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 Ethra 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 får 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) O! 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 domestic 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, 1 will.
He's on his journey to the isle of Crete,

But think not we may therefore safely meet :

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He is so absent, that as 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 wond'rous pleasing;
To such as suffer ease in their diseasing;
If what I will, you 'gainst my will should do,
I wish 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.

1

Think him to us, the wind blows fair, he's gone.
Witness Hypsipile, alike betray'd;

Witness with her the bright Mynoyan maid;
Nay then yourself, as you yourself have spoken,
To fair Oenone have your promise broken.
Since I beheld your face first, my desire
Hath been, of Trojan Paris to inquire.

I know you now in every true respect,
I'll grant you thus much then, say you affect
Me (whom you term your own.) I'll go thus far ;
Do not the Phrygian mariners prepare

Their sails and oars, ev'n now whilst we recite
Exchange of words about the wished night?
Say that even now you were prepar'd to climb
My long-wish'd bed, just at the appointed time
The wind should alter, and blow fair for Troy,
You must break off, in midst of all your joy,
And leave me in the infancy of pleasure;
Amid my riches, I shall lose my treasure.
You will forsake the sweets my bed affords,
T'exchange for cabins, hatches, and pitch'd boards.
Then what a fickle courtship you commence,
When, with the first wind, all your love blows hence?
But shall I follow you when you are gone,
And be the grandchild to Laomedon!
And Ilium see, whose beauty you proclaim!

I do not so despise the bruit of fame,

That she to whom I am in debt such thanks,

Should fill the earth with such adulterate pranks.
What will Achaia, what will Sparta say?
What will your Troy report, and Asia?
What my old Priam, or his reverend queen ?
What may your sisters, having Helen seen,
Or your Dardanian brothers deem of me?
Will they not blame my loose inchastity ?
Nay, how can you yourself faithful deem me,
And not amongst the loosest dames esteem me ?
No stranger shall your Asian ports come near,
But he shall fill your guilty soul with fear.
How often, angry at some small offence,
Will you thus say: Adult'ress, get thee hence !
Forgetting you yourself have been the chief
In my transgression, tho' not in my grief.
Consider what it is, forgetful lover,

To be sin's author, and sin's sharp reprover.
But ere the least of all these ills betide me,
I wish the earth may in her bosom hide me.

But I shall all your Phrygian wealth possess,
And more than your epistle can express:
Gifts, woven gold, embroidery, rich attire,
Purple and plate, or what I can desire.
Yet give me leave, think you all this extends
To countervail the loss of my chief friends?
Whose friendship, or whose age shall I employ
To succour me, when I am wrong'd in Troy?
Or whether can I, having thus misdone,
Unto my father, or my brothers run?
As much as you to me, false Jason swore
Unto Medea, yet from Æson's door

He after did exile her. Now, poor heart,
Where is thy father that should take thy part?
Old Etes or Calciope? Thou took'st

No aid from them, whom thou before forsook'st.
Or say thou didst (alas! they cannot hear
Thy sad complaint) yet I no such thing fear;
No more Medea did: good hopes engage
Themselves so far, they fail in their presage.
You see the ships that in the main are toss'd
And many times by tempests wreck'd and lost,
Had at their launching from the haven's mouth,
A smooth sea, and a calm gale from the south,
Besides the brand your mother dreamt she bare,
The night before your birth breeds me fresh care.
It prophecy'd, ere many years expire,
Inflamed Troy must burn with Greekish fire.
As Venus favours you, because she gain'd
A doubtful prize by you; yet the disdain'd
And vanquish'd goddesses, disgrac'd so late,
May bear you hard; I therefore fear their hate.
Nor make no question, but if I consort you,
And for a ravisher our Greece report you;
War will be wag'd with Troy, and you shall rue
The sword (alas!) your conquest shall pursue.
When Hypodamia, at her bridal feast,
Was rudely ravish'd by her Centaur guest;
Because the savages the bride durst seize,
War grew betwixt them and the Lapythes
Or think you Menelaus hath no spleen?

Or that he hath not power to avenge his teen ?
Or that old Tyndarus this wrong can smother ?
Or the two famous twins, each lov'd of other ?

So were your valour and rare deeds you boast,
And warlike spirits in which you triumph'd most ;
By which you have attain'd 'mongst soldiers grace,
None will believe you, that but sees your face,
Your feature, and fair shape, is fitter far
For amorous courtships, than remorseless war.
Let rough-hew'd soldiers warlike dangers prove,
'Tis pity Paris should do ought, save love.
Hector (whom you so praise) for you may fight;
I'll find you war to skirmish every night,
Which shall become you better. Were I wise,
And bold withal, I might obtain the prize :
In such sweet single combats, hand to hand,
'Gainst which no woman that is wise will stand.
My champion I'll encounter breast to breast,
Though I were sure to fall, and be o'erprest.

If that you private conference intreat me,
I apprehend you, and you cannot cheat me:
I know the meaning, durst I yield thereto,
Of what you would confer, what you would you do.
You are too forward, you too far would wade ;
But yet (God knows) your harvest's in the blade.
My tired pen shall here its labour end;
A guilty sense in thievish lines I send.

Speak next when your occasion best persuades,
By Cymene and Athra my two maids.

THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.

Live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That hills and vallies, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, by whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
There will I make thee beds of roses,
With a thousand fragrant posies ;
A cap of flowers, and a girdle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle ;