But whosoe're thou art, O happy he,
That was so blest to be a sire to thee:
Thy happy mother is most blest of many,
Blessed thy sisters, if her wombe bare any;
Both fortunate, and O thrice happy shee,
Whose too much blessed breasts gaue suck to thee!
If any wife with thy sweet bed be blest,
O, she is farre more happy than the rest!
If thou hast any, let my sport be sto'ne,
Or else let me be she, if thou hast none.
Here did she pause awhile, and then she sayd,
Be not oddurate to a silly mayd:
A flinty heart within a snowy brest,
Is like base mold lockt in a golden chest.
They say the eye's the index of the heart,
And shewes th' affection of eche inward part:
There loue plays liuely, there the little god
Hath a cleare cristall palace of abode.
O, barre him not from playing in thy heart,
That sports himselfe vpon eche outward part!
Thus much she spake, and then her tongue was husht.
At her loose speech Hermaphroditus blusht:
He knew not what loue was, yet loue did shame him,
Making him blush, and yet his blush became him.
Then might a man his shamefast colour see,
Like the ripe apple on the sunny tree,
Or iuory dide o're with a pleasing red,
Or like the pale Moone being shadowed.
By this, the Nymph recouer'd had her tongue,
That to her thinking lay in silence long,
And sayd, Thy cheeke is milde, O be thou so!
Thy cheeke, saith I, then do not answere no :
Thy cheeke doth shame, then doe thou shame, she sayd:
It is a mans shame to deny a mayd.
Thou look'st to sport with Venus in her towre,
And be belou'd of euery heauenly powre.
Men are but mortals, so are women too,
Why should your thoughts aspire more then ours doo?
For sure they doe aspire; else could a youthe,
Whose count'nance is so full of spotlesse truth,
Be so relentlesse to a virgin's tongue?
Let me be woo'd by thee but halfe so long,
With halfe those tearmes doe but my loue require,
And I will easly graunt thee thy desire.
Ages are bad when men become so slow,
That poore vnskilfull mayds are forc't to woo.
Her radiant beauty and her subtill arte
So deeply strooke Hermaphroditus heart,
That she had wonne his loue, but that the light
Of her translucent eyes did shine too bright:
For long he look'd vpon the louely mayd,
And at the last Hermaphroditus sayd,
How should I loue thee, when I doe espie
A farre more beauteous Nymph hid in thy eye?
When thou doost loue, let not that Nymph be nie thee; Nor when thou woo'st, let that same Nymph be by thee;
Or quite obscure her from thy louer's face,
Or hide her beauty in a darker place.
By this the Nymph perceiu'd he did espie
None but himselfe reflected in her eye,
And, for himselfe no more she meant to shew him,
She shut her eyes, & blind-fold thus did woo him.
Fayre boy, thinke not thy beauty can dispence
With any payne due to a bad offence:
Remember how the gods punisht that boy
That scorn'd to let a beauteous Nymph enioy
Her long wisht pleasure; for the peeuish elfe,
Lou'd of all others, needs would loue himselfe.
So mayst thou loue, perhaps thou mayst be blest,
By graunting to a lucklesse Nymph's request:
Then rest awhile with me amid these weeds.
The Sunne, that sees all, sees not louers deeds;
Pheebus is blind when loue-sports are begun,
And neuer sees vntill their sports be done.
Beleeue me, boy, thy blood is very stayd,
Thou art so loth to kisse a youthfull mayd.
Wert thou a mayd, and I a man, Ile show thee,
With what a manly boldnesse I could woo thee:
Fayrer then loues Queene, thus I would begin,
Might not my ouer boldnesse be a sinne,
I would intreat this fauour, if I could,
Thy rosiat cheeke a little to behold.
Then would I beg a touch, and then a kisse,
And then a lower, yet a higher blisse:
Then would I aske what Joue and Læda did,
When like a swan the craftie god was hid?
What came he for? why did he there abide?
Surely I thinke hee did not come to chide:
He came to see her face, to talke, and chat,
To touch, to kisse: came he for nought but that?
Yes, something else: what was it he would haue?
That which all men of maydens ought to craue.
This sayd, her eye lids wide she did display;
But in this space the boy was runne away :
The wanton speeches of the louely lasse
Forc't him for shame to hide him in the grasse.
When she perceiu'd she could not see him neere her,
When she had cal'd, and yet he could not heare her,
Looke how, when Autumne comes, a little space
Paleth the red blush of the Summer's face,
Tearing the leaues, the Summer's couering,
Three months in weauing by the curious spring,
Making the grasse, his greene locks, go to wracke,
Tearing each ornament from off his backe;
So did she spoyle the garments she did weare,
Tearing whole ounces of her golden hayre.
She, thus deluded of her longed blisse,
With much adoo at last she vtred this.
Why wert thou bashfull, boy? Thou hast no part
Shewes thee to be of such a female heart.
His eye is gray, so is the morning's eye,
That blusheth alwayes when the day is nye.
Then his gray eye's the cause: that cannot be ;
The gray-ey'd morne is farre more bold then he,
For with a gentle dew from heauen's bright towre,
It gets the mayden-head of eu'ry flowre.
I would to God, he were the rosiat morne,
And I a flowre from out the earthe new borne!
His face was smooth; Narcissus face was so,
And he was carelesse of a sad Nymph's woe.
Then that's the cause; and yet that cannot be :
Youthfull Narcissus was more bold then he,
Because he dide for loue, though of his shade:
This boy nor loues himselfe, nor yet a mayd.
Besides, his glorious eye is wondrous bright:
So is the fierie and all-seeing light
Of Phoebus, who at eu'ry morning's birth
Blushing for shame vpon the sullen earth.
Then that's the cause; and yet that cannot be:
The fierie Sunne is farre more bold then he;
He nightly kisseth Thætis in the sea:
All know the story of Leucothoe.
His cheeke is red; so is the fragrant rose,
Whose ruddie cheeke with ouer-blessing gloes:
Then that's the cause; and yet that cannot bee:
Eche blushing rose is farre more bold then he,
Whose boldnesse may be plainely seene in this,
The ruddy rose is not asham'd to kisse;
For alwayes, when the day is new begun,
The spreading rose will kisse the morning Sun.
This sayd, hid in the grasse she did espie him, And stumbling with her will, she fel down by him, And with her wanton talke, because he woo'd not, Beg'd that, which he, poore nouice, vnderstood not,
And, for she could not get a greater blisse,
She did intreat at least a sister's kisse;
But still the more she did the boy beseech,
The more he powted at her wanton speech.
At last the Nymph began to touch his skin,
Whiter then mountaine snow hath euer bin,
And did in purenesse that cleare spring surpasse,
Wherein Actæon saw th' Arcadian lasse.
Thus did she dally long, till at the last,
In her moyst palme she lockt his white hand fast:
Then in her hand his wrest she 'gan to close,
When through his pulses strait the warme bloud gloes,
Whose youthfull musicke, fanning Cupid's fire,
In her warme brest kindled a fresh desire.
Then did she lift her hand vnto his brest,
A part as white and youthfull as the rest,
Where, as his flowry breath still comes and goes,
She felt his gentle heart pant through his clothes.
At last she tooke her hand from off that part,
And sayd, It panted like another's heart:
Why should it be more feeble, and lesse bold?
Why should the bloud about it be more cold?
Nay sure, that yeelds; onely thy tongue denyes,
And the true fancy of thy heart belyes.
Then did she lift her hand vnto his chin:
And prays'd the prety dimpling of his skin;
But straight his chin she 'gan to ouerslip,
When she beheld the rednesse of his lip;
And sayd, thy lips are soft, presse them to mine
And thou shalt see they are as soft as thine.
Then would she faine haue gone vnto his eye,
But still his ruddy lip standing so nie,
Drew her hand backe, therefore his eye she mist,
'Ginning to claspe his necke, and would haue kist;
But then the boy did struggle to be gone,
Vowing to leaue her and that place alone.
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