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A. Sc 1604

416 [DAIPHANTUS] THE PASSIONS OF LOVE. [ASC

URANIA now bethought what was protested
By young ISMENIO at DIANA's shrine,
Conjured DAIPHANTUS that, no more he jested
With Love or Fancy! for they were Divine:
And if he did, that there they all would pray
He still might live in love, both night and day!

This grieved him much (but folly 'twere to grieve!)
His now obedience shewed his own free will.
He swore" he would not love, in shew, achieve!
But live a virgin, chaste and spotless still.

Which said, such music suddenly delighted,
As all were ravished, and yet all affrighted.

Here parted all, not without joy and sadness.

Some wept, some smiled; a world it was to hear them! Both springs here met. Woe here was clothed with gladness. Heaven was their comfort. It alone did cheer them. DAIPHANTUS from these springs, some fruit did gather. Experience is an infant, though an ancient father!

"Sweet Lady! know the Soul looks through our eyesights! Content lives not in shews or beauty seeing!

Peace, not from number, nor strength in high spirits!
Joy dies with Virtue, yet lives in Virtue's being!
Beauty is masked, where Virtue is not hidden!
Man still desires that fruit, he's most forbidden!

"Jewels, for virtue, not for beauty prized!
What's seldom seen breeds wonder, we admire it!
King's lines are rare, and therefore well advised.
Wise men, not often talk, Fools still desire it.

Women are books! Kept close, they hold much treasure;
Unclasped, sweet ills! Most woe lies hid in pleasure.

A. Sc.

AS] [DAIPHANTUS] THE PASSIONS OF LOVE. 417

"Who studies Arts alike, can he prove Doctor?

Who surfeits, hardly lives! drunkards recover!
Whose will 's his law, that conscience needs no Proctor!
When men turn beasts, look there for brutish lovers!
Those eyes are pore-blind, look equally on any
Though 't be a virtue to hinder one by many.

"Who gains by travel, lose Lordships for their Manors,
Must TARQUIN ravish some? Hell on that glory!
Whose life's in healths, death soonest gains those banners!
Lust still is punished, though Treason write the story!
A rolling eye, a globe, new worlds discover!
Who still wheels round is but a damned lover.

"Doth Faith and Troth lie bathing? Is Lust, pleasure? Can commons be as sweet as land enclosed?

Then virgin sin may well be counted pleasure!
Where such lords rule, who lives not ill-disposed!
True Love's a Phoenix, but One until it dies:
Lust is a Cockatrice in all, but in her eyes."

Here did he end more blessed than his wishes.
(Fame's at the high, when Love indites the Story)
The private life brings with it heavenly blisses.
Sweet Contemplation much increaseth glory.

I'll leave him to the learning of Love's spell!
"Better part friends, that follow fiends to hell!'

ISMENIO, with VITULLIA Went together,
Perhaps both wounded with blind CUPID'S dart;
Yet durst they not relate their love to either,
Love if once pitied, pierceth to the heart:
But, sure, VITULLIA is so fair a mark,

CUPID would court her, though but by the dark.

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418 [DAIPHANTUS] THE PASSIONS OF LOVE. [A.Sc.

ARTESIA, she must go, the more She's grieved,
To churlish STRYMON, her adopted Mate;
CUPID, though blind, yet pitied and relieved
This modest Lady with some happy fate.

For what but Virtue, which doth all good nourish,
Could brook her fortunes, much less love and cherish.

EURIALE, with good URANIA stayed,

Where Virtue dwells, they only had their being;
Beauty and Wit still fear, are not dismayed,
For where they dwell, Love ever will be prying.
These two were one. All good, each could impart.
One was their fortune, and one was their heart.

Beauty and Virtue were true friends to either.
Heaven is the sphere where all men seek for glory.
Earth is the grave where sinners join together.
Hell keeps the book, enrols each lustful story.
Live as we will, Death makes, of all conclusion:
Die then to live! or life is thy confusion.

Beauty and Wit in these, fed on Affection.
Labour and Industry were their twins of life.
Love and True Bounty were in their subjection,
Their bodies, with their spirits, had no strife.

Such were these two, as grace did them defend :
Such are these two, as with these two I end.

FINIS.

Non Amori sed Virtuti.

The Passionate Man's Pilgrimage.
Supposed to be written by one at
the point of death.

IVE me my Scalop Shell of quiet,
My Staff of faith to walk upon,
My Scrip of joy, immortal diet!
My Bottle of salvation,

My Gown of glory, hope's true gage,
And thus I'll take my Pilgrimage!

[graphic]

Blood must be my body's balmer,
No other balm will there be given!
Whilst my Soul, like a white Palmer,
Travels to the land of heaven,
Over the silver mountains,

Where spring the nectar fountains:
And there I'll kiss

The bowl of bliss,

And drink my eternal fill

On every milken hill!

My Soul will be a dry before;

But, after it, will ne'er thirst more!

And by the happy blissful way,

More peaceful pilgrims I shall see
That have shook off their gowns of clay,

And go apparelled fresh like me.

I'll bring them first

To slake their thirst,

And then to taste those nectar suckets

At the clear wells

Where sweetness dwells,

Drawn up by Saints in crystal buckets.

420 THE PASSIONATE MAN'S PILGRIMAGE.

And when our bottles and all we,

Are filled with immortality,

Then the holy paths we'll travel,
Strewed with rubies thick as gravel,
Ceilings of diamonds, sapphire floors,
High walls of coral, and pearl bowers.

From thence, to Heaven's bribeless Hall,
Where no corrupted voices brawl.
No conscience molten into gold;

Nor forged accusers bought and sold.
No cause deferred, nor vain spent journey;
For there, CHRIST is the King's Attorney,
Who pleads for all without degrees;
And he hath angels, but no fees!
When the grand twelve million Jury,
Of our sins and sinful fury,

'Gainst our souls, black verdicts give:
CHRIST pleads his death, and then we live!
Be thou, my speaker, taintless Pleader!
Unblotted Lawyer! true Proceeder !
Thou movest salvation, even for alms!
Not with a bribèd lawyer's palms.

And this is my eternal Plea,

To Him that made heaven, earth, and sea;
Seeing my flesh must die so soon,

And want a head to dine next noon;

Just at the stroke, when my veins start and spread,
Set on my Soul, an everlasting head!

Then am I ready, like a Palmer fit

To tread those blest paths, which before I writ.

FINIS.

A. Sc. 1604

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