Abbildungen der Seite

pierce into, and as easily look through and over For I could never think the aspiring mind blood and nature, as he to abuse it; and there- Of worthy and victorious Antony, fore, to prevent his aspiring, he arms bis forces, ei- could be by such a syren so declin'd, ther to reduce Antony to the rank of his estate, or As to be train'd a prey to luxury; else to disrank him out of state and all. When I could not think my lord would be s' unkind, Octavia, by the employment of Antony, (as being As to despise his children, Rome, and me; not yet ready to put his fortune to her trial) throws But 0! how soon are they deceivid that trust, herself, great with child, and as big with sorrow, And more their shame, that will be so unjust. into the travail of a most laboursome reconcilia. tion: taking her journey from the furthest part of But now that certain fame bath open laid Greece to find Octavius, with whom her cares and Thy new relapse, and strange revolt from me; tears were so good agents, that they affected their Truth bath quite beaten all my hopes away, commission beyond all expectation, and for that And made the passage of my sorrows free; time quite disarmed their wrath, which yet long For now, poor heart, there's nothing in the way could not bold so. For Antonius falling into the Remains to stand betwixt despair and thee; relapse of bis former disease, watching his oppor- All is thrown down, there comes no succours nev, tunity, got over again into Egypt, where he so It is most true, my lord is most untrue. forgot himself, that he quite put off bis own nature, and wholly became a prey to his pleasures, and now I may with shame enough pull in as if he had wound himself out of the respect of The colours I advanced in his grace; his country, blood, and alliance, which gave to

For that subduing power that him did win, Octavia the cause of much affliction, and to me

Hath lost me too the honour of my face: the argumeat of this letter.

Yet why should I, bearing no part of sin,
Bear such a mighty part of his disgrace?
Yes, though it be not mine, it is of mine;

And his renown being 'clips'd, mine cannot shine.

Which makes me, as I do, hide from the eye To thee (yet dear) though most disloyal lord,

Of the misjudging vulgar, that will deem, Whom impious love keeps in a barbarous land,

That sure there was in me some reason why Thy wronged wife Octavia sendeth word

Which made thee thus my bed to disesteem : Of the unkind wounds received by thy hand;

So that, alas! poor undeserving I Great Antony, O! let thine eyes afford

A cause of thy unclean deserts shall seem, But to permit thy heart to understand

Though lust takes never joy in what is due, The hurt thou dost, and do but read her tears,

But still leaves known delights to seek out new. That still is thine, though thou wilt not be hers.

And yet my brother Cæsar laboured Although, perhaps, these my complaints may come

To have me leave thy house, and live more free; Whilst thou in th' arms of that incestuous queen,

But God forbid Octavia should be led, The stain of Egypt, and the shame of Rome, To leave to live in thine, though left by thee; Shalt dallying sit, and blush to have them seen,

The pledges here of thy forsaken bed Whilst proud disdainful she, guessing from whom

Are still the objects that remember me, The message came, and what the cause hath been, What Antony was once, althongh false now, Willscorping say, “Faith, this comes from your dear, and is my lord, though he neglect his vow. Now, sir, you must be shent for staying here."

These walls that here do keep me ought of sight, From her indeed it comes, delicious dame, Shall keep me all unspotted untu thee, (Thou royal concubine and queen of lust)

And testify that I will do thee right, Whose arms yet pure.whose breasts are void ofblame, I'll never stain thy house, though thou shame me: And whose most lawful flame proves thine unjust: The now sad chamber of my once delight 'T is she that sends the message of thy shame, Shall be the temple of my piety, And his untruth that hath betray'd thy trust; Sacred unto the faith I reverence, Pardon, dear lord, from her these sorrows are, Where I will pay my tears for thy offence. Whose bed brings neither infamy nor war, And therefore hear her words, that too too much

Although my youth, thy absence, and this wrong Hath heard the wrongs committed by thy shame; Nor need I frustrate my delights so long,

Might draw my blood to forfeit unto shame, Although at first my truth in thee was such, As it held out against the strongest fame;

That have such means to carry so the same, My heart would never let in once a touch

Since that the face of greatness is so strong, Of least belief, till all confirm'd the same;

As it dissolves suspect, and bears out blame, That I was almost last that would believe,

Having all secret helps that long thereto, Because I knew me first that most must grieve.

That seldom wants there ought but will to do. How oft have poor abused I took part

Which yet to do, ere lust this heart shall frame, With falsehood, only for to make thee true? Earth swallow me alive, Hell wrap me hence: How oft have I argued against my heart,

Shall I, because despis'd, contemn my shame, Not suffering it to know that which it knew? And add disgrace to others' impudence? And for I would not have thee what thou art, What can my power, but give more power to fame? I made myself unto myself untrue:

Greatness must make it great incontinence: So much my love labour'd against my sin, Chambers are false, the bed and all will tell, To shut out fear, which yet kept fear within. No door keeps in their shame that do not well.

Hath greatness ought peculiar else alone, Is it that love doth take no true delight
But to stand fair and bright above the base ? In what it hath, but still in what it would,
What doth divide the cottage from the throne, Which draws you on to do us this unright,
If vice shall lay both level with disgrace ? Whilst fear in us of loosing what we hold,
For if uncleanness make them but all one, Keeps us in still to you, that set us light,
What privilege hath honour by his place? So that, what you unties, doth us infold?
What though our sins go brave and better clad, Then Love, 't is thou that dost confound us so,
They are as those in rags, as base, as bad. To make our truth, th' occasion of our woe.
I know not how, but wrongfully I know

Distressed womankind, that either must,
Hath andiscerning custom plac'd our kind

Por loving loose your loves, or get neglect : Under desert, and set us far below

Whilst wantons are more car'd for than the just, The reputation to our sex assign'd:

And falsehood cherish'd, faith without respect : Charging our wrong reputed weakness, how

Better she fares in whom is lesser trust, We are unconstant, fickle, false, unkind : And more is lov'd that is in more suspect. And though our life with thousand proofs shows no, Which (pardon me) shows no great strength of mind Yet since strength says it, weakness must be so. To be most theirs, that use you most unkind. Unequal partage, to b' allowed no share

Yet well it fits, for that sin ever must Of power to do of life's best benefit;

Be tortur'd with the rack of his own frame; But stand, as if we interdicted were

For he that holds no faith, sball find no trust, Of virtue, action, liberty, and might:

But sowing wrong, is sure to reap the same: Must you have all, and not vouchsafe to spare

How can he look to have his measure just, Our weakness any int'rest of delight?

That fills deceit, and reckons not of shame, Is there no portion left for us at all,

And be'ng not pleas'd with what he hath in lot, But sufferance, sorrow, ignorance, and thrall ?

Shall ever pine for that which he hath not? Thrice happy you, in whom it is no fault,

Yet if thou could'st not love, thou might'st have

To know, to speak, to do, and to be wise:
Whose words have credit, and whose deeds, though Though to have seem'd had likewise been unjust:
Must yet be made to seem far otherwise: (naught, That oft they feed, though not suffice our trust :

Yet so much are lean shows of us esteem'd,
You can be only beard, whilst we are taught
To hold our peace, and not to exercise

Because our nature grieveth to be deem'd
The powers of our best parts, because your parts

To be so wrong'd, although we be, and must;

And it 's some ease yet to be kindly us'd
Have with our freedom robb'd us of our hearts.

In outward show, though secretly abus'd.
We, in this prison of ourselves confin’d,
Must here shut up with our own passions live

But woe to her that both in show despis'd,
Turn'd in upon us, and deuy'd to find

And in effect disgrac'd, and left forlorn, The vent of outward means that might relieve:

For whom no comforts are to be devis'd, That they alone must take up all our mind :

Nor no new hopes can evermore be born: And no room left us, but to think and grieve.

Antony, could it not have suffic'd Yet oft our narrow'd thoughts look more direct

That I was thine, but must be made her scorn, Than your loose wisdoms, born with wild neglect.

That envies all her blood, and doth divide

Thee from thyself, only to serve her pride? For should we too (as God forbid we should)

What fault have I committed that should make Carry no better hand on our desires

So great dislike of me and of my love? Than your strength doth, what intrest could

Or doth thy fault but an occasion take Our wronged patience pay you for your hires ?

Por to dislike what most doth it reprove ? What mixture of strange generations would

Because the conscience gladly would mistake Succeed the fortunes of uncertain sires ?

Her own misdeeds, which she would fajn remove ; What foul confusion in your blood and race,

And they that are unwilling to amend, To your immortal shame and our disgrace?

Will take offence, because they will offend. What, are there bars for us, no bounds for you? Or having run beyond all pardon quite, Must levity stand sure, though firmness fall ? They Ay and join with sin, as wholly his, And are you privileg'd to be untrue,

Making it now their side, their part, their right, And we no grant to be dispens'd withal ?

And to turn back, would show thave done amiss : Muat we inviolable keep your due,

For now they think, not to be opposite Both to your love and to your falsehood thrall ? To what upbraids their fault, were wickedness: Whilst you have stretch'd your lust upon your will, So much doth folly thrust them into blame, As if your strength were licens'd to do ill. That ev'n to leave off shame, they count it shame. Oh! if you be more strong, then be more just, Which do not thou, dear lord, for I do not Clear this suspicion, make not th' world to doubt, Pursue thy fault, but sue for thy return Whether in strong or weak be better trust, Back to thyself, whom thou hast both forgot If frailty or else valour be more stout :

With me, poor me, that doth not spite, but mourn ; And if we have shut in our hearts from lust, And if thou could'st as well amend thy blot Let not your bad example let them out,

As I forgive, these plaints had been forborne: Think that there is like feeling in our blood,

And thou should'st be the same unto my heart, If you will have us good, be you then good. Which onee thou wert, not that which now thou art.

Though deep doth sit the hard recovering smart Thus they assail thy nature's weakest side,
Of that last wound (which God grant be the last) And work upon th' advantage of thy mind,
And more doth touch that tender feeling part Knowing where judgment stood least fortified,
Of my sad soul, than all th' unkindness past : And how t' encounter folly in her kind :
And, Antony, I appeal to thine own heart, [hast) But yet the while, O what dost thou abide,
(If th' heart which once was thine, thou yet still Who in thyself such wrestling thoughts dost find?
To judge if ever woman that did live

In what confused case is thy soul in,
Had juster cause, than wretched I, to grieve? Rack'd betwixt pity, sorrow, shame, and sin?
For coming unto Athens, as I did,

I cannot tell, but sure I dare believe Weary and weak with toil, and all distress'd, My travels needs must some compassion move: After I had with sorrow compassed

For no such lock to blood could Nature give, A hard consent, to grant me that request :

To shut out pity, though it shut out love: And how my travel was considered,

Conscience must leave a little way to grieve, And all my care and cost, thyself knows best, To let in horrour, coming to reprove That would'st not move one foot from lust for me, The guilt of thine offence that caus'd the same, That had left all was dear to come to thee. For deepest wounds the hand of our own shame. For first, what great ado had I to win

Never have unjust pleasures been complete, My offended brother Cæsar's backward will? In joys entire, but still fear kept the door, And pray'd, and wept, and cry'd to stay the sin And held back something from that full of sweet, Of civil rancour, rising 'twixt you still :

To intersour unsure delights the more: For in what case shall wretched I be in,

Por never did all circumstances meet Set betwixt both, to share with both your ill? With those desires which were conceiv'd before, “My blood,” said I, “ with either of you goes, Something must still be left to check our sin, Whoever win, I shall be sure to loose."

And give a touch of what should not have been. For what shame should such mighty persons get, Wretched mankind! wherefore hath Nature made For two weak women's cause to disagree?

The lawful undelightful, th’uojust shame? Nay, what shall I that shall be deem'd to set

As if our pleasure only were forbad, Th’enkindled fire, seeming intiam'd for me?

But to give fire to lust, t'add greater flame: O, if I be the motive of this heat,

Or else, but as ordained more to lade Let these unguilty hands the quenchers be, Our heart with passions to confound the same; And let me trudge to mediate an accord,

Which though it be, yet add not worse to ill, The agent 'twixt my brother and my lord. Do, as the best men do, bound thine own will. With prayers, vows, and tears, with urging hard,

Redeem thyself, and now at length make peace I wrung from him a slender grant at last,

With thy divided heart, oppress'd with toil : And with the rich provisions I prepar'd

Break up this war, this breast-dissention cease, For thy (intended) Parthian war made haste,

Thy passions to thy passions reconcile: Weighing not how my poor weak body far’d,

I do not only seek my good tincrease, But all the tedious difficulties past,

But thine own ease and liberty; the while And came to Athens; whence I Niger sent,

Thee in the circuit of thyself confine To show thee of my coming and intent.

And be thine own, and then thou wilt be mine. Whereof when he had made relation, I was commanded to approach no near :

I know my pitied love doth aggravate Then sent I back, to know what should be done

Envy and wrath for these wrongs offered : With th' horse, and men, and money I bad there:

And that my sufferings add with my estate Whereat, perhaps, when some remorse begun

Coals in thy bosom, hatred on thy head: To touch thy soul, to think yet what we were,

Yet is not that my fault, but my hard fate, Th’ enchantress straight step'd 'twixt thy heart of all but thee, than that my love should be

Who rather wish t' have been unpitied and thee, And intercepts all thoughts that canie of me.

Hurtful to him that is so dear to me. She arms her tears, the engines of deceit,

Cannot the busy world let me alone, And all her battery to oppose my love,

To bear alone the burden of my grief, And bring thy coming grace to a retreat,

But they must intermeddle with my moan, The power of all her subtlety to prove :

And seek t' offend me with unsought relief? Now pale and faint she languishes, and straight

Wbilst my affictions labour to move none
Seems in a sound, unable more to move :

But only thee: must pity play the thief,
Whilst her instructed fellows ply thine ears To steal so many bearts to hurt my heart,
With forged passions, mix'd with feigned tears. And move a part against my dearest part?
"Hard-hearted lord,” say they,“ how cau'st thou Yet all this shall not prejudice my lord,
This mighty queen, a creature so divine, (see If yet he will but make retum at last,
Lie thus distress'd, and languishing for thee, His sight shall raze out of the sad record
And only wretched, but for being thine ?

Of my inrolled grief all that is past:
Whilst base Octavia must entitled be

And I will not so much as once afford Thy wife, and she esteem'd thy concubine: Place for a thought, to think I was disgrac'd; Advance thy heart, raise it unto his right,

And pity shall bring back again with me, And let a sceptre baser passions quit."

Th' offended hearts that have forsaken thee.

DEDICATION AND PROLOGUE TO HYMEN'S TRIUMPH. 571 And therefore come, dear lord, lest longer stay Do arm against thee all the powers of spite,

And thou be made at last the wofull prey

Of full enkindled wrath, and ruin'd quite:
But what presaging thought of blood doth stay

My trembling hand, and doth my soul atfright?

What horrour do I see, prepar'd t' attend
Th' event of this ? what end, unless thou end ?

TO THE MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY OF THE HIGHEST BORN With what strange forms and shadows ominous,

PRINCESS, ANN OP DENMARK, QUEEN OF ENGLAND, Did my last sleep my griev'd soul entertain?

I dreamt, yet O! dreams are but frivolous,
And yet I'll tell it, and God grant it vain.

Here, what your sacred influence begat
Methought a mighty hippopotamus',

(Most lov'd, and most respected majesty) Prom Nilus floating, thrusts into the main, With humble heart and hand, I consecrate Upon whose back a wanton mermaid sat,

Unto the glory of your memory: As if she rul’d his course, and steer'd his fate. As being a piece of that solemnity,

Which your magnificence did celebrate With whom t encounter, forth another makes,

In hallowing of those roofs (you rear'd of late) Alike in kind, of strength and power as good:

With fires and cheerful hospitality ; At whose engrappling, Neptune's mantle takes

Whereby, and by your splendent worthiness, A purple colour, dy'd with streams of blood;

Your name shall longer live, than shall your walls : Whereat this looker-on amaz’d, forsakes

For that fair structure goodness finishes, Her champion there, who yet the better stood : Bears off all change of times, and never falls. But see'ng her gone, straight after her he bies,

And that is it hath let you in so far
As if his heart and strength lay in her eyes.

Into the heart of England, as you are.
And worthily, for never yet was queen,

That more a people's love have merited
On follows wrath upon disgrace and fear,

By all good graces, and by having been Whereof th' event forsook me with the night,

The means our state stands fast established, But my wak'd cares gave me, these shadows were

And bless'd by your bless'd womb, who are this day Drawn but from darkness to instruct the light;

The highest-born queen of Europe, and alone These secret figures Nature's message bear Have brought this land more blessings every way, Of coming woes, were they desciphered right;

Than all the daughters of strange kings have done. But if as clouds of sleep thou shalt them take,

For we by you no claims, no quarrels have, Yet credit wrath and spite that are awake.

No factions, no betraying of affairs :

You do not spend our blood, nor states, but save: Prevent, great spirit, the tempests that begin, You strength us by alliance, and your heirs. If lust and thy ambition have left way

Not like those fatal marriages of France, But to look out, and bare not shut all in,

For whom this kingdom hath so dearly paid, To stop thy judgment from a true survey

Which only our affictions did advance, Of thy estate, and let thy heart within

And brought us far more miseries than aid. Consider in what danger thou dost lay

Renowned Denmark, that hast furnished
Thy life and mine, to leave the good thou hast, The world with princes, how much do we owe
To follow hopes with shadows overcast.

To thee for this great good thou didst bestow,
Whereby we are both bless'd and honoured ?

Thou did'st not so much hurt us heretofore,
Come, come away from wrong, from craft, from

But now thou hast rewarded us far more. toil,

But what do I on this high subject fall Possess thine own with right, with truth, with Here, in the front of this low pastoral ? peace:

This a more grave and spacious room requires, Break from these snares, thy judgment unbeguile, To show your glory, and my deep desires. Free thine own torment, and my grief release. But whither am I carried all this while

Your majesty's most humble servant, Beyond my scope, and know not when to cease?

SAMUEL DANIEL. Words still with my increasing sorrows grow: I know thave said too much, but not enow. Wherefore no more, but only I commend To thee the heart that's thine; and so I end.





" A sea-horse.


In this disguise and pastoral attire,
Without my saffron robe, without my torch,
Or rather ensigns of my duty,
| Hymen am come hither secretly,
To make Arcadia see a work of glory,
That shall deserve an everlasting story.

Here shall I bring you two the most entire And constant lovers that were ever seen,

From out the greatest sufferings of annoy

That Fortune could inflict, to their full joy:
Whereiu uo wild, no rude, no antic sport,

Hap sorrow ever fitter place
But tender passions, motions soft and grave,

To act his part, The still spectators must expect to have.

Than is my heart, For these are only Cynthia's recreatives

Where it takes up all the space? Made unto Phæbus, and are feminine ;

Where is no vein And therefore must be gentle like to her,

To entertain Whose sweet affections mildly move and stir.

A thought that wears another face. And here, with this white wand will I effect

Nor will I sorrow ever have As much as with my flaming torch of love :

Therein to be And with the power thereof, affections move

But only thee, In these fair nymphs and shepherds round about.

To whom I full possession gave:

Thou in thy name

Must hold the same,
Stay, Hymen, stay, you shall not have the day

Until thou bring it to the grave.
Of this great glory, as you make account:
We will herein, as we were ever wont,
Oppose you in the matches you address,
And undermine them with disturbances.


Now, do thy worst, base Envy, thou canst do,
Thou shalt not disappoint my purposes.

Love is a sickness full of woes,

All remedies refusing :

A plant that with most cutting grows, Then will I, Hymen, in despite of thee,

Most barren with best using.
I will make parents cross desires of love

Why so?
With those respects of wealth, as shall dissolve More we enjoy it, more it dies;
The strongest knots of kindest faithfulness.

If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries,

Hey ho. Hence, greedy Avarice, I know thou art

Love is

a torment of the mind, A hag that dost bewitch the minds of men :

A tempest everlasting; Yet shalt thou have no share at all herein.

And Jove hath made it of a kind,

Not well, nor full nor fasting.

Why so?
Then will I, Hymen, do thou what thou canst, More we enjoy it, more it dies;
I will steal closely into linked hearts;

If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries,
And shake their veins with cold distrustfulness;

Hey ho.
And ever keep them waking in their fears,
With spirts, which their imagination rears.







Disquiet Jealousy, vile Fury, thou
That'art the ugly monster of the mind,
Avaunt, begone, thou shalt have nought to do
In this fair work of ours, nor ever more
Canst enter there, where honour keeps the door.

And therefore, hideous furies, get you hence,
This place is sacred to integrity,
And clean desires; your sight most loathsome is
Unto so well dispos'd a company.
Therefore be gone, I charge you by my power,
We must have nothing in Arcadia, sour.

Desire, that is of things ungot,

See what travail it procureth,

And how much the mind endureth,
To gain what yet it gaineth not:

For never was it paid,

The charge defray'd,
According to the price of thought.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]
« ZurückWeiter »