Book 4 — THE PLEASING HISTORY OF ALBINO AND BELLAMA

When British Isles—begirt with moist'ned sand, Neptune's blue palace, and the Triton's walk— Albania hight, her name who first did land Of all the sisters, or from rocks of chalk; From sad oppression had unyok'd their necks, And paid obedience unto Adell's becks, Then, in those halcyon days of peace and joy, A virtuous lady, most transcendent creature, Fairer than her whose beauty cinder'd Troy— 10Grace deck'd her mind, her mind grace['d] her feature; So that each part made Helen out of date, And every grace a goddess could create. Virtue and beauty both in her did strive Which should in worth and grace surpass the other, Nor age of consistency, both did thrive Till this Dian' out-ray'd that Cupid's mother. Nay men, by beams of her clear beauty, might Scale Titan's chariot, and out-ray his light. 'Mongst Nature's precious things we find a gem, 20Blushèd and purpled o'er with amethysts, Which fiery carbuncles with sparkles hem, And which the em'ralds purest vert entwists, Meeting so well that lapidaries wist 'Twas em'rald, carbuncle, and amethyst. So in this precious pair, pure Agathite, Aurora's purpling blush was clearly seen, Saba's bright rose, and Leda's swan-like white,— The true proportion of Adonis' queen— Blended so well, that in this curious frame 30Aurora, Saba, Leda, Venus came. And as the honey-making waxen-thigh'd Inhabitants of Hybla's fragrant vales, Whom only Nature's dim instinct does guide, Choose their commander with their tuneful hails, Pay homage, honour him, and fear his frowns, With same observance as the people crowns,— So, by the same instinct, the blushing rose Vèil'd bonnet to her cheeks admirèd red, The lilies to her bosom, brow, and nose, 40The Phoenix stripp'd herself to crown her head, The chirping choristers with willing choice Sat silent to admire her warbling voice. Perfum'd Arabia with her spice and gums Paid homage to the odours of her lips; To her with fawning postures, licks, and hums The yellow lion and the tiger skips; Fire dares not scorch her face, nor winter chill her, And death himself looked pale when called to kill her. The amorous Sun, if she walk'd out by day, 50Would rein his jennets to behold her face; And, wrapt in admiration, by his stay Had rather melt the orbs than mend his pace; And if the middle air in walls of jet Enjail'd his beams, he thawèd into wet. If in the reign of silent night abroad She rang'd, the Empress of the lowest sphere, Amazed at her perfections, left her road, And rang'd about where she appeared t' appear; Nay, mourned in darkness if denied her sight, 60As when day's henchman does deny her light. The curlèd tapers of the firmament Did cease to twink, but gazed with fixèd eyes, In their own orb refusing to be pent, And strove to leap upon the lower skies; Nay, did o' th' second air like comets hang, To dart their crisps at beauty's only spang. The sea-born planet poppèd out her lamp, And t' see herself outshin'd by her, did rage; The marching war-god did remove his camp, 70With [this] fair lady curtain-war to wage; Hermes by Jove being of an errand sent Stay'd on her face, in her embraces pent. Dull-agèd Saturn (on whose sullen brow Ne'er dwelt a smile since Jove usurp'd his crown) To gaze on her his weighty head did bow, And with a smile unplaited every frown: Nay, Jove himself descended from his chair To take a full survey of this—this fair. And more, her winning looks dispersed such charms, 80All eyes commanding and all hearts surprising, That Venus bade her son provide him arms, Fearing his setting by this bright star's rising: For, though men say Love's eyes are more than dim, Yet her fair beauty did enlighten him. But with entreaties he had beat the air, And on the tawny moor his waters cast, For having pow'r to conquer, being fair, Sh'ad pow'r not to be conquer'd, being chaste; So that his amorous sleights and wingèd arrow 90Could not have oped her breast or pierced her marrow. This Phoenix was Bellama called (a word Well suiting her deserts), she daughter was And heir-apparent to a wealthy lord, Who had more acres than an acre grass: He loved his lands, and hugged his minted treasure, Yet his Bellama was his soul of pleasure. His place of residence was in a chase Chequered with thick-grown thorns and sturdy oaks, Wherein majestic stags and bucks did pace 100That scorned the hounds, and dared the barbèd strokes; 'Twas called Rivelount, not distant far From Starley, of that shire the metro-star. The neighbouring swains were palled with coaches' thunder, And loud curvettings of their foaming steeds, Whose ironed hoofs did crash the rocks in sunder; Happy was he, who (sheathed in costly weeds) Could win admission to this happy place, Where Nature's wealth was locked up in a face. Each glance she sent the object did engem, 110And he that won a smile possessed a mine; A hair was prizèd at a diadem, A ribbon made the[m] tread the ecliptic line; A ring outface a thunder, but a kiss Was the elixir, heart, and soul of bliss. Some of their lands, some of their valours spoke, Some, of their falcons and their merry bells; Some read the price of such a suit and cloak, And one of hounds and running horses tells; All speak of something, yet but few with wit, 120All aimed at wise, yet few could purchase it. Some spake in oaths, as if they thought the earth Was peopled o'er with faithless infidels; Another swore, because he feared a dearth Of other language, yet in oaths excels: All swear enough, and he that did it least Might be grand swearer at Ven-Bacchus feast. Others there were that could not bigly prate, Who did their evidences bring with them; One brought his halls to plead, one his estate, 130This brought a watch to court, and that a gem; One brought a large descent [in] white and black, Which [he] derivèd from old Pergam's sack. One brought a reverent sire, whom he called father, To be the tongue of his reservèd son; Others with much expense of wax did gather Some printed rimes to speak when they were gone: All had their speakers which unclasped their graces, Yet their court-language dwelt on plaits and places. One of these suitors was approved to be 140A match whose thousands equi-balanced hers; The parents oft would say, 'This shall be he,' The mother then a bill of love prefers: But still Bellama faults, and vows that gold Shall never force her love to have and hold. The testy father, with a furrowed brow, Comes to Bellama with demanding why? Says 'Mine own girl, thou must be rulèd now, Each knee pays duty to Don Fuco's eye: And age well knows bean-manors, lands, and treasures 150Do cement lovers' hearts, and enjoy their pleasures. Thou must not, wench, be coy. Alas! we find Beauty as easily bought when money bids (Though 't be i' th' nonsuch of the female kind), As horse or cow, the lamb, or frisking kids: If he be rich we bear his witless brags, A wealthy fool's more worth than witty rags.' Bellama, with a look fraught with disdain, (Though hatred did not make her anger bold) Says 'Sir, I'm sorry you do entertain 160Such high conceits of folly hemmed with gold: Think you no marriage good if equal lands Be not matchmakers and do join their hands? Don Fuco has ten thousand pounds a year, With weighty titles would o'erload a mule, A piece of arras finely wrought and dear; But does he square his life to virtue's rule? With vice as wealth, to countless sums he thrives, But is, in virtue, full as poor as wives. He knows to steer an horse and hollo hounds, 170But not to guide his actions, less his tongue; He speaks in state, but ev'ry sentence sounds Of comic fragments or some tavern song. And shall I him, hail'd by unworthy pelf, Take to rule me, who cannot rule himself? Shall I see other female vessels thrive With mine own nectar, and they fee'd with money, Whilst I like careful bee do keep my hive, And work the comb for them to suck the honey? No, I'll no sharers have in my delight, 180I'll have it one and only, else good night. 'Tis a fine thing to see a satin paint That fears to lose her beauty in a press, That only cares to be precisely quaint, And spends a twelvemonth's pleasure on a dress: To see this stroke his honour, and he clip her, Span ev'ry part, and unresisted lip her. But I do not in a rank humour rail 'Gainst sober purples, and discreeter robes, Nor lock up virtues in the paper-jail 190With ink-horns, pens, spheres, globes, and Albo-globes. Religion on my heart does love enneal To those bright tapers of our commonweal. Yet where, instead of state, proud looks do dwell, Where wit and wisdom are unlocked with oaths, Courtship and comeliness are in the shell, And honour only sits upon the clothes. Pardon, if unto such I plait my brow, And steer my thought unto a virgin-vow.' 'Fie,' says the father, 'you're a foolish girl 200'Gainst ermines with that height'ned spleen to rail; Dost think there's vice and folly in an earl? Then virtue sure does penance in the jail. To kiss and sport with us is held no sin If that our dalliance do not pass the skin. Perchance 'tis not a point of state to have Too large a stock of wisdom in this age, The epithet to greatness is not grave; Those that the Muses in their cells encage, Let them speak oil and civet; but we are lords, 210Can speak by signs, and not expressed by words. Wherefore do we to Sable give the room, And greater numbers far of Adel's stamps Than to our steward or our lady's groom; 'Cause with reproofs he our choice pleasures damps? No, 'cause in dedications he should name us, And by some witty pamphlet make us famous. Our moral virtues are no guiding rule To high nobility, or looking-glass, No more than t' earth the ne plus ultra's Thule, 220As 'fore America was found, it was. 'Tis fit for those whose bosom-friends are lice, To know the pain, not sweet delights, of vice. Dost see yon tender webs Arachne spins, Through which with ease the lusty bumbles break, But to the feeble gnats that mesh their gins? So those sage precepts, which our Sophies speak, Fetter the passions of each worthless slave; But over us no sovereign awe they have.' 'My lord, the name of father strikes,' quoth she, 230'An awful dread, and makes my ear obey; Yet slip my duty down unto the knee, And in my silent thoughts check, chide, and say, "Can they that taste forbidden waters thrive?" My chaste demeanour I will ne'er survive. T' avoid the doom of—therefore I'll make choice Of one whose virtue outs all love to vice, Not those sleek skins which am'rous are in voice, Lip-love which, as soon born, dies in a trice. Our loves reciprocal shall be still dust, 240Which into exile packs unlawful lust.' As they discours'd Don Fuco entered in, With stately garbs befitting such a one, His body shellèd in a satin skin Of azure dye, bestarred with topaz stone, A milk-white beaver, with an ostrich plume, His very rowels spake a loud perfume. Having composed his hingèd looks, he glanced With piercing eyes upon her curious face, And, steeping sighs in tears and sweat, advanced 250Himself to plead with courtly garb and grace. But Fucus, led by most mimetic apes, Could not depinge Don Fuco's antic shapes. Such were the postures of his hands and eye, That had he treasured up his mirthful tones, They were ingredients for a comedy, Would into laughter change a widow's groans: And since that time (Bellama smiled so then) Love in her dimpled cheeks has found a den. 'Madam,' says he, 'be pleased to trutinate 260And wisely weigh your servant's graceful voice; Give due attendance to the airs of state; I have engraven you Don Fuco's choice. Give free assent, and let the scornful "No!" Be quite expungèd from the criss-cross-row. Alas, I'm not beholding unto letters, Wherewith our rabbis stuff their swelling books. I have a way of complimenting better, To win thy love with comely garbs and looks. And, if these fail, the name of countess will 270Speak with a power above the Sidney-skill. I hate long-winded sentences, which do Unbreath a man, and hazard much his bellows, Or pocket-flashes which instruct to woo— The only virtues of some inkhorn fellows— I scorn their troths, indods, their ifs or ands, Or their O Lord, sir, when their wit's o' th' sands. A fluent rascal that can speak in oil, And clothe his words with silken eloquence, I know may give a virgin strength the foil. 280But a blunt earl that scarcely speaks in sense, Whom thousands honour with the cap and leg, Beats down a fortress like a roaring Meg. He needs no Roscian language, but does send His velvet-coated herald to proclaim The noble titles which his worth attend: For honour is th' ambitious lady's aim. Feature and spicèd words but lead the van, Honour the front, the noble is the man.' 'My lord,' says she, 'your valour I approve, 290That with three selves thus warranteth your suit, With self-conceit, self-confidence, self-love: Such trees will bear your lordship glorious fruit, It well befits your greatness not to think There can denials dwell in air or ink. Your trencher-cloaks, and your recognizance, Your coat of arms with noble ermines dight, Your russian satin, with the cut of France, Your talking rowels, and your feath'red white, Are batt'ring rams and guns that speak in thunder, 300To crack a breast, and split a heart in sunder. But my mind is Diana's chastest seat, O'er which the breath of greatness hath no power; The quiver-bearing boy sounds a retreat, And Jove avails not with his yellow shower, The vestal fire outshines blind Cupid's flame Which oft's eclipsed with sorrow damped with shame. And, troth, my lord, had I but wit enough T' assist your lordship in your nuptial tede, Your lordship should not play at blind man's blough 310(Else heavens should renounce their Ganymede): For they that purblind are may plainly see You grossly hoodwinked are in courting me. The faults of state I cannot virtues name, And bear myself upon the wings of pride, Nor light my taper at another's flame, Or use the art at beauty's eventide. I brook not dalliance, or the Venus kiss, That way of am'rousness, or that, or this. I cannot seal a welcome with an oath 320To those whose absence I had rather have; Nor venture hundreds at that paper-sloth Of mistress Is'bel and the Pennell-knave. I know no masking postures, nor with grace Can tread the brawls, or true coranto pace. I cannot at the feast of riot sit, When sea, land, air, are served up in plate; Nor like Tripherus with a carving wit Read precepts this and this to dissecate. Nor in dear murrhine, chargèd to the brim, 330Health it about until our mullets swim. I do not love to have my husband be Discreet by proxies, by his chaplains wise; Nor do I like the too much cringing knee, Whose formal bends his black conceits disguise. Those fawning sharks I cannot call to table, Which into ermines change your lordship's sable To have my usher press his master's saddle, In my opinion cannot pass for good; I do not love to have my pillow addle, 340Meanwhile my woman lets your lordship blood. I am no Androgyne, nor do delight To diet pages, or your Catamite.' 'Madam, what passion does untune your mind? What fiend' (says he) 'in you thus rails on greatness? Who viceth honour, lies, and he is blind That says court-satins are not trimmed with neatness. Speak then in balms, forget the peevish why, And to the "Wilt thou have this"—Answer "Ay".' 'No, no,' says she, 'yet might I know your saint, 350If my endeavours can advantage you, With your endowments I would her acquaint, And limn your rare perfections in her view: In this one act I may myself approve More loving, than in entertaining love. I'll say with what dexterity you can Run o'er the postures of the court-salute, How trimly you can kiss a lady's fan, And neatly manage an embroid'red suit; How finely Spanish leg-shells you can plait, 360And tune your rowels at the court retrait. I might say you are witty, if't be true That jests and jingles are in brotherhood, I'll speak your skill in hawks, at flight, in mew, And at all hunting ceremonies good; How gracefully you wave your gallant plumes, And deeply are engaged to deep perfumes. How kind you are unto our chamber-shes, How to our marmosets and trencher-pages, How oily-fingered unto supple knees, 370How fain to th' music of our wire cages. How quaintly you supply the usher's room, How sweetly you can act the privy-groom. Much more in blazoning your matchless worth, And counting all your specials, might I say— But nature ne'er a second did bring forth, Which to such known perfections can say nay. I'll cease to praise them, lest my praises make Your veins of pride with self-conceit to ache. I will perform what I have promis'd, sir, 380Please you t' impart your lady to my maid, I see my words your liver-wort does stir Into your face, which in your channels strayed. No more of trouble then, my lord, adieu; This courteous door divorceth me and you.' Away flings she, and leaves my lord alone, More pensive than a widow which bedews Her husband's corpse with tears, a woman's moan, Or than the Lupa of diseasèd stews; So that who saw his jigging head would swear 390Wisdom nor wit did ne'er inhabit there. Don Rivelezzo sent a smiling glance, That they might his consent read in his eye; But seeing Fuco in a stupid trance, He was possessed with equal frenesy. The mother came to th' rescue, and wellnigh Sent her own wit to bear theirs company. Fain would he tell the cause of his disasters, And eagerly her parents strove to know it, Yet, strangely, them this passion overmasters, 400That neither they could ask, nor he could show it; As though an Incubus with vap'rous throngs Enclasped their bosoms and unvoiced their tongues. At length Don Fuco cried, 'Bellama cruel, What evil planet revelled at thy birth, Or what incensèd god provided fuel To make me feel hell's torture upon earth? Was there no way to punish me for sin But by a maid? No, there our woes begin. When I with admiration view'd her face, 410I boldly durst give any tongue the lie That dared to say, with such supernal grace, There dwelt one atom of this tyranny. But—if that virgin's hieroglyphics be Of love and mildness, take them all for me. I'll make a casement with this steely blade In my full breast, through which my soul shall peep, And make my heart in sanguine liquor wade, And entrails all in juice of liver steep. Nay, straightway give hell's ferryman his pay 420For wafting me o'er black Cocytus' Bay. Or unto Proserpine I'll post a sprite, To fetch m' a cup of moist oblivion, Wherewith the Fairy Queen exilèd quite Fury from her stout knight and Oberon, That I not only may forget disgrace, But quite forget I ever saw her face.' 'Let not', says Rivelez, 'a peevish girl Hang fetters on your heart, untune your soul: Dwells there not courage with a worthy earl, 430Blind Cupids bow and quiver to control? My lord, take heed, the squinting boy works treason, By passions to divest your soul of reason. He by his sly insinuations oft A good opinion in the heart doth win: The most obdurate are by him made soft And homage pay to Love their sovereign sin, Fires in, nor hurts, the flint; but Cupid can With flames to cinders waste the flinty man. A wily fisherman hath store of baits, 440Wherewith for amorists he wisely angles, With glitt'ring pomp he for th' ambitious waits, The greedy carl with silver twists entangles; The silk-lascivious with a wanton eye, The austere stoic with a modest "fie!" The studious Templant he with Ergo calls, The grave precisian with a matron grace, The virtuous mind with virtue he enthrals, A landed heir with a blushed-lily face. For Epicurean love he wisely trolls 450With spiced rarities and frothing bowls. The cross-adorers he with crossing catches, Yet strange it is that crossing should join hands. But, to Sir Love-all, all are equal matches, Grace, beauty, feature, honour, virtue, lands. This has a dainty hand; that, lip, or eye, This chaste, that seeming, that will not deny. None are love-free, unless uncapable Of those choice blessings Venus' sole son proffers, None, whom age, fortune, nature, does enable, 460With peevish noes neglecteth Hymen's offers. All are inclined to love, and all must bow, If Cupid's arrow do but write "Love thou". Invest your noble thoughts with courage, Don, Let reason, maugre love, triumphant ride, Millions of ladies breath in Albion, Have more rose-lilies, and less store of pride. I'll warrant, though Bellama now say "no", She'll find, ere long, denial was her foe.' 'Ha!' quoth Don Fuco, with a far-fetched sigh, 470Which all that time was drenched o'er-head in grief, 'Am I to black Cocytus yet drawn nigh? Where are th' Elysian shades, thou tott'red thief? Call Rhadamanthus forth, justice I'll have, Or in his breast my steel shall dig a grave. Call forth the Furies with their snaky hairs, Pale-cheeked Erynnis and her sister hags, Tell Nemesis I'll fetch her down the stairs, And try what truth dwells in her wrathful brags. Dispoison vipers, toads, and crawling adders, 480And with their venom stretch her spacious bladders. Bid Cerberus belch, from his triple jaws, A barking thunder which the earth may shake: I'll fetch the Dragon's and the Scorpion's paws From the full zodiac, her face to rake. Come forth, Demagoras, thy cunning try, To mask all beauty with a leprosy. We will no more our lily-stems transplant, And set our roses on their cheeks and lips; Their fairness shall not hence surpass the ante, 490Their crimson dye the brick or writhled hips. Beauty shall be exiled, despite shall end her, Or else we'll change her to another gender. The Thracian harper was a silly ass, That for his wife passed through the Stygian stench, The clubman's foolery did his surpass, That spun and carded for a Lydian wench. The Greeks were fools that for a light-skirt strumpet Chang'd the still viol to a loud-mouth'd trumpet. Jove's blacksmith was no privy counsellor, 500To marry Venus for the forehead flag; The jolly huntsman sure did something err To see a goddess, and become a stag. Jove was no golden show'r: sure 'twas a gull, Nor e'er transform'd himself into a bull.' 'Peace, good my lord,' Don Rivelezzo says, 'What uncouth passion doth your soul entrance? Your words are like the Bacchanalian lays, Wherewith the priests their god of wine enhance. What, man! though this fond she from you did start, 510Another 'll say, "My lord, with all my heart." Observe the practice of doves masculine, Which woo their females, with "I come to woo", Not in a fit of woman cry and whine, Straight to another haste, if she says no. If to one face our stock of love we ope, We pinion Cupid's wings, and fetter hope. Bellama slights, what then? shall we conclude, All women will deny you their assent? A strange induction: call all ladies lewd, 520'Cause Flora and some few to Venice went? Amongst a thousand maids, there's scarcely two, As coy Bellama now hath done, will do. Wherefore created were those glorious lights, Which in the azure firmament appear? Why was day's charioteer with lustre dight? Only to gild with rays his proper sphere? No, to lend brightness to the borrowing lamps, And clear the earth from night's obscuring damps. Why has Dame Nature so much brightness lent 530To diamonds, topazes, and other gems? 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 540Of winning beauty and a willing mind. 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: 550The Cyprian goddess wooed her sappy boy. 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, 560My lord, is by your sage advisement brought. 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 570No herb to cure love's fevers could be gained. 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, 580Till, where his feet his wingèd beaver treads, 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, 590Condemned to sleep in iron-ribbèd chests? 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, 600She slights his vows: nor gales nor gold can pin her! 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 610To whom bless'd virtue is the choice content. 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 620To fair Bellam', bedewed with streaming tears: '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, 630But till that, ever shall my heart deny men.' 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. 640Which in more ancient days did childbed show. 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, 650Speaks high importance with the prioress; 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, 660I had mistook my pillow in a crowd.' 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; 670Some dusted vestments, some, their gilded books. 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, 680Where was another rank of virgin-fry, 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, 690The matron Vesta of the virgins sate. 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 700Says, 'Heaven's messenger, what is't you would?' 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, 710For o'er my sight I wear a duskish glass. 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 720Nonsuits their service, and her brow unplains. 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, 730And all love's paper-plots I do detect. 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 740With all delights which wait your holy orders, 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, 750Nor shall our joys be listed in with measures. 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, 760And all becalmed with sugarèd words doth come: 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, 770All things be ord'red for this virgin-vow. 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; 780Then coachèd thither where her sire appoints. 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, 790Hath caught the infant of the becking dam: 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, 800Their minting house deprivèd of the stamp, 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 810Where sate Pazzella with a matron grace. 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, 820And dims at length the mistress of the night— 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, 830Lends to the moon her silver midnight rays; 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; 840To ev'ry face Bellama gave a face. 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, 850Which with enfeebling fears did them arrest. 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. 860Led by nine vestals (for th' odd number was 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 870With praying beads were wreathed on sable twists. 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, 880Whose stately worths my weak expression pass. 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 890Appearèd breathing cowls and walking copes, 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 900A roadway lie, from vulgar prying hid. 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, 910Not Fortune's white-boy, yet of abbey-blood. 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, 920He gained the love of his lord Priorist, 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; 930Knowing no ill of him, did not suspect him. 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, 940And she to him would answer glance for glance. 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.

Dost see yon tow'ring hills, yon spreading trees, 950Which wrap their lofty heads in clouds? Dost see 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, 960Which darts forth lustre from the sullen ground— 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 970'Twixt poles and parallels, pay to her eye, 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 980Homage unto Bellama—beauty's day. 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 990The beauteous colours, noble red and whites, 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 1000The secret flames which scorched his heated breast: 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, 1010It here did keep an everlasting spring. 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, 1020And ev'ry flower was rayed with silver beams. 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; 1030Yet ah! but once, and met his sovereign fair, 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 1040We may the knowledge of affections gain. 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, 1050And made him vent what was concealèd long. 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) 1060A beauty so divine must needs divine, 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 1070That hers should heat my bosom, I her breast.' '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, 1080And gall-less turtles with the eagles perch. 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? 1090Must Hymen stoop unto the nods of gold? 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, 1100Courts queens' affections and does gaze on kings.' '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, 1110Such love from laws of love and nature strays. 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, 1120And (as the proverb) quarrel for the breeches. 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, 1130I've greatness, wealth, and honour—toll the bell! 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, 1140And value more a pamphlet than a roll. 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! 1150Albino, live! Bellama says thou must. 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; 1160And prayed time give an age unto his bliss. 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 1170Was newly risen from the brackish main: And, common greetings passed amidst their pleasures, He in his lady's hands these lines entreasures.

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 1180Worthy its honour, shadow forth that place 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. 1190Here, like a common theatre or stage, 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 1200Each sleeping flow'r, to chant forth Maia's praise. 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 1210Of daisies, suckles, cowslips, studded o'er. 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 1220To make your tracing, pacing, moves its head. 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, 1230Blossoms, sprouts, opens, blooms, and chews the cud. 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; 1240This, vows; that, service; and that, constancy, 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, 1250And unsuspected did his lady woo. 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, 1260That day and malice have too many eyes 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. 1270Time will appoint our loves some fitter seasons, 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, 1280But your, your looks, my heart with blossoms wreathes. 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 1290When you're employèd with your beads and bells. 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 1300For me to say your nod can ravel Fate; 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, 1310Lest they should gash the clouds and ope the sky 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. 1320'Tis just with lovers every hair to catch 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, 1330Where not a breath their private joys disturb; 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, 1340Nips love's fresh blossoms and a wish uncrown. 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, 1350Soothèd with profit, and enflamed with fury, 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, 1360Yet did her answers all consist of noes; 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 1370Upon state-satins, and embrace a cowl? 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, 1380Although they weak'ned hell and threat'ned Fate, 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, 1390His eye did travel with the dial's hand, 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, 1400And rid with Venus in her silver car. 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, 1410(As he which once did awe the Phrygian throne) 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, 1420Than did the fairy king and Hob his man; 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.

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 1430Upon the pavèd walk a coronet 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 1440Was like a smoothèd mount of bleachèd snow, 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 1450Deck'd in her brother's sunshine ermelin. 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, 1460But now, by her, outsmelled the eglantine), 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), 1470'Their wrath is undeserved, I never caused 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, 1480Your glory and my comfort do eclipse, '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. 1490But such an eye the matron cast on him, 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, 1500But could not give respect to Cupid's law, 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, 1510And chose a proxy to present a letter. 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, 1520And robbed his finger of its golden sphere. En-nealed I live in hope, and sure grief's waves, If anchorless, had been t'is wishes graves.

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, 1530And ilke de Peacock poudely jet; 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, 1540Yet me con flatter vel as thay. 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. 1550Let ne mee's Irish borrell speach, 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.

Cupid oft-times disdains to dwell In lofty palace, but does shell Himself in straw-thatched roof, and choose For novel a September rose 1560Before a diamond to present, 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. 1570These make me send this little ring (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.

1580'Tis hope that makes me live, and when 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. 1590Then, courteous landlady, be please 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. 1600Say 'Aye' to this, and only Fate 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 1610On Neptune's furrowed back make it to reel, 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. 1620For to win credit with the Lady-mother, 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? 1630Thou know'st what offers I refused, and thou'll 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; 1640If Nilus overflow his sandy floor, 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.' 1650But let us see what strange effect this news 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, 1660And his quick heart with such strong motions beated 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"; 1670Whensoe'er my eyes unto thy feature went, 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.' 1680Pandora's box of woes was openèd then, 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. 1690No life, no joy, no sweet, without a lass; 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; 1700Whom I supposèd full as good as fair, 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.

1710Thou Love, if thou wilt suffer this, be blind, 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 1720Love's game from taste or touch, and, if at all 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! 1730May all the tortures Hell encloseth fall 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, 1740And woo's, with sighs and tears in loving guise, 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 1750From fourteen to fourscore the females fairs 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. 1760Then, starting up her substance fair to catch, 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, 1770Fearing death lodgeth there; and this he fears '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, 1780A patroness of those that ride in cars, 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. 1790Yet stay: but by the sour we know not sweet, 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. 1800But—why should suspicion steal into my breast? 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, 1810It was her pride checked my ambitious eye. True love, to hatred changed by slights, has stings. I'll write invectives: no! I'll only try What virtue dwells in slighting poesie.'

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. 1820Bid Phoebe run horn-mad, and loudly cry, 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 1830Hurry along the milky way to find 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: 1840Regardless of the seasons, will not see 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, 1850And strik'st fire thence t' inflame my tinder heart, 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? 1860Bid sleep goodnight, quiet and rest adieu, 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, 1870And had not mortals' curse blessed thee, and I 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. 1880Thus, fair, adieu! with love these measures scan, 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'. 1890Bellama urged (thanks to the purblind knave), '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.'

1900'Am I an infidel? or dare I tie', 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. 1910Distracted were her thoughts in silence tied, 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, 1920Didst [thou], oh didst thy conscience scour with soap, 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?

1930Those sacred bagnios, wherein pagans wash 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. 1940Pack, pack, begone, the ferryman does stay 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, 1950So by the world's must I in loving see? 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.

1960Who in pleuretic passions does deny 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: 1970By lovely maids the lovely lovèd are, 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: 1980When some kind planet moved her loving dad 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.

1990He in an ambush placed his iron crew, 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? 2000If, after two years' bondage, now she would 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, 2010Broke off their parle; and Rivelezzo told 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.'

2020'Madam,' quoth Don, 'you need no advocate, 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. 2030My voice should not assent unto her vow 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; 2040'Twixt her and happiness you make a breach, 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.'

2050'Away with arguments, in vain you plead; 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. 2060The air was frighted with the powder-thunder, 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, 2070Who, seeing Fortune his designs did thwart, 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.

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