EGLANTINE

Address thy self sweet warbling Instrument, My sorrows sad Companion; to tune forth Thy melancholy notes; somewhat to slake Those furious flames that scorch my tender heart. Upon the black Rock of despair My youthful joys are perished quite, My Hope's are vanished into air, My day is turned to gloomy night: For since my Rhodon deer is gone, Hope, light, nor comfort, have I none. A Cell, where grief the Landlord is, Shall be my palace of delight; Where I will woo with votes and sighs, Sweet death to end my sorrows quite; Since I have lost my Rhodon deer, Death's fleshless arms why should I fear? What Fury sent you hither, Caitiffs vile, Thus to prolong my sorrow, and my toil. Death is a plaster for all ills (they say) What mischief then can be in death, I pray. Were I not plunged in a grievous plighted, Perhaps I would not think thy counsel light. For being great, I am maligned by Fate, For being fair, I am unfortunate. Do this, and I will live (Poneria) To give thy merit ample satisfaction. I will adore thy skill, and thee adorn With what may make thee famous through all Thessaly. My deer Poneria, I am truly thine. But tell me, I prethe, what grave S r . is this That looks Like one of Greeces Sages; His reverend Countenance makes me surmise That he's a man of sublime qualities. His silence argues something extraordinary. Aye me, Poneria. I do admire his skill, and see (by happen) Good stuff may be beneath a fatten Cap. I took a dram of it this morning, According to your appointment. And I am of the same mind: But 'twas my Maids fault. I think she goes about utterly to undo me: She is as good a servant as ere was Married to the whipping. post. Nay, I could not for my heart persuade The wicked pertinacious harlot, To lay more colour on then pleased her fancy; Bat if I live I will cashier the quean. How likest thou the colour of my hair. Me thinks the hue is not high enough. Discreet Poneria, thy wise approbation Does give my fancy ample satisfaction. But hear me Poneria, will you undertake That I shall meet with the Shepherd Rhodon, As you oft have promised me. But it's a thing impossible I fear. Because I hear he deeply is engaged To Iris, that proud Damsel of Hymettus. I prethe bless my ears with this relation. 'Tis bravely plotted sweet Poneria: But what hour wilt thou allot for this design. Very good. Now most auspicious be thy stars and mine, Let all good luck attend our great design. Poneria, retire: I will address my self unto him. Make no doubt on't: thou hast armed me For all assays. (Dear Rhodon) who, Like the vernal Sun, Dost lend refreshing heats to my affections. Tak't not amiss, that I have chosen this hour And unfreqrented place enjoy thy company. But from a maidens modesty (fair Sir) It may seem much to derogate, To be abroad so late at night. Great pity 'tis indeed, Sir, that true love Should be disparaged, because it's so true. The sudden news of this late kindled war, Wherein I hear (to my great grief) you are engaged, Made me transgress the bounds of modesty so far, That I desired once more to see your face, Ere your departure to the field of danger. And here on you I do bestow this vial, Which such a precious dosis does contain, That it does far exceed the height of valve. It is a potion made by wondrous art, Nectar is no more comparable to it, Then Bonniclabar is to Husquobath; And Aurum potabile is as far short of it, As poor Metheglin is of rich Canary: All the confections even from the lowest degree Of Sage-ale, to the height of Aqua-Celestis, Are no more Like it then the beer of the Low-countries Is to the High-country wine: A dram of it taken before you go to bed Cheers the heart, prevents the Incubus And all frightful dreams; cheers the blood, Comforts the stomach, dispels all colics, Cures all aches, repairs the liver, helps The lungs, rectifies the brain, quenches All the senses, strengthens the memory, refresheth The spirits. Taken fasting it breaks the stone in bladder Or kidneys, cures the gout, expels a quartane ague: Outwardly applied it kills the gangrene, And destroys the wolf, heals all sorts of wounds, Bruises, boils, and sores. And not to use more multiplicity of words, I tell you gentle Rhodon you shall find, It cures all griefs of body and of mind. But (gentle Sir) although your constitution So well attempered seems, that no disease Can either hurt or overthrow your health, Yet if my counsel might prevail with you, I should persuade you to make trial of this Rare water this night before you sleep. Since these nocturnal distillations May be offensive to your health (sweet Rhodon) I will be well contented to be gone, Though wondrous loath from you to partly so soon. Such grief as mine cannot be cured by time. But when the gentle fates shall disembogue My weary soul, and that Celestial substance free From irksome manacles of clay; then may I find, If not a sweet repose in blessed Elysium, Yet some refrigeration in those shades, Where Dido and Hypsiphile do wander. Nor Circe's drugs, nor all Ulysses wits, I tell thee Beldame, can accomplish this.