DOROTHEA

Have you my messages (sent to the poor) Delivered with good hands, not robbing them Of any jot was theirs. Who cheat the poor, and from them pluck their alms. Pilfer from Heaven, and there are thunderbolts From thence to beat them ever, do not lie, Were you both faithful true distributers? I'm glad you do not, if those wretched people Tell you they pine for want of any thing. Whisper but to mine ear, and you shall furnish them. My book and Taper. Thy voice sends forth such music, that I never Was raisht with a more celestial found, Were every servant in the world Like thee, So full of goodness, Angels would come down To dwell with us, thy name is Angelo, And Like that name thou art, get thee to rest, Thy youth with too much watching is oppressed. Be nigh me still then, In golden letters down isle set that day Which gave thee to me, little did I hope To meet such world's of comfort in thy self, This little pretty body, when I coming Forth of the temple, herd my begger-boy, My sweet faced godly begger-boy, crave and alms, Which with glad hand I gave, with lucky hand, And when I took thee home, my most chased bo some Me thought was filled with no hight wanton fire, But with a holy flame, mounting since higher On wings of Cherubines then did before. My trusty Angelo, with that curious eye Of thine, which ever waits upon my business, I prithee watch those my still-negligent servants That they perform my Willing whats enjoined them To'th good of others, else will you find them flies Not lying still, yet in them no good lies: Be careful deer Boy. Now Sir, you may go on. Sir, he is more indebted, to you for praise, then you to him that owes it. Could gold buy you To speak thus for your friend, you Sir are worthy Of more then I will number, and this your language Hath power to win upon another woman, Top of whose heart, the feathers of this World Are gaily stuck, but all which first you nam, And now this last, his love to me are nothing, I am guilty of a shame I yet never knew, Thus to hold parley with you, pray Sir pardon. If one immodest accent Fly out, I hate you everlastingly. Sir, for your Fortune's were they mines of gold, He that I love is richer; and for worth, You are to him lower then any slave Is to a Monarch. Can I, with wearing out my knees before him Get you but be his servant, you shall boast you're equal to a King. O kneel not Sir to me. Still on the Bred of poverty let me feed. Which of your powerful gods, Your gold, your silver, brass, or wooden ones? That can, nor do me hurt, nor protect you, Most pitied women, will you sacrifice To such, or call them gods or goddesses, Your Parents would disdain to be the same, Or you your selves? Oh blinded ignorance, Tell me Caliste by the truth I charge you, Or any thing you hold more deer, would you To have him deifide to posterity, Desire your father and Adulterer, A Ravisher, almost a Parricide, A vile incestuous wretch? Or you Christeta, To be hereafter registered a goddess, Give your chased body up to the embraces Of Goatish lust, have it writ on your forehead, This is the common Whore, the prostitute, The Mistress in the art of wantonness, Knows every trick and labyrinth of desires That are immodest. By whom fashioned, By sinful men? I'll tell you a short tale, Nor can you but confess it was a true one. A King of Egypt being to erect The Image of Osiris, whom they honour, Took from the Matrons necks the richest Jewels And purest gold, as the materials To finish up his work; which perfected, With all solemnity he set it up To be adored, and served himself his Idol; Desiring it to give him victory Against his enemies, but being overthrown, Enraged against his God (these are fine gods Subject to humane fury) he took down The senseless thing, and melting it again, He made a Basing, in which Eunuchs washed His Concubines feet, and for this sor did use Some months it served: his mistress proving false, As most indeed do so, and grace concluded, Between him and the Priests, of the same Basing He made his God again, think, think of this, And then consider, if all worldly honours Or pleasures that do leave sharp stings behind them, Have power to win such as have reasonable souls, To put their trust in dross. Think not so, You may repair all yet, the Attribute That speaks his Godhead most, is merciful, Revenge is proper to the Fiends you worship, Yet cannot strike without his leave, you weep, O 'tis a heavenly shower, celestial balm To cure your wounded conscience, let it fallen, Fallen thick upon it, and when that is spent, I'll help it with another of my tears. And may your true repentance prove the child Of my true sorrow, never mother had A birth so happy. And in that you triumph, Your victory had been eternal lose, And this your lose immortal gain, fix here, And you shall feel your selves inwardly armed Gainst tortures, death, and hell, but take heed sisters, That or through weakness, threats, or mild persuasions Though of a father, you fallen not into A second and a worse Apostasy. Be confirmed then And rest assured, the more you suffer here, The more your glory, you to heaven more deer. Nor was ever time On my partly better spent. I shall do it Better by their example. TO was bravely done. A lack poor Jove, He is no Swaggerer, how smug he stands, Heel take a kick, or any thing. It is the ancientest godling do not fear him, He would not hurt the thiese that stole away Two of his golden locks, indeed he could not, And still 'tis the same quiet thing. O guard me Angels, What Tragedy must begin now? Death I am happy so, you hitherto Have still had goodness spared within your eyes, Let not that Orb be broken. What is your horrid purpose sir, your eye Bears danger in it? What. Oh Kill me, Kneels. And heaven will take it as a sacrifice, But it you play the Ravisher, there is A Hell to swallow you. That power supernal on whom waits my soul, Is Captain over my chastity. I do. Heaven pardon you, And if my wrongs from thence pull vengeance down (I can no miracles work) yet from my soul Pray to those powers I serve, he may recover. I'm here, do what you please. Come boy, being there, more near to heaven we are Not for all Casar fortune, were it chained To more world's, then are kingdoms in the world, And all those world's drawn after him: I defy Your hangmen; you now show me whither to fly. You two! whom I Like fosterd children fed, And lengthened out your starved life with bred: You be my hangman! whom when up the ladder Death hold you to be strangled, I fetched down Clothd you, and warmed you, you two my tormentors. Divine powers pardon you. Receive me you bright Angels. Joy above joys, are my tormentors weary In torturing me, and in my sufferings I fainting in no linbe: anto strike home And feast your fury full. Ever, ever, ever. Ohhasten me to my coronation day. Thou fool That gloriest in having power to ravish A trifle from me I am weary of: What is this life? to me not worth a thought Or if to be esteemed, it's that I lose it To win a better, even thy realice serves To me but as a ladder to mount up To such a height of happiness where I shall Look down with scorn on thee, and on the world, Where circled with true pleasures, placed above The reach of death or time, 'twill be my glory To think at what and, easy price I bought it. There's a perpetual spring, perpetual youth, No joint benumbing cold, nor scorehing heat, Famine nor age have any being there: Forget for shame your Tempe, bury in Oblivion, your feigned your Hesperian Orchards The Golden fruit kept by the watchful Dragon Which did require Hercules to get it Compared with what grows in all plenty there, Deserves not to be named. The power I serve Laughs at your happy Araby, or the Elysian shades, for he hath made his bowers Better indeed then you can fancy yours. Know thou tyrant Thou agent for the devil thy great master Though thou art most unworthy to taste of it, I can and will. I have offered Handfuls of gold but to behold thy Parents, I would leave Kingdoms, were I Queen of some, To dwell with thy good father, for the son Betwitching me so deeply with his presence, He that begotten him must doo't ten times more, I pray thee, my sweet boy, show me thy parents, Be not ashamed. A blessed day, We all long to be there, but loose the way. You a soldier, And sink beneath the violence of a woman? That fear, is base, Of death, when that death does but life displace Out of her house of earth; you only dread The stroke, and not what follows when you are dead, There's the great fear indeed: come, let your eye, Dwell where mine do, yowl scorn their tyrannies. No, but pitying, (For my partly, I) that you lose ten times more By torturing me, than I that dare your tortures, Through all the army of my sins, I have even Lobord to break, and cope with death to th'face; The visage of a hangman frights not me; The sighed of whips, racks, gibbets, axes, fires Are scaffoldings, by which my soul climbs up To and Eternal habitation. But you were speaking Lady. To the purpose. Have you not cloven feetel are you not devils? Dare any say so much, or dare I hear it Without a virtuous and religious anger? Now to put on a Virgin modesty, Or maiden silence, when his power is questioned That is omnipotent, were a greater crime, Then in a bade cause to be impudent. Your Gods, your temples, brothel houses rather, Or wicked actions of the worst of men Pursued and practised, your religious rites, Oh call them rather juggling mysteries, The baits and nets of hell, your souls the prey For which the Devil angles, your false pleasures A steep descent by which you headlong fallen Into eternal torments. Oh most cruel Butcher. Oh call him back again, Call back your hangman, here's on prisoner left To be the subject of his knife. Trace my steps And be assured you shall. Thou glorious minister of the power I serve, For thou art more then mortal, is't for me Poor sinner, thou art pleased a while to leave Thy heavenly habitation? and vouchsafest Though glorified, to take my servants habit, For put off thy divinity, so looked My lovely Angelo. I am largely paid For all my torments, since I find such grace Grant that the love of this young man to me, In which he languishes to death, may be Changed to the love of heaven, For proof that I foregiue My , who in scorned desired To taste of that most fruit I go to After my death as sent from me, be pleased To give him of it. But I more grieved You are at liberty, so well I love you, That I could wish, for such a cause as mine You were my fellow prisoners: prithee Angels Reach us some chairs, please you fit? You may trust him With any secret that concerns my life, Falsehood and he are strangers, had you Ladies Be blessed with such a servant, you had never Forsook that way (your journey even half ended) That lead to joys eternal. In the place Of lose lascivious mirth, he would have stirred you To holy meditations, and so far He is from flattery, that he would have told you, Your pride being at the height, how miserable And wretched things you were, that for and hour Of pleasure here, have made a desperate sale Of all your right in happiness hereafter. He must not leave me, without him I fallen, In this life he is my servant, in the other A wished companion Nothing but blame Thy tardiness in sending me torest, My peace is made with heaven, to which my soul Begins to take her flight, strike, Oh. strike quickly, And though you are un moved to be my death Hereafter when my story shall be read, As they were present now, the hearers shall Say this of Dorothea with wet eyes She lived a virgin, and a virgin die. her head struck off No, I think you would not, Yet Venus whom you worship was a whore, Flora the Foundress of the public Stews, And has for that her sacrifice: your great God, Your Jupiter, a lose adulterer, Incestuous with his sister, read but those That have canonized them, yowl find them worse Then in chased language I can speaks them to you, Are they immortal then that did partake Of humane weakness, and had ample share In men's most base affections? subject to Unchaste loves, anger, bondage, wounds, as men are. Her Jupiter to serve his lust turned Bull. The ship indeed in which he stole Europa. Neptune for gain builds up the walls of Troy As a day-labourer, Apollo keeps Admetus sheep for bred; the Le Smith Sweats at the Forge, for hire; Lyometheus here With his still growing Liver feeds the Vulture; Saturn bound fast in hell with adamant chains; And thousands more, on whom abused error Bestows a diety, will you then deer Sisters, For I would have you such, pay your Devotions To things of less power then your selves?