OVID'S HEROICAL Epistles. Englished by W. S. Veniam pro laude peto— nun●●itibus Mutaraè quaero Tristi● The ●th. Edytion:   
London printed for W: Gilbertson, at the Bible in Gilt-spurstr●● 6. 6●.   

OVID'S HEROICAL Epistles. Englished by W.S.  
Veniam pro laude peto,  
— nunc mitibus  
Mutare Quaero Tristia.  
LONDON, Printed for William Gilbertson, at the sign of the Bible without Newgate in Gilt-spur-street, 1663.   

TO THE VIRTUOUS LADIES, AND GENTLEWOMEN OF ENGLAND.  
YOur beauties (Ladies and Gentlewomen) are but types and shadows of the beauty of your virtuous mind, which is discerned by Noble and Courteous actions. I may therefore presume that Ovid's Heroical Epistles, chiefly translated for your sakes, shall find a gentle acceptance, suitable to your Heroical dispositions, for Courtesy and Ingenuity are the companions of Gentility. But those who claim this Title, and are degraded of it by their own vicious qualities, Ovid disclaims them. Virtue is an invisible gift, which is not discerned by the outward habit, but by speech and action, and a certain delectation in virtue, as Modesty, Temperance, and especially courtesy; to which Ovid doth appeal. For when Rome knew him famous, he was esteemed of Love and Ladies, so that he was fain to shadow the ambitious love of the Emperor's daughter towards him under the vail of Corynna, but the Emperor saw through it, and banished him. Besides, these Epistles, in regard of their subject, have just relation to you, Ladies and Gentlewomen, being the complaint of Ladies and Gentlewomen for the absence of their Lovers; And that their sorrow may be more sensible, there is a Table prefixed, & adjoining to the book, presenting the several Pictures of the Arguments of the Epistles. So much concerning the work, and the Author Ovid, now you expect a compliment for the Dedication.  
Ladies and Gentlewomen, since this book of Ovid's which most Gentlemen could read before in Latin, is for your sakes come forth in English, it doth at first address itself a Suitor, to woo your acceptance, that it may kiss your hands, and afterward have the lines thereof in reading sweetened by the odour of your breath, while the dead letters formed into words by your divided lips, may receive new life by your passionate expression, and the words married in that Ruby-coloured Temple, may thus happily united, multiply your contentment. And in a word let this be.  
A Servant with you to the Lady Virtue. Wye Saltonstall.   

TO THE VIRTUOUS LADIES, AND GENTLEWOMEN OF GREAT BRITAIN.  
OF all the Poets, that in verse did reign  
As Monarches, none could equal Ovid's strain,  
Especially in the affairs of Love,  
Ovid the Master of that Art did prove:  
His fancies were so pleasing and so sweet,  
That Love did wish no other winding sheet,  
If he had mortal been, for he would die  
To live again in his sweet Poesy.  
When he intended to inflame the mind,  
Or show how Lovers proved too unkind,  
As in these Epistles, where Ladies bemoan  
Themselves, when their unkind lovers were gone;  
He doth so mournfully express their passion,  
In such a loving, and a lively fashion,  
That reading them grief will not let you speak,  
Until imprisoned tears from your eyes break;  
Such passions in his Letters do appear,  
That every word will make you drop a tear.  
But you fair Gentlewomen of this Isle,  
He would have you to glance one gentle smile  
On his Epistles, styled Heroical,  
Because by Lords and Ladies written all.  
You know that Love is the Hearts pleasant tamer,  
Whose motto is this, Omnia vincit Amor;  
For he can with his lighted Torch inflame  
Assoon the Lord and Lady, as the Swain.  
If then you hope to be happy in Love,  
If other sorrows may your pity move,  
If you the complaints of fair Ladies tender,  
Which English doth for your contentment render  
Unto your view, let these Epistles here,  
Enjoy your beauteous favour, shining clear  
On Ovid, beloved by th' Emperor's daughter,  
For which by Caesar he was banished after;  
Yet this his comfort was in Banishment,  
His Love, and Lines, did yield your sex content.  
Let English Gentlewomen as kind appear  
To Ovid, as the Roman Ladies were.  
So wisheth, Wye Saltonstall.   

THE INDEX.  


A  
ABydos a City in Asia, Ep. 17.  
Achelou●; a river of Etolia, 9  
Achilles' son of Peleus and Thetis, Ep. 3.  
Acontius, signifies an Arrow, Ep. 19, 20.  
Actaeon beheld Diana bathing herself, and was transformed into a Stag, Ep. 20.  
Aetna, a burning Mountain, Ep. 21.  
Adonis' the son of Cinyras, Ep 4.  
Aegypt●s brother to Belus, Ep. 14.  
Aeneas son to Anchises and Venus, Ep. 7.  
Aeolus' King of the winds, E. 10  
Aeth●a, Ep. 16.  
Agamemnon's Prince of the Grecians, Ep. 3.  
Ajax, Ep. 3.  
Altions, Sea Birds, Ep. 17.  
Allecto, one of the Furies, Ep. 3.  
Androgeus, Minos' son, Ep. 10.  
Andromache, Hector's wife, E. 5.  
Antilochus, Ep. 1.  
Apollo god of Poetry, Physic, and Music, Ep. 5, 6.  
Ariad●e Ep. 10.  
Ariadne's Crown, a Constellation, Ep. 17.  
Ascanius' son to Aeneas, Ep. 7.  
Athens a famous University, Ep. 2.  
Atias, a Mountain, Ep. 10.  
Atreus' son to Pelops, Ep 10.  
Aurora, or the morning, Ep. 4.    


B  
BRiseis a captive Virgin taken by Achilles, Ep. 3.    


C  
CAcus a Giant, Ep. 9  
Canace Sister to Macareus, Ep. 11.  
Carthage, a City of Lybia. E. 7.  
Cassandra, a Prophetess who foretold the destruction of Troy, Ep. 15.  
Shafalus signifies the head, E. 4.  
Cerberus, Porter of hell, Ep. 9, 10.  
Ceres, Goddess of corn and Plenty, Ep. 2.  
Cary●dis, a rocky gulf, Ep. 12.  
Colchos, where the Golden Fleece was kept, Ep. 6.  
Corinth, a City Ep. 12.  
Clymene, waiting maid to Helena, Ep. 16.  
Crete, an Island, Ep. 16.  
Cynthia, or the Moon, Ep. 17.    


D  
DEdalus who made himself and his son Icarus wings to fly withal, Ep. 17.  
Daphne turned into a Lawrell-tree, Epist. 21.  
Deianira, Daughter to Oenus King of Caledon, Ep. 9  
Deiphobus, or fearing the gods, Epist. 5.  
Delos an Island, it signifies manifest or clear, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Deucalion, who with his Wife Pyrrha survived after the general Deluge, Ep. 2.  
Demophoon, signifies a light to the people by his exemplary Virtues, Ep. 2.  
Diana, called Lucina, Ep. 19  
Dido, signifies to fear, Ep. 7.  
Dolon, Ep. 1.    


E  
ELisa, or Dido, Epist. 7.  
Elysian, Elysium was a feigned place of joy for the dead, E. 3.  
Endymion was beloved of the Moon, Ep. 17.  
Euristeus King of the Mycemen, Ep. 9  
Erynnis, a Fury.  
Europa, signifies fair faced, from whom the chiefest part of the world is called Europa, Ep. 4.    


H  
HEmeus, a Mountain of Thrace, Ep. 2.  
Hector, the valiantest of all the Trojans, Ep. 1.  
Helena, wife to Menelaus, Ep. 5.  
Hellespont, or the Sea wherein Helle was drowned, Ep. 8, 7.  
Hercules' begot by jupiter in three nights on Alcmene in the shape of Amphytrio, Ep. 9  
Hermione, Epist. 8.  
Hydra, a monster whose fruitful heads would grow as they were lopped off, Ep. 9  
Hero, or a Noble Heroical Lady, Ep. 17.  
Hymen, the god of marriage, Ep. 2.  
Hypermnestra, Wife to Linus, Ep. 14.  
Hippolytus was torn in pieces by his horses, Ep. 7.  
Hypsiphile Queen of Lemnos, Ep. 6.    


I  
JAson son to Aeson, Ep. 6.  
Icareus Penelope's father, Icarus 17.  
Idean, or Trojan, Ep. 9  
Iole Herculeses Mistress, Ep. 9  
Is●hmus, a neck of Land joining two Continents together, having the Sea beating on both sides, Ep. 4.  
juno, jupiters' Queen, Ep. 5.    


L  
LAcedaemon, a City in Greece Ep. 15.  
Laertes, Ep. 1.  
Laodamia, Ep. 13.  
Leander signifies a Lionhearted man, Ep. 17.  
Linus, husband to Hyperranestra, Ep. 14.  
Lucina, the goddess of Childbirth, Ep. 5.    


M  
MAcareus brother to Canace, Ep. 11.  
Meander, a crooked winding River, Ep. 7.  
Medea, a sorceress beloved by jason, Ep. 12.  
Menelaus signifies the envy or scorn of the people, he was Helenas husband, Ep. 5.  
Minotaur, a monster which by Daedalus Art Pasiphae had by a Bull, while Minos was at the Athenian wars, hence it was called a Minotauru, Ep. 10.    


N  
NEctar, the drink of the Gods, Ep. 15.  
Neptune, the god of the Sea, Ep. 2.  
Nereids, Sea Nymphs, Ep. 5.  
Nestor lived three ages, Ep. 1.  
Nilus, a River of Egypt, Ep. 14.    


O  
OEchalia, a City, Ep. 9  
Oenone, a Nymph, Ep. 5.  
Orestes son to Agamemnon, and Clytemaestra, Ep. 8.  
Orubya, beloved of Boreas, Ep. 17.    


P  
PAllas, the goddess of wisdom, Ep. 4.  
Paris, son to Priam, and Hecuba, Ep. 5.15.  
Parnassus, the Muse's mountain, Ep. 19  
Pasiphae, a lustful wanton woman, Ep. 4.  
Pa●roclus, signifies the honour of his Father, he was son to Menaetius, and having put on Achilles' Armour, was slain in fight by Hector, E. 3.  
Penelope, Ulysses wife, Ep. 1.  
Pirithous, a faithful friend to These●s, Ep. 4.  
Phaedra, sister to Ariadne, daughter to Minos, Ep. 4.  
Phyllis, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 leaves, or from Phylla, signifying in Greek an Almond tree, E. 2.  
Phaon, a fair young man, E. 21.  
Pyrrha Deucalion's wife, Ep. 21.  
Polyphemus, Ep. 1. Sab a Giant  
Pygmalion brother to Dido, Ep. 7.  
Protesilaus, signifies the chief among the people; he landing first on the Trojans ground, was slain by Hector, Ep. 10.  
Pylos, a City in Messenia where Neleus Nestor's Father reigned, Ep. 1.  
Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles, Ep. 3.8.    


R  
RHodope, a Mountain of Thrace, Ep. 2.    


S  
SAppho, a wanton witty woman, Ep. 27.  
Scylla, a rocky gulf, Ep. 12.  
Sestos, a City in Europe, Ep. 17.  
Simoeis, a Trojan River, Ep. 1.7.  
Sparta a City of Greece, E. 15.  
Sych●us, Hercules Priest, and Dido's husband, Ep. 7.    


T  
Tantalus', who stood in Hell to the chin in water, yet could not drink, Ep. 15.  
Telemachus, Ulysses son. Ep. 1.  
Theseus, son of AEgeus, Ep. 2.  
Thetis, Queen of the Sea, E. 19  
Tisiphone, one of the Furies, Ep. 2.  
Tlepolemus, Ep. 1.  
Tiber, a River of Italy▪  
Tiresias, a Prophet, who told juno that feminine pleasure exceeded masculine in acts of Venus, Ep. 1. Sab.    


V  
VLysses, a valiant Grecian, Ep. 17.    


Z  
ZOne, or girdle, because the bride's girdle was untied by the bridegroom, on her wedding night, Ep. 2.     


Carmen instar mille  
blande laudantium  
In laudem Authoris carmen non desit Amici:  
Hoc opus Anthorem laudat, hic Author opus.   

This Author needs not owe any friend  
For Verses in his praise:  
The Author doth his work commend,  
And his work gives him Bays.    

OVID'S EPISTLES. LIB. I.  

 
The Argument of the first Epistle.  
WHen the Grecians went with a great Army to Troy, to revenge the rape of Helena. Ulysses' the son of L●●rtes and Anticlea, took such delight in his young wife Penelope, that he counterfeited himself mad, thereby ●o enjoy her, and absent himself from the wars. But Palamedes discovering his purpose, he was compelled to go with the rest in the Trojan vo●age. Where he ●ought many brave combats, and after the destruction of Troy, which had been ten years besieged, intending to return to his own Country, he took ship with other Grecian Princes, but through Minerva's displeasure, they were scattered and divided by such a violent tempest, that Ulysses wandered ten years more before he returned. So that his wife Penelope, having lived chastely in his absence, and not knowing what hindered his coming home, writes this Epistle unto him, wherein she persuades him by many reasons to return to his own Country.  
PENELOPE to ULYSSES.  
MY dear Ulysses, thy Penelope  
Doth send this Letter to complain of thee,  
Who dost so long from me unkindly stay:  
Writ nothing back, but come thyself away.  
For Troy now level with the ground is laid,  
Which was envied by every Grecian maid;  
Yet neither Troy, nor Priam's wealth could be  
●orth half so much, as thy good company.  
O! I could wish that Paris had been drowned,  
When his ship was to Lacedaemon bound.  
Then had not I lain cold in bed alone,  
Nor yet complained that time runs slowly on;  
Nor yet to pass away the winter's night  
Had I sat spinning then by candle light,  
Forecasting in what dangers thou mightst be,  
And such as were not like to trouble thee,  
Thinking on perils more than ever were,  
For love is always full of careful fear.  
The Trojans now, thought I, do thee assail.  
At Hector's name my cheeks with fear grew pale:  
And when I heard Antilochus was slam,  
By Hector then my fears renewed again.  
And hearing how that Patroclus clad  
In Achilles' armour, such ill fortune had,  
That Hector slew him in that false disguise,  
The sad report drew tears out of mine eyes.  
Or when I of ●Ilepolem●s did hear,  
Who with his blood bedewed Sarpedons' spear,  
Tlepolemus death doth then my cares renew,  
And I began strait way to think of you.  
And lastly, if I heard abroad by fame,  
That any of the Grecian side were slain,  
My heart for fear of thee was far more cold  
Than any Ice, when such bad news was told.  
But the just Gods to us more kind do prove,  
And more indulgent to our chaster love.  
For stately Troy is unto ashes burned;  
But my Ulysses lives, though not returned,  
The Grecian Captains are come home again,  
The Altars do with joyful ncense flame;  
And all the Barbarous spoils which they did take,  
Unto our Country gods they consecreate.  
The love of wives is to their husbands shown  
By gifts, which for their safe returning home,  
Unto the Gods with grateful minds they b●●ng,  
While their husband's songs of Troy's destruction sing,  
Old men, and trembling maids do both desire,  
To hear the tale of Troy, which they admire,  
And wives do hearken with a kind of joy  
To their husbands talking of the siege of Troy.  
And some now do upon their table draw,  
The picture of those fierce wars which they saw:  
And with a little wine before poured down,  
Can lively paint the model of Troy town.  
Here Simo●s●loud ●loud, here's the Sigean land,  
And here did Priam's lofty Palace stand.  
Here did Achi●les pitch his glittering tents,  
And here Ulysses kept his regiments.  
Here in this place did valiant Hector fall,  
Whose body was dragged round about the wall  
Of Troy, to show the enemy's despite:  
Putting the framing Horses in a fright.  
For whatsoever in those wars was done,  
Old Nestor did relate unto thy son,  
Whom I had sent forth to inquire of thee,  
And he did bring home all this news to me:  
Bringing me tidings how Dolon by name,  
And Rhesus by thy sword at once were slain.  
While the one of them in his dead sleep was killed,  
And the others blood by treachery was spilled,  
And thou amongst thy other bold attempts  
By night didst set upon the Thracian Tents.  
Slaying so many men; how couldst thou be  
So adventurous if thou hadst remembered me;  
And of thy other victories I did hear,  
My heart did burn within my breast for fear,  
But what although thy valour did confound  
Troy; and did race the walls unto the ground▪  
Shall I, as if Troy were besieged, still be  
A widow wanting thy sweet company▪  
That Troy doth stand I only find alone,  
Others rejoice that it is overthrown.  
Whose fruitful fields the conquering Grecians now,  
Do with the Trojan Oxen daily plough.  
For now ripe corn doth grow where Troy once stood,  
And all the ground is fat with Trojan blood.  
The crooked plough doth graze as it goes by  
Upon men's bones, which there half buried lie;  
So that they plough up bones as well as land,  
And grass doth grow where houses once did stand.  
Yet having wasted Troy, thou keep'st away,  
Nor do I know what moveth thee to stay,  
Nor can by any means learn in what part  
Of all the world (thou most unkindest) art.  
If any ship unto our shore doth come,  
Then to inquire of thee I strait do run;  
And to the shipmaster a Letter give,  
To deliver unto thee if thou dost live:  
Charging if that it be his chance to see  
Ulysses, he should give it unto thee.  
I sent to Pylos, where Nestor did reign,  
But I from Pylos heard no news again:  
I sent unto the Spartans', who could tell  
No tidings of thee, or whe●e thou didst dwell,  
O would that Troy were standing now again,  
For whose destruction I did pray in vain!  
If thou wert at the wars, I should know where  
Thou wert, and of thy safety stand in fear.  
And other women might with me complain,  
Because their Husbands came not home again.  
To grieved minds this may some comfort be,  
To have companions in adversity.  
I know not what to fear, yet all things fear;  
My cares and sorrows never greater were.  
Thinking what dangers by sea and land may  
Enforce thee against thy will from me to stay.  
While thus my fond affection doth excuse thee,  
Perhaps thou in requital dost abuse me.  
For I do fear thy fancy loves to rove,  
And that thou hast some sweetheart thou dost love  
In foreign Countries; nay, and it may be  
That thou dost woo her by disgracing me,  
Telling her that thy wife's a Country jone,  
That knoweth only how to spin at home.  
But of my hard belief I do repent,  
I hope thou art not willingly absent.  
My father Icarus would not have me stay  
A widow still; but chideth my delay:  
But let him chide, Penel●pe will be  
A constant wife Ulysses unto thee.  
But though I do by fair entreaty still  
Prevail so much that I do change his will,  
Or alter it, so that he●s not inclined  
To use a Father's power to force my mind;  
The Du●●chians, and the Samians come to woo me,  
And the Z●●yn●h●an● often come unto me;  
And of foreign suitors such a wanton crew  
Do haunt me, that I know not what to do.  
Who in thy Palace do most freely reign,  
Wasting those goods, which thou before didst gain.  
P●sandrus, Polybus, and Medon too,  
Eurymachus, and Antinous come to woo  
Me, and in thy absence do, consume and eat  
That estate thou didst gain by blood and sweat:  
Poor Irus and Melanthius that doth seed  
His sheep, are suitors too, and hope to speed.  
And all thy household here doth but consist  
Of three, that are too weak for to resist;  
Namely ●●aerte●, who is spent and done,  
Thy wife, and young cl●mach●s thy Son,  
Whom I had almost lost, while that he went,  
To the City Pyl●s without our consent.  
And when the ●ates our time of death assign,  
May his hand close up both thy eyes and mine;  
Our Oxe-herd, Swineherd, and our old Nurse, are  
All of one mind, and do make the same prayer:  
And how can old Laertes power restrain  
Those wanton Saiters which at home do reign.  
Telemachus in time will grow more strong,  
His Father now should keep him from all wrong.  
I have no strength to drive these Suitors hence,  
Then come thou home, and be thy own defence.  
Think on thy son to whom thou shouldst impart  
Instruction, that may season his young heart.  
Think on Laertes, come and close his eyes,  
Who in his old age even bedrid lies.  
And think on me, for when thou went'st from home,  
Full young was I, but now an old wife grown.   

The Argument of the second Epistle.  
DEmophoon, the son of Theseus and Phaedra, returning home from the Trojan wars, was driven by a tempest into Thrace, where Phyllis the daughter of Lycurgus and C●ustumena, being then Queen of Thrace, gave him courteous entertainment, both at board and bed; but when he had stayed a while with her, as soon as he heard that M●ne●●hous was dead, who had expulsed his Father Theseus out of the City of Athens, And assumed the government to himself, he being desirous to regain his Kingdom, desired leave of Phyllis to go and settle his affairs, promising her within one month to return again: and so having made ready his ships, he sails to Athens, and tarries there. Whereupon after four months were passed, Phyllis writes this Epistle, persuading him to be faithful unto her, and to remember her kindness, and his own promise, which if he neglects to do, she threatens to kill herself, and so revenge the violation of her Maiden chastity.  
PHYLLIS to DEMOPHOON.  
PHyllis that did so kindly entertain  
Thee, O Demophoon, must of thee complain:  
Before the Moons sharp horns were once grown round,  
Thou didst promise to land on the Thracian ground;  
But now four Moons are changed, four months are past,  
And yet thy ship is not returned at last:  
If thou dost count the time, which we that are  
In love do strictly reckon with great care;  
Thou having broke thy promise needs must say,  
That my complaint comes not before the day.  
My fears were slow, for we do slowly give  
Credence to those things we would not believe.  
Which made me for thy sake even falsely fain,  
That the Northwind drove back thy sails again,  
Sometimes I feared lest that in Hebrus sound  
Thy ship might in those shallow waves be drowned,  
Oft I besought the gods for thy return,  
And on their Altars did sweet incense burn.  
When the wind stood fair, I said unto myself,  
Sure he will come now if he be in health.  
My faithful love was witty to invent  
Something that might still hinder thy intent.  
But yet thou stayest, nor can thy promise move  
Thee to return, nor yet our former love.  
But I perceive, Demophoon, by thy stay,  
One wind did drive thy ship and faith away.  
Thy Ship returns not, which makes me complain,  
That all thy faithful promises were vain.  
What have I done? Alas I rashly loved thee!  
And yet this fault to pity might have moved thee.  
I entertained thee, this was all my fault,  
Yet this offence might have been kindness thought.  
Where is thy faith, thy hand which thou didst give me,  
And oaths thou sworest to make me believe thee?  
Swearing by Hymen that thou wouldst not tarry,  
But come again and thy poor Phyllis marry.  
And by the rugged Sea hast often swore,  
Which thou both haste and wilt sail often o'er▪  
And by Neptune thy great Uncle, who with ease  
Can calm the raging of the angry seas:  
By juno who in marriages delights:  
And by torch-bearing Ceres' mystic rites.  
Should all these God's revenge thy perjuries,  
Which are high treasons to their Majesties;  
And should all punish thee with one consent,  
Thou couldst not sure endure their punishment.  
To rig and mend thy Ships I care did take,  
And in requital thou didst me forsake,  
I gave thee opportunity to run  
Away, 'tis I that have myself undone.  
I did believe thy fair and gentle words,  
Of which the falsest heart most store affords,  
And because thou didst come of a good descent,  
I did believe thou hadst a good intent.  
I did believe thy tears: and hadst thou taught  
Thy tears to be as false as was thy thought?  
O yes, thy tears would slow with cunning Art,  
When thou didst bid them to disguise thy heart.  
Thy vows and promises I did believe,  
And any of those shows might me deceive.  
Nor am I grieved because I entertained thee,  
Such kindness showed to thee could not have shamed me.  
But I repent, because to add more height  
Unto thy entertainment, I one night  
Did suffer thee to come into my Bed,  
Where thou didst rob me of my Maidenhead▪  
Would I had died before that fatal night  
Wherein I yielded thee so much delight.  
For if I had not thus myself betrayed,  
Then Phyllis might have lived and died a Maid.  
But I did hope that thou more constant wert,  
" That hope is just which springeth from desert.  
For I did know I had deserved thy love,  
Which made me hope that thou wouldst faithful prove.  
It is no glory to deceive a Maid,  
Since she deserveth pity that's betrayed  
By her kind heart, and hath too soon believed,  
For thus poor Phyllis was by thee deceived,  
And instead of other praises may they say,  
That this was he that did a Maid betray;  
When thy statue shall be in the City placed  
With thy fathers, which is with high titles graced,  
When they shall read how valiant Theseus slew  
Those cruel thiefs, and also did subdue  
The Minotaur, and did the Thebans tame,  
And Centaurs that by him were also slain:  
And lastly, when th' Inscription shall relate  
How he went to Hell and knocked at Pl●to's gate;  
This title shall ye on thy statue read,  
" This man deceived his love, and from her fled.  
In this thy Father thou dost imitate,  
That he fair Ariadne did forsake;  
What he alone excused as a sin,  
That act thou only dost admire in him;  
Showing thyself in this to be his son,  
That thou like him, hast a young maid undone.  
But she is happily to Ba●chus married,  
And in his Chariot, drawn with Tigers, carried:  
The Thracians do my marriage bed contemn,  
Because I loved a stranger more than them:  
And some perhaps will say in my disgrace,  
Let her go to Athens, that most learned place;  
Since she so kind hath to a stranger been,  
The warlike Thracians will have a new Queen.  
The end doth prove the action, but yet may  
●e want success, that thinketh so, I say:  
That measures actions not from the intent,  
But counts them good, that have a good event.  
For if Demophoon would again return,  
Then they would honour me whom now they scorn.  
" Unfortunate actions do our credit stain,  
I am faulty, because thou dost not come again.  
Methinks I see, how when thou leftest our Court,  
Thy ship being ready to forsake our Port;  
Thy loving arms about my neck were spread,  
Making my lips with tedious kisses red.  
I wept, and when thou saw'st those tears of mine,  
Thou also wept'st and mingled'st them with thine.  
And then thou seemedst, with a treacherous mind  
Sorry because thou hadst so fair a wind.  
And at the last, when thou must needs depart,  
Then saidst farewell fair Phyllis my Sweetheart.  
For when one month is come unto an end,  
Look for Demophoon thy faithful friend.  
●hy should I look for thy return in vain,  
Who hadst no purpose to return again;  
Yet I▪ le look for thy coming back how ever,  
For it is better to come late, than never.  
But I do fear thou hast a new Sweetheart,  
One that doth alienate from me thy heart,  
That thou forgotten Phyll●s dost not know  
woe' me, if Phyllis be forgotten so;  
Who did Demophoon kindly entertain,  
When forced by storms he to our Harbour came?  
Whose necessities with treasure I supplied,  
And gave him many royal gifts beside.  
My Kingdom unto thee I did submit,  
Thinking a woman could not govern it▪  
Even all those goodly Lands I offered thee,  
'Twixt Haemeus and the shady Rhodope.  
Besides, thou didst my Virgin Zone untie;  
And violate my chaste Virginity.  
And at our marriage the fatal Owl  
Did sing, while mad Tisiphone did howl:  
Allecto with her snaky hair was there;  
The Candles did like funeral-lights appear.  
Ost sadly to some rock I go, whose height  
May make me to see far at sea outright.  
If it be day, or if the Stars do shine,  
I look still how the wind stands at that time,  
If a far off a ship I chance to see,  
I strait do hope that it thy ship may be.  
And then in haste upon the sands I run  
So far, that I unto the Sea-waves come.  
But when I have at length my error found,  
Amongst my maids I fall down in a swound;  
There is a hollow Bay bend like a bow,  
Whose rocky sides into the sea far go;  
To cast myself from hence is my intent,  
Since to deceive me thou art falsely bend.  
For when thou seest my body like a wrack  
Cast on thy shore, I know thou wilt look back  
On the sad sight, and though thy heart could be  
More hard than Adamant, thou wilt pity me.  
Sometimes I could drink poison, or afford  
To stab my tender breast with a sharp sword,  
Or put a halter 'bout my neck, which oft  
Thou hast embraced with thy arms more soft.  
For I'll revenge my loss of Chastity,  
Though I am doubtful yet what death to die.  
And to declare my death from thee did come,  
These lines shall be engraved upon my tomb.  
Phyllis that did Demophoon entertain,  
Was by his unkindness, and her own hand slain.   

 
The Argument of the third Epistle.  
THe Grecians being arrived at Ph●ygia, began to take the Cities near Troy, especially those opposite to the I'll Lesbos. achilles' the Son of Peleus and Thetis, invaded both the Cilicians with Thebans▪ and Lyrnessa besieged and took the Town Chyrness●●s, and brought away two fair Virgins, Astinoe, the Daughter of Chryses, called afterward by their Father's names. Chryses, he bestows on Prince Agamemnon, but keeps Bris●is to himself. But Agam●mnon being commanded by the Oracle to restore Chryses to her Father, took Briseis from Achilles: Who taking it as an indignity, absents himself from the wars: no entreaty can prevail to make him fight against Troy. Agamemnon sends him Briseis again with gifts, he sleights them both. Briseis thereupon in this Epistle complains of his too violent anger, entreats him to sight against the Trojans, to accept Agamemnon's offer, and receive her again.  
BRISEIS to ACHILLES.  
THis Letter Bris●is unto thee doth send,  
Which I perhaps in Greek have rudely penned.  
My tears did make those blots which thou dost see,  
And yet these weeping blots may speak for me.  
If a Captive may with modesty complain  
Of thee, my Lord, do not my suit disdain.  
Unto Agamemnon thou didst me resign,  
And yet alas this was no fault of thine!  
When that Euribates and Talthibins came  
To fetch me, whom thou durst not then detain.  
They wondered that thou couldst so soon deliver  
Me to the King's use, if thou lov'dst me ever.  
Thou mightst have seemed loath for to depart,  
And have bestowed one kiss on thy Sweetheart.  
But yet I wept a pace, my hair I tore,  
As if I were a Captive made once more.  
I often thought to steal away to thee,  
But then I feared the Trojan enemy:  
Lest being surprised by them in my attempt,  
They should to Pria●s daughters me present.  
But thou wilt say thou couldst not me detain;  
But yet thou mightst have fetched me back again.  
Patroclus then did speak thus in my ear;  
Why dost thou weep? thou shalt not stay long there.  
Nay, thou wilt not receive me now again,  
And much less fetch her whom thou dost disdain,  
Ajax and Phoenix both did come to thee,  
Thy friend and cozen by consanguinity.  
And Ulysses, who with gifts and prayers did woo thee,  
To receive thy Briseis when they brought me to thee.  
And for a present twenty basons brought,  
With seven threefooted tables carved and wrought:  
To these ten Talents of gold added were,  
And twelve brave Steeds that were trained up to war,  
And many Captive maids, who with one look  
Could take the Conquerors that had them took:  
And a fair Virgin that thy wife might be;  
But sure thou needst no other wise but me.  
From Agamemnon wouldst thou me redeem,  
That to receive these gifts so nice dost seem?  
Achilles, how have I moved thy neglect?  
Why dost thou now unkindly me reject?  
" Or is its fortune's custom still to frown  
" On those, who by misfortune are cast down?  
I saw thee when thou didst Lyrnessus take,  
And of thy Briseis didst a captive make.  
I saw how many of my kindred were  
Slain by thy valiant hand, and did lie there  
Planting for life, till their fresh wounds had bled  
So much, that all the earth was painted red.  
Yet when I lost those friends, I got another;  
Thou art my Lord, my Husband, and my Brother.  
And by thy Mother Queen of the salt Flood  
Thou sworest all should turn unto my good,  
Binding thyself with promises, that I  
Should be most happy in captivity.  
But now both me, and those gifts which are sent thee,  
Thou dost refuse, for neither can content thee.  
And I hear to morrow by the break of day,  
Thou meanest to take ship and sail away.  
When I did hear the news, my heart did fail,  
And presently my bloodless cheeks grew pale,  
But wilt thou go from me my Dear, & leave me?  
Unto whose custody wilt thou bequeath me?  
May I be laid into the earth's cold bed;  
Or may the flaming thunder strike me dead;  
Ere I behold the ship, cutting her way  
Through the green waves while I am left to stay:  
If thou intendest to return again,  
Take me along, who no great burden am;  
I'll follow thee and serve thee all my life  
As a poor Captive, not as thy dear wife.  
I can inure my hands to labour hard;  
And I can be content to spin or carded.  
One of the fairest Maids that Greece ere bred  
Shall be thy wife, and warm thy nuptial-bed;  
My humble thoughts do not so high aspire,  
To be thy servant is all I desire.  
I'll sit and spin until my task be done:  
And until all my Flax to thread be spun.  
Yet suffer not thy wife, I pray, to chide me,  
Because I love thee, she will not abide me.  
And do not suffer her to tear my hair;  
Think how of Briseis thou didst once take care;  
Nay though thou suffer her my hair to tear,  
Do not despise me, this is all my fear.  
What wouldst thou have? Agamemnon doth repent;  
And Greece for wronging thee is penitent.  
Subdue thyself, and now let him that hath  
Conquered so many, conquer his own wrath:  
Why dost thou let the coward Hector waste  
And spoil the Grecians? take thou arms at last.  
Achilles take thy arms, but first me take:  
Then crush those fellows, and force them to quake.  
For my sake thou wert angry and offended,  
For me thy wrath began, in me let it be ended,  
It's no disgrace unto my suit to yield,  
Octines did go unto the field  
Persuaded by his wife, though he laid by  
His arms, and to aid his Country did deny,  
She did persuade her valiant husband strait,  
But my words have, alas! no power, nor weight,  
I dare not call myself thy wife, for I  
Have lived with thee in Captivity;  
Though my Lord hath often called his handmaid  
Unto his bed, and I have him obeyed,  
I do remember that a captive Maid  
Did call me Mistress unto whom I said,  
Lay not the weight of scorn on misery,  
That title suits not with Captivity.  
For by my father's ashes I do swear,  
Of whom a reverend memory I bear;  
By my three brothers souls, whose blood was spilled  
For their Country, and in its defence were killed:  
By my lips, and by those soft lips of thine  
Which we did often times together join;  
And by thy sword I swear, since I went from thee,  
That Agamemnon never lay with me.  
But for thy honesty thou dar'st not swear,  
If I should put thee to thy oath, I fear.  
The Grecians think with sorrow thou art pined,  
But thou hast music to refresh thy mind;  
While thy Sweetheart doth clasp thee in her arms,  
Making her moistened kisses powerful charms  
To stay thee there, which makes thee loath to fight;  
Love and sweet music, yield thee more delight.  
It is the safer course in bed being laid,  
To sport thyself with some young fearful Maid;  
Or when with those joys thou art tired too much,  
To give thy Thracian Lyre a gentle touch;  
Then to hold Buckler or sharppointed Spear,  
Or on thy head a weighty Helmet wear;  
Y●t in brave actions thou didst once delight,  
And to win glory only thou wouldst fight.  
Didst thou love war till I was captive made?  
And is thy Valour since that time decayed?  
The gods forbid, I hope to see thy Spear  
Wound valiant Hector, who doth no man fear.  
Let the Grecians send me to my Lord to plead  
Their cause with kisses, I can intercede  
More powerfully than Phoenix or Ulysses,  
There is a sweeter eloquence in kisses.  
If I encircle thee within mine arms,  
My close embraces are like powerful charms;  
My naked breasts being in thy view laid open,  
Will soon persuade thee, though no word be spoken.  
If thou wert like the sea, void of compassion,  
My silent tears would move commiseration.  
As thou desirest thy father's length of days,  
Or to see Pyrrbus crowned with wreaths of Bays.  
Achill●s take thy Briseis once again;  
Have pity on that grief which I sustain.  
If thy love be turned to hate, yet do not flout me,  
Kill me outright, who cannot live without thee  
Nay, thou dost kill me, for my strength doth fade,  
My beauty and fresh colour is decayed.  
Yet I do hope thou wilt thy Briseis take,  
And this hope makes me live, even for thy sake.  
But if my hopes of thee do sail, than I  
To meet my brother and husband will die.  
Yet when others shall perchance read my sad story,  
To kill a woman will yield thee no glory.  
Yet let no other kill me, thy weapon can  
Kill me assoon as any other man.  
Let thy sword give me such a wound, that I  
May bleed with pleasure, and so bleeding die.  
Let thy sword send me to Elysian rest,  
Which might have wounded Hector's valiant breast.  
But let me live if thou art pleased so,  
Thy love doth ask what thou grantest to thy foe,  
And rather kill thy Trojan foes than I  
Express thy valour on thy enemy.  
And whether thou intend'st to go or stay,  
Command me as my Lord to come away.   

 
The Argument of the fourth Epistle.  
Theseus' the son of Aegens having slain the Minotaur, brought away by ship Ariadna daughter to Minos and Pasiphae, to whom for helping him in killing the Minotaur, he had promised marriage, and her sister Ph●dra. But admonished by Bacchus, he leaves Ariadna in the Isle Nax●s or Chios, and marries Phaedra, who in Theseus' absence falls in love with her son in Law Hippolytus, Theseus son by Hippolito an Am●zon. He being a Bachelor, and much addicted to hunting, she having no opportunity to speak to him, discovers he love by this Epistle; wherein cunningly wooing and persuading him to love her, and lest it might seem dishonesty in a mother to solicit her son in law, she begins with an Insinuation.  
PHAEDRA to HIPPOLYTUS.  
PH●edra unto Hippolytus sends health,  
Which unless thou giv'st me, I must want myself:  
Yet read it, for a Letter cannot fright thee,  
There may be something in it may delight thee,  
For these dumb Messengers sent out of hand,  
Do carry secrets both by sea and land.  
The foe will read a letter, though it be  
Sent to him from his utter enemy.  
Thrice I began my mind to thee to break,  
Thrice I grew dumb, so that I could not speak,  
There is a kind of modesty in love,  
Which hindereth those that honest suits do move.  
And love hath given command that every lover  
Should write that which he blusheth to discover.  
Then to contemn loves power it is not safe,  
Who over all the gods dominion hath.  
'Tis dangerous to resist the power of love,  
Who ruleth over all the gods above.  
Love bid me write, I followed his direction,  
Who told me that my lines should win affection.  
O! since I love thee, may my love again  
Raise in thy breast another mutual flame.  
That love ●hich hath been a long time delayed,  
At last grows violent, and must be obeyed:  
I feel a fire, a fire within my heart,  
And the blind wound of love doth rage and smart.  
As tender Heifers cannot brook the yoke,  
Nor the wild Colt, that is not backed nor broke,  
Endure the bridle, so loves yoke I find  
Is heavy to an unexperienced mind.  
When 'tis their art, and they can easily do it,  
That from their youth have been trained up unto it;  
She that hath let her time run out at waist,  
Her love is violence when she loves at last,  
The forbidden fruits of love I keep for thee,  
In tasting them let us both guilty be.  
It is some happiness to pluck and cull  
Fruit from a tree, Whose boughs with fruit are full;  
Or from the bush to gather the first Rose;  
I am the tree and bush where loves fruit grows:  
Yet hitherto my fame was never blotted;  
But for white chastity I have been noted;  
And I am glad that I my love have placed  
On one by whom I cannot be disgraced.  
Adultery in her is a base fact,  
That with some base fellow doth commit the act.  
But should juno grant me her jupiter,  
In love I would Hippolytus prefer.  
And since I loved thee, I do now embrace  
Those sports which thou ●ost love; to hunt and chase  
Wild savage beasts, for I would gladly be  
A Huntress to enjoy thy company.  
And now like thee, no Goddess I do know,  
But chaste Diana with her bended bow.  
I love the woods, and take delight to set  
The toils, and chase the Deer into the net.  
And I do take delight to hoop and hollow,  
And cheer the dogs, while they the chase do follow.  
To cast a dart I now am cunning grown.  
Sometimes upon the grass I lie along,  
Sometimes for pleasure I a Chariot drive,  
Reyning the horse that with the bridle strive.  
Sometime like those mad Bacchie I do run,  
Who pipe when they to the Idian hill do come;  
Or like those that have seen the horned fawns,  
And Dryads lightly tripping o'er the lawns.  
In such a frantic fit they say I am,  
When love torment's me with his raging flame;  
And this same love of mine perhaps may be  
By fate entailed upon one family,  
For it is given to us in love to fall;  
And Venus takes a tribute of us all.  
For first, great jupiter did rarely gull  
Europa with the false shape of a Bull.  
My mother Pasiphae in a Cow of wood  
The leaping of a lustful Bull withstood.  
My sister likewise to false Theseus gave  
A Clew of silk, and so his life did save,  
Who through the winding labyrinth was led  
By the direction of this slender thread.  
And now like Mino's stock, even I  
Love as the rest did, in extremity.  
It fortunes that our love thus cross should be,  
Thy father loved my sister, I love thee.  
Thus Theseus and Hippolytus his son  
Do glory that their love hath overcome  
Two sisters, but I would we had remained  
At home, when we came to thy father's land.  
For then especially thy presence moved me,  
And from that time I ever since have loved thee.  
My eye conveyed unto my heart delight,  
To like of thee, for thou wert clothed in white.  
A flowery garland did thy soft hair crown,  
And thy complexion was a lovely brown.  
Which some for a stern visage had mis●ook;  
But Phaedra thought thou hadst a manly look.  
For youngmen should not be like women dressed,  
A careless dressing, doth become them best;  
Thy sternness, and loose flowing of thy hair,  
And dusty countenance most graceful were.  
While thy curveting Steed did bound and fling,  
I admired to see thee ride him in the ring;  
If with thy strong arm thou didst toss the pike,  
Thy nimble strength I did approve and like.  
Or, if thou took'st thy Javelin in thy hand,  
Me thought thou didst in comely posture stand,  
For all thy actions yielded me delight,  
And did appear most graceful in my sight.  
Of the woods wildness do not then partake,  
Nor suffer me to perish for thy sake.  
For why shouldst thou in hunting spend thy leisure?  
And no delight on Venus sweeter pleasure?  
There's nothing can endure without due rest,  
By which our wearied bodies are refreshed.  
And thou mightst imitate thy Diana's bow,  
Which if too of●en bended, weak will grow.  
Shafalus was a Woodman, man of great fame,  
And many wild beasts by his hand were slain,  
Yet with Aurora he did fall in love,  
Her blushing beauty did his fancy move:  
While from her aged husband's bed she rose,  
And wisely to young Shafalus strait goes.  
Venus and young Ado●●s oft would lie  
Together on the grass most wantonly.  
And underneath some tree in the hot weather,  
They would ●e kissing in the shade together.  
Atal●nta did O●●ides fancy move,  
And gave her wild beasts skins to show his love,  
And therefore why may'st thou not fancy me,  
●ah without love the woods unpleasant be,  
For I will follow thee o'er the rocky cliff,  
And never fear the boars sharp fanged teeth;  
Two seas the narrow Illhmus do oppose,  
The raging waves on both sides of it flows.  
Together thee and I will govern here  
The Kingdom, than my Country far more dear:  
My husband Theseus hath long absent been,  
He's with his friend Pirithous it doth seem.  
Theseus (unless we will the truth deny)  
Doth love Pirithous more than thee or I.  
'Tis his unkindness that he stays so long,  
But he hath done us both far greater wrong.  
With his great Club he did my brother shy,  
And left my sister to wild beasts a prey.  
Thy mother was a warlike Amazon,  
Deserving favour for thy sake her son:  
Yet cruel Theseus killed her with his sword,  
Who did to him so brave a son afford;  
Nor would he marry her; for he did aim  
That as a bastard thou shouldst never reign;  
And many children he on me begot,  
Whose untimely death not I but he did plot;  
Would I had died in labour, ere that I  
Had wronged thee by a second Progeny.  
Why shouldst thou reverence thy father's bed,  
Which he doth shun, and now away is fled?  
If a mother be to love her son inclined,  
Why should vain names fright thy courageous mind  
Such strict preciseness former times became,  
When good old Saturn on the earth did reign.  
But Saturn's dead, his laws are cancelled now;  
jove rules, then follow what jove doth allow;  
For jove all sort of pleasure doth permit,  
Sister may marry if they think it fit,  
With their own brothers, Venus' bonds doth tie  
The knot more close of consanguinity.  
Besides, who can our stolen joys discover?  
With a fair outside we our fault may colour:  
If our embraces were discerned by some,  
They would say that mother surely loves her son.  
Thou needest not come by night, no doors are barred  
And shut on me, thy passage is not hard.  
One house as it did once, may us contain,  
Thou oft hast kissed me, and shalt kiss again,  
Thou shalt be safe with me, nay, wert thou seen  
Within my bed, such faults have smothered been.  
Then come with speed to ease my troubled mind,  
And may love always prove to thee more kind,  
Thus I most humbly do entreat and sue,  
Pride and great words become not those that woo●.  
Thus I most humbly beg of thee alone,  
Alas! my pride and my great words are gone:  
To my desi●es long time I would not yield;  
But yet at last affection won the field.  
And as a Captive at thy royal feet  
Thy mother begs; Love knows not what is meet.  
Shame hath forsaken his Colours in my cheek  
It is confessed, yet grant that love I seek.  
Though Minos be my father. who keeps under  
His power the seas, and that darteth thunder  
Be my Grandfather; and he be a kin  
To me, that hath his forehead circled in  
With many a clear beam, a sharp pointed ray,  
And drives the purple Chariot of the day,  
Love makes a servant of Nobility.  
Then for my Ancestors even pity me.  
Nay Cree●, Ioves Island, shall my Dowry be,  
And all my Court (Hippolytus) shall serve thee.  
My mother softened a Bulls stern breast,  
And wilt thou be more cruel than a beast?  
For love-sake love me, who have thus complained,  
So may'st thou love and never be disdained:  
So may the Queen of Forests help thee still,  
So may the Woods yield game for thee to kill.  
May Fawns and Satyrs help thee every where,  
So may'st thou wound the Boar with thy sharp spear.  
So may the Nymphs give thee water to slake  
Thy burning thirst, though thou do Maidens hate.  
Tears with my prayers I mingle, read my prayers,  
And imagine that you do behold my tears.   

 
The Argument of the first Epistle.  
HEcuba Daughter to Cisseus, and wise to Priam being with child, dreamt that she was delivered of a flaming Firebrand, that let all T●oy on fire. Priam's troubled in mind, consults With the Oracle, receives answer, that his son should be the destruction of his Country, and therefore as soon as he was born, commands his death. But his Mother Hecuba sends her son Paris secretly to the King's shepherds. They-keep him, till being grown a Young man, he fancied the Nymph Oenone, and married her. But when Ju●o, Pallas, and Venus contended about the golden Apple, which had this inscription, DETUR PULCHRIORI, Let it be given to the fairest▪ Jupiter made Paris their Judge. To whom Juno promised a Kingdom, Pallas Wisdom, Venus' Pleasure, and the fairest of Women; but he gave sentence for Venus. Afterward being known by his Father, and received into favour, he failed to Sparta, whence he took ●elen wife to Menelaus, and brought her to Troy. Oenone hearing thereof, complains in this Epistle of his unfaithfulness; persuading him to feud back Helen to Greece, and receive her again.  
OENONE to PARIS.  
UNto my Paris, for though thou art not mine,  
Thou art my Paris, because I am thine,  
A Nymph doth send from the Idaean Hill  
These following words, which do this paper ●ill.  
Read it, if that thy new wife will permit,  
My letter is not in a strange hand writ.  
Oenone through the Phrygian woods well known,  
Complains of wrong, that thou to her haste done,  
What god hath used his power to cross our love?  
What fault of mine hath made thee faithless prove?  
With deserved sufferings I could be content;  
But not with undeserved punishment.  
What I deserve, most patient I could bear,  
But undeserved punishments heavy are.  
Thou wert not then of such great dignity,  
When a young Nymph did first marry thee;  
Though now forsooth, thou Priam's son art proved,  
Thou wert a servant first, when first we loved:  
And while our sheep did graze, we both have laid  
Under some tree together in the shade;  
Whose boughs like a green Canopy were spread,  
While the soft grass did yield us a green bed:  
And when the dew did fall, we often lay  
In a poor Cottage, upon straw or hay.  
I showed thee both, what Lawns and Forests were  
Likely to yield much store of game, and where  
The wild beasts did in secret caves abide,  
And their young ones in the hollow Rocks did hide.  
To set thy Toils with thee I oft have gone,  
After the Hounds I o'er the hills have run.  
My name on every Beech-tree I do find.  
Thou hadst engraved Oenone on their rind,  
And as the body of the tree doth, so  
The letters of my name do greater grow.  
Close by a River (I remember it)  
These lines are on an Alder fairly writ;  
And may the Alder flourish still and spread,  
Because these lines may on the bark be read;  
When Paris doth to Oenone false become,  
Xanthus unto his spring doth backward run,  
Xanthus run back, thy course now backward take,  
For Paris doth his Oenone forsake.  
That day did unto me most fatal prove;  
That day began the winter of thy love,  
When Venus, juno, and fair Pallas came  
Naked before thee, and did not disdain  
To choose thee for their Judge, when thou hadst told  
The story to me, my faint heart grew cold,  
Of the experienced I did counsel take,  
They did resolve me, thou wouldst me forsake.  
For thou didst build new ships without delay,  
And didst send forth a Fleet to sea straightway.  
Yet thou didst weep at thy departure hence;  
Do not deny it, it was no offence:  
For by my love thy credit is not stained,  
But of loving Helen thou mayst be ashamed,  
Thou wept'st, and also at that very time  
Thou saw'st me weep, my tears dropping with thine.  
And as the Vine about the Elm doth wind,  
So thy arms were about my neck entwinde.  
When thou complaind'st because the winds cross were,  
The Sailors laughed, because the wind stood fair.  
Thou didst kiss me oft, when thou didst depart,  
And thou wert loath to say, Farewell, Sweetheart▪  
At last, a gentle gale of wind did blow,  
So that thy ship from land did slowly go.  
I looking after thee, long time did stand  
Weeping, and shedding tears on the dry sand.  
And to the green Nereids I did pray,  
Thy voyage might be speedy without stay:  
For me it was too speedy, since that I  
Sustain the loss of thy false love thereby.  
To Thessaly my Prayers have brought thee safe,  
And for a Whore my prayer prevailed hath.  
There is a Mountain that to sea doth look,  
Which beating of the foaming waves can brook:  
From hence when I beheld thy ship was coming▪  
Into the sea I presently was running;  
But standing still, at length I might discern  
A purple flag, which waved on the stern;  
Then whether it were thy ship I did doubt,  
Because such colours thou didst not put out.  
But when thy ship to shore did nearer stand,  
And a fair gale did bring it close to land,  
A woman's face I straightway did behold,  
Which made my heart to tremble, and wax cold.  
And while I stood doting there, I might espy  
Thy sweet heart, that did on thy bosom lie.  
O than I wept, my breast I struck, and beat  
And tore my cheeks▪ that with my tears were wet;  
Filling the Mountain Ida with my cries;  
And there I did bewail my miseries.  
May ●elena at last so weep, so grieve,  
When thou dost falsely her forsake and leave:  
And may she that this wrong to me doth offer,  
Be wronged in the like kind, and like wrong suffer.  
When thou wert poor, and leddest a Shepherd's life,  
None but Oenone was thy loving wife.  
'tis not thy wealth, nor state that I admire;  
Nor to be Priam's daughter do I desire.  
Yet Priam, nor his Hecuba, need disdain  
Me for their daughter since I worthy am.  
I am fit to be a Princess, to command,  
A royal Sceptre would become my hand,  
Despise me not, because that I with thee  
Have lain under some shady Beechen-tree.  
For I am fitter for thy Royal bed,  
When it with purple Quilts is covered.  
Lastly, my love is safest, since for me  
No wars shall follow, nor no Fleet shall be  
Sent forth; but if thou Helena do take,  
She shall by force of arms be fetched back.  
Blood is the portion which thou shalt obtain,  
If thou dost marry with this stately Dame.  
Ask Hector and Deiphobus, if she  
Should not unto the Greeks restored be;  
Ask Priam, and Antenor wise and grave,  
Who by their age much deep experience have,  
For to perform a beauteous rape before  
Thy Country, must be bad and base all o'er;  
Since to defend a bad cause is a shame,  
Her Husband shall just wars against thee maintain,  
Nor think that Helena faithful will become,  
Who was so quickly wooed, so quickly won.  
As Menelaus grieves, because that she  
Hath with a stranger, by adultery  
Wronged the chaste rites of the Nuptial bed,  
And let a stranger so adhorn his head:  
So thou wilt then confess, no art, or cost,  
Can purchase honesty, that once is lost.  
She that is bad once, will in bad persever,  
And being bad once will be bad for ever.  
As she loves thee, so she before did love  
M●nelaus, unto whom she false did prove.  
Thou mightst have been more faithful unto me,  
As thy brother was to fair Andromache.  
But thou art lighter than dry leaves, which be  
By every wanton wind blown off the tree:  
Or like the waving corn, which every whiff  
Of wind doth bend, until it grow more stiff.  
Thy Cousin once (for I remember't well)  
With dishevelled hair did thus my fate foretell;  
What dost thou Oenone? why dost thou sow  
The barren sands? Or why dost thou thus go  
About to plough the shore? it is in vain;  
Such fruitless tillage can yield thee no gain.  
A Gre●ian Maid is coming that shall be  
Fatal unto thy Country, and to thee.  
And may the ship be drowned in the salt stood,  
Whose sad arrival shall cost so much blood.  
When she had said thus, strait my flaxen hair  
Began to heave, and stand upright for fear.  
Alas, thou wert too true a Prophetess,  
For she is come, and doth my place possess!  
Yet she is but a fair adulteress,  
Who with a stranger's love was so soon took;  
And for his sake her Country hath forsaken.  
Besides, one Theseus (though I know not whom)  
Brought her out of the Country long agone.  
And canst thou think an amorous youngman  
Would send her a pure Virgin back again?  
If thou wouldst know how I these truths descry,  
It is my love, love doth in all things pry.  
If thou call'st her fault a rape, yet that name  
May seem to hide her fault, but not her shame.  
Since she so often from her Country went,  
'Twas not by violence, but by her consent.  
Though by deceit thou me instructed haste,  
Yet Oeno●e still remaineth chaste.  
I hid me in the woods, while the wanton rout  
Of nimble Satyrs sought to find me out:  
And horned Fawns with wreaths of sharp Pine crowned  
Over the Mountain Ida sought me round.  
For great Apollo that protecteth Troy,  
The spoils of my virginity did enjoy,  
By force against my will; for which disgrace  
I tore my guiltless hair, and scratched my face;  
Yet neither precious stones could me entice,  
Not gold; for I set on myself no price.  
She that hath wit, and ingenuity,  
Seemeth for gifts to sell virginity,  
Apollo thought me worthy to impart  
To me the skill of Physic, and his Art:  
The virtue of all Herbs he did reveal  
To me, and showed what Herbs have power to heal.  
Yet woe' me, that no powerful Herb is found,  
That can recure loves inward bleeding wound.  
Since great Apollo who did first invent  
The art of Physic, yet for my sake went  
And kept Admetus' Oxen; for the flame  
Of my love turned him to a Shepherd Swain:  
Though Apollo's art, nor Herbs, cannot relieve me;  
Yet thou canst help me and some comfort give me;  
Thou canst, O then have pity on a Maid:  
For me the Grecians shall not thee invade.  
As from my blooming years, and childish time  
I have been, so let me still remain thine:  Oenone.  

 
The Argument of the sixth Epistle.  
THe Oracle had told Pelias the son of Neptune, that he should be near his death, when, as he was sacrificing to his Father, one should come to him with one foot naked, and bare. As he was performing his yearly sacrifice, Jason son to Aeson, and his Nephew having left one of his shoes sticking in the mud of the River Anaurus, hasting to the sacrifice, meets with him on foot naked. Pelias remembering the Oracle, persuades Jason to go to Colchos to fetch the golden Fleece, hoping his destruction by the impossibility of the attempt. But courageous Jason willingly undertook the Voyage, and so accompanied with many Grecian Nobles, he set forth in the ship Argo from Pegasus a Haven of Thessaly, and sailed to the Isle Lemnos: where when the Women consented to kill all the Men on one night, Hypsiphile who had only preserved her father Thoas alive, then reigned, and at board and bed kindly entertained Jason. But after two years, the time and importunity of his company urging him to proceed in his intended attempt he leaves Hypsiphile with child, and sails to Colchos; where by Medea's art having charmed the Dragon fast asleep, and overcome the fierce Bulls, he brought away the golden Fleece and Medea. Hypsiphile being grieved that Medea was preferred before her, in this Epistle gratulates Jason's return, rails on Medea's cruelty and witchcraft, to make her contemptible; and lastly, curses both Jason and Medea.  
HYPSIPHILE to JASON.  
TO Thessaly thou art returned again,  
Rich in the golden Fleece, which thou didst gain.  
I am glad thou'rt well, yet it were better  
If I had heard of thy health by thy Letter.  
It may be that the wind did not stand fair,  
That to my Kingdom thou couldst not repair;  
And yet although contrary winds stood cross,  
To venture a letter had been no loss.  
Hyp●●phile had deserved thy salutations,  
Sent in a Letter of kind commendations.  
I heard not by thy letters, but by fame,  
That thou didst Mars his sacred Oxen tame;  
And how the Dragon's teeth being sowed, did bring  
Forth armed men, which from the earth did spring,  
In whose blood thou didst not thy hand imbrue,  
For those sons of earth one another slew.  
And from the watchful Dragon, while he slept,  
Thou took'st the golden Fleece which he had kept.  
What sudden joy had I conceived at it,  
If thou this joyful news to me hadst writ!  
Of thy unkindness why do I complain?  
I fear thou dost my former love disdain.  
A barbarous Enchauntress thou hast brought,  
And her more worthy of thy love hast thought;  
Love soon believes; yet I wish, I may be  
Censured for rashness in accusing thee.  
From Thessaly a stranger came of late;  
And as soon as he was come to my gate,  
I asked him how my Jason did, and stayed  
Looking down to the ground, no answer made.  
Straightway into a passion I did break,  
Tearing my garments, and thus I did speak;  
Tell me if that my jason live, that I,  
If he be dead, may follow him and die.  
He lives, says he: and yet through loving fear  
I scarce believed him, though that he did swear.  
But when my doubtful mind his words believed,  
I asked what valiant deeds thou hadst achieved?  
And he related the whole story how  
Thou mad'st the brazen-footed Oxen plough,  
How from the Dragon's teeth on the earth sowd,  
A harvest of brave armed soldiers growd;  
Which earth-sprung men did straightway fall at jars,  
And slew each other in their civil wars:  
And that thou killed'st the Dragon: when I heard  
These deeds of thine, again I grew afeard;  
Again I asked him, if jason did live,  
His word● through fear, I hardly could believe;  
Yet by the carriage of his speech I found,  
That thy unkindness had given me a wound.  
Where are thy promises? those marriage bands,  
Which once did join our loving hearts and hands?  
Or where is Hymen's torch that burned so bright!  
Fitter to have been a sad funeral light.  
I was no whore; juno and Hymen too  
At our glad Nuptials themselves did show.  
Not juno, nor Hymen, when we did marry,  
But Erinnys did the fatal torches carry.  
The Thessalians and Minyans strangers were  
To me; and why did Typhis put in here  
His Ship? Here is no wealthy Ram doth bear  
A golden fleece upon his back, nor here  
Doth old Aetoes fair lofty Palace stand.  
This Lemnia is a little small Island;  
I had resolved (but fate did it withstand)  
To drive thee from hence with a Feminine band.  
Though Lemnian women had their husbands killed,  
I thought 'twas pity thy blood should be spilled.  
Thy first sight in me such a liking bred,  
Then I entertained thee at board and bed.  
And thou two Summers with me stayd'st here,  
And while two winters also passed were.  
And the third year, when thou didst sail away,  
With weeping tears unto me thou didst say,  
Hypsiphile, though I am forced to go  
And leave thee here, yet I would have thee know,  
That till I do return again, I'll be  
Always a faithful Husband unto thee.  
And may that prosper which is in thy womb,  
To make me a glad Parent when I come;  
Then down thy face thy cunning tears did fall,  
The ●●st for grief thou couldst not speak at all.  
Of all thy company thou went'st last of all  
Aboard the ship which thou didst Argo call:  
Away it flies, when once the hollow sail  
Was driven forward with a lusty gale;  
And while thy ship the blue waves passed o'er,  
I looked unto the sea, thou to the shore.  
And then unto my Turret I did go,  
While tears did down my cheeks and bosom flow:  
I looked through my tears and they did seem,  
As if they watery perspectives had been:  
For thorough them me thought that I could view  
Things farther off than I was wont to do.  
Then I made vows, and I did chastely pray,  
For thy return which vows I now should pay.  
But shall I pay vows for Medea's good?  
Love mixed with anger doth enrage my blood.  
Because I have lost jason that doth live,  
Shall I Sacrifices on th' Altar give?  
I must confess I always was afraid  
Lest thou shouldst marry some young Grecian Maid.  
I feared the Grecian Maids; but thou hast brought  
A barbarous Harlot of whom I ne'er thought:  
She cannot please thee with her beauteous look,  
With her charms and skill in herbs thou art took.  
For from the Sphere she can call down the Moon,  
And hide in clouds the Horses of the Sun;  
She can make Rivers stay their has●y course,  
And make green woods and stones remove by force.  
Unto the graves with loosened hair she comes,  
And out of the warm ashes gathers bones.  
When she would bewitch another, she doth ●rame  
In wax his picture, and t'increase his pain  
In the heart of it small needles doth stick,  
Which maketh his own heart to ache and prick.  
And by her cursed charms she can force love,  
Which beauty and fair virtue ought to move.  
How canst thou then embrace her with delight?  
Or sleep securely by her in the night?  
But as she did with charms the Dragon quell,  
And Bulls, so she hath charmed thee with a Spell;  
Besides of glory she will have a share,  
Out of those deeds by thee performed were.  
And some of Pelias side will think each deed  
Of thine, did from the force of charms proceed;  
And that though jason sailed unto Greece,  
Medea brought away the golden Fleece.  
Thy father and thy mother both are wroth,  
That thou shouldst bring a wife out of the North.  
A husband for her may at home be found,  
Or else where Tanais doth Scythia bound.  
But jason is more fickle than the wind,  
And in his words no constancy I find.  
As thou wentest forth, why didst not come again?  
Coming and going I thy wife remain.  
If Nobility of birth can thee content,  
King Thoas is my father by descent;  
Bacchus my Uncle is, whose wife's crown shines  
With stars enlightening all the lesser signs.  
And faithful Lemnos shall my Dowry be,  
Which thou mightst have, if that thou wouldst have me.  
jason for my delivery may be glad  
Of that sweet burden which by him I had;  
For Lucina unto me so kind hath been,  
That I two children unto thee did bring.  
They are most like to thee in outward show,  
Yet they their father's falsehood do not know:  
These young Ambassadors I to thee had s●nt,  
But their step mother hindered my intent;  
I feared fierce Medea, whose hands be  
Ready to act all kind of villainy.  
She that her brother's limbs could piece-meal tear,  
Would she have pity on my children dear?  
And yet her charms have madly blinded thee,  
To prefer her before Hypsiphile.  
She was an adulteress when first she knew thee;  
I by chaste marriage was given to thee.  
She betrayed her father, I saved mine from death;  
She forsook Colchos, but me Lemnos hath.  
And though her dowry be her wickedness,  
From me she got my Husband nevertheless.  
jason, I blame the Lemnian women's act,  
Yet wronged sorrow thrust us on each fact.  
Tell me, suppose c●oss winds by chance had droven  
Thee, and thy company into my Haven;  
If with my children I had come to meet thee,  
With curses might not I most justly greet thee?  
How couldst thou look upon my babes or me?  
What death deserv'st thou for thy treachery?  
To preserve thee it had my mercy been,  
And sure I had, though thou unworthy seem.  
And with the harlot's blood I would not fail,  
To fill my cheeks, which her charms have made pale.  
Medea to Medea I would be,  
And furiously revenge my injury.  
If great jupiter will my prayer receive,  
Like to Hypsiphile, so may she grieve.  
And since she like a Succubus me wrongs,  
May she know what unto my grief belongs.  
And as I am of my husband bereft,  
May she be a widow with two children left;  
As to her b●other, and her father she  
Was cruel, may she to her husband be.  
And may she wander, o'er earth, sea, and air  
A hatred murderess, hopeless, poor, and bare.  
Having lost my Husband thus I pray beside,  
May he live accursed with his wicked Bride.   

 
The Argument of the seventh Epistle.  
AFter the destruction of Troy, Aeneas the son of Anchises and Venus, taking his Penates or household gods with him, goes to sea with twenty ships. Through tempestuous weather at sea, he is driven to Lybia where Dido (as Virgil hath feigned) Daughter to Belus, and wife to Sichaus Hercules Priest, leaving Tyre, for the cruel avarice of her brother Pygmalion, who had unawares killed her husband for his wealth, and built the new City Carthage: she most magnificently entertained Aeneas and his companions, loved him, and enjoyed him but when Mercury admonished him to depart for Italy, which country the Oracle had promised him: Dido, having in vain endeavoured by entreaty to divert him from his purpose, and stay his journey, being sick to death, writes unto him, accusing him as the cause of her death.  
DIDO to AENEAS.  
AS the Swan by Maeanders fords doth lie  
In the moist weeds, and sings before she die:  
So I not hoping to persuade thy stay,  
Since one that will not hear me I do pray.  
Having lost my credit and virginity,  
To lose a few words a small loss will be;  
For thy poor Dido thou meanest to forsake,  
And unto sea will't a new voyage make.  
Aeneas, thou wilt needs depart from me,  
To find strange Kingdoms out in Italy.  
Thou carest not for new Carthage, or my Land,  
Whose Sceptre I have given into thy hand.  
Thou shun'st my Country which might be thy own,  
And seekest a Country unto thee unknown;  
Which if thou findest out, thou canst not gain;  
For who will suffer a stranger to reign?  
Thou seekest another Dido whom in love  
Thou may'st deceive and false unto her prove;  
Or when like unto Carthage canst thou build  
A City, that doth store of people yield?  
If all things happen to thee prosperously,  
Where wilt thou find so kind a wife as I?  
Like a wax taper I burn with desire,  
Or like sweet incense in the funeral fire;  
And still I wish, Aeneas would but stay,  
Aeneas I do think on night and day.  
He careless of my love, and gifts doth seem,  
Had I been wise, I had not cared for him.  
Yet I cannot hate Aeneas, although he  
Doth plot some unkind dealing against me.  
Of thy unfaithfulness I do complain,  
Having complained, I love thee more again.  
Spare me, O Venus, since thou art his mother;  
Help me, O Cupid, since thou art his brother;  
Soften his heart, that he may milder prove,  
And be a soldier in the tents of love.  
And since to love him I think it no shame,  
O may he love me with a mutual flame!  
Thou art some false Aeneas I do find,  
Thou dost not bear thy mother's gentle mind.  
Stones, Rocks, and Oaks are hard like to thy breast,  
More merciless than any savage beast,  
Or than the seas, which winds do now incense,  
Yet with contrary winds thou wouldst go hence:  
Winter to stay thy journey hence assays,  
Look how the Eastern winds the waves do raise!  
Then to the winds let me beholding be,  
Though for thy stay, I had rather owe to thee.  
But I see rugged seas, and blustering wind  
More just and gentle are, than thy false mind,  
To untimely death I would not have thee come,  
(Although deserved) while thou from men dost run.  
Is thy life so cheap, or hatred such at most,  
That thou wilt leave me, though thy life it cost?  
The winds, and waves, their fury will appease,  
When Tri●on drives his blue steeds o'er the seas.  
Would thy affections would change with the wind!  
They will, if thou bearest not a cruel mind.  
Hadst thou not known the Seas, what wouldst thou do?  
Since having tried it, thou wilt trust it too.  
Though to weigh Anchor the smooth sea persuade thee;  
Yet in the Ocean dangers may invade thee.  
The sea doth favour no unfaithful men,  
But for unfaithfulness doth punish them.  
Specially such as do their sweetheart's wrong,  
Since naked Venus from the green sea sprung.  
I take care for him, that would me forsake,  
And am afraid the sea should thee shipwreck.  
Live, for bad fame is worse than death can be,  
When the world shall say that thou hast killed me.  
Suppose a storm at sea should thee assail;  
Would not thy courage then begin to quail?  
Thy false oaths than would come into my mind,  
And Dido whom thou killd'st by being unkind,  
My bloody shape would hideously appear  
Before thy eyes, with loose long-spreading hair▪  
Then thou wouldst say, this thundering storm is sent  
Justly, for my deserved punishment.  
Until thou mayst go safely, do but stay;  
It would comfort me, if thou wouldst delay  
Thy voyage; spare Ascanius thy son,  
Though I by thee to untimely death do come.  
What have Ascanius, or those gods deserved  
Drowning, which were by thee from fire preserved?  
But though thou bragd'st to me; yet I do fear,  
Thy gods and father thou didst never bear  
Upon thy shoulders, through the flaming fire;  
But I am jealous that thou wert a liar;  
For I am not the first, whom thou didst wrong,  
Or first deceive with thy alluring tongue.  
Ascanius' mother too by thee was left,  
And thy unkindness her of life bereft.  
Thou told'st me so much, which I now believe,  
And the sad story made my heart to grieve;  
And that the gods do hate thee it appears,  
Who hadst wandered by Sea and Land seven years;  
Droven by storms I did thee entertain,  
And gave thee all, ere I scarce knew thy name;  
And would that I had only been content  
To have entertained thee, and no further went.  
For I should happy be if Fame would die,  
And never tell how I with thee did lie.  
That day was fatal, when a shower us drove  
To meet together in a silent Cave.  
Me thought I heard the Nymphs begin to howl,  
The Furies at that present time, did scowl.  
Now thou dost punish me for Sichaeus sake,  
To whom my faith I then did violate.  
And sure my ghost will even blush for shame,  
When after death we two do meet again.  
Sichaeus Statue in a sacred place  
Stands covered with leaves, and a woollen case:  
From whence me thought a hollow voice did say,  
And sometimes call Elisa Come away.  
I come, and yet the fault that I have done  
Is the cause that I am so slow to come.  
Pardon me, since that no base fellow wrought  
My ruin, and this may excuse my fault.  
Since he from Venus and Anchises came,  
I hoped that he faithful would remain.  
And though I erred, I had a good intent;  
Of his falsehood, not my error I repent;  
But as at first, so now at last I find,  
" That fortune still doth prove to me unkind,  
My brother at the sacred Altar killed  
My husband, and his blood for wealth he spilled,  
And after like a banished creature I  
From my own Country was enforced to fly.  
Scaping my brother, strangers here received me,  
And bought this land which I would have given thee:  
And built this City, compassing it withal,  
Even round about with a defensive wall.  
Then sudden wars did me straightway invade,  
Before that I the City gates had made:  
And many suitors did of me approve,  
Who all did come to woo, and win my love.  
Now to jarbas I yield me up at leisure,  
Since thou hast obtained of me thy own pleasure.  
My brother in my blood desires to slain  
His hand, by whom my husband first was slain.  
Aeneas, do not thou presume to touch  
The Altars of those gods, who would too much  
By thy presumptuous prayers be profaned,  
" Lift not unto the gods an impure hand;  
For if to worship them thou shouldst aspire,  
They would be sorry that they scaped the fire.  
And that I am with Child too it may be,  
And that the fruits of love now grow in me.  
And as thou hast the mother first undone,  
So to untimely death my babe shall come.  
So that Ascanius his unborn brother  
Shall die, like an unripe fruit in his mother.  
But Mercury for staying here hath chid thee,  
I would he had for coming too forbid thee.  
And I do with the Trojans had ne'er found,  
Nor landed on the Carthaginian ground.  
Tossed with contrary winds, thou hast long time  
Sought that land which Apollo did assign.  
To return to Troy thou wouldst not take such pain,  
If Hector lived, and Troy did stand again,  
Thou seek not Simoeis, but swift Tiber River,  
And shalt be a stranger when thou comest thither;  
Which thou shalt not discover, nor behold,  
Until perhaps thou art in years grown old.  
But rather take this Kingdom, and the wealth  
Of Pygmalion, as a dowry to myself.  
Let ancient Troy in Carthage now remain,  
Take thou the Royal Sceptre and here reign.  
If thou, or else thy young son julus are,  
Desirous to get honour by the war;  
Here thou shalt find a foe to overcome,  
For sometimes the red colours and the drum  
Do banish peace, therefore I entreat of thee  
As thou lov'st thy Country's gods, and company,  
Spare me; I beg it by thy brother's darts,  
Young Cupid that doth wound all mortal hearts.  
So may thy Trojans still victorious be,  
And Troy's destruction end thy misery.  
So may Ascanius in his youth be blest,  
So may Anchises bones still softly rest.  
Though I offer thee myself, do not reject me;  
What is my fault, but that I do affect thee?  
I am not come of the Mycenian blood,  
By friends, or father, thou art not withstood.  
Or if to call me wife thou dost disdain,  
Call me thy Hostess, I will take that name.  
Or with any other name thou shalt assign,  
I am content, so Dido may be thine.  
I know the seas, that beat the Africa shore,  
At certain seasons may be passed o'er;  
When the wind stands fair, thou wilt sail away,  
Now thy ships in the weedy heaven stay.  
The time of thy departure let me know,  
I'll not stay thee, if thou desir'st to go.  
But yet thy company desire some rest,  
To rig, and trim thy torn ships were best.  
O! if I have deserved any way  
Of thee, I beg of thee a while to stay,  
Until the sea grow calm, and till my love  
By use of time more temperate do prove,  
That I may learn, by length of time to be  
Valiant, in suffering of adversity.  
If not, to kill myself is my intent,  
If to be cruel to me thou art bend.  
For I do wish, thou couldst behold or see,  
In what sad posture I do write to thee.  
One hand to write unto thee doth afford,  
The other hand doth hold thy Trojan sword:  
And down my cheeks the trickling tears do slide  
On the sword, which shall with my blood be died.  
It was thy fatal gift, and it may be  
To send me to my grave, thou gav'st it me;  
And though this first do wound my outward part,  
Yet cruel love long since did wound my heart.  
O sister Anna, thou that counselld'st me  
To yield to love, shalt now my funeral see.  
On th'urn, to which my ashes they commit,  
Elisa wife to Sichaeus shall be writ.  
And these two verses shall engraven be  
Upon the marble that doth cover me;  
Aeneas did to me my death afford,  
For Dido killed herself with his own sword.   

 
The Argument of the eighth Epistle.  
Hermione the daughter of M●nelaus and Helena, was by Tyndarus her Grandfather by the mother's side, to whom Menelaus had committed the government of his house, while he went to Troy, betrothed to Oristes', the son of Agamemnon and Clytaemnestra. Her father Menelaus not knowing thereof, had betrothed her to Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles, who at last returned from the Trojan wars, stole away Hermione. But she ha●ing Pyrrhus, and loving Orestes, admonishes him by this Letter, that she might be easily taken from Pyrrhus; and she obtained her desire. For Orestes being freed from his madness, for murdering Aegysthus and his mother, he slew Pyrrhus in Apollo's Temple, and took her again.  
HERMIONE to ORESTES.  
HErmione writes to him that was of late  
Her husband, now another's wife by fate.  
Pyrrhus, Achilles' stout son takes delight  
To keep me from thee against law and right.  
I did strive with him, but my force did fail,  
A woman's strength could not against him prevail.  
Pyrrhus, quoth I, what dost thou do? ere long,  
My Lord on thee will surely revenge this wrong.  
But of Orestes name he would not hear,  
But dragged me home even by my loosened hair.  
Should the barbarous foe Lacedaemon take,  
He could but thus of me a captive make.  
And conquering Greece used not Andromache,  
When they set fire of Troy, as he used me.  
But Orestes if thouart touched with this despite,  
Then fetch me back again, I am thy right.  
To fetch thy stolen cattle thou wilt go,  
Why then to fetch thy wife art thou so slow?  
By thy father why dost not example take?  
Who by a just war did his wife fetch back.  
Had he led in his Court an idle life,  
Thy mother then had been young Paris wife.  
If thou do come, thou needst not to provide  
A fleet, or store of Soldiers beside;  
Yet so I might be fetched back again,  
A husband for his wife may war maintain.  
And Atreus was Uncle unto either,  
So that thou art my husband and my brother.  
O! husband then, and brother, help thou me,  
For these two names implore some help of thee.  
My grandfather Tyndarus, grave in his life,  
Delivered me unto thee as thy wife.  
My father unto Pyrrhus promised me,  
But my grandfather would dispose of me.  
When I married thee, I did to none belong,  
If Pyrrhus marry me, he doth thee wrong.  
My father will let us love, and enjoy,  
For he was wounded by the winged boy,  
And will permit us to love one another,  
In the like sort as he did love my mother.  
As he my mother's husband was, thou art  
My husband, Pyrrhus playeth Paris part.  
Though he boast deeds were by his father done,  
Thy father by his actions fame hath won.  
Achilles did for a common soldier stand,  
But Agamemnon Captains did command.  
Pelops, and his father thy Ancestors were,  
Thou art but five descents from jupiter.  
Nor didst thou courage want, though thou didst kill  
Thy father; and his precious blood didst spill;  
Would thy valour had been happilier employed,  
Though he were unwillingly by thee destroyed.  
For thou Aegystus killed'st unluckily,  
And didst fulfil thy hapless fate thereby.  
When Achilles urgeth this one fault of thine,  
And before me doth make it a great crime:  
My blushing colour, and my heart doth rise,  
And my old love revives, and glowing lies  
Within my breast, if that Orestes be  
By any one accused to Hermione.  
For than I have no strength in any part,  
As if a sword were thrust into my heart,  
I weep, and then my tears my anger show  
Which like two Rivers down my bosom flow.  
Plenty of tears I only have, which rise,  
Wetting my cheeks from the springs of my eyes.  
And this sad fate, which happens unto me,  
Hath been the fortune of our family.  
I need not tell how jupiter became,  
To deceive us, a fair and milk-white Swan.  
Ho● Hippodamia in a stranger's Chariot,  
Over the Hellespont was swiftly carried.  
My mother Helen, in Paris took delight,  
For whom the Grecians ten whole years did fight.  
My Grandfather, my Sister and each brother  
Began to weep, for the loss of my mother;  
And Leda did her earnest prayers prefer  
Unto the gods, and to her jupiter;  
While I did tear my hair and to her cried,  
Mother, must I without you here abide?  
And lest that I should not be thought to be  
Of Peleus most unhappy progeny;  
My mother being with Paris gone away,  
I unto Pyrrhus was soon made a prey.  
If Achilles had escaped Apollo's bow,  
He would have then condemned his son, I know.  
He knew by Briser loss, which he could not brook,  
That from their husband's wives should not be took,  
Why are the gods thus cruel unto me!  
What sad star ruled at my Nativity?  
For in my younger years I was bereavest  
Of my mother and was of my father left,  
Who went unto the wars, yet nevertheless  
Although they lived, yet I was Parentless,  
Nor could delight my mother, as you see  
Children will do, with stammering flattery;  
Nor round about her neck my weak arms clap,  
While she would fond set me on her lap.  
Nor did she teach me how to dress my head,  
Nor did she bring me to my marriage bed.  
For when she did return (truth I'll not smother)  
I did not know her then to be my mother.  
I knew that she was Helen by her beauty,  
She knew not me when as I did my duty.  
Amongst all these miseries I most happy am,  
That Orestes for my husband I did gain.  
Yet he, alas, shall from me taken be,  
Unless he do fight for himself and me:  
Pyrrhus hath took me, and doth me enjoy,  
This is all I got by the fall of Troy.  
Yet while the Sun with his bright rays doth shine,  
My sorrows are more gentle all that time.  
But when at night with grief I go to bed,  
And on my pillow rest my weary head;  
The tears, when I should entertain soft sleep,  
Spring in my eyes, and I begin to weep;  
And from my husband's side as far off lie,  
As if he were to me an enemy.  
Sometimes through grief forgetting where I am,  
I have touched some part of Pyrrhus, and again  
I have plucked back my hand; for I did grudge,  
That I his body with my hand should touch.  
Such was my hatred, that I did esteem  
My hands by touching him, had polluted been.  
And it doth often chance that I do call  
Pyrrhus, Orestes, and it doth befall  
I love my error, as a sigh of luck,  
When I have thy name, for his name mistook,  
By jupiter, from whom our house did rise,  
Who ruleth both the Sea, the Land, and skies,  
I pray, by thy Fathers, and thy Uncle's bones,  
Which do rest underneath their marble stones,  
That I may presently resign my life,  
Or else may be once more Orestes wife.   

 
The Argument of the ninth Epistle.  
JVpiter having joined three nights in one, begot Hercules on Alemena, in the shape of her husband Amphytrio; Euristeus King of the Mycenians, by Juno's subtlety persuades him to attempt difficult labours, so to endanger his life. Yet he by strength and policy, always got the victory; and to obtain Deianira for his Wife, Achelous a River of Aetolia, after many changes of shapes, he overthrew in the figure of a Bull; yet though he overcame many Monsters, he was overcome by love. For Eurythus, King of Oechalia denying him his daughter jole, formerly promised unto him, he took his City, s●ew Eurythus and obtained jole, with whose love he was so blinded, that at her command he laid by his Lion's Skin and Club, and put● 〈◊〉 on women's clothes, sat and spun amongst her Maids; and was a● subject to jole, as he had been to Omphale Queen of Lydia, on whom he begot Lamus. His wife Deianira Daughter of Oenus King of Calydon, understanding of his base and servile dotage, writes to him, and says before him his former worthy acts, that this present disgrace by comparison with them, might appear more to the life. But as she was writing she understood of Hercules suffering, by the shirt she had sent him dipped in the blood of the Centaur Nessus, to retain him from wand'ring affection (sor so had Nessus persuaded her, whom in passing over the River Evenus, Hercules flew with a poisoned arrow) being much grieved hereat, she clears herself that she did not thereby intent his destruction, but the regaining of his love, and concludes with a Tragical resolution.  
DEIANIRA to HERCULES.  
I Am glad thou Occhalia hast won,  
For husband's honour doth the wife become.  
But I am sorry that a Captives beauteous look  
Should take the conqueror, that hath her took.  
When Fame the sad report at first did bring  
To the Greek Cities on her nimble wing;  
Me thought this action was not of the colour  
Of those brave deeds, which show thy glory fuller;  
Whom juno, nor her labours ever broke,  
jole made him yield unto her yoke.  
Euryslheus is glad, and jupiters' wife,  
To see this action blot thy fair spent life:  
Nor can I think three nights were joined in one  
At thy begetting or conception.  
Venus is worse than juno thy stepdame,  
For by oppressing thee she raised thy fame.  
But Venus makes thee basely think it meet,  
To put thy humble neck beneath her feet.  
The world, environed round with the blue seas,  
Was settled by thy conquering hand in peace,  
By which both sea and land enjoy sweet rest,  
Thy fame is spread abroad from East to West.  
Hercules' strength, and Atl●ss'es were even,  
Fos Hercules and Atlas bore up heaven.  
But if with lust thy former deeds thou slain,  
Thy glory turneth to thy great shame.  
In thy Cradle thou wert like unto thy father,  
When thou didst strangle two Snakes joined together.  
Thy childhood and thy man hood I do see,  
But far unlike, and far most different be.  
Thy beginning was far better than thy end,  
The last act of thy life doth most offend.  
Wild beasts, and chemies thou couldst overcome,  
But love the victory over thee hath won.  
Some think I am well married, because I am  
Wife to great Hercules; that very name  
Is happiness; besides my father-in law  
Is jove, whose thunder keeps the world in awe.  
But I am over-matched with thee now,  
Unequal Oxen aukwardly do plough.  
Thy honour like a burden I do carry,  
" She's fitly matched, that doth her equal marry.  
For Hercules is absent from me still,  
While he fierce monsters and wild beasts doth kill,  
Thus widowed, I offer sacrifice,  
Lest thou shouldst be slain by thy enemies.  
Me thinks I see how thou dost take delight,  
With Serpents, Boars, and Lions still to fight:  
Strange visions in my sleep to me appear,  
And my dreams oft put me in fear.  
Sometimes I do believe the common fame,  
Sometimes I hope, sometimes I fear again,  
My mother is from home, and doth complain,  
Because her beauty did a god inflame.  
Amphytrio thy own father is from home,  
And little Hillus also thy young son.  
I only do perceive Euristeus hath  
Made thee a sacrifice to Juno's wrath.  
To perform labours he did thee persuade,  
Which done, the goddess wrath is not allayed.  
And to increase my grief thou dost approve  
A captive maid, who is become thy love.  
I will not mention how thou didst dally  
With Auge in the sweet Parthenian valley.  
Or how the Nymph Ormenes was defiled,  
And wantonly by thee was got with child:  
Nor will I urge it as a fault, not I,  
Thou didst with Thespius' fifty daughters lie.  
That which grieves me was thy adultery,  
Which thou committedst with thy Omphale,  
And on her didst beget a bastard son,  
To whom I must a mother-in-law become.  
The winding River which they call Maeander,  
Who in his turning banks about doth wander,  
Hath seen when Hercules a fine chain wore  
On those shoulders which heavens weight once bore.  
Didst thou not blush to wear a golden twist?  
Or bracelet made of pearl about thy wrist?  
Or that a golden bracelet should contain  
Thy brawny arms which had so stoutly slain  
The Nemean Lion, whose rough shaggy hide  
Thou didst wear on thy shoulder and left side?  
Nay besides this thou didst descend to wear  
A Coif, or Kerchief on thy stubborn hair.  
It were more sit thy Temples had been crowned,  
With victorious wreaths, than with a fillet bound.  
Yet as if thou wert some young girl, thou hast  
Worn Omphale's girdle round about thy waist.  
Thou thought'st not of fiery Diomedes as then,  
Who fed his horses with the flesh of men.  
Had Bustris seen thee dressed thus, he would be  
Ashamed that he had been o'ercome by thee.  
Anteus may knock off his bolts, and chain,  
And set his neck at liberty again.  
For what captive is there with patience can  
Suffer under such an effeminate man?  
Besides, amongst the Grecian Maids ('tis said)  
That thou didst sit, and spin, and wert afraid,  
Lest thy mistress Omphale, when she espied thee,  
Idle by chance, should frown on thee, and chide thee.  
And thy victorious hands did not then scorn  
To spin, which once such labours did perform.  
For thou didst draw the thread with thy huge thumb,  
And gav'st account at night what thou hast spun.  
Sometimes as thou satst spinning, thou hast broke  
With boyslerous handling, both thy wheel and rock:  
And like a poor unhappy wretch, 'tis said,  
That of thy mistress thou wert so afraid,  
That if she chid thee, thou wouldst trembling stand,  
For fear of swaddling with a Holly wand;  
And to win favour, thou wouldst often tell  
Of thy labours, which thou ought'st to conceal:  
Discoursing unto her how thou hadst won  
Much honour, by those deeds which thou hadst done;  
How in thy childhood thou didst boldly tear  
The Hydra's speckled jaws, which hideous were;  
How thou didst kill the Erimambean Boar,  
Which on the ground lay weltering in his gore.  
And then of Diomedes didst relate,  
Who nailed the heads of men upon his gate,  
Fatting his pampered Horses with their flesh,  
Until thou didst his cruelty suppress;  
And how thou hadst the monster Cacus stain,  
That kept his flocks upon the hills of Spain;  
And of three-headed Cerberus thou didst tell,  
Who by his snaky hair thou drag'dst from hell:  
And how the Hydra by thy hand was slain,  
Whose heads being lopped off would grow forth again.  
And of Anteus, whom thou crushed to death  
Between thy arms, and didst squeeze out his breath,  
And how the Centaurs thou subdu'st by force  
That were half men, and half like to a Horse.  
When thou wert in soft silken robes arrayed,  
To tell these stories wert not thou dismayed?  
Didst thou think whilst thou didst thy labours tell,  
That a woman's habit did become thee well?  
While Omphale hath took thy Lion's skin  
Away from thee, and dressed herself therein,  
To boast now of thy valour it is vain,  
For Omphale in thy stead plays the man:  
For she in valour doth exceed thee far,  
Since she hath conquered the conqueror;  
And by subjecting thee, she now hath won  
The glory, which did unto thee belong.  
O shame to think! the skin which thou didst rea●  
Off the Lion's ribs, thy Omphale doth wear;  
Thou art deceived, 'tis not the Lion's spoil;  
Thou foil'dst the Lion, she thyself doth foil;  
And she that only knoweth how to spin,  
To wear thy weapons also doth begin.  
She takes the conquering Club into her hand,  
And afterwards before her glass will stand,  
Viewing herself, to see what she hath done,  
If that her husband's weapons her become.  
I could not believe, when I heard it said,  
The sad report unto my heart conveyed  
Much grief; but now my wretched eyes beheld  
The Harlot jole, that thy courage quelled.  
Such are my wrongs, that I must need reveal  
My grief and sorrow I cannot conceal.  
Thou brought'st her through the City in despite,  
Because I should behold the hated sight;  
Not like a Captive, with her hair unbound,  
And a dejected look fixed on the ground;  
But of rich cloth of gold her garments were,  
Such as thyself in Ph●ygia did wear  
She in her passage graciously did look  
On the people as if she had Hercules took;  
As if her father lived and did command  
Oechalia, which was raised by thy hand.  
Deianira it may be thou wilt forsake,  
And of thy former whore a wife wilt make;  
So that Hymen shall both join the heart and hands  
Of Hercules and jole in his bands.  
When in my mind these passages I behold,  
My hands and limbs with fear grow stiff and cold.  
In me thou formerly didst take delight,  
And for my sake two several times didst fight;  
Plucking off Achelous' horn, who after  
Did hide his head in his own muddy water.  
And Nessus was slain by the poisoned head  
Of thy arrow, whose blood died the River red.  
But O alas! I heard abroad by same,  
Thou art tormented with much grief and pain,  
By the shirt dipped in his blood, which I sent thee,  
But yet indeed no harm at all I meant thee.  
If it be so, then what am I become?  
What is it that my furious love hath done?  
O Deianira strait resolve to die,  
So end at once thy grief and misery.  
Shall this same poisoned shirt tear off his skin?  
And wilt thou live that hath the causer been  
Of all his torment? No, though not my life,  
My death shall show that I was Hercules wife.  
And, Meleager, I will show thereby  
Myself thy sister, I'm resolved to die.  
O unhappy fate! Oe●●us royal throne  
(My Father who is very aged grown)  
Agri●is hath, Tydeus in foreign land  
Doth wander still, and in the fatal brand  
Meleag●r perished, and my mother killed  
Herself, and with her hand her own blood spilled.  
Then why doth D●ianira doubt to die?  
And so conclude this wicked Tragedy?  
Yet this one suit to thee I only move;  
And beg this of thee for our former love;  
That thou wouldst not believe, or think I meant  
To procure thy death, by that gift I sent.  
For when the cruel Centaur bleeding lay  
With thy arrow in his breast, he then did say,  
This blood, if thou the virtue of it prove,  
Will cause affection, and procure true love.  
But now his treachery I have understood;  
For I dipped a shirt into his poisoned blood;  
And sent it, which hath caused thy misery;  
O Deianira strait resolve to die.  
Farewell my Father, George too farewell,  
Farewell my brother and Country where I dwell.  
And I do bid farewell to the daylight,  
Of which my eyes shall never more have sight.  
Farewell to Hyllus my young little son,  
Farewell my husband; Death, I come, I come.   

 
The Argument of the tenth Epistle.  
Minos' the son of Jupiter and Europa, because the Athenians ha● treacherously slain his son Androg●us, enforced them by a sharp war to send him every year as a tribute, seven young Men, and as many young Virgins to be devoured by the Minotaur, which by Daedalus Art Pasiphae's had by a Bull, while her husband Minos was at the Athenian wars. The lot falling on Thes●us, he was sent amongst the rest; but Ariadne instructed him how to kill the Minotaur, and return again out of the Labyrinth, as Catullus saith, 
Errabunda r●gens tenui vestigia filo.  
Guiding his steps, which she led,  
By a Clew of slender thread.   
Afterward Theseus departing from Crete with Ariadne and Phadra, he arrived at the Isle Nanos, where Bacchus admonished him to leave Ariadne, and he accordingly lef● her when she was fast asleep: Assoon as she awaked, she writ this Letter, complaining of Theseus' cruelty and ingratitude, and in a pitiful manner entreats him to come back again, and take her into his ship.  
ARIADNE to THESEUS.  
I Have found all kinds of beasts much more mild  
And gentle than thyself, who hast beguiled  
My trust: for it had been more safe for me,  
To have believed a savage beast, than thee.  
This letter, Theseus', from thence doth come,  
Where thou didst leave me, and away didst run;  
When I was fast asleep, than thou didst leave me,  
Watching that opportunity to deceive me:  
It was at that time when the heavens strew  
Upon the earth their sweet and pearly dew.  
And the first waking birds did now begin,  
In the cool boughs to tune their notes and sing:  
I being half asleep and half awake,  
Yet so much knowledge had, that for thy sake,  
With my hand I felt about thy warm place,  
Thinking indeed my Theseus to embrace:  
I felt about the bed, but he was gone,  
I felt about again, but there was none.  
Then with my wretched hand I struck my breast,  
And tore my loosened hair, that was undressed.  
The Moon shined bright so that I looked o'er  
To the seaward, but saw nothing but the shore;  
Now here, and there confusedly I ran,  
The heavy sand did my swift feet detain:  
At last ● called Theseus on the shore;  
The hollow Rocks thy Name did back restore;  
The echo called as many times as I,  
And seemed to help me in my misery.  
There was a Mountain topped with some few bushes,  
Under whose rocky sides the Sea still rushes:  
On it I clambered up, love gave me strength,  
Whence I could see far unto sea at length:  
From hence (for I the winds did cruel find)  
Discerned a ship that sailed with the North wind;  
I saw it, or I thought I did behold  
I●, which did make my heart half dead, and cold:  
Yet sorrow would not suffer me to lie  
Long in this Trance, but coming out of't I  
Cried out, O Theseus! whither dost thou run?  
Return, O Theseus, and to me back come.  
Turn back thy ship again for to take me,  
Thou wantest one yet of thy company.  
Thus did I cry, and strike my breast betwixt,  
While blows and words were both together mixed.  
Though thou couldst not hear me, yet I did stand  
Spreading my arms abroad upon the land,  
That thou might see me; and a white flag hung  
To make thee see me, who from me didst run.  
Thy ship at last did sail quite out of my sight,  
And then the tears ran down my cheeks outright.  
For how could my sad eyes but choose to weep,  
After thy sails out of my sight did sl●p?  
Abroad I wandered with loose flowing hair,  
Like women that by Bacchus enraged are.  
Sometimes I looking unto sea would sit  
On a stone, as void as the stone of wit:  
Then to the bed I walked, where he had lain,  
Which never should receive us more again;  
And it a pleasure unto me did seem,  
To touch the warm place where thy limbs had been:  
And in the very place I down would lie,  
With weeping tears, and thus begin to cry:  
Sweet bed, we both have lain on thee together,  
As two lay down, two should have risen together.  
But I on this forsaken Isle am left,  
Of men and all humanity bereft.  
The sea encompasseth this Island round,  
No ship or Pilot from this Isle is bound.  
Suppose I could a ship and wind command,  
I dare not sail back to my Father's land.  
Though my ship through the smooth sea did glide on,  
And winds stood fair, I am banished from home,  
And from Crect, that a hundred Cities had,  
Where jove was nursed when he was a lad.  
I betrayed my Father by that plot I framed,  
And Country, where he long uprightly reigned.  
And lest thou in the Labyrinth hadst died,  
Gave thee a Clue of thread thy steps to guide.  
By those past dangers thou didst swear to me,  
That thou, while I did live wouldst constant be.  
I live, and find thee false, if't may be said  
She lives, that by a false man is betrayed  
Would thy Club had killed me, as't did my brother,  
Then in my death thou all my wrongs mightst smother.  
Now I conceive what I must suffer here,  
And what I may endure, doth urge my fear.  
A thousand shapes of death methinks I see,  
The fear or death is worse than death can be,  
Now lest some Wolf should come, I am in fear,  
Who with his greedy teeth my limbs should tear:  
Perhaps this land doth yellow Lions breed,  
And cruel Tigers from this Isle proceed.  
Perhaps great sea-calves on the shore abide,  
Or else the sword may pierce my tender side.  
Or like a Captive I may be enchained,  
And unto servile labour be constrained;  
Whose Father Minos was, and whose Mother  
Was Phoeb●s daughter, which I need not smother.  
And that which rather should remembered be,  
That I was once betrothed unto thee.  
If I look to the shore, the land or sea,  
The sea and land do seem to threaten me.  
If to heaven, to the gods I dare not pray,  
But I am left unto the wild beasts a prey.  
The men that here inhabit I distrust,  
Being deceived by thee my fears are just.  
I wish now that Androgeus did live,  
Whose death occasion of that tax did give.  
I wish, O Theseus, thy Club had not slain  
The monster, half a beast, and half a man.  
Would I had not given thee a Clew of thread,  
By which thy steps in coming back were led.  
I wonder not thou got'st the victory,  
Or that th●s Cret●● beast was slain by thee.  
Thou hadst an iron breast, which was so armed,  
So that thou couldst not by his horns be harmed.  
Sure an obdurate Adamant was i''nt,  
And Theseus was all o'er as hard as flint.  
O cruel sleep! why did I slumbering lie?  
Would I had slept unto eternity.  
O cruel winds! why did ye stand so fair,  
As if ye did desire to breed my care?  
O cruel hand of thine! which hath slain me,  
And my poor brother by infidelity.  
My sleep, the wind, and thou, did all conspire,  
And to betray a maid did all desire.  
Now at my death my mother shall not weep,  
Nor close mine eyes up in eternal sleep.  
My hapless ghost shall wander in the air,  
To embalm my body no friend shall care.  
Sea-Vultures shall upon my carcase light,  
For I shall have at all no funeral Rite.  
But unto Athens when thou art come home,  
Then thou sitting upon thy royal Throne,  
Shalt tell how thou the Minotaur didst slay,  
Out of the Labyrinth ●●nding the right way;  
And tell amongst thy acts, how thou hast left  
Me on this Island, of all help bereft.  
Aegeus, nor yet Aethra cannot be  
Thy Parents, Rocks were Parents unto thee.  
If from thy ships decks thou hadst spied me,  
My sad looks unto pity had moved thee  
Think now thou seest me standing on a Rock,  
Whose chalky sides the beating waves do mock.  
See how my hair is o'er my shoulders spread,  
My garments wet with tears, that I have shed.  
And how my body trembling too and fro,  
Like shaking corn, which the North wind doth bl●w;  
Or like some miss-shaped Letter I do stand,  
That hath been written by a trembling hand.  
To urge my merit I dare not presume,  
" No thanks are due to service that is done.  
Yet there's no reason thou shouldst punish me  
With death, because from death I saved thee.  
To thee my hands I heave up and do spread,  
Which with beating my breast are wearied.  
I entreat thee by my hair, which I do spread,  
And by my tears for thy unkindness shed,  
Turn back thy ship. O Theseus, for my sake;  
Though I am dead, my carcase with thee take▪   

 
The Argument of the eleventh Epistle.  
MAcareus and Canace, the son and daughter of Aeolus, King of the winds, did love one another, & thinking to colour over their incestuous fault with natural affection. Canace brought forth a son, and sending it out of the Court to be nursed abroad, the unhappy infant ●ryed, and so discovered itself to his Grandfather, who incensed with his children's wickedness, commanded the innocent infant to be cast forth unto Dogges● and by one of his guard sent a sword to Canace, as a silent remembrance of her desert, wherewith she killed herself, Yet before her death, she declares by this Epistle to Macareus, who was fled into the Temple of Apollo, her own misfortune: entreating him to gather up the child's bones, and lay them with hers in the same Urn or funeral Pitcher.  
CANACE to MACAREUS.  
IF blotted Letters may be understood,  
Receive this Letter blotted with my blood.  
My right hand holds a pen, my left a sword,  
My p●per lies before me on the board.  
Thus Canace doth to her brother write,  
This posture yields my father much delight:  
Who I do wish would a spectator be,  
As he is Author of my Tragedy.  
Who fiercer than winds blowing from the East,  
With dry cheeks would behold my wounded breast.  
For since to rule the winds he hath commission,  
He's of his subjects cruel disposition.  
Over the Northern, and South winds he reigns;  
The wings of th' East and West winds he restrains.  
And yet although the winds he doth command,  
His sudden anger he cannot withstand.  
The Kingdom of the winds he can restrain,  
" But over his own vices cannot reign.  
For what although my Ancestors have been  
Unto the gods and jupiter akin?  
Now in my fearful hand I hold a sword,  
That fatal gift, which must my death afford.  
O Macar●us, would that I had died,  
Before we were in close embraces tied.  
More than a sister aught▪ I did affect thee,  
More than a brother ought thou didst respect me.  
For I did feel, how Cupid with his dart  
(Of whom I oft had heard) did wound my heart.  
My colour straightway did wax green and pale,  
My stomach to my meat began to fail.  
I could not sleep, the night did seem a year,  
I often sighed, when no body did hear.  
Yet why I sighed, I no cause could show;  
I loved, and yet what love was did not know.  
My old Nurse found out how my pulse did move,  
And she first told me that I was in love:  
But when I blushed with a downcast look,  
Which silent signs she for confession took.  
But now the burden of my swelling womb  
Grew heavy, being to full ripeness come.  
What herbs and medicines did not she, and I  
Use, to enforce abortive delivery,  
Concealed from thee? Yet Art could not prevail,  
The quickened child grew strong, our Art did fail.  
And now nine Moons were fully gone and passed,  
The tenth in her bright Chariot made great haste.  
I know not whence my sudden gripes did grow:  
Nor what pains belonged to childbirth did know:  
I cried out, but my Nurse my words did stay,  
And stopped my mouth, as I there crying lay.  
What shall I do? gripes force me to complain;  
But my Nurse, and fear of crying-out restrain.  
So that I did suppress my groans, and cries,  
And drunk the tears that flowed down from my eyes.  
While thus Lucina did deny her aid,  
Fearing my fault in death should be betrayed.  
Thou by my side most lovingly didst lie,  
Tearing thy hair to see my misery;  
And with kind words thy sister thou didst cherish,  
Praying that two might not at one time perish.  
And thou didst put me still in hope of life,  
Saying dear sister thou shalt be my wife.  
These words revived me, when I was half dead,  
So that I presently was brought to bed.  
Thou didst rejoice, but fear did me affright,  
To hide it from my father Aeolus sight.  
The careful Nurse the new born child did hide  
In Olive boughs, with swaddling vine leaves tied:  
And so a solemn sacrifice did fain;  
The people and my father believed the same.  
Being near the gate, the child that strait did cry,  
To his grandfather was betrayed thereby;  
Aeolus tearing forth the child, descries  
Their cunning and pretended sacrifice.  
As the sea trembles when light winds do blow,  
Or as an Aspen leaf shakes to and fro,  
Even so my pale and trembling limbs did make  
The bed whereon I lay begin to shake.  
He comes to me, my fault he doth proclaim,  
And he could scarce from striking me contain.  
I could do nothing else but blush, and weep,  
My tongue tied up with fear did silent keep.  
He commanded my s●n should be straightway  
Cast forth, and made to beasts and birds a prey.  
And then it cried, so that you would have thought,  
His crying had his Grandfather besought  
To pity him: what grief it was to me,  
Dear brother, you may guests, when I did see,  
When ● saw my child carried to the Wood,  
To feed the mountain Wolves, that live by blood.  
When thus my child unto the woods was sent,  
My father out of my bedchamber went.  
Then I did beat my tender breast at last,  
And tore my cheeks, his sentence being past.  
When straightway one of my Father's Guard came in,  
And with a sad look did this message bring;  
Aeolus sends this sword, and doth desire  
Thee use it, as thy merit doth require.  
His will (quoth I) be done, I'll use his sword,  
My Father's gift shall my sad death afford.  
O Father, shall this sword the portion be,  
And dowry which you mean to give to me?  
O Hymen put out thy deceived light,  
And nimbly now betake thyself to fight:  
Ye Furies bring your smoky Torches all,  
To light the wood at my sad funeral.  
O sisters, may you far more haply marry  
Than I, that by my own fault did miscarry.  
Yet what could be my newborn babes offence,  
Which might his Grandfather so much incense?  
Of death, alas, he could not worthy be:  
For my offence, he's punished for me.  
O Son! thou breed'st thy mother much annoy,  
No sooner bred, but beasts do thee destroy.  
O Son the pledge of my unhappy love,  
One day thy day of birth and death doth prove.  
I had not time t'imbalme thee with my tears,  
Nor in thy funeral fire to throw thy hairs;  
To give thee one cold kiss I had no power,  
For the wild greedy beasts did thee devour.  
But I sweet child, will straightway die with thee,  
I will not long a childless Parent be.  
And thou, O brother, since it is in vain  
For me to hope to see thee once again;  
Gather the small remainder, which the wild  
And savage beast have left of thy young child.  
And with his mother's bones, let them have room,  
Within one ●●ne, or in one narrow Tomb.  
Weep at my funeral; who can reprove thee,  
For showing love to her that once did love thee?  
And here at last I do entreat thee still,  
To perform thy unhappy sisters will;  
For I will kill myself without delay,  
And so my father's hard command obey.   

 
The Argument of the twelfth Epistle.  
JAson being a lusly comely young man: assoon as he arrived at Colchos, Medea the Daughter of Aeta King of Colchos, and Hecate, fancied and entertained him; and upon promise of marriage, instructed him how he should obtain the beauty he desired. Having gotten the golden Fleece, he fled away with Medea. Her father Aeta pursuing after them, she tears in pieces her brother Absy●tus limbs, whom she had taken with her, thereby to stay her father while he gathered up his Sons bones. And so at length safely arriving in Thessaly, jason renewed his Father Aesons age, by Medea's help, who also made Pelias Daughters kill their Father. For pretending that she would make him young, as she had done Aeson, she persuaded his Daughters, with a knife to let out all his old black blood, that she might infuse new fresh blood instead thereof. His Daughters having done so, Pelias straightway died; jason hereupon, or for some other cause, repudiates Medea, and marries Creusa the daughter of Creon King of Corinth; Medea herewith enraged Writes to jason, expostulating with him of his ingratitude, and threatens speedy revenge, unless he receive her again.  
MEDEA to JASON.  
AT that time Queen of Corinth I did reign,  
When thou didst seek by my art help to gain.  
I wish my thread of life, which then was spun  
By the three sisters, had been cut and done;  
Then might Medea have died innocent;  
My life since then hath been a punishment.  
Woe's me that ere the lusty youth of Greece  
Sailed hither, for to fetch the golden Fleece.  
Would Colchos never had their Argos seen,  
Would the Grecians ne'er on our shore had been:  
Why was I with thy lovely brown hair took?  
Or with thy tempting tongue and comely look?  
Or at least when thy ship came to our shore,  
Bringing thyself, with gallants many more,  
I might have let thee run and found a death  
By those fiery Oxen with their flaming breath▪  
I might have suffered thee to sow that seed,  
Whence armed men did spring up and proceed,  
That the sour might by his own tillage die,  
When each ear of co●●e did prove an enemy.  
They had prevented then thy treachery,  
And kept me both from grie ' and misery.  
To upbraid thy ingratitude pleases me,  
In this alone I can triumph o'er thee.  
For when thy ship arrived at the shore  
Of Colch●s, where it n●re had been before.  
O than Med●a was beloved there  
Of thee, as thy new wife's b●loved here.  
My father was as rich as hers, he reigned  
O'er Corinth, which 'twixt two Seas is contained.  
My father possessed all the Land which lay  
Between Pon●us and snowy ●cythi●.  
My father did thy Grecians entertain,  
Affording lodging to thee and thy train,  
I saw thee then, then did of thee inquire,  
And then thy love did s●t my heart on fire,  
I saw thee, and that sight to love did turn,  
While my heart did like a great Taper burn.  
Thy beauty drew me to my destined fate,  
And thy fair eyes my eyes did captivate  
Which thou percevid'st, for who can love conceal?  
Whose glowing flame doth it own self reveal  
My father then commanded thee to yoke  
Those Oxen that were to the plough ne'er broke  
For they were Mars his Oxen, whose horns wer●  
Sharp, and their breath did like a flame appear.  
They had brass hoo●●, and nostrils armed with brass,  
Blacked with the breath that through them did pass.  
And thou wert bid to sow in the large field  
That seed which did an armed ●eo ●e yield.  
Which sprung up, would assail thee strait again;  
Thou for thy harvest such a cr●p shouldst gain  
And thy last labour was to charm a sleep  
The Dragon, that the golden ●eece did keep.  
When Aeet●s said thus, you all strait rose,  
And every one much discontentment shows.  
So that you did your purple seats forsake,  
And then the Table they away did take.  
Grea● Creens daughter thou didst now contemn,  
And C●●●sas dowry could not help thee then.  
Sadly thou didst depart, and discontent,  
yet my weeping eyes on thee still were bend,  
And as thou w●ntst away this one word sell,  
In a so●t murmur from my tongue; Farewell.  
And when I went to bed. I never slept,  
Wounded with love, all night I grieved and wept.  
The fierce Bulls were alwa●es before my eyes.  
And the Armed m●n which from the earth did rise;  
And then the watchful Dragon did affright  
My senses, and was still before my sight.  
Thus love, and fear, my breast at once did trouble,  
My love of thee did make my fear to double.  
At last it chanced that early in the morning,  
My loving sister came and found me mourning,  
And lying on my face, with all my hair  
Lose spread, the pillow wet with many a tear,  
She and two sisters more did me invade,  
With fair entreaties, fo● to help and aid  
jason, and his Thes●alians, who did want  
My assistance, I in love their suit did grant.  
There is a wood so dark with thick-leaved trees,  
That the bright Sun but seldom through it sees:  
There doth a Chapel of Diana's stand,  
Whose golden statue there was rudely framed.  
I know not whether this place is by thee  
Forgotten, as thou hast forgotten me.  
We being thither come, thou then didst break  
Thy mind to me, and thus beganst to speak.  
My life and fortunes are at thy command,  
My life and death are both within thy hand.  
you may let me perish if so be you will,  
But 'tis more noble to preserve then kill.  
Then by my present sorrows I entreat,  
Which you can ease, if you the word would speak.  
By thy kindred, and uncle Phoebus, who  
Sees all things that on earth we mortals do.  
By Diana's triple-sace, and sacred rites,  
And Gods wherein this Nation delights.  
O Virgin have some pity at this time  
On me, and make me so for ever thine.  
And though I cannot hope the gods should be  
So kind and favourable unto me;  
yet if you would be pleased now to take  
A Thessalian, and him a husband make.  
Then I do promise, I will faithful be,  
And vow, that I will marry none but thee.  
Let juno be a witness to my vow,  
And Di●na in whose Temp●e we are now.  
Thou took'st me by the hand, those words of thine  
A maiden's fancy did strait way in●●ine.  
For such thy language was, as soon did move  
My honest heart to entertain thy love.  
By thy deceitful tears I was betrayed,  
For they had ●ower to betray a Maid.  
So that the ●ulls, whose breath like flames did smoa●●  
I taught thee how to tame, and how to yoke.  
And thou didst sow the Dragon's teeth for seed,  
Whence armed ●●n did spring up and proceed.  
ay, that did give thee those securing ●●arms,  
Grew pale to see those new-sprung men in arms.  
When strait those earth-bred brethren there in ●●ght,  
Did s●ay each other in a bloody fight▪  
The watchful Dragon now the earth did sweep,  
While he upon his scaly breast did creep.  
Where was the Dowry of thy royal wife?  
Or King of Corinth? could they save thy life?  
No it was I, that now am thus rejected,  
And as a poor Enchantress disrespected.  
I charmed the Dragon's flaming eyes asleep,  
That thou mightst get the Fleece which he did keep.  
My Father I betrayed and I forsook,  
My Country, and with thee a voyage took.  
Though my life a sad banishment should be,  
I was content to wander still with thee.  
Thou of my Maidenhead didst me deceive.  
Who my Mother and my Sister both did leave.  
Yet I ●e●t not my Brother; at that name,  
Me thinks my pen stands still for very shame;  
I fear to write that, which I di● not fear  
To do, 'twas I that did in pieces tear,  
Thy scattered ●imbs, and when I had done so,  
Guilty of thy blood, unto Sea did go.  
And would the gods had drowned us in the sea,  
Thou for deceit, I for credulity.  
I would out ship, as it along had past,  
Our joined bodies on some rock and dashed.  
Or b●eaking Scyll● had devoured us then,  
S●ylla should punish such ungrateful men.  
I wi●h C●arybdi● had then pleased been,  
With his round whirling waves to suck us in.  
But thou in safety art to Thess●ly come,  
Offering th● go'den-●leece which thou hast won,  
Unto the gods. What should I mention  
Pe●ias Daughters, whose intention  
I wronged and made their virgin hand● to kill  
Their aged Father and his blood to spill?  
Though oaths blame me, thou must praise me needs,  
Since from my love of thee my guilt proceeds.  
yet thou hast cast me off now ne re the le●●e,  
O I want words, that may my grief express!  
When thou didst bid me go, I did obey  
Thy cruel doom, and forthwith went away  
With my two Children, forth along went I,  
And love, which always bears me company.  
But when I did of thy late marriage hear,  
Where Hymen's Torches burned bright and clear;  
And that new music, with new marriage ●ongs  
Proclaimed your wedding, and thy unkind wrongs;  
I fear, d, and yet could not the news believe,  
yet a sad coldness to my breast did cleave.  
But when I heard them to Hymen cry,  
The more they cried, more was my misery.  
My servants wept, and yet they hid their tears,  
To bring this sad news to me each one fears.  
And I do wish I had not known it still,  
But yet my mind did prophesy some ill.  
When my young Son, desirous for to see  
Some novelty, as children use to be,  
Standing at the door, did begin to cry,  
Come Mother, see my Father passing by:  
My father jason, who in pomp doth ride  
In's Chariot, with his new married Bride;  
Then I did beat my breast, my clothes I rend,  
To tear my cheeks, my finger's then were bend.  
My mind did urge me to revenge my wrong,  
And thrust myself among the Bridal throng.  
And having snatched thy garland from thy head,  
My arms about thy middle to have spread;  
And took possession of that at that time,  
And to the people cried aloud, He's mine.  
Father rejoice, Colchians now be glad,  
My brother's ghost hath these infernals had,  
For now I am forsaken, left, and crossed,  
My Country, House, and kingdom I have lost:  
Nay, I have ●ost my Husband too, and he  
Was a kingdom of contentment unto me.  
I that both Dragon's, and wild Bulls could tame,  
Yet by one ●●n am conquered again.  
I that could quench hot fire with learned charms,  
Can't quen●● the fire of love which my breast warms  
My charms and Art, and Potions do deceive me  
And Ae●ates witchcrafts: cannot now relieve me.  
Me thinks that I do hate the days for light,  
And sorrow makes me lie awake all night,  
And seldom is my miserable breast  
With any quiet gentle sleep refreshed.  
I made the Dragon ●●st asleep to fall,  
But Art hath on myself no power at all.  
A whore embraces him, whom I preserved▪  
She reaps the fruit of that, which I deserved,  
And perhaps, whilst thou striv●st to please the ear  
O● thy Bride, who thy boasting tales doth here  
With admiration, thou dost then disgrace,  
Either my behaviour, or homely face.  
While out of foolish pride she laughs at me,  
And doth rejoice at my deformity.  
Let her laugh and lie down upon her quilt,  
She shall weep, when she hath my anger felt.  
M●dea will by sword, or poison be  
Revenged on her hated enemy.  
But if ●nto my prayers thou wouldst attend,  
Unto entreaties I would now descend.  
I will a suppliant become to thee  
E●en at thy ●ee●, as thou hast been to me.  
If thou wilt not pity me, for my own sake,  
Yet on my children some compassion take,  
Their stepmother will most unkindly use them,  
Nay, and perhaps most cruelly abuse them.  
For they too much, alas, resemble thee,  
In them thy living picture I can see.  
And since they are of thee a living Type,  
When I behold them, I am weeping ●ipe.  
I entreat thee by the gods and ●●e Sun  
My Uncle, and by that which I have done  
For thy sake, and by my two Children dear,  
Which the pledges of our true affection were;  
Return to my bed, who left all for thee,  
Be constant as thou didst promise to me.  
Against fierce Bulls thy aid I do not seek,  
Or to charm the watchful Dragon fast asleep.  
Thee I desire, whom I deserved have,  
By Children had by thee, thee I do crave.  
If thou desirest a Dowry, I did yield  
A Dowry which was told out in the field,  
Which I did make thee plough, while thou didst stay  
Only to bear the Golden Fleece away.  
My Dowry was the Golden Ram, which had  
This Golden Fleece, and was so richly clad.  
This was my Dowry, and should I ask thee  
To restore it back, thou wouldst deny it me.  
My Dowry was the preserving thyself,  
Can Creon's Daughter bring thee so much wealth?  
That thou dost live and hast another Bride,  
It was my gift, else thou hadst surely died  
And it was I, that gave thee life to be  
Thus thankless, and ungrateful unto me.  
I will revenge— yet what doth it pertain  
Unto revenge, if I my wrath proclaim?  
And tell what punishments on you shall light?  
" The closest anger doth most deadly strike.  
I will follow as my rage doth le●d me on.  
Though I repent the a●t when it is done.  
For I repent that I should e'er preserve  
A man that doth so ill of me deserve.  
The winged God hath seen from the bl●w sky  
My wrongs, my sorrows, and my injury.  
And with a rage he hath inspir d my heart  
To plot, and act e'er long some Tragic part.   

 
The Argument of the thirteenth Epistle.  
PRotesilaus the Son of Iphyclus sailing, as Homer reports with forty ships to Troy, was shut up with the rest of the Grecians, in Aulo a Haven of Boeotia, which when his Wife Laodami●, the Daughter of Acas●us and Laodathea understood, she dearly loving her Husband, and being troubled much with dreams ' w●it this Epistle unto him: and admonished him to remember the Oracle, and abstain from the wars. For the Oracle had given this answer to the Grecians, that h● shoul● peri●h, that first went a ●hore, and set foot upo● th● Trojan ground: B●t courageous Protes●la●i was the ●irst that landed and was slain by Hector.  
LAODAMIA to PROTESILAUS.  
LAodam●a doth to thee send health,  
Wishing that she might come to thee herself.  
I hear that tho● in Aulus art wind-bound,  
Would I had of the winds such favour found,  
To resist thy going hence, and hinder it,  
Then for the Sea to grow rough it was fit.  
Then I had kissed thee oftener, and at large  
Had spoken more and given thee thy charge.  
But when the wind stood fair, thou couldst not stay,  
For it did drive thy swelling sails away.  
Thy Mariners had what they did require,  
It was not I, that did this wind desire.  
The wind that for the Mariners stood fair,  
Stood cross for thee, and I, that lovers were.  
And me from Protesilaus did divide  
while we were both in sweet embraces tied.  
My broken words short of my meaning fell,  
I scarce had time to speak this word, farewell.  
For the North wind thy h●llovv sails did stretch,  
And from me did Protesilaus fetch.  
I looked as long as I thy ship could see,  
And I did send a long look after thee.  
When thou wert out of sight, yet I could see  
Thy ship, and to behold it pleased me:  
But when both thee, and thy swift sailing ship,  
Out of my sight did both together slip.  
A sudden darkness in my eyes I found,  
And presently I fell down in a swound.  
So that my mother and old Acastus too,  
Although much diligence they both did show,  
Could ●etch me back to life, although at last,  
Cold water they into my ●ace did cast.  
Their needless love was thus expressed, but I  
Am sorry that they did not let me die:  
For when my senses did return again,  
My love returned too with a new flame;  
And chaste affection could not spare my breast;  
‛ Those who do love, must never hope to rest.  
Now I took no delight to dress my hair,  
Nor to wear rich apparel took I care.  
And as those women Bacchus hath inspired  
With a touch of his Viny staff, and fired  
Their bosoms, that they run now here, now there;  
Such did I in my furious rage appear,  
The talkin wives of Phylace did come  
To comfort me, and thus their speech begun.  
L●od●●ia courage take, put on  
Such royal robes as may your birth become.  
Alas! shall I in purple robes delight,  
While that my Husband at Troy's wall doth fight▪  
Shall I my hair in curious manner dreese,  
While a weighty Helmet doth his hair press?  
Shall I in new apparel gay appear,  
While my Lord doth a Coat of Armour wear?  
While thou art at the wars, like one forlorn  
In careless habit I at home will mourn  
O Paris, thou that wast born to destroy  
With thy fresh beauty the old City Troy▪  
As thou wert a wanton guest, mayst thou be  
A coward, and a milk sop enemy.  
Would Helena had not unto thee seemed  
So fair, nor she thy beauty so esteemed.  
O Menelaus, thou with earnest strife  
Dost labour to regain again thy wife.  
Woe's me, I fear thy sad revenge will make  
Many eyes weep, and many ●earts to ache.  
The gods from all ill fortune us defend,  
That my returning Husband may commend  
His arms to Iu●i●u●: but when I muse  
Or think upon the wa●s, I cannot choose  
But weep, and down my cheeks the tears do run,  
Like snow when it is melted by the Sun.  
When of Iliu● or Te●●●o; I hear,  
Those names do put me in a sudden fear.  
When of Si●●ois and Xanthus I have heard.  
Or Id●, these strange names makes me afeard▪  
Nor had Paris stole Helen, if at length  
He meant to resign her, he knew his strength,  
For she did come in royal robes of Gold,  
Adorned with Jewels, glorious to behold.  
And with a warlike ●●e●t to Troy she came,  
The Trojans showed their great strength by her train.  
And as Hele● was f●tched by this Fleet,  
So I fear it should with the Grecians meet.  
There is one Hect●r of whom I do hear,  
A valiant man, and him I greatly fear.  
For Paris said that He●●o● should affright  
the Grecians, and begin the bloody fight.  
If I be she whom thou dost love most dear,  
Take heed of Hector, him I only fear.  
His name doth fill my thought with much unrest,  
And is engraved upon my troubled breast.  
And as thou shunnest hi●, so also eat  
Others, for many H●●●o●s thither come.  
And as oft as thou dost prepare to fight,  
Say to thyself the●● words which I do write:  
Laodamia charge, d me care to take,  
And keep my self from danger for her sake.  
If the Grecians raze T●o● unto the ground,  
May'st thou come from the siege with ne'er a wound.  
Let Menelaus with the Trojans fight,  
And take from Paris Helena, his right.  
And when he chargeth on the enemy,  
Let his good cause give him the victory  
It behoved Menelaus with stout blows  
To fetch his wife f●om the insulting foes;  
But thy case unto his is far unlike,  
And therefore I do wish thee so to fight,  
That when the wars are done thou mayst return,  
And in my loving bosom lie full warm.  
You Troyans' I entreat you to spare one  
Of all those enemies against you come;  
For every drop of b'ood that doth proceed  
From his veins, from my veins doth also bleed.  
Protesilaus no strong blows can strike  
With his dra●n sword, nor stand the Push of Pike;  
Let Menelaus fight whom rage doth move,  
Let others fight, set Protesilaus love.  
For I must needs confess I had a mind  
To have called him back, but no strength could find,  
For my tongue stopped, before the words were spoken,  
And my speech broke off, which was but a bad token.  
And at the threshold of thy father's gate  
Thy foot did stumble, and did trip thereat,  
Which hath been always counted for a sign,  
Whereby we may of some ill luck divine.  
Which when I did behold I was afraid,  
And thus unto myself in secret said:  
I hope the stumbling of his foo● shall be,  
A sign, my Husband shall return to me.  
These things unto thee I do now relate,  
That I thy courage may thereby abate.  
And I do wish, that I at last may find,  
The fears are vain, which now molest my mind.  
Besides the Oracles say, he who shall  
Land first upon the Trojan ground, shall fall  
First by the sword unhappy sure is she,  
That by the wars shall the first widow be.  
Heaven defend thee, that thou may'st not show  
Thy valour, lest thy valour I do rue.  
Let thy ship be the last to shore doth stand,  
Let thy ship be the last doth come to land.  
Of all that goes on shore be thou the last,  
Unto thy Father's land thou dost not haste.  
But when thou comest back, then do not fail  
To use thy Oats, and clap on all thy sail.  
Then make thou hast to come out of thy ship,  
And on the welcome shore most nimbly skip.  
When Phoebus lieth hid or s●ines most bright,  
I think upon thee both by day and night.  
yet more on thee by night than day, for night  
Is the sweet time, that yieldeth Mai●s delight.  
For than they lie within their Sweethearts arm,  
Who with their close embraces keep them warm;  
While in my widow's bed I lie at pleasure,  
Wanting true joy, I think on former leisure  
And then a dream doth yield me some delight,  
Sometimes again my dreams do me affright.  
Methinks I see thee with a visage pale.  
Telling to me a sad and mournful tale.  
Then waking out of my black dream, I rise,  
And ●or thy safety offer sacrisice  
With Frankincense, which I with tears bedew,  
So that in burning, it doth brighter sh●w.  
As when we pour oil to a dying flame,  
It doth begin to rise, and blaze again.  
O when will that most happy season come?  
That I shall embrace thee at coming home,  
With such a sweet excess of joy, till I  
Languish with pleasure, and embracing die.  
When wilt thou tell me, when we are a bed,  
How ma●y thou in war hast conquered?  
And in the midst of thy sweet story leave,  
To kiss me, and a kiss from me receive;  
While that a kiss is the full point to stay  
Thy speech, refreshed by this sweet delay.  
But when I think of Troy, the seas and wind,  
Then fear doth drive all hope out of my mind.  
And I do fear, because thy ships are s●ag'd  
By winds, as if to slay thee they assayed  
Who will sail with cross wind to his own land?  
Tho● from thy Country sailest, when winds withstand.  
N●ptune will not permit you ●or to come  
Unto his ●ity, and therefore come home.  
Spare going (Grecians) the winds do ●orbid,  
And some divine power in the wind is hid,  
By these wars you seek only to regain  
An adulteress, O tu●n your ships again.  
But why should I recall thee back thus now  
Let calm winds smooth again the Seas rough brow  
I envy now the Trojan Dames, who shall  
With grief behold their husband's funeral.  
On her husband's head the new married Bride  
Shall put a Helmet, and when she hath tied  
His arn our close unto him, and doth mak●  
Him ready, she a kiss from him shall take:  
Such dutiful employment is a bliss,  
Her service is rewarded with a kiss.  
And being armed completely, then at large  
She may give to him a most loving charge:  
Charging him as he tendereth her love,  
To return, and offer his arms to jove.  
And he obeying her command will be  
Careful to fight abroad more warily.  
And when he cometh home, she will unlace  
His ●elmet, and him in her arms embrace.  
To me in absence, fear doth sorrow bring,  
And I conceive t●e worst of every thing.  
yet while that thou unto the wars art gone,  
I have thy Picture made in wax at home.  
And fond unto it I often talk,  
And do embrace it, as by it I walk.  
Thy shape in it so lively doth appear,  
Could it speak, it Prot●silaus were.  
On it I look, and often it behold,  
And for thy sake do in my arms enfold;  
And to ●hy Picture often I complain,  
As if thy Picture could reply again.  
By ●hee in whom my Soul alone delights,  
By our tr●e love, and equal marriage rites  
And by thy life which I do wish you may  
B●ing back, although t●y ●air be turned grey?  
I vow if thou pleasest to send to me,  
I will obey, and strait way come to thee,  
For whether thou do●● chance to live or die,  
In life or death j●le bear thee company.  
Of my Letter this shall the conclusion be,  
Take care o● thy se●f if t●ou carest for me.   

 
The Argument of the fourteenth Epistle.  
Danaus' the Son of Belus, had by several Wives fifty Daughters unto whom his brother Aegyptus desired to marry his fifty Sons, but Danus having been informed by the Oraclé, that he should die by the hands of a Son in Law, to avoid that ' danger he takes ship, and sails to Argos, Aegyptus being angry because he had despised his offer, sent his Sons with an Army to besiege him charging them not to return until they had slain Danaus, or married his Daughters. He enforced by siege yieldeth up his Daughters, where with the Sword which their father had given them, according tr his command, at night when the young men warmed with wine and jollity were fallen fast asleep, every one killed her husband, except Hyper●●éstra only, who out of Compassion spread and preserved her husband Linus, whom Eusebius called Lynceus advising him to return to his father Aegyptus and discovered the conspiracy. ●ut her Father Danaus perceiving that all his Daughters had executed his will with bloody obedience, excepting Hyper●nestra, he commanded her to be kept in Prison. Whereupon in this Epistle she entreats her Uncle and Husband Linus, whom she had preferred, either to help her, and free her from her Captivity or 〈◊〉 she die to see her honourably buried. But at last Linus killed D●nus: and set her at liberty.  
HYPERMNESTRA to LINUS.  
Hypermnestra sends to thee who dost remain  
Of many brothers by their own Wives slain.  
I fo● thy sake am in close prison penned,  
And for saving thee do endure punishment.  
I am guilty because I did spare thy blood,  
" A prosperous wickedness is counted good,  
yet I repent not, since that I had rather  
Keep my father from blood, than please my father.  
Though my father in that sacred fire may,  
Burn me, which we touched on our wedding day,  
Or with tho'e Torches he may burn my face,  
Wh'ch on our wedding-day did brightly blaze.  
Or although he do kill me with that sword,  
Because to kill thee I could not afford.  
He shall not make me say, that I repent  
Of a good work, it is not my intent  
I am grieved for my sister's cruel fact,  
" For sad repentance follows a bad act.  
The sad remembrance of that bloody night,  
Makes my heart and hand tremble while I write.  
My husband could not by my hand have died  
Which shakes, while I this murder would describe,  
yet I will try, it was about twilight,  
Which endeth day, and doth begin the night,  
When as we fifty sisters were brought all,  
With royal s●ate into the Cast●e hall.  
Whereas Egyptus, without dread or fear,  
Received us for his Daughters who arrived were.  
The flaming Tapers shined like stars in Heaven,  
And sweet incense unto the fire was given.  
The common people did on Hymen cry,  
But from this ●ata●l marriage he did fly,  
And juno did from her own City run,  
Fair Argos that she might this wedding shun,  
And now the young men's drunken heads were bound  
About with flowers, and with Garlands crowned.  
The Bridemen with great joy, dreading no danger,  
Did bring them to their fatal Bridal chamber,  
And laid their heavy bodies on the bed,  
On which they were like funeral hearses spread  
They being now with wine and sleep oppressed,  
And all the City quiet and at rest,  
Me thought the groans of dying men I heard,  
And so it was whereat I grew afeard  
So that my warm blood and my colour fled,  
And left my body cold upon the bed,  
As soft and gentle western wines do make  
The Corn to move and Aspi●e leaves to shake  
So I trembled, while thou laidst at that time  
Entranced with drinking sleep-pro●uring wine.  
Thinking to obey my father's sad command  
I sat up, and took the sword in my hand;  
The truth I speak, three times I raised the sword  
To strike, and yet ●o strike my hand abhorred  
My fat●e●s command did my courage whet;  
So that his sword, unto thy throat I set,  
But fear and love would ●ot let me proceed,  
My chaste hand would not act that tragic deed  
Then oft my hair I tore the flaxen wealth,  
And softly thus did reason with thy sel●e:  
Hyperma●stra, thou hast a cruel father,  
Therefore obey his commands the rather,  
Take courage, and obey thy father's will,  
And boldly with the rest thy Husband kill.  
yet since I am a young maid, my hands be  
Unfit to act a bloody Tragedy.  
yet imitate thy sisters now again:  
Who have by this time a l●t●eir husbands slain:  
yet i● this ● and a murder could commit,  
To slain it with my own blood it were fit.  
D● they deserve death, because they possess  
Our father's ki●gdo●? which yet nevertheless,  
Some strangers might from him away have carried,  
As dowries given them wh●n we were married.  
Though they deserve death, what shall we do less,  
If we commit this deed of wickedness?  
Maids do not love a sword, or kil●ing tool,  
My fingers fitter are to spin soft wool,  
Having thus complained, my tears began to ri●e.  
And dr●pped on thy body from my eyes.  
And while thy arms abo●● me thou didst out,  
Thy hand though with the sword hadst almost put.  
And left my father should surprise and take thee,  
With these words I did suddenly awake thee.  
Rise L●nus who dost now alone survive,  
Of all thy brethren none are left a●ive:  
Make haste, I say, be●ake thyself to flight,  
Make haste, or else thou wilt be slain to night,  
Awaked f●om sleep, thou didst amazed stand,  
To see the glittering sword shine in my hand;  
And I did wish thee for to fly away  
By night and save thyself, while I did stay.  
In the morning when danaus came to view  
His sons, which his most bloody daughters slew  
He saw them laid in deaths eternal slumber,  
Yet one was wanting to make up the number:  
And angry, that so little blood was spilled,  
Because I my Husband had not killed;  
My father without any love or care,  
Dragged me along even by my flaxen hair.  
And strait way did command I should be cast  
Into prison, this was my reward at last.  
For juno still on us doth bend her brow,  
Since juno still on us doth bend her brow,  
Since I● was transformed into a Cow.  
yet punishment enough by her was born,  
When juno did her to a Cow transform.  
When she that was so fair could not in height  
Of pleasure yield great jupiter delight,  
On the bank of the River Inachus now,  
She stood, clothed in the shape of a white Cow.  
While in her father's stream both clear and cold,  
The shadow of her horns she did behold;  
And lowed aloud, when she to speak assayed.  
Her shape and voice did make her both a●raid  
Why dost thou fly from thy own self alas,  
Or admire thy shape in that watery glass?  
Thus she that was great jupiters' chief Lasfe,  
Is enforced to feed on dry leaves and grass.  
Thou drinkest spring-water, and art in amaze  
When on thy shadow tho● dost look and gaze.  
And of those spreading horns which thou dost bear  
Upon thy head, thou seem'st to stand in fear  
And she whose beauty jupiter did wound,  
Now lieth every night on the bare ground,  
O'er hills and rivers thou abroad dost stray,  
O'er seas and countries thou dost find thy way.  
And yet O Io thou canst not escape,  
Or changing places, change thy outward shape.  
Thyself doth always bear thee company;  
Where Nilus seven streams to the sea run,  
There she unto her former shape did come  
But why should I such ancient tales relate;  
I have cause to complain of my own fate.  
My Father and my Uncle do wage war,  
And we out of our kingdom banished are;  
And he our royal Sceptre now doth sway,  
While miserable we like pilgrims stray:  
Of fifty brethren thou alone art left,  
For their deaths, and my sisters I have wept.  
My sisters and my brothers both slain were,  
For whose sakes, I can't choose but shed a tear.  
And because thou in safety dost survive  
To be tormented I am kept alive.  
What punishment shall they expect that be  
Guilty; when they for goodness condemn me  
And I must die, because I would not spill  
My brother's blood, and cruelly him kill.  
If therefore thou respectest me thy wife.  
Or lovest me, because I saved thy life;  
Help me, or if I die, I thee desire,  
To lay my body on the funeral fire.  
Embalm my boness with thy moist tears, aed then  
S●e that thou carefully do bury them.  
And let this Epitaph be engraved on  
My Sepulchre, or on my Marblestone,  
" Hype●●uestra here underneath doth lie,  
" That was ill rewarded for her piety.  
" For she most like unto a faithful wife,  
" Did lose her own to save her husband's life.  
My trembling hand is tired with the weight  
Of Chains, or else I would more largely write.   

 
The Argument of the fifteenth Epistle.  
Parish, otherwise called Alexander, sailing to Lacedaemon to fetch Helena, which Venus had promised him, was honourably received by Menelaus, but Menelaus' and Menos kindred going to Greece, to divide Acreus his wealth, left Paris at home, charging his wife to use him with as much respect as himself. But Paris improving the opportunity, began to woo and court Holena to gain her love. In this Epistle he artificially discovers his affection, and with amorous boasting iudeavours to insinuate into her affection. And because he knew that women love to hear their birth and beauty praised, Paris endeavours by flattery to gain her favour, urging her praises, and striving to disgrace her husband. And at last persuades her to go with him to Troy where he would keep her by force.  
PARISH to HELENA.  
Parish sweet Helen, wisheth health to thee,  
That health which you can only give to me.  
Shall I speak, or need no: I my flame reveal?  
you know I love you, nor can I conceal  
My love which I could wish might hidden be,  
Till time did give the opportunity,  
Without all fear most freely to discover,  
Myself to be your faithful constant Lover.  
But yet who can the fire of love conceal?  
Which by its own light doth itself reveal.  
yet if thou look'st that I my grief should name,  
Then know I love thee, these lines show my flame.  
And I entreat you to have pity on me,  
Because my present sufferings proceed from thee.  
With a frowning countenance read not the rest,  
But such as may become thy beauty best.  
Thy receipt of thy Letters joyeth me,  
And cherish hope that I at last shall be  
Received into thy favour which I wish,  
That Venus may her promise keep in this.  
For Love's fair Mother first persuaded me,  
To take this journey, in hope to gain thee;  
And lest thou shouldst through ignorance offend,  
By divine appointment I came to this end.  
Venus' persuaded me to undertake  
This journey, which she would propitious make.  
For since that Venus promised me, that you  
Should be my wife, I challenge it as due.  
For her persuasions made me to take ship  
From Troy, and unto Lacedaemon ship.  
And she did make the wind most fair to stand,  
She that's sprung from the se● might it command  
And as she smoothed the sea, and ca'med the wind,  
So may she make thy breast most soft and kind.  
I did not find love here, I brought t●e flame,  
With me, and to obtain thy love I came.  
By wand'ring storms I was not hither drove  
My ship was guided hither by true love.  
Nor came I hither like a merchant man,  
I have wealth enough, the gods it maintain.  
Nor yet the Grecian Cities here to view,  
For richer in my kingdom I can show.  
'Tis thee I ask, 'Tis thee I only crave,  
Whom Venus promised me that I should have.  
I asked thee of her when I did not know the,  
She promised that she would on me bestow thee,  
For of thy beauty I had heard by fame,  
Before mine eye had e'er beheld the same.  
yet 'tis no wonder, if that Cup●●s Bow,  
With feathered arrows makes me cry Amorett:  
Since by unchanged fates it's so ordained,  
Then do not thou their hidden will withstand.  
And that you may believe it is my fate,  
Receive the truth, which I will here relate.  
When that my mother was with child,  
And daily did expect delivery,  
She dreamt, for in her dream it so did seem,  
That of a fire brand she had delivered been.  
She rises, and to P●●am doth unfold  
Her dream, which he unto his Prophets told.  
Who strait foretold that Paris should destroy,  
And like a kindled brand set fire on Troy.  
But I do think they rather might divine,  
That brand did signify this love of mi●e.  
And though I like a Shepherd's son was bred,  
My shape▪ and spirit soon discovered  
That I had not been born the son of e'arth,  
But that I claimed Nobility by birth.  
In the Troy valleys there's a place,  
Which many trees with a co●d shade do grace.  
Wherein no Sheep do feed nor any Ox.  
Nor Goats, that love to climb upon high Rocks.  
Here looking towards Troy, and to the Sea,  
I stood and leaned myself against a tree.  
The truth I tell, me thought the earth than shook,  
As if oppressed with some heavy foot,  
And presently swift Mercury from the skies,  
Descended down and stood before mine eyes,  
And therefore what I saw I may unfold,  
The God had in his hand a rod of Gold.  
And three goddesses, Venu●, juno, Pallas,  
Did set their tender feet udon the grass  
Th●n cold amazement stiffened my long hair,  
But winged Mercury bid me not to fear.  
" Thou art, says he, c●osen to judge and end  
" The matter, 'twixt these goddesses, who contend  
" About their beauty, say they, which▪ shall be  
" Accounted the most beautiful of three  
This message I from Iupite● do bring,  
Which having said, he from the earth did spring,  
And through the air did a quick passage make,  
And by his words I did more courrge take.  
So that my mind more fortified grew,  
And dreadless I each one of them did view,  
Who unto me so beautiful did appear,  
I could not judge which of them fairest were,  
yet one of them my fancy did approve,  
Her beauty showed she was the Queen of Love,  
But they contending which should fa●●est be,  
Did all with most ●ich gifts solicit me.  
juno did fairly promise I should be,  
A mighty Monarch, P●●los promised me  
Learning so that a doubt did now arise,  
Whether I would choose to be ghea or wise.  
But Venus smiling then, Paris, says she,  
Those gifts of theirs but glorious trouble's be  
I'll give thee Helena thou shalt hereafter  
In thy arms embrace Le●●● fair daughter.  
Thus both her gift, and beauty conquered me,  
So that to her I gave the victory.  
And afterward my fate so kind was grown,  
That now to be the King's son I was known,  
At my instalment all the Courts did joy,  
Kept in a yearly festival in Troy  
And as I loved I was beloved of many,  
But for thy sake I would not match with any.  
Kings and ●ukes daughters did of me approve,  
And fairest Nymphs with me did fall in love,  
yet all of them were but despised of me,  
After I had this hope of marrying thee.  
Day and n●ght in my mind I thee did keep,  
And thinking on thee I should fall asl●ep  
How comely would thy presence sure have been  
Whose beauty wounded me a though unseen;  
I was inflamed with a strange desire,  
Burning when I was absent from the fire.  
My hopes I could no longer now contain,  
But to sea put forth, my wish to obtain;  
And now the losty Phrygian Pines I felled,  
And ●●ees for building ships most fitting held.  
The 〈◊〉 of Garga●u●, and Ida did yield,  
Gre●● 〈◊〉 of trees, wherewith I ships did build.  
I bu●lt ●heir decks, and lined the ships side  
With planks of Oak, which might a storm abide;  
And did rig, and tackle them beside.  
With ropes, and sails which to the yards were tied,  
And I did set on the stern of the ship,  
The Image of those Gods which did it keep,  
And on my own ship I did make them paint  
Venus and Cupid tha● it might not want  
Her safe protection, who had promised me,  
By her assistance I should marry thee.  
Soon as my fleet was builded thus and framed,  
To sea I presently resolved to stand  
My father and Mother, when I did require  
Their leave to go, would not gran my desire,  
Or licence me, and therefore to have stayed  
My intended journey, both of them astaied.  
My Sister Cassan●ra with loosened hair,  
When as my Ships even weighing anchor were,  
Said, whither goest thou; thou shalt bring again,  
By crossing the seas, a destroying flame  
The truth she said; for I have found a fire,  
Love hath inflamed my soft breast with desire,  
A fair wind from the Port my sails did drive,  
And I in Helena Country did arrive,  
Where thy Husband did me much kindness show:  
And sure the gods decreed it should be so.  
He showed me all that worthy was of sight  
In Lacedaemon to breed me delight.  
But there was nothing that my fancy took,  
But only thee and thy sweet beauteous ●ook:  
For when I saw thee I was even amazed.  
My heart was wounded while on thee I gazed,  
For I remember Venus was like thee,  
When she would have her beauty judged by me.  
And if thou hadst contended with her, I  
Had surely given thee the victory.  
For the report of thee ●abroad was blown,  
Thy beauty was in every Country known.  
For through all Nations where the Sun doth rise,  
Thy beauty only bear away the prize.  
Believe me, fame did not report so much  
As thou deserv●st, thy beauty seemeth such,  
That T●es●s did not thy love disdain,  
And to steal thee away did think't no shame?  
When suiting to the Lacedaemonian fashion,  
Thou didst sport with the young men of thy Nation,  
In stealing thee I like his just desire,  
But ●ow he could restore thee I admire.  
For such a beauteous prey had sure deserved,  
To have been kept and constantly preserved.  
For before thou shouldst been took from my bed.  
Before I would lose thee, I would lose my head.  
●las, could I have ceer so forgone thee.  
O while I liv●d have let thee been took f●om me?  
Yet if I must restore thee needs at last,  
I would have ye● presumed to touch, and ●ast  
The gold●n apples of thy Virgin tree?  
And n●t send thee back with Virginity,  
Or if that I had spared thy Virgin treasures  
I would have ●i●ed some other pleasures.  
Then g●ant thy love to Paris, who will be,  
While I live most constant unto thee.  
I will be constant to your own desire,  
My love and life shall both at once expire.  
Before great kingdoms I preserved thee,  
Which royal juno promised unto me.  
And learning, Pallas gift, I did refuse,  
And to enjoy thy sweet self I did choose.  
When Lun●, Venus, and fair Pa●la● too,  
Their naked bodies unto me did show;  
And in the Idean valleys did not grudge,  
In case of beauty to make me their Judge,  
yet I do not repent of my election,  
My mind is constant to my first affection.  
I beseech thee let not my hope prove vain,  
Who spared no labour in hope thee to gain.  
Beneath yourself you need not to decline,  
your birth is noble, so is also mine,  
So that if we do match, you cannot fail  
Beneath your birth, or be disgraced at all.  
For if you search into my pedigree,  
jove and Al●ctra are of kin to me,  
And my father Priam doth the Sceptre sway,  
Of the great'st kingdom in all Asia  
Many Cities and sait Houses thou shall see,  
And Temples suiting ●he gods Majesty.  
Thou shalt ●ee Troy, with Towers encompassed round,  
Whose walls Ap●llo Harp at first did found.  
Besides there are such store of people there,  
The Land the people cannot hardly bear,  
Great troops of Trojans Matrons thou shalt meet  
And store of Trojan wives in every street.  
The poverty of Grease thou wilt then pity,  
When thou seest one house as rich as a City.  
yet Sp●●ta I cannot contemn with scorn,  
Because thou in that happy Land wert born.  
But S●a●ta is poor, and cannot afford thee  
Dress, which with thy beauty may agree.  
That face of thine ought not to be content  
With some common, but a curious ornament,  
And it is fit, thou shouldst the old lay by,  
And every day wear some fresh rarity.  
When the habit of the Trojans you do see,  
You may think women's habits richer be.  
Then Hele-grant me love not disdain,  
A Trojan, who thy favour would obtain,  
He was a Trojan from our blood descended,  
Who with this Heavenly office was befriended.  
To fill I●ve Cup, and with water allay  
The strength of his Nectar and Ambrosia.  
A Trojan in Aurora took delight,  
Who doth begin the day, conclude the night  
Anc●i●es was descended to from Troy,  
Whom the Queen of Love desired to enjoy,  
And did descend in the Id●an Valley,  
In amorous ways to sport with him and dally  
I am a trojan too, and if in truth,  
You should compare my beauty and my youth  
With Menelaus; I suppose that he,  
S●ould not in your choice be preserved to me,  
By ma●ching with me, thou shalt not be kin  
To such as bloody At●●us hath been,  
Who with the flesh of men his Horses fed,  
From which sight the Sun's frighted Horses fled.  
My Grandfather did not his Brother kill,  
As M●nelaus Grandfather, who did spill  
Myrti●●s blood, who being murdered so,  
He into the Myrtoan-sea did throw.  
Nor yet our great Grandfather catcheth a●ter,  
(Like unto Tantalus in the Stygian water)  
Apples and water, which are both so nigh  
His ●ips, and yet from his touched lips do fly,  
yet if from them thou hast descended been,  
jove would me wish to be to thee a kin.  
yet unworthy Menelaus takes delight  
In thee, and doth enjoy thee every night:  
I scarcely can behold thee at the Table,  
And there to look on thee I am not a●le:  
For at that very time I observe and find  
Many things, that do much offend my mind.  
For when the banquet is brought in then I  
Do wish my room unto my enemy.  
For it doth grieve me when I do behold,  
How with his arms he doth thy neck enfold.  
And I could blush, when he before my face  
Doth thy small waist so clownishly embrace.  
And it did break my hear● when I did see,  
How he would cast his furred gown over thee.  
And when that he would give thee kisses soft,  
I put the cup before my eyes full oft.  
His close embraces I did never brook,  
For I beheld them with a dwon cast look.  
My meat, as if within thy mouth it grew,  
I most unwillingly did seem to chew.  
And I sighed often which when thou didst see,  
Thou oftentimes wouldst smile, and laugh at me.  
Then I would strive to quench my flame with wine,  
But love through drunkenness most clear doth shine.  
When I looked away, lest I more should see,  
Thy beauty made me look again on thee.  
It grieved me to look on my disgrace,  
But greiv●d me more not to look on thy face;  
And I d●● strive my passion for to hide,  
But oh, dissembled love is soon spied.  
I do not flatter thee, thou do●st perceive  
That I did love thee, nor could I deceive:  
Thou discern'st my love, which I wish may be  
Known to thyself alone, and none but thee.  
When tears did spring, I turned away my head,  
Lest Men●laus should ask why I them shed.  
How o●t have I told feigned tales of love?  
Hoping I might thereby your favour move,  
Under a feigned name hoping to move you,  
But it was I indeed did truly love you.  
And that I might my mind more freely speak,  
A wanton drunkenness I would counterfeit  
I remember once thy bosom open lay,  
And to my view thy white breasts did betray;  
Thy fair breasts which were far more white in show,  
Than purest milk, or the new fallen Snow;  
Or whiter than that Swans fair downy feather,  
When jupiter and Leda lay together.  
When I beheld them, I was so amazed,  
My Ring fell from my finger as I gazed.  
When thou kissed'st thy Daughter, I Would not miss  
To take thy kiss off With another kiss.  
And sometimes I some ancient song Would sing,  
Of those that heretofore had Lovers been.  
Sometimes by secret signs my love was shown,  
And by a nod or wink I made it known.  
Then to Clynihino and Eth●a I did show.  
My grief, and both of them began to woo.  
Thy waiting maids who when I had begun  
They both did leave me before I had done.  
And I do wish the gods had been so bend,  
To have made thee prize of a Tournament.  
That he that got the victory might bear thee  
Out of the field, and he that won thee wear thee▪  
As Hippom●nes fair Atalanta won.  
Who all her former suitors had outrun.  
Thou in the Phrygian Cities shalt be seen,  
Like Hippodamia brought in like a Queen  
By Pelops, and as stout A●cides brake  
Achelous' horns for Deianira's sake;  
So by some valiant adventure, I  
Would win thee by some act of rivalry.  
But now I can but beg of thy sweet beauty,  
And at thy feet prostrate myself in duty.  
O thou that art thy brother's only glory,  
To whom even J●ve himself could not be sorry  
To be a husband, if so be yond were  
Not by birth descended from Jupiter.  
Either I will return to Troy with thee,  
Or here in thy Laconia buried be.  
Love's arrow hath so wounded my soft breast,  
That it unto the very bone hath peireed.  
My sister truly prophesied of me,  
That with loves ar●ow I should wounded be.  
Then since (sweet H●l●●) 'tis ordained by fate,  
That I should love thee, pity my estate  
Do not contemn my love, but my ●u●t hear,  
So may the gods attend unto thy prayer.  
If thou wilt let me lie with thee to night,  
More I could say that should breed thy delight.  
To wrong thy husband so, art thou ashamed;  
Or that thy marriage bed should be so stained?  
O Helen; thou a country conscience hast;  
" Dost thou imagine to be fair and chaste?  
Either change thy beauty o● more loving be,  
" For beauty is a foe to Chastity.  
Venus doth love Love's ●●ol en fruit to gather.  
And Jupiter escapes did make him t●y father.  
Then how canst thou be chaste, if thou take after  
Jupiter and Leda? Thou art they daughter.  
May'st thou be ch●st when thou to Troy art brought,  
And for thy rape may I be held in fault.  
Let's not offend, and after mend our life,  
When as Venus promised, thou art my wife.  
Besides, thy husband's actions do commend  
The same to thee, who that he might befriend  
His guest, absents himself, to give us leisure,  
And opportunity to enjoy pleasure.  
To go to Created he thought it time most fit,  
O he's a Man of a honourable wit;  
Which at his departure was well expressed,  
When he bid thee use well his Trojan guest.  
Thy absent husbands will thou dost neglect,  
Thou tak'st no care of me, nor me affect,  
Being so senseless, thinkest thou that he  
Can prise thy beauty or else value thee?  
He cannot, for if he had known the danger;  
He had not bid thee be kind to a stranger.  
Although my words nor love cannot move thee  
Let us improve this opportunity.  
Then thy husband ourselves shall show more folly,  
If we lose time through bashful melancholy;  
To be thy paramour he offered me,  
Make use then of his weak simplicity.  
For thou dost lie alone, and so do I,  
'twere better if we did together lie.  
Let us enjoy ourselves, for I do say,  
" Midnights sport yields more pleasure than the day,  
Then thou shalt have fair promises of me,  
And I will bind myself to marry thee.  
For I do vow, if that thou canst believe me,  
For one night's lodging i●le a Kingdom give thee:  
And if thou can●st but so belei●ing be,  
Unto my Kingdom thou shalt go with me.  
That thou followed'st me it shall not be thought,  
For I alone will bear the blame, and fault.  
As Thes●us did, my actions shall be such,  
And his example may thee nearly touch.  
For Theseus did carry thee away,  
Castor and Pollux so did also stray.  
And I will be the fourth my love's as ample  
To thee, and I will follow their example.  
My Trojan Fleet for thee doth ready stay,  
And when you please, we soon may sail away.  
Thou in Troy City shalt live as a Queen,  
Adored as if thou hadst some goddess been.  
And wheresoever thou dost please to be,  
The people shall offer sacrifice to thee.  
Thy kindred, and the Trojans shall present  
Gifts unto thee, with humble compliment.  
I cannot here describe thy happiness,  
Far above that my Letter doth express.  
Let not the fear of Wars thy thoughts amaze,  
Or that all Greece will strait great forces raise  
To fetch thee back; who have they fetched again?  
Believe me, those fears are but fond, and vain.  
The Thracians Orythia took away,  
Yet no wars after troub'ed Thracia.  
I●son from Colchos brought away Medea,  
And yet no wars did waste Thessalia.  
Phaedra and Ariadne stolen were  
By Theseus, yet Minos made no war.  
" Dangers may seem far greater than they are,  
" And fear may be without all ground of fear.  
Suppose too (if you please) wars should ensue,  
yet I by force their forces could subdue.  
My Country can to yours yield equal forces,  
For it hath store of men and store of horses.  
Nor can your husband Menela● show  
More valiant courage, than Paris can do.  
For when I was but a young stripling, I  
Did rescue our flocks from the Enemy;  
Who did intend to drive away them al●,  
Whereon they did me Alexander call.  
And of Ilio●eus, and Deiphobus I,  
When I was young did get the victory.  
And as in single combat I played my part,  
So with my bow I could hit any mark.  
And I know M●n●lau was not su●h  
A forward youth, nor could he do so much.  
Besides, Hect●r's my Brother, who may stand  
In account of Soldiers, for a whole band  
My strength, and forces are unknown to thee,  
Nor knowest thou what a husband I shall be.  
And therefore, either no wars shall ensue,  
Or Trojan forces shall the Greek● subdue.  
Yet I could be content ●or such a wife  
" To fight: there's credit in a noble strife.  
Besides if all the world should fight for thee,  
Thou shalt be famous to posterity:  
Sweet Hele● then consent to go with me,  
what I have promised shall performed be.   

 
The Argument of the sixteenth Epistle.  
HElena having read Paris his Epistle; in her answer seems at first offended, and chides him, and for modesty's sake objects against his persuasions, proving them idle, but so that she rather gives, then takes away encouragement from him to proceed in his suit, thereby showing a woman's crafty wit, according to that of Ovid, in his Art of Love:  

〈…〉 tri●tis,  
Quaeque rogat, ne se sollicitare velis,  
Quod rogat illatimet! quod non rogat optat ut i●stes,  
In sequere, etc.   

At first pehaps her Letter will be sour,  
And on thy hop●s her paper seem to lower;  
In which she will conjure thee to be mute,  
And charge thee to forbear thy hated suit.  
Tush, what she most forwarnes, she most desires,  
In frosty woods are hid the hottest fires.   
At last she seems to consent to Paris desire, advising him as a more safe and honest course, not to write his desire, but impart his mind to her waiting-maids Clymene and Athra, he dealing with them, so far prevailed, that he brought both Helena and them to Troy.  
HELENA'S Answer to PARIS.  
SInce thy wanton ●etter did my eyes infect  
When I did read it, why should I neglect  
To answer it? Since to answer it can be  
No breach of chastity at all in me.  
What b●ldnesse was it in thee, thus to break  
All Laws of hospitatlity and to speak  
Thus by your Letter thereby for to move  
My affection and solicit me for love.  
Didst thou on purpose sail into our Port?  
That thou mightst woo me, and with fair words court,  
And had not we power to avoid this danger?  
And shut our Palace ga●e against a stranger?  
Who dost requite our love with injury?  
Didst thou come as a gue●●, or enemy?  
I know my just complaint will seem to thee,  
To proceed from rudeness, and rusticity,  
Let me seem rude, so I preserve my ●ame,  
And keep my honour free from spot or slain.  
Although my countenance be not sad or sour,  
Though with bend brows I do not sit and lower:  
yet I have kept my clear fame without spot,  
No man hath in my Tables found a blot.  
So that I wonder whence thy encouragement  
Proceedeth, that thou shouldest my love attempt:  
Because once Theseus stole me as a prey,  
Shall I the Second time be stolen away?  
It had been my fault had I given consent,  
But being stolen against my will I went.  
And yet he gathered not my Virgin slower,  
He used no violence, though I was in his power:  
Some kisses only he did striving gain,  
But no more kindness could from me obtain.  
Such is thy wantonness, thou wouldst not be  
Like him content alone with kissing me.  
He brought me back untouched, his modesty  
Seemed to excuse his former injury;  
And plainly it appeared, that the young man  
For stealing me grew penitent again.  
But Paris comes when Theseus is fallen off,  
That Helen may be still the world's scoff.  
yet with a Lover who can be offended?  
If thy love prove true as thou hast pretended?  
This I do doubt, although I do not fear,  
My beauty can command love any where.  
But because women should not soon believe men,  
For men with flattering words do oft deceive them.  
Though other Wives offend, and that a fair one  
Is seldom chaste, yet I will be that rare one.  
Because thou think my mother did offend,  
By her example you think me to bend.  
My Mother was deceived; jove to her came  
In the shape of a milk-white feathered Swan.  
If I offend 'tis not my ignorance,  
For no mistake can shadow my offence.  
And yet her error may be happy thought,  
For to offend with greatness is no fault.  
But I should not be happy, if I err,  
Since I should not offend with jupiter.  
Of royal kindred thou dost boast to me,  
But Io●e'● the fountain of Nobility.  
Nay though from Jupiter thyself doth spring,  
And P●lops, and Atreus be to thee a kin;  
Jupiter's my Father, who himself did cover  
With a Swans feathers, and deceived my Mother.  
Go reckon now thy Pedigree of thy Nation,  
And talk of Pri●m and La●med●●.  
Whom I do reverence, yet thou shalt be  
Removed from Jupiter to the fifth degree;  
And I but one; and albeit that Troy  
Be a great, land, such is this we enjoy.  
Though it for wealth, and store of men excel,  
The land is barbourous, where thou dost dwell.  
yet thy Letter promises such gifts to me,  
That goddesses might therewith tempted be.  
But if I may with modesty thus speak,  
Thyself, and not thy gifts may fancy take.  
For either I'll keep my integrity,  
Or for thy love, not gifts I'll go with thee.  
Though I despise them nor, if e'er I take  
Those gifts, it shall be for the giver's sake.  
For when thy gifts have no power to mo●e me,  
I do esteem this more t●at thou dost love me  
And that thou shouldst a painful voyage take  
Through the rough Seas, and all even for thy sake.  
And I do mark thy carriage at the Table,  
Although I to dissemble it am able.  
Sometimes thou wantonly wilt on me glance,  
And put me almost out of countenance,  
Sometimes thou aghast and then the cup dost take,  
And to drink where I did drink, dost pleasure take.  
And so sometimes with thy fingers, or a wink,  
Thou closely wound'st express what thou didst think.  
And I confess I have blushed many times,  
Fo● fear my husband should discern thy signs.  
And oftentimes unto myself I said,  
If he were shamless he would be dismayed.  
And on the Table thou hast many a time  
Fashioned and drawn forth with a little wine  
Those letters, wh●ch my name did plainly show,  
And underneath them thou hast writ, Amo.  
I looked on it, but seemed not to believe thee,  
But now this word Amorett doth also give me.  
By these allurements thou my heart mightst bend:  
If that I would have yielded to offend.  
I must confess thou ha●● a beauteous face  
Might win a Maid to yield to thy embrace.  
Let some one rather honestly enjoy thee,  
Then that a strangers love should so destroy me.  
To resist the power of beauty learn by me,  
Virtue abstains from things which pleasing be.  
By how many young men have I wooed been?  
That beauty Paris sees others have seen.  
Thou art more bold, but they as much did see,  
Nor hast more courage, but less modesty.  
I would thy ship had then arrived here,  
When a thousand youths for my love Suitors were.  
For before a thousand I had preferred thee,  
Nay even my husband must have pardoned me.  
But thou hast stayed too long, and hast so trifleed  
That all my Virgin joys are gone and rifled.  
Thou wert too flow, therefore suppress thy flame.  
What thou defir'st another doth obtain.  
Though to have been thy Wife I do wish still,  
Mene●a●● enjoys me, not against my will.  
Cease with fair words to mollify my breast,  
If you love me let it be so expressed  
Let me live as fortune hath allotted me,  
Do not seek to corrupt my chastity.  
But Venus promised thee in the Idean wood,  
When three naked goddesses before thee stood:  
One promised a Kingdom unto thee,  
Tother that thou in wars shouldst prosperous be.  
But Venu●, who was the third in this strife,  
Did promise Helena should be thy wife.  
I scarce believe the goddesses would be  
In a case of beauty judged so by thee.  
Were the first true, the latter part is sained,  
That she gave thee me, for Judgement obtained.  
I do not think my beauty such that she  
Could think to bribe thy judgement by that fee.  
I am content that men may beauty prise,  
That beauty V●n●s praises, she envies.  
there's no assurance in a stranger's love,  
As they do wander, so their love doth rove.  
And when you hope to find most constancy,  
Their love doth cool, and they away do fly.  
Wi●nesse Ariadne and Hipsiphile,  
Who●e lawless ove procured their misery.  
And it is said, thou didst Oenone wrong,  
Forsaking her, whom thou had●st loved so long.  
This by thyself cannot denied be,  
For know I took care to inquire of thee.  
Besides if thou hadst a desire to prove  
Constant in thy affection and true love;  
yet thou would●st be compelled at ●●●st to sail,  
And with thy Trojans thou away wouldst sail.  
For if the wished night appointed were,  
Thou wouldst be gone, if that the wind stood fair.  
And when our pleasures grew unto the height,  
Thou wouldst be gone, if that the wind stood right:  
So by a fair wind I should be bereft  
Of joys even in the midst imperfect left.  
Or as thou persuadest shall I follow thee  
To Troy, and so great Priam's Daughter be.  
yet I do not so much contemn swift fame,  
That I would stick disgrace upon thy name.  
What would Priam, and his Wife think of me  
With's Daughters, and thy brothers which may be?  
W●at m●ght Sparta, and Greece of Helen say?  
Or what might Troy report, and Asia?  
And how canst thou hope I should faithful prove?  
And not to others, as to thee g●ant love  
So that if a stranger's ship do arrive here,  
It will procure in thee a jealous fear.  
And in thy rage call me adulteress,  
When thou art guilty of my wickedness.  
Thou that didst cause my fault will't me upbraid,  
O may I fi●st into my g●ave be laid;  
But I shall have Troy's wealth, go rich and brave,  
And more than thou canst promise I shall have.  
Tissue, and Cloth of gold they shall present me,  
And store of gold shall for a gift be sent me.  
yet pardon me, those gifts cannot inflame me,  
I know not how thy Land would entertain me,  
If in the Trojan Land I should wronged be,  
How could my brother, or father help me?  
False Jason with fair promises beguiled  
Med●a, Who afterward exiled.  
Her Father Eetes was not there, to whom,  
When she was scorned by Ja●on, she might come.  
Nor her Mother Ipsea to whom she  
Might return, nor her sister Chal●io●e.  
I fear not this, was not Me●ea afraid.  
" For those who mean best, soon are be●rai'd,  
Ships in the harbour do in safety ride.  
But are tossed at Sea, and do storms abi●e.  
And that same firebrand too affrighteth me,  
Of which thy mother dremt, and thought that she  
Had been delivered: and besides too I  
Do fear Cass●ndra's dismal prophecy?  
Who did foretell, as truth did her inspire,  
The greeks should waste the City T●oy with fire.  
And besides, as fair Venus favours thee,  
Because thy judgement gave her the victory;  
I fear the other goddesses do grudge  
At thee, because thou didst against them judge.  
And I do know that wars may follow after,  
Our fatal love shall be revenged with slaughter.  
Yet to allow her praise I am content,  
Why should I question that which she hath meant?  
yet for my ●ow belief be not thou grieved.  
For such good matters hardly are believed.  
First I am glad that Ven●s did regard me,  
Secondly, that with me she did reward thee.  
And that Helen, when you of her beauty heard,  
Was before Pallas and Juno's gifts preferred.  
Am I both Wisdom, and Kingdom to thee?  
S●nce thou ●ov'st me, should I no kindness show thee?  
I●me not so cruel, yet cannot incline  
To love him who I fear cannot be mine.  
For suppose I to Sea would go with thee,  
To steal hence I have no opportunity.  
In love's thefts I am ignorant and rude,  
Heavens knows my husband I did ne'er delude:  
And in a Letter thus my mind to show,  
Is a task, I before did never do.  
They are happy that do use it every day,  
To offend it is hard to f●nd the way.  
A kind of painful fear restraineth me,  
And how they look on us methinks I see.  
Of the grumbling people I am much afraid,  
For Aethra told me long since what they said.  
But take no notice, nor dost thou desist,  
I know you can di●emble if you list  
Then sport and spare not, but let us be wary,  
" And if not chaste, let us at least be c●ary.  
For though that Menelaus absent be,  
I must discreetly use my liberty.  
For though he is on earnest business gone,  
And for this journey had occasion;  
I took occasion thus my love to show,  
Make haste to return, Sweet heart, if you go.  
And he straightway to recompense my wish  
Of his return gave me a joyful kiss.  
Charging me that my care should be expressed  
In looking to his house, and Trojan guest.  
I smiled, and to him could say naught at all,  
I strived, to refrain laughing with, I shall.  
So with a prosperious wind he sailed to Cheet,  
Yet to do, what thou dost list, is not meet.  
I'm kept in his absence with guard most strong,  
" Dost thou not know the hands of Kings are long?  
Besides, thou wrong'st us both in praising me,  
For when he hears it he will jealous be.  
The fame of beauty maketh me suspected,  
I would I had the same of it neglected  
Though to leave us together he thought fit,  
To my own keeping he did me commit  
" He knew there could no better guardian be,  
" To keep me chaste than my own honesty.  
He feared my beauty, but my chastity  
Did take away that idle jealousy.  
To make use of time thou advisest me,  
Since his absence gives opportunity.  
I must confess I have a good mind to it,  
But am yet unresolved, and fear to do it.  
Be●ides you know my husband is from home,  
And you without a wife do lie alone;  
The nights are long and while we sit together  
In one house, we may talk unto each other.  
And woe is me! when we are both alone,  
I know thou hast a fair alluring tongue  
Thus every circumstance seems to invite me,  
And nothing but a bashful fear doth fright me.  
Since persuasions do no good, leave that course  
And make me leave this bashfulness by force.  
Such force would seem a welcome injury,  
And I would fain be thus compelled by thee.  
yet let me rather my new love restrain,  
A little water quenc●es a young flame.  
Did not ●he stout inhabitants of Thessalia  
Fight with the Centaurs for Hippod●mia?  
And dost thou not think Menelaus hath,  
And Tyndarus as violent a wrath?  
A though of valour thou dost boast to me,  
Thy words and amorous face doth not agree.  
Thou art not fit for M●rs, nor for the field,  
But for V●nus combats, which do pleasures yield.  
Let valiant hardy men of wars approve,  
But Paris follow thou the wars of love.  
Let Hector fight for thee, whom thou dost pra●se,  
The gentle wars of love shall give thee bays.  
And in these wars 'tis wisdom for to fight,  
And any Maid that's wise will take delight.  
Not upon idle points of modesty ●●and,  
I may perhaps in time give thee my hand.  
But it is your desire, that you and I  
Should meet, I know what you do mean thereby.  
Thus far this guilty Letter hath revealed  
A piece of my mind the rest is concealed.  
By Clymena and Aethra we may further  
Make known our minds, more fully to each other▪  
For these two Maidens in such matters be  
Companions, and Counsellors to me.   

 
The Argument of the sev●nte●nth Epistle.  
THe Sea of Hellespont being seven furlongs over, and as Pli●y witnesseth dividing Europe from Asia, had on the one side Sectos in Europe where Hero lived, and Abydo● in Asia where L●and●r dwelled, being two opposite Cities. Leander of Ab●do● being deeply in love with Hero of Se●tos, did use to swim by night unto her over the Hellespont▪ but being hindered by the tempestuous roughness of the Sea, after seven days were passed, he sent this Letter to his sweet heart Hero, by an adventurous ship master that put ●ort● to Sea in the storm Wherein he showeth first that his love is firm, and constant. Afterward he complaineth that the roughness of the Sea should hinder him from swimming to her. Lastly, he promiseth her that he will ●●●t●re to come, and expose himself to the dangers of the Sea. rather than to want the sight of her, or h●● sweet company. Whence Martial thus of him signifieth.  

C●m 〈…〉 a●da● Leander amore●,  
Et fissus tumidujam premeretur aquil;  
Sie miser Instantes affatus dicitar ●ndas;  
Parcite dum propero, m●rg●●e dum recto.   

While bo●● Leander to his Sweet heart 〈◊〉▪  
And swelling waves did beat his weary limbs.  
To the billows that beats him so,  
'Tis said that thus he ●pake;  
Spare me while I to Hero go,  
Drown me where I come back.   
LEANDER to HERO  
THy love Leander wisheth thee all hea●th,  
(Hero) which I had rather being myself▪  
For if the rough Seas had more calmer been,  
From Abydos to Sestos I would swim.  
〈◊〉 the fates smile upon our love then, I  
Do know, thou wilt read my lines willingly.  
This paper-messenger may welcome be,  
〈◊〉 thou hadst rather have my company.  
But the fates frown, and will not suffer me,  
(As I was used) to swim unto thee.  
The sky is black, the seas are rough, alas,  
●o that no ship or Bark from home dare pass.  
〈◊〉 one bold Ship-master went from our Haven▪  
To whom this present Letter I have given.  
And had come with him, but the ●●ydi●us stayed  
Upon their watchtowers, while the Anchor weighed▪  
For presently they would have me descried,  
And discerned our love, which we seek to hide.  
Forth with this Letter I did write, and so  
I said unto it, happy Letter go;  
This is thy happiness, thou must understand,  
That H●ro shall receive thee with her hand.  
And perhaps thou shalt kiss her rosy lips,  
While with her teeth the Seal she open rips.  
Having spoken these words, than my right hand after  
Did write these words upon this silent Paper.  
But I do wish, that my right hand might be  
Not used in writing, but to swim to thee:  
It is more fit to swim yet I can write  
My mind with ease and happily indite,  
Seven nights are past which seem to me a year  
Since first the Seas with storms enraged were.  
These nights seemed long to me, I could not sleep,  
To think the Sea should still his roughness keep.  
Those Torches which on thy Tower burning be  
I saw, or else I thought that I did see.  
Thric●e I put off my clothes, and did begin  
Three times to make trial if I could swim.  
But swelling seas did my desire oppose,  
Whose rising billows o'er my face o'rt flows.  
But Bor●as, who art the fiercest wind,  
Why thus to cross me, do●st thou bend thy mind?  
Thou dost not storm against the Seas but me.  
Hadst thou not been in love what wouldst thou be?  
Though thou art cold, ye● once thou didst approve  
Ori●●●, who did warm thy heart with love.  
And wouldst ●ave vexed, if with Orithya fair  
Thy passage had been hindered through the air.  
O spare me then, and calm thy blustering wind,  
Even so may●t thou from Aro●us favour find.  
But I perceive he murmurs at my prayer,  
And still the seas are rough and stormy are,  
I wish that Daedalus would give wings to m●  
Through the Icarian seas not far off be,  
Where Icaru● did fall when he did proffer  
To fly too high, let me the same chance suffer  
While flying hrough the air to thee I come,  
As through the wa●er I have often swom.  
But since both wind, and seas deny to me  
My passage, think how I fi●●t came to thee.  
It was at ●hat time when night doth begin,  
(Th' remembrance of past pleasures, pleasure bring)  
When I who was Amans, which we translate  
A Lover stole out of my Father's Gate,  
And having put off all my clothes straightway,  
My arms through the moi●● seas cut their way,  
The Moon did yield a glimmering light to me,  
Which all the way did bear me company.  
I looking on her, said, some ●avour have  
Towards me, and think upon the Latmian Cave.  
O favour me! for thy End●m●●ns sake,  
Prosper this stolen journey which I take.  
A mortals love made thee come from thy Sphere,  
And she ay love is like a goddess fair.  
For none unless that she a goddess be,  
Can be so virtuous, and so fair as she.  
Nay none but Venus, or thyself can be  
So fair, view her, if you'll not credit me:  
For as thy silver beams do shin more bright  
Than lesser streams, which yield a dimmer light:  
Even so of all fair ones she is rarest,  
And Cynthia cannot doubt but she's the fairest.  
When I th●se words, or else the like had said,  
My passage through the Sea by night I made.  
The Moon● bright beams were in t●e water seen,  
And 'twas as light as if it day had been.  
No noise nor voice unto my ears did come,  
But the murmur● of the water when I swom.  
Only the A●cyons for loved ceyx's sake,  
Seemed by night a sweet complaint to make.  
But when my Arms to grow tired did Begin  
Unto the top of the waves I did spring.  
But when I saw thy Torch O then quoth I,  
Where that fire blazeth, my fair love doth lie.  
For that same shore, said I, doth her contain,  
Who is my goddess, my fire and my flame.  
These words to my Arms did such strength restore,  
Me thought the Sea grew ca●mer than before▪  
The coldness of the waves, I seemed to scorn,  
For love did keep my amorous heart still warm.  
The nearer I came to the shore, I find  
The greater courage and mo●e strength of mind.  
But when I could by thee discerned be,  
Thou gav'st me courage by looking on me.  
T●en to please thee, my Mistress I begin  
To spread my arms abroad, and strongly swim.  
Thy Nurse from leaping down could scarce stay thee▪  
This without flattery I did also see,  
And though she did restrain thee, thou didst come  
Down to the sho●e and to the waves didst run.  
And to embrace and kiss me didst begin,  
" ●he gods to get such kisses sure would swim.  
And thy own garments thou wouldst put on me,  
Drying my hair which had been wet at Sea.  
What passed besides, the Tower, and we do know.  
And Torch, which through the sea my way did show.  
The joys of that night we no more can count  
Then drops of water in the Hellespont.  
And because we had so little time for pleasure,  
We used our time, and did not waste our leisure.  
But when Aurora rose from Ti●bons bed,  
And the morning star showed his glistering head,  
Th●n we did kiss in haste, and kiss again,  
And that the night was past we did complain.  
When thy Nurse did me of the ●ime inform,  
Then from thy Tower, I to the shore return.  
With tears we parted, and then I beg'n,  
Back through the Hellespont again to swim.  
And while I swom, I should look back on thee,  
As far as I could the (sweet Hero) see.  
And if you will believe me, when I do come  
Hither unto thee, then me thought I swom.  
But when from thee again I returned back,  
I seemed like one that had suffered ship wrack,  
To my home I went unwillingly again,  
My City against my will doth me contain.  
Alas! why should we be by seas disjoined?  
Since that love hath united us in mind  
Since we bear such affection to each other,  
Why should not we in one land dwell together?  
In Sest●s, or Abydos dwell with me,  
T●y country pleaseth me, as mine doth thee.  
Why should the rough seas thus perplex our minds?  
Why should we be parted by cruel winds?  
The Dolphins with our love acquainted grow.  
The fish by often swimming doth me know.  
And through the water I have worn a path,  
Like to those wheel-ruts which a high way hath,  
I complain that I to such shifts was put.  
But now the winds that passage have up shut.  
The Hellespont is rough, the waves go high.  
So that ships scarce in Harbour safe do lie.  
And I believe the sea her name fi●st found  
From the Virgin Helle, who was in't drowned.  
This sea shall by her death infamous be,  
Her name do●h show her guilt, though she spare me▪  
I envy jason, who did sail to Gre●c●,  
And fetch away from thence the golden Fleece.  
In his ship called the Ram, yet I desire  
No ship of his, this is all I require;  
That the waters of the Hellespont would be  
So gentle to permit me swim to thee.  
I want no art to swim, give leave to me.  
And both the ship and Pilot I will be.  
I will not sail by the great or lesser bear,  
For by such common stars love cannot steer.  
Let o●hers on Andromedes star look,  
Or ●adnes Crown to Heaven took;  
Nor yet Calist●● stars which do shine e'ear  
In the Polar Circle, which they call the Bear.  
These stars wh●c● by the gods were stellified,  
In my doubtful passage shall not be my g●ide  
But I have a more brighter star than these,  
My love will guide me through the darkest seas,  
Oft when my arms g●ew tired with weariness,  
That they cannot cut their ways through the se●s,  
When I do tell them, that to quit their pain,  
They should embrace he, they would then again,  
To enjoy their prize, with such a fresh strength swim,  
Like a swift Horse that doth to ru● begin.  
Thou art my star and I will follow thee,  
Rather than all those stars in Heaven be.  
Thou, thou art far more worthy for to shine  
A star in Heaven, yet stay on earth thy time.  
Or if thou wilt needs go, then show to me  
The way to Heaven, that I may follow thee,  
Thou a●t here yet I the way to thee can't find,  
The roughness of the seas perplex my mind.  
What though the Ocean do not us two par●?  
This narrow Sea keeps me from thee sweetheart.  
If I should in some distant Country be,  
It would cut off all hope of seeing thee.  
But now I am inflamed with more desire,  
And burn the more the nearer to the fire.  
And though the thing I wish for absent be,  
yet I do ●ope for that I cannot see.  
That which I love I almost seem to touch,  
Which makes me weep to think my hopes are such,  
I catch at Apples which from me do fl●  
Like tantalus'; or the stream which glides by.  
Shall I then n●ve● be possessed of thee,  
Until the winds and sea so pleased be?  
When wind and water fickle be, shall I  
Upon the wound and water still rely?  
Shall I be hindered by the raging seas?  
The Goats, Boot, or the Plejades?  
If I have any courage, thou shalt see,  
Love shall embolden me to swim to thee▪  
And if I promise, I will come awa●,  
And perform promise without all delay.  
If seas continue still their raging anger,  
I'll try to swim to thee in despite of danger;  
Either my bold attempt shall ●appy prove,  
Or death shall give an end unto my love.  
Yet do I wish my bo●y may be driven,  
Like to a wrack to thy beloved haven.  
Then thou wilt weep on it, and say ' was I  
Was the occasion, that this man did die  
I know when thou hast in my L●tter sound  
This word of death, thou wilt hate the sad sound.  
Fear not; but that the sea may now incline  
To calmness, join your prayers I pray with mine.  
If it were calm until I did swim thither,  
Arrived again let it be blustering weather,  
In the Harbour of thy Castle I'll abide,  
And in thy chamber at safe Anchor ride.  
Let blustering Bo●●as strongly there enclose me,  
I delight ●o stay there though he oppose me.  
For than I will be woa●y, and most slack  
To venture to return, or to swim back.  
On the deaf billows i'll not rail in vain,  
Nor on the rough and raging sea complain.  
The winds and thy embraces should keep me  
Wind-bound, and love-bound, still to stay with thee.  
Yet soon as the sea permits i'll begin  
To use my arms, and unto thee i'll swim.  
And ●e thou careful to put forth a light  
Upon thy turrer, to direct my sight.  
Until then let my Letter lodge this night  
With thee, as Harbinger of my delight.  
Which though it go before me, I do pray,  
That I may ●ollo● it without delay.   

 
The Argument of the eighteenth Epistle.  
HEre having received Leander's Letter answereth it with many e●pressions of a mutual affection, and invites him to ha●ten his coming, that she might enjoy his company: sometimes accusing his slackness, thereby to she● the sincerity and integrity of her own love, sometimes inveighing against the Sea: sometimes fearing lest be loved some other; then recanting that suspicion ascribing it to the custom of Lovers who are apt to suspicion. L●stly, sh●e perswade● h●m not to expose himself to the mercy of the S●● until it grow calm.  
HERO to LEANDER  
THat health Lean●er which thou sentest in word,  
Come and more real●y to me afford.  
For our joys are deferred by thy stay,  
And my love grows impatient of delay.  
Our love is equal, but I am the weaker,  
For men are o● a stout and stronger nature.  
Maids have a tender body and so●t mind,  
If thou do stay, I shall with grief be p●n'd.  
You m●n cans●end the tedious time and leisure,  
In hunting or some other country pleasure.  
Or sometimes you can go unto the Court,  
Or in riding, or, tilting take your sport.  
you often Hawk, and Angle many a time,  
And spend some hou●s in drinking of rich wine.  
But unto me love doth a torment prove,  
I have no business here to do, but love.  
Thou only art a pleasure unto me,  
I love thee more than can believed be.  
For either with my Nurse I talk of thee,  
Wondering what stayeth thy coming unto me,  
Or looking to the Sea, sometimes I chide  
The sea, 'cause it doth still so rough abide.  
or when I see the sea is calmer grown,  
I think that when thou may'st thou wilt not come.  
While I complain, sad tears spring in my eyes,  
Which with a trembling hand my old Nurse dries.  
Then I do look if any print remain.  
of thy footsteps, which the sands yet retain.  
And oftentimes I inquire if any be  
Bound to Abydos, so to write to thee.  
And I do kiss thy clothes thou didst leave here  
When thou didst swim the Hellespont without fear▪  
When day is done and the more friendly night  
With spang'ed stars hath put the day to flight.  
Then I set out a light for a landmark  
Upon my Tower, to guide thee in the dark.  
And then sometimes with spinning I assay,  
To pass the time which runs so slow away.  
And that I may the tedious hours beguile,  
I talk of my L●●nder all the while.  
And to my ●urse I speak thus, dost not thou  
Think that my joy and love is coming now;  
Or think'st thou that his friends watch him, that he  
Is hindered so from coming unto me?  
Dost thou 〈◊〉 think that he even now begins  
To put off his clothes, and anoint his limbs▪  
yes says my old Nur●e, who did strive to keep  
Time with her head while she did nodding sleep.  
And senseless of all love, cared not though I  
Did want thy kisses, and sweet company.  
Then I should say to her a little after,  
Now I do think ●e's in swimming through the water.  
And having drawn my thread forth I would say,  
Now I do think he is in the middle way.  
Then I looked forth, and fearfully d●d pray  
The w'nd would favour thee upon the way;  
Sometimes I listened unto every voice;  
Thinking thou wert come, if I heard a noise.  
Thus I would spend most of the night, till sleep  
Upon my weary eyes by stealth did creep.  
And sometimes thou sleepest with me in my dream,  
And art come, though ●o come thou dost not m●an.  
And now methinks that in my dream I see  
Thee swmming, now thou art embracing me.  
And now to clothe thy wet limbs I do strive;  
And in my warm bosom do thee revive.  
And other things I dream of which must be  
Concealed at this time for modesty.  
For that which in the doing pleased us well,  
yet being done it is a sh●me to tell.  
But woe is me, these pleasures are soon done,  
For when thy dream doth vanish, thou are gone.  
O let us at the length more firmly meet.  
That our joys may be real and mo●e sweet.  
Why have I lain so many nights from thee?  
And why do●● thou delay to swim to me?  
Though the Seas yet for swimming unfit are,  
yet yester night the winds more calmer were?  
And why didst thou then fear to come to me▪  
Why didst not use that opportunity  
Though you have another season, yet at least  
Because this was the first this was the best.  
The fickle sea doth quickly change her face,  
But thou canst swim it in a little space,  
And suppose winds and storms should keep thee here,  
While I embrace thee, thou needst nothing fear:  
Then I would have the winds blow high enough,  
And I would pray the seas might still be rough.  
But why dost thou the winds and Seas now fear,  
Which formerly by thee despised were?  
For I remember thou didst swim to me,  
When the Seas were as rough as now they be:  
When I did wish thee not so rash to be,  
Lest thy rashness should make me weep ●or thee.  
But where is all thy courage now become?  
Who through the Hellespont hast often swom.  
Yet do not thou such rash adventures make  
But when the sea is calm thy journey take.  
If thou dost love me still, as thou dost write,  
And that our flame of love burns clear and bright:  
I fear not winds so much that cross my mind  
As that thy love should prove sickle as wind.  
Or that thou think'st me unworthy to enter  
Such dangers, and for my sake to adventure.  
And sometimes I am very much afraid,  
Lest thou of Abydos scornest a Sest●n maid.  
But it would g●●eve me more than all the rest,  
If thou shouldst love another Sweetheart best;  
Or if some Harlot's arms should thee Embrace,  
While that her new love doth the old displace.  
O may I die before that I do see  
Myself in such a manner wronged by thee.  
yet do I not write this, because that I  
From thee, or fame, have cause of jealousy.  
yet still I fear (who can securely love?)  
For absence doth often suspicion move.  
Those lovers are happy that present are,  
And know when to be Jealous, when not to fear.  
We vainly fear, and slight true injuries,  
And nourish in our breast fond jealousies  
O wouldst thou come, or else would I might find  
No woman hinders thee but the fierce wind.  
Which when I know, believe me I shall die  
With gri●f to think upon thy injury  
For if that thou hadst a desire to send  
Me to my grave, thou mightst before offend.  
But thou wilt not offend, my fears are vain,  
I know the winter's storms do thee detain.  
VVoe's me! the billows do go rough and high,  
And obscure clouds do darken all the sky.  
Or Helles Mother makes the sea waves weep,  
While they her Daughter's obsequies do keep.  
Or Iun● her step mot●er now doth please,  
Changed to a goddess, ●hu● to vex the seas.  
This ●ea unto young maids unkind doth prove;  
It drowned Hell● and doth cross my love.  
If Neptune his own love had call d to mind,  
Our love had not been c●ost so by the wnd.  
It is no fable that thou didst approve  
Of fair Amy●nons, and her didst love.  
Alcyone, and Ceyce th' Sweet hearts were,  
And M●dusa before she had snaky hair.  
Laodice and Celaeno Plejades,  
And many I have read of besides these.  
O N●ptun● thou these Sweethearts hadst in store,  
As Poets do report, and many more.  
Since thou so oft the forc● of love didst prove▪  
Why still from coming dost thou stay my love?  
Spare us, let storms rage in the Ocean wide,  
The Sea dot● two parts of the world divide.  
For thee to toss great ships it is most meet,  
Or express thy rage in scattering a Fleet.  
To disturb these seas can no glory be,  
Or to hinder a young man would swim to me.  
For know Leande● nobly is descended,  
Not from Ulysses' ill of thee befriended.  
Preserve us both, for while that he doth swim;  
" He's in the water, but my life's in him.  
But now my candle (by whose watchful light  
As it stood by me, I these lines did write)  
began to sparkle at that very time,  
Which he did take to be a happy sign.  
And my Nurse put wine to it, to maintain  
The Lamp●, and cherish the reviving flame.  
Says she, here will be strangers I do think  
To morrow and with these words she doth drink.  
Leander come, and let our number be  
Increased, for I do love thy company.  
Leander unto thy own love return,  
For why should I still lie alone, and mourn?  
Thou hast no cause thus fearful still to be,  
Venus will calm the sea, and favour thee.  
Sometimes to wade through the sea I begin,  
But this sea hath to women fatal been.  
For jason over it in safety came,  
But a woman give to these seas their name.  
If thou fearest thou shouldst want strength to perform  
This double labour; to come, and return:  
Let us in the midst of the sea both meet,  
And with a kiss each other kindly greet.  
Then to our Cities both return again,  
This would some comfort be, though it were vain.  
I would that we had no regard of Fame,  
Which makes us love in secret, nor of shame.  
" For love and fearfulness do ill agree;  
That persuades to pleasure, this to modesty.  
When that young jason did to Colchos come,  
He bore away Medea with him soon.  
Soon as Pa●is to Lacedaemon came,  
He strait returned with his prey again.  
Thou comest to me, but leavest me behind,  
And swim'st when ships can scarce a passage find.  
But my Lean●er have a care hereafter,  
Not only to despise, but fear the water.  
Strong ships unto the sea are made a scorn,  
Think st thou thy arms can more than Oars perform?  
The Mariners (L●ander) fear to swim▪  
Till they are forced, when they have shipwrecked been.  
Vvoes me, I persuade against that I require,  
Let not my words discourage thee I desire.  
With thy arms (wim through the seas, which being done,  
Embrace me with those ●rms when thou art come.  
But as oft as I to the blue seas look,  
My heart is with a sudden cold fear struck.  
And I am troubled with my last night's dream,  
Though I sacrificed against that it did mean  
About morning, when the Candle sleepy grew  
And win●'d, when dreams most usually are true;  
Out of my crowsie fingers sell my thread,  
And on my pillow I did rest my head  
When in my dream I thought that I had seen  
A Dolphin, that on the rough waves did swim.  
Which the waves cast up on the shore, and left  
Upon the boiling sands, of life be●est.  
I know not what this might presage, or mean,  
Stay till the Sea be calm, slight not my dream;  
If thou wilt not spare thyself, spare t●ou me,  
My life and happiness consists in thee.  
I hope the rough seas will grow calm, then stay  
And through the calm seas cut thy gentle way.  
And till then, since thou canst not swim, nor come,  
Let this Letter make the time not seem long.   

 
The Argument of the nineteenth Epistle.  
AContius going to Diana's sacrifice, which were celebrated by Virgins in Delos, the chiefest I stand of all the Cycledes in the Aegean sea, fell in love with Cyd●●pe a noble Maid: but he in regard of the inequality of his birth, not da●ing to solicit her love, did cunningly write on a fair Apple these two verses.  

juro ti●i sane per mystica sacra Diana,  
Me tibi ven●u●am comitem, spon●amque●uturam.   

By Diana's sacred rites I swear to thee,  
Thy loving Comfort and Wife I will be.   
And so he cast the Apple at the Maid's feet; who ignorant of his cunning, reading it at unawars, she promised that she would be wife to 〈◊〉. For it wa● a law, that was spoken before the gods in the ●emp●e of Diana should be ratified. So that Acontius endeavours in this E●stle to persuade her, that Diana had insl●cted sickness on her, because she had violated her promise made in the goddesses presence. And to allure her to his d●stres, his Exordium endeavours to make her confident to read without any suspicion of deceit, like the former. Afterward he strives to make her husband contemptible in her sight, persuading her that he was the cause of all her sickness.  
ACONTIUS to CYDIPPE.  
BE not afraid, since that thou shalt not swear,  
●s thou didst before to thy Lover, here;  
For thou didst swear enough at that same time,  
When thou didst promise's that thou wouldst be mine.  
R●ad it; and so may the sickness leave thee,  
And p●ins, wh●ch also are a pain to me.  
For why should t●y ingenuous cheeks be spread,  
As in 〈◊〉, ●emple with blushing red.  
Since to perform thy promise's I do move thee,  
And not loosely but as a husband love thee.  
For i● 〈◊〉 words ' thou would but call to mind,  
VVhic● I did write upon the Apples rind;  
And cast, before thee, being read by thee,  
In ●eading it ●h●u didst promise to me,  
Even ●hat which I do now of thee desi●e,  
My words and faith do not at once expire.  
When Diana deprived thee first of health,  
I feared it; Virgin think upon thyself.  
And now I fear the same, for now at length  
The flame o● love in me ha●h gotten strength.  
My strong affection doth ●ne●ease, and grow,  
Encouraged by that hope which you did show.  
Thou gav'st me hope, from thee it did proceed,  
Diana is a witness to thy deed.  
For thou didst swear by Diana's majesty,  
Acom●●● I do mean to marry thee.  
And to these words which from thy mouth then went,  
Diana bowed in token of consent.  
If thou dost urge, thou we●t deceived by me,  
The deceit came from love, my love f●om thee.  
Seeking thereby to thee to be united,  
That should win favour, wherewith thou art frighted.  
I'm not so crafty by nature or use,  
Thy beauty doth this craftiness infuse.  
Ingenious love, and not my art first joined  
Those words which thee to me did firmly bind.  
For love this cunning trick to me disclosed  
And words of marriage into lines composed.  
yet let this Act of mine deceitful prove,  
If it be deceit to get what we love.  
And now I write, for favour I entreat,  
Complain of this, if this be a cecei●.  
If loving thee, an injury I do thee,  
Though thou forbid me, I will love and woe thee.  
Some have by force their Sweethearts away brought,  
To write a Letter, shall it be a fault?  
Since that a Letter a new knot doth tie  
Of that promised love between thee and I.  
Though thou art coy to me, yet I shall make thee  
More kind, and I do know that I shall t●ke thee.  
For albeit thou scape out of this net,  
Thou shalt not scape all those which love can set.  
And if that gentle means, and art do fail,  
Then force against thy coinesle shall prevail.  
I do not hold that Paris was in fault,  
or those who their desires by force have sought.  
And so will I: although that death should be  
His sad reward, that ventures to steal thee.  
Wert thou less fair, my suit would be more cold,  
But now thy beauteous face doth make me bold.  
My flame of love proceeds from thy fair eyes,  
Which do out shine the bright stars in the skies.  
And from thy white neck, which thy brown hair graces,  
And from thy arms fit only for embraces.  
Thy modest countenance also taketh me  
Where silent beauties sweetly placed be.  
Thy feet like ivory are so pure and white,  
That Thetis, I suppose, hath not the like.  
I were happy, if I might praise the rest,  
Thy parts summed up together would be best.  
It is no wonder since thou art so fair,  
If by thy own words I did thee ensnare.  
For if thou shouldst confess thyself to be  
Taken by my deceit and treachery;  
Let me bea● the envy of it, and blame,  
So that I may the fruits of love obtain.  
Achilles did by force fair Bris●●s take,  
yet she loved him, and would not him forsake.  
F●nd fault with what thou wilt and angry be,  
So that in danger I may enjoy thee.  
I that have moved your anger, will appease you,  
And if you give me leave, I'll strive to please you.  
For I will stand before you, and there weep,  
While my tears with my words due time shall keep  
And like some servant that correction fears,  
I hold my hands up, and beg with my tears.  
Assume your right, I'm a ●●ave to your beauty,  
Be you my Mistress, and teach me my duty.  
Although that you should stri●e me, and should tear  
In an imperious manner my long hair.  
I'll suffer all, and only afraid be,  
Left you should hurt your ●and with striking me.  
Thou needst not ●etter me with iron chains,  
" He serveth willingly whom love constrains.  
When thou hast satisfied thy wrath on me,  
Thou wilt then say; how pat●ent is he?  
And noting my patience say, since I see  
That he can serve so well, he shall serve me.  
I know thou dost condemn me in absence,  
And my good cause doth want a just defence.  
That only which I on the Apple writ  
Is my offence, yet love ndited it.  
Besides Dia●a should not mocked be,  
Keep thy promise with her, though not with me.  
She sa● the blush, ●hen as thou art deceived.  
And she did hea● those words which thou didst read.  
And who can be more violent than sh●,  
To those that do profane her Majesty.  
Who more angry than Al●h●● with her son,  
More ●e●ce than was the Boar of Calydon.  
She made actaeon's hounds their Master hunt,  
As he with them to chase wild beasts was wont  
She did N●●b● to a stone transform  
Which in Bythinia stands, and seems to mourn.  
Cyd●pp●, I dare not speak truth to thee,  
Let my admonishment seem false to be.  
yet I must speak, her wrath inflicts on thee  
This sickness, when that thou shouldst married be.  
From perjury she'd have thee keep thyself  
" By sickness she would bring thy mind to health.  
And when to break thy vow thou wouldst begin,  
She keeps thee from committing of that sin.  
Then do not thou Di●●● more incense,  
She may be brought to remit thy offence,  
That so thy fever may not quite destroy  
Thy beauty saved, that I may it enjoy.  
Preserve that beauty, which my love fi●st bred,  
Where snowy whiteness shadoweth the re●,  
May those would cro●●e our love, endure that pain,  
Which I while thou art sick do now sustain.  
I would not have thee sick, nor married be,  
I know not which of the●e would most grieve me.  
Sometimes it grieveth me, that I should grieve thee,  
And that I did so cunningly deceive thee.  
For my mistress' perjury, O punish me,  
ye gods; fro● punishment let her be free.  
And sometimes I occasion take to go  
By the door, that I may know how you do.  
And in a secret ma●ner enquiring keep  
Of your maid, how you cat, and take your sleep.  
I would I h●d been a Physician bred,  
To feel thy pulse, and sit upon thy bed.  
And woe is me, that I must absent be▪  
While that my rival is perhaps with th●e.  
He holds thy hand, and sits on thy bed's side,  
Who is by all the gods, and me envied.  
And while that he t●y beating pulse doth try,  
Thy white arm he doth often touch thereby.  
He handles thee, and then perhaps a kiss,  
Rewards his service with to● great a bliske.  
Who hath permitted thee to reap my crop?  
And take away the fruits of all my hope?  
Herself, and Kisses thou must understand  
Are mine by promise, then take off thy hand.  
Take of● thy hand, for she my own sh●ll be,  
Unless thou wilt commit adultery.  
Some other Maiden choose that yet is free,  
For of her tenemen I must Landlord be.  
Thou may'st believe our covenants if not m●,  
To show they're firm let her read them to thee,  
Therefore thou hast no right, I say to thee,  
Unto her marriage bed, 'tis kept for me.  
Though her Father to thee dip her assign,  
Yet thy right cannot be so good as mine.  
Her Fathes did betrothe her unto thee,  
But she herself did give herself to me.  
He promised before men she should be thine,  
She promised before Diana she would be mine.  
He breaks his word, she violates her oath,  
And dost thou dote which is the worst of both?  
Lastly consider, what the event may be,  
For he's in health, but sick in bed is she.  
In our contentions too much odds there are,  
Thy hope is not like mine, nor yet thy fear.  
Thy love is not so dangerous but I  
If I should suffer a repulse must die.  
Perhaps that hereafter thou wilt approve her,  
But it is I that now do clearly love her.  
Therefore in justice, that same love of thine  
Unto my love all title should resign.  
Since for thy love he unjustly doth contend,  
Cydippe why do I this Letter send?  
Diana for his sake doth thee afflict,  
Forbid him then thy house, if thou hast wit.  
And for his sake this sickness light on thee,  
May he that causeth it, so punished be.  
For if thou wilt his feigned love reject,  
And not love whom the goddess doth not respect.  
Thou shalt then presently regain thy health,  
When thou art well, I shall be well myself.  
Fear not sweet Maid, thou shalt have thy health now;  
If to the goddess thou wilt keep thy vow.  
" The heavenly powers our sacrifices scorn,  
" Unless we faithfully our vows perform  
Yet some do lancing suffer for health's sake,  
And some for health do bitter potions take.  
But if thou keep thyself from perjury ',  
Thou shalt preserve thy health, thy saith, and me.  
Thy former fa●●t may yet a pardon find,  
Through ignorance, or forgetfulness of mind.  
Thy sickness and my words admonish thee,  
" For know the gods cannot deceived be.  
Yet should●st thou scape this sickness, being a Maid,  
Being married, thou wilt need Di●n●'s aid.  
Having heard thy promise she will ask thee  
If I the father of thy burden be.  
If thou do●st vow, yet she will not believe,  
If t●ou swearest she knows 'tis but to deceive.  
For thee, not for thyself this care I take,  
And my mind is thus trouble● for thy sake.  
Let not ●hy Pa●en●s for thy sickness weep;  
Or why dost thou in ●gnorance them keep?  
Though to thy Mother thou dost all relate,  
Cy●i●●●, thou needest not to blush thereat.  
Tell her ●ow I did first behold thy eyes,  
While thou didst to Diana sacrifice  
And at the first side if thou ma●ked'st me,  
I stood and gazed with fixed eyes on thee.  
And while I wondering stood m● cloak oft fell  
From my shoulder, which passion seemed to tell,  
And after that an Apple I did fit,  
Wherein most cunningly these words I writ.  
Which in Diana's presence read by thee,  
Thou didst bind thyself then to marry me.  
That she the Tenor of the words may know,  
As thou readest them once, read them to her so.  
Then she will say forthwith, pray marry me  
Him, whom the goddess hath allotted thee.  
Since that Diana is pleased, choose no other,  
For the goddess will be to thee a mother.  
And tell he● if she ask thee, who I am,  
The goddess choice can be to thee no shame.  
In kaea where Corycian Nymphs have,  
In Parnassus' hill an old famous Cave.  
I was born, and (it birth be not contemned)  
From no base Parantage I did descend.  
I have wealth, and my life from spot is free,  
And there is none whom I love more than thee.  
Hadst thou not swo●n, yet thou needest must like  
Such a husband, and I such a wife would seek.  
Diana in a dream bid me to write  
These lines, and waking love bid me indite.  
And ●s love's arrow now hath wounded me,  
Take heed Diana's arrow wound not thee.  
At once have pity on me, and thy sel●,  
At once thou mayst restore us both to health;  
Which if thou g●ant, when the Trumpets proclaim,  
Diana's solemn sacrifice again,  
I'll offer a golden Apple and on it  
These two verses shall be most fairly w●it.  
Ac●ntius th●s Apple offered to testi●y.  
The gods the words writ in't did ratify.  
Lest a longer Letter try t●ee being weak.  
I have but one word more to write, or speak.  
And in the usual way as all can tell  
I will conclude my letter here; Farewell.   

 
The Argument of the twentieth Epistle.  
WHen Cydippe understood that offended Diana had inflicted this Fever on her, she condescended to Acontius desire against her parents will, rather than to endure the torment of her sickness. First s●e answers, that she durst not ●ead his Epistle aloud, lest he should be deceived with the fallacy of an oath, as she was in reading the lines writ on the Apple. Then amplifying the deceit of that Apple, she ●ovies against Acontius.  
CYDIPPE to ACONTIUS.  
IN silence I thy Letter read, for fear  
Lest unawares I by the gods should swear.  
I think, again thou wouldst have cozened me,  
But that I have promised myself to thee.  
I read it, lest if I unkind should seem,  
Diana should have more offended been.  
Though to Diana I do incense offer,  
yet she defends that wrong which thou didst proffer.  
And if I may give credit unto thee,  
For thy sake ●he with sickness visits me.  
Unto H●ppolytus she was not so kind,  
For at her hand more favour thou dost find.  
A Virgin of a Virgin should take care,  
Although I have not long to live I fear.  
I am sick, yet the causes of my grief,  
Physicians know not, nor can yield relief.  
How sick am I, while I these lines do writ▪  
I sc●rce can 〈◊〉 within my bed upwright.  
I fear lest any but my Nurse should find.  
That we by Letters do exchange our mind.  
To visitants, while she the door doth keep,  
(To give me time to write) she says I sleep.  
When this colour the matter cannot hide,  
Lest by sleeping too long truth be descried.  
If some ●ome, who to deny 'tis unfitting,  
She gives me then a famed sign by spitting.  
Then I break off, and lest it should be spied,  
In my trembling bosom the Letter hide.  
When they are gone, than I do write again,  
Thus in the midst of pains, I take great pain,  
Which didst thou deserve, I could undertake,  
Then thou deserv'st, I'll do more for thy sake.  
For thy sake, I this sickness do sustain,  
And for thy imposture thus punished am,  
And thus my beauty which did please thy sight,  
Hath hurt thyself, by yielding thee delight.  
If I had appeared deformed unto thee▪  
No sickness had procured my misery.  
Praise is my ruin, and while you both woe me  
'Tis my own beauty that doth thus undo me.  
And while both will not yield, both will be mine,  
you hinder his desire, he hinders thine.  
I am like a ship the wind drives amain  
To Sea, but strong tides drive it back again.  
My marriage day which my Parents would see  
Is at hand, but a fever troubleth me.  
And while the thought of martiage doth me mock,  
Death even at my door begins to knock.  
Which though I am not guilty makes me fear,  
So●e of the gods with me offended are.  
Some think my sickness hath but cau●ual been,  
Or the Gods would not have me marry him.  
And that thou may'st no: think fame doth detect thee,  
For poisoning of myself they do suspect me,  
The cause is hide, but yet my grief lies open,  
you do contend, but I with grief am broken.  
Tell me and do not unkindly reject me  
What is thy hate, if thy love doth afflict me?  
If s●ch thy love be, love thy enemy,  
But I entreat thee that thou wouldst spare me.  
What hope to obtain my love canst thou cherish,  
When thou dost let me by a fever perish?  
If to Diana thou dost pray in vain  
Why dost thou ●oast what thou canst not obtain?  
Either thou canst not Diana pacify;  
If thou canst, but are unmindful of me,  
I would that I ●ad Delos never known,  
At least, at that time had not to it gone.  
My ship unhappily did sail that day,  
And through the blue seas cut her fatal way.  
Unluckily out of my house I did slip,  
When I did go aboard my fainted ship.  
Twice the winds ●o our sails contrary were,  
yet now I think on't the winds did stand fair;  
It was a fair wind that did drive me back,  
That my unhappy journey I might slack.  
Would it had been contrary to my mind,  
But 'tis folly to complain against the wind.  
For famous Delos I desire to see,  
Me thought my ship sailed slowly under me.  
I●●id the Oars because that they did fail,  
And we thought they put out too little sail.  
Having passed Tenos, and Andros, the white  
Cliffs of fair Delos came within my sight.  
And to the Is●e I said, why dost me shun?  
Dost still store in the Sea, alas thou hast done!  
I landed when the Sun had run his course,  
And began to unyoke his purple horse.  
Next day when in the East they harnesed were,  
My mother bid me comb and dress my hair.  
She gave me Rings, my hair with gold she dressed,  
And put on me apparel of the best.  
To the gods of t●e Island we did dispense,  
Our guilts, and offered yellow frankincense.  
And while my Mother bedewing with blood  
The smoking Altar, sacraficing stood;  
My careful Nurse led me another way,  
While she, and I through sacred places stray.  
We walk about while we admired there  
The gifts of Kings, and Images there were.  
We admired Apollo's Altar, and the tree  
That helped Lat●na in child- delivery.  
And all that had in Delos famous been,  
We saw, and more than yet hath mentioned been.  
And here Acontius thou dost cast a look  
On me, conceiving I might be soon took.  
I returned to Diana's Temple that hath  
Fair steps, and what place ought to be more safe  
Thou threw'st an Apple for me with this verse,  
Which I was ready again to rehearse;  
My Nurse took't up, and wondering, wished me  
To read it, so I read thy treachery.  
When to this word of marriage I came,  
I felt that both my cheeks did blush for shame.  
And when my eyes had served thy turn to read  
These lines, I looked down, and hung my head.  
But ye● what glory hast thou got thereby▪  
To deceive a Maid is no victory.  
I stood not with my Axe and bucler there,  
As P●ath●silea did at Troy appear.  
No gold belt from me thou didst bear away,  
Like that was taken f●om Hy●poll●ta  
Then why shouldst thou rejoice to ●ave betrayed  
By thy deceitful w●rds a harmless Maid?  
An Apple deceived A●alanta and Cy●ippe:  
Thou shalt another Hippo●enes be  
But if that wanton Boy did thee inflame,  
Whose quiver (thou sayest) doth Love's shafts contain;  
Why didst thou not in honest sort come to me?  
And not strive to deceive me, but to woe me.  
Why didst thou not by words thy worth express,  
To gain my love, while thou didst love profess;  
Why didst thou seek to compel, not persuade  
My love? by promises on thy part made.  
What doth my former oath now profit thee?  
Though I called Diana it to testify.  
It is the mind that swears but my tongue went,  
And swore this oath without my minds consent.  
" An oath should be took with a knowing mind,  
" Therefore a rash oath hath no power to bind.  
If willingly I promised unto thee  
Marriage, thou mightst then seek it now of me.  
But if those words I un●wars did speak,  
Thou standest on words that are but vain and weak.  
I did not swear, therefore thou canst not be,  
By reading those words, a husband unto me.  
If such false oa●hs to bind effectual were,  
To grow rich in short time thou needest not fear.  
For all the Kings in the world may resign  
Their right unto thee by reading a line,  
Thou art greater than Diana believe me,  
If in thy words so great a power there be.  
yet though my oath, and thy love here I flight▪  
And have strongly pleaded, my case is right.  
yet I confess I fear Diana's wrath,  
Who now I doubt thus me afflicted hath.  
For as often, as I do intend to marry,  
I do fall sick, and so am forc'd to tarry.  
Thrice Hymen now unto my bedside came,  
And finding me sick, he went back again.  
And with his tired hand he scarce could light  
His Torch, or make it to burn clear, and bright.  
Sometimes with powders he perfumes his hair,  
While he his yellow saffron robe doth wear.  
But when unto my chamber he doth come,  
And beholds rears, and weeping he is gone.  
He pluck's the Garland from his shineing hair,  
And tears the flowers in it placed were.  
Such mourning doth with him so ill agree,  
That his blushing cheeks red as his robe be.  
While a hot fever now tormenteth me,  
So that I think the bed-cloaths heavy be.  
I see my parents for me weep and rage,  
Who am now nearer death than marriage.  
O D●an●! that dost wear thy painted quiver.  
Help me now by Apolle's skill thy brother.  
Since he can cure the sick, then why should I  
To thy disgrace, without thy he●p ne'er die?  
VVh●n thou didst bathe thyself I ne'er mistaked  
Like rash Action who beheld thee naked.  
On thy altars I have often sacrificed,  
T●y mother was not by my mother despised.  
This only was my fault, that I had read  
A perjured verse, and ●as ●●●reby deceived.  
Therefore Ac●●t us for my sake now bring  
To Diana's altar thy own offering  
If that the goddess be offended with me,  
Then to be thine, why doth the hinder me?  
For if that she do take away my life,  
Thou canst not hope that I should be thy wi●e.  
He that should be my Husband, doth not stand  
By my bed, and lift me up with his hand.  
He sits indeed on my bed's side, but he  
Attempts no action of immodesty.  
And knows not what to think of me at all,  
When without cause teers from my eyes do fall.  
He seldom doth a kiss to me impart,  
And with a fearful voice calls me Sweetheart.  
I wonder my disdain he hath not spied,  
For when he comes I turn on my left fide.  
I will not speak, but sleep I counterfeit,  
And pu●l my hand back, when he would take it.  
Then does he fetch a deep sigh, because I  
Am offended with him, he knows not why.  
When as in truth, if I should speak my mind,  
('Cause in ●y sufferings thou dost pleasure find)  
Thou dost deserve our ange●, who didst set  
Thy cunning toyl●●, to catch me in thy net,  
Why dost thou write thou wouldst ●ain visit me?  
Since in thy absence thou hast wounded me.  
Why thou art called Acontius, I have found,  
'Cause like an arrow thou far off dost wound.  
That wound is not yet healed which no dar●,  
But these words I read, gave unto my heart.  
Why shouldst thou come and here behold me lie  
The wretched Trophy of thy victory?  
For now my bloodless colour doth quite fail▪  
And I am like t●y Apple wan and pale.  
My white cheeks are not lightly stained with red,  
Like spored marble newly polished.  
But like the colour of a silver Cup,  
When with cold water it is filled up.  
●f thou sawest me, I should not seem the same,  
As when by Art thou soughtest my love to gain.  
My promise thou wouldst willingly remit,  
And ask the goddess to be freed from it.  
And thou wilt send me then another line,  
That I may swe●r that I shall ne'er be th●●e.  
Yet prithee come, since thou desir'st the same,  
And see if thou canst know me now again.  
Though (Acontiu●) thy breast like Iron be,  
Thou wouldst pray the goddess to pardon me.  
yet I would have thee know, we asked Apollo,  
To regain health what course I ought to follow.  
And as fame doth repo●●, he answered, I  
Was punished for my infidelity.  
And thus the gods in Oracle answered me,  
Who to thy desires favourable be.  
Whence comes it, but because these cunning Letters  
In the Apple writ make the gods thy debtors?  
Since thou dost rule the gods, thou must rule me,  
And therefore willingly I yield to thee.  
I told my mother how I had betrayed  
Myself to thee, at which she was dismayed.  
you must contrive the rest; for I have done  
Already, I fear, more than doth become  
A Virgin, since in this Letter you see,  
I freely do unfold my mind to thee.  
Now my weak joynt● 〈◊〉 weary of enditing,  
And my sick hand is tired wi●h long writing.  
So hoping that we shall together meet,  
My Letter with a farewell doth thee greet.   

 
The Argument of the one and twentieth Epistle.  
PHaon being sometimes a ●oatman● Venus came unto him, and desired to be carried over the water gratis, which he did, not knowing her to be a goddess, whereupon she gave him a box of ointment, wherewith anointing himself, he became so beautiful, that all the women in the Isle Lesbes were in love with him, and especially Sapph did impatiently affect him. But when Phaon went to Sicily. Sapph out of the heat of her love, and fear of his disdain, desperately resolved to throw herself into the Sea▪ from Lucas a Prom●utorie of Spire. B●t yet unconstant to her first resolve, ●he endeavours by this Epistle to recall him back, and gain his love of which she formerly despaired, and to win him to a dislike of his present estate and manner of life. Lastly, she useth all Arguments that might move him to pity. And in this Epistle Ovid hath most lively expressed the soft and amorous affections of love.  
SAPPHO to PHAON.  
SOon as thou dost behold my studious hand,  
●hence the Letter comes dost thou understand?  
Or unless in it thou Sophy's name read,  
Dost thou not know from whence it doth proceed?  
Thou may'st wonder why I in this verse write  
Since I in Lyric numbers do delight.  
The weeping Elegy will fitting prove  
To suit unto our sad, and mournful lo●e.  
But in light Lyric verses there appears  
No doleful harmony, that mry su●e tears.  
For as a field of corn on fire, whose flame  
The Eastern wind do●h blow up, and maintain,  
Doth burn apace, being fanned by the wind,  
Even so the flame of love doth fire my mind.  
Though Pha●n live near Aet●a far from me,  
My flames of love hotter than E●na be.  
So that ve●se● to my harp I cannot set,  
" A quiet mind doth verses best beget.  
The Dryad's do not help me at this time,  
Nor Lesbian, nor Pierian Muse's nine.  
I hate, Amythone, and Cyd●us white,  
And Athis is not pleasant in m● sight.  
And many others that were ●ov'd of me,  
But now I have placed all my love on thee.  
Thy youthful years to pleasure do invite,  
Thy tempting beauty ha●h betrayed my sight.  
Take a quiver, and thou wi●t App●l●● be;  
Take Horns, and Bacch●s will be like to thee.  
P●oe●us loved Daphne, B●cchus, Aria●n●,  
Yet in the Lyric verse no knowledge had she.  
But the Muses dictate unto me smooth rhymes.  
So that the world knows my name and lin●s.  
Nor hath Aceus for the harp more praise,  
Though he by higher subjects gets his Bays.  
" If nature beauty unto me deny,  
" My wit the want o● beauty doth supp'y.  
Though low of stature yet my fame is tall,  
And high, for through the world 'tis known to all.  
Though for my beauty I have no renown,  
P●rs●us loved Cep●e●a, that was brown.  
White Doves do often pair with spotted Doves,  
And the g●een Parrot the black Turtle loves.  
If thou wilt have a love as fair as thee,  
Thou must have none, for none ●o fair can be▪  
yet once my face did fair to thee appear,  
And that my speec● became me, thou didst swear.  
And thou wouldst kiss me while that I did sing,  
(For Lovers do remember every th●ng)  
My kisses, and each part thou didst approve,  
But specially when I did write of love;  
Then I did please thee with my wanton strain,  
With witty words, and with my amorous vain▪  
But now the Maids of S●cily do please thee,  
Would I might L●sb●s change for Sic●ly.  
But take heed Me●●ensian●ow ●ow you do  
Receive this wanderer lest you do it rue.  
Lest by his ●●attering tongue you be betrayed,  
What he says to you, he hath to me said.  
O Venus help me now in my distress,  
Fair goddess, favour now thy Poetess.  
Will fortune always be to me unkind?  
And will she never change her froward mind?  
For I knew sorrow soon, even when that I  
Was six years old, my father first did die.  
The love of a whore my brothero're-came,  
On whom he spent his wealth, and lost his fame.  
Being grown poor then unto Sea he went,  
To get by piracy what he had spent.  
And because I did blame his courses, he  
My honest counsel scorned, and hate● me.  
And as if these griefs we●e to light for me,  
you know that I have faulty been with thee.  
And of thee at last I must make complaint,  
Because that I thy company do want.  
In thy absence I do not dress my hair,  
Nor on my fingers any rings do wear.  
A poor and homely weed I do assume,  
Arabian myrrh doth not my hair perfume.  
Though I did dress myself for to please thee,  
yet in thy absence why should I dress me▪  
Nature hath given me a hart so soft,  
Tha● love doth with his arrow wound it oft.  
For I am still in love, and I do see,  
That I must always thus in love still be.  
The fatal sisters at my birth decreed  
To spin my life forth with an amorous thread.  
Or else my studies are the cause of it,  
Thalia hath given me a wanton wit.  
Nor can it in love seem so strange a case,  
That I'should love thy young effeminate face.  
Lest Aurora should love thee I was afraid,  
And so she had but Ceph●●us her stayed.  
If Phoebe should behold thee, she e'er long  
Would love thee more than her E●d●m●on.  
And beauteous Venus long ago had carried  
T●ee unto heaven in her Ivory Chariot,  
But that the goddess wi●ely did foresee,  
That Ma●● himself would fall in love with thee.  
Such was thy beauty, and thy comely grace,  
For in thy youth thou hadst a Virgin's face  
Return to me, thou sweetest flower of beauty,  
For to love thee, I know it is my duty.  
I do not here entreat thee to love me,  
But that thou wouldst permit me to love thee,  
And while I write, I weep even for thy sake,  
And all those blots thou see'st, my tears did make.  
Though thou resolvest to go, yet modesty  
Might have enforced thee, to take leave of me.  
At thy departure thou didst not kiss me,  
I feared that I should forsaken be.  
I had no pledges of thy love, for I  
Have nothing of thine but thy injury.  
This only charge I would have given to thee,  
That thou wouldst not be unmindful of me.  
I swear unto thee, by ●his love of mine,  
And by my goddesses the muses nine.  
When they did tell me that thou hadst took ship,  
A long time I could neither speak, nor weep.  
My heart grew cold, my silent grief was dumb,  
Wanting both tears to vent itself, and tongue,  
But when my sorrows I more lively felt,  
I tore my hair my tears began to melt.  
So that to weep I presently begun,  
Like Mothers at the burial of a son.  
My brother laughed, and while that he did walk  
And strut by me, he thus began to ta●k.  
Alas; why does my loving sister grieve,  
Thou hast no cause, thy Daughter is alive.  
Thus love and shame together ill agree,  
For I had put off now al● modesty.  
And in such manner I abroad did rove,  
That the people thereby discerned my love.  
O Ph●●n, I do dream of thee always,  
Dreams makes the night more pleas●nt than the days.  
Dreams make thee present though thou absent art,  
But they weak shadows of true joys impart.  
Sometimes I t●ink that thou embracest me,  
And sometimes I think ●ha● I embrace thee.  
That thou dost kiss me, than I do believe,  
With such kisses as thou dost use to give.  
And sometimes in my dream to thee I speak,  
As if my tongue and senses were awa●e.  
I cannot tell ●he ●est with modesty,  
For methinks I enjoy thy campany.  
But when the sun doth ri●e and break the day,  
I am sad, because my dreams pass away.  
I'm angry that my fancy is no stronger.  
And that my pleasant dream should last no longer.  
Then to the woods and caves I strait way high.  
Wherein I enjoyed thy sweet company  
As if the woods and caves wou●d comfort me,  
Since they witnesses of our pleasure be.  
Like one w●re mad, or enchanted I ●●ye,  
W●ile my hair doth o'er my shoulders lose lie.  
Methinks the mossy caves do seem as fair,  
As those which built of costly Marble are.  
I love the wood, under whose leavy shade,  
We oftentimes have both together laid.  
But the wood seems upleasant unto me,  
As if it mourned for thy company.  
And I have often gone unto that place,  
Where we have lain together in the grass;  
And laid me down again, and with the showers  
Of tears have watered the smiling flowers.  
The leavelesse trees to mourn do begin,  
And all the sweet ●irds have left off to sing.  
Only the Nightingale with mournful song,  
In saddest notes bewails her former wrong,  
She laments those sad wrongs she did sustain;  
Of thy forsaking me I do complain.  
If she sung not, nor I complained of thee,  
The wood more silent than the night would be▪  
There is a Fountain that●s as clear as glass,  
So that some thought a deity in it was;  
O'er which a great tree doth extend his boughs,  
And soft green grass even round about it grows.  
I being weary, by chance I lay down here,  
And a naiad which did to me appear,  
Standing before me thus to speak begun,  
Because thou lov'st, and are not loved again?  
To Leucas go, if that thou wilt have case,  
A promontory that overlooks the Seas.  
Hence Deucalign for Pyrrh● love  
Did throw himself down, and as it did prove,  
He had no hurt, but being drenched in  
These seas, his love to cool did strait begin.  
The virtue in this place remains, make haste,  
And from this rock thyself down quickly cast.  
Thus having said, she vanished and my fears  
Increased, my eyes did overflow with tears.  
Fair N●mph I promise thee that I will go,  
Enraged with love unto that rock you show  
Perhaps the light air in her arms will bear me,  
I can't be worse, than why should da●ger fear me?  
O love! with thy wings let me be sustained,  
Lest for my death Leucadian seas be blamed.  
Then unto Phoebus I'll my Harp resign,  
And underneath it write this double line;  
Sapph O Phoebus offers unto thee,  
Her Harp, which thou lovest, and was loved by me.  
If Phaon to return to me would please,  
What need I go to the Actaean Seas?  
Thou canst ●● me more good, thee I will follow,  
Thy beauty is such thou art my Apollo.  
Or canst thou harder than a hard Rock be,  
And to die in my misery suffer me?  
It were far better sure that I should join,  
In close embraces, my fair breast with thine;  
That breast, O Phaon, which thou didst oft praise,  
And which did seem so witty many ways.  
Now I would fain be eloquent, but while  
I strive to write in a more elegant stile;  
My art doth fail, for grief my wit hath spent?  
So that my letter is not eloquent.  
My former vein of writing verse is done,  
My jocund Harp is now grown mute and dumb.  
ye Lesbian Nymphs t●at marriage do desire,  
ye Nymphs so called from the Lesbyan Lyre.  
ye Lesbian Nymphs whose love advanced by same,  
Come not to hear my Harp, or Lyric strai●.  
For that sweet vein I had in former time,  
My P●aon took away who is not mine.  
If you send him back, I should regain it,  
He is my Genius that doth give me wit.  
But why with prayers seek I to persuade?  
Can his herded hart with prayers be soft made?  
No, it doth grow more stiff, and I do find  
That all my words are but like empty wind.  
But I do wish the winds would bring thee back:  
Why to return again, art thou so slack?  
I have long looked for thee, then come away,  
Why dost thou thus torment me with delay?  
Weigh but thy Anchor, Ven●s will befriend thee  
With a good voyage, and a fair wind lend thee,  
Cupid to steer thy ship too will not fail,  
And he will put out, and take in each sail,  
But if thou forsake Lesbian Sapph, I  
Have not deserved of thee such cruelty;  
And by this Letter I would have thee know,  
That I myself into the Sea will throw.    

Three responsive Epistles of the Poet Aulus Sabinus in answer to  

 
The Argument of Sabines first Epistle.  
VLysses having read Pe●●lopes Epistle, answereth to all objections, and relates his many troubles which he had valiantly endured Tyrosias and Pallas having instructed him in future events, he prophesieth unto her that he will come home to Ithaca in the babit of a beggar. He comes home so disguised, that Penelope's wooer's supposing him a beggar offer h●m many affronts. B●t his son Telemachus and two servants helping him, he fell upon them, and slew them all. At l●st his ●on T●begonus, whom he had by Circe, flew him with a poisoned Arrow  
ULYSSES to PENELOPE.  
Unfortunate blisses hath from thee,  
Received thy Letter dear Pen lope.  
The sight of thy hand and seal, were to me  
A kind of comfort in my misery.  
Thou dost accuse me, that I am to slack  
In returning and coming to thee back.  
I had rather thou shouldst estem me slow,  
Then that I should let thee my troubles know.  
Greece knew my love unto thee, when I had  
For thy love counterfeited myself mad.  
For such was then the source of my affection,  
That I did counterfeit a feigned distraction,  
Thou wouldst not have me write, but come away;  
I make haste but cross winds do make me stay.  
Troy with the Grecian Maids hate, is defaced,  
I am not there, for Troy is burnt and razed.  
Deiphobus, ●sius: Hector, all slain are,  
And all the rest of whom thou stand'st in fear.  
I scaped the ●bracia● bands when I had slain  
●besus, and to my Tents returned again.  
And besides out of Pallas Temple I  
Did take the fatal palm of victory.  
I was in the 〈◊〉 when 〈◊〉  
Troj●●● burn the Horse, yet not 〈◊〉.  
Burn it; for in this wooden horse, quoth she,  
The cunning Grecians here enclosed be.  
Therefore if you do not this horse destroy,  
It shall be the destruction of Troy.  
Achill●s rites of sepulture did lack,  
Till I brought him to Thetis on my back.  
The Grecians did my labour so regard,  
I had Achille● armour for reward.  
yet I have lost all, for the se● hath swallowed  
My ships, and all the company me ●follow'd.  
Only that constant love I owe to thee,  
Continues with me in adversity.  
Scylla and Charybdis could not cast away  
My love to thee, which still doth with me stay.  
Spite of Antiph●tes my love endured,  
And though the cunning Sirens me allured.  
And Circe, nor Calypso could not charm me,  
Thy love against their Sorceries did arm me.  
Both promised that they could immortal make  
Me, that I should not fear the Stygian Lake.  
For thy sake I their offer did withstand,  
And have suffered so much by Sea and Land.  
Perhaps when thou these women's names dost find  
In my Letter, it will trouble thy mind.  
And of C●r●e and ●alypso to hear,  
Perhaps thou wilt be struck into a fear.  
When I in thy letter Anc●nu● red,  
Polybu and Medon, they my fear bred.  
Since thou so many youthful Suitors hast,  
How could I think that thou remainost chafed.  
Could thy delight in they tear blubbered face?  
Do n●t thy tears thy beauty yet debas?  
And it seems thou hast given consent to marry,  
But thy unthriving web doth make them tarry.  
For that which thou hast in the day time spun,  
thou unweav'st at night, so 'tis never done.  
Thy Art is good which doth successful prove,  
To delude their purpose, delay their love.  
O Polyphemus; I do wish that I  
Had died in thy Cave free from misery.  
Would I had been by the T●ra●ians slain,  
When my ships unto Imarus first came.  
Wou d cruel Pl●to then had satisfied  
His wrath on me, I would that I had died,  
When I de cended to the Stygian Lake,  
From thence in safety I returned back.  
For though in thy Letters no dread appear,  
I saw my mother's thin ghost walking there.  
She told me how at home all matters be,  
And to shun my embraces thrice fled me.  
I saw Protesilaus, who fate-contemn●ng,  
W●th his death gave the Trojan wars beginning.  
And his wife Leoda●i●, who did die  
That she might bea● her h●sband company.  
I saw Agame● on whose wounds ble●ding were,  
So that the sight made me ●et fall a tear.  
He had no hurt at Troy, and also past  
The Euboean Promontory, yet at last  
Having a thousand wounds given him, he dies  
Even then when he to Jove did sacrisice.  
Thus H●lena the Grecians ruin bred,  
While she to Troy a stranger foe lowed.  
Besides, what profit was it unto me,  
Cassa●dra were captives and Andromeche?  
I could have chosen H●cu●a for my wife,  
Think not that with a who e I spend my life.  
For I brought H●cub● aboard my ship,  
But she out of her former shape did ●●ip.  
For into a Bitch she was strait transformed,  
And her complaints were into barking turned.  
Thetis grew angry at these Progedies,  
And enraged, Aeosus made a storm to rise;  
So that with wind and waves our ships did strive,  
Which tempest round about the world did drive.  
But if Tiresias truly foretold me  
A prosperous ●ate a●ter adversity;  
Having endured so much by land and sea,  
I hope my fortunes will more kinder be.  
Now Pallas doth protect us from all dangers,  
And guides us in our journey amongst strangers▪  
Since Tr●yes destruction I have Pallas s●en  
Of late so that her anger spent doth seem.  
And whatsoever Ajax did commit,  
The Grecians now are punished for it.  
Nor was Tydides' too excused from danger▪  
For he like us about the world doth wander.  
Nor Teucer that from Telamonius fir●t sprung,  
Nor he that with a thousand ships did come.  
Men●laus was happy, for having got  
His wife, he need fear no unhappy lot.  
Though the winds or seas did your journey stay,  
Your love was not hindered by that delay.  
The winds nor waves did not hinder your bliss,  
But when you list you could embrace and kiss.  
And had I so enjoyed thy company,  
No evil chance could then betid to me.  
But since Telemachus is well I hear,  
My present troubles I more lightly bear.  
I blame thy love in sending him to sea,  
Through Sparte, and in Py●on to seek me,  
I needs mu●t blame thy love in doing it,  
While to the Sea thou didst my Son commit.  
But fortune may at last yet prove my friend,  
And all my troubles may have a fair end.  
A Prophet told me, dear wife, we should meet,  
And with embraces should each other greet.  
But ● will come disguised so to be known  
Unto no other ●ut thyself alone.  
In a b●ggers habit ●'le disguised be,  
Conceal thy joy, and knowledge then of me.  
I'll show no outward violence when I come  
For so Apol●●s Priest unto me sung.  
But I'll revenge myself even at that time  
When thy wooer's are banqueting with wine.  
While beggar's raiment doth Vlesses cover.  
And then at last myself I will discover.  
While at Vlesses they shall all admire.  
That th●s day would come soon I do desire.  
That we may both d●er wife, renew our love,  
And I to thee may a kind husband prove.   

 
The Argument of Sabines se●ond Epistle.  
DEmophoon in this Epistle endeavours by divers Arguments to excuse his, unfaithful neglect of returning to Phylles according to his promise. Alleging that his friends were offended with him sot staying so long with her in Thrace, and also the importune unseasonableness of the weather for sailing, promising howsoever at length to return to Phillis. He performed his promise, but Phyllis impatient of delay, ●ad strangled herself before he came, and by the mercy of the gods was changed into a leafless Almond tree, which Demophoon embracing, it put forth leaves as if it had been sensible of his return. Which is feigned, because Phyllis signifies in Greek an Almond tree, so expressing the name of Phyllis. Because when Zephyrus or the West wind bloweth from Afri●a into Thrace, this ●ree flourisheth, for Zephyrus signifies as much as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is, The life cherisher▪ which gave occasion to this fiction, that Phyllis transformed into a Tree, seemed to rejoice, and flourish, at the return of her Lover.  
DEMOPHOON to PHILIS.  
FRom his own Country to Phyllis his friend,  
D●mopho●n doth this his Letter send.  
Ev●n thy ●emo●h●o● that doth still love thee,  
My fortunes changed, but not my constancy.  
Theseus' who●e name thou hast no cause to fear,  
Thy flame of love for his sake worthy were.  
Menestheus drove out of his royal state,  
And the old Tyrant is now dead of late.  
He that the Amazons had overcome,  
And unto Hercul●s was companion.  
He that did Min●s son in law become,  
When he the Minotaur had overthrown▪  
He did accuse me because I did stay,  
Trifling so long with thee in Thra●ia  
For while the love of Phyllis did detain thee.  
And that a foreign beauty did inflame thee.  
Time with a nimble pace did slip away;  
And sad accidents happened by thy delay.  
Which had been all prevented, hadst thou come  
Or hadst thou made them void, when they were●d  
When thou didst Phyllis kingdom love, for she  
Th●n a who●e kingdom was dearer to thee.  
From At●amas I this s●me chiding have,  
And old Ethra who's half within her grave.  
Since Theseus is not their to close their eyes,  
The fault on me for staying with thee lies.  
I confess they both to me often cried,  
When my ship did in Thracian waters ride.  
The win●s stand fair Demophoon, why dost stay?  
Go home Demophoon without delay.  
From thy beloved Phyllis example take,  
She loves thee, yet her home she'll not forsake.  
She desires not to bear thee company,  
But to return again entreateth thee.  
I with a silent patience heard them chide,  
But their desire I in my thoughts denied.  
I thought I could not embrace thee enough,  
And I was glad to see the sea grow rough.  
Before my father I will this confess,  
" He that loves worthily may it profess.  
For since such store of worth remains in thee,  
If I do love thee it no shame can be.  
And I do know that Phyllis cannot say,  
I proved unkined, when I did sail away.  
For when the day came that I must take ship;  
I wept, and comforted thee who didst weep.  
Thou didst grant me a ship of Thracia,  
While Phyllis love made me the time delay.  
Besides my father Theseus doth retain  
Ariadne's love and cherishes that flame;  
When he looks towards heaven many times,  
See how my love (saith he) in heaven shines.  
Though Bacchus to forsake her did commen● him,  
The world for forsaking her, hath blamed him.  
So am I perjured thought for my delay,  
Though Phyllis know not the cause of my stay.  
This may assure thee I will come again,  
Because my breast doth burn with no new flame.  
Phyllis, hath not report to thee made known,  
What dismal troubles are sprung up at home?  
Since for my father's death I a mourner am,  
Whose death includes more grief than I can name,  
My brother Hyppolli●us deserves a tear.  
Whom his own horses did in pieces tear.  
These fatal causes might excuse my stay,  
yet after a while I will come away.  
I will but lay my F●t●er in the grave,  
For 'tis fit he ●hould worthy burial have.  
Grant me but ●ime and I will constant be,  
Thy Country ●eilds most safety unto me▪  
To those that since the fall of Troy did wander  
By land and sea, and padst through much danger,  
T●●●ce hat● been kind, and I unto this Land  
By tempest drove, was kindly entertained.  
If that thy love to me remain the same,  
Who in my royal Palace now do reign.  
And art not Angry with my parent's fate,  
Or with D●mophoon most unfortunate.  
Suppose that unto me thou hadst been married  
When at the siege of Troy ten years I tarried.  
Penel●pe through all the world is famed  
Because that she her chastity maintained.  
For she with witty Ar●, did always w●ave  
An unthriving web, suitors to deceive.  
For she by night did it in pieces pull,  
Resolving the untwisted threads to wool.  
Dost 〈◊〉 the Thracians will not marry thee,  
Or wilt thou marry any one but me?  
Hast thou a heart with any one to join  
Thy hand, unless thy hand do join with mine;  
HOw wilt thou blush then, and how wilt thou grieve,  
When a far off thou shalt my sails perceive;  
Thou wilt condemn thyself, and ●ay alas;  
I see Demophoon most faitful was  
D●mop●o●n is returned, and for my sake,  
A dangerous voyage he by sea did make  
I that for breach of faith him rashly blamed,  
Have broke my faith, while I of him complained.  
But Philli● I had rather thou shouldst marry,  
Then that thou shouldst some other way miscarry.  
Why dost thou threaten thou wilt make away  
Thyself? the gods may hear when thou dost pray.  
Though thou dost blame me for inconstancy,  
Add not affliction to my misery.  
Though T●eseus Ariadn● did forsake,  
Where he wild beasts a prey of her might ma●e;  
Yet my desert hath not been such, that I  
Should be accused of inconstancy,  
This Letter may the winds wi●● out all fail  
Bring safe to t●ee, which used to drive my fail,  
Persuade thyself, I fain would come away,  
But that I have just cause a while to stay.   

 
The Argument of Sabines third Epistle.  
THis responsive Epistle written by Paris is not difficult, for the Argument is taken out of Oenone's Epistle. Paris having violated the rites of marriage, by repudiating his wife, and marrying Helena first confesses to Oenone the injury he had done her. After ward excusing himself, he transfereth the blame on Cupid, whose power Lovers canno● resist, and on the fate who had destinated Helena to him unknown. But 'tis reported that Oenone did love Paris so dearly, that he being brought to her wounded by Phyloctetes with one of Hercules arrows, she embraced his body, and embal●●eing it with tears died over him, and so they were both buried in Cebri● a Trojan City.  
PARISH to OENONE.  
Nymph, I confess that I fit words do want,  
To write an answer to thy just complaint▪  
I s●ek for words, but yet I cannot find,  
Words, that my aptly suit unto my mind.  
I confess against thee I ha●e offended,  
yet H●lens love ma●es me I cannot mend it.  
I'll condemn myself, but what doth it avail;  
The power of love makes a bad cause prevail  
For though thou shouldst condemn me, and my cause,  
yet Cup●d means to ●ry me by his laws.  
And if by his laws we will judged be,  
It seems another hath more right to me.  
Thou we●t my first love I contesse in truth,  
And I married thee in my flower of youth.  
Of my father P●iam I was not proud,  
As thou dost write, but unto thee I bowed.  
I did not think H●ctor should prove my brother,  
When thee and I did keep our flocks together.  
I knew not my mother Queen H●cu●e  
Whose Daughter thou most worthy art to be,  
But love, I see, is not guided by reason,  
Consider with thyself at this same season  
For thou complainest that I have wronged thee,  
And yet thou writest that thou lovest me.  
And though the S●yres and the Fawn●s do move thee,  
yet thou remainest constant still unto me  
Bends, this love is fatal unto me,  
My Sister Cassandra did it foresee;  
Before that I had heard of Hel●ens name,  
Whose beauty through all Greece was known by ●ame.  
I have told all unless it be that wound,  
Of love which I have by ●er beauty found.  
Nay those wounds I will open, and from you  
To gain some help, I will both beg and sue.  
My life and death are both within thy hand,  
you have conquered me, I'm at your command.  
yet I remember that when you heard me,  
●elate to you her dismal prophecy.  
While I did tell thee, thou didst weep upon me,  
VVi●hing the go is would turn that sad fate upon me.  
That thou 〈◊〉 g●t'st have no cause to accuse  
When that O 〈◊〉 do●h 〈◊〉 lose.  
Love blinded me that I could not believe thee,  
And loving thee doth make me now deceive thee.  
Love powerful is, and when he list can turn  
Io●● to a bull, or to a Bird tranforme.  
Such beauty all the world should not contain,  
As H●l●n, who is born to be my flame  
Since jupiter to disguise his loose escape  
Did transform himself unto a swans shape;  
And Io●● also descended from his Tower,  
To court fair Da●●e in a golden shower.  
Sometimes himself he to an Eagle turned,  
And sometimes to a white Bull hath transformed.  
And who would think that H●r●ules would spin,  
yet love of D●ian●ra compelled him.  
And he wore her l●ght Petticoat 'tis said,  
While his love with his Lion's skin was clad.  
So I remember love compelled thee,  
(The more's my fault) that thou pre●erredst me,  
Before Apollo's love, and from him fled,  
Because thou wouldst possess my marriage bed.  
Yet I excelled not Pl●oebus, but the dart  
Of Love did so enforce thy gentle heart.  
yet this may unto thee some comfort prove,  
That she is no base Harlo● whom I love,  
For she whom I before thee do prefer  
By birth is descended from Iupi●●r.  
yet her birth doth not enamoured make me,  
But 'tis her matchless beauty that doth take me.  
O my Oenon●! I do wish it still,  
I had not been on the Idaean Hill  
A judge of beauty, Pallas now doth grudge.  
And june, because against them I did judge.  
And because I did lovely Venus' praise,  
And for her beauty gave to her the Bays.  
She that can raise loves flame up in another,  
She that rules Cupid, and is his own Mother,  
yet she could not avoid her own Sons shaft  
And Bow, where with he wounded others oft.  
For V●lcan took fair Venus' close in bed  
With M●rs, which by the gods was witnessed.  
And Mars again she afterward forsaken,  
And for her Paramour Anchises took.  
For with Anchises she in love would be,  
And did revenge his sloth in venery.  
If Venus thus did in affection rove,  
Why may not she make Paris change his love?  
Menelaus with her fair face was took,  
I loved her, before on her I did lo●k.  
Though wars ensue, if I do her enjoy,  
And a thousand ships fetch her back from Troy;  
I do not fear the war is just and right,  
If all the world should for her beauty fight.  
Although the armed Grecians ready be,  
To fetch her back, I'll keep her here with me.  
If thou hast any hope to change my mind,  
To use thy charms why art t●ou not inclined?  
Since in Apollo's Arts thou art well seen,  
And to Hecate's skill hast used been.  
Thou canst cloud the day, and stars shining clear,  
And make the Moon forsake her silver sphere;  
And by thy charms, while I did Oxen keep.  
Fierce Lions gent●y walked among the sheep.  
Thou didst make Xanthus, and Sim●e●s flow  
Unto their springs, and back again to go.  
And charm'dst other Rivers, when, thou didst see,  
They thirsted a●ter thy Virginini●y.  
Oenone, let thy charms effectual prove,  
To change my affection, or quench thy love.    

Books Printed for William Gilbertson, the sign of the Bible in Gilt-spur-stree without N●wgate.  
THe Faithful Analist or an Epitome of the English History, giving a true account of the Affairs of this Nation, from the building of the Tower of London in the days of William the Conqueror; to the Restoring of our Gracious King Charles the Second, where in all things remarkable both by Sea and Land, from the year, 1069. to the year. 1660 are truly and exactly represented.  
The Rich Cabinet; with variety of Inventions: unlocked and opened, for the recreation of Ingenious spirits at their vacant hours; also variety of Recreative fireworks; both for Land, Air, and Water, whereunto is added Divers Experiments, in Drawing, Painting, Arethmetick, etc.  
The History of Parismus, and Parismenos.  
The History of Ornatus and Artesia.  
The History of Dr. john Faustus. the first and second part.  
The History of the Gentle Craft. the second part showing what famous men have b●en Shoemakers  
justin in Latin. Also justin in English. Translated out of the four and forty books of Trogus Pompelus containing the Affairs of all ages and Countries both in peace and war from the beginning of the world till the time of the Roman Emperors together with an Epitome of the lives and Manners, Fitting to be used in Schools for the benefit of youth.  
The Government of Cattle by Leonard Mascall Chief Farier to King james.  
The Surveyors Perambulator, A new book of Surveying of Land.  

PLAYS.  
Ignoramus.  
Dr. Faustus.  
The Valiant Welshman.  
Fair EM the Miller's Daughter of Manchester.  
GUY of Warmick  
Lady Alymony.  
The Merry Devil of Edmonton.  
The Shoemakers. Holiday, or the Gentle-Craft.   
FINIS.