Salmacis and Hermaphroditus.
Francis Beaumont.
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For Stephanie Smith.
S A L M A C
I S
A N D
H E R M A P
H R O-
D I T V S.
Salmacida
spolia sine
sanguine
& sudore.
[image]
Imprinted
at
London for Iohn Hodgets:
And are to be sold at his
shop
in Fleete-
street, at the signe of the
Flowre
de Luce, neere Fetter-lane.
1602.
To the true
patronesse
of all Poetrie,
C A L I O P
E.
T
is a statute in deepe wisdomes lore,
That for his lines none
should a
patro[n] chuse
By wealth or pouerty, by
lesse or
more,
But who the same is able
to peruse;
Nor ought a man his
labours dedicate,
Without a true and
sensible desert,
To any power of such a
mighty state,
And such a wise
Defendresse as thou
art.
Thou great and powerfull
Muse, then
pardon mee,
That I presume the
Mayden-cheeke
to stayne,
In dedicating such a work
to thee,
Sprung from the issue of
an idle
brayne.
I
vse thee as a woman ought to be:
I
consecrate my idle howres to thee.
In
Laudem Authoris.
LIke
to the
weake estate of a poore friend,
To whom sweet fortune
hath bene
euer slow,
VVhich dayly doth that
happy
howre attend,
VVhen his poore state
may his
affection shew:
So fares my loue, not
able as
the rest,
To chaunt thy prayses
in a lofty
vayne,
Yet my poore Muse doth
vow to
doe her best,
And wanting wings,
shee'le tread
an humble strayne.
I thought at first her
homely
steps to rayse,
And for some blazing
Epithites
to looke,
But then I fear'd, that
by such
wondrous prayse,
Some men would grow
suspicious
of thy booke:
For hee that doth thy due deserts reherse,
Depriues that glory
from thy
worthy verse.
W.
B.
To the
Authour.
EYther
the goddesse drawes her troupe of loues
From Paphos, where she
erst was
held diuine,
And doth vnyoke her
tender-necked
Doues,
Placing her seat in this
small papry
shine;
Or the sweet Graces
through th'Idalian
groue,
Led the blest Author in
their daunced
rings;
Or wanton Nymphs in watry
bowres
haue woue,
With fine Mylesian threds,
the verse
he sings;
Or curious Pallas
once again
doth striue,
With prowd Arachne
for illustrious
glory,
And once againe doth loues
of gods
reuiue,
Spinning in silken twists
a lasting
story:
If
none of these, then Venus chose his sight,
To
leade the steps of her blind sonne aright.
I. B.
To the
Author.
THe
matchlesse Lustre of faire poesie,
Which erst was bury'd
in old
Romes decayes,
Now'gins with height of
rising
maiesty,
Her dust-wrapt head
from rotten
tombes to rayse,
And with fresh splendor gilds her topelesse crest,
Rearing her palace in our Poets brest.
The wanton Ouid,
whose
inticing rimes
Haue with attractiue
wonder forc't
attention,
No more shall be adir'd
at: for
these times
Produce a Poet, whose
more mouing
passion
VVill teare the loue-sick mirtle from his browes,
T'adorne his Temple with deserued bowes.
The strongest Marble
feares the
smallest rayne:
The rusting Canker
eates the
purest gold:
Honours best dye dreads
enuies
blackest stayne:
The crimson badge of
beautie
must waxe old.
But this faire issue of thy fruitful brayne,
Nor dreads age, enuie, cankring rust, or rayne.
A.
F.
The
Author to the
Reader.
I
Sing
the fortunes of a lucklesse payre,
Whose spotlesse soules now
in one
body be:
For beauty still is Prodromus
to care,
Crost by the sad starres
of natiuitie;
And of the strange
inchauntment
of a well
Gi'n by the gods my
sportiue Muse
doth write,
Which sweet-lipt Ouid
long
agoe did tell,
Wherein who bathes, strait
turnes
Hermaphrodite.
I
hope my Poeme is so liuely writ,
That
thou wilt turne halfe-mayd with reading it.
Salmacis
and Hermaphroditus.
Y
wanton lines doe treate of amorous loue,
Such as would bow the
hearts of
gods aboue:
Then Venus, thou
great Citherean
Queene,
That hourely tript on the
Idalian
greene,
Thou laughing Erycina,
daygne
to see
The verses wholly
consecrate to
thee;
Temper them so within thy
Paphian
shrine,
That euery Louers eye may
melt a
line;
Commaund the god of Loue
that little
King,
To giue each verse a
sleight touch
with his wing,
That as I write, one line
may draw
the tother,
And euery word skip nimbly
o're
another.
There was a louely boy the
Nymphs
had kept,
That on the Idane
mountains oft
had slept,
Begot and borne by powers
that dwelt
aboue,
By learned Mercury
of the
Queene of loue:
A face he had that shew'd
his parents
fame,
And from them both
conioynd, he
drew his name:
So wondrous fayre he was
that (as
they say)
Diana being hunting on a
day,
Shee saw the boy vpon a
greene banke
lay him,
And there the
virgin-huntresse meant
to slay him,
Because no Nymphes did now
pursue
the chase:
For all were strooke blind
with
the wanton's face.
But when that beauteous
face Diana
saw,
Her armes were nummed,
& shee
could not draw;
Yet she did striue to
shoot, but
all in vaine,
Shee bent her bow, and
loos'd it
streight againe.
Then she began to chide
her wanton
eye,
And fayne would shoot, but
durst
not see him die,
She turnd and shot, and
did of purpose
misse him,
Shee turnd againe, and did
of purpose
kisse him.
Then the boy ran: for
(some say)
had he stayd,
Diana had no longer
bene
a mayd.
Phoebus so doted on
this
rosiat face,
That he hath oft stole
closely from
his place,
When he did lie by fayre Leucothoes
side,
To dally with him in the
vales of
Ide:
And euer since this louely
boy did
die,
Phoebus each day
about the
world doth flie,
And on the earth he seekes
him all
the day,
And euery night he seekes
him in
the sea:
His cheeke was sanguine,
and his
lip as red
As are the blushing leaues
of the
Rose spred:
And I haue heard, that
till this
boy was borne,
Rose grew white vpon the
virgin
thorne,
Till one day walking to a
pleasant
spring,
To heare how cunningly the
birds
could sing,
Laying him downe vpon a
flowry bed,
The Roses blush'd and
turn'd themselues
to red.
The Rose that blush'd not,
for his
great offence,
The gods did punish, and
for impudence
They gaue this doome that
was agreed
by all,
The smell of the white
Rose should
be but small.
His haire was bushie, but
it was
not long,
The Nymphs had done his
tresses
mighty wrong:
For as it grew, they puld
away his
haire,
And made abilliments of
gold to
weare.
His eyes were Cupids:
for
vntill his birth,
Cupid had eyes, and
liu'd
vpon the earth,
Till on a day, when the
great Queene
of loue
Was by her white doues
drawn fro[m]
heauen aboue,
Vnto the top of the
Idalian hill,
To see how well the Nymphs
their
charge fulfill,
And whether they had done
the goddesse
right,
In nursing of her sweet Hermaphrodite:
VVhom when she saw,
although complete
& full,
Yet she complaynd, his
eyes were
somewhat dull:
And therefore, more the
wanton boy
to grace,
She puld the sparkling
eyes from
Cupids
face,
Fayning a cause to take
away his
sight,
Because the Ape would
sometimes
shoot for spight.
But Venus set
those eyes
in such a place,
As grac'd those cleare
eyes with
a clearer face.
For his white hand each
goddesse
did him woo:
For it was whiter then the
driuen
snow:
His legge was straighter
then the
thigh of Ioue:
And he farre fairer then
the god
of loue.
When first this wel-shapt
boy, beauties
chiefe king,
Had seene the labour of
the fifteenth
spring,
How curiously it paynted
all the
earth,
He 'gan to trauaile from
his place
of birth,
Leauing the stately hils
where he
was nurst,
And where the Nymphs had
brought
him vp at first:
He lou'd to trauaile to
the coasts
vnknowne,
To see the regions farre
beyond
his owne,
Seeking cleare watry
springs to
bathe him in:
(For he did loue to wash
his iuory
skinne)
The louely Nymphes haue
oft times
seene him swimme,
And closely stole his
clothes from
off the brim,
Because the wanton wenches
would
so fayne
See him come nak'd to ask
his clothes
againe.
He lou'd besides to see
the Lycian
grounds,
And know the wealthy
Carians vtmost
bounds.
Vsing to trauaile thus,
one day
he found
A cristall brook, that
tril'd along
the ground,
A brooke, that in
reflection did
surpasse
The cleare reflection of
the clearest
glasse.
About the side there grew
no foggy
reedes,
Nor was the fount compast
with barren
weedes:
But liuing turfe grew all
along
the side,
And grasse that euer
flourisht in
his pride.
Within this brook a
beauteous Nymph
did dwell,
Who for her comely feature
did excell;
So faire she vvas, of such
a pleasing
grace,
So straight a body, and so
sweet
a face,
So soft a belly, such a
lustie thigh,
So large a forehead, such
a cristall
eye,
So soft and moyst a hand,
so smooth
a brest,
So faire a cheeke, so well
in all
the rest,
That Iupiter would
reuell
in her bowre,
Were he to spend againe
his golden
showre:
Her teeth were whiter then
the mornings
milke,
Her lip was softer then
the softest
silke,
Her haire as farre surpast
the burnisht
gold,
As siluer doth excell the
basest
mold:
Ioue courted her
for her
translucent eye,
And told her, he would
place her
in the skye,
Promising her, if she
would be his
loue,
He would ingraue her in
the heauen
aboue,
Telling this louely Nymph,
that
if he would,
He could deceiue her in a
showre
of gold,
Or like a Swanne come to
her naked
bed,
And so deceiue her of her
maiden-head:
But yet, because he
thought that
pleasure best,
Where each consenting
ioynes each
louing brest,
He would put off that
all-commaunding
crowne,
Whose terrour strooke
th'aspiring
Giants downe,
That glittereing crown,
whose radia[n]t
sight did tosse
Great Pelion from
the top
of mighty Osse,
He would depose from his
world-swaying
head,
To taste the amorous
pleasures of
her bed:
This added he besides, the
more
to grace her,
Like a bright starre he
would in
heauens vault place her.
By this the proud
lasciuious Nymph
was mou'd,
Perceiuing by great Ioue
shee was belou'd,
And hoping as a starre she
should
ere long,
Be sterne or gracious to
the Sea-mans
song,
(For mortals still are
subiect to
their eye,
And what it sees, they
striue to
get as hie:)
She was contented that
almighty
Ioue
Should haue the first and
best fruits
of her loue:
(For women may be likened
to the
yeere,
Whose first fruits still
do make
the dayntiest cheere)
But yet Astræa
first
should plight her troth,
For the performance of Ioues
sacred oth.
(Iust times decline, and
all good
dayes are dead,
When heauenly othes had
need be
warranted)
This heard great Iupiter
and lik'd it well,
And hastily he seeks Astræas
cell,
About the massie earth
searching
her towre:
But she had long since
left this
earthly bowre,
And flew to heauen aboue,
lothing
to see
The sinfull actions of
humanitie.
Which when Ioue
did perceiue,
he left the earth,
And flew vp to the place
of his
owne birth,
The burning heauenly
throne, where
he did spy
Astræas palace
in the
glittering skie.
This stately towre was
builded vp
on hie,
Farre from the reach of
any mortall
eye;
And from the palace side
there did
distill
A little water, through a
little
quill,
The dewe of iustice, which
did seldome
fall,
And when it dropt, the
drops were
very small.
Glad was great Ioue
when
he beheld her towre,
Meaning a while to rest
him in her
bowre;
And therefore sought to
enter at
her dore:
But there was such a busie
rout
before;
Some seruing men, and some
promooters
bee,
That he could passe no
foote without
a fee:
But as he goes, he reaches
out his
hands,
And payes each one in
order as he
stands;
And still, as he was
paying those
before,
Some slipt againe betwixt
him and
the dore.
At length (with much adoo)
he past
them all,
And entred straight into a
spacious
hall,
Full of dark angles, and
of hidden
wayes,
Crooked Maranders,
infinite delays;
All which delayes and
entries he
must passe,
Ere he could come where
iust Astræa
was.
All these being past by
his immortall
wit,
Without her doore he sawe
a porter
sit,
An aged man, that long
time there
had beene,
Who vs'd to search all
those that
entred in,
And still to euery one he
gaue this
curse,
None must see Iustice but
with emptie
purse.
This man searcht Ioue
for
his owne priuate gaine,
To haue the money which
did yet
remaine,
Which was but small: for
much was
spent before
On the tumultuous rout
that kept
the dore.
When he had done, he
broght him
to the place
Where he should see diuine
Astræas
face.
Then the great King of
gods and
men in went,
And saw his daughter Venus
there lament,
And crying lowd for
iustice, whom
Ioue
found
Kneeling before Astræa
on
the ground,
And still she cry'd and
beg'd for
a iust doome
Against blacke Vulcan,
that
vnseemely groome,
Whome she had chosen for
her onely
loue,
Though she was daughter to
great
thundering Ioue:
And thought the fairest
goddesse,
yet content
To marrie him, though
weake and
impotent;
But for all this they
alwayes were
at strife:
For euermore he ralyd at
her his
wife,
Telling her still, Thou
art no wife
of mine,
Anothers strumpet, Mars
his
concubine.
By this Astræa spyde
almighty Ioue,
And bow'd her finger to
the Queene
of loue,
To cease her sute, which
she would
hear anon,
When the great King of all
the world
was gone.
Then she descended from
her stately
throne,
Which seat was builded all
of Iasper
stone,
And o're the seat was
paynted all
aboue,
The wanton vnseene
stealths of amorous
Ioue;
There might a man behold
the naked
pride
Of louely Venus in
the vales
of Ide,
When Pallas, and Ioues
beauteous wife and she
Stroue for the prise of
beauties
raritie:
And there lame Vulcan
and
his Cyclops stroue
To make the thunderbolts
for mighty
Ioue:
From this same stately
throne she
down descended,
And sayd, The griefs of Ioue
should be amended,
Asking the King of gods
what lucklesse
cause,
What great conte[m]pt of
states,
what breach of lawes
(For sure she thought,
some vncouth
cause befell,
That made him visit poore Astræas
cell)
Troubled his thought: and
if she
might decide it,
VVho vext great, Ioue,
he
deareley should abide it.
Ioue onely thankt her, and
beganne
to show
His cause of comming (for
each one
doth know
The longing words of
Louers are
not many,
If they desire to be
inioyd of any.
Telling Astræa, It
might now befall,
That she might make him
blest, that
blesseth all:
For as he walk'd vpon the
flowry
earth,
To which his owne hands
whilome
gaue a birth,
To see how streight he
held it and
how iust
He rold this massy
pondrous heape
of dust,
He laid him downe by a
coole riuer
side,
Whose pleasant water did
so gently
slide
With such soft whispering:
for the
brook was deepe,
That it had lul'd him in a
heauenly
sleepe.
When first he laid him
downe, there
was none neere him:
(for he did call before,
but none
could heare him)
But a faire Nymph was
bathing when
he wak'd,
(Here sigh'd great Ioue,
and after brought forth) nak'd,
He seeing lou'd, the Nymph
yet here
did rest,
Where iust Astræa
might
make Ioue be blest,
If she would passe her
faithfull
word so farre,
As that great Ioue
should
make the mayd a starre.
Astræa yeelded:
at
which Ioue was pleas'd,
And all his longing hopes
and feares
were eas'd.
Ioue tooke his
leaue, and
parted from her sight,
Whose thoughts were ful of
louers
sweet delight,
And she ascended to her
throne aboue,
To heare the griefes of
the great
Queene of loue.
But she was satisfide, and
would
no more
Rayle at her husband as
she did
before:
But forth she tript apace,
because
she stroue,
With her swift feet to
ouertake
great Ioue,
She skipt so nimbly as she
went
to looke him,
That at the palace doore
she ouertooke
him,
Which way was plaine and
broade
as they went out,
And now they could see no
tumultuous
rout.
Here Venus
fearing, lest
the loue of Ioue
Should make this mayd be
plac'd
in heauen aboue,
Because she thought this
Nymph so
wondrous bright,
That she would dazel her
accustom'd
light:
And fearing now she should
not first
be seene
Of all the glittering
starres as
shee had beene,
But that the wanton Nymph
would
eu'ry night
Be first that should
salute eche
mortal sight,
Began to tell great Ioue,
she grieu'd to see
The heauen so full of his
iniquity,
Complayning that eche
strumpet now
was grac'd,
And with immortall
goddesses was
plac'd,
Intreating him to place in
heauen
no more
Eche wanton strumpet and
lasciuious
whore.
Ioue mad with loue,
harkned
not what she sayd,
His thoughts were so
intangled with
the mayd,
But furiously he to his
palace lept,
Being minded there till
morning
to haue slept:
For the next morne, as
soone as
Phoebus
rayes
Should yet shine coole, by
reason
of the seas,
And ere the parting teares
of Thætis
bed,
Should be quite shak't
from off
his glittring head,
Astræa promis'd
to
attend great Ioue,
At his owne Palace in the
heauen
above,
And at that Palace she
would set
her hand
To what the loue-sick god
should
her command:
But to descend to earth
she did
deny,
She loath'd the sight of
any mortall
eye,
And for the compasse of
the earthly
round,
She would not set one foot
vpon
the ground.
Therefore Ioue
meant to rise
but with the sunne,
Yet thought it long vntill
the night
was done.
In the meane space Venus
was drawne along
By her white Doues vnto
the sweating
throng
Of hammering
Black-smithes, at the
lofty hill
Of stately Etna,
whose top
burneth
still:
(For at that burning
mountaynes
glittring top,
Her cripple husband Vulcan
kept his shop)
To him she went, and so
collogues
that night
With the best straines of
pleasures
sweet delight,
That ere they parted, she
made Vulcan
sweare
By dreadfull Stix,
an othe
the gods do feare,
If Ioue would make
the mortall
mayd a starre,
Himselfe should frame his
instruments
of warre,
And tooke his othe by
blacke Cocitus
Lake,
He neuer more a
thunder-bolt would
make:
For Venus so this
night his
sences pleas'd,
That now he thought his
former griefs
were eas'd.
She with her hands the
black-smiths
body bound,
And with her Iu'ry armes
she twyn'd
him round,
And still the faire Queene
with
a prety grace,
Disperst her sweet breath
o're his
swarty face:
Her snowy armes so well
she did
display,
That Vulcan
thought they
melted as they lay.
Vntill the morne in this
delight
they lay:
Then vp they got, and
hasted fast
away
In the white Chariot of
the Queene
of loue,
Towards the Palace of
great thundring
Ioue,
Where they did see diuine Astræa
stand,
To passe her word for what
Ioue
should command.
In limpt the Blacke-smith,
after
stept his Queene,
Whose light arrayment was
of louely
greene.
When they were in, Vulcan
began to sweare
By othes that Iupiter
himselfe
doth feare,
If any whore in heauens
bright vault
were seene,
To dimme the shining of
his beauteous
Queene,
Each mortall man should
the great
gods disgrace,
And mocke almightie Ioue
vnto his face,
And Giants should enforce
bright
heauen to fall,
Ere he would frame one
thunderbolt
at all.
Ioue did intreat
him that
he would forbeare.
The more he spoke, the
more did
Vulcan
sweare.
Ioue heard his
words, and
'gan to make his mone,
That mortall men would
pluck him
from his throne,
Or else he must incurre
this plague,
he said,
Quite to forgoe the
pleasure of
the mayd:
And once he thought,
rather than
lose her blisses,
Her heauenly sweets, her
most delicious
kisses,
Her soft embraces, and the
amorous
nights,
That he should often spend
in her
delights,
He would be quite thrown
down by
mortal hands,
From the blest place where
his bright
palace stands.
But afterwards hee saw
with better
sight,
He should be scorn'd by
euery mortall
wight,
If he should want his
thunderbolts,
to beate
Aspiring mortals from his
glittering
seate:
Therefore the god no more
did woo
or proue her,
But left to seeke her
loue, though
not to loue her.
Yet he forgot not that he
woo'd
the lasse,
But made her twise as
beauteous
as she was,
Because his wonted loue he
needs
would shew.
This haue I heard, but yet
scarce
thought it true.
And whether her cleare
beautie was
so bright,
That it could dazel the
immortall
sight
Of gods, and make them for
her loue
despaire,
I do not know; but sure
the maid
was faire.
Yet the faire Nymph was
neuer seene
resort
Vnto the sauage and the
bloudy sport
Of chaste Diana,
nor was
euer wont
To bend a bow, nor euer
did she
hunt,
Nor did she euer striue
with pretie
cunning,
To ouergoe her fellow
Nymphs in
running:
For she was the faire
water-Nymph
alone,
That vnto chaste Diana
was
vnknowne.
It is reported, that her
fellowes
vs'd
To bid her (though the
beauteous
Nymph refus'd)
To take, or painted
quiuers or a
dart,
And put her lazy idlenesse
apart.
Nor tooke she painted
quiuers, nor
a dart,
Nor put her lazy idlenesse
apart,
But in her cristall
fountaine oft
she swimmes,
And oft she washes o're
her snowy
limmes:
Sometimes she com'b her
soft discheuel'd
hayre,
Which with a fillet tide
she oft
did weare:
But sometimes loose she
did it hang
behind,
When she was pleas'd to
grace the
Easterne wind:
For vp and downe it would
her tresses
hurle,
And as she went, it made
her loose
hayre curl:
Oft in the water did she
looke her
face,
And oft she vs'd to
practise what
quaint grace
Might well become her, and
what
comely feature
Might be best fitting so
diuine
a creature.
Her skinne was with a
thinne vaile
ouerthrowne,
Through which her naked
beauty clearly
shone.
She vs'd in this light
rayment as
she was,
To spread her body on the
dewy grasse:
Sometimes by her owne
fountaine
as she walkes,
She nips the flowres from
off the
fertile stalkes,
And with a garland of the
sweating
vine,
Sometimes she doth her
beauteous
front in-twine:
But she was gathering
flowres with
her white hand,
When she beheld Hermaphroditus
stand
By her cleare fountaine,
wondring
at the sight,
That there was any brooke
could
be so bright:
For this was the bright
riuer where
the boy
Did dye himselfe, that he
could
not enioy
Himselfe in pleasure, nor
could
taste the blisses
Of his owne melting and
delicious
kisses.
Here she did see him, and
by Venus
law,
She did desire to haue him
as she
saw:
But the fayre Nymph had
neuer seene
the place,
Where the boy was, nor his
inchanting
face,
But by an vncouth accident
of loue
Betwixt great Phoebus
and
the sonne of Ioue,
Light -headed Bacchus:
for
vpon a day,
As the boy-god was keeping
on his
way,
Bearing his Vine leaues
and his
Iuie bands,
To Naxos, where
his house
and temple stands,
He saw the Nymph, and
seeing, he
did stay,
And threw his leaues and
Iuie bands
away,
Thinking at first she was
of heauenly
birth,
Some goddesse that did
liue vpon
the earth,
Virgin Diana that
so liuely
shone,
When she did court her
sweet Endimion:
But he a god, at last did
plainely
see,
She had no marke of
immortalitie.
Vnto the Nymph went the
yong god
of wine,
Whose head was chaf'd so
with the
bleeding vine,
That now, or feare or
terrour had
he none,
But 'gan to court her as
she sate
alone:
Fayrer then fayrest (thus
began
his speech)
Would but your radiant eye
please
to inrich
My eye with looking, or
one glaunce
to giue,
Whereby my other parts
might feede
and liue,
Or with one sight my
sences to inspire,
Far liuelier then the
stole Promethean
fire;
Then I might liue, then by
the sunny
light
That should proceed from
thy thrise-radiant
sight,
I might suruiue to ages;
but that
missing,
(At that same word he
would haue
faine bin kissing)
I pine, fayre Nymph: O
neuer let
me dye
For one poore glaunce from
thy translucent
eye,
Farre more transparent
then the
clearest brooke.
The Nymph was taken with
his golden
hooke:
Yet she turn'd backe, and
would
haue tript away;
But Bacchus forc't
the louely
mayd to stay,
Asking her why she
struggled to
be gone,
Why such a Nymph should
wish to
be alone?
Heauen neuer made her
faire, that
she should vaunt
She kept all beautie, it
would neuer
graunt
She should be borne so
beauteous
from her mother,
But to reflect her beauty
on another:
Then with a sweet kisse
cast thy
beames on mee,
And Ile reflect then backe
againe
on thee.
At Naxos stands my Temple
and my
Shrine,
Where I do presse the
lusty swelling
Vine,
There with green Iuie
shall thy
head be bound,
And with the red Grape be
incircled
round;
There shall Silenus
sing
vnto thy praise,
His drunken reeling songs
and tickling
layes.
Come hither, gentle Nymph.
Here
blusht the maid,
And faine she would haue
gone, but
yet she staid.
Bacchus perceiued
he had
o'ercome the lasse,
And downe he throwes her
in the
dewy grasse,
And kist the helplesse
Nymph vpon
the ground,
And would haue stray'd
beyond that
lawful bou[n]d.
This saw bright Phœbus:
for
his glittering eye
Sees all that lies below
the starry
skye;
And for an old affection
that he
bore
Vnto this louely Nymph
long time
before,
(For he would ofttimes in
his circle
stand,
To sport himselfe vpon her
snowy
hand)
He kept her from the
sweets of Bacchus
bed,
And 'gainst her will he
sau'd her
maiden-head.
Bacchus perceiuing
this apace
did hie
Vnto the Palace of swift Mercury:
But he did find him farre
below
his birth,
Drinking with theiues and
catch-poles
on the earth;
And they were drinking
what they
stole to day,
In consultation for to
morrowes
prey.
To him went youthful Bacchus,
and begun
To shew his cause of
griefe against
the Sunne,
How he bereft him of his
heauenly
blisses,
His sweet delights, his
Nectar-flowing
kisses,
And other sweeter sweetes
that he
had wonne,
But for the malice of the
bright-fac't
Sunne,
Intreating Mercury
by all
the loue,
That had bene borne
amongst the
sonnes of Ioue,
Of which they two were
part, to
stand his friend,
Against the god that did
him so
offend:
The quaint-tongu'd issue
of great
Atlas
race,
Swift Mercury,
that with
delightfull grace,
And pleasing accents of
his fayned
tongue,
Hath oft reform'd a rude
vnciuill
throng
Of mortals; that great
messenger
of Ioue,
And all the meaner gods
that dwell
aboue:
He whose acute wit was so
quicke
and sharpe
In the inuention of the
crooked
Harpe:
He that's so cunning with
his iesting
slights,
To steale from heauenly
gods or
earthly wights,
Bearing a great hate in
his grieued
brest,
Against that great
commaunder of
the West,
Bright-fac't Apollo:
for
vpon a day,
Yong Mercury did
steale his
beasts away:
Which the great god
perceiuing,
streight did shew
The pearcing arrowes and
the fearefull
bow
That kild great Pithon,
&
with that did threat him,
To bring his beast againe,
or he
would beat him.
Which Mercury
perceiuing,
vnespide,
Did closely steale his
arrowes from
his side.
For this olde grudge, he
was the
easlyer wonne
To helpe young Bacchus
'gainst
the fierie Sunne.
And now the Sunne was in
the middle
way,
And had o'ercome the one
halfe of
the day,
Scorching so hot vpon the
reeking
sand,
That lies vpon the neere Egyptian
land,
That the hot people burnt
e'ne from
their birth,
Do creepe againe into
their mother
earth,
When Mercury did
take his
powerfull wand,
His charming Cadusæus
in his hand,
And a thick Beuer which he
vs'd
to weare,
When ought from Ioue
he to
the Sunne did beare,
That did protect him from
the piercing
light,
Which did proceed from Phoebus
glittering sight.
Clad in these powerfull
ornaments
he flies,
With out-stretcht wings vp
to the
azure skies:
Where seeing Phoebus
in his
orient shrine,
He did so well reuenge the
god of
wine,
That whil'st the Sun
wonders his
Chariot reeles,
The craftie god had stole
away his
wheeles.
Which when he did
perceiue, he downe
did slide,
(Laying his glittering
Coronet aside)
From the bright spangled
firmament
aboue,
To seeke the Nymph that Bacchus
so did loue,
And found her looking in
her watry
glasse,
To see how cleare her
radiant beauty
was:
And, for he had but little
time
to stay,
Because he meant to finish
out his
day,
At the first sight he 'gan
to make
his mone,
Telling her how his fiery
wheeles
were gone;
Promising her, if she
would but
obtaine
The wheeles, that Mercury
had stolne, againe,
That he might end his day,
she should
enioy
The heauenly sight of the
most beauteous
boy
That euer was. The Nymph
was pleas'd
with this,
Hoping to reape some
vnaccustom'd
blisse
By the sweet pleasure that
she should
enioy,
In the blest sight of such
a melting
boy.
Therefore at his request
she did
obtaine
The burning wheeles, that
he had
lost, againe:
VVhich when he had
receiu'd, he
left the land,
And brought them thither
where his
Coach did stand,
And there he set them on:
for all
this space,
The horses had not stirr'd
from
out their place.
VVhich when he saw, he
wept and
'gan to say,
VVould Mercury had
stole
my wheeles away,
When Phaeton my
hare-brain'd
issue tride,
What a laborious thing it
vvas to
guide
My burning chariot, the[n]
he might
haue pleas'd me,
And of one fathers griefe
he might
haue eas'd me:
For then the Steeds would
haue obayd
his will,
Or else at least they
would haue
rested still.
When he had done, he tooke
his whip
of steele,
Whose bitter smart he made
his horses
feele:
For he did lash so hard,
to end
the day,
That he was quickly at the
Westerne
sea,
And there with Thætis
did he rest a space,
For he did neuer rest in
any place
Before that time: but euer
since
his wheeles
Were stole away, his
burning chariot
reeles
Tow'rds the declining of
the parting
day:
Therefore he lights and
mends them
in the sea.
And though the poets
fayne, that
Ioue
did make
A treble night for faire Alcmena's
sake,
That he might sleepe
securely with
his loue;
Yet sure the long night
was vnknowne
to Ioue:
But the Sunnes wheeles one
day disordred
more,
Were thrise as long
amending as
before.
Now was the Sunne
inuiron'd with
the Sea,
Cooling his watrie tresses
as he
lay,
And in dread Neptunes
kingdome
while he sleeps,
Faire Thætis
clips
him in the watry deeps,
The Mayre-maids
and the Tritons
of the West,
Strayning their voyces, to
make
Titan
rest.
And while the blacke night
with
her pitchie hand,
Tooke iust possession of
the swarfie
land:
He spent the darkesome
howres in
this delight,
Giuing his power vp to the
gladsome
night:
For ne're before he was so
truely
blest,
To take an houre or one
poore minutes
rest.
But now the burning god
this pleasure
feeles,
By reason of his newly
crazed wheeles,
There must he stay vntill
lame Vulcan
send
The fierie wheeles which
he had
tooke to mend.
Now al the night the Smith
so hard
had wrought,
That ere the Sunne could
wake, his
wheeles were brought.
Titan being pleas'd
with
rest, and not to rise,
And loth to open yet his
slumbring
eyes:
And yet perceiuing how the
longing
sight
Of mortals wayted for his
glittring
light,
He sent Aurora
from him to
the skie,
To giue a glimsing to each
mortall
eye.
Aurora much asham'd
of that
same place
That great Apollos
light
was wont to grace,
Finding no place to hide
her shamefull
head,
Paynted her chaste cheeks
with a
blushing red,
Which euer since remain'd
vpon her
face,
In token of her new
receiu'd disgrace:
Therefore she not so white
as she
had beene,
Lothing of eu'ry mortall
to be seene,
No sooner can the rosie
fingred
morne
Kisse eu'ry flowre that by
her dew
is borne,
But from her golden window
she doth
peepe,
When the most part of
earthly creatures
sleepe.
By this, bright Titan
opened
had his eyes,
And 'gan to ierke his
horses through
the skies,
And taking in his hand his
fierie
whip,
He made AEous and
swift AEthon
skip
So fast, that straight he
dazled
had the sight
Of faire Aurora,
glad to
see his light.
And now the Sunne in all
his fierie
haste,
Did call to mind his
promise lately
past,
And all the vowes and
othes that
he did passe
Vnto faire Salmacis,
the
beauteous lasse:
For he had promis'd her
she should
enioy
So louely faire, and such
a well
shapt boy,
As ne're before his owne
all-seeing
eye
Saw from his bright seate
in the
starry skye:
Remembring this, he sent
the boy
that way,
Where the cleare fountain
of the
fayre Nymph lay.
There was he co[m]e to
seeke some
pleasing brooke.
No sooner came he, but the
Nymph
was strooke:
And though she hasted to
imbrace
the boy,
Yet did the Nymph awhile
deferre
her ioy,
Till she had bound vp her
loose
flagging haire,
And ordred well the
garments she
did weare,
Fayning her count'nance
with a louers
care,
And did deserue to be
accounted
fayre.
And thus much spake she
while the
boy abode:
O boy, most worthy to be
thought
a god,
Thou mayst inhabit in the
glorious
place
Of gods, or maist proceed
from human
race:
Thou mayst be Cupid,
or the
god of wine,
That lately woo'd me with
the swelling
vine:
But whosoe're thou art, O
happy
he,
That was so blest, to be a
sire
to thee;
Thy happy mother is most
blest of
many,
Blessed thy sisters, if
her wombe
bare any,
Both fortunate, and O
thrise happy
shee,
Whose too much blessed
breasts gaue
suck to thee:
If any wife with thy sweet
bed be
blest,
O, she is farre more happy
then
the rest;
If thou hast any, let my
sport be
sto'ne,
Or else let me be she, if
thou haue
none.
Here did she pause a
while, and
then she sayd,
Be not obdurate to a silly
mayd.
A flinty heart within a
smowy brest,
Is like base mold lockt in
a golden
chest:
They say the eye's the
Index of
the heart,
And shewes th'affection of
each
inward part:
There loue playes liuely,
there
the little god
Hath a cleare cristall
Palace of
abode.
O barre him not from
playing in
thy heart,
That sports himselfe vpon
eche outward
part.
Thus much she spake, &
then
her tongue was husht.
At her loose speach Hermaphroditus
blusht:
He knew not what loue was,
yet loue
did shame him,
Making him blush, and yet
his blush
became him:
Then might a man his
shamefast colour
see,
Like the ripe apple on the
sunny
tree,
Or Iuory dide o're with a
pleasing
red,
Or like the pale Moone
being shadowed.
By this, the Nymph
recouer'd had
her tongue,
That to her thinking lay
in silence
long,
And sayd, Thy cheeke is
milde, O
be thou so,
Thy cheeke, saith I, then
do not
answere no,
Thy cheeke doth shame,
then doe
thou shame, she sayd,
It is a mans shame to deny
a mayd.
Thou look'st to sport with
Venus
in her towre,
And be belou'd of euery
heauenly
powre.
Men are but mortals, so
are women
too,
Why should your thoughts
aspire
more than ours doo?
For sure they doe aspire:
Else could
a youth,
Whose count'nance is so
full of
spotlesse truth,
Be so relentlesse to a
virgins tongue?
Let me be woo'd by thee
but halfe
so long,
With halfe those tearmes
doe but
my loue require,
And I will easly graunt
thee thy
desire.
Ages are bad, when men
become so
slow,
That poore vnskillful
mayds are
forc't to woo.
Her radiant beauty and her
subtill
arte
S deepely strooke Hermaphroditus
heart,
That she had wonne his
loue, but
that the light
Of her translucent eyes
did shine
too bright:
For long he look'd vpon
the louely
mayd,
And at the last Hermaphroditus
sayd,
How should I loue thee,
when I doe
espie
A farre more beauteous
Nymph hid
in thy eye?
When thou doost loue, let
not that
Nymph be nie thee;
Nor when thou woo'st, let
not that
Nymph be by thee:
Or quite obscure her from
thy louers
face,
Or hide her beauty in a
darker place.
By this, the Nymph
perceiu'd he
did espie
None but himselfe
reflected in her
eye,
And, for himselfe no more
she meant
to shew him,
She shut her eyes &
blind-fold
thus did woo him:
Fayre boy, thinke not thy
beauty
can dispence
With any payne due to a
bad offence;
Remember how the gods
punisht that
boy
That scorn'd to let a
beauteous
Nymph enioy
Her long wisht pleasure,
for the
peeuish elfe,
Lou'd of all other, needs
would
loue himselfe.
So mayst thou loue,
perhaps thou
mayst be blest;
By graunting to a
lucklesse Nymphs
request:
Then rest awhile with me
amid these
weeds.
The Sunne that sees all,
sees not
louers deeds;
Phoebus is blind
when loue-sports
are begun,
And neuer sees vntill
their sports
be done:
Beleeue me, boy, thy blood
is very
stayd,
That art so loth to kisse
a youthfull
mayd.
Wert thou a mayd, and I a
man, Ile
show thee,
With what a manly
boldnesse I could
woo thee,
Fayrer then loues Queene,
thus I
would begin,
Might not my
ouer-boldnesse be a
sinne,
I would intreat this
fauor, if I
could,
Thy rosiat cheeke a little
to behold:
Then would I beg a touch,
and then
a kisse,
And then a lower, yet a
higher blisse:
Then would I aske what Ioue
and Læda did,
When like a Swan the
craftie god
was hid?
What came he for? why did
he there
abide?
Surely I thinke hee did
not come
to chide:
He came to see her face,
to talke,
and chat,
To touch, to kisse: came
he for
nought but that?
Yea, something else: what
was it
he would haue?
That which all men of
maydens ought
to craue.
This sayd, her eye-lids
wide she
did display:
But in this space the boy
was runne
away:
The wanton speeches of the
louely
lasse
Forc't him for shame to
hide him
in the grasse.
When she perceiu'd she
could not
see him neere her,
When she had cal'd and yet
he could
not heare her,
Look how when Autumne
comes,
a little space
Paleth the red blush of
the Summers
face,
Tearing the leaues the
Summers couering,
Three months in weauing by
the curious
spring,
Making the grasse his
greene locks
go to wracke,
Tearing each ornament from
off his
backe;
So did she spoyle the
garments she
did weare,
Tearing whole ounces of
her golden
hayre:
She thus deluded of her
longed blisse,
With much adoo at last she
vttred
this:
Why wert thou bashfull,
boy? Thou
hast no part
Shewes thee to be of such
a female
heart.
His eye is gray, so is the
mornings
eye,
That blusheth alwayes when
the day
is nye.
Then his gray eye's the
cause: that
cannot be:
The gray-ey'd morne is
farre more
bold then he:
For with a gentle dew from
heauens
bright towre,
It gets the mayden-head of
eu'ry
flowre.
I would to God, he were
the rosiat
morne,
And I a flowre from out
the earth
new-borne?
His face was smooth; Narcissus
face was so,
And he was carelesse of a
sad Nymphs
woe.
Then that's the cause; and
yet that
cannot be:
Youthfull Narcissus
was more
bold then he,
Because he dide for loue,
though
of his shade:
This boy nor loues
himselfe, nor
yet a mayd.
Besides, his glorious eye
is wondrous
bright;
So is the fierie and
all-seeing
light
Of Phœbus, who at
eu'ry mornings
birth
Blusheth for shame vpon
the sullen
earth.
Then that's the cause; and
yet that
cannot be:
The fierie Sunne is farre
more bold
then he;
He nightly kisseth Thætis
in the sea:
All know the story of Leucothoe.
His cheeke is red: so is
the fragrant
Rose,
Whose ruddie cheeke with
ouer-blushing
gloes:
Then that's the cause; and
yet that
cannot bee:
Eche blushing Rose is
farre more
bold then he,
Whose boldnesse may be
plainely
seene in this,
The ruddy Rose is not
asham'd to
kisse;
For alwayes when the day
is new
begun,
The spreading Rose will
kisse the
morning Sun.
This sayd, hid in the
grasse she
did espie him,
And stumbling with her
will, she
fel down by him,
And with her wanton talke,
because
he woo'd not,
Beg'd that, which he poore
nouice
vnderstood not:
And, for she could not get
a greater
blisse,
She did intreate a least a
sisters
kisse;
But still the more she did
the boy
beseech,
The more he powted at her
wanton
speech.
At last the Nymph began to
touch
his skin,
Whiter then mountaine snow
hath
euer bin,
And did in purenesse that
cleare
spring surpasse,
Wherein Acteon saw
th'Arcadian
lasse.
Thus did she dally long,
till at
the last,
In her moyst palme she
lockt his
white hand fast:
Then in her hand his wrest
she 'gan
to close,
When through his pulses
strait the
warm bloud gloes,
Whose youthfull musike
fanning Cupids
fire,
In her warme brest kindled
a fresh
desire.
Then did she lift her hand
vnto
his brest,
A part as white and
youthfull as
the rest,
Where, as his flowry
breath still
comes and goes,
She felt his gentle heart
pant through
his clothes.
At last she tooke her hand
from
off that part,
And sayd, It panted like
anothers
heart.
Why should it be more
feeble, and
lesse bold?
Why should the bloud about
it be
more cold?
Nay sure, that yeelds,
onely thy
tongue denyes,
And the true fancy of thy
heart
belyes.
Then did she lift her hand
vnto
his chin,
And prays'd the prety
dimpling of
his skin:
But straight his chin she
'gan to
ouerslip,
When she beheld the
rednesse of
his lip;
And sayd, thy lips are
soft, presse
them to mine,
And thou shalt see they
are as soft
as thine.
Then would she faine haue
gone vnto
his eye,
But still his ruddy lip
standing
so nie,
Drew her hand backe,
therefore his
eye she mist,
'Ginning to claspe his
neck, and
would haue kist;
But then the boy did
struggle to
be gone,
Vowing to leaue her and
that place
alone.
But then bright Salmacis
began to feare,
And sayd, Fayre stranger,
I wil
leaue thee here
Amid these pleasant places
all alone.
So turning back, she
fayned to be
gone;
But from his sight she had
no power
to passe,
Therefore she turn'd and
hid her
in the grasse,
When to the ground bending
her snow-white
knee,
The glad earth gaue new
coates to
euery tree.
He then supposing he was
all alone,
(Like a young boy that is
espy'd
of none)
Runnes here, and there,
then on
the bankes doth looke,
Then on the cristall
current of
the brooke,
Then with his foote he
toucht the
siluer streames,
Whose drowsy waues made
musike in
their dreames,
And, for he was not wholy
in, did
weepe,
Talking alowd and babbling
in their
sleepe:
Whose pleasant coolnesse
when the
boy did feele,
He thrust his foote downe
lower
to the heele:
O'ercome with whose sweet
noyse,
he did begin
To strip his soft clothes
from his
tender skin,
When strait the scorching
Sun wept
teares of brine,
Because he durst not touch
him with
his shine,
For feare of spoyling that
same
Iu'ry skin,
Whose whitenesse he so
much delighted
in;
And then the Moone, mother
of mortall
ease,
Would fayne haue come from
the Antipodes,
To haue beheld him naked
as he stood,
Ready to leape into the
siluer flood;
But might not: for the
lawes of
heauen deny,
To shew mens secrets to a
womans
eye:
And therefore was her sad
and gloomy
light
Confin'd vnto the
secret-keeping
night.
When beauteous Salmacis
awhile
had gaz'd
Vpon his naked corps, she
stood
amaz'd,
And both her sparkling
eyes burnt
in her face,
Like the bright Sunne
reflected
in a glasse:
Scarce can she stay from
running
to the boy,
Scarce can she now deferre
her hoped
ioy;
So fast her youthfull
bloud playes
in her vaynes,
That almost mad, she
scarce herselfe
contaynes.
When young Hermaphroditus
as he stands,
Clapping his white side
with his
hollow hands,
Leapt liuely from the
land, whereon
he stood,
Into the mayne part of the
cristall
flood.
Like Iu'ry then his snowy
body was,
Or a white Lilly in a
christall
glasse.
Then rose the water Nymph
from where
she lay,
As hauing wonne the glory
of the
day,
And her light garments
cast from
off her skin,
Hee's mine, she cry'd, and
so leapt
spritely in.
The flattering Iuy who did
euer
see
Inclaspe the huge trunke
of an aged
tree,
Let him behold the young
boy as
he stands,
Inclaspt in wanton Salmacis's
hands,
Betwixt those Iu'ry armes
she lockt
him fast,
Striuing to get away, till
at the
last,
Fondling, she sayd, why
striu'st
thou to be gone?
Why shouldst thou so
desire to be
alone?
Thy cheeke is neuer fayre,
when
none is by:
For what is red and white,
but to
the eye:
And for that cause the
heauens are
darker at night,
Because all creatures
close their
weary sight;
For there's no mortall can
so earely
rise,
But still the morning
waytes vpon
his eyes.
The earely-rising and
soone-singing
Larke
Can neuer chaunt her
sweete notes
in the darke,
For sleepe she ne're so
little or
so long,
Yet still the morning will
attend
her song.
All creatures that beneath
bright
Cinthia
be,
Haue appetite vnto society;
The ouerflowing waues
would haue
a bound
Within the confines of the
spacious
ground,
And all their shady
currents would
be plaste
In hollow of the solitary
vaste,
But what they lothe to let
their
soft streames sing,
Where non can heare their
gentle
murmuring.
Yet still the boy
regardlesse what
she sayd,
Struggled apace to
ouerswimme the
mayd.
Which when the Nymph
perceiu'd she
'gan to say,
Struggle thou mayst, but
neuer get
away.
So graunt, iust gods, that
neuer
day may see
The separation twixt this
boy and
mee.
The gods did heare her
pray'r and
feele her woe;
And in one body they began
to grow.
She felt his youthfull
bloud in
euery vaine;
And he felt hers warme his
colde
brest againe.
And euer since was womans
loue so
blest,
That it will draw bloud
from the
strongerst brest.
Nor man nor mayd now could
they
be esteem'd:
Neither, and either, might
they
well be deem'd,
When the young boy Hermaphroditus
sayd,
VVith the set voyce of
neither man
nor mayd,
Swift Mercury, the
author
of my life,
And thou my mother Vulcans
louely wife,
Let your poore offsprings
latest
breath be blest,
In but obtayning this his
last request,
Grant that whoe're heated
by Phoebus
beames,
Shall come to coole him in
these
siluer streames,
May neuermore a manly
shape retaine,
But halfe a virgine may
returne
againe.
His parents hark'ned to
his last
request,
And with that great power
they the
fountaine blest.
And since that time who in
that
fountaine swimmes,
A mayden smoothnesse
seyzeth half
his limmes.
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