PHAO

TO How art a Ferryman, Phao, yet a free man, possessing for riches content, and for honours quiet. Thy thoughts are no higher the ̄ thy Fortune's, nor thy desires greater then thy calling. Who climeth, stands on glass, and falls on thorn. Thy hearts thirst is satisfied with thy hands thrift, and thy gentle labours in the day, turn to sweet slumbers in the night. As much does it delight thee to rule thine oar in a calm stream, as it doth Sapho to sway the Sceptre in her brave court. Envy never casts her eye low, ambition pointeth always upward, and revenge barks only at stars. Thou farest dilicately, if thou have a fare to buy any thing. Thine angle is ready, when thine oar is idle, and as sweet is the fish which thou get test in the river, as the fowl which other buy in the market. Thou needest not fear poison in thy glass, nor treason in thy guard. The wind is thy greatest enemy, whose might is withstood with policy. Oh sweet life seldom found under a gold ̄ covert, oft ̄ under a thach ed cottage. But here comes one, I will withdraw my self aside, it may be a passenger. The ferry, fair Lady, that bendeth to Syra cusa. These waters are commonly as the passengers be, and therefore carrying one so fair in show, there is no cause to fear a rough sea. If the wind be with me, I can angle, or tell tales: if against me, it will be pleasure for you to see me take pains. But he may bless fishing, that caught such and one in the sea. So was it said, that vulcan caught Mars with Venus. Yea Madame and that in the boat I did mean to make my tale. I am ready to wait. Phao, thy mean fortune causeth thee to use and oar, and thy sudden beauty a glass: by the one is seen thy needs, in the other thy pride. Oh Venus, in thin king thou hast blessed me, thou hast cursed me, adding to a poor estate, a proud heart: and to a disdained man, a disdaining mind. Thou dost not flatter thy self Phao, thou art fair: fair? I fear me fair, be a word too foul for a face so passing faite. But what avails beauty, hadst thou all things thou wouldst wish, thou mightest die to morrow, and didst thou want all things thou desi rest, thou shalt live till thou diest. Tush Phao, there is grown more pride in thy mind, then favour in thy face. Blush foolish boy, to think on thine own thoughts: cease complaints, & crave counsel. And lo, behold Sy billa in the mouth of her cave, I will salute her. Lady, I fear me I am out of my way, and so benighted withal that I am compelled to ask your direction. Was not the God angry to see you unkind? Alas Madame, your prophesy threatens mice rises, and your counsel warneth impossibilities. My simples are in operation as my simplicity is, which if they do little good, assuredly they can do no harm. Indeed Gentlewomen are so drowsy in their desires, that they can scarce hold up their eyes for love. You women have and excuse for and advantage, which must be allowed: because only to you women it was allotted. Lady, I forgotten to commend you first, and jest I should have overslipped to praise you at all, you have brought in my beauty, which is simple, that in curtisie I might remember yours, which is singular. I am as far from malice, as you from love, & to mistake of purpose, were to mislike of peevishness. Neither Lady: but how should men imagine women can love, when in their mouths there is nothing rifer, then in faith I do not love. Yea,else do I think there is none in their hearts. Because there was never any thing in the botto ̄ of a woman's heart, that comes not to her tongue's end. If I can, I must, if you will? Such as will make you sleep Madame, though they cannot make me slumber. Yes Madame, the causes are contrary. For it is only a dryness in your brains, that keepeth you from rest, But, Nothing, but mine is not so. I would our diseases were all one. Yet Medea made the euerwaking Dragon to snort, when she poor soul could not wink. Indeed I know no herb to make lovers sleep but Hearts ease, which because it grows so high, I cannot reach: for, For such as love. That what? It is mine use Madame. It were best then that your Ladyship give me leave to be gone: for I can but sighs. Yew Madame. No Madame, yewe of the tree. Do madame:for I think nothing in the world so good as yewe. Phao, fair Venus, whom you made so fair. Anything that comes in the compass of my poor fortune. I will learn any thing but dissembling. Because then I must learn to be a woman, Men speak truth. I think a painted truth. Go to Sybilla, tell the beginning of thy love, and the end of thy fortune. And lo how happily she sitteth in her cave. Sybilla? Venus, the Goddess of love I loath, Cupid caused it with a new shaft. Sapho disdains me, Venus caused it for a new spite. Oh Sybilla, if Venus be unfaithful in love, where shall one fly for truth? She uses deceit, is it not then likely she will dispense with subtlety. And being careful to commit injuries, will she not be care less to revenge them? I must now fallen from love to la bour, and endeavour with mine oar to get a fare, not with my pen to write a fancy. Loves are but smokes, which vanish in the seeing, and yet hurt whilst they are seen. A Ferry Phao, no the stars cannot call it a worse fortune. Rang rather over the world, forswear affections, entreat for death. Oh Sapho, thou haste Cum bid in thine arms, I in my heart, thou kissest him for sport, I must curse him for spite: yet will I not curse him Sapho, whom thou kissest. This shall be my reso lutio ̄ , where ever I uva ̄ der, to be as I were ever kneeling before Sapho, my loyalty unspotted, though vnrewar dead. With as little malice will I go to my graven, as I did lie with all in my cradle. My life shall be spent in sighing and wishing, the one for my bade fortune, the other for Saphoes good. Farewell Sybilla, and farewell Sycily. Thoughts shall be thy food, and in thy steps shall be printed be hind thee, that there was none so loyal left behind thee. Farewell Syracyse, unworthy to harbour faith, and when I am gone, unless Sapho be here, unlikely to har bour any. Your courtesy offered hath prevented what my necessity was to entreat. Lady nothing can content me better the ̄ a tale, neither is there any thing more necessary for me then counsel. No, made so fair by Venus. I fear me for some curse. No I may obtain but cannot love. I cannot choose good Madame. I attend. What revenge for such rigor used the Gods? Is it not possible to die before you become so old? Could not you settle your fancy upon any, or would not destiny suffer it? What will you have me do? I am driven by your counsel into diverse con ceites, neither knowing how to stand, or where to fallen, but to yield to love is the only thing I hate. I go, ready to return for advice, before I am resolved to adventure. Unhappy Phao. But soft, what gallant troop is this? What Gentlewoman in this? I never saw one more brave: be all Ladies of such majesty? Madame, I crave pardon, I am spurblinde, I could scarce see. I would in my face there were never and eye. Yet content Madame, which is a kind of life of all the best. As it pleases fortune Madame, to whom I am a prentice. What unacquainted thoughts are these Phao, far unfit for thy thoughts, unmeet for thy birth, thy fortune, thy years, for Phao: unhappy, canst thou not be content to behold the sun, but thou must continued vet to built thy nest in the Sun? Does Sapho bewitch thee, whom all the Ladies in Sicily could not woo: Yea, poor Phao, the greatness of thy mind is far above the beauty of thy face, and the hardness of thy fortune beyond the bitterness of thy words. Die Phao, Phao die: for there is no hope if thou be wise, nor safety, if thou be fortunate. Ah Phao, the more thou seekest to suppress those mounting affections, they soar the lof tire, & the more thou wrastlest with them the stronger they wax, not unlike unto a ball, which the harder it is thrown against the earth, the higher it bounds into the air: or our Sycilyan stone, which grows hardest by hammering. Oh divine love, and therefore di Vine, because love, whose deity no conceit can compass, and therefore no authority can constrain, as miraculous in working as mighty, & no more to be suppressed then comprehended. How now Phao, when there art thou carried, committing idolatry with that God, whom thou hast cause to blaspheme. Oh Sapho, fair Sapho; peace miserable wretch, enjoy thy care in covert, we are willow in thy hat, and bays in thy heart. Lead a Lamb in thy hand, & a Fox in thy head, a dove on the back of thy hand, & a sparrow in the palm. Gold boileth best, when ̄ it bubbleth least, water runneth smoo thest, where it is deepest. Let thy love hang at thy hearts bottom, not at the tongues brim. Things untold, are undone, there can be no greater comfort, then to know much, nor any less labour, then to say nothing. But ah thy beauty Sapho, thy beauty. Beginnest thou to blab? I blab it Phao, as long as thou blabbest her beauty. Bees that die with honney, are buried with har money. Swans that end their lives with songs, are continued uered when they are dead, with flowers: and they that till their latter gasp commend beauty, shall be ever ho noured with benefits. In these extremities I will go to none other Oracle then Sybilla, whose old years have not been idle in these young attempts, & whose found advice may mitigate (though the heave ̄ S cannot remove) my Misery's. Oh Sapho, sweet Sapho, Sapho. Si billa? One not worthy to be one. Unfortunate Phao. So I will, and quite thy tale of Phœbus, with one whose brightness darkeneth Phœbus. I love Sapho, Sy billa, Sapho, ah Sapho, Sybilla. So it is Sybilla: yet in those firm years me thin keth there should harbour such experience, as may de far, though not take away, my destiny. I have brought mine ears of purpose, and will would ̄ g at your mouth, till you have finished your discourse. You degress only to make me believe, that women do so lightly believe. Ah Sybilla, I pray go on, that I may glut my self in this science. But all that can be said not enough. What shall become of me? I go, Phao, thou canst but die, & then as good die with great desires, as pine in base Fortune's.