Thinks, in his writs VITULLIA'S beauties were:
But what he wrote, his Muse not justifies,
Bids him take time! "Love badly writes in fear!
Her worthy praise, if he would truly write,
Her kisses' nectar must the same indite."
"Art, and sweet Nature! Let your influence drop
From me like rain! Yes, yes, in golden showers!
(Whose end is Virtue, let him never stop!)
But fall on her, like dew on sprinkling flowers!
That both together meeting, may beget
An ORPHEUS! two gems in a soil richly set!"
Thus ravished, then distracted, as was deemed,
Not taught to write of Love in this extreme;
In love, in fear; yea, trembling (as it seemed),
If praising her, he should not keep the mean!
Thus vexed, he wept! His tears intreated pity,
But Love unconstant, tunes a woful ditty.
Now kneels to VENUS. Faithfulness protested
To this, none else! This was his only Saint!
Vowed e'er his service, or to be arrested
To VENUS' censure! Thus he left to faint.
His love brought Wit, and Wit engendered Spirit;
True Love and Wit thus learned him to indite.
"As the mild lamb runs forth from shepherd's fold,
By ravenous wolves is caught and made a prey:
So is my Sense, by which Love taketh hold,
Tormented more than any tongue can say.
The difference is, they tortured so, do die!
I feed the torment breeds my misery.
"Consumed by her I live, such is her glory!
Despised of her I love, I more adore her!
I'll ne'er write ought, but of her virtue's story!
Beauty unblasted is the eye's rich storer,
If I should die, O who would ring love's knell?"
Faint not, DAIPHANTUS! Wise men love not so well!
"Like heaven's artist, the astronomer,
Gazing on stars, oft to the earth doth fall:
So I, DAIPHANTUS, now Lover's Harbinger,
Am quite condemned to Love's funeral!
Who falls by women, by them oft doth rise;
Ladies have lips to kiss, as well as eyes!"
But tush, thou fool! thou lov'st all thou seest.
Who once thou lovest, thou should'st change her never!
Constant in love, DAIPHANTUS, see thou beest!
If thou hope comfort, Love but once, and ever!
"Fortune! O be so good to let me find
A lady living, of this constant mind!"
"O, I would wear her in my heart's heart-gore!
And place her on the continent of stars!
Think heaven and earth, like her had not one more!
Would fight for her till all my face were scars!
But if that women be such fickle Shees;
Men may be like them in infirmities!"
O no, DAIPHANTUS! Women are not so
'Tis but their shadows, pictures merely painted!
Then turn poor lover! "O heaven! not to my woe!
Then to VITULLIA!" With that word, he fainted.
Yet she that wounds, did heal. Like her, no heaven.
Odds in a man, a woman can make even!
"O my VITULLIA! Let me write that down!
O sweet VITULLIA! Nature made thee sweet!
O kind VITULLIA! Truth hath the surest ground!
I'll weep or laugh, so that our hearts may meet!"
Love is not always merry, nor still weeping:
A drop of each, Love's joys are sweets in sleeping.
"Her name, in golden letters, on my breast I'll 'grave!
Around my temples, in a garland wear!
My Art shall be, her favour for to have!
My Learning still her honour high to rear!
My lips shall close but to her sacred name!
My tongue be silent but to spread her fame!
"In woods, groves, hills, VITULLIA'S name shall ring!
In meadows, orchards, gardens, sweetest and fair!
I'll learn the birds her name alone to sing!
All quires shall chant it in a heavenly air!
The Day shall be her Usher! Night, her Page!
Heaven, her Palace! and this Earth, her Stage!
"Virgin's pure chasteness, in her eyes shall be!
Women, true love, from her true mind shall learn!
Widows, their mourning in her face shall see!
Children, their duty in her speech discern!
And all of them in love with each, but I:
Who fear her love, will make me fear to die!
"My Orisons are still to please this creature!
My Valour sleeps but when She is defended!
My Wits still jaded but when I praise her feature!
My Life is hers; in her begun and ended!
O happy day wherein I wear not willow!
Thrice blessed night, wherein her breast's my pillow!
"I'll serve her, as the Mistress of all Pleasure!
I'll love her, as the Goddess of my soul!
I'll keep her, as the Jewel of all treasure!
I'll live with her, yet out of LOVE'S control!
That all may know, I will not from her part,
I'll double lock her in my lips and heart!
If e'er I sigh, it shall be for her pity!
If e'er I mourn, her funeral draws near!
If e'er I sing, her virtue is the ditty!
If e'er I smile, her beauty is the sphere!
All that I do, is that I may admire her!
All that I wish, is that I still desire her!"
But peace, DAIPHANTUS! Music is only sweet,
When without discord. A consort makes a heaven.
The ear is ravished when true voices meet.
Odds, but in music, never makes things even.
In voices' difference breeds a pleasant ditty,
In Love, a difference brings a scornful pity.
Whose was the tongue, EURIALÆ defended?
Whose was the wit, URANIA did praise?
Whose were the lips, ARTESIA'S voice commended?
Whose was the heart loved all? all crowned with bays?
"Sure 'twas myself! What did I? O I tremble!
Yet I'll not weep! Wise men may love dissemble.
"Fie, no! Fond Love hath ever his reward!
A sea of tears! a world of sighs and groans!
Ah me! VITULLIA will have no regard
To ease my grief, and cure me of my moans;
If once her ear should hearken to that voice,
Relates my fortunes in Love's fickle choice.
But now, I will, their worth with hers declare,
That Truth by Error may have her true being;
Things good are lessened by the thing that's rare.
Beauty increaseth by a blackness seeing.
Whoso is fair and chaste, they, sure, are best!
Such is VITULLIA! such are all the rest!
"But she is fair, and chaste, and wise." What then,
So are they all, without a difference!
"She's fair, chaste, wise, and kind, yes, to all men."
The rest are so! Number makes Excellence.
"She's fair, chaste, wise, kind, rich, yet humble."
They three, her equal! Virtue can never stumble.
"VITULLIA is the sun; they stars of night!"
Yet night is the bosom wherein the sun doth rest.
"The moon herself borrows of the sun's light,"
All by the stars take counsel to be blest.
The day's the sun, yet Cupid can it blind;
The stars at night, Sleep cures the troubled mind.
"She is a rose, the fairer, so the sweeter!
She is a lute, whose belly tunes the music!
She is my prose, yet makes me speak all metre!
She is my life, yet sickens me with physic!
She is a virgin, that makes her a jewel!
She will not love me, therein She is cruel!
"EURIALÆ is like Sleep when one is weary
URANIA is like a golden Slumber.
ARTESIA'S voice, like Dreams that make men merry.
VITULLIA, like a Bed, all these encumber.
1. Sleep, 2. Slumber, 3. Dreams upon a 4. Bed are best;
First, Second, Third, but in the Fourth is blest.
"O but VITULLIA, what? She's wondrous pretty!
O I, and what? so is She very fair!
O yes, and what? She's like herself most witty!
And yet, what is She? She is all but air!
What can earth be, but earth? So we are all!
Peace, then, my Muse! Opinion oft doth fall!
"EURIALÆ, I honour for humility!
URANIA, I reverence for her wit!
ARTESIA, I adore for true agility!
Three Graces for the goddesses most fit.
Each of these gifts are blessed in their faces,
O, what's VITULLIA, who hath all these Graces?"
She is but a Lady! So are all the rest.
As pure, as sweet, as modest, yea as loyal;
Yes, She's the Shadow (shadows are the least!),
Which tells the Hour of Virtue by her dial.
By her, men see there is on earth a heaven!
By them, men know her virtues are matched even!
In praising all, much time he vainly spent,
Yet thought none worthy but VITULLIA;
Then called to mind, he could not well repent
The love he bare the wise URANIA.
EURIALÆ, ARTESIA, all, such beauties had,
Which as they pleased him, made him well nigh mad.
EURIALÆ, her beauty, his eyesight harmed!
URANIA, her wit, his tongue incensed!
ARTESIA, her voice, his ears had charmed!
Thus poor DAIPHANTUS was, with love tormented.
VITULLIA'S beauty, as he did impart,
The others' virtues vanquishèd his heart.
At length, he grew as in an ecstasy
'Twixt Love and Love, Whose beauty was the truer?
His thoughts thus diverse, as in a lunacy,
He starts and stares, to see Whose was the purer?
Oft treads a maze, runs, suddenly then stays,
Thus with himself, himself makes many frays.
Now with his fingers, like a barber snaps!
Plays with the fire-pan, as it were a lute!
Unties his shoe-strings! Then his lips, he laps!
Whistles awhile, and thinks it is a flute!
At length, a glass presents it to his sight,
Where well he acts fond Love in Passions right.
His chin he strokes! swears "beardless men kiss best!"
His lips anoints, says "Ladies use such fashions!"
Spits on his napkin, terms that "the bathing jest."
Then on the dust, describes the Courtiers' Passion.
Then humble calls, "Though they do still aspire;
Ladies then fall, when Lords rise by desire."
Then straddling goes, says, "Frenchmen fear no bears!"
Vows "he will travel to the Siege of Brest!"
Swears, "Captains, they do all against the hair!"
Protests "Tobacco is a smoke-dried jest!"
Takes up his pen for a tobacco pipe,
Thus all besmeared, each lip, the other wipe.
His breath, he thinks the smoke! his tongue, a coal!
Then runs for bottle-ale to quench his thirst;
Runs to his ink-pot, drinks! then stops the hole!
And thus grows madder than he was at first.
TASSO he finds, by that of HAMLET thinks
Terms him a madman, then of his inkhorn drinks!
Calls players "fools! The Fool, he judgeth wiseth,
Will learn them action out of Chaucer's _Pander_,
Proves of their poets bawds, even in the highest,
Then drinks a health! and swears it is no slander."
Puts off his clothes! his shirt he only wears!
Much like mad HAMLET, thus, as Passion tears!
"Who calls me forth, from my distracted thought?
O Cerberus! if thou? I prithee speak!
Revenge, if thou? I was thy rival ought!
In purple gores, I'll make the ghosts to reek!
VITULLIA! O VITULLIA, be thou still!
I'll have revenge, or harrow up my will!
"I'll fallow up the wrinkles of the earth!
Go down to hell, and knock at PLUTO'S gate!
I'll turn the hills to valleys! make a dearth
Of virtuous honour to eternal Fate!
I'll beat the winds, and make the tides keep back!
Reign in the sea, that lovers have no wrack!
"Yes, tell the Earth, 'It is a murderer!
Hath slain VITULLIA!' O VITULLIA'S dead!
I'll count blind CUPID for a conjurer,
And with wild horses will I rend his head!
I, with a pickaxe, will pluck out his brains!
Laugh at this boy! ease lovers of much pains!
"O then, I'll fly! I'll swim! yet stay, and then
I'll ride the moon, and make the clouds my horse!
Make me a ladder of the heads of men,
Climb up to heaven! Yes, my tongue will force
To gods and angels! O, I'll never end,
Till for VITULLIA, all my cries I spend!
"Then I, like a Spirit of pure Innocence,
I'll be all white! and yet behold I'll cry
'Revenge!' O lovers! this my sufference;
Or else for love, for love, a soul must die!
EURIALÆ! URANIA! ARTESIA! so!--"
Heart rent in sunder, with these words of woe.
"But soft, here comes! Who comes? and not calls out
Of rape and murder, love and villainy?
Stay, wretched man! Who runs? doth never doubt
It is thy soul! thy Saint! thy deity!
Then call the birds to ring a mourning Knell,
For mad DAIPHANTUS, who doth love so well!
"O sing a song, parted in parcels three,
I'll bear the burden still of all your grief;
Who is all Woe, can tune his misery
To discontents; but not to his relief.
O kiss her! kiss her! And yet do not do so!
They bring some joy, but with short joys, long woe!
Upon his knees, "O goddesses behold
A caitiff wretch bemoaning his mishap!
If ever pity were hired without gold,
Lament DAIPHANTUS, once in Fortune's lap!
Lament DAIPHANTUS, whose good deeds now slumber!
Lament a lover, whose woe no tongue can number!
"My woes--" There did he stay, fell to the ground,
Rightly divided into blood and tears,
As if those words had given a mortal wound,
So lay he foaming, with the weight of cares.
Who this had seen, and seeing had not wept,
Their hearts were, sure, from crosses ever kept!
The Ladies all, who late from hunting came,
Untimely came to view this Map of Sorrow.
Surely all wept! and sooth it was no shame,
For, from his grief, the world might truly borrow:
As he lay speechless grovelling, all undressed;
So they stood weeping, Silence was their best.
ISMENIO with these Ladies bare a part,
And much bemoaned him, though he knew not why;
But kind compassion struck him to the heart,
To see him mad. Much better see one die!
Thus walks ISMENIO, and yet oft did pause,
At length, a writing made him know the cause.
He read, till words, like thunder, pierced his heart;
He sighed, till Sorrow seemed itself to mourn;
He wept till tears like ysacles [_icicles_] did part,
He pitied so, that pity, hate did scorn.
He read to sigh, and weep for pity's sake;
The less he read, the less his heart did quake.
At length resolved, he up the writing takes
And to the Ladies travails as with child;
The birth was Love, such love as discord makes,
The midwife Patience; thus in words full mild,
He writ with tears that which with blood was writ;
The more he read, the more they pitied it.
They look upon DAIPHANTUS, he not seeing:
And wondered at him, but his sense was parted.
They loved him much, though little was his being,
And sought to cure him, though he was faint-hearted,
ISMENIO thus, with speed resolves to ease him;
By a sweet song, his sister should appease him!
ISMENIO was resolved he would be eased,
And was resolved of no means but by Music,
Which is so heavenly that it hath released
The danger oft, not to be cured by physic.
Her tongue and hand thus married together,
Could not but please him, who so loved either.
But first before his madness were allayed,
They offered incense at DIANA'S shrine,
And much besought her, now to be apaid;
Which was soon granted to these saints divine:
Yet so, that mad DAIPHANTUS must agree
Never to love, but live in chastity.
Thus they adjured him, by the gods on high,
Never henceforth to shoot with CUPID'S quiver!
Nor love to feign: for there's no remedy,
If once relapsed, then was he mad for ever!
Tortured DAIPHANTUS, now a sign did make;
And kind ISMENIO this did undertake.
Then 'gan ARTESIA to play upon her lute,
Whose voice sang sweetly, now a mourning ditty;
LOVE her admired, though he that loved were mute,
CUPID himself feared he should sue for pity.
O wondrous virtue! Words spoken are but wind;
But sung to Prick Song, they are joys divine!
I heard her sing, but still methought I dreamed.
I heard her play, but I methought did sleep.
The Day and Night, till now, were never weaned.
VENUS and DIAN ravished, both did weep.
They which each hated, now agreed to say
This was the goddess both of night and day.
My heart and ears, so ravished with the voice
I still forgot, what still I heard her sing:
The tune, surely, of Sonnets, this was all the choice.
Poets do keep it as a charming thing.
What think you of the joys that DAIPHANTUS had,
When for such music, I would still be mad!
The birds came chirping to the windows round,
And so stood still, as if they ravished were;
Beasts forth the forest came, brought with the sound;
The lion laid him down as if in fear.
The fishes in fresh rivers swam to shore;
Yea, had not Nature stayed them, had done more.
This was a sight, whose eyes had never seen;
This was a voice, such music ne'er was heard;
This Paradise was it, where who had been,
Might well have thought of hell, and not afeard.
Sure, hell itself was heaven, in this sphere,
Madmen, wild beasts, and all here tamèd were.
Like as a king, his chair of state ascendeth,
Being newly made a god upon the earth,
In state amounts, till step by step he endeth,
Thinks it to heaven a true-ascending birth.
So hies DAIPHANTUS, on his legs and feet,
As if DAIPHANTUS now some god should meet.
He looks upon himself, not without wonder.
He wonders at himself, what he might be.
He laughs unto himself: thinks he's aslumber.
He weeps unto himself, himself to see.
And sure to hear and see what he had done
Might make him swear but now the world begun.
Fully revived, at last ARTESIA ceased,
When birds and beasts so hideous noise did make,
That almost all turned fury, fear was the least;
Yea, such a fear as forced them cry and quake;
Till that DAIPHANTUS, more of reason had
Than they which moaned him, lately being mad.
He with more joy than words could well declare,
And with more words than his new tongue could tell,
Did strive to speak (such was his love and care
Thus to be thankful); but yet knew not well
Whether his tongue (not tuned unto his heart),
Or modest silence, would best act his part?
But speak he will! Then give attentive ear
To hear him tell a woful lover's story!
His hands and eyes to heaven up did he rear,
Grief taught him speech, though he to speak were sorry.
But whatsoever be a Lover's Passion,
DAIPHANTUS speaks his, in a mourning fashion.
As o'er the mountains walks the wandering soul,
Seeking for rest in his unresting spirit,
So good DAIPHANTUS, thinking to enrol
Himself in grace, by telling of Love's merit
Was so distracted, how he should commend it,
Where he began, he wished still to end it.
"EURIALÆ, my eyes are hers in right!
URANIA, my tongue is as her due!
ARTESIA, my ears to her I 'dite!
My heart to each! and yet my heart to you,
To you, VITULLIA! to you, and all the rest,
Who once me cursed, now to make me blest!
"1 Beauty and 2 Wit, did 1 wound and 2 pierce my heart,
3 Music and 4 Favour, 3 gained and 4 kept it sure:
Love led by Fancy to the 4 last I part,
Love led by Reason to the 1 first is truer.
1 Beauty and 2 Wit first conquered, made me yield,
3 Music and 4 Favour rescued got the field.
"To 2 Wit and 1 Beauty, my first love I give!
3 Music and 4 Favours, my second love have gained!
All made me mad, and all did me relieve,
Though one recured me, when I was sustained.
Thus, troth to say, to All I love did owe;
Therefore to All my love I ever vow!"
Thus to the first 1 and 2, his right hand he did tender:
His left hand to the 3 and 4; last most lovingly 4.
His tongue kind thanks, first to the last did render,
The whiles his looks were bent indifferently.
Thus he salutes All: and to increase his blisses,
From lip to lip, each Lady now he kisses.
ISMENIO in humble wise salutes he,
With gracious language he returns his heart,
His words so sweetly to his tongue now suits he,
As what he speaks shew Learning with good Art.
ISMENIO pleased DAIPHANTUS, DAIPHANTUS All;
_When love gains love for love, this Love we call!_
URANIA now bethought what was protested
By young ISMENIO at DIANA'S shrine,
Conjured DAIPHANTUS that, no more he jested
With Love or Fancy! for they were Divine:
And if he did, that there they all would pray
He still might live in love, both night and day!
This grieved him much (but folly 'twere to grieve!)
His now obedience shewed his own free will.
He swore "he would not love, in shew, achieve!
But live a virgin, chaste and spotless still.
Which said, such music suddenly delighted,
As all were ravished, and yet all affrighted.
Here parted all, not without joy and sadness.
Some wept, some smiled; a world it was to hear them!
Both springs here met. Woe here was clothed with gladness.
Heaven was their comfort. It alone did cheer them.
DAIPHANTUS from these springs, some fruit did gather.
Experience is an infant, though an ancient father!
"Sweet Lady! know the Soul looks through our eyesights!
Content lives not in shews or beauty seeing!
Peace, not from number, nor strength in high spirits!
Joy dies with Virtue, yet lives in Virtue's being!
Beauty is masked, where Virtue is not hidden!
Man still desires that fruit, he's most forbidden!
"Jewels, for virtue, not for beauty prized!
What's seldom seen breeds wonder, we admire it!
King's lines are rare, and therefore well advised.
Wise men, not often talk, Fools still desire it.
Women are books! Kept close, they hold much treasure;
Unclasped, sweet ills! Most woe lies hid in pleasure.
"Who studies Arts alike, can he prove Doctor?
Who surfeits, hardly lives! drunkards recover!
Whose will's his law, that conscience needs no Proctor!
When men turn beasts, look there for brutish lovers!
Those eyes are pore-blind, look equally on any
Though't be a virtue to hinder one by many.
"Who gains by travel, lose Lordships for their Manors,
Must TARQUIN ravish some? Hell on that glory!
Whose life's in healths, death soonest gains those banners!
Lust still is punished, though Treason write the story!
A rolling eye, a globe, new worlds discover!
Who still wheels round is but a damnèd lover.
"Doth Faith and Troth lie bathing? Is Lust, pleasure?
Can commons be as sweet as land enclosed?
Then virgin sin may well be counted pleasure!
Where such lords rule, who lives not ill-disposed!
True Love's a Phœnix, but One until it dies:
Lust is a Cockatrice in all, but in her eyes."
Here did he end more blessed than his wishes.
(Fame's at the high, when Love indites the Story)
The private life brings with it heavenly blisses.
Sweet Contemplation much increaseth glory.
I'll leave him to the learning of Love's spell!
"Better part friends, that follow fiends to hell!"
ISMENIO, with VITULLIA went together,
Perhaps both wounded with blind CUPID'S dart;
Yet durst they not relate their love to either,
Love if once pitied, pierceth to the heart:
But, sure, VITULLIA is so fair a mark,
CUPID would court her, though but by the dark.
ARTESIA, she must go, the more She's grieved,
To churlish STRYMON, her adopted Mate;
CUPID, though blind, yet pitied and relieved
This modest Lady with some happy fate.
For what but Virtue, which doth all good nourish,
Could brook her fortunes, much less love and cherish.
EURIALÆ, with good URANIA stayed,
Where Virtue dwells, they only had their being;
Beauty and Wit still fear, are not dismayed,
For where they dwell, Love ever will be prying.
These two were one. All good, each could impart.
One was their fortune, and one was their heart.
Beauty and Virtue were true friends to either.
Heaven is the sphere where all men seek for glory.
Earth is the grave where sinners join together.
Hell keeps the book, enrols each lustful story.
Live as we will, Death makes, of all conclusion:
Die then to live! or life is thy confusion.
Beauty and Wit in these, fed on Affection.
Labour and Industry were their twins of life.
Love and True Bounty were in their subjection,
Their bodies, with their spirits, had no strife.
Such were these two, as grace did them defend:
Such are these two, as with these two I end.
FINIS.
_Non Amori sed Virtuti._
_The Passionate Man's Pilgrimage._
Supposed to be written by one at the point of death.
[Illustration]
Give me my Scalop Shell of quiet,
My Staff of faith to walk upon,
My Scrip of joy, immortal diet!
My Bottle of salvation,
My Gown of glory, hope's true gage,
And thus I'll take my Pilgrimage!
Blood must be my body's balmer,
No other balm will there be given!
Whilst my Soul, like a white Palmer,
Travels to the land of heaven,
Over the silver mountains,
Where spring the nectar fountains:
And there I'll kiss
The bowl of bliss,
And drink my eternal fill
On every milken hill!
My Soul will be a dry before;
But, after it, will ne'er thirst more!
And by the happy blissful way,
More peaceful pilgrims I shall see
That have shook off their gowns of clay,
And go apparelled fresh like me.
I'll bring them first
To slake their thirst,
And then to taste those nectar suckets
At the clear wells
Where sweetness dwells,
Drawn up by Saints in crystal buckets.
And when our bottles and all we,
Are filled with immortality,
Then the holy paths we'll travel,
Strewed with rubies thick as gravel,
Ceilings of diamonds, sapphire floors,
High walls of coral, and pearl bowers.
From thence, to Heaven's bribeless Hall,
Where no corrupted voices brawl.
No conscience molten into gold;
Nor forged accusers bought and sold.
No cause deferred, nor vain spent journey;
For there, CHRIST is the King's Attorney,
Who pleads for all without degrees;
And he hath angels, but no fees!
When the grand twelve million Jury,
Of our sins and sinful fury,
'Gainst our souls, black verdicts give:
CHRIST pleads his death, and then we live!
Be thou, my speaker, taintless Pleader!
Unblotted Lawyer! true Proceeder!
Thou movest salvation, even for alms!
Not with a bribèd lawyer's palms.