Health unto Lædaes daughter Priams sonne,
Sends in these lines, whose health cannot be won,
But by your gift, in whose power it may lie,
To make me whole or sicke; to live or die:
Shall I then speake? or doth my flame appeare,
Plaine without Index? Oh, tis that I feare:
My Love without discovering smile takes place,
And more than I could wish shines in my face.
When I could rather in my thoughts desire,
To hide the smoake, till time display the fire:
Time that can make the fire of Love shine cleare,
Vntroubled with the misty smoake of feare:
But I dissemble it, for who I pray,
Can fire conceale, that will it selfe betray?
Yet if you looke, I should affirme that plaine
In words, which in my countenance I maintaine:
I burne, I burne, my faults I have confess'd,
My words beare witnesse how my lookes transgress'd.
Oh pardon me that have confess'd my error,
Cast not upon my lines a looke of terror,
But as your beauty is beyond compare,
Suite unto that your lookes, (oh you most faire,)
That you my letter have received by this
The supposition glads me, and I wish,
By hope incourag'd, hope that makes me strong,
You will receive me in some sort ere long.

I aske no more than what the Queene of beauty
Hath promis'd me, for you are mine by dutie.
By her I claime you, you for me were made,
And she it was my journey did perswade:
Nor Lady thinke your beauty vainely sought,
I by divine instinct was hether brought,
And to this enterprize the heavenly powers,
Have given consent, the gods proclaime me yours;
I aime at wonders, for I covet you,
Yet pardon me, I aske but whats my due:
Venus her selfe my journey hither led,
And gives you freely to my promis'd bed.
Vnder her safe conduct the seas I past,
Till I arriv'd upon these coasts at last:
Shipping my selfe from the Sygean shore,
Whence unto these Confines my course I bore:
She made the Surges gentle, the windes faire,
Nor marvell whence these calmes proceeded are.
Needs must she power upon the salt-Seales have,
That was sea-borne, created from a wave.
Stil may she stand in her ability,
And as she made the seas with much facility,
To be through sail'd, so may she calme my heate,
And beare my thoughts to their desired seat:
My flames I found not Here, no, I protest,
I brought them with me closed in my breast,
My selfe transported them without Attorney,
Love was the Motive to my tedious journey.
Not blustring Winter when he triumphe'd most,
Nor any error drove me to this Coast:
Not led by fortune where the rough winds please,
Nor Marchant-like for gaine crost I the Seas:

Fulnesse of wealth in all my Fleete I see,
I am rich in all things, save in wanting thee.
No spoile of petty Nations my Ship seekes,
Nor Land I as a Spie among the Greekes,
What neede we? See of all things we have store.
Compar'd with Troy (alas your Greece is poore.
For thee I come, thy fame hath thus farre driven me,
Whom golden Venus hath by promise given me;
I wish'd thee ere I knew thee, long agoe,
Before these eyes dwelt on this glorious show:
I saw thee in my thoughts, know beautious Dame,
I first beheld you with the eyes of fame,
Nor marvell Lady I was stroke so farre,
Thus Darts or Arrowes sent from Bowes of warre
Wound a great distance off; so was I hit
With a deepe smarting wound that ranckles yet,
For so it pleas'd the Fates, whom least you blame,
Ile tell a true Tale to confirme the same:

When in my Mothers wombe full ripe I lay,
Ready the first houre to behold the day,
And she at point to be delivered straight,
And to unlade her of her Royall freight,
My Birth-houre was delaid, and that sad night
A fearefull vision did the Queene affright:
In a sonnes stead to please the aged Sire,
She dreampt she had brought forth a Brand of fire,
Frighted she rises, and to Priam goes,
To the old King this ominous dreame she showes:
He to the Priest, the Priest doth this returne,
That the child borne shall stately Ishum burne:
Better then he was ware the Prophet guest,
For loe a kindled Brand-flames in the my breast,

To prevent Fate a Peasant, I was held,
Till my faire shape all other Swaines excel'd,
And gave the doubtfull world assurance good,
Your Paris was deriv'd from royall blood.

Amid the Idean Fields there is a place,
Remote, full of high trees, which hide the face,
Of the greene mantled Earth, wherein thicke rowes,
The Oake, the Elme, the Pine, the Pitch-tree growes:
Here never yet did browze the wanton Ewe,
Nor from this plot the slow Oxe licke the dew;
The savage Goate that feeds among the Rockes,
Hath not graz'd here, nor any of their Flockes.
Hence the Dardanian walls I might espie,
The lofty Towers of Islium reared hie;
Hence I the seas might from the firme land see,
Which to behold, I leant me to a Tree:
Beleeve me, for I speake but what is true,
Downe from the skirt with feathered pynions flew,
The Nephew to great Atlas, and doth stand,
With golden Caducens in his hand:
This as the gods to me thought good to show,
I hold it good that you the same should know.
Three Goddesses behind young Hermes move,
Great Iuno, Pallas, and the Queene of Love;
Who as in pompe and pride of gate they passe,
Scarse with their weight they bend the toppes of grasse:
Amaz'd I start, and endlong stands my haire,
When Mayus Sonne thus sayes, abandon feare;
Thou courteous Swaine, that to these groves repairest,
And freely judge which of thse three is fairest:
And least I should these curious sentence shun,
He tels me by Ioves sentence all is done.

And to be Iudge I no way can eschue,
This having said, up through the Ayre he flew:
I straight tooke Heart a-grace, and grew more bold,
And there their beauties one by one behold.
Why am I made the Iudge to give this doome?
Methinkes all three are worthy to o're-come:
To injure two such Beauties, what tongue dare?
Or preferre one where they be all so faire.
Now this seemes fairest, now againe that other,
Now would I speake, and now my thoughts I smother.
And yet at leangth the praise of one most sounded,
And from that one my present Love is grounded:
The Goddesses out of their earnest care,
And pride of beautie to beheld most faire,
Seeke with large Armes, and gifts of wondrous price,
To their owne thoughts my censure to entice:
Iuno the wife of Iove doth first inchant me,
To judge her fairest, she a Crowne will grant me.
Pallas her Daughter, next doth undertake me,
Give her the prize, and valiant she will make me.
I straight devise which can most pleasure bring,
To be a valiant Souldier, or a King:
Last Venus smiling came with such a grace,
As if she swayed an Empire in her face.
Let not (said she) these gifts the conquest beare,
Combats and Kingdomes are both fraught with feare.
Ile give thee what thou lovest best, (lovely Swaine,)
The fairest Saint that doth on earth remaine
Shall be thine owne, make thou the Conquest mine;
Faire Lædaes fairest Daughter shall be thine.
This said, when with my selfe I had devised,
And her rich gift and beauty jointly prised:

Venus victor, o're the rest is plac'd,
Iuno and Pallas leave the Mount disgrac'd,
Meane time my Fates a prosperous course had run,
And by knowne signes King Priam cal'd me sonne:
The day of my restoring is kept holy
Among the Saints-dayes, consecrated solely,
To my remembrance, being a day of joy,
For ever in the Kalenders of Troy.

As I wish you I have beene wish'd by others,
The fairest maids by me would have beene Mothers,
Of all my favours I bestow'd not any,
You onely may enjoy the Loves of many:
Nor by the Daughters of great Dukes and Kings
Have I alone beene sought, whose marriage Rings,
I have turn'd backe, but by a straine more hie,
By Nymphs and Phairies, such as never die.
No sooner were you promis'd as my due,
But I (all hated) to remember you:
Waking, I saw your Image, if I dreampt,
Your beautious figure still appear'd to tempt,
And urge this voyage, Till your face excelling,
These eyes beheld, my dreames were all of Hellen.
Imagine how your face should now incite me,
Being seene that unseene did so much delight me.
If I was scorch'd so farre off from the fire,
How am I burnt to Cinders thus much nigher:
Nor could I longer owe my selfe this rreasure,
But through the Ocean I must search my pleasure,
The Phrygyan Hatches to the rootes are put
Of the Idean Pines, (a sunder cut)
The Wood-land Mountaine yeelded me large fees,
Beeing despoyl'd of all her talest Trees,

From whence we have squar'd out unnumbred beames,
That must be wash'd within the Marine streames:
The grounded Oakes are bowed, though stiffe as steele,
And to the tough Ribs is the bending Keele
Woven by Ship-wrights craft, then the Maine-mast,
A crosse whose middle is the Saile-yard plac'd.
Tackles and sailes, and next you may discerne,
Our painted Gods upon the hooked sterne:
The God that beares me on my happy way,
And is my guide, is Cupid: Now the day
In which the last stroke of the Hammer's heard
Within our Navy, in the East appear'd,
And I must now launch forth; (so the Fates please)
To seeke adventures in the Eagean Seas.
My father and my mother move delay,
And by intreaties would inforce my stay:
They hang about my necke, and with their teares,
Wooe me deferre my journey: but their feares
Can have no power to keepe me from thy sight:
And now Cassandra full of sad affright,
Will loose dishevel'd Tramels, madly skips,
Iust in the way betwixt me and my Ships.
Oh, whether wilt thou head-long run, she cries?
Thou bearest fire with thee, whose smoake up-flies
Vnto the heavens (Oh Iove) thou little fearest,
What quenchlesse flames thou through the water bearest;
Cassandra was too true a Prophetesse,
Her quenchlesse flames she spake of (I confesse,)
My hot desires burne in my breast so fast,
That no red Furnace hotter flames can cast.

I passe the Citty gates, my Barke I boor'd,
The favourable windes calme gales afford,

And fill my sailes, unto your Land I steare,
For whether else (his course) should Paris beare:
Your husband entertaines me as his guest,
And all this hapneth by the gods behest:
He shewes me all his Pastures, Parkes, and Fields,
And every rare thing Lacedemon yeeldes,
He holds himselfe much pleased with my being,
And nothing hides, that he esteemes worth seeing.
I am on fire, till I behold your face,
Of all Achayas Kingdome, the sole-grace.
All other curious Objects I defie,
Nothing but Hellen can content mine eye,
Whom when I saw, I stood transform'd with wonder,
Sencelesse, as one stroke dead by Ioves sharpe Thunder:
As I revive, my eyes I rowle and turne,
Whilst my flam'd thoughts with hotter fancies burne:
Even so (as I remember,) look'd Loves Queene,
When she was last in Phrygian Ida seene,
Vnto which place by Fortune I was trained,
Whereby my censure she the Conquest gained:
But had you made a fourth in that contention,
Of Venus beauty, there had beene no mention:
Hellen assuredly had borne from all,
The prize of beauty, the bright golden Ball.

Onely of you may this your Kingdome boast,
By you it is renown'd in every Coast:
Rumor hath every where your beautie blazed,
In what remote Clyme is not Hellen praised?
From the bright Easterne Sun up-rise, inquire,
Even to his downefall where he slakes his fire,
There lives not any of your Sex that dare,
Contend with you that are proclaim'd so faire,

Trust me, for truth I speake: Nay whats most true,
Too sparingly the world hath spoke of you:
Fame that hath undertooke your name to blaze,
Plaid but the envious Housewife in your praise;
More then report could promise, or fame blazon,
Are these Divine perfections that I gaze on.
These were the same that made Duke Theseus lavish,
Who in thy prime and Nonage did thee ravish;
A worthy Rape for such a worthy Man,
Thrice happy Ravisher, to seize thee than,
When thou wert stript starke naked to the skin,
(A sight of force to make the gods to sin:)
Such is your Countries Guise at seasons when,
With naked Ladies they mixt naked Men.
That he did steale thee from thy Friends, I praise him,
And for that deede, I to the Heavens will raise him:
That he return'd thee backe, by Iove I wonder,
Had I beene Theseus, he that should assunder,
Have parted us, or snatch'd thee from my bed,
First from my shoulders should have par'd my head.
So rich a purchase, such a glorious pray:
Should constanly have beene detain'd for aye.
Could these my strong Armes possibly unclaspe,
Whilst in their amorous Foulds they Hellen graspe,
Neither by free constraint nor by free giving,
Could you depart that compasse, and I living:
But if by rough inforce I must restore you,
Some fruits of love, (which I so long have bore you,)
I first would reape, and some sweete favour gaine,
That all my suite were not bestow'd in vaine:
Either with me you shall abide and stay,
Or for your passe your maiden-head should pay.

Or say, I spar'd you that, yet would I trie
VVhat other favour, I could else come by,
All that belongs to love, I would not misse,
You should not let me both to clip and kisse.

Give me your heart faire Queene, my heart you owe,
And what my resolution is you know:
Till the last fire my breathlesse body take,
The fire within my breast can never slake.
Before large kingdomes I preferr'd your face,
And Iunoes love, and potent gifts disgrace,
To fold you in my amorous Armes I chus'd,
And Pallas vertues scornefully refus'd.
VVhen they with Venus in the hill of Ide,
Made me the judge their beauries to decide;
Nor doe I yet repent me, having tooke,
Beauty, and strength, and Scepter'd rule forsooke.
Methinkes I chus'd the best, (nor think it strange)
I still persist, and never meane to change;
Onely that my imploiment be not vaine,
Oh you more worth than any Empires gaine.
Let me intreate, least you my birth should scorne,
Or parentage: know I am Royall borne.
By marrying me, you shall not wrong you State,
Nor be a wife to one degenerate.
Search the Records where we did first begin,
And you shall finde the Pleyads of our Kin:
Nay Iove himselfe all others to forbeare,
That in our stocke renowned Princes were:
My father of all Asia raines sole King,
VVhose boundlesse Coast scarce any feathered wing,
Can give a girdle to, a happier Land,
A neighbour to the Ocean cannot stand:

There in a narrow compasse you may see,
Citties and Towers, more than may numbred be;
The houses guilt, rich Temples that excell,
And you will say I neere the great Gods dwell.
You shall behold high Isliums lofty Towers,
And Troyes brave walls built by immortall powers,
But made by Phœbus the great god of fire,
And by the touch of his melodious Lyer,
If we have people to inhabite, when
The sad earth groanes to beare such troopes of men
Iudge Hellen, Likewise when you come to Land,
The Asian women shall admiring stand,
Saluting thee with welcome, more and lesse,
In preasing throngs and numbers, numberlesse:
More than our Courts can hold of you (most faire)
You to your selfe will say, alasse, how baire,
And poore Achaya is, when with great pleasure,
You see each house containe a Cities Treasure.

Mistake me not, I Sparta doe not scorne,
I hold the Land blest where my love was borne,
Though barren else, rich Sparta Hellen bore,
And therefore I that Province must adore;
Yet is your Land methinks but leane and emty,
You worthy of a Clyme that flowes with plenty,
Full Troy I prostrate, it is yours by duty,
This petty seat becomes not your rich beauty;
Attendance, Preperation, Curtsie, State,
Fit such a heavenly forme, on which should waite,
Cost, Fresh variety, Delicious diet,
Pleasure, Contentment, and Luxurious ryot,
VVhat Ornaments we use, what fashions faigne,
You may perceive by me and my proud traine,

Thus we attire our men, but with more cost,
Of gold and Pearle, the rich Gownes are Imbost,
Of our chiefe Ladies, guesse by what you see,
You may he soone induc'd to credit me.

Be tractable faire Spartan, nor contemne
A Trojan borne, deriv'd from Royall stemme:
He was a Trojan and allide to Hector,
That waites upon Ioves cup, and fills him Nector:
A Trojan did the faire Aurora wed,
And nightly slept within her Roseat bed:
The Goddesses that ends high and enters day,
From our faire Trojan Coast stole him away,
Anchises was a Trojan, whom Loves Queene,
(Making the Trees of Ida a thicke Screene
Twixt Heaven and her) oft lay with, view me well
I am a Troyan too, in Troy I dwell.
Thy Husband Menelaus hither bring,
Compare our shapes, our yeares and every thing,
I make you Iudgesse, wrong me if you can,
You needs must say I am the properer man:
None of my line hath turn'd the Sun to blood,
And rob'd his Steeds of their Ambrosiall food:
My Father grew not from the Caucasse Rocke,
Nor shall I graft you in a bloody Stocke:
Priam neere wrong'd the guiltlesse soule, or further,
Made the Myrtoan Sea looke red with murther.
Nor thirsteth my great Grand-sire in the Lake,
Of Lethe, Chin-deepe, yet no thirst can slake:
Nor after ripened Apples vainely skips,
Who flie him still, and yet still touch his lips:
But what of this? If you be so deriv'd,
You not withstanding are no right depriv'd.

You grace your Stocke, and being so divine,
Iove is of force compell'd into your Line.

Oh mischiefe ! whilst I vainely speake of this,
Your Husband all-unworthy of such blisse,
Injoyes you this long night, enfolds your waste,
And where he lists may boldly touch and taste.
So when you sat at Table, many a toy,
Passeth betweene you my vext soule t'annoy,
At such high feasts I wish my enemie sit,
Where discontent attends on every bit,
I never yet was plac'd at any Feast,
But oft it irke me that I was your Guest:
That which offends me most thy rude Lord knowes,
For still his armes about thy necke he throwes,
Which I no sooner spie but I grow mad,
And hate the man, whose courting makes me sad
Shall I be plaine? I am ready to sinke downe,
When I behold him wrape you in his Gowne,
When you sit smiling on his amorous knee,
His fingers presse, where my hands itch to be.
But when he hugs you I am forc'd to frowne,
The meate I'am eating will by no means downe,
But stickes halfe way, amidst these discontents,
I have observ'd you laugh at my laments,
And with a scornefull, yet a wanton smile,
Deride my sighes and grones, oft to beguile
My passions, and to quench my fiery rage,
By quaffing healths I'have thought my flame t'asswage.
But Bacchus full cups make my flames burne heigher,
Adde wine to love, and you add fire to fire.
To shun the sight of many a wanton feate,
Betwixt your Lord and you, I shift my seate,

And turne my head, but thinking of your grace,
Love skrewes my head to gaze backe on your face.
What were I best to doe? To see you play
Mads me, and I perforce must turne away,
And to forbeare the place whete you abide,
Would kill me dead, should I but start aside:
As much as lies in me I strive to bury,
The shape of Love, in mirths spight I seeme merry.
But oh, the more I seeke it to suppresse,
The more my blabbing lookes my love professe.

You know my Love which I in vaine should hide,
Would God it did appeare to none beside,
Oh Iove how often have I turned my cheecke,
To hide th'apparant teares that passage seeke,
From forth my eyes, and to a corner stept,
Least any man should aske wherefore I wept:
How often have I told you pitious tales,
Of constant Lovers, and how Love prevailes.
When such great heed to my discourse I tooke,
That every accent suited to your looke;
Inforged names my selfe I represented,
The Lover so perplex'd, and so tormented,
If you will know? Behold I am the same,
Paris was meant in that true Lovers name:
As often, that I might the more securely,
Speake loose immodest words, that sound impurely,
That they offencelesse might your sweet eares tutch,
I have lispt them up, like one had drunke too much.
Once I remember, your loose vaile betrai'd,
Your naked skinne, and a faire passage made,
To my inamored eye, Oh skin much brighter
Than snow or purest milke, in colour whiter.

Than your faire mother Læda, when Iove grac'd her,
And in the shape of Feathered Swan imbrac'd her.
Whilst as this ravishing sight I stood amazed,
And without interruption freely gazed,
The wreathed handle of the Bowle I grasp'd,
Fell from my hold, my strengthlesse hand unclasp'd.
A Goblet at that time I held by chance,
And downe it fell, for I was in a trance.
Kisse your faire Daughter, and to her I skip,
And snatch your kisses from your sweet childs lippe,
Sometimes I throw my selfe along, and lie,
Singing Love-songs, and if you cast your eye,
On my effeminate gesture, I still finde,
Some pretty covered signes to speake my minde;
And then my earnest suit bluntly invades,
Aethra and Climenea your two chiefe maides,
But they returne me answers full of feare,
And to my motions lend no further eare.
Oh that you were the prize of some great strife,
And he that wins, might claime you for his wife.
Hyppomenes with swift Atlanta ran,
And at one course the Goale and Lady wan,
Even she, by whom so many Suters perish'd,
Was in the bosome of her new Love cheerish'd.
So Hercules for Dejaneira strove,
Brake Achelous horne, and gain'd his love.
Had I such liberty, such freedome granted,
My resolution never could be danted;
Your selfe should find, and all the world should see,
Hellen (a prize alone) reserv'd for me.
There is not left me any meanes (most faire)
To Court you now, but by intreates and prayer,

Vnlesse (as it becomes me you thinke meete,
That I should prostrate fall, and kisse your feete.
Oh all the honour that our last age wins,
Then glory of the two Tindarian Twins,
Worthy to be Ioves wife, in heaven to raigne,
Were you not Ioves owne Daughter, of his straine.
To the Sygean confines I will carry thee,
And in the Temple of great Pallas marry thee':
Or in this Island where I vent my moanes,
Ile begge a Tombe for my exiled bones:
My wound is not a slight race with an arrow,
But it hath pierc'd my heart, and burnt my marrow.
This Prophesie my Sister oft hath sounded,
That by an heavenly Dart I should be wounded:
Oh then forbeare (faire Hellen) to oppose you,
Against the gods, they say I shall not lose you.
Yeeld you to their beheast, and you shall finde,
The gods to your pititions likewise kinde.
A thousand things at once are in me braine,
Which that I may essentially complaine,
And not in papers empty all my head,
Anon at night receive me to your bed.
Blush you at this! or Lady doe you feare,
To violate the Nuptiall lawes austeare?
Oh (simple Hellen) Foolish I might say,
What profite reape you to be Chaste I pray?
Ist possible, that you a world to winne,
Should keepe that face, that beauty without sinne?
Rather you most your glorious face exchange,
For one (lesse Faire) or else not seeme so strange:
Beauty and Chastity at variance are,
Tis hard to finde one woman chaste and faire.

Venus will not have beauty over aw'de,
High Iove himselfe stolne pleasures will applaude,
And by such theevish pastimes we may gather,
How Iove 'gainst wedlockes lawes, became your father:
He and your mother Læda both transgrest,
When you were got she bare a tender breast.
What glory can you gaine Love sweetes to smother?
Or to be counted chaster than your mother?
Professe stricke chastity, when with great joy,
I lead you as my Bride-espous'd through Troy:
Then I inteate you raine your pleasures in,
I wish thy Paris may be all thy sinne.
If Citherea her firme Covenant keepe,
Though I with in your bosome nightly sleepe,
We shall not much misdoe, but so offend,
That we by marriage may our guilt amend.

Your husband hath himselfe this businesse aided,
And though (not with his tongue) he hath perswaded,
By all his deeds (as much) least he should stay,
Our private meetings, he is farre away,
Of purpose rid unto the farthest West,
That he might leave his wife unto his guest.
No fitter time he could have found to visite,
The Chrisean royall Scepter, and to ceize it:
Oh simple, simple Husband? but he's gone,
And going, left you this to thinke upon.
Faire wife (quoth he) I prethee in my place,
Regard the Trojan Prince, and doe him grace:
Behold, a witnesse I against you stand,
You have beene carelesse of this kinde command.
Count from his first dayes journey, never since,
Did you regard or grace the Trojan Prince;

What thinke you of your Husband? that he knowes
The worth and value of the face he owes?
Who (but a Foole) such beauty would indanger,
Or trust it to the mercy of a Stranger.
Then (royall Queene) if neither may intreate,
My quenchlesse passion, nor Loves raging heate,
Can winne you, we are wooed both to this crime,
Even by the fit advantage of the time,
Either to love sweet sport we must agree,
Or shew our selves to be worse fooles than he.
He tooke you by the hand the houre he rode,
And knowing, I with you must make abode,
Brings you to me, what should I further say,
It was his minde to give you quite away.

What meant he else? Then lets be blithe and jolly,
And make the best use of your Husbands folly.
What should we doe? Your husband is farre gone,
And this cold night (poore soule) you lie alone.
I want a bedfellow, so doe we either,
What lets us then, but that we lie together:
You slumbring thinke on me, on you I dreame,
Both our desires are fervent, and extreame.
Sweet, then appoint the night, why doe you stay?
Oh night, more clearer than the brightest day:
Then I dare freely speake, protest, and sweare,
And of my vowes the gods shall record beare.
Then will I seale the contract, and the strife,
From that day forward, we are man and wife:
Then questionlesse I shall so farre perswade,
That you with me shall Troyes rich Coast invade,
And with your Phrygian guest at last agree,
Our potent Kingdome and rich Crowne to see.

But if you (blushing) feare the vulger bruite,,
That sayes, you follow me, to me make suite,
Feare it not Hellen; Ile so worke with Fame,
I will (alone) be guilty of all blame.

Duke Theseus was my instance, and so were
Your brothers Lady, Can I come more neere
To ensample my attempts by? Theseus haled
Hellen perforce: your brothers they prevailed;
With the Leucippian Sisters, now from these,
Ile count my selfe the fourth (if Hellen please.)
Our Trojan Navy rides upon the Coast,
Rig'd, arm'd, and man'd, and I can proudly boast,
The bankes are high, why doe you longer stay?
The windes and Oares are ready to make way.
You shall be like a high Majesticke Queene,
Led through the Dardan Citty, and be seene,
By millions, who your State having commended,
Will (wondring) sweare, some Goddesse is discended.
Where ere you walke the Priests shall incence burne,
No way you shall your eye or body turne
But sacrificed beasts the ground shall beate,
And bright religious fires the Welken heate,
My father, mother, brother, sisters: all
Ishum and Troy in pompe majesticall,
Shall with rich gifts present you (but alasse)
Not the least part (so farre they doe surpasse)
Can my Epistle speake, you may behold
More than my words or writings can unfold.

Nor feare the bruite of warre, or threatning Steele,
When we are fled: to dogge us at the heele:
Or that all Græcia will their powers unite,
Of many ravish'd, can you one recite,

Whom warre repurchas'd? these be idle feares,
Rough blustering, Boreas faire Orithea beares,
Vnto the land of Thrace, yet Thrace still free,
And Athens rais'd no rude Hostility.
In winged Pegasus did Iason saile,
And from great Colchos he Medea stale:
Yet Thessaly you see can shew no scarre,
Of former wounds in the Thessalian warre:
He that first ravish'd you: In such a Fleete,
As ours is, Ariadne brought from Creete:
Yet Mynos and Duke Theseus were agreed,
About that quarrell, not abreast did bleede.
Lesse is the danger (trust me) then the feare,
That in these vaine and idle doubts appeare.
But say rude warre should be proclaim'd at length,
Know, I am valiant, and have sinowie strength.
The weapons that I use are apt to kill,
Asia besides, more spacious fields can fill,
With armed men then Greece, amongst us are
More perfect Souldiers, more beasts apt for war:
Nor can thy husband Menelaus be
Of any high spirit and Magnanimity,
Or so well prov'd in Armes: for Hellen I,
Being but a Lad have made my enemies flie.
Regain'd the prey from out the hands of Theeves,
Who had desploid our Heards, and stolne our Beeves.
By such adventures I my name obtained,
(Being but a Lad) the conquest I have gained,
Of young men in their prime, who much could doe,
Deiphebus, Ilioneas to.
I have o'recome in many sharpe contentions,
Nor thinke these are my vaine and forg'd inventions:

Or that I onely hand to hand can fight,
My arrowes when I please shall touch the white.
I am expert in the Quarrey and the Bow,
You cannot boast your heartlesse husband so.
Had you the power in all things to supply me,
And should you nothing in the world deny me,
To give me such a Hector to my brother,
You could not: the earth beares not such another:
By him alone all Asia is well man'd,
He like an enemy against Greece shall stand;
Oppos'd to your best fortunes, wherefore strive you,
You doe not know his valour that must wive you.
Or what hid worth is in me but at length,
You will confesse when you have prov'd my strength.
Thus either warre shall still our steps pursue,
Or Greece shall fall in Troyes all-conquering view:
Nor would I feare for such a royall wife,
To set the Vniversall world at strife:
To gaine rich Prizes men will venture farre,
The hope of purchase makes us bold in warre.
If all the world about you should contend,
Your name would be eterniz'd without end,
Onely be bold, and fearelesse may we saile
Into my Countrey, with a prosperous gale,
If the gods grant me my expected day,
I to the full shall all these Covenants pay.

No sooner came mine eye unto the sight,
Of thy rude Lines, but I must needes re-wright.
Dar'st thou (Oh shamelesse) in such hainous wise,
The Lawes of Hospitality despise?
And being a stranger, from thy Countries reach,
Solicite a chast wife to wedlockes breach?
Was it for this, our free Tenarian Port,
Receiv'd thee and thy traine, in friendly sort?
And when great Neptune nothing could appease,
Gave thee safe harbour from the stormy Seas?
Was it for this, our Kingdomes armes spread wide,
To entertaine thee from the waters side?
Yet thou of forraigne soyle remote from hence,
A stranger, comming we scarce knew from whence.
Is perjur'd wrong the recompence of right?
Is all our friendship guerdond with despight?
I doubt me then, whether in our Court doth tarry,
A friendly guest, or a fierce adversary.
Nor blame me, for if justly you consider,
And these presumptions well compare together,
So simple my complaint will not appeare,
But you your selfe must needs excuse my feare.
Well, hold me simple, much it matters not,
Whilst I preserve my chaste name farre from spot,
For when I seeme touch'd with a bashfull shame,
It showes how highly I regard my Fame.
For when I seeme sad, my conntenance is not fained,
And when I lower, my looke is unconstrained.

But say my brow be cloudy, my name's cleree,
And reverently you shall of Hellen here.
No man from me adulterate spoiles can win,
For to this houre I have sported without sin,
Which makes me in my heart the more to wonder,
What hope you have in time to bring me under.
Or from mine eye what comfort thou canst gather,
To pitty thee, and not despise thee rather.
Because once Theseus hurried me from hence,
And did to me a kinde of violence,
Followes it therefore, I am of such price,
That ravish'd once, I should be ravish'd twice.
Was it my fault, because I striv'd in vaine,
And wanted strength his fury to restraine;
He flattered and spake faire, I strugled still,
And what he got was much against my will.
Of all his toile, he reap'd no wished fruit,
For with my wrangling I withstood his suite,
At length, I was restor'd, untoucht and cleare,
In all my Rape, I suffered naught (save feare)
A few untoward kisses, he (God wot)
Of further favours, he could never boast:
Drie, without rellish, by much striving got;
And them with much adoe, and to his cost;
I doubt your purpose aymes at greater blisses,
And hardly would alone be pleas'd with kisses.
Thou hast some further ayme, and seek'st to doe,
What (Iove defend) I should consent unto.
He beare not thy bad minde, but did restore me,
Vnblemish'd, to the place from whence he bore me,
The youth was bashfull, and thy boldnesse lackt,
And tis well knowne, repented his bold fact.

Theseus repented, so should Paris doe,
Succeede in Love, and in repentance too;
Nor am I angry: who can angry be
With him that loves her? If your heart agree,
With your kinde words, your suite I could applaude:
So I were sure your lines were void of fraude.
I cast not these strange doubts or this dispense,
Like one that were bereaft all confidence:
Nor that I with my selfe am in disgrace,
Or doe not know the beauty of my face:
But because too much trust hath damag'd such,
As have beleev'd men in their loves too much.
And now the generall tongue of women saith,
Mens words are full of Treason, void of faith.

Let others sinne, and houres in pleasures waste,
Tis rare to finde the sober Matron chaste:
Why, say it be that sinne prevailes with faire ones,
May not my name be rank'd among the rare ones?
Because my mother Læda was beguilde,
Must I stray too that am her eldest childe?
I must confesse my mother made a rape,
But Iove beguilde her in a borrowed shape,
When she (poore soule) not dreampt of god nor man,
He trod her like a milke-white feathered Swan:
She was deceiv'd by error, if I yeelde
To your unjust request, nothing can shield
Me from reproach, I cannot pleade concealing,
T'was in her, error: tis in me plaine-dealing:
She happily err'd, He that her honour spilt,
Had in himselfe full power to saule the guilt:
Her error happied me too (I confesse)
If to be Ioves childe, be a happinesse:

To omit high Iove, of whom I stand in awe;
As the great Grandsire to our Father in Law,
To passe the kinne I claime from Tantalus,
From Pelopet, and from Noble Tyndarus.
Læda by Iove in shape of Swan beguil'd,
Her selfe so chang'd, and by him made with child,
Proves Iove my father: then you idly strive,
Your name from Gods and Princes to derive.
What neede you of old Priam make relation?
Læomedon or your great Phrygian Nation?
Say, all be true: What then? He of whom most,
To be of your alliance you so boast;
Iove (five degrees at least) from you removed,
To be the first from me, is plainely proved;
And though (as I beleeved well) Troy may stand,
Powerfull by Sea, and full of strength by Land,
And no Dominion to your state superior,
I hold our Clyme nothing to Troy inferior.
Say, you in riches passe us, or in number
Of people, whom you bost your streets to comber,
Yet yours a barbarous Nation is, I tell you,
And in that kinde, doe we of Greece excell you.
Your rich Epistle doth such gifts present,
As might the Goddesses themselves content,
And wooe them to your pleasures, but if I
Should passe the bonds of shame, and tread awry,
If ever you should put me to my shifts,
Your selfe should move me more than all your gifts:
Or if I ever shall transgresse by stealth,
It shall be for your sake, not for your wealth;
But as your gifts I scorne not, so such seeme
Most precious, where the giver we esteeme.

More then your presence, it shall Hellen please,
That you for her have past the stormy Seas,
That she hath caus'd your toyl, that you respect her,
And more than all your Trojan Dames affect her.

But ye're a wag in troth, the notes and signes,
You make a Table, in the meats and wines;
I have observ'd, when I least seem'd to minde them,
For at the first my curious eye did finde them.
Sometimes (you wanton) your fixt eye advances,
His brightnesse against mine, darting sweet glances,
Out gazing me with such a stedfast looke,
That my daz'd eyes their splendor have forsooke:
And then you sigh, and by and by you stretch
Your amorous arme outright, the bowle to reach!
That next me stands, making excuse to sip,
Just in the selfesame place that kis'd my lip.
How oft have I observ'd your finger make,
Trickes and conceited signes, which straight I take?
How often doth your brow your smooth thoughts cloke,
When to (my seeming) it hath almost spoke,
And still I fear'd my husband would have spi'd yee,
In troth you are to blame, and I must chide yee.
You are too manifest a Lover (Tush,)
At such knowne signes I could not chuse but blush,
And to my selfe I oft was forc'd to say,
This man at nothing shames. Is this (I pray)
Ought save the truth? oft times upon the board,
Where Hellen was ingraven, you the word,
Amo have under-writ, in new spilt wine;
(Good sooth) at first I could not skan the line,
Nor understand your meaning: Now (oh spight)
My selfe am now taught, so to Reade and Write.

Should I offend, as sinne to me is strange,
These blandishments have power chaste thoughts to change,
Or if I could be mov'd to step astray,
These would provoke me to lascivious play.
Besides, I must confesse, you have a face,
So admirable rare, so full of grace,
That it hath power to wooe, and to make ceasure,
Of the most bright chaste beauties to your pleasure:
Yet had I rather stainelesse keepe my Fame,
Then to a stranger hazzard my good name.
Make me your instance, and forbeare the fare,
Of that which most doth please you, make most spare.
The greatest vertues of which wise men boast,
Is to abstaine from that which pleaseth most.
How many gallant Youths (thinke you) desire,
That which you covet? skorch'd with the selfe-same fire?
Are all the world fooles? onely Paris wise?
Or is there none save you have judging eyes?
No, no, you view no more than others see,
But you are plainer, and more bold with me.
You are more earnest to pursue your game,
I yeeld you not more knowledge, but lesse shame.
I would to God that you had sayl'd from Troy,
When my Virginity and bed to enjoy,
A thousand gallant Princely Suters came:
Had I beheld young Paris, I proclaine,
Of all those thousand I had made you chiefe,
And Spartan Menelaus to his griefe,
Should to my censure have subscribe and yeelded,
But now (alas) your hopes are weakely builded.
You covet goods possest, pleasures fore-tasted,
Tardie you come, that should before have hasted,

What you desire, another claimes as due,
As I could wish t'have beene espoused to you;
So let me tell you, since it is my fate,
I hold me happy in this present state.
Then cease faire Prince, an idle suite to move,
Seeke not to harme her whom you seeme to love:
In my contented state let me be guided,
As both my states and fortunes have provided,
Nor in so vaine a quest your spirits toile,
To seeke at my hands an unworthy spoyle,

But see how soone poore Women are deluded,
Venus her selfe this covenant hath concluded,
For in the Idæan Vallies you espie,
Three Goddesses, stript naked to your eye,
And when the first had promis'd you a Crowne,
The second Fortitude and warres renowne;
The third bespake you thus: Crowne, nor Warres pride,
Will I bequeath, but Hellen to thy Bride:
I scarce beleeve those high immortall Creatures,
Would to your eye expose their naked features,
Or say the first part of your Tale be pure,
And meete with truth: the second's false I' am sure,
In which poore I was thought the greatest meede,
In such a high cause by the Gods decreed.
I have not of my beauty such opinion,
T'imagine it prefer'd before Dominion,
Or fortitude: nor can your words perswade me,
The greatest gift of all, the Goddesse made me.
It is enough to me, men praise my face,
But from the Gods, I merit no such grace,
Nor doth the praise you charge me with offend, me,
If Venus doe not enviously commend me.

But loe I grant you, and imagine true,
Your free report, claiming your praise as due.
Who would in pleasing things call Fame a liar,
But give that credit, which we most desire.

That we have mov'd these doubts be not you grieved,
The greatest wonders are the least beleeved;
Know then I first am pleas'd that Venus ought me
Such undeserved grace: Next, that you thought me
The greatest meede: nor Scepter nor warres Fame,
Did you preferre before poore Hellens name.
(Hard-heart, tis time thou shouldst at last come downe:)
Therefore I am your valour, I your Crowne.
Your kindnesse conquers me doe what I can,
I were hard-hearted, not to love this man:
Obdurate I was never, and yet coy,
To favour him whom I can ner'e enjoy.
What profits it the barren sands to plow,
And in the furrowes our affections sow.
In the sweete theft of Venus I am rude,
And know not how my husband to delude;
Now I these love-lines write, my Pen I vow,
Is a new office taught, not knowne till now.
Happy are they that in this Trade have skill,
(Alas I am a foole) and shall be still;
And having till this houre not stept astray,
Feare in these sports least I should misse my way.
The feare (no doubt) is greater than the blame,
I stand confounded and amaz'd with shame,
And with the very thought of what you seeke,
Thinke every eye fixt on my guilty cheeke.
Nor are these suppositions meerely vaine,
The murmuring people whisperingly complaine,

And my maide Aethra hath by listning, slily
Brought me such newes, as toucht mine honour highly:
Wherefore (deare Lord) dissemble or desist,
Being over-eyde, we cannot as we list
Fashion our sports, our Loves pure harvest gather,
But why should you desist? dissemble rather.
Sport (but in secret) sport where none may see,
The greater, but not greatest liberty:
Is limitted to our Lascivious play,
That Menalaus is farre hence away.
My husband about great affaires is posted,
Leaving his royall guest securely hosted,
His businesse was important and materiall,
Being imploy'd about a Crowne Imperiall:
And as he now is mounted on his Steed,
Ready on his long journey to proceede;
Even as he questions to depart or stay,
Sweet heart (quoth I) oh be not long away;
With that he reach'd me a sweete parting kisse,
(How loath he was to leave me, guesse by this.)
Farewell faire wife (saith he) bend all thy cares,
To my domesticke businesse, home affaires.
But as the thing that I affection best,
Sweet wife, looke well unto my Trojan guest.
It was no sooner out but with much paine,
My itching spleene from laughter I restraine,
Which striving to keepe in and bridle still,
At length I wrung forth these few words (I will.)
Hee's on his journey to the Isle of Creete,
But thinke not we may therefore safely meete.
He is so absent, that as present I,
Am still within his reach, his Eare his Eye,

And though abroad, his power at home commands,
For know you not Kings have long reaching hands?
The fame for beauty you besides have given me,
Into a great exigent hath driven me:
The more your commendation fild his eare,
The more just cause my husband hath to feare.
Nor marvell you the King hath left me so,
Into remote and forraigne Climes to goe,
Much confidence he dares repose in me,
My carriage, haviour, and my modesty,
My beauty he mistrusts, my heart relies in,
My face he feares, my Chaste life he affies in.

To take time now when time is, you perswade me,
And with his apt fit absence you invade me:
I would, but feare, nor is my minde well set,
My will would further, what my feare doth let.
I have no husband here, and you no wife,
I love your shape, you mine, deare as your life.
The nights seeme long to such as sleepe alone,
Our letters meete to enterchange our moane.
You judge me beautious, I esteeme you faire,
Vnder one roofe we Lovers lodged are.
And (let me die) but every thing consider,
Each thing perswades us we shall lie together.
Nothing we see molests us, naught we heare,
And yet my forward will is slacke through feare:
I would to God that what you ill perswade,
You could as well compell, so I were made,
Vn-willing willing, pleasingly abusde,
So my simplicity might be excus'de.
Injuries force is oft times wondrous pleasing,
To such as suffer ease in their diseasing,

If what I will, you 'gainst my will should doe;
I with such force could be well pleased too.

But whilst our love is young and in the bud,
Suffer his infant vigor be withstood.
A flame new kindled is as easily quench'd,
And sudden sparkles in little drops are drench'd:
A Travellers Love is like himselfe, unstaid,
And wanders where he walkes, it is not laid
On any firmer ground, for when we alone
Thinke him to us, the winde blowes faire, hee's gone:
Witnesse Hhysiphile, alike betraide,
Witnesse with her the bright Mynoyan maide:
Nay then your selfe, as you your selfe have spoken:
To faire Oenon have your promise broken,
Since I beheld your face first, my desire
Hath beene, of Trojan Paris to inquire:
I know you now in every true respect,
Ile grant you thus much then, say you affect
Me (whom you terme your owne.) Ile grow thus farre
Doe not the Phagian marriners prepare,
Their sailes and Oares, and now whilst we recite,
Exchange of words about the wished night:
Say that even now you were prepar'd to clime
My long wish'd bed, just at th' appointed time,
The winde should alter and blow faire for Troy,
You must brake off, in midst of all your joy,
And leave me in the infancy of pleasure,
Amid my riches, I shall lose my treasure.
You will forsake the sweets my bed affoords,
T'exchange for Cabins, Hatches, and pitch'd boords,
Then what a fickle Courtship you commince,
When, with the first winde, all your Love blowes hence.

But shall I follow you when you are gone,
And be the grand-child to Laomedon?
And Ishum see whose beautie you proclaime?
I doe not so despise the bruit of Fame.
That she to whom I am indebt such thankes,
Should fill the Earth with such adulterate pranks:
What will Achaia? what will Sparta say?
What will your Troy report and Asia?
What may old Priam or his reverent Queene?
What may your Sisters having Hellen seene,
Or your Dardanidan brothers deeme of me?
Will they not blame my loose inchastity:
Nay, how can you your selfe faithfull deeme me,
And not amongst the loosest Dames esteeme me.
No stranger shall your Asian Poets come neare,
But he shall fill your guilty soule with feare.
How often (angry at some small offence)
Will you thus say; Adultresse, get thee hence,
Forgetting you your selfe have beene the chiefe
In my transgression, though not in my griefe.
Consider what it is forgetfull Lover,
To be sinnes Author, and sinnes sharpe reprover.
But ere the least of all these ills betide me,
I wish the earth may in her bosome hide me.

But I shall all your Phrigyan wealth possesse,
And more than your Epistle can expresse;
Gifts, woven gold, imbrodery, rich attire,
Purple and Plate, or what I can desire?
Yet give me leave, thinke you all this extends,
To counter-vaile the losse of my chiefe friends?
Whose friendship, or whose aide shall I imploy,
To succour me when I am wrong'd in Troy.

Or whether can I, having thus mis-done,
Vnto my Father or my Brothers runne.
As much as you to me, false Iason swore,
Vnto Medea, yet from Aesons doore,
He after did exile her: Now poore heart,
Where is thy Father that should take thy part?
Old Aeres or Calciope? thou tookest
No aide from them, who thou before forsookest.
Or say thou didst (alas they cannot heare
Thy sad complaints) yet I no such thing feare,
No more Medea did, good hopes ingage
Themselves so farre, they faile in their presage:
You see the ships that in the Mayne are tost,
And many times by tempests wrackt and lost,
Had at their launcing from the Havens mouth,
A smooth sea, and a calme gale from the South.
Besides, the brand your mother dreampt she bare
The night before your birth, breeds me fresh care,
It prophecide, ere many yeares expire,
Inflam'd Troy must burne with Greekish fire,
As Venus favours you, because she gained,
A double prize by you; yet the disdained
And vanquish'd Goddesses, disgrac'd so late,
May beare you hard, I therefore feare their hate:
Nor make no question, but if I consort you,
And for a Ravisher our Greece report you:
Warre will be wag'd with Troy, and you shall rue,
The sword (alas) your conquest shall pursue.
When Hypodamia at her brideale feast,
Was rudely ravished by her Centaur guest,
Because the Salvages the Bride durst ceaze,
Warre grew betwixt them and the Lapythes:

Or thinke you Menelaus hath no spleene?
Or that he hath not power to avenge his teene?
Or that old Tyndarus this wrong can smother?
Or the two famous Twins each lov'd of other.

So where your valour and rare deedes you boast,
And warlike spirits in which you triumph most;
By which you have attain'd 'mongst Souldiers grace,
None will beleeve you that but sees your face,
Your feature and faire shape, is fitter farre
For amorus Courtships, than remorselesse warre:
Let rough hew'd Souldiers warlike dangers prove,
Tis pitty Paris should doe ought save love.
Hector (whom you so praise) for you may fight,
Ile finde you warre to skirmish every night,
Which shall become you better: were I wise,
And bold withall, I might obtaine the prize,
In such sweete single Combats, hand to hand,
'Gainst which no woman that is wise will stand:
My Champion Ile encounter breast to breast,
Though I were sure to fall, and be o'repreast.

In that your private conference intreate me,
I apprehend you, and you cannot cheate me,
I know the meaning, durst I yeeld thereto,
Of what you would conferre; what you would doe,
You are too forward, you too farre would wade,
But yet (God knowes) your harvests in the blade.
My tyred pen shall here his labour end,
A guilty sence in theevish lines I send.
Speake next when your occasion best perswades,
By Clymenea and Aethra my two maides.

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