"Were I the saint he worships, I would hear him :" And as she spake those words, came somewhat near

him.

He started up; she blush'd as one asham'd;
Wherewith Leander much more was inflam'd.
He touch'd her hand; in touching it she trembled ;
Love deeply grounded, hardly is dissembled.

These lovers parled by the touch of hands;

True love is mute; and oft amazed stands.

Thus while dumb signs their yielding hearts entangled,
The air with sparks of living fire was spangled ;
And Night deep-drench'd in misty Acheron,
Heav'd up her head, and half the world upon,
Breath'd darkness forth; (dark night is Cupid's day),
And now begins Leander to display

Love's holy fire, with words, with sighs, and tears,
Which like sweet music enter'd Hero's ears:

And yet at every word she turn'd aside,

And always cut him off, as he replied.

At last, like to a bold, sharp sophister,

With cheerful hope thus he accosted her:

"Fair creature, let me speak without offence:

I would my rude words had the influence

To lead thy thoughts as thy fair looks do mine;
Then shouldst thou be his prisoner, who is thine.
Be not unkind and fair; mishapen stuff
Are of behaviour boisterous and rough.
O shun me not; but hear me ere you go:
God knows, I cannot force love, as you do.
My words shall be as spotless as my youth,
Full of simplicity and naked truth.

This sacrifice, whose sweet perfume descending
From Venus' altar to your footsteps bending,
Doth testify that you exceed her far,

To whom you offer, and whose nun you are.
Why should you worship her? Her you surpass,
As much as sparkling diamonds flaring glass.-
A diamond set in lead his worth retains;
A heavenly nymph, belov'd of human swains,
Receives no blemish; but ofttimes more grace;
Which makes me hope, although I am but base,
Base in respect of thee, divine and pure,
Dutiful service may thy love procure;
And I in duty will excel all other,

As thou in beauty dost exceed Love's mother.
Nor heaven, nor thou, were made to gaze upon;
As Heaven preserves all things, so save thou one.

A stately builded ship, well-rigg'd and tall,
The ocean maketh more majestical.

Why vow'st thou then to live in Sestos here,

Who on Love's seas more glorious wouldst appear?
Like untun'd golden strings all women are,
Which long time lie untouch'd, will quickly jar.
Vessels of brass, oft handled, brightly shine;
What difference betwixt the richest mine

And basest mould, but use? For both, not us'd,
Are of like worth. Then treasure is abus'd,
When misers keep it; being put to loan,
In time it will return us two for one.
Rich robes themselves and others do adorn ;
Neither themselves nor others, if not worn.
Who builds a palace, and rams up the gate,
Shall see it ruinous and desolate :

Ah, simple Hero, learn thyself to cherish,
Lone women like to empty houses perish.
Less sins the poor rich man, that starves himself,
In heaping up a mass of drossy pelf,

Than such as you: his golden earth remains,
Which after his decease some other gains;

But this fair gem, sweet in the loss alone,
When you fleet hence, can be bequeath'd to none;

Or if it could, down from the enamel'd sky,
All heaven would come to claim this legacy;
And with intestine broils the world destroy,
And quite confound Nature's sweet harmony.
Well therefore by the gods decreed it is,
We human creatures should enjoy that bliss.
One is no number; maids are nothing then,
Without the sweet society of men.
Wilt thou live single still? one shalt thou be,
Though never-singling Hymen couple thee.
Wild savages, that drink of running springs,
Think water far excels all earthly things:
But they, that daily taste neat wines, despise it :
Virginity, albeit some highly prize it,

Compar'd with marriage, had you tried them both,

Differs as much as wine and water doth.

Base bullion for the stamp's sake we allow;
Even so for men's impression do we you.
By which alone our reverend fathers say,
Women receive perfection every way.
This idol, which you term virginity,
Is neither essence subject to the eye,
No, nor to any one exterior sense,
Nor hath it any place of residence

Nor is 't of earth, or mould celestial,

Or capable of any form at all.

Of that which hath no being, do not boast;
Things that are not at all, are never lost.
Men foolishly do call it virtuous,

What virtue is it, that is born with us?
Much less can honour be ascrib'd thereto:
Honour is purchas'd by the deeds we do.
Believe me, Herò, honour is not won,
Until some honourable deed be done.

Seek you, for chastity, immortal fame;

And know that some have wrong'd Diana's name?
Whose name is it, if she be false or not,

So she be fair, but some vile tongues will blot?
But you are fair, ah me! so wondrous fair,
So young, so gentle, and so debonair,

As Greece will think, if thus you live alone,
Some one or other keeps you as his own.
Then, Hero, hate me not, nor from me fly,
To follow swiftly blasting infamy.

Perhaps thy sacred priesthood makes thee loath:
Tell me, to whom mad'st thou that heedless oath ?"

"To Venus," answer'd she; and, as she spake, Forth from those two translucent cisterns brake