POEMS, viz. 

1. A PANEGYRIC to the KING.  
2. SONGS and SONNETS.  
3. The BLIND LADY, a COMEDY.  
4. The Fourth Book of VIRGIL,  
5. STATIUS his ACHILLEISS, with ANNOTATIONS.  
6. A PANEGYRIC to GENERAL MONCK.   By the Honourable Sr ROBERT HOWARD.  
LONDON, Printed for Henry Herringman, and are to be sold at his shop at the sign of the Anchor on the lower Walk of the New Exchange. 1660.   

TO THE READER.  
IT has been the usual custom of Epistles, to give the Reader an account of the causes that brought those writings into public, that were only intended for a private Closet; and commonly it has been at the request of friends, perhaps with mingled truth and design, to prae-engage the judgements of many, by telling the opinion of some, so to preserve their modesty as much in the pretence, as they could have done in the concealment of their Writings.  
Though I cannot pretend such a cause as this, I can yet free myself from that vanity that others would avoid, by assuring the Reader, I had not stock of confidence enough to show these things privately to many friends, much less to be furnished with enough, to make them public to all indifferent persons, had not the desires of the Bookseller prevailed with me: to whose civilities I believed myself so far engaged, as to deny him nothing that he thought a kindness, which could not be severely prejudicial to myself: Yet I doubted not, but that I should receive the censures of many; which, upon the granted principle of prejudice, appeared not a reasonable argument to prevail with me to deny his request, since the same should as well persuade me not to live, for life and conversation render man in Print more than letters can do; and is made more public by that way, than he can be by this. His life is mingled more with his defects and passions, than probably his writings are; and whether they are equal, or exceed others, need not trouble him that writes: He may be satisfied, the production of retired hours are the best of himself. I had no great reason then to deny his request, that imagined he asked his own advantage, when he desired nothing that I believed contrary to mine.  
Yet I wish that it may so far give satisfaction to all, that they may as little repent the reading, as I did the writing; whilst in these gentle studies I found a diversion from greater follies; and by that comparison they received obliging natures. Perhaps, there's few that read them, may not as well be conscious to themselves, to have spent some time not so 〈◊〉; and for that cause forgive that, which for its own sake they cannot admire.  
For the several subjects which here make one bundle, there is not any of them that have not lain by me these many years (two or three copies of Verses only excepted); and had been wholly perhaps laid aside, but for the reasons given, applying myself now to more serious studies, according to the several seasons of increasing age, as the earth produces various fruits to the different seasons of the year. By this short account of time, the Reader may discern in what cloudy days my Muse spread her wings, as little contributing to her flying a noble height, as to show a just subject: He that most deserved it was most denied it (as he was indeed his right in all things) either from private fear, or public power, though I equal not the crime of faint thoughts in passive submission, to the guilt of bold profession in public action. 'Tis now to be hoped, that the praises of our Prince, who so much merits it, may be received willingly by all, since nothing can be said of him, that has not been done by him; and man's largest invention has been excelled by His actions, there being nothing capable to make him appear more excellent than himself; unless it had been our want of him, when by experience we found his miseries were ours, and all that we inflicted on him returned in double measures on ourselves; like stones madly tossed into the air, and forced from their proper centre, that fall back with increased weight upon their heads that flung them. We are now presented that in him, which this world sparingly produces; in one composure, an object for our Consciences and Interest, in whose preservation, our Temporal and Eternal states have equal shares. Yet I should a little be dissatisfied with myself to appear public in his praise, just when he was visibly restoring to power, did not the reading of the Panegyric vindicate the writing of it, and, besides my affirmation, assure the Reader, It was written when the King deserved the Praise as much as now, but separated farther from the Power; which was about three years since, when I was Prisoner in Windsor-Castle, being the best diversion I could then find for my own condition; to think, how great his Virtues were for whom I suffered, though in so small a measure compared to his own, that I rather blush at it, than believe it meritorious.  
For the other Verses and Songs, I must profess they were never directed to any particular Beauty, which may (to the Amorous Reader at least) be a just excuse, if they want Perfection, to remember I wanted Passion, and had only my own warmth, unassisted by the influence of a Mistress. Nor shall I envy him that writes better, by being much in love, if he must purchase the advantage of Wit by the loss of Freedom.  
For the Translations, the Authors have already received those Characters from the world, that they need none of mine, especially Virgil, of whose works I have only published this one Book, that lay finished by me; not judging it convenient to perfect those other Books of his Aeneids, which I have rudely gone through, having long since laid aside all designs of that nature; and this little of it rather grew public from accident, than design, the Mingle it had with my private Papers, was the greatest cause, that it received its share in the public Impression.  
For Statius, he had received commendations enough, had he been alone commended by Juvenal in his 7 satire. but Alexand. ab Alex. also, lib. 6 ch. 14. relates, that he thrice received the Victor's Laurel in the public reading of his Verses, and was once vanquished; as unjustly perhaps as 
* Agelli lib. 17. ch. 4.  Menander was judged to be overcome by Philemon, whose faction was greater, though his wit less; insomuch that meeting him afterwards, Menander desired him to confess ingenuously, if he did not blush when he vanquished him. For this piece of his, I confess I chose it as most pleasing to me, I wish it may be so to the Reader; though there wants not 
* 〈◊〉 in unâ Achilleide ita surgit ut illic multo sublimi●s ferri videatur, quam quó potuerit toto ● hebaide perveniter Demit.  ingenious men, who preferred it before his other Poems. The Annotations may in some places perhaps be judged too large; yet, had I omitted any thing, it is probable that the same persons would have censured me for ignorance: so that being equally sensible of these extremes, I judged it the testimony of the greatest modesty, By omitting little, to show myself not at all secure in the world's opinion.  
I have thus, ingenuous Reader, given you a clear and true account of myself and Writings, not oppressed with apprehension, nor raised by neglect; but preserved by an indifferency, that destroys not my civility to others, nor my own content; desiring not to engross, but share satisfaction. If in any thing I justly need, or design to ask pardon, 'tis for Errors that probably the Reader may meet with; having been reduced to the straight of neglecting this, or business. I confess my Interest prevailed with me though, not wholly to neglect the Reader, since I prevailed with a worthy Friend to take so much view of my blotted Copies, as to free me from gross Errors. Having thus set down all my design and reasons, I leave the Reader with as little Concern to use his, as I have showed him mine.   

To my Honoured Friend, Sr ROBERT HOWARD, On his Excellent Poems.  

AS there is Music uninformed by Art  
In those wild Notes, which with a merry heart  
The Birds in unfrequented shades express,  
Who better taught at home, yet please us less:  
So in your Verse, a native sweetness dwells,  
Which shames-Composure, and its Art excels.  
Singing, no more can your soft numbers grace  
Then Paint adds charms unto a beauteous Face.  
Yet as when mighty Rivers gently creep,  
Their even calmness does suppose them deep,  
Such is your Muse: no Metaphor swelled high  
With dangerous boldness lifts her to the sky;  
Those mounting Fancies when they fall again,  
Show sand and dirt at bottom do remain.  
So firm a strength, and yet with all so sweet,  
Did never but in Sampson's Riddle meet.  
'Tis strange each line so great a weight should bear,  
And yet no sign of toil, no sweat appear.  
Either your Arthides Art, as Stoics feign  
Then least to feel, when most they suffer pain;  
And we, dull souls, admire, but cannot see  
What hidden springs within the Engine be:  
Or 'tis some happiness that still pursues  
Each act and motion of your graceful muse.  
Or is it Fortune's work, that in your bead  
The curious 
* Rete Mirabile.  Net that is for fancies spread,  
Let's through its Meshes every meaner thought,  
While rich Ideas there are only caught.  
Sure that's not all; this is a piece too fair  
To be the child of Chance, and not of Care.  
No Atoms casually together hurled  
Could e'er produce so beautiful a world.  
Nor dare I such a doctrine here admit,  
As would destroy the providence of wit.  
'Tis your strong Genius then which does not feel  
Those weights would make a weaker spirit reel:  
To carry weight and run so lightly too  
Is what alone your Pegasus can do.  
Great Hercules himself could ne'er do more  
Than not to feel those heavens and gods he bore.  
Your easier Odes; which for delight were penned,  
Yet our instruction make their second end,  
We're both enriched and pleased, like them that woe  
At once a Beauty and a Fortune too.  
Of Moral Knowledge Poesy was Queen,  
And still she might, had wanton wits not been;  
Who like ill Guardians lived themselves at large,  
And not content with that, debauched their charge:  
Like some brave Captain, your successful Pen  
Restores the Exiled to her Crown again;  
And gives us hope, that having seen the days  
When nothing flourished but Fanatique Bays,  
All will at length in this opinion rest,  
" A sober Prince's Government is best.  
This is not all; your Art the way has found  
To make improvement of the richest ground,  
That soil which those immortal Laurels bore,  
That once the sacred Maro's temples wore  
Elisa's griefs, are so expressed by you,  
They are too eloquent to have been true.  
Had she so spoke, Aeneas had obeyed  
What Dido rather than what Jove had said.  
If funeral Rites can give a Ghost repose,  
Your Muse so justly has discharged those.  
Elisa's shade may now its wand'ring cease,  
And claim a title to the fields of peace.  
But if Aeneas be obliged, no less  
Your kindness great Achilles doth confess,  
Who dressed by Statius in too bold a look,  
Did ill become those Virgin's Robes he took.  
To understand how much we owe to you,  
We must your Numbers with your Author's view;  
Then we shall see his work was lamely rough,  
Each figure stiff as if designed in buff;  
His colours laid so thick on every place,  
As only showed the paint, but hid the face:  
But as in Perspective we Beauties see;  
Which in the Glass, not in the Picture be;  
So here our sight obligeingly mistakes  
That wealth which his your bounty only makes.  
Thus vulgar dishes are by Cooks disguised,  
More for their dressing than their substance prized.  
Your curious 
* Annotations on Statius.  Notes so search into that Age,  
When all was fable but the sacred Page,  
That since in that dark night we needs must stray,  
We are at least misled in pleasant way.  
But what we most admire, your Verse no less  
The Prophet than the Poet doth confess.  
Ere our weak eyes discerned the doubtful streak  
Of light, you saw great Charles his morning break.  
So skilful Seamen ken the Land from far,  
Which shows like mists to the dull Passenger.  
To Charles your Muse first pays her duteous love,  
As still the Ancients did begin from Jove.  
With Monk you end, whose name preserved shall be,  
As Rome recorded 
* Hic situs est Rufus qui pulso vindice quondam, Imperium asseruit non fibi sed Patriae.  Rufus memory,  
Who thought it greater honour to obey  
His country's interest than the world to sway.  
But to write worthy things of worthy men  
Is the peculiar talon of your Pen:  
Yet let me take your Mantle up, and I  
Will venture in your right to prophecy.   

" This Work by merit first of Fame secure  
" Is likewise happy in its Geniture:  
" For since 'tis born when Charles ascends the Throne,  
" It shares at once his Fortune and its own.   
JOHN DRIDEN.   

A PANEGYRIC To the KING.  

THE true Parnassus (Sir) which Muses know,  
Are Subjects which they choose; to whom they owe  
Their Inspirations, differing as the times,  
Unhappy Virtues, or successful Crimes.  
The greatest Choice is, where the most Success  
Makes Fears as great, nor their Ambitions less.  
With the Usurped Crowns they strive for Bays;  
Those readier not to Act than These to Praise.   

My Muse (Great Sir) has no such fears, or knows  
A better Impiration than your Woes.  
To sing those Virtues which are all your own,  
Not brought you by Successes 〈◊〉 a Throne;  
But by the malice of the world withstood:  
So much 'tis easier to be Great than Good.  
Which knows no end, or change by human things,  
But like the world (Eternal) whence it springs.  
Greatness is, as forbidden Pleasures are,  
Reached by th'impious hands, that will but dare  
Attempt all Crimes, still scorning a retreat:  
Only the Bad can be unjustly Great.   

By Falls from Thrones, such, and the virtuous know  
What Fate to them, or they to Fortune owe.  
By courage nor by virtue can be stayed  
Fortune, which tired grows by lending aid.  
So, when all Thrones on Caesar were bestowed,  
Not Fate to him, but he to Fortune owed,  
And paid her back the vastest Principal  
She ever lent, in his too-wretched Fall;  
To whose successful Courage once she gave  
The 
* Rome, called by Livy, Totius Orbis D●minatri●.  Mistress of the World to be his Slave.   

To fair days, storms succeed; to storms, the fair:  
We know but what we are by what we were.  
And Man's condition's valued more or less,  
By what he had, not what he does possess.  
For no Extremes could ever gain a Height  
From their own natures, but each other's weight.  
So 
* 
— Sed longi poenas Fortuna favoris  
Exigit a misero, quae tanto pondere famae  
Res premit adversas, fatisque prioribus urget.  
Lucan. Phar. lib. 8.   Lucan made the flying Pompey blame,  
Not present Woes, but his too-early Fame.  
Great 
* Hannibal, in his excellent Speech to Scipio between their Armies, then ready to fight, set down by Livy; among other motives to Scipio for peace, by his own example, advises him to be secure from the Ingratitude of his Country; which afterwards was too largely evident by their reducing him to Privacy as great as his former Glories, and rendered themselves unworthy of his Ashes, which to this day lie in an unknown Grave.  Scipio, whose too happy courage made  
His Country free, and Hannibal's enslayed,  
Had been more happy, had he been but less,  
And not feared want of glory, but excess.  
Whose Countrie-men's ungrateful fears were more,  
For his success, than Hannibal's before.  
So much Plebeian Souls from Nature's School,  
Are fitted more for Servitude than Rule.   

Would such Examples had been only known;  
But we have felt a greater of our own,  
In your Great Father seen; whose Sunshine-days▪  
Deserves not more our wonder than our praise:  
Nor did his days of Tempests less proclaim,  
But taught us more of Miracle and Fame.  
And equalled all the miseries it brought;  
By virtues, which unequalled sufferings taught.  
Frailty affliction brings; and yet a friend,  
In giving those afflictions too an end.  
Yet immortality can no blessing give,  
But make that perfect, which must ever live.  
His soul, refined so by Celestial heat,  
One could not hurt; and t'other has made great.  
He paid his scores of Frailty, and of Joys,  
To live, where nothing that's enjoyed destroy's.  
And sell, lest this frail World like Heaven might be,  
At once admitting Him, and Constancy.   

Happy were we, had we but understood,  
None were too great, nor we out selves too good!  
Within ourselves, and by ourselves confined:  
One by our Ocean; t'other by our Mind.  
Whilst the obliged World, by War unsought,  
Was willingly by gentler Traffic brought.  
Secure and Rich; whilst every swelling Tide,  
That brought us safety, brought us Wealth beside▪  
Above the reach of the World's power grown,  
And had been safe, had we but feared our own.  
What the Grave Spaniard, and the Belgian too,  
The active French, by power could not do,  
Our passions did; and quickly made it known,  
We could be Conquered by ourselves alone.  
And acting that which others could not do,  
Are now fit for their Scorn, and Conquest too.  
How just, and sure Heaven's revenges are!  
We slighted peace; and grow despised by War.  
Like Mad men then, possessed with Lunacy;  
We now must find a Cure in misery.  
And by our suffering, to our wits redeemed,  
Our long-lost peaceful temper grows esteemed.  
For man does most, by the Comparative,  
At the true knowledge of Extremes arrive.  
And in affliction's ready to adore,  
That which he hardly could endure before.  
How fatally this Nation proves it true,  
In mourning for our banished Peace; and You!   

To You, Great Sir, Fortune's in debt alone,  
Who can be no way paid, but by your own.  
Your Virtues have not more made Crowns your due,  
Than sufferings taught you how to use them too.  
Strokes upon solid bodies do provoke  
A secret brightness free, unmixed with smoke:  
No grossness mingled; but bright sparks declare,  
What mighty firmness their Composures are.  
So whilst the strokes of Fortune on You light,  
Your mighty frame appears more firm and bright.  
Affliction often by its powerful weight,  
Is the Case-shot of Destiny and Fate.  
Routing faint principles together brought  
By prosperous virtues; not by hazards taught.  
Whilst the weak man is too much understood,  
His frailty more, than his substantial good.   

As in the low declining of the day,  
men's shadows more enlarged show, than they;  
So in the world's great, last, adversity,  
When every Element their power must try;  
To dissolution they must all retire,  
And leave but one pure Element of fire.  
All that was gross, which from weak nature flows,  
In your great trials, so expiring shows.  
And all unto your Nobler Soul resigned,  
Nothing seems l●fe in you, but what's refined.  
No longer, now, subject to what is frail,  
But have from Nature, cut off the entail.   

Nor yet could Fortune with her powed or frowns,  
Ravish your Father's Veroves, though his Crowns;  
So little was th' esteem of human things,  
To that once best, and now most blessed, of Kings.  
One that in all his time, was never known,  
Greedy of Lives, though weary of his own.  
Peace Crowned his thoughts, though not his wretched time,  
His Nature was his fate, his Crown his crime:  
Despised by his own people, first; because,  
He stooped below his power, and their laws.  
His easy gifts seemed all but debts; when they,  
Had nothing left to ask, nor he to pay.  
Yet that he might unjust, or mean, appear,  
For what his nature gave, they thanked his fear.  
All the fair virtues of his Halcyon-times  
Instead of gratitude contracted crimes  
In those, who from the fears he ever had,  
Of being ill, took boldness to be bad.  
Such as on peace, the name of [idle] fling,  
And make their Prince a Tyrant or no King;  
So fell that Prince, too good for such bad times,  
By his own Virtues, and by others Crimes.   

Now against you, Great Sir, their swords are turned,  
And joy in what the World besides has mourned.  
Still constant in their Crimes and Cruelty,  
All Conscience turned into Necessity.  
Which by the view of acted sins before,  
Does safe appear, only by doing more:  
As those who quit firm shores, when the wind raves,  
Must not retire, but bustle still in waves.  
The wand'ring Needle so can never stay,  
Till it finds out the Point it should obey.  
Our Constitution touched by Monarchy,  
Till it rests there, must always wand'ring be;  
And that must fix in You: None could convey  
True light, but He that ought to rule the day.  
When Phaeton did to that height aspire,  
He brought not influence to the world, but fire:  
So those led by Ambition to your Throne,  
Have brought us ruin, and have found their own.   

Whilst thus our Sphere is overcast with Clouds,  
You (the bright Sun) their envious darkness shrouds,  
As ready to break forth, when Factions here  
Divide, as when dark clouds part in the Sphere,  
The Sun can be. No offer you neglect,  
To warm us with your lustre, and protect  
From such fogs of mean Souls, which still will fly  
O'er us, till all's dispelled by Majesty.   

Once for your kingdom's sake you durst oppose  
Your Laureled Enemies with your 
* Coming in with the Scots, who were before Conquered by the English at Dunbar.  conquered foes.  
Yet Heaven from your assistance then was stayed,  
Lest the ill Act the good had over-vveighed;  
And in the Victory those Scots had found  
Their Crimes together with your Virtues crowned.  
Then 'twas You did attempt your debt to pay  
To Us or Nature, by a noble way.  
The bold 
* Stat casus renovare omneis, omnemque reverti Per Trojam, et rursus caput objectare perîclis. Virg. lib. 2. Aeneid.  Aeneas so, having left Troy  
In its own funeral flames, scorned to enjoy  
Safety alone; but, led by Virtue's great  
As were the Dangers he was to repeat,  
Returned among his ruined Friends and State,  
To bring them safety, or to fetch their fate.  
Whilst our dull souls all nobler warmth denied,  
The Coward and th'Insensible divide  
Our woes made habits by the use, or dare  
Not think we know how great our sufferings are.  
Like those who devil in still-resounding Caves,  
Where Nile sends headlong down his rapid waves,  
Are deaf, because the Clamours constant are,  
The Water not out-thundered by the Air.  
So, still oppressed, Custom at last denies  
Unto our Souls the use of Faculties.   

Thus is Your case in forlorn habits dressed,  
Robbed of your friends by fear and interest.  
Whilst Princes little think (since change is sure)  
To pity others is to be secure;  
Like those, who neither dying men deplore,  
Nor have more thoughts of frailty than before.   

But HE above, to make his Power known,  
What exceeds ours, has fitted for his own;  
And can by those bad Instruments restore  
Your Crowns, that were their ravishers before.  
By Jealousy, and their ambitious Pride,  
Which may their Crimes among themselves divide;  
Till in each others guilty bosom too,  
They sheath their Swords more justly than they drew.  
Like Cadmus' children that were born with strife,  
Their quarrel's not less ancient than their life,  
Which never in successive mischief dies,  
And factions still on other's ruins rise.  
So a svvelled Wave in all its pride appears,  
Whose certain fate the following billow bears.  
In Storms, ruin on ruin still depends,  
Till want of giddy waves the quarrel ends.   

So Justice your returning Throne prolongs,  
Till they upon themselves revenge your wrongs.  
That without victory you may Conquest find,  
And without Blood your peaceful Brows may bind  
With all those Crowns, which are as much your due  
As Birth and Virtue can contribute to.   

Thus the great Power of all, having first chose  
To make your Virtue's great and safe by Woes,  
Will, by as unexpected ways, restore  
Your ravished Crowns, as they were lost before.    

To AMARANTA. The Fate of Scorn.  

IF you the world could Conquer one by one,  
You'd then want Trophies for your boundless mind;  
Like that ambitious 
1 Alexander the Great, of whom Juven. 10. Aestuat infelix angusto limit mundi.  Prince, who wanted room,  
In the straight circuit of the world confined.   

Then like the Tyrant 
2 Suetonius, in the Life of Nero, reports, that in his last extremity, when he sought for Spicillus the Fencer, or any, to dispatch him: And equally wanting Friends and Enemies to afford him that last favour; Ergo ego (inquit) nec Amicum habeo, nec Inimicum?  Nero you must fall;  
Such fate's as his due to such cruelty,  
Unpitied and unminded too of all,  
At once without a Friend or Enemy.   

The Soldier that joins Conquest to his name  
By Victories, when overcome with years,  
(As you must one day be) preserves his fame,  
Not by those wounds he gave, but those he bears.   

So when your Charms in Age's furrows lie  
Lost, and forgotten, they had once so moved;   

One Wound amidst your heaps of Victory  
Would better tell, that you had been beloved.   

Then like a Tyrant ravished from his Throne,  
You'll wish, that you had gentlier used your own.    

Song at AMARANTA's Command,  
set to the Tune of ARCHIBELLA.  

FAir Amaranta, if thy Eyes  
Could force some feigned tears to rise,  
It might my easy thoughts suffice.   

And joined with mine, perhaps might prove  
Enough my Sorrows to remove;  
I do not ask they should my Love.   

But mine, I fear, thy tears will fright;  
And like those 
* The Sava and Danubius, whose streams never mix in threescore miles together, as Sir Henry Blunt in his Travels affirms.  Rivers that take flight  
In the same Banks, yet ne'er unite.   

Those streams from springs like ours might flow,  
The tears can ne'er united grow,  
Of feigned grief and real woe.   

Should you too weep, though 'twere for me,  
I should be so concerned for thee,  
To beg again thy cruelty.  
No, there's no way to cure my pain,  
But paying Truth and Love again,  
Such, and as great as feeds my flame.    

To the unconstant CYNTHIA. A SONG.  

TEll me once, Dear, how it does prove  
That I so much forsworn could be?  
I never swore always to love,  
I only vowed still to love thee:  
And art thou now what thou wert then,  
Unsworn unto by other men?   

In thy fair Breast, and once-fair Soul,  
I thought my Vows were writ alone;  
But others Oaths so blurred the Scroll,  
That I no more could read my own.  
And am I still obliged to pay,  
When you had thrown the Bond away?   

Nor must we only part in Joy,  
Our tears as well must be unkind:  
Weep you, that could such truth destroy;  
And I, that could such falseness find.  
Thus we must unconcerned remain  
In our divided Joys and Pain.   

Yet we may love, but on this different score,  
You what I am, I what you were before.    

To the Same.  

YOu are not, Cynthia, better pleased than I,  
That you first led the way  
Through this dark night of blind Inconstancy,  
And first found break of Day.  
To freedom now we'll sacrifice dreams past.  
'Twas my good fate to cry Good-morrow last.   

Perhaps so soon I could not disengage,  
Having a greater score.  
Some Birds will longer hover round the Cage,  
Though 'twas their Jail before.  
Yet sure I meant not long to sit about  
The ashes, when the fire was quite burnt out.   

Since now my Jailor has my Chains untied,  
I'll hold my hand no more  
Up at Love's Bar; he is condemned untride,  
That has been burnt before.  
Now that heart-sickness which she gave, protects;  
'Tis seldom that the same plague twice infects.   

Breasts that have known Love's cruel slavery,  
Are better fortified  
By that experience than they ere can be,  
By reason or by pride.  
Then blush not that you quenched this amorous flame,  
But blush with me, if we two love again.    

To the Same.  

TEmpt me no more (fair Cynthia) 'tis as vain,  
As was the hated Action when you lost,  
What you unjustly fancy now to gain;  
Though at the same repeated vice's cost.  
For he you loved more than your Constancy,  
Must suffer now as then you injured me.   

Such punishment attends that hated sin,  
That the repentance of it, is a Crime:  
And you to gain my heart must act again  
The vice which lost it first, from being thine.  
How justly does Love's-god his power show,  
In making the unconstant ever so?   

That 
* Cleopatra, whole beamy gained her as absolute an Empire over Julius' 〈◊〉; as he had over others, by his victories and virtues. After him, this Queen as various in Love, as in Ambition, extended her Conquests over Marcus Antonius, to whose power Octavius Caesar put an end, overthrowing the Lovers in a Batrell, and designed Cleopatra to adorn his Triumph, who by death prevented a shame, so contrary to her former glories.  Queen whose charms on Caesar all could do,  
He did to others by his Sword and Mind,  
Making the World his Slave and Lover too;  
Had she as constant been as fair and kind.  
Octavius would have blushed at thoughts to have,  
Rome's conquering Caesar's Mistress for his slave.   

Nor did one Caesar justlier think his Love,  
Paid to her charms, vvhilst equal flames she feels,  
Than t' other when she did unconstant prove,  
Designed those beauties for his Chariot-wheels.  
So you may fall unpitied as she did,  
Unconstant unto all things but her pride.   

Those beauties which in your fair face and eyes,  
So long have rendezvoused in Constant pay,  
Like Armies still attempting victories,  
And always kept on duty, must decay.  
Then when those troops of beauties once decline,  
You'll feel the want of your lost Truth and Time.    

To CELIA. Who desired to have Verses, that were written on Her in a glass Window, to be given Her in a sheet of Paper.  
YOur praises which the wounded glass did bear,  
By your Command this paper now must wear;  
Both's due to you, 'tis just all praises meet,  
Of Women, in a glass, or in a sheet.   

To AMARANTA. The Confession.  

Now I confess, I am o'ercome,  
Though the outworks were stormed before,  
Yet they seemed slighted and not won;  
Whilst I had a Reserve in store.  
But she that Conquers not in part,  
Stormed then my heart;  
Which famished reason kept before.   

She had corrupted so my Spies,  
And me to that Condition brought,  
I durst not send abroad my eyes;  
But like a Coward vvinked and fought.  
For when I did those helpers use,  
They brought me nevv's;  
She had fresh troops of beauties got.   

See what is unrestrained desire,  
And to give leave to wand'ring eyes,  
Like that fond fool that plays with fire;  
Where all the Ammunition lies.  
And to attempt retreats is vain,  
When the laid train.  
Had taken fire from her eyes.   

Now my blown flame can fuel find,  
Of every thought I have, and knows  
How to digest my peace of mind;  
For in distempered breasts Love grows.  
Well did the ancient Poets feign,  
That from the Main,  
And troubled Waves, Love's goddess rose.   

Yet though condemned, I blush to grieve,  
As much as once I did to love;  
I'm pleased his Laws grant no reprieve:  
He that to Fate would slowly move,  
Has lost his courage with his heart,  
And that mean part  
May make her scorn a justice prove.    

To Mrs. Mor. on the Birth of her First Son.  

THus Heaven does you & us from fears redeem:  
At once gives Joy; and to that, Joy Esteem.  
Those relish Ease that first have tasted Pain;  
By knowing what we want, we value gain.   

So great and perfect now your blessings are,  
You seem in more than what is frail to share;  
Whilst you renew your lease of life and fame,  
By living thus in virtues and in name.  
'Tis just this child should be in all your heir,  
And equally of life and virtues share.  
For whilst he lay within his living Tomb,  
How could he but contract what was your own?  
So water, poured into a vessel, owes  
A relish to the cask through which it flows.   

Thus you give virtues and give life away,  
Yet not less good, nor suffer by decay.  
One flame unto a thousand may give light,  
Yet has not less, nor does remain less bright.   

But thus whilst life and virtue you bestow,  
Think to his happy passion what you owe.  
Had you left unrewarded his pure flame,  
You must have lost your share in time and fame.  
So in the Chaos before Love made way,  
Both Time and Glory unregarded lay.  
But see what mutual obligations passed,  
You gave him Joys, and he thus makes them last.    

The Dream.  

STay thou still, dearest Shape, O do not fly!  
Why do those charming looks appear so strange?  
In t'other world there's no inconstancy,  
Nor has my Love in this admitted change.  
The Joys in t'other world the gods bestow,  
Do from enlarged love and knowledge flow.   

Since than you needs must know I have been true,  
And my faith tells, you cannot but be so;  
What cruel unknown Law obliges you,  
By this reservedness, to increase my woe?  
Like Tantalus, who always is denied  
Those streams which by his longing senses glide.   

Is it as wise men often tell us here,  
Though love and knowledge shall have an increase,  
They'll have no partial applications there;  
Knowledge resolves in Praise, and Love in Peace.  
As Sunshine equally on all reflects,  
Yet to one object most no beam directs?   

Or are you now forbid to own a fire,  
(Though kindled by the blessed shape you bear)  
Whilst raked in living ashes? This desire,  
You sure may own, and sure the gods will hear.  
In pity of my woes this blessing give,  
That I may die, or unconcerned may live.    

A DIALOGUE.  Thirsis. Charon. Thir. 
CHaron, O gentle Charon, bring thy Boat.  Char. 
Who's this that calls with an unusual note?  Thir. 
Hither thy Vessel, gentle Charon, drive.  Char. 
Thou speak'st as if that thou wert now alive.  Thir. 
And may I still be so, unless to me  
Thou tell'st large joys of your Eternity.  Char. 
Why wouldst thou know? since those that bodies have  
I seldom row, or those that want a grave.  Thir. 
Ep●● thee why?  Char. 
A sinful Soul will sink  
My patcht-up Bark almost below the brink.  
Should Bodies too with their offences go,  
'Twould sink me quite.  Thir. 
By that then thou dost know  
If any Soul has passed these fatal streams,  
Whom good or ill has governed in extremes.  Char. 
Perhaps I may.  Thir. 
Then, gentle Charon, tell  
What I shall ask, and I'll reward thee well.  Char. 
Ask quickly then, for here I never wait,  
Souls crowd so fast; Ambition, War, and Fate  
Send custom still.  Thir. 
Did not thy fatal Boat,  
But lately, as if lost in tempests, float?  
If thy Boat feels the humour of the Soul  
It bears, sure it did lately strangely roll.  Char. 
I carried such a one, a Woman too,  
Who then I guest had been too much untrue,  
My Boat so tottered still. Wouldst go where she  
Now lives?  Thir. 
Not I, but rather tell to me,  
What she does there?  Char. 
She fickly wanders now,  
And ever must, in gloomy shades below.  
'Tis just they never should directly find,  
Or know their way, that never knew their mind.  Thir. 
I should have wandered too, it seems; had I  
But thought it fine to whine, and grieve, & die.  
Nor yet her falseness, nor the cruelty  
Of one more fair and good, could work on me,  
To break my heart; perhaps it did my sleep.  
Didst thou not carry, o'er this fatal Deep,  
One that appeared severe, yet strictly good?  Char. 
My Bark did then but gently kiss the Flood;  
She was no weight, for virtue was her guide,  
And helped me too as much as could a Tide.  Thir. 
She sure sits always still; but should I find  
Her in your World, Might she at last grow kind?  Char. 
No, Never now; for there may grow a crime,  
Where there can be a change in thought or time.  
But if to go to her thou dost desire,  
Thy joy must be, at distance to admire.  Thir. 
I thank thee, gentle Charon; now I'll stay,  
Since I must either dote, or lose my way.  
I'll back to our dull World again, and find  
A Mistress, if I can, both fair and kind.  
For since at last we hither all must throng,  
'Tis good, I see, to bring one's heaven along.  
I hope the gods too will with this dispense,  
To be unconstant in one's own defence.  Char. 
Why then farewell.  Thir. 
When I return my scores  
I'll pay in virtues which shall be thy Oars.  
Back to my World I'll go,  Char. 
and I to mine.  Chor. 
That Breast has heaven's light where Virtues shine.  
Heaven dwells in breasts, kept free from crimes and hate;  
The place does but preserve from change and fate.   

The Resolution.  

NO Cynthia, never think I can  
Love a divided heart and mind;  
Your Sunshine love to every man,  
Appears alike as great as kind.   

None but the duller Persians kneel,  
And the bright god of Beams implore:  
Whilst others equal influence feel.  
That never did the god adore.   

The riches of your Love's put forth,  
And every man retains a part,  
You can't call't in, to make you worth  
The purchase of a faithful heart.   

Hope not to be mine, or your own;  
You can't yourself to me restore,  
The Nest is left, the Birds are flown.  
And bankrupt-Love sets up no more:   

Your kindness which at random flies,  
Makes your Love-patients all secure,  
But they will find your Emp'rick eyes;  
Can only palliate, never cure.   

Though I resolve to love no more,  
Since I did once; I will advise.  
The love of Conquests now give o'er,  
Disquiets wait on Victories.   

To your much injured peace and name,  
Love's farewell as a tribute pay,  
Grow now reserved and raise your fame;  
By your own choice not your decay.   

She that to Age her charms resigns,  
And then at last turns Votary;  
Though Virtue much the change inclines,  
'Tis sullied by Necessity.    

The Opinion.  

LOng have I thought, It was in vain,  
To seek to purchase Love or Fame:  
For both alike would slide away,  
Or by my own, or her decay.  
For Love and Fame, crowned with success,  
Do from enjoyment both grow less.   

Had the god's so, but been content,  
I would have lived indifferent.  
Not to have feared extremes of fate,  
Or Cares, that from lost Joys take weight;  
Indifferency all safety keeps,  
there's none unhappy whilst he sleeps.   

But strangely waked, she did surprise,  
My bliss and reason with her eyes:  
So lazy Princes wanting aim,  
To sack to purchase love and fame,  
Are by some slighted power o'ercome,  
The scorn of others, and their own.   

Now she too much her power knows;  
So some resisted stream overflows  
More than its usual banks; nor I  
Dare longer her just power deny:  
That must above the Common rate,  
Not reward passions but Create.    

To AMARANTA, doubting his Constancy.  

AS from a neigh bouring rock, afflicted eyes  
See their loved object, tossed by threatening waves,  
Rude messengers of angry destinies;  
Their swelling wombs grown fertile too with graves.  
Safety and joy, their nature lose; whilst he,  
Share's with the others, fears and destiny.   

So from the height of all my happiness,  
Whilst I see storms of fears oppress thee so,  
I wish thy justice more, though kindness less;  
My grief is far more gentle than thy woe.  
Though both ways led unto my fate, yet I  
Would as thy Martyr, not thy Traitor, die.   

Seldom, its true, the mighty stock of Love,  
Meets in one mind, with such refined sense,  
As to preserve that which it can't improve,  
Only by paying its own just expense.  
Not all those taxes which vain eyes design,  
To many beauties, and decaying time.   

Yet there is Love, like mine, can know no end,  
Above the reach of any change or fate,  
I'll smile at beauties too, that would pretend  
A reformation in my happy state;  
Be but as kind, as I will constant prove,  
And make my Joys as perfect as my Love.    

Upon hearing Mrs. M. K. sing.  

OUr vain Philosophy can only teach,  
But not command, when sorrows make a breach  
Upon the heart: but to thy voice we pay  
Obedience, whilst we slight what wisemen say.  
Thy charming breath through our enchanted ears,  
Possession takes, where once our hopes and fears  
Raised storms before, and the becalmed breast,  
No longer now by cruel care's oppressed.  
'Twere Heaven protected thus from all extremes,  
Were but thy breath Eternal, and our Dreams.   

So Orpheus, led not by his fate but choice,  
To the dull world of shades his charming voice;  
Brought Heaven there, and made the torments cease,  
Th' infernal business all locked up in peace.  
His voice, the busy Furies could compose,  
And thine our passions, Furies great as those.  
By Lethe's streams, which brought forgetfulness,  
Souls were secured of present happiness.  
So thy Loud voice, not only Joy procures,  
But, by oblivion too, our cares secures.  
We, whilst you Sing, in state of bliss remain,  
And when you cease, shrink to ourselves again.    

AMARANTA, to the god of Love.  

AH, mighty Love, what power unknown,  
Hast thou now used more than thy own!  
It was thy conduct and design,  
But not thy power that Vanquished mine.  
As a great Captain to his Name,  
Of every Conquest joins the fame;  
Though 'twas not by his power got,  
But Army's, by his Conduct brought:  
So when thou couldst not do't alone,  
Thou leadest his troops of Virtues on.  
And I now feel by my surprise,  
Thou hast not only darts but eyes;   

Just god! now take again thy Arms,  
And rally all I have of charms.  
What power and conduct cannot do,  
Make his belief contribute to.  
So, when the earth some promise shows,  
That she does greater wealth enclose;  
Believing men search her rich veins,  
And crown their hopes with unknown gains;   

May he, but at the first, incline to Love,  
Then by my Faith, and Time,  
His Justice, after the surprise,  
Shall be more fettered than his eyes?    

THE BLIND LADY A Comedy.   

The Persons.  

SIgismond King of Poland.  
Albertus Vaiwode of Ruthenia.  
Phylanter his son.  
Mironault Vaiwode of Lithuania.  
Hippasus, Pysander, friends to Mironault.  
Lycespes, friend to Phylanter.  
Symothacles, General to the King.  
Peter, servant to the Blind Lady.  
Messengers, Huntsmen, Tenants.   

Mirrament, the Princess.  
Amione, sister to Mironault.  
Philena, a great Lady attending the Princess.  
Coeca, a Blind Lady.  
Quinever, her Maid.    
The Blind Lady.  

ACT 1.  

SCEN. 1.  Enter Albertus, Phylanter. Alb. 
BUt upon what injury, Phylanter?  Phy. 
Love and Ambition, Sir, those two great injuries  
Of men's seduced minds, which fill the thoughts.  
Full of Revenge, not with the justness of it.  
What Mironault has done, moves not my hate;  
But what he may, my fears. By her, a Kingdom, Sir;  
And, with herself, a World—  
Falls in my arms. How slow you are to crown  
Me and yourself with happiness?  
You can love neither, and deny.  Alb. 
But are you sure he comes?  Phy. 
I am certainly informed so.  Alb. 
Yet consider, son, how will the King resent,  
That whilst he's paying his duty to the Princess,  
He should be there surprised?  Phy. 
That is your part for to prevent, Sir,  
Telling the King, (such minds are ever jealous)  
That his designs were to surprise the Princess.  
'Twill appear service then, and may destroy  
My Rival's interest, if not advance my own.  
Those, Sir, that traffic in these seas,  
Fraught not their Bark with fear●:  
Besides, there needs none now.  Alb. 
Yet think again, though, as you are my son,  
I can deny you little; and 'tis more just  
You should, deny yourself, and not obey  
These hasty passions. He ne'er injured you;  
Or if he had, there were a nobler way  
For your revenge than this. You are angry  
That the world's pleased with him, and that he may  
Enjoy a bliss you wish for; or, at least,  
Because he wishes it as well as you;  
A Quarrel which Mankind must lay aside,  
Or all be Murderers.  Phy. 
You told me, I did obey my passions,  
To those you give your reasons then:  
As much you may expect from them,  
As if you told the winds they blew. too hard.  
Think of the Cause, then judge of the Effect.  
'Tis Love— Love for the Princess too,  
For whose fair sake, who'd not attempt  
The angry billows swelled with horrid storms,  
The Sea-gods Pyramids, when every wave  
Bears too, like those, within its womb a grave,  
Or dangers yet unheard of? Determine, Sir,  
For I resolve to act; and let the story then  
Come to his unprepared ears.  Alb. 
Well, that I may proserve you  
From some more unadvised course, (if more can be)  
I'll do it; but take heed  
Of letting violence be offered to him:  
Preserve thyself free from so foul a crime.  
Love's way lies not through blood. Consider too  
What we now go to act; nor blush  
To think thou didst do ill, or that 'twill throw  
Aspersions on thy judgement, to dislike  
The folly thou hadst dotingly embraced.  
he's wise that sees his error at the last,  
Who weighs all these in perfect scales,  
Shame of his crime, and not his wit, prevails.  
Farewell, I leave you to your thoughts.  
— I'll on my way to night.  
Heaven direct and prosper you.  Exit. Phyl. 
How nice his conscience was— now to my business.  
And thou, great god of Love, that rul'st my heart,  
Attempt but Fortune with as kind a Dart;  
That whilst I reach at what can scarcely be,  
Fortune as madly too may dote on me.  
— Now all things but design  
Leave me— and yet— it looks but oddly,  
To put off all this honesty at once,  
And to have none about me.  
Or was it ever mine? sure I borrowed it,  
And 'tis a thing that's taken up on trust;  
I owe the world so much; I'll think on't  
When I can pay it. Lycespes, welcome,  Enter Lycespes. 
I was resolved just now to seek you.  Lyces. 
You would have found me still prepared to serve you.  Phyl. 
You are my noble friend, nor will I say,  
That I shall try it now; this only can  
Preserve it. But words are wasters of our time,  
And robs us still of action. As fast then as you can  
Get all our friends in readiness, as many  
As possibly you can, well armed and mounted.  
Return with all the speed your Love can make.  
As we go you shall know all,  
The rest must live in ignorance.  
What Power now to invoke I hardly know,  
Yet every god has felt what Love can do.  [Exeunt.  

ACT 1. SCENE 2.  Enter two Huntsmen. 1. 
COme, the Princess is hard at hand:  
And if we haste not, she may overtake us.  
To night too, we must lodge the Deer.  2. 
We need not care for that; this Forest  
Is so well stored, that Game's in every Thicket.  
It causes the Princess constant progress  
Into these parts— But who are these?  Enter Mironault, Hyppasus, Pysander. 1. 
'Tis the brave Mironault.  Mir. 
Well overtaken, Huntsmen,  
Is the Princess  
Yet far behind?  2. 
No, my Lord, he is almost in sight.  Exeunt Hunts. Mir. 
I thank you—  
— Whither does Love thus hurry me?  
A Tyrant that denies the smallest hopes,  
Where he gives largest wishes!  
The greatest Beauties are like greatest Wealths,  
Subjects for all men's wishes, not their hopes.  
Fears share with Love the Empire of the heart,  
Rendering alike the Lover and the Coward.  
Danger's the awful Mistress of the one,  
Who fears to tempt her, lest he should endure  
That fate too quickly, which he knows is sure.  
So, whilst the other's Mistress too is ignorant,  
Only more slow, the pining Lover dies,  
And that sure fate but hastes, if she denies.  Hyp. 
Dear Sir, let not grief thus torment you.  
You should have there a nobler Guest, your Reason;  
And were that there, there hardly could be room  
For such disorders. Passions are like Thiefs,  
That watch to enter undefended places,  
And rob you too of all that put's a difference  
Between Wild-beasts and Man. Yet, mistake not;  
Your grief, if not despair, is the fond passion  
I speak against, and not the love they spring from:  
That were her injury, to whom alone  
All is due, as Rivers to the Ocean.  
Yet Nature has decreed, that she must love:  
Believe your worth and your devotion then  
As great as any—  Mir. 
O Hyppasus—  
'Tis easier far to counsel than to act;  
And every one's provided with the wisdom,  
That has not interest in the misfortune.  
And those that in Favours, though 'tis their ruin,  
Wish Rivers of drink; the standers by,  
That then advise, and, may be, wonder at them,  
Would, in the same disease, do just so too.  Pysan. 
You know not, Sir, but this great goddess  
May be a little merciful: by this hand,  
If she be not, I'll be revenged,  
On half the Sex at least, by proving rigorous  
To those poor Wenches I have prated to;  
That's every one almost that e'er I saw— Then forsooth  
Will the poor creatures wish their amorous heads  
Filled with Romances, pine, and die,  
With Willow-garlands under Myrtle-shades:  
And grief for them will kill the Mothers too.  
Your Princess shall not have many Female Subjects.  Mir. 
I thank thee, good Pysander, for attempting  
To mix thy mirth with my opposing griefs.  
But they are contraries, and cannot meet in one.  
— but let it perish withme— I must again  
Desire your secrecies.  Hyp. 
Nay that's—  Mir. 
Pardon me, Hyppasus—  
I know it's needless to repeat  
A wish of mine to either of you:  
But what men's thoughts are full with, issue forth,  
With too much haste and freedom.  Pysan. 
Will you take my advice, Sir?  Hyp. 
Nay pray, Sir, hear him.  Mir. 
Come, what is't, Pysander?  Pysan. 
Wholesome extremely! For the kind constitution  
Of a decaying Lover; this is the short Receipt.  
In the first place, make yourself— very— drunk.  
Nay, nay, you need not wonder; by divine Bacchus,  
'Tis a rare expression of passion to court disorderly,  
To make a mere Chaos of one's self, and then give her▪  
The honour of Creating you; then, besides,  
All truth and all good nature will appear.  
If this be not the way to be considered, I'll be judged—  Hyp. 
How do you like it, Sir?  Mir. 
There's kindness in't to me, I know, Hyppasus;  
And were I capable of mirth, it might produce it.  
But Grief and Love are thronged together,  
And have scarce room enough.  Hyp. 
Have either Joy or Grief, we'll share with you;  
Nor was't our fears of having part  
That made us wish you none; we value you  
And our own lives at the same rate:  
We wish them free from all misfortunes,  
Yet share all willingly rather than part.  
But we must alter now that show of trouble  
Which we have given ourselves; for the Princess  
Must needs be near.  Mir. 
See Hippasus—.  
I had forgot the subject of my thoughts,  
How greedily I wish, yet fear to see her!  
Like some poor Votary, whose holy thoughts  
Sets off so much, the joys of Paradise,  
That it employs as many fears as wishes.  
— Hark she comes! You Powers above,  
Lend Love and Fortune now their eyes,  
To help, or see at least, their sacrifice.  Prin. 
You be well met, my Lord,  
Was it a chance,  
Or your design that brought you?  Enter Princess Philena & followers. Mir. 
'Tis all I have about me of ambition,  
And of large wishes, that I may often  
Have leave thus to present my service.  Prin. 
Your service, Sir, has been so much considerable,  
That I should be alone guilty of folly,  
Did I not value it at such a rate,  
As the whole World have set upon it.  Miro. 
If I had such a power, to oblige  
As much, as you are pleased to say I have;  
The World's applause, could not so much reward  
My services, as your receiving of them.  Prin. 
My interest, next to my Father's,  
In this obliged Nation by your valour,  
Has made it gratitude ever for me,  
To avow that and more.  Mir. 
I have then much of my best wishes crowned,  
Yet should you know all that my heart conceals,  
Though it be much like this, you'd be displeased  
With what you have pretended to allow.  Prin. 
I cannot find this guilt about me, and can less guess.  
How you should have a thought that should displease me.  
You cannot but oblige, and I as hardly  
Can tell what's injury, if you should do it.  Mir. 
This is a kindness, still admired Princess,  
That I must never ask the meaning of;  
But to my flattered fancy, so interpret  
As you would never do: yet 'tis unjust,  
That I should use, the least kind word from you,  
With an advantage to myself.  Prin. 
Sure, I may give you leave to do it,  
For such a confidence I justly have  
Of your great virtues, that you ever  
Pursue your own advantages with others.  Mir. 
'Tis true, to the undeserving World,  
I can perform all this, only to you  
I am unjust, that never wish  
A good to you, when I desire most.  Prin. 
I hardly understand you: if I do,  
The world is more obliged to you than I  Mir. 
Such a strange Character, my fate  
Has thrown upon me, yet myself,  
And all that World, which seems so much  
Beholding to me more than you,  
Are as much less in my esteem,  
As are the sands unto the mingled jewels,  
The Negro brings up from the Deep together.  Prin. 
Is there a possibilty to know,  
Your meaning then?  Mir. 
You should, if I were sure you would forgive it,  
Yet thus much take in guesses. Could Shades be sensible,  
And wish the embraces of the Sun, were not that Lamp,  
Injured by that which loved it, could rude beasts  
Be passionate for Empire, and not injure  
The Throne because they loved it. 'Tis I  
That am more dark than all those shades,  
You brighter than that Sun; 'Tis I  
That am that Beast robbed of all reason.  
And you above all Empires; I have acknowledged  
My unsuspected guilt, because 'twas so,  
And though I cannot leave my Love,  
I may my Life.—  Prin. 
You have done more than given me leave to guess,  
And since I have myself been guilty too,  
In giving you the occasion I shall forbear  
Such a displeasure as is due, and let you know.  
'Twas easy too for me to err, that could so little  
Imagine you to be so guilty: I shall add  
Only thus much, that as you value  
My presence or esteem, repeat no more  
Any thing of this nature— Come let's on:  Exeunt Princess and Attendants. Mir. 
So Merchants for a tempting venture  
Bankrupt themselves; yet what wealth had I  
Before I knew my poverty from her?  
'Tis nothing I have lost, the difference is,  
That I have something now I wish to lose,  Hyp. 
She is not, Sir, a greater enemy,  
To your content, than you are to yourself:  
'Tis you enlarge her frowns by fancied fears,  Mir. 
Those that are free from danger, my Hyppasus.  
May look and wonder at another's fears,  
That is environed with it: 'tis Concern  
That is the excuse for Passion; were you my Rival,  
The Counsel would be juster if you gave it,  
— Come we must not stay behind,—  
there's nothing but a Lover pleased with sufferings.  
All other rigours of this World,  
Our wishes and endeavours still oppose,  
The Prisoner hates his bolts, whilst he remains  
Pleased not so much with sreedom as his chains.  [Exeunt  

ACT 1. SCENE 3.  Enter Phylanter solus. Phyl. 
TRust me a little, Fortune, with myself,  
I do not ask thy aid grow big my hopes,  
And swell unto a Throne,  
To Crown my Love, and my Ambition on;  
From thence I'll view the thing called Honesty,  
And grieve 'tis so contemned, and aught to be.  
— Man is like pliant Wax,  
That yields unto a fair Impression,  
Though sent not from the noblest Metal:  
And, in this world, it bears an equal show  
To seem but only honest, or be so.  
And when the Crown's once gained, there needs no fears:  
Crimes change their natures then, or Men change theirs.  
— Die— Scruples— in my thoughts,  
And let my mind be a preposterous grave,  
That bore you first, to bury you again:  
— and your base issue— Fear—  
Die too, when Beauty and a Crown's so near.  
— Lycespes welcome; what news?  Enter Lycespes. Lyces. 
All as you would have it, Sir:  
The Troop is marched, and stays you in the Wood,  
Between this and the Castle.  Phyl. 
Let's follow then;  
For Time's a busy Offerer of our Interests  
To every check of Fortune.  Lyces. 
We make some threescore Horse,  
Which will be three Divisions; one for each Port.  Phyl. 
Let Martianus command the last.  
As we go, I'll give you perfect Orders.  
I wish they had some means to cherish a Resistance,  
That he may help to his own ruin;  
He must not live to plead his innocence.  
But Time, that never will be stayed,  
Calls us to act what we have scarcely weighed.  [Exeunt.  

ACT. 1. SCEN. 4.  Enter Princess, Philena, Mironault. Prin. 
YOu're welcome now, my Lord, and I desire  
No cloud may dwell on any brow;  
Let no such prejudice happen amidst our sports.  Mir. 
If you be not obeyed, admired Princess,  
Where you command, it is extremely strange;  
And yet, I fear, 'tis possible.  Prin. 
As possible it is I may suspect my power.  
But, my Lord, I had forgot to put you in remembrance  
Of perfect 〈◊〉 story you began,  
As you 〈…〉 it, of unhappy Lovers.  Mir. 
The Princess, Madam,  
Was taken by Phylanter, whose great valour,  
Shown in that day, deserved all Prisoners:  
To whom he nobly offered Liberty,  
Without a Ransom, or Acknowledgement  
Unless to you. Before she thanked him,  
She made enquiry for the Prince, my Prisoner;  
As if she knew not how to use  
Freedom nor life without him; and by reason  
That he was full of wounds, Phylanter  
Waited upon her to my Tent; at the first sight  
Of him she so much loved, covered with wounds,  
She stood amazed, perhaps too wished herself  
What she appeared, but a dead Statue.  
At the same time he raised his feeble eyes,  
Which seemed to take unkindly her delay.  
At that she came, and kneeling by him,  
Made such expressions of unfeigued grief,  
That though we understood not what she said,  
Yet that was plain enough. He now grew speechless,  
(And she almost) yet still with signs,  
That seemed expressions of more trouble.  
For leaving her then all the world  
Within her arms, he died; she but stayed  
To be assured that he was dead. Then with a haste,  
That showed a willingness to follow him,  
She drew a Vial from her bosom,  
And drank it off, before that we could hinder her;  
Whose violence, on an enfeebled heart  
By so much grief, with unbelieved haste,  
Wrought Execution.  Prin. 
Poor Princess! 'twas her hard fate to love;  
She had been else no more concerned,  
Than those that now survive.  Mir. 
And she perhaps as unconcerned to die.  
Nothing but a deserving Love  
Could have taught her a way so glorious  
To end all cares. She now enjoys him too,  
Or else insensible that e'er she lost him.  Prin. 
Did that young Prince command that day the Army?  Mir. 
Yes, and, as we learned, he was the Heir  
To the Tartarian Empire.  Prin. 
'Tis nothing but a Prince  
Could have been so unhappy to lose at once  
His Love, his Life, his Empire.  [Enter hastily Hyppasus, Lysander. Hyppasus takes Mironault aside. Hyp. 
My Lord—  Mir. 
Ha  Hyp. 
Let not the Princess see it:  
The Castle is surrounded by a Troop of Soldiers,  
Commanded by Phylanter; I fear you are their aim.  Mir. 
I?  Hyp. 
You may guess the causes, Jealousy and Baseness.  
Think, or you're lost.  Mir. 
Ha— 'tis very happy.  Pys. 
I don't understand that.  Mir. 
I'll press them nobly: Are they many?  Hyp. 
They are divided, as we guess. The gates are yet kept shut.  Pys. 
I'll go view, and instantly return.  [Exit. Mir. 
The Devil on the mischief! if their aim  
Be towards me, it must be for my life.  
A Parley cannot save me, I am resolved  
To sell it.  Phil. 
Upon my life, Madam, there's some disorder.  
View but the eyes of Mironault.  Prin. 
My Lord, why are you moved?  Mir. 
ay, Madam?  Prin 
Pray, Sir, let me entreat of you the cause.  Hyp. 
Nothing that ought to give you trouble, Madam,  
There's something that requires  
The presence of my Lord without.  Prin. 
If there be any that would speak with him,  
They shall be here dispatched.  Hyp. 
That cannot be, Madam.  Prin. 
Come, my Lord.  
There's something I can guess at (if I be not deceived)  
That does assure me, I may command you.  
What business breeds this alteration?  Mir. 
I dare not disobey you;  
The Castle is surrounded by Phylanter  
With Troops of Soldiers; and, as we guess,  
My life's their aim.  Prin. 
The Castle surrounded! and your life their aim?  
It is impossible: they dare not think it.  
I will go see their rudeness.  Mir. 
Not for the world, they know that you are here:  
And their intents they'll act unto their power.  Prin. 
Is there a better way?  Mir. 
Yes any, rather than die tamely,  Pysa. 
For heaven's sake, Sir, resolve: Phylanter's now,  Enter Pysander. 
Forcing the gates, being denied entrance  
For all his Soldiers, who loudly now  
Call you, A Traitor. Upon one side  
Which I'll conduct you to, it is most probable  
You may escape—.  Prin. 
Ah me!  Mir. 
May I believe, (fair wonder of your Sex)  
That though your cruelty designs my fate,  
Yet you're displeased, that these should be  
The Executioners? I shall then dare  
To oppose all their furies, that my Life  
May be Love's sacrifice alone; forgive me too,  
If I dare own that Love, you frown upon.  
You need not scruple to grant this—,  
To any that must ask no more.  
And may that peace, you give my dying thoughts,  
For ever live with yours—.  Prin. 
Pray say no more, think of your safety,  Mir. 
See, she weeps—.  
With pity ever dwells forgiveness too,  
My wishes then are crowned, and I can have  
No greater, unless that it were possible,  
I might hope more and live.  Prin. 
O Mironault!—  
So much confusion mingles with my thoughts,  
I know not what to say; and yet I wish  
That you might live, and cannot be displeased,  
Though hope should be the cause.  Mir. 
So Sailors in a sinking vessel,  
May see a calm begin—. This treacherous world,  
Never wants mischiefs to prevent  
The greatest blessings that are near-approaching,  
To crown man's greedy wishes.—  
But I mistake, to doubt that Life  
Which you have given leave I should enjoy.  
Who only have the power of it. This shall witness,  [Draw. 
How much I covet to preserve,  
What you wish safety to; nor is it possible,  
That I should unsuccessful prove,  
That have no other use for life but love;  [Exeunt. Prin. 
The gods protect and guide you, O Phylena,  
What's to be done?  Phy. 
Collect yourself, dear Madam, all may be well,  
Let's to a window, that overlooks that side,  
Where they intended to break forth.  Prin. 
I dare not see him fall.  Phy. 
Fear not Madam, Heaven will preserve.  
So fair a Life, that has your prayers too.  Prin. 
Hark, they are engaged, le's see if it be possible,  A noise of fight. 
To give him more assistance than our wishes.  [Exeunt.  

ACT 1. SCENE 5.  Enter Mironault wounded, [A noise. Mir. 
STay hasty drops, not to preserve  
The life that does pursue you.  
But the blessed shrine, where Mirrament dwells,  
See, 'tis not my wishes stays the purple current:  
Man's still most near to die, when he would live,  
And live when he would die; calamity,  
And, the more dangerous extreme, prosperity  
Commits this violence upon men's wishes.  
Yet since the gods denied for either cause  
To destroy life, or to protect;  
In stead of Choice, we should oppose Neglect.  
Hark, the noise increases still.  [Noise. 
— sure they are lost—  
They fought it nobly, though, if my ears  
Deceive me not, I hear some coming.  Enter Hyppasus and Pysander. 
Ha Hyppasus and Pysander!  
Then I am happy in spite of all misfortunes.  Hyp. 
Dear Sir, you cut your way so nobly,  
We should have reached you sooner else.  Pys. 
And so we had Sir, but two or three good-fellows  
Still staid us upon conference—  Mir. 
Well, here's no staying, we must forward;  
But whither, Heaven knows; 'twas an unworthy action.  Pys. 
For the honourable part of the story,  
we'll, if you please, comment upon it hereafter.  
In the mean time, 'tis more needful to observe  
What a condition we are in to help one another.  
Hyppasus would make dainty whistels,  
My bones are already rattles:  
The best house of receipt I know would be an Hospital.  
A noise again— On, good Sir.  Hyp. 
The most byways must guide us.  Mir. 
Heaven direct us—  Pys. 
O what a speech could I now make  
Of this frail world. But however,  
I'll not stay now to do it.  [Exeunt.  

ACT 1. SCEN. 6.  Enter Princess, Philena. Prin. 
HE cannot sure escape.  Phy. 
Rather believe he must, there is a better fate  
Reserved for so much worth. Our hopes are now  
The policy as well as justice of our hearts.  
You know we did discern, how o'er the plain  
Some hasted single, and Pylander said, they were divided.  
At first you saw how fast he made his way,  
Triumph and Danger waiting on his Sword.  
The villains too, like dull opposing clouds,  
Gave way to the fair Sun; And then Phylanter  
Was on the other side.  Prin. 
Alas, Phylena, Fears are so powerful,  
That in concerned breasts they govern all.  Phyl. 
It is our follies that enthrones them so;  
And to just wishes hopes are much more due:  
Use them, dear Madam—  Prin. 
I need not blush, Phylena, to confess,  
(And yet I shall, whilst I am doing it)  
That I have more concern for him  
Than others have. When you know this,  
You will not judge your counsel then  
So easy to be followed—  Phil. 
Pardon me, Madam, if I confess,  
That I believed as much when I advised you.  
I have had many reasons for such thoughts  
From yours, though greater from his virtues.  Prin. 
O Phylena, advise me how to do, not how to grieve.  
I see I must be forced to a hard exigent,  
To let him perish, or in his relief  
To appear too concerned, though not too just.  Phyl. 
Your reason, Madam, will not have leave  
To decide that; 'tis Love will be the judge  
Of all his dangers. But now, Madam,  
What is the next thing we must act?  
Or must we suffer too?  Prin. 
Nay, Heaven knows; I sent one to inquire.  
Now— what's the matter?  [Enter a Servant. Ser. 
They say, Madam, they came for Mironault,  
Who had designs upon your Highness.  Prin. 
And have they taken him?  Ser. 
No; but we hope they will.  
He has left abundance hurt and dead.  Prin. 
Go, be gone you fool; you are all suspicious rascals,  
Fain would be thought State-wise.  Ser. 
Madam.  Prin. 
Be gone, you hoping Coxcomb.  
There's something more in this, Phylena.  Phyl. 
I cannot guess, unless it be Phylanter's jealousy,  
Urged by your constant favours unto Mironault.  Prin. 
It's possible. Hark, a noise; we shall be more informed.  Enter Phylanter, and, being half entered, speaks Phyl. 
— Escaped—  
Now by the gods your lives shall pay for all.  
You dogs and Cowards—  
— Madam, I humbly crave your pardon,  
My passion makes me hasly, when your Cause  
Gives the just anger.  Prin. 
My cause, Sir?  Phyla. 
Excellent Princess, Yours; for this foul man  
That seemed to pay his duty to you,  
Bore in his breast a traitorous design  
Here to surprise you; which I hearing of,  
Strait hasted to prevent it, though my fate  
Was too unhappy in the loss of him.  Prin. 
Ha!  Phyl. 
But let—  Prin. 
Dost, thou not blush, or blush for me at least,  
That I have let thee injure Truth thus long▪  
And wronged an innocence, which never dwelled  
Within thy infant breast? Stay not to reply,  
But leave me with your tumults.  [Exit. Phyl. 
Then I am lost; my last stroke now I'll strike,  
And strike it bravely too— Despair,  
Thou has the noblest issues of all ill,  
Which frailty brings us to, for to be worse  
We fear not, and who cannot loaf  
Is ever a frank Gamester.  
Nor will I fall alone, should he enjoy her,  
I should repining die. envy's the vice  
That never leaves us till we fall from that,  
The best ompanion of a hasty fate:  
I'll cherish it as others would a Virtue.  
He that declines himself—  
— when Chance or Fortune has declined him first,  
He learns of those mean helpers to do worst.  [Exit.   

ACT 2.  

SCEN. 1.  Enter King, and Albertus. Alb. 
IT was this day, Sir, that he intended the surprise;  
And, notice given my son, with such few men  
As he could get in readiness, he hasted thither.  Kin. 
'Tis well; but take heed there be no foul play in't.  
For Mironault has ever appeared  
A subject fit to ruin mean suspicions.  Alb. 
Love, Sir, can alter all; none more than I  
Did hear (and wonder, with a pitying thought)  
This error of his hopeful Youth; but when I think  
He is a Man, and Youth dwells in his veins,  
That still prepares for Beauty and Ambition,  
The easy heart. Then look upon the Princess,  
And see in her the pain and pride of Nature,  
Her fresh unsullied beauty, that would tempt  
The gods to gaze and love; I could almost forgive—  
— but must believe.  Kin. 
Ha!  Alb. 
To add unto the power of Love, and alf those joys  
Her heavenly beauty brings a Kingdom too:  
Crowns the ambition of his high-fed youth,  
That makes all dangers less, from whose high top  
They see it lessened in the common vale, and only fit  
To tame the spirits of the meaner minds.  
— he that dares do,  
Will act what his ambition tempts him to.  Kin. 
I know not; I would see just to all, and would be safe;  
And Injuries are as unpleasing to me as Injustice,  
I would not bear the one, or act the other.  
When malice spreads a rancour in the breast,  
That needs a policy to bear it forth,  
The minds of Kings most think to fit with jealousy,  
As ever apt for that; believing still,  
That all such fears dwells with their height of glory.  
Take heed, my Lord, that this so loose opinion  
Leads not your tongue, and casts that brand on me.  
I believe well of all. On farther proof  
I shall think best of you.  Alb. 
Would I were well off.  [aside. 
We have not yet (Great Sir) so little left  
Of kindness to ourselves, to play with Thunder;  
Nor yet so mean—  
A thought of you, to let you live in danger.  
Heaven knows all the ambition that now rules our thoughts;  
And all we hope for that should crown our wishes,  
Is to appear loyal to you, we are as free,  
(Whilst you are so from danger), as a young Lamb  
From hate or malice.  King. 
Nay my Lord, you do mistake, if you believe  
You suffer in my thoughts, I am prepared  
Still to reward your care, equally so  
To punish or preserve his crime, or innocence.  
When Kings do fall from this, and let each wind  
Conduct them with its giddiness;  
Their Kingdoms at the last, must suffer shipwreck.  
Perhaps your innocence, may once as well  
Suffer unheard, from some malicious tongue:  
I never yet harboured an ill opinion,  
Raised from suspicion, or a meaner thought  
From others envy, nor yet forget  
To cherish those, whose loyalties are greatest.  
Justice is still impartial, and all Kings,  
Should only hold her scales: he that strives  
To weigh down one with power, is unjust  
To that Great King, that put him first in trust;  Alber. 
I'm lost—  [aside. King. 
But my Lord; we give you thanks now for your early care,  
We would have none discouraged, to be loyal,  
'Tis that which will adorn you here,  
And help you to Eternity hereafter,  
Whilst men are just, pleasing rewards will live  
Within their breasts; greater than I can give.  [Exit. Alber. 
he's gone.—  
— I would his honesty were too,  
That sits upon him like so fit a garment,  
The workman's paid, to have the credit of it.  
he'll help the gods to many customers.  
How now!  [Enter a messenger. Mes. 
My Lord;—  Alber. 
From whence comest thou,— Ha,—  
What news? my mind mis-gives.—  Mes. 
From your Son.  Alber. 
Why, what's the news?  Mes. 
But ill,— when that your son  
Had round beset the Castle, and all thought sure,  
The gallant Mironault, in his fearless mind  
Weighing the bonds of death, and of an enemy,  
In perfect scales; the first appeared the lightest,  
And through one Port, bravely with his two friends,  
Issued like Lightning which foretells a Clap,  
And Thunder followed too: whilst in despite  
Of their resistance, through their lives  
He forced his way and safety.—  Alb. 
And so escaped?  Mes. 
Yes, but they are still pursuing; the Princess too,  
When that your son appeared, as if her eyes  
Had borrowed, rage from the affrighting danger,  
That Mironault was in; upon her brow  
Enthroned it with revenge, and so with threats,  
Left him unto his fears, who by me  
Desires you to retire strait from Court,  
Whither the Princess now directs her haste,  
And march with all your forces; no other way  
Is left to make Conditions. In the mean time,  
He's still pursuing Mironault.  Alb. 
'Tis unhappy.  Mess. 
Necessity has left no other means:  
Without this, he bids me tell you,  
You may die tamely.  Alb. 
Well, I must go; it is the fate of guilty men,  
That such should seek at safety through more crimes.  
Men are unhappy when they know not how  
To value Peace without its loss;  
And from the want learn how to use,  
What they could so ill manage when enjoyed.  
Ambition gives this blindness, yet permits  
The eyes to gaze upon her tempting baits;  
But in attempting, not what dangers are,  
They see the Throne, and not the blazing Star.  
Thus foolish his ungoverned youth  
Has made us both alike,  
Who, rather than to share a common good,  
Ventured through danger at uncertain glory:  
Nor could my power or prayers persuade him from it.  
With such a grief the Ruler of the day  
Shook his illustrious tresses, when he heard  
The ambitious Phaeton make his bold Request,  
— who did prefer—  
Before the counsel of the god himself,  
The longed-for glories of his glittering Throne.  
Yet Phoebus mourned, the bonds of Nature tie  
Faster than our own good or honesty.  [Exit.  

ACT 2. SCEN. 2.  Enter Princess, Phylena. Prin. 
THat I had wings, Phylena; this revenge  
Justice itself will follow.  Phyl. 
Pray heaven, Madam, no designer  
Has been before us.  Prin. 
It is my fear.  Phyl. 
But yet,  
You may be confident of your father's temper,  
Which does dispense Justice with deliberation  
Besides your interest.  Prin. 
Would we could learn what were become of him.  
They still pursue him, sure; and heaven preserve  
His noble life from an untimely fate.  
How the State-rascalls too were pleased  
With the suspicion of a treacherous danger;  
And grew as busy as a new waked Fly,  
At the first news of Summer.  Phyl. 
There is a baseness runs through all their veins,  
And rankles in their bloods, which to their children  
Descends; a loathed Inheritance.  Prin. 
But who are these?  Enter Amione and Follower. Phyl. 
A very handsome person.  Prin. 
Extremely fair, I swear; she bends this way.  Amio. 
Excellent Princess—  [she knelt. 
Pardon the rude griefs of a distressed Maid,  
That throws her at your feet; for your clear eyes  
(Which sends a comfort upon pleased beholders)  
To see and pity; you, that nature gave  
Perfections above all; 'tis you alone  
We must believe excels in goodness too.  
Nothing that's ill can have so fair a dwelling.  
You shall have still a Virgin's prayer,  
That yours may ne'er successlesse fly  
To those above, that those fair blossoms  
Never have cares for to disturb their calmness,  
Or force a wrinkle on those snowy plains;  
But may the beauty of a peace within,  
Preserve and equal those your outward lustres.  Prin. 
Rise, pretty Maid, you should have asked and tried,  
Whether at first I had been worth these prayers.  
She must be very good that does deserve 'em▪  
See, Phylena, flowers, I swear,  she riseth weeping 
Receive not so much sweetness from fresh drops,  
As she from those. Her grief adds to her sweetness.  
What is it, gentle Maid, you would desire?  
Promise yourself, if I can help you in't.  Amio. 
The gods reward you. Let me but blush,  
And I will say, the act may too; he is too near  
That I should tell you more. And yet, methinks,  
He does deserve as much as I can say;  
And his cause named to my poor heart,  
Seems eloquence enough to move a pity.  
Pardon my disturbed passions.  Prin. 
Nay, fairest Maid—  
You injure me and your own hopes together,  
To keep me in suspense: I would as willingly  
Yield you my aid, as you could haste to ask it,  
For the blest subject of your fair opinion.  Amio. 
I do not doubt your goodness; pardon the throng  
Of all my tedious griefs. Know then,  
You best of Princesses, for sure his name  
Has reached your ears, the unhappy Mironault,  
That much deserved to live, is like to fall  
By bloody and unworthy hands.  Prin. 
O Phylena! I'm lost.  [aside. 
In that beauty is all my comfort buried.  Phyl. 
Madam, what do you mean?  
Madam, for heaven's sake; why, Madam?  Prin. 
I prithee let me go, thou art too cruel.  
I shall enjoy peace undisturbed hereafter.  Phyl. 
But hear her out, and do but search the truth,  
Then I will let you die. I would not for the world  
Any should guess the cause.  Prin. 
Alas!  Phyl. 
Why, if they do, they can't condemn the grief.  Prin. 
O Phylena, when Love has entered in the outward Forts,  
Yet there is still a small reserve of Reason,  
Which Love laughs at, rather than thinks it worth  
His rage or storming; for he knows it must  
Perish and starve, when the relief  
Of all the nobler Faculties are kept out  
By the insulting Conqueror, who contemns  
All the attempts I fain would make against him.  Amio. 
I see I am decreed to all misfortunes,  she speaks as no minded. 
That I should now disturb you too, who, heaven knows,  
I willingly would please. Why do you turn  
Away your head? How often have I heard  
His prayers sent to heaven for your joys,  
That now denies to look upon his woes?  
I'll kneel again, for in such a cause  
It were impiety to rise successelesse.  
Nothing but Seas and Winds are deaf to prayers,  
And Beasts to mercy; who would expect  
A hidden form in undisturbed skies?  
Or in that clearer breast a cruelty?  
If you deny, I'll grow a fixed Monument,  
Still to upbraid your rigour.  Prin. 
O Phylena, why do you let me languish?  
In her beauty dwells an undoing lustre.  Phyl. 
What mean you, Madam? can you believe  
The world can show a subject for your jealousy?  Amio. 
I see I grow a trouble, I durst have sworn  
You had been more charitable. How often have I heard  
The now unpitied Mironault affirm,  
You were the treasure of this world's perfections;  
And wondered any thing but your fair self  
Should know what joys were. Perhaps you too  
Believe as much, or else you could not think  
All his unpitied miscries are just. Had Nature  
Given you a Brother, and your early loves  
Blessed undisturbed from Nature's fruitful Cradle,  
You would have begged— as now—  
His hopeless sister does.  
But sure I should have pitied more.  
And yet perhaps our interests makes us partial:  
Yes I could wish I had your power to try.  Phyl. 
Now, Madam—  Prin. 
Forgive me, gentle Maid; it was the power  
Of thy told griefs that seized my faculties,  
And left me able to do nought but grieve.  
Forgive the time I lost to share with thee:  
You may forgive the injuries of kindness.  
And though myself were witness to the action  
Thy griefs made it a new afflicting story.  
Each storm renews in Merchant's minds  
The story of the shipwreck. Nor do I blush  
To avow this, since I must not lose  
The justness of my breast, that does believe  
His innocence above suspicion.  Amio. 
May heaven inspire you to wish well,  
And grant your wishes too, you might have then,  
Perhaps, a joy as great as he would have,  
Did he but know you pity him.  Prin. 
In the performance then of what I say,  
He will have more; which I so much wish him  
That you shall witness all pursued with haste.  
Nor shall you be a stranger longer to me.  
Yet I shall blush, although I give you leave  
To see the partiality: but more time  
Now spent in grass or leaves, would be his injury.  
And we may ruin, what we would relieve,  
Should we without attempting succour grieve.  [Exeunt.  

ACT 2. SCEN. 3.  Enter Mironault, Hyppasus, Pysenor. Pys. 
WOuld I were a Dog, and could lick myself whole.  
I shall be as flyblown, as a ruin cheese,  
How is't Hyppasus!  Hyp. 
But scurvy, would we might rest.  Miro. 
O me;  
'Tis an unhappiness, that I should bring  
You into these misfortunes, you have deserved  
Better of me, and yet you may forgive me,  
I would have shared as much with you.  Hyp. 
We would not make such an excuse then, Sir.  Miro. 
You chide me nobly, I find, I need some rest.  
And yet by all those powers, that caused these mischiefs,  
My life shall end them, e'er I'll be his prisoner.  Pys. 
Nay, we'll all die; I hope 'tis no offence  
To talk of saving our sweet lives;  
In order to that, this next fair house  
Must be our Garrison, 'tis ten to one,  
But there we find some three or four brown loaves,  
To victual us for a day; perhaps a sample  
Of good seed-Corn, lies in the parlour Cupboard;  
We shall eat moderately, come we must advance  
And storm it.  Hyp. 
You have no other way Sir, we are so weak,  
There is no refuge else, and we are still  
Hotly pursued, if they intent our mischiefs,  
We may hold out against that petty number▪  
If they raise more, we too shall have relief  
By the Princess, or your friends; if not,  
We may make some Conditions.—  Miro. 
A wretched shift, and yet it may preserve us,  
But let us use it nobly: Heaven guide us.  Pys. 
I'll advance, and knock: Within there▪  
Ho!  [knock. 
He struck so hard, the basin broke,—  Enter Peter. 
Ho! what a Tarquin's here,  Pet. 
Who have we here?  Pys. 
Two or three strangers that have lost their way.  Pet. 
And you would be directed.  Pys. 
Pox on your nimble Charity;  [Aside. 
We have been set upon by thiefs, and hurt,  
And must desire some small refreshment.  Pet. 
Why, this 'tis; The age is grown so perfect now,  
That all falls in the way of Begging,  
And by the word Refreshment.  Pys. 
Nay, Sir, none of your moralities on the age,  
Help us to the speech of the Master,  
Or Mistress of the house, It must be so, Sir;  Pet. 
Here's neither.  Pys. 
What the Devil is't.  Pet. 
A Lady.  Pys. 
Plague on your formal Coxcomb.  
Let's see your Lady then,  Pet. 
That's more than she'll do you.  Pys. 
By this light, but she shall.  Pet. 
Had she sworn so, she had been for-sworn;  Pys. 
Sir, we would willingly be Civil,  
Pray let's receive your lady's answer,  
But no more of yours:  Pet. 
You shall have it.—  [Exit. Pys. 
This Rogue has bag pipes in his Lungs.  
A mere Land-Remora, we wanted but the plague  
To have heard his pedigree;  
He had learned the policy of the old Roman,  
To ruin by delays; we might have fainted  
Under his wise Cunc-tator-ship.  Hyp. 
'Twas a rare Scene, be sure, Pysenor,  
You shall have none of the best drink.  Miro. 
When she comes, you shall be chief,  
And we your humble servants.  Pys. 
And I'll be insolent enough: now Sir,  
For such a Bird as the Princess.  Miro. 
Nay Pysenor.—  Pys. 
Hang it, this love, 'twill make your wounds rankle.  
There's nothing like a merry plaster.  
Hark, I hear them rustling,  Enter Caeca, Ruinever, and Peter. 
Mercy on us, what have we here,  
December, with the too scurvy months at her heels?  
She has digged up all her ancestors;  
And wrapped their winding sheets about her,  
I'll advance.  Caeca. 
Where stands he, Peter▪  Peter. 
Strait on; now must not I proceed  
For fear I should discover, she were blind.  Pys. 
Wither a devil will she march  She goes strait on. 
Hippasus, lie down in the way,  Hyp. 
And be hanged, put on your serious face,  Pys. 
Save you sweet Reverence.  Caeca. 
Are you the Gentleman? Peter, is this he?  Pet. 
Yes, forsooth.  Pys. 
'Slight, she'd have her man make affidavit of it,  [aside. 
We are those Madam, that would fain obtain  
Some pity in your eyes,— why,— she's blind,  [aside. 
Blind, as an old Do-Cunny.—  
We want a Charity, and we hope  
That your grave years, has taught you that fair story,  Caeca. 
From whence come you?  Pys. 
We are Gentlemen, and have been hurrby thiefs.  
You need not fear to help our hard misfortunes,  
Our weak Conditions cannot threaten danger,  
You may believe, we would deserve your kindness,  
And our lives, which if you preserve,  
Shall wait upon your beauty.  Hyp. 
What a dissembling tongue the rogue has,  [aside. Pys. 
We went as long, as we could gain a leave  
From weakness, as unwilling—  
To be a burden to any, but our fates  
Threw us on you, for which we dare not chide them.  Hyp. 
This rogue would court a bitch—  [aside. Pys. 
Sirrah, I'll fit you.—  Caeca. 
A fine well-spoken gentleman.  Pys. 
For if we did, we should be too unjust  
For you must needs be good, because the gods  
Let you so long live to instruct the world,  
— Or else afraid of your blind company—  [aside. 
But at your feet—  
We throw ourselves and all our miseries,  
And cancel fear, whilst we expect to hear  
Our doom from your fair lips.  Caeca. 
Quinever.  Quin. 
Madam.  Caeca. 
ist a handsome man?  Quin. 
Yes indeed, as e'er I saw.  Caeca. 
I feel just such a Qualm, as I had  
When I was still falling in love, he has a sweet tongue.  
Noble gentleman, you're very welcome;  
You shall have all you want, pray come near:  
Indeed, I am much taken with your speech,  
'Tis very courteous, once in my youth  
I understood these compliments,  
And have not yet forgot them;  
I shall remember them more fresh  
If you repeat them.  Pys. 
Why so, I shall be engaged to tell tales  [aside 
In the chimney-corner.  Caec. 
Peter, Go in, get the best chambers ready;  
Let them have something presently to eat.  
Pray come in, you're very welcome.  
Your hand, good Sir.  Pys. 
We are your servants. Now do I walk  
Like the great Turk, that newly has put out  
The eyes of an old kinswoman. Here we shall find  
Good Fortune sure, for that whore too is blind.  [Exeunt.  

ACT. 2. SCEN. 4.  Enter King solus. Kin. 
HOw much unknown is real happiness?  
And all are cheated with the name of thing?  
Or we are all deceived, or else the joy  
Grows poor by the enjoyment; to me  
A Crown's a glorious misery,  
Suspicion waits on all our appetites,  
And sleep not pleases but affrights.  
King's have hard ways for to preserve a Crown,  
To give to others fears, and hide their own.  
The way's but narrow between frowns and smiles,  
To avoid both Contempt and Tyranny.  
For either is a Rock to split upon  
This glorious and frail Bark of Majesty;  
When-People do not ask, and yet Kings give,  
Content and safety with them both may live.  
But when they venture to reform the State,  
Princes must suffer then  
By their own fears, or by their people's hate.  
They hide still what they mean in a redress,  
And know ill acts are buried with success.  
Seek peace in storms, and in disorder safety,  
— Till in a Chaos they have felt  
Constraint and Freedom undistinguished dwelled.  
Their first fond way to reach at Liberty  
Is, to assault those they believe too high.  
And had the gods not Thunder, sure there are  
That would attempt—  
— to light a Candle at a Star.  
But Kings, like Suns, that at some time must pay  
Their lustres in another Sphere, must leave  
Stars fitted with influence to direct this night.  
— Yet, like the Queen of Night, to know,  
That to his beams their lustre they do owe.  
O Symathocles, you're welcome; Did you dispatch  Enter Symathocles. 
What I directed you?  Sym, 
I did, Sir; and the Troops were marching,  
But the arrival of the Princess prevented.  Kin 
Is she come, then?  Sym. 
But now arrived, Sir.  Kin. 
'Tis well, Symathocles.  
You have heard sure of the late accident:  
'Tis odd; What think you?  Sym. 
'Tis hard to guess, Sir, easier far to doubt.  
The Princess must inform us all.  Kin. 
I have suspended too my thoughts in this.  
Haste is an ill companion still to Justice.  
And whilst we hear at distance things unproved,  
The story of their lives prevails still most,  
That has been fair in Mironault. Yet our frailty  
Guides us to unsuspected acts, so may the best of men  
Fall to the least suspected crimes; that weakness  
Crows with our years, and alteration●s still  
By Nature nur●.  Sym. 
You have weighed, great Sir,  
Things in so just and serious a scale,  
That whilst thus evenly you preserve your mind,  
You'll need no other Oracle; mean hasty fears  
Still tyranny begets, none can deserve  
Their safety, that attempt it that way  
That poorly tells the world, he fears the reach  
Of common hands; none but the Eagles gaze  
Upon the Sun, unless it shrink in clouds.  
Nor do the common eyes attempt your glories,  
Till shrouded in your fears. He's still most safe  
That tells the world, He cannot be in danger,  
For they'll believe it then, and 'tis most just,  
If they will borrow fears, that he should trust.  
Justice will then be ripe, when every thought  
Takes its slow birth neither from fear nor passion.  
And 'twill be fruit worthy a King to bear,  
And bless the appetites of them that gather.  Kin. 
You have hit my thoughts; See,  Enter Princess, Pylora, Followers. 
Here comes more Information.  
I'll see if she'll begin.  
— Rise, you are welcome.  [Prin. knelt. Prin. 
I must not, Sir, till I receive  
— more then a common Blessing—  
Your Justice is enough to case my fears.  
Yet pardon me, if so much of Woman rules me,  
To tell you all I suffered.  Kin. 
What mean you?  Prin. 
Great Sir, you might believe indeed  
I should be undisturbed, where you procure  
Peace from your careful thoughts. And sure it was  
The child of Insolence and high Contempt  
That cursed attempt the rudeness.  Kin. 
It was so, but to the matter.  Prin. 
When at my journey's end I was arrived,  
Thither came Mironault in his own language  
To pay a duty which he owed your child;  
Where being scarcely rested, and resolved  
With the next rising Sun to seek our sport,  
But word was brought, the Castle was surrounded  
By Soldiers, commanded by Phylanter;  
Their business was for Mironault, who they said  
Went to surprise me there, who only came  
With two brave friends, and I dare swear with thoughts  
As innocent as Infants; when he heard  
The Castle was be-set, seriously weighing  
Not Justice sought his life but Treachery,  
Disdained to fall upon so mean a score.  
As an ungoverned Torrent issues forth,  
Bearing down all before it, and in the action  
Finds its unknown power, when its streams  
Are with a stop resisted, o're-whelming  
What was believed beyond its power before.  
So from resistance his disdaining rage  
Achieved a victory, which his thoughts  
Would ne'er have hoped nor aimed at; still Philanter's rage  
Pursues his noble life. This is enough  
Whilst you are just, nor need I to repeat  
The injury to me.  Kin. 
But they perhaps  
Might have a secret message of the intent  
Of Mironault, you would be loath I see  
To have one testify as much.  Prin. 
You cannot find one so extremely bad,  
So far from being to himself a friend;  
His story in the world has nobler truths,  
Than to be fouled by any base accuser.  
If all were true, it is your justice sure,  
And not their fury, that should punish.  Kin. 
For farther satisfaction of you; Who waits there?  
Go call the Lord Albertus hither.  [Exit Messenger. Prin. 
In this petition too, Sir, oyns with me  
This Maid, who from one womb  
With the unhappy Mironault took her birth:  
You will have many knees as he has hearts;  
And yet none needs to beg, for you are just:  
Yet you must pardon those loves that mix with fears.  
We oftener than we need wipe precious Jewels.  
His value makes us foolish.  Kin. 
He is beholding to you—  
How now—  Enter Messenger. Mess. 
The Lord Albertus, Sir, is fled  
As soon as he came from your Majesty,  
He instantly took Horse.  Kin. 
He was in haste — Symathocles—  Sym. 
Sir.  Kin. 
Gather the Forces in a readiness  
That were to meet my daughter, then wait  
For further Orders.  Sym. 
I shall, Sir.  [Exit Syma. Kin. 
Your pardon, fair Maid, that I seemed so to forget you;  
It only was my care, you shall have justice  
And should have had without an Advocate,  
Your beauty though's a great one.  Amio. 
The gods preserve your Majesty, with your years  
May peace still grow, that give it unto others,  
Till you shall go to have eternal rest.  Kin. 
Thanks, gentle Maid, the rich Arabian Fumes  
Are not so sweet to the delighted gods,  
As thy calm prayers from thy harmless breast.  
Come hither, Mirrament, I have not been  
At leisure yet to bid thee kindly welcome.  Prin. 
Pardon me, Sir, that I must once again  
Trouble your ears, nor think too lightly, Sir,  
Of my request, it is the child of gratitude.  
I would in person, Sir, relieve  
Him, that has suffered for my sake,  
And in my sight contemned.  Kin. 
Symathocles, would you not take it ill  
To have a General put o'er your head?  Sym. 
Not, if it may serve you, Sir.  Kin. 
Look here, Symathocles, this Amazon has begged it.  Sym. 
She does the better, Sir, if there be danger  
From her fair name we all shall fight in safety.  Kin. 
Well, take your course, on more intelligence  
Move as you please.  [Exit King. Sym. 
Excellent Princess,  
— How happy I am now to be your Soldier,  
Let those be judge that would be sure of victory.  
So fair a Cause fought by so fair a General,  
— Can never be forsaken  
By Victory or Fortune—  Prin. 
I thank you, Sir, nor can I think myself  
Less happy in so brave a Soldier; if you please  
For to dispatch before for some intelligence,  
we'll instantly away.  Sym. 
With all speed, Madam.  [Exit Syma. Manent Princess & Amione. Amio. 
Excellent Princess;  
Which way to tell you all my heart returns  
I know not, the gods in blessings thank you,  
Who still assist the innocent and mean,  
Because they made them so;  Prin. 
I thank you gentle Maid, from hence my friend,  
You cannot cheat my confidence, you'll deserve it,  
So does your Brother all my best assistance,  
I reckon it my happiness, to procure  
Your joys and safety; that I may then  
Have mine more perfect.  Amio. 
Now all the powers defend, they should not be:  
You never sure broke yet an hours repose  
With a disturbing dream; in that calm harbour,  
All thoughts have been secured from storm,  
May they be ever so.—  Prin. 
Thy brother's cause deserves as much as that.  
— A thousand blushes stop me,—  [aside. 
Besides thou mayest be much deceived: the shipwreck past,  
The calmest waters may conceal the fate,  
As well as the insulting waves,  Amione weeps. 
— Why doest thou weep.—  Amio. 
To hear, you have been sad, O Madam,  
Pardon me, to say an undiscerned power  
joins my affliction to your grief;  
Forgive me that, I cannot choose but dare,  
To accompany you in any thing.  
There's something tells me, that I ought to love you  
More than the world does, yet that's very much.  Prin. 
When I first saw thee, dearest maid,  
I could have sworn as much,  
And yet thou didst not please me then,  
Come, I shall disturb thee, 'tis an unkindness  
Not to be pardoned, to let thee share my griefs;  Amio. 
Now you afflict me more: Is there a way,  
To be a friend and stranger to your breast,  
Though 'tis ambition, to be an humble one?  
'Tis virtue, not your greatness crowns my wishes,  
And I shall fear, that you will think me only  
A friend to that, or else not worth the other.  Prin. 
I do not doubt thy Love, the story will  
Disturb me, when I tell it, perhaps thee,  
And yet it must return to me unhelpt.  Amio. 
How do you know? the meanest thing in nature,  
May bring an unexpected aid; Giants that pass,  
And lets the obstacles alone, do less  
Than dwarves that do remove them: as they are  
Shut in your breast, fed with that precious food,  
How can they ever starve? they may at last  
Consume your stock of joys, he does like you,  
That would defend, within a fair built Fort,  
His enemies against his pressing friends  
And patiently destroyed by those he saved,  
If you believe me worthy, the gods have then  
Finished their parts; for they decreed us most  
To one another's aid: So to increase  
Our joys that way, and lessen all our cares,  
For still imparted comforts do increase,  
And grief divided to a friend grows less,  
Our natures too are like o'ercharged springs,  
Willing to vent themselves, and so are you,  
Had I but as much worth, as you have trouble.  Prin. 
I am not proof against thy perfect kindness,  
I will keep nothing from thee, but be sure  
You quickly understand me, my blushes too  
Will tell thee half the story, what dost guess?  Amio. 
That you should have no cares—  Prin. 
Can love have any?  Amio. 
What in this world shall ever be so happy?  
I hope it is not that—  Prin. 
And why?  Amio. 
A thousand times I have heard my brother pray  
That day might never be, I wish as he does too.  Prin. 
Your Brother would not have me then?  
— How innocent she is!—  [aside. Amio. 
He thinks it were unreasonable  
That one alone should make the world unhappy.  
Weighing their own misfortunes from his joys  
I hope it is not that:  Prin. 
'Tis that I swear. Love has caused all my trouble,  
And if thy brother thinks me such a blessing  
Why doth not he then wish it?  Amio. 
Alas he dares not welcome such a thought  
He only dares to wish none else should have you;  
But who must be so happy?  Prin. 
Your Brother.  Amio. 
Madam?  Prin. 
Wonder no more, I could have told  
When I first saw thee that methought I loved thee  
As I would do a sister; yet I was jealous too:  
Nay I shall blush, as much as thou canst wonder,  
Yet he deserves my Love; sure you did then  
Read a confusion in me; and I am still,  
Disordered by my fears;  Amio. 
O Madam,—  
— Pardon me to say the gods have justly so  
Decreed that it should be: for I have heard  
Him sit and please himself with stories of you,  
Till he has made his griefs too monstrous,  
And I thought then too prodigal of comfort,  
Yet now I think't was all but due to you;  
And though I am turned of his religion too  
And can think nothing superstition in't,  
Yet you may spare the sacrifice.  Prin. 
Sweetest maid,  
I have some reason to believe he loves me,  
He cannot sure dissemble; Wert thou ne'er yet in love?  Amio. 
Never;  Prin. 
Pray that thou never mayst, or that it ne'er  
Have fears for its Companions, night will wear  
Disturbing blackness and not quiet shades,  
The light will be too cheerful, whilst you fare  
Like an impatient Seaman that would fain  
Attain the Port, the gentlest calm  
Makes mad, and crossing storms disturbs  
But from our own experience thus we raise  
Advices that are chid and and scorned by Fate  
Who oftenest sends what we least wish, and makes  
What we most covet most unfortunate:  
But now to his relief, for time  
Pursues his course with an impartial haste  
And my revenge must sit upon his wings.  
You Powers above what now is just assist:  
Their thoughts were poor, that trifled time and wished.  [Exeunt.   

ACT. 3.  

SCEN. 1.  Enter Mironault Solus. Mire. 
TO be still subject to calamities,  
We all must bear: yet not esteem it hard  
Our frailty sets this odds from higher powers,  
And their disorders are appeased by ours,  
It is a hard injunction of the gods  
To set our natures and ourselves at odds  
When they afflict though due unto our crimes,  
Yet they give to the nature that repines  
Though if we use it well, none but they give  
That blessing, that we are displeased to live  
'Twas life first cozened man, and did entice  
By knowledge its fair gift to cheat him twice;  
Man was a happy stranger to himself,  
When he believed his ignorance his wealth;  
Did these Extremes our knowledge ne'er employ  
We should have less of cares, though less of joy,  
For in the mind, they never gain a height  
From their own natures but each others weight;  
Thus truly man has either more or less,  
From what he had, not what he does possess.  
As if the gods would give us nothing here  
Worthy of our affections, but our fear,  
For should we fall from happiness the store  
Makes us more wretched of those joy's before.  
Such a disease is life we hold so dear,  
Healths in the other world, our Physic here;  
— O — Hypposus— what's to be done  Enter Hyppasus. 
Fortune has strangely jaded us—  Hyp. 
Heaven knows: I am confident we are pursued,  
The house is strong, had we but any men  
We might resist their numbers, and by that time  
They have supplies, we may have too relief.  Miro. 
Where's Pysander?  Hyp. 
Shifting from the old blind Lady, who follows him  
As if he were her dog and led her,  
And as the devil would hav'it, her reverend blindness  
Is at a venture ●am in love  Miro. 
We must resolve of some thing, and what's most hard  
In ignorance, and without any aid: so may a ship,  
With wounds in pieces torn, expect as well  
To sail or fight;—  
— And yet me thinks there might be made  
Some use of this Pysander's fooling.  Hyp. 
By the Mass it's true, she has Tenants  
That were obliged, without all doubt to assist her  
In the holy War; they live here till they die  
Of the infection of old age; see Sir,  
Where Pysander comes marching with her maid.  Enter Pysander Quinever. Mir. 
Let's conceal ourselves a little, and observe.  Pys. 
Nay, by this light I'll ne'er lie for the matter.  
If thou hast no faith thou'lt be damned.  Quin. 
Say you so, Sir?  Pys. 
How couldst thou choose but guess it? didst thou e'er know  
A dunghill without a Cock upon't. Mere sympathy  
Guides me to love thee, dost thou not find  
Some such kind of thing for me?  Quin. 
Indeed I have a grudging towards you.  Pys. 
The devil take up the quarrel.  [aside. 
Nay 'tis grown to that I dream on thee,  
Methought last night I road a Flanders Mare,  
And every night I dream of a fresh Beast,  
And then I think on thee.  Hyp. 
What means the Rogue?  Mir. 
Peace, on my life he has some farther purpose.  Hyp. 
Lord how she ay wells, hold a stick of fire to her  
And she'll piss.  Pys. 
But since I love you so, you must assist me  
In what I told you, for I should be loath  
Now to be taken from thee; and I know  
The rascals will attempt the house for me.  
This can be brought about no other way,  
But by report that I should marry  
Thy Lady, for then all her Tenants  
Will be the willinger to assist me.  
But all this while thou shalt be dear Lindabrides,  
Thou shalt rule and govern; and for thy comfort  
Above pragmatical Peter; and, by this hand,  
If he at all cross us in this design,  
I'll hang a thousand crackers at his britch,  
Then throw him off from some high Tower,  
In a high wind, hung between bladders;  
And all this for thy love.  Quin. 
And will you still be constant?  Pys. 
As a Bell, still in one Tune:  
And that we may be sudden, and I safe  
To follow our Amours, persuade thy Lady  
And instantly conduct her this way.  Quin. 
I'll take my leave first—  [she kisses him. [Exit Quin. Pys. 
'Slid, her lips are lined with Cosier's wax,  
She kissed me in a full Career.  
Sure she has hoarded up a store of onions  
In her dry chaps, to butter against winter.  
The devil's troubled but with one Dam, I have two  
— And there's a formal Weathercock,  
They look which way the wind sits by him,  
That from deliberation fetches wisdom;  
And when he gapes at bedtime, 'tis a clinch  
For my blind Mistress now, whose chaps are mewed  
Of all their teeth, which yet she hopes again  
Will spring like a felled Copice, and from the gums  
New sprouts shoot up, she's almost deaf,  
Would she were dumb too, for her tongue's obliged  
To supply other organs, and tells us all  
Her life, perhaps the History  
Of twenty years a time— This thing  
Must I make love to, with brevity and ease.  
I'll go through all the scenes of Courtship with her,  
She shall have Serenades on an old Jews-trump,  
That was Pirk-abboths, an emblem of antiquity,  
And all my little Oaths shall be  
By Cupid's Eye and hers, the devil's in't  
If I am then forsworn— O how now,  Mironault and Hippasus appear. 
What are you bolted? Come Gentlemen,  
What's to be done? Hyppasus, thou wert wont  
To be nimble at sudden chances.  Hyp. 
How insolent the Rogue is? now he thinks  
We know not his design.  Mir. 
Nay, Pysander, we referred all to you,  
We only are your poor friends.  Pys. 
Well, a Mathematician would not have breath enough  
To tell the kindness of my Stars—  Mir. 
But for this rare fortune—  Pys. 
Why my old vessel is sailing this way,  
When she appears, stand close  
And you shall hear it.  Mir. 
Come I conceive, and did overhear  
Some of your policy, and believe't  
There is no other way to save us now.  
If we can get but men, 'tis but throwing  
A work up in two places, the other parts  
Are strong enough.  Pys. 
That shall be my care too, but when you see  
The old Beldame coming, be sure you vanish.  Mir. 
We must be quick, our time has straitened us.  
As soon as they can have intelligence  
They will be here.  Pys. 
What if we could send away to Court?  Mir. 
I'll rather perish than believe I can  
Be worth her care.  Pys. 
Why thanks then to Pysander  
That believes himself—  
Worthy his own—  Hyp. 
Would her Ladyship were come.  
Prithee Pysander let's have no time delayed  
In ask how she does, and what's a clock.  Pys. 
Thou hast reason to be more confident of my wit.  
— See where they come—  Enter Caeca and Quinever. 
And like the Graces leading one another.  
Let's overhear a little.  Caec. 
Indeed he is a proper Gentleman,  
And 'tis great pity he should suffer.  Quin. 
It is indeed, I would not for my Maidenhead  
It should be in your house.  Pys. 
Nor I by this light.  [aside. Caec. 
I think as much; indeed he speaks as well  
As any that I knew these six King's Reigns:  
Where is he, Quinever?  Quin. 
He said he would be hereabouts.  Hyp. 
Now Pysander uncouple them.  Pys. 
So I may be hunted, but I'll advance.  
— Save your sweet Ladyship—  
I took the boldness, urged by my love,  
To trouble your kind ears with a petition.  Caec. 
You're very welcome, I shall be glad to hear it;  
And though I am old, and people think decayed,  
I can tell how to judge a worthy Gentleman.  
hay ho, in my time I have heard many compliments,  
And blessed was he could gain but a good look.  Pys. 
He shall be damned now that does.  [aside. Caec. 
The world and I am altered.  Pys. 
A Carthusian swear the world is,  
— I'll swear for thee.  Caec. 
And yet I have warm blood now in my veins,  
And it will beat sometimes: I have heard men say,  
That age has vigour lies within.  Pys. 
She'll tell me by and by she can fart fire.  [aside Caec. 
And so indeed—  Pys. 
I must interrupt her; But you forget  
To hear what your poor servant asks.  Caec. 
I pray what is't?  Pys. 
First I must beg you, that you'll have the confidence  
To believe, I love you; old Lutes  
Still sound the sweetest; many a man  
Has travailed many miles, and tedious ways,  
To see a lesser monument, and since I love you,  
I would preserve my happiness, sure you ought then  
To return equal kindness.  Caeca. 
By my troth, but justice, and indeed, I will,  
I shall not be so cruel to grieve you long  
So worthy a kind gentleman; I esteem  
A tedious coyness vice, you put me in mind  
Of my old principles, in my Grand-mother's time.  Pys. 
That's according to a new account,  
Three hundred years before the world begun.  [aside. Caeca. 
And as I was saying in her time  
Matters were quickly ended, I am still  
Of the old fashion.  Pys. 
In short, then, since you see I love you,  
I must beg your assistance; for these rogues  
That hurt us, as I hear, are now hard by.  
Your Tenants, and a few servants would with ease  
Defend us from these wanderers, that I may  
Enjoy my happiness with safety. This your Commands  
With ease may finish, and I bless  
The fate that brought me hither.  Caeca. 
I pray yourself command them,  
You shall have full power, that in time  
Must be my husband.  Pys. 
Plague on your nimbleness, how she mumps,—  [aside. Caeca. 
When my last husband Sir percival died,  
I little thought to have had another suitor;  
But you men have the power to win us,  
And I can tell you, such a tempting Gentleman.  Pys. 
For aught she knows, a Signpost  
With Friar Bacon's brazen head upon't,—  [aside. 
— If you please Madam, I will attend you,  
When your Commands have settled us in safety,  
I shall presume to tell you my Love's story.  Caeca. 
I shall be glad to hear it, pray lead on,  
What you Command, shall be a law.—  [Exeunt. Manent, Mironault & Hyppasus. Mir. 
Yet Hyppasus, we breathe; and safety now  
Begins to wear an easy shape.  Hyp. 
The rogue has worked them finely.—  Mir. 
By Heaven, he is the best composed man,  
I e'er yet knew, for in the worst extremes,  
His cheerfulness, and judgement is the same;  
We are prepared; if they find us now,  
Phylanter's bold to bring them on to action,  
Fortune but guide, an equal sword to mine,  
And borrow frowns from all the destinies  
To hang upon thy then contemned brows.  Hyp. 
But I believe, they never will attempt us  
But seconded with more, for they will fear  
What may proceed from Court.  Mir. 
Never believe, he would attempt this action,  
But with some feigned story to my prejudice.  Hyp. 
But the Princess, Sir, seemed to resent the injury,  
She is too noble, meanly to suspect.  Mir. 
Alas, Hyppasus, they before corrupted  
His goodness that should incline to her,  
These flatterers beset the thoughts of Kings,  
As an ill enemy besieges Towns,  
First poisons the fair springs.  Hyp. 
These are the worst of fears, we may as well  
Hope, that his judgement scorns unlikely stories.  
But let the worst that fortune can prepare  
Fall unregarded on us, the least defence  
Will help us to the noblest fare.  Mir. 
Nobly resolved.—  
And when we fall so brave,  
The world will find more loss, than we can have.  [Exeunt.  

ACT 3. SCEN. 2.  Enter Peter, and Quinever. Pet. 
NAy, you had best teach her to beat a drum,  
Do you think to make her now an old blind Amazon.  
We shall have the Sheriff to send warrants for u●,  
Thus to raise Forces, and not se defendo;  Quin. 
Lord, how wise you are good Peter, at least  
You would fain seem so, I can tell, I'm sure,  
Where you have all your wiseness.  Pet. 
Where, good Quinever?  Quin. 
All your law, out of the two old leaves  
That lie behind the parlour-cupbord;  
Piece, they say, of an old Stature book,  
Which has been rotting there these twenty years.  
And for your other talk, 'tis taken out  
Of your old Erra-pater; and you, forscoth,  
Must seem to be more wise than all of us.  
I'm sure, when you made love to me,  
And once were out of these two trodden roads,  
You could not speak a word, but just, How do you.  
And that repeated over with variety,  
Of scurvy tones, nay.—  Pet. 
Why, art thou mad, or dost thou think it fit,  
My Lady, should defend all wand'ring strangers,  
And enter into wars? I am resolved  
To change my station, they are digging up earth  
Before the Gates, I can't pass by,  
But I must think of graves, men too brought in,  
I think, to fill them.  Quin. 
Hang your sheep's face, I see that now 'tis fear,  
That your wise worship with your wont ease,  
Should not at leisure drink your morning draught,  
And at the Alehouse for two pots  
Hear yourself praised,  
And bribe a man to come to you for counsel  
That never had need of any, you have worn your Gloves out  
With biting your thumbs ends, to appear wise.  
All this put together, got from my Lady's purse,  
Thou hast been as chargeable as a Regiment.  Pet. 
Why, Mrs. Quinever, sure you once had  
Better opinions of me, though you now  
Wash every day your best handkerchief  
With yellow starch, and your laced quoiff,  
Till it now hangs as if the devil  
Had srighted you through quicksetts, not a post  
But must be beaten for the rotten powder  
To make your hair sit well, and all in hopes  
That some of these should fall in love with you.  
I vas once thought worthy, than I was honest Peter.  Quin. 
Marry come up, what, love that transparent nose of thine  
That gives the Serenades when thou sleepest?  
Or thy wide mouth like a dead Lobster's claws,  
Or thy starched ruff like a new Pigeon-house,  
Your garters tied above your boots; as if you feared  
Your leg so well provided would be gone.  Pet. 
Why I thank you sweet Mistress Quinever go on  
And be all mad whiles I lament you sober:  
Nay you shall fight by yourselves for Peter,  
You'll make an excellent ammunition-Girle  
Get a bottle to carry hot water in, in time  
You may arise to be a Sutler's wife.  Quin. 
I'll have your wise head fitted for all this  Enter Pysander. 
And here comes one shall do it.  Pet. 
O sweet Mistress Quinever  Quin. 
No fawning now you whelp.  Pys. 
Mrs. Quinever well met, I was seeking you.  Quin. 
I am happy I have found you.  Pys. 
How go matters? we have got some 50. men.  Quin. 
All goes well: but this wise Gentleman  
(Whose wit lies in his breeches, for 'tis all  
He has to know when he has need)  
Is much displeased at our preparations,  
And asks me if you mean to make  
My Lady a blind drummer  Pys. 
And cannot you convert him?  Quin. 
No indeed.  Pys. 
Why thou ingrateful piece of wise formality,  
How oft hast thou had warning to be wise?  
I have threatened thee thou shouldst never go  
Without a rime-pind at thy back  
Which should be thy own grievous Chronicle.  
I told thee too that I would have thee painted  
Riding upon an Ass and reading Seneca,  
I thought this might have tied thy tongue.  Pet. 
Good Sir:  Pys. 
Nay hear and mark me, if thou dost e'er again  
Seem to be wiser than thou art, and cross  
What now is done, nay if thou dost not help  
And put thy assisting hand to't, thou shalt ride  
In a hot day upon a well lined saddle  
With soap in thy new grogram-breeches, till it work  
Like new tunnd beer, and every day  
When thou sit'st down to dinner one or other  
Shall pull away thy stool, I'll spoil thy gravity,  
Or 'noint thy feet with butter, whilst a dog  
Shall lick and tickle thee, and if any comes  
Here to oppose us thou shalt seem a stratagem:  
For on the walls we'll set thee, like a thing  
Stuffed up with straw, only to make them spend  
Their shot upon thee, and in thy turn  
Thou shalt do duty too, and every night,  
Be sure to have alarms. Speak what you'll do.  Pet. 
I did but utter my opinion: I shall conform.  Pys. 
It's well said, and I forgive you,  
But take heed you err no more.  Pet. 
You need not doubt me.  Pys. 
Come wench, now we breathe in safety,  
And thou proud Peter's conqueror.  [Exeunt. Pet. 
The Devil go with you; he has conjured me.  
Did ever Turk think of so many torments,  
And in what order too he marshaled them?  
I am not yet out of a chilling sweat;  
Nor shall I get now of enchanted Quinever  
One drop of good hot water, God deliver me  
From this strange hurly-burly; and yet I dare not fancy  
A good strong halter and a handsome beam  
I'll go to sleep, for I am now  
Afraid of all things.  [Exit.  

ACT 3. SCEN. 3.  Enter Phylanter, Lycespes. Phyl. 
THe intelligence is certain they are here,  
At an old Ladies, and all hurt; we cannot miss them.  Lyc. 
Those that I left preparing now come up  
Make us 400. strong, your father too  
Follows with more.  Phy. 
We must attempt them (though) before relief  
Can possibly arrive from any place,  
And if we take him we are sure to make  
Our own conditions, the best we can expect:  
Our resolutions arm us for the rest.  Lyc. 
We are prepared and I believe there's few,  
That serve you, question policy or danger.  Phy. 
Ye nobly all oblige me, and for your sakes  
I could even wish I never had attempted  
What I must scorn now meanly to repent of  
But ill intents when they least prosper  
Then must be most pursued, to reach again  
Our first condition,  Lyc. 
Nay Sir, I think it were no harm,  
To wish us fairly off.  Phyl. 
I would we were, but I am armed;  
To die I fear not, and yet I would  
Fall with some pretty character about me,  
At least I'll make the Kingdom joy  
It had so brave a spirit, and like Rome glory  
(In spite of fame) in Catiline who died  
At once men's envy, and her pride,  Lyc. 
We must lose no time Sir, the night  
Conceals us, and as yet perhaps  
They have had no intelligence,  
The house is near at hand— shall we parley?  Phyl. 
'Tis the best way to find their confidence  
Nor can it be a prejudice to us; we traffic now  
Only for what we've lost:" If we survive  
" We'll find at least a nobler way to thrive.  [Exeunt.  

ACT 3. SCEN. 4.  Enter Pysander, two or three with him. Pys. 
SO that work's now finished.  
Let all the guns be brought into the Hall,  
'Tis to defend the good old Lady  
From the rudeness of Rogues; 'twill be easy work.  1. 
Yes, yes, we'll tickle them.  2. 
I'll sweep 'em with my father's old Fouling-piece.  Pys. 
Bravely resolved; but perhaps.  
There may be yet no need on't, however  
'Tis wisest to resolve against all dangers.  
Well, my good Lads, be in a readiness, if any come,  
we'll ring 'em a peal shall make 'em forswear  
Such Holidays: they all die rather than wrong  
Sir Percivall's widow. Now all unto your places.  1. 2. 
Agreed, agreed.  Pys. 
Now could I hug my genius, that through all  
Has brought me to this harbour; and yet to think  
If we should scape, what my engagements are,  
Imprimis— To marry this old Lady Cow,  
And play at Blindman-buff, 'tis as good lying  
With Bulrushes or penny Faggots; she's mortality  
Beyond a Death's head and Memento;  
And yet she bridles as if she were but now  
To be new-backed and ridden; I have heard  
Of a dead body that has long been so,  
And yet retain its form, but when once touched  
Crumbles to dust; for aught I know she may do so too,  
And I be hanged for embracing Mummy.  
But certainly I shall touch her gently,  
For 'tis a remedy to see her dressed  
Against all carnal thoughts, beyond bathing  
In Rivers in a frosty night.  
She follows me, and asks a thousand questions  
Among the rest  
Enquired what I was making at the gate?  
I answered her, a Curtain: then she mumped,  
And asked, If 'twere not for her wedding-bed.  
She made the truest Hieroglyphic  
That ever blind Egyptian hit upon,  
For 'twas of earth, and I most fairly hope  
'Twill be her wedding-bed; bar death,  
The devil cannot find another Rival.  Mir. 
Pysander come, we must to action.  Enter Mironault Pys. 
As how and how?  Mir. 
Phylanter's here hard by already,  
And without doubt knows we are lodged.  Pys. 
Why— then— he'll knock us, or we shall knock him.  Mir. 
It's worth no greater care, my brave Pysander.  
Fortune and you have done your parts,  
To give us something to employ your valours,  
They now shall buy us bravely.  Pys. 
Nay, I'll not sell myself at any rate,  
I begin to have a wondrous value  
Of this small composure of Pysander, if you mark it  
'Tis very lucky to see an old blind Lady  
— should fall in love with't,  
One that runs her nose against posts.  
But come, Sir, since these Lads will never leave us,  
Let's in and provide for them, they may have  
A better welcome than they dreamt of,  
Unless Gunpowder lay last under their pillows.  Mir. 
They shall hear us—  
In louder language than they do expect.  
The gods but lent us life, and we still pay  
Them interest, as casualties and sickness;  
Death is the Principal, which when we restore,  
We owe the world and gods no more.  [Exit. Pys. 
Why, its exceeding well; we shall be all  
Clean out of debt in t'other world then;  
Our Creditors are strangers there, so are they here  
To me, I'm sure; and in the other world  
If I should want, and thither must,  
There's store of faith, and I'll take up on trust.  [Exit.  

ACT 3. SCEN. 5.  Enter Phylanter, Lycespes, Others. Phyl. 
THis is the house sure it should be  
By the description— How— Works thrown up?  
All's quiet though; we must be cautious,  
There may be else some trick in't.  
— Summon the walls—  Lyc. 
Within there, ho— ho—  
Sure they lie buried in security.  
As confident of power and success,  
As if the Destinies slept with them too,  
And waked at their command.  
Let's wake them all— and yet 'tis hard  
To rouse an innocence to disorder,  
'Tis that I fear is their security.  Phyl. 
O Lycespes!  
It is as great a crime (when past) to think  
Of things ill done, as 'tis unthought to act  
The ill before; he that does one first cheats himself,  
The other cousins him: now to be nice  
Is vain, for us that have been cheated twice.  Lyc. 
Within there, ho—  Phyl. 
They are dead.  Mir. 
No, we live, Phylanter,  Mironault, Hyppasus, Lysander, and others, appear above. 
And far less fear that fate than you,  
That have so many crimes to sink your thoughts.  
Spare your pains of ask us to yield,  
we'll sooner find the worst of all extremities;  
Danger will lose its nature when you bring it.  
— Nay do not stay—  
In expectation to hear me ask  
Why you have thus unworthily thrown off  
The name of Honesty: Some may fall  
Not worth men's pity, but their scorn,  
And so do you.  Phyl. 
You're very high, so let your actions be,  
Your crimes will need it. But I see words  
Displease you, you shall have louder Rhetoric.  Mir. 
Fear not, thy baseness has taught us to understand  
That language.  Pys. 
You, Lycespes, you Treason-hunter,  
How, I wonder, did it happen, we did not meet  
Your storming worship at the gate?  
Pox on you, you were untrussing a point,  
The old fight looseness.  Lyc. 
You're merry still Pysander, and very brisk,  
Are you so well already of your inlets.  Pys. 
Hang you, if you bleed as much  
As a stayed man would let out from a witch  
To save himself from enchanting,  
The Physicians, Pothecaries, and Surgeons  
Must stand about thee, like Pensioners;  
If Hyppasus and I, can but get a willing cur,  
We are licked whole, a dog's our only Mountebank.  Lyc. 
Very well Sir, when I visit you,  
I'll bring a spaniel in my hand.  Pys. 
Hang the couple of curs, say I,  Phy. 
Your resolution's heard, I'll urge no more,  
But leave you to your fates, only thus much,  
By me the Princess sends this punishment.  
The danger now grows bigger sure,—  Mir. 
This is mean Phylanter, and you still trifle honesty,  
And I time and honour: let the storm come,  
— And he that seems to fear,  Exeunt above. 
May he unpitied fall, without a tear.  Phy. 
His Courage still is excellent, great power of love,  
That made me give so much to her,  
I left none for myself. Lycespes draw round the house,  
We●'l storm it instantly, die all you lesser thoughts,  
That at a distance tell your formal tales,  
Or else come nearer, and wear noble shapes,  
The distance makes you mistier, the dice are cast,  
Th' event will punish or reward what's past,  [Exeunt.   

ACT 4.  

SCEN. 1.  Enter Caeca, as to dressing, a Table set out, and glass, Quinever attending, Pysander following. Caeca. 
IS my Captain here?  Quin. 
Now entered, and like your Ladyship.  Caeca. 
Very well, leave us then: Come near good Captain.  Exit. Quin. Pys. 
Mercy defend me. A dressing, or setting up a Barber's shop,  
Here the teeth lie, what's this an old head?  
A lecture for the best Anatomist; like a rusty Clock,  
Taken a pieces to cleanse all the devices,  
Set them together some engineer for me.  Caeca. 
Pray sit near me, Captain,  Pys. 
I do.  Caeca. 
O Captain, what a hideous noise  
Was there even now of bouncing, pray what is't?  Pys. 
Only some wand'ring Rascals at the gate,  
They'll have their errand suddenly.  Caeca. 
I would they were gone, truly at the first noise,  
I broke one of my pots of Mithridate,  
With Dragon-water, good for the head and stomach.  Pys. 
Was there ever such an old Almanac,  [aside 
At the end of the year Medicines set down?  Caec. 
Besides the great disturbance from your company.  Pys. 
Nay, you see when I have freedom  
I use into my own advantage,  
Visit you before you're ready—  Caec. 
I shall be ready presently, the time will come  
You shall be welcome to me quite undressed.  Pys. 
The Devil of thy young bones  [aside. 
Locked in thy old Cabinet.  Caec. 
I shall unparrell then faster than now I dress me;  
You'll help to pull out pins I'll warrant you.  Pys. 
Rather drive in wedges—  [aside. 
Why you know we men must court,  
You would be bashful else, and it were pity  
To lose that time which should be better spent.  Caec. 
You say true indeed.  Pys. 
Come Madam, pray dress yourself  
I'll serve you instead of a better chambermaid  
'Sdeath would she were once furnished  [aside. 
One may dress and undress Long-lane as soon.  
What want you now, Madam?  Caec. 
My night-rale, good Captain.  Pys. 
I shall give her a sheet instead on't,  
It lies about her like a casting net  
'Slid I have given her never a waistcoat,  
And now will she call for her farthingale,  
I must make haste but cannot go without her;  
For her wise tenants now before they fight  
Will see their Land-Lady  Caec. 
My farthingale, good Captain.  Pys. 
I thought so, now is she like an old Camel  
With that hideous mount on her unfurnished body.  
Mercy how have I set her out! she may make  
Good harmony; for she's composed of different notes  
She would yield a man more money to show  
Than an outlandish beast; my sweet Quinever  
I have employed to stave off formal Peter  
From making tenants seem as wise as he.  
What want you now, Madam?  Caec. 
My Periwig, good Captain.  Pys. 
Which way to set this on now, is the question:  
'Tis no matter I can't mistake now  
More than I have done.  Caec. 
I thank you Captain, I hope you and I  
Shall live happily and comfortably together.  
I was told, my seventh husband  
Should be a wondrous honest and an able man.  Pys. 
That, experience will let you know: I shall tell you  
A merry tale towards bed time that will cure  
The cough of th'lungs.  Caec. 
And make one dream huge pleasantly  
And that's a sign of youth I can assure you.  Pys. 
That and your toothless Chaps are main ones.  
If surious Medea had thrown thee  [Aside. 
Into her age-renuing Kettle, thou'dst have leapt out  
With a medley of years upon thee.  
Hark, a noise! by heaven it increases still, hark  [Noise Caec. 
O Captain, a noise!  Pys. 
Nay there's two now in the devil's name:  
It still increases, come Madam you must down.  Hyp. 
'Sdeath, Pysander, they're falling on  Enter Hyppasus. 
The men stand all at gaze  
And swear they'll see their Land-Lady,  
We are all lost without some help.  Pys. 
Madam, you must needs walk  
And encourage your tenants, to send these fools away  
'Twill defer our Marriage.  Caec. 
Pray lead and I will follow.  Pys. 
Come Hyppasus, how fares the noble Mironault?  Hyp. 
As a brave Ship hemmed by a raging storm  
Resolves to throw the balance o'er,  
Lose all and perish carelessly:  
But come, we trifle time.  Pys. 
Along then, and for your blind Ladyship  
If you had no tongue  
You should make signs to your tenants.  [Exeunt.  

ACT. 4. SCEN. 2.  Enter Phylanter, Lycespes. Phyl. 
COme Lycespes, is the alarm given  
To amuse them on t'other side?  Lyc. 
Yes.  Phyl. 
What resistance does appear?  Lyc. 
As yet all's wrapped in silence.  Phyl. 
Where did the messenger say my Father was?  Lyc. 
At hand Sir with 5000 men; were't not best  
We should defer the storm till then?  Phyl. 
By no means; we will attempt it first,  
For by that time they may have relief  
Come from the Court, my father's sudden flight  
Confirmed the least suspicion, helped by the Princess too.  Lyc. 
It could not choose, you have thrust yourself  
Into a troubled Ocean.  Phyl. 
I know it, and now must sink or else go on,  
There is no choice in Crimes but of our Fate,  
The affrighting freedom of a wretched state.  
We cannot hope ere to return again  
Back on our fancies to our first conditions,  
What tobed us of the safety we enjoyed  
First made us to contemn it;  
'Tis a stayed gamester too, that would give o'er  
Upon the losing-hand; the most mettled, or let it be  
The maddest one, would stake on all his wealth,  
Venture to tyre Fortune or himself.  
We have bargained now, and chopped a Peace for War  
'Twere foolish to depend on aught but Victory;  
For that will change our acts, or others natures:  
The vanquished wear the crimes, and all will fear  
To judge or question what they too must bear.  
This slender gloss I know must startle thee  
That has so much of honesty and courage;  
And if we fail I'll quarrel with myself  
That cozened thee to follow what thou once  
Didst love with'honour: fearing to be unjust  
To friendship, made thee more unto thyself:  
I have used thee as some that have seduced  
Young men into bad company, thou hast found  
Things much unworthy of thee—  Lyc. 
'tis true, dear Sir, I will not face a lie:  
Our acts have given me both amaze and trouble,  
The last I threw behind me, may the World  
Forget the rest, there is a Fate hangs over all  
That shows its force when it resolves to strike  
When we can act at once, at once dislike,  
And 'tis the sad necessity that we must  
Persist in crimes again to reach the good  
That you intent; this nobly does deserve  
My friendship now, and if we fail  
— The world may yet believe▪  
Our thought's were better, let them choose to grieve.  Phyl. 
Set on then, brave Lycespes, danger not found  
Women frig tchildrens with, and perils met  
Uncheat us of our lives, that rendered us  
But an unhappy treasury for our cares,  
Made monstrous by our joys, the hopes and fears  
That spring from them, only the stock we spend on.  
This cannot add, I know, to thee; and I should blush  
If it could aught to me. But 'tis men's pleasure  
To undervalue what they think will go,  
And they must lose— the world's fond nature's so;  
And 'tis the bravest scorn ill men can have,  
To change this world, as freely for a grave.  [Exeunt.  

ACT. 4. SCEN. 3.  Enter Pysander hastily, the Blind Lady following, Peter directing. [Alarm. Pys. 
NOw the Devil raise a Barricado, I am stormed too;  
I have peppered the Rogues on my side,  
I must go see how the other fares.  Caec. 
Is he here, Peter?  Pet. 
Strait on, an't like your Ladyship.  Caec. 
Pray stay, sweet Captain; Oh, oh,  
All my corn's afire, good Captain.  
Strait before still, Peter?  Pet. 
Yes Madam.  Pys. 
By this light, Sir, I'll direct your nose to the wall,  Caec. 
Good Captain, all, all, my corn, oh, oh;  
The great Barn's on fire, look how it burns.  
Is this your kindness? pray, your hand.  Pys. 
Pray take this for interposition.  he lays something in the way. 
It will not do, she'll run her head  
Against something or other, and beat her brains out.  
— I must place her in here—  
what's this, a Corn-house— Here Madam.  
Give me your hand, rest yourself a little,  
And I'll be with you presently: and for you, wise Sir,  he places her in the Vault. 
Let her alone, till I, like a good Midwife,  
Come and deliver her: This, Sir, you had best observe.  [Exit. Pet. 
Why it's very well, I thought at least I might have given her  
A hot fire-shovel to have baked a cake upon.  
Nothing troubles me—  
But that the Rats and Mice may play with her nose.  
I thought she would be brought to this, Mrs. Quinever  
Is employed in casting bullets with a face  
Like fiery Solemnising in Leo, if this hurry hold long,  
My poor old Lady may wish she had lost  
All senses as well as seeing; for god knows  
The employment for the rest are miserable.  
Hark, a noise, they are at it, much good may't do them;  [a noise. 
To run away it is impossible, and from my chamber  
I can see all the shooting; it has made me wish a thousand times  
I were as blind as my old Lady, I'll to her in the Vault,  
I never thought myself too safe, he that did,  
Let him leap Towers for Peter.  [He descends into the Vault.  

ACT 4. SCEN. 4.  Enter Mironault, Hyppasus, Pysander. Mir. 
BRave Hyppasus, how to forgive myself I cannot tell,  
For all that you have suffered.  Hyp. 
Still on that strain, Sir!  
We could not serve you thus if we repined,  
Or feared to suffer for you; wrong not our honesty  
And courage both.  Mir. 
They are too excellent, I swear it were a pleasure  
To share in danger with you, were't not a pain  
To see you there— Gallant Pysander,  
You brought us timely aid, and from our sinking fates  
Raised us again; but you had quickly done  
On t'other side.  Pys. 
O mine were pitiful rascals,  
Yours came to their business handsomely.  Mir. 
They did indeed, Phylanter first  
Advanced before his men, bold in despite  
Of all his crimes, and careless both alike  
Of honesty and danger.  Pys. 
He was the wiser; To what purpose  
Should any one be thrifty of, that the world  
So little cares for, this trifle Honesty.  Hyp. 
Come Pysander, you must get the Soldiers dressed,  
That have been hurt, we may have more need of them.  Pys. 
Yes, yes, as far as her Smocks will extend in Lint.  Mir. 
I find I need a little dressing too.  
— Let's in, and there—  
Provide for after-claps of treacherous Fortune.  
We must not fear a Frown, or court a Smile;  
One may the Wise, t'other the Brave beguile.  [Exeunt.  

ACT. 4. SCEN. 5.  Enter Albertus, and Others▪ Alb. 
HOw far is't to his Quarters now?  1. 
A little way, Sir.  Alb. 
Be sure that all the Soldiers march in order,  
And on their lives no outrage to the Country.  
Let all be done in silence. No Scouts returned yet?  1. 
Not any, Sir.  Alb. 
I am jealous of this Court, the King inclined  
But little, suspicion could not mingle with his nature,  
The Princess has confirmed him sure; we act  
On the uncertain'st Stage, the strangest parts  
That ever yet were played, I would the world  
Would take it so. We have now stepped  
Beyond the power of Retreat or Fortune,  
The one's too poor for us, and we for tother.  
We are like tired Gamesters with ill Cards  
Weary to hold the game, and yet play on  
To save if not to win; perhaps  
If we prevailed, Ambition would as well  
Play on the game as now we do,  
Though from a modester design.  
How little ought man to be trusted then  
With power in this world, when even the things  
He aims to thrive by are the crimes of Kings,  
Good Princes, like best Jugglers, still find first  
The lesser sleights of others. How now,  
What news?  Enter Mess. Mess. 
As we were scouting on the way,  
Which leads unto Cracovia, we espied  
The Body of an Army moving within  
Two hours march.  Alb. 
Ha, it must be so— she has done't.  
Bid instantly Botiscay march with haste,  [exit Mess. 
For fear we are hindered joining with my son.  
Amidst these crimes a little policy does well,  
It must be so, all we can hope for now will be to make  
But good conditions—  
— To put it to the venture of a day were madness,  
We can have no supplies, they may have more.  
And yet— I know not what to think,  
Distractions mingle with my thoughts,  
And we still lose our judgements with success.  
Our resolutions waited on us then  
Like servants wanting wages. All Mankind  
Is one of those two Cowards,  
— Either to wish to die  
When we should live, or live when we should die.  
Some fear, some wish, too early, or too late  
Most fall, yet none must choose his Fate;  
Those that prepare for every storm, do seldom cast  
Themselves away,  
It is but bravely sinking at the last.  [Exit.  

ACT. 4. SCEN. 6.  Enter Princess, Amione, Phylena, and others. Prin. 
No news yet?  
1. Not any Madam.  Prin. 
Leave us, and give notice when any comes.  1. 
I shall—  [Exit. Prin. 
We have not now sure far,  
And yet me thinks 'tis along while  
Ere we are there, time is thought  
The fastest undiscerned flying thing  
That is, but yet Love's wings are swifter,  
Swift wishes imp his ragged plumes  
And pull the feathers from the wings of Time,  
— And every hover bears  
Double proportion from our hopes and fears.  Phyl. 
This pretty way of account Madam, will rise  
Unto a sum of ages, added  
To what now Mironaults a heaping,  
'Twill make a new Chronologie,  
But we still reckon on the old account.  Prin. 
You're merry still, Phylena, when your day comes  
You'll give me leave to do the same.  Phyl. 
Yes Madam, we both agree,  
And yet you shrewdly once suspected it  
Of this fair maid,  Prin. 
You make me blush, she way forgive me though  
For she deserved it,  Amio. 
O Madam,—  
Could you fall so much below  
The power of all your beauties in such fears  
That you could justly let suspicion dwell  
Where you pretend an interest? The Rose as well  
May drooping hang its fragrant head  
Jealous of meaner Flowers, and the Sun  
Suspect his light when mortals kindle fires.  Prin. 
Nay Amione you court me now  
I will not call it flattery, whilst it comes  
From thee, for that's a crime  
That dwells with crooked natures, yet it was  
Mistaken kindness.  Amio. 
'Twas you mistook it sure, for none will find  
Themselves deceived that love you,  Enter Mess. Prin. 
How now, what news?  Mess. 
Just now for certain, Madam  
The Lord Albertus joined unto his son  
With a great Body,  Prin. 
They have not yet attempted aught.  Mess. 
Yes Madam, before his Father's coming,  
Phylanter stormed the house.  Prin. 
Ha: hast thou learned no particulars?  Mess. 
Yes all, for before the Lord Albertus coming  
The smallness of their numbers gave us freedom  
To inquire near the place of all particulars,  
— And thus it was,  
Soon as Phylanter had found out  
The house they stayed at, presently he guest  
That wounds had caused their stay, by reason  
They strove to reach no place of more security  
And so indeed it was; guessing besides,  
They should have small resistance: upon these thoughts  
Phylanter draws about it, then summons them.  
But in the midst the gallant Mironault  
Hinders the parley with a hasty scorn,  
As if he meant to drive no bargain,  
But sell at his own rate, at which  
The bravely bad Phylanter swelled with rage  
Prepared to give th'assault, and in the head  
Of all his men advanced (some distance) first,  
To bring on ruin great as was his crimes,  
Or else to perish with them, and seemed half willing  
To be forgotten on a noble score;  
So equally divided, or to hide  
His mischiefs in their Fates, or in his own.  
The storm grew hot, yet still Phylanter urged  
Beyond belief, now out of Love with safety,  
Because his foes in spite of him enjoyed it  
(With an unlooked for power to resist him)  
Branded the name of Fortune with a whore,  
As if they had begot supplies upon her;  
On t'other side his men sees shrinking from him,  
When mad with rage he easily retires  
With such a look as longing Lovers send  
When they must part, so much he coutted danger,  
And now retreating with his drooping forces,  
The gallant Mironault like a bright Sun  
Broke from the smoky storm, and issues forth,  
Acting new Tragedies, till, being jealous  
More forces might come in,  
In order they retreated, and for certain  
Phylanter both and Mironault are hurt.  Prin. 
O me!  Phyl. 
Madam send off the messenger, Let not him see  
The least disorder.  Prin. 
Go instanly, and bid Symathocles  
Let all the Army march in readiness to fight.  Mess. 
I shall.  Prin. 
And acquaint him with all you know  Exit Mess. 
Nay do not hide thy tears Amione  
They can't displease me, wench, nor shall I think  
That there is grief enough for him,  
Though I am fully stored.  Amio. 
Alas, what a condition Fortune throws him in?  
Did he but know by whom he were lamented  
He could not have so much of joy,  
As grief to think how he was ravished  
From the loved mourner;  Prin. 
I prithee peace; not that I fear  
To have more grief for him, for I have that  
Within me has made that impossibility,  
But to enlarge thy own, 'tis true too  
That I should give thee counsel not to grieve,  
But I shall grieve the while, yet if thou thinkest  
I wrong thy kindness then we'll mourn together  
And join our stock of tears, for no one store  
Is worthy of him.  Amio. 
Though nature made me partial, it robbed me not  
Of so much reason, to be so impudent,  
The Fates perhaps, or some great power  
That has a special care for you, or kindness,  
Preserved you for themselves, and lent you to the world  
As the Sin was, not for the happiness  
Of one alone but all.  Prin. 
May we not yet amidst our greatest grief  
Believe it is not dangerous; for after he was hurt  
They leisurely retired.  Amio. 
Would I could so be satisfied—  
And yet that clearly justifies we wish  
Our own contents, than when we raise  
Our fears to equal power in our thoughts  
Of what we doubt, yet what we wish to have;  
None e'er yet wished a life, but feared a grave.  Prin. 
'Tis true Amione, those torturing rivals  
Hope and fear are ever whispering,  
And they that have most need of one,  
Have ever most of t'other. When I think this,  
Though I would willingly pretend to counsel,  
Or any thing would ease thy grief, I must  
Believe it both impossible and needless.  Am. 
Were it not just to linger then no longer  
In all these doubts, since we might give them ease.  Prin. 
As how can it be done?  Am. 
I would attempt to see him, I only want your leave.  Prin. 
It is impossible, the ways are all shut up.  Am. 
I do not mean to go concealed.  
They say Phylanter is so much a Gentleman,  
He will not certainly deny a woman.  
Fear not, Madam, 'tis but two hours' time,  
And I am there, or here again.  Prin. 
I can deny thee nothing, not this I'm sure;  
If thou seest him, tell him, that Love and Constancy's rewarded  
In t'other world, and will be so in this.  
Tell him, I wish his happiness  
And mine own together. And be sure  
You take a Chirurgeon with you.  Phyl. 
My service, Madam.  Am. 
I will not fail, Heaven keep you.  
May I return with such a blessing  
As I now bear to him.  [Exit. Prin. 
Farewell, dear Maid. Phylena, now  
The time draws near of joy or misery,  
— We live at an uncertain rate,  
Or flattered still, or else displeased with fate.  [Exeunt.  

ACT 4. SCEN. 7.  Enter at one door Albertus and Others, at another Phylanter, Lycespes, and Others. Alb. 
I Should chide now, but the condition of your fortunes  
Cannot be that way helped, nor are you fit  
For a disturbance, I hear you have successless  
Stormed the house; Why stayed you not till I arrived?  
'Twas folly to attempt it with so few.  Phyl. 
But that has happened now which I then feared,  
For I did guess supplies would come to them  
As soon as you to us. Besides, who would have guest,  
Or now can think, how they come by their aid?  
Had we proved fortunate, we might have made  
Our own conditions.  Alb. 
In that you have hit my thoughts, for now we must  
Not lose ourselves by fear or folly;  
The one's too mean, the other but a madness.  
And we must look on these we have  
Without a hope of more, and on them  
As an increasing body; by this we are constrained  
Upon the nick to make our compositions,  
Or put it to the venture of a Day;  
The first's the better, were the last the likelier.  
For I believe that, passion laid aside  
That first incited these rash thoughts and actions,  
You look upon't as not to be pursued,  
But fairly to be left. Men may err,  
It is the influence of Chance and Nature,  
But to pursue it, is their own — Lycespes—  
There is much due to you, you were still honest,  
And most a friend in danger,  
Who are in safety only are their own.  Lyc. 
My Lord, I always owed your son as much,  
And did resolve to pay it, till I had cause  
To leave, or feared to avow it.  Alb. 
You are still noble. But Phylanter,  
What certain intelligence have you?  Phyl. 
We know, Sir, the Army of the King  
Is hard at hand, they say the Princess too  
Is with them.  Alb. 
I guessed as much, and for that reason  
I left the Court, for I heard  
That she was big with rage— Well,  
The time's now short, and something must be done:  
Let all be in a readiness, and prepare  
Nobly to reach success, or ill to share.  
In the mean time we'll presently advise  
The honourablest way for composition.  
For to be safe and good is better far,  
Than trust our crimes unto the chance of War.  [Exeunt.   

ACT. 5.  

SCEN. 1.  Enter Phylanter. Phyl. 
HOw have I thus been cozened! how monstrous too  
It seems, still to pursue the crimes I loved before:  
To be uncousened, though 'tis just, seems poor,  
When danger gives the wisdom: how low we sink  
When we once fall below ourselves!  
We still must fear what others ought to do.  
In crimes none can be wise and gallant too.  
All this besides for an uncertain Beauty,  
Nor yet possessed or gained, the Persian so  
Spends all his wealth and prayers on the Sun,  
That equally dispenses unto those  
Which ne'er adored him, his warm comforts too.  
Farewell to all your Sex, that cannot be  
Beloved, but with unthrifty misery.  
The Lover that's unloved, like me, must waste  
His store of Love, the Loved may longer last.  
They that join Stocks, with ease our-spends  
Him that runs on unpaid and lends.  
Farewell: I will uncheat myself and you,  
For when I loved you first I cozened two.  Sould. 
My Lord!  Phyl. 
How now?  Enter Soldier. Sould. 
A woman at the door  
Desires admittance to your Lordship.  Phyl. 
Thou ravest! a woman?  Sould. 
So I told you.  Phyl. 
Nay, I might wonder, for such and I  
Have now so little business with each other,  
That by my troth 'tis strange.  
Seems she a person of any quality?  Sould. 
Yes.  Phyl. 
Handsome?  Sould. 
To a miracle.  Phyl. 
The Devil on the wonder! business with me?  Soul. 
So she earnestly expressed.  Phyl. 
Bring her in.  [Exit Soldier. 
Curse on the Sex, Civility must wait upon 'em,  
Their weakness makes us fools, or else their beauties.  
Ha! 'tis that indeed that charms us from ourselves,  
And all the handsome actions that we do  
Seem offerings to their powers, as if the Sea  
Should send a tribute to the little Brooks,  
Such a preposterous thing is Love, 'tis like  
The folly and the crime to make a god  
One's self to worship— Now for a trap  
I shall be shy of these fair baits.  
— What subtle trick—  
Must this fair Instrument bring about?—  
— I will be deaf to charms— She comes.  Enter Amione and Soldier. 
Ha— extremely fair—  
Come perhaps for to revenge  
The scandal of her sex upon me— Is it on me  
Fair maid, that you would lay commands?  Ami. 
A comely man, pity that form  
Should harbour so much baseness.  [aside. 
It is you, Sir, I must petition; for commands,  
Though they might seem fair attributes to our sex,  
Yet when you know, to whose much hated name,  
Nature has made my Love a debt,  
You will believe, Thardly should petition.  Phyl. 
I rather shall consider this fair thing,  
To whom a hated name can owe an interest,  
— But you have heard—  
Stories perhaps, not much becoming me,  
Made up of others envies and my crimes,  
Nor can I tell a good one of myself,  
But that I love an innocence like yours,  
And only that, for you to have a confidence,  
I hardly shall deny you.  Ami. 
The world has sure belied him,  [aside. 
— Nay, Sir,  
Nature commands, that I should ask,  
Your fair encouragement has given me hopes▪  
Not to be quite denied, and I am sorry  
That I must now beg a civility,  
And dare not own requital; 'tis the first time,  
That justice and ingratitude were friends.  Phyl. 
You still believe me too unworthy: they that do  
An act that does deserve requital,  
Pay first themselves the stock of such content,  
Nature has given to every worthy mind,  
If others should be bankrupt—  
Pray torture me no more but ask.  Amio. 
He would deceive me strangely,  [aside. 
Know then, the sister to wronged - Mironault must ask:  
Does it not startle you?  Phyl. 
You see it does not.  
He that has injured Mironault, will grant it,  
Trifle no more.  Amio. 
'tis only than your leave that I may see him,  Phyl. 
And happiness attend you, you shall have  
A conduct with you;— I did not think  
That I should find so much of joy,  
In that small time I have to bustle here,  
As your loved power has given me,  
Pardon me, if I dare attempt  
To have a little peace within me,  
Still to remember you, I fear I must,  
Though both should be unwilling.  Amio. 
I shall promise Sir, I carry no intelligence.  Phyl. 
Urge it no more, I do not fear,  
Nor am I ignorant, of what a storm  
Is falling now upon me, only grieved  
That I durst bring it to't, and yet now pleased,  
That I dare bear it: choice in crimes,  
Is the worst part in man, and good from fear,  
The meanest. But I have said to much, only thus,  
The last of all my thoughts, shall be of you,  
They may be good: Nay, do not wonder,  
Nor be so much concerned for one so lost,  
To frame an answer from a smile or frown,  
I will conduct you on your way, as you come back,  
Others shall wait you, for your eyes  
Shall not be injured with an hated object.  
Here in this world, my fate, the quarrel ends,  
— In t'other sure, we may meet friends.  [Exeunt.  

ACT 5. SCEN. 2.  Enter, Mironault, Hyppasus, Pysander. Hyp. 
NAy, for certain, Sir,  
We saw a body marching, which cannot possibly  
Belong to t'other Army.  Pys. 
Why, I did always believe,  
My dancing days were not quite done.  Mir. 
I know not what to guess, nor do I wish;  
For in extremes, less cares give noblest thoughts,  
Designs of wishing, are the cheating joys  
Of fearful men, 'twere foolishness beside;  
A careless hope looks handsomely.  Hyp. 
We shall so justify ourselves, but I believe,  
'Tis not unreasonable, to think our innocence  
Should merit some protection, the Princess sure  
Will not be last in justice.  Mir. 
Urge it no more, nothing is worth her care,  
'Tis some as bad as those, come to assist them.  Enter servant. Seru. 
There's one without, Sir, that would desire  
Admittance to you.  Mir. 
Who is't.  Seru. 
A woman.  Mir. 
A woman? I cannot guess,—  Exit. servant. 
— Let her come in.  
What should this mean, deceive me not too much,  
Fond hope, nor puzzle me, for if you do,— at last,  
I shall grow careless of my joys and you;  
Ha! Amione,— welcome,  Enter with Amione. 
Welcome, above all joys but one.  Ami. 
Perhaps, welcome as that, I have much to say,  
But I must first be civil. Brave Hyppasus,  
May you ne'er know extremities, but if you should,  
May you find such a friend, as you have been.  Hyp. 
Were I not nobly paid in his desert,  
I were in this?  Ami. 
The same to you Pysander, for to thank you  
In any other Language, were too poor,  
And much unjust, for to divide,  
What you so nobly joined in.  Pys. 
Now have I forgot, what Hyppasus said,  
Pray take his answer in good part for us both.  Ami. 
you're merry still, Pysander.  Pys. 
I confess, nothing went ever near my heart,  
Unless it were your Love, but what availeth sighs and tears?  Ami. 
Very well, Sir.  
Dear Brother, pardon this injury of gratitude,  
That kept me so long from you; forgive me too,  
If joy disorders me, I have enough  
To see you safe.  Mir. 
Dear Amione, how long we shall be so,  
Heaven knows, yet 'twas a great advantage  
To live thus long to see thee: but how wast possible  
You could get hither, or from whence now come you?  Ami. 
Why, Phylanter's great civility,  
Brought me safe hither.  Mir. 
But from whence?  Ami. 
From the Army.  Mir. 
From whose Army?  Ami. 
The Princess.  Mir. 
Ha!—  Ami. 
I will defer your joys no longer  
From the Princess, who bid me tell you,  
That faith and constancy's rewarded  
In t'other world, and will be so in this?  Mir. 
Thou wouldst not mock me sure.  Ami. 
I do not.  Mir. 
O▪ Amione, Didst thou but know the joy of every heart,  
That at this hour, has its wishes crowned,  
Thou mightst then guess at mine.  
And is she there in person?  Ami. 
Yes, attended with a gallant Army,  
Much stronger than the enemy, you might  
Discern them sure; and resolved as soon as I return  
To offer battle. Is Phylanter,  
Prepared to fight?  Mir. 
With any thing in spite of all his crimes,  
Resolves to perish bravely, so great a villain  
ne'er bore so brave a mind,— 'tis a question,  
Whether he thinks, there's such a thing as danger.  Ami. 
We heard indeed, he stormed it bravely,  
And that your hurts were of more danger  
Than I perceive they are; 'twas the report  
Of that which brought me hither.  
Nor must I stay, the Princess laid commands  
Of my immediate coming back; at more leisure,  
You shall have all my story, in the mean time,  
I must needs tell you, you are like to be  
Extremely happy; O Brother, never was so much sweetness  
Guarded so sure from crimes, if ever breast  
Were Sanctuary for virtues, it is here's:  
She will deserve your love I fear much more,  
Unless its possible, men should be constant.  Mir. 
This is not kind Amione, her value  
Will make me wise still to preserve my riches;  
And benefit is man's design.  Ami. 
Man seldom though pursues his own advantage,  
Women like Towns, once won are slighted:  
What we already have within our powers,  
Has less esteem than unatchieved things.  Mir. 
Urge it no more, one may as well be weary  
Of the Sun's constant shining, as her influence:  
He never rises, but he seems to bring  
Fresh glory from the East▪ and every day  
Will add a new discovery of her virtues,  
That she will never seem enjoyed enough.  
Besides, though man's composed of faithless matter,  
The Soul of one may be of nobler use  
Than others are, and with that Soul  
Man had not been so nobly put in trust  
Had he not means left free to be unjust.  
Come, so much eternity as my love must have,  
Must not be told in such a little moment  
As you have now to spare, nor will I injure  
The little time I have with thee,  
When we shall meet again heaven knows:  
For friends once pawned to distance there is a danger  
To bankrupt hopes.  
You must expect but poor besieged welcome  
— Who such relief as Anchorets have  
At least shall find in an expected grave.  [Exeunt.  

ACT. 5. SCEN. 3.  Enter Phylanter, Solus disguised. Phyl. 
WHat is the next thing how that must be done?  
How weary all the World and I  
Am grown of one another? I should be friends  
With this disguise, could it but hide my crimes:  
But night itself that great disguifer,  
Wants power to conceal the least of crimes  
From any troubled breast, when man would fain  
Be unacquainted with himself again:  
'Tis just too, when we have ourselves betrayed  
That we should be then of ourselves afraid  
Ambition only is our nature's folly,  
That robs us of that little stock of reason,  
We have at temperate and idle hours.  
If we but take the inventory of ourselves,  
There we shall find such perished stuff  
By rage and passion, that 'tis just  
We should be once forgotten in the dust;  
— But for my new design— ha— 'tis odd  
To throw myself into the power of them—  
As if 'twere meanness, or something poorer; fear—  
— Yet— let it die  [Studies. Enter Amione. Hyp. Pys. 
Ha— she comes—  
— A Persian's cold devotion thus,  
Receives new warmness from the rising Sun  
— It must be so—  
He that would hide Love kindled once within,  
Rakes but his fire up to keep it in.  Hyp. 
We take our leaves now Madam, for we see  
There's one attends you from the  Exe. Hip. Pysan. 
Lord Phylanter,  Phyl. 
Madam, my Lord Phylanter sent me hither  
In his own language to present you Safety  
Great as you merit.  Amio. 
I thank you Sir, he has obliged me nobly:  
Had he forgot his crimes, I should forget  
He were an enemy.  Phyl. 
He bid me tell you farther,  
That he had waited on you here himself,  
But that he feared to injure your fair eyes,  
That should be only pleased with welcome objects.  Amio. 
Ha: perish you easy thoughts, that start  [aside. 
At hearing of that name, yet when you think of him  
I may forgive you, if you then  
Frighten yourselves,—  
And yet it may be Love; ruins of Love  
And lightning are alike—  
For, what would willingly resist  
They both consume; I shall attend you Sir,  
If you please to lead the way—  [Exeunt.  

ACT 5. SCEN. 4.  Enter Albertus, Lycespes. Albert. 
Continued still worthy Lycespes,  
To let him know repentance needs no blushes.  
Or that 'tis necessary for Fate or us,  
To pursue cruel actions, yet with a gentle hand  
That no distraction mingle with his nature;  
For he is young, and youth's unsettled fury  
Is ready still to act,  Lyc. 
I have Sir, with a gentle hand  
Touched all the story of this madness,  
And find him too, like an experienced gamester,  
Ashamed to have been cheated, but resolved  
Wisely no more to venture at that game:  
Our whole designs must needs therefore now  
Aime, but to bring us off, and yet prepare  
Not to want courage in the meanest Fortune.  Albert. 
'Tis all that can be said in our Conditions,  
In order therefore to our sad affairs,  
we'll instantly dispatch a Trumpet  
To offer fair conditions, or any thing  
That may not sound like mercy from another:  
That's an unworthy way to add  
To other's fames, in ruining our own;  
And yet our whole desires shall be low,  
Indeed they must, for the extremity  
Of every unresisted Fate makes poor  
Their thoughts that were as rich before.  [Exeunt.  

ACT. 5. SCEN. 5.  Enter Phylanter, Amione. Amio. 
YOu have now, Sir, performed that civil part,  
That alwies shall enforce me to esteem  
The Lord Phylanter, and may this Sir  She offers him money. 
Tell you my thanks.  Phyl. 
Madam, reward can not be due  
To this small service, though I may do  
What may perhaps seem to deserve  
Something of that nature, but I must first  
Desire you to prepare for to believe  
Not ill of him, that thinks your wrongs  
Deserve devotions, greater than his trust.  Amio. 
What mean you Sir?  Phyl. 
Would it not be worth a reward at least?  
That you might have within your power  
The ease of all your hard misfortunes?  Amio. 
Certainly 'twere; the sound bears greater joy  
Than possibility.  Phyl. 
I know sometimes, that Treason seems  
But ugly in the justest cause;  
Though I believe that never yet,  
A power like yours commanded it.  Amio. 
Still I understand you not, pray to the matter.  Phyl. 
To be short then, know Phylanter loves you,  
Your seeming kindness will have power  
To draw him where you please, for to my breast  
He has committed all his thoughts,  
And bid me judge when I should see you,  
Whether he had not cause for all his passions,  
(Indeed he has) so much his crimes are greater;  
Nor is it more injustice to his trust  
Than due to you to tell you, if you please,  
That I may bear some feigned kindness from you,  
I'm sure 'twill bring him any where,  
That you may easily surprise him.  Amio. 
But do you think he has lost his reason so?  
To trust himself without his guards,  
And his surprifall then will not be easy.  Phyla. 
Alas, his reason's like an helpless friend,  
Left and forsaken, and nothing but your name  
Must be forgiven, that would attempt to lessen  
His thoughts from what he has done, you need not fear  
He can be over-wise that loves so much,  
Nor will his reason tell him that 'tis due  
To all his kindness.  Amio. 
Nor is it sure.  Phyl. 
But to his former story 'tis, and present actions;  
For though repentance only at your name  
Has power in his thoughts, yet he contemns  
To have that Virtue on a meaner score,  
His crimes to all the world besides continue.  Amio. 
And they may better be the punishers.  Phyl. 
I grant you, were it in their power  
As 'tis in yours, and they would then  
Do sure as much for you.  
'Tis but the least command from you,  
My life on't, I bring him where you think best  
He may be with most ease surprised.  Amio. 
But should not you consider?  
That though this punishment be due from me,  
The treacherie's unjust in you.  
How much it is the business of mankind  [aside▪ Whilst she turns away and speaks, he throws off his disguise, and lays his sword drawn, with the hilt towards her. 
To make a bargain for their honesty,  
And yet not think how little that will yield  
To others, which they make so cheap,  
Man's like a barren and ingrateful soil,  
That seldom pays the labour of manuring.  
How has Philanter injured him, or I obliged him?  
That I could at first upon a lesser score  
Share with his crimes, and on a meaner now  
Basely dislike, as if his choice were just,  
Whose equal ease accepts and forfeits trust.  
'll'le tell him too 'tis base, how fain would Love  
Tell his own story, through a nobler cause,  
And blushes sure as well as I.  
— It should be for Phylanter—  
Ha! Deceive me not fond eyes, it cannot be  she turns and sees him. 
I owe amazement now so much—  
— It must arrest me.  Phyl. 
Wonder not, fair Amione, nor fear  
I'll beg your pity, that contemn my own,  
And yet for many reasons think I love you;  
Though I believe my time will hardly give  
Me leave to reckon them— Only consider,  
That I durst here avow it, I could have fallen,  
It's true, as nobly with my fellows,  
But much more happier here; I would have weighed it too  
More leisurely in reason's scales, till a thought  
Of you broke in, and ended the dispute.  
I have at my own rate procured my happiness,  
Nor have I done less sure for you; 'tis the first service,  
And likely too to be the last I e'er shall do you.  Amio. 
O Phylanter, you should not trust  
Revenge, and all your crimes at once  
In any power, though I perhaps  
Shall fear to be a murderer, so to make  
Myself as bad as you.  Phyl. 
Why I confess, I willingly  
Would be as good as you, but that's a lesson  
Hardly to be learned, and yet it looks  
Much like the way to read it often;  
As I have done your virtues.  
I say not this to tempt a mercy,  
I have deserved a great deal of unkindness;  
But not so much as now to fall  
A sacrifice to any but your wrongs.  Amio. 
I know not what to say—  
You may repent, perhaps grow good;  
Pray try.  Phyl. 
'Tis true, I think I might;  
But 'tis a question still, whe're you'd grow kind.  
And indeed, the fear of that great danger  
Made me contemn the rest. But I trifle time,  
By all that's charitable, let me not fall  
By meaner hands. Hark, some Soldiers.  [a noise. 
Use this for pity's sake.  Enter Soldiers. Amio. 
Alas! ah me!  1. 
How now? who have we hear, Philanter?  
Treason!  2. 
Treason, treason!  Phyl. 
Nay, than I must use it.  [fight. 
Villains, I have a little business here,  one falls, t'other flies. 
I might have spared the reason though to you  
They have raised the alarm; yet, Amione,  
Free me from this mean ruin.  Amio. 
Pray put on your disguise again,  
You may yet scape.  Phyl. 
I'm glad it is impossible, you see it is,  
O Amione; had I but loved you at a lesser rate,  
I might have found a soberer expression.  
But yet remember, a madman seldom loses  
His kindness with his judgement.  
A noise again! hell on their yell!  [alarm. Amio. 
By that love you bear me,  
Put on your disguise.  Phyl. 
Never, till my safety be worth your care.  Amio. 
O Phylanter, though your condition needs it,  
'Tis too soon for me to say it, yet I will tempt my  
To tell you, I would have you safe.  Phyl. 
That now my fate is unavoidable, the gods blushes  
Perhaps provided, lest I should surfeit  
Of joys in this world; yet I shall have  
Enough, if you believe, no dying mind  
Can have more joy, or living love.  
'Twas my grief at first to love you, and now  
My fear at last you should not know it.  
'Twas all my business too before my end.  
I could wish one thing more, to be resolved,  
Whether in t'other world (where wisemen tell us,  
There is such store of love) our joy shall be  
Greatest, to meet those friends we loved best here.  
— but I shall be resolved. In the mean time,  
What e'er becomes of me,  
Let your kind thoughts  
— admit sometimes this minute's memory.  Amio. 
Alas, think of your safety; Hark! they come! yet  [noise. 
Let your disguise and me protect you.  Phyl. 
When I have your protection— I need need not this disguise,  
Nor will I wear it. They come.  
My dear Amione,  Enter Soldiers. 
For ever live as happy as I die.  1. 2. 
Here! here! on! on! on!  Phyl. 
Villains, you shall buy me bravely.  [fight. Sym. 
Hold, on your lives; how, Phylanter?  Enter Symathocles. Phyl. 
The same, you need not bid me welcome,  
Nor tempt me much, Symathocles.  Amio. 
O Phylanter, be yet more temperate;  
Pray, Sir, let me obtain a little hearing.  Sym. 
You may command it. The Princess!  Enter Princess, Phylena, Followers. Amio. 
O Madam, let me beg  
That no amazement dwell upon your eyes,  
Nor any thing but mercy.  Prin. 
I have both ready for thy sake— How—  
— Phylanter— What Riddle's this—?  Phyl. 
I owe that name indeed, but with less blushes  
Than I did once.  Prin. 
I promised not to wonder, my Amione;  
But this is strange.  Amio. 
You promised mercy too.  Prin. 
Have you an interest in his pardon then?  
Blush not,  
I'll ask no more — Phylanter—  
This story shall be perfect at more leisure,  
And all things else shall be deferred  
But my forgiveness. I do believe  
(You came to fetch your pardon in so much danger)  
You can repent or any thing, but deserve  
The happiness preparing for you.  he kisses the Princess hand. 
Come, Amione, thou hast brought back  
An unexpected friend. May this success  
To every one bring equal happiness.  [Exeunt.  

ACT. 5. SCEN. 6.  Enter Albertus, Lycespes. Alb. 
HAs no one yet brought any news?  Lyc. 
Not any, Sir, O misery!  
Betrayed by some sleight. How now?  Enter a Messenger. 
From whence comest thou?  Mess. 
My Lord, your son desires to meet you;  
And withal you would not wonder,  
That with the Princess he waits your coming.  Alb. 
Stranger yet! some farther mischief sure!  
Lycespes Draw up the Army instantly.  [Exit Lyces. 
We must not be thus cozened.  
Came you from my son?  Mess. 
But now, Sir.  Alb. 
And is he with the Princess?  Mess. 
Yes, Sir.  Alb. 
Where?  Mess. 
Now coming to the House.  Alb. 
With all her Army?  Mess. 
Only with a small Guard.  Alb. 
There may be something then.  
Fortune I'll think if now thou show'st thy care,  
Thou canst redeem as well as bring despair.  [Exeunt.  

ACT 5. SCEN. 7.  Enter Princess, Phylanter, Amione, Phylena, and Others. Prin. 
IS this the house, Phylanter?  Phyl. 
Yes, Madam.  Prin. 
Pray summon it.  Phyl. 
'Twill now be yielded, Madam,  
Far easier than 'twould once. Within there, ho!  Pysander appears above. Pys. 
How now, what news, O Phylanter?  
Is your troublesome Worship there again?  
— how now, the Princess too?  Prin. 
The same, Pysander.  Pys. 
Now truly Madam, do I think  
I had best call Mironault to unriddle this.  
— The labour's saved.  Mironault appears above too. Prin. 
Mironault.  Mir. 
Ha.—  Prin. 
Do you not know me?  Mir. 
Yes, and others too there.  Prin. 
This is injustice Mironault,  
Can you let wonder keep you thus from me?  Mir. 
I had forgot, it's true, 'tis Mirrament,  
And serupulous thoughts were sins unpardonable,  He descends. Pys. 
If I should stay to consider what this means,  
I should be the last should know it;  He comes down. 
I'll e'en descend too.  Prin. 
Mironault,  
— Though these strange objects might deserve a story,  Enter Mironault. 
'T would take up time, and I shall think it cruelty  
To rob thee of one minute's joy, if I can give it.  Miro. 
If you can give it? have I thus long  
Loved you, and loved you religiously, now to have  
All my devotion questioned?  
Can sick men joy in health? or liberty  
Be pleasing unto captives? In your kindness  
Lies all my health and liberty.  Prin. 
Nor will I fear to avow it, dearest Mironault,  
No thoughts of crossing danger e'er shall fright  
My Love or me.  Miro. 
It's true, I am unworthy of you; but so are all,  
And he that parts me from you,  
Must join me to a colder Bride.  Phyl. 
And more than you, gallant Mironault,  
Wonder no more, nor think on stories past,  
But that to come, Phylanter will appear  
As worthy of your friendship,  
— As he was once of hate— but stay  
I had forgot to ask your pardon. Indeed  He takes Amione by the hand. 
here's one may better do it, whose fair opinion  
— Will promise for me.—  Miro. 
Brave Sir, I hated still your crimes not you, so did she,  
And if she love your Virtues, pray believe  
I am her brother too.  Phyl. 
Madam, I see  Enter Albertus. 
A little honesty will make one impudent  
That I must now beg pardon for others,  
That scarcely should have hoped if for myself.  Prin. 
Rise my Lord, you need not now  
Of any doubt your pardon.  Alb. 
Excellent Princess, I shall deserve hereafter  
What an unjust necessity made me shun to testify.  Kisseth her hand. Prin. 
Hyppasus and Pysander, I must not now  
Forget your share in thanks,  
That did receive your part in danger.  Pys. 
Nay your Highness cannot be better pleased than we  
That all the danger's past, to say truth,  
Hypasus and I were clearly your Platonics,  
And made up the Romance.  The blind Lady hearing his voice, calls from under the vault where he put her. Caec. 
Captain.  Prin. 
How now, what's that?  Pys. 
Why nothing Madam,  
Only an honest fellow killed in the storm,  
And now his ghost walks; in his life time  
He was a talking fellow, Hyppasus you know it.  Hyp. 
Hang you, what do I know?  Caec. 
Why, Captain, Captain?  Pys. 
Plague on you, would you were gagged.  Prin. 
This is strange!  Pys. 
Nay your Highness need not be troubled,  
I'll have a Scholar shall lay it at my own charge.  Hyp. 
Well Sir, if you'll be at that cost, I'll be the Scholar,  
To raise it at my own.  Pys. 
Pox on your conjuring fools-head,  Hyppasus takes her out of the vaued with corn upon her farthingale, Peter following. 
By this light she rises—  
Like Ceres with Plenty about her,  
Lord, how Peter stairs!  Caec. 
Captain, Pray, your hand  [She goes on. Pys. 
Here forsooth.  He goes behind the Princess. 
Now have at the Princess, lafoy, ra, ra, ra  
Your Highness may be pleased,  She runs against the Princess. 
To pardon her usual exercise,  
She was the best tilter in her time  
That ever ran.  Mironault whispers to the Princess. Caec. 
O Captain, pray your hand,  Pys. 
Now have I ague: what tends  
This whisperig to?  Prin. 
Come Pysander,  
The god of Love himself is blind,  
She, or her estate (I hear) is very fair.  Pys. 
Why, is your Highness in earnest?  
And please you she's some sourscore,  
A dog were as good a husband for her  
To lead her up and down.  Prin. 
Madam, Will you consent to have this Gentleman?  Caec. 
I have already yielded.  Pys. 
And be hanged 'twas before you were stormed.  Prin. 
Come it shall be a match, she'll make you her Executor.  Pys. 
Well, we'll all be married then. Hypassus  
If you please, you shall have Quinever.  Pin. 
We are all happy then; we need not fear,  
Unless my Father frown.  Phyl. 
We shall unwillingly throw off again  
Our Loyalty to him, and yet we shall  
Be very ready to embrace a witness,  
That we dare die for Mironault.  Mir. 
You nobly all oblige me, and I must tell you  
My dearest Princess that I cannot fear,  
Whilst I enjoy your Love, for that has raised me  
Above the power of Fate or danger,  
Nor have I leisure to think on any thing,  
But of those joys are falling now upon me,  
Which neither time or age can ever lessen;  
For still your Virtues like Medea's charms  
Shall bring fresh beauties to my happy arms.  [Exeunt. Pys. 
We Bridegrooms disagree, for every day  
Will oblige most that adds to your decay.  [Exit with the Blind Lady. 
FINIS.    

The Fourth Book of VIRGIL. Of the Loves of DIDO and AENEAS.  
The Argument.  
In Love's ungentle Flames 
a Dido  Eliza fries,  
With her Resolves a guilty Storm complies.  
Aeneas, warned by Jove's 
b Mercury  Cyllenian Mate,  
Prepares for flight, and Dido for her fate.  
A Funeral Pile she raises, and bestows  
At once a Fate upon herself and woes.  

BUT, long before, the Queen had in her veins  
Nourished Love's wounds, and fed concealed flames.  
Much on his person, and his generous kind  
She thought, much on the virtues of his mind.  
His charming Image fixes in her breast,  
And cares now banish once-enjoyed rest.   

Th'ensuing day, when Phoebus newly spread  
His beams, and moist shades from Aurora fled;  
The Lovesick Queen thus to her Sister said:  
My Anna, of what dreams am I afraid?  
What guest is this with unaccustomed charms?  
How noble in his Soul? how brave in Arms?  
I'think (nor vainly) he's of heavenly kind;  
'Tis fear that argues a degenerate mind.  
What various fates he told, with Battles mixed!  
Were it not in my breast for ever fixed,  
Never the Marriage Fetters more to prove,  
Since so deceived by fate of my first Love;  
Did I not loath those Rites a second time,  
I might perhaps yield to this tempting crime.  
For I confess, since (slain by fratricide)  
Sichaeus fell, whose blood the Altars died, 
Her husband slain by her own brother Pygmalion.   
This only has inclined my thoughts; again  
I feel impressions of an ancient flame.  
But may the earth first snatch me to her womb,  
And to the shades Jove's Thunder whirl me down;  
To Hell's dark shades whose night admits no fate,  
ere shame and virtues rites I violate.  
He who first made my heart Love's sacrifice,  
Still has it, in his grave it buried lies.   

This said, a shower of falling tears appear.  
Anna replies, Dear sister, and more dear  
Than Light itself, shall grief thy youth destroy,  
Without the Crown of children, or the joy  
Which Venus for her Votaries prepares?  
Can dust shut up in graves, or Ghosts have cares?  
Grant you were she, whose cold breast did disdain,  
The Lybians and the great 
a King of the Numidians.  Hiarba's flame,  
And Africans made rich by vanquished foes;  
Will you as well, all Love's soft charms oppose?  
Think where we now inhabit, who dwells round;  
Getulians here with conquest always crowned,  
Here savage deserts your Dominions bound,  
There the wild Barceans; what need I relate  
The Wars, that on thy Brother's fury wait?  
Sure the kind gods upon our shores at last,  
By an obliging storm these Trojans cast.  
What City shalt thousee? thy Kingdom too  
Shall to this match enlarged fortune owe,  
When Trojans with our Arms their Swords shall join,  
In what rich glories shall the Punicks shine!  
Go, and oblige the gods by sacrifice,  
Thy guest by kindness; all delays devise,  
Whilst Winter rages, and the stormy Star  
Their Navy shakes, the sky disposed to war.  
" These words the sparks of love now kindled more,  
" And enthroned hope where blushes dwelled before.   

First, at the Altar's heaven's peace they sought,  
With Sheep selected, slain as custom taught,  
To Ceres, Phoebus, Bacchus, above all,  
To Juno, careful of the Marriage thrall.  
The fair Queen's hand a full-crowned Bowl adorns,  
Who pours the Wine 'twixt a white Heifer's horns.  
Still on the fatted Shrine an Offering lies,  
And day seems young renewed with Sacrifice;  
Consulting scarce the life-forsaken breast,  
Which panting entrails faintly yet expressed.  
" Unknowing minds of Priests! alas, what ease  
" Can Temples bring? Can frantic Vows appease  
" A flame, which life and blood still fuel gives,  
" And in whose breast the wound in silence lives?  
Unhappy Dido burns, and wanders round  
The City, frantic, as a Hind, whose wound  
From a far off the unsuspected Swain  
Gives ignorantly, who strives to fly her pain,  
Through the Dictaean Forests, winged with fears,  
Yet still her side the fatal Arrow bears.   

Now with Aeneas round the walls she goes,  
Her City and Sidonian-treasure shows.  
About to speak, her words stick in the way;  
Now Feasts prepares to end the wasting day.  
Again (distracted) asks to hears Troy's fate,  
And on his moving lips her eyes still wait.  
All now take leave, and the Moon's paler light  
Shines out, declining Stars soft sleeps invite;  
Whilst she alone her sorrows entertains,  
And flung, on his forsaken bed remains;  
Thinks still she hears him speak, and in despite  
Of absence, always fancies him in sight;  
Or in her arms his son and likeness takes,  
To try if Love could lessen by mistakes.   

Now the late-rising Towers neglected stand,  
The youth and fortresses alike unmanned.  
All great beginnings interrupted lie,  
And walls before which promised to be high.   

When Juno saw her languish in a flame,  
Whose fury shrunk not at opposing fame,  
Venus with haste she finds; and thus then says,  
You, and your Boy, will purchase glorious praise,  
And spoils as ample as your powers, when fame  
Shall tell; Two gods one woman overcame.  
Nor am I blinded so, but it appears,  
The walls of rising Carthage cause your fears.  
But why these quarrels? rather let them cease  
In Hymen's bonds, wrapped in eternal peace.  
Your wishes all are crowned in Dido's flames,  
Which fill, instead of blood, her burning veins;  
With equal power and kindness let us sway,  
These several Nations, let her too obey  
A Phrygian Lord, and unto thy desire,  
Submit the Tyrians, and the wealth of Tyre;  
To her, (for she perceived a crafty mind  
Sent all these words, by which she had designed  
To Lybian shores th' Italian crown to join)  
Venus replies, Who is it will decline  
What you propose? or is so void of sense,  
To choose to have with you a difference?  
If the fates yield to your proposed intents,  
(But varying fates I fear) if Jove consents;  
That Troy and Carthage should as one be joined,  
The mingled Nations too by leagues combined;  
You that enjoy his breast, 'tis just that you  
Attempt his mind, I'll second what you do.   

The Queen of Heaven than replies, That toil  
And labour shall be mine; A little while,  
I ask you now to hear, whilst I lay down  
The means; which our designs at last may crown.  
Aeneas, with the wretched Queen prepares,  
In woods and hunting to divert their cares;  
When the next rising Sun gives day a birth,  
And with his rays shows the unvailed earth;  
Upon the Hunters, whilst the game's pursued,  
A storm, swelled big with hail, in blackness brewed,  
Its fury shall discharge; at the same time,  
The Heavens to the storm shall Thunder join.  
Th' affrighted Hunters all shall take their flight,  
Confused in darkness, as if lost in night.  
The Prince and Queen shall fly for shelter too  
Into one Cave, if we receive from you  
Your promised aid, there Hymen being by,  
we'll make her thy perpetual Votary.   

Fair Cytherea, finding her designs,  
Smiles, and, in show, to what she asked inclines.   

In the mean time, the Sun the briny streams  
Of Neptune leaves, the youth rise with his beams.  
And forth the toil's, and well-nosed hounds are brought,  
With spears, whose tops were round with Iron wrought.  
Next marching forth, Massylian troops are seen,  
The Punic Princes all expect their Queen.  
Who, slower than the rest, forsakes her bed,  
Whilst her proud horse stands richly furnished  
In purple; on which Gold in windings flows,  
Champing his bit, in foam his mettle shows.  
At length, attended by a noble train,  
Clad in a rich Sydonian robe she came.  
Her quiver gold, her hair too weaved lies  
In gold, and gold her purple garments ties.  
The Phrygians next advance, and before these  
Ascanius came, whom youthful hopes did please  
Of promised sport; with these Aeneas joins,  
And all the troop in charming looks outshines.  
As when cold Lycia, and where Xanthus flows,  
Apollo leaves, his visits now bestows  
Upon his native Delos, where again,  
The Driopes and Cretans fill his train.  
With Agathyrsians, whom strange colours die,  
And in wild motions round the Altars fly,  
Whilst he upon the top of Cynthus goes,  
His flowing hair, soft laurell-wreaths enclose;  
Through which the woven gold its lustre flung,  
And at his back, his rattling Quiver hung.  
" Nor did Aeneas looks admit an odds,  
" But with his lustre equalled the gods?  
When new these troops unto the hills arrive,  
And beat the unfrequented shades, they drive  
Wild goats from their high holds, and winged with fear,  
On t'other side rush down vast herds of Deer.   

But young Ascanius in the vales employs  
Himself, and in his horse's fierceness joys.  
Now vi●s with these, now others leaves behind,  
And wanting beasts to chase, wishes to find  
A chase Boar o'erspread with rage and foam,  
Or from the hills to see a Lion come.  
Whilst thus he wished, loud murmurs fill the sky,  
Followed by storms of hail, the hunters fly  
For several shelters, whilst amazed sight  
From mountains tops sees Rivers take their flight.  
The Queen and Trojan Prince, seeking to save  
Themselves from storms, meet in one fatal cave,  
The earth first shook, and Juno gave the sign,  
And at such rites ungentle flashes shine.  
While, through the conscious air, the Marriage-song,  
Was howls of Nymphs, which from the mountains rung.  
This day first ushered death, and from this day,  
Misfortunes took their birth, nor did she weigh  
Her present act, or think of future fame,  
Nor could this amorous theft beget a shame;  
She called it marriage, with a fond design,  
Believing in the name to hide the crime.   

But quickly now that slighted fame took wings,  
And all the news through Lybian Cities flings.  
Unto ill fame compared, swift things are sloth,  
For as it flies, it gathers strength and growth;  
Fear keeps it low at first, but free from dread,  
Quickly in clouds, hides its aspiring head.  
To Caeus, and Enceladus, the earth  
Brooded on by the rage of gods gave birth  
Unto this sister last, than winds more fleet;  
Swift in her wings, and not less swift in feet.  
A horrid and strange monster as she flies,  
Under her feathers hides an hundred eyes,  
As many mouths, nor furnished less with ears,  
As many tongues to tell the tales she hears.  
When night has spread her shades through heaven she flies,  
Nor has soft sleep the power to close her eyes,  
By day; where poor and great men live she sits,  
And with her tales gives Cities shaking fits:  
The false and true alike to people brings,  
With equal joy things done and undone sings.  
Of Troy's great Prince she quickly did report,  
How entertained in Dido's breast and court,  
Unmindful of their Crowns, ruled now by lust,  
The winter spent in passions too unjust.  
Among the rest to whom she spread this Fame,  
It quickly unto King Hiarbas came.  
The story raised his fury, who was son  
To Jove, from ravished Garamantis sprung.  
An hundred Temples he to Jove had raised,  
As many shrines where constant fires still blazed.  
The Gods perpetual watch, th'enriched ground,  
With blood, th'entrances with garlands crowned,  
The bitter news rage and distraction brings;  
To fill his breast, who in his fury flings  
Before the Altars of the gods, and there  
With raised hands sends this disputing prayer;  
Great Jove, to whom, on beds that richly shine,  
We Moor indulge our feasts with sparkling wine,  
Seest thou these things? or shall we free from fright  
See the dark air with sudden flashes bright?  
And dreadless at thy winged lightning's flame  
Or slighted Thunders, find our fears were vain?  
A wand'ring woman on our shores that paid  
For leave and place to live on, and obeyed▪  
Our laws, dares now despise our marriage bed,  
For one Aeneas to her Kingdom fled.  
This Paris with his troop that scarcely are  
Like men, in their soft robes and perfumed hair,  
Enjoys my passion's object, whilst we raise  
In vain to thee our offerings and our praise.   

Whilst thus expostulating-pray'rs he fent,  
Holding the Altars still, th' Omnipotent  
To Carthage turns his eyes, where passion's flame  
Had in the Lovers burned the thoughts of Fame.   

Then calling Mercury he thus begins,  
Go son, call Zephyrus and on thy wings,  
Haste to the Trojan Prince, who idly stays  
In Carthage, and contemns in his delays  
Crowns which were promised him by Fate and Time,  
Swift as a thought bear him these thoughts of mine.  
His beauteous mother never promised me  
Such things as these, nor for this cause was he  
Twice from the Grecians freed, but that there may  
One spring from Teucer, Italy to sway  
So big with War and Empires; and to give  
Laws, under which th'obliged World should live.  
But if such praise cannot his mind inflame,  
Nor toils be poised with weight of endless Fame,  
Why does he hinder from Ascanius' brows  
The Roman Crown? What is it hope allows,  
Whilst thus with foes (delaying) he remains?  
Neglects Ausonia, and Lavinian plains?  
Bid him to sea, go tell him what I say.   

The ready god prepares straight to obey  
His mighty Father's will, and first he ties  
Wings to his feet; born upon which he flies▪  
Through air, and o'er the earth, and liquid plain,  
Swift as the motion of a rapid flame.  
Then takes his rod; whose call ghosts from below  
Obey, by the same power others go  
Unto those dismal shades, sleep comes and flies  
As he appoints; and closes dying eyes.  
Th'enraged winds swell as he dies along,  
And drive the troubled clouds into a throng.   

Now Atlas views, as on his wings he fled,  
Approaching heaven with his aspiring head,  
Battered with winds and storms, with tall Pines crowned,  
And still with sable clouds enveloped round:  
His shoulders pressed with undissolved snow,  
And from the old man's Chin swift rivers flow  
In rushing cataracts, in frozen ties  
His horrid beard bound up severely, lies.   

Here first with equally unmoving wings  
Cyllenius stays himself, thence headlong flings.  
Along the shores a bird thus swiftly glides  
Close on the surface of the swelling tides;  
So from high Atlas-top Cyllenius flies  
'Twixt heaven and earth, where sandy Lybia lies.   

When first on Carthage-plains his winged feet  
Took rest, his eyes as soon Aeneas meet  
Raising new Towers; on his thigh there hung  
A shining sword, a Tyrian garment flung  
Over his shoulders, where the gold did wave  
In glittering rings, which Dido made and gave.   

When with these words the god invades his car,  
Dost thou for Carthage lay foundations here,  
And raisest Cities, now uxorious grown,  
Seeking strange Crowns, unmindful of thine own?  
He who o'er all th'immortal gods bears sway,  
And whom the people of the earth obey,  
Commanded me to ask, What vain design  
Stays thee in Lybia, idly losing time?  
If so much glory can't thy mind inflame,  
Nor toils be poised with weight of endless fame;  
Let not Ascartus suffer by thy crime,  
To whom the Fates th'I●alian Crown design.   

Thus having spoke Cyllenius takes his flight,  
And in the air slides from enquiring sight.  
Amazed Aeneas stands, in horror tied,  
With stiffened hair, his voice and words denied,  
Now burns to leave the place but lately prized,  
So by the god commanded and advised,  
What should he do? how venture to relate  
This change to her that was so passionate?  
His mind travails through-thoughts as in a trance,  
And snatched with every various circumstance,  
Till every thought to this submission gave.  
Then Mnestheus and Sergestus, with the brave  
Cloanthus, he does call; with silent care  
Bids them the Navy and their Arms prepare,  
And draw their Forces to the Ocean side;  
But with a feigned cause the true to hide.   

In the mean space (whilst Dido little thought  
Their loves were to so near a period brought)  
He pays his visits, and neglects no time,  
All his addresses fits for his design,  
With all the art of softest words, whilst they  
With gladness do their Princes will obey.   

But the fair Queen (for who can long deceive  
A Lover?) quickly did the fraud perceive,  
And from the present makes her future guess;  
What ever seems most safe, fears not the less.  
The same ungentle Fame the news now brings  
To sad Eliza, who now madly flings  
Through the City, passion so excites  
The wretched Queen, like Thyas at those Rites  
When first the Orgies stir, and Bacchus' name  
Cithaeron loudly does in night proclaim.   

At length unto Aeneas thus she says,  
Hast thou designed all these dissembling ways?  
Could there, false man, be so much ill in thee,  
In silence to have fled this place and me?  
Cannot my love, that love, which I so late  
Plighted to thee, nor my approaching fate,  
Oblige thy stay; but among Winter-waves  
To thrust thy Navy, whilst the Northwind raves.  
What if you never sought an unknown Land,  
And ancient Troy did in its lustre stand;  
Must needs that Troy, through Billows swelling high,  
Be sought with Navies? Is't not me you fly?  
By thy received right hand, and by these tears,  
(Now nothing else at my command appears)  
By our young Loves, if ever I was thought  
To merit, or to thee a pleasure brought:  
Pity a falling state, change thy hard mind,  
I beg, if prayers yet a place can find.  
For thee, the Lybians, and Numidian King,  
With Tyrians, will on me their malice fling.  
For thee, my early and unspotted fame  
Is lost, which once to Heaven bore my name.  
To what am I now dying left? Ah guest,  
In that, all Hymen's Titles now must rest.  
But why do I delay? Is it to see  
My Brother ruin all? or till I be  
Led captive by Hyarbas? If I might  
Have had a young Aeneas ere thy flight,  
That only might to me present thy look,  
I should not fancy I were quite forlook.   

This said, forewarned by Jove within his breast,  
With eyes still fixed his troubles he suppressed.   

At length replies, Fair Queen, I can't deny  
Your words or merits, nor shall ever I  
Unwillingly admit Eliza's name  
Unto my thoughts, whilst life inspires this frame.  
Thus much I only say, I never tried,  
Or hoped dissemblingly my flight to hide.  
Nor did I promise ever to be thine,  
Or hither came with such a fond design.  
Would Fate permit, my will should now dispose  
My life, and as I pleased my cares and woes;  
Troy and its Princely Palaces should shine,  
As once it did, raised by this hand of mine.  
But Phoebus now and Lycian Lots decree,  
That I should fix my love on Italy.  
If you, that from Phoenicia took your birth,  
Affect this Carthage, and the Lybian earth;  
Why should it now appear more strange, that we,  
Though Trojans born, should seek for Italy?  
The justice is the same. As often too,  
As the dark night its humid shades does throw,  
O'er the hid world, and Stars begin to rise,  
My Father's Ghost does threaten and advise.  
Unjust to dear Ascanius too I prove,  
He wants a Crown, whilst here I idly love.  
Now Mercury from Jove was sent (I swear  
By both our heads) who through the yielding air  
Brought his commands, apparent light and clear,  
Showed me the god, and I his voice did hear.  
Cease then to wound with these complaints of thine,  
Since, though I go, 'twas not my own design.   

This said, she turned her long averted sight,  
Fixed upon him, her eyes than took their flight,  
And silently on every object gazed;  
At length she spoke, to height of passion raised.   

Perfidious man! Nor Dardan could begin  
Thy race, or couldst thou from a goddess spring;  
But bred on rocky Caucasus, thou first  
Waste by Hircanian Tigers udders nursed.  
For why should I dissemble? should belief  
Betray me to more woe? See if my grief  
Has raised one sigh, or does his eyes incline  
To be overcome in tears to pity mine.  
Where should I first complain? my miseries,  
Nor Jove nor Juno sees with equal eyes.  
Faith is unsteadfast still, fond woman's haste!  
In want I found what I in plenty placed.  
His Friends and Navy did by me return  
From death to life, Ah in what flames I burn?  
Now Lot's, Apollo now, now from above  
Cyllenius brings the harsh commands of Jove.  
'Tis likely that the gods should from our cares,  
Receive such trouble, and proportion theirs.  
I neither stay you, nor your words deny,  
Seek through the waves and wind for Italy.  
I hope (if gods be great as well as good)  
That thou shalt drink (drowned in the rocky Flood)  
Revenge's draught, and calling still on me,  
Though absent, yet in flames I'll follow thee.  
And when cold death shall cease this vital heat,  
My ghost unwelcome visits shall repeat.  
And all thy woes obliging Fame shall tell,  
To my pleased ears when I with shadows dwell.   

At this abruptly stops her words, and flies,  
Sick of the light, and weary of men's eyes,  
Leaving him fixed with fears, and in delay,  
Confused in all, preparing much to say.  
Whilst she sinks to the earth on which she fled,  
Carried by servants to a Marble-bed.   

Though the just Prince inclined to give relief,  
And to divert with words her powerful grief,  
Shaken in his breast, where sighs and love did meet;  
Yet he obeys the gods, and views his Fleet.  
The Trojans throng, while launched from the shore's side,  
The anointed Vessels now on Billows ride;  
Carrying their Oars aboard, and Oak not quite  
Brought into form, so careful in their flight.  
All from the City throng, as toiling Ants,  
Treasure a Heap, remembering Winter's wants.  
The black Troop through the verdant grass makes way,  
And in a narrow road their stores convey;  
Some bear the corn, the laziest of the Swarm  
Others excite, and every place grows warm.   

What were thy thoughts now Dido at this sight,  
And what sad sighs did from thy breast take flight?  
Hearing such noise, and seeing from above  
The shores grow warm with crowds. (Ungentle Love!)  
What is't thou canst not us compel to do?  
Again she's forced in tears and prayers to woe.  
No thought to Love obedience now denied,  
Left dying, she had left a way untried.   

Seest thou not, Sister, how they all repair  
Down to the shores, and the ungentle air  
Seems too to court their sails, the joys resound  
From Seamen, all their Vessels ready crowned.  
Had I but thought that such a woe could be,  
I might have born it then; for, wretched me,  
This one thing do, (for that false man alone  
Seemed kind to thee, to thee his thoughts made known  
The time, & how to soften words you know,  
Go and petition this insulting foe.  
I never swore the Trojans to destroy,  
Or did assist, or sent my ships to Tray;  
Or yet disturbed his Father's dust and ghost,  
Why are my words to his clos'dears thus lost?  
Ah! whither does he fly? let his hard breast  
Grant but a wretched Lover's last request.  
Let him but stay till he may safely fly,  
Till neither winds grow loud, or waves grow high.  
I beg not now again his broken vows,  
Or of the Latium Crown to rob his Brows:  
I beg but time my passions to reprieve,  
Till my hard fate has taught me how to grieve.  
This last request I make, if pity find  
A power in your breast; my grateful mind  
Shall only lose the memory in death.  
Whilst tears she spent with this imploring breath,  
To him, and back again, the woeful tales  
Her Sister bears, but nothing now prevails;  
Soft charming words had lost their power, opposed  
By Fate, the god his gentler ears had closed.   

An aged Oak so long had stood the blast  
Of Alpine Boreas, now is this way cast,  
Now that, whilst with the clamoring winds he strives,  
Which to the earth th'assaulted branches drives;  
The root yet fixed, for what above appears,  
So much below the earth's embraces bears.   

So every way her words the Hero pressed,  
Shaken by her cares within his mighty breast.  
But his firm mind unshaken still appears,  
And she, in vain, now spends her stock of tears.   

Th' unhappy Queen, whom all these fates affright,  
Now wishes death, and hates to see the light.  
That too which added to these sad desires,  
Whilst on the Altars in perfumed fires,  
She pays her gifts, the sacred wine no more,  
Retains its looks, but turns black clotted gore.  
This horrid change was to no eye revealed,  
And from the trusted sister too concealed.  
Besides, there stood a marble Temple, made  
To her first love, to which she always paid  
An honoured kindness, always too decked round  
With verdant wreaths, and snowy fleeces crowned;  
From whence she thought, she heard Sichaeus call.  
And when the night had spreed her veil o'er all,  
The fatal Owl that perching place still seeks,  
And sends out long and death-presaging shrieks.  
The Priests before had threatened sad extremes,  
The cruel Prince still visits her in dreams.  
Always she seems alone, and wand'ring strays,  
Seeking her subjects in forsaken ways.  
So Pentheus saw with his distracted sight,  
Furies in troops, at once two Suns gave light.  
One Thebes two Cities showed, or on the stage,  
As wild Orestes flies his mother's rage.  
With blazing brands, and with black serpents armed,  
Whilst in the gate, revenging furies swarmed?   

Vanquished with grief and passion in extremes,  
She now resolves to die, the time and means  
Closely designs, nor could her thoughts appear,  
Her looks were all composed serene and clear.  
To her afflicted Sister than she goes,  
And with these words, her mind seems to disclose.   

Come share with me the joy of my design,  
That shall restore his love or banish mine.  
Near to the setting Sun and Ocean's end,  
A part of Aethiopia does extend.  
Where mighty Atlas on his shoulders bears  
The glittering load of all the starry spheres.  
Thence, (a Massylian born) a Priestesse came,  
That kept the Dragon and th'Hesperian Fane;  
Who also did the sacred branches keep,  
With honey and with poppy causing sleep.  
She could with charms enthralled minds set free,  
And others bind with the same cruelty.  
Stars would retire, swift streams no longer run,  
And from the graves, the called up spirits come,  
The earth men's frighted ears with howl fills,  
And the tall Oks seem walking from the hills.   

Witness you gods, and my dear life, that now  
Unwillingly to Magic arts I bow.  
Go, in the inner Court erect a pile,  
Bring the man's sword, and garments, now his spoil.  
Lay all the Impious left upon that bed,  
Where I to ruin was by passion led.  
For so the Priestesse every thing designed,  
Of a false man should dissolution find.   

This said, on her still lips a paleness rose,  
And yet her sister did not then suppose  
Under pretence of charms she meant to find  
Her fate, or that such fury ruled her mind;  
Or feared a crueler effect, or cross,  
From any cause, than from her Husband's loss.   

She therefore hastens to obey; the while,  
The Queen within the Court doth raise a pile  
Of pines and cloven Oaks, adorned round  
With lights; with wreaths and funeral Cypress crowned.  
And on this pile the fatal bed conveyed,  
On which his garments and his sword she laid.  
With these, placed his effigies too, Alas,  
Too knowing now of what would come to pass!  
All this begirt with Altars, with loose hair,  
The Priestesse sends to many gods her prayer  
To Spirits, and inhabitants below,  
To Cynthia, and to triple Hecate too.  
Sprinkling feigned dew, as from Avernus brought,  
Herbs cut with brazen Scythes, by Moonshine sought.  
With poison brewed, from the Colt's brow they tore  
The much loved bit of the prevented mare.   

The Queen with gifts, hard by the Altar stands,  
Her garments lose, one foot released from bands.  
And dying now, her last appeal does send,  
To Gods and Planets, conscious of her end.  
If any Power most with care survaies  
Loves too unequal bonds, to them she prays.   

'Twas night, and wearied limbs with toils oppressed,  
Did in becalming sleep's embraces rest.  
The winds were hushed, the waves no longer swelled,  
And time the equal scales of midnight held.  
The earth's and air's inhabitants, in dreams  
Were locked, and scaly troops affecting streams.  
All in obliging sleep received their shares,  
Their hearts insensible of toils or cares.   

But the unhappy Queen sleeps charms denies,  
Passion possessed her breast, and tears her eyes.  
Her cares increase, her love to fury grows,  
And storms of anger with her passion rose.  
Then to herself, raises this sad discourse;  
What shall I do? shall I go seek remorse  
Of slighted lovers? or beg to be prized,  
By that Hiarbas whom I once despised?  
Or shall I fly after the Trojan sails,  
With whom the sense of kindness so prevails?  
Or were I willing, would they give me leave;  
Or a scorned thing in their proud ships receive?  
Lost wretch! seest thou not falseness fixed upon  
The perjured race of false Laomedon?  
What then, shall I alone these men pursue,  
Or let the armed Tyrians follow too?  
And those which hardly once from Tyrus came,  
Shall I persuade to go to Sea again?  
No, no, 'tis only death is fit for thee,  
Let his sword end thy life and misery.  
Thou sister, first (yet with my weeping pressed)  
Didst help this enemy into my breast.  
Why might not we like wild beasts always live,  
And know no cares that love and passion give?  
Then, not obliged, I had not been unjust,  
In forgot-kindnesse to Sichaeus dust.  
Such great and sad complaints denied her rest,  
In troops assaulting now her broken breast.   

Sleep then did on the Trojan Prince prevail,  
Who in his tall ship lay prepared to sail.  
To whom, Jove's messenger appears once more,  
Repeats the warnings that he gave before;  
(In voice and every thing like Hermes showed,  
His youth the same, his shining hair so flowed.)   

Thou heavenly-born, Canst thou soft sleep admit,  
Not sensible what dangers threaten yet?  
Nor yet discernest how the prosperous gales,  
With gentle invitations court thy sails?  
She now, since death is her resolved design,  
Guided by rage, stops at no fraud or crime.  
Fly whilst thou may'st, left thou seest vessels swarm,  
On troubled waves, and shores with flames grow warm  
If by this Land, you wait approaching day,  
Then put an end unto this dull delay.  
The minds of women never yet were fixed:  
This said, with night's dark shades himself he mixed.   

No sooner now this mighty Vision ends,  
But strait Aeneas, roused himself and friends;  
Urging them on, to hasten from those shores,  
With haste to spread their sails, and ply their Oars.  
A God sent from above came to exile,  
And with Commands, to hasten too our flight.  
Which of the gods so ere thou art, we fly  
As thou directest, obeying cheerfully.  
Be thou still pleased to guide us and protect,  
And every star propitiously direct.  
This said, his shining sword draws from his side,  
And cuts the Cable which his vessel tied,  
The rest with equal haste repeat his deed,  
And quickly from the shores their vessels freed.  
Much of the Sea with ships was covered now,  
Forcing white furrows on its bluish brow.   

Now on the earth, the first bright message fled  
Of fair Aurora's leaving Tithon's bed.  
When first the Queen saw the approaching light,  
With it the empty port, the ships in flight:  
Her breast, where yet so many beauties were,  
She fills with strokes, and tears her shining hair.  
Then cries, O Jupiter, shall he thus fly,  
And fix on us so great a mockery?  
Are none yet armed, no Ships yet thrust from shores?  
Pursue with flames, bring sails, employ your Oars;  
What do I talk of, or where am I now?  
What rage, and impious fancies I allow?  
Unhappy Queen, these thoughts should have born sway,  
Before thy Sceptre thou hadst it flung away.  
Behold his faith, who yet they say before,  
His Country's gods through all his travails bore!  
Who on his shoulders bore his father's weight,  
Pressed too with age, declining to his fate.  
Cannot I throw his scattered limbs to waves,  
And give his friends too such unpitied graves?  
Might not Ascanius perish by my sword,  
Then dish the Boy up to his father's board?  
Th' event of War is doubtful: be it so,  
The dying sure never needs fear a foe.  
Swift flames among their ships I should have flung,  
In which at once, the father and the son  
Should have been lost, and in the same design,  
With their sad fates, I would have mingled mine.  
Thou Sun that seest all things, that mortals do!  
Thou Juno, conscious of my passions too:  
And Hecate, whose howls fills night and ways,  
You furies too, hear what Eliza prays  
The last her dying lips ever designs!  
Let your revenge be great, as are their crimes.  
If such an impious man, must safely find  
Through seas, places and Lands for him designed,  
If this be fates unalterable doom,  
Let him among a warlike people come  
Vexed still with such, driven from place to place,  
And snatched from his Ascanius loved embrace.  
Still begging aid, let objects for his eyes  
Be still his wretched friends sad obsequies.  
And when dishonoured peace shall all unite;  
Let him enjoy neither his Crown nor Light:  
But fall before his day, the sand his grave,  
The god's these prayers with my blood shall have.  
And you, O Tyrians, in your hate be just,  
Let that be still a tribute to my dust.  
Never let Love oblige, nor League make ties,  
And from our loins may some revenger rise,  
That on the Dardan race, may pay these scor's,  
With fire & sword; may shores contend with shores,  
Billow's with waves, and armies against arms,  
And all his race parish in civil harms.   

This said, her crowds of thoughts were now at strife,  
Which way to rid herself of hated life.  
Then to Sichaeus nurse herself addressed,  
(Her's in her native grave enjoyed rest)  
Thus said, Dear nurse, my sister hither bring,  
First having hathed her body in a spring,  
And with her bring the Sacrifice designed,  
And you your head with sacred fillers bind.  
For Pluto's rites I'll end, with them my woe,  
Whilst on the dardan's funeral pile I throw  
His Image, to the flames ungentle rage.  
This said, the nurse's gate showed haste and age.   

But winged with horrid fancies Dido flies.  
Unto her fate, rolling her bloody eyes.  
In her fair cheeks, sad looks possessed the room.  
And paleness of that death that was to come.  
Through the Inner Court her stops she bends,  
And furiously the funeral Pile ascends.  
Then draws the Dardan ' sword, never designed  
For such a horrid use; her eyes next find  
His bed, which only now his garments bears.  
A little while she paused, by thoughts and tears  
Sharers in time delayed, herself then cast  
Upon the bed, and thus she spoke her last.  
Dear spoils, whilst gods and fate did so agree!  
Receive my life, from cares now set me free.  
Here I have lived the slave of Fortune still,  
Now under earth my shade some place must fill.  
A City I have built, revenged the fate  
Of a lost Husband, and a Brother's hate.  
Happy, ah too much happy I had been,  
Had never Trojan-Sails my Carthage seen.  
This said, she kissed the bed, then cries, Must I  
Thus poorly fall, and unrevenged die?  
But die I must, death only can give ease,  
The thoughts oft'other world alone can please.  
Let my last flame blaze in his cruel eyes,  
Shaken at the Omen, whilst Eliza dies.   

This said, she thrust the sword into her breast,  
And flowing blood the wretched act expressed.  
The lofty Palace ecehoes now with cries,  
And fame through all the shaken City flies:  
The roofs resound with women's houls and moans,  
And echoing air affected seems with groans.   

So it had been, if to an armed Host  
The ancient Tyre or Carthage had been lost.  
And the impartial flames showing no odds,  
On sinking dwellings both of men and gods.   

Her Sister hears, who with a shaking pace,  
Beating her breast, arrives unto the place;  
Through increasing crowds she rushing came,  
Still calling on her dying Sister's name.  
Was this thy cruel fraud, was I so pressed  
For such a Pile? for this were Altars dressed?  
What should a wretch so much forsaken do?  
Did you scorn, Sister, I should die with you?  
Death should have had on both an equal power,  
We should have shared one grief, one sword, one hour.  
These with my hands I raised, my prayers fled  
To gods, did I compose thee for the dead  
To live behind? Thy fate now ruins all,  
Thy Sister sinks, and Kingdom in thy fall.  
Some water bring that I may bathe the wound,  
If any wand'ring breath may yet befound.  
To hers my lips so closely shall be laid,  
That it shall find no way but me. This said,  
She mounts the Pile, and in her bosom took  
Her Sister, yet by breath not quite forsaken.  
She grieves, yet still attempting all she could,  
And with her garments dries away the blood.  
She strives to raise her eyes, by weakness pressed,  
Her eyelids sink, the wound gapes on her breast.  
Thrice she attempted from the bed to rise,  
Thrice rolls upon the bed with wand'ring eyes.  
She makes saint searches now for heaven's light,  
And groans, when found by her impairing sight.   

But Juno pitying the punishment  
Of struggling life, from heaven Iris sent,  
To set at freedom henr delaying breath,  
Since neither fate, nor a deserved death  
Had caused her end, but fell before her time:  
Love's passion was alone her fate and crime.  
Nor yet had Proserpina took from her head  
Her hair, and entered her among the dead.   

From heaven then, Iris with dewy wings,  
On which the Sun a thousand glories flings,  
Flies to her head, This to the dark abode  
I bear, and free thee from thy body's load.  
She said; then with her right hand cuts her hair,  
And her enlarged breath slides into air.    

P. PAPINIUS STATIUS, His ACHILLEISS; The First Book.  

The Argument.  
The Rape's committed. Thetis begs in vain  
Of Neptune a rough storm to swell the Main.  
Then to Aemonia through the Sea she goes, 
Thessaly   
And visits the loved cause of all her woes.  

THe great 
* Achilles, called Aeacides, from Aeac●● his Grandfather.  Aeacideses, my Muse, now sing;  
An Issue feared by Heavens thundering King.  
Much of his acts, though in admired strains,  
Great Homer sung; yet much untold remains.  
We his first deeds relate, and how concealed,  
In Scyros by a Trumpet's sound revealed.  
Not of dragged Hector to his Chariot tied,  
I sing, but how the Youth to Troy arrived.   

Thou, Phoebus, (if deserved in former lays)  
Give me fresh streams, and now with second Bays  
Adorn my brows. For I the hallowed ground  
Have known before, with sacred Fillets crowned:  
Witness those Theban fields, for which my fame  
Shall last, whilst Thebes records Amphion's name.   

But 
* Domitian the Emperor, to whom the Poet addresseth this Compliment.  Thou by Greeks and Romans all renowned,  
Both with the wreaths of Mars and Phoebus crowned.  
(Who lately griev'dst from thy contended brow  
To lay the gentler one) permit me now  
To guide my fearful pen a little while,  
And on the great Achilles' acts to toil,  
Till I sing Thine, yet wanting confidence,  
And for thy Prelude with his name dispense.   

The Trojan Swain, from the Laconian Shoar  
Sailed, and from unsuspecting Sparta bore  
A prey, and in his guilty journey shows  
His mother's dream fulfilled, presaging woes.  
Upon those streams they sail, where Helle found  
Her fate, yet now among the Sea-gods crowned.  
When Thetis (never yet, alas! in vain  
Were parents prophecies) through the clear Main,  
Affrighted saw the Phrygian Oars, she fled,  
Withal the Sea-Nymphs, from her watery bed.  
The almost-meeting Shore's heat with the swarm,  
And from the throng the crowded waves grew warm.  
When Thetis through the parting Billows rose,  
To me she cried, This Navy threateneth woes.  
What Proteus told, alas! appears too true.  
See Priam's kindled flames; the daughter too  
Bellona brings! a thousand Ships appear,  
Which jonian and Aegean Billows bear.  
All the sworn Greeks whom the Atrideses got  
Must not suffice: Land, Ocean must be sought  
For my Achilles. To what purpose then  
Was he on Pelion bred, in Chiron's den?  
There with the Lapithites (unless I fear  
In vain) he fights, and tries his father's Spear.  
Ah me! this fear upon my heart prevails  
Too late. Why could not I, when first these Sails  
Swelled on my Streams, act what I now would do,  
And make a storm the lustful Thief pursue,  
With all the Sea-Nymphs helped? Storms now will come  
Too late; the Rape and Injury is done.  
Yet I will go, and all the remedy,  
That's left, attempt; I'll move each deity  
That rules in Floods, and beg the Ocean's King  
By Tethys, on the waves one storm to fling.  
No sooner said, but she the god espied,  
Who from Oceanus crowned boards arrived.  
The cheering Nectar in his looks yet shined:  
At whose approach, the storms, with every wind,  
Were all in silence hushed; and round by him,  
Sounding their wreathed shells, the Tritons swim:  
The shoals of Whales, like moving Rocks, make way,  
And round their King, the crooked Dolphines' play.  
He, raised above the quiet Ocean, rides,  
And with his Trident his yoked Horses guides:  
They with their crooked tails the Chariot row,  
And from their breasts the foaming surges throw.   

To whom sad Thetis said, Great Ocean's King,  
Dost thou not see thy waves assistance bring  
To strange designs? The guilty safely go,  
Since Sea's reserved rights were slighted so  
By the bold Jason: His example left  
See by these followed, both in crime and theft:  
And from the friendly shores an unjust prey  
By the rash Judge of Ida's born away.  
Ah me! what mournings shall this cause to be  
In heaven and earth! and what, alas, to me!  
Is this a Foster-child's return? This way  
Will Venus for her Phrygian Garland pay?  
At least overwhelm these ships, (for in the throng,  
No Heroes, nor our Theseus goes along)  
If any justice yet in waves can be;  
Or else commit the power of storms to me.  
Nor is't ungentle, while 'tis just that I  
Fear for a child. Let the mad waves swell high:  
Nor suffer me from Floods to take my leave,  
Only by his affected Tomb to grieve.   

Thus begging, she before the Chariot stood,  
With scattered hair. The Ruler of the Flood  
Invites her up, and strives such words to find,  
As might appease her sad afflicted mind.   

Ask not their ruin, Thetis: 'tis in vain,  
The gods and Fates do otherwise ordain.  
Sad years to come with slaughters are decreed  
By Jove, Europe and Asia both must bleed.  
What triumphs shalt thou have in Phrygian plains,  
To see thy son there feed the funeral flames?  
When he the Trojan fields shall slain with blood,  
And with like slaughters cram the blushing Flood?  
Great Hector's weight shall make his Chariot slow,  
Those walls we raised his hand shall overthrow.  
Nor grieve that thou hast stooped to Peleus' love,  
The Son thou hast by him is worthy Jove.  
Nor shalt thou unrevenged for ever mourn,  
When they return thy power shall raise a storm:  
False flames by night, shall Caphareus then show,  
And joynt-revenge we'll on Ulysses throw;   

At this, she hung those looks that did incline,  
To raise a storm; and changing the design  
With labouring arms to Thessaly she swims,  
And on those shores she rests her snowy limbs.  
The mountains joy, with that much loved place,  
Where Peleus did the goddess first embrace;  
Above his banks the swelled Sperchios' rose,  
Joyed whilst his stream about the goddess flows.  
She took no joy in all, but still oppressed  
With the sad fancies of her careful breast.  
Thus filled with busy thoughts the goddess then,  
Approacheth to the aged Chirons den;  
Under the rock, where Pelion doth incline  
Like a bend bow: so wrought by Art and Time.  
Still here the signs remained, where, at their feasts,  
The beds were pressed by the immortal guests,  
Which in the stables of the Centaur stood,  
Not like the rest of the prodigious brood.  
His darts unstained with human cruelties,  
Never did he with vast subverted trees.  
Or massy bowls, disturb the genial crew,  
Only at Beasts, his guiltless arrows flew.  
But now by age disarmed, with herbs he tries  
To restore life her tired faculties:  
Or to Achilles, all the glorious things,  
Farned Heroes did, upon his harp he sings.  
'Gainst whose return from his pursued game,  
The boards are crowned; and with the kindled flame  
The cave grows bright, whilst thus he did provide,  
Looking for him, his Mother he espied.  
To her he hasts, (while strength his gladness yields)  
And trots upon the long unused fields.  
To her he bows his aged Limbs, and then,  
Leads the sad goddess to his humble den.  
Her busy eye, that would not be delayed,  
Quickly views all, as soon to Chiron said;   

Where is my pledge! or why do you thus trust,  
My child alone? Are my sad dreams then just?  
Those dreadful visions which the gods have set  
Before mine eyes, I wish as vain as great.  
My breast seems wounded now; my hands, to bear  
The signs of strokes; wild beast's, my bosom tear.  
And many times I fancy in my dreams,  
Again I dip my child in Stygian streams.  
With Magic art, at last a way I've got,  
To cure my fears, by the kind Proteus taught:  
The Youth must be to those fit parts conveyed,  
For such designs, in secret billows laid.  
Where horrid sacrifices are to th' hid,  
And unknown gods, But more I am forbid.  
These rites demand him now: Thus Thetis said:  
The aged Chiron else had not obeyed,  
If he had known what garments once should hide  
The youth. But ignorant he thus replied;  
Pursue, kind goddess, this unknown design:  
With humble vows th' ungentle powers incline.  
Not thy ambitious prayers can succeed,  
To please the envious gods, nor would I breed  
New fears in thee; but I confess my share,  
Nor yet deceived by a Father's care:  
'Tis his vast strength, that thus procures my fears,  
Which shows too early for his tender years.  
At first, my threatening words he would obey,  
Nor would too far about the mountains stray.  
Not Ossa now, nor Pelion can contain  
His wander, nor Thessalian feathered rain.  
To me the Centaurs often make their moan,  
Forced from their Herds, pursued by him alone,  
Who singly dares with all their troops engage,  
Whilst force and fraud they threaten in their rage.  
Lately I saw Alcides on this shore,  
And Jheseus, whom the Argive ship than bore.  
But see, he comes,— At this abruptly stayed,  
Th' expecting goddess chilling fears invade.   

The Youth arrived, loaded with dust and sweat,  
And wearied with his arms and labours; yet.  
His snowy looks, the rosy blushes stained;  
His hair the shining Gold with glittering shamed.  
Upon his cheelis no Down yet seemed to rise:  
A gentle lustre in his sparkling eyes  
Still shined; his face those charming beauties wore,  
Which his admired Mother had before.  
So shows young Phoebus, when he doth retire  
From Lycia, and for shafts assumes his lyre.  
By chance he came in pleased, (O how much more  
It added to what was so well before!)  
For under Pholoe in a Cave he slew  
A Lioness, and took the young ones too,  
Which in his arms he bore. But the loved prey,  
At his dear mother's sight he threw away;  
By Chiron now embraced, and then again  
Doth in his mother's jealous arms remain;  
When straight his dearest friend Patroclus came,  
In love and age his equal; and the same  
Assayed in generous Arts to imitate,  
Yet short in strength, but shared an equal fate.  
The next adjacent stream Achilles seeks,  
And with the River cleansed his sullied cheeks.  
So tired Castor in Eurota's streams  
Restores his looks, bright as his new Star's beams.  
Pleased Chiron on his fair proportion stairs.  
The joy that Thetis took made great her cares.  
The Centaur than invites them to his Feast,  
And fills Lyaeus to his troubled guest.  
His Harp to welcome Thetis he prepares,  
Whose charming notes lessen the weight of cares.  
And having gently tried the warbling strings,  
He gives it to Aeacides, who sings.  
The acts of Heroes; how great Juno's spleen  
Vanquished so oft by Hercules had been;  
The Victories of Pollux; and how too  
The monstrous Minotaur famed Theseus slew.  
Lastly, great Peleus, and his Mother's love  
He sung, the Marriage graced by those above.  
At this, sad Thetis seemed to force a a smile.  
Night now laid on her heavy charms the while.  
Achilles' the kind Centaur's shoulder took,  
And his affecting Mother's breast forsaken.    

ANNOTATIONS On the first Book of STATIUS his ACHILLEISS.  
2. AN issue feared by heaven's thundering King.] When Jove sought the marriage of Thetis, he was told by Proteus, that the issue that came from Thetis should exceed the father who begot it: At which, mistrusting his own Omnipotency, he left his Love to keep Heaven. The Fable is thus rendered by the incomparable Sandys, Metamorph. 11.  
For aged Proteus thus foretold the truth,  
To wave-wet Thetis, thou shalt bear a Youth,  
Greater than him from whom he took his birth  
In Arms and Fame. Lest any thing on earth  
Should be more great than Jove, Jove shuns the bed  
Of Sea-throned Thetis, though her beauty led  
His strong desires: Who bids Aeacides  
Succeed his Love, and wed the Queen of Seas.  
6. Scyros.] An Island of the Aegean Sea, one of the Cycladeses, over against Peloponnesus, (as Strabo, l. 10. relateth) having a Town of the same name; famous most, in being the place where Achilles lived disguised. See Servius and Sabinus on Virgil's Aen. 2.  
7. Not of dragged Hector, etc.] Statius here proposeth his design, to sing the acts of Achilles only from his infancy, which Homer had omitted, justly presenting the death of Hector for all his Victories; whose fate was Troy's ruin. Senec. Troad. v. 185.  
Aut cum superbo victor in curru stetit,  
Egitque habenas, Hectorem & Trojam trahens.  
Or when the Conqueror did his Horse's guide,  
And Troy which Hector at his Chariot tied.  
For Achilles having killed him, tied him to his Chariot, and dragged him thrice round the walls of Troy, as Homer, Iliad 22. Which unwelcome sight Aeneas saw painted at Carthage, Virg. Aen. 2. 487.  
Ter circum Iliacoes raptaver at Hectora muros,  
Examinumque auro corpus vendebat Achilles.  
Tum verò ingentem gemitum dat pectore ab imo,  
Vt spolia, ut currus, utque ipsum corpus amici,  
Tendentemque manus Priamum conspexit inermes.  
About Troy's walls Hector's dead body thrice  
Achilles dragged, and sold it for a price.  
Then from the bottom of his breast he drew  
A grief-expressing sigh, his friend to view,  
His Spoils and Charior, and how Priam stands  
Begging with his erected aged hands.  
12. With sacred fillets bound.] These were Ornaments for the Priests heads; in Latin, Vittae. Hence Juvenal Sat. 4. of the Vestal Virgin, Vittate Sacerdos. And Virgil thus presenteth Anius, Aen. 3. 80.  
Rex Anius, Rex idem hominum Phoebique Sacerdos,  
Vittis & sacra redimitus tempora lauro.  
Anius a King and Priest, his Temples bound  
With sacred Fillets, and with Laurel crowned.  
The Title of Priest was anciently conferred on Kings, as Casaubon, on Suetonius in Augusto, delivereth from Aristotle, Polit. 3. and Synesius, Epist. 121. by reason that the Government of all Commonwealths consisted in Ecclesiastical Ceremonies, and Political Laws; the care of both which belonged to Kings. Hence Augustus was created chief Priest, that all kinds of power might be in him. And as Servius observeth (on Aen. 3. 80.) the style of Pontifex Max. was still assumed by the succeeding Emperors; as may also be seen in the Inscriptions of the Caesars at the end of Suetonius, set forth by Schildius 1651. Poets called themselves Phoebus' Priests; so Tibullus and Protertius frequently. Hereupon Statius here dresseth himself with Priestly Ornaments.  
13. Witness those Theban fields, etc.] Our Poet here intimateth his Poem of the Theban-War: So that hence, and by the ensuing Compliment to Domitius it is clear, that this was Statius his second Work, and his Silvae the last. To his Thebans, with confidence enough, he here promiseth as lasting a fame, as Thebes could give Amphion the son of Jupiter and Antiope, who having (as Pliny saith, l 7. c. 56.) found out the use of the Harp, handled it so harmoniously, that he made stones come of their own accord to raise the Walls of Thebes. Senec. Theb. act. 4.  
— nulla quas struxit manus,  
Sed convocatus vocis & citharae sono  
Per se ipse turres venit in summas lapis.  
Raised by no labouring workman's hands, but brings  
With his harmonious voice and charming strings  
The willing stones together, which compose  
Themselves, and into lofty Towers rose.  
Some join his brother Zethus with him in the business. So Palaephatus, who reducing the Fable to a seeming truth, saith, The two Brothers admitted their Auditors to their Music, on condition, that every one should afford his assistance to the Building. A far truer Mythology is glanced at by Horace, De arte Poet. v. 391.  
Silvestres homines sacer interpresque Deorum  
Caedibus & victu foedo deterruit Orpheus,  
Dictus ob hoc lenire Tigres rabidosque Leones.  
Dictus & Amphion Thebanae conditor arcis  
Saxa movere sono restu●inis, & prece blandâ  
Ducere quò vellet.  
Orpheus' inspired from gods, first rude men brought  
From loving blood and slaughters; hence was thought  
Fierce Lions and wild Tigers to have tamed.  
And so Amphion with his Harp was famed  
To raise the Theban walls, and at his choice  
To move deaf stones with his admired voice.  
So perhaps the Fable arose, from his reducing a savage people to live under a form of Government; and for their safety (than which, no argument can be more prevalent) persuading them to compass in their City with a Wall. And herein, in my opinion, he was much more judicious than Lycurgus and Agesilaus, who believed the breasts of valiant Citizen's defence enough. And so also thinketh Plato, l. 6. De leg. For these reasons, Orpheus was said to have made wild beasts gentle, and Amphionto have moved stones, that is, men of savage lives and obdurate natures. Macrobius in Somn. Scip. l. 2. c. 3. keepeth closer to the Fable; for setting forth the excellencies of Music, he saith, That from it, the universal Soul of the world took its original; and that by it therefore all men, not only the civil, but the barbarous also, are either animated to virtue, or dissolved into pleasure; quia anima in corpus defert memoriam Musicae, cujus in caelo fuit conscia; Because the soul, though in the body, still retaineth a memory of that harmony which it enjoyed in heaven. And hence he conceiveth the Fables of Orpheus and Amphion had their Original. See Clemens Alexandr. Admonit. ad Gentes, p. 2. Amphion's excellency proved his ruin: For contemning Latena, by her revenge he saw all his children slain, and at the last added himself to the number. Sandys Ovid's Metam. l. 6.  
For sad Amphion wounding his own breast,  
Had now his sorrow with his soul released.  
13. Trojan Swain] This title is usually given to Paris, by reason he was brought up among the shepherds. The story is thus, Hecuba being great with Paris, dreamt, she should bring forth a flame that should consume Troy, Cic. l, 1. de divinat. Whereupon Priam consulted the Oracle; and being told, his Queen should bear a son, who should be the Incendiary of his Country, he gave order the child should be destroyed. But Hecuba desirous to preserve her Infant, conveyed him to mount Ida to be bred up among the shepherds. Where at length, being grown up, he pretended love to Oenone, and made every Tree witness of his Amours; as the Nymph is made to complain by Ovid in her Epistle to Paris.  

Incisae servant à te mea nomina fagi;  
Et legor OENONE falce notata tuâ.  
Et quantum trunci, tantùm mea nomina crescunt:  
Crescite, & in titulos surgite ritè meos.  
Populus est (memini) fluviali confita ripâ,  
Est in qua nostrî litera scripta memor  
Popule, vive, precor, quae consita margine ripae  
Hoc in rugoso cortice carmen habes.   

COME PARISH OENONE POTERIT SPIRARE RELICTA,  
AD FONTEM XANTHI VERSA RECURRET AQUA.  
Xanthe, retre propera, versaeque recurrite Lymphae:  
Sustinet Oenonen deseruisse Paris.   

My name's preserved on every wounded Tree:  
Their bark OENONE bears engraved by thee.  
Whilst they increase, my names enlarged grow;  
To bear those titles may they still do so.  
A Poplar grows, where crystal billows glide,  
And shows those Letters carved on its side.  
Long may it live unprejudiced by years,  
Whose rugged rind this false Inscription bears,  
If Paris leave Oenone, yet not die,  
Xanthus shall backward to his fountain fly.  
Haste back, ye charged Streams, for Paris flies  
His loved Oenone once, and yet not dies.   
His casting off this Nymph was occasioned by the three goddesses repairing to him, about determining their controversy, as Oenone in the following Verses complaineth. Each goddess endeavoured to bribe the Judge, Juno, by promising him Empire, Pallas, Wiscom; Venus, Pleasure. This last was pronounced the fairest, and went away with the golden Apple: And in requital, she directeth her Umpire to receive his promised reward in the fair Helen: Whom having seen he loved, and ravished from Sparta, where he had been kindly entertained. Coluthus and others say, He had her consent; but Seneca, Troad. v. 917. bringeth her on the Stage excusing herself, by pleading Enforcement: And Gorgias, in his defence of Helen, saith, Venus commanded her to sister the Trojan to enjoy her. Others say, that Paris being sent to demand Hesione, the daughter of Laomedon, whom Hercules had carried from Troy, had order given him. That, in case the Greeks refused to deliver her, he should ravish from them whatsoever considerable Lady he could light on. So Dares Phrygius, who reporteth also, That Antenor was first sent to fetch home Hesione, but returned without her; and that all the Grecian Princes denied to make any satisfaction. Yet that Hector's advice was not to revenge the Rape, by warring against their potent Confederates. And that afterwards Paris having received that encouragement from Venus, undertook the Voyage; and, by chance, arrived at the Island Cythera, at a time when Helen was there, in a Town bearing her name: Who had no sooner heard of the Trojan Prince's arrival, but she had a desire to see him: And so they being both enamoured of one another, Paris took her that night after his arrival, out of Venus' Temple, and brought her with him to Troy. And thus he proved that Firebrand his mother dreamt of, kindling a flame that burned Troy to ashes.  
24. Laeonian.] The Poet's word is Oebalio, from Oebalus a King of Laconia, a region of Peloponnesus, bordering on Messenia, Argia, and Arcadia, Strabo lib. 8. Pausanias, in Arcadicis, saith, it is divided from part of Arcadia, by the River Alpbeus▪ In this Country, stood Lacedaemon, on the West side of Eurotas, beneath the Mountain Taygetus: Strabo, l. 8. Polybius, lib. 5. But the proper name of the City was Sparta; Lacedaemon being more commonly used for the Province, so called from a King of that name, who sometimes reigned there, and married Sparta the daughter of Eurotas, whose name the City received. To the Lacedæmonians, Jonathan High Priest of the Jews wrote a Letter; saying, It was found in writing, that the Lacedæmonians and the Jews were brethren, and that they were of the stock of Abraham, 1 Macc. 12. 21. Joseph, Antiq. l. 13. c. 8.  
27. Upon those streams, etc.] i. e. the Hellespont, which is not past eight furlongs over, as Pliny testifieth; About thirty miles below Gallipoli, it is not above half a mile over, as Sir Henry Blunt in his Travels relateth. This Straight parteth Europe from Asia: On Europe's side, standeth Sestus; on Asia's, Abydus, Towns famous by the Loves of Hero and Leander, sung by that sweet Poet, whom Virgil giveth the preminence to, in the Elysian fields, Aen. 6. Leander perished in these streams, yet having his wishes Crowned; as Marshal representeth him in this Epigram.  
cum peteret dulces audax Leandrus amores,  
Et fessus tumidis jam premeretur aquis:  
Sic miser instantes affatus dicitur undas,  
Parcite dum propero, mergite dum 〈◊〉.  
When bold Leander through the billows sought,  
Love's joys, his arms now almost overwrought  
With waves, he cried, Now spare me gentle Main,  
And let me sink as I return again.  
But his Hero survived but a while; For the next morning, seeing his dead body floating on the Waves, from the top of her Tower, she threw herself into them. Nor less memorable is this narrow Sea, for the bridges of Boats, that Xerxes made over it: The former of which being broken by a sudden tempest, the vain King scourged the disobedient waves, and cut off the heads of the Workmen; and then caused another to be made with stronger ties, Heredot. P●lymniâ. The same Author reporteth of Xerxes, that taking a view of his Land forces, that filled the shores and the plains, and of his Navy, that covered the Hellespont; He sadly wept to think, that within an hundred years, not a man of all that multitude should be living. So many they were, that Juvenal scoffingly said, Sat. 10.  
— Credimus altos  
Defecisse amnes, epotáque flumina Medo  
Prandente, & madidis cantat quae Softratus alis.  
Ille tamen qualis rediit Salamine relictâ,  
In Corum atque Eurum solitus saevire flagellis  
Barbarus, Aeolio nunquam hoc in carcere passos?  
Sed qualis rediit? nempe unâ nave cruentis  
Fluctibus, ac tardâ per densa cadavera prorâ.  
We have believed deep Rivers could not find,  
Liquor for Xerxes' army, while they dined;  
Things sung by Softratus, well drenched with wine.  
Yet he that so returned from Salamine,  
Once scourged the winds, because they rudely blew:  
Which in th' Aeolian caves they never knew.  
But how was his return? In one small boat,  
Which could but slowly for dead bodies float.  
So Justine, lib. 2. Erat res spectaculo digna, & aestimatione sortis humanae, rerum varietate, miranda; in exiguo latentem videre navigio quem paulò antè vix aequor 〈◊〉 capiebat. Thus the Hellespont hath the greatest part of its fame, from the misfortunes of two kind Lovers, and one proud Prince; It received its name from Helle, daughter of Athamas, King of Thebes, who fearing the treacheries of her Mother in Law, fled with Phryxus her Brother, and with him was, here drowned. Lucian, Dialogo Neptuni & Nereidum, saith, she fell into the water by reason of a Vertigo that took her on the sudden: And Hesiod, troubled with such another, saith, she was married to Neptune, of whom he begat Paeon.  
37. What Proreus told] This was a Sea-God, famous for his prophesying, and for the power he had to change his shape at his pleasure; Ovid Metamorph, l. 2. v. 9 and lib. 8. v. 737. Virgil, Georg. 4. 388. Hygin. fab. 118. He foretell Thetis, that her Son should be killed in the Trojan War: Which prophecy gave the argument to the ensuing story. This Proteus was King of Egypt, Seru. in Aeneid. 11. and, perhaps, got this fame of transforming himself by his using, still to alter his temper and disposition, suitably to his affairs and occasions; From the like ground, sprung the fame of Herculeae labours, achieved with unimitable strength and valour. Proteus was also called Hercules, as Servius affirmeth on that of Virgil, Aen. 11. 262.  Atreides Protei Menelaus ad usque columnas, Exulat. 
Those Columns having been wholly attributed to Hercules, are there set for the bounds of Egypt.  
40. Ionian] Over the Ionian sea, many auxiliaries came to assist the Greeks against Troy. This Sea took its name from jon son of Dyrrhachius, whom Hercules having by mischance slain, that he might make him some amends by perpetuating his memory, threw him into this Sea; Others allege different reasons, but none worth setting down: Formerly, as Pausanias saith, it was accounted part of the Adriatic. But Ptolemy, in his description of Macedon, attributeth that part of the Adriatic which washeth Macedonia on the East, to the Ionian. But Pliny, lib. 3. c. 6. more rightly divideth these two Seas, by the Ceraunian, or (as Horace, lib. 1. Carm. Od. 3. v. 20. calleth them) Acroceraunian mountains: From which the Ionian Sea reacheth to the promontory of Malea.  
¶ Aegean billows] A Sea between Asia and Greece, full of Islands called Cyclades and Sporades; of as uncertain Etymology, as the Ionian. Most say, it had its name from Aegeus, the father of Theseus: Who going to fight the Minotaur, was charged, if he got the victory, to give notice thereof at his return by a white sail; But he forgetting so to do, his Father, from his Tower seeing the ship coming without the token of success, gave his Son for lost, and for grief cast himself into the Sea. But some derive the name from Aege, a Queen of the Amazons; Strabo, from Aegae, a Sea-Town in Eubaea, Servius in Aen. 3. calleth that the Aegean, which is between the Hellespont and the Adriatic; others, that between the Hellespont, and Tenedus. It is now named the Archipelago.  
41. All the sworn Greeks, which the Atrides got] i. e. Menelaus and Agamemnon, called Atridae, from Atreus, their supposed father. But they were indeed the sons of Philisthenes, and only bred by Atreus their Uncle; These two Brethren, to revenge the injury done by Paris, having assembled the whole strength of Greece at Aulis, bound them all by an Oath, to see Troy ruined, or never to return, Seru. in Aen. 4. as will also appear in the third book of this Poem. Thucydides, lib. 1. glanceth at the reason of the unanimous consent of the Greeks, to punish the rape of Helen, viz. an Oath by which Tyndarus had obliged all that came Suitors to his daughter, that they should revenge whatsoever wrong should be done to him that should enjoy her; But he rather believeth, that Agamemnon being heir to the houses of Perseus and Pelops, and (as Homer styleth him) King of many Islands, was the chief cause of the Expedition. The account of the ships in this Fleet, is various in several Authors; Dictys Cretensis maketh them, 1138. Dares, 1140. Homer, 1193. our Author here, with a Poetical carelessness, reckoneth them but 1000 So Seneca, in Agamemnon, and Virgil, Aen. 2.  
Talibus insidiis, perjurique arte Sinonis,  
Credita res: captique dolis lacrimisque coactis,  
Quos neque Tydides', nec Larissaeus Achilles;  
Non anni domuêre decem, non mille carinae.  
Thus they themselves, made captives by belief  
Of Sinon's perjured fraud and feigned grief.  
Not Diomedes, nor Aeacides prevails,  
Nor ten years' War, nor yet their thousand fails.  
Thucydides saith, the number of the Soldiers was not great: But by an indifferent judgement on his own words, the 1200 ships, as he numbereth them, carried 102000 men; a number in my opinion, not to be made so slight of. Some, as Dion Chrysostomus, have made a question, whether there ever was such a War; although it hath employed the pens of Homer, Dares Phrygius, Dyctis Cretensis, Lycephron with his Scholiast, and Josephus Iscanius, and hath been believed by so many Authors in succeeding ages. That a siege should continue ten whole years, seemed ridiculous to some; but Thucydides, lib. 1. initio, giveth a reason for it: Others have conceived, and our late Travellers have also observed, that a potent King could not reign in so inconsiderable a place. Neither do the ruins give testimony of an ample and famous City; And though there never were such a War, yet is it not to be wondered at, that so many have reported it, and that more have believed it: since the report of falsehoods, especially, when favoured by an ancient pen, gaineth belief, either because it cannot be disproved, or because the crediting of it saveth pains. Besides, things are seldom examined or disputed, where interest is not concerned.  
44. On Pelion bred, in Chiron's den] Pelion is a mountain of Thessaly, in the Territory of Magnesia, joining to the mountain Ossa: Herodot. lib. 7. In mount Pelion, was the Cave of Chiron; who (as the rest of the Centauris) was like an Horse behind, but forward like a Man: S. Ifidore, lib. 4. holdeth that he was so represented, quia medicinam jumentorum quidam Chiron Graecus invenit, because he found out medicines for beasts. And he was named Chiron, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, because he was a Chirurgeon; Suidas saith, he was the son of Ixion, and the Cloud, as the others Centaurs also were: whom Virgil, Aen. 6. placeth in Stables in hell. But he is generally said, to have been the son of Saturn, and Phillyra: So Pindar, Pyth. odd. 4. And Virgil, lib. 3. Georg v 550. Phillyrides Chiron. according to the custom of the Greeks, who were wont to give the Parent's names to the children; Servins, on the place affirmeth the same: This Chiron, the justest of all the Centauris, as Statius representeth him, was Master not only to Achilles, but to Hercules also, Jason, Aesculapius, Castor, and others, (Apollon. Argonaut. lib. 3.) Hermippus styleth him, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Centaurum sapientem, in Clemens Alexandrinus, Strom. lib. 1. He first taught men to love justice, showing the sacred Rites of the gods, the figures and natures of the heavenly bodies; His reputation was so great, that some of the Achaians sacrificed to him, as Eusebius writeth, lib. 4. Prepar. Evang. citing Monimus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. A poisoned arrow of Hercules, by chance wounding Chiron's foot, he desired death, but could not obtain it, being the issue of immortal parents; At last, Jupiter advanced him to be a sign in Heaven, called Sagittariks.  Armatúsque arcu Chiron. 
Virgil, de XII Signis. So Seneca, Thyestes. act. 4: Lucian, in his Dialogue between Menippus and Chiron, maketh Chiron give another reason, Why he was out of Love with immortality here; Because this life wanteth variety, and is nothing but the repetition, and doing again and again, of the same things: And he promised himself in the other World, to be free from Thirst and Hunger, and whatsoever begetteth care. And though Lucian maketh Menippus advise the Centaur, not to feed himself with hopes of that nature; yet we may have a better opinion of his wishes, having more knowledge of the joys of the next life, and enough of this to be of Plutarch's mind, Consolat. ad Apollonium.  
Terra malis scatet, adversis pelagusque redundat.  
O Mors, veni nostris certus medicus malis,  
Qui portus humanis es tempestatibus.  Aeschylus, ibid. 
The Earth hath no such plenty as her woes;  
The Ocean too with misery overflows.  
Come, Death, thou cure of all this misery,  
The Port where all from storms securely lie.  
62. The Tritons swim.] These by the Poets are commonly called Neptune's Trumpeters, and were the issue of him and Salacia, Servius in Aeneid. 1. That excellent Trumpeter Misenus oweth his death to the malice of a Triton, Aen. 6. v. 170.  
Se● tum forte cava dum personat aequora concha  
Demens, & cantu vocat in certamina Divos,  
Aemulus exceptum Triton (si credere dignum est)  
Inter saxa virum spumosa immerserat unda.  
But on a Rock whilst he by chance the charms  
Of Mars rung out, and all the gods alarms  
With the loud challenge from his wreathed shell,  
(If it be worth belief what others tell)  
Whirled by an envious Triton from that height,  
Among the rocks and waves he found his fate.  
So Virgil, Aen 10. v. 209. Ovid, Metam. l. 1. v. 333. and Claudian, de Nuptiis Honorii & Mariae, give Triton the character of Neptuue's Trumpeter, Seneca Troad. act. 2. Triton cecinit hymenaeum; that is, with his shell or trumpet; for none ascribe human voice to a Triton. Pliny, lib. 9 c. 5. saith, The Emperor Tiberius was told, That a Triton was seen in a cave winding a shell. Gillius, in Additionib. ad Aelian, and Alexander ab Alex. lib. 3. cap. 8. relate, That there was a Fountain near the Seashore, frequently used by the Inhabitants, whence women and virgins fetched water daily; which a Triton, that lay hid on the shore, espying, on a sudden ravished one of them, which his hot fancy had most liking to: And that afterwards, he being caught in a snare and imprisoned, died for grief. The same Author reporteth, that one Trapezuntius, to whom he affordeth a fair character, told some friends, That he had seen a Maid of an exceeding beauty playing in the Sea, and ever and anon from the middle upward appearing above the water, till at length perceiving she was discovered, she plunged herself into the Deep. Claudius' the Emperor, by a device, made a Triton appear in the middle of a Lake, rising out of the water, and sounding a Trumpet, Sueton. in Claudio, c. 21. Which spectacle was afteward commonly showed in the theatres, as Casaubon on that place relateth.  
73. By the bold Jason.] Statius here glanceth at the story of Jason's ravishing Medea with the golden Fleece, comparing that act of his with this of Paris. Jason was the first who violated the Sea's reserved rights, as Seneca Medea, act. 3. chor. ult. It was the opinion formerly, that Seas were set as bounds, to confine every man within his own Country, and that no man's ambition should aim at more than the higher powers had placed him in. This among others Seneca Hippol. act. 2. maketh an argument of the innocency of the Ancients.  
Nondum secabant credulae pontum rates:  
Sua quisque nôrat maria.  
No venturous ship, trusted the waves or wind:  
But all men were with their own Seas confined.  
76. By the rash Judge of Ida.] Paris, whose judgement is accused of rashness, because he preferred Pleasure before Wisdom or Empire; and because his fond choice was his country's ruin, Horat. lib. 3. Carm. Od. 3.  
— Ilium, Ilium  
Fatal is incestusque judex  
Et mulier peregrina verti●  
In pulverem.  
Troy by a fatal Judge's lust,  
And a strange Woman, turned to dust.  
So Seneca, Troad. act. 1. calleth him, The fatal Judge. Wherefore our Poet justly giveth him here the title of a rash one. For any thing that is fatal, is hardly to be freed from the imputation of Rashness.  
79. A Foster-child.] Venus: who was bred of the Ocean, as Hesiod in Theog. and Pausanias in Corinthiacis, relate. By Seneca, Hippol. act. 1. she is called Diva generata ponto. This was the greatest reason that Leander encouraged himself withal, to swim over the Hellespont. Musoeus vers. 248. 
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉;  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
— why dost thou fear the waves?  
knowst thou not Venus from the Sea first came,  
Mistress both of the Ocean and my flame?  Servius in Aen. 5. writeth, that Venus was therefore said to be born of the Sea, quia dicunt Physici sudorem salsum esse, quem semper elicit coitus Hence the Myrtle was consecrated to Venus, because that Tree prospereth best on the Seashore. Like this is that of Coelius Rhodiginus, lib. 14. c 4. Lascivos Graeci 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 vocant i. e. humidos, etc. because venereal appetites proceed from moisture. Hence Poets took occasion to feign, that Venus sprung from the Ocean. Caspar Bartholinus Adversar. l. 21. c. 22. giveth this Mythology, Eam Fabulam aliquando arbitratus sum exinde venire, quòd Venus prima questûs faciendi causâ corpus prostituit, velut insatiabile pelagus omnes ad se trahens. I was sometimes of opinion, saith he, that the Fable arose from hence, Because Venus was the first who prostituted her body for hire, like an insatiable Sea attracting all to her. More of Venus is to be seen in Gyraldus, Histor. Deor. Syntagm. 13. Turnebus 9 Adversar. c. 2. Natalis Comes, Mytholog lib. 4. c. 13. Fulgentius, Mythol. l. 2. But above all, I prefer the Interpretation of the Fable which Macrobius giveth, Saturnal. lib. 1. c. 8. That by the secret parts of Coelus, which were cut off by his son Saturn, and thrown into the Sea, and of the froth whereof Venus was engendered, were meant the seeds of things falling from Heaven, as soon as there was such a thing as Time; which Saturn is always held-to signify. And by Coelus nothing can be understood but COELUM, Heaven; Servius in Aen. 5. denying, that the proper name of any god can be of the Neuter Gender. Cicero lib. 3. De nat. Deor. telleth us of four Venus'; one the daughter of Coelus and Light; another of the Froth of the Sea, of whom, and Mercury, Cupid was begotten; a third of Jupiter and Dione the wife of Vulcan; the fourth of Syrus and Syria. This last was married to Adonis, and her the Syrians named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the Hebrews Ashteroth, 1 King. 11. 5. Judg. 2. 13. And as Tully reckoneth many Venus', so, as Mr. Selden saith, De Diis Syris syntagm. 2. c 2. St. Augustine interpreteth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as if there were many Astartes. This goddess had many sacrifices offered to her, Alexand. ab Alexandro, l. 3. c. 12. and from thence had her name, Ashtaroth signifying greges: Suspiceris (saith Scaliger in Conjectaneis) dictam eam à Victimarum multitudine. She was entitled also, The goddess of Love, or rather of Lasciviousness. Clemens Alexandrinus telleth us, that once all her pictures were made after the likeness of Phryne, a famous Whore, and that the man who, like another Pygmelton, could embrace the statue of the goddess, conceited himself religious, Admon. ad Gentes: where he also setteth down her lascivious Ceremonies. Mr. Gregory writing of the Assyrian Monarchy, relateth, that there was a custom, that every woman should once in her life repair to the Temple of Venus, and there prostitute her body to any one that would throw her down a piece of money, which was to be given to the Temple, and to the honour of the goddess. The manner was for the women to sit down in the Temple, distinguished by little lines or cords, which he that had a mind might take away, or break, if the woman seemed coy, and so take the strumpet out of the Temple into a by corner. This is expressed in the Epistle ascribed to Jeremy, at the end of Baruch, v. 43. The woman also with cords about them fitting in the ways, burn bran for perfume; but if any of them, drawn by some that passeth by, lie with him, she reproacheth her fellow, that she was not thought as worthy as herself, nor her cord broken. Such attendants this goddess had as we read, 2 King. 23. 7. And he broke down the houses of the Sodomites that were by the house of the Lord, where the women wove hangings for the Grove. This place Mr. Selden interpreteth thus, Diruit quoque domos scortatorum— ubi mulieres texebant cortinas pro Aserah, seu luco. Of which, see his De Diis Syris, Synt. 2. c. 2. & 4. pag. 237. & 283. Thus far I have digressed, to show the antiquity of this lascivious goddess; which was not the production only of fictious brains. Nor is it to be wondered at, that a thing so loathsome and ridiculous should meet with adoration; for the whole Religion of the Gentiles is so contrived, as to agree with licentious appetites. Which easy way to propagate a novelty, Mahomet well understood; nor is it now wholly unpractised.  
88 By his affected tomb to grieve] Thetis here expresseth a passion, so great for her Son, that if his fate, as soretold, should be to perish in the Trojan War, she would leave the Ocean, and ever mourn in those waves, that should wash the place of his Sepulchre: And that was the Sigean promontory. There Alexander the Great performed ceremonies in his memory, declaring him happy, who in his life enjoyed such a friend as Patroclus, and after death, doth still live by Homer: Plutarch, in Alexandro. Cicero Epist. ad famil. l. 5. cp. 12.  
107. Caphareus.] Neptune being forced by the cross decrees of the Fates to deny Thetis petitioning for a storm against the Greeks, to appease her somewhat, telleth her, that the Trojans should be ruined by the valour of her son, and herself be revenged on the Greeks at Caphareus, who should there suffer shipwreck. Whereof the Tragedian thus.  
— Hanc arcem occupat  
Palamedis ille genitor, & clarum manu  
Lumen nefanda vertice è summo efferens,  
In saxa ducit perfidâ classem face.  
Haerent acutis rupibus fixae rates.  
Upon whose summit Nauplius stood, and raised  
In his revenging hand a Light that blazed.  
Whose treacherous flame the navy guides betwixt  
The wracking Rocks, whose points the vessels fixed.  Seneca Agamemn. act. 3. v. 557. 
Nauplius' grudge against the Greeks, arose from this occasion; Ulysses having charged Palamedes, for holding correspondence with Priam, and writing letters to him, discovered, as a proof of his Treachery, an heap of Gold in his Tent, which he before hand had closely conveyed thither. Whereupon, innocent Palamedes was stoned to death, Seru. in Aen. 2. Dictys Cretensis, and Dares Phrygius, give other accounts of him: Dares, that he was killed by Paris, lib. oe excidio Trojano; Dictys, that Diomedes and Ulysses, overwhelmed him with stones in a well, whither he, suspecting no foul play, went down to fetch up Treasure, which they told him was hid there, and he should have his share of it, lib. 2. Caphareus is an high Hill in Eubaea, overlooking the Hellespont: On the top of this, Nauplius caused fires to be made by night, to allure the weatherbeaten Greeks to fall upon the Rocks, that so he might revenge his son's death upon them.  
108. Joynt-revenge] Neptune promiseth Thetis to join with her against Ulysses. His quarrel with him, was upon the account of his son Polypheme, whose eye Ulysses had bored out: Which story is thus related by Achaemenides, to Aeneas, Aen. 3.  
— Domus sanie dapibúsque cruentis,  
Intus opaca, ingens. Ipse arduus, altáque pulsat  
Sidera (Dii talem terris avertite pestem!)  
Nec visu facilis, nec dictu affabilis ulli;  
Visceribus miserorum & sanguine vescitur atro,  
Vidi egomet, duo de numero cum corpora nostro,  
Pr'ensa manu magna, medio resupinus in antro  
Frangeret ad saxum, sanieque adspersa natarent  
Limina: vidi, atro cum membra fluentia tabo  
Mandere●, & trepidi tremerent sub dentibus artus.  
Haud impunè quidem: nec talia passus Ulysses,  
Oblitusve suî est Ithacus discrimine tanto.  
Nam simul expletus dapibus, vinóque sepultus,  
Cervicem inflexam posuit, jacuitque per antrum  
Immensum, saniem eructans & frusta cruento  
Per somnum commixta mero; nos magna precati  
Numina, sortitique vices, unà undique circum  
Fundimur, & telo lumen tenebramus acuto  
Ingens, quod torva solum sub fronte latebat.  
— Slaughters and bloody feast,  
With shades the vastness filled. He high and tall  
The stars assaults. (The gods such plagues from all  
Avert!) His voice and visage stern: his food,  
Bowels of slaughtered wretches and black blood.  
As in his den he lay along, I saw  
Two of our men, grasped by his cursed paw,  
And dashed against the rock: the blood all ore,  
With purple drops drenched the sprinkled floor.  
Limbs flowing with black gore I saw him eat,  
And in his teeth the trembling sinews beat.  
Nor unrevenged their fates Ulysses bears,  
But mindful of himself in all appears.  
For now o'ercharged with wine and bloody feasts,  
His head bend down, as in his Cave he rests,  
Wine mixed with clotty gore returning flows,  
Which belched up from his grave-like breast he throws.  
Burled in sleep: We all the gods implore,  
Spreading our selves round on the bloody floor,  
And with a sharp spear fixed eternal night.  
Upon his brow, robbed of its only light.  
Servius, on this place, saith, That Polyphemus was some wise man, and therefore feigned to have his eye in his forehead, that is, near the brain, which Ulysses, being wiser than he, put out. But by the Cyclopes generally are understood the Vapours of the Sea or Earth: and hence, perhaps, Polyphemus, the chief of them, was said to be the son of Neptune, by whom was meant, according to Chrysippus, the spirit that moved the waters. Cic. lib. 1. de Nat. Deor. And Ulysses was therefore feigned to overcome Polypheme, because he found out these natural causes.  
111. Thessaly.] A Region of Greece, girt about with Mountains, Olympus, Ossa, and Pelion, on the North; Othrys and Oeta Southward; and Pindus on the West. Its bounds are exactly set down by Herodotus, lib. 7. It was anciently called Pyrrhaea, from Pyrrha the wife of Deucalion, Strabo lib. 10. Afterward Aemonia, from Haemon; from whose son Thessalus, at last it was called Thessaly.  
115. Sperchios.] A River in Thessaly, issuing from Mount Pelion, and falling into the Malian Bay, ten furlongs from Thermopylae, Strab. lib. 9  
129. Disturb the genial crew] Our Poet glanceth at the fray between the Centauris and the Lapithae, which happened at the marriage of Pirithous, so excellently described by Ovid, and after him by the enjoyer of his Genius, Mr. Sandys. Genius (from which Genial is derived) est nascendt atque nature deus, à gignendo dictus. Hence the four Elements, whereof all Inferior bodies are generated, were called Dii geniales; and the Nuptiall-bed, Lectus genialis. See Turnebus Adversar l. 16. c. 19 & l. 26. c. 14. Genii were accounted the moderators and disposers of the Planets, and their Influences, at men's Nativities. Horace lib. 2 epist. 2.  Scit Genius, natale comes qui temperat afirum. 
Those Doemons also whom, the Heathen attribute so much the dependency of our resolutions unto, were called Genii, as begetting the thoughts of men, and working on them. And perhaps the frequency of these Spirits and opinions, before our Saviour's time, was the occasion of that more absurd conceit, set down by scoffing Lucian in his Menippus, That the shadows which our bodies cast in the Sunshine will be witness against us in the other world. With reference to these Genii must that of the Poet. Aen. 6. v. 643. be interpreted, Quisque suos patimur manes. i e. Every one in the next life must receive either punishment for the crimes he committed, by harkening to his woes●r Genius, or rewards for the good he wrought, by the assistance of his better. For two Genii, they say, one good, (the other bad,) attend every man from his birth. This the Heathen were taught by their gods; the Devil herein, as in many other things, playing the Ape, and imitating the true God; who indeed giveth his Angel's charge over us, (see Clemens Alexandrinus, lib. 5. Serum) that we be not overcome by the power of evil Spirits. For we wrestle not, saith the Apostle, Ephes. 6. 12. against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, here translated, in high places; which is not at all assisting, if not prejudicial to the meaning of the verse. Beza rendereth it, Quae sunt in sublimi, something nearer, But I see not why the words should not be rendered, in the lower Heavens, that is, the Air, the habitation of these Daemons, as Mr. Mede, on 2 Pet. 2. 4. and Judas 6. doth prove. And it is observed, that for the Heaven of Heavens, or supernatural Heaven, the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉▪ is always used. In relation to this sense, Origen useth the Verse in his writings against Gelsus. Moreover, judicious Calvin on the place, intimateth as much, where the Interpretation he useth, is, Incoelestibus. Diodate also understandeth, The region of the air, in which evil spirits, driven cut of heaven, do wander. And by Principalities he understandeth evil Angels; excellently adding, that in the quality of their nature, and in the power which God suffereth them to have over the world, they have also something common with the holy Angels, in the eminency of Titles. Yet he there retracteth this Interpretation, in my opinion for a worse.  
153. with Magic art.] Thetis, desirous to conceal from Chiron the purpose she had, to disguise his Scholar in woman's apparel, whom he by rigid principles had fitted for the hardest employments, beareth him in hand, that ominous dreams moved her to attempt the prevention of his fate by Magict Art. Such a deceit passionate Dido beguiled her sister withal, pretending to seek only a remedy for her love, when indeed her plot was to cousin herself of life.  
Ergo ubi concepit furion, evicta dolore,  
Decrevitque mori, tempus secum ipsa modumque  
Exigit, & maestam dictis aggressa sororem,  
Consilium vultu tegit, ac spem fronte serenat.  
Inveni, germana, viam (gratare sorori)  
Quae mihi reddat eum, vel eo me solvat, amantem.  
Oceani finem iuxta solemque cadentem,  
Vltimus Aethiopain locus est, ubi maximus Atlas  
Axem humero torquet stellis ardentibus aptum.  
Hinc mihi Massylae gentis monstrata sacerdos,  
Hesperidum templi custos, epulasque Draconi  
Quae dabat, & sacros servabat in arbore ramos,  
Spargens humida mella soporiferumque papaver.  
Haec se carminibus promittit solvere mentes  
Quos velit, hast aliis duret immittere curas:  
Sistere aquam fluviis, & vertere sidera retro:  
Nocturnosque ciet-manes-Mugire videbis  
Sub pedibus terram, & descendere montibus orn●s.  Virg. Aen. 4. 
Vanquished with grief, and now resolved to die,  
The means and time to act the Tragedy  
She plots: And, with feigned joy to hide her crime,  
Thus to her sister saith▪ Joy that the time▪  
Is come, that I shall now procure my rest,  
And gain his love, or freedom to my breast.  
Near to the Ocean's bounds, where Phoebus flies  
To end his course, burnt Aethiopia lies:  
Where on his loaden shoulders Atlas bears  
Heaven, which filled with glittering Stars appears.  
Hence a Massylian came, the Temple's Priest  
Of the Hesperideses, who there did feast  
The watchful Dragon, and preserved too  
The Tree on which the sacred branches grew,  
With Honey and mixed Poppy, which conveys.  
A drowsy dulness: By her charms, she says,  
She can dissolve a passion, and procure  
A scornful breast another to endure,  
Stop in its speed the swiftest stream, and all  
The Stars turn backward from their course, and call  
Ghosts from the howling earth, and from the high  
Tops of the Hills make stubborn Trees to fly.  
That Witches had such a faculty as Dido here speaketh of, to quench or kindle love at their pleasure, former times believed. 
Carmine Thessalidum dura in praecordia fluxit  
Non fatis adductus amor; flammisque severi  
Illicitis arsêre senes.  
Thessalian charms, without assisting fate,  
Can passion give to hearts still used to hate.  
Severe old men are fettered with Love's chains,  
And their i'll breasts burn with unlawful flames.  Lucan lib. 6. vers. 452. And a little after, 
— Quos non concordia misti  
Alligat ulla tori, blandaeque potentia formae,  
Traxerunt torti Magicâ vertigine fili.  
— Those who ne'er cared to try  
Love's joys, whom Hymen's knots could never tie;  
Whom charming beauty never yet compelled,  
A slender thread, by Magic tied, hath held.   
Their power also in other things the same noble Poet thus describeth.  
Cessauêre vices rerum: dilataque longâ  
Haesit nocte dies: legi non paruit aether:  
Torpuit & praeceps audito carmine mundus.  
Axibus & rapidis impulsos Jupiter urgens  
Miratur non ire polos. Nunc omnia complent  
Imbribus, & calido producunt nubila Phoebo:  
Et tonat ignaro coelum Jove. Vocibus iisdem  
Humentes latè nebulas, nimbosque solutis  
Excussêre comis, ventis cessantibus aequor  
Intumuit: rursum vetitum sentire procellas  
Conticuit, turbante Noto: puppimque ferentes  
In ventum tumuêre sin●s. De rupe pependit  
Abscissâ fixus torrens: amnisque cucurrit  
Non quà pronus erat. Nilum non extulit aestus.  
The course of things was stopped: nor Heaven obeyed  
Its Laws: the Day in Night's black Arms delayed.  
The tottering world these potent charms benumb,  
And while the rapid Poles forget to run,  
Jove stands amazed. A storm obeys, and shrowds,  
Phoebus adorned with all his rays, in clouds.  
Jove ignorant the Thunder hears. The same  
Dire voice, with loose dishevelled hair again  
Shattereth the dropping clouds: Seas swell with waves,  
The winds all hushed; again, though Notus raves,  
The Seas becalmed lie. Ships make their way  
Against the wind, and rushing torrents stay  
Thrown from a precipice. Streams backward run:  
Nor Nile o'er flows the plains scorched by the Sun.  
These places I have produced, to show what an opinion the ancient Heathen had of Witches. I will only add, that I find that the Tyrians had a custom, to tie the Images of their gods with bands, lest they should be called from them by the charms of their enemies, Alexand. ab Alex▪ l 4. c 12. And so subject were those gods to the power of charms, that they were thereby compelled to come, nor could return back without licence obtained; Euseb▪ de praepar. Evang. l. 5. c. 8, & 9 From this opinion arose that question in Lucan, lib. 6. v. 492.  
Quis labor hic superis cantus herbasque sequendi,  
Spernedique timor? cujus commercia pacti  
Ob▪ rictos tenuêre Deos? parere necesse est,  
a juvat? ignota tantum pietate mere n'ur?.  
What is it makes the fearful gods forbear  
To scorn both herbs and charms? whence comes this fear?  
Doth strong necessity, or their own design,  
Or piety unknown, them thus incline?  
I shall say more of this subject haply hereafter, when a more proper place shall afford opportunity. But thus much at present, to show, that Chiron had reason to believe Thetis, when she told him, that she would make use of Magic for her son's preservation.  
166. The envious gods.] Our Poet is here thought to have no further aim, than to set forth the praises of his Achilles, as if he deserved the envy of the gods. But I have observed Statius to be a great imitator of Virgil, who was still wont to omit no occasion of interweauning his Learning with his Poetry: wherein Macrobius strongly justifieth him. Since these words therefore will afford it, hold it not amiss to interpret them to the more learned sense.  
There was a general Tradition among the Heathen, That the gods envied any perfection or happiness in Mankind. This proceeded from the devil's policy, who from the beginning of the world endeavoured to represent God envious unto Man, in that h● denied him the knowledge of good and evil; as Junius and Dioda● observe on Gen. 3. Learned Merick Casaubon, in his Cause of tempora Evils, saith, that Aristotle sets down this opinion, That God i 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, envious; but protesteth against it, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, It is not possible it should be so; yet saith, That if it were so indeed, that the nature of God could be envious, that Envy must needs consist in hidenying of men the happiness of certain knowledge and contemplation. That impious Philosopher Porphyry, directly chargetl God with envy, for forbidding the Tree of Knowledge: Who is answered by Greg. Nazianzen, Orat. 38. Such impious men perhaps take offence at Gen. 3. 22, 23. I forbear to produce further Testimonies, to prove, there was such an opinion among the Heathen, I do not think them needful; since it is certain, the Devil would let slip no occasion of raising prejudice against God, and charging him with his own crime. Through envy of the Devil came death into the world, Wisd. 2. 24. It was the Devil's envy that made Man lose Paradise, and not God, who placed him in it. Another reason why the gods were conceived to envy men, was, Because all their prosperity and happiness, is at length requited with crosses and calamity. Examples of such change are frequent in all times: Among all, scarce is there any more notable than that of the once-Great Pompey, flying alone after his overthrow in Pharsalia, Lucan. lib. 1. v. 28.  
— Sed longi poenas Fortuna favour is  
Exigit à misero, quae tanto pondere famae  
Res premit adversas, fatisque prioribus urget.  
Nunc festinatos nimiùm fibi sentit honores,  
Actaque lauriferae damnat Syllana juventae.  
Nunc & Corycias classes & Pontica signa,  
Dejectum, meminisse piget. Sic longius aevum  
Destruit ingentes animos, & vita superstes  
Imperio. Nisi summa dies cum fine bonorum  
Affuit, & celeri praevertit tristia leto,  
Dedecori est fortuna prior. Quisquámne secundis  
Tradere se fatis audet, nisi morte paratâ▪  
But Fortune with her favour still beguiles,  
And with sad woes pursues her former smiles.  
His fame most presseth his declining state,  
And former glories add unto the weight.  
Too hasty now his early fame he found,  
And blames those wreaths with which his Youth was crowned.  
Of Pontic or Corycian Victories  
Now when he thinks, his flaming blushes rise.  
Thus greatest minds consuming Age destroys,  
And Life survives our Empires and our Joys.  
Unless life with those joys together flow,  
And a swift fate prevent ensuing woe,  
To Fortune Shame succeeds. In the best state  
Let none confide, unless prepared for Fate.  
Another instance of the mutability of Fortune, was that great Soldier, Hannibal; whose prophetic spirit was sensible of this, almost fatal, necessity: as we may see in that incomparable speech, which Livy maketh him speak to Scipio; advising not to trust the gods and Fortune too far: telling him, that what Scipio was then, himself had been▪ after the battles at Tras●emen● and Cannae; and that Fortune had never yet deceived him. Thus he spoke to move his enemy to accept peace, conceiving no argument of more force, than the consideration of the vicissitude of human affairs. And his words, though then slighted, Scipio himself afterwards found true, and had sad experience, both of the inconstancy of Fortune, and of the ingratitude of his Country. To these, I might add the examples of Marius, Caesar, and infinite others, out of the stories of former times, with more prodigious ones of our own age; Habet has vices conditio mortalium, saith Pliny in his excellent Ranegyrick, ut adversa ex secundis, ex adversis secunda nascantur. Occultat utrorumque semina Deus; & pletunque bonorum malorumque causae sub diversa specie latent: The condition of mortals, hath these changes, that adversity should spring out of prosperity, and prosperity out of adversity. The seeds of both, God concealeth; and for the most part, the causes of good and evil, things lie hid under a different species. Herodotus relateth, how Amasis' King of Egypt, counselled his friend Polycrates, King of Samos, That he should interrupt the course of his felicity, by casting quite away something that he held most dear, and the loss whereof would most afflict him. Plutarch, De consol. ad Apollonium, telleth us, that Theramenes, one of the thirty Tyrants at Athens, being at Supper with many friends, the house where they were, suddenly fell down, and he only escaped. Many upon this, gave him the name of Happy: But he crying our, asked, For what sadder death Fortune had reserved him? And indeed, the Torments he endured before his end, added him to the number of those examples, which serve to admonish prosperous persons, of the uncertainty of their Estate, Seneca, Troad. act. 2.  
Violenta nemo imperia continuit diu:  
Moderata durant. Quóque fortuna altius  
Evexit ac levavit humanas opes,  
Hoc se magis supprimere felicem decet,  
Variósque casus tremere, metuentem Deos  
Nimiùm faventes.  
None violent Empires long enjoy secure:  
They be moderate conditions that endure.  
When Fortune raiseth to the greatest height,  
The happy man should most suppress his state,  
Expecting still a change of things to find,  
And fearing when the gods appear too kind.  
It is an excellent Character, that Macrobius giveth of Fortitude, Tolerare fortiter vel adversa vel prospera, To bear with courage, either adverse or prosperous Fortune, in Somn. Scipionis, l. 1. c. 8. And perhaps, it may aim at our sense, In the best condition, without distemper, to expect the worst. This dreading invidiam Numinis, was the cause, why that mighty Emperor Augustus, used once a year, Cavam manum asses porrigentibus praebere, as Suetonius in his Life relateth, c. 91. To beg with his open, or hollow, hand; the most opprobrious way of begging. On which place, see learned Casaubon, giving reasons from the generally received opinion, thus elegantly expressed by Erasmus, in his Philodoxus, Saepe mecum admirari sole● seu Fortunae seu Naturae invidentiam, quae nihil omnino commodi largitur mortalibus quod non aliquo temperet incommodo, i. e. I have often wondered with myself at the envy, either of Fortune or Nature, who never dispense things convenient to mankind, which are not tempered with some inconvenience. For this Philip of Macedon, kept a Youth, whose office was, every Morning thrice to salute him thus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Philip, thou art a man, Aelian. var, hist. l. 8. c. 15. I will end all with a passage of Diodorus Siculus, Biblioth. hist. lib. 3. Thus rendered by Merick Casaubon, in his Cause of evils, Nevertheless, God (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) hath not afforded unto men any entire happiness, without some blemish or envy; but to these his blessings he hath annexed somewhat that is hurtful, which might serve to admonish them, who through continuance of worldly blessings, are wont to grow into a contempt of the Gods. Whether our Poet had an eye to this opinion, I cannot say; Certainly, his words seem to look that way, and so my discourse is excused from impertinency.  
195. Pholoe] A woody mountain of Arcadia, having a Town of its own name, Plin. l. 4. c. 6.  
207. So tired Castor.] Statius here compareth Achilles to Castor, whose beauty he maketh as bright as his own star. He and Pollux were the sons of Tyndarus and Leda: And their amity was so great, that they never differed either in matter of Power or Counsel. For which Hyginus saith, Jove translated them into Stars; Servius in Aeneid. 6. saith, that Helen and Pollux were begotten by Jupiter, in the shape of a Swan, and from him, drew immortality; but that Castor was the son of Tyndarus, and so mortal: but by the extreme kindness of his brother, and the concession of Jupiter, mortality and immortality, was equally divided betwixt them, Virgil, Aen. 6.  Sic fratrem Pollux alterna morte redemit. 
The fable arose from the Stars, one whereof ever riseth at the setting of the other, as if the fate and fall of one redeemed his fellow; That these brethren were ever watchful for the Roman Commonwealth, Valerius Maximus proveth by many examples, lib▪ 1. c. 8. Also Plutarch in the Life of Paulus Aemylius relateth their meeting of L. Domitius, and how they gave him in charge to make known to the Senate and people of Rome, that they were victorious; which as yet they were uncertain of: And then, (as Suetonius, in the beginning of Nero's life writeth, though Plutarch mentioneth it not) to evidence their Divinity, they changed his hair from Black to Red. And thence came the name of Aenobarbus, which continued to one of the greatest families in Rome.  
216. — Sings the acts of Heroes] Maturantius saith, it was a custom among the Greeks, to sing the actions of famous persons; to the end, that others might be inflamed to a generous imitation of them. So Scipio was excited to great achievements, by gazing on Statues, erected to the memory of renowned men. Music was ever much honoured: Epaminondas, among other things was famous for it. Jacobus Crucins, in lib. Annot. relateth out of Polybius, that the Ardians generally instructed their youths in Music, and saith, It was a custom among the Grecians, to sing the praises of their Genii, Heroes, and Gods. So Alexander ab Alexand o, l. 4. c. 17. saith, They were wont to sing the praises of their gods, while the sacrifice was in eating. And lib. 2. c. 25. having reckoned up many famous men that were excellent Musicians, he addeth that among the Greeks, Musici, Vates, and Sapientes were in equal estimation; And that, after Supper, the Harp was wont to be played on; Which when Themistocles refused to take in hand, he was for that very cause, held the less learned. He there also affirmeth, that the Ancienrs used to chant out the Encomiums of renowned persons. Thus our Poet setteth forth Achilles, to have been instructed by Chiron, and now to give his Mother the usual entertainment after their Feast; And Homer telleth us, that he oft practised this art at the siege of Troy. Thus also, Dido entertaineth her guests, Aeneas, Virg. Aen. 1.  
— Cithara crinitus jopas  
Personat aurata, docuit quae maximus Atlas.  
Hic canit errantem Lunam, solisque labores;  
Vnde hominum genus & pecudes, unde imber, & ignes:  
Arcturum, pluviásque Hyadas, geminósque Triones;  
Quid tantum Oceano properent se tingere ●oles  
Hiberni, vel quae tardis mora noctibus obstet.  
— Hairy jopas then begun,  
And on his Harp what Atlas taught he sung;  
The Moon's unconstant ways, and how the Sun  
Performs his course; whence men and beasts first sprung;  
The Bears, the Hyadeses, and Arcturus sings,  
The cause of showers, and why heaven lightning flings;  
Why to the waves the Sun should take his flight  
Sooner in Winter, and prolong the night.  
219. The victories of Pollux.] The weapon by which Pollux was victorious, was much used by the Ancients, called Caesius; whose description J. C. Scaliger thus giveth: At first, (saith he) the Greeks used to fight with naked sists. Pugnis addita lora ad munimentum, propterea quòd nudi cum ferirent sape plus damni acciperent quam facerent. Ea lora Graeco vocabulo CESTUS dicta (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 enim cinguluir.) Brevia initio: mox, nè excussa exuerentur in ictibus, tum cubito tum humero alligabantur. Postremò ferrum plumbumque assutum est, saevissimo spectaculo. Cerebrum enim & gattur facillimè elidebant. Idcirco aurium munimenta induebant, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Thus he describeth the Castus to be a piece of a Leather, for the safeguard of the hand, which, when naked, received oftentimes more damage by a blow, than it gave. Lest this Caestus should be shaken off by striking, it was fastened, not to the arm only, but also to the shoulder. At the end of it was sewed a mass of Iron or Lead, which rendered the combat a most cruel spectacle. Their very brains were oft dashed out; for prevention whereof, they covered both their ears with defences. This character Fabricius also confirmeth, relating, that the form of this Caestus was to be seen in the house of Peter Bembus, when he lived at Padus. Fuerunt coria bubula, saith he, quibus plumbum ferrumque insutum est, articulis manûs in volam flexae circundata; &, ut pondus sustinere ferientium manus valerent, brachi is alligata. And hence he believeth, the ancient Germans took the use of the Gauntlet, which they wore in war. The reason Fabricius giveth, why the Caestus were fastened to the arm, is, in my opinion, better than Scaligers, That so the hand might be strengthened to bear the weight the better. This Fabricius writeth, on the Combat between Entellus and Dares, Aen. 5. This Exercise, as Scaliger saith, was at first only used with bare fists, and prizes propounded for it in the Olympic Games, Thucyd lib. 1. The invention of Caestus is ascribed to Amycus, Clem. Alex. lib. 1. Strom 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Amycus the Bebrycian King first found out 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, lora pugilum, that is, the Caestus. Which very words, with others of Clemens, Eusebius useth, De praep. Evang. l. 10. c. 5. Hence Statius here, 
— crudo quo Bebryca caestu  
Obruerit Pollux.  i e. Amycus, so called from the place where he reigned, Bebrycia, which had its name from Bebryae, a King in the Pyrenaean Mountains, Sil. Ital. l. 3. Since, it was called Mygdonia; after that, Bythinia, from Bithynius, a King there, Strabo l. 7. &. 12. Arianus giveth one of the daughters of Danaus this name, who, as well as her sister Hyperinnestra, spared her husband, contrary to her father's command, and flying with him into this Country, gave name to it; till fresher merits destroyed the memory of hers. There is a Village called Bebryacum, by Suetonius, in Othone, and by Tacitus, Anual. 18. seated between Verona and Cremona. In the Lipswick Edition it is called Bedriacum, by Josephus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, by Plutarch 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. But by reason of the authority of Tacitus and Orosius, Joseph Scaliger saith, Eanihil aliud sunt quám unum nomen multifariàm depravatum. At this place Otho was overcome by Vitollius; & statim, saith Suetonius, moriendi impetum cepit. Yet then had he a reserved Army, competent enough to have attempted, in another Battle, the recovery of his Fortune; but he chose rather to let that be the certain advantage of his friends, to procure peace from Vitellius, than by hazarding them to pull on all their ruins together. For which cause, Tacitus justly saith, Many enjoyed Empires longer, but none left them bravelier.  
220. The monstrous Minotaur fam'd-Theseus slew.] The Fable is thus; The Adultery of Mars and Venus being discerned by the Sun's all seeing eye, and by him discovered to Vulcan, in a Net that he had made for the purpose, he caught the Lovers in their embraces. Hereat Venus being enraged, ever after pursued the race of Phoebus with revenge, infecting them with prodigious passions. The first that suffered was Pasiphae the wife of Minos; she, being in love with a Bull, was by Daedalus his art enclosed in a Cow of wood, and so received the horrid satisfaction of her beastly Lover. And from that loathsome embrace came the Minotaur. By this Queen, Minos had three children, Androgeos, Ariadne, and Phaedra. Androgeos, after many noble Victories, was at last slain by the Athenians and Megarians. In revenge of his death, Minos having vanquished the Athenians at Sea, imposed on them this punishment, that seven Youths, and as many Virgins, should every year be delivered to be devoured by the Minotaur. But Eusebius, de praepar. Evang. l. 5. c. 19 layeth their death to Apollo's charge, whose Oracle directed the Athenians, to send the Youths to be killed by Minos, that the plague might be averted from them, which they suffered for the death of Androgeos. In the third year of this imposition, Theseus son of Aegeus was sent. He, no less powerful in person then in forces, first obtained a conquest of the heart of Ariadne; and then, by her procurement, having got a thread from Daedalus to guide him, he found the way to the Minotaur in the Labyrinth, and slew him; and having so done, he fled away with Ariadne. Then Minos finding, or suspecting, that Daedalus, who made the Labyrinth, had assisted Theseus, enclosed both him and his son Icarus therein. But Daedalus procuring wax and feathers, with other materials, from his Keepers, under pretence of presenting something rare to the King, made Wings, with which himself and his son slew away. But the rash Youth, contrary to his Father's instructions, soaring too high, melted his wings against the Sun, and fell into that Sea, which beareth his name, Ovid. de art lib. 2. & Metam. lib. 8. The place his father alighted first upon, was Cumae; Where, 〈◊〉 the gates of Apollo's Temple, he engraved this story, omitting nothing but the rate of Icarus, Virg. Aen. 6.  
— Tu quoque magnam  
Partem opere in tanto, sineret dolour, Icare, haberes.  
Bis conatus erat casus eDffingere in auro;  
Bis patriae cecidere manus.  
Thou also, Icarus, hadst had a part  
In this, had grief given freedom to his art.  
Twice he attempted thy hard fate to paint;  
Twice thy concerned father's hand did faint.  
Some hold, this Fable was invented to shadow a true story, and hat Pasiphae being in love with Taurus, Captain of the Guard to Minos, lay with him in Daedalus' house; and she bringing forth Twins, the mockery made up the Minotaur. The Fable was more lewdly presented by Nero: In relating whereof, Suetonius, as Beroaldus noteth, useth words, that seem to credit Beasts having copulation with Women; against which we read a Law, Levit. 20. 16. which showeth the probability of it. Besides, if it be possible, we need no farther proof than the unsatiable nature of some women. Nor would any doubt, that Messalina the lascivious Empress would have scrupled at such an act, if her fancy had but directed her to it. Juvenal. Sat. 6.  
— Claudius' audi  
Quae tulerit. Dormire virum cum senserat uxor,  
Ausa Palatino tegetem praeferre cubi i,  
Sumere nocturnos meretrix Augusta cucullos;  
Linquebat comite ancilla non ampliùs una:  
Sed nigrum flavo crinem abscondente galero,  
Intravit calidum veteri centone lupanar,  
Et cellam vacuam, atque suam. tunc nuda papillis  
Prostitit auratis, titulum mentita Lyciscae,  
Ostenditque tuum, generose Britannice, ventrem.  
Excepit blanda intrantes, atque aera poposcit▪  
Mox lenone suas jam dimittente puellis,  
Tristis abit: sed, quod potuit, tamen ultima cellam  
Clausit, adhuc ardens rigidae tentigine vulvae,  
Et lassata viris, necdum satiata rec ssit.  
— For hear what Claudius doth endure:  
Whom whilst his wife believes in sleep secure,  
She did prefer before a Princely Bed  
The Bawdy-house's smoaky-coverlid.  
Th' Imperial Whore disguised from being known,  
With Night and Scarves goes with one Maid alone;  
A yellow Periwig her swarthy hairs  
Conceals, and she to th' Bawdy-house repairs;  
Which from the new-employed bed a fume  
Retains. Possessing the then emptied room  
She rich adorned with naked breasts appears.  
Lycisca's name the lying entrance bears.  
There, great Britannicus, thy belly's shown.  
With a lascivious kindness every one  
She meets, and asks her hire. When all the Whores.  
The Bawd sends home, hers last of all the doors  
Was shut. She burning with unquenched fires,  
And toiled with men, not satisfied, retires.    

The Second BOOK.  

The Argument.  
Thetis at last, though long delayed by fears,  
Through the calm waves her dear Achilles bears.  
Love shows an object to inflame his eyes:  
The King receives him hid in a disguise.  

BUt Thetis, in the night leaving the caves,  
Stood where the Rocks sent Echoes from the waves.  
And in her unresolved fancy weighed,  
To what safe place her Son might be conveyed.  
She fears, where Mars was born, th' adjacent Thrace;  
And dreads the warlike Macedonian race.  
Famed - Athens too her doubting fancies fear,  
With Sestos and Abydos, which appear  
Too aptly placed for ships. For those loved Seas  
She now resolves crowned by the Cycladeses.  
Nor Myconos, nor Seriphos pleased her mind,  
Delos, nor Lemnos unto men unkind.  
By Lycomedes Court, she lately stayed,  
And heard the shores sound while the Virgins played.  
As she was sent to view Aegaeon's bands,  
Who strove to lose his hundred-fettered-hands.  
This Land, where quarrels no disturbance wrought,  
The much distracted Thetis' safest thought:  
Like a poor Bird, with wavering fancies pressed,  
That dares not choose a branch to build her nest.  
Lest it her brood, should unto storms, or snakes,  
Or men expose; at length she likes and takes.  
So Thetis on the place resolved, prepares  
To go, but is assaulted with new cares;  
Whether her son should in her breast be laid,  
Or through the waves born by a Triton's aid.  
Or to the winged winds, his waftage owe,  
Or unto Iris Ocean-nourished bow;  
At last two Dolphines' she was pleased to rain,  
Which by great Tethys, in th' Atlantic main,  
For her were bred. The vast unfathomed flood,  
Bore nothing else in all its scaly brood,  
So swift, so kind to men; At her command  
These stayed in waves, lest injured by the Land.  
The sleepy Youth, (for youth may sound sleep)  
She from th' Aemonian cave, bears to the Deep.  
The waves and winds becalmed her designs  
Assist, and Cynthia in full lustre shines.  
For his return the Centaur following prayed;  
Of waves he knew, he need not be afraid.  
O'erflowing tears, fall from his gazing eyes,  
Whilst they upon the rolling billows rise  
Now almost out of sight; yet still he gazed:  
And when with waves they sunk, himself he raised  
Upon his hinder parts, till the waves quite  
Had swallowed all impressions of their flight.  
Him that to Thessaly must ne'er return,  
Sad Pholoe, and the clouded Othrys mourn:  
Sperchios streams, no more with joy swell high;  
And Chirons den now wanteth harmony.  
The Fauns ament his loss; the Nymphs begin  
To mourn their passion's hope, ravished with him.   

And now the Stars begin to take their flight,  
At the approach of Titan's radiant light.  
Which from the Ocean rose; whose drops like dew,  
Back to its waves the rising Chariot threw.  
But Thetis long before, to Scyros came,  
And gave her Dolphines' liberty again;  
When sleep forsook refreshed Aeacides:  
His eyes saluted by the light, and Seas.  
To him unknown, for Pelion all amazed  
He looked, and on his doubted Mother gazed.  
Who takes him by the hand, with words thus kind,   

Dear child, if he that sure was once designed,  
Had shared my marriagebed, thou hadst been placed  
With Stars, for ever there by me embraced:  
Heaven had been then thy due inheritance,  
Nor had I feared the lesser Yates or Chance.  
But now thy Father's mortal, there can be  
No way for thee to scape death but by me;  
And now the sad and fat all time draws near,  
Whose dangers are the cause of all myfear.  
Forget a while thy Sexe's honour then,  
Nor this safe habit which I wear contemn.  
If Hercules thus learned to spin, and round  
A javeline bore with winding Ivy crowned;  
If Bacchus in these Ornaments was dressed,  
And Jove himself, nor Ceneus mind depressed  
Thereby; then suffer thus at my desire,  
Th' appointed time Fate threateneth to exspire.  
Then I'll restore thee to the Centaur's cave.  
By all the joys and glory youth can have,  
I do conjure thee now. If I for thee  
Shared with a Mortal my Divinity?  
If by the Stygian arming waves I stood,  
And dipped (I wish, all o'er) thee in the flood:  
Suffer thyself thus now to be concealed,  
The mind's not hurt with what the body's healed.  
Why dost thou frown, and turn away thy face?  
Needst thou to blush? Is gentleness disgrace?  
By our known streams, I do assure thee too,  
Chiron, nor doth, nor shall know what we do.   

His breast in vain she tries, where rougher seeds  
Were sown, and stories of his Father's deeds:  
Thus a proud horse, with vigorous blood inflamed,  
And heat of youth, contemneth to be tamed.  
But doth through fields, and unto rivers fly,  
O'erjoyed with his affected liberty:  
He scorns to yield to the restraining Bit,  
And wondereth at his fellows that submit.  
What God with craft inspired the Mother's mind,  
And unto softness her rough Son inclined?   

By chance to Pallas, on the shore that day,  
The Syrians did their sacred offerings pay.  
Hither the King, with his fair daughters came,  
(Though seldom seen) unto the holy flame.  
The image of the rigid 
* Pallas.  Power they crowned  
With fragrant wreaths, her spear with garlands bound;  
All wrondrous fair. Their youthful blossoms grew,  
Now like ripe fruit, as fit for gathering too.  
But as the Sea-nymphs are by Venus' looks  
Excelled, by Cynthia's those of lesser brooks;  
So from her Sisters, such loved victories  
Were challenged by bright Deidamia eyes.  
Her rosy looks did vanquished Jewels shame,  
And on her purple garments threw a flame;  
She might compare with Pallas, when she takes  
Her gentlest looks, and lays aside her snakes.  
At this fair Object, the fierce Youth remains  
Fixed like a Statue, and received Love's flames.  
Nor would th' insulting passion be concealed:  
His sparkling eyes the inward fire revealed.  
Like the Massagetans red liquor mixed  
With milk, or purple stains on ivory fixed;  
Such mixture his new kindled passions bred:  
His cheeks now pale, but strait with blushing red.  
At length, not brooking to be so delayed,  
Th' advancing Youth was by his Mother stayed:  
Like a young Bull, to rule the herd designed,  
His horns not yet with full perfection twined;  
When Love first kindleth in his savage breast,  
Those ruder passions for some snowy beast;  
He sums at mouth, whilst th' expecting swains,  
Joy at the certain witness of his flames.   

His knowing Mother, finding the fit time,  
Was now, thus said; Canst thou, dear Son, repine  
With this fair crew, to share unknown delights?  
Can Pelion, or cold Ossa, show such sights?  
Oh that my cares were thine! that thou wouldst give  
A young Achilles in mine arms to live!   

At this, with blushes gentler he remained:  
And though he yielded, yet she still constrained.  
A woman's dress, doth now the youth enclose,  
And his strong arms, he learns how to compose.  
His hair's not now neglected as before:  
And on his neck, she hangs the chain she wore.  
Within rich robes, his steps confined now  
Move in a gentler pace; and he's taught how  
To speak with a reserved modesty,  
Thus changing Wax, which nimble fingers ply,  
First rendered soft by active heat, inclines  
Unto that form the workman's hand designs.  
So Thetis to another shape conveyed  
Her Son. Nor needed she to what she said,  
Have added more: For in his beauty too,  
All things appeared, which to the sex were due.  
Yet as they went along, she still renews  
Her words, and her instructions thus pursues;  
Dear Child, in gentle looks compose thy face,  
And imitate each motion, and each grace.  
Thou seest these beauties wear, or else I fear,  
Unto the King our cozenage, may appear.  
This said, still as they go some Ornament  
Her busy fingers mend. Thus Cynthia went  
From hunting with her Mother; toiled with sport,  
And with her quiver, to her Father's Court;  
Her arms now hid, her garments loosely flowed,  
And in a better form her hair bestowed.  
Then to the King, her Son the goddess brings,  
And thus, the Altars witnessing, begins.   

Receive Achilles Sister, as thy guest,  
Are not her Brother's looks in hers expressed?  
She in her quiver, and her bow delights,  
And, like the Amazons, scorns marriage-rites.  
Achilles is enough to be enjoyed  
By me: Let this in these rites be employed.  
Let thy best care of her allay my fears,  
Errors are incident to tender years.  
Let her not rove the woods, nor Gymnick game  
Frequent, lest with her clothes she put off shame.  
Let her still live with this fair company,  
Nor ever let thy shores unguarded lie.  
Thou saw'st the Trojans lately, without cause,  
Did violate the world's observed Laws.  
This said, the unknown Youth the King receives,  
(Who finds out fraud when 'tis a God deceives?)  
And further, rendereth all his thanks as just  
To her, who thought him worthy such a trust.  
The pious troup, with fixed eyes amazed  
Upon his beauty, and proportion gazed  
So much excelling others, then invites  
Their company unto their sacred rites.  
So the Idalian birds, that nimbly fly  
Through yielding air, in a known company.  
If to the flock, a stranger join his wings,  
He with himself an admiration brings:  
At last acquainted all with joy, receive  
The stranger, and the air together cleave.   

The lingering Mother, still yet loath to part,  
Now takes her leave, repeating all the art  
She taught before, and what she more could tell,  
And with her whispered wishes bids Farewell;  
Then takes the waves: her looks still backward bends,  
And to the shore, these gentle wishes sends.   

Dear earth, which hold'st my dearest joy, to thee  
Committed with a fearful subtlety;  
Be ever happy and in silence just  
To me, as Crect to Rhea in her trust:  
Long may thy glories last, and may thy name  
Grow greater than the wand'ring Delos fame:  
Less hurt by storms, than all the Cycladeses,  
That break the billows of th' Aegean seas.  
Let thy name be the Sailer's sacred vow:  
Yet to thy shores no Grecian ships allow.  
Tell Fame, with thee no warlike spears are found,  
But headless ones with Ivy-garlands Crowned.  
Whilst Mars, the parted Worlds, such rage doth give,  
Here let Achilles like a Virgin live.    

ANNOTATIONS on the TWO Book of STATIUS his ACHILLEISS.  
5. THrace.] Thetis considering with herself, whither she might with most safety convey her Son, in the first place feared Thrace, conceiving that it would be an hastening of his destiny, to commit him to that warlike people; Whose Country received its name from the son of Mars; or, as Stephanus saith, à regionis asperitate, quam 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Graeci appellant. So Pomponius witnesseth, that this Region is obliged neither by air nor soil, especially near the Sea. The roughness of the place wrought a like disposition in the Inhabitants: And hence haply it is said, that Mars was here nourished. It is confined on the West by Macedonia, and the River Nessus, as Ptolemy; but by Strymon, as Pliny saith. See Thucydides, lib. 2.  
6. The Warlike Macedonian race.] Macedonia bordereth on Thrace, Epirus▪ Illyris, and Thessaly; so called from Macedo, son of Osiris, or (as Stephanus and Solinus) of Jupiter and Thyria, daughter of Deucalion. Thucydides, lib. 2. praiseth them for an hardy and warlike people: But Statius had more reason to give them that character, as living after Alexander the Great's time, whose Victories were that Nation's greatest glory. In their Militia, the Phalanx had the pre-eminence. This Nero imitated, Sueton. Nerone, ubi vide Casaubonum. This steady Band consisted all of tall and able Soldiers, six foot high, or thereabouts, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as Suidas saith, of equal age. The like policy the Turk useth in the choice of his Janissaries, and with no less success.  
7. Athens.] This place also the goddess held not safe to trust Achilles in, by reason perhaps of the great confluence of strangers thither, it being the most famous City in all Greece, scated in Attica, about forty furlongs from the Sea, as Strabo, lib. 9 Thucydides, lib. 2 saith, It was at its greatest height in the time of Pericles. It was the Mother of many Philosophers, and Orators, and Poets, and (as Tully styleth it) the Mistress of all human Sciences. But in the time of Synesius, it retained no such excellency, Epist. 135. It was called Cecropia, from Cecrops who first built it, and reigned in it; afterwards Mopsopia, from Mopsus; lastly, Athens, from Minerva, whom the Greeks call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, quasi 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, because she never sucked the breast, nor had need to do it; at her first springing from Jove's brain, being not an Infant, but a mature Virago, of full stature and strength. To this derivation, Cael. Rhodiginus assenteth, lib. 14. c. 18. Macrobius, Saturnal. l. 1. c. 17. saith, It was the opinion of Porphyry, that Minerva was the virtue of the Sun, which infuseth prudence into the minds of men. For therefore is this goddess said to have issued from the head of Jupiter; that is, Wisdom cometh from the highest part of Heaven, whence the Sun hath its Original. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 also, which signifieth not-●ffeminate, or manly, doth not only come near to the name, but also agreeth with the nature of this goddess, who was still pictured in a warlike posture, with an Helmet, a Spear, and a Shield, and said to have a great stroke in all actions of War, which ever depend upon Wisdom. This was the chief plea that Ulysses used against Ajax, when they strove for Achilles' Armour, That Ajax his valour had been useless, without Vlysses' policy to direct it, Ovid. Metam. lib. 13.  
11. Myconos.] One of the Cycladeses, under which the Poets feign those Giants to have been buried, that were slain by Hercules. The Inhabitants are said to have been so subject to baldness, that a bald man was wont proverbially to be called a Myconian: Plin. l. 11. c. 37.  
¶ Seriphos.] The Poet giveth it the epithet humilis, haply by reason of its small compass, which is but twelve miles, as Pliny saith. So Juvenal,— paruâque Seripho, Sat. 10. The whole world, he saith, was not wide enough for the young man of Pella, (so he calleth Alexander the Great) but when he had it all to turn him in he found himself pitifully straitened for want of room, like one cooped up in little Seriphos. The people of this Isle Perseus transformed into stones, by showing them his Gorgon's head, to revenge his forced mother. Yet long before, Acrisius having thrown his mother Danae and him into the Sea, they were cast upon this Island, and taken up by a fisherman, and here preserved.  
12. Delos.] This was placed in the middle of the Cycladeses, and most famous of them all, by reason of Apollo's Oracle there, consulted from most parts of the world. The Fable of its first becoming firm land, see in Pliny, lib. 4. c. 12. Strabo, lib. 10. and Servius, in Virg. Aen. 3. who relate, that it first appeared to receive the burden of Latona, who was here delivered of Apollo and Diana▪ It hath its name from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, manifestus, perspicuus, Macrob. Saturnal. l. 1. c. 17. being said to have risen up on a sudden above the waves. Some think it worthy of this name from its Oracles; I wonder why, for they were seldom manifest. But Servius, and Alexander ab Alex. l. 6. c. 2. say, The Oracle here was clear, when all others were obscure. After this Island had appeared, it continued for some time loose, and floated up and down, until at last it was fixed by Diana. Seneca Agamemnone act. 2. Chor. 
— Tu maternam  
Sistere Delos, Lucina, jubes  
Hue atque illuc prius errantem  
Cyclada ventis. Nunc jam stabilis  
Fixa terras radice tenet.  
Thou didst thy mother's Delos bind,  
Wand'ring before, drove by the wind  
Among the Cycladeses: Now it stands  
Fixed to the earth with rooted bands.  Servius in Aen. 3. saith, The truth is, that Delos being shaken by a constant Earthquake, the Inhabitants petitioning Apollo that they might be freed from it, were enjoined thenceforward to bury none in the Island. And Alexander ab Alex. lib. 6. c. 2. writeth, That all such as were near dying, and all women ready to be delivered, were carried over to the Island Rhine. Thucydides lib. 3. saith, That when Delos was totally hallowed by the Athenians, (Pisistratus the Tyrant having before hallowed as much as was within the prospect of the Temple) they took away all the Sepulchers, and made an Edict, That none should either be born or buried there for the future; but when any were near the time for either, they should be removed into Rhene. In the dispute between Pausanias and the Athenians, about Title to this Island, the Athenians alleging this Edict of theirs, Pausanias wittily demanded, How it could be their Island, seeing none of them had either been born or buried in it, Plutarch in Apophth. Rhine is so near to it, that when it was won by Polycrates, he dedicated it to Apollo, and tied it to Delos with a chain. Divers Games were here celebrated, as Thucydides affirmeth, and Homer, Hymno in Apollinem; who ending their praises, thus also leaveth his own, vers. 165.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉;  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Let Phoebus and Diana's kindness dwell  
Still here: And now to every one Farewell.  
But yet remember when I leave this land,  
And among all some pilgrim shall demand,  
Who was't, O Virgins, that with harmony  
Could most affect your charmed ears? Reply  
With one consent, and thus my praises tell,  
A Poet blind, in Chios who doth dwell.  
Lemnos unto men unkind.] This is an Island in the Aegean Sea, called Arden's by Seneca, Herc. Oet. v. 1362. It is described by Valerius Flaccus, Argonaut. lib. 2. Here Cicero, de natura deprum, placeth Vulcan's Forge. Statius, Thebaidos l. 5.  
— Aegeo premitur circumstua Nereo  
Lemnos, ubi ignisera fessus respirat ab Aetna  
Mulciber.  
To Lemnos in th' Aegean waves retires  
The wearied Mulciber from Aetna's fires.  
Here Vulcan was bred, and had in great veneration. In his injuries the Inhabitants held themselves so concerned, that they hated Venus for her adultery with Mars, Alexand▪ ab Alex. l. 2. c. 14. Wherear the goddess being exasperated, infused such hatred into the women against their husbands, that they took counsel to slay them all at their return from the Thracian War; and did so to all, except Hypsipyle, who saved her father Thoas. The story we have in Statius, Theb. lib. 5.  
15. Aegaeons' bands.] Aegaeon the son of Heaven and Earth, (Hesiod. in Theogon) was called by Thetis to assist Jupiter, when Pallas, Juno, and Neptune would have fettered him, Lucian. dial. Martis & Mercurii: But afterwards waxing insolent, (as most are wont to do after great merits) was himself fettered by Jupiter to the Rocks of the Aegean Sea. And now Neptune having given notice, that he was endeavouring to unloose his hundred hands, Jupiter sent Thetis to view his chains. She passing by Scyros, and seeing King Lycomedes his daughters at their innocent recreations, and the Island filled with effeminate Inhabitants, thought presently no place could be more fit for her son's concealment, and resolved thither to bring him. This Giant was named Briareus by the gods, Aegaeon by men, Homer. Iliad. ●. v. 403. by Lucian 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Briareum centimanum; and therefore was he bound with an hundred chains, as our Poet here saith. By Virgil he is placed in hell by Chimaera, Aen 6. The rest of the Giants also are fixed in their several places by the Poets, as Otus in Crect, Typheous in Campania, Enceladus in Sicily, whose burning Tomb is made famous by Claudian's Muse, de raptu Proserp. l. 1.  
Enceladi bustum, qui saucia membra revinctus  
Spirat inexhaustum flagranti pectore sulphur:  
Et quoties detrectatonus cervice rebelli  
In dextrum laevumque latus, tunc Insula fundo  
Vellitur, & dubiae nutant cum moenibus urbes.  
Vast-limbed Enceladus here buried lies,  
From whose hot breast unwasted sulphur flies.  
As often as o'reladen with his burd'n,  
To ease his wearied side he strives to turn,  
The motion makes the heaved Island quake,  
And with their walls the tottering Cities shake.  
28. Iris Ocean-nourished Bow.] Iris 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 nuncio, because the Rainbow telleth of rain either passed or to come, Magir. lib. 4. cap. 5. Our Poet calleth her Thaumantida. In Greek she is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. And there is no Meteor so worthy of wonder. It's many colours are caused by the reflection of the Sunbeams on a watry-clowd. Aristot. Meteorol. lib. 3. Iris ●st arcus multicolor in nube roride, opaca, & concava, ex radiorum Solis oppositi reflexione apparens. Virgil. Aen. 4.  
Ergo Ir's croce is per coelum roscida pennis,  
Mille trahens varios adverso Sole colores.  
Swift Iris therefore with her dewy wings,  
On which the Sun a thousand colours flings.  
The difference of its colours ariseth only from the unequal parts of the clouds. According to Aristotle they are three, Funiceus, Viridis, Caruleus. Others make them five, as Ammianus Marcellinus, who calleth the first Luteam speciem, a palish Yellow; the second, nearer a Tawny; the third, Red; the fourth, Purple; the last, a mixture of Blue and Green. But it is a strange error in Philosophers, to define the colours of the Rainbow, and they almost all differ about them. Yet are the colours they quarrel about not real, but apparent only; as the sky seemeth blue, which without doubt is not blue indeed. Nor is it possible, at so great a distance, to describe colours certainly. All that can be said, is, That they appear such to the eye. Marcellinus, lib. 20. taketh occasion, from the appearing of a Rainbow, while Constantius besieged Amida, to treat of the reasons of the Rainbow, and why the Poets feigned, that Iris was so oft sent from heaven, Indicium est, saith he, permutationis aurae, à sudo aere nubium concitans globos, aut contrà ex concreto immutans in serenans laetitiam coelum. Ideo apud Poets▪ legimus saepe, Irim de coelo mitti, cum praesentium rerum fit statûs mutario. That is, It is a sign of alteration of weather, gathering clouds in clear skies; or, on the contrary, changing thickness into serenity. Therefore we often read in the Poets of Iris being sent from heaven, when there was any alteration made of the present state of affairs. Of this fancy of the Poets, see Gyraldi Syntagm. 9 For the Philosophy, experience contradicteth it. And Pliny saith, Nec pluvias nec serenos dies cum fide ab Iride portehdi. They held, the Rainbow was nourished by the Ocean, by reason of both the Sun's and the Clouds arising from thence. Scaliger, Exercit. 10. Sect. 11. speaketh of a Rainbow that appeared in the nighttime, and was seen by Albertus and many others. And Vi●eilio, in his answer to the E. of Mirandula, concerning the possibility of a Rain-bow's seeming entirely circular, though not being so, affirmeth, that he saw four such at once in Milan.  
33. So swift, so kind to men] Pliny saith, Dolphins are the swiftest of all fish, and a morous. Agellius, lib. 7. c. 8. relateth a story of a Dolphin▪ that loved a Boy so passionately, that his life was tied to the Boy's life. The same Author, lib. 16. c. 19 out of Herodotus, setteth down the story of Arion's being carried by a Dolphin, charmed by his Music, Virg. Ecl. 8. Orpheus in silvis, inter Delphinus Arion. The story is also related by Plutarch in Symp. but most sweetly by the sweetest of all the Poets, Fast. lib. 2. who thus describeth Arion, when the covetous Mariners threatened him with drawn swords.  
Ille metu pavidus, Mortem non deprecor inquit;  
Sed liceat sumta pauca refer lyra.  
Dant veniam, ridentque moram. Capit ille coronam,  
Quae possit crines, Phoebe, decere tuos.  
Induerat Tyrio distinctam murice pallam.  
Reddidit ict a suos pollice chorda sonos.  
Flebilibus numeris veluti, canentia dura  
Trajectus penna tempora, cantat olor.  
Protinus in medios ornatus defilit undas.  
Spargitur impulsa caerula puppis aqua.  
Ind (fide majus!) tergo Delphina recurvo  
Se memorant oneri supposuisse novo.  
Ille sedet, citharamque tenet, pretiumque vehendi  
Cantat, & aequoreas carmine mulcet aquas.  
He frighted, cries; I ask but that you'd give  
Me leave to touch my Harp, not leave to live.  
They grant it, smiling at his fond delay,  
Whilst he assumes a Crown, which, Phoebus, may  
Become thy locks, and on his shoulders bound  
A purple Robe. The strike strings then sound.  
The dying Swan so, when his fate begins  
Near to approach, in mournful numbers sings.  
And so adorned, he leapt into the flood:  
On the ship's sides the dashed up waters stood▪  
When strait his crooked back a Dolphin showed,  
And placed it under the unusual load▪  
He sits, holding his Harp, and whilst he plays,  
The Sea grows calm, and for his portage pays.  
48. Otbrys.] A Mountain bounding Thessaly on the South, Herodot▪ l. 7. It hath on the Westside Phthiotis, Strab. lib. 9  
51. The Fawns lament his loss.] These were Silvane gods, whose Chief was Pay, lascivious like all his followers, who were held strangely amorous of men and women. The Chorus in Seneca, Hippol. act 2 believe it impossible, that Hippolytus living in the woods, should escape being solicited by them:  
— Te nemore abditum,  
Cum Titan medium constituit diem,  
Cinget turba lice●s, Naiades improbae  
Formosos solitae claudere fontibus:  
Et somnis facient insidias tuis  
Lascivae nemo rem deae,  
Montivagique Panes.  
For whilst in shades you bide, and day's  
Divided by the god of Rays,  
The Naiads thy beauty moves,  
Who in their fountains shut their Loves:  
And the lascivious gods that keep  
In woods, will court thee in thy sleep.  
The question, Whether Spirits affect carnal copulation, hath been disputed by many: I shall only relate these few opinions. Plutarch de Oraculor. defect. saith, that fury attendeth their unsatiated last Paracelsus relateth stories of some; who have been married to mortal men. Cardane, de Subtilit. & variet. rerum. saith, They are as apt as dogs to be familiar with men. Plato was believed to have been begotten on a Virgin by the phantasm of Apollo, by reason of his admirable wisdom. Cardane, de var. & subt rer. lib. 16. c. 43. speaketh of some, who had had familiar company with Spirits for many years. And Agrippa, de occulta Philos. lib. 3. cap. 24. saith, Sunt adhu●●o●ie qui commercium & conjugalem commixtionem habent cum Daemonibus. Burton in his MELANCHOLY relateth a story of Menippus Lucius, That between Cenchrea and Corinth he met a Spirit, in the habit of a fair Gentlewoman; and, deceived by her allurements, married her. To the Wedding, among other guests, came Apollonius, who by conjectures found her to be a Spirit. When she saw herself discovered, she begged of Apollonius to be silent: But he refusing, she vanished with all her house and furniture. Sabinus, in Ovid▪ Metam. lib. 10. hath the like story. Florilegus, ad Ann. 1●58. telleth of a young Gentleman of Rome, who, the same day he was married, going to play at Tennis, put his ring on the finger of the image of Venus; and returning to take off his ring, Venus had bent-in her finger so that he could not get it off. Whereupon loath to make his company stay, he left it, intending the next day to use some other means for it. Night being come, and going to bed to his Bride, Venus interposed between, telling him, He had betrothed himself to her by the ring he put upon her finger; and thus troubled him for many nights, till by the advice of Palumbus a Magician, he was released from his unwelcome Lover. Lavater, de spectr. part. 1. cap. 19 telleth this story, I have heard, saith he, a grave and a wise man, in the Territory of Tigure, who affirmed, that as he and his servant went through the pastures in the summer time, very early, he espied one (as he thought) whom he knew very well, wickedly committing lewdness with a Mare. At which being amazed, he returned back again, and knocked at his house whom he supposed he had seen. There he certainly understood, that the man had not been that morning from his chamber. Upon which, discreetly searching into the business, he saved the man, who else had suffered for the deluding Damon. Corn. Agrip. the ocult. Philos. l. 3. c. 19 citeth a passage in St. Augustine, that Spirits are subject to these lusts. And Mr. Burton quoteth Pererius in Gen. lib. 8. c. 6. v. 1. who affis meth, that these Genii can beget, and have carnal copulation with women. In that fair Temple of Belus, as Herodotus saith, there was a Chapel, in which was splendidè stratus lectus, & apposita ●ens● aurea. Into this adorned bed none came, but the woman whom the god made choice of, as the Chaldean Priests told him; and their god lay with her himself. Of this opinion is Lactantius. And Lipsius relateth proofs thereof in his days, in the City of Lovain. Further discourse on this point I shall reserve for a place more worthy of it.  
75. If Hercules thus learned to spin.] The● is being come to the Island where she intended to place her son, letteth him know, that for his safety, she would put him into woman's habit. And knowing that the greatness of his spirit would scorn such a disguise, she sertteth Hercules before him, who at the command of Omphale in such a dress sat spinning, Seneca Hippolyto, act. 1.  
Natus Al●mtna posuit pharetram,  
Et minax vasti spolium Leonis,  
Passus aptari digiti● smaragdos,  
Et dari legem rudibus capillis.  
Crura distincto religavit auro,  
Luteo p'ant●● cohibente socco:  
Et manu, clavam modo quâ gerebat,  
Fr●d deduxit properante fuso.  
Vidit Perses, ditisque s●r●x  
Lydia regni, dejecta seri  
Terga Leonis, bumerisqu●, quibus  
Sederat alti regia coeli,  
Tenuem Tyrio stamine pallam.  Vid. Herc. Furent. v. 465. & Herc. Oct. v. 372. 
Great Hercules once threw away  
His Quiver and the Lion's prey:  
His fingers he adorns with rings,  
And his rude hair in order brings:  
His legs with gold embraced round,  
His feet with yellow buskins bound:  
That hand, which so well armed had been  
With his great Club, now learns to spin;  
By Persians and rich Lydians scorned,  
Not with his Lion's skin adorned.  
Those shoulders on which Heaven should rest  
Were in a woman's habit dressed.  
77. If Bacchus] Bacchus also disguised himself in a Virgin's habit, for fear of his mother-in-law Juno, Senec. Oedip. v. 417. Mythologers understand this of the effects of Wine, which sometimes rendereth men esteminate, and otherwhile giveth courage to the most womanish mind: And therefore was Bacchus said to be of both sexes. Origen lib. 3. contra Celsum saith, that Bacchus was thought sometimes to have worn a woman's habit. Eusebius, de Pr●p. Evang. l. 3 c. 9 giveth this reason, why a woman's form (and therefore habit) was ascribed to Bacchus, ●t vim illam quae plantarum fructibus i●est ex mascula foemineaque conflatam significet; To signify, that the strength was of both kinds by which fruits were produced.  
78. And Jove himself.] The story is commonly known: Jupiter going to visit the world, injured by Phaeton's Lightning, employed his first care on Arcadia; where his eyes told his heart such wonders of Colisto's beauty, that he counterfeited the shape and dress of Dianae, (Quis Diuûm fraudibus obstet?) and so enjoyed the deceived Calisto, 〈◊〉. Metamorph. lib. 2.  
● Coeneus] Who being ravished by Neptune, and having the grant of Fish for her recompense, desired to alter her sex, that she might ●●r suffer such a misfortune more. Unto this the too kind god added her being invulnerable. Yet in the battle of the Centauris, and the Lapithae, she was pressed to death: So impossible it is for power, any way applied in this world, to alter destiny. Nor do our fond attempts give occasion to Him above, to appoint new accidents: It is He, that permits those fond attempts, and letteth them be the means of those accidents, which we would most avoid. The fable sometimes goeth, that she had power to change her sex. Otherwise the sense remaineth not perfect. In the other World, Virgil showeth her in her first sex, Aen. 6. v. 448.  
— Et juvenis quondam, nunc foemina, Coeneus,  
Rursus & in veterem fato revoluta figuram.  
And Coeneus once a Youth, but now a Maid,  
By fate into her former sex conveyed.  
85. If by the Stygian arming waves.] Thetis to prevent the mortality of Achilles, which he had received from his Father, dipped him in the Stygian flood, all but the heel, which she held by; In which mortal part, he was shot by Paris. By this River, the gods took their inviolable Oaths, Virg. Aen. 6. Seneca, Thyestes. v. 667. giveth it this Character, 
Deformis unda, quae facit caelo fidem.  And Homer, Odyss. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
The greatest Oath among the blessed Gods.   
The fable is, that Victoria the daughter of Styx, assisted Jupiter in his War against the Giants; For which service, he gave this honour to her Mother, that the gods should swear by her, and inviolably keep their Oath, or else be banished from the banquets of the gods. This affordeth some illustration to verse 213. Where Thetis wishing honour to the Island Scyros, saith,  
Let thy name be the Seaman's sacred vow.  
The Viscount, St. Albans, Sapient. Vet. applieth this to the Leagues and Covenants of Princes, which by reason of interest, are preciselier observed, than more sacred ones. Natalis Comes, Mytholog. l. 3. c. 2. saith, that Styx discovered the conspiracy of the gods, and that therefore, perhaps Jove made that Water their obliging Oath. Aristotle, Metaphys. l. 1. c. 3. conceiveth, that the Poets by this fiction, intended to signify, that water is the original of all things. So Thales Milesius said, that, water is initium rerum; Deum autem, eam Meutem quae, ex aqua cuncta fingeret, as Cicero saith, De nat. Deox. lib. 1. according to that of Moses, Gen. 1. 2. So the god's Oath seemeth to have been by the first beginning of things. Other reasons may be seen in Cal. Rhodiginus, lib. 27. c. 5. Of this opinion, Plutarch showeth Homer to be, lib. De Homero, where he citeth Thales for it; and, after them, Xenophanes. The reasons of whose conjecture, Eusebius giveth, De praepar. Evang. lib. 14. c. 14. Servius in Aen. 6. saith, Acheron hath its name, qua●● 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, sine gaudio: From whence, Styx cometh; from Styx, Cocytus. Whose Etymologies he thus bringeth along; They, who want Joy, have Sadness, which is neighbour to Grief, the production of Death. The Poets feigned these Rivers to be unpleasant: So must Death needs be to those, who placing their joys in this World, part with both together. By Victory, daughter of Styx, may be intimated the power of Death, who assisted Jupiter; in that the Giants were mortal: showing the vastness of their crimes, which make the true War with God, and want but eternity for themselves, to make their crimes perpetual. All this signifieth but the series of Life and Death, not more of sorrow belonging to our ends, then to our beginnings. Man is born unto Sorrow, saith Eliphaz, Job 5. 7. And according to this sense, Plutarch speaketh, whose words I have taken the liberty, to dress in verse;  
Sicut qui argillam tractat, fingere  
Ex ea animalis formam potest,  
Rursúmque diffingere, iterúmque ae  
Quoties libet perpetuò vices istasrepetere:  
Sic etiam Natura ex eadem materia  
Olim avos nosiros, postea patres pro-  
tulit, deinde nos, ac deinceps a-  
lios ex aliis evolvet. Ac fluvius  
Ille ortûs nostri absque intermis-  
sione labens nunquam subsistet;  
Sicut & interitûs flumen hujus  
Contrarium, five is Acheron est.  
Prima ergo Causa, quae nobis Solis offendit  
Jubar, eadem ad caligniosum Orcum adducit.  
As one that chafes the pliant clay, may bring  
The substance to the form of any thing;  
Again, destroy the species, and by skill  
Repeat the same as often as he will:  
So nature also at the first, from clay  
Our Ancestors did to the World convey,  
Our father's next; to them do we succeed,  
Others to us; and they shall others breed.  
This flood of Life, flows at a constant rate,  
Consuming still, as do the streams of Fate.  
This flood's Cocytus, or else Acheron,  
Which stream the Poets set those names upon.  
Thus the first cause, which shows us the Sun-light,  
Restores us back unto Eternal night.  
120. Received Love's flames.] Those thoughts of glory, that would not suffer Achilles to consent to his kind Mother's advice, yield to Love's power, by which all the World is fettered. Which matter is excellently expressed by Seneca, Hippolyt. act. 1. Chor. The greatness of which power, joined to the swiftness of its execution, made the Ancients believe, it was a fascination; So Dido, at the first sight of Aeneas, received a passion as durable as her life, since she could find no way but one, to end both. The amorous Sapph, having expressed all the symptoms of a powerful passion, exspecteth the same fate.  
— Velut herba pallent  
Ora: spirandi neque compos, Orco  
Proxima credor.  
My lips grow pale, and my disordered breath  
Is spent in sighs: sure, the next thing is death.  
Ex interpretatione Henrici Stephani. According to these examples, there is reason enough to believe Claudians amorous beggar;  
Paupertas me saeva domat, dir●sque Cupido:  
Sed toleranda fames, non tolerandus amor.  
In Loves and Fortune's fetters I remain:  
One may endure the hunger, not the flame.  
Aelian, Variae hist. lib. 12. c. 58 relateth the story of Dioxippus, the famous Wrestlet of Athens; Who coming into the City, as the manner was, after those exercises, fell in Love with a Maid, (like Achilles here) at the first sight, as he passed along.  
123. Massagetans.] A people of Scythia, inhabiting Caucasus, who used to break such in pieces, as died of old age, and to throw such to Wild beasts, as died of diseases, Strabe. lib 2. They worshipped the Sun chiefly; to whom they offered an Horse. When they traveled through a wilderness, they were wont to drink Horses blood mingled with milk. So Claudian,  
Et qui cornipedes in pocula vulaer●t audax  
Massageteses.  
170. Altars witnessing.] It was an observed custom, when any thing of consequence was to be said, or petitioned for, to do it before the Altars of the gods. So when Iarbas heard of Dido's passion for Aeneas, Aen. 4.  
Isque amens animi, & rumore acceusus amaro,  
Dicitur an●e●aras, media inter numina Diuûm, etc.  
Enraged ('t is said) at this unwelcome fame,  
Among the Altars of his Gods he came.  
This he did, that he might perform that usual ceremony of holding the Altars; as a little below, Talibus orantem dictis, ●rásque tenentem. And the same Prince of Poets, Aen. 12. Tango ●ras, medios ignes acnumina testor.  
And Macrobius, Saturnal. lib. 3. c. 2. saith, that Jupiter heard him, non quia orabat tantùm, sed quia & arras tenebat. And he citeth Vario, Divin. lib. 5. who saith, Aras primùm dictas, quòdesset necessarium à sacrificantibus eas teneri. Ansis autem solere teneri vasa, quis duhitet? Alexander a● Alexandro. lib 2. c. 18. saith, It was a custom for those that were piously praying to the gods, to embrace their knees, i. e. the knees of their Statues. And this certainly, is the only meaning of that in Juvenal, 8 a●. 10. 55. — genua incerare Deorum. But because incero signifieth to cover with wax, some hold, that they waxed-on their Petitions on the knees of their Statues. Turnebus lib. 1. cap. 17. saith, That they held the Statues with such assiduous fervency, ut sudore incrassarentur, & videretur illis quasi cera superposita. Were it possible this place should still remain unperfect, after its having passed through so many learned hands, I should guess the word insuccare, to make moist, more apt to the sense, especially to the interpretation of the most learned Turnebus.  
159. Nor Gymnick game.] Gymnad●s, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Exerceo; or rather from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Nu●o. For they which exercised these Games were all naked. These were invented by Lycaon of Arcadia. And the Spartan Virgins used to practise all manly exercises naked. Alexand. ab Alex. lib. 2. c. 25.  
208. As Crect to Rhea.] Thetis having now taken leave of her disguised son, and being entered the waves, turneth her eyes towards the Island, and beggeth of it to perform its trust as justly, as Crect had done to Rhea: Who, when her husband Saturn intended to murder all his children, being told that he should have one, who would depose him from his throne, hid her son Jupiter in Dicte, a Mountain of Crect, where the Corybantes her Priests, with their sounding Brass, drowned the noise of the child's crying, Natalis Comes. lib. 2. c. 1. Saturn was a great devourer of children, for to him the Carthagenians offered their sons, Plato in Minoe. By Saturn was understood Time; by Jupiter, Heaven, which is not subject to the power of Time: And therefore was it said, that Jupiter was not devoured by Saturn. Gaffard in his Curiosities, part. 3. chap 11. sect 8. saith, The ancient Hebrews stood in much dread of the malignancy of the Planet Saturn. And the Chaldeans, who gave themselves over to the worshipping of false gods, observing this Star to be hurtful, thought good by some sacrifice to render it more propitious to them. And no sacrifice being fitter than that on which it wrought its sad effects, they began to sacrifice children to it under the name of Moloch. And this, he believeth, was the original of the Fable, why Saturn was said to devour his children. And the Priests were said to have made a noise with their brass, to drown young Jupiter's cry, from the custom which they had to make such noises when the children passed through the fire to Moloch; which was no other than some particular Daemon-rite. For MOLOCH signifieth as much as BAAL. So we read, Psal. 106. 37. Mactârunt 〈◊〉 s●●s & filias daemonii●, as Mr. Selden rendereth it, De Dî● Syris, cap. de MOLOCH; to whom, and Saturn, children were the usual sacrifices, as he there showeth.    

The Third BOOK.  

The Argument.  
An Oath obligeth the revengeful Greeks,  
At Aulis took. The sly Ulysses seeks  
The wished Achilles; who, disguised, doth move  
Unto the Conquest of his Mistress Love.  

IN the mean while, the fatal love of Arms  
Stirs the fierce Greeks. The Princes give th'alarms,  
Soliciting revenge. The Ilians crime  
They thus enlarge; that in a quiet time,  
No wars, the * 
[Helen  daughter of great Jove by them  
Was injured, with the Laws of god and men.  
How shall the common people fare, if thus  
They venture first their injuries on us?  
Thus all prepared for war; not alone 
* The Inhabitants of Peloponnesus.  those  
Whom the two Oceans do almost enclose,  
Or round Malea dwell, but also those  
Who do inhabit where * 
The Hellespont.  Propontis flows.  
Europe from Asia parting, and again  
Those where the waves spread in a larger Main.  
The wretched love of war warmed every breast.  
Famed Temesa gave Brass; rigged Navies pressed  
The waves of the Euboean shores; and in  
Mycoena, strokes of hammered Armour ring.  
Her Chariots Pisa sends for warlike use,  
Nemaean-shades the skins of Beasts produce.  
Cyrrha the Quiver fills; and for the Shields  
Lerna gives Hides: the bold Acarnan yields  
Bodies of Foot▪ so doth th' Aetolian; Horse,  
In Troops from Argos sent, complete the force,  
Fetched from Arcadia's fair now-emptied plains.  
For war her famous breed Epirus trains.  
Aonian Woods and Phocis Arrows lend:  
Their Engines Pilos and Messana send.  
No place left free. They Arms from Pillars tore,  
There by their Ancestors hung long before.  
The gifts to gods the melting flames devour,  
Altered to serve a far severer Power.  
No ancient shades on th'hills must longer grow:  
Taygetus now and Othrys naked show.  
Great Oaks for Ships, less Trees for Oars they trim:  
Whole Woods do now on the vast Ocean swim.  
Iron by skilful workmen is designed  
For various use; the beaks of Ships to bind.  
For Armour, and for Bridles, and for Nails  
On arming-coats, set like to fishes scales;  
For Swords, for Darts, which, dipped in poison, throw  
Death in the wounds they give. The whetstones grow  
With sharpened weapons thin. Some pieces bring  
In forms for Bows, some Bullets for the Sling  
Prepare, some harden Stakes, some places gave  
To Helmets where th'advanced Plumes should wave.   

Among these tumults Thessaly remains  
Alone unactive, and alike complains  
That Peleus was too old, his son too young.  
All-emptied Greece, now mad with fury, throng  
To Ships, the crowded shores do seem to glow,  
And sensible of heat the billows show:  
The justled waves seem to present a storm;  
The Ships that raise it on the swellings born.  
Under their weight the Ocean almost fails,  
And all the winds scarce serve to fill their sails.  
At first the waves by rocky Aulis bore  
The swarming Greeks, the much affected shore  
Of Cynthia. There loud 
Proteus'  Caphareus shows  
His head, and back to th'waves, their clamours throws.  
When all these swarms of sails came to his sight,  
Thrice he presaged a sad prodigious night.  
Here first Troy's fatal foes-united are,  
And all by Oath oblige themselves for war,  
Until the Sun had passed one annual course,  
And Greece appeared in her united force.  
Into a form Army they compose  
Their differing people, and a General chose.  
So the wild multitude that shades enjoys,  
Enclosed with toils, frighted with fire and noise,  
Fly to imprisoning valleys, and admire  
To see their Mountain lessen by the fire.  
There the wild multitude know equal fear.  
The Boar, the Wolf, together with the Bear  
Imprisoned lie: the fearful Hearts by them  
The fettered Lions in the toils contemn.  
Though both th' Atridae with the Army came,  
And Diomedes ambitious of great fame,  
With Sthen'lus, and Antilochus appears  
More mindful of the war than of his years.  
Though Ajax brought his Shield of seven hides,  
In compass like a swelling Mountain sides.  
Though sly Ulysses was among the rest;  
Yet of Achilles all a want expressed.  
His name brings joy. He must be Hector's fate,  
And ruin of great Priam and his State.  
" For whose first steps but his were taught to go  
" In the Aemonian Valleys through Snow?  
" Whose youth such rigid principles was taught?  
" His line from Heaven so directly brought?  
" For whom, but him, such care would Thetis have,  
" To arm his fair limbs with the Stygian wave?  
This through the Camp while all the Greeks proclaim,  
The Captain's joy, though vanquished, at his fame.  
So in Phlegraean fields when the gods were  
Assembled, and great Mars assumed his Spear,  
Pallas her Snakes, his Bow Apollo took;  
Yet Nature still wore an affrighted look,  
Till Jove himself loud storms and thunders raised,  
And from the clouds Aetnaean lightning blazed.   

Whilst here the Captains by their Troops enclosed  
Consulted on those ways to peace opposed,  
Protestlaus, who most active showed  
I'th' War, and on whom fate was first bestowed,  
Thus unto Calchas said; Thestorides,  
Sure thou forgettest Phoebus' Oracles:  
For when can thy inspired lips relate  
Better than now the hid decrees of Fate?  
Dost thou not see how all amazed admire  
Aeacides, the object of desire?  
The Calydonian Prince now all contemn,  
'Slight either-Ajax too, and me with them.  
But since our valour now is scorned thus,  
Both Mars and ruined Troy shall speak for us.  
For him, the Princes all neglected are,  
And he is honoured as a god of war.  
Speak quickly, (or else why should we allow  
Those sacred wreaths on thy adorned Brow?)  
Where larks the Youth? for now, as men report,  
he's not in Chiron 's Cave, nor Peleus Court.  
Speak then: if ever, now let thy desires  
Wish for Prophetic breast-inspiring fires.  
Thou shalt secure from war and danger rest,  
Those gentle Wreaths with Helmets ne'er be pressed.  
Be happy in th'esteem which all will owe  
To thee, if thou to us Achilles' show.   

Calchas this while his eyes doth wildly throw,  
And his pale looks the god's approach do show.  
His cheeks strait glow with heat: nor can he find  
Or friends, or tents; so wild he is and blind.  
Now in the sky great troops of gods he spies,  
Now from the Fowls he takes his Auguries,  
Now asks the Fates below their hid designs,  
And then consults the bright perfumed Shrines,  
Snatches the tops of the ascending fires,  
And with the holy fume himself inspires.  
His hairs erected stood: in no one place  
His neck kept fixed, nor keep his feet one pace.  
Tired at length and trembling, a voice broke  
Through the opposing fury, and thus spoke.  
Whither dost thou Chiron 's loved charge now bear,  
Thetis, with Woman's craft? Return him here.  
he's due to us: though waves obey thy will,  
Yet Phoebus too a god my breast doth fill.  
Where dost thou hide the Trojan 's fate? I see  
The Cycladeses and shores sought out by thee,  
Where thou of thy unworthy theft art cased,  
The guilty Land of Lycomedes pleased.  
O crime! those shameful flowing garments tear,  
And be not subject to a Mother's fear.  
Ah me! now from mine eyes, he's ravished quite,  
What guilty Virgin's that salutes my sight?   

Then staggering, by his strength and rage forsook,  
He sunk down by the Altar whilst he shook.   

Then to Ulysses, Diomedes thus said,  
This business now seems to require our aid.  
For I shall ne'er refuse to go with thee,  
If the design doth with thy thoughts agree.  
Though he in Tethys' hollow sounding caves  
Were hid, or wrapped by Nereus in his waves,  
Thou thou dst find him out. Let thy care be expressed  
From that great spring of counsels in thy breast.  
For, which of all our Prophets can deny  
Thy judgement equal to their Prophecy?   

Ulysses pleased, replied, What thou wouldst do,  
Great Jove assist, and's blue-eyed Daughter too.  
We run a hazard, 't is an act of weight  
To arm Achilles; and a shame as great.  
If our design be frustrated by fate:  
Yet what the Grecians wish, I'll venture at,  
And with me, the Peleian Prince I'll bring,  
Else Calchas tongue did uninspired sing.   

The Grecians shout: and Agamemnon too,  
Excites them unto that they meant to do.  
The Council then dissolved, the Grecians rise,  
And with a gentle murmur show their joys:  
So at the night's approach, calm Hybla sees  
Return, with buzzing noise, her Laden bees.  
Now Ithacus a prosperous gale implores  
To fill his sails, the youths too ply their Oars.   

far off Achilles his disguise concealed,  
Who to Deidamia now must be revealed.  
She, though the crime were hid, did fear express,  
And thought her Sisters at the thing might guess.  
For as Achilles stood among the bright  
Fair charming troup, (his blushes put to flight)  
He chose his loved companion, (though the fair  
Enamoured troup for him had equal care)  
And practised the unknown designs of love,  
Which in her breast could no suspicion move.  
With haste, he follows her from place to place:  
His eyes no business find but in her face,  
Repeating looks; he useth to abide  
A close companion by her lovely side:  
Sometimes about her, flowery wreaths he strews,  
And sometimes at her, harmless javelins throw.  
Now chants he Lays, that Chiron taught, and brings  
Her courted fingers to the warbling string;  
Strait his obliged lips to hers are fixed,  
And praises with a thousand kisses mixed.  
She gladly learns how Pelions top was raised,  
And who Achilles was, and hears amazed  
His name, with his achievements of great things,  
Whilst he himself, himself there present sings.  
She teaches then his gentler arms to pull,  
In long extended threads, the following wool.  
Settling the shaken distaff in its place,  
And his full voice admires and strong embrace:  
Observes his looks on none but her were fixed,  
And all his words with long-fetcht sighs were mixed.  
Now going to reveal his flame, she flies  
With Virgin-fears, and his design denies.  
So Heavn's great Ruler in his tender years,  
Kissed his affected Sister without fears:  
But Nature's laws being observed no more,  
She fears that love, she blushed not at before.   

At length, his Mother's craft he did disclose,  
A grove there was, whose top to Heaven arose.  
Sacred to Bacchus, in whose shades by nights  
The women paid their Trieterick rites.  
Whole herds they slaughtered, spears from Trees they rend,  
And to the God their grateful furies sent.  
The Law forbade all Males: yet that command  
Was given anew. Besides, a Priest did stand  
To watch the bounds, left they might be defiled  
By some rash man. At this Achilles smiled.  
Before the troup he with the Ensign goes,  
And in unpractized ways his arms bestows.  
Such as became the sex, and helped the tales  
His Mother told. Wonder on all prevails  
To see Deidamia self excelled, as she  
From her fair Sisters challenged victory.  
But from his snowy neck, that so excelled,  
When the Heart's skin was thrown with Ivy held,  
His shining brows with purple ribbons bound,  
And tossed his spear with Vines and Ivy crowned.  
The troup then all amazed the sacrifice  
And rites forsook; on him to feed their eyes.  
So Bacchus looked, whilst he had yet resigned  
To Theban luxuries his loosened mind,  
Then leaves soft wreaths, his green spear head's with steel,  
And now his nobler force the Indians feel.   

Now Cynthia, in her Silver Chariot road  
On heaven's highest road, when the dull God  
Of Sleep pays visits to the earth, and flings  
Over the silent world his heavy wings;  
The tired Company then weary grown,  
Lay down to rest. Achilles' all alone  
Thus with himself begins, How long shall I  
Endure a mother's fearful subtlety?  
And in this soft esseminate Prison lose  
My noblest thoughts? May not my right hand chose  
One armed dart, nor more pursue wild game?  
Doth not Sperchios still for me complain?  
And promised hairs? Must I for nothing look,  
That's brave, who such a Master so forsaken?  
Or to the shades do all believe me fled,  
And Chiron mourns me without issue dead:  
My darts and bow are now employed by thee,  
Patroclus' too, and horses trained for me;  
Whilst I brandish a spear with Ivy dressed,  
Or learn to spin, I blush whileed is confessed.  
Why dost thou hide thy passionate design,  
And in dissimulation bury time?  
Shall still these flaming words consume thy breast,  
And leave thy sex and passion unexpressed?   

This said, and pleased with the concealing time  
Of night, sleep too assisting his design,  
She now no more his feigned embraces found,  
Whilst he by force his burning wishes crowned.  
The Stars all smiled, whilst they the wantoness spied,  
And Cynthia, her bright horns with blushes died.  
The Woods and Hills rang with her noise; when all,  
Roused from their sleep, thought it the signal call.  
At which the echoing grove with clamours shakes,  
Whilst he again, his wreathed Thyrsus takes:  
But his afflicted mistress first thus chear●,  
'T is I am he (why dost thou show these fears?)  
Born of the Ocean's Queen, who did bestow  
My breeding on me in Thessalian snow.  
Nor had I e'er endured this soft disguise,  
Had not I first been charmed by thine eyes.  
It was thy power besides, that did command  
A Timbrel and a Distaff in this hand.  
Why dost thou weep, since to the Ocean's King,  
Thou art a Child, that must Heaven issues bring?  
And ere thy Father shall disturb my joy,  
Storms and unvanquished flames shall all destroy.  
I am not turned a woman quite with this,  
But yet awhile conceal this stealth of bliss?   

At this, new fears amazed th' affrighted Queen,  
Though still suspicious of him she had been.  
Trembling when he came near, now she feared more,  
When he confessed what she believed before.  
Should she her Father tell, (what should she do?)  
And with herself ruin the loved Youth too?  
For his dear sake, she rather chose to be  
By silence made as deep in guilt as he.  
By joint consent, one confident they chose,  
To whom they did their secret theft disclose,  
Her womb now swells: and, all her heavy time,  
She cunningly conceals her shame and crime.  
Till Nature's just designed term did come,  
And kind Lucina did unload her womb.    

ANNOTATIONS on the Third Book of STATIUS his ACHILLEISS.  
STatius, in the beginning of his third Book, (according to the Paris-Edition, for that of Amsterdam maketh but two) representeth Greece preparing war against Troy, and declaring their affection to it. This was the first war we read the Greeks were engaged in, Thucyd. lib. 1. And therefore it is the less wonder that they loved war, seeing they understood it not. Since also we have monstrous examples of some, that have been weary of peace, giving it no better a name than Idleness, and making it the scandal of a Nation. When it is wanted, it will be esteemed. Such is the fatal folly of frail nature. Sylla told King Bocchus, that the gods advised him, when he chose any peace rather then war. And when some disliked the effects of the Treaty, Sallust Bell. Jug. excellently saith, Scilicet ignari rerum humanarum, quae fluxae & mobiles saepiùs in adversa mutantur. Expectation of better is the great cozenage of this world, at least the attempts and profession of it.  
10. Two Oceans.] Peloponnesus, now called Morea, hath the Ionian Sea on the right hand, and the Aegean on the left, being a Peninsula, in whose isthmus stood the City of Corinth.  
11. Malea.] A Promontory in Laconia, between which and Taenarus is the Laconian Bay, Strab. lib. 8.  
16. Temesa.] A City of the Brutians, famous for Brasse-mines; after called Tempsa, Plin. l. 3. c. 5. There is a Town of this name in Cyprus also famous for Brass. One of these afforded matter for the stately Horse of Domitian, Statius Silu. lib. 1. in Equo. Domit.  Et quîs se totis Temese dedit hausta metallis. 
Upon which large and stately Statue, shrines  
The City Temesa's exhausted Mines.  
17. Euboean shore.] Euboea assisted with ships, being an Island opposite to the Continent of Attica, Boeotia, and Locris, extending from Sunium as far as Thessaly, Strab. lib. 10.  
18. Mycena] A City so near Argos, that, as Strabo saith, their names were oftentimes promisevously used for one another. It was once the head of Argia; distant from Argos but fifty furlongs, Strabo. lib. 8. & Pausan. in Corinth. It received its name (as Etepha●us saith) from the handle of a Sword, which the Greeks call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The word signifleth properly a Musbrain. It is used also for the lower part of the handle of a Sword, which is like a Mushrum. Mycena had its name from hence, because Perseus letting the handle of his Sword fall there, was commanded by Mercury there to build that City.  
19 Pisa.] A City near the River Alpheus, where the Olympic Games were celebrated, seated in Elis, a Region, which with Messena takes up the West-part of Peloponnesus. Here Salmoneus once reigned, whose ambition and punishment is thus described, Aen. 6. 585.  
Vidi & crudeles dantem Salmonea poenas,  
Dum flammas Jovis & sonitus imitatur. Olympi.  
Quatuor hic invectus equis, & lompada quassans,  
Per Graiûin populos mediaeque per Elidis urbem  
Ibat ovans, Diuûinque sibi poseebat honorem:  
Demens, qui nimbos & non-imitabile fulmen  
Aere & comipedum cursu fimulârat equorum.  
At Pater omnipotens densa. inter nubila telum  
Conto●fit (non ille faces nec fumea tedis  
Lumina) praecipitemque immani turbine adegit.  
I also saw Salmoneus cruel fate  
In tortures held, who strove to imitate  
Jove's lightning, and the noise that heaven makes.  
By four Steeds drawn, a sputtring Torch he shakes,  
And through fair Elis crowded streets he drives,  
Ambitious of the gods prerogatives;  
Mad man to think, that Flame which thought exceeds,  
To imitate with Brass and trampling Steeds.  
But through the cracking clouds enraged Jove  
A fatal rushing Dart whirled from above,  
(Not Brands, nor smoky Torches) and him cast  
Headlong by that unimitable blast.  
20 Nemea.] A Wood of Achaie, where Hercules slew a Lion. Servius saith, Nemca est vicina sylva Thebis, in qu● Hercules interemit Leonem. But this is a great error in the learned Servius. For Nemea is a Forest between Cleona and Phlius, Strab. lib. 8. & Thucyd. l. 5. which Towns are far distant from Thebes, which is in Boeotia.  
21. Cyrrha.] A City of Phocis, in the Corinthian Bay, Strab. lib. 9 Pausanias' in Phocicis, makes it all one with Crissa; Pliny, not. Here Apollo was worshipped: And therefore the people haply said to have delighted in Arrows.  
22. Lerna gives hides.] Near Argos is a Lake of this name, where Hercules slew the Hydra, notwithstanding that in the room of one head lopped off, three new ones still sprouted forth. Servius believeth, that in this place there was a swift River, which overflowed the neighbouring Towns, and being stopped in one place, broke forth in many others with greater impetuousness: Which mischief Hercules remedied, by damning up the whole Lake. There is a Town also, as Britannicus saith, of this name.  
23, 24. Acarnan— with th' Aetolian.] Aetolia bordereth on Phocis, Acarnania on Aetolia, betwixt which runneth the river Achelous. The Bay of Ambracia parteth Acarnania from Epirus, Strab. l. 9  
¶ Argos.] Here Juno had a Temple, whence she was called Juno Argiva. It is commonly placed in Maps a great way from the Sea; but Pausanias in Corinthiacis saith, It is but forty furlongs off; which Thucydides also confirmeth, lib. 5. where he saith, that the Argives fearing the Lacedæmonians, and renewing League with the Athenians, raised large Walls from their City down to the Seashore, to the end, that if they were shut up by Land, they might, by the Athenian's help, receive in fitting provisions by Sea.  
25. Arcadia.] A Region in the midst of Peloponnesus, Strab. lib. 8. remote every way from the Sea; famous for pasture, and much more, in having been the subject of so many excellent Pens. For which cause it needeth no more of mine.  
26. Epirus.] A Country bordering on Greece, on the East divided from Achaia by Achelous, on the West by the Acroceraunian Mountains, which lie upon the Adriatic shore; on the North it is bounded by Macedonia: Its Southside is washed by the Ionian Sea. It was first named Molossia; afterwards Chaonia, from Chaon brother of Helenus; now, Albania. Once it was full of Cities and Inhabitants; but after it was vanquished by the Romans, it long retained the marks of a conquered Nation. Among other things it was famous for swift Horses, Servius in Virg. Georg. 3. That incomparable Poet (Georg. 1.) also ascribeth the same to it, — Eleadum palmas Epiros equarum. 
Epirus Breed by swiftness gains  
The Garland in th' Olympic Games.  Servius in loc. out of Pliny, giveth this reason of their swiftness, that they stolen in their courses; which is not only ridiculous, but impossible. Georg. 3. 273. The Poet relateth the fond opinion of Mare's generating with the wind, which Servius also out of Varro conirmeth. In these latter days, Epirus gained its greatest fame, by being the place for which the generous Scanderbag performed so many glorious actions.  
27. Aonian shades, and Phocis.] Both Regions of Boeotia. The Phocians inhabit the East-side of Para●ssus the Muse's Hill, Sirrah. 1. 9 Aonia also had a Fountain dedicated to the Muses: Whence Juvenal Sat. 7.  
— aptusque bibendis  
Fontibus Aonidum.  
28. Pyles & Messana.] Pylus is a City of Messenia, on the Promontory Coryphastum. Thucydides, lib 4. relating the advice of Demosthenes to fortify Pylus, taketh occasion to show its distance from Sparta to be four hundred furlongs, and that it standeth in the Territory, called by the Lacedæmonians Coryphastum, that once belonged to the Messenians. This was Nestor's Country. There is also in Elis a City of this name; Strabo speaketh of them both, and also of a third in Arcadia, Messene, here called Messana, is a City and Region on the West-part of Peloponnesus, consigning on Arcadia, Elis, and Laconia. But Messana is a Town in Sicily, near Pelorus. Strabo lib. 8. saith, it was called Zancle: Which name, Ibucydides, lib. 6. saith, the Sicilians gave it, because it was like a Sickle, which they called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. After, it received the name of Messana, from Anaxilas the Tyrant of Rhegium, being the name of the Country whence he was anciently deseended; but others say from the Messenians, a people in Achaia.  
34. Täygetus] A Mountain of Laconia, beginning at the Sea, and reaching up towards Arcadia as far as Lacedaemon, Sirrah. lib. 8. It was sacred to Bacchus, as Servius saith on these words, Georg. 2. — et virginibus Bacchata Lacaenis Täygeta. 
— And on Täygetus top, where all  
Laconian Virgins pay their Bacchanals.  Cicero de divinat. lib. 1. saith, The Lacedæmonians being warned by Anaximander to leave their houses, they were suddenly thrown down by an Earthquake, with part of the mountain Täygetus.  
45. Stakes] The Ancients made use of stakes in war, sharpened at one end, and hardened in the fire, Virg. Aen. 11.  Stipitibus ferrum sudibusque imitantur obustis. 
57 Aulis] An Haven (or an Island, as Servius saith, in Aen. 4.) of Boeotia, where the Greeks made their great rendezvous, and took an Oath to destroy Troy, or never to return, Senec. Agam. 170.  
Cruore ventos emimus, & bellum niece  
& v. 172.  
Non est soluta prospero classis Deo.  
Ejecit Aulis impias portu rates.  
War and th' obliged Winds by blood were bribed.  
Not a propitious Power was their guide,  
When from the Port of Aulis first they fled,  
And their swelled sails the impious Navy spread.  
This blood was Iphigenia's, who was sacrificed to Diana, because Agamemnon her father had killed a Hart which the goddess loved. Much contention there is concerning her transformation; Most agree she was turned into a Hind. Ludovicus Coppellus in his Diatriba de vota Jephtae, compareth the condition of Agamemnon and Jephtha together, and maketh them contemporary, and fetcheth the name Iphigenia from Jephtha, quasi jephthigenia; and conceiveth the fable of her transmutation arose from the story of Iepthah's daughter wand'ring on the Mountains. Of this sacrifice speaketh Nazianzen, Orat. 20. And Eusebius, de praeparat, Evang. hath much of human sacrifices; which are said to have been performed by divers Authors. The Fable of Agamemnon's daughter is set down by Hyginus, lib. 1. cap. 98. Ovid, Metamorph. lib. 13. Euripides, in Iphigenia, Seneca in Agam. Dictys Cretensis, and many others.  
79. Antilochus] the son of Nestor, famous for his actions against Troy. Statius here giveth him this character,  
— nec cogitet annos  
Antilochus.  
This, Britannicus interpreteth of his youth, and his doing actions, that such years as his were not wont to produce. But had he remembered, that his Father had been at the haunting of the Boar with Meleager, Ovid. Metamorph. lib. 8. fab 4. and had already lived two ages, when he came against Troy, Homer, Il. a 250. he might with more reason, have believed Juvenal, concerning the age of Antilochus▪ Stat. 10. 250.  
— Oro, parumper  
Attendas, quantum de legibus ipse queratur  
Fatorum, & nimio de stamine, cum vidci acris  
Antilochi barbam ardentem, cum quaerit ab omni,  
Quisquis adest socius, cur haec in tempora duret,  
Quod facinus dignum tam long● admiserit aevo.  
Harken a little, how old Nestor cries  
Against the Fates, and too kind destinies;  
The beard of brave Antilochus, while he  
Upon the funeral pile doth flaming see.  
Of every one, demanding what strange crime  
Prolonged his age to such a wretched time:  
85, 86. He must be Hector's fate, And ruin of great Priam] The death of Hector, I have above set down. The ruin of Priam is justly attributed to Achilles, in that he begat Pyrrhus, who killed him before the Altar, Virg. Aen. 2 554.  
Haec finis Priami fatorum; hic exitus illum  
Sorte tulit, Trojam incensam & prolapsa videntem  
Pergamon, tot quondam populis terrisque superbum  
Regnatorem Asiae, jacet ingens littore truncus,  
Av●ls●mque humeris caput, & sine nomine corpus.  
This was of once great Priam the hard fate,  
Troy seen on fire, and his ruined state;  
He who o'er part of Asia late did reign,  
Now headless lies, a corpse without a name.  
We read of few examples, of so great alteration of fortune, unless this later age hath produced them; Who now perhaps, take such a prospect of their scorned bodies, as Lucan, lib. 9 v. 10. giveth pompey of his from Heaven,  
— Illic post quam se lumine vero.  
Implevit, stellasque vagas miratur, & astra  
Fixa polis, vidit quanta sub nocte jacere●  
Nostra dies, risitque sui ludibria trunci.  
There with true light inspired, the wand'ring fires  
And fixed stars for ever he admires.  
The day sees wrapped in night, which us beguiles,  
And at his scorned and headless carcase smiles.  
95. Phlegraean fields] Phlegra is a valley in Thessaly, where the mountains Pelion and Ossa stand, on which the Poets feigned the Giants ass●●●lted heaven. There is another Phlegra in Campania, near Cume, which some make the stage of that bold attempt, Strab▪ lib. 5. Some reduce it to a truth, as ridiculous as the fable; How that a proud Nation, of monstrous dispositions, rather than statures, warred against Hercules, and were here overthrown by help of lightning, which arose by agitation of winds, the earth being sulfurous, and so subject to burning: From whence it had the name Phlegra, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifying to burn. Cicero, in his Cato major, saith the War of the Giants with the gods, was nothing but Men' rebelling against Nature. And Macrobius, Saturn, lib. 1. c. 20. describeth them to have been an impious race of men, who, denying the gods, were therefore said to attempt the dethroning of them, And their lower parts, feigned to be like the winding voluminous tails of Dragons; signified their indirect and crooked affections. Vadianus, in his learned Notes on Mela, understandeth this Gigantomachia, of the enclosure of air in the earth, which forceth its way forth, as it were with defiance to Heaven, which is Jupiter; And this glanceth at the Mythology, that Macrobius giveth. Ovid, Faster. 5. thus expresseth the Fable.  
Terra feros partus immania monstra gigantes  
Edidit, auturos in Jovis ire domum.  
Mille manus illis dedit, & pro cruribu● augues;  
Atque ait, In magnos arma movete Deos▪  
Exstruere hi montes ad sidera su●m● paraban,  
Et magnum bello sollicitare Jovem.  
Fulmina de coeli jaculatus Jupiter arce,  
Vertit in autores pondera vasta suos.  
The Earth brought forth Giants to vastness grown,  
That durst attempt to storm Jove's starry Throne.  
A thousand hands she gave them, crooked thighs  
Like snakes, and bids them war with Deities.  
They hills on mountains piled to reach the stars,  
Attempting Jove himself with impious wars.  
From whose revenging hand, the lightning blazed,  
Turning those mountains on them which they raised.  
This, learned Bochartus accurately applieth to the builders of the Tower of Babel, Geograph. Sacr. lib. 1. c. 13.  
175. Hybla.] A City in Sicily, abounding with flowers and bees. Senec●, Oedip. 601.  Nec vere stores Hybla tot medio create. 
Nor doth the fragrant Hybla bring  
So many flowers in the spring.  
213. Heaven's great Ruler.] Jupiter was bred with his sister Juno in Crect. See on Book TWO, verse 208. He was said to marry her by reason of the propinquity of the Fire and the Air; Hence also it was, that he could not match with Thetis, that is, the Sea. He is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, from being the giver of Life. Aulus Gellius, lib. 5. c. 12. Jovem Latin veteres à ju●●hdo appellavere; eundémque alio vocabulo juncto Patrem dixerunt: Which by the cutting off, and altering some Letters, is Jovispater▪ as Marspater, or Marspiter. This, unimitable Selden condemneth, Syniagm. 2. the all and Belo.  
219, 220, 221, A grove there was— Sacred to Bacchus, in whose shades by nights, The women paid their Trieterick rites.] I shall venture to be judged impertinent, rather than neglect these two subjects, consecrated Groves, and the Rites of Bacchus; Of these, with as much brevity as is possible. A Grove is called in Latin, I ucus, quòd non luceat; non, quód sint ibi lumina causa religionis, ut quidam volunt, as Servius, in Aen. 1, And in Georg. 3. he affirmeth, that all Groves were consecrated to Diana; Perhaps, it was generally believed so, by reason that she was reputed the Goddess of the Woods. For Servius certainly, could not forget that verse, Aen. 7.  — Et viridi gaudens Feronia lucs. 
On which both himself and Sabinus relate, that the grove of this Goddess, Feronia, being burnt down, and the people going to carry away her Statues, immediately it sprung up again, fresh and green. Suetonius in Augusto, speaketh of a grove, sacred to Liber or Bacchus, where Octavius consulted concerning his son; These Groves were used for Temples by the Germans, Alexand. ab Alex. lib. 4. c. 17. And Tacitus, de morib. Germanor, cap. 9 saith, Lucos ac nemora consecrant, Deorúmque nominibus appellant secretion illud quod solâ reverentiâ vident: A description of these groves, fee in Seneca, Oedip. act. 3. and in our Poet, Thebay 4. I have in some of these Notes, given short intimations, that there was nothing in the worship of Daemons, which was not an imitation of the worship of the true God: Larger proofs whereof, time perhaps may favour my intentions to produce. Among other things, Groves will appear to have had such an original; Learned Mr. Mede, on Josh. 24. 26. showeth that the Jews had their praying places, besides their Synagogues, out of a notable place of Epiphanius, a Jew bred and born in Palaestine. Which, he saith, were open places, and calleth them Proseuchas. Of which Juvenal, Sat. 3. 296.  — In qua te quaero proseucha? 
On which words, the Scholiast and Lubine say, Proseucha signifieth a place, where Beggars use to inhabit. For 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is Orare, to beg or pray. Yet the Scholiast immediately addeth, Est Proseucha, locus Judaeorum, ubi orant; Mr. Mede also citeth a place of Philo Judaeus, in his the legate. ad Caium, where he commendeth the exceeding clemency of Augustus Caesar, in allowing the Jews their Proseucha's. But he denieth not but that, under that name, Philo comprehendeth Synagogues also; Politian Miscell. cap. 30. faith, the word is used, pro Templo & Synagoga Judaeorum. Some held the Jews had no Synagogues before the Captivity: and their reason, perhaps, is the silence of the Scripture, which mentioneth them not, till the Jews were returned from Babylon: This Mr. Mede taketh notice of, and letteth it pass for currant; But as for Proseucha, or consecrated Groves, he proveth them to be near as ancient as Joshuah: showing the Oak of Shechem, to have been such an one, and not a single Tree, as the common interpretation rendieth it. That Trees were in these Proseucha's, may be gathered from another place of Philo, cited by the same worthy Author, where relating the outrage of the Gentiles, at Alexandria, against the Jews, there dwelling in the time of Caius, he faith, Proseucha's, they cut down the Trees, others, they demolished to the very foundations. This also is implied by that of Juvenal, Sat. 6. 542. 
Arcanam Iud●● tremens mendicat at aurem,  
Interpres legum Solymarum, & magna sacerdos  
Arboris.  And Sat. 3. 12. he complaineth, that the Jews had leave to live in the wood, which had been sacred to the Mases. Whence this joining of Trees and Jews together, but from their having their Proseucha's ordinarily set with them? I could set down many Texts of Scripture, which directly distinguisheth between these Groves and Temples, as Psal. 74. 7. though not rendered so in the Vulgar. Translation. So Gen. 13. 4. it is said, that Abraham went unto the place of the altar which he had made at first, and there called on the name of the Lord. Which is explained by Gen. 21. 33. a place express to our purpose, And Abraham planted a grove in Beersheba, and called there on the name of the Lord, the everlasting God. Luk. 6. 12. we meet with one of these praying-places. There it is said of Jesus; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, He went out into a mountain to pray, and continued there all night praying to God. So Beza rendieth the place, Abii● in montem ad precandum, & pernoctavit illic preca●s Deum, which certainly will not seem a just interpretation to any eyes: but it would be much more genuinely translated in proseucha Dei, than, taking 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for a Genitive case of the Object, in precatione ad Deum. And in this sense, without doubt, the word is to be understood, Act. 16. 16. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, euntibus nobis ad prose●cham, or locum orationis. Beza here also translateth it ad precationem. But v 13. it is said, that Paul and his company went on the Sabbath day out of the city Philippi by a river side, where prayer was wont to be made. If the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 be here taken for prayer, nevertheless it importeth a place where it was used, and that by a river's side: And it could not be a Temple, because they went out of the city to it, and Temples always stood in Cities. Therefore ●● judge the word most properly to be taken for a place, that is, a Proseuches, or grove. These Daemons taught the Gentiles, in imitation of the Jews, to use such places of devotion. Herein abominable ceremonies were practise, as frequently appeareth in Scripture, and therefore were they forbidden. See Isa. 57 5. Hos. 4. 13. Ezek 6. 13▪ Thus much of Groves. Now for Baechus and his rites, I shall first set down the Fable, which hath more reflection on the truth than is generally conceived. The Poets say, that Semele desiring to embrace Jupiter as juno was wont, and being burnt for her ambitious appetite; jupiter caught his little imperfect Infant from within her, and having sewed it up within his own thigh, kept it there till the time was complete that it should have lain in the womb Then issuing forth, he was bred up by Nymphs, and became the inventor of Wine. Of which, see Eusebius de praeparat. Evang. lib. 2. cap. 2. who there speaketh of another Bacchus the son jupiter and Proserpina, much ancienter than the son of Semele. But this is rather from others fancies, than from proofs either of his own or theirs. As little will it be necessary to take notice of the endeavours of Macrobius, to make Bacchus all one with Apollo, Sat. l. 1. c. 8. Which opinion is condemned by Easebius, de praepar. Evang. l. 3. c. 13. It will be only in some small manner convenient, to take some sleight notice of some Physical applications of the Fable. Bacchus, they say, was feigned to proceed from his father's thigh, because Vines prosper best in a warm soil. His lips were anointed with Honey by the daughter of Aristaeus; for the Ancients held Wine a friend to Eloquence. He continueth still young; for Wine preserveth the heart from cares, which are a greater cause of wrinkles and grey hairs than age. Hence also was he called Liber. Other reasons of which name, see in Plutarch, Quaest. Roman qu. 25. Many other appellations of his see in Ovid Metam. l. 4. Aelian V●r. hist. l. 3. c. 41. Alex. ab Alex. l. 6. c. 4. Natal. Com. l. 5. c. 13. Pier. Hieroglyph. l. 27. Gyrald. Syntagm 8. All which, having no relation to the truth, I forbear to meddle with. For declaring who Bacchus was, and what his rites and ceremonies were, I hold it requisite to show who Saturn the father of jove was, by whom Bacchus was begotten; and herein I shall wholly follow learned Bochartus. Saturn he accurately proveth to be Noah. For, as the Scripture styleth a Soldier, a man of war, Josh. 5. 4. a murderer, a man of blood, 2 Sam. 16 7. &c so it styleth Noah only, a man of the earth, that is, an Husbandman: Which title Saturn had, and was, as Noah, believed the first planter of Vineyards. Therefore to him they attribute the use of the Reap-hook, and picture him with one, Plutarch Quaest. Rom. 42. Macrob. Saturn l. 1. c. 7, & 10. And as if Noah, by his being a man of the earth, had indeed married the earth, Saturn was said to be the husband of Rhea, which seemeth to be derived of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to flow, and signified the earth, which is the seat of moisture. For, according to ancient Philosophers, all Rivers are generated, and have their courses under ground. This Virgil showeth, Georg. 4. who saith, That when Aristaeus was admitted into his mother's kingdom, 
Omnia sub magna labentia flumina terra  
Spectabat diversa locis.  
— There under ground he spied  
How several ways the wand'ring Rivers glide.  Macrobius Saturn l. 1. c. 10. deriveth Saturn's name à sa●u, to wit, from planting or sowing. Satur, that is, plenteous or abundant, is nearer to it; and Sator, that is, a Sour or Planter. From Noah's being drunk, Bochartus lib. 1. cap. 1. bringeth the use of the Saturnalia; and inserteth a pretty observation concerning his cursing of Cham, because he had seen his secret parts. The like the Heathens held proceeded from Saturn. For Minerva having stricken Tiresias blind for seeing her naked, thus excuseth herself to his mother, Callimach. Hymn. 
— non per me, perdidit ille o culos:  
Nec mihi luminibus pueros orbare voluptas,  
Ast à falcigero lex Seine l●t● jubet.  
Vt poena graviore luat, temeraria quisquis  
Ausit in invitos lumina ferre deos.  
'Twas not by me: nor do I take delight  
Or pleasure to rob any of their sight.  
The Law from Saturn came, That he should be  
Punished, who ere th'unwilling gods should see.  For this, Actaeon suffered. And to this Law Propertius alludeth, lib. 3. Greg. 12. speaking of the Golden age, Non fuerat nud●● poena videre deas. The son of Noah or Saturn which was cursed, was Cham or Ham; who, by reason of his being the youngest, or rather because cursed by his father, inhabited the sandy and barren parts of afric, where he was worshipped by the name of Jupiter Hammon, or Ham. Now Ham had a son or grandson called Nimrod, who was all one with Bacchus, as Bochartus, without any question, concludeth, lib. 1. cap. 2. For Bacchus is the same with BAR-CHUS, that is, the son of Chu●● or C●sh, as Nimrod was, Gen. 10. 8. So Darmesek and Dammesek is all one with Damascut. One of Bacchus his ancient names is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifieth a mighty Hunter, as Nimrod was, Gen. 10. 9 And this is the reason why some held Bacchus the same with Pluto, Pluto enim defunctorum ●nimss venatur & captat. Bacchus was also called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, an Hind's Calf, because himself and his frantic adorers were usually clad with Stag's skins. This also hath relation to Nimrod's being termed an Hunter: And Bochartus showeth Nimrod and Nebrod to be all one. Bacchus was said to be born of Jupiter's thigh: Now some will not have 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to signify a thigh, but to be the name of an Hill where he was born, by Nysa in India; so Mela, lib. 3. cap. 7. and Pliny, lib. 6. cap. 21. Others conceive, it signifieth the side of a mountain, as judge 19 1. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, in the thighs, or sides, of mount Ephraim. And 2 King. 19 23. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to the thighs, or sides, of Libanus. So perhaps Bacchus was said to be born out of his father's thigh, because he was born on the side of some mountain, not that of India. But I much rather believe this part of the Fable arose from mistake of the original word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, femur, that is, the thigh, or the leg, which the Scripture useth for a modest expression of the place of generation, as Mr. Mede teacheth on Gen. 49. 10. where he interpreteth also the words, [from between his feet] to signify his posterity. Gen. 46. 26. it is said, All the souls that came with Jacob into Egypt, which came out of his loins, etc. And Exod. 1. 5. All the souls which came out of the loins of Jacob. But in both places the Hebrew signifieth thigh, as the Marginal Notes in our Bible's show▪ And learned Bochartus saith, the Phoenician words, which properly signify the thigh, signify also the generating parts. Thus Bacchus his proceeding from the thigh of Jupiter, according to the Oriental expressions, (from whence this Fable came) implieth no more, than that Bacchus was the son of Jupiter. Now I shall briefly consider their Rites, which will appear the same with the worship of Heroes and Daemons. Jupiter the son of Saturn or Noah was the same that was named Baal or Belus, as Bochartus showeth, Geogr. sacrae. pag. 189. Bell was the proper Chaldaean word, Baal the Phoenician, as the most learned Selden saith, Syntagm. de Baal & Belo; both which names (as he showeth) are promiscuously used by Fl. Josephus. The same illustrious Author proveth Baal to be Jupiter; and withal maketh it appear, that Baal was a general name for all the gods of the Gentiles. And Belus might be taken for Heaven: and so perhaps the Altar which Manasseh raised to the host of heaven was erected to Baal or Bell. Eusebius de praepar. Evang l. 1. c. 10. saith, Beel-sames signifieth the Lord of Heaven, who by the Greeks ●● called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Jupiter. As the Altars of Baal which Josiah threw down Were in high places, so Delrius in Senecam. Hercul. Oct. citeth a place of Herodotus, to prove that sacrifices were performed on the Tops of high mountains. Omnis autem mons, saith he, Jovis mons dicitur, quoniam mos fuit antiquorum ut supreme Deorum in sublimi luco sacrificarent. This he citeth out of Melanthes, that every mountain was called the mountain of Jupiter, because it was the custom of the ancients, to sacrifice to the most high God in an high place. Now as the Babylonian Bel, differed from the Phoenician Baal. or Bel, so Jupiter Hammon, from Jupiter Capitolinus, and others. St. Paul, 1 Cor 8. 5. saith, Sunt dii multi, & domini multi. Which Mr. Selden alloweth to be many Bells or, as the Europaeans speak, many Joves. And thus the name of Belus was conferred on many; But that - Baal or Jupiter who was the son of Noah or Saturn, was the first we read of, that was worshipped; though the worship of Ba●ls, was the worship of Heroes or Daemons; To which we now descend. And that it may appear most reasonable, to apply this worship to the most early persons, that we read of in the World; two things are to be thought on, 1. That the Devil no sooner fell from Heaven, but he began to act against God: as we see in his tempting of Eve, 2. That he found, all men would be apt to adore most, what they knew here, and from which they received most benefit; Which was the sol● reason, that Plato and other Heathens give for the worshipping of Heroes. And in the time of Noah, there being none besides him and his sons to leave beneficial directions for the succeeding age, it is likely, that they were the first, who, by the Devil's means, were worshipped as Heroes: To whose worship, the Daemons joined their own. That their worships were the same, Cicero confirmeth, making Gods and Heroes all one▪ Divas, & cos qui coelestes sempe●●habiti, colunto; & illos quos in coelum merita vocaverint, that is▪ Those Gods which have ever been in Heaven, are to be worshipped; and those also, whom their deserts have called thither. And again, By death they came to be Gods Apuleius also, Est superius aliud augustiusque Daemonum genus, etc. There is, saith he, a more high and excellent kind of Daemons, which never were imprisoned in bodies: And these Plato believed, were the directors of the minds of men. And Plato in his Cratylus, giveth the same Title un o Heroes; affirming, that Hesiod and other Poets, say excellently well, that good men, when they die, attain great Honour and Dignity, becoming 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, wise ones. And in his de Republ. he would have all that die valiantly in the field, to be worshipped as Daemons, and all that 〈◊〉 any thing profitable for their Country; Cicero, also in his 〈◊〉 S●●p. maketh him say, that all which died in the service of their Country, be rewarded with Divinity: On which, see Macrobius, lib. 1. c. 4. There are some, that believe Serapis, whose Idol had a Bushel on its head, was Joseph worshipped by the Egyptians; Mr. Mede, in his Apostasy of the last times, citeth Philo Byblius, who in his Preface, to Sanchuntathon, the ancient Phaenician Historian, saith, The Phoenicians and Egyptians, account those as the greatest Gods, who had found out any thing profitable for the Life of man, or deserved well of any Nation. See Eusebius, de praepar. Evang. l. 2. c. 6. about the middle; To these also, were Temples erected as well as to their Daemon-gods. Thucydides, lib. 2. saith, The Athenians, who after the Persian War, inhabited the Country, altering their resolutions, went to dwell in the City; but finding it not large enough to receive them, they filled also the Temples and Chapels of the Heroes. Clemens Alex. in his Protrept. and Strom. giveth many the like instances, which I forbear to add; Only showing, that the Daemons joined their own worship to that of Heroes, or deified men, as being the aptest course to draw men from the worship of the true God; Religion, in the infancy of the World, being most confirmed by visibilities: Which way God himself was pleased to allow, and the Devils imitated. The worship of these Heroes, or Baalim, we find to have been wholly Tragical, as Plutarch, de defectu oracu●or. describeth it: ut colligimus ex utrorumque sacrificiis, orgiis & ritibus sacrorum multa admixta funebria & lugubria cernentes. Now this▪ was an expression of sorrow for the deceased; which grew a part of the religion. Wherefore we read, Leu. 19 28. Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead. So Leu. 21. 5. They shall not make baldness on their heads, nor make any cuttings in their flesh. This cutting off hair, we find often an expression of sorrow among the ancient Poets; And its being forbidden by God, is a plain Demonstration, that it was part of the Idolatrous worship of Daemons or Heroes. Yet sometimes it was used only, for an expression of sorrow, See Jer. 48. 37. To this effect, Saint Augustine de civ. dei. l. 6. c. 10. quoteth a place of Seneca's, not exstant in his works about prefixed by Lipsius in his Edition; who thus describeth this Idolatious and Tragical employment, Ille viriles sibi partes amputat, ille lacertos secat. Se ipsi in temples contrucidant, vulneribus suis & sanguine supplicant. An exacter description, cannot be had of their cutting and lancing themselves, and making their wounds their supplications. This sad manner of worship, we may plainly see to be no other theocrat of Baal or Jove, as it is expressed, 1 Kings 18 28. And th●● cried aloud, (that is, the Priests of Baal) and cut themselves after their manner with knives and lancers, till the blood gushed out upon them. Thus have we seen the worship of of Baal or Jove; that is, Cham or Ham the son of Noah Whose ill mind, it is probable, was easily enticed by Spirits, to cause himself to be worshipped when dead. We shall find his son Bacchus to have had no other rites but those of his. I will not stand to dispute when Bacchus lived, whom Clemens Alex. lib 1. Strom. placeth after Moses. Neither will I set down the reasons of learned Vossius, who saith he was Moses. This would be too large a field to walk over, and at this time not greatly to my purpose. I will only show, that his worship was the same with that of Daemons or Heroes, as Baal's or Jove's was. First, it will not be amiss to take notice, that Bacchus had the title of Heros given him, Plutarch Quaest. Graec. 36. His name BACCHUS signifieth something furious. So he is also called Maenoles, ●b insania: of which, see Eusebius, Praep. Evang. l. 2 c 3. who expresseth it according to Clemens Alex. in Protreptico, where he applieth the word Evan, which when they kept their Bacchanalta, they used to howl out, being crowned with Serpents, to the first Serpent the Tempter, Et signum Bacchicorum orgiorum est Serpens initiatus mysteriis. And, by the way, this perhaps was the cause why in these rites they used to be crowned with Ivy: This, being always young and flourishing, is the hieroglyphic of the Serpent, who, by casting his skin, reneweth his youth. Bochartus showeth, how Bacchus his name cometh à luctu, from the funeral rites and howl used in his worship. But such were not proper to Bacchus, but common to all Daemons or Heathen gods. Alexand. ab Alex. lib. 3. c. 12. Non animali victimâ, nec hostiâ, sed suo cruore sacrificant. And perhaps these sad ceremonies of wounding themselves, were by some over-devout Zelots' extended to human sacrifices, which were offered to divers Heroes, and among them to Bacchus, as Clemens Alex. in Proireptico, reporteth from Dosidas and others. Eusebius Praep. Evang. l 4. c. 16. relateth the same out of Porphyrius, where he mentioneth others besides Bacchus, to whom human sacrifices were offered. The 〈◊〉 of his Priests we often met with, leaping and dancing on the 〈◊〉 ●●horus's.;;;; So Baal's Priests are described, 1 King. 18. 26. And ●●y leapt upon the altar which was made. The Marginal Note, according to the Hebrew, is, They leapt up and down a (or about) the altar. The cries and wail in the Bacchanalia were no other, than the howls which accompanied these ceremonies 〈◊〉 Isa. 15. 2. Moab shall howl over Nebo and over Medeba: on all the 〈…〉 shall be baldness, and every beard cut off. And that the rites 〈◊〉 appear the same in all things, we may see the very cutting and launching, that is, the effusion of blood, mentioned in Baal's Worship, to be also performed in the Feasts of Bacchus; as Statius intimateth, describing the wand'ring Polynices, who leaveth 
— Ogygiis ululata furoribus antra  
Deserit, & pingues Baccheo sanguine colles.  
Those caves which furious rites with howl fill,  
And with Bacchean blood th'enriched hill.  Upon which, Lactantius saith, Citheronem significat, ubi se Bacchae secant in honorem Liberi; that is, By the hill is meant Cithaeron, where the Bacchaes, the Priests of Bacchus, cut themselves in honour of Liber, or Bacchus. Thus have I made it appear, that the worship of Bacchus was exactly the same with his father Jupiter's, and both no other than that of Heroes and Daemons. And herein was there an imitation of the worshippers of the true God, as may be gathered from Jer. 41. 5. There came certain men from Shechem, from Shiloh, and from Samaria, even fourscore men, having their beards shaved, and their clothes rend, and having cut themselves, with offerings and incense in their hand, to bring them to the house of the Lord. And because the Lord saw that this would be converted to Daemon-worship it was therefore perhaps forbidden in the above. quoted places of Leviticus, and Deut. 14. 1.  
254. Dóth not Sperchios.] A river in Thessaly, to which Peleus promised his son Achilles his hairs, if he returned safe from the Trojan war. Maturantius saith, It was a custom to offer the hair of Youths to the gods of Rivers, because moisture is the cause of increase. But I read of no such custom. I have rather given an understanding of this in the precedent Note, where I showed, that the cutting off of hair was a sacred ceremony, performed to Heroes or Daemons. And no River anciently being thought to be without a Deity, Peleus vowed the hairs of Achilles to Sperchios, that is, he promised he should be worshipped by him with the performance of that Daemon-rite. And these words of Achilles, which Homer Il. ψ '. maketh Achilles speak over the body of his dear Patroclus, show, that Peleus had built Temples to Sperchios. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
In vain, Sperchios, Peleus' vowed to thee  
At my return to Greece these Locks from me,  
Besides a Hecatomb, should then be paid,  
And on thine altars fifty Wethers laid,  
Near to those fountains where thy Temple's raised,  
And odours on thy fragrant altars blazed.  
So Peleus vowed. But he's unsatisfied.  
And since my Country I am now denied  
For ever, these hairs to the Stygian shade  
In my Patroclus' hand shall be conveyed.  
This said, in his friend's hand his hair he pressed,  
Whilst every one affected grief expressed.  Alexander ab Alexandro lib. 5. cap. 25. saith, This Ceremony was performed by the Delian Youths and Maids, over the Hyperborean Virgins, the Men laying their hair on the Sepulchers, the Virgins upon the Tombs. And lib. 3. cap. 7. that it was used by the Barbarians, not only in funerals, but in any great adversity; and that the Persians at funerals non tantum seipsos sed & equos & jumenta tondebant: But, that the Romans and the Greeks were wont for expressing their grief, to let their hair grow, and only their women to shave theirs. Hence it appeareth, that the Ancients thought it the greatest expression of grief to take away those Ornaments, which they preserved in conditions of better satisfaction That which he saith of the Greeks, is to be understood of the later Greeks, who, by letting their hair grow long, did express an alteration from content: And because that could be no expression in women, they still retained the old custom of cutting off their hair. In these later times, it hath been usual to neglect ourselves, when the World or Fortune have feemed unkind to us, letting our hair grow to rudeness and undecency, quitting vanity upon no other cause but misfortune, nor ceasing to care for ourselves, till Fortune appear careless of us.  
30 Lucina] Juno and Lucina are taken for the same, Macrob. Saturn. l. 1. c. 15. And Alexander ab Alex. lib. 6. c. 4. giveth Juno the name of Lucina, and Opigena, quod parturientibus opem ferat. Therefore haply was she held the goddess of Marriage. Virg. Aen. 4. 59 
Junoni ante omnes, cui vinc'la jugalia curae.  
— and Juno most of all,  
Propitious to the marriage-thrall.  And after, ver. 166. 
— et pronuba Juno.  But the confusion of the names of the Heathen gods I will not here stand upon, having spoken something thereof else where. The etymology of Lucina Ovid thus delivereth, Faster. l. 2. 
— dedit haec tibi nomina Lucus;  
Aut quia principium tu, dea, lucis habes.  
Parce, precor, gravidis, facilis Lucina, puellis,  
Maturumque utero molliter aufer onus.  
From sacred groves they thee Lucina call;  
Or else because thou givest light to all.  
Spare, kindest goddess, every teeming Maid,  
And gently too their fruitful wombs unlade.  Mr. Selden Syntagm. de Astoreth, condemneth those who seek the etymology of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is, Lucina, from the Greek; and he deriveth it from the Arabic word Alileth, which signifieth Night. The Hebrews also from Lailah, that is, Night, called this goddess Lilith, which may be rendered Noctiluca, or Nocturnus daemon. To keep this Daemon away from women in travel, the Jews at this day are wont to write this charm on the walls of the chambers where they are, ADAM, CHAVAH, CHUTZ, LILITH; Be far hence, Lilith. Perhaps the Moon was adored by women in that condition, by reason that it maketh their labours easier when it is at the full. jer. 7. 18. she is called the Queen of heaven: The women knead their dough to make cakes to the Queen of heaven. Some testimony of that custom remaineth in these days, cakes being still commonly made at such times, and the children themselves being called by the name of Cakebread.    

The Fourth BOOK.  

The Argument.  
The Grecians at the last Achilles find,  
Who is betrayed to what the fates designed.  
Fair Deidamia mourns her Love with tears;  
Whose theft had more of joy, though more of fears.  

ULysses now through the Aegean seas  
Changed, as he passed, the scattered Cyclades.  
Olearos and Paros hid, they by  
Lomnos next sail, and lessen as they fly  
The Isle of Naxos: Samos bigger grew,  
And Delos made the Ocean less in view.  
Here they with offerings did the God implore,  
For to confirm what Calchas told before.  
Apollo heard. From Cynthus-top kind gales  
Ended their doubts, and stretched their swelling sails.  
Their ship in safety rode. For Jove forbid  
Thetis to strive to hinder what Fate did;  
Who grieved she could not, being so confined,  
On loathed Ulysses throw waves swelled with wind.  
Now Phoebus near his journeye's end arrives,  
And to the waves his sweeting Horses drives,  
When Scyros showed. Ulysses bids them all  
Furl up their sails, (At his Command they fall)  
And with united strength to reach the shores:  
The sinking wind, the Youths supply with Oars.  
Now all perceived that Scyros they had found,  
And saw the shore with Pallas Temple crowned.  
Leaving their Ship, the Heroes went on shore,  
And there the kind Tritonia they adore:  
When wise Ulysses, l●st the City might  
At sight of all his Troup receive affright,  
Commands them all within the ship to stay,  
Whilst they alone attempt the rocky way.  
But Abas, that kept watch, had told before  
Of strangers, though all Grecians, on the shore.  
Like Wolves the Heroes went, who although prone  
To ease their young ones hunger, and their own.  
Yet on they slily creep, dissembling want,  
Lest dogs should make their Master's vigilant;  
so slow, they took the nearest way that bend  
Towards the gates, discoursing as they went.   

Tydides' first begun; How we should find  
This truth, is always running in my mind.  
Why were these Thyrsi and these Timbrels bought?  
Why Mitres, Drums, and gilded Stags-skins brought  
Hither with us? Must these soft things employ,  
And arm Achilles for the War of Troy?   

To him Ulysses smiling said, To thee  
Let this suffice: If that Achilles be  
Under a V●rgin's habit here concealed,  
By these fond Toys, thou ' lt see the Youth revealed.  
In these attempts let this alone be thine,  
To bring the things when't is a fitting time.  
And join to these the fairest painted shield,  
On which the Gold doth radiant lustre yield.  
This shall suffice. But let Agyrtes too  
His Trumpet bring, to help what we must do.  
Then seeing to the Gates the King was come,  
Showing an Olive branch, he thus begun.  
I do believe that Fame hath filled your ears,  
Best Prince, with Europe's and with Asia's fears,  
Preparing war. If you our names would know,  
On whom great Agamemnon did bestow  
This trust, he's Diomedes, who hath given Fame  
The bravest tales; Ulysses is my name.  
To tell the cause I come I need not fear,  
Since you're a Greek, in friendship tooso clear,  
'tis that in safety we may still employ  
Our ships this way against injurious Troy;  
The King thus stops his speech, May ye still find  
In all ye do the Gods and Fortune kind.  
But now let me be honoured by your stay  
Within my Court. This said, he leads the way.   

The Tables strait were spread, the Beds laid out,  
In the mean time Ulysses sought about  
If any Virgin, of too large a size,  
Might give suspicion to his doubting eyes,  
Thus roamed he round the house. So every way  
Through fields the Huntsman his undoubted prey,  
Trails with Molossian hounds, till in the shade  
He finds the Beast, his head on cool Turfs laid.  
By this the news was to the Virgins got,  
How that a Ship had Grecian Princes brought.  
They all express their sex's fears, besides  
Aeacides, who scarce his new joy hides,  
Greedy to see the Greeks. The room with guests  
Was filled, who on rich Beds received their feasts.  
The Princesses came, sent for by the King,  
Like those fair Amazonians that did bring  
Their trophies with them by Maeotis, round  
With Scythian and with Getan conquests crowned,  
(Whose ruined walls in their own ashes lie)  
Now seated at their feasts, their Arms laid by.  
Then strait Ulysses with his busy eyes  
Observed them all. But night, that great disguise,  
Denied the Heros should be quite revealed,  
Whom lying on the bed the board concealed;  
Yet 
* To Diomedes.  to his friend, he showed his wandering eye,  
How unconfined by Laws of modesty.  
For had not kind Deidamia care compelled  
His temper, and his arms from moving held,  
And with his veil, his mighty shoulders hid,  
And naked breast, the full bowls too forbid.  
And on his head, settled his tottering Crown,  
Achilles then had to the Greeks been known.   

Three courses now had satiated their souls,  
When thus, inviting them to crowned bowls,  
The King began, The glory of your deeds,  
I do confess, in my breast envy breeds.  
I wish I were now with that Youth inflamed,  
Wherewith the Dolopes on these shores I tamed:  
As tokens of which victory, their torn  
And shattered ships do still our walls adorn.  
Had but kind Nature, made my children men,  
To serve you now, my joys had perfect been.  
You see old age's witness on mine head,  
And these soft pledges of my marriagebed,  
When shall the wished-for issues from these come?   

Ulysses catching at these words begun.  
Thy wish is just. For who would not have fled  
To see such swarms, by troops of Princes led?  
Th' united strength, that Europe now affords  
All sworn to just revenge upon their swords.  
Cities are emptied, mountains naked show,  
Sails without number on the Oceanthrow  
A darkening shade: Fathers deliver arms  
To the inflamed Youths, who rush in swarms.  
Fame for attempting-spirits ne'er did yield  
So fair an object in so just a field;  
Whilst thus he spoke, he saw how the Youth's ears  
Drank up his words, the rest expressing fears:  
Then thus proceeds, whoever proud in the name  
Of Ancestors, or in his Nation's fame,  
Who manageth his Horse, or else can throw  
His dart with fatal aim, or use his bow;  
Here all their emulating deeds are paid,  
Virgins and fearful women scarce are stayed.  
But that basewretch, who this brave action fears,  
Hated by Heaven, shall spend his fruitless years.   

At this how the Youth moved, Deidamia eyes▪  
Soon found, and gave her sister's signs to rise,  
Leading him forth. Yet he departed last,  
And still his eyes upon Ulysses cast.  
Who having paused a little, thus again  
Assumed his speech, May you, best King, remain  
In peace, providing marriage-beds for these,  
Whose heavenly beauties equal Deities.  
How much their looks amaze, in which doth shine  
Mingled with beauty something masculine!  
The King replies, If now their looks invites,  
What would it do at Bacchanalian rites,  
Or circling Pallas shrines? This shall appear,  
If the kind crossing winds detain you here;   

At this new hope, their silent wishes blessed,  
With haste accepting it. The Court in rest  
Was now laid free from cares; only the night  
To wise Ulysses seemed too slow of flight.  
The morning scarce appeared, when Diomedes,  
Bringing the gifts, with him Agyrtes led;  
The Scyrian Virgins too rose with the day,  
Unto their guests the promised rites to pay.  
Before the rest, Achilles' with the Queen  
Appears. Pallas and Cynthia so were seen,  
With the Elysian King's loved Proferpine,  
By Aetna's rocks among the Nymphs to shine.  
Now they began to move in measured time,  
And from th' Ismenian pipe they took the sign.  
Four times the strokes on Rhea's brass rebound,  
As many times the Evian Timbrels sound.  
Four times their measures changed: at once they threw  
Their spears all up, which fell together too.  
Now they like the Curetes all advance,  
Then they present the Samothracian dance:  
Now all do side like Amazons, than all  
Into Lacaenian circling figures fall.  
Achilles now most plain appears, and stands  
Neglecting the just time of joining hands,  
Scorns the soft measures, and to be so dressed,  
Forgets his part, disturbing all the rest.  
Afflicted Thebes saw Pentheus thus despise  
His mother's timbrels and the sacrifice.   

The praised Chorus from their sacred sport  
Were now dismissed, and all returned to th' Court:  
Whither the gifts Tydides' had conveyed,  
And all before their eyes in order laid.  
With these they seem their welcome to requite,  
And every one unto her choice invite.  
The King consents, too innocent to find  
The Greeks, and what Ulysses had designed.  
They (by their nature to such choice applied)  
The Thyrsus took, or else the Timbrel tried,  
Or Jewels chose. The shining Arms they view,  
And thought them presents for their father too.  
But fierce Aeacides, still kept his sight  
Upon the Shield, as if prepared to fight.  
His face with fiery blushes grew inflamed;  
Then to the warlike spear his eyes were chained.  
His brows in furrows knit, his staring hairs  
Grew stiff, and he forgot his Mother's cares.  
With his own Love: Nothing durst then employ  
His high-erected thoughts but War and Troy.  
So from the teat, when a young Lion's brought,  
And against nature an obedience taught,  
Nor is an anger of his own expressed:  
But if the shining steel threaten his breast,  
His faith then flies; he makes his Lord his prey,  
Scorning a fearful Master to obey.  
But when he nearer came, and in the bright-  
Reflecting shield, saw the contemned sight  
How he was clothed, than his fierce looks proclaim  
In his inflamed blushes rage and shame.  
Then sly Ulysses coming to him, said  
With a low voice, Why are we thus delayed?  
We know where thou wert bred, how thou dost spring  
Both from the Ocean's God and Heaven's King.  
For thee the Grecians doubting-Army calls,  
And at thy name Troy shakes her nodding walls.  
Let Ida shrink, and please thy Father's ears,  
Who blusheth at thy crafty Mother's fears;  
At this, his garments from his breast were cast,  
Agyrtes strait gave the commanded blast.  
Throwing their gifts away, the Virgins run  
For shelter, and believed a War begun.  
His robes untouched, fell down at the alarm,  
Snatching the spear and shield upon his arm.  
He taller far than Ithacus appears,  
Or Diomedes. Swift dispersing fears,  
Fill the affrighted Court, whilst in his gate  
He seemed now seeking to be Hector's fate.  
The fair troup the Peleian Virgin seeks,  
At whose discovery Deidamia shrieks.  
Whose well known voice, no sooner filled his breast,  
But Love began to plead his interest.  
His shield sunk down, and on the King his eyes  
Fixing, amazed at all these prodigies,  
He still thus armed to Lycomedes said,  
'Tis I, dear Father, (be not now afraid)  
Whom the immortal Thetis bore. To you  
This glory to oblige the Greeks is due,  
In giving them Achilles. Thou shalt be  
(If it be just to say) dearer to me  
Then Peleus or loved Chiron. Yet attend  
These words with kindness, and attention lend:  
Peleus and Thetis add a child to thee  
By either side sprung from a Deity.  
They do require one of these Virgins here.  
Dost thou agree? or else do I appear  
Degenerate from them? Our hands then join  
With free consent, and pardon those are thine,  
With thy Deidamia 's rape. Who can restrain  
These limbs attempting to appease their flame?  
If thou ' lt revenge, to me it is only due,  
See how I wait it thus unarmed too.  
Why do thy angry eyes so madly run?  
Thou art a Father-in-law. Then throws his son  
Before his feet, and then again proceeds,  
By this a Grandfather. New rigour needs  
More than such troops to punish. Th' Greeks with him  
Join all their reasons to appease the King.  
He with his daughter's injury though pressed,  
And with the words of Thetis still possessed,  
And loath to break his trust, yet fears to stay  
The Grecian War, and Fate's designs delay.  
His Mother now, if there, in vain might use  
Her power: Nor could he such a son refuse.  
Thus he was vanquished; When yet full of fears  
The fair Deidamia, blushing still, appears;  
She could not think her Father yet was made  
So kind, the crime upon Achilles laid.   

The news of all to Thessaly he conveyed,  
And to his friends and subjects sends for aid.  
The King for his new Son, two ships prepares,  
And blames his power short for such affairs.   

The day was spent in feasts; the Lovers tied  
In Hymen's knot: The gentle night complied  
Now to their bold embraces. He in dreams  
Fancy's the war, Xanthus and Ida's streams.  
The Grecian ships; whilst unto her a fright  
The thought of waves did give, or morning's light.  
About her Lover's neck her arms she spread,  
And mingled with her tears these words she shed.  
Shall I e'er see thee more, and thus remain?  
May we be worth thy visit once again?  
Will not Troy's ruin, your swelled mind forbid  
To think where you were like a Virgin hid?  
Ought I to beg, or only to have fears?  
Should I use words, that scarce have time for tears?  
Is this our nuptial bed's designed right,  
To be bestowed and ravished in one night?  
Is this free Hymen? O thou kinder theft!  
What we have leave to love, must thus be left.  
Go, go: I dare not ask thee to remain,  
Go then; Yet think not Thetis feared in vain.  
Go, and return again to me, but mine  
I wish too much. Those charming eyes of thine,  
Will give such passion to Troy's beauteous Dames,  
They they'll forget their Country's for thy flames.  
Perhaps on Helena, thou'lt be inflamed,  
Whose beauty by her rape is so much famed;  
Whilst I shall ne'er be mentioned to be thine,  
Or made the subject of thy youthful crime.  
But yet, why should not I still go with thee,  
And bear thine ensign? Thou hast born with me  
The distaff, and the arms of Bacchus too;  
Which Troy will hardly credit you did do.  
Your Image though, the comfort of my breast,  
Never forget; nor yet this one request.  
Let not a barbarous Love enjoy my place,  
And bring to Thetis an unworthy race;  
This said, the shaken Youth comforts her fears,  
Swears her his faith, and seals it with his tears:  
And promiseth she should alone enjoy  
The Captives, and the wealth of ruined Troy.  
His fruitless words thus strove to ease her care,  
And his vain promise lost itself in air.    

ANNOTATIONS on the IV Book of STATIUS his ACHILLEISS.  
3. PAros.] One of the Cycladeses, famous for clear Marble.  
5. Naxos.] Another of the Cycladeses, sacred to Bacchus, who is said to have been here nourished. Here, they say, Ariadne was married to Bacchus, haply because being here forsaken by ungrateful Theseus, she here found a remedy, at least an end of her miseries. Bacchus, from his easing of cares, received the names of Liber and Lyaeus, and from his pity, of Eleleus, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Misericordia. But this I conceive rather cometh from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, clamo, and hath relation to his rites.  
Samos.] An● sland famous for the birth of Pythagoras. There be three Islands of this name: One but a little distant from the Continent of Asia, an Ionic Island, having a City of the same name, Strab. lib. 14. Here Juno lived whilst a Virgin: whence the Island was called Parthenia. Another, not far from the Bay of Ambracia. The third, in the Aegean sea, over against the mouth of the Thracian River Hebrus, Plin. lib. 4. This is here meant.  
24. Kind Tritonia.] Pallas was ever kind to the Grecians, and the Trojans enemy. So Ovid, Aequa Venus Teucris, Pallas iniqua fuit. And Virgil Aen. 1. saith, that among other Pictures that Aeneas saw at Carthage, one was of Trojan women going to the Temple, non-aequae Palladis, of unjust, or ungentle, Pallas. And Aen. 2. 
Omnis spes Danaûm, & coepti fiducia belli,  
Palladis auxiliis semper stetit.  
All the Greeks hopes and confidence which choose  
Th'attempted war, from Pallas helps arose.  Her particular kindnesss to Diomedes Homer showeth, Iliad 5. Servius in Aen. 2. saith, she was called Tritonia, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to fear; Pallas being commonly represented terrible with her Snakes. Or else she was called so, in relation to the three concerns of Wisdom, Memory of things past, Judgement in things present, and Providence for things to come. Or she had this name from a River, as Lucan there cited, Etse dilectâ Tritonida dixit ab unda. She was called Trigemina by the Egyptians, Alexand. ab Alex. l. 6. c. 4. the same perhaps with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. which in the Cretian Language signifieth a Head.  
85 Maeotis.] A Lake of Scythia, receiving the River Tanais, with many others, and divided from the Euxine Sea by the Cimmerian Bosphorus.  
86. With Scythian and with Getan conquests.] Scythia was divided into two parts, the European, and the Asiatic. The European from the banks of Tana's, by the shores of Maeotis, and the Euxine Sea, reacheth to the mouth of Ister. The Asiatic from the opposite shore extendeth to the East, and is bounded by the Ocean on the North, and by the mountain Taurus on the South. The Getae were a People of Scythia Europaea, called Dacians, as Britannicus affirmeth, and Pliny l 4 c. 12. But Strabo lib. 7. placeth the Getans towards Pontus and the East, but the Dacians towards Germany. The Getae were famous, or rather infamous, for cruelty. So Ovid, Nulla Getis toto gens est truculentior orbe. One of their cruel customs was, to kill the wife, that by her death they might appease the ghost of the husband, Alex. ab Alex. lib. y. c. 26.  
102. Inviting them to crowned bowls.] It was a custom observed by the Ancients, especially at their Entertainments, to drink freely after their feasts, Virg. Aen. 1. 
Postquam prima quies epulis, mens●que remotae,  
Crater as magnos statuunt, & vina co●enant.  
The first Feast ended, on the tables shine  
The weighty bowls, crowned still with sparkling wine.  At the beginning, small glasses went about, but at the end they enlarged their draughts, Alex. ab Alex. lib. 5. cap. 21. The Greeks had a Law, ut biberent, aut abirent. How Anacreon liked this custom of drinking, appeareth from this Ode of his concerning himself, H. Stephano interpret.  
Vt me subit Lyaeus,  
Tune cura dormit omnis,  
Croesumque sperno prae me.  
Dulcis repente nostro  
Erumpit ore cantus:  
Hederâ comasque cingens  
Proculco ment cuncta.  
Ad arma currat alter,  
Ad pocula ipse curram.  
Puer, ocyùs scyphum da:  
Nam praestat ebrium me  
quam mortuum jacere.  
When powerful Bacchus rules my breast,  
Then I am from all cares released:  
Scorned Croessus too seems poor to me,  
Whilst charming Lays take liberty  
Through my melodious lips, and round  
My brows with winding lvy crowned,  
Contemning all things in my mind.  
Some are for war and arms designed;  
But the crowned bowls do fill my head:  
'Tis better to lie drunk than dead.  
106. The Dolopes] A People on the borders of Thessaly, overcome, as it seemeth, by Lycomedes in a Sea-battle. See Servius in Aen. 2. vers. 7.  
162. Ismenian pipe.] Ismenus is a River of Boeotia, not far from Aulis, where the Greeks made their great Rendez-vous. In this Country stood Thebes, where Bacchus was much worshipped: For which City, Statius here putteth the River Ismenus. A liberty frequently taken by the Poets. So Achaia and Pelasgia, being but Regions of Greece, are commonly put for Greece itself. There is also a Hill of this name by Thebes, whence Apollo was called Ismsnius. Plutarch in Pericle speaketh of a Trumpeter of this name, of whom Antisthenes, Si probus esset, tibicen non esset.  
163. Rhea's Brass.] Rhea was held the mother of the gods; Who had divers other names set down by Alexander ab Alexandro lib. 6. c. 4. She was Saturn's wife, and taken for the Earth: The reason whereof see on Book III. vers. 220. Alexander ab Alex. lib. 3. c. 12. saith, A Sow, which was called Praecidanea, was offered to Ceres, or Rhea, because (as some conceive) a Sow, being a fruitful creature, was thought a fit Present for the Earth, which was understood by Ceres. But I rather choose the reason of Servius in Georg. 2. where he observeth, that the sacrifices to the gods were all performed, either by similitudes or contrarieties: By Similitude, as a black Beast to Pluto: By Contraries, as a Sow to Ceres, because an enemy to Fruits; a Goat to Bacchus, because an enemy to Vines. This Agellius l 4. c. 6. seems to confirm, where explaining the word Praecidanea, he addeth, Porca etiam Praecidanea appellata, quam piacul● gratiâ ante fruges novas captas immolari Cereri mos fuit; that is, A Sow was called Praecidanea, or a preceding sacrifice, by reason that it was a custom to offer one to Ceres before harvest. Rhea was commonly represented with Towers upon her head, and drawn by Lions. And hereby the Earth is signified. Which Macrobius Saturn. l. 1. c. 21. affirming, addeth also, Haec dea Leonibus vehitur, validis impetu atque fervore animalibus. Quae natura Coeli est, cujus ambit● Aer continetur, qui vehit terram; that is, This goddess is drawn by Lions, creatures of great strength force and fervour: Which is the nature of the Heaven, in whose compass the Air is contained, which carrieth the Earth. On which words Pontanus citeth these Verses of Lucretius; 
Hanc veteres Graiûm docti cecinêre Poetae  
Sublimem in curru bijuges agitare Leones,  
Aeris in spatio magnam pendere docentes  
Tellurem; neque posse in terra sistere terram.  
The learned and ancient Grecian Poets sung,  
This goddess was by Lions drawn along;  
Teaching that round the resting Earth is laid  
In Air: for Earth by Earth could not be stayed.  A Philosophy contrary to that which is now received. This goddesse's Priests were called Galli, from Gallus, a River of Phrygia; and Corybantes, which some derive from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifieth to toss the head in any violent motion: Which frantic action they used in their mad ceremonies. But Turnebus Advers. lib. 13. c. 24. understandeth the word otherwise. Their rites set down by Clemens Alexandrinus Protrept. and repeated by Eusebius, de Praepar. Evang. l. 2. c. 3. little differed from those of Bacchus, altered only by the fancy and interest of several people And all the worship that we read to have been performed to several gods, was no other, than that which from the beginning of the world was taught by Daemons.  
175. Afflicted Thebes saw Pentheus.] Pentheus' was killed by his zealous mother Agave, and other frantic women, for contemning their Bacchanalia. Natalis Comes, lib. 5. cap. 13. thinketh Pentheus was some just and temperate Prince, who striving to suppress those rude ceremonies, was murdered by his displeased subjects.    

The Fifth BOOK.  

The Argument.  
For fatal Troy Aeacides now goes:  
And as they sail, he from Ulysses knows  
The wars original; which having known,  
Desired, he pays the story with his own.  

NIght's shadows now began to fly away,  
When from the waves, the Ruler of the day  
Began to spread the promises of light,  
Yet injured by the struggling shades of night.  
When now Aeacides, (his soft robes scorned)  
Appears in his first courted arms adorned.  
For now the winds invited. Now no more  
Durst they remember how he lived before.  
So changed, as if he were not now the same  
That lived in Scyros, but from Pelion came.  
Then, as they used, Ulysses did advise  
To offer to the Ocean Deities.  
To Neptune on the flames a bull was laid,  
To Thetis an adorned heifer paid.  
Achilles' having then the entrails flung  
Into the briny waves, he thus begun.  
I have obeyed thee, Mother, though't was such  
A hard command: I have obeyed too much.  
Now with the Greeks, I go famed Troy to find,  
This said, into a snip he leapt. The wind  
Drove them from shore: the clouds still thicker grew,  
And Scyros lessened to their hindered view.  
The whilst Deidamia on a Tower appears,  
Accompanied with her sad Sister's tears,  
Holding young Pyrrhus. Still the waves she viewed,  
And that which bore him with fond eyes pursued.  
He too his looks sends to th' affected walls  
And widowed house; then with a sigh recalls  
What he had left: His fire burns again,  
And his great thoughts give way unto his flame.  
Ulysses guessed his passion by his grief,  
And sought by this diversion his relief;   

Wert thou, (to whom the fate of Troy is due,  
Whom Oracles and Grecians call for too  
And war within the open threshold stayed)  
Dressed by thy crafty Mother like a maid?  
Could she herself to all be so unjust,  
To act such theft, and yet expect a trust?  
Her fears were much too great in all she did,  
Should so much virtue in a shade be hid.  
Which at the Trumpet's summons, freed thy breast  
From thought of friends, and thy loved flames suppressed?  
Nor is this glory to ourselves assigned,  
To bring thee now: It was above designed.   

Aeacides replied, Too longed would be  
To tell my Mother's crimes. This sword for me,  
And my disguise shall at a handsome rate,  
Plead and excuse, though't were the guilt of Fate.  
You rather, whilst sost Zephyrus conspires  
With the smooth Ocean calmed to our desires,  
Relate, why Greece thus for revenge prepares,  
That my resent may be as just as theirs.   

Sly Ithacus replied, If that we may  
Give credit to the tales of Fame, they say;  
Once on th' Hectorean shore, three goodly fair  
Dissenting Goddesses had equal care.  
For their disputed beauties: And all three  
Agreed the Trojan Swain, their Judge should be.  
Sour Pallas pleased not his deciding eyes,  
Nor the immortal Mistress of the skies:  
Only fair Venus looks his mind inclined,  
This strife arose when first the Gods designed  
Peleus for Thetis, and their happy seed,  
Thy glorious self, was for our aid decreed.  
The vanquished Goddesses hid passion fires:  
The Judge his fatal recompense requires;  
Strait sees in Sparta his admired Love;  
Then fells the holy shades, and Cybele's grove  
Falls on the earth, and the forbidden Pine,  
Though sacred, must assist his foul design.  
His ships, now built, do through the Ocean pass  
To the Achaean shore. His crime, alas!  
The injury on potent Europe leaves,  
Which first the stained marriagebed receives  
Of Menelaus, when he his ravished joy,  
Helen, with captive Argos bears to Troy.  
The news through every City Rumour flung,  
And to their arms the willing Grecians throng.  
For who can bear at so unjust a rate,  
Stains on a marriagebed, with such deceit?  
Plunder of grain, or cattle, cause affords  
To men of valour, to employ their swords.  
Agenor brooked not such a rape, when Jove  
Had through the waves born his affected Love;  
But sought Europa, when the fact was done,  
Scorning the God of Thunder for his son.  
Aeetes so followed his child's escape,  
Though Semigods were guilty of the rape;  
Yet he pursued the ravishers with War,  
And that famed ship, in Heaven now a Star.  
Shall we endure these Phrygians, but half-men  
Seeking upon our shores their plunders then?  
Are we grown bankrupt and unarmed thus?  
Or will the waves be lesser friends to us?  
What now, if from the Scyrian shores should fly  
Unto thine ears, thy loved Deidamia 's cry,  
Ravished by some, and calling on thy name?  
With that unto his sword his fingers came,  
And 's face with angry blushes grew inflamed,  
Ulysses then in silence pleased remained.   

Then Diomedes succeeding him begun,  
Thou worthy Issue from a Godhead sprung,  
Tell thy admiring friends, from thy first age,  
What practice did thy youthful thoughts engage;  
The ways to virtue taught by Chiron too,  
And how thy limbs and mind enlarged grew.  
Let this requite our seeking Scyros' shores,  
Through tedious waves, and plying of the Oars:  
You need not be ashamed to tell your deeds.  
At this he blushing, as compelled, proceeds;   

When Chiron first received me to his cave,  
The food which to my tender years he gave,  
I have heard was much unused. For from the breast  
My hunger with soft milk was ne'er suppressed,  
But with firm flesh of Lions; and I sucked  
The marrow from wild Beasts yet-dying plucked.  
This was my first cheer: Chiron bred me so,  
Till Time with larger stricles taught me to go.  
He led me then to th' Woods, without amaze,  
Teaching mine eyes upon wild beasts to gaze,  
And not to fear the noise which billows made  
On Rocks, nor th' horrid silence of a shade.  
I now a quiver got, and with a spear  
To arm my youthful hand was all my care.  
As unconcerned, I suffered the extremes,  
Of binding cold and Sol's reflecting beams.  
My tired limbs, a soft bed never pressed:  
I with my Master on astone took rest.  
When now almost to twice six years I came,  
He taught me to pursue the swiftest game.  
And the fierce Lapithae; and when I threw  
My darts, to overtake them. Sometimes too,  
Chiron would follow me through fields and plains,  
Till age denied; and tired with my pains,  
Would lay me on his neck. He made me bold  
To pass the frozen Rivers bound with cold.  
These were my youthful sports. Why should I need  
To tell my wars, i' th' woods from roars now freed?  
He taught me, not to hunt those beasts whose fear  
Urged their swift flight, the Lynx, and fallow Deer;  
But force the Bear to her affrighting roars,  
The cruel Tigers, and the foaming Boars.  
Or from the mountains fetch the Lion's young;  
Whilst in his cave he looked to see me come  
Bloody; Nor took me in his arms before  
He saw my spear coloured with blushing gone.  
And now my Age, and Chiron, did design  
My arms for nobler Wars. All discipline  
Of Mars I used. I practised how to throw  
The Macedonian pile: I learned to know  
The use, as Sauromatians do, of spears;  
Or Getans, of their crooked semitars:  
And how the famed Gelonians use the bow,  
And how the Balearian slingers throw▪  
With sounerring aims the circling slings,  
Which wound as sure and oft as motion flings.  
I scarce remember all. I learned the art  
To leap vast dikes, whose banks were far apart;  
And the high tops of airy hills to gain,  
To get me breath and swiftness for the plain.  
Then, the true image of a fight to yield,  
He made me take huge millstones on my shield;  
To enter burning hovells, and with force  
And speed, to stay swift Horses in their course.  
Once I remember, how dissolved snow,  
And constant showers had swelled Sperchios so,  
That with its furious stream it drove a throng  
Of torn-up Trees, and rolling stones-along:  
Then where the waves, the horrid'st force expressed,  
He bade me to oppose my youthful breast,  
And stop the swelling billows as they run;  
Which he with all his feet could scarce have done.  
Nor could th' impetuous stream a conquest gain,  
Whilst Chiron threatened, urging still my shame.  
Thus glory I attained by his command,  
Who still a witness of my toils did stand.  
To fight with armed fists, and th' Oebalian stone  
To throw and wrestle with oiled limbs, alone  
Were sports, nor seemed more toils than when  
I took my harp, and sung of famous men.  
He taught me too, which herbs for health were good,  
And which would stop effusion of much blood.  
Which would close wounds, and which procure kind rest,  
How gangrained parts to sever from the rest.  
What ulcers herbs would care. He also taught  
Still to make Justice guide of every thought.  
Thus the Thessalians he made happy still,  
And thus he wrought his Centaurs to his will.  
Y●ave heard, my friends, those acts that did employ  
My early years: These I recount with joy.  
The rest my Mother knows. Thus he gave o'er  
His tale, and came unto the Trojanshore.    

ANNOTATIONS on the 5th Book of STATIVS his ACHILLEISS.  
13. A Bull.] This was the usual sacrifice to Neptune. Yet Ovid, Metam. 4. when Andromeda was freed, saith, A Bull was offered to Jupiter. And Silius Italicus, lib. 15. 
— cadit ardua Taurus  
Victima, Neptuno pariter, pariterque Tonanti.  And Virgil, Aen. 3. Caelicolûm Regi mactabim in littore Taurum. 
— upon the shore  
To Heaven's King a Bull I slew—  On which place Servius saith, that Aeneas did this contrary to reason, in relation to the event, a Bull being the sacrifice of Neptune; resembling the roughness of the waves, and the nature of Neptune, and other Sea-gods, as ungentle as the waves that bred them: as Agellius l. 15. c. 2. Ferocissimos & immanes & alienos ab omni humanitate Neptuni filios dixerunt; that is, Neptune's sons were said to be most fierce and ungentle, and strangers to all humanity. See Macrobius, l. 3. c. 10.  
15, 16. Having then the entrails flung Into the briny waves] This manner of throwing the entrails into the Sea, when sacrifice was performed to the Sea-gods, Virgil setteth down, Aen. 5.  
Dii quibus imperium pelági, quorum ●quora curro,  
Vob is laetus ego hoe candentem in littore taurum  
Constituam ante aras voti re●s, exteq●e salsos  
Porriciam in fluctus.  
You gods whose empire in the Ocean lies,  
Over whose waves I sail; this sacrifice,  
A 〈◊〉 Bull as due to you I pay—  
And in the briny waves the entrails lay.  
For in a sacrifices the entrails were a thief part of the ledication; as Juvenal, Sat. 10.  
Ut tamen & poscas aliquid, voveasqae sacellis  
Ext●, & candid●●● divina t●macul ● porci.  
That thou mayst something wish, and at the shrine  
Offer the sacred entrails of white Swine.  
This ceremony of throwing the entrails into the Sea, was, because Neptune, to whom the sacrifice was offered, there reigned. Suetonius in Augusto hath these words, ●uneiata repentè hostis incursione, 〈◊〉 capta faco prosacuit; alque it a praelium ingressus, victor rediit; that is, Hearing of the incursion of the enemy, he cut off the entrails half-raw, snatched from the fire; and so going cut to Battle he returned victorious. On which words, Salmasius, Partem extorum prosecandam & Diis porriciendam arae super-imponebant & diis adolehant; They laid that part of the entrails on the Altar that was to be cut off, and sacrificed it to the gods. Reliquam partem vescebantur qui sacrificio intererant. The rest was eaten by such as were present at the sacrifice. All the actions about the entrails, looking into them and examining them laying, them on the Altar, eating what is to be eaten, Arrianus compriseth under this one Verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. This custom, among others, which in the Notes I have given short hints of, was taken up by the Heathen in imitation of the true God's worship as will appear from Levit 1. 9, 13. The inwards and the legs shall he wash in water, and the Priest shall burn all on the Altar. Of the Priests eating part of the sacrifice, see Levit. 2. 3. 10 and 6 26. Ecclus 7. 31. Likewise the baked and broiled meats ave●e the Priests, Leu. 7 9 Here imitated by the word semicruda. And we read but of few ceremonies among the ancient Gentiles, that had not such a beginning.  
35. War within the open threshold stayed.] The Poet meaneth the Temple of Janus, which in Peace was ever shut, and open in War. From Janus the gates of any private house were called Januae. The gates of Janus were shut but twice before the time of Augustus. Janum Quirinum semel atque iterum a condita Vrbe memorium ante suam clausum, in multò breviore temporis spatio, terrâ marique pace partâ, ter clusit, saith Suetonius, in Augusto, c. 22. That is, The Temple of Janus, from the beginning of the City, was but twice shut before the reign of Augustus; but in his reign, in a much lesser space, he being at peace with all the world, it was thrice shut. The first time it was shut was in the reign of Numa Pompilius; The second, when T. Manlius Torquatus, and Attilius Balbus were Consuls: but it was opened again (as many say) the same year, and so continued till Augustus. Perhaps Rome's not enjoying peace was not the least cause of its prosperity. For in troublous times, men's endeavours commonly are united for the public safety, but pursue private interests in times of peace and idleness; so hard it is to make true advantage of God's greatest blessings. Augustus' first shut Janus his Temple, Anno ab V. C. DXXV after the overthrow of Antony; Himself the fifth time, and Sextus Apuleius being Consuls. Four years after he shut it the second time, M. Junius Silanus being Consul with him. The third time he shut it was about the time of our Saviour CHRIST, the Prince of peace. The next time we read of its being shut, was, when Nero, and Valerius Messala, were Consuls, Anno V. C. DCCCXI. which Tacitus and Orosius reckon not, because Nero shut it upon no just grounds. So Suetonius in his life, Janum geminum clausit tam nullo quam residuo bello; which ●aernus readeth, Tanquam nullo residuo bello: that is, He shut the Temple of Janus, as if there were no signs of war remaining. The seventh time it was shut (or, more truly, the sixth time) was, Anno V. C. DCCCXXIV. Vespasian and Nerva being Consuls. After this time, Historians say nothing concerning the gates of this Temple. Yet Capitolinus in Gordino Juniore, affirmeth, that the custom still remained. Alexander ab Alexandro lib. 1. c. 14. conceiveth the reason, why Janus his Temple was the testimony of peace and war, was, his being the President of the revolutions of times; so his Statue intimated, having on its hands the number of the days of the year figured. As he was figured with two faces, so he had also two gates, one toward the East, the other toward the West. These Macrobius, Saturn. l. 1. c. 9 useth for arguments, to prove janus the same with the Sun, according to his design. But I rather judge this arose from Saturn, (by whom Time was meant) his being perhaps all one with janus. But Macrobius cap. 7. believeth, Ianus' two faces related to the prudence and care of a Prince, who looketh both on what is past, and also on what is to come. janus' made Saturn partner with him in the Kingdom, for the benefit he received from his instructions about Husbandry: And after his death, in honour of him, and in memory of the ship which brought him to Italy, he caused the figure of a ship to be stamped on one side of his Coin, which on the other had his own Image. Hence came the Game, cum pueri denarios in sublimi jactantes, CAPITA AUT NAVIA, lusu teste vetustatis, exclaman●; which in our days still remaineth, being now called Cross or Pile. Cap. 9 he telleth this original story of the opening of Janus' gates in War; When the War of the Sabines was in favour of their ravished Virgins, the Romans hastened to shut the gate at the foot of the Hi●● Viminalis, (which from the event was after called lanualis) by reason the enemy was rushing in that way. After it was shut, it strait opened again of its own accord. Which having happened twice or thrice, they stood to defend it with Soldiers, because they could not shut it: when suddenly there came a report, that on another side of the City the Romans were bea●er by Tatius: At which, the Romans that defended this gate, affrighted fled. And when the Sabines were breaking in, it is said, that from the Temple of fanus a violent torrent of hot water issued, and overthrew the pressing enemy For this cause in war the gates were always set open, as it were in expectation of such help, and as representing the god himself going out to their assistance. And this no doubt proved very advantageous, for the encouragement of the common people, who are apt enough to believe any, that tell them of a god's going out with them. To this purpose also, Servius relateth the story, in Aen. 1. and saith, the reason of Janus his being figured with two faces, was the confederacy of the two Princes, Romulus and Tatius. The best reason he giveth, as he thinketh himself, is, That those that go to war wish to return. But certainly he is unjust to himself, having before said, vel quòd ad bellum ituri debent de pace cogitare, that is, or because that those that are going to war ought to have their thoughts on peace.  
55. Hectorean shore.] That is, Trojane.  
58. The Trojan Swain.] Paris, so called, from his having been bred up among shepherds. See Annot. on Book 1 v. 33.  
6. So rose the strife, etc.] For they fell out, when they were at the marriage of Peleus and Thetis, about a golden Apple cast among them by Discord.  
73. Europe] is here put for Greece.  
83. When love, etc.] love ravished Europa in the shape of a Bull. See Ovid Metam, lib. 2.  
87. Aeetes.] The father of Medea, who pursued the Argonauts that carried her away in the Ship Argo, which was after made a Constellation.  
150, The Macedonian Pile.] See on Book 2. v. 6.  
151. Sauromatians,] a people of Scythia, commonly called Tartars.  
152. Getans.] See on Book 4. v. 86.  
153 Gelonians,] a people also of Scythia, so called from Gelonus the son of Hercules. They are now comprehended under the name of Tartars. They were wont to paint and discolour their faces, that they might appear the more terrible in Battle. Hence Virgil calleth them Pictos Gelonos, Geor 2. They were famous Archers: Hence Horace, lib. 3. od. 4. calleth them pharetratos Gelonos: And Virgil Aen. 8. Sagittiferos Gelonos. They used, as the Massagetans, to drink Horses blood mingled with milk.  
154. Balearian Slingers.] The Baleares are two Islands belonging to Spain, commonly called Majorica and Minorica. Some hold, they received their name from Baleus, a companion of Hercules, there left by him. But rather they were so called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, from Slinging: For the inhabitants were very skilful in the use of the sling, and bred their children to it. When their children were hungry, they laid their victuals on a high beam, and they were to strike it off with a sling before they had it, Flor. l. 3. c. 8. and Alex. ab Alex. lib. 2. c. 25. The Greeks formerly called them Gymnes●aus, from their custom of going naked.  
177. To fight-with armed fists.] See on Book 1. v. 219.  
Oebatian quoits.] This was a weight with a ●ing in it, which they used to throw. At this Exercise Apollo killed his Beloved Hyacynthus. See Alexand. ab Alex. lib. 3. cap. 21.  
178. And wrestle with oiled limbs.] I have showed above; why places of Exercises are called Gymnasia. Those that w●est●od were naked, and had their limbs anointed! Thucydides, lib. 1. saith, The Lacedae monians first instituted Wrestling naked, with oiled limbs: but he there affirmeth, that the more ancient custom was to wear Breeches. This exercise was in sueh esteem, that one that was excellent in it was valued as much as the bravest Soldier, Alex. ab Alex. l. 2. c. 25. For which reputations' sake, they used assiduous-practise before they came to the place: And then, as Clemens Alexandrinus lib. 7. Strom. reluteth, looking on the Starve of jupiter, they made this prayer to him, If all things, O jupiter, are rightly. performed by me for the Combat, give me the deserved Victory.    

A PANEGYRIC to General MONCK.  

'TIs not your power, that has inspired my muse,  
'Twere mean to praise that which you scorn to use.  
'Tis that above the reach of power in you  
I praise, Victorious over Conquest too.   

Yet you more truly glorious will appear,  
To dispose Sceptres, than you could to wear.  
For ravish'r Crowns are still another's due,  
But thus bestowed, they are all owed to you.  
How much your Debtor is our Nation grown,  
People their freedom owe, the Prince his Throne.  
Brought from his barbarous exile to be Crowned,  
And practice mercy that he never found.  
So when the 
* Aeneas so described by Virg. lib. 1.  Trojan Prince was almost lost  
In Storms, among ungentle billows tossed,  
Displeased Neptune from the surges rose;  
And storms of frowns among the tempests throws.  
At which the waves no longer durst aspire,  
But to obedient calmness all retire.   

At your approach, phanatique storms so shrink,  
And factious waves to seeming quiet sink.  
That 
* Lambert.  Wave which to the vastest swelling rose,  
Found destiny in attempting to oppose.  
Under your weight and principles they sunk,  
And his unto your brighter Genius shrunk.   

So common fires seem to be undone  
At the victorious shining of the Sun.  
He too that hated King's, just fate designs  
Should stoop to one sprung from a Prince's loins.  
Yet little does your birth share with your deeds,  
Your Godlike acts, your Princely face exceeds.  
Whilst you despise those long prevailing charms  
Of power, ready with its open arms.   

So holy men, in heavenly firmness stayed,  
Refused those honour's others would have paid;  
'Twas such a Temper only could have brought,  
That which we strongly hoped, and weakly sought.  
Such conquests as to mighty minds are due,  
Sought your embraces; whilst alone for you  
So clearly victory itself declared,  
That neither common sword, nor fortune shared.  
Whilst we amazed your perfect conquest find,  
Wrought only by your conduct and your mind.  
Their power and fates that you before you saw,  
Did not excite your thoughts, nor could they awe:  
You took no measure from their fates or them,  
Whilst power and danger you alike contemn;  
For their ambitions were not your designs,  
You did not fear their fates, but feared their crimes.   

Yet by degrees you moved, as after Night  
The Sun begins to show the World its light.  
At whose approach, darkness its place resigns,  
And though it seems to move not, yet it shines.   

So softly you began to spread your beams,  
Through all our factions dark in all extremes.  
And though at first, you scarce a motion showed,  
Yet early glory from your actions flowed.  
May you still shine, as now at your full height,  
Till you to greater glory pass through fate.  
You that a KING a Sceptre gave to sway,  
And taught rebellious Subjects to obey;   
FINIS.