witch, whose limbs by age grown weatherwise, Shall cause the earth rend open her wide breast. Corn shall not shift from field to field at all, Nor shall the Sun grow dim, or wax ●●d palls. 67. As erst it did, shall Rome's fair River pay, He wont tribute to the Midland Sea. And still shall Phoebe coarse her wont way, Drawn by her milk-white steeds, that swiftest be. No Wizard reading backward shall uncharm, Or living Sulphur drive away loves harm. 68 What remedy did Phasis flowers yield Circe, when thou wouldst not from Cholcos god▪ What helped the weeds of all the Persian field When as the winds Ulysses sails did blow. Each guile thou didst attempt to make him stay, A blast of wind yet wasted him away. 69. Yea thou didst practise through thy deepest art, To quench those flames that did molest thy mind, Yet did they evermore procure thy smart, And unto deeper sorrow did thee bind. Thou that couldst change men into divers kind Couldst not reverse the passions of thy mind. 70. And when he would depart, thou thought'st to stay Him with sweet words, with which thou fild'st his ear, I cannot hope, thou saidst, but humbly pray, To make me your sole spouse, which much I fear: Yet am I worthy it, though that thou scorn, Daughter to Phoebus of a goddess borne. 71. O yet delay thy journey some small space, Short stay for great requital I require, With favour may I ask a smaller grace: See how the Sea contraries thy desire, With troubled Billows, which should cause thee fear: Stay then for wind that will thee safely bear. 72. What cause hast thou to hasten thus thy flight? Here stands no adverse Troy to trouble thee: No foe to call thee forth to bloody fight, But love and peace dwells here, from danger free. Yet only I from them have ta'en this wound, Which unto thee subjecteth hath this ground. 73. This and much more in vain her tongue did say, But wise Ulysses always stopped his ear; And hoisting his brave sails, fled fast away, The wind her love, and words away doth bear. Yet still her torments did the more increase, Yet still of cursed spells she seeketh ease. 74. But all her magic, and sprite binding art, Diminished nothing of her furious love, Ne aught did take from her consuming smart, Ne ought her hellish torments did remove; Ye then that fond love, and feign would leave, In magic spells do not at all believe. 75. But if great cause of business thee retain Within the City, where thy mistress dwells, Follow my counsel freedom to regain, Which for the City's presence I will tell. He won his freedom and did quite him well, That once escaped unworthy loves low Hell. 76. This thou desirest him, I wonder at, And of my medicines he shall not need: To thee alone my Rules I will relate, Whose inward wounds do never cease to bleed, Who lovest, & wouldst feign that knot unbind, And knowst not how, & seek'st the way to find. 77. Recount unto thyself each subtle Art, Each wicked Act of thine unworthy Love: Unfold before thine eyes each loss, each smart, Which by her means and for her thou dost prove: This hath she stolen, & that thus must you say, Yet this or that will not her stealing stay. 78. But even household goods, and gods and all, She quite hath fold with covetous desire: Lo thus protesting she doth Record call Her faith, ye falsifies it, O the stout liar, How often hath she shut me out her gate? There suffering me my sorrows to relate. 79. Yea she applies herself to strangers last, And scorn my love, o most unhappy I, Unto her base apprentice she doth trust, Those secrets which to me she doth deny: The oft remembrance of such cruel wrong▪ Will root thy fancy up though grounded strong. 80. Present them often then to thy sick mind, For hence the spring shall rise of happy hate, O would thou couldst seem eloquent, to bind More strong persuasions to thy sickly state. 81. Lately I set my fancy on a maid, That fully answered not to my desire, And therefore strived my fancy to have staid, A poor Physician to so great a fire: Yet the remembrance of her vilder parts, Released the fury of tormenting smarts. 82. How ill and excellent unshapt her thigh, Yet to confess the truth, it was not so: How foul her arms, thus would I say and sigh, Yet if they were not thus, I well did know: How short of stature, yet her stature tall; Thus envy loathsomeness to me did call. 83. Good things do neighbour bad, and sit them by, Oft virtue thus of vice doth bear that blame, Feign to thyself, and tell thyself a lie, And clothe her virtues with foul vices shame. Thus shalt thou change thy mind with subtle art, And wear away thy still encombring smart. 84. If she be fat, that she is swollen say: If brown, then tawny like the Afric Moor: If slender, lean, meager, and worn away, If courtly, wanton, worst of worst before: If modest, strange, as fitteth womanhood, Say she is rustic, clownish, and ill bred. 85. Yea whatsoever gift, (for none hath all) Thy mistress wants, entreat her still to use: If that her voice be ill, or cunning small, Importune her to sing, ne'er let her choose: If that she cannot move her feet in measure, To see her dance, still let it be thy pleasure. 86. Is she of small discourse, and slender wit? Converse with her, that she may wound thine ear, To instruments hath she not learned to fit Her fingers? then desire a Lute to hear. Hath she an ill uncomely and strange gate? Cause her to walk both early forth and late. 87. Hath she a swelling, and down hanging breast? Desire thou still to see her fair white skin; Are her teeth black or wants she of the best? Relate some merry jest that she may grin: Is she compassionate? tell then some woeful case, So shall she show thee Antics in her face. 88 Early desire to steal of her a sight, Ere she hath clothed her with her best attire: We are seduced by vain errors might, And gay apparel kindles our desire. Then is she shrouded all in stone and gold, And of herself, least part herself doth hold. 89. Oft seek for whom thou lov'st in company, And great resort of other goodly dames: By this device new loves beguiles thine eye, And draws thy first desire to farther blame: Come all unthought of sudden in the place, So shall she be unarmed in weaker case. 90. So shalt thou disappoint her in her guile, See her defects, and cool thy burning love; Yet trust not to this rule, which other while Fallacious and dangerous doth prove: For careless haviour that doth banish art, Hath mighty force, to hold a wounded heart. 91. Yet whiles with curious skill she paints her face, Be not ashamed, but press thou to her sight: Then shalt thou find her boxes in the place, Wherein her beauty lies, and borrowed light. Then shalt thou see her body all begreased With ointments that hath thee so greatly pleased. 92. Of savour worse than Phineûs tables were, Whose filthiness a plague to him was sent, With these my stomach could not often bear, But evermore to ease itself was bend; But now even what we use in midst of Love, I will thee teach that passion to remove. 93. For by all means we must this fire expel; But I do shame even needful things to show: Yet thou by those which I to thee shall tell, Mayst well conceive the rest, and easy know. For some dispraise my rhymes to envy bend, And say my Muse is shameless impudent. 94. Yet since I see so many that I please, That all the world my sporting lines receive, Let this, or that man envy at my ease, Dispraise my pen, and me of praise bereave: Detracting envy Homer's writ hath blamed Who ere thou be, he Zoilus hath named. 95. Yea sacrilegious tongues hath torn thy verse, By whose good guide the Trojans gained this land: The loftiest things Ioues thunderbolts do pierce; And winds encounter what doth highest stand. So envy ever aimeth at the best, And will not give them any time to rest. 96 But thou, who ere thou be, that thus my Muse So much offends through loser liberty, If in thy wrath discretion thou canst use, Then to each subject, his apt verse apply: Stout wars deserve a Homer to display Their battles, conflicts, and their good array. 97 What place may there be found for sweet delight, For Revels, Triumphs, Loves and merriment; Matters of State, Tragedians do report, For lofty Styles becomes such drirement. No humble muse must there sound his still horn, There buskins, but no base shoes must be worn. 98 The jambicke freely taunts his enemy, Whether his last foot slow, or swift doth prove, The legicke sings of love, and archery, With shafts, such as from lovers eyes do rove, And with her lover wanton doth play, And sweetly speak, and plead, implore and pray. 99 Achilles honour shines not in the verse Of Cyrens' Muse, where sports do better prove, And stately Homer, thou must not rehearse, Cydippe, young Acontius dearest love: Who can endure Andromache should play, The sports of Thais, and her wanton lay? 100 Who acteth Thais, wrongs Andromache, One person cannot fit him to both parts: But I will play that part, and Thais be, Our sports are libertines, free are our hearts: Sith then all shame we banish from our verse, Thais is mine, I will her part rehearse. 101. If then my lines do fit a wantoness lay, Gnaw thine own gall, fond envy hold thy peace, For we have won the lasting crown of bay, And cleared the blame wherein we did displease: Break envy, break in thine own foul despite, For we have got renown, and glory bright. 102. For still with honour, fame's desire doth grow; But at the foot of this high climbing hill, My weary Steeds do pant and faintly go; As much to us by their according will: Our Elegies confess to us they owe, As from his work to Virgil praise doth flow. FINIS. ¶ An exposition of the Poetical examples, mentioned in this first Book of the Remedy of love. TYDIDES, That is Diomedes, the son of Tydeus & Deiphiles, he was the most strong & valiant of all the greeks, except Achilles & Ajax: he wounded Venus in the right hand; whiles she defended Aeneas, yea, & also Mars, the God of war, her Paramour. Achilles, in a conflict wounded Telephus king of Missia, who denied passage to the Grecians through his kingdom, bound for the siege of Troy, of which when no remedy could be found, he received from an Oracle, that he could not otherwise be healed, but by the same Spear wherewith he was wounded: Afterwards therefore being reconciled to Achilles, he obtained that he might make an emplaster of the rust thereof, and so was restored to his perfect health. Phillis, Lycurgus' daughter, who entertained Demophoön, returning from the Trojan war, admitted him to her bed: with condition, that assoon as he had ordered his home-affayres, he should return again and marry her. But he being detained by urgent occasions, and staying longer than the appointed time, she hanged herself, and gave an end to her love and life, in one instant. Dido. How she after Aeneas departed from her, feigning a sacrifice, burned herself, it is too vulgar to be repeated. Troyans'. A people of Asia. Medea. The daughter of Aeta king of Cholcos, she entertained jason in his expedition for the Golden fleece, which she taught him how to win, and after fled away with him, married him, and bare unto him two sons. Afterwards she was forsaken by him, who took unto his second wife, Creusa the daughter of Creon, King of Corinth, which Medea took so grievously, that artificially enclosing fire in a Forcet, sent it unto her for a token: with which, she and the Palace before day was burnt up. Herewith jason being inflamed, ran forth to be revenged on her, but she seeing him coming, took up her two sons which he begat on her, and in their father's sight murdered them, by cutting their throats, and then through her witchcraft she was taken up into the Clouds, and so went unto Athens. Tereus. Philomela. Tereus' having ravished Philomela, (who went to see her sister Progne whom he had married) that his sin might not be disclosed he cut off her tongue, and imprisoned her, but being a cunning work woman, she wrote the whole process of her injury in an handkerchief, and sent it to her sister: who in revenge thereof, killed her own son Itys, and gave his flesh boiled & roasted unto her husband to eat: unto whom, after he had well fed thereon, she presented the child's head: whereat he being angry, followed his wife to have slain her, but she was turned into a Nightingale, & he into that bird which the Latins call Vpupa, and some falsely translate, a Lapwing. Pasiphae, The wife of Mirios, who being in love with a Bull, by the help of Dedalus her Bawd, found out a way how she might lie with him: yea she conceived & brought out a Minotaur, which was half a maan & half a Bull: which being enclosed in the Labyrinth, was after slain by Theseus. Phaedra, Wife to Theseus, who falsely accused Hippolitus his son of whoredom, because he would not satisfy her lust, in lying with her, and so wrought his death. He is not I think, that hath not heard how Paris king Priamus his son of Troy, stole Helen from Greece, how the Grecians, which are a people of Europe, in revenge, after 10. years siege, destroyed Troy, called also by the name of Pergamus: wherefore we will ease our margeant of this tedious note. Scylla, daughter to Nisus, who falling in love with Minos her fahers' enemy, cut off his golden hair, and presented him therewith, thinking by this great argument of her love, to win his grace: but he, though by her means he overcame her father, hated so much her impiety, that he utterly refused her, and she, throwing herself into the sea, at his departure, to swim after him, was turned into the bird Ciris, a Lark. ovid. Prophet, that is Apollo, whom Poets do make their God: hence are they crowned with Laurel, which tree is consecrated to him: he also for his skill in the natures of herbs, is recorded for the inventor or finder out of that most necessary Art of Physic. Myrrah, the daughter of Cinarus king of Cyprus, who desiring her father's company, by the device of her Nurse, enjoyed her filthy lust: and was delivered of Adonis: which when her father knew, he would have slain her, but she flying from his fury, was turned into a tree of that name, which evermore weary as it were, and lamenteth her impiety. Paeantius son, that is Philoctetes, the companion of Hercules, who after his death enjoyed his arrows, and being drawn to the Trojan war, by the fall of one of them was wounded in his foot, which grew to be almost incurable: for which cause he was left behind in the I'll of Lemnos, & after by Ulysses was fetched unto Troy, which being sacked, he went into Calabria, where Machaon restored him to health. Cupid, the son of Venus, loves archer. etc. Parthian, a people of Asia, in ancient times the most earnest enemies of the Romans, they excelled in shooting, which they so vesd in flight, that they more endamaged their foes thereby, then by any handy conflict, and yet defended themselves also. Of which justine lib. 41. Fugam sepe simulant, ut incautiores adversus vulnera insequentes habeant. & paulo post. Plerumque in ipso ardore certamini praelia deserunt, & paulo post pugnam & fugam repetunt, & cum maximè vicisse te putes tunc tibi discrimen subeundum est. Aeolion spear, Diomedes spear, look this before. Aegistus, the son of Thiestis by Pelopeia, he murdered Agamemnon, being aided by his wicked wife Clytemnestia, whom he used in whoredom and beastly lust, and was after slain himself by Orestes, Agamemnon's son. Ceres, the Inuentrix of ploughing and tilling, sowing corn, and making bread. Diana, daughter to jupiter & Latona, and brother to Apollo by the same birth, she, for the love of virginity, fled the company of men, and inhabited the woods, dedelighting herself with hunting, whence she is named: The Lady and goddess of Hunters. Allium, by this herb which we call garlic, antiquity hath noted hieroglifically evil luck. Thessaly, a country in Greece, first named Aemonia; whither Medea fled with jason, after that by her help he had overcome the Dragon: in it there were great store of witches, and it aboundeth with herbs, which they think most needful for their mischievous practices. Rome's fair river Tiber, so named from Tiberius, king of Albania, who was drowned therein, as Livy our Poet, fast. 2. recordeth. These wonders which Ovid here reciteth, are but the effects of conjuration, the sense of all is but this: as if he had said: Seek not to expel love by spells, conjuration or witchcraft, because they have no force to remove it. That part of the Ocean which entereth at Hercules' Pillars & Midland sea, goeth East to Tripoli, & then North to Constantinople. And the Ocean is all that sea which compasseth the now 4. and according to some, the 6. known continents or parts of the earth. Phoebe, the same whom they call Diana, Cynthia & Luna, of us, the Moon, sister to Phoebus the Sun, from whom she hath her name: some feign that her chariot is drawn with white horses, some with fishes. Phasis, whiles Ulysses in his wander through the Midland seas eschewed the rough waters Lestrigoniae, he was by tempest driven unto Colchos, where Circe inhabited, a great and skilful Sorceress, who being in love with him, restored his companions into their former shapes of men, being now transformed into Hogs. But when notwithstanding he would needs depart and leave her, she did what she could by charms & incantations to stay him, but they proved all vain, and she utterly forsaken. Phasis is a great river in that country and Town also, situate on that river in Colchos a country of Asia, full of herbs which they use in their witchcrafts: as Hor. Car. l. 2. odd. witnesseth. Ille & venena Colchica & quicquid usquam concipitur nefas tractavit. In this country, Circe & Medea two notable witches inhabited, Daughter to Phoebus of a goddess borne. For Circe was daughter to the Son, by the Nymph Perses. Africa, one of the 4. parts of the world. etc. Phineus, the son of Agenor king of Arcadia, according to some, he married Sthenobea, on whom he begat Orythrus and Crambus, whom by the persuasion of their mother in Law Harpalicae his second wife, he caused to be made blind: for which impiety, himself first lost his sight, than was vexed by the filthy birds or monsters called Harpeiae: and lastly was slain by Hercules. After he found his unfortunate sons wandering on the desolate mountains, and understood their miseries. Homer, whose divine poesy is admired of all men, but Zoilus a Sophister, who lived in the time of Ptolemy, to whom he dedicated his work, wrote against him, and expected some great reward for his labour. But in long and vain expectation he grew very penurious, insomuch that he procured one to beg somewhat of the king for his relief: to whom Ptol. answered, That he wondered, that whereas Homer had sustained the lives of so many thousands, so long before dead, he being more learned than Homer, should be so beggarly, as not able to maintain himself. From him all other Detractors are commonly called Zoili. Ioues thunderbolt, the lightning, etc. jambicke, a most railing and bitter kind of verse, etc. Elegies, another sort of verse, and used in an other fashion, for being most mild and pleasant, is used in the Cantos, Sonnets, & complaints of lovers and disports. Cyrens' muse, Chalimachus borne in Cyrene, the most excellent writer of Elegies amongst the Grecians: he wrote a notable work of the beginnings & first institution of sacrifices and holy days, not unlike unto our Poet's books De fastis, but he entitled his Aetia. Acontius & Cydippe, a pleasant Comic fiction. Acontius a young man of Coa, who going unto Delos, to the sacrifice of Diana, fell in love with Cydippe, but despairing thereof, because he neither equalled her in birth or riches, he wrote on an apple, at the least to testify his love, these two verses. juro tibi sacrae per mystica sacra Dianae Me tibi venturum comitem, sponsumque futurum. Which she finding and reading, unwitting who it was that wrote it, rashly swore to marry him: And afterwards as often as she should have been married to any other, she fell into some grievous sickness, so that the matter being opened to her parents, they were contented in the end to make this marriage. Andromache, the wife of Hector, whom after Pyrrhus carried into Greece, and married to Helen, another of Priam's children. Thais, a notable strumpet, borne in Alexandria, that to increase her gains, went unto Athens, whose name the comic Poet Maenander, celebrated in his verse. FINIS. To the Reader. I Thought it not amiss (courteous Reader) to adjoin unto this small labour of mine, these two following Epistles, of which one is translated out of Ovid, the other is an answer thereunto. Which chiefly I did, lest the sweet exercises of that honourable and thrice renowned Sappho of our times, should even the least of them, be lost in the obscure night of sad silence, and Oblivion: and then, especially the subject, and the matter so fitly agreeing and participating with the former, I could not but couple them together in all points else, a most unequal match. Wherein I hope the greatest fault that I have committed, is, but that it hath not the first place. Yet take this old Proverb with a right application for my just excuse. All is well that endeth well. And so end I Reader farewell. Dido to Aeneas. Aeneas would from Dido part, But Dido not content, She moved him first with words, And then this Letter sent. SO at Meander's streams, when fates bids life be gone: The snow white Swan on mossy grass, outstretched tunes his moan. Not hoping thee to move, this suit I undertake, The heavens at the motion frowned when first we did it make: But fame of due desert, my body and my mind So lewdly lost; the loss is light, to lose these words of wind. Resolved thou art to go, and woeful Dido leave: Those winds shall blow thy faith away that shall thy sails upheave. Resolved thy ships at once, and promise to untie, To seek Italian Realms, which yet thou know'st not where they lie. Nought moved, with Carthage new, nor walls that growing be, Nor that there was committed all the sovereignty to thee. Thou leavest things full made, thou seekest new to make, To search about for Lands unfound, Land found thou dost forsake. But grant the land thou find, to thee who will it give? Why will the soil to strangers yield, whereon themselves do live? Thou must an other Love, another Dido find: And which again thou mayst undo, another promise bind. When wilt thou into form a Town like Carthage bring: And from thy Palace top behold, thy subjects as their King? If all things else succeed, and nothing cross thy mind: What place will ever yield to thee a wife to thee so kind? For I like waxen torch in Sulphur rolled do burn: Each day, each night Aeneas makes unto my thoughts return. Unthankful he indeed, And deaf to what I give: And such, as were I not a fool, I would without him live. Yet though his thoughts be ill, I hate him not therefore: Complain I do of his untroath, complaining Love therefore. Thy daughter Venus spare, thy brother hard embrace: O brother Love, within thy Camp, point him a soldiers place. Or me, who first began, for Love I not disdain, Let him but only subject yield, to this my careful pain. But ah I am beguiled, his boasts are boasted lies: Of mother's line: from mother's kind, in all his course he flies. Thee some unwieldy stone, or Rockey Mountains bred: Or oaks which on high rocks do grow, or beasts by Raven fed. Or Sea with winds turmoild, as now thou seest it sho: Yet thitherward art ready bent, in spite of waves to go. What meanest thou? winter let's, let winter's suit prevail: See with what force the Eastern blasts the rolling waves assail. Since winds and waters do, than thou more justice show, Let me, what more to thee I would, to wind and waters owe. I am not so much worth, which sure thou dost not think. That while on Seas from me thou fliest, thyself in Seas shouldst shrink. Thou precious hatred bearest, and pierced exceeding high: If so thou mayst of me be rid, thou count it cheap to die. The winds their windy force anon will lay aside: And Triton will with Azure steeds On leveled waters glide. Now (would the gods) as they so thou couldst changed be: Thou wilt unless thy hardness do far pass the hardest tree. What if of furious Seas the force thou didst not know? Which tried so oft and found so ill, yet still to sea wilt go. And though they serve at will, when thou dost Anchors way: Yet in so long a voyage, chance no few mischances may. And sure to cross the Seas, small fruit faith-breakers gain: That place on false deceivers doth inflict their falsehoods pain. But most when Love is wronged, for why? of Love the Dame, First naked out of watery waves, about Cythera came. Lest hurt who hurteth me undone, undo I shall, I fear, and least by wrack on seas, In seas my foes shall fall. Live: so I better shall then thee by death destroy: Thou of my death, not I of thine, the Title shall enjoy. Suppose a whirlwind swift, God make these words but wind Catch thee unwares, what courage them, what thoughts will pass thy mind? Lo, strait with falsehood fraught, thy perjured tongue appears: And Dido driven by Troyans' guile, of life to short her years. Of thy betrayed wife, will stand before thy sight: The Image sad; disheneiled, with bleeding wounds bedight. Let come (then wilt thou say) I have deserved this all: And bend at thee thou wilt suppose, what ever lightnings fall. Both seas and thou do rage,, let both and breathing take: This small delay (no small reward) thy journey safe shall make. For thee my care is least, thy child let spared be: Thou hast the glory of my death, sufficient that for thee. What hath thy little son? what hath thy gods deserved? That them the waters swallow should from fierce force preserved. But false thou hast no such, as me thy brags have told, Nor ever didst on shoulders lift, thy gods and father old. Thou liest in this and all, thy tongue his guileful part Begins not first on me to play, nor I first feel the smart. Ask where the mother is, of fair julus gone: Her stony husband her forsook, and so she died alone. It pitied me to hear, which just recompense: For me had been, but that such pain is less than mine offence. That thee thy gods condemn, my heart doth me assure: Who seven years now on land on seas such tossing dost endure. ay thee by wrack vpthrow'n in harbour sure did save, And scarcely having heard thy name, to thee my Kingdom gave. O would with these good turns I me content had found: And that in famous fame of mine were buried deep in ground. That day my woe was wrought, when under stooping bower Of mossy den we met alone, compelled by sudden shower. Some howling sounds I heard, the Nymphs I thought did so, They Furies were, who in that sort foretold my fatal woe. chaste Law of shamefast Love, revenge on me this blame: Ill to Sichaeus kept, to whom aye me I go with shame. Whose sacred Image I in marble chapel keep, With levy branches hid from sight, and wool of whitest sheep. Hence thrice I heard me called, I knew his well known voice, Himself thrice said: Come Dido, Come: with softly wispring noise. I come without delay, which once was only thine, Yet me the more to linger makes, this shameful fact of mine. But pardon thou my fault, whose deed might well deceive, To others he in mine offence, the less offence doth leave. His mother heavens Imp, his sire a godly load, Unto his son by reason bred sure hope of his abode. If needs I must have erred mine error had good ground, Put faith in him, he no way else unworthy shall be found. My faults to end persist, as they at first begun: And their unlucky spindels still in one like tenor run. My husband fell to ground before the Altars slain, My brother of that wicked act doth reap the wicked gain. Myself exiled, his grave and country both forsake: And forced am, by foe pursued uneasy ways to take. I land on land unknown escaped from foe and wave: And bought the shore which freely yet to thee false wretch I gave. A Town I built, whose walls far out extended lie: Provoking places near about maligning to envy. Wars grow, poor stranger I, and woman vexed with wars: Scarce know how armour to provide and strength my gate with bars. When thousands to me sued: now all against me come: Grieved that before their beds, I have preferred I know not whom. Why stickest to yield me bound into Hiarbas hands, I will not stick to yield mine arms to bide thy wicked bands. A brother eke I have, who wicked hands anew, embrewed first in husband's blood, would feign in mine embrew. Lay down thy sacred Gods, whom touching dost pollute, Unseemly with ungodly hands doth godly worship suit. If they from fire escaped, that thou mightst them adore: That ever they escaped from fire thy Gods repent them sore. And what, o wicked man, with child if Dido be: And of thyself some part of thee there lies enclosed in me? The Dame and ruthful babe at once shall be forlorn: And by thy means to death be brought who yet was never borne. So with his parent shall julus brother die: One death at once shall two dispatch, whose lives in one doth lie. But God bids thee to go, would God he had forbid To come; that of thy Trojan troops my Carthage had been rid. This God no doubt your guide, doth you those tempests raise: And makes you on those flowing floods so long to spend your days. To Troy back to turn, it scarce were worth thy pain: If as while Hector lived it was, so now it were again. Not to Seamander you, but Tiber's streams do go, Where grant arrived, what are you else, but such as no man know? But as that land is hid, and from thy fleet doth make, It seems old age will sooner thee, than thou it overtake. Yet rather as my dower, this Realm of mine receive, With all Pygmalion's wealth I brought, and farther wandering leave. And into Carthage Troy with better hap translate, Where thou shalt sacred Sceptre bear, enthroned in royal state. If thou do wars affect, or if thy sons desire, Of triumph matter to procure by martial means aspire: That nought may wanting be, such foes we will him yield, This place for laws of peace is apt, apt is for spear and shield. Now by thy mother thou thy brother quivered boy, By the companions of thy flight thy gods, the gods of Troy. So may thy remnant left, in field all conquest win, As Trojan war of all thy loss, the final end have been. Ascanius live his years, with all good fortune blest: And softly may the buried bones of old Anchises rest. Spare now, o spare thine house, which gives itself to thee: But that indeed I have thee loved, what fault canst find in me? Of Pythia I am not, nor great Mycenae borne, My husband nor my father hath against thee armour worn. Of wife if thou think scorn, not wife, cut hostess call: So thine she be, what Dido be, she nought regards at all. The seas to me are known, on Afric coast that lie: At times they do free passage grant, at times they do deny. When weather will permit, hoist sail and set from land: For now the lawching of thy ships the flowing weeds withstand. Charge me to wait the time thou shalt go sure away: Not then, no though thyself desire, myself will let thee stay. Thy mates some rest require, thy Fleet sore rend with waves: And scarcely yet half rigged anew, for some small respite craves. For what have I deserved? what owe to thee I may Henceforth, for all my marriage hopes, I crave but small delay. Whiles stormy seas grow calm, while custom tempers love: How patiently mishaps to bear, I shall the practise prove. If not, my life to spill with full intent I mind: Of cruelty thou canst not long in me a subject find. Would God thou didst but see mine Image as I wright: I wright, and full against my breast thy naked sword is pight. And down my cheeks along the tears do trickling fall: Which by and by in stead of tears, ingrayne in blood I shall. How well with this my fate, these gifts of thine agree, To furnish our my funeral, the cost will slender be. My breast shall not be now first pierced with this blade, For why? there is a former wound, which cruel Love hath made. Anne sister, sister Anne, ill privy to my fault, Perform thy last obsequious love, unto my bones thou shalt. When flames have me consumed, write not on marble grave: Here Dido lies, Sichaeus wife. but this verse let me have. Aeneas, Dido gave both cause and sword of death: And Dido using her own hand, deprived herself of breath. Aeneas to Dido. Aeneas read what Dido wrote, And sent her this reply; And sought to cure the cureless wound, Which Dido made to die. WHen my dear Country once most stately Troy Of asia Queen of gods the handy work, Mine eyes beheld the furious flames destroy, Which hidden erst in wooden horse did lurk. I deemed me drowned in deepest gulf of woe, Deeper than which, no grief could make me go. But when my fortune guided me to see Poor old Prince Priam at the Altar slain, More deep than deepest fell I one degree, And felt increased my past increasing pain. And cried enraged: Conspire now heavens all, I am at worst, no worse can me befall. Yet since Creusa my most loving wife, Of noblest birth, and no less noble mind: My dear Creusa loved more than life, In hapless haste I flying left behind: Where weary she, or missing of her way, To bloody greeks, a bloody death did pay. And since my father comfort of my care, I lost likewise, by death from me bereft, My faithful friends by shipwreck swallowed are: And is there yet some further sorrow left? Some further wrack to make me more accursed? Since fire, sword, seas, & death have done their worst? In vain alas I doubt of what I know, And seek at thee what in myself I find, I muse: Live I and know this? thee forego, To whom so many, such deserts me bind. What words can serve this anguish to display, Where weight of woe, doth reason overway? Yet since thyself hast made thy pen descry Thy griefs to me, which I with grief have red: Vouchsafe (sweet Queen) to lend these lines thine eye, And deign to know what reasons have me led. And as thou know'st them, take them to be true, The truer they, the more their truth I rue. And first (O Queen) I never will deny, On me bestowed more favours can be told, By any words; nor ever grieve shall I, Eliza's name in memory to hold: Whiles of myself, myself shall mindful bide, Whiles lively breath, these limbs of mine shall guide. But for the rest, in brief I never meant, (Deem not amiss) by stealth my flight to take: Nor never yet pretended such intent To any wife, an husband me to make. I sought it not, I came for no such band, When tossed by seas, I lighted on this Land. If friendly Fates such grace to me would yield, As there to rest, where I to rest would choose: Sweet Troy that now liest equal with the field, Thou shouldst at least, not all thy beauties lose. In thee rebuilt again I would replace, The vanquished remnant of the Trojan race. But now Apollo bids to Italy, To Italy the Lycian gods command: Here must our home, our rest, our country be: To this our Love, to this our life is pawned. If thou a stranger, country's strange mightst seek, What in like case, let's us to do the leek. I never do recline my head to rest, When night the Earth in moystie shade bewraps: But fancy strait with fearful sights oppressed, Presents my father in sleepe-waking naps. This place with terror bidding me to leave, And not my son of fatal Lands bereave. And now of Gods the fatal Messenger From jove himself (they both my witness be) Hath message brought, I saw the god most clear: I plainly heard what words he spoke to me. Leave then with plaints to set us both on fire, Constrained I go, not with wine own desire. And what wight can necessity resist, Whose Iron bands, both men and gods enchain? What she hath spun, who striveth to untwist, Or senseless is, or pleasure takes in pain? The sturdy tree holds not his foot so fast, As lythie Reed, that bends to every blast. Who ever saw those, which of Neptune's land The waved soil with yoked Oars to plow: With top and top against the storm to stand, Which Aol's youth with blustering breath doth blow They rather yield unto his windy will, Then choose their lives in bootless strife to spill. And is it then my life I hold so dear, That life to hold, I Dido would forego? Or is it death that I so much do fear, That death to fly I would procure her woe? Then Gods me grant a living death to lead In grief, in shame, still dying never dead. But care of my succeeding progeny, To whom by fates forepointed is their place: To whom by heavens of earthly Monarchy, The crown to wear foregraunted is the grace: This care I say; with care for to fulfil, The god's behest reversed hath my will. And honours self, (which long a sleep hath lain, Rocked in loves cradle) now awaked new, Cries on us both: and shall he cry in vain: To leave him quite, or yield him service dew? You hitherto have ever famous been, Forget not now, what fame becomes a Queen. And me whom men (perhaps unworthy) call, The godly wight and second unto none: In Piety, from piety to fall, Were fouler blot, than any other one. Admit (O Queen) that I by thee be stayed, By wandering Fame, what will of both be said. Lo here the man that out of Troy burned, Preserved his gods, now quite by him contemned: Lo here whose chaste affection clean is turned To lawless lust, late by herself condemned. He lewd, she light, he wicked, she unwise, This fame to earth, this earth will blaze to skies. You know that Monsters many eyes and ears, Listening and prying still to hear and see, Her tongues and wings which infinite she bears, As lying oft, so flying always be. Of Peers and Princes ever speaking worst, It is her kind, she was by envy nursed. You thoughtless sit within your Princely bower, Or minding only love or lives delight: Your fame meantime, like tender springtide flower The busy blasts of bitter tongues do bite. Each deed, each word, yea countenance and thought Of simplest sort, are under censure brought. It is our fate, if not our fault it be, Which highest mounted, set on Fortune's wheel, With our own sense we neither hear nor see, Which makes us pinched long before we feel. For foes are pleased and would it not amend, And friends are grieved, yet dare not us offend. Go then Aeneas, honour bids thee go, Honour unto whose yoke the freest necks are thrall: For her sake fly, if wilt not for thine own: Though what herein befalls, to both befall. Protesting still that no mislike or hate, Moved thee to go, but force of cruel fate. For were but Dido half so finely formed, Were Dido's eyes but half so beamy jet: Were Dido's face, but such as might be scorned, Her Country poor, her Town a simple seat, Yet having there such loving kindness found, What flinty breast to love would not be bound. Much more in me, kind hearted Venus' child: Not by the lame Smith, but her lusty Love: My blinded brother might his bower build, Where so great helps encourage him to prove. Her form, her face, her eyes, her seat, her soil, Disdaining match, so far from taking foil. I both Oenone and the Spartan Queen, I courtly Dames, and Nymphs of woods and wells: I have Chryseis & Bryseis seen, Yea, Venus' self, in whom perfection dwells. But if some god to choose would me assign, I all would praise, but Dido should be mine. But hard's my choice, when there the thundering (jove, destruction threatens if I disobey: And here my friendly foe, heart-pursuing Love, By all his powers, conjures my mind to stay. Alas, ye gods, your discord lay aside, I am but one, and cannot go and bide. Or jove frame thou my destinies anew, Allot to others fertile Italy, Or rather Love at once bid both adieu, And both restore to former liberty. By reason's rule, the younger and the child, Should to the elder and the father yield. But thou mad dog, whose reason lies in rage: Who no rule else, but recklessness doth know, Nor reverence bearest to thy father's age, Nor from thy brother canst abstain thy blow. And least for that fault might with thee be found By only us, thou didst thy mother wound. But not to love, nor any else that dwell In starry house, I for myself would speak, Let gods, let men, let ghosts of ghastly hell, Their wrath on me, with all their malice wreak: Let me be tossed as erst, with wrack on seas, With war on land, nor here nor there in ease. Let all that else can mind or body grieve, Grieve without mean, my body and my mind: Only to thee, that only didst relieve My woes and wants, let me not prove unkind. But thankful still, that fame may so relate Me thankful still, but still unfortunate. For where the Seas before mine eyes thou set, With other dangers likely to ensue: And how I will an other Dido get, Alas I mean no getting of a new. My head is busied more a thousand fold, How since I must, I may forego the old. And who hath past as I, the storms of fire, Which crazy towers threw topsy-turvy down: Will little care, though winter's stormy Ire With swelling face, makes Tethis face to frown. In sum, I can all pain with patience take, But not (o Queen) with patience thee forsake. Not that I doubt least proud Hyarbas power, Shall able be, to make my Dido thrall: Carthage is strong with many a mighty tower, With broad deep ditch, vauntgarding stately wall. This may and will thee from the Tyrant rid, Thee from thyself, o Gods the luck forbid. Where Love with loss, Impatient meets with Ire, Shame calls in sorrow, hatred brings disdain; And all in one, do oftentimes conspire, To kill the Patient, so to cure the pain. Which done, for shame away each other slides, But shame, as shameless evermore abides. Far better read sometimes a Wizard old, How of lost Love to ease the cureless wound: When Paris left her to honour told, Wherein she said, she greatest comfort found. Her herbs and charms eased not so her heart, As these plain precepts of his homely Art. He bade her banish both from sight and mind, All Monuments, but chiefly from her sight: Which he departing thence, did leave behind, As pictures, garments, arms, and all that might His absent person to remembrance bring: For love of sight, sight doth from object spring. Refrain (qd. he) from coming in the place, Which hath been privy to your sweetest joys: Never record, or ever with disgrace His words and deeds, but cause of your annoys. Deem him & them, and when you think him on, Think what cause had the Traitor to be gone. But yet at first in no sort seek to suage, These eager torments of heartbreaking grief: But whiles Rage runneth, yield to running rage, Till time takes truce, and respite brings relief. For mighty beasts, and mighty passions both, By following tamed, by stop are made more worth. Observe thou must as diet to this cure, That Idleness and loanlinesse thou fly: That virtuous accounts still thou have in ure, And sort yourself with fitting company▪ For Love erects in idle breasts his throne, And like a Monach loves to sit alone. Thus much and more the good old man did teach, That Ida Nymph, in that forsaken state, As he was hers, so let him be your leech, Since unto me all prayers comes too late. Religion, Honour, Destiny's decree, Three by poor one, how can resisted be? Tout Seule. FINIS.