THE MOST PLEASANT AND DELIGHTFUL HISTORY of Curan, a Prince of Dansk, and the fair Princess Argentile, Daughter and Heir to Adelbright, sometime King of Northumberland.  
SHOWING His first Love unto her, his successless suit, and the low dejections he underwent for her sake. His second love to the same Lady unknown, taking her for a poor Country damsel. She by reason of the unkindness of King Edell her uncle and Guardian) having forsook the Court, and undertook the profession of a Neatheardes' Maid.  
His constant love (after her long continued unkindness) rewarded with her wished consent, their happy Nuptials, and mutual rejoicings, his valour and victorious war with King Edell: And lastly, his peaceful instalment in the Kingly Throne.  
ENTERLACTE With many pretty and pithy praises of beauty, and other amorous discourses, pleasing, smooth and delightful.  
By WILLIAM WEBSTER.  
LONDON Printed by Barnard Alsop for Richard Higgenbotham, and are to be sold at his shop at the sign of the Cardinal's Hat near S. Sepulchres Church. 1617.   

TO THE WORSHIPFUL Mr. THOMAS EVErard of Heather, in the County of Leycester, Esq all increase of such Blessings as make this life happy and comfortable, and of such Graces, as may make the next Blessed and Glorious.  
SIR, purposing to impose some task on my wandering thoughts so to reverse their somewhat uncomfortable strayings, my rasher election suddenly singled out this subject, which though suiting too nearly with my brain in barrenness, the product is this Pamphlet, which perused by some friends of judgement, was pronounced worthy the Press. Whereunto I the rather referred it, that dedicating the same unto you, I might (at least) manifest my remembrance of that love, kindness, and courtesy, which (while my residence was in loved Leycestershire,) made me so much affect that Familiarity, which you then pleased to afford me, in regard whereof my love leads me to present this to your patronage, and your affection to Poesy, makes me presume of your acceptance: the grace you give a Verse in reading it, makes it pleasing, if it be but passable, therefore I doubt not your liking. And if this (which is not unlike) gain your approbation, I shall not pass for the Censures of such as are more apt to find fault, then able to find a fault. Had I but the name of a Poet, and opinion on my side, I should rely thereupon as Caesar on his Fortune, yet doth not my obscurity discourage me, but rather the contrary, for Fame is rather to be ventured for then ventured.  
An instigation to the writing hereof, was the commendation which I heard a judicious divine give of a young Student in divinity, for his dexterity in English Poesy, who affirming it to be an ornament to any profession, I was thereby induced to reduce that affection I bore it, to practise. And in publishing the same I have imitated Apelles, who having drawn a picture pleasing to himself, hanged it in open view, that he might hear the verdict of others. Nor is it unlike but I also shall have a shoemaker Censuring the Leg, when his skill extends but to the latcher. So (referring it to your favourable survey, and kind acceptance) I humbly desire Almighty God to Crown you, and your adopted-selfe, with his best blessings in this life, and with Immortal glory in the next.  
Your Worship's Kinsman, to be commanded, in a more acceptable service. WILLIAM WEBSTER.   

The Author to his Patron.  

T To wish your happiness, if that could give  
H Happiness unto you, I'd make you blest  
O On Earth, so long as you on Earth shall live,  
M May you be even of Earth's best things possessed,  
A And may you joys enjoy when this life's ended,  
S Such as can but by saints be apprehended.   

E Ever may you, and your posterity,  
V Until dissolu de shall be this mortal frame:  
E Even till this world shall cease a world to be,  
R Retain the lustre of this ancient Name.  
A And be chief Pillars to support the same,  
R Repair and grace that House, from whence to me  
D Derived is (in part) my Pedigree.    

To M. john Euerard Senior, Gentleman.  

YOu sole survivor, yet the eldest brother  
Of four, and of a Sister, my late Mother;  
Who, (next before you) tendered Natures debt,  
Which yet you own, and long may owe it yet.  
What be't? your Courage keeps you still alive,  
To be the first, and yet the last of five.  
Sure 'tis your valour; Deaths approach thus stays,  
Which was admired in your more youthful days.  
If in a mortals looks may boldness lie  
Which may the pale Horse-ryder terrify,  
Then (it may be) he shuns because he fears you,  
And until Age subdue you, thus forbears you.  
Your oft-tryde valour, valour oft did try,  
Which now entombed in your Age doth lie.  
And if your gravity think not unfit,  
Let these lines be the Epitah for it,  
As for your Virtues, they yet live, and they  
Shall be remembered in your Epitah.    

TO THE READER.  

READER, Let not thy gentle eye disdain  
To walk along my lines so smooth so plain;  
Delightful walks they happily may prove,  
So they may catch thy liking, I thy love;  
This volume, (though not large) at large discovers  
The fortunes of a pair of princely Lovers,  
Prince Curan and the Princess Argentile.  
He stranger, she a native of our Isle.  
He one for lineaments, and gifts of mind:  
Such as the like to him was hard to find:  
And sure, if to be amorous be no blot  
To virtue, than his virtues had no spot,  
And she, a dame whose beauty so excelled,  
That in those days she was not paralleled,  
And, if she were not coy more than she should,  
No imputation could on her take hold,  
How love, from lordliness doth him debace,  
And makes him to supply a peasant's place:  
And how his love to shun, th'assaults of love,  
From Court to Cottage doth herself remove.  
These things are here discoursed, and here is shown  
How he the second time loves her unknown,  
How long he woos her, how at last he sped,  
Though not till then, when all his hopes were dead,  
Then how he conquered him in bloody fight  
That wrongfully usurped his ladies right,  
(Than which) his former task was far more hard,  
This last was easy with the first compared,  
'Twas more to him his ladies love to gain  
Then to give end unto a tyrant's reign:  
To conquer her affections was a thing  
More hard to him then to uncrown a King,  
Nay, all the weapons in these wars employed,  
Against the Prince, not him so much annoyed,  
As did his Ladies angry frowns, for those  
Can daunt him more than all his armed foes:  
How he was raised unto a Kingly throne,  
That low dejections long had undergone,  
Concludes this book, which read unto the end,  
Perhaps to thee, it may itself commend:  
Thus (of thy wishes) wishing thee possessed,  
(For kind acceptance only.) Thine I rest.   
W. W.   

TO THE FAIR READER, OF THE FAIRER SEX.  

YOu lovely DAME, whose beauty is as much  
As was this lovely Dames, fair Argentile:  
For in the world, where should we look for such,  
If not where she was bred, in this fair I'll.  
For breeeding such, our Clime; then other Climes  
More fertile is, our times, then former times.   

You are the very same, yea, you are she,  
Whose Beauty in this Book is so commended:  
And though your Name not Argentile it be,  
Yet know yourself is she that's here intended.  
These lines were writ for you, of them make use,  
And Beauty's praises to yourself reduce.   

You living, lovely Dame, 'twas for your sake,  
That this ensuing task I undertook:  
Not hers, shee'● dead, she'll no requital make,  
But at your hands (at least) for thanks I look.  
To grace what graceth you, I here have sought,  
Then deign to grace me with a gracious thought.   

You are fair (as was she) but be not tho,  
Coy (as was she) O vary you in this:  
I would not for the world you should be so,  
For then as good that you the world did miss.  
Unless your kindness should (as hers) at last,  
Make large amends, for your unkindness past.   

Had I praised Bounty (so) perhaps my pain,  
Might have been recompensed with reward:  
Then let me not praise Beauty (thus) in vain,  
Afford me in requital some regard.  
You I have sought to please, and I from you,  
Due thanks, and due respect, expect: Adieu.    

THE PLEASANT AND delightful Story of Prince Curan, and the Princess Argentile.  

THen when our English Isle (which now in one  
United is, the more our happiness)  
Under divided Sovereignty did groan,  
Ichovah shield it from the like distress;  
Seven Kings then reigned in this land, but now  
All hearts, all knees, love one, to one do bow.   

(Then Diria) called now Northumberland,  
Was of the foresaid seven small Kingdoms one,  
Nor was that Sceptre swayed by one man's hand,  
Division had the Clime so overgone,  
Two, each a semi-king reigned jointly there  
In friendly peace, for they near Kinsmen were.   

Edell and Adelbright the Kings were called,  
For each of them the kingly title bears,  
And each is in the kingly throne installed,  
Thing seldom seen) well, after divers years,  
King Adelbright deceased, and left his Heir  
To Edell's ward, young Argentile the fair.   

Yet ere he dies, to Edell thus he spoke,  
Edell, quoth he, my death approacheth near,  
My Kingly right to thee I do betake,  
During the nonage of my daughter dear,  
But after it shall be to her resigned,  
So thou thyself to me by oath shalt bind.   

His oath for this, his promise took beside,  
To deal with her, as if his child she were.  
The good King Adelbright soon after died,  
For whom young Argentile shed many a tear:  
And time increased her grief, for afterwards  
Edell nor oath, nor honesty regards.   

The Sceptre whole now his, he'll not divide,  
Usurping that, that is the Ladies right;  
(Though he from that by oath himself had tied;)  
For in sole sovereignty he found delight,  
By her he knows he cannot be constrained,  
Therefore he'll not forego what he hath gained.   

Mean while the Lady in despite of woes,  
Which still too much afflict her tender heart,  
The fairest underneath the sky she grows,  
Beauty is hers in full, and not in part;  
Besides, she's modest, sober, gentle, chaste,  
Her beauty these, and these her beauty graced.   

But when her beauty grew yet more mature,  
All beauties then in her seemed to combine,  
Her beauty other beauties did obscure,  
As stars eclipsed are by Luna's shine.  
In all the land was none so fair as she,  
In all the world a fairer could not be.   

Her beauty seemeth to be be 〈◊〉 soul,  
It doth in excellence so much exceed,  
Her eye so sways, so rules, doth so control,  
And bend the hearts of men, as wind the reed,  
All like, all praise, and many love, but few  
(Despairing of their worth) for love dare sue.   

The richest beauties (to adorn this Dame)  
In her fair treasury, fetched Nature thence,  
Which near unto divine perfection came,  
They did so much exceed in excellence.  
she's beauties sun, whose beams been fame and praise  
Go through & through the world like Phoebus' rays.   

That beauty was but such (if it was such)  
That carried Troy to Greece, and Greece to Troy;  
she's more than fair, and therefore more than much  
Will be his joy that once shall her enjoy.  
But he must sail, ere he such Haven gain,  
Close by the margin of Charybdis' main.   

Her eye loves Arbour is where beauties meet,  
Her cheek loves garden is where beauties grow:  
Love walketh there, for there the air is sweet:  
Which always when she breathes doth gently blow.  
Her blushing lip, her breath, for show, for smell,  
The Rose exceeds, the Violet doth excel.   

As many as behold her, do admire her,  
In beauty, she all beauties doth outstrip,  
All thoughts commend her, and all hearts desire her:  
Yea, Nature wonders at her workmanship,  
Admiring her own skill, and cunning great,  
In framing such a beauty, so complete.   

Nature, another cannot make more fair,  
Though to that purpose all her power were bened,  
No, though she would from fire, earth, water, air,  
Extract the quintessence to that ineene.  
For in this Dame there no ingredient lacked,  
That should make beauty perfect and exact.   

Had jupiter the earth frequented then,  
When her bright beauty graced the sunshine day,  
Or had this Beauty's Patragon lived when  
He in the world did wanton, sport and play.  
O what would he have done, what not have done?  
What shapes would he have took her love t'have won?   

Surely he would have thought her love a feast  
More pleasing than th'embracement of his queen;  
And Juno's jealousy had sure increased,  
If she this peerless princess should have seen.  
For, that his heart was tractable she knew,  
For such attractive beauty to subdue.   

In this regard she might have feared much,  
Had this Dame's beauty been to jove apparrant:  
But the chaste heart of this chaste Dame is such,  
That Inno might have took it for her warrant.  
Diana's warrant could not be more strong  
Touching herself, concerning such a wrong.   

When Mars in Venus' arms was entertained,  
Her breasts disclosed, her bosom open laid,  
Her dear embracements had not him restrained,  
Nor would he in that Circle fair have stayed.  
Had such a one as Argentile past by,  
Her face presented to the War-god's tie.   

Her neck, barbrests, her hand 〈◊〉 leg, 〈◊〉,  
All corespond the beauty of 〈◊〉 face.  
Who would not (might he be preferred unto'ot)  
With willingness her wand like waste imbeace,  
And if her 〈◊〉 cast in a circle were,  
Who would not wish himself the Centre there.   

Had Hereules fallen into such fair arms,  
So strong they are (strength in their fairness lies)  
That though the sounding trumpets shrill alarms  
Had called him thence to some great enterprise,  
They would have held him still, still him detained;  
Ah, who could struggle, that were so enchained.   

Fairer was she then I have said she was,  
Nor have I half her beauty's worth disclosed,  
Nor can I door, it did so much surpass.  
But what is unexprest, let be supposed,  
And as her beauty, so her virtues shined;  
Men joyed, heaven joyed, to see her face, her mind.   

But I must leave her beauty so excelling,  
For I would hast, and therefore shun delays:  
Yet on this theme is such delightful dwelling,  
That I am loath to leave her beauty's praise;  
How she was loved, (Love waits on beauty so  
As shadow doth on substance) now i'll show.   

A sweet young Prince of Dansk (by fame called forth)  
Curan he hight; this Prince to England came  
To see the Dame, whose matchless beauties worth,  
Was brought to him upon the wings of Fame:  
He sees the Dame, her beauty seethe he,  
And praiseth in his thoughts what he doth see.   

And though report had so extolled her name,  
And praised her for sweet loveliness so much,  
He finds that Fame but lispt, and was to blame,  
For (seeing her) he see's her beauty such,  
As sores above her praise, yea, I may say,  
Above superlative, if beauty may.   

And now in him his progress love began,  
From looking, liking, love from liking grew,  
The spacious world could not produce a man,  
That loved with a love so firm, so true,  
But for her love much woe he underwent,  
Ere she (unkind) would to his suit consent.   

This sweet young lovely Prince is such another,  
As was Adonis in his greatest pride:  
This Dame is Venus, (that was Capid's mother,  
That by Adonis was of love denied:)  
One like that Adonis, here doth Venus' love,  
One like this Venus there did Adonis prove.   

Not Clcopatra's son and daughter fair,  
Whom their proud sire the Sun and Moon did style  
Can match (for beauty) with this princely pair;  
Prince Curan to the Princess Argentile,  
Comes near in comeliness, he happy were,  
If she in kindness came, to him as near.   

With Ganymede and with Narcissus he  
May take his place, that were the fairest of men,  
And with the ratest she may ranked be,  
That ever yet was praised by Poet's pen,  
How will the world be graced with beauty sweet,  
When in their children both their beauties meet.   

Well, he is now in Love, up to the heart,  
Yet can he not obtain a second view:  
From Prince's eyes, and men of high desert.  
Her jealous Guardian keeps his Niece in miew,  
Between the world, and Beauties-sunne so bright  
He interposeth clouds, as black as night.   

Her beauty which doth all men's eyes delight,  
Save only his, he seeks to keep unknown:  
Lest Beauties same should men of Fame invite,  
To seek her Love, he wisheth she had none,  
To stop Fame's mouth, and dim her Beauty's beam,  
He therefore strives: but strives against the stream.   

Her beauties praise breaks forth in his despite,  
And almost like the air itself extends:  
he'd stop the current hiding her from sight,  
But so her beauty he the more commends,  
The more she's in her Closet kept retired,  
The more she's talked of, and the more admired.   

So quite his ends are crossed, he would suppress  
Her beauties praise, but see how he mistakes  
His course (though he intended nothing less)  
Her famous, but himself infamous makes,  
This fact of his, doth more divulge her Fame,  
But to posterity records his shame.   

For it directly shows his thoughts are base,  
And such as ill beseem a bosom Royal:  
Argues him consciencelesse and void of grace,  
And proves him to be perjured and disloyal.  
His thoughts, desires, ambitious, avaricious,  
Vicious his life, his projects are pernicious.   

O was it not enough (Kinsman unkind,)  
That he from her should so withhold her right,  
But to her chamber she must be confined,  
To see, and to be seen do maids delight;  
But Aegentile is hid behind a screen,  
She is not, must not, where she would, be seen.   

But the base minded King, to Peasants base  
Admits access, to noble men denied,  
To view and woo be grants them time and place,  
And his best furtherance affords beside.  
To marry her to some base Groom he thought,  
That so her right might rest unclaimed, unsought.   

Curan perceiving this, what did he do,  
He changed his rich attire for base array:  
(O Love, what shifts thou putst the Prince unto)  
His name he changed, his Titles put away;  
And so transformed himself into a drudge;  
Now if he loved or not, the world may judge.   

Thus lived he there, and thus access he gained,  
And on her beauty now his eye he feeds,  
But in his thoughts full sore the Prince is pained,  
Love in his breast a thousand passions breeds:  
And to express his love, dumb signs he used  
He looked, he blushed, he sighed, he plained, he mused.   

She, whose chaste thoughts even equal love reieced,  
Doth see, but will not see, his love unfit,  
She thinks it is not worthy of respect,  
And therefore will no notice take of it,  
Making a show of pride, though pride she hate,  
Because she knows pride best doth pride abate.   

Scarce knows she how to look disdainfully,  
For never pride and she acquainted were;  
Beauty hath got possession in her eye,  
And will not suffer scornfulness come there,  
Feign would she frown, and yet she knows not how,  
So calm a smoothness dwells on her fair brow.   

When most of all she him would terrify,  
That he should dare to love, or look no more,  
Then doth she frown, ah, but so pleasingly,  
That more he loveth than he loved before,  
Between her smiles and frowns small odds there lies,  
for both of them her beauty beautifies.   

Her frowns cannot her beauty bright obscure,  
For such sweet loveliness doth them adorn,  
That they entice and powerfully allure,  
Although they argue coins, pride and scorn,  
The more she frowns, the more he loves her still,  
His love they kindle, though his hopes they kill.   

At last, love boiling in his breast compels him  
Himself and his affection to bewray,  
And craves her love, but to his grief she tells him,  
That husbandless she is resolved to stay,  
Still seeking his solicit to shun,  
So do they still, that still would be unwunne.   

When (meeting her) he kindly bids good morrow,  
She strangely doth salute him with farewell,  
And so his joy is overtook with sorrow,  
To meet seems heaven to him, to part seems hell:  
Parting which pleaseth her, doth him displease,  
Meeting which he desires, is her disease.   

He joys to see her, grieves to see her coyness,  
Her voice is heavenly music in his ears,  
Yet are her words unkind, and make him joyless,  
Thus are poor Lovers tossed betwixt hopes and fears.  
Twixt care and comfort, pain and pleasure still,  
So palates taste the sweet displeasing pill.   

In his assumed shape he still remains,  
Nor doth the gentle Lady him disclose:  
He courts her oft, but at her hands he gains  
Nothing but that that doth augment his woes.  
At last (for hearty love is hard to hide)  
His love (but not himself) the King descried.   

From him to her past many an amorous glance,  
Which did his love unto the King explain:  
Glad is the King and doth his slave advance,  
So to encourage more the saucy swain,  
And him prefers unto promotions high,  
To make the Groom more gracious in her eye.   

Nay, the baseminded guilty-thoughted King,  
Himself an interambulator makes,  
That he the match might to conclusion bring,  
The miser spends, and pains the gouty takes,  
A peasant for a Princess he would choose,  
That he might find the greatness she should lose.   

An earnest Intercessor to his Niece,  
Still is he, and if he her thoughts may sway,  
A prize surpassing far the golden fleece  
Which jason gained, the base must bear away.  
Base thought he him, the Prince no prince he thought,  
Yet to confer this gem on him he sought.   

Should Edell now have known for whom he spoke,  
In whose behalf his arguments he feigned  
As sometime greater sees will Lawyers make,  
To counterplead the cause they late maintained,  
So had he turned (had he the truth descried)  
Against the Prince, with whom he so doth side.   

The Lady pestered was with his persuasions,  
And Curans love, for both upon her warred:  
Yet in her breast they could make no invasions,  
For resolution did her bosom guard,  
That pleads, and this persuades, & both entreat her,  
Yet all they do, but makes her grief the greater.   

That Edell knows not Curans worth she knows,  
And yet in his behalf doth plead so much,  
From hence her grief, from hence her sorrow grows,  
This great unkindness doth her nearly touch,  
That he should hold her in from men of worth,  
And to so base a match should thrust her forth.   

Curan perceiving now, his love offends,  
And that he happy hath no hope to prove,  
He letteth fall his suit; his wooing ends,  
For (in a sort his love doth curb his love,  
Because he loves he will not give offence,  
Therefore (though loving) not his suit commence.   

Her beauty breeds his amorous love, her grief  
Compassionate affection in him breeds,  
And though his lovesick heart doth lack relief,  
Yet he forbears to seek the salve he needs,  
For to that flood he adds (if it he seek)  
Which her fair eye distills on her fair cheek.   

His passions from his amorous love do grow,  
But such a blessed love in him is found,  
As makes him to compassionate her woe,  
And in his better love his worse is drowned,  
His passions urge to prosecute his suit,  
Compassion (thoe) prevails and makes him mute.   

That love that from his amorous thoughts doth rise,  
Doth unto that that pity breeds give place,  
Glances and tears go both from Curans eyes,  
Caused by her beauty and her wretched case.  
And sith his amorous love her grief increased,  
His tender love so wrought that that love ceased.   

At least, he close concealed it in his breast,  
What though it seemed to scald his heart within,  
In signs nor syllables he it expressed,  
For, to augment her grief he held it sin.  
Curan she hates thy love, ah cruel she,  
And lest it move her, it must martyr thee.   

The King now sees how he his love restrains,  
He sees it, though to see it he is loath:  
For this Apostasy put's him to pains  
More than before, for now he woos them both:  
He wooeth her to love, and him to woo,  
O avarice what putst thou him unto.   

Curan that loved the Lady with his soul:  
To recommence his suit is easily brought,  
The ashes are removed, and now the coal  
Is found alive that dead before was thought:  
They grieve again the Lady, but in vain,  
They blow the sands where there will grow no grain.   

But why was Argentile so much unkind?  
She knew the Prince, his worth, his Love, and these:  
More powerful Orators to bend the mind,  
But Women will not love before they please.  
She will not, No, she will not love: and why?  
Because she will not; Women so reply.   

What a strong hold, strong Resolution is!  
Where this chaste Dames chaste love immured lies?  
Not Danae's brazen tower, was like to this,  
jone entered there by sleights and subtleties,  
But here a Guard doth even the keyhole keep,  
Lest sly insinuation in should creep.   

A Woman's will is like to Danae's tower,  
Nay, more impregnable is woman's will:  
Was never man that yet by strength or power,  
Can win this Fort, that force repulseth still.  
A woman's will can never be constrained,  
Nor can her love against her will be gained.   

The will is strong, but yet the senses weak,  
Weak is the Guard, although the Fortress strong:  
Yet its impossible the Gate to break,  
Or scale the wall, if true themselves among.  
But lyking-oft, which is loves Usher sly,  
Gains entrance here: when flattered is the eye.   

Therefore wise jove, when he to Dardan came,  
Engine, nor instrument of war he brought:  
He knew if so he should assault the same,  
He never should obtain the thing he sought.  
No thundring-wide-mouthd Camnon doth he bring  
Nor Ram for battery, nor no such like thing.   

In stead of these, he brings a Pedlar's pack,  
Full of fine toys, that did for show exceed:  
And many a gawd, and many a goodly knack,  
Which not necessity itself doth need.  
Her Female-gard, corrupteth he with these,  
Who favouring him, he enters there with ease.   

For he had pleased them so well that day,  
That they to lodge him there do all agree:  
While one unboults, another turns the key,  
Open is the wicket. and in leapeth he.  
So Danae's tower was won; and fancies Fort,  
Is never won, but 'tis in such like sort.   

The weakest Virgins will is of more strength,  
Then is a gate of steel, or wall of brass:  
For to compulsion those may yield at length,  
This will not be compelled, nor never was.  
But it is strange, that still Prince Curan fails,  
Who by prevailing means his Love assails.   

He fits her humours vain, he gives her gifts,  
That she may favour him, he flatters her:  
And to the sky, her praises up he lifts,  
Fore Helen's beauty, he doth hers prefer.  
He grieveth sore, he sighs exceedingly,  
He pules, he pines, he tells her he will die.   

He prays, and he persuades, and all he says:  
And all he doth, that may be said or done:  
He tries to win her Love a thousand ways,  
A thousand women's loves some times are won,  
With fewer words, and with far lesser pains,  
Then Curan spends, and takes, ere here's he gains.   

Some win as soon as they begin to woo,  
And strait the Clerks Amen confirms the match,  
And then to bed, there is no more to do,  
Yea marry sir, here is a quick dispatch:  
And so they speed, when humour serves that speak:  
But Curan hath a harder shell to break,   

Nay, of so strange a humour, some there are,  
That he that loves and love, for love desires,  
Doth (quite unlike, as Soldiers do in war)  
Fail when he fights, and foil when he retires.  
So (him that follows it) his shadow shuns,  
And follows after him, that from him runs,   

And Curans practise argued that he knew  
This secret, for as I have said before,  
From beauty's bar his action he withdrew,  
Yet she to love inclined near the more,  
From this strange humour Argentile is free,  
It is not universal than we see.   

And some will stiffly stand in their denial,  
So that a man would think the clock went true,  
When it (God wots) agrees not with the Dial,  
As would be seen, if thoughts lay  to view,  
But Argentile doth not coin coyness so,  
Her thoughts direct her tongue to answer no.   

It fits not here to be Satirical,  
More of their humours I would else reveal,  
And sith fair Argentile is free from all,  
Her sex's faults I'll for her sake conceal:  
As for her coyness, bear with her therein,  
If 'twas a fault, why yet 'twas not a sin.   

Her Guardian now perceiving that entreats,  
Are bootless spent as stones against the wind;  
He now gins to menace her with threats,  
And in his countenance she reads his mind,  
He now no more doth flatter her, but now  
Seeks by compulsive means her will to bow.   

They that have tasted of the like distress,  
May judge of hers, her grief cannot be spoke:  
Yet it she wisely striveth to suppress,  
Lest else her close intendments should be broke.  
But yet she in this April of her years,  
Sheds in her closet April showers of tears.   

Griefs property is beauty to impair,  
(For beauty's but a casual good they say)  
But on her face so fixed is the fair,  
That it will not to grief itself give way.  
Through sorrows veil her beauty shineth so,  
That beauty seemeth graced by beauty's foe.   

Observers might have reason to surmise,  
(Seeing her looks so lovely, yet so sad)  
That some such humour did loves queen surprise,  
When she (for supreme fair) the verdet had:  
For 'tis the tuch that doth true beauty try.  
When in sad looks sweet loveliness doth lie.   

Her grief so well becomes her, that the tears  
distilled upon her cheeks, fair, white and red  
Appear, as that same morning dew appears,  
Which sable night on freshest flowers hath shed,  
Which falling from her cheek, a man may say,  
Her eyes do seem, with pearls to strew her way.   

And she perceiving now what small good will  
Her gripple minded Guardian to her bears,  
Fearing constraint, or else some worse ill,  
She practised how she might prevent her fears:  
From Curans love, from King, from Court she steals,  
While she herself in strange disguise conceals.   

When Curan heard she was departed so,  
His love (before the chief of his affections)  
Is matched, nay overmatched now with woe:  
Reason in vain prescribes his grief directions:  
For boundless and confused his sorrows be,  
And after her from Court departeth he.   

The Lady late, and Curan now are gone,  
Blind love and fortune blind lead them astray:  
They place unused paths to them unknown;  
(But ranging rovers cannot lose their way,)  
Nor know they whereunto their journeys tend,  
Nor when, nor where their Pilgrimage shall end.   

Vain finds he his pursuit, and fears as vain  
His suit would prove if he should find his love,  
From further quest, he therefore doth refrain,  
And casts what course is best for his behove.  
To Court he'll not return, there is he knows,  
Daws, not his Dove, brambles, but not his rose.   

Long doth the Prince debate, long doth he muse,  
Long are his busy thoughts in him at strife,  
Before he doth resolve what course to choose:  
At last he doth prefer the shepherds life:  
A flock, a dog, a sheephook he provides,  
Tar-box, and all his implements beside.   

He, who while in his father's Court he stayed,  
Was then a Martialist although but young)  
Hath changed his lance, (for lou● must be obeyed)  
For tools that to the shepherds trade belong:  
From warlike Mars to rustic Pan he's swerved,  
But will return to him that first he served.   

'tis strange, he in contempt should find content,  
Yet that he found in this despised estate,  
Disgrace the Prince with pleasure underwent,  
For ceased is the discord and debate  
That was between his thoughts ere they declined,  
And those hope crossing haps to him assigned.   

A brace of years (well pleased) he thus remains,  
His thoughts are settled, and his mind is free,  
Suiting himself unto the country Swains,  
Courtship for clownishness exchangeth he,  
He that late struck the Citherns silver strings,  
Now pipes on oaten straws, and jigs he sings.   

Time, grief, and labour by this time did change  
The Prince's thoughts, his Love is quite forgot:  
His reason will not let his love there range,  
Where can no comfort fall unto his lot:  
Her absence, like good Physic to the sickly,  
Makes him more sick at first, yet cures him quickly.   

Most loath was he the sight of her to lose,  
For, as fond Patients cherish their diseases,  
And will no Physic, if themselves may choose,  
Because perhaps the palate it displeases.  
Her absence so, fit physic for his fit,  
Is forced on him, ere he I give way to it.   

Her fight and presence he did 〈…〉,  
And was unwilling to forego the same;  
Yet that the suell was, maintained the fire,  
Causing his heart to fry in Cupid's flame:  
But (that removed whereon his harm depended)  
He finds, his scorching dogdays now are ended.   

Now see the course of things, fair Argentile,  
Who when she left, the Court left not her cares,  
Disguised wanders like a poor exile,  
And with the most distressed, distress she shares:  
Now here, now there, she sojourneth a space,  
But yet she finds no certain biding place.   

But now at last behold the Princess sweet,  
Is by a Country neat-heard entertained  
To feed his droves, a work for her unmeet;  
Yet glad is she, that she the place hath gained.  
For here she hopes to find content of mind.  
Which in King edel's Court she could not find.   

And where feeds she her herds, even on that plain  
Where Curan (shepherd now) his flocks attends,  
See, against Destiny she strives in vain:  
Fates have decreed, she cannot cross their ends.  
To that same place whereas the Prince abides,  
Some power above her own the Princess guides.   

This tricksy Girl the shepherd soon espied,  
Like a plain homely Country wench attired,  
Much did her base disguise her beauty hide;  
And yet he saw so much that he admired.  
The more he her admired, the more he gas'd,  
The more he looked, the more he was amazed.   

For (viewing her) he thinks her somewhat such  
As Argentile, but this her strange disguise  
From that she was hath altered her so much,  
she's hid behind such dark obscurities,  
That though his Lady Argentile he see,  
The silly shepherd never thinks her she.   

Though so (perhaps) his eye would him persuade,  
He will not think that this is Argentile,  
That she should now profess so mean a trade,  
So to conceive of her, he holds it vile.  
He will not therefore entertain a thought,  
That this the Lady is that late he fought.   

No more dare she give credits to her eyes,  
For seeing him a Shepherd so complete,  
That this should be the man, she'll not surmise,  
Whom Edell so advanced to honour's seat.  
Both are deceived, both take their aims amiss,  
Whereof their meanness, the main reason is.   

He loved, and left, but now he loves a new,  
His love to Argentile he hath forgot,  
And yet to Argentile he still is true,  
For Argentile he loves, but knows it not.  
His love hath found her out, and saith 'tis she,  
But yet opinion saith, it cannot be.   

As Phoebus' beam when Winter new is fled,  
Revives the withered herb, and sapples plant,  
Her beauty so revives his love (as dead)  
And gives it life which it did seem to want.  
Now to his love, so withered and decayed  
Is juice, sap, life, by beauty's beam conveyed.   

He that was 〈◊〉 a Lord is now a swain,  
Nor that, nor this estate from 〈◊〉 secures him:  
For than he loved, and now he loves again.  
A Lady then, a neatress now, allures him.  
He loved her rich, he loves her poor again,  
Wealth was no four, nor want is now no rain.   

He notes the Wench, and sees her beauty's rays,  
Which through sad clouds of discontent shine bright,  
Such the new morning in the East displays,  
Which (through some yet left darkness) show their light.  
Beauty he knows he sees, but doth not know  
That Argentile doth that sweet beauty owe.   

Attractive, pleasing, powerful beauty here,  
In him produce their true effects, for why,  
He looks, he likes, he loves; so captined were  
His eye, his thoughts, his heart; and now he'll try  
If she, whose outside makes so fair a show,  
Bears kindness in her bosom, yea or no.   

He frolic is, his thoughts prognosticate,  
That he the Lasses Love shall easily win:  
He thinks of Love he doth not dream of hate,  
He counts her won ere he to woo begin.  
She cannot choose but love presumeth he,  
Being (though lovely) yet of low degree.   

For such presumption (thoe) himself he checked,  
When doubts into his cogitations came,  
As a rash Writer doth his work correct,  
When he with more advise surveys the same.  
Now touching Women, he doth thus debate,  
That without reason why, they love and hate.   

He thinks how they, 〈…〉 their humours mou● them.  
Are coy or kind to high or low degree;  
How they that best defence, and most do love them,  
Oft times by them the worst rewarded be:  
And thinks that he shall speed as be shall find  
In her a humour to be coy or kind.   

With this conceit he somewhat calmed his love,  
When (looking Eastward) down the hill descending,  
He spies the neatress leading forth her drove,  
Her beauty bright with Titan's beams contending,  
Which sight revives his love, and in his breast  
Such passions breeds, as breed his great unrest.   

And then he walks to meet her on the plain,  
Where usually she doth her cattle graize;  
To show his love, and sue her love to gain  
He means, admitting now of no delays:  
But now behold when he is come unto her,  
(Alas) the shepherd faints and fears to woo her.   

Her beauty which alured him to love her.  
Now makes him fearful to commence his suit,  
Her beauty made him purpose now to prove her;  
And now behold her beauty makes him mute:  
For when he sees her beauty so exceeding.  
He fears to speak, because he doubts of speeding.   

Beholding her he stands, in silent pause,  
Pleased is his eye, his thoughts perplexed are,  
For his much looking doth more liking cause,  
So is his love augmented, so his care,  
Yet mute he stands, for doubts dismay his mind.  
Lest beauty make her proud, and pride unkind.   

Why woos he not, now th●e and place doth ●it,  
Sith sh●● that may 〈◊〉 we count half won?  
He finds access, but 〈◊〉 use of it,  
To gain the which the great Alcides' spun.  
But though long d●●be, at last beesilence breaks,  
And having once begun he freely speaks.   

He praised her first, but why did he do so?  
The fair need not be told that they are such:  
'Twere better they their beauties did not know,  
For in this point they (Knowledge got too much)  
When Eve did taste the fruit that was denied,  
For this too much infecteth them with pride.   

Affection sure put out his judgements eye,  
And made him take a course so indirect:  
Alas, his level quite was laid awry,  
Praise not her beauty whom thou dost affect.  
For praise ore-sats their breasts, & then there breeds,  
Pride, scorn, disdain, and such pernicious weeds.   

Some take in undeserved praise, a pride,  
Who when their hair is like the blackbyrds quill:  
Will pleased be to hear themselves belyde,  
When it's compared unto the blackbyrds bill.  
Say, crow is white: they credit all you say,  
For their own thoughts, the parrasites do play.   

But we (the fair) should but commend in thought  
(as Chapmen, not commend what they would buy)  
Let them alone, they need not to be taught,  
To rate their beauty's worths, at prizes high.  
By praises their proud thoughts are higher raised,  
Who of themselves are proud enough unpraised.   

Well, curan 〈◊〉 gins to court his Lass,  
And though he Clownish●●● do now 〈◊〉:  
Yet ne'ertheless some shape of that he was,  
His carriage, while he Courts her doth express.  
Better his gesture, better are his words.  
Then with his clownish Shepherd's shape accords.   

Fair neatresse, Nature's paragon saith h●e,  
Mine eye, when it thy beauty first discovered:  
Made to my thoughts such fair report of thee,  
that ever since about thee they have hovered.  
Still will they dwell with thee, for only there  
Abounds all (in this world) that I hold dear.   

Adonis' Garden thou to them dost seem,  
Where all things pleasing plenteously abound:  
What ever in this world is worth esteem,  
Is in this Land of Milk and Honey found.  
For here all spices, fruits, and flowers do grow,  
That wholesome are for use, or fair for show.   

Say, shall I sweet, impale this pleasng place?  
For my possession, I will ask but this:  
Shall I be Neptune: and with my embrace  
Make it an Island, call't the Isle of bliss?  
But to come to the matter now more nearly,  
Believe it firmly, I do love thee dearly.   

If gentle kindness so adorn thy mind,  
As beauty doth thy Face, then unto me  
Thou wilt be pleasing, debonair, and kind,  
And hope persuades me thus and thus of thee.  
For it would argue Nature much too-blame,  
To give a cruell-heart so fair a frame.   

Should, I but call the●●ayre, I should the while,  
Seem from thy glorious beauty to detract.  
Fair, is for one so fair too low a style,  
To show her skill did nature thee compaced.  
Lovely thy locks thy forehead more than fair.  
Thy hair, thy temples: temples grace thy hair.   

If by comparisons I would set forth  
The beauty of thy eye, and thy fair cheek,  
I cannot find a Semile of worth,  
Unless above this earth for it I seek.  
Thine eyes do grace thy face, thy face thine eyes,  
As Skies do grace the Sun, and Sun the Skies.   

Thy beauties native are, not like to those,  
That Nature's Apes by art do counterfeit,  
Upon thy cheeks the Lily and the Rose  
To set the truest fairness forth are met  
On thy fair cheek is that fair colour fixed,  
Which their fair colours make together mixed.   

When thou dost smile, than beauty's sky is clear,  
(Such were the smiles of lovely Paphos' Queen,)  
When thou dost blush, upon thy cheeks appear  
Carnation clouds, the like so seldom seen,  
That they the world may with amazement strike,  
For great Olympus cannot show the like.   

And who? (unless the aged, dull and dead,  
Whose veins and bones do blood and marrow miss)  
Can look upon thy lip, so round, so red,  
And not desire to rob it of a kiss,  
For, as it hath a power to please the eye,  
Another tempting strength in it doth lie.   

While this he speaks, oft times he changeth hue,  
Now red as blushing rose, now pale again,  
And when she doth these variations view,  
She is confirmed the shepherd doth not feign:  
Of lovers passions these are signs she knows.  
Therefore she thinks the shepherd doth not gloze.   

Yet thus she answers, fie, saith she, no more,  
Forbear this idle praises to bestow,  
Undue to me, a damsel plain and poor,  
Nor is it like that you should beauty know,  
How can a shepherds skill extend to this?  
That sees it not, nor comes not where it is.   

O yes, saith he, a shepherd sees the sky,  
The Sun, the Moon, the stars a shepherd sees,  
And these are beautiful none will deny,  
So then of beauty he may judge by these,  
Whose unmasks beauties lie even  to swains,  
Yet fairer Creatures than the Court contains.   

May I not call her fair, whose face I see  
The Sky resemble, so me thinks doth thine;  
Save that in this two Suns there seems to be,  
Which thy fair face so grace with their fair shine,  
That there's no earthly thing that I can name,  
Whose beauty comes so near that heavenly frame.   

Thy plainness plainly proves thee fair, for why,  
'tis the deluding property I know  
Of ornaments and art to mock the eye,  
By making them seem fair that are no so,  
And of thy beauty, I should have suspicion,  
But that from these it taketh no addition.   

And what although thou art of 〈◊〉 degree,  
Yet may thy beauty me●●● commendation,  
(Though poor) yet rich in beauty thou mayst be,  
Is Nature partial in the dispensation  
Of her fair jousts, must they be needs restrained,  
Only to such as fortunes gifts have gained.   

'Twere heresy to be of this opinion,  
For she is oft as prodigal we see,  
Even to a Beggar, as to Fortune's minion.  
And sith her fairest gifts have graced thee,  
May I not praise thee, yes, I'm tied unto it;  
It were detraction if I should not do it.   

When her objections he had answered thus,  
He thus proceeds, O thou art fair in all,  
I cannot in particular discuss  
The beauties of thy face, which I may call  
A shop of several beauties, nay to me,  
Even beauties little world it seems to be.   

My neck beneath loves yoke thy neck hath brought  
It is so fair, so soft, so smooth, so white,  
Thy lower beauties they are seen in thought,  
And in conceit are viewed with much delight.  
Those ivory banks (thy breasts) them thought descries  
And loves smooth shady walk that twixt them lies.   

Thought wanders there, & wonders strange discovers  
Delightful wonders, wonderful delights;  
there's no concealing from the thoughts of Lovers:  
For all lies  to their deepe-searching sights.  
loves piercing thought, through all oposure drives  
And where best pleasing objects are, arrives.   

The whitest colour soonest takes a stain,  
And therefore wonderment it breeds in me,  
That still thy hand such whiteness should retain,  
Whiteness and it sure cannot parted be,  
Whiteness and softness which yet never failed,  
Seem to thy dainty hand to be entailed.   

So white, that Lilies are not half so white,  
So soft that cygnets Down is nothing such,  
The whiteness serveth to bewitch the sight,  
And yet it more enchanteth with the touch,  
And for thy wrist, the whiteness there is graced  
By azur'd veins that there are interlaced.   

But, to set out at full thy beauty's praise,  
For my performance were a task too great,  
Though I about the same should spend my days,  
I could not all thy beauties praise repeat.  
How fair thou art, sweet wench, I cannot show,  
Nor how much thee I love, for being so.   

Little loves he, that can declare how much,  
Loved I but so, my love were then but small,  
My love, sweet Lass, believe it is not such,  
As can in compass of relation fall:  
As thy much beauty draws much love from me,  
Let my much Love some kindness draw from thee.   

Peace, peace, saith she, for praising me so much,  
You in the air your breath but idly scatter,  
For, (knowing I am neither so nor such,)  
How can I choose but know that you but flatter,  
It seems that you suppose (but you are wide)  
That I'll be pleased to hear myself belied.   

You almost out of breath, yourself have 〈◊〉,  
In seeking prayseforme (unworthy far)  
And racked your wits, yet all that you have done,  
But makes me think that you a flatterer are,  
And to suspect the sequel this doth move me,  
you but dissemble when you say love me.   

O do not harbour such a thought (saith he)  
I do not flatter, do not think I do:  
If with my thoughts my words do disagree,  
It is because they cannot reach unto  
That ample height of praise and adoration,  
I give to thee in thought and cogitation.   

And for dissimulation wherewithal  
Thou chargest me, O would thou knewest my heart.  
Then thou wouldst soon these words of thine recall,  
Wherewith thou blamest me without desert,  
And wouldst (no doubt) ask pardon with submission  
For this thy over hasty rash suspicion.   

Such there are some, but I am none of those  
That will dissemble, flatter, lie and fayne,  
If I be such, then mayest thou me expose  
To thy eternal! hate, and coy disdain:  
And let thy kindness so with comfort store me,  
As I sincerely love thee, and adore thee.   

Fair maids by kind are kind, and she doth go  
A stray from her true Nature, I am sure,  
That is disdainful, scornful, proud, or so,  
For where sweet beauty wounds, kindness should cure:  
But beauty kills, loves arrow striketh dead,  
When scornful pride empoisoned hath the head.   

Then be not thou (my love) with pride 〈◊〉,  
'Twill make thy beauty, 'tis so vile a thing,  
Like unto pleasing cates with poison tainted,  
For hateful pride is beauties hurtful sting,  
No matter though the beautilesse be proud,  
But in the fair pride cannot be allowed.   

For why, if pride on pleasing beauty wait,  
There danger lies, and we have cause to fear it,  
Else pride is but a hook without a bait,  
And hurteth none, because there's none comes near it.  
Danger becomes more dangerous by bearing.  
A pleasing form, not like itself appearing.   

But thy fair face persuades me not to doubt,  
In thy fair bosom much fair kindness lies,  
The beams whereof through thy fair eyes shine out;  
If these fair likelihoods prove certainties,  
Fair hap will crown fair hope, and I shall then  
Rejoice in my fair choice; Fates say Amen.   

From out a world of women, thee alone,  
For sovereign of my thoughts do I select,  
So high a place in my heart's love hath none,  
As hath thyself whom only I respect,  
And sith I love in no undue regard,  
The rather let my love have due reward.   

Respect of riches which with most bear sway,  
No motive is at all, in my Election,  
On Natures, not on fortunes gifts I lay,  
The base and groundwork of my firm affection,  
I count those native riches thou dost owe,  
More worth than all that fortune can bestow.   

Yet Riches now a days are all in all,  
Wealth goes before, and beauty comes behind:  
Riches we see of Beauty takes the wall,  
To Riches is the higher room assigned.  
Nay like a Cipher is poor beauty thought,  
It must be Joined with wealth, or stand for nought.   

But I (thou seest) am of another mind,  
I will not suffer so my thoughts to err:  
I am not with the world so much declined,  
More Fortune's gifts, than Natures to prefer.  
More rich than Ours of India, thou dost seem,  
Thy Beauty makes thee such in my esteem.   

Though Fortune blind, her gifts from thee detains.  
Yet Nature prodigal hath been to thee:  
Thy Forehead, hair, eye, cheek, lip, neck, Skin, veins,  
Smooth, bright, grey, fair, red, white, soft, blew they be.  
And there doth lie in every one of these,  
A greater power than is in Gold, to please.   

Thou needest not: Art not, Richly, proudly decked,  
Pearls have no need to be adorned with gold.  
What needs supplement where there's no defect,  
Or what needst thou (my Love) thy locks enfold.  
In costly cales of gold, and Laces gay,  
When thy fair tresses are more rich than they?   

Yet think not, (though thy Beauty so excel)  
It is too Rich for use, and but for show:  
Lest thou 'gainst Nature's sacred laws rebel,  
Not for thyself dost thou such Beauty owe.  
Beauty hath not such strong attractive power,  
To fade untouched, like an ungathered flower.   

Nor let thy beauty so thy thoughts delude,  
That thou shouldst think because thou art so fair.  
The heart of some great one shall be subdued  
To love, and list thee so, to honour's chair.  
Wain not for this, let me in this direct thee;  
Left beauty sade the while, and none respect thee.   

Or say, that fair desert should crowned be,  
And thou for that sweet beauty thou dost owe,  
Shouldst be advanced unto high degree:  
Why many have been railed for beauty so,  
Who afterwards with woes acquainted grew.  
Which ere their exaltation scarce they knew.   

On high Estates huge heaps of cares attend,  
But there's contenement in a shepherds life,  
Not us (as them) doth fortune nice offend,  
Disdain not then to be a shepherds wife.  
Nor am I beggarly, although a Swain,  
The flock is mine that mantles yonder plain.   

Our lowly sails are free from envies gust,  
We do not climb, nor do we falling fear  
Our states, with winds and waves we do not trust,  
We have two certain harvests every year,  
By force some, some by fraud rise, we by neither,  
We conscience, and plain dealing live together.   

We live contented, we at none do grudge,  
The labour our profession doth require,  
Is not perplexive to the body much,  
Less to the mind, which freely may aspire,  
Nor is it clogged with cares, nor is it held  
Down, as are theirs that great affairs do wield.   

We leisure and occasions too do find  
For contemplation, as our flocks we feed,  
Heaven still in fight, is also still in mind:  
The Life contemplative doth all exceed,  
And nearest comes for comfort and content,  
To that that shall be after this is spent.   

Fresh wholesome air a shepherd wanteth not,  
Which many thousands do, yet by the skies  
He is not persecuted, when 'tis hot,  
Some thick broad branched tree, him canopies:  
Whose green leaved bows that largely do extend,  
Waft cooling air and pleasing shadow lend.   

And his flocks fleeces cloth him from the cold,  
And arm him 'gainst the sharpest Northern blast,  
The pleasures that we have are manifold,  
Our troubles such as soon are overpast,  
If thou wouldst troubles shun, and pleasures prove,  
Live with a shepherd, be a shepherds love.   

I promise if thou wilt but pleased be,  
My love with love, and kindness to repay,  
I will resign supremacy to thee,  
Do thou but love, I'll honour and obey.  
Yea, (were it possible) if thou wear't mine,  
My very thoughts should suited be to thine.   

Then you saith she, no more but love do crave,  
That which includeth all would you content:  
You but the body of the sun would have,  
Whence light and heat cannot themselves absent,  
What need you more demand, Love will not be  
A streamlesse fountain, nor a fruitless tree.   

But I am not disposed to love, saith she,  
Which if I were, I surely should disdain,  
You should preposterously resign to me  
That which by right to you doth appertain:  
Of all d●e offices the chief is love,  
That's the first mo●er makes the rest to move.   

Not so disposed, why dost thou then propound  
Such bl●sse (saith he) to him that gains thy love,  
Making the louging of my mind abound,  
By showing that thou tractable wilt prove:  
This is as if thou happiness shouldst show,  
Then snatch it from me, so to work my woe.   

Thy words, to show thy loves worth, thou dost frame,  
And how much good doth on the same depend,  
So kindling my desires to gain the same,  
While thou the same dost so to me commend.  
I hope thou wilt this praised ware forego,  
Though thou art yet disposed to answer no.   

I'll buy thy love, if it be to be sold,  
O that I may a happy Chapman prove:  
But it's too precious to be bought with gold,  
What shall I give, I'll give thee love for love:  
And daily pay, though but in part, for why?  
Thou canst not have full payment till I die.   

For like as springing fountains which do owe  
Their streams unto the sea, though still they pay,  
Yet still they are in debt, directly so,  
Though I shall still be paying day by day;  
Yet shall I be, even till I cease to be,  
Thy debt or still, still thou must credit me.   

Not all the wealth that Cr●ssus did possess,  
Should buy thy love (if it were mine) from me,  
No greater height of earthly happiness  
Desire I, then to be beloved of thee  
A prize worth all the world falls to my Lot,  
If thou (to grant thy love) de●ie me not.   

Once entertain me in thine arms, and then  
I'll once be blest, in spite of 〈◊〉 spite:  
And then i'll ●ell the world, if tongue or pen  
Can give expressure to so much delight.  
What thy embracements yield, what joy, what bliss,  
But when, ah when shall I discourse of this?   

Oh, hold not from me that felicity,  
Which they afford, that do afford their loves,  
And with their loves a multiplicity  
Of pleasutes and delights; sure it behoves  
That thou propound such for thing Imitation,  
That answer thus the end of their Creation.   

Good, now no more, I cannot love saith she,  
Against the Hair then urge me not unto'ot,  
Excuse me (tho) the fault is not in me,  
My stars were opposite, I cannot door.  
Thus puts she off her fault, and shows the while,  
A fault derived from Eve to Argentile.   

She will not love, yet lest he think her wilful,  
She answers thus, she cannot love she says,  
And as she were in constellations skilful,  
Her humours fault upon the stars she lays:  
But Curan though this answer makes him doubt,  
Will not for this repulse of hers give out.   

Your stars, saith he, tush, hold not this opinion:  
Admit the chastest of them (Luna) reigned,  
Did not I pray thee Luna, jove Endymion,  
And was not she with loves sweet passions pained,  
yes Luna's self did love, else Poets feign,  
Then how can Luna's influence love restrain.   

No, I not fear the enmity of those,  
Be thou but willing, I desire but this,  
They cannot my wished happiness oppose,  
Nor be a bar to my desired bliss.  
Let churlish and malignant stars repine,  
I care not; so thy will to love incline.   

Therefore as erst I said, I say again,  
Give pride no place I pray thee in thy breast,  
Away with soornefulnesse and coy disdain,  
Which most do plague the kindest men and best,  
For the best natures still most subject be,  
To lovesick passions (most in this agree.)   

As thou art fair, so be thou kind my dear,  
Should pride (which heaven forbidden) contracted be  
To thy sweet beauty, it would cause (I fear)  
A separation twixt my joys and me.  
I● kindness from thy beauty thou shouldst sever,  
My joys and I are then diverst for ever.   

As beauty doth, even so let mercy rest  
In thy fair eye, for these are two fair twins:  
Deny not lodging to so kind a guest:  
At that fair sign where her fair sister Inns,  
Beauties kind sister must keep with her still,  
Else where she conquers, cruelly shee-l●kill.   

Thus still he pleads, and though she still withstand:  
Yet doth not his affection change or vary:  
For why? his love is winnowed, cleansed, and fanned,  
No light inconstant chaff with it doth tarry.  
In vain doth she deny, for still he tries,  
In vain he tries her, for she still denies.   

What boots it her, although her tongue deny,  
Forbidding love, refusing love to grant:  
Sith the mean while her lip, her cheek, her eye  
Plant that, which she endeavours to supplant:  
Her tongue forbids, her beauty bids again,  
Love yields to loveliness, and words are vain.   

Though she her name, her state, her tire, her train,  
Had so dismissed, cast off, foregone, and changed,  
Yet her own thoughts she still doth entertain.  
Curan had sped if they had been estranged:  
They told her she that lately did disdain  
A Prince's love, now must not love a Swain.   

Of all her outward worth with her remains  
Only her beauty, all the rest is gone,  
But that by lawful means she still maintains,  
And blame her not if she preserved her own.  
Rather blame them (if such be to be found)  
That lay dead colours on a lively ground.   

Her beauty will abide the touch, 'tis true,  
Her lovely cheeks have beauties die in grain;  
For they their sweet eye-pleasing native hue,  
In spite of Phoebus' fiery eye retain:  
Her beauty hath a strange rare quality,  
Subject to nothing but mortality.   

And it is Curans hungry eye's repast,  
Yea and a pleasing dish to it indeed,  
And sith when she is absent it must fast,  
When she is present it doth frankly feed,  
To it that can (with fasting) not away,  
A Lent in length seems every fasting day.   

Officiously heserues his mistress coy,  
He runs for her, he helps her guide her drone,  
Proud is the Prince if she will him employ,  
See here the power and potency of love:  
Her for no better than she seems he takes,  
yet willingly himself her slave he makes.   

And if she do but deign him one kind look,  
Quite overpayde he holds himself to be,  
For all the pains that he for her hath took,  
So pleased with a gentle look is he:  
And on her smiles and frowns doth he attend,  
As life and death did on her looks depend.   

As fares it with a ship tossed on the main,  
When winds and waves conspire her overthrow:  
she's hoist up, and then cast down again.  
From tops of liquid mounts, with Curan so,  
Her smiles do hoist his hopes into the air,  
Her frowns do beat them down beneath despair.   

Yet not her smiles, his hopes do him beguile,  
For he his hopes doth from mistaking take:  
She but derides his folly with a smile,  
Which he an argument of love doth make.  
Alas for him, how desperate is his state,  
When his best signs of love, are signs of hate.   

Well, let him rest content though thus forlorn,  
And not repine, though now he pine and droop:  
He shall (ere long) enjoy a Princess borne,  
But the high towering Eagle will not stoop  
To the base Kite, nor she to him, till he  
(Being unvaild) a Peasont cease to be.   

But her dear Love, he first must dearly buy,  
'Twill cost him many a sigh and many a tear,  
That having bought it at a price so high,  
Accordingly, he then may hold it dear.  
The more is now his grief, and his annoy,  
When she is his, the more will be his joy.   

Leander kind, as he to Her● went,  
The pains he took, the perils that he passed,  
The more they were, the more was his content,  
When in his weary arms he her embraced.  
So when Prince Carans present sufferings cease,  
They (to his future joys) shall give increase.   

Well may he, while he hath her jove in chase,  
Endure the worst that Fortune can inflict:  
For Fates have marked her his, though for a space,  
His Fortune seems his Fate to contradict.  
And now the more he suffers for her sake.  
The more shall he of comfort then partake.   

She must be his, but yet some misery,  
For her dear sake he must endure before:  
That joys (succeeding grief their contrary,)  
May to his apprenension seem the more,  
But that she shall be his, did he but know,  
Then in his bosom were no place for woe.   

But this, he doth not know; nay, there is thrown  
So thick a mist before his iudgements-eye:  
That she herself is still to him unknown,  
Though he be daily in her company.  
He must not know her his, nor know her neither,  
Till he (twice happy then) know both together.   

Daily, as duly as he goes to field,  
He Courts his wench, but not at all prevails:  
Yet still he hopes that she at last will yield,  
Therefore he plies her still, but still he fails,  
One day at last beneath a shady tree,  
He closely siding her, thus pleadeth he.   

Why art thou still unkind, why cruel still?  
Why is thy breast so empty of remorse?  
My heart thou mayst with thy unkindness kill,  
But thou canst not divert loves constant course.  
Still do I love, though still thou dost disdain me,  
Beauty doth so persuade: nay, so constrain me.   

My Love, if it but ordinary were,  
Mixed with a negligent indifferency:  
Why thy unkindness than I well could bear,  
Nor could it once so much as trouble me.  
Some cannot love until they kindness find,  
Nor longer than their Loves continue kind.   

He that loves so, (nor are such lovers strange)  
Can sport at her that falsely doth deceive:  
Smile at the change, if smiles to frowns do change,  
Love while she loves, and leave when she doth leave.  
'tis harmless Love, on kindness that depends,  
To love the unkind, that's the love offends.   

This I find true, yet hopefully suppose  
Thou bear'st not such an unrelenting mind:  
But that thou wilt compassionate my woes,  
And wilt not prove eternally unkind,  
While thy unkindness wounds my mind with grief.  
Hope of redress is all my heart's relief.   

My Love with thy unkindness long hath strived,  
Except these prove to be of equal strength:  
Well may I hope my grief is not long lived,  
For one of these will sure be foiled at length.  
When either shall be foiled and overthrown,  
Then ends my grief and sad lamenting-mone.   

Till or my Love, or thy unkindness cease,  
Needs must my grief and languishment still last:  
It is not possible I should find ease,  
Till I can either say the fit is past.  
Or till thou dost my Love with Love repay,  
Which would to thy unkindness not give way.   

But that my Love will cease, and so my woe,  
I have small hope, though still unkind thou prove:  
I know my I oue more lasting is then so,  
Nor is it fit that we by fits should love.  
Then all my hope of comfort doth depend  
On this, that thy unkindness once will end.   

Then when desire my Fantasy doth sway  
Such as I wish thou art to it presented:  
My Love with Love, me thinks thou dost repay,  
And from thy unkind self thou seem'st absented.  
But when I wake, thy kindness is away,  
No longer than I dream, my joys will stay.   

To find thee kind thus in my idle Dreams,  
What Comfort in thy kindness ly'es doth show:  
Whereby my woes wax on to worse extremes,  
That good I must not taste, I would not know.  
So to the damned soul in hell, that is  
Hell's, the more hell, because he knows there's bliss.   

And though I know that Dec●mes are idle fictions,  
And that they much in them do ●●ldome carry:  
But still succeed like Almanacs Prodictions,  
Which tell how wind and weather's state will vary.  
Kindness to come, they promise (tho) in thee,  
And comfort in reversion so to m●●.   

Yet they perhaps do but delude m● (though,)  
And do no more but seem to promise this:  
Then is my hope but vain, if this be so,  
And that (I catch) but Comforts shadow is,  
Fear doth confound the hope that hence doth rise,  
Sith Dreams are but such mere incertainties.   

Disdain to me is like infectious air,  
As that of health, so this of hope deprives:  
As that disease, so this doth breed despair,  
Yet against that there are preservatives.  
But none 'gainst this, disdain the heart doth kill,  
Even in despite of Drug and Doctor's skill.   

Thus pules the Prince, and thus doth he complain,  
Even melted with the Sunshine of her eye:  
Nor can his manly heart the stroke sustain,  
Of Cupid's Childish-dart, fie Curan, fie.  
From a weak woman's Fading-beauty, he  
Derives his strength, yet he hath foiled thee.   

And is it 〈…〉  
Th●●●●ding beauty should be of s●ch force  
The nature of this Imp of Mars to change,  
And from his warlike Patron him divorce.  
'tis strange, yet beauty hath this seance affected,  
〈◊〉 the which he hath himself subjecteth.   

Beauty be●itcheth him, and makes him ●ote,  
Then Che●●ltie be ceaseth to pursue:  
Himself to Cupid service to denote;  
To Mars and Martial feats he bids adieu.  
But when he shall his ladies love obtain  
The warlike Prince will be himself again.   

But (yet) she him denies and answereth thus,  
Do you not think my ways are negatives:  
Scarce are they so indeed in some of us,  
Scandal toomuch from such, ourselves derives.  
B●● do ●ot think me such, such am not I,  
I hate the tongue that doth the thoughts belie.   

I always strongly have oppos'de your trials,  
Not like to her that yeeldingly denies:  
I wrap not up consent in nice denials,  
Nor have I pruned your hopes with my replies.  
But rather to supplant them I have sought,  
For I to yield to Love, will not be brought.   

Such were her words, her thoughts were also such,  
She doth not love, she meaneth to love never:  
But on her strength she doth rely toomuch,  
For in her power it is not to persever.  
Strong is her resolution, yet too-weake,  
The high disposers purposes to break.   

You do (saith she) but vain 〈…〉,  
While thus you 〈…〉 love with worth,  
loves Harbinger still enters by the eye,  
Small comfort kn●●king at the 〈◊〉 affords,  
For till the eye let liking in, the breast  
Near lodgeth L●●●, that thought disturbing guest.   

C●●se therefore thus to spend your breath in vain,  
Avert your Love, because you are not loved,  
Love not where Love for Love you cannot gain:  
Let your ill placed liking be removed:  
Shut in your wandering eye, your thoughts restrain,  
Refuse to give your rash desires the rain.   

Thus counsels she, yet courts he her again,  
But cannot (tho) her resolution shake:  
Only her ears his words do entertain:  
But to her heart they no intrusion make.  
Nor fears, nor shuns she his assaults, for why?  
On her approved strength she dare rely.   

From his assaults she held herself aloof  
At first, but now she doth not fear nor doubt,  
Against loves darts she thinks her breast is prose,  
Because that it so long hath held them out:  
Yet opportunity the Prince doth fail,  
Nor can his importunity prevail.   

But now behold, when she to Love thinks least,  
And thinks herself best able to withstand,  
And now his hopes that languished are deceased:  
Now Love himself doth take his cause in hand,  
Despair makes Curan now leave off to woo her,  
yet wins her as he tells his fortunes to her.   

Grown desp●●●● now, he thus to her complained,  
Of all men's Fo●●●mes mine is sure the worst,  
Thus twice to love, and twice to be disdai'nd.  
Ah Wretch, was ever man so much accursed,  
Love that imparadiseth some, to me  
Gives hell itself, if hell on earth there be.   

Pigm●lion was more blest than I, for he  
Successfully, an ivory Image loved,  
Venus wrought miracles for him, but she  
Is deaf to my entreats, she'll not be moved  
To turn to flesh that flinty heart of thine,  
And to rejoicings these complaints of mine.   

Love unto some much happiness doth bring,  
But unto me it bringeth nothing less,  
My love's a bitter root from whence doth spring  
Anguish, grief, sorrow, woe and wretchedness,  
And that I twice should love the Fates have cast,  
And so should twice these hellish torments taste.   

She that first caused my anguish and my smart  
Was fair like thee, and thou unkind as she,  
She had thy beauty, and thou hast her heart,  
She took, thou tak'st, my joys, my life from me.  
I loved, I love, in both unhappy I,  
I languished then, but now for love I die.   

The Neatresse (yet unsatisside) inquires  
What wench it was he first affected so:  
He (urged to speak of her) his blood retires,  
Pale were his looks, scarce could he speak for woe.  
'Twas Argentile, so much admired, saith he,  
Only in state an overmatch to thee.   

Did you, saith she, know that young Lady fine,  
I did, saith he, and dearly I her loud:  
She was my Saint, I offered at her shrine  
Tears, vows and sighs, and for her sake I proved  
A torment worse than death itself can be,  
And now a torment worse than that for thee.   

At Kirkland in my Father's Court, my days  
In sweet content I spent, until mine ear  
Was filled with Argentiles sweet beauty's praise,  
But than could I no longer tarry there,  
I came to see, I saw, I loved, and so  
(For luckless was my love) began my woe.   

And then (for the ungentle King denied  
Access to Noble men of note and fame)  
Forthwith my dignities I doffed aside,  
And for her sake a Peasant I became,  
And by that means access I did obtain,  
Yet missed my end, her love I could not gain.   

I did as much as hearty love could do,  
To gain her love, but still was she unkind:  
The King himself in my behalf did woo,  
Yet my entreats, with urge his, combined,  
Were still successesse, for she still denied,  
So still I dying lived, and living died.   

No thought, no instigation of new love,  
Since her I lost did enter once my breast,  
Until thine eye, that would dull Saturn move,  
Replanted love, and robbed me of my rest:  
Thy powerful beauty shouldered all a side.  
That loves reentrance hindered or de●●'e.   

With my new Love (alas) began new woes,  
For nothing else but grief and wretchedness,  
Doth hapless, hateful love on me impose:  
But death I hope, ere long will give redress.  
Far off is comfort, but despair is nigh,  
Ah then why do I not despair and die.   

Nay stay, saith she, and tell me first your name,  
Your own true name which you have changed I know.  
I have quoth he for love, but not for shame,  
For Curan is my name, the truth is so:  
Then grief her heart, & tears her eyes ore-filde,  
And down her cheeks some crystal drops distilled.   

He wept to see her weep, and asked the cause,  
Wherefore she did that precious liquor spill,  
And why she sighed, and why she so did pause.  
Yet still she wept, still sighed, and mused still.  
He seeing this, with her will partner be,  
He wept, he sighed, he mulled, as well as she.   

His wonder was, to see her wonder so,  
His sorrow was to see her sorrow such,  
She mused he should his love so twice bestow,  
She grieved that she had made him grieve so much.  
Thus they do now each others harms condole,  
And sympathise as both had but one soul.   

At last she spoke, the words that from her went,  
Bore comfort with them on their airy wings:  
And every Messenger that so she sent  
To Curans ear, a joyful burden brings,  
And Curans ear near blest until that day,  
Doth their dear present to his heart convey.   

C●ran, quoth she, the Fort you sought to win,  
With this last battery is so sore distressed,  
That now the Gate is  to let you in:  
Be happy, if my love can make you blest,  
Your twice beloved Argentile is yours,  
In weal and woe, so long as life endures.   

The palate used to bitter tastes we see,  
Can sweetness at the first scarce well en dure;  
His eyes with light at first offended be,  
That long hath line in dungeon deep obscure,  
So Curan used to grief and sad lamenting,  
Offended is with joy, at first presenting.   

As he that (sleeping) doth illusions see  
So fearful, that for dread thereof he quakes,  
Seeming to be in dangers such that he  
Feels fear's impression, still when he awakes:  
So Curan fares, free from his sears he's set,  
But cannot apprehend his safety yet.   

But now by this he finds his joys to be  
True and substantial, though he late did fear,  
(So much transported from himself was he)  
That they delusive and fantastic were,  
But now the sun of comfort shines out bright,  
And fears and griefs, like mists are put to flight.   

Like as with him that in his sleep doth prove,  
That strange disease, feeling upon his breast  
A deadly weight which he would feign remove,  
But strives in vain, till he awaked, finds rest.  
With Curan so it fared, and so it fares  
Oppressed with, and eased of his cares.   

He would express his hearty joy, yet long  
He like a senseless statue standeth mute,  
joy doth so overwhelm him that his tongue  
Cannot as yet this office execute:  
So when the heart is drowned in sorrows deep,  
The eye (we see) oft times forgets to weep.   

And much she joyed, though not in so much measure:  
Yet in this ecstasy a part she bears:  
Now happy mutual love produceth pleasure,  
Fears are removed, ceased are sighs and tears:  
The worse dependents now are banished quite,  
And on their love attendeth sweet delight.   

What hellish torments doth that man endure,  
That coily finds his hearty love rejected:  
Again, if earth yield joy, he tastes it sure,  
That dearly loves, and dearly is affected.  
Curan, late as the first, now as the last,  
Seems snatched from Limbo, and in Eden placed.   

When to himself, him joy and Wonder left,  
He said, and are you Argentile my dear:  
In happy time was I of you bereft,  
That I thus happily might find you here.  
Twice blest may I my new blessed knowledge call,  
I know you now, and know you mine withal.   

A thousand griefs this heart of mine have gripped.  
By your unkindness caused, that your consent,  
Hath them away (as they had near been) wiped.  
And in their place hath planted sweet content,  
O happy sufferings, whereupon depends  
Such happy Issue, and such blessed ends.   

By this her heart with Cupid's dart is thrilled,  
Her coyness erst, is turned to kindness now,  
With loves sweet malady her breast is side,  
And many favours she doth him allow:  
Now strangeness being banished for his sake,  
She frankly gives what she refused to take.   

O what a Metamorphosis is this,  
That here is wrought: this D●●●sell but of 〈◊〉,  
Would scarcely for a Kingdom give a kiss,  
Which now she vallues at an easy rate.  
Her kindness was exceeding mean indeed,  
But now almost it doth all mean exceed.   

She now is moulded new, and made most kind,  
Kindness for kindness kindly she repays:  
In ceiling syllables he shows his mind,  
And she in speaking t●ches hers bewrays,  
And now if he embrace her tender waist,  
About his neck her arms are kindly cast.   

Why how now Argentile, what is this he,  
Whom you did say you would not love ere while:  
Yes this is Curan, but you are not she  
That spoke those words, you are not Argentile,  
At least that Argentile coy and unkind,  
you are not now, for you have changed your mind.   

Nor shall she be condemned for this mutation,  
Or held light and unstable for this change:  
No, rather this deserves much commerdation,  
When she grows kind, that late was coy and strange,  
Maids are not blamed for this inconstancy,  
But that which unto this is contrary.   

As she that makes much show of much goodwill,  
And calls herself another's, not her own,  
Vows and protesteth to be constant still,  
Yet afterwards though she just cause have none,  
She flieth off, and most unkind doth prove,  
Fie, that fair maids should be so false in love.   

Well, now (in part) are crowned Curan● wishes,  
For loves Feast-royall he gins to taste,  
Where the first service being such sweet dishes,  
Superlatinely sweet must be the last.  
Which now he's like to taste, for who so was kisses  
In soil and season fit, and harvest misses.   

I (unexperienced) cannot express  
How much they Joyed embracing and embraced.  
But they of this perhaps can nearly guess.  
That have as high in fortunes love been placed:  
Yet are their joys not perfect, though begun,  
Not at their height, but like the forenoon's sun.   

Which till they be, they badly brook delays,  
And on that wished day agreed they are,  
The interposed time they count by days,  
Not years, nor months, for 'twill not reach so far,  
Soon were they wed, their joys the want supplied  
Of meet solemnity that hast denied.   

Heaven upon earth seems to his share to fall,  
That doth enjoy a fair, kind, virtuous wife:  
He that hath one that fails herein, in all,  
He seems to be in hell even in this life.  
Prince Curans hap doth match the best of these,  
So exquisitely well his choice doth please.   

She is adorned, she is endued likewise  
With the best gifts of body, and of mind:  
And (whence much comfort doth to him arise)  
she's sober, chaste, still, tractable and kind:  
Not such a one as women are is she,  
But she is such a one as they should be.   

She doth not (for she knows she should not do't)  
Bear wilful sway as they that headship share:  
So that oftimes the head is made the foot.  
But they that bear this, too base minded are.  
Shall men be made their humours slaves, when they  
Were made for men, and were enjoined t'obey.   

A lovely sweet Companion hath he got,  
Which heaven in love did upon him bestow,  
Now happiness is fallen unto his lot,  
If happiness a man may have below.  
For 'tis a hap being's happiness with it,  
To happen on a choice in all things fit.   

He that would be so blest, and so rejoice,  
Must heed, and good advise (in choosing) take,  
As well, or ill; a man doth make his choice,  
Better, or worse, his fortune he doth make.  
Nay, (which is more) the man that wisely wives,  
Much good to his posterity derives.   

If she be fair, and of a comely seature,  
May not her like be then on her imprinted:  
And if she be a kind good natured creature,  
she's not so to herself confined and stinted:  
But that the branch that springs from such a tree,  
May bear like fruit, and of like nature be.   

If she have more than Nature can convey,  
Good qualities by education got:  
They are communicable, and she may  
Confer them on her Issue (may she not?)  
Then he that makes good choice derives thereby  
Good to himself and his posterity.   

If she with goodness be indu'de and grace,  
Why then (with her) doth she heavens blessing bring.  
And he within whose bosom these have place,  
Will more make these his aim then any thing.  
These and what else may breed his bliss beside,  
Are the Endowments of Prince Curans Bride.   

And now though he till now had lived obscure,  
Lostin loves Labrinth, doting so upon her:  
Now that he hath her in possession sure,  
His valour now redeems his mortgaged honour.  
For Fiery quality from Mars he took.  
Though she could daunt him with an angry look.   

What could he do, while he wore Beauties gives?  
What could he do, while he loves Prisoner was?  
He could not, did not then, but now he strives,  
Even Hercules in valour to surpass.  
A braver Knight, lived not in any Land,  
For Courage, Skill in Arms, and strength of hand.   

Elsewhere he warred, and won, ere claimed his right,  
Of Edell, in behalf of Argentile:  
(Denied of it) he vows in bloody fight,  
To win the same, if Fortune on him smile.  
If not, for what shall hap, prepared is he,  
Brave minds for Fortunes both, resolved be.   

An Army soon (though small) he had prepared,  
(By him exampled) bold and guided well,  
And with the same on Edell false be warred,  
Beneath his sword on heaps his foe-men fell,  
Who (trembling) think he's Mars himself, & wonder,  
At his great strokes, which kill like stroke of thunder.   

He rides amongst the thickest of his foes,  
And deals his alms about on every side,  
So setting blood abroach still as he goes,  
That purple streams along the field did glide,  
As oft as his uplifted sword descends,  
So oft a soul he to Elysian sends.   

So many bodies he deprived of breath,  
That weary waxed his victorious arm,  
While tugging Charon almost toiled to death,  
Transports the Ghosts to''th' Stigion banks that swarm:  
And still as fast as Charon waftes them over,  
Prince Curans conquering blade unbodieth more.   

To ward his blows, their bucklers are too thin,  
So are their armours to defend their fides,  
Not walls of iron secure their lives within,  
Through shield and shirt of male his Falchion glides,  
Expelling from those houses frail of clay,  
Those fair immortal guests that there did stay.   

So piercing were the bushes of his spear,  
So sharp his thrusts, so ponderous his blows,  
That his strong foes though ten for one they were,  
Like to a stream or storm he overthrows.  
For as a Lion tears a tender Kid,  
So (undermatcht) even what he would he did.   

There was no strength that Curans strength withstood,  
He lops their arms, or else their heads he cloven,  
And so he passeth on imbrued with blood,  
The field behind all strewed with corpse he left,  
A Giant then suborned to edel's aid,  
Opposed the Prince, his bloody progress stayed.   

Huge, stern this Giant was, and passing proud,  
And scorned the Prince as much his undermatch,  
And his base voice he lifting up aloud,  
Cries here he comes, that will thee soon dispatch:  
But his proud brags could not Prince Curan sear,  
They rather to his courage whestones were.   

Look how those vapours meet that out are blown,  
From two huge Cannons, mouth to mouth opposed,  
The meeting of these Warriors such was known,  
Such their encounter was, and so they closed,  
Long (to confound the Prince) the Giant strives,  
But fails, for Curan him of life deprives.   

(He dead) the rest betakes themselves to flight,  
And time it is for he that stays he dies:  
Yet Edell discontinued not the fight,  
So loath was he to lose his dignities.  
Nor would he cease till him Prince Curan slew,  
And paid the debt that long before was due.   

Mercy was offered, he did it despise,  
And at the Prince with eager fury smit,  
Just anger's flames shined then in Curans eyes:  
To fury, ruth, mercy to rage submit.  
With that he strikes, nor need he strike again,  
That stroke gave end to edel's life and reign.   

This done, upon the Crown Prince Curan seized,  
A pleasing purchase though with peril bought,  
Nor durst the people show themselves but pleased,  
They him applaud, and presents to him brought,  
The Nobles too, present their loves cachone,  
And by those steps, he mounts the kingly throne.   

Curan and Argentile now crowned are,  
She fair, wise, virtuous, thence her praises rose,  
He grave and just, a thunderbolt in war,  
A Lamb, a Lion, to his friends and foes,  
Northumber's crown undividable now,  
Even till his death adorned his kingly brow.   
FINIS.   

Faults escaped.  
In the letter B. page 3. line 11, for been fame, read being same. In C. pag. 5. line 3. for more powerful, read were powerful. In C. pag. 7. line 12, for him runs, read it runs, In G. pag. 3. line 16. for ourselves, read our sex.