Chapter XXXI: Introduction: To Nathaniel Whiting (2)

Having composed his hingèd looks, he glanced
With piercing eyes upon her curious face,
And, steeping sighs in tears and sweat, advanced
Himself to plead with courtly garb and grace. 250
But Fucus, led by most mimetic apes,
Could not depinge Don Fuco's antic shapes.

Such were the postures of his hands and eye,
That had he treasured up his mirthful tones,
They were ingredients for a comedy,
Would into laughter change a widow's groans:
And since that time (Bellama smiled so then)
Love in her dimpled cheeks has found a den.

'Madam,' says he, 'be pleased to trutinate
And wisely weigh your servant's graceful voice; 260
Give due attendance to the airs of state;
I have engraven you Don Fuco's choice.
Give free assent, and let the scornful "No!"
Be quite expungèd from the criss-cross-row.

Alas, I'm not beholding unto letters,
Wherewith our rabbis stuff their swelling books.
I have a way of complimenting better,
To win thy love with comely garbs and looks.
And, if these fail, the name of countess will
Speak with a power above the Sidney-skill. 270

I hate long-winded sentences, which do
Unbreath a man, and hazard much his bellows,
Or pocket-flashes which instruct to woo--
The only virtues of some inkhorn fellows--
I scorn their troths, indods, their ifs or ands,
Or their _O Lord, sir_, when their wit's o' th' sands.

A fluent rascal that can speak in oil,
And clothe his words with silken eloquence,
I know may give a virgin strength the foil.
But a blunt earl that scarcely speaks in sense, 280
Whom thousands honour with the cap and leg,
Beats down a fortress like a roaring Meg.

He needs no Roscian language, but does send
His velvet-coated herald to proclaim
The noble titles which his worth attend:
For honour is th' ambitious lady's aim.
Feature and spicèd words but lead the van,
Honour the front, the noble is the man.'

'My lord,' says she, 'your valour I approve,
That with three selves thus warranteth your suit, 290
With self-conceit, self-confidence, self-love:
Such trees will bear your lordship glorious fruit,
It well befits your greatness not to think
There can denials dwell in air or ink.

Your trencher-cloaks, and your recognizance,
Your coat of arms with noble ermines dight,
Your russian satin, with the cut of France,
Your talking rowels, and your feath'red white,
Are batt'ring rams and guns that speak in thunder,
To crack a breast, and split a heart in sunder. 300

But my mind is Diana's chastest seat,
O'er which the breath of greatness hath no power;
The quiver-bearing boy sounds a retreat,
And Jove avails not with his yellow shower,
The vestal fire outshines blind Cupid's flame
Which oft's eclipsed with sorrow damped with shame.

And, troth, my lord, had I but wit enough
T' assist your lordship in your nuptial tede,
Your lordship should not play at blind man's blough
(Else heavens should renounce their Ganymede): 310
For they that purblind are may plainly see
You grossly hoodwinked are in courting me.

The faults of state I cannot virtues name,
And bear myself upon the wings of pride,
Nor light my taper at another's flame,
Or use the art at beauty's eventide.
I brook not dalliance, or the Venus kiss,
That way of am'rousness, or that, or this.

I cannot seal a welcome with an oath
To those whose absence I had rather have; 320
Nor venture hundreds at that paper-sloth
Of mistress Is'bel and the Pennell-knave.
I know no masking postures, nor with grace
Can tread the brawls, or true coranto pace.

I cannot at the feast of riot sit,
When sea, land, air, are served up in plate;
Nor like Tripherus with a carving wit
Read precepts this and this to dissecate.
Nor in dear murrhine, chargèd to the brim,
Health it about until our mullets swim. 330

I do not love to have my husband be
Discreet by proxies, by his chaplains wise;
Nor do I like the too much cringing knee,
Whose formal bends his black conceits disguise.
Those fawning sharks I cannot call to table,
Which into ermines change your lordship's sable

To have my usher press his master's saddle,
In my opinion cannot pass for good;
I do not love to have my pillow addle,
Meanwhile my woman lets your lordship blood. 340
I am no Androgyne, nor do delight
To diet pages, or your Catamite.'

'Madam, what passion does untune your mind?
What fiend' (says he) 'in you thus rails on greatness?
Who viceth honour, lies, and he is blind
That says court-satins are not trimmed with neatness.
Speak then in balms, forget the peevish why,
And to the "Wilt thou have this"--Answer "Ay".'

'No, no,' says she, 'yet might I know your saint,
If my endeavours can advantage you, 350
With your endowments I would her acquaint,
And limn your rare perfections in her view:
In this one act I may myself approve
More loving, than in entertaining love.

I'll say with what dexterity you can
Run o'er the postures of the court-salute,
How trimly you can kiss a lady's fan,
And neatly manage an embroid'red suit;
How finely Spanish leg-shells you can plait,
And tune your rowels at the court retrait. 360

I might say you are witty, if't be true
That jests and jingles are in brotherhood,
I'll speak your skill in hawks, at flight, in mew,
And at all hunting ceremonies good;
How gracefully you wave your gallant plumes,
And deeply are engaged to deep perfumes.

How kind you are unto our chamber-shes,
How to our marmosets and trencher-pages,
How oily-fingered unto supple knees,
How fain to th' music of our wire cages. 370
How quaintly you supply the usher's room,
How sweetly you can act the privy-groom.

Much more in blazoning your matchless worth,
And counting all your specials, might I say--
But nature ne'er a second did bring forth,
Which to such known perfections can say nay.
I'll cease to praise them, lest my praises make
Your veins of pride with self-conceit to ache.

I will perform what I have promis'd, sir,
Please you t' impart your lady to my maid, 380
I see my words your liver-wort does stir
Into your face, which in your channels strayed.
No more of trouble then, my lord, adieu;
This courteous door divorceth me and you.'

Away flings she, and leaves my lord alone,
More pensive than a widow which bedews
Her husband's corpse with tears, a woman's moan,
Or than the _Lupa_ of diseasèd stews;
So that who saw his jigging head would swear
Wisdom nor wit did ne'er inhabit there. 390

Don Rivelezzo sent a smiling glance,
That they might his consent read in his eye;
But seeing Fuco in a stupid trance,
He was possessed with equal frenesy.
The mother came to th' rescue, and wellnigh
Sent her own wit to bear theirs company.

Fain would he tell the cause of his disasters,
And eagerly her parents strove to know it,
Yet, strangely, them this passion overmasters,
That neither they could ask, nor he could show it; 400
As though an Incubus with vap'rous throngs
Enclasped their bosoms and unvoiced their tongues.

At length Don Fuco cried, 'Bellama cruel,
What evil planet revelled at thy birth,
Or what incensèd god provided fuel
To make me feel hell's torture upon earth?
Was there no way to punish me for sin
But by a maid? No, there our woes begin.

When I with admiration view'd her face,
I boldly durst give any tongue the lie 410
That dared to say, with such supernal grace,
There dwelt one atom of this tyranny.
But--if that virgin's hieroglyphics be
Of love and mildness, take them all for me.

I'll make a casement with this steely blade
In my full breast, through which my soul shall peep,
And make my heart in sanguine liquor wade,
And entrails all in juice of liver steep.
Nay, straightway give hell's ferryman his pay
For wafting me o'er black Cocytus' Bay. 420

Or unto Proserpine I'll post a sprite,
To fetch m' a cup of moist oblivion,
Wherewith the Fairy Queen exilèd quite
Fury from her stout knight and Oberon,
That I not only may forget disgrace,
But quite forget I ever saw her face.'

'Let not', says Rivelez, 'a peevish girl
Hang fetters on your heart, untune your soul:
Dwells there not courage with a worthy earl,
Blind Cupids bow and quiver to control? 430
My lord, take heed, the squinting boy works treason,
By passions to divest your soul of reason.

He by his sly insinuations oft
A good opinion in the heart doth win:
The most obdurate are by him made soft
And homage pay to Love their sovereign sin,
Fires in, nor hurts, the flint; but Cupid can
With flames to cinders waste the flinty man.

A wily fisherman hath store of baits,
Wherewith for amorists he wisely angles, 440
With glitt'ring pomp he for th' ambitious waits,
The greedy carl with silver twists entangles;
The silk-lascivious with a wanton eye,
The austere stoic with a modest "fie!"

The studious Templant he with _Ergo_ calls,
The grave precisian with a matron grace,
The virtuous mind with virtue he enthrals,
A landed heir with a blushed-lily face.
For Epicurean love he wisely trolls
With spiced rarities and frothing bowls. 450

The cross-adorers he with crossing catches,
Yet strange it is that crossing should join hands.
But, to Sir Love-all, all are equal matches,
Grace, beauty, feature, honour, virtue, lands.
This has a dainty hand; that, lip, or eye,
This chaste, that seeming, that will not deny.

None are love-free, unless uncapable
Of those choice blessings Venus' sole son proffers,
None, whom age, fortune, nature, does enable,
With peevish noes neglecteth Hymen's offers. 460
All are inclined to love, and all must bow,
If Cupid's arrow do but write "Love thou".

Invest your noble thoughts with courage, Don,
Let reason, maugre love, triumphant ride,
Millions of ladies breath in Albion,
Have more rose-lilies, and less store of pride.
I'll warrant, though Bellama now say "no",
She'll find, ere long, denial was her foe.'

'Ha!' quoth Don Fuco, with a far-fetched sigh,
Which all that time was drenched o'er-head in grief, 470
'Am I to black Cocytus yet drawn nigh?
Where are th' Elysian shades, thou tott'red thief?
Call Rhadamanthus forth, justice I'll have,
Or in his breast my steel shall dig a grave.

Call forth the Furies with their snaky hairs,
Pale-cheeked Erynnis and her sister hags,
Tell Nemesis I'll fetch her down the stairs,
And try what truth dwells in her wrathful brags.
Dispoison vipers, toads, and crawling adders,
And with their venom stretch her spacious bladders. 480

Bid Cerberus belch, from his triple jaws,
A barking thunder which the earth may shake:
I'll fetch the Dragon's and the Scorpion's paws
From the full zodiac, her face to rake.
Come forth, Demagoras, thy cunning try,
To mask all beauty with a leprosy.

We will no more our lily-stems transplant,
And set our roses on their cheeks and lips;
Their fairness shall not hence surpass the ante,
Their crimson dye the brick or writhled hips. 490
Beauty shall be exiled, despite shall end her,
Or else we'll change her to another gender.

The Thracian harper was a silly ass,
That for his wife passed through the Stygian stench,
The clubman's foolery did his surpass,
That spun and carded for a Lydian wench.
The Greeks were fools that for a light-skirt strumpet
Chang'd the still viol to a loud-mouth'd trumpet.

Jove's blacksmith was no privy counsellor,
To marry Venus for the forehead flag; 500
The jolly huntsman sure did something err
To see a goddess, and become a stag.
Jove was no golden show'r: sure 'twas a gull,
Nor e'er transform'd himself into a bull.'

'Peace, good my lord,' Don Rivelezzo says,
'What uncouth passion doth your soul entrance?
Your words are like the Bacchanalian lays,
Wherewith the priests their god of wine enhance.
What, man! though this fond she from you did start,
Another 'll say, "My lord, with all my heart." 510

Observe the practice of doves masculine,
Which woo their females, with "I come to woo",
Not in a fit of woman cry and whine,
Straight to another haste, if she says no.
If to one face our stock of love we ope,
We pinion Cupid's wings, and fetter hope.

Bellama slights, what then? shall we conclude,
All women will deny you their assent?
A strange induction: call all ladies lewd,
'Cause Flora and some few to Venice went? 520
Amongst a thousand maids, there's scarcely two,
As coy Bellama now hath done, will do.

Wherefore created were those glorious lights,
Which in the azure firmament appear?
Why was day's charioteer with lustre dight?
Only to gild with rays his proper sphere?
No, to lend brightness to the borrowing lamps,
And clear the earth from night's obscuring damps.

Why has Dame Nature so much brightness lent
To diamonds, topazes, and other gems? 530
Only t' enrich themselves? no, to augment
The glory of our rings and diadems.
The ostrich for himself wears not his plumes,
Nor for 's own nose the civet cat perfumes.

So, on our sprucest ladies, matchless graces
Were not bestowèd to delight themselves.
Pandora was not treasured up in faces,
To bring content unto possessing elves.
But 'cause our heroes should the comfort find
Of winning beauty and a willing mind. 540

The maid of Babylon, I know, was fair,
And rich in all the lineaments of beauty;
Yet was she kind, which did not them impair,
But showed to Nature's hests her forward duty.
For Nature's bounty best requited is,
By yielding free assent to Hymen's bliss.

The Queen of Carthage dear respects bestowed
Upon the straggling prince of ruined Troy.
Choice love unto Leander Hero showed:
The Cyprian goddess wooed her sappy boy. 550
All fraught with pity; but that peevish girl,
'Bout whose sleek waist hell's vipers wind and twirl.

Nor such examples wants our latest age,
Of virgin lovers these to parallel,
Who, every way, those former equipage,
With whom records and modern pamphlets swell.
Then courage, Don, fear not to find a face
That hath more pity, and more lovely grace.'

'Much ease' (quoth Fuco) 'to my lovesick heart,
My lord, is by your sage advisement brought. 560
For I supposed th' Idalian younker's dart
Had fest'red so, no easement could be bought,
I on her looked through such a pleasing glass,
As though that sex in her contracted was.

I thought t' have sent my physic-doctor forth
Unto his herbal, to address my ill;
T' ask Æsculapius for some earth-born worth,
Which might accomplish my intended will.
But that 'tis said Apollo once complained
No herb to cure love's fevers could be gained. 570

Whilst an opinion of her matchless grace
Scorchèd my bosom with affection's gleams,
Mine eyes ne'er straggled to another face,
Nor could I bathe my thoughts in Lethe's streams.
But now I'll sound retrait; reclaim my mind,
Not catch a falling star, nor grasp the wind.'

This said, with sparkling sack he wash'd the lane,
Which to the limbeck of his body leads--
Health to Bellama, and a health again,
Till, where his feet his wingèd beaver treads, 580
So well he took his sack without a toast.
That, 'stead of kissing her, he kiss'd the post.

Dispassioned quite, as in a breathless calm,
Don Rivelezzo bids Don Fuco 'dieu;
But hooted loudly, like a shrill-toned shawm,
When his swift steed took farewell of his view.
Accursing Fate, and railing on his daughter,
Which might beget in Heraclitus laughter.

'Have I', says he, 'such Crassian heaps of gold,
Condemned to sleep in iron-ribbèd chests? 590

Did I delight in vestments coarse and old,
Wherein Anthropophages have dug them nests?
Nay, wish'd there were no tavern-juice, or sports,
Or change of fashions, but in princes' courts?

Have I sat brooding o'er my treasured plate,
And summed the surplusage of each year's rent,
Confined my spendings to a weekly rate,
Enjoined a penance when th' allowance spent?
And when an earl tuned every grace to win her,
She slights his vows: nor gales nor gold can pin her! 600

But since she slights my matches, I will match her:
She shall of peevishness the harvest reap.
Since this Don's matchless fortunes could not catch her:
I shall ere long make her affections cheap.
Her love shall stoop to court a common farm,
A lordship then shall scorn to fold an arm.'

'My lord,' her mother, Lady Arda, said,
'A parent's ire ought not to force assent.
Wealth, blent with vice, can ne'er disheart a maid
To whom bless'd virtue is the choice content. 610
There's other things do maid's affections stir,
Beside a manor, and a "please you sir".'

'Madam' (quoth he), 'in vain you do excuse
Your daughter's folly with your friendly air,
The next I offer she shall not refuse.
Sirrah, go harness straight my wheeling chair,
I'll try if less content and pleasure dwells
In princes' courts than in monastic cells.'

When he was coached, the Lady Arda went
To fair Bellam', bedewed with streaming tears: 620
'The gods', said she, 'have ravelled thy content,
Sorrows uncomfort will thy virgin years:
For unto Darwey does thy father haste,
Where he will vow thee everlasting chaste.'

'Madam,' says she, 'I feed on naught but gall,
Aloes and rue, 'cause of my father's wrath.
Th' occasion though of his displeasure shall
With bays, instead of cypress, strew my path.
When virtue seals the contract, welcome Hymen,
But till that, ever shall my heart deny men.' 630

Thus sate they parling. Lady Arda urged,
Producing reasons to enforce assent.
Bellama answered, begged, excused, and purged
Herself from blame, by urging love, content.
But urging and excusing, let them sit,
And see the father champing on the bit;

Who, coming to the cage of virgin-pride,
Knocked at the wicket with the iron crow,
To whose small neck white fillets ne'er were tied.
Which in more ancient days did childbed show. 640
He rapped so hard, the sound did fright the air,
Yet still none came: none was not locked in prayer.

At length the janitor, of stature large,
With crozier-staff, girt in a hair-cloth frock,
Whose meagre looks did call for Charon's barge,
And all whose body was a sapless stock,
Came, and with churlish voice demanded who
With such shrill ho's rejoiced their civil croe.

'Friend,' says my lord, 'my errand wings my speed,
Speaks high importance with the prioress; 650
Thou, in these angel-looks, my haste mayst read;
Help me to th' presence of the abbatess.'
The porter's heart soon stepp'd into his eye,
Tuning his language to a quick reply.

'My lord,' says he, 'obedience is my duty,
Whilst your commands speak in so high a tone.
Yet, lest your smooth-chinn'd youths lay siege to beauty,
Your lordship, spite of state, must walk alone.
I am an eunuch; else in vain I vow'd,
I had mistook my pillow in a crowd.' 660

Him he conducted to the kitchen, where
Store of anatomies employed was;
Some did the candlesticks, some lavers clear,
Some scourèd pewter, some reburnished brass,
Don asks the cause; the porter him acquaints,
'Twas 'gainst a feast of high account, All Saints.

Within the hall a younger sort of girls,
Yet coarse enough, did brush vermilion looks.
Some crosses rubbed, some, ropes of praying pearls;
Some dusted vestments, some, their gilded books. 670
Some kneaded wafers: and his effige stamped,
Whose purple streams the dragon's sulphurs damped.

All at Don Rivelezzo were amazed,
And, looking, one rubbed off a nose of wax,
A second razed a cheek; another gazed
And plucked from Kath' her periwig of flax.
One blinded Serrat, and did rend her silk;
One broke the cruse, and spilt the virgin-milk.

Don passed through these into an inner room,
Where was another rank of virgin-fry, 680
Some weaving arras on the nimble loom,
And intertwisting gold with tapestry,
With silk of Naples twisted in small ropes;
Some did the cowls embroider, some the copes.

At last he came into an upper place,
Climbing thereto by richly gilded stairs,
Where sate another troop, of nobler race,
On quilted cushions, and in ivory chairs.
About the centre, in a robe of state,
The matron Vesta of the virgins sate. 690

These were employed about far nobler things,
For some of sainted hair did bracelets twine;
Others strung beads to stint the knees of kings;
Some trimmed with costly gems the Lady's shrine.
One tuned the music, and a witty other
Footed an _Ave_ to the Virgin-mother.

The grave old matron, crawling from her throne
Of Indian teeth, arched o'er with cloth of gold,
Upon her aged knees with zealous tone
Says, 'Heaven's messenger, what is't you would?' 700
Th' amazed lord with wonder quarrelled long,
Ere he could unvoice his silenced tongue.

'Madam,' says he, 'why pay you reverence?
Why are you guilty of th' adoring sin?
'Tis a delusion of your weak'ned sense,
I am no Cherub, Pow'r, nor Seraphin.
The heralds style me Rivelezzo's Don,
Your friend and servant, with a cap and con--'

'My lord,' quoth she, 'excuse my fond mistake,
For o'er my sight I wear a duskish glass. 710
My zeal in pious actions sure did make
Me give you more respects than civil was.
But take your seat; and if my power or skill
Can crown your wishes, be you sure I will.'

'Madam,' says he, 'I have a scornful lass
Whom nature has enriched with special grace,
To whose perfections her reflecting glass
Is parasite, adds pride unto her face:
So that, though earldoms court her, her disdains
Nonsuits their service, and her brow unplains. 720

Into your number of chaste-zealous shes,
Entrance unto this girl vouchsafe, I pray,
Unto your order. I the constant fees
Of gold and acres, and of vows will pay.
Since she Don slighted, I have vowed to see
How long she'll honour the religious knee.'

Quoth she, 'Those virgins which my hallowed roof
Does canopy, my prudence does protect.
I make blind love and folly stand aloof,
And all love's paper-plots I do detect. 730
Great ones have oft assayed, but yet my care
Has buried their entreaties in the air.

With godly precepts I enrich their minds,
And make them (which is rare) at eighteen good.
I 'dmit no roisters; only maids and hinds
To do them service, and prepare us food.
Please you to send your daughter, she shall be
Crowned with delights of most transcendent glee.'

'Heavens', says Don, 'crown your ensuing days
With all delights which wait your holy orders, 740
May the sad cypress and the bridal bays
Ne'er sprig nor blossom in your quiet borders.
I'll plume my swift endeavours: I'll make haste
T' invest Bellama with your habits chaste.'

When Don's farewell had ceased to move the air,
Says Piazzella to her virgin train,
'We, with th' enjoyment of this lady fair,
Shall stuff our carcanets with mickle gain.
We'll frolic it, and taste the choicest pleasures,
Nor shall our joys be listed in with measures. 750

The credulous world we gull with silver shrines,
Our grave behaviours and retired lives,
When we in naked truth are libertines,
And taste the pillow joys of sprightful wives,
When through the vault our lusty shavelings pace,
All the choice measures of delight to chase.'

Thus leave them with their hair-lack crowns,
And see Rivelezzo now arrived at home,
Who by that time had plained his brow from frowns,
And all becalmed with sugarèd words doth come: 760
Then tells his lady he had found a tow'r,
Would guard Bellama from Jove's yellow show'r.

Servants are posted to the old Exchange,
Others to sellers of the silkworm's spoils,
Some to brisk Proteuses, smirk tailors, range,
Some to the stationers, some haste for oils.
One carves the image of a martyred saint,
Another breathes a soul with gold or paint.

None must be idle till, in marshalled ranks,
All things be ord'red for this virgin-vow. 770
Farewell ye spongy teats and puff'd-paste flanks,
Bellama's bridal tede is lighted now.
Her husband is Virginity, yet look,
Her beads for rings, for songs she'll change her book.

The coach is harnessèd, 'Bellama come',
The father says, 'hence with that dew of grief;
Give not a sad adieu unto our home,
But in thy thoughts let comfort rule as chief.'
She craved a blessing on her globe-like joints;
Then coachèd thither where her sire appoints. 780

As the sweet-voicèd Philomele does sit
I' th' pikèd eglantine, with sorrow dressed,
'Cause some rude sylvan in a raging fit
Snatched her faint chickens from their downy nest.
So did the lady Arda, dight with mourning,
Deplore Bellama's loss with her returning.

As when sly Reynald in his widenèd jaws
Is seizing on the nimbly-frisking lamb,
Or when the tiger, with his sharp'ned paws,
Hath caught the infant of the becking dam: 790
And then the shepherd's care prevents the sharks,
One loudly howls, the other hoarsely barks.

So, semblably, when as the waiting crew
Saw the departing of their golden age,
One gives Bellama, with eye-dew, adieu,
Another's grief unlocked the frenzy cage.
Some tore their hair, some rent their should'ring bands,
Some thwacked their breasts, and wrung their oily hands.

But all in vain, their Indian mine was gone,
Their minting house deprivèd of the stamp, 800
Their costly gems were changed to pebble stone,
Their hemisphere forsaken by their lamp:
Saturn's exiled, Jove awes this massy ball,
And now the iron age ungoldeth all.

The wand'ring wheels, bestud with iron knobs,
Posted Bellama to the virgin-tower,
Which freed her from the noise of servile throbs;
Is entertainèd like a goddy power,
Led by the seeming saints unto the place
Where sate Pazzella with a matron grace. 810

If Rivelezzo's presence frighted them,
Much more they at Bellama were amaz'd;
They called her Phoenix, beauty's only gem,
And all with fixèd tapers on her gazed:
Some had a mean, some curious were before,
But her first sight showed self-conceit the door.

For as when Tithon's bride breaks out afar,
And through th' expanse spreads forth her youngest light,
She, by degrees, pops out each twinkling star,
And dims at length the mistress of the night-- 820
As winter chapel-clerks, when prayers are done,
Dis-light each flazing wax or tallow sun.

So, when Bellama brightly did appear,
With morning rays in the monastic hall,
She veiled each face that movèd in that sphere,
And further, by degrees unfacèd all.
Nay, at the last, the mistress of the train
Looked like pale Phoebe in her dark'ned wain.

And as day's prince, light lustre's archi-beam,
Lends to the moon her silver midnight rays; 830
As from the ocean wat'ry current stream
Though ev'ry cadent to that Chaos strays;
As to a room befogged with mists of night
Th' incensèd weeks do lend a midday light;

So to each brow Bellama's brow gives white;
To ev'ry cheek Bellama's cheek gave roses;
To ev'ry eye Bellama's eye gave sight;
To ev'ry breath Bellama's breath gave posies;
To ev'ry part Bellama's part gave grace;
To ev'ry face Bellama gave a face. 840

Some called her goddess of the Cyprian isle;
Some said Troy's ruin was untombed again;
Some her the self-enamoured boy did style;
Some said the boat-boy did delude their train.
One named her thus, one said she was another,
But all confessed sh' exceeded Cupid's mother.

The aged patroness with palsied lips
Mutt'red a welcome to her lovely guest;
But at that time the moon was in eclipse,
Which with enfeebling fears did them arrest. 850
Some shrilly screamed; some brazen pans did clang,
To ease her travail and abate her pang.

And when the monthly-hornèd queen had got
Her face again with silver glitter rayed,
Save only what the dragon's tail does spot,
On their pale lilies blushing claret strayed.
Then did the aged voice repeat again,
'Welcome, fair lady, to my maiden-train.'

Her instauration was somewhat strange.
Led by nine vestals (for th' odd number was 860
Highly esteemèd in their sacred range,
As by the poet in his quaffing glass),
Each of her jointed lilies one did hold,
Save only that which waits the wedding gold.

Adorned with vestures, white as bleachèd snow,
A cypress mantle over which was cast,
So lightly hung 'twould not abide a blow,
A milk-white ribbon locked unto her waist,
Graced with a crucifix: her slender wrists
With praying beads were wreathed on sable twists. 870

Grave Piazella ushered her along,
Bravely attended with her choicest nuns,
Without drum, trumpet, or an armèd throng,
Or champing coursers, or the wide-mouthed guns.
Each held religion in some holy right,
With holy water which the devils fright.

Into the place of holy worship they
Ent'red where gaudy superstition was,
Saints, altars, store of crucifixes gay,
Whose stately worths my weak expression pass. 880
Scarce was there known a canonizèd saint
Which carving did not there beget, or paint.

With strong devotion all the virgins prayed
At the direction of the praying bead,
Their _Ave-Maries_, _Santo_, _Salve's_ said,
Invoking ev'ry saint to intercede.
Piezza then, Bellama kneeling down,
Did wreathe her temple with the virgin-crown.

These rites performed, behind an iron grate
Appearèd breathing cowls and walking copes, 890
Whose writhèd looks their births did antedate
And change the ciphers girdled in with ropes.
Their hair had purchas'd wings and flew away.
So did their brains, as some did whisp'ring say.

Unto this monast'ry in gloomy shades,
From Crostfull Priory these shavelings pace,
Distant from hence not two Italian stades.
Earth's bloodless womb was wimbled all the space.
Under the craggy rocks and champian did
A roadway lie, from vulgar prying hid. 900

This darksome path they usually did tread
To traffic with their she-sequest'red zeal,
With whom for curtain-dalliance oft they plead.
But their success my muse dares not en-neale.
These loving sportings are not faults: the sin
Is when our walls keep not the scandal in.

Amongst the holy men that hither came,
To join their issue with the sisterhood,
A votary, Albino call'd by name,
Not Fortune's white-boy, yet of abbey-blood. 910
His great-grandfather, some few ages since,
Of Glastonbury primate was, and prince.

His stature did not reach the tip-toe height,
Nor with the long-necked cranes did conflicts wage,
Something complete by nature not by sleight,
Some twenty circled snakes summed up his age;
Discreet as tiroes are, had store of wit,
In that he knew to use, and husband it.

By civil carriage, and his modest look,
He gained the love of his lord Priorist, 920
He bowlèd, coursèd, angled in the brook,
His pleasure was his joy and pleasures list.
Oft would he rove (had his content a dearth)
Through th' hollow belly of th' unbowelled earth.

Sometimes permitted, sometimes by command
From his Lord Prior to the holy mother.
Conveying voices, or the paper-hand
Oft-times alone, scarce sorted with another.
The matron did with courteous eye respect him;
Knowing no ill of him, did not suspect him. 930

She oft would praise his monkship to her train,
Calling his breast blest virtue's choice's shrine;
And vowed she seldom saw such beauty reign
Upon a face that's purely masculine.
And 'twas not common at his years to find
So neat a person with so pure a mind.

He'd freedom of discourse, not privacy,
Jests, sporting, laughter, and lip-dalliance;
Oft on Bellama would he fix his eye,
And she to him would answer glance for glance. 940
They gazed so long and oft, till they did tie
Their hearts together only by the eye.

Love's fever, at the casements of the soul
Ent'ring, inflamèd every secret part,
That passion now his reason doth control,
And with the gyves of love enchains his heart:
And walking with Bardino, seeking pleasures,
He did Bellama sing in lofty measures.

To his companion in praise of Bellama.

Dost see yon tow'ring hills, yon spreading trees,
Which wrap their lofty heads in clouds? Dost see 950
Yon house of little worth, and lesser height?
Dost think a jewel of ten thousand weight
Can dwell within that sooty carcanet?
Dost think the gaudy sun each night does set
And riseth from yon roof? Dost think the moon,
With double horn and glitt'ring tapers, soon
Will issue thence? Didst ever see an eye
Which checked the beams of awful majesty?
Dost think an earth-born beauty can be found,
Which darts forth lustre from the sullen ground-- 960
To kiss the glorious skies? Or canst thou think
The queen of beauty dwells in such a chink?
Dost think? 'tis poor, why do I question so?
Thou dar'st confirm all this by oath, I know,
Since my Bellama's there, all life, all breath,
Whose presence can enlive the soul of death,
Despite of sickly Nature: she is all fair
And truly meriteth Bellezza's chair.
All those fair treasures, which dispersèd lie
'Twixt poles and parallels, pay to her eye, 970
And with her span contracted in her meet
As radiant, red, white, smooth, soft, rich, and sweet,
She is the world's epitome and soul,
And with her inch of earth outworths the whole.
She's beauty's archi-fount: as riv'lets small
Borrow from greater currents, and they all
Pay tribute to the ocean, just so
The dimmer shafts of wingèd Cupid's bow
Borrow from brighter, [and] the brightest pay
Homage unto Bellama--beauty's day. 980
I tell thee there's not one small worth of hers
But loudly says that foppish Nature errs
In other beauties: nor is this all, for why?
Her thoughts pluck stars, and dark th' imperial sky.
Virtue and beauty both: why, 'tis as rare
As frosts in June or comets in the air,
As crows in Africk, Æolus want puffs,
Or she-precisians want Geneva ruffs.
Yet my Bellam', alone and one, unites
The beauteous colours, noble red and whites, 990
With heaven's issue, Virtue: dar'st then deny,
If not divine, her half a deity?
Tip Cynthia's horns with wonder, wind aloud,
And mount the saddle of a wingèd cloud,
Then circle earth, and see if thou canst find
Half such a feature with so rare a mind.
I know when thou return'st thou'lt say with me,
Bellama's beauty is a _A per se_.

* * * * *

Thus he to rocks and bushes did discover
The secret flames which scorched his heated breast: 1000
Though he as yet was not a vocal lover,
But shrouded his close love in smiles and jest.
Yet Fortune oftentimes does Venus grace.
He got lip-freedom in an eyeless place.

For there a Turk's Elysium was the stage
Whereon the virgins acted parts of mirth,
Which Nature did with nobler gifts engage,
And deckèd more than other parts of earth:
And Bellam's breath was such a powerful thing,
It here did keep an everlasting spring. 1010

The angry puffings of congealing East
And sturdy North, cold Winter's stoutest roisters,
Durst ne'er of curled locks the trees divest,
Nor e'er were heard to whistle in their cloisters.
Such vernal blasts came from Bellama's mouth
Kept here Favonius, and the dropping South.

And if sharp frosts did, in her absence, steal
Into this place, and glaz'd the tattling streams,
Then into crystal would the springs congeal,
And ev'ry flower was rayed with silver beams. 1020
Yet if Bellama did but glance her eye,
The crystal and the silver thence did fly.

Nay, strange it was to hear the purling wet,
The saucy frost with angry murmurs chide,
And with its constant jars and strugglings fret,
Then thaw to tears, and on the Venice slide.
Yet oft Bellama would call in her rays,
To view the silver purls and crystal ways.

Into this garden once Albino got;
Yet ah! but once, and met his sovereign fair, 1030
Hoping their hearts should tie the Gordian knot
He fanned her beauty with such courting air.
For, though he was a monk, love did instruct him,
And to Love's palace Fortune did conduct him.

He oftentimes with trembling thumb would press
Her dancing vein, way to her heart to find,
Whilst conscious she her looks with red would dress,
Fearing her pulse was traitor to her mind.
For 'tis entruthed by some that by this vein
We may the knowledge of affections gain. 1040

Such knowledge gained he by her pulse's touch,
Which leapt to meet, not chide, his busy thumbs,
That he desired a kiss; and found it such
Whose sweetness far outsweet[en]s Hybla's combs:
Then cried, 'Give for each lip a cherry sweet,
And then a third, in which they two may meet.'

Such quick'ning heat was from those kisses lent,
That thawed his voice and did unfreeze his tongue,
Packed thence despair, exilèd discontent,
And made him vent what was concealèd long. 1050
For though desire and love each minute bid him.
Yet fear, his habit, and her beauty, chid him.

'Madam,' quoth he, 'vouchsafe a courteous ear
Unto my words, sent from an amorous heart.
Which hath long time been wracked with hope and fear,
Grisly despair, and Cupid's awful dart,
And till this time (restrained by black disasters)
Could ne'er apply lip-love or vowel-plasters.

Be pleased to know (yet sure you needs must know it)
A beauty so divine must needs divine, 1060
Though I should want heart, hand, or voice to show it,
When first your beauty in mine eyes did shine,
They slipped into my breast, and told my heart
The god of love by them had sent a dart.

My heart made quick reply (if hearts have voice)
You ever have such faithful servants been,
That what you like, I'll freely call my choice:
For beauty, brought by you, does fires teen.
Carry this message back, tell her 'tis best
That hers should heat my bosom, I her breast.' 1070

'Peace, peace.' quoth she, 'speak not a work of love,
For fear my anger scorns and folly writes.
Eagles love eagles, and the dove the dove.
Hawks brook not buzzards: or the pheasant kites.
Equals love equals: but unequal flame
Is teened with folly, and expires with shame.'

'True, quoth he,' likeness does the heart incline;
Greatness loves greatness without farther search,
Yet crawling ivies lofty elms entwine,
And gall-less turtles with the eagles perch. 1080
I baulk your greatness: for as good, not great,
I homage pay, and loves alarums beat.

Those airy titles which ambition swell,
And puff like bladders [are] like bladders burst,
The worldling's goddess, which in chests does dwell,
Is gnawn with rust, and makes the chesters curst.
Honour is tied unto the prince's eye
And wealth to Fortune's mutability.

I have not wealth (nor do I want), what then?
Must Hymen stoop unto the nods of gold? 1090
Must I vail bonnet unto ermine men?
And virtue by the herald be controlled?
No, love does blaze the noblest arms: and she
That can maintain herself in love, can me.'

'Stay, stay.' quoth she, 'you will be out of wind.
Methinks the voice of greatness speaks delight.
Our poets only then feign Cupid blind,
When children of the sun do dote on night,
Or folly, mounted on Icarian wings,
Courts queens' affections and does gaze on kings.' 1100

'No,' says Albino, ''tis the contrary.
Love never is more purblind than when earth
Joins house to house, and pedigrees do tie
Scutcheons to scutcheons in pure virtue's dearth.
For regal flames blest goodness only teens,
And virtue ought to court the love of queens.

We all are born for public good: 'tis vain
With torchlight to embellish Titan's rays,
Or cast our stock of water in the main,
Such love from laws of love and nature strays. 1110
But those that Fortune hath enriched with goods
Should dam up nature's wants, by mixing bloods.

Was I the Caesar of the Roman stems,
(Once only darling to the King of skies),
Did both the Indies pay me tribute-gems,
I'd not unite a double majesty.
For being no distinction in degree,
She would assume that honour due to me.

She'd chide me sooner than I durst check her,
And (as the proverb) _quarrel for the breeches_. 1120
On some choice mean that honour I'd confer
Should sue with humble 'Sirs', and low beseeches.
Thus was she tied to payment of respects,
I licensed with state-love to mix neglects.

Where beauty does indite, and virtues seal,
Greatness is not required to set his hand:
Though greatness here may virtue's acts repeal,
Yet virtue's acts in Cupid's courts must stand.
Then where I find grace, feature, virtues, dwell,
I've greatness, wealth, and honour--toll the bell! 1130

Then with kind airs, life of my wishes, speak,
Bid honour know his distance, wealth depart,
And let the day of true contentment break
From thy clear lips, to cheer my misted heart.
O, with one circle let my arms enfold
The soul of honour and the heart of gold.'

'Sir,' quoth Bellama, 'wealth is not my aim,
Nor does the gales of honour heave my soul,
I higher prize an action than a name,
And value more a pamphlet than a roll. 1140
Where I with comeliness find virtue mixed,
My love, eyes, thoughts, are on that object fixed.

I speak not much of love, lest you presume;
And speak a little, lest you should despair.
I would not have my words your hopes deplume,
Nor feather them to reach the highest air.
I sum up all in this, whenas I say,
I will not with disdains thy service pay.'

Oh happy words! oh more than sacred breath!
Albino, live! Bellama says thou must. 1150
Confront dire Fate, and challenge meagre Death:
'Tis not in them to moulder thee to dust.
Yet be advised, let not proud folly in,
The conquest is as great to hold as win.

Our anchorist with all the words that joy,
Hearting a lover, was acquainted with,
Accosts his saint, rewards the wingèd boy,
And congees to the queen of heat and pith.
Smilèd and glanced, paid thanks, desired a kiss;
And prayed time give an age unto his bliss. 1160

But when day's lamp had wan the western clime,
And wrapt his head in sea-green Thetis' lap,
Our lover must observe the chanting time
And bids his saint adieu. Oh hard mishap!
Oh, 'tis a hell to think what hellish pain
True lovers by unkind divorcement gain!

Yet, by that time the hoary-headed sire
Had summed twelve sixty minutes, he again
Returned t' his lady, when bright Titan's fire
Was newly risen from the brackish main: 1170
And, common greetings passed amidst their pleasures,
He in his lady's hands these lines entreasures.

Upon Bellama's walking in the garden, and with him.

My teeming fancy strives, choice fair, to chain
Eternity to time, that ne'er shall wane;
And make those garden-minutes see the sun
Entombed in darkness, and the earth unspun
Ere they expire, that all succeeding times
May know and tell the subject of these rhymes.
Assist me, Flora, that I may with grace
Worthy its honour, shadow forth that place 1180
Of spreading trees, sweet herbs, and fragrant flowers,
Enriched with pleasing walks and shady bowers.
Each twig, with amorous touch, embraced his mate,
Like Bacchus' sacred tree his propping state;
Or ivy, elm, that neither sun nor wind
To his retirèd conclaves passage find.
Within whose walls a half-night's darkness dwells,
Which satyrs' growing palaces excels,
Or anchorets' secluding hermitage.
Here, like a common theatre or stage, 1190
Each spicèd child of earth, in summer robe
And Iris' mantle, opes his closèd globe,
Knows his appearing cue, and freely plays
O' th' wished-for presence of your quick'ning rays.
Such perfect vivifying influence
Dwells in your looks, Light's chariot driven hence,
That your sole presence can create a spring,
From winter's frozen bands can loose each thing,
From earth's entombing sepulchre can raise
Each sleeping flow'r, to chant forth Maia's praise. 1200
This made amazement seize my mind to view
Half-agèd winter bid so soon adieu
To this Elysium of the pagans' joy.
And Chloris, with her new-brush'd clothes so coy
Before, and hardly to be won, come forth
Crowned with the glory of her springing worth,
To court our eyes, nay more, the bare-faced earth
Covered with carpets green, befringèd round
With smiling rosy trees, with glorious store
Of daisies, suckles, cowslips, studded o'er. 1210
Like hunting vests of satonisco green,
Embossed with gems by fawns and wood-nymphs' queen,
Worn when the tushèd boar, bear, panting hart
Th' unkennel, rouse, disfrank with nimble art.
And, lest your spotless souls should suffer ill,
Air's fleeting tuns crystalline streams distil,
To wash the grassy-tufted tapestry
Which whistling winds, with murm'rings, haste to dry.
And ev'ry tender branch whereon you tread
To make your tracing, pacing, moves its head. 1220
Alcinous' orchard, or that precious root
Which bore old Atlas' daughters golden fruit;
Th' Idalian mount where Cytherea strayed,
Or that where Ceres' luckless daughter played
Whenas the king of shades surprisèd her.
Nor may the Roman's pride with this confer,
For here all Maia's treasures are united
Which do, which shall, or senses e'er delighted,
Yet summered by your eye each flower does bud,
Blossoms, sprouts, opens, blooms, and chews the cud. 1230
Your presence hearts them all. O be as kind
As unto them to me; shoot through my rind.
Shine through my heart with one, one smiling ray!
So shall it open, blossom, sprout as they--
Spiced with the choicest sweets e'er Venus had,
In all the postures of true service clad,
Trimmed with the beauties of the richest spring.
All fertile too, all store of fruit shall bring:
This, choice affection; that, chaste loyalty;
This, vows; that, service; and that, constancy, 1240
Made up into a nosegay, circled in
With twists of love, which youth and virtue spin.
Then, breath and ray, make and accept the posy
And seal a contract 'twixt the lily and rosy.

* * * * *

Enspherèd thus with virgins, oft he would
Tell pretty tales, fraught with conceited mirth,
Discourse of foreign states sometimes unfold,
(A sudden jest may give to laughter birth.)
Thus to beguile the time, he oft would do,
And unsuspected did his lady woo. 1250

Then privately sometimes with her would walk
Along a pavèd way, where lofty trees
Bore only witness of their am'rous talk,
Plaiting their branchèd pride that none might see.
And, lest quick envy should their dalliance spy,
Themselves about the trees the brambles tie.

Here in soft whispers did he court her love,
And strove by oath their loves to ratify.
'Madam,' says he, 'this reason may you move,
That day and malice have too many eyes 1260
When my lips are sealed, and I attempt in vain
To send the children of my teeming brain.

Not half so vigilant the dragon was,
Which Colchos' treasure watch'd, as is your dame;
So that they must through Argus headpiece pass
Which seek here to enkindle Cupid's flame.
I know your jealous matron does discover
How my faint heart about your breast does hover.'

'Sir,' says Bellama, 'there is no such haste.
Time will appoint our loves some fitter seasons, 1270
My father must ungirdle first my waist,
Love will not be repelled by force, but reasons:
And more, you know it is in vain to strive,
Here's no escaping this monastic hive.

When as the third day's sun, three hours or more,
Our zenith has behind him left, hither
Return, and I will meet thee; not before'.
'My thoughts', quoth he, 'do in your absence wither,
Pinched with the sharpest blasts cold winter breathes,
But your, _your_ looks, my heart with blossoms wreathes. 1280

That foolish glass, which measures time with sand,
Enough of gravel has to meet a year.
With lesser trouble I could Hermes' wand,
Than the sad torture of your absence, bear:
Change then those hours to minutes, days to day;
If you say't shall be so time must obey.'

'Alas,' quoth she, 'my faith is not so strong,
To think reality with language dwells,
Nor can I think you count those minutes long
When you're employèd with your beads and bells. 1290
Yet t' has the face of truth: I'll therefore try
If time will pay such duty to mine eye.'

'These words have lent my body a new soul,
And shot', quoth he, 'a fire through every vein;
Doubt not your voice time's circle can control,
And make the sun his hasty jennets rein.
Nay more, methinks m' enlight'ned eyes discover
'Bout you the gods with veilèd bonnets hover.

I'm half-persuaded 'twas not blasphemy
For me to say your nod can ravel Fate; 1300
Thaw into chaos this firm globe of dry;
Beckon the planets; and their tow'rs unslate.
Methinks I see the sun nailed to his sky,
Unnath his car, and throw his whipstaff by.'

'Peace, peace,' quoth she, 'Albino! thou dost rave,
Why dwells such language on thy wretching tongue?
Wilt thou just vengeance force to dig thy grave?
Think'st thou stern Fate will suffer such a wrong?
Pinion thy words; let them not soar so high,
Lest they should gash the clouds and ope the sky 1310

We must not play with sharps, nor kiss the flame,
Dally with heaven, or upbraid the gods,
Lest their just anger make their powers tame
Such saucy scandals with their plagues and rods.
Then wing no more Bellama's name, but let
The pearl be callèd pearl, the jet but jet.

Go home in clouds, lest Envy see thy face;
And come not till those minutes task the watch.'
'Madam,' says he, 'I'll bid them mend their pace.
'Tis just with lovers every hair to catch 1320
That dights occasion's brow, change date for date,
Entrench sometimes upon the rights of Fate.

Yet your command shall stand, I'll not transgress,
But watch the hand until it joint the hour,
And all my paths with gloomy shades will dress,
That undiscovered I may win this bow'r.
May all the blessings which a lover's voice
Breathes on his lady wait on you, my choice.'

Here did they meet to rivet fast their heart,
Where not a breath their private joys disturb; 1330
They thought no eye a saucy ray durst dart,
Or any voice had power their loves to curb.
So credulous are lovers, and so fain
To their conjectures would _conclusum_'s chain.

But this bright sun of joy eclipsèd was,
And pitchy clouds their glorious sky did smutch:
Then Venus' joys were like to Venice glass,
Poor glass-like toys that perish with a touch.
A guardian's anger, or a parent's frown,
Nips love's fresh blossoms and a wish uncrown. 1340

The jealous matron, from her tow'ring loft,
O'erlooked th' ambitious trees which hemmed them in;
O'erheard their vows, their sighs, and language soft;
And saw how Cupid leapt from skin to skin,
The traffic of their lips, and how thin balms
Did glue and cement fast their melting palms.

When she perceived the progress of their love,
Religious care empanelled straight a jury
Of thoughts and plots, this stranger to remove,
Soothèd with profit, and enflamed with fury, 1350
Ush'ring her language with a threat'ning frown,
She asked her business with that shavèd crown.

Why was that sickly voice whose feeble gales
Can raise no echoes, hand- and elbow-chat,
Eye-dialogue's discourse, and wanton tales,
That way of am'rousness and this, and that?
'Speak truth, Bellama, has thy heart, as voice,
Decreed that youthful monk thine only choice?'

Bellama, startled at this sudden news,
Yet did her answers all consist of noes; 1360
But yet, alas! her blood observed the cues,
And called by guilt, her lily banks o'erflows:
So that, though she with settled vows denied,
Yet to the eye her blushes guilty cried.

When as the matron's busy eyes had read
Love on her cheeks in bloody letters writ,
She asked her why blind folly thus had led
Her reason 'gainst religion, state, or wit?
Or, if she needs must love, why did she scowl
Upon state-satins, and embrace a cowl? 1370

Bellama to excuses tuned her air,
Framing pretences for her amorous faith,
But yet, alas! such was Pazzella's care,
From her excuses she withheld her faith.
And, with a voice shrill and as fierce as thunder,
Sware she would knap their silly loves in sunder.

Those scarlet gowns which doom offenders' death,
Or the proscriptions of the Roman state,
Had not the tithe of that affrighting breath,
Although they weak'ned hell and threat'ned Fate, 1380
As had these words which feeble love did shiver,
Snap his weak strings, and crack his emptied quiver.

But, all this while, Albino sate with pleasure,
And on his trencher joy and mirth attend;
Nor to delight will he allow a measure,
As at one sitting he his stock would spend.
Nay, if he slept, he dreamed of naught but rings,
Gloves, fans, masks, monkeys, and such pretty things.

And when the time of his approach approached,
His eye did travel with the dial's hand, 1390
Then started up to see Don Phoebus coached,
Bade him make haste and at that minute stand,
That this blest day may count more moments' flight
Than could the stout Alcides' genial night.

But oft we see before a sudden dash,
The sun salutes the earth with hottest gleams:
So here, before misfortune's harshest lash,
Joy on Albino shot his choicest beams;
That every thought was crownèd with a star,
And rid with Venus in her silver car. 1400