Why has Dame Nature so much brightness lent

To diamonds, topazes, and other gems? 530

Only t' enrich themselves? no, to augment

The glory of our rings and diadems.

The ostrich for himself wears not his plumes,

Nor for 's own nose the civet cat perfumes.

So, on our sprucest ladies, matchless graces

Were not bestowèd to delight themselves.

Pandora was not treasured up in faces,

To bring content unto possessing elves.

But 'cause our heroes should the comfort find

Of winning beauty and a willing mind. 540

The maid of Babylon, I know, was fair,

And rich in all the lineaments of beauty;

Yet was she kind, which did not them impair,

But showed to Nature's hests her forward duty.

For Nature's bounty best requited is,

By yielding free assent to Hymen's bliss.

The Queen of Carthage dear respects bestowed

Upon the straggling prince of ruined Troy.

Choice love unto Leander Hero showed:

The Cyprian goddess wooed her sappy boy. 550

All fraught with pity; but that peevish girl,

'Bout whose sleek waist hell's vipers wind and twirl.

Nor such examples wants our latest age,

Of virgin lovers these to parallel,

Who, every way, those former equipage,

With whom records and modern pamphlets swell.

Then courage, Don, fear not to find a face

That hath more pity, and more lovely grace.'

'Much ease' (quoth Fuco) 'to my lovesick heart,

My lord, is by your sage advisement brought. 560

For I supposed th' Idalian younker's dart

Had fest'red so, no easement could be bought,

I on her looked through such a pleasing glass,

As though that sex in her contracted was.

I thought t' have sent my physic-doctor forth

Unto his herbal, to address my ill;

T' ask Æsculapius for some earth-born worth,

Which might accomplish my intended will.

But that 'tis said Apollo once complained

No herb to cure love's fevers could be gained. 570

Whilst an opinion of her matchless grace

Scorchèd my bosom with affection's gleams,

Mine eyes ne'er straggled to another face,

Nor could I bathe my thoughts in Lethe's streams.

But now I'll sound retrait; reclaim my mind,

Not catch a falling star, nor grasp the wind.'

This said, with sparkling sack he wash'd the lane,

Which to the limbeck of his body leads--

Health to Bellama, and a health again,

Till, where his feet his wingèd beaver treads, 580

So well he took his sack without a toast.

That, 'stead of kissing her, he kiss'd the post.

Dispassioned quite, as in a breathless calm,

Don Rivelezzo bids Don Fuco 'dieu;

But hooted loudly, like a shrill-toned shawm,

When his swift steed took farewell of his view.

Accursing Fate, and railing on his daughter,

Which might beget in Heraclitus laughter.

'Have I', says he, 'such Crassian heaps of gold,

Condemned to sleep in iron-ribbèd chests? 590

Did I delight in vestments coarse and old,

Wherein Anthropophages have dug them nests?

Nay, wish'd there were no tavern-juice, or sports,

Or change of fashions, but in princes' courts?

Have I sat brooding o'er my treasured plate,

And summed the surplusage of each year's rent,

Confined my spendings to a weekly rate,

Enjoined a penance when th' allowance spent?

And when an earl tuned every grace to win her,

She slights his vows: nor gales nor gold can pin her! 600

But since she slights my matches, I will match her:

She shall of peevishness the harvest reap.

Since this Don's matchless fortunes could not catch her:

I shall ere long make her affections cheap.

Her love shall stoop to court a common farm,

A lordship then shall scorn to fold an arm.'

'My lord,' her mother, Lady Arda, said,

'A parent's ire ought not to force assent.

Wealth, blent with vice, can ne'er disheart a maid

To whom bless'd virtue is the choice content. 610

There's other things do maid's affections stir,

Beside a manor, and a "please you sir".'

'Madam' (quoth he), 'in vain you do excuse

Your daughter's folly with your friendly air,

The next I offer she shall not refuse.

Sirrah, go harness straight my wheeling chair,

I'll try if less content and pleasure dwells

In princes' courts than in monastic cells.'

When he was coached, the Lady Arda went

To fair Bellam', bedewed with streaming tears: 620

'The gods', said she, 'have ravelled thy content,

Sorrows uncomfort will thy virgin years:

For unto Darwey does thy father haste,

Where he will vow thee everlasting chaste.'

'Madam,' says she, 'I feed on naught but gall,

Aloes and rue, 'cause of my father's wrath.

Th' occasion though of his displeasure shall

With bays, instead of cypress, strew my path.

When virtue seals the contract, welcome Hymen,

But till that, ever shall my heart deny men.' 630

Thus sate they parling. Lady Arda urged,

Producing reasons to enforce assent.

Bellama answered, begged, excused, and purged

Herself from blame, by urging love, content.

But urging and excusing, let them sit,

And see the father champing on the bit;

Who, coming to the cage of virgin-pride,

Knocked at the wicket with the iron crow,

To whose small neck white fillets ne'er were tied.

Which in more ancient days did childbed show. 640

He rapped so hard, the sound did fright the air,

Yet still none came: none was not locked in prayer.

At length the janitor, of stature large,

With crozier-staff, girt in a hair-cloth frock,

Whose meagre looks did call for Charon's barge,

And all whose body was a sapless stock,

Came, and with churlish voice demanded who

With such shrill ho's rejoiced their civil croe.

'Friend,' says my lord, 'my errand wings my speed,

Speaks high importance with the prioress; 650

Thou, in these angel-looks, my haste mayst read;

Help me to th' presence of the abbatess.'

The porter's heart soon stepp'd into his eye,

Tuning his language to a quick reply.

'My lord,' says he, 'obedience is my duty,

Whilst your commands speak in so high a tone.

Yet, lest your smooth-chinn'd youths lay siege to beauty,

Your lordship, spite of state, must walk alone.

I am an eunuch; else in vain I vow'd,

I had mistook my pillow in a crowd.' 660

Him he conducted to the kitchen, where

Store of anatomies employed was;

Some did the candlesticks, some lavers clear,

Some scourèd pewter, some reburnished brass,

Don asks the cause; the porter him acquaints,

'Twas 'gainst a feast of high account, All Saints.

Within the hall a younger sort of girls,

Yet coarse enough, did brush vermilion looks.

Some crosses rubbed, some, ropes of praying pearls;

Some dusted vestments, some, their gilded books. 670

Some kneaded wafers: and his effige stamped,

Whose purple streams the dragon's sulphurs damped.

All at Don Rivelezzo were amazed,

And, looking, one rubbed off a nose of wax,

A second razed a cheek; another gazed

And plucked from Kath' her periwig of flax.

One blinded Serrat, and did rend her silk;

One broke the cruse, and spilt the virgin-milk.

Don passed through these into an inner room,

Where was another rank of virgin-fry, 680

Some weaving arras on the nimble loom,

And intertwisting gold with tapestry,

With silk of Naples twisted in small ropes;

Some did the cowls embroider, some the copes.

At last he came into an upper place,

Climbing thereto by richly gilded stairs,

Where sate another troop, of nobler race,

On quilted cushions, and in ivory chairs.

About the centre, in a robe of state,

The matron Vesta of the virgins sate. 690

These were employed about far nobler things,

For some of sainted hair did bracelets twine;

Others strung beads to stint the knees of kings;

Some trimmed with costly gems the Lady's shrine.

One tuned the music, and a witty other

Footed an _Ave_ to the Virgin-mother.

The grave old matron, crawling from her throne

Of Indian teeth, arched o'er with cloth of gold,

Upon her aged knees with zealous tone

Says, 'Heaven's messenger, what is't you would?' 700

Th' amazed lord with wonder quarrelled long,

Ere he could unvoice his silenced tongue.

'Madam,' says he, 'why pay you reverence?

Why are you guilty of th' adoring sin?

'Tis a delusion of your weak'ned sense,

I am no Cherub, Pow'r, nor Seraphin.

The heralds style me Rivelezzo's Don,

Your friend and servant, with a cap and con--'

'My lord,' quoth she, 'excuse my fond mistake,

For o'er my sight I wear a duskish glass. 710

My zeal in pious actions sure did make

Me give you more respects than civil was.

But take your seat; and if my power or skill

Can crown your wishes, be you sure I will.'

'Madam,' says he, 'I have a scornful lass

Whom nature has enriched with special grace,

To whose perfections her reflecting glass

Is parasite, adds pride unto her face:

So that, though earldoms court her, her disdains

Nonsuits their service, and her brow unplains. 720

Into your number of chaste-zealous shes,

Entrance unto this girl vouchsafe, I pray,

Unto your order. I the constant fees

Of gold and acres, and of vows will pay.

Since she Don slighted, I have vowed to see

How long she'll honour the religious knee.'

Quoth she, 'Those virgins which my hallowed roof

Does canopy, my prudence does protect.

I make blind love and folly stand aloof,

And all love's paper-plots I do detect. 730

Great ones have oft assayed, but yet my care

Has buried their entreaties in the air.

With godly precepts I enrich their minds,

And make them (which is rare) at eighteen good.

I 'dmit no roisters; only maids and hinds

To do them service, and prepare us food.

Please you to send your daughter, she shall be

Crowned with delights of most transcendent glee.'

'Heavens', says Don, 'crown your ensuing days

With all delights which wait your holy orders, 740

May the sad cypress and the bridal bays

Ne'er sprig nor blossom in your quiet borders.

I'll plume my swift endeavours: I'll make haste

T' invest Bellama with your habits chaste.'

When Don's farewell had ceased to move the air,

Says Piazzella to her virgin train,

'We, with th' enjoyment of this lady fair,

Shall stuff our carcanets with mickle gain.

We'll frolic it, and taste the choicest pleasures,

Nor shall our joys be listed in with measures. 750

The credulous world we gull with silver shrines,

Our grave behaviours and retired lives,

When we in naked truth are libertines,

And taste the pillow joys of sprightful wives,

When through the vault our lusty shavelings pace,

All the choice measures of delight to chase.'

Thus leave them with their hair-lack crowns,

And see Rivelezzo now arrived at home,

Who by that time had plained his brow from frowns,

And all becalmed with sugarèd words doth come: 760

Then tells his lady he had found a tow'r,

Would guard Bellama from Jove's yellow show'r.

Servants are posted to the old Exchange,

Others to sellers of the silkworm's spoils,

Some to brisk Proteuses, smirk tailors, range,

Some to the stationers, some haste for oils.

One carves the image of a martyred saint,

Another breathes a soul with gold or paint.

None must be idle till, in marshalled ranks,

All things be ord'red for this virgin-vow. 770

Farewell ye spongy teats and puff'd-paste flanks,

Bellama's bridal tede is lighted now.

Her husband is Virginity, yet look,

Her beads for rings, for songs she'll change her book.

The coach is harnessèd, 'Bellama come',

The father says, 'hence with that dew of grief;

Give not a sad adieu unto our home,

But in thy thoughts let comfort rule as chief.'

She craved a blessing on her globe-like joints;

Then coachèd thither where her sire appoints. 780

As the sweet-voicèd Philomele does sit

I' th' pikèd eglantine, with sorrow dressed,

'Cause some rude sylvan in a raging fit

Snatched her faint chickens from their downy nest.

So did the lady Arda, dight with mourning,

Deplore Bellama's loss with her returning.

As when sly Reynald in his widenèd jaws

Is seizing on the nimbly-frisking lamb,

Or when the tiger, with his sharp'ned paws,

Hath caught the infant of the becking dam: 790

And then the shepherd's care prevents the sharks,

One loudly howls, the other hoarsely barks.

So, semblably, when as the waiting crew

Saw the departing of their golden age,

One gives Bellama, with eye-dew, adieu,

Another's grief unlocked the frenzy cage.

Some tore their hair, some rent their should'ring bands,

Some thwacked their breasts, and wrung their oily hands.

But all in vain, their Indian mine was gone,

Their minting house deprivèd of the stamp, 800

Their costly gems were changed to pebble stone,

Their hemisphere forsaken by their lamp:

Saturn's exiled, Jove awes this massy ball,

And now the iron age ungoldeth all.

The wand'ring wheels, bestud with iron knobs,

Posted Bellama to the virgin-tower,

Which freed her from the noise of servile throbs;

Is entertainèd like a goddy power,

Led by the seeming saints unto the place

Where sate Pazzella with a matron grace. 810

If Rivelezzo's presence frighted them,

Much more they at Bellama were amaz'd;

They called her Phoenix, beauty's only gem,

And all with fixèd tapers on her gazed:

Some had a mean, some curious were before,

But her first sight showed self-conceit the door.

For as when Tithon's bride breaks out afar,

And through th' expanse spreads forth her youngest light,

She, by degrees, pops out each twinkling star,

And dims at length the mistress of the night-- 820

As winter chapel-clerks, when prayers are done,

Dis-light each flazing wax or tallow sun.

So, when Bellama brightly did appear,

With morning rays in the monastic hall,

She veiled each face that movèd in that sphere,

And further, by degrees unfacèd all.

Nay, at the last, the mistress of the train

Looked like pale Phoebe in her dark'ned wain.

And as day's prince, light lustre's archi-beam,

Lends to the moon her silver midnight rays; 830

As from the ocean wat'ry current stream

Though ev'ry cadent to that Chaos strays;

As to a room befogged with mists of night

Th' incensèd weeks do lend a midday light;

So to each brow Bellama's brow gives white;

To ev'ry cheek Bellama's cheek gave roses;

To ev'ry eye Bellama's eye gave sight;

To ev'ry breath Bellama's breath gave posies;

To ev'ry part Bellama's part gave grace;

To ev'ry face Bellama gave a face. 840

Some called her goddess of the Cyprian isle;

Some said Troy's ruin was untombed again;

Some her the self-enamoured boy did style;

Some said the boat-boy did delude their train.

One named her thus, one said she was another,

But all confessed sh' exceeded Cupid's mother.

The aged patroness with palsied lips

Mutt'red a welcome to her lovely guest;

But at that time the moon was in eclipse,

Which with enfeebling fears did them arrest. 850

Some shrilly screamed; some brazen pans did clang,

To ease her travail and abate her pang.

And when the monthly-hornèd queen had got

Her face again with silver glitter rayed,

Save only what the dragon's tail does spot,

On their pale lilies blushing claret strayed.

Then did the aged voice repeat again,

'Welcome, fair lady, to my maiden-train.'

Her instauration was somewhat strange.

Led by nine vestals (for th' odd number was 860

Highly esteemèd in their sacred range,

As by the poet in his quaffing glass),

Each of her jointed lilies one did hold,

Save only that which waits the wedding gold.

Adorned with vestures, white as bleachèd snow,

A cypress mantle over which was cast,

So lightly hung 'twould not abide a blow,

A milk-white ribbon locked unto her waist,

Graced with a crucifix: her slender wrists

With praying beads were wreathed on sable twists. 870

Grave Piazella ushered her along,

Bravely attended with her choicest nuns,

Without drum, trumpet, or an armèd throng,

Or champing coursers, or the wide-mouthed guns.

Each held religion in some holy right,

With holy water which the devils fright.

Into the place of holy worship they

Ent'red where gaudy superstition was,

Saints, altars, store of crucifixes gay,

Whose stately worths my weak expression pass. 880

Scarce was there known a canonizèd saint

Which carving did not there beget, or paint.

With strong devotion all the virgins prayed

At the direction of the praying bead,

Their _Ave-Maries_, _Santo_, _Salve's_ said,

Invoking ev'ry saint to intercede.

Piezza then, Bellama kneeling down,

Did wreathe her temple with the virgin-crown.

These rites performed, behind an iron grate

Appearèd breathing cowls and walking copes, 890

Whose writhèd looks their births did antedate

And change the ciphers girdled in with ropes.

Their hair had purchas'd wings and flew away.

So did their brains, as some did whisp'ring say.

Unto this monast'ry in gloomy shades,

From Crostfull Priory these shavelings pace,

Distant from hence not two Italian stades.

Earth's bloodless womb was wimbled all the space.

Under the craggy rocks and champian did

A roadway lie, from vulgar prying hid. 900

This darksome path they usually did tread

To traffic with their she-sequest'red zeal,

With whom for curtain-dalliance oft they plead.

But their success my muse dares not en-neale.

These loving sportings are not faults: the sin

Is when our walls keep not the scandal in.

Amongst the holy men that hither came,

To join their issue with the sisterhood,

A votary, Albino call'd by name,

Not Fortune's white-boy, yet of abbey-blood. 910

His great-grandfather, some few ages since,

Of Glastonbury primate was, and prince.

His stature did not reach the tip-toe height,

Nor with the long-necked cranes did conflicts wage,

Something complete by nature not by sleight,

Some twenty circled snakes summed up his age;

Discreet as tiroes are, had store of wit,

In that he knew to use, and husband it.

By civil carriage, and his modest look,

He gained the love of his lord Priorist, 920

He bowlèd, coursèd, angled in the brook,

His pleasure was his joy and pleasures list.

Oft would he rove (had his content a dearth)

Through th' hollow belly of th' unbowelled earth.

Sometimes permitted, sometimes by command

From his Lord Prior to the holy mother.

Conveying voices, or the paper-hand

Oft-times alone, scarce sorted with another.

The matron did with courteous eye respect him;

Knowing no ill of him, did not suspect him. 930

She oft would praise his monkship to her train,

Calling his breast blest virtue's choice's shrine;

And vowed she seldom saw such beauty reign

Upon a face that's purely masculine.

And 'twas not common at his years to find

So neat a person with so pure a mind.

He'd freedom of discourse, not privacy,

Jests, sporting, laughter, and lip-dalliance;

Oft on Bellama would he fix his eye,

And she to him would answer glance for glance. 940

They gazed so long and oft, till they did tie

Their hearts together only by the eye.

Love's fever, at the casements of the soul

Ent'ring, inflamèd every secret part,

That passion now his reason doth control,

And with the gyves of love enchains his heart:

And walking with Bardino, seeking pleasures,

He did Bellama sing in lofty measures.

To his companion in praise of Bellama.

Dost see yon tow'ring hills, yon spreading trees,

Which wrap their lofty heads in clouds? Dost see 950

Yon house of little worth, and lesser height?

Dost think a jewel of ten thousand weight

Can dwell within that sooty carcanet?

Dost think the gaudy sun each night does set

And riseth from yon roof? Dost think the moon,

With double horn and glitt'ring tapers, soon

Will issue thence? Didst ever see an eye

Which checked the beams of awful majesty?

Dost think an earth-born beauty can be found,

Which darts forth lustre from the sullen ground-- 960

To kiss the glorious skies? Or canst thou think

The queen of beauty dwells in such a chink?

Dost think? 'tis poor, why do I question so?

Thou dar'st confirm all this by oath, I know,

Since my Bellama's there, all life, all breath,

Whose presence can enlive the soul of death,

Despite of sickly Nature: she is all fair

And truly meriteth Bellezza's chair.

All those fair treasures, which dispersèd lie

'Twixt poles and parallels, pay to her eye, 970

And with her span contracted in her meet

As radiant, red, white, smooth, soft, rich, and sweet,

She is the world's epitome and soul,

And with her inch of earth outworths the whole.

She's beauty's archi-fount: as riv'lets small

Borrow from greater currents, and they all

Pay tribute to the ocean, just so

The dimmer shafts of wingèd Cupid's bow

Borrow from brighter, [and] the brightest pay

Homage unto Bellama--beauty's day. 980

I tell thee there's not one small worth of hers

But loudly says that foppish Nature errs

In other beauties: nor is this all, for why?

Her thoughts pluck stars, and dark th' imperial sky.

Virtue and beauty both: why, 'tis as rare

As frosts in June or comets in the air,

As crows in Africk, Æolus want puffs,

Or she-precisians want Geneva ruffs.

Yet my Bellam', alone and one, unites

The beauteous colours, noble red and whites, 990

With heaven's issue, Virtue: dar'st then deny,

If not divine, her half a deity?

Tip Cynthia's horns with wonder, wind aloud,

And mount the saddle of a wingèd cloud,

Then circle earth, and see if thou canst find

Half such a feature with so rare a mind.

I know when thou return'st thou'lt say with me,

Bellama's beauty is a _A per se_.

* * * * *

Thus he to rocks and bushes did discover

The secret flames which scorched his heated breast: 1000

Though he as yet was not a vocal lover,

But shrouded his close love in smiles and jest.

Yet Fortune oftentimes does Venus grace.

He got lip-freedom in an eyeless place.

For there a Turk's Elysium was the stage

Whereon the virgins acted parts of mirth,

Which Nature did with nobler gifts engage,

And deckèd more than other parts of earth:

And Bellam's breath was such a powerful thing,

It here did keep an everlasting spring. 1010

The angry puffings of congealing East

And sturdy North, cold Winter's stoutest roisters,

Durst ne'er of curled locks the trees divest,

Nor e'er were heard to whistle in their cloisters.

Such vernal blasts came from Bellama's mouth

Kept here Favonius, and the dropping South.

And if sharp frosts did, in her absence, steal

Into this place, and glaz'd the tattling streams,

Then into crystal would the springs congeal,

And ev'ry flower was rayed with silver beams. 1020

Yet if Bellama did but glance her eye,

The crystal and the silver thence did fly.

Nay, strange it was to hear the purling wet,

The saucy frost with angry murmurs chide,

And with its constant jars and strugglings fret,

Then thaw to tears, and on the Venice slide.

Yet oft Bellama would call in her rays,

To view the silver purls and crystal ways.

Into this garden once Albino got;

Yet ah! but once, and met his sovereign fair, 1030

Hoping their hearts should tie the Gordian knot

He fanned her beauty with such courting air.

For, though he was a monk, love did instruct him,

And to Love's palace Fortune did conduct him.

He oftentimes with trembling thumb would press

Her dancing vein, way to her heart to find,

Whilst conscious she her looks with red would dress,

Fearing her pulse was traitor to her mind.

For 'tis entruthed by some that by this vein

We may the knowledge of affections gain. 1040

Such knowledge gained he by her pulse's touch,

Which leapt to meet, not chide, his busy thumbs,

That he desired a kiss; and found it such

Whose sweetness far outsweet[en]s Hybla's combs:

Then cried, 'Give for each lip a cherry sweet,

And then a third, in which they two may meet.'

Such quick'ning heat was from those kisses lent,

That thawed his voice and did unfreeze his tongue,

Packed thence despair, exilèd discontent,

And made him vent what was concealèd long. 1050

For though desire and love each minute bid him.

Yet fear, his habit, and her beauty, chid him.

'Madam,' quoth he, 'vouchsafe a courteous ear

Unto my words, sent from an amorous heart.

Which hath long time been wracked with hope and fear,

Grisly despair, and Cupid's awful dart,

And till this time (restrained by black disasters)

Could ne'er apply lip-love or vowel-plasters.

Be pleased to know (yet sure you needs must know it)

A beauty so divine must needs divine, 1060

Though I should want heart, hand, or voice to show it,

When first your beauty in mine eyes did shine,

They slipped into my breast, and told my heart

The god of love by them had sent a dart.

My heart made quick reply (if hearts have voice)

You ever have such faithful servants been,

That what you like, I'll freely call my choice:

For beauty, brought by you, does fires teen.

Carry this message back, tell her 'tis best

That hers should heat my bosom, I her breast.' 1070

'Peace, peace.' quoth she, 'speak not a work of love,

For fear my anger scorns and folly writes.

Eagles love eagles, and the dove the dove.

Hawks brook not buzzards: or the pheasant kites.

Equals love equals: but unequal flame

Is teened with folly, and expires with shame.'

'True, quoth he,' likeness does the heart incline;

Greatness loves greatness without farther search,

Yet crawling ivies lofty elms entwine,

And gall-less turtles with the eagles perch. 1080

I baulk your greatness: for as good, not great,

I homage pay, and loves alarums beat.

Those airy titles which ambition swell,

And puff like bladders [are] like bladders burst,

The worldling's goddess, which in chests does dwell,

Is gnawn with rust, and makes the chesters curst.

Honour is tied unto the prince's eye

And wealth to Fortune's mutability.

I have not wealth (nor do I want), what then?

Must Hymen stoop unto the nods of gold? 1090

Must I vail bonnet unto ermine men?

And virtue by the herald be controlled?

No, love does blaze the noblest arms: and she

That can maintain herself in love, can me.'

'Stay, stay.' quoth she, 'you will be out of wind.

Methinks the voice of greatness speaks delight.

Our poets only then feign Cupid blind,

When children of the sun do dote on night,

Or folly, mounted on Icarian wings,

Courts queens' affections and does gaze on kings.' 1100

'No,' says Albino, ''tis the contrary.

Love never is more purblind than when earth

Joins house to house, and pedigrees do tie

Scutcheons to scutcheons in pure virtue's dearth.

For regal flames blest goodness only teens,

And virtue ought to court the love of queens.

We all are born for public good: 'tis vain

With torchlight to embellish Titan's rays,

Or cast our stock of water in the main,

Such love from laws of love and nature strays. 1110

But those that Fortune hath enriched with goods

Should dam up nature's wants, by mixing bloods.

Was I the Caesar of the Roman stems,

(Once only darling to the King of skies),

Did both the Indies pay me tribute-gems,

I'd not unite a double majesty.

For being no distinction in degree,

She would assume that honour due to me.

She'd chide me sooner than I durst check her,

And (as the proverb) _quarrel for the breeches_. 1120

On some choice mean that honour I'd confer

Should sue with humble 'Sirs', and low beseeches.

Thus was she tied to payment of respects,

I licensed with state-love to mix neglects.

Where beauty does indite, and virtues seal,

Greatness is not required to set his hand:

Though greatness here may virtue's acts repeal,

Yet virtue's acts in Cupid's courts must stand.

Then where I find grace, feature, virtues, dwell,

I've greatness, wealth, and honour--toll the bell! 1130

Then with kind airs, life of my wishes, speak,

Bid honour know his distance, wealth depart,

And let the day of true contentment break

From thy clear lips, to cheer my misted heart.

O, with one circle let my arms enfold

The soul of honour and the heart of gold.'

'Sir,' quoth Bellama, 'wealth is not my aim,

Nor does the gales of honour heave my soul,

I higher prize an action than a name,

And value more a pamphlet than a roll. 1140

Where I with comeliness find virtue mixed,

My love, eyes, thoughts, are on that object fixed.

I speak not much of love, lest you presume;

And speak a little, lest you should despair.

I would not have my words your hopes deplume,

Nor feather them to reach the highest air.

I sum up all in this, whenas I say,

I will not with disdains thy service pay.'

Oh happy words! oh more than sacred breath!

Albino, live! Bellama says thou must. 1150

Confront dire Fate, and challenge meagre Death:

'Tis not in them to moulder thee to dust.

Yet be advised, let not proud folly in,

The conquest is as great to hold as win.

Our anchorist with all the words that joy,

Hearting a lover, was acquainted with,

Accosts his saint, rewards the wingèd boy,

And congees to the queen of heat and pith.

Smilèd and glanced, paid thanks, desired a kiss;

And prayed time give an age unto his bliss. 1160

But when day's lamp had wan the western clime,

And wrapt his head in sea-green Thetis' lap,

Our lover must observe the chanting time

And bids his saint adieu. Oh hard mishap!

Oh, 'tis a hell to think what hellish pain

True lovers by unkind divorcement gain!

Yet, by that time the hoary-headed sire

Had summed twelve sixty minutes, he again

Returned t' his lady, when bright Titan's fire

Was newly risen from the brackish main: 1170

And, common greetings passed amidst their pleasures,

He in his lady's hands these lines entreasures.

Upon Bellama's walking in the garden, and with him.

My teeming fancy strives, choice fair, to chain

Eternity to time, that ne'er shall wane;

And make those garden-minutes see the sun

Entombed in darkness, and the earth unspun

Ere they expire, that all succeeding times

May know and tell the subject of these rhymes.

Assist me, Flora, that I may with grace

Worthy its honour, shadow forth that place 1180

Of spreading trees, sweet herbs, and fragrant flowers,

Enriched with pleasing walks and shady bowers.

Each twig, with amorous touch, embraced his mate,

Like Bacchus' sacred tree his propping state;

Or ivy, elm, that neither sun nor wind

To his retirèd conclaves passage find.

Within whose walls a half-night's darkness dwells,

Which satyrs' growing palaces excels,

Or anchorets' secluding hermitage.

Here, like a common theatre or stage, 1190

Each spicèd child of earth, in summer robe

And Iris' mantle, opes his closèd globe,

Knows his appearing cue, and freely plays

O' th' wished-for presence of your quick'ning rays.

Such perfect vivifying influence

Dwells in your looks, Light's chariot driven hence,

That your sole presence can create a spring,

From winter's frozen bands can loose each thing,

From earth's entombing sepulchre can raise

Each sleeping flow'r, to chant forth Maia's praise. 1200

This made amazement seize my mind to view

Half-agèd winter bid so soon adieu

To this Elysium of the pagans' joy.

And Chloris, with her new-brush'd clothes so coy

Before, and hardly to be won, come forth

Crowned with the glory of her springing worth,

To court our eyes, nay more, the bare-faced earth

Covered with carpets green, befringèd round

With smiling rosy trees, with glorious store

Of daisies, suckles, cowslips, studded o'er. 1210

Like hunting vests of satonisco green,

Embossed with gems by fawns and wood-nymphs' queen,

Worn when the tushèd boar, bear, panting hart

Th' unkennel, rouse, disfrank with nimble art.

And, lest your spotless souls should suffer ill,

Air's fleeting tuns crystalline streams distil,

To wash the grassy-tufted tapestry

Which whistling winds, with murm'rings, haste to dry.

And ev'ry tender branch whereon you tread

To make your tracing, pacing, moves its head. 1220

Alcinous' orchard, or that precious root

Which bore old Atlas' daughters golden fruit;

Th' Idalian mount where Cytherea strayed,

Or that where Ceres' luckless daughter played

Whenas the king of shades surprisèd her.

Nor may the Roman's pride with this confer,

For here all Maia's treasures are united

Which do, which shall, or senses e'er delighted,

Yet summered by your eye each flower does bud,

Blossoms, sprouts, opens, blooms, and chews the cud. 1230

Your presence hearts them all. O be as kind

As unto them to me; shoot through my rind.

Shine through my heart with one, one smiling ray!

So shall it open, blossom, sprout as they--

Spiced with the choicest sweets e'er Venus had,

In all the postures of true service clad,

Trimmed with the beauties of the richest spring.

All fertile too, all store of fruit shall bring:

This, choice affection; that, chaste loyalty;

This, vows; that, service; and that, constancy, 1240

Made up into a nosegay, circled in

With twists of love, which youth and virtue spin.

Then, breath and ray, make and accept the posy

And seal a contract 'twixt the lily and rosy.

* * * * *

Enspherèd thus with virgins, oft he would

Tell pretty tales, fraught with conceited mirth,

Discourse of foreign states sometimes unfold,

(A sudden jest may give to laughter birth.)

Thus to beguile the time, he oft would do,

And unsuspected did his lady woo. 1250

Then privately sometimes with her would walk

Along a pavèd way, where lofty trees

Bore only witness of their am'rous talk,

Plaiting their branchèd pride that none might see.

And, lest quick envy should their dalliance spy,

Themselves about the trees the brambles tie.

Here in soft whispers did he court her love,

And strove by oath their loves to ratify.

'Madam,' says he, 'this reason may you move,

That day and malice have too many eyes 1260

When my lips are sealed, and I attempt in vain

To send the children of my teeming brain.

Not half so vigilant the dragon was,

Which Colchos' treasure watch'd, as is your dame;

So that they must through Argus headpiece pass

Which seek here to enkindle Cupid's flame.

I know your jealous matron does discover

How my faint heart about your breast does hover.'

'Sir,' says Bellama, 'there is no such haste.

Time will appoint our loves some fitter seasons, 1270

My father must ungirdle first my waist,

Love will not be repelled by force, but reasons:

And more, you know it is in vain to strive,

Here's no escaping this monastic hive.

When as the third day's sun, three hours or more,

Our zenith has behind him left, hither

Return, and I will meet thee; not before'.

'My thoughts', quoth he, 'do in your absence wither,

Pinched with the sharpest blasts cold winter breathes,

But your, _your_ looks, my heart with blossoms wreathes. 1280

That foolish glass, which measures time with sand,

Enough of gravel has to meet a year.

With lesser trouble I could Hermes' wand,

Than the sad torture of your absence, bear:

Change then those hours to minutes, days to day;

If you say't shall be so time must obey.'

'Alas,' quoth she, 'my faith is not so strong,

To think reality with language dwells,

Nor can I think you count those minutes long

When you're employèd with your beads and bells. 1290

Yet t' has the face of truth: I'll therefore try

If time will pay such duty to mine eye.'

'These words have lent my body a new soul,

And shot', quoth he, 'a fire through every vein;

Doubt not your voice time's circle can control,

And make the sun his hasty jennets rein.

Nay more, methinks m' enlight'ned eyes discover

'Bout you the gods with veilèd bonnets hover.

I'm half-persuaded 'twas not blasphemy

For me to say your nod can ravel Fate; 1300

Thaw into chaos this firm globe of dry;

Beckon the planets; and their tow'rs unslate.

Methinks I see the sun nailed to his sky,

Unnath his car, and throw his whipstaff by.'

'Peace, peace,' quoth she, 'Albino! thou dost rave,

Why dwells such language on thy wretching tongue?

Wilt thou just vengeance force to dig thy grave?

Think'st thou stern Fate will suffer such a wrong?

Pinion thy words; let them not soar so high,

Lest they should gash the clouds and ope the sky 1310

We must not play with sharps, nor kiss the flame,

Dally with heaven, or upbraid the gods,

Lest their just anger make their powers tame

Such saucy scandals with their plagues and rods.

Then wing no more Bellama's name, but let

The pearl be callèd pearl, the jet but jet.

Go home in clouds, lest Envy see thy face;

And come not till those minutes task the watch.'

'Madam,' says he, 'I'll bid them mend their pace.

'Tis just with lovers every hair to catch 1320

That dights occasion's brow, change date for date,

Entrench sometimes upon the rights of Fate.

Yet your command shall stand, I'll not transgress,

But watch the hand until it joint the hour,

And all my paths with gloomy shades will dress,

That undiscovered I may win this bow'r.

May all the blessings which a lover's voice

Breathes on his lady wait on you, my choice.'

Here did they meet to rivet fast their heart,

Where not a breath their private joys disturb; 1330

They thought no eye a saucy ray durst dart,

Or any voice had power their loves to curb.

So credulous are lovers, and so fain

To their conjectures would _conclusum_'s chain.

But this bright sun of joy eclipsèd was,

And pitchy clouds their glorious sky did smutch:

Then Venus' joys were like to Venice glass,

Poor glass-like toys that perish with a touch.

A guardian's anger, or a parent's frown,

Nips love's fresh blossoms and a wish uncrown. 1340

The jealous matron, from her tow'ring loft,

O'erlooked th' ambitious trees which hemmed them in;

O'erheard their vows, their sighs, and language soft;

And saw how Cupid leapt from skin to skin,

The traffic of their lips, and how thin balms

Did glue and cement fast their melting palms.

When she perceived the progress of their love,

Religious care empanelled straight a jury

Of thoughts and plots, this stranger to remove,

Soothèd with profit, and enflamed with fury, 1350

Ush'ring her language with a threat'ning frown,

She asked her business with that shavèd crown.

Why was that sickly voice whose feeble gales

Can raise no echoes, hand- and elbow-chat,

Eye-dialogue's discourse, and wanton tales,

That way of am'rousness and this, and that?

'Speak truth, Bellama, has thy heart, as voice,

Decreed that youthful monk thine only choice?'

Bellama, startled at this sudden news,

Yet did her answers all consist of noes; 1360

But yet, alas! her blood observed the cues,

And called by guilt, her lily banks o'erflows:

So that, though she with settled vows denied,

Yet to the eye her blushes guilty cried.

When as the matron's busy eyes had read

Love on her cheeks in bloody letters writ,

She asked her why blind folly thus had led

Her reason 'gainst religion, state, or wit?

Or, if she needs must love, why did she scowl

Upon state-satins, and embrace a cowl? 1370

Bellama to excuses tuned her air,

Framing pretences for her amorous faith,

But yet, alas! such was Pazzella's care,

From her excuses she withheld her faith.

And, with a voice shrill and as fierce as thunder,

Sware she would knap their silly loves in sunder.

Those scarlet gowns which doom offenders' death,

Or the proscriptions of the Roman state,

Had not the tithe of that affrighting breath,

Although they weak'ned hell and threat'ned Fate, 1380

As had these words which feeble love did shiver,

Snap his weak strings, and crack his emptied quiver.

But, all this while, Albino sate with pleasure,

And on his trencher joy and mirth attend;

Nor to delight will he allow a measure,

As at one sitting he his stock would spend.

Nay, if he slept, he dreamed of naught but rings,

Gloves, fans, masks, monkeys, and such pretty things.

And when the time of his approach approached,

His eye did travel with the dial's hand, 1390

Then started up to see Don Phoebus coached,

Bade him make haste and at that minute stand,

That this blest day may count more moments' flight

Than could the stout Alcides' genial night.

But oft we see before a sudden dash,

The sun salutes the earth with hottest gleams:

So here, before misfortune's harshest lash,

Joy on Albino shot his choicest beams;

That every thought was crownèd with a star,

And rid with Venus in her silver car. 1400

Rose out o' th' vault with love and hope adust,

And in conceit fed on his future sweet,

Thinking what most may please, not what's most just.

And with what phrase he should his lady greet:

Vowing, in this full heat of lust and pride,

To try how fast Bellama's girdle's tied.

But as our alchemists do study much,

Spend all their wits and wealth to find that stone

Which baser metals doth engold with touch,

(As he which once did awe the Phrygian throne) 1410

And when they long have dreamèd of a mass,

Their silver's turned to tin, their gold to brass.

Just so our amorist, stuffed full with hope,

Came to this walk for his expected treasure,

The crystal casements of his soul did ope

To let in th' object of his joy and pleasure:

But when he thought t' have found his lovely lass,

His love was lady-smocks, his lady grass.

He searched with stricter care each bush and bow'r,

Than did the fairy king and Hob his man; 1420

Throwing his eyes into each branchèd tow'r,

And midst the sharp'ned pikes of brambles ran.

Pricked forward with desire, enraged with spite,

And venteth here what love and hate indite.

Upon his Bellama using and forsaking the Walk.

When, walking, I sent forth my watchful eyes

To fetch in objects, like Bellona's spies,

Along this swelling way which chequered was

With smooth-faced pebbles, not with pikèd grass,

Bellama paced, whose only pacing set

Upon the pavèd walk a coronet 1430

Of Flora's pride--carnations, tulips, lilies,

Pansies, pinks, roses, daffadowndillies.

Nay more, methought, I saw the rubbish way

Sapphires, pearls, rubies, onyx-stones, outray.

The very channel, proud of her blest weight,

Swelled up with pride unto the ridge's height,

To kiss her feet, and made the way an alley.

With this choice fair mine eyes (ah!) once did dally,

Nature's epitome, whose curious brow

Was like a smoothèd mount of bleachèd snow, 1440

At whose clear foot Nature divine did place

Two diamonds, which did enlighten all her face.

So that 'twas like those orbs wherein do stray

The planet-lamps, or Cupid's sucking way;

And from these gems such silver rays were sent

Which hatchèd o'er her light accoutrement.

So that dull fancies would have thought she had

In cambric, holland, or pure lawn, been clad.

Nay, I at first thought it had Cynthia bin

Deck'd in her brother's sunshine ermelin. 1450

She shot such glorious beams: but now, alas!

She's gone, she's fled, and lo! the mourning grass

Is hayed already, and th' ungemmed stone

At feathers catch to fly where she is gone.

The branchèd beech, the oak, and tow'ring ash,

Bend both their brows and boughs my face to lash.

The angry thorns my hands, though armèd, scratch,

And testy brambles at my vestures catch

(Which was before the curse of human sin,

But now, by her, outsmelled the eglantine), 1460

I, wonder-strucken, asked a holy thistle,

Which with his sharp'ned pikes began to bristle,

(But know at first 'twas but an homely weed,

Her presence made it holy, not its seed)

Why all with ireful looks thus threat'ned me?

'It is supposed, Bellama fair,' quoth he,

'The goddess of this walk was forced by you

To this benighted path to bid adieu.'

'Alas!' quoth I (meanwhile the thistle paus'd),

'Their wrath is undeserved, I never caused 1470

By any ill demeans that saint to leave

This place, and widow every branch and greave.

Unto your testates I myself refer,

How choicely I have ever honoured her,

Have paid my tribute-compliments, and gave

Respects as much as due, or she, would have.

But people (worse than those that people stews)

Whose only joy consists in telling news,

Or Pazzell' else with her envenomed lips,

Your glory and my comfort do eclipse, 1480

'Tis them they ought to chide, for only they

Compel her to forsake this gloomy way.

Yet spite of all disasters, fate, and hell,

Albino's heart shall with Bellama dwell:

And though chill winter nip both you and me,

We shall, ere long, our suns and summers see.'

* * * * *

This said, he straight forsook his silent grove,

Trimming his looks which passion did untrim,

And hastes to find the object of his love.

But such an eye the matron cast on him, 1490

That fury on her looks did seem to dwell,

And envy to her face transplanted hell.

Heartless Albino with much pain did view

How on her looks madness and anger ranged,

And on Bellam' he private glances threw

To bring him word if that she stood unchanged,

If she continued square, despite of them,

Whose jealous eyes did all their actions hem.

Bellama knew the language of his eye,

But could not give respect to Cupid's law, 1500

For Piazella to her eyes did tie

A constant watch, which kept her eyes in awe:

That she was forced to peep within her veil,

For there the matron did her eyes enjail.

The ragged crew, which are enwrapt in chains

Through grates, more freedom have of sight than she,

Which in them both produced such griefs and pains

Too sharp and loud to be expressed by me.

Albino now does judge his absence better,

And chose a proxy to present a letter. 1510

One of his order (deemed a trusty friend

Endeared to him by favours, oath, and vow),

Was his Talthibius, ordained to send

To her whose beauty makes stiff Atlas bow.

The monk embraced the office, and did swear,

By all our scarlet oaths, faith, truth, and care.

Albino now to every Santo prays,

And for success his hands with zeal does rear,

Courting his lady in some Irish lays,

And robbed his finger of its golden sphere. 1520

En-nealed _I live in hope_, and sure grief's waves,

If anchorless, had been t'is wishes graves.

To mee's faire Metres, Vandebrad Isile of te fine towne of Vaschester.

Ick predee metres be not coy,

But intertaune mee's love vit joy:

For me be not a snottee boy.

Vat tough me russell not in silke,

And keep mee's servaunts vit capes ilke,

Yet me be not a sop of milke.

Vat tough me vil not stautly stret,

And ilke de Peacock poudely jet; 1530

Yet me be vary pruce and neat.

Vat tough me vil not lye vit pimpes,

And pend me's coyne on light-teale shrimpes,

Yet me can hug, busse prettee nymphes.

Vat tough me ha ne Hauke ne Hound,

And vil not suare begot, idzound,

Yet faith mee's frolique, plumpe and sound.

Vat tough me cannot Maudam say,

And vit ty Fan an Monkee play,

Yet me con flatter vel as thay. 1540

Vat tough me connot honour tee

Vit titles laudee C or D,

Yet tou sault a good Metress bee.

Vat tough, vat tough, Ick say, vat tough,

Ick say, udsnigs, in feck I trough,

Yet Ick drive not te Caurt and Plough.

Then pretee, pretee, buxome faire,

Let me not launguish in despaire,

But say me's sutes all gaunted are.

Let ne mee's Irish borrell speach, 1550

In tyne affection mauke o breach,

For me con better say so teach.

And me can be as blyth and free

As auny push or saunten hee,

Ten say, and ved, and bed vit me.

_Tyne faytfull friend and good servaune_,

Patrick Applous, _te fine, te bave, te

gallaun Irish-mon_.

Upon the Ring sent to his Bellama.

Cupid oft-times disdains to dwell

In lofty palace, but does shell

Himself in straw-thatched roof, and choose

For novel a September rose

Before a diamond to present, 1560

Or time in silver ceilings pent;

Great gifts enforce, but small ones woo,

And forced respects will never do.

He questions his own worth that fears

To whisper in his mistress' ears

With smallest gifts, since true worth hates

A boon which for him loudly prates,

And female worths may justly slight

Those that but with gilt swords dare fight.

These make me send this little ring 1570

(An emblem of a greater thing),

Tis bruised--hence representeth true

My heart, bruised, bent, and bowed for you.

Anatomists conclude by art

A vein is stretchèd to the heart

Fro' th' smallest finger of the left;

From vein and finger comes this gift:

Hence merits better, since we find

Many send presents, few their mind.

Upon the Posy _I live in hope_.

'Tis hope that makes me live, and when 1580

My hope's transferred to other men,

Divorced from me, health cannot give

A strength to make my rent heart live.

A rented heart 'tis truly called,

For love of virtues you enthralled,

Tenant at will to you, and pays

Large rents of sighs each hour and days.

But to what number they amount,

Puzzles arithmetic to count.

Then, courteous landlady, be please 1590

To seal my heart a lifelong lease.

Else ev'ry slight and frown of yours

Will turn your tenant out of doors.

Yet hope persuades me not to doubt

My heart shall not be turnèd out.

For you have promisèd to come

And live with it, or exchange home;

So I be landlord unto thine,

And you be landlady to mine.

Say 'Aye' to this, and only Fate 1600

Shall change the tenor of our state.

* * * * *

Bardino from the coven posts with speed

Unto Albino's only polar star,

Loaden with blessings, and beware take heed

As the great grandame's son prepared for war,

Or as a widow's son, whose only joy

Hangs on the nuptials of her lusty boy.

Like as a pilot to some floating keel

When as the bustlers from old Æol's cave

On Neptune's furrowed back make it to reel, 1610

And at his death shoot billow after wave:

So tossed in seas of grief Albino tied

His love's choice pinnace to Bardino's guide.

But Bishop-Guts, tun-bellied, all-paunched friar,

In sight of Lesbia's tow'rs, split his fair galley,

Proved a dissembling and perfidious liar;

From his foul breast deceit and hate did sally.

The seeds of every sin in him did bud,

Nothing did wither but this one thing, _Good_.

For to win credit with the Lady-mother, 1620

And raise a liking of himself in her,

He proved a traitor to his abbey-brother,

With abbotess in private does confer,

And unto her imparts his amorous news,

She, not Bellam', his vowèd service views.

But to Albino he returned with faith

(Yet 'twas an oath), 'I importuned thy saint,

Pressed her t' unlock thy secrets: but she saith

"What purblind folly does thy heart attaint?

Thou know'st what offers I refused, and thou'll 1630

Confine my love unto a starvèd cowl!"

'Away flings she, and leaves me disconsolate,

Nor after deigned to me a wonted look:

Now is Albino pinched with cruel Fate.

Which is the better, Cupid, or thy book?

Hadst viewed her beauty with a scornful eye

Thou hadst not tasted of her pride and fie.

Hapless Albin', and hapless so much more

Because Albin', rest quiet with thy lot;

If Nilus overflow his sandy floor, 1640

Above twelve cubits, it procures a rot.

When at too high a pitch affections tow'r,

Fate with misfortunes oft their hopes doth sour.

Wound not the harmless air with mournful hoots,

Steer not 'gainst Volga's stream thy feeble keel,

Be not like him who 'gainst a whirlwind shoots,

Or like the cockatrice in pecking steel;

For acts, 'gainst Nature wrought, despite do gain,

And love o'erlooking Fortune, reaps disdain.'

But let us see what strange effect this news 1650

Writes in his breast (disaster's fatal book),

What stronger plot his working fancy brews

If's lofty thoughts be at this answer shook--

Alas! they are, so weak a thing is man,

Crash'd into atoms with a slighting fan.

His blood retires unto his throbbing heart,

His wannèd cheeks with lawn were overspread,

An aspen-trembling loos'ned every part,

His spirits fainted and his vitals fled,

And his quick heart with such strong motions beated 1660

That it, though chilled with fear, his body heated.

Ent'ring his chamber, strewèd o'er with rue,

He leaned his head upon his swelling pillow,

And, sighing, cried 'Bellama! is this true?

Must I be doomèd to the barren willow?

I thought, exempted from my pedant's art,

I should no more have felt the willow's smart.

Thy eyes spake love: and every glance you sent

Writ on my heart, "Albino is approv'd";

Whensoe'er my eyes unto thy feature went, 1670

And met with thine, they brought me word "_You lov'd_",

Then can Bellama not Bellama be?

She may Bellama be, but not to me.

Blest heavens! how have men deserved your ire,

That made you frame this curse, this thing called _Woman_,

So comely and so useful, giving fire

To sear us men and yet disdain to know man?

Why on their faces have you placed such charms,

To make us court with sighs the worst of harms.'

Pandora's box of woes was openèd then, 1680

When first they took in hand to make a woman,

And all the Furies joined to torture men;

Yet women first were rare, but now grown common,

And mischiefs high, when once they common grow

Entomb great states, and commons overthrow.

Thou Love (what should I call thee?) dost entice,

Nay check'st rebellion in the awful gods;

Women thy weapons are, of such high price,

That beat with them they humbly kiss the rods.

No life, no joy, no sweet, without a lass; 1690

And yet no sweet nor joy since woman was.

Our eyes do ne'er mistake the day for night,

Nor can the pale-hewed pinks for roses pass,

But when on women's colours they do light.

Then (bribed) they look as through a painted glass,

So that what women are we never see

But what we wish and fancy them to be.

'Mongst thousand virgins which do suck this air,

I never knew but one, but one--one good;

Whom I supposèd full as good as fair, 1700

And she was making e'er Deucalion's flood:

But she--alas! what should I say?--but she

Is woe to man, a woman unto me.'

Thus in his height'ned fury he condemns

Both Fate and Fortune, honour, wealth, and worth,

Raileth on virgins and their beauteous gems,

And curseth Nature that did bring her forth,

But, above all, his sharp incensèd muse

In wrathful odes Don Cupid does accuse.

An invective against Cupid.

Thou Love, if thou wilt suffer this, be blind, 1710

Deaf, dumb, and stupid, and unwisely kind

More unto slights than merits, and reward

Respects and negligence with same regard.

If satins difference and maids adorn

Than Nature has with beauty, more with scorn,

That they must fligger, scoff, deride, and jeer,

Appoint their servants certain hours t' appear,

Afford by number kisses, sights by tale,

Command a certain distance, and impale

Love's game from taste or touch, and, if at all 1720

Men do transgress, steep all their words in gall,

Check but the least presumption, and with frowns

Strike as much terror unto us as crowns--

Love, if thou'lt suffer this, and wink at them,

Make us esteem a pebble for a gem,

Stoop, cringe, adore, sue, flatter, and admire,

And in our bosoms teen'st thy amorous fire--

May all the haggish Furies soundly lash

And with their snaky whips thy sinews gash!

May all the tortures Hell encloseth fall 1730

On thee, if not enough, and more than all.

But we--we men, will be no more thy slaves

And women's too: we'll pack unto our graves:

And in our silent beds of earth will court

The slender-waisted worms, and with them sport,

Dally, hug, toy, and vow their wimbling buss

Is full as sweet as women's was to us.

Enwalled with dust we'll lie: till Nature shall

Perceive thy malice, Cupid, and her fall,

And woo's, with sighs and tears in loving guise, 1740

For a replantage of the world, to rise,

Then shall our wills ungod thee and thy mother,

And Cupids be ourselves one to another.

Then in thy temples shall no voice be heard,

But screech-owls, dors, and daws; no altar reared

Whereon to sacrifice true lovers' hearts,

Scalded with sighs, and gallèd with thy darts.

For we ourselves ourselves will temples call,

And make our bosoms altars, whereon shall

From fourteen to fourscore the females fairs 1750

Burn frankincense of love with sighs and prayers:

And change the custom so that maidens then

Shall court, admire, adore, and woo us men.

* * * * *

This said, he strove t' unbillow all with slumbers,

But th' more he strove to rest less rest he takes.

His watchful thoughts each tattling minute numbers,

Bellama's wakening beauty him awakes.

And having purchased sleep, though they were dim,

Bellama's beauty darted rays at him.

Then, starting up her substance fair to catch, 1760

He lost the shadow, and did rave again:

'Can grovelling brambles lofty cedars scratch?

Or waddling ducks o'ertop the tow'ring crane?

Yet virtues, imped with person, reach a sky,

And to an higher pitch than Fortune fly.

There is a tree (as our historians write),

Alpina hight, of fair and glorious glee,

With branches fine and glorious blossoms dight

But never tasted by the witty bee,

Fearing death lodgeth there; and this he fears 1770

'Cause to the eye so glorious it appears.

Not much unlike to these our women are,

Whom Nature has in dainty colours dressed;

And of our women likest are the fair,

For with much beauty virtues seldom rest.

Would Jove all women I had judged to be

Alpina-like, or, if not all, yet she!

The queen of beauty strumpet was to Mars,

Officious bawd unto lascivious Jove,

A patroness of those that ride in cars, 1780

And in her court nor virtue reigns nor love:

But lust and vanity, with wily trains,

That he repentance buys which beauty gains.

Sh'as many trulls, like Menelaus' wife,

And she such light-skirt things for chaste ones sells;

With whom dissembling and deceits are rife,

Smiles, tears, sighs, looks, with such enchanting spells.

If they but bend their brows and shoot out frowns,

They crack a sceptre and distemple crowns.

Yet stay: but by the sour we know not sweet, 1790

White's silver hue adjoined to black shines best,

How should we know our hands but by our feet?

Health's only prized when sickness doth arrest.

This principle, perhaps, Bellama holds:

Summer is known by winter's chilling colds.

Perchance Bellama did not breath that woe,

Which by Bardino was conveyed to me,

Nor dwelt upon her lips that scornful "No":

'Twas only forgèd by her dame and he.

But--why should suspicion steal into my breast? 1800

Suspect a friend, deceit with friendship rest?

No: Phaeton, base son to Day's bright blaze,

Daring his chariot, felt Jove's thunder fire.

Astronomers, whilst on the stars they gaze,

Oft-times do sink into the dirty mire.

Only the eagle, without purblind damps,

Can fix his eyes upon the prince of lamps.

The son of Daedalus soared up so high,

That Phoebus plucked his waxen jointed wings,

It was her pride checked my ambitious eye. 1810

True love, to hatred changed by slights, has stings.

I'll write invectives: no! I'll only try

What virtue dwells in slighting poesie.'

To his Bellama slighting him.

I'll bore the heavens, pierce the clouds a vein,

Make them full torrents weep of brackish rain,

To second my laments; methinks the sun,

Knowing my clue is ravelled and undone,

That my Bellama slights, should, vexed, resign

T' his sister's chariot his ecliptic line.

Bid Phoebe run horn-mad, and loudly cry, 1820

Froth, howl, as in a fit of lunacy,

Nay, throw a poison on Endymion's lips,

Threaten to drown the world, the sun eclipse.

Keep the stars order still? or can they stir

And not digress? Know they how not to err?

Sure, no: I saw bright Paphos snuff her lamp,

Yet vowed to quench it with eternal damp,

Hurl all away, if that her servant's love

Be had in no regard, and awful Jove

Hurry along the milky way to find 1830

That sniffling deity, that wingèd blind--

And vowed to clip his wings as short as monks

Their stubbed beards more short than panèd trunks,

Unless he shot a dart with more than speed,

To make Bellama's heart affections bleed.

Bold ocean foams with spite, his neb-tides roar,

His billows top and top-mast high do soar.

Nature herself is sullen, keeps her bed,

And will not rise so much as dress her head:

Regardless of the seasons, will not see 1840

Loud winds deplume the bush and tow'ring tree.

The ploughman furrows earth, sows seed i' th' tides,

But nature weeps for me, his pains derides.

Copernicus his tenet's verified,

The massy globe does 'bout its centre ride.

All things disranked, nothing observes its state,

Change time and tide, or post or antedate.

But thou, Bellam', art deaf to me and blind,

Steel'st thine affections, flint'st thy hardenèd mind,

And strik'st fire thence t' inflame my tinder heart, 1850

Thou oil'st the flame, but I endure the smart.

How oft have I, when others' eyes have slept,

Like sentinels to armies, watchings kept!

And when the thought o' th' saints' thrice blissful home

Which (ah! too seldom) 'mongst my thoughts did come,

Then, spite of goodness, blessed E was lost

And you the haven of me tempest-tost.

Have I made envious art admire thy worth,

Touched the Ela of praise t' emblazon 't forth?

Bid sleep goodnight, quiet and rest adieu, 1860

Made myself no self to entitle you?

And, after this sad purgatory, must

My hopes be laid i' th' dust for want of dust?

Then know, Bellama, since thou aim'st at wealth

Where Fortune has bestowed her largest dealth,

That wealth may puff a clod of earth like leaven,

But virtuous want alone ensouleth heaven.

Know more, I scorned thy fortune: 'twas thyself

I courted, not thy slight-adored pelf,

And had not mortals' curse blessed thee, and I 1870

Had swelled with honour and nobility,

My love, once fixed on virtue, parents' hate

In both might shake, but ne'er evert love's state.

I aim at virtue's bliss, and if I find

The heart and bosom good, I slight the rind.

But since, Bellama, thou regard'st not me,

I scorn to cringe, adore, and flatter thee.

For he that rules his thoughts has a nobler soul

Than he that awes the world from pole to pole.

Thus, fair, adieu! with love these measures scan, 1880

And know my love was but a fit of man.

* * * * *

We'll leave Albino in this frantic mood,

And view Bellama, pargèd o'er with fear,

Asking a member of her sisterhood

(For love and virtues unto her most dear),

Amongst their sportings, and their chaste delights,

Wherefore Albino did refrain their sights.

Barraba (her the font those letters gave)

Said, 'I presume I rightly guess the cause'.

Bellama urged (thanks to the purblind knave), 1890

'Twas thus', quoth she--yet made a two day's pause.

At length, with importunings overcome,

She told her why Albino kept at home.

'Bardino did deceive his trust', quoth she,

'Told all, yet sung another song to him:

His love came lapped in paper unto thee,

He with quaint words did his affections limn,

Vowed service: but Bardino (ah the shame!)

Unclasped his secrets to our jealous dame.'

'Am I an infidel? or dare I tie', 1900

Quoth fair Bellama 'unto this belief?

Shall just revenge in my soft bosom die?

And shall I melt my heart with secret grief?

I'll scold with him.' Says chaste Barraba, 'No,

For by that others will your wishes know.'

What she should do (plung'd in this depth of woe)

Bellama knew not, nor durst counsel ask:

More dangers wait her, if she send or go,

Than if she underwent Alcides' task.

Distracted were her thoughts in silence tied, 1910

Till love and honour buzzled, then she cried,

'Ah! false Bardino, shame of holy orders!

Whither, ah! whither didst thou send thy troth?

To be grand factor in the frozen borders

For them whose decks do make old ocean froth?

And truthless thou, locked in this gloomy cell,

Plott'st baseness to enlarge the crown of hell.

Unjust Bardin', unworthy of a cope,

Or (whose employments holy) other vest,

Didst [thou], oh didst thy conscience scour with soap, 1920

And washed all faith from off thy glazèd breast?

And, faithless, thou esteemest less of vow

Than clownish whistlers which do steer the plough.

Where didst encage thine eyes? durst thou behold

(Acting this crime) the castle of the stars?

How stopp'st thine ears? didst hear the heavens scold,

And chide in wind and thunder threat'ning wars?

Durst touch the hallowed water, spittle, salt,

The cross or pax, and yet attempt this fault?

Those sacred bagnios, wherein pagans wash 1930

Their sullied limbs for their mosquea's door,

The pottage-penance and repentant lash,

Their hair-cloth shirt, skin-shoes, and thousand more;

Th' arch-vicar's pardon, and the purging flame

Can ne'er absolve thy crime or clear thy fame.

Pack then from human eyes, and shroud thy sin,

Under the curtains of eternal night;

Perfidiousness does make thee near of kin

To hell's black fiends, with robes of horror dight.

Pack, pack, begone, the ferryman does stay 1940

To waft thy paunch o'er th' Acherontic bay.

But peace, Bellama, dost thou think it fit

To value at so mean a price thy pearl?

Applaud thyself, count it a point of wit

To take a cowlist and refuse an earl.

The world shall be uncentred, ere 't be said

Beauty takes lodging in an humble maid.

What then? shall every fashion fashion me,

As in religion by the church's eye,

So by the world's must I in loving see? 1950

No, I the world's supremacy deny.

Hence with those loves which profit only measures,

I hate that heart which only shoots at treasures.

The Cyprian goddess is not fed with ploughs,

Nor Cupid's arrow guided is with acres.

Vulcan permitted was to shake the boughs,

But Mars suck'd in the sweets without partakers.

Youth, youth pursues; for with autumnal looks

Cupid does seldom bait his eighteen hooks.

Who in pleuretic passions does deny 1960

To open veins, to shut death out o' th' doors?

Who will not in sharp fevers Galen try,

To weaken humours, and unstop the pores?

The quickest eye does want the quick'ning sun,

And to the sea the drilling cadents run.

Who, when Sir Cupid enters at the eye,

With pride and coy disdain shuts comfort forth?

I'll make ambition stoop now, love, says I,

And satin thoughts shall veil to tammy worth:

By lovely maids the lovely lovèd are, 1970

And by the fair most favoured are the fair.'

Thus did she rage, her resolution love;

Which spite of all disasters she will harbour,

Hoping blest fate will so propitious prove,

T' enclose her monk and her in Cupid's arbour:

But leave her surfeiting with hope, and view

When to monastic vows she'll bid adieu.

Till Cynthia twice twelve times repairèd had

Her silver horns, she was encloistered here:

When some kind planet moved her loving dad 1980

To fetch her thence his frosted age to cheer,

Hence, virgin vow, away black vestments hurled,

Bellama's born again into the world.

He with his lady mounted on his jen-

Net to the nunnery with haste does ride,

Accompanied with troops of harnessed men

And vowed a siege if Piazzell' denied,

To batter down the holy walls with guns,

And fright the hag with all her simp'ring nuns.

He in an ambush placed his iron crew, 1990

Bade them prepare when as the trump did call,

Dismounting then the janitor him knew

And led the lordly couple through the hall,

Parlours, and chambers, to the conclave where

The pious nuns their branchèd lilies rear.

Bellama craved a blessing, they it gave;

Then Rivelezzo he did softly ask

If the monastic roof should be her grave?

If now she grievèd for Don Fuco's task?

If, after two years' bondage, now she would 2000

Answer more kindly to the voice of gold?

'My lord,' quoth she, with humble knee and voice.

'I am not tired with my nicer vow,

Nor hate I Hymen, might my eyes make choice,

Ask when I'll marry, and I'll answer now.'

'A man', quoth he, 'for face and virtue choose,

And on mine honour I will not refuse.'

Pazzella fearing that their whisp'ring would

Presage no good unto her huffing waste,

Broke off their parle; and Rivelezzo told 2010

That his fair daughter zealous was and chaste:

And that her mind no evil did attaint,

'She almost has attained to be a saint.

Such high-prized comforts, joys, rewards, and glory

Our happy walls enseal and curtain in,

That we alone survive: all praise and story

Are called hell's tortures and the whips of sin.

The local motion of our soul's in heaven,

We hate blind Turkism and the Jewish leaven.'

'Madam,' quoth Don, 'you need no advocate, 2020

Since you yourself can plead your cause so well;

But that my sex does interdict this state,

What your words might effect I cannot tell.

But sure it does unscrew a virgin's heart,

To hear of love, and never feel his dart.'

'Madam, forsooth,' quoth Lady Arda, 'I

Ne'er found such comfort i' th' innupted life,

Nor think the blessings of virginity

Can equal the contentments of a wife.

My voice should not assent unto her vow 2030

To wreath with willow sprigs her melting brow.'

Quoth Piazzella, 'I am grievèd sore

To hear such scandals thrown upon our vow,

To hear Diana, whom all ought t' adore

And her chaste votaries depravèd now.

I know not what contents attend a wife

But sure they equal not th' innupted life.

Again, your honours you do much impeach

To force your daughter from this happy state;

'Twixt her and happiness you make a breach, 2040

And pull upon your heads a cursèd fate.

Heavens unbuckle will their clouds of rain,

Death or diseases, if you part our train.

The body's better than the sheathing skin,

And ought with greater care to be maintained;

The guest is far more worthy than the inn,

And ought with greater study to be trained.

The soul mounts heaven, when earth's agèd womb

The skeleton (her issue) does entomb.'

'Away with arguments, in vain you plead; 2050

Our vow', quoth they, 'locked not her girdle ever.'

'I', quoth Pazzella, 'do abjure the tede:

Hymen shall ne'er my holy orders sever.

But spite of all the tricks the world does nurse,

I'll keep my virgins from the bridal curse.'

Without demurs, Don Rivelezzo then

With shrill-voiced trumpet made an echo speak;

Straight was the house environèd with men,

Which with their leaden globes an entrance break.

The air was frighted with the powder-thunder, 2060

The bellowing noise did split the rocks in sunder.

Affrighted thus, the matron bid them gang,

And to Bellama gave a sad adieu;

Yet in her heart she griped with Envy's fang,

And o'er her looks a veil of sorrow drew.

The joyful parents, having got their daughter,

Gave a farewell unto the house with laughter.

Leaving the coach and cloister, we'll take part

With poor Albino in his woe and grief,

Who, seeing Fortune his designs did thwart, 2070

And Neptune's grandchild brought him no relief,

Did think to win her presence in disguise:

He that but one way tries is hardly wise.

He plotted to invest himself with robe

Might speak him nobly born, and gallant heir

To some vast measures of this wealthy globe,

Seated aloft in honour's oval chair--

Procure him then some store of lacèd capes

To wait on him with servile garbs and shapes.

Pretending to be one o'th' Spanish court, 2080

Giving strange accents to our modern speech,

And hither came his wand'ring mind to sport,

But that he faces lacked to tune each breach.

Besides he knew the matron's care was such,

She love untwisted in the eye or touch.

Then a new project did he get on's brain,

And sheared the downy moss from his smooth chin,

Intending to be one o' th' virgin-train,

Like Jupiter, husked in a female skin:

But that he feared religion could not bridle 2090

His active heat 'twixt linen to be idle.

He thought his breaking voice would him betray

(Unless he said he ever had a cold),

He feared the curtsey and the female play,

Or that his face would make him seem too old.

But above all he fear'd he should not lock

His legs within the compass of a smock.

In costly vestures he would be arrayed

Of high descent, and fearing lest his sire

Would force him to an hated pillow, strayed 2100

With them to teen the holy vestal fire.

He would be nobly born, not out of pride,

But to be sheeted by Bellama's side.

He had no treasure, but would promise fair,

That, settled there, he should be fed in state,

Hoping to win the porter with kind air,

That with Bellama he might thread the gate.

He all would venture: and upon this plot

Would place his fortunes, and the Gordian knot.

In such accoutrement he veilèd was, 2110

That to himself Albino was not known.

He lookèd for Albino's face i' th' glass;

But nothing of himself t' himself was shown.

Each way a maid, enriched with special grace,

As though he had unflow'r'd Adonis' face.

He styl'd himself Felice, only child,

To him who at that time was Folco's duke;

And was so like to her whom he was styled

That she could scarcely say 'twas not her look.

For what's of Issa and her picture writ 2120

Was found in them, they tasked the poet's wit.

Unto this virgin-cage she fast did pace,

And, knocking at the gate, the porter came,

Who, seeing riches on her back and face,

With humble voice desired to know her name.

'My name (good friend),' quoth she, 'Felice is,

I come to taste your choice monastic bliss.'

'Madam,' Avaro said, 'our rubbish stone

With cement join'd shall precious straight be made,

In that they shall ensphere so fair an one.' 2130

Felice, smiling at the porter, said,

'Hath time with iron jaws eat out this part

Which now these masons do repair by art?'

And truth it was, Felice, Folco's heir,

Flying the disaster of an hated tede,

Couched in disguises at a cottage bare

(But how? when? where? task not my amorous lede).

So that Pazzella's faith writ on her brow

The noble treasures of Felice's vow.

'Not time it was, but an unhappy hour' 2140

The porter said 'we had a virtuous fair,

Daughter unto a man of mighty power,

So like yourself I think you sisters are,'

(How largely flatt'ry has dispersed its song

That it does oil and smooth a porter's tongue!)

'Bellama hight by her uncourteous sire,

Fetched hence, who, when my lady did deny,

Begirt our holy walls with sulphur-fire,

And summoned harnessed men which close did lie.

They with their leaden worlds at us did play 2150

And frighted (as you see) these stones away.'

Felice, knowing that her adamant,

Th' impulsive cause of this her virgin-vow,

Was vanished thence, and gleams of joy did want

And wanning sorrow revelled on her brow.

Scarce could she speak and every jointing trembled,

Yet feared the porter, and her fear dissembled.

Pazzella and the virgins her esteemed,

Seeing her feature and unequalled grace,

Before they knew his parentage or deemed 2160

He was descended from high Folco's race.

But, knowing that, their joys did swell so high,

That grief for sorrow slinked aside to cry.

But ere the next day's sun to let out day

Night's ebon box unlocked, she did not brook

To hear their private whispers, talk, and pray,

Erect the host, and kiss a gilded book.

For, her, Bellama has possessèd solely,

So that their water could not make her holy.

Instead of 'Virgin-mother' she would say, 2170

'My dearest lady, hear my sad complaint.'

Nor to she-saints would she devoutly pray,

'Cause none but her Bellama was a saint.

Unto Lorretta, as Bellam', she swears:

And calls their holy water but her tears.

She wond'red oft how her Bellama did

Two years continue in this hated cell;

And in her thoughts she oftentimes her chid,

For dwelling where but formal good does dwell,

Since in her absence she could scarce abide 2180

To sojourn here a double eventide.

Her brains acquainted was no whit with sloth,

But plotted how she might escape that jail:

And to this end she vowed her virgin-oath

Should for her quick returning put in bail;

She thought her breach of virgin-oath no sin

Because she only wore the formal skin.

She missed, in ransacking her cabinet,

A precious jewel, far exceeding rare,

Which on her brow the lady duchess set, 2190

As a true pledge of her indulgent care:

Far richer than that pearl which Egypt's queen

Quaffed to her Mark, dissolved in liquor keen.

But for all this a curious fit of man

Did force her, for assay, to enter in

To see if fasting did their rosies wan,

Or folly led not in the Paphian sin,

Thinking her wit could manumise her straight

From that lank cloister by some nimble sleight.

This she pretended to have lost as she 2200

(Fainted with fears, and with her travels tired)

In the cool shade of a well-hairèd tree

Threw water on her joints with labour fired.

For heavens parch the air with hotter rays

When with his flaming tongue the dogstar bays.

'Madam,' quoth she, with feignèd tears and sigh,

'Grant me your licence to go seek my gem,

The place of my reposure is but nigh';

Swore by those fires that did enlighten them,

By her virginity and virgin-vow, 2210

Return ere time could pace a triple now.

Quoth Piazella, 'I will send a maid

To seek your jewel out with studied care,

Direct her to the shade wherein you stayed,

For you forbidden are the common air.

Our gardens, beautified with Maya's glee,

Your farthest journey must and ought to be.'

She urged again, but all in vain she asked;

The prioress remembered still the earl,

And feared Felice his departure masked, 2220

Under pretence of seeking for a pearl.

And more suspicious thoughts unto her came

'Cause she so often kissed Bellama's name.

She, seeing that this plot did want a stamp,

To make it current pass like lawful coins,

Feared her departure from this lanky camp,

And vowed to try the virgin's skill at foins.

Yet, ere she would attempt that amorous play,

She would attempt escapes some other way.

She viewed the casements, and did boldly wrench, 2230

With courage masculine, the squarèd bars:

But they did scorn the vigour of a wench,

Like sturdy oaks which slight the windy jars.

Nay more, deep waters did begirt them round,

That from the glass he could not see the ground.

Then on the porter did she kindly smile,

And by full tale gave free respects to him;

Thinking to gull Avaro by this wile,

Joinèd with language oiled, perfumed, and trim,

Quoth she, 'Thy trust, and skill I must employ 2240

And for thy pains thou shalt have treasures, boy.'

The greedy porter, like a goshawk, seized

With griping talons on this pheasant cock,

'Madam', says he, 'my skill is not diseased,

Nor dwells dissembling with the honest frock.

Disclose your secrets, and be sure if man

Can do you service, then Avaro can.'

Felice then, as prologue to her suit,

Gave him a purse full fraught with pseudo-gold;

Told him her bounty brought no worser fruit 2250

If in th' achievement he'd be true and bold.

'Thou must, some evening, let me pass the gates

And straggle half a mile to gather dates.'

'Madam, I'll do 't: it is a small request,

Since you do merit better at my hand.

If fortune be propitious to my best.

You on the common shore this night I'll land

My hands have eyes and only what they see

Will they believe--give me my minted fee.'

Felice then plucked out a silken purse, 2260

Great, and as musical as th' other was,

Pretending it was stuffed with metal curse,

When 't only was with circled ragges of glass;

Which purposely she did with di'monds cut,

To gull the porter's hopes and fill his gut.

'Heavens augment your store, madam,' quoth he,

'I'll wait for you at the middle age of night;

Come to my lodge and softly call for me.'

This handsome cheat Felice did delight.

To cozen the deceivers is no fraud, 2270

To use a pimp, and cheat a rusty bawd.

She scarcely knew what letters spellèd grief,

For all her thoughts with regal crowns were wreathed,

Yet 'mongst them all Bellama ruled as chief.

At time of rest her body she unsheathed,

And housed within the linen walls her limbs,

Till night and sleep did their quick tapers dim.

Avaro (when day's sister's misty fog

Had poppèd out Apollo's searching eye,

And gen'ral silence human tongues did clog 2280

Locking all senses up with lethargy)

Stepp'd to his purses, and began to think

How he should order his belovèd chink.

He'd hang his lodge with arras weaved with gold

That his successor there might sleep in state,

Or else if some revenues would be sold

He'd give them Darwey, bought at any rate

That all the nuns with prayers and holy names

Might fetch his soul from out the purging flames.

'I'll mend highways, or hospitals repair, 2290

Else build a college, and endow 't with mines.'

Thus did he build his castles in the air

For all's not cash that jingles, gold that shines;

His glassy coin [must] leap out of the mint

Ere on his brow the stamp did current print.

Thus was he gull'd, as once a king of France

Paid a French monsieur for a prancing steed--

Gave him a purse whose richness did enhance

Th' enclosèd gem, supposed a noble meed,

But when for golden mountains he did gape, 2300

He oped the purse, and only found a rape.

'Oh! what full anger redded o'er his looks!

What tides of rage and fury swelled his spleen!

He curseth her with candles, bells, and books;

And vowed ere long on her to wreak his teen.

'Ah me!' quoth he, 'such brittle things are lasses

Which one poor letter changeth unto glasses.'

Felice, now perceiving all was quiet,

Hearing no noise, unless a belly-blast

Which might proceed from an unwholesome diet, 2310

Tied her apparel on with nimble haste,

And, coming to the lodge, with knuckle knock

She strove to summon out the lazy frock.

But the grim Tartar was so soundly lulled,

Without a dram of opium, steeped in ale--

Tirèd with vexing that he was so gulled--

That all Felice's rappings naught avail;

Till, vexèd with demurs she knock'd so loud,

It raised a thunder like a breaking cloud.

Just at that moment did Pazzell' awake 2320

From an affrighting dream, wherein she saw

A dreadful lion her Felice take,

And tear her body with his sharp'ned paw;

And hearing this shrill noise, fear said 'twas true,

Danger did threaten her monastic crew.

Her frosted limbs she heavèd out of bed,

And shelled her body in her night-apparel,

Arming her hands with pistols stuffed with lead,

Which anger firing, with the air did quarrel,

And, groping in the dark, her foot did slip, 2330

Which out o' th' barrels made the bullets skip.

Felice, at that thunder-clap amazed,

With haste retired from the porter's cell,

And meeting her, on one another gazed.

The porter, starting up, did ring the bell,

The virgins shrieked, which all made murmurs shrill

Like Irish hubbubs in pursuit of ill.

When reason somewhat had becalmed their rage,

The abbotess Felice sharply checked.

'Madam,' says she, 'I only came t' assuage 2340

Intestine heats which all my body decked

In scarlet dye; and being much appalled,

With frisking fairies, I the porter called.'

'Go, go, you are a wanton girl,' quoth she,

'That fain would tempt my porter unto folly.'

'Madam,' Felice said, 'you injure me.

Sure, if lascivious I had been so jolly,

I might have met with many men more able,

Before I did invest myself with sable.'

'Oh madam! madam!' mad Avaro cried, 2350

'Why do you think she could o'ercome your frock?

I ne'er did yield, yet have been often tried;

My courage hath withstood a greater shock.

Yet sure she would--she would have passed the gates;

The reason why, forsooth, to gather dates.

I am afraid your dukedom-girl does long

Not for the porter, he is out of date;

But for an oily cavalier that 's strong,

May teach her virginship a mother's fate.

Madam, look well; see if you miss no glass, 2360

I'm sure with brittle coin she gulled an ass.'

Then told the story: Piazzella fretted,

'This is the jewel which you would have sought

When in all haste from hence you would have jetted!

What your intendments were my wisdom thought,

I'll have no gadders, and t' allay your heat

I have a diet will prevent a sweat.'

In a retired room she locked her up,

Devoid of lustful mates with her to play;

Allowed her pulse, and juice of clouds to sup, 2370

And bade her scores of Ave Maries say.

Three artificial days she lodgèd there,

Where every day to her did seem a year.

When she had paid this penance for her crime

(Which in her judgement was accounted bad),

She was again amongst the virgins prime,

On promise that she would not henceforth gad.

Yet still she plotted, but where'er she went,

The angry destines thwarted her intent.

Then, from Bellam' since walls did her encell, 2380

She thought t' employ her talent to the best.

One of the virgins had some vogliarell,

And earnestly desir'd with her to rest.

Who ere the morn did Piacinto sing,

And wore her blushes on her rubied ring.

Next night she chose another, then another;

Her curious palate so to novels stood,

That every one had hope to be a mother,

And near of kin, united in one blood.

But yet, alas! this pleasure lasted not: 2390

Their virgin-girdles could not keep their knot.

Not many fortnights after they had took

These physic-potions from their doctor's reins,

One told her folly by her meagre look,

Another had more blue than on her veins,

Others were qualmish, and another longs:

All spake their pleasures, yet all held their tongues.

One long'd for citrons, and another grapes,

That grew on Alps' steep height, others for peaches;

One strangely did desire the tails of apes 2400

Steepèd in juice of myrtles, holms, and beeches.

Some palates must be fed with implumed quails,

And nothing must approach this tongue but rails.

Some longed for crayfish, shrimps, cods, plaice, and oysters;

One for a lemon that doth grow on thorns;

Another longeth for some blood of roisters,

Spiced with the scrapings of pale Cynthia's horns;

One on the bosom of the matron skips,

And spite of her full nose did gnaw her lips;

One bade them fill an orc of Bacchus water, 2410

Her thirsty soul she said would drain a tun;

One from her window bids a poor translator

Cut her a cantle of the gaudy sun;

But above all I like that witty girl,

Which longed to feed upon a glorrah earl.

The jealous matron with suspicious eye

Did read their common ill in every face;

Espied the breach of their virginity,

And feared a plantage with an infant race.

Yet still suppressed her knowledge, till at last 2420

Their heaving bellies kissed their thick'ned waist.

She then, with friendly summonings, did call

The grave lord abbot and his smooth-chin race;

Who, coachèd, came unto the virgin-hall,

But all the rabble through the vault did pace.

Arrivèd here, she cookèd dainty cates

To please the abbot and his tempo-pates.

So called a council 'bout her quondam maids--

Each one admiring who durst be so bold,

Since none had entrance, nor the virgins strayed, 2430

And for the porter he was known too cold.

The prior feared lest one of his square caps

Should guilty be of those upheaving laps.

It was decreed that they all should be

Shrived, being sejoinèd from each other's ken;

But, ere that time, the teemers did decree

What answer to return the shriving men.

Felice did instruct them to deny

That she gave birth unto their pregnancy.

But they should say, and to that saying seal, 2440

With strong asseverations that 'Into

Our fast-locked room a youthful blade did steal,

And with the best of wooing did us woo.

Our cases are the same with Merlin's mother:

We think our lover was his father's brother.

'Twas one man's act, or, clothed with human shape,

He was angelical; and this we thought

Because there was no semblance of a rape.

We gave him our assent as soon as sought.

We judged unmaiding better in the dark 2450

Than, Daphne-like, an husking o'er with bark.'

The shrivers to their lords return with smiles,

And on their looks a joy ovall chhriots' had, [*]2453

Said they confessèd them with zeal and wiles,

And by a plain narration knew the dad--

One of those ever-youthfuls came from heaven,

And in the virgins' wombs did lay a leaven.

The abbot at this news did much rejoice,

Since with a kind aspect the Virgin Lady,

Viewing this nunn'ry, did ordain this choice, 2460

And for the issue did appoint this daddy.

They shall be prophets, priests of high renown,

And virgins which shall keep their bellies down.

Provide them childbed linen, mantles, swaddles,

Rockers and nurses, all officious shes,

With rattles, corals, little cars, and cradles,

And give them beads to wait upon their knees.

Rome's high arch-vicar shall a testate be

To the first-born whom Nature makes a he.

Take pens, and smooth-strain anthems write in bays, 2470

Make new orisons unto all the saints,

And to Lucina chant invoking lays,

To move her pity these young mothers' plaints;

Say her fair temple need not fear the flame,

Whilst here she wins her an eternal fame.

Felice smiled to see their studied care,

To foster whom she at her pleasure got.

But Piazzella, starting from her chair,

Callèd Felice to survey her knot,

And finding it as at the first 'twas tied, 2480

'How 'scapèd you this goddy sire?' she cried.

'Madam,' quoth he--Felice, 'I confess

I was a party in those spruce delights;

But Nature curseth some with barrenness,

As (I have heard) Albertus Magnus writes.

So that though my desires were full as big,

I was not heavèd with that curtain jig!

Reason _fortasse's_ on her words did stamp,

Which did entruth them (though they were but squibs).

This done, the prior did remove his camp, 2490

And all the friars, with hemp-girdled ribs,

All great with expectation, and as fain

Would be delivered as the full-flanked train.

They sung canzones ere the sun could rise,

And Ave-Maries out of number said,

Lucina wond'red at this strange disguise,

That nuns and monks to her devoutly prayed.

All beads were rattled, and all saints invoked,

Some squealed, some tenored, and some hoarsely croaked.

With this conceit, Felice frolic grew, 2500

And sported bravely in the silent hours.

Her bed-mates call'd her Angel; yet none knew

That 'twas Albino which had cropped their flowers.

But, though they revelled in the night, the day

Threw hailstorms on their lust to chill their play.

Yet had their pleasure not a grandsire life,

For tattling slumbers did their joys untone.

'You vowed, Felice, I should be your wife,'

Says Cloe, 'ere you loosed my virgin-zone,

But ah!' so waked, and feared her vocal slumber 2510

Would from her eyelids force a Trent and Humber.

Says Phill', 'Felice, had I known at first

You only wore the name of Folco's daughter,

I would have suff'red an untamèd thirst

Ere lust had brought mine honour unto slaughter,

But oh----' and, starting up, she feared her dream

Would ere 'twas long obscure joy's mirthful gleam.

'Well, well,' says Floris, ''tis an happy change

To loose mine honour for an angel-mate,

But angels will not house in such a grange: 2520

This is the offspring of Felice's pate.

But ah----' so sighed, and sighing causèd fears

Lest her plump rosies should be ploughed with tears.

Yet, you must know, the virgins did not use

To blab their private actions in a dream,

But that the cunning matron did infuse

Some atoms of the Quiris into cream;

And, ere they were enclosed in Somnus' arms,

She drenched their fancies in these liquid charms.

Then, with unsealèd eyes, she made her ears 2530

Keep privy watch to intercept their talk:

Yet would have washed her knowledge out with tears,

And wished it written in her mind with chalk.

One while she thanked the God of slumber, then,

Her curses threw him down to Pluto's den.

But when Aurora, in her tissue vest,

Mantled with blushes, rose from Tithon's side,

And through a casement of th' adorèd east

Sent Phosphorus to usher in her pride--

Ere Phoebus our horizon did array 2540

With silver glitter of the blooming day--

She snatched her termers from the sweet embrace,

And golden fetters of death's elder brother,

Bidding them hence those deading slumbers chase

T' implore the favour of the Virgin-mother.

They starting up with more than common speed,

Each shelled her body in her modest weed.

So called to chapel those whose pregnant wombs

The angel's pills had heaved above their waists,

Like to a surfeit ta'en of Hybla's combs, 2550

When we are too indulgent to our tastes.

But left Felice out to cut or sew,

Or to embroider with the lanky crew.

Which made a sudden faintness loose each part,

And every joint was like an aspen leaf;

Her rosy twins retired to her heart,

Her looks were coloured like a sunburnt sheaf,

As the stiff bristles of an aged boar

Were her smooth locks, which o'er her cheeks she wore

And juster cause had none than she to fear, 2560

For as from quiet slumber she awoke

She heard the ptisick pick Pazzella's ear

That she had knowledge of what Floris spoke.

And now she doubted all would come to th' scanning

Their longing, swelling and their sudden wanning.

The virgins wondered at Felice's change,

To see her eyes fix'd in a white-limed wall;

Each feared herself, and each conceived 'twas strange

Lest the disease was epidemical:--

That Merlin's uncle changed Felice's hue, 2570

And streaked their temples with a purple blue.

But leave her sighing with these sterile dames,

We'll crowd into the house of sacred vows

Where consciousness, begetting female shames,

Spread scarlet carpets on their cheeks and brows.

They looked, and blushed, and glanced on one another:

Each cursed the minute which did dub her mother.

The holy brethren, through the mouldy pipe,

At that same time did unexpected come,

To know if th' goddy issue yet was ripe 2580

To give adieu unto their skin-sealed home.

But viewing still their wombs, with zealous hands,

They prayed Lucina to untie their bands.

Their chantings dead, the abbotess began;

'Brethren, you see what sad misfortune haps

Unto my virgins by the oil of man,

Witness the heaving of their spongy paps.

We of an angel dreamed, but if he was

He shall hereafter for an evil pass.

'I made their slumbers vocal, so they told 2590

'Twas Folco's duke's supposèd daughter's work.

Larved with that name, it seems some roister bold

Them to unvirgin cunningly did lurk.

But since 'tis so, the proverb shall stand good,

Tart sauces must be mixed with luscious food.

I knew him to be wanton, and to chill

The raging heat of his unbridled lust,

I doomed him three days' penance, judged an ill

Would make him sapless as the summer's dust.

But since that failed, days shall be chang'd to years, 2600

Minutes to months, till paid his tribute tears.

I'll try if grief will drain his melting reins,

And hang a crutch upon his able back;

If sorrow will unblood his swelling veins

And make his sinews, shrunk with famine, crack.

I'll make a purgatory, where with hunger,

Frost, flame, and snow, I'll tame my virgin-monger.

I'll give command a dungeon shall be made,

To whose close womb the sun shall never pry,

Nor Cynthia dare to peep: for gloomy shade 2610

Like cloudy night shall purblind every eye:

Bare measure four-foot broad; and for that height

'T shall make him by constraint, not court, lie slight.

A bedstead hewn out of the craggy rock,

Not arched with cedar wainscot, knobbed with gold;

His bed no shrinker, but a sturdy flock,

Swans shall not be deplumed his limbs t'infold.

Nor curtained with the travails of the loom

Of poor Arachne, ere she had her doom.

I will not spend the ransom of a crown 2620

For curious dainties to delight his taste.

I'll fetch no fowls from off the Parthian down,

Or Phaenicopter for luxurious waste.

I will no mullet from Corsica take,

Oysters from Circe's or the Lucrine lake.

I will allow him pottage, thicked with bran,

Of barley-meal a choenix every day,

A sovereign diet for a frolic man

That is affected with the Paphian play.

And lest his stomach should too chol'ric grow, 2630

I will afford him some congealed snow.'

The bald-pate crew this penance well approved,

And, in a trice, all things she ready got.

So well she stirred her stumps (as it behoved)

She being hatcher of this starving plot.

This done, with friendly words and courteous air,

She called Felice to her house of prayer.

'It suits not with your greatness, madam fair,

Being sole daughter to so great a man,

To lodge with those which your inferiors are, 2640

As much as is an inch unto a span,

And I'm afraid the Duke will fume and swear,

Should but your lodging step into his ear.'

'Madam,' quoth she, 'you harbour needless fears.

Goodness, not greatness, differenceth maids.

My father's no tobacconist; and swears

In point of honour like our scarlet blades.

And, by my faith, it more contenteth me

To sheet with maidens though of mean degree.

I am surchargèd with the black-hued choler, 2650

Which strikes my fancy with most ugly shapes.

I durst not rest a-darkness for a dolour,

Without a pillow-friend to scare those apes:

Let Cloe with conceits my spirits wing,

Or melancholy will my requiem sing.'

'You shall,' says she, 'have Sesamoidesse.

For all entreats are of too dull a print.

We must respect your father's worthiness,

His honour must your love and passions stint,

And your own worth must highly be regarded, 2660

How shall I else expect to be rewarded?'

Then did she take her by the tender hand,

And led her to her grot in princely state.

She feared not much, nor did her will withstand,

Judging divorcement was her harshest fate;

But when she saw the entrance was so narrow

A sudden fear did eat up all her marrow.

Pazzella, viewing her supposèd lass,

Repented her of her intended ills;

But injuries engraven are on brass, 2670

And women's jointures are to have their wills.

And lest remorse should chill her angry mood,

Fuel was added by the brotherhood.

'Then,' says she, 'madam, you behold the cage

Which I preparèd for your honour's good,

Where you may spend the autumn of your age.

Till age and winter have congealed your blood.

You may retire to ease: for envy can

Nor dares to say you're not an able man.

When twice ten circled snakes are crawled away, 2680

You shall enjoy companions masculine,

To give instructions in that youthful play

Is fed with Ceres and the god of wine.

And, if my virgins shall hereafter be

Lascivious given, I will send for thee.'

Into this coven was Felice thrust,

With bars and locks the entrance sealèd fast,

Now must he pay a dear rate for his lust,

His curtain-vezzo, and the coral taste.

Sure his repentance will be full as dear 2690

As the philosopher's _non tanti_ were.

Ah, foppish monk! did not Bellama's 'no'

Give thee a warning-piece presaging danger,

But thou must headlong rush upon thy woe?

Happy's that man which is to lust a stranger!

If this of dalliance is the constant fee,

Let them d----dally that do list, for me.

Here, when the barking star his sceptre waved,

When in our clime we feel an Ethiope's heat,

An undervault the subtil matron paved, 2700

With fire and flame to force a constant sweat,

That, as from flowers hot limbecks water 'still,

So by this stove from him sweat-currents drill.

Then, for the winter season she provided

A melting cloud full fraught with feath'red rain

(Whose curious art the air-borne clouds derided),

Which through some oillet holes might passage gain.

His cabin should have been, like Alps' cold height,

Mantled and strewèd o'er with winter's white.

And 'twas so dark, I cannot see to write. 2710

Nay, at a nonplus it all pencils sets.

'Twas hell's epitome, the cage of night,

Walled in with pitch and roofed o'er with jets.

The lynx at midday here would wish for day,

And cats without a torch must grope their way.

But leave him labyrinthed and thus distressed,

And see Bellama, and examine how

She brooks the absence of her bosom-guest,

If discontent does revel on her brow.

It does: for why, she dreams and never sleeps, 2720

She feeds and fats not, laughs, but ever weeps.

'Disaster hangs upon Albino gyves,'

Says she, 'else Envy keeps him prisoner,

Or a new bull does interdict them wives,

So seals the lips of my petitioner.

Else the smirk knave is so devout in pray'r,

He has no time to kiss the common air.

But does he love? or is 't a fit of mirth,

Which, like to children's fancies, soon expire

Ere language or employment give them birth, 2730

Flashing affections, aged like thunder-fire?

His eyes shot Cupids at my yielding heart,

But his firm breast repelled my feeble dart.

Perchance he judged my forwardness to love,

By too much court'sy, and my frequent glances.

So thought in jest my willingness to prove,

Not with that sober passion which entrances;

But with lip-love, which to the heart ne'er sinks,

And paper-vows which take their birth from inks.

But stay: does greatness use to be denied? 2740

Beauty and bravery command a grant.

Yet might my looks and carriage plumed with pride

His humble and untow'ring spirit daunt.

Daunt? no: his soul's a temper most divine,

Dares soar aloft to kiss the sun's near shine.

Then love he does: but must this action, woo,

Be tied by patent only unto men?

Some unfrequented paths of love I'll go,

And in some riddles court him by my pen.

Yet first to th' abbey I'll dispatch a post, 2750

To make inquiry where my monk doth host.'

The merchant is not with desires so big,

When as he ploughs the sea for Indian mines;

With slower steps the sons of Bacchus trig

To sack-shops for the French and Spanish wines;

Than she to Tagus bids her servant go

To Croftfull Abbey where her wishes grow.

Gone is the messenger: but small success

Waits on his travels, for he back returns

With, 'Madam, where Albino's none can guess. 2760

They think his ashes are enclosed in urns.

For time, say they, has counted fortnights many,

Since his choice feature object was to any.'

This answer shot an hailstorm at her heart,

Whose sudden chillness jellied all her blood,

Sh' applièd Holco to unscrew the dart,

But her assayments brought her little good.

For, but Albino, none can cure her ill,

Not physic potions, or the druggard's skill.

'Ah me! has Fate my dear Albino ta'en? 2770

Then farewell music, and you sprucing trade;

Either my tears shall body him again,

Or send my ghost to wait upon his shade.

For she is judged a light unconstant lover,

Whose flame the ashes of neglect can cover.'

Have you beheld how, when the moors and marsh

Belch vapours to blemish bright Titan's eye,

They with his rays wage conflicts long and harsh,

Confining them unto their proper sky

(Bribèd perchance by envious night to wrap 2780

Day and his champion in his sooty lap).

So that to us appears nor sun nor day,

And only faith persuades us there is both,

Till day and sun call in each straggling ray,

And force a passage, spite of fume and froth:

Yet then the day but newly seems to dawn,

And o'er the sun a veil of cypress drawn.

Just so diseasing sorrow, armed with tears,

Sighs, and black melancholy veiled her face;

So that no ray of loveliness appears, 2790

And only faith persuades us she has grace.

Her eyes retired, her double blush was wanned,

Her locks dissevered, and her lilies tanned.

And as, in her which arted looks does wear,

Men look for nature's steps, and cannot trace her;

Since she, by nature nothing less than fair,

Hath purchased from the shops such worth to grace her;

Though foul, now fair and sleek, though age did plough

And made long furrows in her cheek and brow.

So knowledge here was in a maze: the eye, 2800

That knew Bellama, did Bellama seek,

And, looking on her, nothing could descry

Spake her Bellama, or in eye or cheek.

To love's harsh laws she gave such constant duty,

Sh'ad only left an anagram of beauty.

She threw herself upon her couch of ease,

And marshalled all her thoughts in just arrays;

This brought small comfort, that did hardly please,

And in that thought despair the sceptre sways.

Yet thought she not death could a period set, 2810

Unless he did some strange advantage get.

'He's young and lusty: every vein does swell

With aqua-vitae, coral juice of life;

His skill in magic else can frame a spell

To distance meagre death and Atrop's knife.

Yet love gives birth to fear: I'll send to search

The lion's flinty bed, and vulture's perch.

I and my woman will attend the quest,

Veiled in disguises of some country lasses;

No state-distinction, for my humble breast 2820

Shall leave all pride with silks, perfumes, and glasses;

And, if with _non inventus_ we return,

I'll Venus' witchcraft hate and Cupid spurn.'

When as the sovereign of the day had drawn

A veil of brightness o'er the twinkling lamps,

And threw on Cynthia's brow a double lawn,

Clearing the welkin from benighting damps,

They in the habits of a milking maid

(All but skin-linen) did their beauties shade.

And in these coarse attires they hasted out 2830

To seek Albino through each wood and plain,

Whom we will leave to pace the world about

And see Felice, wet with eye-lid rain,

Whose bondage was the greater, since despair

Blasted all hopes which promised her the air.

The brazen bull, strappado, or the rack,

The faggot-torture, and the piked barrell,

Balanced with his, degrees of sorrow lack:

'Tis with a bulrush to decide a quarrel.

The famine wherewithal the Thracian knight 2840

Was sent to Pluto wants a little weight.

He that stole fire fro' th' chariot of the Sun,

Whose liver's vulture-gnawn at Caucasus;

He that the counsels of the gods unspun,

Like wanton's eyes, stone-rolling Sisyphus;

Hold best proportion with these sharp'ned woes,

Which stern misfortune on Felice throws.

She, that was glutted with most curious cates,

Had every pleasure to content her lust,

Who had command o'er Fortune and the Fates, 2850

Now sups up pulse and gnaws a fleecèd crust.

She that had many girls is now alone,

And of so many cannot compass one.

Had I a fancy steeped in sorrow's brine,

Invention witty in the threnes of woe;

Could sad experience dictate every line,

A dearth of words would to my muse say 'No'.

I may as well go fathom all the spheres

As measure her disasters, count her tears.

Oft on remembrance of that harmless bliss, 2860

Which (copèd) she enjoyed, her thoughts would feed,

Oft on Bellama's beauty, touch and kiss,

Till strucken dead with thought of present need.

Then would she raise her thoughts, and hope for day,

And starting up from silence boldly say:

'Despite of Envy's vipers, tricks, and wiles,

My cradle-playmate, Mirth, I'll ne'er forsake,

But taste Sardinian herbs shall raise up smiles,

Though I was wafting o'er the Stygian lake.

Tortures shall ne'er unman me; but I'll be 2870

Albino, Malice, 'spite of her and thee.

Delays ofttimes, from time's secluded parts,

Bring help to helpless not expecting aid;

Some of the gods will pity these my smarts,

Not suffer them to whet the sexton's spade.

Or if the gods--'midst flames then scorpion-like

I'll gore my breast, and fall on mine own pike.

Yet had I suff'red for a courteous one,

These woes should ne'er had power t' have raised a sorrow

But when mine eyes did in my breast enthrone 2880

Her--her of whom hell cruelty may borrow.

This is the height of woe, death, and diseases,

Nay, hell itself to this comparèd pleases.

Yet stay, say Neptune's palace shall be land,

And this firm ball of earth a liquid brack;

Say the North Pole with Phoebus shall be tanned,

And to the South the lilies shall be black.

Say this, and more, before thou dare to say

Bellama is _Màboun'_ or _Mà bellà_.'

No more of this: we'll for her freedom plot. 2890

A pious monk, perceiving well her smart,

With diligence assayed to purge each spot

With holy cruse from her diviner part.

But still her answer was--nor man, nor lover,

Nor she the virgin's ankles did discover.

'Alas! my brother I am not a male,

But a weak sience of the weaker sex.

The ladies spake the truth (might truth prevail)

But me with torture Piazell' doth vex;

'Cause, at my entrance, I did promise fair; 2900

Yet 't proves court-language, merely, purely, air.

But all this time she would not licence deign

That I three yards behind should leave the gates,

And fumèd when I would have left her train,

T' have sought a jewel, and to gather dates.

So that the Duke my father ne'er had ken

Of my encloist'ring in this hate-light den.

But, 'gainst it now resolving, I intend

To turn the stream of his munificence

On you, dear brother, if you'll be my friend, 2910

And plot how I may be delivered hence.

Lend your endeavours: and I'll lend my wit,

Vow faithfulness, and I will warrant it.

I'll woo my father for his free assent,

If to your barren cowl you'll bid farewell,

That Hymen's rites may perfect our content,

By joyful echoes of the marriage bell.

'Cause you in person do resemble him

Whom 'mongst all men I only judgèd trim.'

The monk gave ear unto her winning prate 2920

And gazèd on her beauty masculine,

Whose feature might delude a wiser pate,

Assisted only by a tallow-shine.

(For by an unctious salve she kept her chin

From the hair-mantle of an agèd skin.)

'Madam', says he, 'I judge your language true,

And to your vows I dare my credence lace:

Your virgin-blushes innocence do show,

And modesty is printed on your face.

Faith, truth, and honesty reside with me: 2930

My best endeavours shall your servants be.'

'Well,' says Felice, 'I have now decreed

(Since Phoebus has forsook our hemisphere),

To sheath my body in your holy weed,

Then through the private walk my course will steer.

So from your holy walls I'll take my flight,

Or by permission, or in silent night.

And when I am arrived at Folco's towers,

My father shall your matchless kindness know,

Who, I am sure, will summon all his powers 2940

To fetch thee from this house of flame and snow:

And who with much contentment will not brook

Some three days' penance to be made a duke?

For, by inheritance, the dukedom's mine

When death unbody shall my father's soul.

Since no heir-male's descended from our line,

The Salic law cannot my right control.

And, to assure thee that I'm only thine,

I swear by all the powers that are divine.'

Then did she circle with ensphering arm 2950

Conrado's neck and amorously him lipp'd,

Which did the amorist so strongly charm

That he with haste out of his vestments skipped,

And bade Felice change: for in good deed

He should full well become her virgin weed.

Felice undressed, and dressed, and having made

Herself a monk, put on Conrado's face,

And some few minutes with her monkship played,

Then gave a farewell to that hated place.

But ere her quick dispatch could post her thence 2960

Her beauty shot a fire through every sense.

Fear now exiled the confidence he tied,

Forced by affection, to Felice's words,

Revoked his promise now,--all aid denied;

And, with majestic looks and gesture's lords

His flaming lust dissolved his pious snow,

And now his loud desires will have no 'No'.

But vows to disenclothe her and to break

Her virgin-seal despite of force or smiles,

Till Folco strove and made his noddle leak 2970

Sardonic liquor to new-paint the tiles,

So hasted out, and to the matron gave

The iron porter of Conrado's grave.

Imping his haste, he threads the vaulted lane,

Not wounded by his soles this many a day,

Like those which, when arraigned, a pardon gain

Dare neither at the jail nor gallows stay.

And coming to the postern gate he knocked,

Which at devotion time was always locked.

But when the last Amen had silenced prayer, 2980

The porter to Albino entrance gave;

Who straight was brought unto the judgement chair,

Where, furred with state, did sit the abbot grave.

Who said, 'Conrade, why was your stay so long?

You missed the manna of the evensong.'

Pseudo-Conrado answered him, 'My lord,

I found Felice so oppressed with grief,

That charity commanded me t'afford

By learning, prayers, and anthems, some relief.

And truly on my faith I am persuaded 2990

A virgin-lady with these weeds is shaded.

I, moved to pity by her streaming tears,--

Her sighing gales, loud threnes, and sad laments,

Won by her beauty, and her tender years,

Have promised aid, confirmed by your assents,

And in all haste will tell her father's grace

What clouds of woe bemist Felice's face.

She promised me when as her freedom's sealed,

When she shall re-enjoy the glorious light,

When the sad sentence of her woe's repealed 3000

She will be mine in spite of envy's might.

Nay more, she from the dukedom will extract

Some lordships to perform a pious act.'

Forthwith, a synod of the holy men

Was called to broach the wisdom of their pates.

The questions were proposed--"Who? What? and When?

The 'who', is Folco's daughter; 'what', estates;

The 'when', so soon as she, by Folco's powers,

Shall shell her body in proud Gurby's towers.

This answer smelt of profit, and did gain 3010

The abbot's liking, and his griping crew.

Says he, 'Conrado, true content does reign

And triumph in our thoughts: we yield to you.

Success wait on thy voice: for to thy care

Our wishes, hopes, desires, entrusted are.'

'Fear not,' quoth he, 'my faith dares warrant all.

All things are real as my words are true.

Myself will pace unto fair Gurby hall,

And with emphatic language plead and sue:

So that old Folco's lungs shall crack with laughter 3020

To hear me chat the travails of his daughter.

First she, mistrusting that she should be forc'd,

By his proud nod, unto a hated pillow,

From folly, Folco, folk, herself divorced,

To twist, for scornèd maids, some wreaths of willow.

How zealously she prayed, and looked demurely!

She is, in thought and word, a virgin surely.

But the conceit is this--Who bridles laughter,

That virgins holy, pure, and nuns to boot,

Should thicken with the pills of Folco's daughter, 3030

Sing lullabies, and to Lucina hoot?

T' increase the wonder then, and imp his pleasures,

To Folco I'll present these waggish measures.'

_Behold, admire, and some contentment gather_

_From nuns that teem, manned by a virgin-father._

Wonder and admiration cease to gaze

On flashing meteors, stars, and comets' blaze.

Let not Vitruvius or th' Ichonian beast,

Putzol or Etna slide into your breast.

Ope not your ears unto those cracks of thunder, 3040

Whose cannon-echoes split the orbs in sunder.

Lend not your audience to those fond reports

Of Ob'ron, Mabell, and their fairy sports,

Nor tie your credence to the poet's pen

Which writes the noble acts of warlike men,

Of monsters, mooncalves, merry games, and masks,

Atlas' stiff shoulders, and Alcides' tasks.

Amazement flies these babbles, and does pin

Faith, eyes, and thoughts, unto this curtain-sin;

That a pure virgin should unvirgin others, 3050

And, though a virgin, yet make many mothers;

Make them heave up, be qualmish, pale, and cry

'A midwife (ho!) a midwife: else we die.'

It is an Afric crow, a sable swan,

To have a vestal puffèd up with man:

But that so many nuns unmaidened are

B' a nun without a man is more than rare.

The Sybil's virgin is not worth a rush,

And Merlin's mother may with envy blush.

These, though they soared above the pitch of reason, 3060

Yet crossed not nature's order, course, or season.

For women teemed as women, but a woman

As man, makes virgins teem, and yet is no man.

This--this is object unto fame and wonder,

Then make each clime with this _Mirandum_ thunder.

About this time night summoned them to rest,

And each repairèd to his sturdy bed.

Albino's fears his hopes and joys suppressed;

But, in the rest, content struck sorrow dead.

They slept until the bright enlight'ned air, 3070

With silver glitter, called them up to prayer.

But our Albin' took earlier leave of sleep,

And sheathed his body in his monkish vests;

Knocked at his lodge, which did the entrance keep,

Who that he could not wake himself protests:

'Thou art some fury, hag, or Hob I trow,

That boldly at my lodge dost thunder so.'