The Works of Christopher Marlowe, Vol. 3 (of 3)

THE SECOND SESTIAD

The Argument of the Second SestiadHero of love takes deeper sense,And doth her love more recompense:Their first night's meeting, where sweet kissesAre th' only crowns of both their blissesHe swims t' Abydos, and returns:Cold Neptune with his beauty burns;Whose suit he shuns, and doth aspireHero's fair tower and his desire.By this, sad Hero, with love unacquainted,Viewing Leander's face, fell down and fainted.He kiss'd her, and breath'd life26 into her lips;Wherewith, as one displeas'd, away she trips;Yet, as she went, full often look'd behind,And many poor excuses did she findTo linger by the way, and once she stay'd,And would have turn'd again, but was afraid,In offering parley, to be counted light:So on she goes, and, in her idle flight,Her painted fan of curled plumes let fall,Thinking to train Leander therewithal.He, being a novice, knew not what she meant,But stay'd, and after her a letter sent;Which joyful Hero answer'd in such sort,As he had hope to scale the beauteous fortWherein the liberal Graces locked their wealth;And therefore to her tower he got by stealth.Wide open stood the door; he need not climb;And she herself, before the pointed time,Had spread the board, with roses strew'd the room,And oft looked out, and mused he did not come.At last he came: O, who can tell the greetingThese greedy lovers had at their first meeting?He asked; she gave; and nothing was denied;Both to each other quickly were affied:Look how their hands, so were their hearts united,And what he did, she willingly requited.(Sweet are the kisses, the embracements sweet,When like desires and like27 affections meet;For from the earth to heaven is Cupid raised,Where fancy is in equal balance paised.28)Yet she this rashness suddenly repented,And turn'd aside, and to herself lamented,As if her name and honour had been wrongedBy being possessed of him for whom she longed;I, and she wished, albeit not from her heart,That he would leave her turret and depart.The mirthful god of amorous pleasure smiledTo see how he this captive nymph beguiled;For hitherto he did but fan the fire,And kept it down, that it might mount the higher.Now wax'd she jealous lest his love abated,Fearing her own thoughts made her to be hated.Therefore unto him hastily she goes,And, like light Salmacis, her body throwsUpon his bosom, where with yielding eyesShe offers up herself a sacrificeTo slake her anger, if he were displeased:O, what god would not therewith be appeased?Like Æsop's cock, this jewel he enjoyed,And as a brother with his sister toyed,Supposing nothing else was to be done,Now he her favour and goodwill had won.But know you not that creatures wanting sense,By nature have a mutual appetence,And, wanting organs to advance a step,Mov'd by love's force, unto each other lep?Much more in subjects having intellectSome hidden influence breeds like effect.Albeit Leander, rude in love and raw,Long dallying with Hero, nothing sawThat might delight him more, yet he suspectedSome amorous rites or other were neglected.Therefore unto his body hers he clung:She, fearing on the rushes29 to be flung,Strived with redoubled strength; the more she strived,The more a gentle pleasing heat revived,Which taught him all that elder lovers know;And now the same gan so to scorch and glow,As in plain terms, yet cunningly, he'd crave30 it:Love always makes those eloquent that have it.She, with a kind of granting, put him by it,And ever, as he thought himself most nigh it,Like to the tree of Tantalus, she fled,And, seeming lavish, saved her maidenhead.Ne'er king more sought to keep his diadem,Than Hero this inestimable gem:Above our life we love a steadfast friend;Yet when a token of great worth we send,We often kiss it, often look thereon,And stay the messenger that would be gone;No marvel, then, though Hero would not yieldSo soon to part from that she dearly held:Jewels being lost are found again; this never;'Tis lost but once, and once lost, lost for ever.Now had the Morn espied her lover's steeds;Whereat she starts, puts on her purple weeds,And, red for anger that he stayed so long,All headlong throws herself the clouds among.And now Leander, fearing to be missed,Embraced her suddenly, took leave, and kissed:Long was he taking leave, and loath to go,And kissed again, as lovers use to do.Sad Hero wrung him by the hand, and wept,Saying, "Let your vows and promises be kept:"Then standing at the door, she turned about,As loath to see Leander going out.And now the sun, that through th' horizon peeps,As pitying these lovers, downward creeps;So that in silence of the cloudy night,Though it was morning, did he take his flight.But what the secret trusty night concealed,Leander's amorous habit soon revealed:With Cupid's myrtle was his bonnet crowned,About his arms the purple riband wound,Wherewith she wreath'd her largely-spreading hair;Nor could the youth abstain, but he must wearThe sacred ring wherewith she was endowed,When first religious chastity she vowed;Which made his love through Sestos to be known,And thence unto Abydos sooner blownThan he could sail; for incorporeal Fame,Whose weight consists in nothing but her name,Is swifter than the wind, whose tardy plumesAre reeking water and dull earthly fumes.Home when he came, he seemed not to be there,But, like exilèd air thrust from his sphere,Set in a foreign place; and straight from thence,Alcides-like, by mighty violence,He would have chas'd away the swelling main,That him from her unjustly did detain.Like as the sun in a diameterFires and inflames objects removèd far,And heateth kindly, shining laterally;So beauty sweetly quickens when 'tis nigh,But being separated and removed,Burns where it cherished, murders where it loved.Therefore even as an index to a book,So to his mind was young Leander's look.O, none but gods have power31 their love to hide!Affection by the countenance is descried;The light of hidden fire itself discovers,And love that is concealed betrays poor lovers.His secret flame apparently was seen:Leander's father knew where he had been,And for the same mildly rebuk'd his son,Thinking to quench the sparkles new-begun.But love, resisted once, grows passionate,And nothing more than counsel lovers hate;For as a hot proud horse highly disdainsTo have his head controlled, but breaks the reins,Spits forth the ringled32 bit, and with his hovesChecks the submissive ground; so he that loves,The more he is restrain'd, the worse he fares:What is it now but mad Leander dares?"O Hero, Hero!" thus he cried full oft;And then he got him to a rock aloft,Where having spied her tower, long star'd he on't,And pray'd the narrow toiling HellespontTo part in twain, that he might come and go;But still the rising billows answer'd, "No."With that, he stripp'd him to the ivory skin,And, crying, "Love, I come," leap'd lively in:Whereat the sapphire-visaged god grew proud,And made his capering Triton sound aloud,Imagining that Ganymede, displeas'd,Had left the heavens; therefore on him he seiz'd.Leander strived; the waves about him wound,And pull'd him to the bottom, where the groundWas strewed with pearl, and in low coral grovesSweet-singing mermaids sported with their lovesOn heaps of heavy gold, and took great pleasureTo spurn in careless sort the shipwreck treasure;For here the stately azure palace stood,Where kingly Neptune and his train abode.The lusty god embrac'd him, called him "Love,"And swore he never should return to Jove:But when he knew it was not Ganymed,For under water he was almost dead,He heav'd him up, and, looking on his face,Beat down the bold waves with his triple mace,Which mounted up, intending to have kiss'd him,And fell in drops like tears because they miss'd him.Leander, being up, began to swim,And, looking back, saw Neptune follow him:Whereat aghast, the poor soul gan to cry,"O, let me visit Hero ere I die!"The god put Helle's bracelet on his arm,And swore the sea should never do him harm.He clapped his plump cheeks, with his tresses played,And, smiling wantonly, his love bewrayed;He watched his arms, and, as they open'd wideAt every stroke, betwixt them would he slide,And steal a kiss, and then run out and dance,And, as he turn'd, cast many a lustful glance,And throw him gaudy toys to please his eye,And dive into the water, and there pryUpon his breast, his thighs, and every limb,And up again, and close beside him swim,And talk of love. Leander made reply,"You are deceiv'd; I am no woman, I."Thereat smil'd Neptune, and then told a tale,How that a shepherd, sitting in a vale,Play'd with a boy so lovely-fair33 and kind,As for his love both earth and heaven pin'd;That of the cooling river durst not drink,Lest water-nymphs should pull him from the brink;And when he sported in the fragrant lawns,Goat-footed Satyrs and up-staring34 FaunsWould steal him thence. Ere half this tale was done,"Ay me," Leander cried, "th' enamoured sun,That now should shine on Thetis' glassy bower,Descends upon my radiant Hero's tower:O, that these tardy arms of mine were wings!"And, as he spake, upon the waves he springs.Neptune was angry that he gave no ear,And in his heart revenging malice bare:He flung at him his mace; but, as it went,He call'd it in, for love made him repent:The mace, returning back, his own hand hit,As meaning to be venged for darting it.When this fresh-bleeding wound Leander viewed,His colour went and came, as if he ruedThe grief which Neptune felt: in gentle breastsRelenting thoughts, remorse, and pity rests;And who have hard hearts and obdurate minds,But vicious, hare-brained, and illiterate hinds?The god, seeing him with pity to be moved,Thereon concluded that he was beloved.(Love is too full of faith, too credulous,With folly and false hope deluding us);Wherefore, Leander's fancy to surprise,To the rich ocean for gifts he flies:Tis wisdom to give much; a gift prevailsWhen deep persuading oratory fails,By this, Leander, being near the land,Cast down his weary feet, and felt the sand.Breathless albeit he were, he rested notTill to the solitary tower he got;And knocked and called: at which celestial noiseThe longing heart of Hero much more joys,Than nymphs and shepherds when the timbrel rings,Or crookèd dolphin when the sailor sings.She stayed not for her robes, but straight arose,And, drunk with gladness, to the door she goes;Where seeing a naked man, she screeched for fear(Such sights as this to tender maids are rare),And ran into the dark herself to hide(Rich jewels in the dark are soonest spied).Unto her was he led, or rather drawn,By those white limbs which sparkled through the lawn.The nearer that he came, the more she fled,And, seeking refuge, slipt into her bed;Whereon Leander sitting, thus began,Through numbing cold, all feeble, faint, and wan."If not for love, yet, love, for pity-sake,Me in thy bed and maiden bosom take;At least vouchsafe these arms some little room,Who, hoping to embrace thee, cheerly swoom:This head was beat with many a churlish billow,And therefore let it rest upon thy pillow."Herewith affrighted, Hero shrunk away,And in her lukewarm place Leander lay;Whose lively heat, like fire from heaven fet,35Would animate gross clay, and higher setThe drooping thoughts of base-declining souls,Than dreary-Mars-carousing nectar bowls.His hands he cast upon her like a snare:She, overcome with shame and sallow36 fear,Like chaste Diana when Actæon spied her,Being suddenly betray'd, div'd down to hide her;And, as her silver body downward went,With both her hands she made the bed a tent,And in her own mind thought herself secure,O'ercast with dim and darksome coverture.And now she lets him whisper in her ear,Flatter, entreat, promise, protest, and swear:Yet ever, as he greedily assay'dTo touch those dainties, she the harpy play'd,And every limb did, as a soldier stout,Defend the fort, and keep the foeman out;For though the rising ivory mount he scal'd,Which is with azure circling lines empal'd,Much like a globe (a globe may I term this,By which Love sails to regions full of bliss),Yet there with Sisyphus he toil'd in vain,Till gentle parley did the truce obtainEven37 as a bird, which in our hands we wring,Forth plungeth, and oft flutters with her wing,She trembling strove: this strife of hers, like thatWhich made the world, another world begatOf unknown joy. Treason was in her thought,And cunningly to yield herself she sought.Seeming not won, yet won she was at length:In such wars women use but half their strength.Leander now, like Theban Hercules,Enter'd the orchard of th' Hesperides;Whose fruit none rightly can describe, but heThat pulls or shakes it from the golden tree.Wherein Leander, on her quivering breast,Breathless spoke something, and sigh'd out the rest;Which so prevail'd, as he with small ado,Enclos'd her in his arms, and kiss'd her too:And every kiss to her was as a charm,And to Leander as a fresh alarm:So that the truce was broke, and she, alas,Poor silly maiden, at his mercy was.Love is not full of pity, as men say,But deaf and cruel where he means to prey.And now she wish'd this night were never done,And sigh'd to think upon th' approaching sun;For much it griev'd her that the bright day-lightShould know the pleasure of this blessèd night,And them, like Mars and Erycine, display38Both in each other's arms chain'd as they lay.Again, she knew not how to frame her look,Or speak to him, who in a moment tookThat which so long, so charily she kept;And fain by stealth away she would have crept,And to some corner secretly have gone,Leaving Leander in the bed alone.But as her naked feet were whipping out,He on the sudden cling'd her so about,That, mermaid-like, unto the floor she slid;One half appear'd, the other half was hid.Thus near the bed she blushing stood upright,And from her countenance behold ye mightA kind of twilight break, which through the air,39As from an orient cloud, glimps'd40 here and there;And round about the chamber this false mornBrought forth the day before the day was born.So Hero's ruddy cheek Hero betray'd,And her all naked to his sight display'd:Whence his admiring eyes more pleasure tookThan Dis,41 on heaps of gold fixing his look.By this, Apollo's golden harp beganTo sound forth music to the ocean;Which watchful Hesperus no sooner heard,But he the bright Day-bearing car42 prepar'd,And ran before, as harbinger of light,And with his flaring beams mock'd ugly Night,Till she, o'ercome with anguish, shame, and rage,Dang'd43 down to hell her loathsome carriage.

THE EPISTLE 44 DEDICATORY

TO MYBEST ESTEEMED AND WORTHILY HONOURED LADY THELADY WALSINGHAM,ONE OF THE LADIES OF HER MAJESTY'S BED-CHAMBER

I present your ladyship with the last affections of the first two Lovers that ever Muse shrined in the Temple of Memory; being drawn by strange instigation to employ some of my serious time in so trifling a subject, which yet made the first Author, divine Musaeus, eternal. And were it not that we must subject our accounts of these common received conceits to servile custom, it goes much against my hand to sign that for a trifling subject on which more worthiness of soul hath been shewed, and weight of divine wit, than can vouchsafe residence in the leaden gravity of any money-monger; in whose profession all serious subjects are concluded. But he that shuns trifles must shun the world; out of whose reverend heaps of substance and austerity I can and will ere long single or tumble out as brainless and passionate fooleries as ever panted in the bosom of the most ridiculous lover. Accept it, therefore, good Madam, though as a trifle, yet as a serious argument of my affection; for to be thought thankful for all free and honourable favours is a great sum of that riches my whole thrift intendeth.

Such uncourtly and silly dispositions as mine, whose contentment hath other objects than profit or glory, are as glad, simply for the naked merit of virtue, to honour such as advance her, as others that are hard to commend with deepliest politique bounty.

It hath therefore adjoined much contentment to my desire of your true honour to hear men of desert in court add to mine own knowledge of your noble disposition how gladly you do your best to prefer their desires, and have as absolute respect to their mere good parts as if they came perfumed and charmed with golden incitements. And this most sweet inclination, that flows from the truth and eternity of Nobles[se], assure your Ladyship doth more suit your other ornaments, and makes more to the advancement of your name and happiness of your proceedings, than if like others you displayed ensigns of state and sourness in your forehead, made smooth with nothing but sensuality and presents.

This poor Dedication (in figure of the other unity betwixt Sir Thomas and yourself) hath rejoined you with him, my honoured best friend; whose continuance of ancient kindness to my still-obscured estate, though it cannot increase my love to him which hath been entirely circular; yet shall it encourage my deserts to their utmost requital, and make my hearty gratitude speak; to which the unhappiness of my life hath hitherto been uncomfortable and painful dumbness.

By your Ladyship's vowed in most wished service,

GEORGE CHAPMAN.

THE THIRD SESTIAD

The Argument of the Third SestiadLeander to the envious lightResigns his night-sports with the night,And swims the Hellespont again.Thesme, the deity sovereignOf customs and religious rites,Appears, reproving45 his delights,Since nuptial honours he neglected;Which straight he vows shall be effected.Fair Hero, left devirginate,Weighs, and with fury wails her state;But with her love and woman's witShe argues and approveth it.New light gives new directions, fortunes new,To fashion our endeavours that ensue.More harsh, at least more hard, more grave and highOur subject runs, and our stern Muse must fly.Love's edge is taken off, and that light flame,Those thoughts, joys, longings, that before becameHigh unexperienc'd blood, and maids' sharp plights,Must now grow staid, and censure the delights,That, being enjoy'd, ask judgment; now we praise,As having parted: evenings crown the days.And now, ye wanton Loves, and young Desires,Pied Vanity, the mint of strange attires,Ye lisping Flatteries, and obsequious Glances,Relentful Musics, and attractive Dances,And you detested Charms constraining love!Shun love's stoln sports by that these lovers prove.By this, the sovereign of heaven's golden fires,And young Leander, lord of his desires,Together from their lovers' arms arose:Leander into Hellespontus throwsHis Hero-handled body, whose delightMade him disdain each other epithite.And as amidst th' enamour'd waves he swims,The god of gold46 of purpose gilt his limbs,That, this word gilt47 including double sense,The double guilt of his incontinenceMight be express'd, that had no stay t' employThe treasure which the love-god let him joyIn his dear Hero, with such sacred thriftAs had beseem'd so sanctified a gift;But, like a greedy vulgar prodigal,Would on the stock dispend, and rudely fall,Before his time, to that unblessèd blessingWhich, for lust's plague, doth perish with possessing:Joy graven in sense, like snow48 in water, wasts:Without preserve of virtue, nothing lasts.What man is he, that with a wealthy eyeEnjoys a beauty richer than the sky,Through whose white skin, softer than soundest sleep,With damask eyes the ruby blood doth peep,And runs in branches through her azure veins,Whose mixture and first fire his love attains;Whose both hands limit both love's deities,And sweeten human thoughts like Paradise;Whose disposition silken is and kind,Directed with an earth-exempted mind;—Who thinks not heaven with such a love is given?And who, like earth, would spend that dower of heaven,With rank desire to joy it all at first?What simply kills our hunger, quencheth thirst,Clothes but our nakedness, and makes us live,Praise doth not any of her favours give:But what doth plentifully ministerBeauteous apparel and delicious cheer,So order'd that it still excites desire,And still gives pleasure freeness to aspire,The palm of Bounty ever moist preserving;To Love's sweet life this is the courtly carving.Thus Time and all-states-ordering CeremonyHad banish'd all offence: Time's golden thighUpholds the flowery body of the earthIn sacred harmony, and every birthOf men and actions49 makes legitimate;Being us'd aright, the use of time is fate.Yet did the gentle flood transfer once moreThis prize of love home to his father's shore;Where he unlades himself on that false wealthThat makes few rich,—treasures compos'd by stealth;And to his sister, kind Hermione(Who on the shore kneel'd, praying to the seaFor his return), he all love's goods did show,In Hero seis'd for him, in him for Hero.His most kind sister all his secrets knew,And to her, singing, like a shower, he flew,Sprinkling the earth, that to their tombs took inStreams dead for love, to leave his ivory shin,Which yet a snowy foam did leave above,As soul to the dead water that did love;And from hence did the first white roses spring(For love is sweet and fair in everything),And all the sweeten'd shore, as he did go,Was crown'd with odorous roses, white as snow.Love-blest Leander was with love so fill'd,That love to all that touch'd him he instill'd;And as the colours of all things we see,To our sight's powers communicated be,So to all objects that in compass cameOf any sense he had, his senses' flameFlow'd from his parts with force so virtual,It fir'd with sense things mere50 insensual.Now, with warm baths and odours comforted,When he lay down, he kindly kiss'd his bed,As consecrating it to Hero's right,And vow'd thereafter, that whatever sightPut him in mind of Hero or her bliss,Should be her altar to prefer a kiss.Then laid he forth his late-enrichèd arms,In whose white circle Love writ all his charms,And made his characters sweet Hero's limbs,When on his breast's warm sea she sideling swims;And as those arms, held up in circle, met,He said, "See, sister, Hero's carquenet!Which she had rather wear about her neck,Than all the jewels that do Juno deck."But, as he shook with passionate desireTo put in flame his other secret fire,A music so divine did pierce his ear,As never yet his ravish'd sense did hear;When suddenly a light of twenty huesBrake through the roof, and, like the rainbow, views,Amaz'd Leander: in whose beams came downThe goddess Ceremony, with a crownOf all the stars; and Heaven with her descended:Her flaming hair to her bright feet extended,By which hung all the bench of deities;And in a chain, compact of ears and eyes,She led Religion: all her body wasClear and transparent as the purest glass,For she was all51 presented to the sense:Devotion, Order, State, and Reverence,Her shadows were; Society, Memory;All which her sight made live, her absence die.A rich disparent pentacle52 she wears,Drawn full of circles and strange characters.Her face was changeable to every eye;One way look'd ill, another graciously;Which while men view'd, they cheerful were and holy,But looking off, vicious and melancholy.The snaky paths to each observèd lawDid Policy in her broad bosom draw.One hand a mathematic crystal sways,Which, gathering in one line a thousand raysFrom her bright eyes, Confusion burns to death,And all estates of men distinguisheth:By it Morality and ComelinessThemselves in all their sightly figures dress.Her other hand a laurel rod applies,To beat back Barbarism and Avarice,That follow'd, eating earth and excrementAnd human limbs; and would make proud ascentTo seats of gods, were Ceremony slain.The Hours and Graces bore her glorious train;And all the sweets of our societyWere spher'd and treasur'd in her bounteous eye.Thus she appear'd, and sharply did reproveLeander's bluntness in his violent love;Told him how poor was substance without rites,Like bills unsign'd; desires without delights;Like meats unseason'd; like rank corn that growsOn cottages, that none or reaps or sows;Not being with civil forms confirm'd and bounded,For human dignities and comforts founded;But loose and secret all their glories hide;Fear fills the chamber, Darkness decks the bride.She vanish'd, leaving pierc'd Leander's heartWith sense of his unceremonious part,In which, with plain neglect of nuptial rites,He close and flatly fell to his delights:And instantly he vow'd to celebrateAll rites pertaining to his married state.So up he gets, and to his father goes,To whose glad ears he doth his vows disclose.The nuptials are resolv'd with utmost power;And he at night would swim to Hero's tower,From whence he meant to Sestos' forkèd bayTo bring her covertly, where ships must stay,Sent by his53 father, throughly rigg'd and mann'd,To waft her safely to Abydos' strand.There leave we him; and with fresh wing pursueAstonish'd Hero, whose most wishèd viewI thus long have foreborne, because I left herSo out of countenance, and her spirits bereft her:To look on one abash'd is impudence,When of slight faults he hath too deep a sense.Her blushing het54 her chamber; she look'd out,And all the air she purpled round about;And after it a foul black day befell,Which ever since a red morn doth foretell,And still renews our woes for Hero's woe;And foul it prov'd because it figur'd soThe next night's horror; which prepare to hear;I fail, if it profane your daintiest ear.Then, ho,55 most strangely-intellectual fire,That, proper to my soul, hast power t' inspireHer burning faculties, and with the wingsOf thy unspherèd flame visit'st the springsOf spirits immortal! Now (as swift as TimeDoth follow Motion) find th' eternal climeOf his free soul, whose living subject56 stoodUp to the chin in the Pierian flood,And drunk to me half this Musæan story,Inscribing it to deathless memory:Confer with it, and make my pledge as deep,That neither's draught be consecrate to sleep;Tell it how much his late desires I tender(If yet it know not), and to light surrenderMy soul's dark offspring, willing it should dieTo loves, to passions, and society.Sweet Hero, left upon her bed alone,Her maidenhead, her vows, Leander gone,And nothing with her but a violent crewOf new-come thoughts, that yet she never knew,Even to herself a stranger, was much likeTh' Iberian city57 that War's hand did strikeBy English force in princely Essex' guide,When Peace assur'd her towers had fortified,And golden-finger'd India had bestow'dSuch wealth on her, that strength and empire flow'dInto her turrets, and her virgin waistThe wealthy girdle of the sea embraced;Till our Leander, that made Mars his Cupid,For soft love-suits, with iron thunders chid;Swum to her towers,58 dissolv'd her virgin zone;Led in his power, and made ConfusionRun through her streets amaz'd, that she suppos'dShe had not been in her own walls enclos'd,But rapt by wonder to some foreign state,Seeing all her issue so disconsolate,And all her peaceful mansions possess'dWith war's just spoil, and many a foreign guestFrom every corner driving an enjoyer,Supplying it with power of a destroyer.So far'd fair Hero in th' expugnèd fortOf her chaste bosom; and of every sortStrange thoughts possess'd her, ransacking her breastFor that that was not there, her wonted rest.She was a mother straight, and bore with painThoughts that spake straight, and wish'd their mother slain;She hates their lives, and they their own and hers:Such strife still grows where sin the race prefers:Love is a golden bubble, full of dreams,That waking breaks, and fills us with extremes.She mus'd how she could look upon her sire,And not shew that without, that was intire;59For as a glass is an inanimate eye,And outward forms embraceth inwardly,So is the eye an animate glass, that showsIn-forms without us; and as Phœbus throwsHis beams abroad, though he in clouds be clos'd,Still glancing by them till he find oppos'dA loose and rorid vapour that is fitT' event60 his searching beams, and useth itTo form a tender twenty-colour'd eye,Cast in a circle round about the sky;So when our fiery soul, our body's star,(That ever is in motion circular,)Conceives a form, in seeking to display itThrough all our cloudy parts, it doth convey itForth at the eye, as the most pregnant place,And that reflects it round about the face.And this event, uncourtly Hero thought,Her inward guilt would in her looks have wrought;For yet the world's stale cunning she resisted,To bear foul thoughts, yet forge what looks she listed,And held it for a very silly sleight,To make a perfect metal counterfeit,Glad to disclaim herself, proud of an artThat makes the face a pandar to the heart.Those be the painted moons, whose lights profaneBeauty's true Heaven, at full still in their wane;Those be the lapwing-faces that still cry,"Here 'tis!" when that they vow is nothing nigh:Base fools! when every moorish fool61 can teachThat which men think the height of human reach.But custom, that the apoplexy isOf bed-rid nature and lives led amiss,And takes away all feeling of offence,Yet braz'd not Hero's brow with impudence;And this she thought most hard to bring to pass,To seem in countenance other than she was,As if she had two souls, one for the face,One for the heart, and that they shifted placeAs either list to utter or concealWhat they conceiv'd, or as one soul did dealWith both affairs at once, keeps and ejectsBoth at an instant contrary effects;Retention and ejection in her powersBeing acts alike; for this one vice of ours,That forms the thought, and sways the countenance,Rules both our motion and our utterance.These and more grave conceits toil'd Hero's spirits;For, though the light of her discoursive witsPerhaps might find some little hole to passThrough all these worldly cinctures, yet, alas!There was a heavenly flame encompass'd her,—Her goddess, in whose fane she did preferHer virgin vows, from whose impulsive sightShe knew the black shield of the darkest nightCould not defend her, nor wit's subtlest art:This was the point pierc'd Hero to the heart;Who, heavy to the death, with a deep sigh,And hand that languished, took a robe was nigh,Exceeding large, and of black cypres62 made,In which she sate, hid from the day in shade,Even over head and face, down to her feet;Her left hand made it at her bosom meet,Her right hand lean'd on her heart-bowing knee,Wrapp'd in unshapeful folds, 'twas death to see;Her knee stay'd that, and that her falling face;Each limb help'd other to put on disgrace:No form was seen, where form held all her sight;But like an embryon that saw never light,Or like a scorchèd statue made a coalWith three-wing'd lightning, or a wretched soulMuffled with endless darkness, she did sit:The night had never such a heavy spirit.Yet might a penetrating63 eye well seeHow fast her clear tears melted on her kneeThrough her black veil, and turn'd as black as it,Mourning to be her tears. Then wrought her witWith her broke vow, her goddess' wrath, her fame,—All tools that enginous64 despair could frame:Which made her strew the floor with her torn hair,And spread her mantle piece-meal in the air.Like Jove's son's club, strong passion struck her down,And with a piteous shriek enforc'd her swoun:Her shriek made with another shriek ascendThe frighted matron that on her did tend;And as with her own cry her sense was slain,So with the other it was called again.She rose, and to her bed made forcèd way,And laid her down even where Leander lay;And all this while the red sea of her bloodEbb'd with Leander: but now turn'd the flood,And all her fleet of spirits came swelling in,With child65 of sail, and did hot fight beginWith those severe conceits she too much marked:And here Leander's beauties were embarked.He came in swimming, painted all with joys,Such as might sweeten hell: his thought destroysAll her destroying thoughts; she thought she feltHis heart in hers, with her contentions melt,And chide her soul that it could so much err,To check the true joys he deserved in her.Her fresh-heat blood cast figures in her eyes,And she suppos'd she saw in Neptune's skiesHow her star wander'd, wash'd in smarting brine,For her love's sake, that with immortal wineShould be embath'd, and swim in more heart's-easeThan there was water in the Sestian seas.Then said her Cupid-prompted spirit, "Shall ISing moans to such delightsome harmony?Shall slick-tongu'd Fame, patch'd up with voices rude,The drunken bastard of the multitude(Begot when father Judgment is away,And, gossip-like, says because others say,Takes news as if it were too hot to eat,And spits it slavering forth for dog-fees meat),Make me, for forging a fantastic vow,Presume to bear what makes grave matrons bow?Good vows are never broken with good deeds,For then good deeds were bad: vows are but seeds,And good deeds fruits; even those good deeds that growFrom other stocks than from th' observèd vow.That is a good deed that prevents a bad:Had I not yielded, slain myself I had.Hero Leander is, Leander Hero;Such virtue love hath to make one of two.If, then, Leander did my maidenhead git,Leander being myself, I still retain it:We break chaste vows when we live loosely ever,But bound as we are, we live loosely never:Two constant lovers being join'd in one,Yielding to one another, yield to none.We know not how to vow till love unblind us,And vows made ignorantly never bind us.Too true it is, that, when 'tis gone, men hateThe joy66 as vain they took in love's estate:But that's since they have lost the heavenly lightShould show them way to judge of all things right.When life is gone, death must implant his terror:As death is foe to life, so love to error.Before we love, how range we through this sphere,Searching the sundry fancies hunted here:Now with desire of wealth transported quiteBeyond our free humanity's delight;Now with ambition climbing falling towers,Whose hope to scale, our fear to fall devours;Now rapt with pastimes, pomp, all joys impure:In things without us no delight is sure.But love, with all joys crowned, within doth sit:O goddess, pity love, and pardon it!"Thus spake she67 weeping: but her goddess' earBurn'd with too stern a heat, and would not hear.Ay me! hath heaven's strait fingers no more gracesFor such as Hero68 than for homeliest faces?Yet she hoped well, and in her sweet conceitWeighing her arguments, she thought them weight,And that the logic of Leander's beauty,And them together, would bring proofs of duty;And if her soul, that was a skilful glanceOf heaven's great essence, found such imperance69In her love's beauties, she had confidenceJove loved him too, and pardoned her offence:Beauty in heaven and earth this grace doth win,It supples rigour, and it lessens sin.Thus, her sharp wit, her love, her secrecy,Trooping together, made her wonder whyShe should not leave her bed, and to the temple;Her health said she must live; her sex, dissemble.She viewed Leander's place, and wished he wereTurned to his place, so his place were Leander."Ay me," said she, "that love's sweet life and senseShould do it harm! my love had not gone henceHad he been like his place: O blessèd place,Image of constancy! Thus my love's graceParts nowhere, but it leaves something behindWorth observation: he renowns his kind:His motion is, like heaven's, orbicular,For where he once is, he is ever there.This place was mine; Leander, now 'tis thine;Thou being myself, then it is double mine,Mine, and Leander's mine, Leander's mine.O, see what wealth it yields me, nay, yields him!For I am in it, he for me doth swim.Rich, fruitful love, that, doubling self estates,Elixir-like contracts, though separates!Dear place, I kiss thee, and do welcome thee,As from Leander ever sent to me."