DAIPHANTVS, OR The Passions of Loue. Comicall to Reade, But Tragicall to Act: As full of Wit, as Experience.

By An. Sc. Gentleman.

Foelix quem faciunt aliena pericula cartum.

Wherevnto is added, The passionate mans Pilgrimage.


LONDON Printed by T. C. for William Cotton: And are to be sold at his Shop neare Ludgate. 1604.

TO THE MIGHTIE, LEARNED, and Ancient Potentate Quisquis; Emperour of ✚ King of Great and Little A. Prince of B. C. and D. &c. Atiquis, wisheth the much increase of true Subiects, free from Passion Spleene, and Melancholy: and indued with Vertue, Wisedome, and Magnamuntis. Or, to the Reader.

AN Epistle to the Reader; why? that must haue his Forehead, or first Entrance like a Courtier, Faire-spoken, and full of Expectation. His middle or Center like your Citizēs ware-house, beautified with inticing vanities, though the true Riches consist of Bald Commodities. His Ran­deuow or conclusion like The Lawyers Case, able to pocket or any matter: But let good word, be your best Euidence. In the Generall, or Foundation he must be like Paules-Church, re­solued to let euery Knight and Gull trauell vpon him, yet his Parti­culars, or Lyneaments may be Royall at the Exchange, with ascen­ding stepe, promising Newe but costly deuices & fashions: It must haue Teeth like a Satyre, Eyes like a Cryticke, and yet may your Tongue speake fal [...]e Latine, like your Panders and Bawdes of Poetrie. Your Genius and Species should march in battle aray, with our Politici­ans: yet your Genius ought to liue with an honest soule indeed. It should be like the Neuer-too-well read Arcadia, where the Prose and Verce, (Matter and Words) are like his Mistresses eyes one still excelling another and without Coriuall for to come home to the vul­gars Element, like Friendly Shake-speares Tragedies, where the Commedian rides, when the Tragedian stands on Tip-toe: Faith it should please all, like Prince Hamlet. But in sadnesse, then it were to be feared he would runne made Insooth I will not be moone­sicke, to please: nor out of my wits though I displeased all What? [...]o­ct, are you in Passion, or out of Loue? This is as Strange as True: [Page] Well, well, if I seeme misticall, or tyrannicall, whether I be a Foole or a Lords-Ingle, all [...] one: If you be angry, you are not well aduised. I will tell you, tis an Indian Humour, I haue snuft vp from diuine Tabacco: and tis most Gentleman-like to puffe it out at any place or person. Ile no Epistle, (it were worse then one of Hercules La­bours) But will conclude, honesty is a mans best vertue. And but for the Lord Mayor, and the two Sherisses, the Innes of Court, and many Gallants elsewhere, this last yeare might haue bene burned. As for Momus, Carpe and Barke who will: if the Noble Asse bray not, I am as good a Knight Poet, as Etatis suae, Maister An. Dom. Sonne in Law. Let your Cryticke looke to the Rowels of his spurs, the pad of his Saddle, and the Ierke of his Wand: then let him ride me and my Rimes as hotely an be would ride his Mistresse, I care not: We shall meete and be friends againe, with the breaking of a Speare or two: And who would do lesse, for a faire Lady. There I leaue you, where you shall euer finde me.

Passionate Daiphantus: Your louing Subiect,

Giues you to vnderstand, He is A man in Print, and tis enough he hath vnder-gone a Pressing (yet not like a Ladie) though for your sakes and for Ladyes, protesting for this poore Infant of his Brayne, as it was the price of his Virginitie borne into the world in teares; So (but for a many his deare friends that tooke much paines for it) it had ayed, and neuer bene laught at: And that if Truth haue wrote lesse than Fixion, yet tis better to erre in Knowledge then in Iudgment. Also if he haue caught vp half a Line of any others, It was out of his Memorie not of any ignorance. Why, he Dedicates it to all, and not to any Particular, as his Mistresse, or So. His an­swere is, he is better Borne, than to creepe into Womens Fauours, and aske their leaue afterwards. Also he desireth you to helpe Cor­rect such errors of the Printer; which because the Authour is dead (or was out of the Citie) hath beene committed. And twas his folly, or the Stationers, You had not an Epistle to the purpose.

Thus like a Louer, wooes he for your Fauor,
VVhich if You grant then Omnia vincit Amor.

The Argument.

DAiphantus, a yonger Brother, very ho­nourably descended, brought vp (but not borne in Venice) naturally subiect to Courting, but not to Loue: reputed [...] man, rather full of Complement then of true Curtesie: more desirous to be thought honest, then so to be wordish beyond discretion: promising more to all thē friend-ship could challenge: Mutable in all his Acti­ons, but his affections aiming indeed, to gaine opinion, ra­ther then good will, challinging Loue from greatnesse, not from Merit: studious to abuse his owne wit by the com­mon sale of his infirmities: Lastly, vnder the colour of his naturall affection (which indeed was very pleasant and delightfull) coueted to disgrace euery other to his owne dis­content: a scourge to Beautie, a tray for to Women, and an Infidell to Loue. This He, th [...]s creatures at length falles in loue with two at one instant: yea, two of his neerest Al­lies, and so indifferently (yet outragiously) as what was commenda [...]le in the one, was admirable in the other: By which meanes as not despised, not regarded; if not decei­ued not pittied; they esteemed him as he was in Deed, not words: he protested, they iested: hee swore hee lou'de in sadnesse; they in sooth beleeu'de but seemed to giue no cre­pence to him: thinking him so humorous as no resolution could long be good, & holding this his attestation to them of affection in that kinde, more then his contesting against it before time. Thus ouercome of that he seemed to con­quer, he became a slaue to his owne fortunes: Laden with much miserie, vtter mischiefe seazed vpon him. He fell in [Page] loue with another, A wedded Ladie: Then with a fourth, named Ʋitullia. And so farre was he imparadized in her beautie (she not recomforting him) that he fell from Loue to passion, so to distraction, then to admiration, & contem­plation: lastly, to madnes: thus did he act ye tragical Sceanes, who onely pend the Comicall, Became, if not as brutish as Acteon, as furious as Orlando, of whose humours, and Pas­sions, I had rather you should read them, then I Act them. In the end, by one (or rather by all) hee was recouered. A voyce did mad him, and a Song did recure him▪ Foure in one sent him out of this world, and one with foure re­deemed him to the world. To whose vnusuall streynes in Musicke, and emphaticall Emphasis of Loue, I will leaue you to turne ouer a new Leafe: This only I will end with:

Who of Loue should better write,
Than he that Loue learnes to indita?


I Sing the olde World in an Infant Storie,
I sing the new World in an auncient Dittie:
I sing this World: yea, this worlds shame and glory,
I sing a Medley, of rigor, and of Pittie:
I sing the Courts, Cyties, and the Countrey fashions,
Yet sing I but of loue, and her strange passions.
I sing that Antheme, Louers sigh in sadnesse,
I sing sweete tunes of ioyes in wo-ven Verses:
I sing those Lines I once did act in madnesse,
I sing and weepe, (teares follow Births and Herses.)
I sing a Dirge, a Furie did indight it,
I sing My Selfe, whilst I my Selfe do write it.
I inuocate (to grace my Artlesse labor)
The faithfull Goddesse, men call Memorie,
(True Poets treasure and their wits best fauour)
To decke my Muse with truest Poesie.
Though Loue write wel, yet Passiō blindes th'affecton,
"Man ne're rules right, that's in the least subiection.
Sweete Memorie (soules life) new life increasing,
The eye of Iustice, tongue of eloquence;
The locke of Larning, Fountaine neuer ceasing,
The Cabinet of Secrets, Caske of Sence,
Which gouern'll Nature, teacheth man his awe,
That art all Conscience, and yet rulst by Law.
Blesse (thou) this Loue song-ayre of my best wishes,
(Thou art the Parent nourisheth desire)
Blow gentle winds, safeland me at my Blisses,
"Loue still mouats high though Louers not aspire.
My Poem's truth, [...]ond Poets seigne at pleasure,
"A Louing Subiect, is a Princes treasure.


IN Venice faire; the Citie most admir'd
There liu'd a Gallant, who Da [...]phantus hight,
Right Nobly borne, well Letter'd, Lou'd, Desir'd,
Of euery Courtyer in their most delight:
'So full of Pleasaunce, that he seem'd to be,
'A man begot in Venus infancie.
His face was faire, full comely was his feature,
Lip't like the Cherrie, with a Wantons eye:
A Mars in anger, yet a Venus Creature,
Made part of Cynthia, most of Mercurie:
A pittied soule, so made of Loue and hate,
Though still belou'd, in Loue vnfortunate.
Thus made by Nature, Fortune did conspire,
To ballance him, with weight of Cupids Wings:
Passant in Loue, yet oft in great desire;
Sudden in Loue, not stayd in any thing:
He courted all, not lou'd, and much did striue,
To die for Loue, yet neuer meant to wiue.
As Nature made him faire, so likewise wittie,
(She not content) his thoughts thus very fickle;
Fortune that gain'd him, plac'st him in this Citie
To wheele his head, which she had made most tickle
Fortune made him belou'd and so distraught him,
His reynes let forth, he fell, and Cupid caught him.
Not farre from Venice, in an Abbie faire,
(Well wal'd about) two worthy Ladyes dwelt,
Who Virgins were; so sweet and Debonayre
The ground they trod on, of their odour smelt:
Two Virgin-Sisters (matchlesse in a Pheare)
Had liued Virgins, wel-nigh eighteene yeare.
Eurialae the Elder Sister's nam'd
The other was Vrania, the wise:
Nature for making them was surely blam'd
Venus her selfe, by them all did despise.
'Such beauties, with such vertue, So combind
'That al exceeds; yet nought exceeds their mind.
Eurialae, so shewes as doth the Sunne,
When mounted on the continent of Heauen:
Yet oft she's clowded, but when her glorie's come
Two Suns appeare to make her glory euen.
'Her smiles sends brightnes, when the Sun's not bright.
'Her lookes giue beauty, whē the sun lends light.
Modest and humble of Nature milde and sweete,
Vnmatched beauty with her vertue meeting:
Proud that her lowly bezaunce doth regreet
With her chast silence ("Vertue euer keeping.)
'This is the Sunne, that sets, before it rise,
'This is a Starre. No lesse are both her eyes.
Her beautie pearlesse, pearlesse is her minde,
Her body matchlesse, matchlesse are her thoughts
Her selfe but one, but one like her we finde,
Her wealth's her vertue: (such vertue is not bought
'This is a heauen on earth, makes her diuine;
'This is the Sunne, obscures where it doth shi [...]
Vrania next (Oh that I had that Art
Could write her worth) her worth no eye may see:
Or that her tongue (oh heauen) were now my hart▪
what siluer Lines in showres should drop from me:
My heart she keepes, how can I then indite?
'No heart-lesse creature, can Loue-passions write.
As a black vaile vpon the wings of morne,
Brings forth a day as cleere as Venus face,
Or, a faire Iewell by an Ethiope worne,
Inricheth much the eye, which it doth grace,
Such is her beautie, if it well be told,
Plac'st in a Iettie Chariot set with gold.
Her haire, Nights Canopie in mourning weedes
Is still inthron'd, when lockt within is seene
A Deitie, drawne by a paire of Steedes
Like Venus eyes, And if the like haue beene
Her eyes two radiant Starres, but yet diuine;
Her face daies-sun, (heauen al) if once they shine.
Vpon the left side of this heauenly feature,
(In Curious worke) Nature hath set a Seale,
Wherein is writ: This is a matchlesse Creature:
Where wit and beautie striues for the appeale.
The Iudges chosde are Loue & Fancie; They rise,
And looking on her, with her left their eyes.
Her Wit and Beautie, were at many fraies,
Whether the deepe impressions did cause:
Nature, said Beautie; Art, her Wit did praise:
Loue, thought her face; her tongue had Truths ap­plause.
Whilest they contend, which was the better part;
I lent an Eie, She rob'd me of my heart.
Sisters these two are, like the Day and Night,
Their glories by their vertues they doe Merit:
One as the Day to see the others might,
The others Night, to shadow a high Spirit:
"If all were Day, how could a Louer rest?
"Or if all Night, Louers were too much blest.
Both faire. As eke their bodies tall and slender,
Both wise, yet Silence shewes their modestie:
Both graue, although they both are yong & tender:
Both humble hearted: Not in Pollicie
So faire, wise, graue, and humble are esteem'd,
'Yet what men see, the worst of them is deem'd.
'Nature, that made them faire, doth loue perfection;
'What youth counts wisdō, Age doth bring to trial,
'Graue years in youth: in Age needs no direction:
'An humble heart deserues, findes no denyall.
Faires ring their Knells, & yet Fame neuer dies,
"True Iudgemēt's frō the hart, not from the eies.
These two, two Sisters, Cozens to this Louer;
He often courts, As was his wonted fashion:
Who sweares alls fayre ▪ yet hath no heart to proue her,
Seems still in Loue, or in a Louers passion,
Now learn's this Lesson, & Loue-scoffers find it,
"Cupid hits rightest whē Louers do least mind it.
Although his guise were fashion'd to his mind,
And wording Loue, As complement he vsde,
Seem'd still to iest at Loue, and Louers kind,
Neuer obtainde, but where he was refusde:
Yet now, his words with wit so are rewarded,
He loues, loues two, loues all; of none regarded.
Now he that laught to heare true Louers sigh
Can bite his Lippes vntill his heart doth bleed:
Who Iyb'd at al, loues al; ech daies his night,
Who scorn'd, now weeps & howles, writes his own meed
'He that would bandy Loue, is now the Ball,
'Who fear'd no hazard, himself hath tane the fall.
'Beautie and Vertue, who did praise the fashion,
'VVho Loue and Fancie thought a Comodie,
'Now is turn'd Poet, and writes Loue in Passion,
'His Verses fits the bleeding Tragedie:
In Willow weeds right wel he acts his part,
"His Sceanes are teares, whose Embryon was his hart.
He loues, where loue, to all doth proue disaster,
'His eyes no sooner see, but hee's straight blind;
His kindred, friends, or foes, he followes faster
Then his owne good; he's now but too too kind:
He that spent all, would faine find out loues trea­sure,
Extremities are for extreams the measure.
Thus thinkes he of the words he spent in vaine;
And wishes now his tongue had Eloquence:
Hee's dumbe, all motion (that) a world could gaine,
A Centre now without circumference:
Cupid with words, who fought: would teach him Art,
Hath lost his tongue, and with it left his hart.
'He sweares he loues, (the heat doth proue the fire)
'He weepes his Loue, his teares shew his affection,
'He writes his Loue; his Lynes plead his desire,
'He sings his Loue, the Dittie mournes the action,
He sings, writs, weeps & sweares, that he's in sadnes
"It is beleeu'd, not cur'd, Loue turnes to madnes.
'Loue once dissembled, Oaths are a grace most slen­der,
'Teares oft are heard Embassadors for beauty:
'Words writ in gold, an yron heart may render:
'A passion song shewes much more hope thē duty,
Oaths spoke in teares; words song, proue no true Ditty,
"A fained Loue, must find a fained pitty.
Thus is the good Daiphantus like the Flie
Who playing with the candle feeles the flame,
"The smiles of scorne, are Louers miserie,
"That soule's most vext, is grieued with his name.
Though kind Daiphantus, do most loue protest,
'Yet is his crosse, still to be thought in iest.
Poore torturde Louer, like a periurde soule,
Sweares till hee's hoarse, yet neuer is beleeu'd,
"(Whose once a Villaine, still is counted foule)
"Oh wofull pittie, when with winde releeu'de,
'Learns this by rote, Though Loue vnconstant be
'They must proue constant, wil her comforts see.
Now to the humble heart of his dread Saint,
Eurialae, he kneels, but's not regarded:
Then to Vrania, sighes till he growes faint,
Such is her wit, In silence hee's rewarded:
'His humble voyce, Eurialae accuseth,
'His sighing Passion, Vrania refuseth.
'Then lifts he vp his eyes, but Heauen frowneth,
'Bowes downe his head▪ Earth is a Masse of sorrow:
'Runnes to the seas, the sea, it stormes and howleth;
'Hies to the woods, the Birds sad tunes do borrow:
Heauē, Earth, sea, Woods & al things do cōspire,
'He burne in Loue, yet friese in his desire.
The Ladyes Iest, command him to seigne still,
Tell him how one day, he may be in loue,
That Louers reason, hath not Loues free will:
Smile in disdaine, to thinke of that he proues.
'Oh, me Daiphantus, howart thou aduis'd?
'When hee's lesse pittied, then he is despis'd.
They hold this but his humour, seeme so wise,
And many Louers stories forth do bring,
Court him with Shaddowes, whilest hee catcheth Flies,
Byting his fingers till the blood forth spring,
Then do they much cōmend his careles passion,
'Call him a Louer of our Courtiers Fashion.
All this doe they in modestie; yet free
From thinking him so honest as in truth,
Much lesse so kinde, as to loue two or three,
Him neere allied, and he himselfe a Youth:
'Till with the sweat which from his suffrings life,
'His face is pearled, like the lights his eyes.
Then with his looke-down-cast, & trembling hand,
A high Dutch colour, and a Tongue like yee,
Apart with this Eurialae to stand
Endeuours He; This was his last diuice;
'Yet in so humble straines this Gallant courts her,
'The wind being hiē, his breath it neuer hurts her
Speechles thus standes he, till she fear'd him dead,
And rubbes his temples, calls and cryes for ayde:
Water is fetcht and spung'd into his head,
Who then startes vp: from dreaming as he sayd,
And crauing absence of all but this Saint,
He gan to court her, but with a heart right faint.
Bright starre of Phoebus, Goddesse of my thought,
Behold thy Vassall, humbled on his knee:
Behold for thee, what Gods and Art hath wrought,
A man adoring, of Loue, the lowest degree:
I loue, I honor thee: (no more) There stayde,
As if forsworne: Euen so was he affrayde.
Eurialae now spake (yet seem'd in wonder)
Her lips when parting, heauen did ope his treasure,
Oh do not, do not loue; I will not sunder
A heart in two, Loue hath nor height nor measure,
Liue still a Virgin; Then Ile be thy louer,
Heauē here did close: no toong could after moue her.
As if in heauen he was rauish'd so,
Oh Loue, oh Voice, oh Face, which is the glorie:
Oh Day, oh Night, oh Age, oh worlds of Ioy,
Of euery part true loue might write a storie,
"Conuert my sighes, oh to some angells tongue,
"To die for Loue is life, death is best young.
She gone, Vrania came; he on the flower,
But sight of her reuiu'd this noble syre;
And as if Mars did thunder: words did shower,
"(Loue speakes in heate, when tis in most desire)
She made him mad, whose sight had him reuiu'de
Now speaks he plainly: stormes past ye aire is glide.
Why was I made? to beare such woe and griefe?
Why was I borne? But in Loue to be norisht?
Why then for Loue; Loue of all vertues chiefe,
And I not pittied, though I be not cherisht?
What? did my eyes offend in vertue seeing?
Oh no; true vertue is the Louers being.
"Beautie and vertue, are the twins of life,
"Loue is the mother which them forth doth bring:
"Wit with discretion ends the Louers strife,
"Patience with silence is a glorious thing.
"Loue crownes a man, loue giues to al due merit,
"Men without loue, are bodies without spirit.
"Loue to a mortall; is both life and treasure,
"Loue changd to wedlocke, doubleth in her glory,
"Loue is the Iem, whose worth is without measure,
"Fame dies, if not in tombe within Loues storie.
"Man that liues, liues not, if he wants content,
"Man that dies, dies not, if with Loues consent.
Thus spake Daiphantus, and thus spake he well,
Which wise Vrania well did vnderstand,
So well she like it, As it did excell:
Now grac'd she him, with her white slender hand.
With words most sweet, A colour fresh and faire,
In heauenly speech, she gan his woes declare.
My good Daiphantus: Loue it is no toy,
Cupid though blind, yet strikes the heart at last,
His force you feele whose power must breed your ioy,
This is the meede for scoffs you on him cast.
You loue, who scorn'd: your loue with scorne is quite,
You loue yet want, your loue with want is spight.
"Loue playes the Wanton, where she meanes to kill,
"Loue rides the Foole, and spurs without direction:
"Loue weepes like you, yet laughs at your good wil:
"Loue is of all things, but the true confection;
"Loue is of euery thing: yet it self's but one thing:
"Loue is any thing; yet indeed is nothing.
Wee Virgins know this; (though not the force of Loue)
For we two Sisters liue as in a Cell:
Nor do we scorne it, though we it not approue,
By Prayer we hope, her charmes for to repel.
And thus adew: But you in Progresse goe,
To finde fit place to warble forth your woe.
"Who first seekes mercie, is the last for griefe:
Thus did shee part; whose Image stayd behind,
He in a trance stands mute, finds no reliefe,
(For she was absent, whose tongue pleas'd his mind)
But like a hartlesse, & a hurtlesse Creature,
In admiration of so sweet a Feature.
At length look't vp; his shaddow onely seeing,
Sighs to himselfe and weeps▪ yet silent stands,
Kneels, riseth, walkes, all this without true being,
Sure he was there; though fettred in Loues-bands:
"His lips departed; Parted were his blisses,
"Yet for pure Loue, each lip the other kisses.
Reuiu'd by this, or else Imagination,
Recalls things past, the time to come laments,
Records his Loue, but with an acclamation,
Repents himselfe, and all these Accidents:
Now with the wings of Loue he gins to raise,
His Loue to gaine, thus women he doth praise.
'Women than Men are purer creatures farre,
'The soule of soules, the blessed gift of Nature,
'To men a heauen, To men the brightest starre,
'The pearle that's matchles; high without al stature,
'So full of goodnes, that bounty waiteth still
'Vpon their trencher, feeds them with free-will.
Where seeke we vertue, learne true Art or glory?
Where finde we ioy that lasteth, still is spending?
But in sweet women of mans life the Storie,
"Alpha they are, Omega is their ending:
Their vertues shine with such a sun of brightnes,
"Yet he's vnwise that looks in them for Lightnes.
Oh let my Pen relate mine owne decay,
There are, which are not (or which should not be)
Some shap't like saints, whose steps are not the way:
Oh, let my Verse, not name their infamie,
"These hurt not all; but euen the wandring eye,
"VVhich fondly gapes for his owne miserie.
These do not harme, the Honest or the Iust,
The faithfull Louer, or the vertuous Dame:
But those whose soules be onely giuen to Lust,
Care more for pleasure, then for worthy Fame.
But peace my Muse, for now me thinkes I heare,
An Angels voyce come warbling in my eare.
Not distant farre, within a Garden faire,
The sweet [...]rtesia sang vnto her Lute:
Her voyce charmde Cupid, and perfumde the Aire,
Made beasts stand still, and birds for to be mute.
"Her voice & beauty prou'd so sad a ditty,
VVho saw was blind, who heard, soone sued for pitty.
(This Ladie was no Virgin, like the rest,
Yet neare allied;) By Florence Cittie dwelling
"Nature, and Art, within her both were blest,
"‡Musicke in her, and Loue had his excelling:
To visite her faire Cozens of she came,
'Perhaps more iocound, but no whit to blame.
Fortune had crost her with a churlish Mate,
(Who Strymon hight) A Palmer was his Syre:
Full Nobly borne, And of a wealthy state,
His sonne a childe, not borne to his desire.
'Thus was she crost, which caused her thereby,
'Daiphantus griefe to mourne by Simpathie.
Daiphantus hearing such a Swan-tun'd voyce,
VVas rauisht, as with Angells Melodie,
Though in this Laborinth blest, could not reioyce,
Nor yet could see, what brought this Harmony.
At length this Goddesse ceast; began draw neare,
'Who whē he saw, he saw not, t'was her spheare.
Away then crept he, on his knees and hands,
To hide himself, thoght Venus came to plauge him,
Which she espying "like the Sunne she stands,
"As with her beames, she thoght for to aswage him:
"But like the Sun, which gaz'd on, blinds the eie,
"So He by her, and so resou'ld to die.
At this in wonder, softly did she pace it,
Yet suddenly was stayd. His Verses ceaz'd her
Which he late writ, forgot, thus was he grac't,
She read them ouer, and the writing pleas'd her:
'For Cupid fram'd two Mottoes in her hart,
'The one as Dian's, the other for his Dart.
"She read & pittied, reading pittie taught:
"She Lou'd and hated, Hate to loue did turne:
"She smilde & wep [...], her weeping smiling brought:
"She hop't & fear'd; her hopes in feare did mourne:
She read, lou'd, smil'd & hop't, but twas in vaine;
'Her teares still dread; & pitty, hate did gaine.
'She could haue lou'd him, such true verses making,
'She might haue lou'd him, and yet loue beguiling,
'She would haue kist him▪ but fear'd his awaking,
'She might haue kist him, and sleep sweetly smiling.
'She thus afear'd, did feare what she most wished;
'He thus in hope, still hop'd for that he missed.
He lookte, They two, long each on other gazed,
Sweet silence pleaded, what each other thought,
Thus Loue and Fancie both alike amazed,
As if their tongues and hearts had bin distraught.
Artesias voyce, thus courted him at length,
The more she spake the greater was his strength.
Good gentle Sir, your Fortunes I bemone,
And wish my state so happy as to ease you,
But she that grieude you, She it is alone,
Whose breath can cure, and whose kind words ap­pease you,
VVere I that She; heauē should my star extinguish,
If you but lou'd me, ere I would relinquish.
Yet noble Sir, I can no loue protest,
For I am wedded, (oh word full fraught with woe)
But in such manner, as good loue is blest,
In honest kindnesse, Ile not proue your foe:
Mine owne experience doth my counsell proue,
"I know to pittie, yet not care to loue.
A Sister, yet nature hath giuen me
A virgin true, right faire, and sweetly kind;
I [...] for her good, Fortune hath driuen me
To be a comfort: your heart shall be her minde,
My woes yet tells me, she is best a maide:
And heere shee stopt her teares, her words thus staide.
Daiphantus then in number without measure
Began her praises which no Pen can end,
Oh Saint, oh Sun of heauen and earth the treasure:
Who liues if not thy honour to defend?
"Ah me, what mortall can be in loue so strange,
"That wedding vertue will a whoring range?
She like the morning is still fresh and faire,
The Elements of her, they all do borrow:
The Earth, the Fire, the VVaters, and the Ayre,
There strength, heate, moisture, liuelines: no sorrow
Can vertue change? beauty hath but one place,
The hearts still perfect; though impald the face.
Oh eyes, no eyes, but Stars still cleerly shining,
Oh face, no face, but shape of Angells fashion:
Oh lips, no lips, but blisse, by kisse refining,
Oh heart, no heart, but of true loue right Passion,
Oh eyes, face, lips, and heart, if not too cruell,
To see, feele, tast, and loue, earths rarest Iewell.
This said, he paus'd, new praises now deuising,
Kneels to Apollo, for his skill and Art,
When came the Ladies, At which he arising,
Twixt lip, and lip, he had nor lips nor heart.
'His eyes, their eyes, so sweetly did incumber,
Although awak't, yet in a golden slumber.
Most like a Lion, rais'd from slumbring ease,
He cast his lookes full grimly them among:
'At length, he firmly knit what might appease
'His Brow: lok't stedfastly and long
'At one: till all their eyes with his eyes met alike
'On faire Vitullia; who his heart did strike.
Vitullia faire, yet browne, So mixt together,
As Art and Nature stroue, which was the purest:
So sweet her smilings were, a grace to either,
That heauens glorie in that face seem'd truest.
"Venus excepted; when the God her wooed,
"Was ne're so faire, so tempting yet so good.
'VVonder not Mortalls, though all Poets saine,
The Muses Graces were in this She's fauour:
'Nor wonder, though he stroue his tongue to gaine,
For I leese mine, in thinking of his labour.
"Well may he loue, I write, & all wits praise her,
"She's so all humble; Learning cannot raise her.
'Daiphantus oft sigh't Oh; oft said faire,
'Then lookes, and sighes: and thē cryes wonderfull;
'Thus did he long: and truely t'was not rare
'The obiect was, which made his mind so dull.
'Pray pardon him; for better to cry Oh,
'Then feele that passiō which caused him sigh so.
Now, all were silent, not alone this Louer:
Till came Ismenio, Brother to this Saint,
Whose haste made sweate, his tongue he could not proue her,
For this aga'st him that his heart was saint:
Thus all amaz'd; none knowing any cause,
"Ismenio breathlesse, here had time to pause.
At length Ismenio, who had wit and skill,
Question'd the reason of this strange effect:
At last related (Haste out went his will)
He told them, he was sent them to direct
VVhere hunting sports their eyes should better please,
Who first went foorth, Daiphantus most did ease.
They gone, Daiphantus to his Standish hies,
Thinkes in his writs Vitullia's beauties weare,
But what he wrote, his Muse not iustifies,
Bids him take time. "Loue badly writes in feare:
Her worthy praise if he would truly wite,
Her Kisses, Nector, must the same indite.
(Art and sweet nature, let your influence droppe
From me like rayne; Yes, yes, in golden showres:
"(VVhose end is Vertue, let him neuer stoppe)
But fall on her like dewe on sprinkling flowers:
That both together meeting, may beget
An Orpheus, Two Iems in a soyle richly set.
Thus Rauisht, then distracted as was deem'd,
Not taught to write of Loue in this extreame,
In Loue, in feare, yea, trembling as it seem'd,
If praising her, he should not keepe the meane:
Thus vext he wept, his teares intreated pittie,
"(But Loue vnconstant, tunes a wofull Dittie.
Now kneels to Venus, Faithfulnesse protested,
To this, none else, this was his onely Saint,
Vow'd e're her seruice, Or to be arrested
To Venus Censure; Thus he left to faint:
His Loue brought wit, & wit ingrendred Sprite,
True loue and wit, thus learn'd him to indite.
As the milde lambe, runs forth frō shepheards fold,
By rauenous Woolues is caught and made a praye:
So is my Sence, by which Loue taketh hold,
Tormented more then any tongue can saye:
The difference is, they torturde so doe die,
I feede the torment, breeds my miserie.
'Consum'd by her I liue, such is her glory,
'Despis'd of her I loue, I more adore her,
Ile ne're write ought, but of her vertues storie,
"Beautie vnblasted is the eyes rich storer.
If I should die; Oh who would ring loues knell?
"Faint not Daiphantus, wise mē loue not so well.
Like Heauens Artist the Astronomer,
Gazing on Starres oft, to the Earth doth fall,
So I Daiphantus, now Loues Harbinger,
Am quite condemned, to Loues Funerall:
"VVho falls by women, by them oft doth rise,
"Ladyes haue lips to kisse as well as Eyes.
But tush, thou foole, thou lou'st all thou seest,
VVho once thou louest, thou shouldst change her neuer
Constant in Loue Daiphantus see thou beest,
If thou hope comfort, Loue but once, and euer.
Fortune, Oh, be so good to let me finde
A Ladie liuing, of this constant minde.
Oh, I would weare her, in my hearts heart-gore,
And place her on the continent of starres:
Thinke heauē and earth like her, had not one more,
VVould fight for her, till all my face were skarres.
'But if that women be such fickle Shees,
"Men may be like them in infirmities.
Oh no; Daiphantus, women are not so,
Tis but their shadowes (Pictures meerly painted:
Then turne poore louer, (Oh heauen) not to my wo
Then to Vitullia: with that word he fainted,
Yet she that wounds, did heale, like her no heauen
"Ods in a man, a woman can make euen.
Oh (My) Vitullia, let me write (That) downe,
Oh sweete Vitullia; nature made thee sweete,
Oh kind Vitullia; (Truth hath the surest ground:
Ile weepe, or laugh, so that our hearts may meet:
"Loue is not alwayes merry, nor still weeping,
"A drop of each, Loues ioies are swets in sleeping
(Her name) in golden letters on my brest Ile graue,
Around my temples in a garland weare,
My art shall be, her fauour for to haue:
My learning still, her honour high to reare,
My lips shall cloze, but to her sacred name
My tongue be silent, but to spread her Fame.
In Woodes, Groaues, Hills, Vitullias name shall ring
In Medowes, Orchiards, Gardens, sweetest & faire,
Ile learne the birds, her name alone to sing:
All Quires shall chaunt it in a heauenly Aire,
'The Day shall be her Vsher; Night her Page:
'Heauen her Pallace, and this Earth her stage.
'Virgins pure chastnes in her eyes shall be,
'Women, true loue from her true mind shall learne,
'Widdowes, their mourning in her face shall see,
'Children, their dutie in her speech discerne:
And all of them in loue with each but I,
Who feare her loue, will make me feare to die.
'My Orisons are still to please this creature,
'My vallour sleepes, but when she is defended:
'My wits still Iaded, but when I praise her feature,
'My life is hers▪ In her begun, and ended.
Oh happy day, wherein I weare not willow:
Thrice blessed night; wherin her brest's my pillow.
'Ile serue her, as the Mistresse of all pleasure,
'Ile loue her, as the Goddesse of my soule:
'Ile keepe her, as the Iewell of all treasure,
'Ile liue with her; yet out of loues controule:
'That all may know; I will not from her part,
'Ile double locke her, in my lips and heart.
'If ere I sigh, It shall be for her pittie,
'If ere I mourne, her Funerall drawes neare:
'If ere I sing: her vertue is the dittie,
'If ere I smile, her beautie is the spheare:
'All that I doe, is that I may admire her,
'All that I wish, is that I still desire her.
But peace Daiphantus: Musicke is onely sweete,
When without discord; A Consort makes a heauē,
The eare is rauisht, when true voyces meete,
"Oddes, but in Musicke neuer makes things euen.
In voyces difference, breeds a pleasant Dittie;
In loue, a difference brings a scornfull pittie.
VVhose was the tongue, Eurialae defended?
VVhose was the wit, Vrania did praise?
VVhose were the lips Artesias voice commended?
Whose was the hart, lou'd all, al crown'd with baies:
Sure t'was my selfe; what did I? O I tremble,
Yet Ile not weep, wise men may loue dissemble.
Fie no; fond loue hath euer his reward,
A Sea of teares, A world of sighes and grones:
Ah me, Vitullia will haue no regard
To ease my griefe, and cure me of my mones:
If once her eare, should hearken to that voyce
Relates my Fortunes in Loues fickle choyse.
But now, I will their worth with her's declare,
That Truth by Error, may haue her true beeing,
"Things good, are lessned by the thing that's rare,
"Beautie increaseth, by a blacknesse seeing.
'Wo so is faire and chaste, they sure are best,
'Such is Vitullia, such are all the rest.
'But she is faire, and chaste, and wise, what then?
'So are they all, without a difference:
'She's faire, chaste, wise, and kinde, yes to all men,
The rest are so: Number makes Excellence.
'She's faire, chaste, wise, kind, rich, yet humble,
'They three her equall: "vertue cā neuer stumble.
'Vtiullia is the Sunne, they starres of night,
'Yet night's the bosome wherin the Sun doth rest:
'The Moone her selfe borrowes of the Suns light,
'All by the starres take counsell to be blest,
"The day's the Sunne: yet Cupid can it blind,
"The stars at night: sleepe cures ye troubled mind.
'She is a Rose, the fairer, so the sweeter,
'She is a Lute, whose belly tunes the Musicke,
'She is my Prose, yet makes me speake all Meeter,
'She is my life, yet sicknes me with Phisicke:
'She is a Virgin, that makes her a Iewell,
'She will not loue me, therein she is cruell.
"Eurialae, is like sleepe when one is wearie;
"Vrania is like a golden slumber,
"Artesias voyce, like dreames that makes man merry,
"Vitullia, like a Bed, all these in comber.
1 Sleepe, 2 Slumber, 3 Dreames, vpon a 4 Bed is best,
First, Second, Third, but in the Fourth is blest.
Oh, but Vitullia, what? She's wonders prittie,
Oh I, and what? so is she very faire;
Oh yes, and what? she's like her selfe most wittie:
And yet, what is she? She is all but Aire.
What can Earth be, but Earth? so we are all,
'Peace then my Muse; Opinion oft doth fall.
;Eurialae, I honour for humilitie,
'Vrania, I reuerence for her wit,
'Artesia, I adore for true agillitie,
'Three Graces for the Goddesses most fit:
Each of these gifts are blessed in their faces,
Oh, what's Vitullia, who hath all these Graces?
She's but a Ladie, So are all the rest,
As pure, as sweet, as modest, yea as loyall;
Yes, She's the shadow (shadowes are the lest)
Which tells the houre of vertue by her Dyall:
'By her, men see there is on earth a heauen,
'By thē, men know her vertues are match't euen
In praysing all, much time he vainly spent,
Yet thought none worthy but Vitullia;
Then cal'd to minde, he could not well repent
The loue he bare the wise Vrania.
Eurialae, Artesia, all, such beauties had,
Which as they pleas'd him, made him well nigh mad.
'Eurialae, her beautie his eye-sight harmed,
'Vrania, her wit his tongue incensed,
'Artesia, her voyce, his eares had charmed,
'Thus poore Daiphantus, was with loue tormented.
Vitullius beautie as he did impart,
The others vertues vanquished his heart.
At length he grew, as in an extasie
Twixt loue and loue, whose beautie was the truer,
His thoughts thus diuers as in a Lunacie,
He starts and stares, to see whose was the purer:
Oft treads a Maze, runs, suddenly then stayes,
Thus with himselfe, himself makes many frayes.
Now with his fingers, like a Barber snaps,
Playes with the fire-pan, as it were a Lute,
Vnties his shoe-strings, then his lips he laps,
Whistles awhile, and thinkes it is a Flute:
At length, a glasse presents it to his sight,
Where well he acts, fond loue in passions right.
His chin he strokes, sweares beardles men kisse best,
His lips anoynts, sayes Ladyes vse such fashions,
Spets on his Napkin; termes that the Bathing Iest,
Then on the dust, describes the Courtiers passion.
Then humble cal's: though they do still aspire,
"Ladies then fall, when Lords rise by Desire.
Then stradling goes, saies Frenchmen feare no Beares
Vowes he will trauaile, to the Siege of Brest,
Swears Captaines, they doe all against the heare:
Protests Tabacco, is A smoke-dride Iest,
Takes vp his pen, for a Tabacco-pipe;
Thus all besmeard, each lip the other wipe.
His breath, he thinkes the smoke; his tongue a cole,
Then calls for bottell-ale; to quench his thirst:
Runs to his Inke-pot, drinkes, then stops the hole,
And thus growes madder, then he was at first.
Tasso, he finds, by that of Hamlet, thinkes.
Tearmes him a mad-man; than of his Inkhorne drinks.
Calls Players fooles, the foole he iudgeth wisest,
Will learne them Action, out of Chaucers Pander:
Proues of their Poets bawdes euen in the highest,
Then drinkes a health; and sweares it is no slander.
Puts off his cloathes; his shirt he onely weares,
Much like mad-Hamlet; thus as Passion teares.
Who calls me forth from my distracted thought?
Oh Serberus, if thou, I prethy speake?
Reuenge if thou? I was thy Riuall ought,
In purple gores Ile make the ghosts to reake:
Vitullia, oh Vitullia, be thou still,
Ile haue reuenge, or harrow vp my will.
Ile fallow vp the wrinkles of the earth,
Goe downe to Hell and knocke at Plutoes gate,
Ile turne the hilles to vallies: make a dearth
'Of vertuous honour to eternall Fate.
Ile beat the windes, & make the tydes keepe back,
Reigne in the sea, That Louers haue no wrack.
Yes, tell the Earth, it is a Murderer,
Hath slayne Vitullia, oh, Vitullia's dead:
Ile count blinde Cupid for a Conjurer,
And with wilde horses will I rend his head.
I with a Pickax, will plucke out his braines,
Laugh at this Boy, ease Louers of much paines.
Oh then, Ile flie, Ile swim, yet stay; and then
Ile ride the Moone, & make the cloudes my Horse,
"Make me a Ladder of the heads of men,
Clime vp to heauen: yes, my tongue will force
To Gods and Angels; Oh, Ile neuer end,
Till for Vituillia all my cryes I spend.
Then like a spirit of pure Innocence,
Ile be all white, and yet behold Ile cry
Reuenge, Oh Louers this my sufferance,
Or else for Loue, for Loue, a soule must die.
Eurialae, Vrania, Artesia, Soe:
Heart rent in sunder, with these words of woe.
But soft, here comes: who comes? and not calls out
Of Rape and Murder, Loue and Villanie:
"Stay wretched man, (who runs (doth neuer doubt
It is thy Soule, thy Saint, thy Deitie:
Then call the Birds to ring a mourning Knell,
For mad Daiphantus, who doth loue so well.
Oh sing a Song, parted in parcels three,
I'le beare the burthen still of all your griefe,
"Who is all woe, can tune his miserie
"To discontents, but not to his reliefe.
Oh kisse her, kisse her, And yet do not do so:
They bring some ioy, but with short ioyes long wo.
Vpon his knees; Oh Goddesses behold,
A Caitife wretch bemoning his mishappe,
If euer pittie, were hired without gold,
Lament Daiphantus, once in Fortunes Lappe:
Lament Daiphantus, whose good deeds now slū ­ber,
Lamēt a louer, whose wo no tongue can nūmber.
My woes: there did he stay, fell to the ground,
Rightly diuided into blood and teares,
As if those words had giuen a mortall wound,
So lay he foming, with the waight of cares.
Who this had seene, and seeing had not wept,
Their hearts were sure from crosses euer kept.
The Ladies all, who late from hunting came,
Vntimely came, to view this Mappe of sorrow,
Surely all wept, and sooth it was no shame,
For, from his grief, the world might truly borrow.
As he lay speechlesse, grou'ling, all vndrest,
So they stood weeping, silence was their best.
Ismenio with these Ladies bare a part,
And much bemoan'de him, though he knew not why,
But kinde compassion, strooke him to the heart,
To see him mad: much better see one die.
Thus walkes Ismenio ▪ and yet oft did pause:
At length, A writing made him know the cause.
He read, till words like thunder pierst his hart;
He sigh't, till sorrow seem'd it selfe to mourne,
He wept, till teares like ysacles did part,
He pittied so, that pistle hare did scorne.
He read to sigh, and weepe for pitties sake,
The lesse he read, the lesse his heart did quake.
At length resolu'd, he vp the writing takes,
And to the Ladies trauells as with childe,
The birth was Loue, (such loue (as discord makes;
The Midwife Patience, thus in words full mild [...]
He writ with teares, that which with blood was writ,
The more he read, the more they pittied it.
They looke vpon Daiphantus, he not seeing,
And wondred at him, but his sence was parted,
They lou'd him much; though little was his beeing,
And sought to cure him, thogh he was faint harted:
Ismenio thus, with speed resolues to ease him,
By a sweet song, his Sister should appease him.
Ismenio was resolu'd, he would be eased,
And was resolu'd, of no meanes, but by Musicke,
Which is so heauenly that it hath released
The danger oft, not to be cur'd by Phisicke.
Her tongue and hand, thus married together
Could not but please him, who so loued either.
But first before his madnesse were alayd,
They offred Incence at Dianaes Shrine,
And much besought her, now to be apayd:
Which was soone granted to these Saints diuine.
Yet so: that mad Daiphantus must agree,
Neuer to loue, but liue in Chastitie.
Thus they adjur'd him, by the Gods on high,
Neuer hence foorth to shoote with Cupids Quiuer,
Nor loue to feine; for ther's no remedie,
If once relapst, then was he mad for euer:
Tortur'd Daiphantus, now a signe did make,
And kinde Ismenio, this did vndertake.
Then gan Artesia play vpon her Lute,
Whose voyce sang sweetly, now a mourning Ditty,
"Loue her admir'd, thogh he that lou'd were mute,
Cupid himselfe feard he should sue for pittie.
Oh, wondrous vertue! words spokē are but wind,
But sung to prick-song, they are ioyes diuine.
'I heard her sing, but still methought I dreamed,
'I heard her play, but I me thought did sleepe,
'The Day and Night, till now were neuer weaned,
'Venus, and Dian rauisht; both did weepe.
'They which each hated, now agreed to say,
'This was the Goddesse both of night and day.
My heart and eares, so rauisht with her voyce,
I still forgot, what still I heard her sing
The tune: Surely of Sonnets this was all the choice,
Poets do keepe it as a charming thing.
'What thinke you of the ioyes that Daiphātus had,
'When for such Musicke I would still be mad?
The Birdes came chirping to the windowes round,
And so stood still, as if they rauisht weare,
Beasts forth the forrest came, brought with the soūd,
The Lyon layd him downe as if in feare.
The Fishes in fresh Riuers swam to shore,
'Yea, had not Nature stayd them, had done more.
This was a sight, whose eyes had euer seene?
This was a voice, such musick nere was heard,
This paradice was it, where who had bene
'Might well haue thought of hell and not afeard.
Sure hell it selfe, was heauen in this spheare,
'Mad-men, wild beasts, & all, here tamed weare.
Like as a King his chaire of state ascendeth,
(Being newly made a God vpon the earth:
In stately amounts till step by step, be endeth,
Thinkes it to heauen A true assending birth:
So hies Daiphantus, on his legs and feete,
As if Daiphantus, now some God should meete.
He lookes vpon himselfe, not without wonder,
He wonders at himselfe, what he might be:
He laughes vnto himselfe, thinkes he's a slumber,
He weepes vnto himselfe, himselfe to see:
And sure to heare and see what he had done,
Might make him sweare, but now ye world begun.
Fully reuiued, at last Artesia ceast,
When Beasts and Birds, so hideous noise did make
That almost all turnd furie, feare was the least,
Yea such a feare, as forc't them cry and quake.
Till that Daiphantus, more of reason had,
Then they which mon'd him, lately being mad.
He with more ioy, than words could well declare,
And with more words, than his new tongue could tell,
Did striue to speake, such was his loue & care
Thus to be thankfull: But yet knew not well,
'VVhether his tongue, not tun'd vnto his hart,
'Or modest silence, would best act his part.
But speake he will; then giue attentiue eare
To heare him tell a wofull Louers storie,
His hands and eyes to heauen vp did he reare:
Griefe taught him speech; though he to speake were sorrie.
But whatsoeuer be a Louers passion,
Daiphantus speakes his, in a mourning fashion.
As o're the Mountains walkes, the wandring soule
Seeking for rest in his vnresting spirit,
So good Daiphantus (thinking to inroule
Himselfe in grace, by telling of loues merit)
VVas so distracted, how he should commend it,
VVhere he began, he wished still to end it.
Eurialae, my eyes are hers in right,
Vrania, my tongue is as her dewe▪
Artesia, my eares, to her I dight,
My heart to each. And yet my heart to you:
To you Vitullia, to you, and all the rest:
VVho once me cursed; now to make me blest.
1 Beauty & 2, wit did 1 wound & 2 pearce my heart,
3 Musicke and 4 Fauour 3 gain'd and 4 kept it sure:
Loue lead by 3 Fancie to the 4 last I part,
Loue lead by Reason to the first is truer.
3 Beautie and wit first conquered, made me yeild
3 Musicque & 4 Fauour, rescued, got the field.
To 1 Wit and 2 Beautie, my first loue I giue,
Musicke 3 & 4 Fauours, my second loue haue gaind,
All made me mad: and all did me relieue:
Though one recur'd me, when I was sustaind:
Thus troth to say, to all I loue did owe,
Therefore to all my loue I euer vowe.
Thus to the first 1 & 2 his right hand he did tender,
His left hand to the 3 & 4 last, most louingly, 4:
His tongue kind thankes, first to the last did render,
The while his lookes were bent indifferently:
Thus he salutes all, & to increase his Blisses,
From lip, to lip, each Ladie now he kisses.
Ismenio (in humble wise salutes he)
With gracious language he returnes his heart,
His words so sweetly to his tongue now sutes he,
As what he spake, shew'd learning with good Art.
Ismenio pleasde Daiphantus, Daiphantus all,
"When loue, gaines loue, for loue; this loue we cal
Vrania now, bethought what was protested
By yong Ismenio at Dianas shrine;
Coniur'd Daiphantus, That no more he Iested,
With Loue or Fancie, for they were Diuine:
And if he did, that there they all would pray,
He still might liue in loue, both night and day.
This greeu'd him much, but follie twas to grieue,
His now obedience shew'd his owne freewill:
He swore he would not loue (in shewe) atchieue,
But liue a virgin, chast and spotlesse still.
Which saide: such Musicke suddenly delighted,
As all were rauisht, and yet all affrighted.
Here parted all, not without Ioy and sadnes,
Some wept, some smilde, a world it was to here them:
Both springs heere met, woe heere was cloath'd with gladnes
Heauen was their comfort, it alone did cheere them.
Daiphantus from these springs, some fruit did gather,
"Experience is an Infant, though an ancient father.
Sweet Lady know "the soule lookes through our eye-sights,
"Content liues not in shewes, or beauty seeing,
"Peace not from nomber, nor strength in high spirits:
"Ioy dies with vertue, yet liues in vertues being.
"Beautie is maskt, where vertue is not hidden,
"Man still desires that fruite he's most forbidden.
"Iewels for Vertue, not for beautie prizde,
"Whats sildome seen breeds wonder, we admir'de it:
"Kings Lines are rare▪ and therefore well aduiz'de,
"Wise-men not often talke, Fooles still desire it.
"Womē are books (kept close) they hold much trea­sure,
"Vnclaspt: sweet ills: most woe lies hid in pleasure.
"Who studies Arts alike, can he proue Doctor?
"Who surfets hardly liues? Drunkards recouer:
"Whose wils his law, that cōscience needs no Proctor;
"Whē men turn beasts looke there for briutish Louers.
"Those eies are pore-blind, looke equally on any,
"Thought be a vertue to hinder one by many.
"Who gains by trauel, leese lordships for their Manors,
"Must Tarquin-rauish some; Hell on that glory,
"Whose life's in Healths, death soonest gains those Ba­nors,
"Lust still is punisht, though treason write the storie.
"A rowling eye, A Globe, new worlds discouer,
"Who still wheels round, is But a damned Louer.
"Doth Faith and Troth lye Bathing? Is Lust pleasure?
"Can Commons be as sweete, as Land inclos'd?
"Then virgin sinne may well be counted pleasure,
"Where such Lords rule, who liues not ill dispos'd?
"True Loue's a Phoenix, but One vntill it dyes,
"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 Loue indights the Story:)
"The priuate life brings with it heauenly blisses.
"Sweete Contemplation much increaseth glorie:
Ile leaue him to the learning of Loues Spell,
"Better part friends, than follow Feends to hell.
Ismenio, with Vitullia went together,
Perhaps both wounded with blinde Cupids Dart,
Yet dust they not relate their Loue to either,
"(Loue if once pittied pearceth to the Hart:
But sure Vitullia, is so faire a Marke,
Cupid would court her, though but by the darke.
Artesia, she must goe (the more she's grieu'd)
To churlish Strymon, her adopted Mate,
Cupid though blind, yet pittied and relieu'd,
This modest Lady with some happie Fate:
"For what but Vertue, which doth all good nourish,
"Could brook her fortunes, much lesse loue & cherish
Eurialae, with good Vrania stayd▪
'(VVhere Vertue dwels they onely had their being)
"Beauty and wit still feare, are not dismayd,
"For where they dwell, Loue euer will be prying.
These two, were one, All good, each could impart,
One was their Fortune, and one was their heart.
("Beautie and Vertue, was true Friend to either,
"Heauen is the spheare, where all men seeke for glorie:
"Earth is the Graue, where sinners ioyne together,
"Hell keepes the booke, inrowles each lustfull storie.
"Liue as we will, death makes of all conclusion,
"Die then to liue, or life is thy confusion.
'Beautie and wit in these, fed on affection,
'Labour and industry, were their Twins of life:
'Loue, and true Bounty, were in their subiction,
'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.
‘Non Amori sed Virtuti.’

The Passionate mans Pil­grimage, supposed to be written by one at the point of death.

GIue me my Scallop shell of quiet,
My staffe of Faith to walke vpon,
My Scrip of Ioy, Immortall diet,
My bottle of saluation:
My Gowne of Glory, hopes true gage,
And thus Ile take my pilgrimage.
Blood must be my bodies balmer,
No other balme will there be giuen
Whilst my soule like a white Palmer
Trauels to the land of heauen,
Ouer the siluer mountaines,
Where spring the Nectar fountaines:
And there Ile kisse
The Bowle of blisse,
And drinke my eternall fill
On euery milken hill.
My soule will be a drie before,
But after it, will nere thirst more.
And by the happie blisfull way
More peacefull Pilgrims I shall see,
That haue shooke off their gownes of clay,
And goe appareld fresh like mee.
Ile bring them first
To slake their thirst,
And then to tast those Nectar suckets
At the cleare wells
Where sweetnes dwells,
Drawne vp by Saints in Christall buckets.
And when our bottles and all we,
Are fild with immortalitie:
Then the holy paths weele trauell
Strewde with Rubies thicke as grauell,
Seelings of Diamonds, Saphire floores,
High walles of Corall and Pearle Bowres.
From thence to heauens Bribeles hall
Where no corrupted voyces brall,
No Conscience molten into gold,
Nor forg'd accusers bought and sold,
No cause deferd, nor vaine spent Iorney,
For there Christ is the Kings Atturney:
VVho pleades for all without degrees,
And he hath Angells, but no fees.
VVhen the grand twelue million Iury,
Of our sinnes and sinfull fury,
Gainst our soules blacke verdicts giue,
Christ pleades his death, and then we liue,
Be thou my speaker taintles pleader,
Vnblotted Lawyer, true proceeder,
Thou mouest saluation euen for almes▪
Not with a bribed Lawyers palmes.
And this is my eternall plea,
To him that made Heauen, Earth and Sea,
Seeing my flesh must die so soone,
And want a head to dine next noone,
Iust at the stroke when my vaines start and spred
Set on my soule an euerlasting head.
Then am I readie like a palmer fit,
To tread those blest paths which before I writ.

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