Chapter XXXII: Introduction: To Nathaniel Whiting (3)

Rose out o' th' vault with love and hope adust,
And in conceit fed on his future sweet,
Thinking what most may please, not what's most just.
And with what phrase he should his lady greet:
Vowing, in this full heat of lust and pride,
To try how fast Bellama's girdle's tied.

But as our alchemists do study much,
Spend all their wits and wealth to find that stone
Which baser metals doth engold with touch,
(As he which once did awe the Phrygian throne) 1410
And when they long have dreamèd of a mass,
Their silver's turned to tin, their gold to brass.

Just so our amorist, stuffed full with hope,
Came to this walk for his expected treasure,
The crystal casements of his soul did ope
To let in th' object of his joy and pleasure:
But when he thought t' have found his lovely lass,
His love was lady-smocks, his lady grass.

He searched with stricter care each bush and bow'r,
Than did the fairy king and Hob his man; 1420
Throwing his eyes into each branchèd tow'r,
And midst the sharp'ned pikes of brambles ran.
Pricked forward with desire, enraged with spite,
And venteth here what love and hate indite.

Upon his Bellama using and forsaking the Walk.

When, walking, I sent forth my watchful eyes
To fetch in objects, like Bellona's spies,
Along this swelling way which chequered was
With smooth-faced pebbles, not with pikèd grass,
Bellama paced, whose only pacing set
Upon the pavèd walk a coronet 1430
Of Flora's pride--carnations, tulips, lilies,
Pansies, pinks, roses, daffadowndillies.
Nay more, methought, I saw the rubbish way
Sapphires, pearls, rubies, onyx-stones, outray.
The very channel, proud of her blest weight,
Swelled up with pride unto the ridge's height,
To kiss her feet, and made the way an alley.
With this choice fair mine eyes (ah!) once did dally,
Nature's epitome, whose curious brow
Was like a smoothèd mount of bleachèd snow, 1440
At whose clear foot Nature divine did place
Two diamonds, which did enlighten all her face.
So that 'twas like those orbs wherein do stray
The planet-lamps, or Cupid's sucking way;
And from these gems such silver rays were sent
Which hatchèd o'er her light accoutrement.
So that dull fancies would have thought she had
In cambric, holland, or pure lawn, been clad.
Nay, I at first thought it had Cynthia bin
Deck'd in her brother's sunshine ermelin. 1450
She shot such glorious beams: but now, alas!
She's gone, she's fled, and lo! the mourning grass
Is hayed already, and th' ungemmed stone
At feathers catch to fly where she is gone.
The branchèd beech, the oak, and tow'ring ash,
Bend both their brows and boughs my face to lash.
The angry thorns my hands, though armèd, scratch,
And testy brambles at my vestures catch
(Which was before the curse of human sin,
But now, by her, outsmelled the eglantine), 1460
I, wonder-strucken, asked a holy thistle,
Which with his sharp'ned pikes began to bristle,
(But know at first 'twas but an homely weed,
Her presence made it holy, not its seed)
Why all with ireful looks thus threat'ned me?
'It is supposed, Bellama fair,' quoth he,
'The goddess of this walk was forced by you
To this benighted path to bid adieu.'
'Alas!' quoth I (meanwhile the thistle paus'd),
'Their wrath is undeserved, I never caused 1470
By any ill demeans that saint to leave
This place, and widow every branch and greave.
Unto your testates I myself refer,
How choicely I have ever honoured her,
Have paid my tribute-compliments, and gave
Respects as much as due, or she, would have.
But people (worse than those that people stews)
Whose only joy consists in telling news,
Or Pazzell' else with her envenomed lips,
Your glory and my comfort do eclipse, 1480
'Tis them they ought to chide, for only they
Compel her to forsake this gloomy way.
Yet spite of all disasters, fate, and hell,
Albino's heart shall with Bellama dwell:
And though chill winter nip both you and me,
We shall, ere long, our suns and summers see.'

* * * * *

This said, he straight forsook his silent grove,
Trimming his looks which passion did untrim,
And hastes to find the object of his love.
But such an eye the matron cast on him, 1490
That fury on her looks did seem to dwell,
And envy to her face transplanted hell.

Heartless Albino with much pain did view
How on her looks madness and anger ranged,
And on Bellam' he private glances threw
To bring him word if that she stood unchanged,
If she continued square, despite of them,
Whose jealous eyes did all their actions hem.

Bellama knew the language of his eye,
But could not give respect to Cupid's law, 1500
For Piazella to her eyes did tie
A constant watch, which kept her eyes in awe:
That she was forced to peep within her veil,
For there the matron did her eyes enjail.

The ragged crew, which are enwrapt in chains
Through grates, more freedom have of sight than she,
Which in them both produced such griefs and pains
Too sharp and loud to be expressed by me.
Albino now does judge his absence better,
And chose a proxy to present a letter. 1510

One of his order (deemed a trusty friend
Endeared to him by favours, oath, and vow),
Was his Talthibius, ordained to send
To her whose beauty makes stiff Atlas bow.
The monk embraced the office, and did swear,
By all our scarlet oaths, faith, truth, and care.

Albino now to every Santo prays,
And for success his hands with zeal does rear,
Courting his lady in some Irish lays,
And robbed his finger of its golden sphere. 1520
En-nealed _I live in hope_, and sure grief's waves,
If anchorless, had been t'is wishes graves.

To mee's faire Metres, Vandebrad Isile of te fine towne of Vaschester.

Ick predee metres be not coy,
But intertaune mee's love vit joy:
For me be not a snottee boy.

Vat tough me russell not in silke,
And keep mee's servaunts vit capes ilke,
Yet me be not a sop of milke.

Vat tough me vil not stautly stret,
And ilke de Peacock poudely jet; 1530
Yet me be vary pruce and neat.

Vat tough me vil not lye vit pimpes,
And pend me's coyne on light-teale shrimpes,
Yet me can hug, busse prettee nymphes.

Vat tough me ha ne Hauke ne Hound,
And vil not suare begot, idzound,
Yet faith mee's frolique, plumpe and sound.

Vat tough me cannot Maudam say,
And vit ty Fan an Monkee play,
Yet me con flatter vel as thay. 1540

Vat tough me connot honour tee
Vit titles laudee C or D,
Yet tou sault a good Metress bee.

Vat tough, vat tough, Ick say, vat tough,
Ick say, udsnigs, in feck I trough,
Yet Ick drive not te Caurt and Plough.

Then pretee, pretee, buxome faire,
Let me not launguish in despaire,
But say me's sutes all gaunted are.

Let ne mee's Irish borrell speach, 1550
In tyne affection mauke o breach,
For me con better say so teach.

And me can be as blyth and free
As auny push or saunten hee,
Ten say, and ved, and bed vit me.

_Tyne faytfull friend and good servaune_,
Patrick Applous, _te fine, te bave, te
gallaun Irish-mon_.

Upon the Ring sent to his Bellama.

Cupid oft-times disdains to dwell
In lofty palace, but does shell
Himself in straw-thatched roof, and choose
For novel a September rose
Before a diamond to present, 1560
Or time in silver ceilings pent;
Great gifts enforce, but small ones woo,
And forced respects will never do.
He questions his own worth that fears
To whisper in his mistress' ears
With smallest gifts, since true worth hates
A boon which for him loudly prates,
And female worths may justly slight
Those that but with gilt swords dare fight.
These make me send this little ring 1570
(An emblem of a greater thing),
Tis bruised--hence representeth true
My heart, bruised, bent, and bowed for you.
Anatomists conclude by art
A vein is stretchèd to the heart
Fro' th' smallest finger of the left;
From vein and finger comes this gift:
Hence merits better, since we find
Many send presents, few their mind.

Upon the Posy _I live in hope_.

'Tis hope that makes me live, and when 1580
My hope's transferred to other men,
Divorced from me, health cannot give
A strength to make my rent heart live.
A rented heart 'tis truly called,
For love of virtues you enthralled,
Tenant at will to you, and pays
Large rents of sighs each hour and days.
But to what number they amount,
Puzzles arithmetic to count.
Then, courteous landlady, be please 1590
To seal my heart a lifelong lease.
Else ev'ry slight and frown of yours
Will turn your tenant out of doors.
Yet hope persuades me not to doubt
My heart shall not be turnèd out.
For you have promisèd to come
And live with it, or exchange home;
So I be landlord unto thine,
And you be landlady to mine.
Say 'Aye' to this, and only Fate 1600
Shall change the tenor of our state.

* * * * *

Bardino from the coven posts with speed
Unto Albino's only polar star,
Loaden with blessings, and beware take heed
As the great grandame's son prepared for war,
Or as a widow's son, whose only joy
Hangs on the nuptials of her lusty boy.

Like as a pilot to some floating keel
When as the bustlers from old Æol's cave
On Neptune's furrowed back make it to reel, 1610
And at his death shoot billow after wave:
So tossed in seas of grief Albino tied
His love's choice pinnace to Bardino's guide.

But Bishop-Guts, tun-bellied, all-paunched friar,
In sight of Lesbia's tow'rs, split his fair galley,
Proved a dissembling and perfidious liar;
From his foul breast deceit and hate did sally.
The seeds of every sin in him did bud,
Nothing did wither but this one thing, _Good_.

For to win credit with the Lady-mother, 1620
And raise a liking of himself in her,
He proved a traitor to his abbey-brother,
With abbotess in private does confer,
And unto her imparts his amorous news,
She, not Bellam', his vowèd service views.

But to Albino he returned with faith
(Yet 'twas an oath), 'I importuned thy saint,
Pressed her t' unlock thy secrets: but she saith
"What purblind folly does thy heart attaint?
Thou know'st what offers I refused, and thou'll 1630
Confine my love unto a starvèd cowl!"

'Away flings she, and leaves me disconsolate,
Nor after deigned to me a wonted look:
Now is Albino pinched with cruel Fate.
Which is the better, Cupid, or thy book?
Hadst viewed her beauty with a scornful eye
Thou hadst not tasted of her pride and fie.

Hapless Albin', and hapless so much more
Because Albin', rest quiet with thy lot;
If Nilus overflow his sandy floor, 1640
Above twelve cubits, it procures a rot.
When at too high a pitch affections tow'r,
Fate with misfortunes oft their hopes doth sour.

Wound not the harmless air with mournful hoots,
Steer not 'gainst Volga's stream thy feeble keel,
Be not like him who 'gainst a whirlwind shoots,
Or like the cockatrice in pecking steel;
For acts, 'gainst Nature wrought, despite do gain,
And love o'erlooking Fortune, reaps disdain.'

But let us see what strange effect this news 1650
Writes in his breast (disaster's fatal book),
What stronger plot his working fancy brews
If's lofty thoughts be at this answer shook--
Alas! they are, so weak a thing is man,
Crash'd into atoms with a slighting fan.

His blood retires unto his throbbing heart,
His wannèd cheeks with lawn were overspread,
An aspen-trembling loos'ned every part,
His spirits fainted and his vitals fled,
And his quick heart with such strong motions beated 1660
That it, though chilled with fear, his body heated.

Ent'ring his chamber, strewèd o'er with rue,
He leaned his head upon his swelling pillow,
And, sighing, cried 'Bellama! is this true?
Must I be doomèd to the barren willow?
I thought, exempted from my pedant's art,
I should no more have felt the willow's smart.

Thy eyes spake love: and every glance you sent
Writ on my heart, "Albino is approv'd";
Whensoe'er my eyes unto thy feature went, 1670
And met with thine, they brought me word "_You lov'd_",
Then can Bellama not Bellama be?
She may Bellama be, but not to me.

Blest heavens! how have men deserved your ire,
That made you frame this curse, this thing called _Woman_,
So comely and so useful, giving fire
To sear us men and yet disdain to know man?
Why on their faces have you placed such charms,
To make us court with sighs the worst of harms.'

Pandora's box of woes was openèd then, 1680
When first they took in hand to make a woman,
And all the Furies joined to torture men;
Yet women first were rare, but now grown common,
And mischiefs high, when once they common grow
Entomb great states, and commons overthrow.

Thou Love (what should I call thee?) dost entice,
Nay check'st rebellion in the awful gods;
Women thy weapons are, of such high price,
That beat with them they humbly kiss the rods.
No life, no joy, no sweet, without a lass; 1690
And yet no sweet nor joy since woman was.

Our eyes do ne'er mistake the day for night,
Nor can the pale-hewed pinks for roses pass,
But when on women's colours they do light.
Then (bribed) they look as through a painted glass,
So that what women are we never see
But what we wish and fancy them to be.

'Mongst thousand virgins which do suck this air,
I never knew but one, but one--one good;
Whom I supposèd full as good as fair, 1700
And she was making e'er Deucalion's flood:
But she--alas! what should I say?--but she
Is woe to man, a woman unto me.'

Thus in his height'ned fury he condemns
Both Fate and Fortune, honour, wealth, and worth,
Raileth on virgins and their beauteous gems,
And curseth Nature that did bring her forth,
But, above all, his sharp incensèd muse
In wrathful odes Don Cupid does accuse.

An invective against Cupid.

Thou Love, if thou wilt suffer this, be blind, 1710
Deaf, dumb, and stupid, and unwisely kind
More unto slights than merits, and reward
Respects and negligence with same regard.
If satins difference and maids adorn
Than Nature has with beauty, more with scorn,
That they must fligger, scoff, deride, and jeer,
Appoint their servants certain hours t' appear,
Afford by number kisses, sights by tale,
Command a certain distance, and impale
Love's game from taste or touch, and, if at all 1720
Men do transgress, steep all their words in gall,
Check but the least presumption, and with frowns
Strike as much terror unto us as crowns--
Love, if thou'lt suffer this, and wink at them,
Make us esteem a pebble for a gem,
Stoop, cringe, adore, sue, flatter, and admire,
And in our bosoms teen'st thy amorous fire--
May all the haggish Furies soundly lash
And with their snaky whips thy sinews gash!
May all the tortures Hell encloseth fall 1730
On thee, if not enough, and more than all.
But we--we men, will be no more thy slaves
And women's too: we'll pack unto our graves:
And in our silent beds of earth will court
The slender-waisted worms, and with them sport,
Dally, hug, toy, and vow their wimbling buss
Is full as sweet as women's was to us.
Enwalled with dust we'll lie: till Nature shall
Perceive thy malice, Cupid, and her fall,
And woo's, with sighs and tears in loving guise, 1740
For a replantage of the world, to rise,
Then shall our wills ungod thee and thy mother,
And Cupids be ourselves one to another.
Then in thy temples shall no voice be heard,
But screech-owls, dors, and daws; no altar reared
Whereon to sacrifice true lovers' hearts,
Scalded with sighs, and gallèd with thy darts.
For we ourselves ourselves will temples call,
And make our bosoms altars, whereon shall
From fourteen to fourscore the females fairs 1750
Burn frankincense of love with sighs and prayers:
And change the custom so that maidens then
Shall court, admire, adore, and woo us men.

* * * * *

This said, he strove t' unbillow all with slumbers,
But th' more he strove to rest less rest he takes.
His watchful thoughts each tattling minute numbers,
Bellama's wakening beauty him awakes.
And having purchased sleep, though they were dim,
Bellama's beauty darted rays at him.

Then, starting up her substance fair to catch, 1760
He lost the shadow, and did rave again:
'Can grovelling brambles lofty cedars scratch?
Or waddling ducks o'ertop the tow'ring crane?
Yet virtues, imped with person, reach a sky,
And to an higher pitch than Fortune fly.

There is a tree (as our historians write),
Alpina hight, of fair and glorious glee,
With branches fine and glorious blossoms dight
But never tasted by the witty bee,
Fearing death lodgeth there; and this he fears 1770
'Cause to the eye so glorious it appears.

Not much unlike to these our women are,
Whom Nature has in dainty colours dressed;
And of our women likest are the fair,
For with much beauty virtues seldom rest.
Would Jove all women I had judged to be
Alpina-like, or, if not all, yet she!

The queen of beauty strumpet was to Mars,
Officious bawd unto lascivious Jove,
A patroness of those that ride in cars, 1780
And in her court nor virtue reigns nor love:
But lust and vanity, with wily trains,
That he repentance buys which beauty gains.

Sh'as many trulls, like Menelaus' wife,
And she such light-skirt things for chaste ones sells;
With whom dissembling and deceits are rife,
Smiles, tears, sighs, looks, with such enchanting spells.
If they but bend their brows and shoot out frowns,
They crack a sceptre and distemple crowns.

Yet stay: but by the sour we know not sweet, 1790
White's silver hue adjoined to black shines best,
How should we know our hands but by our feet?
Health's only prized when sickness doth arrest.
This principle, perhaps, Bellama holds:
Summer is known by winter's chilling colds.

Perchance Bellama did not breath that woe,
Which by Bardino was conveyed to me,
Nor dwelt upon her lips that scornful "No":
'Twas only forgèd by her dame and he.
But--why should suspicion steal into my breast? 1800
Suspect a friend, deceit with friendship rest?

No: Phaeton, base son to Day's bright blaze,
Daring his chariot, felt Jove's thunder fire.
Astronomers, whilst on the stars they gaze,
Oft-times do sink into the dirty mire.
Only the eagle, without purblind damps,
Can fix his eyes upon the prince of lamps.

The son of Daedalus soared up so high,
That Phoebus plucked his waxen jointed wings,
It was her pride checked my ambitious eye. 1810
True love, to hatred changed by slights, has stings.
I'll write invectives: no! I'll only try
What virtue dwells in slighting poesie.'

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.
Bid Phoebe run horn-mad, and loudly cry, 1820
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
Hurry along the milky way to find 1830
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:
Regardless of the seasons, will not see 1840
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,
And strik'st fire thence t' inflame my tinder heart, 1850
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?
Bid sleep goodnight, quiet and rest adieu, 1860
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,
And had not mortals' curse blessed thee, and I 1870
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.
Thus, fair, adieu! with love these measures scan, 1880
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'.
Bellama urged (thanks to the purblind knave), 1890
'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.'

'Am I an infidel? or dare I tie', 1900
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.
Distracted were her thoughts in silence tied, 1910
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,
Didst [thou], oh didst thy conscience scour with soap, 1920
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?

Those sacred bagnios, wherein pagans wash 1930
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.
Pack, pack, begone, the ferryman does stay 1940
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,
So by the world's must I in loving see? 1950
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.

Who in pleuretic passions does deny 1960
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:
By lovely maids the lovely lovèd are, 1970
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:
When some kind planet moved her loving dad 1980
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.

He in an ambush placed his iron crew, 1990
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?
If, after two years' bondage, now she would 2000
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,
Broke off their parle; and Rivelezzo told 2010
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.'

'Madam,' quoth Don, 'you need no advocate, 2020
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.
My voice should not assent unto her vow 2030
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;
'Twixt her and happiness you make a breach, 2040
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.'

'Away with arguments, in vain you plead; 2050
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.
The air was frighted with the powder-thunder, 2060
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,
Who, seeing Fortune his designs did thwart, 2070
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.

Pretending to be one o'th' Spanish court, 2080
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:
But that he feared religion could not bridle 2090
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
Would force him to an hated pillow, strayed 2100
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.

In such accoutrement he veilèd was, 2110
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.
For what's of Issa and her picture writ 2120
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,
In that they shall ensphere so fair an one.' 2130
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.

'Not time it was, but an unhappy hour' 2140
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.
They with their leaden worlds at us did play 2150
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,
Before they knew his parentage or deemed 2160
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.

Instead of 'Virgin-mother' she would say, 2170
'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,
Since in her absence she could scarce abide 2180
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,
Which on her brow the lady duchess set, 2190
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.

This she pretended to have lost as she 2200
(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,
By her virginity and virgin-vow, 2210
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,
And feared Felice his departure masked, 2220
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.

She viewed the casements, and did boldly wrench, 2230
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,
Quoth she, 'Thy trust, and skill I must employ 2240
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;
Told him her bounty brought no worser fruit 2250
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.'

Felice then plucked out a silken purse, 2260
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.
To cozen the deceivers is no fraud, 2270
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,
And gen'ral silence human tongues did clog 2280
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.

'I'll mend highways, or hospitals repair, 2290
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,
But when for golden mountains he did gape, 2300
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
Which might proceed from an unwholesome diet, 2310
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.

Just at that moment did Pazzell' awake 2320
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,
And, groping in the dark, her foot did slip, 2330
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.
'Madam,' says she, 'I only came t' assuage 2340
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.'

'Oh madam! madam!' mad Avaro cried, 2350
'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.
Madam, look well; see if you miss no glass, 2360
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;
Allowed her pulse, and juice of clouds to sup, 2370
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.

Then, from Bellam' since walls did her encell, 2380
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.
But yet, alas! this pleasure lasted not: 2390
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;
One strangely did desire the tails of apes 2400
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;

One bade them fill an orc of Bacchus water, 2410
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.
Yet still suppressed her knowledge, till at last 2420
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,
Since none had entrance, nor the virgins strayed, 2430
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.

But they should say, and to that saying seal, 2440
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.
We judged unmaiding better in the dark 2450
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, [*]2453
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,
Viewing this nunn'ry, did ordain this choice, 2460
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.

Take pens, and smooth-strain anthems write in bays, 2470
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,
And finding it as at the first 'twas tied, 2480
'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).
This done, the prior did remove his camp, 2490
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.

With this conceit, Felice frolic grew, 2500
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,
But ah!' so waked, and feared her vocal slumber 2510
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,
But angels will not house in such a grange: 2520
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.

Then, with unsealèd eyes, she made her ears 2530
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--
Ere Phoebus our horizon did array 2540
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.