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And no dominion to your state superior,
I hold our clime nothing to Troy inferior.
Say, you in riches pass us, or in number

Of people, whom you boast your streets to cumber;
Yet yours a barbarous nation is, I tell you,
And in that kind do we of Greece excel you.
Your rich epistle doth such gifts present,
As might the goddesses themselves content,
And woo them to your pleasure: but if I
Shall pass the bounds of shame, and tread awry ;
If ever you should put me to my shifts,
Yourself should move me more than all your gifts.
Or if I ever shall transgress by stealth,

It shall be for your sake, not for your wealth.
But as your gifts I scorn not, so such seem
Most precious, where the giver we esteem.
More than your presents it shall Helen please,
That you for her have past the stormy seas;
That she hath caus'd your toil, that you respect her,
And more than all your Trojan dames affect her.

But you're a wag in troth; the notes and signs
You make at table, in the meats and wines,

I have observ'd, when I least seem'd to mind them,
For at the first my curious eye did find them.
Sometimes (you wanton) your fix'd eye advances
His brightness against mine, darting sweet glances,
Out-gazing me with such a steadfast look,

That my dazzl'd eyes their splendor have forsook ;
And then you sigh, and by and by you stretch
Your amorous arm outright, the bowl to reach
'That next me stands, making excuse to sip
Just in the self-same place that kiss'd my lip.
How oft have I observ'd your finger make

Tricks and conceited signs, which straight I take?
How often doth your brow your smooth thoughts cloke';
When, to my seeming, it hath almost spoke?

And still I fear'd my husband would have spy'd you;
In troth you are to blame, and I must chide you.
You are too manifest a lover (tush)

At such known signs I could not chuse but blush;
And to myself I oft was forc'd to say,

This man at nothing shames. Is this (I pray)
Qught, save the truth? Oft times upon the board

R VOL. IX.

Where Helen was engraven, you the word
Amo have underwrit, in new spilt wine;
(Good sooth) at first I could not scan the line,
Nor understand your meaning. Now (oh! spite)
Myself am now taught so to read and write.
Should I offend, as sin to me is strange,

[change.

These blandishments have power chaste thoughts to

Or if I could be mov'd to step astray,

These would provoke me to lascivious play:
Besides, I must confess, you have a face

So admirable rare, so full of grace,

That it hath power to woo, and to make seisure

Of the most bright chaste beauties to your pleasure.
Yet had I rather stainless keep my fame,

Than to a stranger hazard my good name.
Make me your instance, and forbear the fair;

Of that which most doth please you, make most spare.
The greatest virtues, of which wise men boast,
Is to abstain from that which pleaseth most.
How many gallant youths (think you) desire

That which you covet, scorch'd with the selfsame fire?
Are all the world fools? only Paris wise?
Or is there none, save you, have judging eyes?
No, no, you view no more than others see,
But you are plainer and more bold with me.
You are more earnest to pursue your game;
I yield you not more knowledge, but less shame.
I would to God that you had sail'd from Troy,
When my virginity and bed t' enjoy,

A thousand gallant princely suitors came:
Had I beheld young Paris, I proclaim,
Of all those thousand I had made you chief,
And Spartan Menelaus, to his grief,

Should to my censure have subscrib'd and yielded.
But now (alas!) your hopes are weakly builded;
You covet goods possess'd, pleasures foretasted;
Tardy you come, that should before have hasted;
What you desire, another claims as due :
As I could wish t' have been espous'd to you,
So let me tell you, since it is my fate,
I hold me happy in my present state.
Then cease, fair prince, an idle suit to move,
Seek not to harm her whom you seem to love.
In my contented state let me be guided,

As both my states and fortunes have provided ;
Nor in so vain a quest your spirits toil,
To seek at my hands an unworthy spoil.

But see how soon poor women are deluded,
Venus herself this covenant hath concluded:
For in th' Idean vallies you espy

Three goddesses, stripp'd naked to your eye;
And when the first had promis'd you a crown,
The second fortitude and war's renown;

The third bespake you thus; Crown, nor war's pride,
Will I bequeath, but Helen to thy bride.

I scarce believe, those high immortal creatures
Would to your eye expose their naked features.
Or say the first part of your tale be pure,

And meet with truth, the second's false I'm sure;
In which poor I was thought the greatest meed,
In such a high cause by the gods decreed.
I have not of my beauty such opinion,
T'imagine it preferr'd before dominion,

Or fortitude; nor can your words persuade me,
The greatest gift of all the goddess made me.
It is enough to me men praise my face,
But from the gods I merit no such grace:

Nor doth the praise you charge me with, offend me,
If Venus do not enviously commend me.

But lo! I grant you, and imagine true,

Your free report, claiming your praise as due.
Who would in pleasing things call fame a lyar,
But give that credit which we most desire?

That we have mov'd these doubts, be not you griev'd,
The greatest wonders are the least believ'd:
Know then, I first am pleas'd that Venus ought me
Such undeserved grace; next that you thought me
The greatest meed. Nor sceptre, nor war's fame,
Did you prefer before poor Helen's name.

(Hard heart! 'tis time thou should'st at last come down)
Therefore I am your valour, 1 your crown,
Your kindness conquers me, do what I can ;
I were hard-hearted not to love this man.
Obdurate I was never, and yet coy
To favour him whom I can ne'er enjoy.
What profits it the barren sands to plough,
And in the furrows our affections sow?

In the sweet theft of Venus I am rude,
And know not how my husband to delude.
Now I these love-lines write, my pen I vow,
Is a new office taught, not known till now.
Happy are they, that in this trade have skill ;
Alas! I am a fool, and shall be still;

And having till this hour not stepp'd astray,
Fear in these sports lest I should miss my way.
The fear (no doubt) is greater than the blame;
I stand confounded, and amaz'd with shame;
And with the very thought of what you seek,
Think every eye fix'd on my guilty cheek.
Nor are these suppositions merely vain,
The murmuring people whisperingly complain;
And my maid Athra hath, by list'ning slily,
Brought me such news, as touch'd mine honour highly.
Wherefore (dear lord) dissemble or desist;
Being over-ey'd, we cannot as we list

Fashion our sports, our loves' pure harvest gather;
But why should you desist? Dissemble rather.
Sport, but in secret; sport where none may see:
The greater, but not greatest liberty

Is limited to our lascivious play,
That Menelaus is far hence away.

My husband about great affairs is posted,
Leaving his royal guest securely hosted;
His business was important and material,
Being employ'd about a crown imperial.
And as he is now mounted on his steed,
Ready on his long journey to proceed,
Even as he questions to depart or stay,
Sweet-heart (quoth I) Oh! be not long away.
With that he reach'd me a sweet parting kiss,
(How loth he was to leave me guess by this :)
Farewell, fair wife (saith he) bend all thy cares
To my domestick business, home affairs;
But as the thing that I affection best,
Sweet wife, look well unto my Trojan guest.
It was no sooner out, but with much pain
My itching spleen from laughter I restrain;
Which striving to keep in, and bridle still,
At length I rung forth these few words, I will.
He's on his journey to the isle of Crete,
But think not we may therefore safely meet:

He is so absent, that at present I

Am still within his reach, his ear, his eye;
And tho' abroad, his power at home commands,
For know you not kings have long reaching hands ?
The fame for beauty you besides have given me,
Into a great exigent hath driven me.

The more your commendation fill'd his ear,
The more just cause my husband hath to fear;
Nor marvel you the king hath left me so,
Into remote and foreign climes to go:
Much confidence he dares repose in me,
My carriage, 'haviour, and my modesty;
My beauty he mistrusts, my heart relies in ;
My face he fears, my chaste life he affies in.
To take time now when time is, you persuade me,
And with his apt fit absence you invade me:
I would but fear, nor is my mind well set:
My will would further what my fear doth let.
I have no husband here, and you no wife ;
I love your shape, your mien, dear as your life.
The nights seem long to such as sleep alone;
Our letters meet to interchange our moan.
You judge me beauteous, I esteem you fair,
Under one roof we lovers lodged are.
And (let me die) but every thing consider,
Each thing persuades us we shall lie together.
Nothing we see molests us, nought we hear,
And yet my forward will is slack thro' fear.
I would to God, that what you ill persuade,
You could as well compel; so I were made
Unwilling willing, pleasingly abus'd,
So my simplicity might be excus'd.
Injury's force is oft-times wondrous pleasing;
To such as suffer ease in their diseasing;
If what I will, you 'gainst my will should do,
I with such force could be well pleased too.

But whilst our love is young and in the bud,
Suffer his infant vigour be withstood:
A flame new kindled is as easily quench'd,
And sudden sparks in little drops are drench'd.
A traveller's love is, like himself, unstay'd,
And wanders where he walks; it is not laid
On any firmer ground; for when we alone

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