Chapter XXXIII: Introduction: To Nathaniel Whiting (4)

So called to chapel those whose pregnant wombs
The angel's pills had heaved above their waists,
Like to a surfeit ta'en of Hybla's combs, 2550
When we are too indulgent to our tastes.
But left Felice out to cut or sew,
Or to embroider with the lanky crew.

Which made a sudden faintness loose each part,
And every joint was like an aspen leaf;
Her rosy twins retired to her heart,
Her looks were coloured like a sunburnt sheaf,
As the stiff bristles of an aged boar
Were her smooth locks, which o'er her cheeks she wore

And juster cause had none than she to fear, 2560
For as from quiet slumber she awoke
She heard the ptisick pick Pazzella's ear
That she had knowledge of what Floris spoke.
And now she doubted all would come to th' scanning
Their longing, swelling and their sudden wanning.

The virgins wondered at Felice's change,
To see her eyes fix'd in a white-limed wall;
Each feared herself, and each conceived 'twas strange
Lest the disease was epidemical:--
That Merlin's uncle changed Felice's hue, 2570
And streaked their temples with a purple blue.

But leave her sighing with these sterile dames,
We'll crowd into the house of sacred vows
Where consciousness, begetting female shames,
Spread scarlet carpets on their cheeks and brows.
They looked, and blushed, and glanced on one another:
Each cursed the minute which did dub her mother.

The holy brethren, through the mouldy pipe,
At that same time did unexpected come,
To know if th' goddy issue yet was ripe 2580
To give adieu unto their skin-sealed home.
But viewing still their wombs, with zealous hands,
They prayed Lucina to untie their bands.

Their chantings dead, the abbotess began;
'Brethren, you see what sad misfortune haps
Unto my virgins by the oil of man,
Witness the heaving of their spongy paps.
We of an angel dreamed, but if he was
He shall hereafter for an evil pass.

'I made their slumbers vocal, so they told 2590
'Twas Folco's duke's supposèd daughter's work.
Larved with that name, it seems some roister bold
Them to unvirgin cunningly did lurk.
But since 'tis so, the proverb shall stand good,
Tart sauces must be mixed with luscious food.

I knew him to be wanton, and to chill
The raging heat of his unbridled lust,
I doomed him three days' penance, judged an ill
Would make him sapless as the summer's dust.
But since that failed, days shall be chang'd to years, 2600
Minutes to months, till paid his tribute tears.

I'll try if grief will drain his melting reins,
And hang a crutch upon his able back;
If sorrow will unblood his swelling veins
And make his sinews, shrunk with famine, crack.
I'll make a purgatory, where with hunger,
Frost, flame, and snow, I'll tame my virgin-monger.

I'll give command a dungeon shall be made,
To whose close womb the sun shall never pry,
Nor Cynthia dare to peep: for gloomy shade 2610
Like cloudy night shall purblind every eye:
Bare measure four-foot broad; and for that height
'T shall make him by constraint, not court, lie slight.

A bedstead hewn out of the craggy rock,
Not arched with cedar wainscot, knobbed with gold;
His bed no shrinker, but a sturdy flock,
Swans shall not be deplumed his limbs t'infold.
Nor curtained with the travails of the loom
Of poor Arachne, ere she had her doom.

I will not spend the ransom of a crown 2620
For curious dainties to delight his taste.
I'll fetch no fowls from off the Parthian down,
Or Phaenicopter for luxurious waste.
I will no mullet from Corsica take,
Oysters from Circe's or the Lucrine lake.

I will allow him pottage, thicked with bran,
Of barley-meal a choenix every day,
A sovereign diet for a frolic man
That is affected with the Paphian play.
And lest his stomach should too chol'ric grow, 2630
I will afford him some congealed snow.'

The bald-pate crew this penance well approved,
And, in a trice, all things she ready got.
So well she stirred her stumps (as it behoved)
She being hatcher of this starving plot.
This done, with friendly words and courteous air,
She called Felice to her house of prayer.

'It suits not with your greatness, madam fair,
Being sole daughter to so great a man,
To lodge with those which your inferiors are, 2640
As much as is an inch unto a span,
And I'm afraid the Duke will fume and swear,
Should but your lodging step into his ear.'

'Madam,' quoth she, 'you harbour needless fears.
Goodness, not greatness, differenceth maids.
My father's no tobacconist; and swears
In point of honour like our scarlet blades.
And, by my faith, it more contenteth me
To sheet with maidens though of mean degree.

I am surchargèd with the black-hued choler, 2650
Which strikes my fancy with most ugly shapes.
I durst not rest a-darkness for a dolour,
Without a pillow-friend to scare those apes:
Let Cloe with conceits my spirits wing,
Or melancholy will my requiem sing.'

'You shall,' says she, 'have Sesamoidesse.
For all entreats are of too dull a print.

We must respect your father's worthiness,
His honour must your love and passions stint,
And your own worth must highly be regarded, 2660
How shall I else expect to be rewarded?'

Then did she take her by the tender hand,
And led her to her grot in princely state.
She feared not much, nor did her will withstand,
Judging divorcement was her harshest fate;
But when she saw the entrance was so narrow
A sudden fear did eat up all her marrow.

Pazzella, viewing her supposèd lass,
Repented her of her intended ills;
But injuries engraven are on brass, 2670
And women's jointures are to have their wills.
And lest remorse should chill her angry mood,
Fuel was added by the brotherhood.

'Then,' says she, 'madam, you behold the cage
Which I preparèd for your honour's good,
Where you may spend the autumn of your age.
Till age and winter have congealed your blood.
You may retire to ease: for envy can
Nor dares to say you're not an able man.

When twice ten circled snakes are crawled away, 2680
You shall enjoy companions masculine,
To give instructions in that youthful play
Is fed with Ceres and the god of wine.
And, if my virgins shall hereafter be
Lascivious given, I will send for thee.'

Into this coven was Felice thrust,
With bars and locks the entrance sealèd fast,
Now must he pay a dear rate for his lust,
His curtain-vezzo, and the coral taste.
Sure his repentance will be full as dear 2690
As the philosopher's _non tanti_ were.

Ah, foppish monk! did not Bellama's 'no'
Give thee a warning-piece presaging danger,
But thou must headlong rush upon thy woe?
Happy's that man which is to lust a stranger!
If this of dalliance is the constant fee,
Let them d----dally that do list, for me.

Here, when the barking star his sceptre waved,
When in our clime we feel an Ethiope's heat,
An undervault the subtil matron paved, 2700
With fire and flame to force a constant sweat,
That, as from flowers hot limbecks water 'still,
So by this stove from him sweat-currents drill.

Then, for the winter season she provided
A melting cloud full fraught with feath'red rain
(Whose curious art the air-borne clouds derided),
Which through some oillet holes might passage gain.
His cabin should have been, like Alps' cold height,
Mantled and strewèd o'er with winter's white.

And 'twas so dark, I cannot see to write. 2710
Nay, at a nonplus it all pencils sets.
'Twas hell's epitome, the cage of night,
Walled in with pitch and roofed o'er with jets.
The lynx at midday here would wish for day,
And cats without a torch must grope their way.

But leave him labyrinthed and thus distressed,
And see Bellama, and examine how
She brooks the absence of her bosom-guest,
If discontent does revel on her brow.
It does: for why, she dreams and never sleeps, 2720
She feeds and fats not, laughs, but ever weeps.

'Disaster hangs upon Albino gyves,'
Says she, 'else Envy keeps him prisoner,
Or a new bull does interdict them wives,
So seals the lips of my petitioner.
Else the smirk knave is so devout in pray'r,
He has no time to kiss the common air.

But does he love? or is 't a fit of mirth,
Which, like to children's fancies, soon expire
Ere language or employment give them birth, 2730
Flashing affections, aged like thunder-fire?
His eyes shot Cupids at my yielding heart,
But his firm breast repelled my feeble dart.

Perchance he judged my forwardness to love,
By too much court'sy, and my frequent glances.
So thought in jest my willingness to prove,
Not with that sober passion which entrances;
But with lip-love, which to the heart ne'er sinks,
And paper-vows which take their birth from inks.

But stay: does greatness use to be denied? 2740
Beauty and bravery command a grant.
Yet might my looks and carriage plumed with pride
His humble and untow'ring spirit daunt.
Daunt? no: his soul's a temper most divine,
Dares soar aloft to kiss the sun's near shine.

Then love he does: but must this action, woo,
Be tied by patent only unto men?
Some unfrequented paths of love I'll go,
And in some riddles court him by my pen.
Yet first to th' abbey I'll dispatch a post, 2750
To make inquiry where my monk doth host.'

The merchant is not with desires so big,
When as he ploughs the sea for Indian mines;
With slower steps the sons of Bacchus trig
To sack-shops for the French and Spanish wines;
Than she to Tagus bids her servant go
To Croftfull Abbey where her wishes grow.

Gone is the messenger: but small success
Waits on his travels, for he back returns
With, 'Madam, where Albino's none can guess. 2760
They think his ashes are enclosed in urns.
For time, say they, has counted fortnights many,
Since his choice feature object was to any.'

This answer shot an hailstorm at her heart,
Whose sudden chillness jellied all her blood,
Sh' applièd Holco to unscrew the dart,
But her assayments brought her little good.
For, but Albino, none can cure her ill,
Not physic potions, or the druggard's skill.

'Ah me! has Fate my dear Albino ta'en? 2770
Then farewell music, and you sprucing trade;
Either my tears shall body him again,
Or send my ghost to wait upon his shade.
For she is judged a light unconstant lover,
Whose flame the ashes of neglect can cover.'

Have you beheld how, when the moors and marsh
Belch vapours to blemish bright Titan's eye,
They with his rays wage conflicts long and harsh,
Confining them unto their proper sky
(Bribèd perchance by envious night to wrap 2780
Day and his champion in his sooty lap).

So that to us appears nor sun nor day,
And only faith persuades us there is both,
Till day and sun call in each straggling ray,
And force a passage, spite of fume and froth:
Yet then the day but newly seems to dawn,
And o'er the sun a veil of cypress drawn.

Just so diseasing sorrow, armed with tears,
Sighs, and black melancholy veiled her face;
So that no ray of loveliness appears, 2790
And only faith persuades us she has grace.
Her eyes retired, her double blush was wanned,
Her locks dissevered, and her lilies tanned.

And as, in her which arted looks does wear,
Men look for nature's steps, and cannot trace her;
Since she, by nature nothing less than fair,
Hath purchased from the shops such worth to grace her;
Though foul, now fair and sleek, though age did plough
And made long furrows in her cheek and brow.

So knowledge here was in a maze: the eye, 2800
That knew Bellama, did Bellama seek,
And, looking on her, nothing could descry
Spake her Bellama, or in eye or cheek.
To love's harsh laws she gave such constant duty,
Sh'ad only left an anagram of beauty.

She threw herself upon her couch of ease,
And marshalled all her thoughts in just arrays;
This brought small comfort, that did hardly please,
And in that thought despair the sceptre sways.
Yet thought she not death could a period set, 2810
Unless he did some strange advantage get.

'He's young and lusty: every vein does swell
With aqua-vitae, coral juice of life;
His skill in magic else can frame a spell
To distance meagre death and Atrop's knife.
Yet love gives birth to fear: I'll send to search
The lion's flinty bed, and vulture's perch.

I and my woman will attend the quest,
Veiled in disguises of some country lasses;
No state-distinction, for my humble breast 2820
Shall leave all pride with silks, perfumes, and glasses;
And, if with _non inventus_ we return,
I'll Venus' witchcraft hate and Cupid spurn.'

When as the sovereign of the day had drawn
A veil of brightness o'er the twinkling lamps,
And threw on Cynthia's brow a double lawn,
Clearing the welkin from benighting damps,
They in the habits of a milking maid
(All but skin-linen) did their beauties shade.

And in these coarse attires they hasted out 2830
To seek Albino through each wood and plain,
Whom we will leave to pace the world about
And see Felice, wet with eye-lid rain,
Whose bondage was the greater, since despair
Blasted all hopes which promised her the air.

The brazen bull, strappado, or the rack,
The faggot-torture, and the piked barrell,
Balanced with his, degrees of sorrow lack:
'Tis with a bulrush to decide a quarrel.
The famine wherewithal the Thracian knight 2840
Was sent to Pluto wants a little weight.

He that stole fire fro' th' chariot of the Sun,
Whose liver's vulture-gnawn at Caucasus;
He that the counsels of the gods unspun,
Like wanton's eyes, stone-rolling Sisyphus;
Hold best proportion with these sharp'ned woes,
Which stern misfortune on Felice throws.

She, that was glutted with most curious cates,
Had every pleasure to content her lust,
Who had command o'er Fortune and the Fates, 2850
Now sups up pulse and gnaws a fleecèd crust.
She that had many girls is now alone,
And of so many cannot compass one.

Had I a fancy steeped in sorrow's brine,
Invention witty in the threnes of woe;
Could sad experience dictate every line,
A dearth of words would to my muse say 'No'.
I may as well go fathom all the spheres
As measure her disasters, count her tears.

Oft on remembrance of that harmless bliss, 2860
Which (copèd) she enjoyed, her thoughts would feed,
Oft on Bellama's beauty, touch and kiss,
Till strucken dead with thought of present need.
Then would she raise her thoughts, and hope for day,
And starting up from silence boldly say:

'Despite of Envy's vipers, tricks, and wiles,
My cradle-playmate, Mirth, I'll ne'er forsake,
But taste Sardinian herbs shall raise up smiles,
Though I was wafting o'er the Stygian lake.
Tortures shall ne'er unman me; but I'll be 2870
Albino, Malice, 'spite of her and thee.

Delays ofttimes, from time's secluded parts,
Bring help to helpless not expecting aid;
Some of the gods will pity these my smarts,
Not suffer them to whet the sexton's spade.
Or if the gods--'midst flames then scorpion-like
I'll gore my breast, and fall on mine own pike.

Yet had I suff'red for a courteous one,
These woes should ne'er had power t' have raised a sorrow
But when mine eyes did in my breast enthrone 2880
Her--her of whom hell cruelty may borrow.
This is the height of woe, death, and diseases,
Nay, hell itself to this comparèd pleases.

Yet stay, say Neptune's palace shall be land,
And this firm ball of earth a liquid brack;
Say the North Pole with Phoebus shall be tanned,
And to the South the lilies shall be black.
Say this, and more, before thou dare to say
Bellama is _Màboun'_ or _Mà bellà_.'

No more of this: we'll for her freedom plot. 2890
A pious monk, perceiving well her smart,
With diligence assayed to purge each spot
With holy cruse from her diviner part.
But still her answer was--nor man, nor lover,
Nor she the virgin's ankles did discover.

'Alas! my brother I am not a male,
But a weak sience of the weaker sex.
The ladies spake the truth (might truth prevail)
But me with torture Piazell' doth vex;
'Cause, at my entrance, I did promise fair; 2900
Yet 't proves court-language, merely, purely, air.

But all this time she would not licence deign
That I three yards behind should leave the gates,
And fumèd when I would have left her train,
T' have sought a jewel, and to gather dates.
So that the Duke my father ne'er had ken
Of my encloist'ring in this hate-light den.

But, 'gainst it now resolving, I intend
To turn the stream of his munificence
On you, dear brother, if you'll be my friend, 2910
And plot how I may be delivered hence.
Lend your endeavours: and I'll lend my wit,
Vow faithfulness, and I will warrant it.

I'll woo my father for his free assent,
If to your barren cowl you'll bid farewell,
That Hymen's rites may perfect our content,
By joyful echoes of the marriage bell.
'Cause you in person do resemble him
Whom 'mongst all men I only judgèd trim.'

The monk gave ear unto her winning prate 2920
And gazèd on her beauty masculine,
Whose feature might delude a wiser pate,
Assisted only by a tallow-shine.
(For by an unctious salve she kept her chin
From the hair-mantle of an agèd skin.)

'Madam', says he, 'I judge your language true,
And to your vows I dare my credence lace:
Your virgin-blushes innocence do show,
And modesty is printed on your face.
Faith, truth, and honesty reside with me: 2930
My best endeavours shall your servants be.'

'Well,' says Felice, 'I have now decreed
(Since Phoebus has forsook our hemisphere),
To sheath my body in your holy weed,
Then through the private walk my course will steer.
So from your holy walls I'll take my flight,
Or by permission, or in silent night.

And when I am arrived at Folco's towers,
My father shall your matchless kindness know,
Who, I am sure, will summon all his powers 2940
To fetch thee from this house of flame and snow:
And who with much contentment will not brook
Some three days' penance to be made a duke?

For, by inheritance, the dukedom's mine
When death unbody shall my father's soul.
Since no heir-male's descended from our line,
The Salic law cannot my right control.
And, to assure thee that I'm only thine,
I swear by all the powers that are divine.'

Then did she circle with ensphering arm 2950
Conrado's neck and amorously him lipp'd,
Which did the amorist so strongly charm
That he with haste out of his vestments skipped,
And bade Felice change: for in good deed
He should full well become her virgin weed.

Felice undressed, and dressed, and having made
Herself a monk, put on Conrado's face,
And some few minutes with her monkship played,
Then gave a farewell to that hated place.
But ere her quick dispatch could post her thence 2960
Her beauty shot a fire through every sense.

Fear now exiled the confidence he tied,
Forced by affection, to Felice's words,
Revoked his promise now,--all aid denied;
And, with majestic looks and gesture's lords
His flaming lust dissolved his pious snow,
And now his loud desires will have no 'No'.

But vows to disenclothe her and to break
Her virgin-seal despite of force or smiles,
Till Folco strove and made his noddle leak 2970
Sardonic liquor to new-paint the tiles,
So hasted out, and to the matron gave
The iron porter of Conrado's grave.

Imping his haste, he threads the vaulted lane,
Not wounded by his soles this many a day,
Like those which, when arraigned, a pardon gain
Dare neither at the jail nor gallows stay.
And coming to the postern gate he knocked,
Which at devotion time was always locked.

But when the last Amen had silenced prayer, 2980
The porter to Albino entrance gave;
Who straight was brought unto the judgement chair,
Where, furred with state, did sit the abbot grave.
Who said, 'Conrade, why was your stay so long?
You missed the manna of the evensong.'

Pseudo-Conrado answered him, 'My lord,
I found Felice so oppressed with grief,
That charity commanded me t'afford
By learning, prayers, and anthems, some relief.
And truly on my faith I am persuaded 2990
A virgin-lady with these weeds is shaded.

I, moved to pity by her streaming tears,--
Her sighing gales, loud threnes, and sad laments,
Won by her beauty, and her tender years,
Have promised aid, confirmed by your assents,
And in all haste will tell her father's grace
What clouds of woe bemist Felice's face.

She promised me when as her freedom's sealed,
When she shall re-enjoy the glorious light,
When the sad sentence of her woe's repealed 3000
She will be mine in spite of envy's might.
Nay more, she from the dukedom will extract
Some lordships to perform a pious act.'

Forthwith, a synod of the holy men
Was called to broach the wisdom of their pates.
The questions were proposed--"Who? What? and When?
The 'who', is Folco's daughter; 'what', estates;
The 'when', so soon as she, by Folco's powers,
Shall shell her body in proud Gurby's towers.

This answer smelt of profit, and did gain 3010
The abbot's liking, and his griping crew.
Says he, 'Conrado, true content does reign
And triumph in our thoughts: we yield to you.
Success wait on thy voice: for to thy care
Our wishes, hopes, desires, entrusted are.'

'Fear not,' quoth he, 'my faith dares warrant all.
All things are real as my words are true.
Myself will pace unto fair Gurby hall,
And with emphatic language plead and sue:
So that old Folco's lungs shall crack with laughter 3020
To hear me chat the travails of his daughter.

First she, mistrusting that she should be forc'd,
By his proud nod, unto a hated pillow,
From folly, Folco, folk, herself divorced,
To twist, for scornèd maids, some wreaths of willow.
How zealously she prayed, and looked demurely!
She is, in thought and word, a virgin surely.

But the conceit is this--Who bridles laughter,
That virgins holy, pure, and nuns to boot,
Should thicken with the pills of Folco's daughter, 3030
Sing lullabies, and to Lucina hoot?
T' increase the wonder then, and imp his pleasures,
To Folco I'll present these waggish measures.'

_Behold, admire, and some contentment gather_
_From nuns that teem, manned by a virgin-father._

Wonder and admiration cease to gaze
On flashing meteors, stars, and comets' blaze.
Let not Vitruvius or th' Ichonian beast,
Putzol or Etna slide into your breast.
Ope not your ears unto those cracks of thunder, 3040
Whose cannon-echoes split the orbs in sunder.
Lend not your audience to those fond reports
Of Ob'ron, Mabell, and their fairy sports,
Nor tie your credence to the poet's pen
Which writes the noble acts of warlike men,
Of monsters, mooncalves, merry games, and masks,
Atlas' stiff shoulders, and Alcides' tasks.
Amazement flies these babbles, and does pin
Faith, eyes, and thoughts, unto this curtain-sin;
That a pure virgin should unvirgin others, 3050
And, though a virgin, yet make many mothers;
Make them heave up, be qualmish, pale, and cry
'A midwife (ho!) a midwife: else we die.'
It is an Afric crow, a sable swan,
To have a vestal puffèd up with man:
But that so many nuns unmaidened are
B' a nun without a man is more than rare.
The Sybil's virgin is not worth a rush,
And Merlin's mother may with envy blush.
These, though they soared above the pitch of reason, 3060
Yet crossed not nature's order, course, or season.
For women teemed as women, but a woman
As man, makes virgins teem, and yet is no man.
This--this is object unto fame and wonder,
Then make each clime with this _Mirandum_ thunder.

About this time night summoned them to rest,
And each repairèd to his sturdy bed.
Albino's fears his hopes and joys suppressed;
But, in the rest, content struck sorrow dead.
They slept until the bright enlight'ned air, 3070
With silver glitter, called them up to prayer.

But our Albin' took earlier leave of sleep,
And sheathed his body in his monkish vests;
Knocked at his lodge, which did the entrance keep,
Who that he could not wake himself protests:
'Thou art some fury, hag, or Hob I trow,
That boldly at my lodge dost thunder so.'

Albino says, 'What frenzy damps thy reason?
Arise, my haste commands a frequent rap.'
'Begone,' quoth he, 'entreats are out of season. 3080
Worshipful Hob, I'll have another nap.
'Tis not mine hour to rise until I hear
The clapper sound a _surge_ in mine ear.'

When our young monk had many minutes spent,
And could not Foppo from his pillow rear,
About that time light's charioteer had sent
Day's trusty harbinger his orb to clear.
He searched the walls, and trafficked with the lock;
But all in vain, he must implore the frock.

The chapel-clerk, as constant to his hour 3090
As is day's herald which at breaking crows,
Seeing Aurora did his windows scour
And leapt into his chamber, straight arose:
Making the shrill-toned bell in echoes speak,
'Awake and rise to prayer, the day does break.'

Foppo was at that time in Morpheus' court,
Where he with apparitions was affrighted;
The scene was changed, then came a dainty sport,
Whose sudden neatness every sense delighted;
Then dreamt Albine, their renegado monk 3100
Was knocking at his lodge, the other _Nunc_.

Then dreamt he saw a table richly spread
With all the dainties riot ever felt;
All birds of warrant which in woods are bred,
With salmon, mullet, turbot, trout, and smelt:
The princely-pacing deer, entombed in paste,
Embalmed with spices to delight the taste.

A sparkling wine, drawn newly from the cheek
Of some chaste fair which blushes coloured red,
With brisk canary and enlivening Greek, 3110
Poetic sherry which can sharpen lead--
This ravish'd Foppo with a taste content,
Till to his ear the bell an errand sent.

When, starting up, he deemed the bell did call
His able stomach to a founder's feast,
And with all speed was swogging to the hall,
But that Albino stayed him by the crest,
And lew-warm claret from his hogshead drew
To make his stomach give the deer adieu.

Quoth he, 'Thou son of Somnus, drowsy slave! 3120
Why didst thou not at my loud summons rise?
But in a fit of lunacy did rave
As though thy wit had ta'en some new disguise?
I'll be your Hob, your hag: and, though I'm loath,
Will now chastise thee for thy feignèd sloth.'

But whilst his passion took a breathing space,
The wak'ned porter from his fists did creep,
Fixèd his goggles on his youthful face,
And then rememb'red his prophetic sleep.
Tells him he's not Conrado; for he knows 3130
That brow, those cheeks, lips, eyes, Albino owes.

'And though your wrath should grind me unto powder,
Without a warrant, I will ope no gate.'
This answer made Albino's anger louder,
And vowed a passage, bought at any rate.
So leapt upon the slave with nimble strength,
And measured on the earth his ugly length.

Albino hastes to th' postern; having got
The keys, but 'mongst so many much was puzzled
To find the right; Foppo meanwhile did trot 3140
Unto some chambers where the shavelings nuzzled,
And them with outcries raisèd to surprise
Albino, larvèd in Conrado's guise.

Like penancers with linen on their backs,
The baldpates ran to seize upon their prey;
But yet their haste a semi-moment lacks:
Albino through the gate had found a way.
And, snatching out the keys, did them encage,
Raising a bulwark to withstand their rage.

Then thanked his stars that thus delivered him 3150
From dangers which did threaten naught but death.
For he by th' verge of _Mare mort_ did swim,
And did expect his latest gale to breath.
Nay, these late troubles had him so dishearted
That every shadow 'lmost the union parted.

You, whose disasters some proportion hold,
Help my weak fancy to express his fears;
Teach me my rhymes in cypress to enfold,
From thwarted lovers borrow me some tears;
Fetch me some groans from the ascending thief; 3160
And from the Inquisition fetch me grief.

Without demurs, Albino left the wicket,
Fearing the monks should bribe the faithless lock,
And steered his course unto a well-grown thicket,
Whose lofty hill was armed with many a rock.
He envies sculls that wait on spit and oven,
And vows ne'er more to see that hated coven.

Have you beheld the stately-pacing stag,
Flying the echoes of some deep-mouthed hounds?
How first his brow does wear a ferny flag, 3170
And with curvettings beats the quaking ground;
Telling the fawns and wood-nymphs that he scorns
The hounds, horse, huntsmen, and their warbling horns.

But when he is embossed in blood and sweat,
When travail on his swiftness fetters hangs,
He then is frighted with the shrill recheat,
And fears a pinking with the yellers' fangs.
Seeks ev'rywhere for shelter, and dares rush
Malèd with fear, into the sharpest bush.

So fared it with Albino: whilst he had 3180
Fate at a beck, commanded Fortune's wheel,
Was callèd by his Donnes, active lad,
He thought his joys were wallèd in with steel,
Slighted misfortune, envy set at naught,
And, braving malice, dared in every thought.

But when his tow'ring heart was taught to know
Humiliation, and self-confidence
Was strucken dead with famine, flame, and snow;
Although his genial stars had freed him thence,
He fears the monkish rabble, and he shrouds 3190
Himself in caves, encurtained round with clouds.

In his dark house he heard a feeble voice,
Breathed from the corals of some weak'ned maid.
At first concealment was his better choice,
Till pity set an edge upon his blade.
Then guided by the cry, he saw a roister
Did in his arms perforce a nymph encloister.

Yet, seeing home-spun russet, stopped his pace;
Saying, 'By this what honour shall I gain?'
But in his eye so curious was her face, 3200
Though masked and blubbered o'er with brackish rain,
That he forthwith unsheathed his trusty Turk,
Called forth that blood which in his veins did lurk.

So, stepping forward, cries, 'Injurious slave,
Unto what baseness does thy folly tempt her?'
Who answered him, 'Fond fool, thy foolish brave
From my decreèd end shall not exempt her.
Befriend me, Queen of Cyprus! and in spite
Of force or fortune, I'll have my delight.'

'Desist,' Albino says, 'or else I vow, 3210
By all those tapers which enrich the night,
I'll make pale death strew cypress on thy brow.
And to th' infernal shades thy soul will fright.
Cease from thy brutish rape, or else prepare
Thy cursed lungs to draw the Stygian air.'

Quoth the rude Sylvan, 'I am past that age
Which with bugbears the foppish nurse does fright.
Hence, curtain-squire, smock-groom, and urine-page!
I'll have no testates unto my delight.
Pack hence with speed, or by Actaeon's head, 3220
My weighty falchion shall pronounce thee dead.'

'Well,' says Albino, 'since thou'lt not desist,
Prove the adventures of a bloody duel.
One of our threads fell Atrop's shall untwist,
For to my rage kind pity lendeth fuel.
To free a virgin from thy gripping paws
I judge well pleasing unto nature's laws.'

They clasp'd their helms, and buckled to their fight,
'Twixt whom no umpire was but meagre death.
The woodwards green with Tyrian dye was dight 3230
Who now desires a minute's space to breath.
Albino gave the truce, yet but to breath;
His valour scorned to crowd into the sheath.

Then did his nimble sleight and courage show,
Feigning a stroke, but pointed at his breast,
Which oped a door whereat his spirits flew,
And wellnigh set his fainting soul at rest.
With that th' enfeebled Sylvan weakly cries
'Hold, hold thy hand! or else Sylvanus dies.'

'Dost call for mercy,' says Albino, 'now? 3240
And all thy thoughts erstwhile triumphant rid?
I seek not murder, may I save my vow.
That I should joy in blood my stars forbid.
I am content the virgin's voice shall seal
Thy death, or pardon, if thou make appeal.'

'Fair virgin,' quoth Sylvanus, 'pity is
The only grace that gives a virgin price.
Remission crowns a heart with greater bliss,
Than to hang iron on weak nature's vice.
The rays of your bright beauty urged desire; 3250
Your feature kindled lust, love blowed the fire.'

The virgin answered, 'I did never suck
The tiger's dugs, the lioness, and bear,
Nor from a reeking breast an heart did pluck.
Never will I in blood with vulture's share.
But, since submission speaks from voice and knee,
Kind pity thins the fault, and pardons thee.'

Then to Albino says, 'Heroic youth,
May all the blessings which attend on man
Felicitate thy life; and to buy truth 3260
To words, I dare do more than virgins can.
But, above all, I wish may nature's pride,
Lilies and roses, intertwine thy bride.

But yet alas! to recompense by airs
So large a bounty and so free is poor.
Yet why may not a spotless virgin's prayers,
Wing'd with desire, unclasp high heaven's door?
Accept of this, and if the Fates befriend me,
These blessings which I wished for shall attend thee.'

'Nature's sole wonder, beauty's only gem,' 3270
Quoth he, 'my valour and my feeble arms
(If your perfections had not strenght'ned them)
Could not have freed you from intended harms.
Ascribe the honour to your matchless face.
My courage merits not the meanest place.

Yet had I swum through seas of steaming blood,
And passed through nitre flames that belch forth lead,
Had all the Furies armed with vipers stood,
T' have stopped my passage or pronounced me dead--
I would have thrown the die my fortune tried, 3280
T' have bought you freedom though in crimson dyed.

For, when mine eyes sent forth the farthest glance,
To fetch th' idea of your beauty in,
That very sight my senses did entrance,
And make my thoughts excuse Sylvanus' sin.
For sure your quick'ning rays can melt a snow
On which the winds of age and sorrow blow.

But why do I upon the Ela raise
Thy noble worth, and yet intend to woo?
Since beauty oft displays her plumes at praise, 3290
Then by this doing I myself undo.
But where I virtues find, refined as gold,
Despair shall never make affections cold.

Be pleasèd then to think the god of Love
With gilded arrow has transfixed my heart,
And let my purple breast your pity move.
With balsam of regard allay my smart,
Send thy quick eyes into my breast to see,
What tortures prick my heart to purchase thee.'

'Sir, I am grieved,' quoth she, 'you are allied 3300
To him whose quiver crowns a lover's wish.
Else at a twelve-score distance might y' have spied
You cast your net to mesh a simple fish.
Your worth and feature does entitle you
To Cytherea with her silver hue.

When I, alas! am but an homely maid,
Born to a spindle and to serve a plough.
To milk my spongy-teated cows I strayed,
Which here amongst these tender hazels low.
My starvèd fortunes cannot think of love, 3310
Nor does my envy wound the billing dove.'

This answer silencèd Albino's hopes,
Which spake as loud as though they kissed the sheets;
He in his thoughts commends the quiet copes
Which taste no sour in hunting after sweets.
'Alcides' life,' quoth he, 'compared to mine,
Is trouble-free, spiced with contents divine.

Fair maid, what hatred frosteth your desires?
What steams of envy choke bright Venus' lamp?
Give some kind fuel to maintain my fires, 3320
A frown of yours will all my vitals damp.
Oil o'er my writhled heart, or let me know
From what black heads these bitter cadents flow.'

'Your favours, sir, have such commanding power,
That 'tis unjust your wishes to deny,
Accursed with all black tempests be that hour
In which my heart gave credit to mine eye.
Else would I not have been so much averse
T' a mind so noble and a feature terse.

But now alas! myself myself am not, 3330
For heartless I my heart have giv'n away:
An abbey-brother has that treasure got,
Albino hight--he's Phoebus of my day.
Your habit speaks you a monk, sir, if you can
Tell me where I may find that (ah me) man.

Be pleased,' quoth she, 'to tell me where I may,
Or go myself, or else a servant send.'
'Fair maid,' quoth he, 'it is a gloomy way
Leads to the bed of your benighted friend.
His ashes are in Darwey Abbey laid, 3340
But his faint ghost walks i' th' Elysian shade.'

'But is he dead?' says she, and loudly shrieked,
Which waked Narcissus' hate to second her,
Her rosies dewed with melting crystal reeked,
And sorrow did her trembling heart inter.
Symptoms of sad deplorings ne'er were known,
Which were not in her sharp lamentings shown.

'Choice maid,' quoth he, 'do not destroy your rosies,
And blast your beauty with such scalding sighs.
In nature's garden there are choicer posies, 3350
More comely features, and more agile thighs.
What though Albino's dead? another may
Be trulier termed the Phoebus of your day.'

'Oh, do not stain,' says she, 'his spotless name!
Within his bosom every virtue ranged.
Equals to him dull nature cannot frame,
Though she should labour till herself be changed:
It is a shame to ask more favours yet:
Grant me this one, because my sun is set.

My pity saved, when as your fury had 3360
The rough-pawed Sylvan mincèd with your skene.
Oh, with same courage let your mind be clad,
With your sharp scimitar my liver dreane.
Why should I be a liver, since he's dead
Who was my hope, my health, my heart, my head'.

'How am I chang'd!' quoth he, 'my heart does beat
The fainting summons of the Child of Sin.
My knees do quarrel, and a chilling sweat
Cold as the dew of winter oils my skin.
Fear snatcheth from my roseate banks their blood, 3370
And drowns my liver in a sanguine flood.

'Tis strange a naked breast of bleachèd snow,
And crystal mounts enriched with coral heads,
(On which the purple violets do grow)
Should dare mine arm, and strike my courage dead.
My steel a breast of iron has unhinged.
And knees of brass have to my fury cringed.

Had some vast Gog or he whom Tellus brought--
One got by Fury or Gradivus' mate--
Who, but with monsters, ne'er conversed with ought, 3380
Dared with a look, mine arm had weak'ned Fate.
But, at this feeble voice my blood does start,
And into pity melts my swelling heart.

Then name no more those words: for they at once
Do both unedge my valour and my steel.
Too safely do your virtues keep the sconce.
My steadiest thoughts, struck with these letters, reel.
My sacrilegious hand shall never stain
Virtue's sole temple, and the grace's fane.

Dry up those furrowing cadents. Will you give 3390
Your lovely self in marriage unto him,
If I shall say Albino yours does live,
And in your view his comely portrait limn?
Say, aye, to this: and I will try my skill,
To make him pace along yon craggy hill.'

''Tis the countenance which my wishes crave,
Naught half so sweet,' says she, 'as Hymen's tedes.'
Albino then the haired earth did shave,
And hedged two circles in with ropes of beads;
Then, quart'ring them, did take the virgin's hand, 3400
And bade her with unshaken courage stand.

'Thou must not be surpris'd with shivering fear,
Though Cerberus, the janitor of Hell,
Though seven-headed Hydra, panther, bear,
The lion, tiger, or the dragon yell;
Although a monster spits forth flashing powder,
Though clouds and winds strive which should bellow louder.'

This said, with cruse of holy water he
Besprinkled o'er himself, besprinkled her,
And zealously did cross: the same did she, 3410
Like a devout Romezzo conjurer.
This done: 'Fair maid,' quoth he, 'if Fates befriend me,
The servant of your beauty shall attend thee.'

Then 'gan [he] to invoke, or seem t' invoke,
With uncouth language the infernal crew--
'Vitz, Allafoun, Trallasht with elfish poke,
Trollox and Chimchish, with your grisly hue,
Gnarzell and Phrizoll which in Styx do wade,
_Lê portè_ Albino from the Stygian shade.'

When from his lips these words had ta'en their flight, 3420
A shuffling whirl-puff roared amongst the trees,
Th' affrighted leaves took flight, the grass looked white,
The quaking poplars fell upon their knees.
Jove's sacred tree stood cringing unto it,
And bowed his head, else 'twas in sunder split.

Then, from a breaking cloud, a sheet of fire
Encircled them, and dashed against an oak,
Ush'ring a thunder, whose untamed ire
Like dreadful tyrants naught but terror spoke.
And as unwilling to depart from them 3430
His ireful cracks the trembling grove did hem.

These, suddenly succeeding so the first,
And at that instant when he feigned a spell,
Did make Albino judge himself accursed,
Thinking his voice unhinged the gates of hell.
Bellama's rosies wore as white as snow,
As though the Phyma did upon them blow.

And justly, for though these but common were,
Yet at that time when faintness kept the wicket,
Which at each shadow oped the gate to fear, 3440
In that dark place, that unfrequented thicket--
I blame not though her courage had been colder,
And in art magic wish Albino bolder.

But when the storm was passed, his courage got
The conquest of his fear, made his quick eyes
Stand sentinel t' advantage more his plot:
And, looking from the mountain, he espies
A man descending, as he told the maid,
Which the loud tempest of his fears allayed.

Then says, 'Behold the object of your hope'. 3450
Away springs she from off that gloomy place,
Posts to the hill, forsakes her magic cope.
Meanwhile Albino doffs Conrado's face,
And set upon his looks Albino's dye;
So, imped with love, unto the mount did fly.

Where he espied Bellama rove about
Crying, 'Albino, dost thou fly from me?'
The man was but a silly shepherd lout
That climbed the hill his fleecy train to see.
And when his eyes had healthed his wealthy flocks, 3460
Trudged to his cote, walled in with sturdy rocks.

Albin', encount'ring her, says, 'Lovely maid,
Was 't your small voice that did Albino call?'
''Twas I, poor I', the fainting virgin said,
'Why was I forced from Rhadamanthus' hall?'
'Who was 't, quoth he, 'that, with commanding air,
Snatch'd me forth' arms of Proserpina fair?'

'It was a courteous monk,' quoth she, 'whom I
Humbly entreated to deliver thee.'
'Alas! sweet maid,' quoth he, 'Fates do deny 3470
Freedom from thence, nor can I pay the fee.
'Fee!' says she, 'fear not: if an earldom can
Purchase thy freedom, I will give it, man.'

'Thou canst not ransom one from Pluto's jail,
Shouldst thou lay down the gaudy triple crown;
With steely-hearted Fate naught can prevail,
On whose harsh brow there ever dwells a frown.
Speak fair, thy business: for I must begone,
Grim Charon waits for me at Acheron.'

'Ah me,' quoth she, 'and is it truth I hear? 3480
Then, dear Albino, I will wait on thee.'
'You're like to find', quoth he, 'but homely cheer,
If in my diet you partake with me.'
'Famine's a favour unto me,' says she,
'Bridewell a bride-house, if I live with thee.

But, prithee, what is Rhadamanthus fell,
And she whom thou didst Proserpina call?'
'Sweetest,' quoth he, 'he is the judge of hell,
That dooms us tortures, or does us enthral.
For, if our innocence do plead for us, 3490
We're led t' Elysium from dark Erebus.

That other was the Thracian harper-mate,
Whom Pluto forced unto his gloomy house,
His devilship with smiles to recreate,
Full bowls of his nepenthe to carouse.'
'I'm glad I know', quoth she, 'for jealous fears
Unto my heart did travel from my ears.'

'Why, lovely maid, did ever I behold
Before this time', quoth he, 'your comely face?'
'How! dear Albino, must you now be told 3500
Who your Bellama is? 'tis high disgrace.
Sure you of Lethe's streams have deeply drank,
Which doth the powers of your mind disrank.'

'Ha!' quoth Albino, 'can my dullness think
That homely russets my Bellama veil?
I deeply of oblivion sure did drink,
Did I not know her from a milking pail.
Peace, pretty fair, do not my saints profane,
Her beauty has not such coarse lodging ta'en.'

'Well,' quoth Bellama, 'will you me discard, 3510
When for your sake I've run through all disasters?
Must slights and _nescios_ now be my reward?
Will you make ulcers, and apply no plasters?
Clothed in this coarse array, I roved abroad
To find the place of thy secure abode.'

'Sweet,' says Albino, 'let not anger dress
Thy stainless lilies in distraction's dye.
Let ignorance plead pardon, for I guess
Some other beauties may "Albino" cry.
Might now a ghost permitted be to kiss, 3520
My lips should suck from thine a cherry-bliss.'

'Why,' says Bellama, 'has a ghost no lips?
Is there no pleasure dwells in spirits' veins?
This "might a ghost" does all my joys eclipse,
For now I have my labour for my pains.
Pray, what was Merlin's father? is 't not said
Spirits have power a damsel to unmaid?'

These words, proceeding from Bellama's lips,
Did make Albino myrrhine juice carouse,
To raise an active heat, which nimbly skips 3530
In every vein like fays in Ob'ron's house.
But when he was no ghost, and hoped to merit
Love for love, he found her of another spirit.

'Away, fond monk!' quoth she, 'dost think that I
Into a sea of grief will wade with thee?
And drown my fortunes? make an earldom die?
Dost think humility resides with me?
Canst think I'll choose a pebble, slight a pearl,
Marry a threadbare cowl and scorn an earl?

What door to thy presumption did I ope? 3540
What symptoms of affections did I show?
What actions gainful birth unto thy hope?
Or from what vow did thy assurance grow?
Cease then, for I take it in high disdain,
To thy coarse worth my smallest ray to chain.'

'Disdain?' quoth young Albino. 'Can this be
The voice of my Bellame? Is there such odds?
If not in birth, in worth I equal thee,
Although my muse shot love into the gods.
Disdain's a pitch too high for maids to reach, 3550
Scarce will the queen of pride such doctrine teach.

Presumption too? does he deserve that brand,
Who dallies with consent, invited to 't?
What firmer seal than language, lip, and hand?
What better warrant than desired to do 't?
Say, he is saucy that, with crusted fists,
Paws a court-silk, and melts her balmy wrists.

Who feeted that enigma, whose kind air
Spake me the only high in thy esteem?
Was I not bosomed more than parents, fair? 3560
Did not thine own voice that saint-secret seem?
Who bribed your full face-gazings? and what she
Judged none praise, lip, deserving of but me?

Did not you in mysterious postures woo me?
And 'gainst Bardino levied all your spite?
Nay, by Barraba sent invitements to me?
And dubbed me by your knot the Red-rose Knight?
Did not your wish glue feathers on your feet
To thread a casement when I paced the street?

And after these, ah! thousand more, and nearer 3570
Seals of thy love, must slights unseal your lips?
A puny mistress-hunter well may fear her,
When pride at high noon can my sun eclipse.
Fury! lend me thy poison, Rage! thy breath,
That I, by pride doomed, may doom beauty death.

You pale-faced shadows of the gloomy isles,
Fill up my gall, and lend me all your pow'rs,
To torture women who, enriched with wiles,
From their moist eyes send forth dissembling show'rs.
Would Jove the mount had barren been of stones 3580
Whereof old Pyrrha fram'd the female bones!

Would Sea's daughter, that same queen of faces,
Her alabaster box would deign to me,
Once Phao's ferry pay that gave such graces,
Which till that time the sun did never see.
That I not only might, as others are,
Be counted comely, but o' th' fairest fair.

Then would I sleight those formal tricks of love,
Those sighs, tears, vows, complaints, and folded arms;
Caps, cringes, oaths, and compliments to move 3590
Th' affections of a girl expecting charms.
For wealth, wit, wisdom, eloquence, and greatness
Are less inducements unto love than neatness.'

'How now? Albino, is your doublet grown
Too straight', says she, 'that you do puff and swell?
Peace! peace! let not your choler thus be shown.'
'A thing impossible', says he, 'you tell.
In vain we call for peace, and calmness praise,
When love and hate intestine wars do raise.

Women have double pupils, so they can 3600
Kill like the basilisk but with a glance.
Their very praise does blast and wither man,
Like frost and winter, or his soul entrance.
They're all like Glaucus' wife, whose filthy charms
Won poor Ulysses to her lustful arms.

They're Holgoy, Africans, and fiends they are--
Words know not what they are, they're hell to me--,
Would Jove I had the Heliostrophio fair,
To touch all maids, or, if not all, yet thee:
Or had been born under the Scorpion's head, 3610
With amulets t' have struck thy beauty dead.

Ah! faithless Polupists, that thus can change
Into an hundred thousand shapes your minds!
Phoebe to you is constant; tides do range,
Yet back return; more settled are the winds--
Mere Pompholyx which with each breath does stray.
Your loves catch feathers too, and fly away.

Sometimes a fit of sullens seals your jaws,
In contemplation big (of Jove knows what),
And then again, as if your tongues made laws, 3620
You weary time with your eternal chat.
Ah Mantuan! [Mantuan!] thy pen is not a liar,
Although thy habit says thou wert a friar.

Erstwhile a sober nun Bellama was,
Then a Lucretia, at another gale
I know not what, a straggling country lass,
A quinque-lettered, 'haps, which set to sale,
Now, none more willing unto love than she,
And now more further off from love or me.

Yet call that hasty language back a while. 3630
Bellama is not such, she's Cupid's dart;
Teach me, great Jove, to make Bellama smile,
And with one ray sun her Albino's heart.
Thou purblind boy! teach me to gain Bellama:'
Straight Echo's voice returned him answer, '_Ama._'

'Thanks, gentle Echo, might thy voice divine
Speak truth in this, that love commandeth love.
I would through every mood and tense decline
_Amo_, and saint thee too, my joy, my dove!
Nay, thou shouldst be whate'er fond babblers prate, 3640
Albino's goddess, though Narcissus' hate.

Oh! would to Jove I were in courteous France,
Or else that happy place in France with me,
That with more tongues thou mightst make _ama_ dance
Within these silent woods from tree to tree.
Or would thou hadst imperial power from Jove,
In the imperious mood to bid her love.'

Quoth she, 'Unworthy of a conquest's he
That for a cannon's roar his ensigns veils:
Unworthy of a rose or rosy glee 3650
Is he, whose courage at her javelins fails:
They're feeble amorists that for a "fie!"
Run from their colours, and in silence lie.

'Tis our prerogative to have entreat
With every phrase that flatt'ry does enhance,
To win our loves, though every stroke they beat,
Our hearts beat Cupid's march, tune Venus' dance.
In their desires they never yet did perish
Which feed our humours, and our passions cherish.

To prove the truth of thy affections, I 3660
Shot forth that language, headed with disdain.
My heart is thine which, till death close mine eye
With steely thumb, thy bosom shall retain.
Caesar's proud nod shall not command that bliss
Whose sweets are promised by this melting kiss.'

'Ha!' quoth Albino, 'dare I trust mine ears
With this blest air? And am I sure I wake?
Or is 't a dream which wakeneth into tears?
'Tis truth: then crawl hence, Furies, toad, and snake!
The earth her mines, sea vomit shall their pearl, 3670
Ere I leave her, who for me left an earl.'

Then sate they dallying in a shady bow'r,
Where maples, ash, and thorn did them embrace:
Whilst her enliv'ning breath produced each flow'r
In curious knots to damask o'er the place.
Oh! who would not his soul and substance tenter,
To be circumference to such a centre?

Now have our amorists attained the height
Of true content; and sate like billing doves.
She tells her quest, he his monastic flight, 3680
Whilst both recount their passions, fears, and loves,
Till Titans hasting to moist Thetis' arms
Bade them provide against his sister's harms.

Then, joining heart and hand with easy pace,
They travelled to a pague adjoining near
Where in a straw-thatched roof (an homely place
For such a pair) they entertainèd were,
And what fine cates old Kath'rine could afford,
Was served in state unto an aged board.