Hir. And let me speak
Why, Landora loves not you, but me in you.
Eul. But I in you enjoy Landora's love.
Hir. But she enjoys not your love, 'cause unknown.
Eul. No matter, I in you or you in me,
So that I still possess my dearest dear.
A paltry fancy last night in her bed
Turmoil'd my thoughts, which since I shap'd in rhymes.
Thus.
Hir. Prythee let's hear: I know thou art turn'd poet.
The Dream.
Night having drawn the curtain, down I lie
By one—for worse Saturnius left the sky.
Slumb'ring at last, for love can hardly sleep,
Straightways I dream'd, for love doth revels keep,
A damsel fair, and fashion'd for delight
(Our day-born objects do return at night),
With flow'ry chaplet and red velvet gown,
Which from her breast was fasten'd along down
With rich enamell'd locks, all which one key,
Whose bright gold 'bout her silver neck did play,
Could open and divorce. A veil most fair
(Such whiteness only Paphian doves do wear)
With false light did her beauteous front improve;
From this arch Cupid shot his darts of love.
With gentle strain she took me by the hand
(Touches in love do more than tongues command),
Then leads me with an amorous smile along:
He's easily led whom beauty draws, more strong
Than cable ropes. An altar we descry,
Where incense-frank[313] and amber fumes did fly
In little rolling curls: a reverend priest,
With snowy beard waving upon his breast,
There kneeling did his eyes in sorrow steep.
Whose passionate cry made me, though ignorant, weep.
Phlegon's[314] hot breath no sooner licks up dew
Than joy had dried those tears; for, lo, I view
A circular room, all built with marble clear,
The title, nature's storehouse. Most strange here
It seem'd: I know not how we came nor whence,
Nor any passage saw to get from thence.
But O, the rich delight and glorious fire
Which dazzled me! no heart can more desire.
Here first my guide op'd her spice-breathing door:
Ask what thou wilt, this is the ark of store.
No vows are here repuls'd, she said. But I,
Surpris'd with extreme joy and ecstasy,
By chance a scorpion's tail behind her spied:
Pity such beauty such a monster hide!
Trembling, yet silent, doubtful what to crave;
Lo! with a stink and fearful screech this brave
And glorious dame doth vanish, and a dart,
Which still I quake at, struck me to the heart.
But waking I reviv'd, and found in bed
Such sovereign balm would cure old Peleus dead.[315]
Hir. Ha, ha! your tedious dream hath made me drowsy.
But hark, we must attend the funeral pomp.