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From off a hill whose
concave womb reworded
A plaintful story
from a sist'ring vale,
My spirits t'attend
this double voice accorded,
And down I laid to
list the sad-tuned tale,
Ere long espied a
fickle maid full pale,
Tearing of papers,
breaking rings atwain,
Storming her world
with sorrow's wind and rain.
Upon her head a
platted hive of straw,
Which fortified her
visage from the sun,
Whereon the thought
might think sometime it saw
The carcase of a
beauty spent and done.
Time had not scythed
all that youth begun,
Nor youth all quit,
but spite of heaven's fell rage
Some beauty peeped
through lattice of seared age.
Oft did she heave
her napkin to her eyne,
Which on it had
conceited characters,
Laund'ring the
silken figures in the brine
That seasoned woe
had pelleted in tears,
And often reading
what contents it bears;
As often shrieking
undistinguished woe,
In clamours of all
size, both high and low.
Sometimes her
levelled eyes their carriage ride,
As they did batt'ry
to the spheres intend;
Sometime diverted
their poor balls are tied
To th' orbed earth;
sometimes they do extend
Their view right on;
anon their gazes lend
To every place at
once, and nowhere fixed,
The mind and sight
distractedly commixed.
Her hair, nor loose
nor tied in formal plat,
Proclaimed in her a
careless hand of pride;
For some, untucked,
descended her sheaved hat,
Hanging her pale and
pined cheek beside;
Some in her threaden
fillet still did bide,
And, true to
bondage, would not break from thence,
Though slackly
braided in loose negligence.
A thousand favours
from a maund she drew
Of amber, crystal,
and of beaded jet,
Which one by one she
in a river threw,
Upon whose weeping
margent she was set;
Like usury applying
wet to wet,
Or monarchs' hands
that lets not bounty fall
Where want cries
some, but where excess begs all.
Of folded schedules
had she many a one,
Which she perused,
sighed, tore, and gave the flood;
Cracked many a ring
of posied gold and bone,
Bidding them find
their sepulchres in mud;
Found yet moe
letters sadly penned in blood,
With sleided silk
feat and affectedly
Enswathed and sealed
to curious secrecy.
These often bathed
she in her fluxive eyes,
And often kissed,
and often 'gan to tear;
Cried, 'O false
blood, thou register of lies,
What unapproved
witness dost thou bear!
Ink would have
seemed more black and damned here!
This said, in top of
rage the lines she rents,
Big discontents so
breaking their contents.
A reverend man that
grazed his cattle nigh,
Sometime a blusterer
that the ruffle knew
Of court, of city,
and had let go by
The swiftest hours
observed as they flew,
Towards this
afflicted fancy fastly drew;
And, privileged by
age, desires to know
In brief the grounds
and motives of her woe.
So slides he down
upon his grained bat,
And comely distant
sits he by her side;
When he again
desires her, being sat,
Her grievance with
his hearing to divide.
If that from him
there may be aught applied
Which may her
suffering ecstasy assuage,
'Tis promised in the
charity of age.
'Father,' she says,
'though in me you behold
The injury of many a
blasting hour,
Let it not tell your
judgement I am old:
Not age, but sorrow,
over me hath power.
I might as yet have
been a spreading flower,
Fresh to myself, if
I had self-applied
Love to myself, and
to no love beside.
'But woe is me! too
early I attended
A youthful suit- it
was to gain my grace-
O, one by nature's
outwards so commended
That maidens' eyes
stuck over all his face.
Love lacked a
dwelling and made him her place;
And when in his fair
parts she did abide,
She was new lodged
and newly deified.
'His browny locks
did hang in crooked curls;
And every light
occasion of the wind
Upon his lips their
silken parcels hurls.
What's sweet to do,
to do will aptly find:
Each eye that saw
him did enchant the mind;
For on his visage
was in little drawn
What largeness
thinks in Paradise was sawn.
'Small show of man
was yet upon his chin;
His phoenix down
began but to appear,
Like unshorn velvet,
on that termless skin,
Whose bare
out-bragged the web it seemed to wear:
Yet showed his
visage by that cost more dear;
And nice affections
wavering stood in doubt
If best were as it
was, or best without.
'His qualities were
beauteous as his form,
For maiden-tongued
he was, and thereof free;
Yet if men moved
him, was he such a storm
As oft 'twixt May
and April is to see,
When winds breathe
sweet, unruly though they be.
His rudeness so with
his authorized youth
Did livery falseness
in a pride of truth.
'Well could he ride,
and often men would say,
"That horse his
mettle from his rider takes:
Proud of subjection,
noble by the sway,
What rounds, what
bounds, what course, what stop he makes!"
And controversy
hence a question takes
Whether the horse by
him became his deed,
Or he his manage by
th' well-doing steed.
'But quickly on this
side the verdict went:
His real habitude
gave life and grace
To appertainings and
to ornament,
Accomplished in
himself, not in his case,
All aids, themselves
made fairer by their place,
Came for additions;
yet their purposed trim
Pierced not his
grace, but were all graced by him.
'So on the tip of
his subduing tongue
All kind of
arguments and question deep,
All replication
prompt, and reason strong,
For his advantage
still did wake and sleep.
To make the weeper
laugh, the laugher weep,
He had the dialect
and different skill,
Catching all
passions in his craft of will,
'That he did in the
general bosom reign
Of young, of old,
and sexes both enchanted,
To dwell with him in
thoughts, or to remain
In personal duty,
following where he haunted.
Consents bewitched,
ere he desire, have granted,
And dialogued for
him what he would say,
Asked their own
wills, and made their wills obey.
'Many there were
that did his picture get,
To serve their eyes,
and in it put their mind;
Like fools that in
th' imagination set
The goodly objects
which abroad they find
Of lands and
mansions, theirs in thought assigned;
And labouring in moe
pleasures to bestow them
Than the true gouty
landlord which doth owe them.
'So many have, that
never touched his hand,
Sweetly supposed
them mistress of his heart.
My woeful self, that
did in freedom stand,
And was my own
fee-simple, not in part,
What with his art in
youth, and youth in art,
Threw my affections
in his charmed power
Reserved the stalk
and gave him all my flower.
'Yet did I not, as
some my equals did,
Demand of him, nor
being desired yielded;
Finding myself in
honour so forbid,
With safest distance
I mine honour shielded.
Experience for me
many bulwarks builded
Of proofs
new-bleeding, which remained the foil
Of this false jewel,
and his amorous spoil.
'But ah, who ever
shunned by precedent
The destined ill she
must herself assay?
Or forced examples,
'gainst her own content,
To put the by-past
perils in her way?
Counsel may stop
awhile what will not stay;
For when we rage,
advice is often seen
By blunting us to
make our wills more keen.
'Nor gives it
satisfaction to our blood
That we must curb it
upon others' proof,
To be forbod the
sweets that seems so good
For fear of harms
that preach in our behoof.
O appetite, from
judgement stand aloof!
The one a palate
hath that needs will taste,
Though Reason weep,
and cry it is thy last.
'For further I could
say this man's untrue,
And knew the
patterns of his foul beguiling;
Heard where his
plants in others' orchards grew;
Saw how deceits were
gilded in his smiling;
Knew vows were ever
brokers to defiling;
Thought characters
and words merely but art,
And bastards of his
foul adulterate heart.
'And long upon these
terms I held my city,
Till thus he 'gan
besiege me: "Gentle maid,
Have of my suffering
youth some feeling pity,
And be not of my
holy vows afraid.
That's to ye sworn
to none was ever said;
For feasts of love I
have been called unto,
Till now did ne'er
invite nor never woo.
'"All my offences
that abroad you see
Are errors of the
blood, none of the mind;
Love made them not;
with acture they may be,
Where neither party
is nor true nor kind.
They sought their
shame that so their shame did find;
And so much less of
shame in me remains
By how much of me
their reproach contains.
'"Among the many
that mine eyes have seen,
Not one whose flame
my heart so much as warmed,
Or my affection put
to th' smallest teen,
Or any of my
leisures ever charmed.
Harm have I done to
them, but ne'er was harmed;
Kept hearts in
liveries, but mine own was free,
And reigned
commanding in his monarchy.
'"Look here what
tributes wounded fancies sent me,
Of paled pearls and
rubies red as blood;
Figuring that they
their passions likewise lent me
Of grief and
blushes, aptly understood
In bloodless white
and the encrimsoned mood-
Effects of terror
and dear modesty,
Encamped in hearts,
but fighting outwardly.
'"And, lo, behold
these talents of their hair,
With twisted metal
amorously empleached,
I have receiv'd from
many a several fair,
Their kind
acceptance weepingly beseeched,
With the annexions
of fair gems enriched,
And deep-brained
sonnets that did amplify
Each stone's dear
nature, worth, and quality.
'"The diamond? why,
'twas beautiful and hard,
Whereto his invised
properties did tend;
The deep-green
em'rald, in whose fresh regard
Weak sights their
sickly radiance do amend;
The heaven-hued
sapphire and the opal blend
With objects
manifold; each several stone,
With wit well
blazoned, smiled, or made some moan.
'"Lo, all these
trophies of affections hot,
Of pensived and
subdued desires the tender,
Nature hath charged
me that I hoard them not,
But yield them up
where I myself must render-
That is, to you, my
origin and ender;
For these, of force,
must your oblations be,
Since I their altar,
you enpatron me.
'"O then advance of
yours that phraseless hand
Whose white weighs
down the airy scale of praise;
Take all these
similes to your own command,
Hallowed with sighs
that burning lungs did raise;
What me your
minister for you obeys
Works under you; and
to your audit comes
Their distract
parcels in combined sums.
'"Lo, this device
was sent me from a nun,
Or sister
sanctified, of holiest note,
Which late her noble
suit in court did shun,
Whose rarest havings
made the blossoms dote;
For she was sought
by spirits of richest coat,
But kept cold
distance, and did thence remove
To spend her living
in eternal love.
'"But, O my sweet,
what labour is't to leave
The thing we have
not, mast'ring what not strives,
Playing the place
which did no form receive,
Playing patient
sports in unconstrained gyves!
She that her fame so
to herself contrives,
The scars of battle
scapeth by the flight,
And makes her
absence valiant, not her might.
'"O pardon me in
that my boast is true!
The accident which
brought me to her eye
Upon the moment did
her force subdue,
And now she would
the caged cloister fly.
Religious love put
out religion's eye.
Not to be tempted,
would she be immured,
And now to tempt all
liberty procured.
'"How mighty then
you are, O hear me tell!
The broken bosoms
that to me belong
Have emptied all
their fountains in my well,
And mine I pour your
ocean all among.
I strong o'er them,
and you o'er me being strong,
Must for your
victory us all congest,
As compound love to
physic your cold breast.
'"My parts had pow'r
to charm a sacred nun,
Who, disciplined,
ay, dieted in grace,
Believed her eyes
when they t'assail begun,
All vows and
consecrations giving place,
O most potential
love, vow, bond, nor space,
In thee hath neither
sting, knot, nor confine,
For thou art all,
and all things else are thine.
'"When thou
impressest, what are precepts worth
Of stale example?
When thou wilt inflame,
How coldly those
impediments stand forth,
Of wealth, of filial
fear, law, kindred, fame!
Love's arms are
peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense, 'gainst shame.
And sweetens, in the
suff'ring pangs it bears,
The aloes of all
forces, shocks and fears.
'"Now all these
hearts that do on mine depend,
Feeling it break,
with bleeding groans they pine,
And supplicant their
sighs to your extend,
To leave the batt'ry
that you make 'gainst mine,
Lending soft
audience to my sweet design,
And credent soul to
that strong-bonded oath,
That shall prefer
and undertake my troth."
'This said, his
wat'ry eyes he did dismount,
Whose sights till
then were levelled on my face;
Each cheek a river
running from a fount
With brinish current
downward flowed apace.
O, how the channel
to the stream gave grace!
Who glazed with
crystal gate the glowing roses
That flame through
water which their hue encloses.
'O father, what a
hell of witchcraft lies
In the small orb of
one particular tear!
But with the
inundation of the eyes
What rocky heart to
water will not wear?
What breast so cold
that is not warmed here?
O cleft effect! cold
modesty, hot wrath,
Both fire from hence
and chill extincture hath.
'For lo, his
passion, but an art of craft,
Even there resolved
my reason into tears;
There my white stole
of chastity I daffed,
Shook off my sober
guards and civil fears;
Appear to him as he
to me appears,
All melting; though
our drops this diff'rence bore:
His poisoned me, and
mine did him restore.
'In him a plenitude
of subtle matter,
Applied to cautels,
all strange forms receives,
Of burning blushes
or of weeping water,
Or swooning
paleness; and he takes and leaves,
In either's aptness,
as it best deceives,
To blush at speeches
rank, to weep at woes,
Or to turn white and
swoon at tragic shows;
'That not a heart
which in his level came
Could scape the hail
of his all-hurting aim,
Showing fair nature
is both kind and tame;
And, veiled in them,
did win whom he would maim.
Against the thing he
sought he would exclaim;
When he most burned
in heart-wished luxury,
He preached pure
maid and praised cold chastity.
'Thus merely with
the garment of a Grace
The naked and
concealed fiend he covered,
That th' unexperient
gave the tempter place,
Which, like a
cherubin, above them hovered.
Who, young and
simple, would not be so lovered?
Ay me, I fell, and
yet do question make
What I should do
again for such a sake.
'O, that infected
moisture of his eye,
O, that false fire
which in his cheek so glowed,
O, that forced
thunder from his heart did fly,
O, that sad breath
his spongy lungs bestowed,
O, all that borrowed
motion, seeming owed,
Would yet again
betray the fore-betrayed,
And new pervert a
reconciled maid.'
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