CALISTO

In this, Melibea, I see heavens greatness, and goodness. Greatness, in giving such power to nature, as to endow thee with so perfect a beauty; goodness, in affording me so great a favour as thy fair presence, and a place so convenient to unsheath my secret grief; A grace undoubtedly so incomparable, and by ma nigh degrees fargreater than any service I have performed can merit omaboue. What inhabitant here below ever saw a more glorious creature then I behold? Certainly, if sublunary bodies can give a ce lestiall reflection or resemblance, I contemplate and find it in thy di Vine beauty: had it perpetuity, what happiness beyond it? Yet wretch that I am, I must live Like another Tantalus; see what I may not en joy, not touch; and my comfort must be the thinking of thy disdain ness, thy pleasing coyness, and the torment which thy absence will inflict upon me. I go; but as one, who am the only unhappy mark, a gain whom adverse fortune the extremity of her hate. I say, Where is this accursed Is'te'en so? Now the devil take thee; misfortune wait on thy heals to thy destruction; mischief light upon thee; let some perpetual intolerable torment Say e upon thee in so high a degree, that it may be beyond all comparison, till it bring thee (which shortly I hope to see) to a most painful, miserable and disastrous death. Go, thou unlucky rogue, go I say, and open the chamber door, and make ready my bed. Shut the windows, and leave darkness to accompany him, whose sad thoughts deserve no light. O death! how well come art thou, to those who outlive their happiness? how well come, wouldst thou but come when thou art called? Oh that Hypo crates and Galen, those learned Physicians were now living, and both here, and felt my pain! Oh heaven, if ye have any pity in you, inspire that Pleberian heart therewith, lest that my soul, helpless of hope, should fallen into the Like misfortune with Pyrramus & Thisbe. Away, get thee gone, do not speak to me unless thou wilt, that these my hands, before thy time be come, cut off thy days by speedy death. Now the devil go with thee. Sempronio? Reach me that Lute. Tell me what grief so great can be, As to equal my misery. How shall he tune it, who himself is out of tune? Or how canst thou hear harmony from him, who is at such discord with himself? Or how can he do any thing well, whose will is not obedi ent to reason? Who harbors in his breast needles, peace, war, truce, love, hate, injuries and suspicions; And all these at once, and from one, and the same cause. Do thou therefore take this Lute unto thee, and sing me the most doleful ditty thou canst devise. My fire is far greater, and less her pity whom now I speak of. Whats that ( Sempronio ) thou muttrest to thy self? Tell me what thou saidst Be not afraid. How? I shall tell thee. Greater is that flame which lasteth sourescore years, then that which endureth but one day. And grea ter that fire, which burns one soul, then that which burns and hundred thousand bodies: See what difference there is betwixt ap parencies, and existencies; betwixt painted shadows, and lively substances, betwixt that which is counterset, and that which is re all. So great a difference is there betwixt that fire which thou spea cast of, and that which burns me. Did not I will tell thee, when thou speakest, that thou shouldst speak aloud? Tell me whats that thou mumblest to thy self. I am a Melibean, I adore Melibea, I believe in Melibea, and I love Melibea. Thou speakest of matters beyond the Moon. It is im possible. What counsel can order that, which in it self hath nei there counsel nor order? Thou wottedest not what constancy is. It is a foul fault for a man to belie that which he teach eth to others: for thou thy self takest pleasure in praising thy Elicia. Wy dost thou reprove me? A woman? Oh thou blockhead, she's a Goddess. Jest? I verily believe she is a Goddess. A on thee for a fool, thou makest me laugh, which I thought not to do to day. Yes. Because I love her, before whom I find my self so un worthy, that I have no hope to obtain her. I did not well hear what thou saidst, say it again: re peat it again before thou proceed any further. Tusa, I believe it not, they are but fables. A pox of this coxcomb, what gi he gives! Tell me, I pray, this Alexander, this Seneca, this Aristotle, this Virgil, these whom thou tellest me of; did not they subject themselves unto them? Am I greater then these? Thou seest the more thou tellest me, and the more incon ueniences thou settest before me, the more I love her. I know not how, nor what it is, but sure I am, that so it is. And you Sir, that are so wise, who I pray taught you all this? Now, what of all this? what am I the better for it? But not of Melibea. And in all that, wherein thou dost so glorify my gifts, I tell she ( Sempronio ) compared with Melibea's, they are but as stars to the Sun; or dross compared to gold. Do but consider the nobleness of her blood, the ancientness of her house, the greatestate she is born unto, the excellency of her wit, the splendour of her virtues, her stately, yet comely carriage, her ineffable gracefulness in all that she does; and lastly, her divine beauty; whereof (I pray thee) give me leave to discourse a little, for the refreshing of my soul. And that which I shall tell she, shall be only of what I have discovered, and lies open to the eye: For, if I could discourse of that which is concealed, this contestation would be needless, neither should we argue thereupon so earnest lie as now we do. What's that? What sayest thou? Since then, that it is so pleasing unto thee, I will figure forth unto thee every partly in her, even in the fullest manner that I can devise. I will begin first with her hairs; Hast thou seen those skaynes of fine twisted gold which are spun in Arabia? Her hairs are more fine, and shine no less then they; the length of them is to the lowest pitch of her heel, beside, they are daintily combed, and dressed, and knit up in knots with curious fine ribbaning, as she her self pleases to adorn and set them forth, being of pow er themselves, without any other help, to transform men into stones. What sayest thou? See what a beastly and base comparison this fool makes! Her eyes are quick, clear and full; the hairs to those lids rather long then short; Her eyebrows thinnish, not thick of hair, and so prettily arched, that by their bent, they are much the more beautiful; Her nose of such a middling size, as may not be mended; Her mouth little; Her teeth small and white; her lips read and plump; The form of her face rather long then round; Her breasts placed in a fitting height; but their rising roundness, and the pretty pleasing fashion of her little tender nipples, who is able to figure forth unto thee? So distracted is the eye of man when he does behold them; Her skin as smooth, soft, and sleek as Satin, and her whole body so white, that the snow seems darkness unto it; Her colour so mingled, and of so singular a temper, as if she had chosen it her self. Her hands little, and in a measurable manner, and fit pro portion accompanied with her sweet flesh; Her fingers long; Her nails large and well coloured; seeming Rubies, intermixed with pearls. The proportion of those other parts which I could not eye, undoubtedly (judging things unseen, by the seen) must of force be incomparably far better then that, which Paris gave his judge meant of in the difference between the three Goddesses. As briefly as I could. In what? Oh wretch that I am, when shall I see this between me and Melibea? With what eyes? And with what I pray do I see now? Jove grant thou mayest: howsoever, I am proud to hear thee, though hopeless of ever obtaining it. Heaven be thy good speed; my cloth of gold doublet, which I wore yesterday, it is thine, Sempronio. Take it to thee. See, you be not negligent now. But tell me, How dost thou think to purchase her pity? Oh that I might but speak with her! Oh but thou stayest too long. A good luck with thee. You happy powers that pre dominate humane actions, assist and be propitious to my desires, see cond my intentions, prosper Sempronio's proceedings & his success e, in bringing me such and Advocatrix as shall, according to his pro mice, not only negotiate, but absolutely compass and bring to a wished perjod, the preconceived Hope's of and incomparable pleasure. Parmeno! What a pocks, art thou deaf? Canst thou not hear? Some body knocks at the gate. Run. Peace, peace, you Villain; she is my Aunt. Run, run (you rascal) and open the door. Well, it is and old saying, and I perceive, as true, The fish leaps out of the pan, and falls into the fire. And a man thinking to shun one danger, runs into another, worse then the former. For I thinking to keep close this matter from Par meno, (on whose neck, either out of love, faithfulness, or fear, Rea son hath laid her reins) I have fallen into the displeasure of this woman, who hath no less power over my life, then Jove himself. How canst thou tell? dost thou know her? What service didst thou do her? So she might a hundred as well. Parmeno, hold thy hand; thou hast said enough; what remains, leave it till some fitter opportunity. I am sufficiently in structed by thee, and I thank thee for it; Let us now delay them no longer, for necessity cuts off slackness. Know thou, that she comes hither requested, and we make her stay longer then stands with good manners. Come, let us go, lest she be offended, and take it ill. I fear, and fear makes me more and more think upon her, quickens my memory, and awakens in me a more provident care fullness how I communicate my self unto her. Well, let us go, and arm our selves as well as we can against all inconveniences. But I pray thee Parmeno, let me entreat thee, that the envy thou bearest unto Sempronio, who is to serve and pleasure me in this business, be not and impedime ̄ to to that remedy, whereon no less then the safety of my life relieth. And if I had a doublet for him, thou shalt not want a Mandilion. Neither think thou, but that I esteem as much of thy counsel and advice, as of his labour and pains; and as bruit beasts (we see) do labour more bodily then men, for which they are well respected of us, and carefully looked unto; but yet for all this, we hold them not in the nature of friends, nor affect them with the Like love: the Like difference do I make between thee and Sem pronio. And laying aside all power and dominion in my self, under the privy-seal of my secret love, sign my self unto thee for such a friend. Take it not offensively, not misconstrue my meaning for assure thy self, thy good behaviour towards me, and thy fair car riage, and gentle disposition, makes thee more gracious in mine eyes, then any, nay, then all the rest of my servants. But because in a case so difficult and hard as this, not only all my good, but even my life and wholly dependeth; it is needful that I should in all that I am ab e, provide for my self; and therefore seek to arm my self in this sort as thou seest, against all such casualties, as may endanger my desire; howsoever, persuade thy self, that thy good qualities, as far excel every natural good, as every natural good excels the artificial, from whom it hath it's beginning. But of this, for this time no more; but let us now go and see her, who must work out well fare. Parmeno, stay, stay awhile, make no noise; stand still I pray thee, and listen a little what they say. So, hu h, that we may see in what state we live; what we are Like to trust to, and how the world is Like to go with us. Oh notable woman! Oh worldly goods, unworthy to be possessed by so high a spirit! Oh faithful, and trusty Sempronio! Hast thou well observed him (my Parmeno? ) Hast thou herd him? Hast thou noted his earnestness? Tell me, have I not reason to respect him? What sayest thou, man? Thou that art the Clozet of my secrets, the Cabinet of my counsel, and Council of my soul? Sempronio? What said my mother? It seems unto me, that she thinks I offer words for to excuse my reward. Come then with me, bring the keys with you, and thou shalt see, I will quickly put her out of that doubt. Wittily spoken; come, let us go, let us slack no time. Dear mother, I did much doubt, considering my miss Fortune's, to find you alive: but marvel more, considering my desire, that my self come alive unto you. Receive this poor gift of him, who with it offers thee his life. Now mother, go your ways get you home and cheer up your own house; and when you have done that, I pray hasten hither, and cheer up ours. And you too: and so farewell. Me thinks ( Sempronio ) it is no good counsel, that I shouldst here accompanied, and that she should go all alone, who seeks to cure my ill: it were better that thou shouldst go a long with her, and hasten her on, since thou knowest, that on her dili ligence dependeth my welfare; on her slowness, my painfulness, on her neglect, my despair. Thou art wise, I know thee to be faithful, I hold thee a good servant. And therefore so handle the matter, that she shall no sooner see thee, but that she may judge of that pain which I feel, and of that fire which torments me; whose extreme heat will not give me leave to lay open unto her the third partly of my secret sickness. So did it tie my tongue, and took such hold on my senses, that they were not only busied, but in a manner wasted and consumed; which thou, as one that is free from the Like passion, mayest more largely deliver, letting thy words run with a looser rein. How Like a silly fool thou talkest! Knowest thou not, that it eases the pain, to bewail it's cause? Oh how sweet is it to the sorrowful, to unsheath their griefs? What ease do broken bring with them? Oh what a diminishing and refreshing to tearful complaints, is the unfolding of a men woes, and bitter ? As many as ever writ of comfort, and consolation, do all of them jump in this. Sempronio, my friend, (for so thy love makes me style thee) since it so grieves thee that I should be alone, call Parmeno him there, and he shall stay with me: and henceforth, be thou, (as thou hast ever been) faithful and loyal unto me. For, in the service of the servant, consisteth the Master's remuneration. Oh Parmeno! Oh I think not, for I cannot see thee. Leave her not, Sem pronio: Ply her hard, follow her at and inch. Forget me not, I pray thee. Now Parmeno, what thinkest thou of that which hath passed to day? My pain is great; Melibea stately, Celestina wise, she is her crafts Master, and we cannot do amiss. Thou hast mainly opposed thy self against her: and to draw me to a detestation of her, thou hast painted her forth to the purpose, and set her out in her colours: and I believe thee. For such and so great is the force of truth, that it commands even the tongues of our enemies. But be she such, as thou hast described her to be; yet had I rather give her and hundred Crowns, then give another five. It is thy opinion, Parmeno, that I ask; Gratify me therein: Hold, dost thou look? Why hangest thou down thy head, when thou shouldst answer me? But I perceive, that as en vy is sad, and sadness without a tongue; thine own will can do more with thee, then fear of my displeasure. What is that thou grumblest at? What didst thou mutter to thy self, as though thou Wertenberg angry? How (you fool) her slave? It is something that the fool hath said; but I would feign know this of thee; whither or no, when as there is a great di stance betwixt the intreater, and the entreated, the suitor, and the party sued unto, either out of authority of obedience, or greatness of estate and dignity, or nobleness of descent of blood, as there is betwixt my Mistress, and my self; Whither or no (I pray) it be not necessary to have and intercessor, or mediator for me, who may every foot go to and from with my messages, until they ar rive at her ears, of whom, to have a second Audience, I hold it im possible. And if it be thus with me, tell me, whither thou appro vest of what I have done, or no? What sayest thou? Thy saying I approve, but understand not thy purpose. Is't e'n so, Parmeno? Is this all the comfort thou canst give me? Tell me rather something that may please me, and give me better content then this can. And know withal, that the more thou dost dispraise, the better do I Like her. Let her comply with me, and effect my business, and let them implume her the fourth time too, if they will, I care not. Thou hast thy wits about thee; thou speak having any sense of pain; thou art not heartsick, as I Parmeno, nor is thy mind touched with that sense of sorrow, This Villain would be well eudgelled; Tell me (thou unmannerly Rascal) Why dost thou blaspheme that which I adore? And you, Sir, who would seem to be so wise, what wottedest thou of honour? Tell me, what is Love? show me wherein Civility con sisteth; Or what belongs to good manners? Thou wouldst feign be accounted discreet, and wouldst that I should think so, and yet dost not consider with thy self, that the first round in follies ladder, is for a man to think himself wise. If thou didst but feel the pain that I do: with other water wouldst thou bath that burning, and wash that raging wound, which the cruel shaft of Cupid hath made in my . See, what remedy Sempronio brings unto me with his feet, the same dost thou put away with thy tongue, with thy vain and uncomfortable words. And feigning thy self (forsooth) to be faith full, thou art in realty of truth, nothing else but a mere Clot, and Lum of earth; a box filled with nothing but the very dregs and of malice: the very Inn and House, that gives open inter Envy; not caring so as thou mayest defame, & discredit it right or by wrong, how thou puttest a dis thou knowing that this my pain, and over by reason, nor will admit advice, but is of counsel, which is as if one should tell me; that That which is bred in the bone, may be fetched out of the flesh: or that which is glued to the very heart and entrails of a man, may be un oo ed without renting the ou e from the body Sempronio did fear his going, and thy staying: it was mine own seeking; I would needs have it so; And therefore worthily suffer the trouble of his absence and thy presence: and better is it, for a man to be a lone, then ill accompanied. Peace, peace, you Var et; I am in pain and anguish, and thou readest philosophy unto me. But I expect no better at thy hands; I have not the patience to hear thee any longer. Go, be gone; Get forth my horse; See he be well and clean dressed; him well. For I must pass by the house of my Melibea, or rather of my Goddesie. When comes this horse? Why, Parmeno, what dost thou mean? why bring thou him not away? Hold the stirrup. Open the gate a little wider. If Sem pronio chance to come in the mean while, and the old woman with him, will them to stay; for I will return presently. What's the matter, you fool? Oh thou careless absurd Ass; Canst thou descry land, and not make to the shore? See them coming, and not hie thee to open the door? Oh thou Supreme Deity: with what come they? What news do they bring? whose stay hath been so long, that I have longed more for their coming, then the end of my reme die. Oh my sad ears, prepare your selves for that which you are now to hear: for in Celestina's mouth rests either my present case, or eternal heartgrief. Oh that I could fallen into a slumber, and pass away this short, this litlte, little space of time, in a dream wherein I might see the beginning, and ending of her speech. Now I verily believe, that more painful to a Felon, is the expecting of that his cruel and capital sentence, then the Act it self, of his certain and foreknown death. Oh leaden-heeled Parmeno; slower then the Snail, dead-handed as thou art, dispatch, I say, and unbolt this troublesome door, that this honourable woman may enter in, in whose tongue lies my life. Good mother, either cut off thy discourse, or take thou this sword and kill me. Good hope, mother? Mother, as you love goodness, if you be a good woman, tell me what was she doing? How God you into the house? How was she appareled? On which side of the house did you find her? What countenance did she show thee at thy first entrance? How did she look on thee? Be these thy good Hope's? These signs of health? What then are those that are mortal? Why, death it self could not be half so deadly. For that would ease and rid me of this my torment, then which none is greater, none more grievous. If thou wilt not (thou that art sole Queen, and soon reign of my life) that I die desperate, and that my soul go con demeaned from hence to perpetual pain (so impatient am I of hea ring these things) delay me no longer, but certify me briefly, whither thy glorious demand had a happy end, or no? As also whither that cruel and stern look of that impious face, whose frowns murder as many as they are bent against, sorted to a gentle entertaining of thy suit? For all that I have herd hitherto, are ra there tokens of hate, then of love. Now (deer mother) that you have given me assurance, that I may boldly with comfort expect the extremest vigour of her answer; say what thou wilt, and I shall be attentive thereunto. Now my heart is at rest; now my thoughts are quiet; now my veins receive and recover their lost blood; now have I lost my fear; now do I find some joy; now am I cheerful. Let us (if it please you) go up; where, in my chamber you shall report that at full, which I have herd in brief, Mark (mother) how Parmeno goes mumbling to himself; see how the slave crosses himself, to hear what thou hast brought to pass by thy great diligence! Observe in what a maze he stands! Look, look, Celestina; dost thou see what he is doing? See, and the villain does not cross himself again? Come up, up, up; and fit you down (I pray) whilst I on my knees give ear to thy sweet answer. Say on; And tell me quickly, by what means thou gotst into the house? Greater (mother) perhaps in body, but not in nobleness of birth, not in state, not in beauty, not in discretion, not in state linesse, linked with gracefulness and merit, not in virtue, nor in speech. Oh joy beyond compare! Oh singular opportunity! Oh sea sonable time! Oh that I had lain hid underneath thy mantle, that I might have herd her but speak, on whom heaven hath so plenti fully poured forth the fullness of his graces! Whats the matter with you there? I am hearing of a cause, that concerns no less then my life; and you keep a tattling and a prattling there (as you still use to do) to trouble and molest me in my business, and provoke me to anger: as you love me, hold your tongues, and you will die with delight; such pleasure will you take in the repetition of her singular diligence; Go on (deer mother) what didst thou do, when thou sawest thou wast left all a lone? It is so now with me; But how much more had a man beforehand conceived some such image in his mind? But tell me, wast thou not strucken dumb with this so sudden and unexpected and accident? Dear mother, thou hast told me that, which whilst I was hearing thee, I had forecasted in mine own judgement, I did still dream it would come to this; but I do not see how thou couldst light upon a fit excuse, that might serve the turn, and prove good enough to cover and colour the suspicion of thy demand; though I know, that thou art exceeding wise, and in all that thou dost (to my seeming) more then a woman. Since, that as thou didst prog nosticate her answer, so didst thou in time provide thee of thy reply. What could that Tuscan Champion (so much famoused thorough out all Italy) have done more? Whose renown (hadst thou then been living) had been quite lost; who three days before she die ed, divined of the death of her old husband, and her two sons. Now do I believe that, which is so commonly spoken; that a woman is never to seek for and answer; and though it be the weaker Sex, yet is their wit more quick and nimble then that of men. Oh admirable craft! Oh rare woman in thy art! Oh cun ning creature! Oh speedy remedy! Oh discreet deliverer of a mes sage! What humane understanding is able to reach unto so high a means of help? And I verily persuade my self, that if our age might purchase those years passed, wherein Aeneas and Dido lived, Venus would not have taken so much pains, for to attract the love of Elisa to his son, causing Cupid to assume the form of Ascanius, the better to deceive her: but would (to make short work of the business) have made choice of thee to mediate the matter: and therefore do I hold my death happily employed, since that I have put it into such hands, and I shall evermore be of this mind, that if my desire obtain not it's wished effect, yet know I not what could be done more, according to nature, for my good and welfare. What think you now my Master's? What can ye imagine more? Was there ever the Like woman born in this world? Had she ever her fellow? How? What's that? No, by no means; For heavens sake, do not offer it, you shall have Torches, you shall have Pages, any of my servants, make choice of whom you will to accompa nigh you home. Son Parmeno, what's that thou saidst? It is well said, Parmeno: you shall by and by, proceed, I pray, in your discourse; and tell me what farther passed between you. What answer made she for the Charm? With all her heart? Oh Jove! How gracious and how great a gift! What, my honest old woman? But what said she? Take my whole house, and all that is in it, on condition you tell me; or else beside what thou wilt. What dost thou talk of a Mantle? Tut, a Kirtle, a Pet ticoate, any thing, all that I have. Run, Parmeno, call hither my Tailor, and let him pre sently cut her out a Mantle and a Kirtle of that fine pure cloth, which he took to cottening. Now the Devil go with him, with what and ill will does he go? I think there is not any man living so ill served as I am; maintaining men that devise nothing but mischief, murmurers, grudgers of my good, repiners of my prosperity, and enemies to my happiness. Thou Villain, what goest thou mumbling to thy self? Thou envious wretch, what is that thou sayest? for I understand thee not. Do as I command you, you were best, and that quickly too. Get you gone with a murrain, and vex me no more, for I have grief enough already to bring me to my graven. There will as much of the piece be left (which remnant you may take for your self) as will serve to make you a Jerkin. Dreaming of her, I say in my sleep. In my dreams have I seen her so oft, night, by night, that I fear me, that will happen unto me, which befell Alcibia des, who dreamed that he saw himself inwrapped in his Mistress's mantle, and was the next day murdered, and found none to remove him from forth the common street, no, nor any to cover him, save only she who did spread her Mantle over him. Though I, for my partly, be it alive, or dead, would any way be glad to see my self clothed with any thing that is hers. Oh new guest! Oh happy girdle! which hast had such po were and worth in thee, as to hedge in that body, and be its enclosure, which my self am not worthy to serve. Oh ye knots of my passion, it is you that have entangled my desires; Tell me, if thou Wertenberg pre sent at that uncomfortable answer of fairest she, whom thou servest, and I adore. And yet the more I torment my self for her sake, mourning and lamenting night and day, the less it avails me, and the less it profits me. Oh unfortunate that I am! For Cities are encircled, and walled in with stones; and stones by stones are easily overthrown. But this my deer Lady hath her heart environed with steel; there is no mettle that can prevail against her; no shot of that force as to make a breach: and should Ladders be reared to scale the walls, she hath eyes which let fly darts of repulsion, and a tongue which dischargeth whole volleis of reproaches, if you once approach, force king you to stand farther off, and so inaccessible is her Castle, that you cannot come near it by half a league. Say, Mother, what thou wilt, and I will believe thee, since thou hast brought me so great a Jewel, as is this. Oh thou glory of my soul, and incirler of so incomparable a creature; I behold thee, and yet believe it not. Oh girdle, girdle, thou lovely lace! Wast thou mine enemy too? Tell me the truth; if thou Wertenberg, I forgive thee: For it is proper unto good men, to forgive; but I do not be leave it. For hadst thou likewise been my foe, thou wouldst not have come so soon to my hands, unless thou hadst come to dis blame and excuse thy doings. I conjure thee, that thou answer me truly, by the virtue of that great power, which thy Lady hath oh ver me. Oh wretch that I am! far better had it been for me, had the heavens made me so happy, that thou hadst been made and woven of these mine own arms, and not of silk, as now thou art, that they might have daily rejoiced in clasping and enclosing with endue reverence those members, which thou without sense or feeling, not knowing what it is to enjoy so great a glory, holdest still in strict embracements. Oh what secrets shouldst thou then have seen of that so excellent and image? Peace (good mother,) give me leave a little; for this, and I, well understand one another. Oh my eyes call to your remem brance, how that ye were the cause of my ill; and the very door, thorough which my heart was wounded; and that he is seen to do the hurt, who does give the cause of the harm. Call to your re membrance, I say, that ye are debtors to my welfare. Look here upon your medicine, which is come home to your own house to cure you. How Like a fool thou pratest, without either wit or reason? Thou disturber of my delight, what meanest thou by this? Mother, are my words troublesome unto you? or is this fellow drunk? Oh my much honoured Matron, my mother, my come fortress! Let me glad my self a little with this messenger of my glory. Oh my tongue! Why dost thou hinder thy self in entertai ning any other discourse? leaving off to adore that present Excel lency, which, peradventure, thou shalt never see in thy power? Oh ye my hands! With what presumption, with what slender reue rence do you touch that Treacle, which must cure my wound? Now that poison cannot hurt me, wherewith that cruel shot of Cupid hath it's sharp point deeply indipped. For now I am safe, since that she who gave me my wound, gives me also my medi cine. Oh deer Celestina! Thou that art the delight of all old Dams, the joy of young wenches, the ease of the afflicted, and comfort of such comfortless wretches as my self; do not punish me more with fear of thee, then I am already punished with shame of my self; suf fer me to let lose the reins of my contemplation; give me leave to go forth into the streets with this jewel, that they who see me, may know, that there is not any man more happy then my self. I know it well, yet have I not the power to abstain from adoring so great a relic? so rich a gift? But the Charm you talked of? And what was the cause why she did not? Decrease? Then shall my pain decrease, when I see a de crease of her cruelty. Nay, to do you service, I will not stick to clap on four double clothes: but of all loves tell me, passed there any thing more between you? For I die out of longing, for to hear the words which flow from so sweet a mouth. How didst thou dare, not knowing her, be so bold, to show thy self so familiar, both in thy entrance, and thy demand? Didst thou say Melibea was courteous? I think it was but in a mock. Was her Like ever born into the world? Did God ever create a better, or more perfect body? Can the Like propor cion be painted by any pencil? Is she not that Paragon of beauty, from whence all eyes may copy forth a true pattern of unimitable excellence? If Hellen were now alive, for whom so great a slaughter was made of Greeks and Trojans, or fair Polix nam, both of them would have done their reverence to this Lady, for whom I lan guish. If she had been present in that contention for the Apple with the three Goddesses, the name of contention had never been question oned: For without any contradiction, they would all of them have yielded, and jointly have given their consent, that Melibea should have born it from them: so that it should rather have been called the Apple of concord, then of discord. Beside, as many women as are now born, and do know her, curse themselves and their for tune; complaining of heaven, because it did not remember them, when it made her, consuming as well their bodies as their lives with envy, being ready to eat their own flesh for very anger, still aug menting martyrdoms to themselves, thinking to equal that per fection by art, which Nature had bestowed upon her without any labour. They pill, and dis-haire their eyebrows with nippers, with plasters of Pitch or Barm, and other the Like instruments They seek after Wallwort, and the Like herbs, roots, sprigs, and flowers to make Lies, wherewithal to bring their hair to the continued lour of hers, spoiling and martyring their faces, clothing them with diverse colourings, glissenings, paintings, unctions, ointments, strong waters, white and read pargetings, which, to avoid prolixity, I repeat not. Now judge then, whither she whom Nature hath so richly beautified, be worthy the love and service of so mean a man as my self? In her, Nature, as in a glass did wholly behold her self; that she might make her most absolutely perfect; for those graces, which she had dif used unto diverse, she had jointly united them in her, and overviewed this her work with so curious and eye, that nothing might be added to make it fairer. To the end that they might know, who had the happiness to see her, the worthiness and excellency of her Painter: only a little fair Fountain-water with a comb of ivory, is sufficient (without any other slibber-slabbers) to make her surpass all other of her Sex, in beauty and courtesy. These are her weapons; with these she kills and overcomes; and with these hath she bound me in so hard and strong a chain, that I must for ever remain her prisoner. Oh disconsolate that I am! my misforunes still pursue me; for with thee, or with this girdle, or with both, I would willingly have been accompanied all this dark and tedious night. But be cause there is no perfect happiness in this our painful and unhap py life; let solitariness wholly possess my soul, and cares be my continual companions. What ho? Where be these men? Why Parmeno, I say! Accompany this Matron home to her house; and as much pleasure and joy go with her, as sorrow and woe does stay with me. Not think upon her? It is impossible. Nay, it were profane to forget her, for whom my life only pleases me. In peril great I live, And strait of force must die: Since what desire does give, That, hope does me deny. This pain, this martyrdom, Oh heart, well dost thou prove, Since thou so soon wast won To Melibea's love. Who is that, that talks in the Hall? Why ho? How far night is it? Is it time to go to bed? What sayest thou fool? Is the night passed and gone then? Tell me ( Sempronio ) does not this idleheaded Knave lie, in making me believe it is day? Now I believe it, and it's far day too. Give me my clothes; I must go to my wonted retirement to the Myrtle-grove, and there beg of Cupid, that he will direct Celestina, and put my remedy into M libea's heart, or else that he will shorten my sor rowfull days. I conceive your meaning; you would infer that I am Like Squire Gallego's boy, who went a year without breeches, and when his Master commanded a pair to be cut out for him, he would have them made in a quarter of and hour. I wonder ( Sempronio ) where thou gottest so much philoso phy? Thou hast spoken well, if the quality of my e ill would consent to take it so. Oh thou fool, thou fool! The found man says to the sick, Heaven send thee thy health. I will no more counsel, no more kearken to thy reasons: for, they do but revive, and kindle those flames afresh, which burn and consume me. I will go and inuo cate Cupid; and will not come home, till you call me, and crave a reward of me for the good news you shall bring me, upon the happy coming of Celestina: nor will I eat any thing, till Phœbus his horses shall feed, and graze their fill in those green meadows where they use to bait, when they come to their journeys end. Sempronio, my faithful servant, my good counselor, my loyal follower; Be it as thou wilt have it: for I assure my self (out of the unspottedness of thy pure service) that my life is as deer unto thee as thine own. What sayest thou, Sempronio? Give it me hither. My spirits are returned unto me again; I promise you it hath done me much good. My Sons both, farewell. Go look after the old woman, and wait for good news, that I may reward you for your labour. In whose hands? Oh thou joy of the world! thou ease of my passion, thou relieueresse of my pain, my eyes lookingglass, my heart does even exult for joy, in beholding so honoured a presence, and age so ennobled with years; tell me, what is't thou comest with, what good news dost thou bring? For I see thou lookest cheerfully: And yet I know not of what terms my life does stand; in what it con sisteth. What sayest thou then? Speak, thou that art my glory and comfort. Deliver it more at large unto me. Oh what do I hear? Speak softly (good mother) take heed what you say; let not my men hear you, lest they should call thee fool. Melibea is my mistress, Melibea is my desire, Melibea is my life, I am her sir ant, I am her slave. Well hast thou spoken, deer mother, I wot full well, that my small reward can no ways reward your pains; but in stead of a gown and a kirtle (because Tradesmen shall not share with you) take this little chain, put it about your neck, and go on with your discourse, and my joy. You my servants; Am I here? Hear I this? Look whither I am awake or not? Is it day, or is it night? Oh thou great God of heaven, I beseech thee, this may not prove a dream; Sure, I do not sleep, me thinks I am fully awake. Tell me, mother, dost thou make sport with me, in paying me with words? Fear nothing, but tell me the truth; for thy going to and from deserves a great deal more then this. It is enough; Is it possible, I should hope for so great a happiness? Can so great a blessing light upon Calisto? I die till that hour come. I am not capable of so great a glory. I do not de serve so great a favour, nor am I worthy to speak with so fair a Lady, who of her own freewill, should afford me so great a grace. Remember your self, mother, did you not tell me, that she would come to me of her own accord? Peace, you Knaves, you Villains, you suspicious Ras calls, will you make me believe that Angels can do ought that is ill? I tell you, Melibea is but a dissembled Angel, that lives here amongst us. Mother, fare you well, I will lay me down to sleep, and rest my self a while, that I may redeem the nights passed, and satisfy the better for that, which is to come. Oh how it discontents me, to see servants so wretchless! Of my much mindfulness for this nights meeting, and your much unmindfulness, and extreme carelessness, there might have been had some indifferent both remembrance, and care; how inconsiderately (knowing how much it imports me, to be either ten or eleven) dost thou answer me at haphazard, with that which comes first to mouth? Oh unhappy I, if by chance I had overslept my self! and my demand had depended on the and swer of Sempronio, to make of eleven, ten, and of twelve, but eleven? Melibea might have come forth; I had not gone out; and she returned back: so that, neither my misery should have had and end, nor my desire have taken effect. And therefore it is not said in vain, That another men harm hangs but by one hair, no man caring whither he sink or swim. The fool says well, I would not at such a time receive a displeasure. I will not think ont that which may be, but on that which hath been; not on the harm which may arise by his negli gence, but on the good which may come by my carefulness. I will give leisure to my anger, and will either quite dismiss it, or force it to be more remiss. Parmeno, Take down my Corslets, and arm your selves, so shall we go the safer: For it is in the Proverb, Half the battle is then waged, when a man is well prepared. Come help me here to put them on. Do you look on, Sempronio, and see if any body be stirring in the street. Let us along then. Here, my Master's, this way; for though it be somewhat about, yet is it the more private way, and the lesser frequented. Now it strikes twelve, a good hour. We are come in very good time. Go thou, Parmeno, and peep in at the door, to see if that Lady be come or no? Oh how well hast thou spoken! thou hast given me my life, by giving me this found advice; for there needs nothing more to bear me home dead to my house, then that she through my improvidence, should have gone her ways back: I will go Thy there my self, and do you stay here. This stirring and murmur which I fear, is not of one single person alone. Yet will I speak, come, what will come, or be who as will be there. Madame; Mistress, be you there? He that is come addressed to your command. I fear me, I am deluded, it was not Melibea that spoke unto me, I hear some whispering; I am undone. But live or die, I have not the power to be gone. She that is worthy to command all the world, she whom I may not merit to serve. Let not your Ladyship fear to discover her self to this Captive of your gentle disposition; for the sweet found of those your words, which shall never fallen from my ears, give me assurance that you are that Lady Melibea, whom my heart adores; I am your servant Calisto. To hearts prepared with a strong and dauntless resolution on against all adversities whatsoever, nothing can happen unto them, that shall easily be able to shake the strength of their wall. But that unhappy man, who weaponless, and disarmed, not thin king upon any deceit or Ambuscado, puts himself within the doors of your safe-conduct and protection, whatsoever in such a case falls out contrary to my expectation, it cannot in all reason but tor meant me, and pierce thorough the very soul of me, breaking all those Magazines and storehouses, wherein this sweet news was laid up. Oh miserable and unfortunate Calisto! Oh, how hast thou been mocked and deluded by thy servants! Oh thou cozening and deceitful Cele stina; thou mightest at least have let me alone, and given me leave to die, and not gone about to revive my hope, to add thereto more fuel to the fire, which already does sufficiently waste and consume me. Why didst thou falsify this my Ladies message? Why hast thou thus with thy tongue given cause to my despair, and utter un doing? Why dist thou command me to come hither? Was it that I might receive disgrace, interdiction, diffidence, and hatred, from no other mouth, but that which keeps the keys of my perdi cion, or happiness? Oh thou enemy to my good! Didst not thou tell me, that this my Lady would be favourable, and gracious un to me; Didst not thou tell me, that of her own accord, she had commanded this her captive to come to this very place, where now I am? Not to banish me afresh from her presence, but to re peal that banishment, whereunto she had sentenced me by her former command? Miserable that I am, whom shall I trust, or in whom may I hope to find any faith? Where is truth to be had? Who is void of deceit? Where does not falsehood dwell? Who is he that shows himself and open enemy? or who is he that shows him self a faithful friend? Where is that place, wherein treason is not wrought? Who, I say, durst trespass so much upon my patience, as to give me such cruel hope of destruction? Oh my deer Lady! Hope of my glory; Easeresse of my pain, and my hearts joy: What tongue can be sufficient to give thee thanks, that may equal his so extraordinary and incompara ble a kindness; which in this instant of so great and extreme a sorrow, thou hast been willing to confer upon me; in being willing (I say) that one so mean, and unworthy as my self, should be by thee enabled to the enjoying of thy sweetest love; whereof, although I was ever more most desirous, yet did I always deem my self un worthy thereof, weighing thy greatness, considering thy estate, beholding thy perfection, contemplating thy beauty, and looking into my small merit, and thy great worth; beside, other thy singu lar graces, thy commendable, and wellknown virtues? Again; Oh thou great God, how can I be ungrateful unto thee, who so mira culously hast wrought for me so great and strange wonders? Oh, how long ago did I entertain this thought in my heart, and as a thing impossible, repelled it from my memory, until now, that the bright beams of thy most clear shining countenance, gave light unto my eyes, inflamed my heart, awakened my tongue, enlarged my desert, abridged my cowardice, unwreathed my shrunke-vp spi rits, reinforced my strength, put life and metal into my hands and feet; and in a word, infused such a spirit of boldness into me, that they have born me up by their power, unto this high estate, wherein (with happiness) I now behold my self, in hearing this thy sweet-pleasing voice; which if I had not heretofore known, and scented out the sweet and wholesome savour of thy words, I should hardly have believed they would have been without deceit. But now, that I am well assured of thy pure and noble, both blood and actions, I stand amazed at the gaze of my good, and with a stricter eye, begin to view and look upon my self, to see whither I am that same Calisto, whom so great a blessing hath befallen? What (Madame) is it your pleasure, that I should suf fer a paltry piece of wood to hinder our joy? Never did I conceive, that any thing, save thine own will, could possibly hinder us. Oh troublesome and sport-hindering doors, I earnestly desire, that you may be burned with as great a fire, as the torment is great, which you give me; for then the third partly thereof would be sufficient to consume you to ashes in a moment. Give me leave (sweet Lady) that I may call my servants, and command them to break them open. My deer Lady, my joy and happiness; why dost thou style this and error, which was granted unto me by the Destinies; and seconded by Cupid himself, to my petitions in the Myrtle-grove? I warrant you, Madame, fear you nothing; for I stand on a safeguard. They should be my men, who are madcaps, and disarm as many as pass by them; and belike, some one hath escaped them, of ter whom they hasten. No (Madame) no more but two; but should half a do zen set upon them, they would not be long in disarming them, and make them fly; they are such a couple of tall lusty fellows; they are men of true, and well approved metal; choice lads for the nonste; for I come not hither with a fire of straw, which is no sooner in, but out. And were it not in regard of your honour, they should have broken these doors in pieces; and in case we had been herd, they should have freed both your self and me from all your father's sir vaunts. Oh unfortunate that I am! How am (enforced (Lads) a gainst my will to take my leave! Believe me, the fear of death would not work so much upon me, as the fear of your honour does; but since it is so, that we must partly; Angels be the guardians of thy fair person. My coming (as you have ordered it) shall be by the garden. My Son, shut the door; and you Parmeno, bring up a light. I will follow thy counsel; for it is no more then needs. I want sleep exceedingly; but tell me, Parmeno, what dost thou think of that old woman, whom thou didst dispraise so much unto me? what a piece of work hath she brought to pass? what could we have done without her? How? changed? How dost thou mean? But tell me; didst thou hear what passed betwixt me and my Mistress? what did you do all that while? were you not a fraid? Slept you not a whit? took you not a little nap? This is no such wonder ( Sempronio ) never marvel at it; for it is natural in him to be valiant; and though he would not have bestirred himself for my sake, yet would he have laid about him because such as he cannot go against that which they be used unto. for though the Fox change his hair, yet he never changes his nam ture; he will keep himself to his custom, though he cannot keep himself to his colour. I told my Mistress Melibea, what was in you, & how safe I held my self, having you at my back for my guard. My sons; I am much bound unto you both, pray to heaven for our welfare & good success; and doubt not, but I will more fully guer done your good service. Good night, and heaven send you good rest. Go, run, and call me hither Sempronio and Parmeno. Now sleep, and take thy rest, Once grieved, and pained Wight; Since she now loves thee best, Who is thy hearts delight. Let joy be thy souls guest; And care be banished quite; Since she hath thee expressed To be her Favourite. Open the windows, and see whither it be day or no? Go again, and see if you can find them; and see you wake me not, till it be almost dinner-time. What, are you mad? Did not I will you, I should not be wakened? Now heaven help me! What it's thou tellest me? I know not whither I may believe thee, in this thy so sudden and sorrowful news. Didst thou see them? Take heed what thou sayest; for this night they were with me. Oh my loyal servants! Oh my chiefest followers! Oh my faithful Secretary's and Counsellors in all my affairs. Can it be, that this should be true? Oh unfortunate Calisto! thou art dis honoured as long as thou hast a day to live; what shall become of thee, having lost such a pair of trusty servants? Tell me, for pity's sake) Sosia, what was the cause of their death's? What spoke the Prolamation? Where were they slain? by what Justice were they beheaded? Who was it they so suddenly slew? who might it be? it is not four hours ago since they left me. How call you the par ty whom they murdered? What was he for a man? What's that thou sayest? If this be true, kill thou me too, & I will forgive thee. For sure, there is more ill behind; more then was either seen, or thought upon, if that Celestina be slain, that hath the slash over her face. Oh unfortunate young men! How went they? Did they see thee? Spoke they unto thee? Now I begin to have a taste of shame; and to feel how much I am touched in mine honour: would I had excused them and had lost my life, so I had not lost my honour, & my hope of at chieuing my commenced purpose, which is, the greatest grief and distaste that in this case I feel. Oh my name and reputation, how unfortunately dost thou goefrom Table to Table, from mouth to mouth! Oh ye my secret, my secret actions, how openly will you now walk thorough every public street, and open Marketplace? What shall become of me? Whither shall I go? If I go forth to the dead, I am unable to recover them, and if I stay here, it will be deemed cowardice. What counsel shall I take? Tell me, Sosia, what was the cause they killed her? Oh divine Image; Oh precious pearl; before whom, the whole world appears foul! Oh my Lady and my glory; I im brace and hug thee in mine arms, and yet I not believe it: such a turbation of pleasure seizeth on my person, that it makes me not feel the fullness of that joy I possess. Dear Lady, since for to obtain this favour, I have spent my whole life, what folly were it in me, to refuse that which you have so kindly conferred upon me? Nor (Madame) do I hope, that you will ay so hard a command upon me, or if you should, yet have I not power to contain my self within the limits of your command. Do not impose such a point of cowardice upon me: For I tell you, it is not in any man that is a man, to forbear in such a case, and to condition so hard with himself; much less in me, loving as I do, and having swum, as I have done all my life long, thorough this sea of thy desire and mine own love. Will you then after my so many travels, deny me entrance into that sweet haven, where I may find some ease of all my former sorrows? Madame, What mean you by this? That my passion should not be at peace? That I shall run over my torments anew? That I shall return to my old yoke again? Pardon (Sweet Lady) these my impudent hands, if too presumptuously they press upon you, which once did never think (so all together were they unworthy) not to touch, no not so much as any partly of thy garments, that they now have leave to lay themselves with a gentle palm on this ainty body of thine, this most white, soft, and delicate flesh. And why Madame? I should be proud to have such witnesses as she of my glory. Is it possible? Look and it be not day already: Me thinks, we have not been here above and hour, and the Clock now stricks three. Do you hear there? bring hither the ladder: My Master's, what a noise make you there? My cares and yours are not alike. Enter softly, I pray, and leave your prat ling, that they in the house may not hear us; Shut this door, and let us go take our rest. For, I will up alone to my chamber, and there disarm me. Go get you to bed; Oh wretch that I am, how sum able and natural unto me is solitariness, silence, and darkness. I know not whither the cause of it be, that there comes now to mind, the treason that I have committed in taking my leave of that Lady, whom I so dearly love, before it was further day? Or whither it be the grief, which I conceive of my dishonour, by the death of my servants? I, I; this is it that grieves me, this is that wound whereof I bleed. Now, that I am grown a little cooler; now, that that blood waxes cold, which yesterday did in me; now that I see the decaying of my house, my want of service, the wasting of my patrimony, and the infamy which lights upon me by the death of my servants? what have I done? How can I possibly contain my self? How can I forbear any longer, but that I should presently express my self, as a man much wronged? and show my self a proud & speedy revenger of that oh pen injury which hath been offered me? Oh the miserable sweet nes of this most short and transitory life! who is he so covetous of thy countenance, who will not rather choose to die presently, then to enjoy a whole year of a shameful life? and to prorogue it with dishonour, losing the good report and honourable memory of his noble Ancestors? Especially, since that in this world, we have not any certain or limited time: no not so much as a moment or a minute. We are debtors without time: we stand continually bound to present payment. Why have I not gone abroad, and made all the inquiry I can, after the secret cause of my open perdition? Oh thou short delight of the world, how little do thy pleasure last? and how much do they cost? Repentance should not be bought so deer. Oh miserable that I am, when shall I recover so great a lose? what shall I do? what counsel shall I take? To whom shall I discover my disgrace? why do I conceal it from the rest of my servants and kinsfolk? They clip and note my good name in their Council-house and public Assembly, and make me infamous throughout the whole Kingdom: and they of mine own house and kindred must not know of it; I will out amongst them. But if I go out and tell them that I was pre sent, it is too late; if absent, it is too soon. And to provide me of friends, ancient servants, and near àllyes, it will ask some time, as likewise that we be furnished with Arms, and other prepa rations of vengeance. Oh thou cruel Judge, what ill payment hast thou made me of that my father's bred, which so often thou hast eaten? I thought, that by thy favour I might have killed a thousand men without controlment. Oh thou falsifier of faith, thou persecutor of the truth, thou man moulded of the baser sort of earth! Truly is the proverb verified in thee; that for want of good men thou wast made a Judge. Thou shouldst have considered, that thy self, and those thou didst put to death, were servants to my Ancestors and me, and thy fellows and companions. But when the base to riches does ascend, he regardeth neither kindred nor friend. Who would have thought, that thou wouldst have wrought my undoing? But there is nothing more hurtful, then and vnex pected enemy. Why wouldst thou that it should be verified of thee, That that which came out of Aetna, should consume Aetna? And that I hatched the Crow, which picked out mine eyes? Thou thy see fe art a public delinquent, and yet punishest those that were private offenders. But I would have thee to know; that a private fault is less then a public, and less the inconvenience and danger: At least, according to the Laws of Athens, which were not written in blood, but do show that it is a less error, not to condemn a de linquent, then to punish the innocent. Oh how hard a matter is it, to follow a joust cause before and unjust Judge! How much more this excess of my servants, which was not free from offence! But consider with all spite of all Stoical Paradox, their gilded was not equal, though their sufferings alike. What deserved the one, for that which the other did? That only because he was his come panion, thou shouldst doom them both to death? But why do I talk thus? With whom do I discourse? Am I in my right wits? What's the matter with thee, Calisto? Dreamest thou, sleepest thou, or wakest thou? Standest thou on thy feet? Or liest thou all along? Consider with thy self that thou art in thy chamber. Dost thou not see that the offendor is not present? With whom dost thou contend? Come again to thy self; weigh with thy self, that the ab sent were never foe ̄ and joust. But if thou wilt be upright in thy judge meant, thou must keep and ear for either party. Dost thou not see, that the Law is supposed to be equal unto all? Remember that Romulus, the first founder of Room, killed his own brother, be cause he transgressed the Law. Consider that Torquatus the Roman slew his own son, because he exceeded his Commission. And many other Like unto these did this man do. Think likewise with thy self, that if the Judge were here present, he would make thee this Answer; that the Principal and the Accessary, the Actor and Consenter, do merit equal punishment. Howbeit, they were both notwithstanding executed, for that which was continued ̄ mitted but by one. And if that other had not his pardon, but received a speedy judgement, it was, because the fault was notorious, and needed no further proofs: as also that they were taken in the very Act of murder, and that one of them was found dead of his fallen from the window. And it is likewise to be imagined, That that weeping wench which Celestina kept in her house, made them to hasten the more by her woeful and lamentable noise: And that the Judge, that he might not make a hurly burly of it, that he might not defame me, and that he might not stay till the people should press together, and hear the proclaiming of that great in famy, which could not choose but follow me, he did sentence them so early as he did; and the common Hangman, which was the Crier, could do no otherwise, that he might comply with their execution and his own discharge. All which, if it were done as I conceive it to be, I ought rather to rest his debtor, and think my self bound unto him the longest day of my life, not as to my father's sometime servant, but as to my true and natural brother. But put case it were not so; or suppose I should not continued ster it in the better sense, yet call, Calisto, to mind the great joy and solace thou hast had, bethink thy self of thy sweet Lady and Mistress, and thy whole and sole happiness: and since for her sake thou e steemest thy life as nothing for to do her service, thou art not to make any reckoning of the death of others: and the rather, because no sorrow can equal thy received pleasure. Oh my Lady and my life, that I should ever think to offend thee in thy absence! And yet in doing as I do, me thinks, it argues against me, that I hold in small esteem that great and singular favour, which I have re ceiued at thy hands. I will now no longer think on grief; I will no longer entertain friendship with sorrow. Oh incomparable good! Oh insatiable contentment! And what could I have asked more of heaven, in requital of all my merits in this life (if they be any) then that which I have already received? Why should I not concent my self with so great a blessing? which being so, it stands not with reason that I should be ungrateful unto him, who hath conferred upon me so great a good: I will therefore acknowledge it, I will not with care craze my understanding, lest that being lost, I should fallen from so high and so glorious a possession. I desire no other honour, no other glory, no other riches, no other father nor mother, no other friends nor kinsfolks. In the day, I will abide in my chamber: In the night, in that sweet Paradise, in that plea sant grove, that green plot of ground amid those sweet trees and fresh and delightsome walks. Oh night of sweet rest and quiet! Oh that thou hadst made thy return! Oh bright shining Phœbus, driven on thy Chariot apace, make haste to thy journeys end. Oh comfort able and delightful stars, break your wont, and appear before your time, & out of your wonted and continued course! Oh dull and slow clock, I wish to see thee burned in the quickest and loveliest fire that Love can make. For didst thou but expect that which I do, when thou strikest twelve, thou wouldst never endure to be tied to the will of the master that made thee! Oh ye hyematicall and winterly months, which now hide your heads, and live in dark nes and obscurity! Why haste ye not to cut off these tedious days with your longer nights? Me thinks, it is almost a year, since I saw that sweet comfort and most delightful refreshing of my travels. But what do I ask? Why Like a fool do I, out of im patiency desire that which never either was or shall be? For your natural courses did never learn to wheel away. For to all of them there is and equal course, to all of them one and the selfsame space and time. Not so much as to life and death, but there is a settled and limited end. The secret motions of the high firma meant of heaven, of the Planets and the North-star, and of the in crease and wane of the Moon, all of these are ruled with and equal rein, all of these are moved with and equal spur. Heaven, Earth, Sea, Fire, Wind, Heat and Cold. What will it benefit me, that this clock of iron should strike twelve, if that of heaven do not hammer with it? And therefore though I rise never so soon, it will never the sooner be day. But thou my sweet Imagination, thou, who canst only help me in this case, bring thou unto my Fantasy the vnparaleld presence of that glorious Image. Cause thou to come unto my ears that sweet Music of her words, those her unwilling hangings off without profit, that her pretty, I prithee leave off; Forbear, good Sir, if you love me; Touch me not; Do not deal so discourteously with me. Out of whose ruddy lips, me thinks, I hear these words still found, Do not seek my un doing: which she would evermore be out withal. Beside, those her amorous embracements betwixt every word; that her losing of her self from me; and clipping me again; that her flying from me and her coming to me; those her sweet sugared Kisses; and that her last salutation wherewith she took her leave of me. Oh with what pain did it issue from her mouth! with what resuscitation of her spirits! with how many tears, which did seem to be so many round pearls, which did fallen without any noise from her clear and resplendent eyes! Do you hear there? Set up the ladder, and see you make no noise; for me thinks I hear my Mistress tongue. Sure it is she, she is talking to some body, who e'r it be. I will get me up to the top of the wall, and there will I stand harkening awhile, to see if I can hear from her any good token of her love to me, in this my absence. The sweetness of thy voice hath ravished me; I cannot endure to let thee live any longer in a pained expectation. Oh my sweet Mistress, and my life's happiness; what woman could ever be born into the world, that should be able to deprive thee of thy great deseruingnesse? Oh interrupted melody! Oh music suddenly broke oft! Oh short-timed pleasure! Oh my deer heart, why didst thou not continue thy harmony, without interrupting thy joy, and complying with both our desires? Dear Lady, and glory of my life; if you love me, give not over your singing; let not my presence, which glads thee, be of a worse, and more unfortunate condition, then my absence which did grieve thee. Madame, ferueney of love loves not to be idle; pardon then, I pray you, if I have been too busy. No, Lady; no other sweetmeats for me, save only to embrace this thy body, to fold it within mine arms, and to have the possession of thy beauty. Every where a man may eat and drink for his money; that a man may have at any time; it is every where to be bought: but that which is not vendible, that which in all the world is not to be matched; and save only in this garden, not to be found again from one Pole to the other. Why wish you me not rather that I should not let slip the least moment, in enjoying so sweet a treasure? Oh my deer Mistress! I could wish it would never be day, that I might still enjoy that sweet happiness, and fullness of content, which my senses receive in the noble conversing with this thy delicate, and dainty sweet Self. Madame, this is Sosia's voice; suffer me to go and see, that they do not kill him, for there is no body with him but a little Page that came with me. Give me my cloak quickly, it lies under you. That (Mistress) which a sword, a cloak, and a good heart cannot do, can never be effected by Curace, Cask or Cowardice. Lady, if you love me, let me go. The ladder stands ready for me. O, o. Look upon me. Ay me! I am a dead man: o. So great, that if you should give me the greatest good upon earth, I should not hold it so great a happiness. Stay here (you fool) I will in alone, for I hear my Lady and Mistress. Oh fortunate ears! which are (though unworthily) admitted to hear so gracious a word, such great and comfortable tidings. What art thou doing, thou that art the key of my life? Open the door. Oh Parmeno! now that I see her, I feel my self well, me thinks, I am now alive again: See what a reverend Matron it is: What a presence she bears, worthy respect! A man may now see, how for the most partly, the face is the Index of the mind. Oh virtuous old age! Oh inaged virtue Oh glorious hope of my desired end! Oh head, the all air of my passion! Oh reliever of my torment, and vivification of my life, resurrection from my death! I desire to draw near unto thee, my lips long to kiss those hands, wherein con sists the fullness of my recovery; but the unworthiness of my per son debars me of so great a favour. Wherefore I here adore the ground whereon thou treadest, and in reverence of thee, bow down my body to kiss it. And have not I told you, that I would have you not divine of things aforehand, but to do as I bid you? Let it alone then till to morrow; and for you (mother) let me entreat you out of your love to me, to have patience until then; for that is not auferred, which is but deferred. Now I pray let me see that glorious girdle, which was held so worthy to ingirt so goodly a body, that these my eyes, to gether with the rest of my senses, may enjoy so great a happiness, since that together, they have all of them been a little affected with passion. My afflicted heart shall also rejoice therein, which hath not had one minute of delight, since it first knew that Lady. All my senses have been wounded by her, all of them have brought whole basket-fulls of trouble to my heart. Every one of them hath vexed and tormented it all they could; the eyes, in seeing her; the ears in hearing her; and the hands in touching her. Oh wretched and unfortunate day! Oh sorrow, able to break even a heart of Adamant! How go my goods from hand to hand, and my name from tongue to tongue? All will be published and come to light, whatsoever I have spoke ̄ , either to her, or them; what soever they knew of my doings; & whatsoever was done in this busi ness. I dare not go forth of doors; I am ashamed to look any man in the face. Oh miserable young men! that ye should suffer death by so sudden a disaster. Oh my joys, how do you go declining, and waining from me! But it is and ancient Proverb; That the higher a man climbs, the greater is his fallen. Last night I gained much; to day I have lost much. Your Sea-calmes are rare, & seldom. I might have been listed in the roll of the happy, if my fortune would but have allayed these tempestuous winds of my perdition. Oh Fortune how much, and thorough how many parts hast thou beaten me! But howsoever thou dost shake my house, and how opposite soever thou art unto my person, yet are adversities to be endured with and equal courage: and by them, the heart is proved, whither it be of Oak, or Elder, strong, or weak; there is no, better Say, or Touchstone in the world, to know what fineness, or what Characts of Virtue or of Fortitude remain in man. And therefore come what will come, fallen back, fallen edge, I will not desist to accomplish her desire, for whose sake all this hath happened. For it is better for me to pursue the benefit of that glory, which I expect, then the lose of those that are dead. They were proud, and stout, and would have been slain at some other time, if not now. The old woman was wicked and false, as it seems, in her dealings, not complying with that contract which she had made with them: so that they fell out about the true men cloak; taking it from the true owner, to share it amongst themselves. But this was a joust judgement of God upon her, that she should receive this payment, for the many adulteries, which by her intercession and means have been committed. Sosia and Tristianico shall provide themselves; they shall accompany me, in this my desired walk; they shall carry the Scaling-ladders, for the walls are very high. To morrow I will abroad, and see if I can revenge their death's; if not, I will purge my innocency with a feigned absence; or else feign my self mad, that I may the better enjoy this so tasteful a delight of my sweet Love; as did that great Captain Ulysses, to shun the Trojan war, that he might lie dulcing at home with his wife Penelope. Tell me (my Master's) The hundred crowns which I gave yonder old Beldame, are they well be stowed, or no? What good news (mother?) speak (deer mother.) Sirs, what's a clock? Oh how daintily have I slept! Ever since that sweet short space of time, since that harmonious discourse I enjoyed; I have had exceeding ease, ta ken very good rest; this contentment and quietude hath proceeded from my joy. Either the travail of my body caused so found a sleep; or else the glory and pleasure of my mind: Nor do I much wonder, that both the one and the other should link hands, and join together to close the lids of mine eyes, since I travailed the last night with my body and person, and took pleasure with my spirit and senses. True it is, that sorrow causeth much thought; and overmuch thought, much hindereth sleep: as it was mine own case within these few days, when I was much discomfited and quite out of heart, of ever hoping to enjoy that surpassing happiness, which I now possess. Oh my sweet Lady, and dearest Love, Melibea, what dost thou think on now? Art thou asleep, or awake? Thinkest thou on me, or some body else? Art thou up and ready, or art thou not yet stirring? Oh most happy, and most fortunate Calisto, if it be true, and that it be no dream, which hath already passed! Dreamt I, or dreamt I not? was it a mere fantasy, or was it a real truth? But now I re member my self, I was not alone, my servants waited on me, there were two of them with me; if they shall affirm it to be no dream, but that all that passed was true; I am bound to believe it: I will come manned them to be called, for the further confirmation of my joy. Tri stanico, Why ho? Where are my men? Tristanico, High you and come up: arise, I say, get you up quickly and come hither.