SAPPHO

I pray tell on. What fair boy is that? I have seldom seen a sweeter face. Be all Fer rye men of that fairness? Seeing I am only come forth to take the air, I will cross the Ferry, and so the fields, then going in through the park, I think the walk will be pleasant. Heigh ho: I know not which way to turn me Ah, ah, I faint, I die, It will not be, I can take no rest, which way so ver I turn. Mileta, if thou wilt, a Martiredom. But give me my lute, and I will see if in song I can beguile mine own eyes. Have you sent for Phao? And to bring simples that will procure sleep? Foolish wensh, what should the boy do here, if he bring not remedies with him? you think belike I could sleep if I did but see him, Let him not come at all, yes, let him come: no, it is no matter: yet will I try, let him come: do you hear? Yet old enough to talk with market folks. Who?Phao? Phao, let him come near: but who sent for him? I am loath to take any medicines: yet must I ra there the ̄ pine in these maladies. Phao, you may make me sleep, if you will? What herbs have you brought Phao? Why, how can you cure me, when you cannot remedy your self? But what? Nay, then I despair of help, if our disease be not all one. It goes hard with the patient, when ̄ the Phisiti on is desperate. Medaea was in love, & nothing could cause her rest but Jason. For whom? It grows very low, and I can never stoop to it that, That I may gather it: but why do you sighed so Phao It will do you harm, and me too: for I never hear one sigh, but I must sighed also. Nay stay: for now I begin to sigh, I shall not leave, though you be gone. But what do you think best for your sighing to take it away. Me? Then will I love yewe the better. And indeed I think it would make me sleep too, therefore all other simples set aside, I will simply use only yewe. Farewell for this time. Oh Venus, my cares are only known to thee, and by thee only came the cause. Cupid, why didst thou wound me so deep? Venus, why didst thou prove so hateful? Oh Cupid too unkind, to make me so kind, that almost I transgress the modesty of my kind. How came it to pass, thou didst hit my heart? If he yield, then shall I shame to embrace one so mean if not, die: because I cannot embrace one so mean. Thus do I find no mean. Farewell sweet Venus, and thou Cupid, which art sweetest in thy sharpness. What dreams are these Mileta? and can there be no truth in dreams? yea, dreams have their truth. Me thought I saw a Stock dove or woodquist, I know not how to term it, that brought short straws to built his nest in a tall Caedar, where, while with his bill he was framing his building, he lost as many feathers from his wings, as he laid straws in his nest: yet scambling to catch hold to harbour in the house he had made, he so denly fell from the bough where he stood. And the ̄ pi tifully casting up his eyes, he cried in such terms (as I imagined) as might either continued ̄ demne the nature of such a tree, or the daring of such a mind. Whilst he lay quam king upon ̄ the ground, & I gazing one the Caeder, I might perceive Ants to breed in the rind coveting only to hoard, & caterpillars to cleave to the leaves, labouring only to suck, which caused more leaves to fallen from ̄ the tree, the ̄ there did feathers before from ̄ the dove. Me thought Mileta, I sighed in my sleep, pitying both the fortune of the bird, & the misfortun of the tree but in this time quils began to bud again in the bird, which made him look as though he would fly up, and then wished I that the body of the tree would bow, that he might but creep up the tree, then and so Heigh, ho. Nothing Mileta: but, and so I waked. But did no body dream but I? Ismena's tongue never lies still, I think all her teeth will be lose, they are so often jogged against her tongue. But say on Eugenua. What did you dream, Canope? Cease your talking: for I would feign sleep, to see if I can dream, whither the bird hath feathers, or the Ants wings. Draw the curtain. What hast thou done Cupid? My thinks I feel and alteration in my mind, and as it were a withstanding in my self of mine own of fections. I pray thee tell me the cause? Fear nothing: for if Venus fret, Sapho can frown, thou shalt be my son. Mileta give him some sweet meats, speak good Cupid, and I will give thee many pretty things. Oh spiteful Venus, Mileta give him some of that. What else Cupid? Yea Cupid, call me any thing, so I may be even with her. Sweet Cupid, strike Phao with it. Thou shalt sit in my lap, I will rock thee asleep, and feed thee with all these fine knacks. But come quickly again. Ah unkind Venus, is this thy promise to Sapho? But if I get Cupped from thee, I my self will be the Queen of love. I will direct these arrows with better aim, and conquer mine own affections, with greater modesty. Venus heart shall flame, and her love be as common as her craft. Oh Mileta, time hath disclosed that, which my temperance hath kept in: but sith I am rid of the disease, I will not be ashamed to confess the cause. I loved Phao Mileta, a thing unfit for my degree, but forced by my desire. Phao, Mileta, of whom now Venus is inamou read. No, I feel relenting thoughts, and reason not yielding to appetite. Let Venus have him, no, she shall not have him. But here coms Cupid. How now my boy, haste thou done it? Alas poor Phao, thy extreme love should not be requited with so mean a fortune, thy fair face de served greater favours: I cannot love, Venus hath harden ned my heart. Yea Venus, what say you to it, in Saphoes lap. Venus be not choleric, Cupid is mine, he hath given me his Arrows, and I will give him a new bow to shoot in. You are not worthy to be the Lady of love, that yield so often to the impressions of love. Immo dest Venus, that to satisfy the unbridled thoughts of thy heart, transgressest so far from the stay of thine honour. How sayest thou Cupid, wilt thou be with me? Shall not I be on earth the Goddess of affection ons? Shall not I rule the fancies of men, and lead We nus in chains Like a captive? It is a good boy. Venus, you are in a vain answerable to your vanity, whose high words neither become you, nor fear me. But let this suffice, I will keep Cupid in dispighte of you, and yet with the content of the Gods. Cupid, fear not, I will direct thine arrows bet ter. Every rude ass shall not say he is in love. It is a toy made for Ladies, and I will keep it only for Ladies. I will wish him fortunate. This will I do for Phao, because I once loved Phao: for never shall it be said that Sapho loved to hate, or that out of love she could not be as courteous, as she was in love passionate. Come Mileta, shut the door. Ah impatient disease of love, and Goddess of love thrice unpitiful. The Eagle is never stricken with thunder, nor the Olive with lightning and may great Ladies be plagued with love? Oh Venus, have I not stram wed thine Altars with sweet roses? kept thy swan's in clear rvuers? seed thy sparrows with ripe corn, & harboured thy doves in fair houses? Thy Tortoys have I nourished under my fig tree, my cham ̄ ber have I ceeled with thy Cockleshells, & dipped thy spung into the from shest waters. Didst thou nurse me in my swaddling clouts with wholesome herbs, that I might perish in my flow ting years by fancy? I perceive, but to late I perceive, and yet not too late, because at last, that strains are caught aswell by stooping too low, as reaching to high: that eyes are bleared as soon with vapours that come from the earth, as with beams that proceed from the sun. Love lodgeth sometime in caves: & thou Phoe bus, that in the pride of thy hear shinest all day in our Horizon, at night dippest thy head in the Ocean. Re sister it Sapho, whilst it is yet tender. Of Acorns comes Oaks, of drops floods, of sparks flames of Atomies Elements. But alas it fareth with me as with wasps, who feeding on serpents, make their stings more veno mous: for glutting my self on the face of Phao, I have made my desire more desperate. Into the nest of and Alcyon no bird can enter but the Alcyon, and into the heart of so great a Lady can any creep but a great Lord? There is and herb (not unlike unto my love) which the further it grows from the sea, the salter it is, and my desires the more they swerve from reason, the more seem they reasonable. When Phao comes, what the ̄ ? wilt thou open thy love? Yea. No Sapho: but staring in his face till thine eyes dasell, and thy spirits faint, die before his face: then this shall be written on thy Tomb, that though thy love were greater then wisdom could endure; yet thine honour was such, as love could not vi olate, Mileta? Sir boy, will ye undertake to carry us over the water? Are you dumb, can you not speak? It is pity in so good a face there should be and evil eye. Thou canst never be rich in a trade of life of all the basest. Wilt thou forsake the ferry, and follow the court as a Page? Come, let us go? No, no, the best ease I find is to sighs it out. A strange desire that hath brought such a disease. Where no body else can feel it Canope. In the heart. Yea, if for this disease there were any Mithrydate? Only the disease Mileta that I have. I think so, or a burning agony. Would I had some local things to dry my brain. Sleep Favilla: I shall then dream. Who? Yea Phao, Phao, ah Phao, let him come prese ̄ tly. Do, but depart not, I have such starts in my sleep, disquieted I know not how. In a slumber. Phao, Phao. Nothing, but if I sleep not now, you send for Phao. Ah Gods. Ah, who is there? what sudden affrights be these? Me thought Phao came with simples to make me sleep. Did no body name Phao before I began to slumber? Let him be here too morrow. I cannot Mileta, I will not. O, which way shall I lie? what shall I do? Heigh ho. Oh Mileta, help to rear me up, my bed, my head lies too low. You pester me with too many clothes. Fie, you keep the chamber too hot, avoid it, it may be I shall steal a nap when all are gone. I can relish nothing.