The neerer that he came, the more she fled,
And seeking refuge, slipt into her bed.
Whereon Leander sitting, thus began,
Through numming cold, all feeble, faint and wan :
If not for loue, yet loue for pittie sake,
Me in thy bed and maiden bosome take,
At least vouchsafe these armes some little roome,
Who hoping to imbrace thee, cherely swoome.
This head was beat with manie a churlish billow,
And therefore let it rest vpon thy pillow.
Herewith afrighted Hero shrunke away,
And in her luke-warme place Leander lay,
Whose liuely heat like fire from heauen fet,
Would animate grosse clay, and higher set
The drooping thoughts of base declining soules,
Then drerie Mars, carowsing Nectar boules.
His hands he cast vpon her like a snare,
She ouercome with shame and sallow feare,
Like chast Diana, when Acteon spyde her,
Being sodainly betraide, dyu'd downe to hide her.
And as her siluer body downeward went,
With both her hands she made the bed a tent,
And in her owne mind thought her selfe secure,
O'recast with dim and darksome couerture.
And now she lets him whisper in her eare,
Flatter, intreat, promise, protest and sweare,
Yet euer as he greedily assayd
To touch those dainties, she the Harpey playd,
And euery lim did as a soldier stout,
Defend the fort, and keep the foe-man out.
For though the rising yu'rie mount he scal'd,
Which is with azure circling lines empal'd,
Much like a globe, (a globe may I tearme this,
By which loue sailes to regions full of blis,)
Yet there with Sysiphus he toyld in vaine,
Till gentle parlie did the truce obtaine.
Wherein Leander on her quiuering brest,
Breathlesse spoke some things, and sigh'd out the rest ;
Which so preuail'd, as he with small ado
Inclos'd her in his armes and kist her to.
And euerie kisse to her was as a charme,
And to Leander as a fresh alarme.
So that the truce was broke, and she alas,
(Poore sillie maiden) at his mercie was.
Loue is not full of pittie (as men say)
But deaffe and cruell, where he meanes to pray.
Euen as a bird, which in our hands we wring,
Fourth plungeth, and oft flutters with her wing,
She trembling stroue, this strife of hers (like that
Which made the world) another world begat
Of vnknowne ioy. Treason was in her thought,
And cunningly to yeeld her selfe she sought.
Seeming not woon, yet woon she was at length,
In such warres women vse but halfe their strength.
Leander now like Theban Hercules,
Entred the orchard of Th'esperides,
Whose fruit none rightly can describe, but hee
That puls or shakes it from the golden tree :
And now she wisht this night were neuer done,
And sigh'd to thinke vpon th'approching sunne,
For much it greeu'd her that the bright day-light,
Should know the pleasure of this blessed night,
And them like Mars and Ericine display,
Both in each others armes chaind as they lay.
Againe she knew not how to frame her looke,
Or speake to him who in a moment tooke
That which so long so charily she kept,
And faine by stealth away she would haue crept,
And to some corner secretly haue gone,
Leauing Leander in the bed alone.
But as her naked feet were whipping out,
He on the suddaine clingd her so about,
That Meremaid-like vnto the floore she slid,
One halfe appear'd, the other halfe was hid.
Thus neere the bed she blushing stood vpright,
And from her countenance behold ye might
A kind of twilight breake, which through the heare,
As from an orient cloud, glymse here and there.
And round about the chamber this false morne Brought foorth the day before the day was borne. So Heroes ruddie cheeke Hero betrayd,
And her all naked to his sight displayd,
Whence his admiring eyes more pleasure tooke
Than Dis, on heapes of gold fixing his looke.
By this Apollos golden harpe began
To sound foorth musicke to the Ocean,
Which watchfull Hesperus no sooner heard,
But he the daybright-bearing Car prepar'd,
And ran before, as Harbenger of light,
And with his flaring beames mockt ougly night,
Till she o’recome with anguish, shame, and rage,
Dang'd downe to hell her loathsome carriage.
The end of the second Sestyad.
TO MY BEST ESTEEMED
AND WORTHELY HONORED
LADY, THE LADY WALSINGHAM,
one of the Ladies of her Maiesties
Present your Ladiship with the last affetions of the first two Louers that euer Muse shrinde in the Temple of Memorie; being drawne by strange instigation to employ some of my serious time in so -trifeling a subiect, which yet made the
And were it not that common receiued con
first Author, diuine Museus, eternall.
wee must subiect our accounts of these
ceits to seruile custome; it goes much against my band to
signe that for a trifling subiect, on which more worthines of
soule hath been shewed, and weight of diuine wit, than can
vouchsafe residence in the leaden grauitie of any Mony-
Monger; in whose profession all serious subiects are conclu-
ded. But he that shuns trifles must shun the world; out of
whose reuerend heapes of substance and austeritie, I can, and
will, ere long, single, or tumble out as brainles and passionate
fooleries, as euer panted in the bosome of the most ridiculous
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