Minor Poets of the Caroline Period, Vol. III

by Unknown

To his Bellama slighting him.

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?

[2000]If, 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.

Then a new project did he get on's brain,

And sheared the downy moss from his smooth chin,

Intending to be one o' th' virgin-train,

Like Jupiter, husked in a female skin:

2090But that he feared religion could not bridle

His active heat 'twixt linen to be idle.

He thought his breaking voice would him betray

(Unless he said he ever had a cold),

He feared the curtsey and the female play,

Or that his face would make him seem too old.

But above all he fear'd he should not lock

His legs within the compass of a smock.

In costly vestures he would be arrayed

Of high descent, and fearing lest his sire

[2100]Would force him to an hated pillow, strayed

With them to teen the holy vestal fire.

He would be nobly born, not out of pride,

But to be sheeted by Bellama's side.

He had no treasure, but would promise fair,

That, settled there, he should be fed in state,

Hoping to win the porter with kind air,

That with Bellama he might thread the gate.

He all would venture: and upon this plot

Would place his fortunes, and the Gordian knot.

2110In such accoutrement he veilèd was,

That to himself Albino was not known.

He lookèd for Albino's face i' th' glass;

But nothing of himself t' himself was shown.

Each way a maid, enriched with special grace,

As though he had unflow'r'd Adonis' face.

He styl'd himself Felice, only child,

To him who at that time was Folco's duke;

And was so like to her whom he was styled

That she could scarcely say 'twas not her look.

2120For what's of Issa and her picture writ

Was found in them, they tasked the poet's wit.

Unto this virgin-cage she fast did pace,

And, knocking at the gate, the porter came,

Who, seeing riches on her back and face,

With humble voice desired to know her name.

'My name (good friend),' quoth she, 'Felice is,

I come to taste your choice monastic bliss.'

'Madam,' Avaro said, 'our rubbish stone

With cement join'd shall precious straight be made,

2130In that they shall ensphere so fair an one.'

Felice, smiling at the porter, said,

'Hath time with iron jaws eat out this part

Which now these masons do repair by art?'

And truth it was, Felice, Folco's heir,

Flying the disaster of an hated tede,

Couched in disguises at a cottage bare

(But how? when? where? task not my amorous lede).

So that Pazzella's faith writ on her brow

The noble treasures of Felice's vow.

2140'Not time it was, but an unhappy hour'

The porter said 'we had a virtuous fair,

Daughter unto a man of mighty power,

So like yourself I think you sisters are,'

(How largely flatt'ry has dispersed its song

That it does oil and smooth a porter's tongue!)

'Bellama hight by her uncourteous sire,

Fetched hence, who, when my lady did deny,

Begirt our holy walls with sulphur-fire,

And summoned harnessed men which close did lie.

2150They with their leaden worlds at us did play

And frighted (as you see) these stones away.'

Felice, knowing that her adamant,

Th' impulsive cause of this her virgin-vow,

Was vanished thence, and gleams of joy did want

And wanning sorrow revelled on her brow.

Scarce could she speak and every jointing trembled,

Yet feared the porter, and her fear dissembled.

Pazzella and the virgins her esteemed,

Seeing her feature and unequalled grace,

2160Before they knew his parentage or deemed

He was descended from high Folco's race.

But, knowing that, their joys did swell so high,

That grief for sorrow slinked aside to cry.

But ere the next day's sun to let out day

Night's ebon box unlocked, she did not brook

To hear their private whispers, talk, and pray,

Erect the host, and kiss a gilded book.

For, her, Bellama has possessèd solely,

So that their water could not make her holy.

2170Instead of 'Virgin-mother' she would say,

'My dearest lady, hear my sad complaint.'

Nor to she-saints would she devoutly pray,

'Cause none but her Bellama was a saint.

Unto Lorretta, as Bellam', she swears:

And calls their holy water but her tears.

She wond'red oft how her Bellama did

Two years continue in this hated cell;

And in her thoughts she oftentimes her chid,

For dwelling where but formal good does dwell,

2180Since in her absence she could scarce abide

To sojourn here a double eventide.

Her brains acquainted was no whit with sloth,

But plotted how she might escape that jail:

And to this end she vowed her virgin-oath

Should for her quick returning put in bail;

She thought her breach of virgin-oath no sin

Because she only wore the formal skin.

She missed, in ransacking her cabinet,

A precious jewel, far exceeding rare,

2190Which on her brow the lady duchess set,

As a true pledge of her indulgent care:

Far richer than that pearl which Egypt's queen

Quaffed to her Mark, dissolved in liquor keen.

But for all this a curious fit of man

Did force her, for assay, to enter in

To see if fasting did their rosies wan,

Or folly led not in the Paphian sin,

Thinking her wit could manumise her straight

From that lank cloister by some nimble sleight.

[2200]This she pretended to have lost as she

(Fainted with fears, and with her travels tired)

In the cool shade of a well-hairèd tree

Threw water on her joints with labour fired.

For heavens parch the air with hotter rays

When with his flaming tongue the dogstar bays.

'Madam,' quoth she, with feignèd tears and sigh,

'Grant me your licence to go seek my gem,

The place of my reposure is but nigh';

Swore by those fires that did enlighten them,

2210By her virginity and virgin-vow,

Return ere time could pace a triple now.

Quoth Piazella, 'I will send a maid

To seek your jewel out with studied care,

Direct her to the shade wherein you stayed,

For you forbidden are the common air.

Our gardens, beautified with Maya's glee,

Your farthest journey must and ought to be.'

She urged again, but all in vain she asked;

The prioress remembered still the earl,

2220And feared Felice his departure masked,

Under pretence of seeking for a pearl.

And more suspicious thoughts unto her came

'Cause she so often kissed Bellama's name.

She, seeing that this plot did want a stamp,

To make it current pass like lawful coins,

Feared her departure from this lanky camp,

And vowed to try the virgin's skill at foins.

Yet, ere she would attempt that amorous play,

She would attempt escapes some other way.

2230She viewed the casements, and did boldly wrench,

With courage masculine, the squarèd bars:

But they did scorn the vigour of a wench,

Like sturdy oaks which slight the windy jars.

Nay more, deep waters did begirt them round,

That from the glass he could not see the ground.

Then on the porter did she kindly smile,

And by full tale gave free respects to him;

Thinking to gull Avaro by this wile,

Joinèd with language oiled, perfumed, and trim,

2240Quoth she, 'Thy trust, and skill I must employ

And for thy pains thou shalt have treasures, boy.'

The greedy porter, like a goshawk, seized

With griping talons on this pheasant cock,

'Madam', says he, 'my skill is not diseased,

Nor dwells dissembling with the honest frock.

Disclose your secrets, and be sure if man

Can do you service, then Avaro can.'

Felice then, as prologue to her suit,

Gave him a purse full fraught with pseudo-gold;

2250Told him her bounty brought no worser fruit

If in th' achievement he'd be true and bold.

'Thou must, some evening, let me pass the gates

And straggle half a mile to gather dates.'

'Madam, I'll do 't: it is a small request,

Since you do merit better at my hand.

If fortune be propitious to my best.

You on the common shore this night I'll land

My hands have eyes and only what they see

Will they believe—give me my minted fee.'

2260Felice then plucked out a silken purse,

Great, and as musical as th' other was,

Pretending it was stuffed with metal curse,

When 't only was with circled ragges of glass;

Which purposely she did with di'monds cut,

To gull the porter's hopes and fill his gut.

'Heavens augment your store, madam,' quoth he,

'I'll wait for you at the middle age of night;

Come to my lodge and softly call for me.'

This handsome cheat Felice did delight.

2270To cozen the deceivers is no fraud,

To use a pimp, and cheat a rusty bawd.

She scarcely knew what letters spellèd grief,

For all her thoughts with regal crowns were wreathed,

Yet 'mongst them all Bellama ruled as chief.

At time of rest her body she unsheathed,

And housed within the linen walls her limbs,

Till night and sleep did their quick tapers dim.

Avaro (when day's sister's misty fog

Had poppèd out Apollo's searching eye,

2280And gen'ral silence human tongues did clog

Locking all senses up with lethargy)

Stepp'd to his purses, and began to think

How he should order his belovèd chink.

He'd hang his lodge with arras weaved with gold

That his successor there might sleep in state,

Or else if some revenues would be sold

He'd give them Darwey, bought at any rate

That all the nuns with prayers and holy names

Might fetch his soul from out the purging flames.

2290'I'll mend highways, or hospitals repair,

Else build a college, and endow 't with mines.'

Thus did he build his castles in the air

For all's not cash that jingles, gold that shines;

His glassy coin [must] leap out of the mint

Ere on his brow the stamp did current print.

Thus was he gull'd, as once a king of France

Paid a French monsieur for a prancing steed—

Gave him a purse whose richness did enhance

Th' enclosèd gem, supposed a noble meed,

[2300]But when for golden mountains he did gape,

He oped the purse, and only found a rape.

'Oh! what full anger redded o'er his looks!

What tides of rage and fury swelled his spleen!

He curseth her with candles, bells, and books;

And vowed ere long on her to wreak his teen.

'Ah me!' quoth he, 'such brittle things are lasses

Which one poor letter changeth unto glasses.'

Felice, now perceiving all was quiet,

Hearing no noise, unless a belly-blast

2310Which might proceed from an unwholesome diet,

Tied her apparel on with nimble haste,

And, coming to the lodge, with knuckle knock

She strove to summon out the lazy frock.

But the grim Tartar was so soundly lulled,

Without a dram of opium, steeped in ale—

Tirèd with vexing that he was so gulled—

That all Felice's rappings naught avail;

Till, vexèd with demurs she knock'd so loud,

It raised a thunder like a breaking cloud.

2320Just at that moment did Pazzell' awake

From an affrighting dream, wherein she saw

A dreadful lion her Felice take,

And tear her body with his sharp'ned paw;

And hearing this shrill noise, fear said 'twas true,

Danger did threaten her monastic crew.

Her frosted limbs she heavèd out of bed,

And shelled her body in her night-apparel,

Arming her hands with pistols stuffed with lead,

Which anger firing, with the air did quarrel,

2330And, groping in the dark, her foot did slip,

Which out o' th' barrels made the bullets skip.

Felice, at that thunder-clap amazed,

With haste retired from the porter's cell,

And meeting her, on one another gazed.

The porter, starting up, did ring the bell,

The virgins shrieked, which all made murmurs shrill

Like Irish hubbubs in pursuit of ill.

When reason somewhat had becalmed their rage,

The abbotess Felice sharply checked.

2340'Madam,' says she, 'I only came t' assuage

Intestine heats which all my body decked

In scarlet dye; and being much appalled,

With frisking fairies, I the porter called.'

'Go, go, you are a wanton girl,' quoth she,

'That fain would tempt my porter unto folly.'

'Madam,' Felice said, 'you injure me.

Sure, if lascivious I had been so jolly,

I might have met with many men more able,

Before I did invest myself with sable.'

2350'Oh madam! madam!' mad Avaro cried,

'Why do you think she could o'ercome your frock?

I ne'er did yield, yet have been often tried;

My courage hath withstood a greater shock.

Yet sure she would—she would have passed the gates;

The reason why, forsooth, to gather dates.

I am afraid your dukedom-girl does long

Not for the porter, he is out of date;

But for an oily cavalier that 's strong,

May teach her virginship a mother's fate.

2360Madam, look well; see if you miss no glass,

I'm sure with brittle coin she gulled an ass.'

Then told the story: Piazzella fretted,

'This is the jewel which you would have sought

When in all haste from hence you would have jetted!

What your intendments were my wisdom thought,

I'll have no gadders, and t' allay your heat

I have a diet will prevent a sweat.'

In a retired room she locked her up,

Devoid of lustful mates with her to play;

2370Allowed her pulse, and juice of clouds to sup,

And bade her scores of Ave Maries say.

Three artificial days she lodgèd there,

Where every day to her did seem a year.

When she had paid this penance for her crime

(Which in her judgement was accounted bad),

She was again amongst the virgins prime,

On promise that she would not henceforth gad.

Yet still she plotted, but where'er she went,

The angry destines thwarted her intent.

2380Then, from Bellam' since walls did her encell,

She thought t' employ her talent to the best.

One of the virgins had some vogliarell,

And earnestly desir'd with her to rest.

Who ere the morn did Piacinto sing,

And wore her blushes on her rubied ring.

Next night she chose another, then another;

Her curious palate so to novels stood,

That every one had hope to be a mother,

And near of kin, united in one blood.

2390But yet, alas! this pleasure lasted not:

Their virgin-girdles could not keep their knot.

Not many fortnights after they had took

These physic-potions from their doctor's reins,

One told her folly by her meagre look,

Another had more blue than on her veins,

Others were qualmish, and another longs:

All spake their pleasures, yet all held their tongues.

One long'd for citrons, and another grapes,

That grew on Alps' steep height, others for peaches;

[2400]One strangely did desire the tails of apes

Steepèd in juice of myrtles, holms, and beeches.

Some palates must be fed with implumed quails,

And nothing must approach this tongue but rails.

Some longed for crayfish, shrimps, cods, plaice, and oysters;

One for a lemon that doth grow on thorns;

Another longeth for some blood of roisters,

Spiced with the scrapings of pale Cynthia's horns;

One on the bosom of the matron skips,

And spite of her full nose did gnaw her lips;

2410One bade them fill an orc of Bacchus water,

Her thirsty soul she said would drain a tun;

One from her window bids a poor translator

Cut her a cantle of the gaudy sun;

But above all I like that witty girl,

Which longed to feed upon a glorrah earl.

The jealous matron with suspicious eye

Did read their common ill in every face;

Espied the breach of their virginity,

And feared a plantage with an infant race.

2420Yet still suppressed her knowledge, till at last

Their heaving bellies kissed their thick'ned waist.

She then, with friendly summonings, did call

The grave lord abbot and his smooth-chin race;

Who, coachèd, came unto the virgin-hall,

But all the rabble through the vault did pace.

Arrivèd here, she cookèd dainty cates

To please the abbot and his tempo-pates.

So called a council 'bout her quondam maids—

Each one admiring who durst be so bold,

2430Since none had entrance, nor the virgins strayed,

And for the porter he was known too cold.

The prior feared lest one of his square caps

Should guilty be of those upheaving laps.

It was decreed that they all should be

Shrived, being sejoinèd from each other's ken;

But, ere that time, the teemers did decree

What answer to return the shriving men.

Felice did instruct them to deny

That she gave birth unto their pregnancy.

2440But they should say, and to that saying seal,

With strong asseverations that 'Into

Our fast-locked room a youthful blade did steal,

And with the best of wooing did us woo.

Our cases are the same with Merlin's mother:

We think our lover was his father's brother.

'Twas one man's act, or, clothed with human shape,

He was angelical; and this we thought

Because there was no semblance of a rape.

We gave him our assent as soon as sought.

2450We judged unmaiding better in the dark

Than, Daphne-like, an husking o'er with bark.'

The shrivers to their lords return with smiles,

And on their looks a joy ovall chhriots[*] had,

Said they confessèd them with zeal and wiles,

And by a plain narration knew the dad—

One of those ever-youthfuls came from heaven,

And in the virgins' wombs did lay a leaven.

The abbot at this news did much rejoice,

Since with a kind aspect the Virgin Lady,

2460Viewing this nunn'ry, did ordain this choice,

And for the issue did appoint this daddy.

They shall be prophets, priests of high renown,

And virgins which shall keep their bellies down.

Provide them childbed linen, mantles, swaddles,

Rockers and nurses, all officious shes,

With rattles, corals, little cars, and cradles,

And give them beads to wait upon their knees.

Rome's high arch-vicar shall a testate be

To the first-born whom Nature makes a he.

2470Take pens, and smooth-strain anthems write in bays,

Make new orisons unto all the saints,

And to Lucina chant invoking lays,

To move her pity these young mothers' plaints;

Say her fair temple need not fear the flame,

Whilst here she wins her an eternal fame.

Felice smiled to see their studied care,

To foster whom she at her pleasure got.

But Piazzella, starting from her chair,

Callèd Felice to survey her knot,

2480And finding it as at the first 'twas tied,

'How 'scapèd you this goddy sire?' she cried.

'Madam,' quoth he—Felice, 'I confess

I was a party in those spruce delights;

But Nature curseth some with barrenness,

As (I have heard) Albertus Magnus writes.

So that though my desires were full as big,

I was not heavèd with that curtain jig!

Reason fortasse's on her words did stamp,

Which did entruth them (though they were but squibs).

2490This done, the prior did remove his camp,

And all the friars, with hemp-girdled ribs,

All great with expectation, and as fain

Would be delivered as the full-flanked train.

They sung canzones ere the sun could rise,

And Ave-Maries out of number said,

Lucina wond'red at this strange disguise,

That nuns and monks to her devoutly prayed.

All beads were rattled, and all saints invoked,

Some squealed, some tenored, and some hoarsely croaked.

[2500]With this conceit, Felice frolic grew,

And sported bravely in the silent hours.

Her bed-mates call'd her Angel; yet none knew

That 'twas Albino which had cropped their flowers.

But, though they revelled in the night, the day

Threw hailstorms on their lust to chill their play.

Yet had their pleasure not a grandsire life,

For tattling slumbers did their joys untone.

'You vowed, Felice, I should be your wife,'

Says Cloe, 'ere you loosed my virgin-zone,

2510But ah!' so waked, and feared her vocal slumber

Would from her eyelids force a Trent and Humber.

Says Phill', 'Felice, had I known at first

You only wore the name of Folco's daughter,

I would have suff'red an untamèd thirst

Ere lust had brought mine honour unto slaughter,

But oh——' and, starting up, she feared her dream

Would ere 'twas long obscure joy's mirthful gleam.

'Well, well,' says Floris, ''tis an happy change

To loose mine honour for an angel-mate,

2520But angels will not house in such a grange:

This is the offspring of Felice's pate.

But ah——' so sighed, and sighing causèd fears

Lest her plump rosies should be ploughed with tears.

Yet, you must know, the virgins did not use

To blab their private actions in a dream,

But that the cunning matron did infuse

Some atoms of the Quiris into cream;

And, ere they were enclosed in Somnus' arms,

She drenched their fancies in these liquid charms.

2530Then, with unsealèd eyes, she made her ears

Keep privy watch to intercept their talk:

Yet would have washed her knowledge out with tears,

And wished it written in her mind with chalk.

One while she thanked the God of slumber, then,

Her curses threw him down to Pluto's den.

But when Aurora, in her tissue vest,

Mantled with blushes, rose from Tithon's side,

And through a casement of th' adorèd east

Sent Phosphorus to usher in her pride—

2540Ere Phoebus our horizon did array

With silver glitter of the blooming day—

She snatched her termers from the sweet embrace,

And golden fetters of death's elder brother,

Bidding them hence those deading slumbers chase

T' implore the favour of the Virgin-mother.

They starting up with more than common speed,

Each shelled her body in her modest weed.

So called to chapel those whose pregnant wombs

The angel's pills had heaved above their waists,

2550Like to a surfeit ta'en of Hybla's combs,

When we are too indulgent to our tastes.

But left Felice out to cut or sew,

Or to embroider with the lanky crew.

Which made a sudden faintness loose each part,

And every joint was like an aspen leaf;

Her rosy twins retired to her heart,

Her looks were coloured like a sunburnt sheaf,

As the stiff bristles of an aged boar

Were her smooth locks, which o'er her cheeks she wore

2560And juster cause had none than she to fear,

For as from quiet slumber she awoke

She heard the ptisick pick Pazzella's ear

That she had knowledge of what Floris spoke.

And now she doubted all would come to th' scanning

Their longing, swelling and their sudden wanning.

The virgins wondered at Felice's change,

To see her eyes fix'd in a white-limed wall;

Each feared herself, and each conceived 'twas strange

Lest the disease was epidemical:—

2570That Merlin's uncle changed Felice's hue,

And streaked their temples with a purple blue.

But leave her sighing with these sterile dames,

We'll crowd into the house of sacred vows

Where consciousness, begetting female shames,

Spread scarlet carpets on their cheeks and brows.

They looked, and blushed, and glanced on one another:

Each cursed the minute which did dub her mother.

The holy brethren, through the mouldy pipe,

At that same time did unexpected come,

2580To know if th' goddy issue yet was ripe

To give adieu unto their skin-sealed home.

But viewing still their wombs, with zealous hands,

They prayed Lucina to untie their bands.

Their chantings dead, the abbotess began;

'Brethren, you see what sad misfortune haps

Unto my virgins by the oil of man,

Witness the heaving of their spongy paps.

We of an angel dreamed, but if he was

He shall hereafter for an evil pass.

2590'I made their slumbers vocal, so they told

'Twas Folco's duke's supposèd daughter's work.

Larved with that name, it seems some roister bold

Them to unvirgin cunningly did lurk.

But since 'tis so, the proverb shall stand good,

Tart sauces must be mixed with luscious food.

I knew him to be wanton, and to chill

The raging heat of his unbridled lust,

I doomed him three days' penance, judged an ill

Would make him sapless as the summer's dust.

[2600]But since that failed, days shall be chang'd to years,

Minutes to months, till paid his tribute tears.

I'll try if grief will drain his melting reins,

And hang a crutch upon his able back;

If sorrow will unblood his swelling veins

And make his sinews, shrunk with famine, crack.

I'll make a purgatory, where with hunger,

Frost, flame, and snow, I'll tame my virgin-monger.

I'll give command a dungeon shall be made,

To whose close womb the sun shall never pry,

2610Nor Cynthia dare to peep: for gloomy shade

Like cloudy night shall purblind every eye:

Bare measure four-foot broad; and for that height

'T shall make him by constraint, not court, lie slight.

A bedstead hewn out of the craggy rock,

Not arched with cedar wainscot, knobbed with gold;

His bed no shrinker, but a sturdy flock,

Swans shall not be deplumed his limbs t'infold.

Nor curtained with the travails of the loom

Of poor Arachne, ere she had her doom.

2620I will not spend the ransom of a crown

For curious dainties to delight his taste.

I'll fetch no fowls from off the Parthian down,

Or Phaenicopter for luxurious waste.

I will no mullet from Corsica take,

Oysters from Circe's or the Lucrine lake.

I will allow him pottage, thicked with bran,

Of barley-meal a choenix every day,

A sovereign diet for a frolic man

That is affected with the Paphian play.

2630And lest his stomach should too chol'ric grow,

I will afford him some congealed snow.'

The bald-pate crew this penance well approved,

And, in a trice, all things she ready got.

So well she stirred her stumps (as it behoved)

She being hatcher of this starving plot.

This done, with friendly words and courteous air,

She called Felice to her house of prayer.

'It suits not with your greatness, madam fair,

Being sole daughter to so great a man,

2640To lodge with those which your inferiors are,

As much as is an inch unto a span,

And I'm afraid the Duke will fume and swear,

Should but your lodging step into his ear.'

'Madam,' quoth she, 'you harbour needless fears.

Goodness, not greatness, differenceth maids.

My father's no tobacconist; and swears

In point of honour like our scarlet blades.

And, by my faith, it more contenteth me

To sheet with maidens though of mean degree.

2650I am surchargèd with the black-hued choler,

Which strikes my fancy with most ugly shapes.

I durst not rest a-darkness for a dolour,

Without a pillow-friend to scare those apes:

Let Cloe with conceits my spirits wing,

Or melancholy will my requiem sing.'

'You shall,' says she, 'have Sesamoidesse.

For all entreats are of too dull a print.

We must respect your father's worthiness,

His honour must your love and passions stint,

2660And your own worth must highly be regarded,

How shall I else expect to be rewarded?'

Then did she take her by the tender hand,

And led her to her grot in princely state.

She feared not much, nor did her will withstand,

Judging divorcement was her harshest fate;

But when she saw the entrance was so narrow

A sudden fear did eat up all her marrow.

Pazzella, viewing her supposèd lass,

Repented her of her intended ills;

2670But injuries engraven are on brass,

And women's jointures are to have their wills.

And lest remorse should chill her angry mood,

Fuel was added by the brotherhood.

'Then,' says she, 'madam, you behold the cage

Which I preparèd for your honour's good,

Where you may spend the autumn of your age.

Till age and winter have congealed your blood.

You may retire to ease: for envy can

Nor dares to say you're not an able man.

2680When twice ten circled snakes are crawled away,

You shall enjoy companions masculine,

To give instructions in that youthful play

Is fed with Ceres and the god of wine.

And, if my virgins shall hereafter be

Lascivious given, I will send for thee.'

Into this coven was Felice thrust,

With bars and locks the entrance sealèd fast,

Now must he pay a dear rate for his lust,

His curtain-vezzo, and the coral taste.

2690Sure his repentance will be full as dear

As the philosopher's non tanti were.

Ah, foppish monk! did not Bellama's 'no'

Give thee a warning-piece presaging danger,

But thou must headlong rush upon thy woe?

Happy's that man which is to lust a stranger!

If this of dalliance is the constant fee,

Let them d——dally that do list, for me.

Here, when the barking star his sceptre waved,

When in our clime we feel an Ethiope's heat,

[2700]An undervault the subtil matron paved,

With fire and flame to force a constant sweat,

That, as from flowers hot limbecks water 'still,

So by this stove from him sweat-currents drill.

Then, for the winter season she provided

A melting cloud full fraught with feath'red rain

(Whose curious art the air-borne clouds derided),

Which through some oillet holes might passage gain.

His cabin should have been, like Alps' cold height,

Mantled and strewèd o'er with winter's white.

2710And 'twas so dark, I cannot see to write.

Nay, at a nonplus it all pencils sets.

'Twas hell's epitome, the cage of night,

Walled in with pitch and roofed o'er with jets.

The lynx at midday here would wish for day,

And cats without a torch must grope their way.

But leave him labyrinthed and thus distressed,

And see Bellama, and examine how

She brooks the absence of her bosom-guest,

If discontent does revel on her brow.

2720It does: for why, she dreams and never sleeps,

She feeds and fats not, laughs, but ever weeps.

'Disaster hangs upon Albino gyves,'

Says she, 'else Envy keeps him prisoner,

Or a new bull does interdict them wives,

So seals the lips of my petitioner.

Else the smirk knave is so devout in pray'r,

He has no time to kiss the common air.

But does he love? or is 't a fit of mirth,

Which, like to children's fancies, soon expire

2730Ere language or employment give them birth,

Flashing affections, aged like thunder-fire?

His eyes shot Cupids at my yielding heart,

But his firm breast repelled my feeble dart.

Perchance he judged my forwardness to love,

By too much court'sy, and my frequent glances.

So thought in jest my willingness to prove,

Not with that sober passion which entrances;

But with lip-love, which to the heart ne'er sinks,

And paper-vows which take their birth from inks.

2740But stay: does greatness use to be denied?

Beauty and bravery command a grant.

Yet might my looks and carriage plumed with pride

His humble and untow'ring spirit daunt.

Daunt? no: his soul's a temper most divine,

Dares soar aloft to kiss the sun's near shine.

Then love he does: but must this action, woo,

Be tied by patent only unto men?

Some unfrequented paths of love I'll go,

And in some riddles court him by my pen.

2750Yet first to th' abbey I'll dispatch a post,

To make inquiry where my monk doth host.'

The merchant is not with desires so big,

When as he ploughs the sea for Indian mines;

With slower steps the sons of Bacchus trig

To sack-shops for the French and Spanish wines;

Than she to Tagus bids her servant go

To Croftfull Abbey where her wishes grow.

Gone is the messenger: but small success

Waits on his travels, for he back returns

2760With, 'Madam, where Albino's none can guess.

They think his ashes are enclosed in urns.

For time, say they, has counted fortnights many,

Since his choice feature object was to any.'

This answer shot an hailstorm at her heart,

Whose sudden chillness jellied all her blood,

Sh' applièd Holco to unscrew the dart,

But her assayments brought her little good.

For, but Albino, none can cure her ill,

Not physic potions, or the druggard's skill.

2770'Ah me! has Fate my dear Albino ta'en?

Then farewell music, and you sprucing trade;

Either my tears shall body him again,

Or send my ghost to wait upon his shade.

For she is judged a light unconstant lover,

Whose flame the ashes of neglect can cover.'

Have you beheld how, when the moors and marsh

Belch vapours to blemish bright Titan's eye,

They with his rays wage conflicts long and harsh,

Confining them unto their proper sky

2780(Bribèd perchance by envious night to wrap

Day and his champion in his sooty lap).

So that to us appears nor sun nor day,

And only faith persuades us there is both,

Till day and sun call in each straggling ray,

And force a passage, spite of fume and froth:

Yet then the day but newly seems to dawn,

And o'er the sun a veil of cypress drawn.

Just so diseasing sorrow, armed with tears,

Sighs, and black melancholy veiled her face;

2790So that no ray of loveliness appears,

And only faith persuades us she has grace.

Her eyes retired, her double blush was wanned,

Her locks dissevered, and her lilies tanned.

And as, in her which arted looks does wear,

Men look for nature's steps, and cannot trace her;

Since she, by nature nothing less than fair,

Hath purchased from the shops such worth to grace her;

Though foul, now fair and sleek, though age did plough

And made long furrows in her cheek and brow.

[2800]So knowledge here was in a maze: the eye,

That knew Bellama, did Bellama seek,

And, looking on her, nothing could descry

Spake her Bellama, or in eye or cheek.

To love's harsh laws she gave such constant duty,

Sh'ad only left an anagram of beauty.

She threw herself upon her couch of ease,

And marshalled all her thoughts in just arrays;

This brought small comfort, that did hardly please,

And in that thought despair the sceptre sways.

2810Yet thought she not death could a period set,

Unless he did some strange advantage get.

'He's young and lusty: every vein does swell

With aqua-vitae, coral juice of life;

His skill in magic else can frame a spell

To distance meagre death and Atrop's knife.

Yet love gives birth to fear: I'll send to search

The lion's flinty bed, and vulture's perch.

I and my woman will attend the quest,

Veiled in disguises of some country lasses;

2820No state-distinction, for my humble breast

Shall leave all pride with silks, perfumes, and glasses;

And, if with non inventus we return,

I'll Venus' witchcraft hate and Cupid spurn.'

When as the sovereign of the day had drawn

A veil of brightness o'er the twinkling lamps,

And threw on Cynthia's brow a double lawn,

Clearing the welkin from benighting damps,

They in the habits of a milking maid

(All but skin-linen) did their beauties shade.

2830And in these coarse attires they hasted out

To seek Albino through each wood and plain,

Whom we will leave to pace the world about

And see Felice, wet with eye-lid rain,

Whose bondage was the greater, since despair

Blasted all hopes which promised her the air.

The brazen bull, strappado, or the rack,

The faggot-torture, and the piked barrell,

Balanced with his, degrees of sorrow lack:

'Tis with a bulrush to decide a quarrel.

2840The famine wherewithal the Thracian knight

Was sent to Pluto wants a little weight.

He that stole fire fro' th' chariot of the Sun,

Whose liver's vulture-gnawn at Caucasus;

He that the counsels of the gods unspun,

Like wanton's eyes, stone-rolling Sisyphus;

Hold best proportion with these sharp'ned woes,

Which stern misfortune on Felice throws.

She, that was glutted with most curious cates,

Had every pleasure to content her lust,

2850Who had command o'er Fortune and the Fates,

Now sups up pulse and gnaws a fleecèd crust.

She that had many girls is now alone,

And of so many cannot compass one.

Had I a fancy steeped in sorrow's brine,

Invention witty in the threnes of woe;

Could sad experience dictate every line,

A dearth of words would to my muse say 'No'.

I may as well go fathom all the spheres

As measure her disasters, count her tears.

2860Oft on remembrance of that harmless bliss,

Which (copèd) she enjoyed, her thoughts would feed,

Oft on Bellama's beauty, touch and kiss,

Till strucken dead with thought of present need.

Then would she raise her thoughts, and hope for day,

And starting up from silence boldly say:

'Despite of Envy's vipers, tricks, and wiles,

My cradle-playmate, Mirth, I'll ne'er forsake,

But taste Sardinian herbs shall raise up smiles,

Though I was wafting o'er the Stygian lake.

2870Tortures shall ne'er unman me; but I'll be

Albino, Malice, 'spite of her and thee.

Delays ofttimes, from time's secluded parts,

Bring help to helpless not expecting aid;

Some of the gods will pity these my smarts,

Not suffer them to whet the sexton's spade.

Or if the gods—'midst flames then scorpion-like

I'll gore my breast, and fall on mine own pike.

Yet had I suff'red for a courteous one,

These woes should ne'er had power t' have raised a sorrow

2880But when mine eyes did in my breast enthrone

Her—her of whom hell cruelty may borrow.

This is the height of woe, death, and diseases,

Nay, hell itself to this comparèd pleases.

Yet stay, say Neptune's palace shall be land,

And this firm ball of earth a liquid brack;

Say the North Pole with Phoebus shall be tanned,

And to the South the lilies shall be black.

Say this, and more, before thou dare to say

Bellama is Màboun' or Mà bellà.'

2890No more of this: we'll for her freedom plot.

A pious monk, perceiving well her smart,

With diligence assayed to purge each spot

With holy cruse from her diviner part.

But still her answer was—nor man, nor lover,

Nor she the virgin's ankles did discover.

'Alas! my brother I am not a male,

But a weak sience of the weaker sex.

The ladies spake the truth (might truth prevail)

But me with torture Piazell' doth vex;

[2900]'Cause, at my entrance, I did promise fair;

Yet 't proves court-language, merely, purely, air.

But all this time she would not licence deign

That I three yards behind should leave the gates,

And fumèd when I would have left her train,

T' have sought a jewel, and to gather dates.

So that the Duke my father ne'er had ken

Of my encloist'ring in this hate-light den.

But, 'gainst it now resolving, I intend

To turn the stream of his munificence

2910On you, dear brother, if you'll be my friend,

And plot how I may be delivered hence.

Lend your endeavours: and I'll lend my wit,

Vow faithfulness, and I will warrant it.

I'll woo my father for his free assent,

If to your barren cowl you'll bid farewell,

That Hymen's rites may perfect our content,

By joyful echoes of the marriage bell.

'Cause you in person do resemble him

Whom 'mongst all men I only judgèd trim.'

2920The monk gave ear unto her winning prate

And gazèd on her beauty masculine,

Whose feature might delude a wiser pate,

Assisted only by a tallow-shine.

(For by an unctious salve she kept her chin

From the hair-mantle of an agèd skin.)

'Madam', says he, 'I judge your language true,

And to your vows I dare my credence lace:

Your virgin-blushes innocence do show,

And modesty is printed on your face.

2930Faith, truth, and honesty reside with me:

My best endeavours shall your servants be.'

'Well,' says Felice, 'I have now decreed

(Since Phoebus has forsook our hemisphere),

To sheath my body in your holy weed,

Then through the private walk my course will steer.

So from your holy walls I'll take my flight,

Or by permission, or in silent night.

And when I am arrived at Folco's towers,

My father shall your matchless kindness know,

2940Who, I am sure, will summon all his powers

To fetch thee from this house of flame and snow:

And who with much contentment will not brook

Some three days' penance to be made a duke?

For, by inheritance, the dukedom's mine

When death unbody shall my father's soul.

Since no heir-male's descended from our line,

The Salic law cannot my right control.

And, to assure thee that I'm only thine,

I swear by all the powers that are divine.'

2950Then did she circle with ensphering arm

Conrado's neck and amorously him lipp'd,

Which did the amorist so strongly charm

That he with haste out of his vestments skipped,

And bade Felice change: for in good deed

He should full well become her virgin weed.

Felice undressed, and dressed, and having made

Herself a monk, put on Conrado's face,

And some few minutes with her monkship played,

Then gave a farewell to that hated place.

2960But ere her quick dispatch could post her thence

Her beauty shot a fire through every sense.

Fear now exiled the confidence he tied,

Forced by affection, to Felice's words,

Revoked his promise now,—all aid denied;

And, with majestic looks and gesture's lords

His flaming lust dissolved his pious snow,

And now his loud desires will have no 'No'.

But vows to disenclothe her and to break

Her virgin-seal despite of force or smiles,

2970Till Folco strove and made his noddle leak

Sardonic liquor to new-paint the tiles,

So hasted out, and to the matron gave

The iron porter of Conrado's grave.

Imping his haste, he threads the vaulted lane,

Not wounded by his soles this many a day,

Like those which, when arraigned, a pardon gain

Dare neither at the jail nor gallows stay.

And coming to the postern gate he knocked,

Which at devotion time was always locked.

2980But when the last Amen had silenced prayer,

The porter to Albino entrance gave;

Who straight was brought unto the judgement chair,

Where, furred with state, did sit the abbot grave.

Who said, 'Conrade, why was your stay so long?

You missed the manna of the evensong.'

Pseudo-Conrado answered him, 'My lord,

I found Felice so oppressed with grief,

That charity commanded me t'afford

By learning, prayers, and anthems, some relief.

2990And truly on my faith I am persuaded

A virgin-lady with these weeds is shaded.

I, moved to pity by her streaming tears,—

Her sighing gales, loud threnes, and sad laments,

Won by her beauty, and her tender years,

Have promised aid, confirmed by your assents,

And in all haste will tell her father's grace

What clouds of woe bemist Felice's face.

She promised me when as her freedom's sealed,

When she shall re-enjoy the glorious light,

[3000]When the sad sentence of her woe's repealed

She will be mine in spite of envy's might.

Nay more, she from the dukedom will extract

Some lordships to perform a pious act.'

Forthwith, a synod of the holy men

Was called to broach the wisdom of their pates.

The questions were proposed—"Who? What? and When?

The 'who', is Folco's daughter; 'what', estates;

The 'when', so soon as she, by Folco's powers,

Shall shell her body in proud Gurby's towers.

3010This answer smelt of profit, and did gain

The abbot's liking, and his griping crew.

Says he, 'Conrado, true content does reign

And triumph in our thoughts: we yield to you.

Success wait on thy voice: for to thy care

Our wishes, hopes, desires, entrusted are.'

'Fear not,' quoth he, 'my faith dares warrant all.

All things are real as my words are true.

Myself will pace unto fair Gurby hall,

And with emphatic language plead and sue:

3020So that old Folco's lungs shall crack with laughter

To hear me chat the travails of his daughter.

First she, mistrusting that she should be forc'd,

By his proud nod, unto a hated pillow,

From folly, Folco, folk, herself divorced,

To twist, for scornèd maids, some wreaths of willow.

How zealously she prayed, and looked demurely!

She is, in thought and word, a virgin surely.

But the conceit is this—Who bridles laughter,

That virgins holy, pure, and nuns to boot,

3030Should thicken with the pills of Folco's daughter,

Sing lullabies, and to Lucina hoot?

T' increase the wonder then, and imp his pleasures,

To Folco I'll present these waggish measures.'

Behold, admire, and some contentment gather

From nuns that teem, manned by a virgin-father.

Wonder and admiration cease to gaze

On flashing meteors, stars, and comets' blaze.

Let not Vitruvius or th' Ichonian beast,

Putzol or Etna slide into your breast.

3040Ope not your ears unto those cracks of thunder,

Whose cannon-echoes split the orbs in sunder.

Lend not your audience to those fond reports

Of Ob'ron, Mabell, and their fairy sports,

Nor tie your credence to the poet's pen

Which writes the noble acts of warlike men,

Of monsters, mooncalves, merry games, and masks,

Atlas' stiff shoulders, and Alcides' tasks.

Amazement flies these babbles, and does pin

Faith, eyes, and thoughts, unto this curtain-sin;

3050That a pure virgin should unvirgin others,

And, though a virgin, yet make many mothers;

Make them heave up, be qualmish, pale, and cry

'A midwife (ho!) a midwife: else we die.'

It is an Afric crow, a sable swan,

To have a vestal puffèd up with man:

But that so many nuns unmaidened are

B' a nun without a man is more than rare.

The Sybil's virgin is not worth a rush,

And Merlin's mother may with envy blush.

3060These, though they soared above the pitch of reason,

Yet crossed not nature's order, course, or season.

For women teemed as women, but a woman

As man, makes virgins teem, and yet is no man.

This—this is object unto fame and wonder,

Then make each clime with this Mirandum thunder.

About this time night summoned them to rest,

And each repairèd to his sturdy bed.

Albino's fears his hopes and joys suppressed;

But, in the rest, content struck sorrow dead.

3070They slept until the bright enlight'ned air,

With silver glitter, called them up to prayer.

But our Albin' took earlier leave of sleep,

And sheathed his body in his monkish vests;

Knocked at his lodge, which did the entrance keep,

Who that he could not wake himself protests:

'Thou art some fury, hag, or Hob I trow,

That boldly at my lodge dost thunder so.'

Albino says, 'What frenzy damps thy reason?

Arise, my haste commands a frequent rap.'

3080'Begone,' quoth he, 'entreats are out of season.

Worshipful Hob, I'll have another nap.

'Tis not mine hour to rise until I hear

The clapper sound a surge in mine ear.'

When our young monk had many minutes spent,

And could not Foppo from his pillow rear,

About that time light's charioteer had sent

Day's trusty harbinger his orb to clear.

He searched the walls, and trafficked with the lock;

But all in vain, he must implore the frock.

3090The chapel-clerk, as constant to his hour

As is day's herald which at breaking crows,

Seeing Aurora did his windows scour

And leapt into his chamber, straight arose:

Making the shrill-toned bell in echoes speak,

'Awake and rise to prayer, the day does break.'

Foppo was at that time in Morpheus' court,

Where he with apparitions was affrighted;

The scene was changed, then came a dainty sport,

Whose sudden neatness every sense delighted;

[3100]Then dreamt Albine, their renegado monk

Was knocking at his lodge, the other Nunc.

Then dreamt he saw a table richly spread

With all the dainties riot ever felt;

All birds of warrant which in woods are bred,

With salmon, mullet, turbot, trout, and smelt:

The princely-pacing deer, entombed in paste,

Embalmed with spices to delight the taste.

A sparkling wine, drawn newly from the cheek

Of some chaste fair which blushes coloured red,

3110With brisk canary and enlivening Greek,

Poetic sherry which can sharpen lead—

This ravish'd Foppo with a taste content,

Till to his ear the bell an errand sent.

When, starting up, he deemed the bell did call

His able stomach to a founder's feast,

And with all speed was swogging to the hall,

But that Albino stayed him by the crest,

And lew-warm claret from his hogshead drew

To make his stomach give the deer adieu.

3120Quoth he, 'Thou son of Somnus, drowsy slave!

Why didst thou not at my loud summons rise?

But in a fit of lunacy did rave

As though thy wit had ta'en some new disguise?

I'll be your Hob, your hag: and, though I'm loath,

Will now chastise thee for thy feignèd sloth.'

But whilst his passion took a breathing space,

The wak'ned porter from his fists did creep,

Fixèd his goggles on his youthful face,

And then rememb'red his prophetic sleep.

3130Tells him he's not Conrado; for he knows

That brow, those cheeks, lips, eyes, Albino owes.

'And though your wrath should grind me unto powder,

Without a warrant, I will ope no gate.'

This answer made Albino's anger louder,

And vowed a passage, bought at any rate.

So leapt upon the slave with nimble strength,

And measured on the earth his ugly length.

Albino hastes to th' postern; having got

The keys, but 'mongst so many much was puzzled

3140To find the right; Foppo meanwhile did trot

Unto some chambers where the shavelings nuzzled,

And them with outcries raisèd to surprise

Albino, larvèd in Conrado's guise.

Like penancers with linen on their backs,

The baldpates ran to seize upon their prey;

But yet their haste a semi-moment lacks:

Albino through the gate had found a way.

And, snatching out the keys, did them encage,

Raising a bulwark to withstand their rage.

3150Then thanked his stars that thus delivered him

From dangers which did threaten naught but death.

For he by th' verge of Mare mort did swim,

And did expect his latest gale to breath.

Nay, these late troubles had him so dishearted

That every shadow 'lmost the union parted.

You, whose disasters some proportion hold,

Help my weak fancy to express his fears;

Teach me my rhymes in cypress to enfold,

From thwarted lovers borrow me some tears;

3160Fetch me some groans from the ascending thief;

And from the Inquisition fetch me grief.

Without demurs, Albino left the wicket,

Fearing the monks should bribe the faithless lock,

And steered his course unto a well-grown thicket,

Whose lofty hill was armed with many a rock.

He envies sculls that wait on spit and oven,

And vows ne'er more to see that hated coven.

Have you beheld the stately-pacing stag,

Flying the echoes of some deep-mouthed hounds?

3170How first his brow does wear a ferny flag,

And with curvettings beats the quaking ground;

Telling the fawns and wood-nymphs that he scorns

The hounds, horse, huntsmen, and their warbling horns.

But when he is embossed in blood and sweat,

When travail on his swiftness fetters hangs,

He then is frighted with the shrill recheat,

And fears a pinking with the yellers' fangs.

Seeks ev'rywhere for shelter, and dares rush

Malèd with fear, into the sharpest bush.

3180So fared it with Albino: whilst he had

Fate at a beck, commanded Fortune's wheel,

Was callèd by his Donnes, active lad,

He thought his joys were wallèd in with steel,

Slighted misfortune, envy set at naught,

And, braving malice, dared in every thought.

But when his tow'ring heart was taught to know

Humiliation, and self-confidence

Was strucken dead with famine, flame, and snow;

Although his genial stars had freed him thence,

3190He fears the monkish rabble, and he shrouds

Himself in caves, encurtained round with clouds.

In his dark house he heard a feeble voice,

Breathed from the corals of some weak'ned maid.

At first concealment was his better choice,

Till pity set an edge upon his blade.

Then guided by the cry, he saw a roister

Did in his arms perforce a nymph encloister.

Yet, seeing home-spun russet, stopped his pace;

Saying, 'By this what honour shall I gain?'

[3200]But in his eye so curious was her face,

Though masked and blubbered o'er with brackish rain,

That he forthwith unsheathed his trusty Turk,

Called forth that blood which in his veins did lurk.

So, stepping forward, cries, 'Injurious slave,

Unto what baseness does thy folly tempt her?'

Who answered him, 'Fond fool, thy foolish brave

From my decreèd end shall not exempt her.

Befriend me, Queen of Cyprus! and in spite

Of force or fortune, I'll have my delight.'

3210'Desist,' Albino says, 'or else I vow,

By all those tapers which enrich the night,

I'll make pale death strew cypress on thy brow.

And to th' infernal shades thy soul will fright.

Cease from thy brutish rape, or else prepare

Thy cursed lungs to draw the Stygian air.'

Quoth the rude Sylvan, 'I am past that age

Which with bugbears the foppish nurse does fright.

Hence, curtain-squire, smock-groom, and urine-page!

I'll have no testates unto my delight.

3220Pack hence with speed, or by Actaeon's head,

My weighty falchion shall pronounce thee dead.'

'Well,' says Albino, 'since thou'lt not desist,

Prove the adventures of a bloody duel.

One of our threads fell Atrop's shall untwist,

For to my rage kind pity lendeth fuel.

To free a virgin from thy gripping paws

I judge well pleasing unto nature's laws.'

They clasp'd their helms, and buckled to their fight,

'Twixt whom no umpire was but meagre death.

3230The woodwards green with Tyrian dye was dight

Who now desires a minute's space to breath.

Albino gave the truce, yet but to breath;

His valour scorned to crowd into the sheath.

Then did his nimble sleight and courage show,

Feigning a stroke, but pointed at his breast,

Which oped a door whereat his spirits flew,

And wellnigh set his fainting soul at rest.

With that th' enfeebled Sylvan weakly cries

'Hold, hold thy hand! or else Sylvanus dies.'

3240'Dost call for mercy,' says Albino, 'now?

And all thy thoughts erstwhile triumphant rid?

I seek not murder, may I save my vow.

That I should joy in blood my stars forbid.

I am content the virgin's voice shall seal

Thy death, or pardon, if thou make appeal.'

'Fair virgin,' quoth Sylvanus, 'pity is

The only grace that gives a virgin price.

Remission crowns a heart with greater bliss,

Than to hang iron on weak nature's vice.

3250The rays of your bright beauty urged desire;

Your feature kindled lust, love blowed the fire.'

The virgin answered, 'I did never suck

The tiger's dugs, the lioness, and bear,

Nor from a reeking breast an heart did pluck.

Never will I in blood with vulture's share.

But, since submission speaks from voice and knee,

Kind pity thins the fault, and pardons thee.'

Then to Albino says, 'Heroic youth,

May all the blessings which attend on man

3260Felicitate thy life; and to buy truth

To words, I dare do more than virgins can.

But, above all, I wish may nature's pride,

Lilies and roses, intertwine thy bride.

But yet alas! to recompense by airs

So large a bounty and so free is poor.

Yet why may not a spotless virgin's prayers,

Wing'd with desire, unclasp high heaven's door?

Accept of this, and if the Fates befriend me,

These blessings which I wished for shall attend thee.'

3270'Nature's sole wonder, beauty's only gem,'

Quoth he, 'my valour and my feeble arms

(If your perfections had not strenght'ned them)

Could not have freed you from intended harms.

Ascribe the honour to your matchless face.

My courage merits not the meanest place.

Yet had I swum through seas of steaming blood,

And passed through nitre flames that belch forth lead,

Had all the Furies armed with vipers stood,

T' have stopped my passage or pronounced me dead—

3280I would have thrown the die my fortune tried,

T' have bought you freedom though in crimson dyed.

For, when mine eyes sent forth the farthest glance,

To fetch th' idea of your beauty in,

That very sight my senses did entrance,

And make my thoughts excuse Sylvanus' sin.

For sure your quick'ning rays can melt a snow

On which the winds of age and sorrow blow.

But why do I upon the Ela raise

Thy noble worth, and yet intend to woo?

3290Since beauty oft displays her plumes at praise,

Then by this doing I myself undo.

But where I virtues find, refined as gold,

Despair shall never make affections cold.

Be pleasèd then to think the god of Love

With gilded arrow has transfixed my heart,

And let my purple breast your pity move.

With balsam of regard allay my smart,

Send thy quick eyes into my breast to see,

What tortures prick my heart to purchase thee.'

[3300]'Sir, I am grieved,' quoth she, 'you are allied

To him whose quiver crowns a lover's wish.

Else at a twelve-score distance might y' have spied

You cast your net to mesh a simple fish.

Your worth and feature does entitle you

To Cytherea with her silver hue.

When I, alas! am but an homely maid,

Born to a spindle and to serve a plough.

To milk my spongy-teated cows I strayed,

Which here amongst these tender hazels low.

3310My starvèd fortunes cannot think of love,

Nor does my envy wound the billing dove.'

This answer silencèd Albino's hopes,

Which spake as loud as though they kissed the sheets;

He in his thoughts commends the quiet copes

Which taste no sour in hunting after sweets.

'Alcides' life,' quoth he, 'compared to mine,

Is trouble-free, spiced with contents divine.

Fair maid, what hatred frosteth your desires?

What steams of envy choke bright Venus' lamp?

3320Give some kind fuel to maintain my fires,

A frown of yours will all my vitals damp.

Oil o'er my writhled heart, or let me know

From what black heads these bitter cadents flow.'

'Your favours, sir, have such commanding power,

That 'tis unjust your wishes to deny,

Accursed with all black tempests be that hour

In which my heart gave credit to mine eye.

Else would I not have been so much averse

T' a mind so noble and a feature terse.

3330But now alas! myself myself am not,

For heartless I my heart have giv'n away:

An abbey-brother has that treasure got,

Albino hight—he's Phoebus of my day.

Your habit speaks you a monk, sir, if you can

Tell me where I may find that (ah me) man.

Be pleased,' quoth she, 'to tell me where I may,

Or go myself, or else a servant send.'

'Fair maid,' quoth he, 'it is a gloomy way

Leads to the bed of your benighted friend.

3340His ashes are in Darwey Abbey laid,

But his faint ghost walks i' th' Elysian shade.'

'But is he dead?' says she, and loudly shrieked,

Which waked Narcissus' hate to second her,

Her rosies dewed with melting crystal reeked,

And sorrow did her trembling heart inter.

Symptoms of sad deplorings ne'er were known,

Which were not in her sharp lamentings shown.

'Choice maid,' quoth he, 'do not destroy your rosies,

And blast your beauty with such scalding sighs.

3350In nature's garden there are choicer posies,

More comely features, and more agile thighs.

What though Albino's dead? another may

Be trulier termed the Phoebus of your day.'

'Oh, do not stain,' says she, 'his spotless name!

Within his bosom every virtue ranged.

Equals to him dull nature cannot frame,

Though she should labour till herself be changed:

It is a shame to ask more favours yet:

Grant me this one, because my sun is set.

3360My pity saved, when as your fury had

The rough-pawed Sylvan mincèd with your skene.

Oh, with same courage let your mind be clad,

With your sharp scimitar my liver dreane.

Why should I be a liver, since he's dead

Who was my hope, my health, my heart, my head'.

'How am I chang'd!' quoth he, 'my heart does beat

The fainting summons of the Child of Sin.

My knees do quarrel, and a chilling sweat

Cold as the dew of winter oils my skin.

3370Fear snatcheth from my roseate banks their blood,

And drowns my liver in a sanguine flood.

'Tis strange a naked breast of bleachèd snow,

And crystal mounts enriched with coral heads,

(On which the purple violets do grow)

Should dare mine arm, and strike my courage dead.

My steel a breast of iron has unhinged.

And knees of brass have to my fury cringed.

Had some vast Gog or he whom Tellus brought—

One got by Fury or Gradivus' mate—

3380Who, but with monsters, ne'er conversed with ought,

Dared with a look, mine arm had weak'ned Fate.

But, at this feeble voice my blood does start,

And into pity melts my swelling heart.

Then name no more those words: for they at once

Do both unedge my valour and my steel.

Too safely do your virtues keep the sconce.

My steadiest thoughts, struck with these letters, reel.

My sacrilegious hand shall never stain

Virtue's sole temple, and the grace's fane.

3390Dry up those furrowing cadents. Will you give

Your lovely self in marriage unto him,

If I shall say Albino yours does live,

And in your view his comely portrait limn?

Say, aye, to this: and I will try my skill,

To make him pace along yon craggy hill.'

''Tis the countenance which my wishes crave,

Naught half so sweet,' says she, 'as Hymen's tedes.'

Albino then the haired earth did shave,

And hedged two circles in with ropes of beads;

[3400]Then, quart'ring them, did take the virgin's hand,

And bade her with unshaken courage stand.

'Thou must not be surpris'd with shivering fear,

Though Cerberus, the janitor of Hell,

Though seven-headed Hydra, panther, bear,

The lion, tiger, or the dragon yell;

Although a monster spits forth flashing powder,

Though clouds and winds strive which should bellow louder.'

This said, with cruse of holy water he

Besprinkled o'er himself, besprinkled her,

3410And zealously did cross: the same did she,

Like a devout Romezzo conjurer.

This done: 'Fair maid,' quoth he, 'if Fates befriend me,

The servant of your beauty shall attend thee.'

Then 'gan [he] to invoke, or seem t' invoke,

With uncouth language the infernal crew—

'Vitz, Allafoun, Trallasht with elfish poke,

Trollox and Chimchish, with your grisly hue,

Gnarzell and Phrizoll which in Styx do wade,

Lê portè Albino from the Stygian shade.'

3420When from his lips these words had ta'en their flight,

A shuffling whirl-puff roared amongst the trees,

Th' affrighted leaves took flight, the grass looked white,

The quaking poplars fell upon their knees.

Jove's sacred tree stood cringing unto it,

And bowed his head, else 'twas in sunder split.

Then, from a breaking cloud, a sheet of fire

Encircled them, and dashed against an oak,

Ush'ring a thunder, whose untamed ire

Like dreadful tyrants naught but terror spoke.

3430And as unwilling to depart from them

His ireful cracks the trembling grove did hem.

These, suddenly succeeding so the first,

And at that instant when he feigned a spell,

Did make Albino judge himself accursed,

Thinking his voice unhinged the gates of hell.

Bellama's rosies wore as white as snow,

As though the Phyma did upon them blow.

And justly, for though these but common were,

Yet at that time when faintness kept the wicket,

3440Which at each shadow oped the gate to fear,

In that dark place, that unfrequented thicket—

I blame not though her courage had been colder,

And in art magic wish Albino bolder.

But when the storm was passed, his courage got

The conquest of his fear, made his quick eyes

Stand sentinel t' advantage more his plot:

And, looking from the mountain, he espies

A man descending, as he told the maid,

Which the loud tempest of his fears allayed.

3450Then says, 'Behold the object of your hope'.

Away springs she from off that gloomy place,

Posts to the hill, forsakes her magic cope.

Meanwhile Albino doffs Conrado's face,

And set upon his looks Albino's dye;

So, imped with love, unto the mount did fly.

Where he espied Bellama rove about

Crying, 'Albino, dost thou fly from me?'

The man was but a silly shepherd lout

That climbed the hill his fleecy train to see.

3460And when his eyes had healthed his wealthy flocks,

Trudged to his cote, walled in with sturdy rocks.

Albin', encount'ring her, says, 'Lovely maid,

Was 't your small voice that did Albino call?'

''Twas I, poor I', the fainting virgin said,

'Why was I forced from Rhadamanthus' hall?'

'Who was 't, quoth he, 'that, with commanding air,

Snatch'd me forth' arms of Proserpina fair?'

'It was a courteous monk,' quoth she, 'whom I

Humbly entreated to deliver thee.'

3470'Alas! sweet maid,' quoth he, 'Fates do deny

Freedom from thence, nor can I pay the fee.

'Fee!' says she, 'fear not: if an earldom can

Purchase thy freedom, I will give it, man.'

'Thou canst not ransom one from Pluto's jail,

Shouldst thou lay down the gaudy triple crown;

With steely-hearted Fate naught can prevail,

On whose harsh brow there ever dwells a frown.

Speak fair, thy business: for I must begone,

Grim Charon waits for me at Acheron.'

3480'Ah me,' quoth she, 'and is it truth I hear?

Then, dear Albino, I will wait on thee.'

'You're like to find', quoth he, 'but homely cheer,

If in my diet you partake with me.'

'Famine's a favour unto me,' says she,

'Bridewell a bride-house, if I live with thee.

But, prithee, what is Rhadamanthus fell,

And she whom thou didst Proserpina call?'

'Sweetest,' quoth he, 'he is the judge of hell,

That dooms us tortures, or does us enthral.

3490For, if our innocence do plead for us,

We're led t' Elysium from dark Erebus.

That other was the Thracian harper-mate,

Whom Pluto forced unto his gloomy house,

His devilship with smiles to recreate,

Full bowls of his nepenthe to carouse.'

'I'm glad I know', quoth she, 'for jealous fears

Unto my heart did travel from my ears.'

'Why, lovely maid, did ever I behold

Before this time', quoth he, 'your comely face?'

[3500]'How! dear Albino, must you now be told

Who your Bellama is? 'tis high disgrace.

Sure you of Lethe's streams have deeply drank,

Which doth the powers of your mind disrank.'

'Ha!' quoth Albino, 'can my dullness think

That homely russets my Bellama veil?

I deeply of oblivion sure did drink,

Did I not know her from a milking pail.

Peace, pretty fair, do not my saints profane,

Her beauty has not such coarse lodging ta'en.'

3510'Well,' quoth Bellama, 'will you me discard,

When for your sake I've run through all disasters?

Must slights and nescios now be my reward?

Will you make ulcers, and apply no plasters?

Clothed in this coarse array, I roved abroad

To find the place of thy secure abode.'

'Sweet,' says Albino, 'let not anger dress

Thy stainless lilies in distraction's dye.

Let ignorance plead pardon, for I guess

Some other beauties may "Albino" cry.

3520Might now a ghost permitted be to kiss,

My lips should suck from thine a cherry-bliss.'

'Why,' says Bellama, 'has a ghost no lips?

Is there no pleasure dwells in spirits' veins?

This "might a ghost" does all my joys eclipse,

For now I have my labour for my pains.

Pray, what was Merlin's father? is 't not said

Spirits have power a damsel to unmaid?'

These words, proceeding from Bellama's lips,

Did make Albino myrrhine juice carouse,

3530To raise an active heat, which nimbly skips

In every vein like fays in Ob'ron's house.

But when he was no ghost, and hoped to merit

Love for love, he found her of another spirit.

'Away, fond monk!' quoth she, 'dost think that I

Into a sea of grief will wade with thee?

And drown my fortunes? make an earldom die?

Dost think humility resides with me?

Canst think I'll choose a pebble, slight a pearl,

Marry a threadbare cowl and scorn an earl?

3540What door to thy presumption did I ope?

What symptoms of affections did I show?

What actions gainful birth unto thy hope?

Or from what vow did thy assurance grow?

Cease then, for I take it in high disdain,

To thy coarse worth my smallest ray to chain.'

'Disdain?' quoth young Albino. 'Can this be

The voice of my Bellame? Is there such odds?

If not in birth, in worth I equal thee,

Although my muse shot love into the gods.

3550Disdain's a pitch too high for maids to reach,

Scarce will the queen of pride such doctrine teach.

Presumption too? does he deserve that brand,

Who dallies with consent, invited to 't?

What firmer seal than language, lip, and hand?

What better warrant than desired to do 't?

Say, he is saucy that, with crusted fists,

Paws a court-silk, and melts her balmy wrists.

Who feeted that enigma, whose kind air

Spake me the only high in thy esteem?

3560Was I not bosomed more than parents, fair?

Did not thine own voice that saint-secret seem?

Who bribed your full face-gazings? and what she

Judged none praise, lip, deserving of but me?

Did not you in mysterious postures woo me?

And 'gainst Bardino levied all your spite?

Nay, by Barraba sent invitements to me?

And dubbed me by your knot the Red-rose Knight?

Did not your wish glue feathers on your feet

To thread a casement when I paced the street?

3570And after these, ah! thousand more, and nearer

Seals of thy love, must slights unseal your lips?

A puny mistress-hunter well may fear her,

When pride at high noon can my sun eclipse.

Fury! lend me thy poison, Rage! thy breath,

That I, by pride doomed, may doom beauty death.

You pale-faced shadows of the gloomy isles,

Fill up my gall, and lend me all your pow'rs,

To torture women who, enriched with wiles,

From their moist eyes send forth dissembling show'rs.

3580Would Jove the mount had barren been of stones

Whereof old Pyrrha fram'd the female bones!

Would Sea's daughter, that same queen of faces,

Her alabaster box would deign to me,

Once Phao's ferry pay that gave such graces,

Which till that time the sun did never see.

That I not only might, as others are,

Be counted comely, but o' th' fairest fair.

Then would I sleight those formal tricks of love,

Those sighs, tears, vows, complaints, and folded arms;

3590Caps, cringes, oaths, and compliments to move

Th' affections of a girl expecting charms.

For wealth, wit, wisdom, eloquence, and greatness

Are less inducements unto love than neatness.'

'How now? Albino, is your doublet grown

Too straight', says she, 'that you do puff and swell?

Peace! peace! let not your choler thus be shown.'

'A thing impossible', says he, 'you tell.

In vain we call for peace, and calmness praise,

When love and hate intestine wars do raise.

[3600]Women have double pupils, so they can

Kill like the basilisk but with a glance.

Their very praise does blast and wither man,

Like frost and winter, or his soul entrance.

They're all like Glaucus' wife, whose filthy charms

Won poor Ulysses to her lustful arms.

They're Holgoy, Africans, and fiends they are—

Words know not what they are, they're hell to me—,

Would Jove I had the Heliostrophio fair,

To touch all maids, or, if not all, yet thee:

3610Or had been born under the Scorpion's head,

With amulets t' have struck thy beauty dead.

Ah! faithless Polupists, that thus can change

Into an hundred thousand shapes your minds!

Phoebe to you is constant; tides do range,

Yet back return; more settled are the winds—

Mere Pompholyx which with each breath does stray.

Your loves catch feathers too, and fly away.

Sometimes a fit of sullens seals your jaws,

In contemplation big (of Jove knows what),

3620And then again, as if your tongues made laws,

You weary time with your eternal chat.

Ah Mantuan! [Mantuan!] thy pen is not a liar,

Although thy habit says thou wert a friar.

Erstwhile a sober nun Bellama was,

Then a Lucretia, at another gale

I know not what, a straggling country lass,

A quinque-lettered, 'haps, which set to sale,

Now, none more willing unto love than she,

And now more further off from love or me.

3630Yet call that hasty language back a while.

Bellama is not such, she's Cupid's dart;

Teach me, great Jove, to make Bellama smile,

And with one ray sun her Albino's heart.

Thou purblind boy! teach me to gain Bellama:'

Straight Echo's voice returned him answer, 'Ama.'

'Thanks, gentle Echo, might thy voice divine

Speak truth in this, that love commandeth love.

I would through every mood and tense decline

Amo, and saint thee too, my joy, my dove!

3640Nay, thou shouldst be whate'er fond babblers prate,

Albino's goddess, though Narcissus' hate.

Oh! would to Jove I were in courteous France,

Or else that happy place in France with me,

That with more tongues thou mightst make ama dance

Within these silent woods from tree to tree.

Or would thou hadst imperial power from Jove,

In the imperious mood to bid her love.'

Quoth she, 'Unworthy of a conquest's he

That for a cannon's roar his ensigns veils:

3650Unworthy of a rose or rosy glee

Is he, whose courage at her javelins fails:

They're feeble amorists that for a "fie!"

Run from their colours, and in silence lie.

'Tis our prerogative to have entreat

With every phrase that flatt'ry does enhance,

To win our loves, though every stroke they beat,

Our hearts beat Cupid's march, tune Venus' dance.

In their desires they never yet did perish

Which feed our humours, and our passions cherish.

3660To prove the truth of thy affections, I

Shot forth that language, headed with disdain.

My heart is thine which, till death close mine eye

With steely thumb, thy bosom shall retain.

Caesar's proud nod shall not command that bliss

Whose sweets are promised by this melting kiss.'

'Ha!' quoth Albino, 'dare I trust mine ears

With this blest air? And am I sure I wake?

Or is 't a dream which wakeneth into tears?

'Tis truth: then crawl hence, Furies, toad, and snake!

3670The earth her mines, sea vomit shall their pearl,

Ere I leave her, who for me left an earl.'

Then sate they dallying in a shady bow'r,

Where maples, ash, and thorn did them embrace:

Whilst her enliv'ning breath produced each flow'r

In curious knots to damask o'er the place.

Oh! who would not his soul and substance tenter,

To be circumference to such a centre?

Now have our amorists attained the height

Of true content; and sate like billing doves.

3680She tells her quest, he his monastic flight,

Whilst both recount their passions, fears, and loves,

Till Titans hasting to moist Thetis' arms

Bade them provide against his sister's harms.

Then, joining heart and hand with easy pace,

They travelled to a pague adjoining near

Where in a straw-thatched roof (an homely place

For such a pair) they entertainèd were,

And what fine cates old Kath'rine could afford,

Was served in state unto an aged board.

3690Their table with rich damask cloths was spread,

Whose every twist outvied the double cable,

The napkins diaper, of equal thread,

The mourning trenchers clothèd were in sable.

A curious salt cut out o' th' boulder stone—

And for their plate—sincerely there was none.

The dropsied host like to a sew'r did strut,

To marshal every dish; and first did bring

A spacious bowl, to scour the narrow gut,

Of nut brown ale, a liquor for a king.

[3700]And says, 'My Bona Roba, drink this bowl,

'Twill clear thy throat, and cheer thy drooping soul.'

Next came the mumping hostess and set down

A lusty dish of milk—sky-coloured blue,

Crumbed with the ludgets of the lusty brown,

Which two months since was piping hot and new;

'Yet 'tis', says she, 'as savoury in good law

As wheaten trash which crams the ladies' maw.'

This good old crone was troubled so with wind,

Her coats did dance to th' music of her belly.

3710Next came a barley dumpling whose harsh rind

Was oilèd o'er with a fine tallow jelly

Brought by a mincing Marget, passing trim,

Whose juicy nose did make the pudding swim.

Next came some glotrah (which the ploughman flanks

Joined with a pudding on a holy day)

Brought by a jetting dame, on whom in ranks

And discipline of state whole troops did stray

Of—I forbear to say, lest these rude feet

With queasy dames and lady readers meet.

3720Last, a tough cheese must lock the stomach's door,

Milked from a cow that fed on naught but burrs,

Had lain five winters on [a] spongy floor,

To gain an harness and a coat of furs;

So neatly peopled too, 'twas judg'd a court,

Such herds of gentles did about it sport.

Qualmish Bellama could not eat a bit,

'Cause luscious meats a surfeit soon provoke.

Albino vent'red but was fain to spit,

Lest those harsh viands should his monkship choke.

3730And whilst he hawkèd, and Bellama laugh'd,

The trumping hostess stole a thumping draught.

'Are you so dainty-toothèd,' quoth mine host,

'That country victuals will not down with you?

You shall be fed with custards, pies, and roast.

Cannot your chops a boneless pudding chew?

I trow far worser is than this your fare,

Unless you kitchen-sculls and lick-spits are.'

'Ma' gep ma' faw,' the crabbèd hostess said,

'Let 'em e'en fast if they'll not eat their soul.

3740Is not my daughter Maudge as fine a maid?

And yet by mack you see she trolls the bowl.

I've dressed a supper sure has pleasèd those,

Had wider purses far, and better clothes.'

'Pray, mother, 'gainst the young mon do not rage,'

Says full-lipped Madge, 'for he must be your son.

We are alike in face, of equal age;

Then ho! the match is soon concluded on.

Kuss me, my honest Dick, for we this night

With crickle crackle will the goblins fright.'

3750'Mass,' says mine host, 'I like the fellow well.

To suckle bairns I'll give him tidy mull,

And my brown mare as sound as any bell,

With ten good shear-hogs to afford him wool,

And, if they please me, after me they shall

Sell nappy yale within this trusty wall.'

'Feck,' says mine hostess, 'they shall have a bed

With good strong sheets to pig together in,

A brazen pot, a kettle, and a lead,

Platters, bowls, pails, and an old kilderkin.

3760And if they please m' a brace of wheels to spin

Mantles and clouts to wrap their bantlings in.'

Our lovers at this pretty talk did smile,

Then says Albino 'Here is no such haste,

I like: but yet we'll respite it a while,

Thou shall be, duck, some three nights longer chaste.

I'll man my sister at day's next attiring,

Then back and give my Maudge a curtain spring.'

When as his yielding had appeased the billows

Of their loud passions, and their meat digested,

3770Night's middle age invited to their pillows,

But tell I dare not how the lovers rested,

Whether co-sheeting was allowed as fit,

Monastic vows dispensing well with it.

But this I say, there was but one guest-room,

Hanged with a pentice cloth spoke age enough;

The spiders here had one continued loom:

Here rats and mice did play at blind man's blough.

Their bed had many tasters, but no tester,

Their bedding ushered in thin-sided Easter.

3780Repentant mattress for chastising Lent,

Stout as a face of steel, which ne'er will yield;

Their sheets were tenants, weekly payed rent,

The pillow was with juice of noddles steeled,

And therefore fit to bolster any sin.

Their coverlet was of a bullock's skin.

Their urine vessel was of Ticknall make,

Whose inside was with unshorn vellet clad.

Their bedstead floated in a springing lake

Where frogs and newts their rendezvouses had.

3790This was their guest-bed, and there was no other,

Think you Bellama then lodged with her brother?

No: such pure virtues saint Bellama's breast,

And such clear sparks of honour heat his soul,

That such a thought would stain her virgin crest,

And blur the sacreds of Albino's roll.

Then die, black thoughts! Bellama's chaste denials

Repelled all charms of love and Venice-trials.

Nay, he ne'er tempted, nor attempted once

To scale the fortress of her virgin-tower,

[3800]For her chaste noes and vows did guard the sconce,

That 'twas impregnable, not forced by power.

And, though he did ensphere her naked waist,

Yet durst my faith and oath conclude her chaste.

This longing on Albino worked so strong,

That, when the god of slumbers did entreat

Him to his court, into his thoughts did throng

His house of penance, hunger, cold and sweat.

So powerful was his dream entruthed with fear,

That his strong faith concluded he was there.

3810And in some sort he was, for when the East

Was purpled with the blushes of the morn,

When his benumbèd senses were released

By the shrill sound of Gallus' bugle horn—

He heard a sound of words, and looking out,

He saw a legion of the monkish rout.

For you must know that, when Albino's wit

Had won him freedom, and Conrado thrall,

The jealous matron somewhat fearèd it,

And the next morning did 'Conrado' call,

3820Who (brooking ill his lodging) struck with fear,

Made answer to the matron's question, 'Here'.

So, when her eyes suspicion truth had made,

She asked Conrado how that came to pass,

Quoth he, 'Credulity my fear o'erswayed,

I was deluded with the dukedom lass.

She promised me a dukedom for my pains,

And I, poor I, thought it sufficient gains!'

'Ha!' quoth the matron, 'could thy falsehood serve

Thus to dishonour me, and all my train?

3830His penalty is thine; till every nerve

Shrink up with famine, thou shalt here remain.

Time will not measure years ere thou wilt say,

A dukedom for thy penance is no pay.'

'Madam,' quoth he, 'my senses were bewitchèd

With that pure white which dwelt upon her brow;

I scratched and pinched, but still my humours itchèd,

I stood upright, but still my heart did bow.

Who would not twice ten minutes in a brook

Chin-high and thirsty stand, to be a duke?'

3840Quoth she, 'I see that folly oversways,

And Venus sovereign is of every sect.

To beauty every order homage pays,

Whilst only age and blackness gain neglect.

I 'xcuse thy frailty—haste unto thy dell—

The sentence of Felice's flight repell.'

Conrado thanked her, and away did pack

(As one reprievèd from the gallow tree

Still fearing that stern justice plucked him back)

Lest, Janus-like, her face should changèd be.

3850For well he knew the monthly hornèd queen

No oft'ner fills her orb than she her spleen.

He Nature blamed, he could no faster run;

But, coming to the gate, the porter oped,

Who, much appalled to see a youthful nun,

Says, 'Mistress, do you travel to be coped?

Give me my fee: for sure, a plump-cheeked lass

Shall not the porter's lodge unkissèd pass.'

He could not quiet his impatient lust

Till he had shown the ensigns of his habit;

3860His parèd crown, with Venus' rays adust,

Then left the mongrel his supposèd rabbit,

And slinked away from his monastic veil,

Just like a dog that newly burnt his tail.

When he had cast his woman, and put on

The habit of his order, he made haste

Unto his lord, told him Felice's gone,

And that his conscience did conclude her chaste.

'She Folco's large endowments must inherit,

And promised me to recompense my merit.'

3870The prior, smiling at his folly, checked

Him for Apella's faith, and said his lass

Was young Albino in nun-vestments decked.

'(If that our porter had his double glass),

And since thy coming cleareth every doubt,

Harness yourselves to seek the younker out.'

As the attendants of an hunting prince,

Intending to disfrank an o'ergrown boar,

View the impressions of his feet, which, since

Last eve, were printed on the sandy shore,

3880Beating each bush, and in each cabin searching

To find his frank, and not the pheasants perching.

And as when Reynald, with his wily plot,

Into the squadron of the geese is crept,

And grandsire Gander on his back has got,

Th' affrighted geese, like them which watch-tow'rs kept,

With shrill-toned gabblings wake the slumb'ring towns,

By Phoebe's candle to go seek the downs—

Some arm themselves with spits, one with a ladle,

Some snatch up pickforks, one a bill or knife.

3890The ambling nurse runs out and leaves the cradle,

And the awed midwife flies the teeming wife;

Old grandsire greybeard his tuff bilbo gets,

And grandame Grissel with her distaff jets.

Just so our hair-lack monks pursued their quest,

Searched for his view, and threaded every grove

With bells, beads, books, and holy water blest,

And armed with envy's whips about did rove,

Their runagado Reynald to surprise,

And came to Stean ere the sun could rise.

[3900]Which sight unspirited Albino quite,

That his invention could not teem a plot;

For in his looks his fear was writ in white,

And to his heart his frighted blood did trot.

Yet, calling courage to appear o' th' stage,

He sheathed his body in his woven cage.

Then hasting to the host, bade him awake,

Desired his counsel and assisting hand,

Says now his life and safety lay at stake.

For, at his door, a troop of shavelings stand.

3910'I am their errand: I must bid adieu

To lovely Maudge, mine hostess, and to you.'

'Ho!' quoth mine host, and rubbed his gummy eyes,

'What says my son? Must thou be whirled away?

I warrant, boy, my club shall still their cries,

When 'bout their costards I shall make it play.

I'll dye their stark-nak'd crowns with their own blood,

Then let 'em come if that they think it good.'

'Good Sickerlin,' says Maudge, 'ere they shall have

My honey-sweeten Dick, I'll scratch and bite,

3920With scalding water I'll their noddles shave;

Then buss me Dick, thy Maudge will for thee fight.'

'Thanks,' quoth he, 'duck, but yet it cannot be

That thy endeavours should advantage me.

But yet methinks I see some comfort dawn:

Yon tinker's budget strengthens every joint.

Send me some clothes by time's harsh grinders gnawn,

And I will be a tinker in each point.

My sister must have rags; and be my trull.

Thus veiled and clothed we will the shavelings gull.'

3930Accoutred in these robes of state, he made

His face and hands in sooty vestures mourn.

Then waked Bellama, who was sore afraid

To see a tinker, and away does turn.

But grasping only air she shrilly cried,

'Art fled, Albino, from thy sweetheart's side?'

Which words, so shrilly spoke, made Echo babble;

Who, winged with envy, out o' th' window flies,

Carries 'Albino' to the monkish rabble,

They, hearing that, Perduers made their eyes

3940And, swelled with rage, against the door did knock,

Whose aged breast could not endure the shock.

This stroke Albino's heart did almost break,

Yet bids Bellama sheath her body in

These homely rags, which only safety speak.

'Care not for coarseness, so they hide the skin,

And at this tinker's habit do not wonder,

'Tis but the curtain thy Albino's under.'

'What tipsied fellows at my door do beat

Thus early,' quoth mine host, 'is this your manners?

3950What? must mine hostess wait upon th' entreat

Of tailors, cobblers, carpenters, and tanners?

If drinking be your errand, where ye got

Your last night's fuddling-cap, this morning trot.'

Impatient they did make the door unhinge,

Which gave an entrance to enraged Bardino.

He to the reverend host did lowly cringe,

Told him his errand was to seek Albino.

And as they did his homely cottage hem,

Albino's name came leaping unto them.

3960'Ho!' quoth mine host, 'unto mine house there came,

Last night for lodging, a stout tinker knave,

Who now is ticking with his ragged dame.

Go, if with him ye any business have;

But who Albino is I cannot tell.

Here's no sike mon does penance in my cell.'

Into the arras-ceilèd parlour then,

The copesters went, in every corner snooked,

The tinker's visage none of them did ken,

But for Albino on Albino looked.

3970Well might he cozen them, whenas his saint

Knew not his face under that mask of paint.

Then as they searchèd every place by chance

Conrado did his monkish vestments own

He lent Felice at their affiance.

The host, perceiving that the clothes were known,

Said, 'Yesterday, about the after three,

A fellow came and pawned those clothes to me.'

They asked Bellama then why she did call

Upon Albino. 'Why, forsooth,' said she,

3980'I was a servant once in Darwey Hall,

Where that young monk I oftentimes did see;

Who oft in private would disport with me,

And promised that I should his sweeting be.

But, by misfortune being turned away,

This jovial tinker took me unto wife,

So, as this morn by his warm side I lay,

I of Albino dreamed—my joy, my life.'

'He's not thy mon,' quoth Maudge; 'thou li'st, base drab':

'Peace, housewife,' says mine host, 'you tattling blab.'

3990Thus had the scene been changed, had not the sire

Suppressed her babblings with a check and grin.

The monks, well satisfied, gang to the fire

To taste the juice of Kate's old kilderkin.

The tinker and mine host would always cry,

'Fill, hostess, fill! the monks are still a-dry.'

Canzone.

Drink full ones, tinker, methinks the monks are dry,

Drink healths, mine host, the monks do fear a thirst.

Are the monks thirsty? the monks will quickly try

If they or the tinker want a pillow first.

[4000]Else will we jig and hay unto the black pot's sound,

Till to that music the house shall dance the round.

Then fill a dozen, hostess, we'll have a merry cup,

And make the tinker forfeit his budget and his brass.

'Faith,' says the tinker, 'I'll make your monkships sup

Till ye sing requiems in reading of the mass.'

Then fill a gallon, hostess, we'll health it all about,

Till all complain o' th' headache, the falling, or the gout.

Come on, dropping shavelings, let's see you count your beads,

I am half afraid you'll stutter in the mass.

4010Gramercy, lovely pots, and nimble Ganymedes,

That brought more water than what holy was.

Well, saucy tinker, well, pray finger you your brass,

And let the monks alone, 'lone, they'll finger well the mass.

Pray, Gaffer Cowlists, why are ye so bald

To cool your pia maters in a sweat?

Or did the water your wise noddles scald,

Which your devotions and hot zeal did heat?

Or are ye given unto Venus play?

I am afraid there went the hair away.

4020But base Bardino did this mirth eclipse

(In his monastic life Albino's friend),

Viewing the travail of his hand, his lips,

He, by a secret mark, Albino kenned.

For, by some strange mishap, was set a brand,

An azure spot upon his abler hand.

Says he, 'Methinks you are too frolic, tinker,

Your mirth I fear presageth your disgrace,

You must no longer be mine hostess' skinker,

For you will say, unless y' have brazed your face—

4030That you both see and do Albino know:

If you deny 't, I have your hand to show.

During the time that you were cowled and coped,

On your right hand there dwelt a cerule mark,

Which ne'er would off, although 'twas often soaped.'

'Well,' quoth mine host, 'but pray your worship, hark,

May not two men be like? may there not be

The selfsame spot of him, and you, and me?'

This could not yet appease Bardino's hate,

Still teeming mischief, and with envy big;

4040So, starting up, he fumed, and loud did prate,

And snatchèd off Albino's periwig.

Now 'gainst two witnesses he could not stand,

Whenas his head bore witness with his hand.

Albino excused, it was by nature so,

Saying no razor e'er did touch his skull.

'No,' says Bardino, 'it again does grow;

Thou canst not with this fop my wisdom gull.

Keep him, my brethren, and meanwhile I will

Fetch the watch-beggar and his rusty bill.'

4050Bellama did meanwhile what language can,

With oilèd words and pity-pleading tears,

Beseeching these to free her weddèd man.

But to her voice they cottoned had their ears,

Until an Angel did appear unto them,

And with his goldy looks and music woo them.

Then did they yield to let them go away,

And they meantime would feign a deading sleep.

They for a second licence would not stay,

But hasting out along the ditches creep.

4060And as they went a raddle-man they meet,

Whom with kind airs and highway phrase they greet.

And, greeting past, Albino did require

To change apparel with him, and his trade,

Giving him cash to hasten his desire.

'With all my heart,' the raddle-younker said

(Ne'er questioning the cause); 'yet, by the mass,

My dames will say I am a podging ass.'

Thus changed they clothes and budgets: then with lead

On the new tinker's hand Albino made

4070A mark like his, to gull his envious bead.

With raddle-crimson then, fit for his trade,

He clothed his face, and gave Bellama some,

So trudged away, for fear the monk should come.

Have you beheld a hound in sudden fright,

Whom powder feared, or else the staff did beat,

How oft he turns, and looks, yet keeps on flight?

So they, with glancing eyes, would oft retreat,

Yet movèd forward still as in a ship

The pilots backward look, yet forward skip.

4080But our new tinker, swellèd with content,

Fearing no colours, to the town did pass,

Crying, as he along the hamlet went,

'Ha y' any need ho! of a tinker's brass?'

Bardino now returned in a chafe,

And ask'd the tinker's name, who answer'd, 'Rafe.'

'Where dwell'st thou?' 'Anywhere?' 'How long

Hast tink'ring used?' 'I cannot tell.'

Then 'bout the tinker all the monks did throng,

Whilst he, poor fellow, thought h' had been in hell.

4090For till that day he never saw such creatures,

And what they were he knew not by their features.

Bardino fearèd this was but a gull,

And says, 'Good fellow, let me see thy hand.'

'I'm not asham'd to show 't, by cock and bull.'

Bardino, viewing 't well, espied the brand,

And says, 'Sir youth, before you cozened me:

But now in sooth I will be meet with thee.'

'Devil or friar, whatsoe'er thou art,

What taunting language dost thou give to me?

[4100]Ha!' quoth the tinker. Quoth Bardino, 'Smart

Shall give a comment of my words to thee.'

'Smart?' quoth the tinker. 'Swig for Smart and you:

I bid defiance unto all thy crew.

Talk not to me of Smart: for if you prate

This knotty staff shall bastinado you.

I'll set a scarlet cap upon thy pate,

And lace thy shoulders with a purple blue.'

'Peace, honest tinker,' say the other monks.

'Aye! I will peace it, if I catch the hunks.'

4110But let the monks and tinker take their chances.

We'll view the travels of our raddle-man,

With faint Bellam', whom every fear entrances,

And every trance does make her roses wan.

Thus far their loves have tragi-comic been,

Thwarted by Fate and the unconstant Queen.

But every planet with kind aspect now

Views their long-travelled loves; and Venus' boy

Smiles on their wishes with auspicious brow.

Now a full harvest must they have of joy,

4120Though sowed with black disasters, dangers, fears,

Dispair, hope, doubtings, sad complaints, and tears.

For aged Starley's tow'rs (that fatal stage

Where Danes did act their juries once in blood,

When bellowing cannons belchèd out their rage)

Within the kenning of our lovers stood.

And the well-tunèd bells did loud proclaim

Joy to the lovers in great Hymen's name.

A near ally Albino in this town

(By order a devout Carthusian) had,

4130Whose voice he hoped with joy their loves should crown.

But he, a slave in raddle vestures clad

And a ragged Marget seeing, started back,

Bidding his knaveship to some other pack.

He would have no commerce with such as he,

He had no ewes whose backs did want his raddle,

And if he over-saucy needs would be,

With a good bat he would his gaskins swaddle.

'The Provost Marshal else, if this does fail,

Shall show you lodging in the whipstock jail.'

4140This language sounded in Bellama's ears

Like the sad voice of death, yet fear no slaughter.

To joy straight changed shall be this scene of tears,

And stead of grief the child of pleasure, laughter.

My promise stands unshaked: for this short anger

Brings not their loves nor safeties unto danger.

'Sir,' quoth Albino, 'there was once a time

When you esteemed those wingèd minutes sainted

You spent with me (when Fortune was in prime),

For you and I have better been acquainted;

4150Though some disasters and stern Fate have made

Me take this homely garb and homelier trade.

Some blood which in your azure channels glide

Dwells in my veins: I am Albino hight,

And lest you think this smells too much of pride,

View this triangle on my able right.'

That sight unto rejoicings beat alarms,

His kinsman then ensphered him in his arms.

So led them both under his archèd roof,

Breathing kind welcomes from his courteous lips;

4160Excus'd his ignorance and sharp reproof,

Asked what misfortune did his worth eclipse.

Demanding how coy Fortune dealt with him,

And who she was that was so passing trim?

'Unless high heavens do forbid the bane,

This maid shall be my bride, though homely dressed;

Clothes oftentimes the purest beauty stain,

And Venus most unclothed is clothèd best.

Under this roof of rags Bellama dwells,

Fraught with diviner worth than nature spells.'

4170'Hymen enrich your wishes with content,

As benign heaven has enriched your face

With nature's glory, beauty's orient,'

Says the Carthusian with a comely grace;

'Thrice welcome! welcome! for your lovely grace

Will add a lustre to my homely place.'

'Sir, my endeavours shall be wholly spent

Henceforth,' quoth she, 'to recompense your air.'

'This is no time, forsooth, to compliment,

Prithee adjourn thy words of courtship, fair,

4180For till our hands be joined as well as hearts

I fear', quoth he, 'supplanting Envy's darts.

Good cousin, ere the next day's sun be rolled

Th' Apogaeum, our meridian point,

Favour our wishes with the "have and hold".

Tie us so fast fate may not us disjoint.

For Envy, like a snake, does crawl about,

And winds her tail in where she holes her snout.

Omit no nuptial rites; with holy oil

Let her anoint the posts, with virgin hand

4190To Janus consecrate the wether's spoil,

And to those gods which for our households stand,

Procure horn torches to be borne along,

And cry "Thalassus!" with a bridal song.

Provide me store of nuts to throw about

With a full hand unto the gaping boys,

That from the tumults of the struggling rout

All voices may be damped that speak not joys.

Over us two let the same Flamine fall,

And let the wheaten cake consummate all.

[4200]Nor will we manumiss these robes of state,

Within whose walls blest safety only dwells.

Lest our known faces, and apparel, prate

In louder echoes than the marriage bells.

Then say, fair lady, truth I do not jeer,

Will you be wedded to a scarleteer?'

Quoth she, with blushes carpeting her cheek,

'And is that question, prithee, yet to ask?

Your worth does merit the unequalled Greek,

Without nun-penance or Alcides' task.

4210Then [I] pray you (in truth it is no gull)

Will you be married to a tinker's trull?'

Thus sleep and mirth did cut the night: and ere

The sovereignty was ta'en from Cynthia's horn,

When at East's casement newly did appear

The orient brightness of the rising morn,

Albino rose, and to the church did haste

T' un-nun Bellama and ungird her waist.

When the Carthusian's voice had crowned their amours

With an assurance of Thalassian joys,

4220The air was thinnèd with the joyful clamours

(Not of state-satins) but of grammar boys;

And our fresh sponsants in that height of mirth

To every pleasure gave an easy birth.

Now are they landed on the isle of bliss,

Where every joy courts their desires with pleasure;

Envy did then her snaky train dismiss,

For their espousals did all sweet entreasure.

Dead grief bequeathed her stings to thorn and thistle.

Nor durst a sigh within those borders whistle.

4230Then, as sea-merchants when their reeling galley,

Drunk with salt Neptune, hazardeth their breaths,

To calm bold tempest and the Triton's valley,

Hack on the quiet shore their brackèd sheaths,

So did our amorists, half wrack'd with eye-men,

Devote their raddle vests to Love and Hymen.

Some marrow-lancing eye perchance may quarrel,

'Cause with the bridal torch my muse expires;

And in loud jeers his tow'ring voice apparel,

Taxing the faintness of my metric fires,

4240Because my lines tread not the common path

Of fortune, issue, and appeasing wrath.

Perhaps I dare not lengthen out my story

With those events succeeding time begot,

Lest some disaster should eclipse their glory,

And the pure ermines of their pleasures spot.

For having screwed them into firm embraces,

I will not waken hate or rouse disgraces.

Yet beauty (know) when virtue shines upon her,

And virtues (know) [when] skin-perfections gloss 'em,

4250Awe Fortune's wrath, and challenge heaven's honour.

Hell cannot cancel them, nor Envy dross 'em.

Love! if to me the same content thou'lt yield,

I'll limn thy mother on Minerva's shield.

Notes: The Pleasing History of Albino and Bellama

6 In which of the various fancy Bruts 'Adell' occurs I am not at the moment certain. Brydges, I suppose, deceived by Don Fuco, &c., oddly 'places the scene in Spain'.

15 age of consistency] = 'grow tired of existing together'—a Whitingism almost Brownist in character.

25 'Agathite'] 'Agath' is a form of 'agate': is 'agathite' a coinage suggested by the blending of colours in the agate?

27 Saba] The Queen of Sheba.

50 rein] Orig. 'veine'. But it must, as the little Errata paragraph at the end admits, be 'rein'. All this may be extravagant, but it is poetry.

61 'The curlèd tapers of the firmament' is not exactly contemptible, I fancy.

66 Whiting must certainly have known his Shakespeare. 'Crisp' appears there nowhere as a noun, but its use here must almost certainly have been suggested by the 'crisp heaven' of Timon, iv. iii. 183. 'Spang' is Baconian, and not uncommon.

70 Orig. has 'Lady Curtain' and no 'this'—a state of things which led me quite wrong at first. [Return]

126 Ven-Bacchus] Venus-Bacchus?

131-2 I have ventured to suggest 'mendings' for these exceedingly gappy lines.

148 knee] This is the correction in the errata of 'tener'.

149 bean-manors] = Manors held at a bean instead of a peppercorn? Or misprint for 'beau-manors'? This latter, for 'Beaumanor' is a known name, and Beaumanoir a better, would be quite like Whiting. My friend Sir Frederick Pollock, to whom I appealed after a question whether 'bene' in a legal sense was possible, decided that the phrase could have no technical meaning either as 'bean' or 'bene', but suggested 'rents'. This makes excellent sense, but is not, perhaps, on that account more likely here. [Return]

211 Sable] Any black-coated man of letters.

212 Adel's stamps] I suppose, the coin of the realm.

219 A Master of Arts ought to have known better than to make 'Thule' mono-syllabic, though the general public used to pronounce it so in reference to a once popular book of the late Mr. William Black's.

259 trutinate] = 'balance'. Don Fuco also had apparently enjoyed the advantages of a classical education.

275 'Indod' like 'adad', and many other forms of corrupted evasion of the Third Commandment.

290-1 Tennyson is known to have been no inconsiderable reader, but he can hardly have known this parody—by anticipation—of a famous line in Œnone.

295 trencher-cloaks] cut short? 'Recognizance' is again, if not exactly Shakespearian, not far off. [Return]

309 Here 'blough' is certainly in the sense of 'muffle', and therefore gives a light on the use supra (Author's Apology, l. 5).

322 Why this fling at Skelton's exceedingly pretty verses to Isabel Pennel I do not in the least know.

327 Tripherus] See Juvenal, Sat. xi. 137.

394 Orig. 'phrentezy'. [Return]

418 entrails] Orig. 'intrals'. Not a very common form, but justified by the Low Latin intralia.

421-4 There is a reference to Drayton's Nymphidia, where Oberon and Pigwiggen drink from a 'bottell' of 'Lethe spring', and forget their quarrel. For a further reference to this poem, see l. 1420.

465 'breath'. A seventeenth-century form.

489 I have kept 'ante' because I do not know whether it is for 'aunt' or 'ant'. Neither seems to give much sense. [Return]

500 There is certainly a long s in original, and 'sore-head' is intelligible, but 'forehead' would go better with 'flag'.

537 Whiting, for all his extravagance, triviality, and so forth, has occasionally an odd gift of phrase. 'Pandora was not treasured up in faces' is an instance.

538 possessing elves] = 'The actual possessors'.

541 The maid] Thisbe, I suppose, though there is nothing to separate her from other maids that 'sat in Babylon'.

551 peevish girl] Scylla.

569-70 See Ovid Met. I. 523.

591 coarse] Orig. 'course', as so often. [Return]

600 'gales' = rents, or royalties, in reference to the earl's land.

639 Orig. 'phillits'.

648 I have left 'croe' because I do not know whether it stands for 'crew' or (as above) 'crow' = 'knocker'.

651 angel-looks] = 'those of a messenger'.

668 'vermilion looks' suggests Dryden's 'church vermilion', but that would have no sense in the context.

677 Serrat] Our Lady of Montserrat? Why St. Katherine should have a specially flaxen wig is another of the posers occurring so constantly. But after all why should she not? [Return]

748 The author, from several signs, must have written this odd poem in no small haste. But he must indeed have been in a hurry when, as would here seem, he confounded 'casket' and 'carcanet'. Cf. l. 953.

757 Some word like 'talking' is wanted here.

748 The author, from several signs, must have written this odd poem in no small haste. But he must indeed have been in a hurry when, as would here seem, he confounded 'casket' and 'carcanet'. Cf. l. 953.

757 Some word like 'talking' is wanted here. [Return]

822 I suppose 'flazing' (the original) is only a misprint for 'flaring'; but with Whiting you can never be quite sure.

829 Orig. 'archy-'.

834 Orig. 'weekes', as in Spenser, F. Q. ii. x. 30, 2.

844 'boat-boy'? Phaon who is mentioned ll. 3582 foll., and whose later stage of beauty might entitle him to complete his quintet with his 'fare' Venus, Helen, and Narcissus.

862 'the poet'. Horace in Odes, III. xix. 11-15. [Return]

904 en-neale] Whiting has used this word before, l. 191, but less oddly. It seems here to mean 'portray indelibly', 'preserve as in mosaic or enamel'. Cf. l. 1521.

918 Butler, as Brydges noticed, must surely have seen this.

920 That 'Prior' is usual and sufficient did not matter to Whiting: he wanted three syllables and an easy rhyme, so he made what he wanted.

953 This line settles the question (v. sup., l. 748) as to Whiting's confusion of 'casket' and 'carcanet'. It is even possible to guess at the cause—the original French carcan, 'a prisoner's chain', 'prison' suggesting 'place of confinement'.

975 'Archy-' in original as before. The use of the French corresponding form 'archi-' instead of the English 'arch-' is probably not accidental.

987 The sharp change here from the straightforward 'frosts' &c. to this ellipse of 'as [that] he [should] want' is noticeable.

989-90 Another Dryden suggestion. The improvement in

O daughter of the Rose, whose cheeks unite

The differing titles of the red and white,

is of course immense. But Cambridge poets have always had a laudable habit of reading each other, and Albino and Bellama was not such a very old poem when Dryden went up.

998 Original, ridiculously enough, 'a A percee'! I think Whiting's is the worst printed book of the scores, if not hundreds, I have read for this collection. [Return]

1004 It is delightful to think how the persons who were shortly to hold Cleveland for a greatest living poet must have enjoyed this metaphysical translation of 'He kissed her when nobody was looking'!

1027 'Venice' for 'glass'—'ice'. As I have said, you may do almost anything you like to Whiting in the way of interpretation.

1058 So, again, I suppose 'vowel-plasters' means 'vocal pleadings', but I should not dare to be certain.

1068 'Teen', as more than once annotated, = 'light'; so eight lines lower.

1081 Of the numerous shades of the word 'baulk', 'parry' or 'foil' comes nearest here

1084 are] 'or' in the original.

1086 'Chester'] = 'he who chests'—and why not? [Return]

1112 The metaphors as well as the bloods are something mixed: but again, why not?

1130 Although 'toll' was never (and then less than now) confined to funerals Whiting had better have used another word.

1155 'Anchorist', is at any rate better than 'Priorist'. Fuller used it later.

1172 If Bellama, who indeed seems to have been an outspoken young lady, had regarded manners in regard to her love as little as Agamemnon in regard to his wife, she might have told him that his verses were rather long. [Return]

1211 satonisco]? Form of 'satin', unknown elsewhere.

1214 'frank', again Shakespearian, is of course proper to the boar only; but Whiting did not regard invidious distinctions.

1244 There is, of course, not the slightest justification for 'rosy', but our poet was supra not merely grammaticam but vocabularium and everything else.

1271 An odd and rather awkward metaphor.

1294 Orig. 'quoth she'—but, of course, Albino is the speaker. [Return]

1306 Does 'wretching' occur elsewhere? 'Wretch' as a verb is quoted, but only as Scots, and only in the sense of 'be miserly'. Whiting, though not muddle-headed, was so feather-headed in the use of words that one must take into account the possibility of 'retching', i.e. 'vomiting blasphemy', and can hardly neglect as impossible a careless confusion with 'wretchless, = 'reckless'.

1340 The poet changes number from 'nips' to 'uncrown' with his usual lightness of heart.

1376 Cf. Ps. xlvi. 9, 'Knappeth the spear in sunder'. [Return]

1420-4 This is a reference to Drayton's Nymphidia, where Hob searches for the Fairy Queen, who has gone off with Pigwiggen (cf. ll. 421-4).—It will he observed that, as in the case of Kingsley's hero, 'the party is taken ill with a poem' on every provocation.

1432 We want 'Daffa-downa-dillies'.

1442 An Alexandrine: not as yet common in the piece.

1450 'ermelin', with its equivalents, is rather the commoner form in all mediaeval languages.

1461 Carduus benedictus [Return]

1519 Why 'Irish' who can say? The only sensible remark which presents itself on this piece of nonsense (I have not, of course, attempted to alter the gibberish in any way) is that dialect seems to have been increasing its hold on popular fancy off the stage, as well as in Brome's Northern Lass, &c. on it.

1521 Here 'en-nealed' throws its light backward on the use supra (l. 904) as simply 'enamelled'.

1539 vit] 'vil' in original.

1558 Orig. 'choyce'; but this must be one of the innumerable misprints which the Errata paragraph treats so cavalierly.

1559 For novel] = 'as a novelty'?

1561 Orig. 'seiling'—the s being common (though, of course, wrong) earlier as well as at this time.

1569 Orig. 'guilt'. [Return]

1602 'coven' in this sense should be 'covent', but Whiting affects the form: see 2686, 3167.

1615 A sufficiently mysterious line.

1645 Orig. 'Volgo's'. [Return]

1714 Query, 'If satin's difference can maids adorn'.

1716 'fligger' has a certain dialectic sense of 'flutter', and as its congener 'flicker' has one of 'snigger', 'jeer', it probably has that here.

1745 dors] = 'bumblebees'—somewhat unworthily yoked.

1750 The extraordinary double plural of 'females fairs' (orig. 'faires') would seem impossible in any other author. Perhaps 'female', but the rhyme requires 'fairs'.

1784 'Sh'as'] A no doubt unintentional compelling of the apostrophe to do double duty. [Return]

1844 Whiting was apparently more fashionable in his astronomy than Bacon or Browne.

1863 The slang use of 'dust' is found in Wilkins's Miseries of Enforced Marriage. 1607, 'Come, down with your dust'. One would be disposed to think it a parallel to 'dross', &c.—terms contemptuous of money, but generally employed by those who have not got it.

1865 dealth] I suppose this is another of Whiting's many inventions. Cf. Il Insonio, 347.

1873 Orig. 'everts', which must be wrong.

1882 Orig. 'phrentick'. This middle form between 'frenetic' and 'frantic' is M. E. (for instance, in Langland), but is not, I think, common later.

1883 pargèd] This is one of Whiting's redeeming vividnesses. The verb is, of course, the same as 'parget'—'to plaster or distemper'. Cf. Il Insonio, 73. [Return]

1911 Whether 'buzzled' is 'bustled' or 'buzzed' I am not sure. Cf. Il Insonio, 107. 'He buzzles like a bustard in a wind'.

1930 Orig. 'Bagno's'.

1931 for] Not quite impossible, but unlikely. 'Fore'?

1945 'cowlist' may raise a doubt as to the passage supra, The Author to his Book, l. 58.

1959 I suppose 'eighteen hooks' means hooks to catch persons eighteen years old. But for cautions against being too sure Whiting is sovereign.

1965 'drilling' for 'trickling' we had before.

1969 'tamm[e]y's (as in original). Still a word for coarse cloth.

1984 Once more, if 'jen-net' is superfluous and you cannot think of any rhyme but 'Bennet' why not overrun?

1995 blanched?] 'Lilies' equalling 'cheeks'? But I would not dictate to Whiting. [Return]

2009 huffing waste] 'Pretentious prodigality', as Bellama was a rich pensioner.

2027 'innupted' is better and better. According to that lofty view of the genuine writer which insists that he shall never be at a loss for a word to fit matter and form at once, Whiting should stand very high.

2048 Orig. 'earrhs'.

2071 Neptune's grandchild] Cupid; but the affiliation is irregular.

2083 The only meaning I can think of for this marvellous phrase is, 'He could get the various dresses, but he could not change his own face to suit and give voice to them'. [Return]

2116 Felice] Orig. 'Phæliche' throughout.

2120 Issa] v. Martial, i. 110, on the pet dog of Publius:

Hanc ne lux rapiat suprema totam,

Picta Publius exprimit tabella,

In qua tam similem videbis Issam,

Ut sit tam similis sibi nec ipsa, &c. &c.

2137 lede] = 'speech', 'tale'. Whether Whiting got this from Chaucer's 'ledene' one cannot say; but he seems to have been a man of some reading.

2150 worlds] Play on 'globes'?

2154 'And' would make the next line and a half refer to Bellama, which does not seem likely.

2174 'Lorretta is, all things considered, a rather unfortunate feminizing of Loretto to denote Our Lady thereof.

2188-93 Is this one of the 'misplaced staves' so very coolly left to the reader's discovery in the Errata-note? (v. inf., [p. 551]). It looks as if it ought to come after its present successor.

2196 'rosies', another coinage, of which Whiting was fond: see ll. 2523, 3344, 3348, 3436. [Return]

2220 his] Not that the Prioress thought him masculine as yet.

2226 camp] Orig. 'came'—from the rhyme an obvious misprint, but why 'lanky'? Because of mortifications? Cf. 2199 'lankcloister' and 2553 'lanky crew'. [Return]

2301 rape] Probably for 'rap', 'valueless coin'.

2382 vogliarell[a] 'Little wish', 'fancy'. [Return]

2404 crayfish] Orig. 'creevish' is nearer to écrevisse and the M. E. crevis than the more modern forms.

2410 orc] 'vessel as big as a whale'. Orig. 'Orke'.

2415 'glorrah'. Evidently the same word as 'glotrah' in l. 3714, and apparently some kind of food capable of being made into a 'shape'.

2427 tempo-pates. Query, pates as bald as Father Time's.

[*] 2453: "a joy ovall chhriots".
The first part of this 'pie' is pretty clearly 'jovial', but the rest is mere guesswork. Perhaps 'a jovial charect'. [Return]

2527 Quiris?

2552 sew] 'sue' in orig.

2562 'ptisick' = 'phthisic' would be intelligible in another context, but not here.

2592 Larv'd] = 'masked'. [Return]

2613 In the original, 'by constraint, not, court, lye sleight'. The punishment fits the crime he had committed in the nuns' narrow beds.

2652 a-darkness] Like 'a-bed', &c.

2656 'Sesamoidesse'. From the Greek σησαμοειδές, a kind of reseda, the medical use of which is noted in Hippocrates; Strabo also refers to it as a charm in vogue to reduce tumours.

2686 'Coven', as before.

2689 'vezzo'] Cf. 'vogliarell'. [Return]

2721 'Not' carried on to 'laughs'.

2754 trig] To 'trot', 'run'. Apparently Lancashire and Yorkshire dialect to this day. [Return]

2833 'eye-lid rain' may be tears, or a misprint for 'eye-let'; v. sup., l. 795.

2851 fleecèd] = 'mouldy'.

2861 copèd]? = 'encountered', 'met with'. Cf 3855.

2862 Orig. 'Of on'.

2889 Orig. 'Mà boun'.'

2897 sience] = 'scion'. [Return]

2924 salve] Where did she get it?

2970 Folco] ? Albino-Felice rather.

2971 Sardonic, an adjective formed from 'sardonyx'?

2993 threnes] = 'wailings'—Graece. [Return]

3038 'Vitruvius' for 'Vesuvius' is going pretty far, but can be caught up. 'Ichonian' eludes me.

3043 Here Whiting seems to present one of his characteristic retorts to criticism: 'If you say Mab for Mabel, why may I not say Mabel for Mab?' [Return]

3101 'the other Nunc'] We say 'the other day', and 'just now'. Why not 'the other minute', and so 'the other now'?

3116 swogging] Palsgrave, in a passage which I owe to the late Professor Skeat, 'I swag as a fat person's belly swaggeth as he goeth', might almost have been annotating this passage. Cf. also, of course, 'swagger'. As for the o, 'Maggie' and 'Moggie', 'flap' and 'flop', and a hundred other pairs, occur.

3118 We had 'claret' thus used in Benlowes, vol. 1, p. 358 (l. 202).

3143 larvèd] As before, l. 2592.

3152 Is this found elsewhere?

3155 The union of body and soul.

3158 Orig. 'rithmes'.

3160 'Ascending' &c. 'the ladder'.

3170 'Ferny flag' is not so bad for the tossed antlers.

3179 Malèd] Is this for 'mailed'? = 'armoured by fear against the briars'?

3182 Donnes] Donne? 'ladies'? [Return]

3202 Where again he got a trusty or untrusty Turkish or other blade 'you shall tell me', as Prince Seithenin says. But it is doubtless 'necessary to the action'.

3208 Orig. 'Cypresse', which is quite another thing, unless he meant Libitina.

3210 Orig., which I quote merely to show the extraordinary ill-printing of the book, 'olse'!

3228 Was a 'helm' part of the dress which a monk suddenly flying from his cloister would have 'at temp. of tale'?

3230 Orig. 'wooddards'.

3264 airs] = 'breaths' = 'words'?

3277 Orig. 'led'. [Return]

3329 terse] I do not remember a similarly concrete application of 'terse' as 'elegant', 'well-modelled and outlined'. But, as has been so frequently asked, 'Why not?' Indeed, the plumber's 'wiped' for a 'shaped' joint, though certainly not so intended, is a translation of it.

3343 Narcissus' hate] = Echo.

3344, 3348 Orig., as before, 'rosyes'.

3354 not] Orig. 'hot'!

3363 'Dreane' is, of course, 'drain'. There is a form drenian (though it is not the only one) in A.S. Cf. p. 539, l. 2.

3367 Rather a fine line, and 'the Child of Sin', though of course not original, is interesting before Milton for Death.

3374 This looks at first like a most remarkable super-painting of the lily. But the violets are the veins.

3396 Orig. ''Tis th' countenance': but Whiting is rarely, if ever, rough to this extent, and his printer might do anything. [Return]

3437: Phyma] Whiting, or his printer, must surely have confused φῦμα, 'a malignant growth', 'tumour', with φῦσα, 'a fiery blast'.

3442 had] Orig. 'hab'. So in l. 3437 'ugon' and in l. 3444 'wheo'. There was apparently no correction of the press at all.

3460 healthed] = 'seen that they were in health'.

3467 forth'] So orig. Of course Whiting may have written 'forth th''.

3493-7 Some confusion here between Proserpine and Eurydice. [Return]

3533 This scene has a Robin-and-Makyne character, which might have been made very good and is actually not quite bad.

3558 feeted] = 'put into metre'.

3581 Orig. 'ftam'd'.

3582 seq. The story of Aphrodite and her gift to Phao is vulgate, but the goddess's alias is not Greek to me. In the atrocious printing of the original it might be either 'Sea's' or (more nearly) 'Sed's'. The latter is a clear vox nihili, and as, I suppose, even Nathaniel Whiting in the height of his pranks would not make 'Se-a' a dissyllable, I suppose also that he wrote 'the Sea's' and the printer dropped the article. [Return]

3604 Circe is rather loosely called Glaucus' wife.

3606 Who was or were Holgoy?

3608 'Heliotropion' rather—the Moonstone, much used in magic.

3612 Polupists] = 'pluralists'.

3616 Pompholyx is a 'bubble', thence a 'blister', and thence again a sort of eczema. But whether it became a name for one of the 'Fauna of Fancy' I do not find.

3617 'Your loves catch feathers.' In the original, 'Your loves with catch-feathers'; the 'with' seems to have been taken over from the preceding line.

3622 Mantuan] There is a similar reference in Il Insonio, ll. 365-6.

3627 'Quinque literae' is said to be used of Hebrew roots. But whether anybody preceded Whiting's restless and fantastic ingenuity in making a half English half Latin femina quinque literarum to match the homo trium I do not know. The word itself is obvious enough.

3676 'Tenter' = stretch on tenter-hooks, rack.

3685 pague] Lat. pagus, anglicized and transferred from 'district' to 'village'. [Return]

3704 'Lugget' is said to be still dialectic for 'a small load of corn', and there are numerous senses of 'lug' meaning 'protuberances'. So I suppose 'ludgets' are knobs or lumps of bread. But to tell the truth the description of this meal requires nearly as strong a stomach to read as the meal itself to eat, and I shall say little more of it. Naughtiness is sometimes (though by no means so necessarily as appears to some authors and critics) amusing: nastiness never is. I shall therefore take the liberty of not annotating for a page or two.

3796 This line would be a good text for a discourse on the type of writing. 'Blur the holier entries of Albino's page with the recording Angel' is its equivalent, and there have been times when that would have been approved as 'wery pretty'. But 'roule' in orig. may be a misprint for 'soule'.

3797 'Venice' and 'Venus' have been played upon before by the writer: they are probably, but not quite necessarily, interchanged here by the printer. It may perhaps be noted that in the original the printer, weary of mere misspelling and misprinting, has taken to mispaging. The text goes on straight, but the pages after 129 are numbered 26, 12, 132, 133, 130, 131, 136, 137, 134, 135, 140, 141, and so on. [Return]

3806-7 It is odd what good lines and phrases this poetaster can sometimes turn out.

Into his thoughts did throng

His house of penance, hunger, cold, and sweat,

is worthy the most undoubted poet.

3844 'dell' is not unlike Whiting, but, of course, 'cell' suggests itself.

3845 'repell' = repeal.

3871 Apella] Credat Iudaeus.

3874 Not 'saw double' but 'had the use of his eyes'.

3892 Orig. 'tuffe'. Was Whiting reminiscent of The Nun's Priest's Tale here? [Return]

3939 Perduer] Apparently 'a soldier who goes on a forlorn hope'.

made their eyes] = 'stared as hard as they could'. Whiting himself certainly 'makes his words perduers' in this sense.

3948 Orig. 'tispyde'.

3967 'Copester' (orig. 'coapster') here, and 'coped' ('coap't') in l. 4032, have nothing to do with the amorous sense in which the word has been formerly used. The signification is simply 'wearing a cope'.

The 'Canzone' appears to aim at a sort of 'The Queen was in the parlour' measure:

Drink full ones tinker | methinks the monks are dry;

though the lines, as they always do in such cases, occasionally simulate regular decasyllables. [Return]

4047 fop] Same as 'fob' = 'put off with a false or trumped-up excuse'.

4054 Angel] The old pun on the coin.

4060 raddle-man] A hawker of coarse red paint.

4067 'podging', though it has various more definite senses, appears to be still dialectically used for 'stupid'. [Return]

4102 I do not find any of the recognized senses of 'swig' (orig. 'swigge') that fits this very well as = 'a fig', or something coarser. But it may well be coined.

4122 If anybody asks where Starley is it will be sufficient to answer that it is where the Danes used cannons. But 'act their juries' (if right) is one of those at first sight mad phrases of our author's which really have, if little method, some meaning.

4152 glide] Plural by the common attraction to 'channels'.

4177 'air' (orig. 'ayre') is, I suppose, as before = 'breath' = 'words'.

4188 Albino's remarkably catholic conglomeration of classical and Christian wedding-rites might, in a more modern writer, be a satire on Renaissance habits. In him it is only a survival of them. [Return]

4230-6 In this stanza Whiting gives a final flourish of his wondrous diction. I feel sure he must have leant back in his chair and looked lovingly at

Hack on the quiet shore their brackèd sheaths,

and I should not presume to be too certain as to the exact meaning of 'half-wrack'd with eye-men', though I think I know. The insouciance with which he shuffles off the not impertinent question 'How did a somewhat "arbitrary gent" like Don Rivelezzo take this sort of thing?' is also rather charming.

---

TO THOSE WORTHY HEROES OF OUR
Age, whose noble Breasts are wet
and wat'red with the dew of
Helicon, N.W. wisheth ever-
flourishing Laurels.

You noble laureates, whose able quills

In framing odes, do drean the sacred rills

Of Aganippe dry, within whose breasts

The sire of Æsculapius safely rests;

And all the Muses' temple, deign your rays

To cheer the measures of an infant bayes,

Spread forth the banners of your worths to shield

His younger Muse, unable yet to wield

Arms 'gainst the monsters of this critic age,

10Envy, detraction, and Saturnine rage.

I to myself assume not double worth,

Or that my teeming fancy can bring forth

Words to make wonder stand amazed, do try

To vindicate the breath of poesy.

In such a thought I'm silent, but because

I've heard invectives belched from the jaws

Of nil-scientes, whose audacious brags

Have raised a thunder like a shoal of dags

T' affright endeavours.

20In writing, which if my weak studies hit

Of any fancy speaking worth or wit,

If I have snatchèd any fainting Muse

From the black jaws of envy and abuse,

Shooting a soul into her, and new breath,

Maugre those tongues that doomèd her to death—

Echo forth thanks unto coy Daphne's lover

(About whose fane the sacred Nine do hover)

Whose kindness smiled on my uncrushed designs;

And locked a muse in my unworthy lines,

30Able to blunt the darts of envy, pare

The sharpest-hoofèd satyr, and with air

Shrill as the voice of thunder, chide those galls

That belch forth scandals and invective bawls.

Nay, he, befriending me above my merit,

Unseen of any heaved my wingèd spirit

T' a higher court than the Star chamber is,

Where souls may surfeit with immortal bliss;

And taught my fancy, in those quiet slumbers,

What, waking, I have folded up in numbers;

40To tell the brood of critics that there are

Some few, or if not some, yet one, that dare

(Backèd by your thrice-sacred worths) expose

These lines and letters to the ken of prose.

The humble admirer

of your muses N. W.

To those Worthy 2 drean] v. sup., l. 3363.

6 'an infant bayes' is rather curious. But cf. 'youthful bays', l. 122 infra.

---

Il Insonio Insonnadado.

When (in the silent age of sable night)

The silver way with Phoebe's glimm'ring light

And her attendants was adorned, and when

Fast slumbers scaled the eyes of drowsy men,

I ent'red Morpheus' Court, that iv'ry port

Whereat benighted fancies pass that sort

With real good, Sleep was the janitor

Who let me in, without one crumb of ore,

Into the spacious hall, whose darksome floor

10With downy beds and quilts was pavèd o'er,

Instead of marble stones. Here nuzzled both

The hated spawn of idleness and sloth,

Icilone and Phantaso, the one

Wrapt in a mantle, set with stars and stones,

Chequered with flow'rs, and trimmed with antic shapes,

Playing with children, feathers, flies, and apes,

Blowing up spittle bladders, and the other

Stretched on the bosom of his quiet mother,

Folded in furs and feathers, would not stir

20To earn a penny, or to 'please you, sir,'

With cap and curtsey. Wond'ring much, to me

The wingèd post came with an embassy.

I, frighted with his strange apparel, shrunk

Away, and closely into feathers sunk.

He, smiling, said, 'Let not my strange arraying,

Kind youth, beget amazement or dismaying.

I'll show thee where in marshalled order stray

Whole troops of laureates ensphered with bay';

Then spread his wingèd sails, and caught my hair,

30Without a sense of motion through the air

Conducting me, through where the salamander

(If faith b' historical) does breath and wander.

Then through those glorious orbs, enriched with gems,

The palaces of seven diadems.

Then through the firmament where glitt'ring spangs

Like blazing topazes in crystal hangs.

Three storeys higher was the Galupin

Where Jove was frolic with his goddy kin;

Hither was I uplifted, then mine eye

40Besprinkled was by nimble Mercury

With liquor which with strength did me endue

T' abide the presence of th' immortal crew.

The whisp'ring vaults I openèd of my brain,

The counsels of the gods to entertain,

And, fearing memory, with short-lived chalk

(Wanting the tongue of paper) writ their talk.

The patron of Parnassus and the Nine,

To Jove presented and the rest divine

Their suits, with comely grace and majesty.

50But Phoebus was the orator: 'Lo! I

Thy daughters undertook to patronize,

Great Emperor of the crystal-spangled skies!

And shield their measures from the sullen rage

Of envious ignorance, this critic age.

(For none inveigh against poetic measures

But those that never had Pandora's treasures)

Yet such a shoal of ignorants I find,

'Tis thought the greater part o' th' world is blind;

That, maugre all my scourges, in the dark

60Against the Muses they will snarl and bark.

Let wingèd-sandalled Hermes post to call

And summon them unto thy judgement hall,

That you may know their rage is want of brains.'

Hermes took post, and brought the silly trains.

Jove waved his sceptre and commanded hush.

Then calls a gaudy piece of empty plush,

And asked what he could say 'gainst Poetry:

'Ha! ha!' quoth he, and fleered with blinking eye,

'I have a mistress' (then begins a tale

70Which made Jove call for some nectarean ale

To arm his ears 'gainst nonsense, and his side

'Gainst laughter's fury) 'has too much of pride.

She's fair as is a wall new-parged with lime,

She's wise enough; for age, she's in her prime.

I vow her service, but she slights me, why?

Marry, I have no vein in Poesy,

But what I take on trust o' th' second hand.

She jeers and says, "This cannot well be scanned;

This has a foot too little, that too much;

80This is a borrowed line"—"she knows 't by th' touch;

Tells me the double Indies shall not gain

Her love without the smirk poetic vein.

Despairing, I against the Muses rail,

And wished my hands had crusted been with flail.

Then should not I have needed proxy-verse,

T' have won a milkmaid, neither coy nor terse.

"Tush," say I, "Madam, this same ragged crew

Of rhyming dizzards are not worthy you.

Plato exiled them from his commonweal.

90Their tongues will flatter, and their fingers steal.

Mere sycophants that, for a trencher-bit,

Will swear y' have beauty mixed with purest wit.

And if you anger them, will in a rage

Unsay 't and rail 'gainst you, your sex, and age."

Hundred invectives more I often use

Against the Poet and his strumpet muse.

But I protest 'tis to dissuade my lady:

For had I wit, Phoebus should be my daddy.

Then, sacred sisters! I implore your bays

100Make me a bard, and I'll descant your praise.'

'No,' quoth the Muses, 'Helicon ne'er brooks

T' have servants which do wear such simple looks.'

So sent him packing with a flea in 's ear.

Apollo called another to appear,

A feeble brain, that at a gen'ral dye

Had got the sable hue of infamy.

He buzzles like a bustard in a wind,

And with his aio's strikes the vulgar blind,

In whom, if we believe Pythagoras,

110I think the soul of Battus housèd was.

He is demanded why he thus does bawl

'Gainst soaring wits, not worms that earthly crawl?

Clothing his face with impudence, his looks

With pride, and with high self-conceit (his books,

So are his words, he speaks in print) 'Why? why?

Have I not cause t' exclaim on Poesy?

I'm a divine, not a fond prattling poet.

I am a preacher, I would have you know it.'

'Peace! arrogant,' says Hermes, 'else I'll drive

120Thee quick into the black infernal hive.

There was a time when thou admir'dst with praise

Each sprig of laurel, slip of youthful bays.

But Envy's master now: or th' cause of it

Is, thou ne'er hop'st t' attain that height of wit.

But say the truth (yet truth will scarce abide thee)

Are there not some that jeer and do deride thee

In lofty measures, and thou wanting skill

To vindicate thy credit by thy quill?

Dost scold?' Quoth he, 'I do acknowledge it.

130I blamed the Muses, 'cause I wanted wit;

And darted scandals at Apollo's lyre.

Yet pardon, mighty Æsculapius' sire,

And ye blest goddesses, my grand offence,

And on your altars I'll burn frankincense,

Nay, build rich trophies unto Poetry.'

''Tis good to see a convert mind: stand by.'

Apollo said. Says Vulcan, 'By the mass,

I have espied a plump-cheek'd bonny lass.

She is a wrig, I warrant. Where's my wife?

140Oh! 'tis a hell to live a coupled life.'

Thus did the Blacksmith mutter, till Apollo

Cited the damsel with a gentle holloa.

Up comes the Marget with a mincing pace,

A city-stride, court-garb, and smirking face,

So curtsied to the gods, yet 'twas but short.

Then says Apollo (meaning to make sport)

'What occupation use you, art, or trade?

Are you a virgin?' 'Yes, a chambermaid

Forsooth I am, I have my virgin seal.

150To honest Vulcan I dare make m'appeal:

He'll pawn his head, had I kept Venus' room,

Mars had not dubbed him with Actaeon's doom.'

'A merry wench, in faith!' says Jove, 'yet stay.

To serious parle let's fall from wanton play.

You are accused as one that does condemn

And boldly scoff the laurel diadem.'

'I once', quoth she, 'admired them all, until

I found my praise returned but traffic ill.

for when I praised, they praisèd me again:

160So I had only praises for my pain.

Then wittily I oftentimes would flout,

And say, the poets' was a needy rout;

Of all professions sure it was the worst,

Just like the cockatrice i' th' shell accurst,

With many more; yet though our tongues did jar,

Our quarrel ended in a lippy war.

We kissed to friendship, like the nurse and child,'

And there she stopped, whereat the heavens smiled.

Then came a servingman, a blunt old knave,

170That dared Parnassus with a saucy brave.

'In youth,' says he, 'I rhymed and framèd notes

To Pan's choice music and the shepherds' throats:

And many a lusty bowl of cream have got

For Kate's three brace of rhymes, which was, God wot,

But once removed from prose, and, for a song,

The iron-hoofèd Hobs 'bout me did throng.

But now old age my wit and fancy nips,

I gall the Muses with satyric quips;

Yet might I with the eagle cast my bill,

180And gain my youth, I would regain my skill.'

This done, the pursuivant Apollo posts

T' Elysium, to call the poets' ghosts,

That paid th' infernal ferryman his fee.

There saw I Homer, but he saw not me;

Lascivious Ovid, and Virgilius grave,

Satyric Juvenal, and Martial brave,

Splay-footed Plautus, limping Ennius,

Propertius, Horace, and Boethius.

Amongst the moderns came the Fairy Queen,

190Old Geoffrey, Sidney, Drayton, Randolph, Greene,

The double Beaumont, [ ] Drummond, Browne—

Each had his chaplet, and his ivy crown.

'How rested ye amidst those gloomy shades?'

Says Jupiter, 'See ye not other trades,

Learnings, and sciences, have constant springs,

Summers and autumns without winterings?

They'll have no hailstorms, fleezy rain, nor frost,

A pregnant-witted bard did silence break.

200Homer 'twas not, he could not see to speak.

Virgil it was not, he had got a wrench:

Nor B. nor M., for they had got a wench.

Ennius was lame, and much did fear his shins;

Horace was busy with the kilderkins,

Ovid employed with his belovèd flea,

Old Geoffrey's language was not fit for plea.

Drayton on 's brains a new Moon-calf was getting,

And testy Drummond could not speak for fretting.

I knew the Roscian's feature, not his name;

210Yet 'tis engraven on the shawm of Fame.

With settled grace he boldly did advance:

'Father of gods! King of the large expanse!

We oft have heard proud Envy belching forth

Fogs, mists, and fumes, t' eclipse the metric worth,

And know the teeming world did never nurse

So great a mischief as the critic curse.

Our souls one minute have not rested quiet

Since carps, we know, was Ignoramus' diet.

If Wisdom's fetial call to the sand

220We have revenge; our standish is at hand,

That rights our wrongs: but 'gainst Don Silly's rails

The fist is heaved, for paper naught avails.

We sate in counsel, did intend to sue

With a petition to this noble crew;

The substance this, that ye would either give

Wit and discretion unto all that live,

Or make them idiots, deprived of reason.

Else, but to speak, let it be counted treason.

But we appeal, great gods, 'tis now my theme—

230To clear from mud pure Aganippa's stream,

Assist, Pierides, maintain your fires

With greater care than can the Vestals theirs;

'Tis merely loss of time, and paper both

By refutation to chastise their sloth.

Then I the juice of Helicon will sup

Not in nutshell, but Colocassian cup,

Shall make my fancy catch at naught but gems,

And wreathe the Muses' brows with diadems.

Methinks this draught such virtue does infuse

240As if in every sense there dwelt a muse,

A spirit of valour to ungod great war,

Should he but send a ram, but to the bar;

Who knows not Vaticinium does imply

In equal measures verse and prophecy,

An inspiration, a celestial touch?

Such is the poet's raptures, prophet's such.

Vates, a bard, and him that does presage;

Vaticinor, possessed with either rage.

Poema is a book, in numbers framed,

250Fast cémented with sense, by working named,

To which the choicest orator stands bare.

Poesis does, in a sublimer air,

Things human and divine expose to view.

The first philosophy that Fame e'er knew

Was honoured with the name of Poetry,

Enriched with rules of pure morality,

Reading instructions unto heathen men.

With more contentment than the Stoic's pen.

The ancients unto poets only gave

260The epithets of wise, divine, and grave;

Because their metres taught the world to know

To whom they did their holy worship owe.

The Greek is free, and kinder in her praise

Which she bestows upon poetic lays.

She calls all that which takes not essence by

A matter pre-existent, poesy.

So makes the world a poem: and by this

The great creator a great poet is.

Nay more, that language on the Nine bestows

270(As ev'ry callent of that idiom knows

In her etymologues, an higher grace,

Calls them παιδευτάς, and whose measures trace

The steps of Nature, human and divine,

The abstruse mysteries of both untwine,

Unlock the exta of each science, art,

By cunning search; again, not as a part,

Nor a grand column only, but entreasures

The soul of learning in the poet's measures.

All other arts (which use and learning gave)

280Precepts and rules as sure foundations have,

Whenas the poet's pen alone 's inspired,

With high enthusiasms by heaven fired,

Ennius them holy calls; and Plato says

Furies divine are in the poet's lays.

Nor wanted he himself the poet's wit;

He Dithyrambos and love passions writ.

The Regal Prophet was a true-born poet,

As to the life his well-tuned metres show it;

Composed to music by that holy man,

290Ere Hopkins and Sternhold knew how to scan.

Hence, chicken-augurs, with your crooked staves,

Whose rash conjectures crown and dig us graves.

A lofty fancy, steepèd in the fount

Of Pegasus, an higher pitch can mount.

Sibylline oracles did speak in verse;

Their scattered leaves in measures did rehearse

The mysteries of man's redemption by

The incarnation of a deity.

Grave Maro, I remember, in an ode

300(An eclogue) treads the same prophetic road.

Those famous Druides, renowned of late,

Treated at large o' th' soul's immortal state.

Man's spirit does not to the gloomy shade

Of Erebus, o'er black Cocytus, wade.

Death sets no period, is the lesser part

Of human life; for the same breath does dart

Vigour to every sinew in the bulk.

Man lives as freely in another hulk.

Who readeth Ovid's Metamorphosin,

310And thinks not Moses' soul was sheathèd in

His body by a transmigration?

He from the chaos tells the world's plantation.

Maro accords, and gives the world a soul

Which does this well-compacted lump control;

And by illumination he discovered

How then the spirit o'er the water hovered.

Th' inspirèd pen of old Pythagoras

By Naso's guide relates how in this mass

All things do alter shape, yet soon Dame Nature

320Of one form lost informs another feature.

No substance 's nothingèd in this large globe,

But 'gainst some feast puts on a newer robe.

The earth, resolved to water, rarefies

Into pure air; the thinner water flies;

The purer air assumes a scorching heat.

They, back returning, orderly retreat:

Those subtle sparks converted are to breath,

The spissy air, being doomed unto death,

Turns into sea, earth's made a thick'ned water.

330Thus wily Nature is a strange translator.

(My lady readers I refer to Sandys,

But the grave learnèd unto Ovid's hands.)

Nor Seneca divine wants prophesies.

Near to the death of time, an age shall rise

In which says he, the ocean shall untie

The wat'ry bands of things and to the eye

Of Tiphys, a new world appear

Unheard before by the most itching ear,

In glory matching this. Then Thule no more

340Shall be th' earth's ne plus ultra bound or door,

Our eights i' th' hundred would large heaps of treasures

Set in their wills to buy Zorastus' measures.

Mass-priests for dirges then would lose their fee;

These would the surest de profundis be.

Shopsters and gallants to his house would hop

More than t' exchanges or canary-shop.

And poets brisk would have a larger dealth,

Than holy confessors of dead men's wealth.

I might be infinite, should I but show

350For what grave arts the world to poets owe.

Apelles had not been without Parnasse,

The pencil's worth had only dwelt on glass,

Or dusty tablets, guided by those apes,

In imitation of some antic shapes.

Venus a portrait had, Pygmalion missed

That speechless female which he hugged and kissed.

Had not th' enlivening breath of poetry

T' a higher pitch reared up dull fantasy.

How quickly worthy acts of famous men

360Died in the wane of our poetic pen!

How rudely by the monks (which only had

The key of learning) were their actions clad!

King Ethelbert's closed in his Polyander,

To Christ for church buildings he's gone without meander.

Such stuff the tombs of Bede and Petrarch have,

The razor from all monky pates did shave

Wit with their hair, except in Mantuan.

Re-teined by Vida and Politian,

And many others was this glorious sun,

370Which glitter shall till earth's last thread be spun.

We raise shall obelisks by Apollo's breath,

Which owe no homage to the rage of death.

By pen Honterus creatures limned to life,

Better than could the cynic with his knife.

Pliny comparèd unto him did err;

He was a chemic and cosmographer.

How bravely does the Scottish bard depinge

The planets' order and the spheric hinge!

Brave Petrarch, latined by our learned clerk,

380Lights us a lamp to guide us in this dark.

And critic age says that stout Alexander,

(Whose warlike steps o'er all this globe did wander)

Fixing on brave Pelides' tomb his eye,

Rapt with a noble envy loud did cry,

'Happy, O happy thou! whole actions still

Live, being enbreathed by the immortal quill

Of worthy Homer!' nay, when his sword had gained

Those wealthy realms o'er which Darius reigned,

He 'mongst his treasures found a casket fair,

390So set with gold and gems it rayed the air,

And called in day despite of clouds or nights—

Yet the best use (as grave Patricius writes)

This cabinet could serve to, was t' entomb

Homer's choice Iliads in his glorious womb.

Of Zoarastus now some wonders hear,

And barrel his disciples in thine ear,

Whose rhymes could charm foul Cerber's bawling tongue,

And pick hell's lock with his enchanting song;

From Stygian shade conducting whom they listed,

400And whom they pleased with hellish fogs bemisted.

Oh golden metres, rhymes outworthing gold,

At what high prices would they now be sold

If they were extant! friend for friend would sell

Lordships, books, banners, to redeem from hell.

How many ages has those Greeks survived

(Than all their predecessors longer lived),

Which showed their noble worths at Ilium's grave?

Yet thrice Nestorean age them Homer gave.

How bravely Lucan tells succeeding ages

410The seven-hillèd city's bloody rages!

Moist clouds long since have washed the purpled grass,

Yet red as ever 'tis in Lucan's glass.

To Carthage' Queen the wand'ring Trojan prince

Pretended love, but dead it is long since,

And dust are they; yet Virgil's lofty verse

Makes him speak wars, she love, from under th' hearse.

Long since did Hellespont gulp in Leander,

When he presumed on naked breast to wander.

Hero's watch-candle's out; they vanished quite.

420Yet Ovid says all was but yesternight.

A great while since the cheating miller stole

The scholars' meal by a quadruple toll:

They gave him th' hornbook, taught his daughter Greek,

Yet look in Chaucer—done the other week.

Ir'n-sinewed Talus with his steely flail

Long since i' th' right of justice did prevail

Under the sceptre of the Fairy Queen:

Yet Spenser's lofty measures makes it green.

Donne was a poet and a grave divine,

430Highly esteemèd for the sacred Nine

That aftertimes shall say whilst there's a sun

'This verse, this sermon, was composed by Dun'.

What by heroic acts to man accrues,

When grisly Charon for his waftage sues,

If his great grandchild, and his grandchild's son,

May not the honours, which his sword hath won,

Read, graved on paper by a poet's pen,

When marble monuments are dust, and when

Time has eat off his paint and lettered gold;

440For verse alone keeps honour out o' th' mould?

The press successively gives birth to verse,

Shall steely tombs outlive the buckram hearse?

To other things the same proportion hold

Pure rhymes which lofty volumes do enfold.

Autumnal frosts would nip the double rose,

If cherish'd only by the breath of prose.

Beauty of beauty's not the smallest part

Which is bestowèd by our liberal art.

Orpheus, Arion, and the scraping crew,

450To wire and parchèd guts may bid adieu,

Or audience beg; were 't not for sprightful bays,

Which to the strings composeth merry lays.

But with the Muses I'm so fall'n in love

That I forget thy presence, mighty Jove!

And through the spacious universe do walk:

But this shall set a period to my talk.'

Jove stretch'd his sceptre then, with frolic grace,

And joy triumphèd on the heaven's face.

The orbs made music, and the planets danced:

460The Muses' glory was by all enhanced.

Jove then intended for to ratify

Decrees in the behoof of poesy,

Giving the bards his hand to kiss; and made

Chaplets of laurel which should never fade.

But Vulcan, to Gradive placed in oppose,

Was nodding fast and bellowing through the nose.

His armèd brow fell down; and lighting right

His antlers did the marching god unsight.

Mars fumed, the gods laughed out, the spheres did shake,

470At which shrill noise I starting did awake,

And looking up (East having oped his doors)

Amazèd I beheld a troop of scores,

And wond'ring, thought they'd been ale-debts, but found

I them had chalkèd in my dreaming swound.

I trow not the decree: 'twas Vulcan's fault—

Yet dreams are seldom sound, like him they halt.

Take this: and, if I can so happy be,

I'll write, in my next slumbers, the decree.

Il Insonio Insonnadado] 13 The names taken from the well-known passage of Ovid, Met. xi. 640 seq.

37 Galupin?

38 goddy kin. Read perhaps 'goddykin', on the analogy of 'mannikin', and interpret of Ganymede. On the other hand Whiting affects there adjectives in -y: see the examples quoted, Albino, l. 808, where 'goddy' actually occurs.

76 Orig. 'dave'. 'Have' seems more likely, but therefore perhaps less Whitingish, than 'dare'.

86 terse] 'polished'. Cf. Albino, 3329.

88 Orig. 'rithming'. This generally = 'rhyming' but may = 'rhythming'.

108 aio's] = Latin 'I say it'. For similar plurals, cf. conclusum's in Albino, 1334, and fortasse's, 2488.

191 double Beaumont] Francis and Sir John. The mention of Drummond is interesting, for I do not remember many.

198 I do not remember many 'plays' on that consonance of 'rime' and 'rhyme' which is a main argument for not confusing the spelling. In previous line orig. 'fleezie'.

202 I suppose 'M.' is Martial: which of the B.'s (it is surely not Boethius?) the other letter libels I know not.

205 Ovid] The allusion is to the spurious De Pulice printed in the early editions of Ovid.

209 If people read Whiting I suppose somebody would say that this 'Roscian' must be Shakespeare.

218 Ruggles's almost famous play had been written a quarter of a century and performed before the King more than twenty years earlier, but it had only been printed in 1630.

219 'fetial' (orig. 'fæcial') = the priest-herald-ambassador who delivered the ultimatum of war or proclaimed peace. 'Sand' = arena.

236 Colocassian] = made of the great leaves of the Egyptian water-lily.

249 Here we get into the old critical commonplaces of the Italians as to Poema, Poesis, &c.

270 callent] = 'knower'. Whether Whitings invention I know not: he might in the context have been directly thinking of Pliny's 'vaticinandi callentes'.

275 exta = 'entrails', not merely as 'inwards' 'secrets', but as possessing indications for haruspices.

290 Hopkins and Sternhold: cf. sup., King, p. 228.

331 Orig. has simply 'sands' (the proper pronunciation) with a small s. Sandys's Ovid was extremely popular.

337 Orig. 'Typhis'. Tethys? as in the passage of Seneca's Medea, to which Whiting refers ('Tethys novos deteget orbes'). But Tiphys, the helmsman of the Argonauts, and watcher of the seas, may be meant: cf. the prominence given to him in Virgil's 4th Eclogue, 'Alter erit tum Tiphys'.

342 Zorastus] Spelt 'Zoarastus' in l. 395. The reference is to the reputed oracles of Zoroaster, printed in Magia Philosophica, hoc est Francisci Patricii Summi Philosophi Zoroaster & eius 320 Oracula Chaldaica, Hamburg, 1593. Patrizzi, whose Della Poetica (Ferrara, 1586) ranks high in Renaissance criticism, is named at l. 392.

363 Polyander]?

364 Whether this overflowing line is a flirt of Whiting's heels or a slip of pen or press may be doubtful.

368 Re-teined. Cf. the dedication to Albino, l. 6.

373 Honterus] Author of Cosmographiae Rudimenta, 1534, several revisions or re-issues of which appeared in the sixteenth century.

373-393 These lines are full of allusions which I cannot exactly interpret. In fact the whole poem, evidently suggested in style by Marston, Tourneur, and others, is a sort of mystification.

432 Orig. 'Dun'. One of the commonest spellings, and apparently the usual pronunciation.

---

FINIS.

Gentle Reader, beare with some faults, which through the obscuritie of the copie, and the absence of the Authour have escaped; as page 3. line 24. for veyne read reyne. p. 3. l. 6. for enjoyed read enjayld. p. 6. l. 10. for tener read knee. p. 12. l. 24 for Satamit read Catamite. Two staves there are misplaced, to the reforming whereof the sence will direct thee: what other errours thou findest, let thy pen amend, excusing the presse, and un-staining the Author.

[These corrections have been made in the text.]

Errata notes] The sublime coolness of this has been noted. The poet or his reader, less conscientious than the present editor, decided at p. 12 that it was not tanti. As a matter of fact 'Satamit' was already corrected in the copy used.]

ERRATA. VOL. II

Page 237. Psalm 141. l. 22 for severed read severe

l. 23 for not read no

l. 31 for arresse read accesse

Page 238. Chorus. l. 42 for When read Whom

Constancy. l. 21 for rain read ruin

Page 239. (first) Song. l. 14 for blow read blew

l. 27 for you read your

(second) Song. l. 26 for soon read seen

l. 30 for those read these

Page 240. Lines. l. 7 for needs read weeds

l. 22 for instant read distant

l. 6 for field read fields

Page 241. Psalm 137. l. 8 for captive read captived

Page 242. Ballet. l. 29 for eye read eyes

l. 41 for Those moods read These woods

l. 63 for wood read woods

Page 243. Song. l. 14 for then read there

Epistle. l. 39 for life read less

Page 245. Quatrains². l. 4 for side read Tide

l. 9 for flee; MS. fly

Page 246. Epistle. l. 30 for captur'd read captiv'd

Page 247. Hymn. l. 10 for Life read less

Farewell. l. 27 for Disraye read Disease

Page 248. Sir F. Carew. l. 8 for fought read sought

Page 260. l. 34 for soon read seen

Page 261. Sonnet. l. 5 for sure read free

l. 11 for pride read prize

l. 25 for grate read grace

l. 27 for fate read face

Madam, 'tis true is printed in Jonson's Underwoods (1640, p. 247), where it opens Fair Friend, 'tis true, and follows A New-Year's Gift sung to King Charles, 1635. Godolphin's Commendatory Poem to Sandys's Paraphrase of the Divine Poems, 1648, was accidentally omitted from this collection: but as it is easily accessible, it has not been thought necessary to reprint it among these Errata.

VOL. III

Page 431, note, l. 6 from bottom, for 'hateful' read 'grateful'.

Printed in England at the Oxford University Press

---

Transcriber's Note:

Tables of Contents have been added to two of the books, where they were only present in the initial List of Contents.

In the original, the Commendatory Poems were printed in two columns, and the line numbers were placed convenient to the length of line, occasionally 29, 41, etc. Since all the poems are now in single column format, the line numbers in the Commendatory Poems have been restored to the usual 30, 40, etc.

At the time of the Caroline Period, England still followed the Julian calendar (after Julius Caesar, 44 B.C.), and celebrated New Year's Day on March 25th (Annunciation Day). Most Catholic countries accepted the Gregorian calendar (after Pope Gregory XIII) from some time after 1582 (the Catholic countries of France, Spain, Portugal, and Italy in 1582, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Switzerland within a year or two, Hungary in 1587, and Scotland in 1600), and celebrated New Year's Day on January 1st. England finally changed to the Gregorian calendar in 1752.

This is the reason for the double dates in the early months of the years in some of the Notes. There is a reference on page 415 to 28th December, 1682, followed by a reference to January 28th, 1682/3. (1682 in England; 1683 in Scotland). Only after March 25th (Julian New Years Day) was the year the same in the two countries. The Julian calendar was known as 'Old Style', and the Gregorian calendar as 'New Style' (N.S.).

"Albino and Bellama"

Because of the length of this poem, the line notes have been linked, for each hundred lines, for easier access. Click the blue line number, and then the blue Return.

Errata (only obvious Printers' Errors have been corrected):

Page 68: [Footnote: 'fellnw' corrected to (2nd) 'fellow'.

"... this on Strafford's fellow worker and fellow victim...."

Page 76: [Line 20: 'publisbed' corrected to 'published'.

"whose minutes have been published in modern times".

Page 109: 'topô' should be 'typô'. May be a printer's error, or Saintsbury's or Stanley's original: retained.

"Pantachothen en heni topô poll' eidê pherôn,"

Page 226: Footnote: Line 64: 'Witb]' corrected to 'With]'

Page 256: 'flunnt' corrected to 'fluunt'.

Sidenote: "—Sparguntur in omnes, In te mista fluunt—Claudian."

Page 259, Sidenote: _Ganguin_. l. 6.

The historian's name is usually given as Gaguin nowadays, but formerly Guaguin was usual.

Page 301: 'freind' (sic) has been retained. There were no enforced spelling 'rules' at this time.

"Entered in the Stationers' Register on December 17, 1673, as
'A poem or copy intituled the Review, To the Reverend my honored
freind Dr. Wm. Sancroft, Deane of St. Paules, A Pindarique Ode'."

Page 361: Stanza number I. missing. Added for consistency.

Page 384: Missing Stanza number 'II'. Present in the Latin version.

Page 431: 'hateful' corrected to 'grateful' as per the errata on page 562.

"That 'bitter' would be grateful to others besides unicorns after a surfeit of liquorice may be easily admitted."

Page 433: 'tbee' corrected to 'thee'.

"Smile at thee, on thee, like thee new,"

Page 497: Possible Printer's error, mentioned, but not corrected, by Saintsbury:

"The shrivers to their lords return with smiles,

And on their looks a joy ovall chhriots had,"

could be:

"The shrivers to their lords return with smiles,

And on their looks a joviall charact' had,"

(See Note, Line [2453]).

Page 528: 'contiued' corrected to 'continued'.

"The spiders here had one continued loom:"

Page 539 (Note): 'tbe' corrected to 'the'; 'balf; corrected to 'half'.

"and I should not presume to be too certain as to the exact meaning of 'half-wrack'd with eye-men',"

[Return]