Chapter IV: Part 4

Unworthy porter, bound in chains full sore,
On movËd hooks set ope the churlish door.
Little I ask, a little entrance make,
The gate half-ope my bent side in will take.
Long love my body to such use make[s] slender,
And to get out doth like apt members render.
He shows me how unheard to pass the watch,
And guides my feet lest, stumbling, falls they catch:
But in times past I feared vain shades, and night,
Wondering if any walkËd without light. 10
Love, hearing it, laughed with his tender mother,
And smiling said, "Be thou as bold as other."
Forthwith love came; no dark night-flying sprite,
Nor hands prepared to slaughter, me affright.
Thee fear I too much: only thee I flatter:
Thy lightning can my life in pieces batter.
Why enviest me? this hostile den[155] unbar;
See how the gates with my tears watered are!
When thou stood'st naked ready to be beat,
For thee I did thy mistress fair entreat. 20
But what entreats for thee sometimes[156] took place,
(O mischief!) now for me obtain small grace.
Gratis thou mayest be free; give like for like;
Night goes away: the door's bar backward strike.
Strike; so again hard chains shall bind thee never,
Nor servile water shalt thou drink for ever.
Hard-hearted Porter, dost and wilt not hear?
With stiff oak propped the gate doth still appear.
Such rampired gates besiegËd cities aid;
In midst of peace why art of arms afraid? 30
Exclud'st a lover, how would'st use a foe?
Strike back the bar, night fast away doth go.
With arms or armËd men I come not guarded;
I am alone, were furious love discarded.
Although I would, I cannot him cashier,
Before I be divided from my gear.[157]
See Love with me, wine moderate in my brain,
And on my hairs a crown of flowers remain.
Who fears these arms? who will not go to meet them?
Night runs away; with open entrance greet them. 40
Art careless? or is't sleep forbids thee hear,
Giving the winds my words running in thine ear?
Well I remember, when I first did hire thee,
Watching till after midnight did not tire thee.
But now perchance thy wench with thee doth rest,
Ah, how thy lot is above my lot blest:
Though it be so, shut me not out therefore;
Night goes away: I pray thee ope the door.
Err we? or do the turnËd hinges sound,
And opening doors with creaking noise abound?[158] 50
We err: a strong blast seemed the gates to ope:
Ay me, how high that gale did lift my hope!
If Boreas bears[159] Orithyia's rape in mind,
Come break these deaf doors with thy boisterous wind.
Silent the city is: night's dewy host[160]
March fast away: the bar strike from the post.
Or I more stern than fire or sword will turn,
And with my brand these gorgeous houses burn.
Night, love, and wine to all extremes persuade:
Night, shameless wine, and love are fearless made. 60
All have I spent: no threats or prayers move thee;
O harder than the doors thou guard'st I prove thee,
No pretty wench's keeper may'st thou be,
The careful prison is more meet for thee.
Now frosty night her flight begins to take,
And crowing cocks poor souls to work awake.
But thou, my crown, from sad hairs ta'en away,
On this hard threshold till the morning lay.
That when my mistress there beholds thee cast,
She may perceive how we the time did waste. 70
Whate'er thou art, farewell, be like me pained!
Careless farewell, with my fault not distained![161]
And farewell cruel posts, rough threshold's block,
And doors conjoined with an hard iron lock!

FOOTNOTES:

[154] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[155] Old eds. "dende."

[156] Sometime ("quondam").

[157] "Ante vel a membris dividar ipse meis."

[158] Qy. "rebound?"

[159] Dyce reads, "If, Boreas, bear'st" (_i.e._, "thou bear'st"). But the change in the old eds. from the second to the third person is not very harsh.

[160] A picturesque rendering of

"Vitreoque madentia rore
Tempora noctis eunt."

[161] "Lente nec admisso turpis amante ... vale." Of course "nec" should be taken with "admisso."

ELEGIA VII.[162]

Ad pacandam amicam, quam verberaverat.

Bind fast my hands, they have deservËd chains,
While rage is absent, take some friend the pains.
For rage against my wench moved my rash arm,
My mistress weeps whom my mad hand did harm.
I might have then my parents dear misused,
Or holy gods with cruel strokes abused.
Why, Ajax, master of the seven-fold shield,
Butchered the flocks he found in spacious field.
And he who on his mother venged his ire,
Against the Destinies durst sharp[163] darts require. 10
Could I therefore her comely tresses tear?
Yet was she gracËd with her ruffled hair.
So fair she was, Atalanta she resembled,
Before whose bow th' Arcadian wild beasts trembled.
Such Ariadne was, when she bewails,
Her perjured Theseus' flying vows and sails.
So, chaste Minerva, did Cassandra fall
Deflowered[164] except within thy temple wall.
That I was mad, and barbarous all men cried:
She nothing said; pale fear her tongue had tied. 20
But secretly her looks with checks did trounce me,
Her tears, she silent, guilty did pronounce me.
Would of mine arms my shoulders had been scanted:
Better I could part of myself have wanted.
To mine own self have I had strength so furious,
And to myself could I be so injurious?
Slaughter and mischiefs instruments, no better,
DeservËd chains these cursed hands shall fetter.
Punished I am, if I a Roman beat:
Over my mistress is my right more great? 30
Tydides left worst signs[165] of villainy;
He first a goddess struck: another I.
Yet he harmed less; whom I professed to love
I harmed: a foe did Diomede's anger move.
Go now, thou conqueror, glorious triumphs raise,
Pay vows to Jove; engirt thy hairs with bays.
And let the troops which shall thy chariot follow,
"Iˆ, a strong man conquered this wench," hollow.
Let the sad captive foremost, with locks spread
On her white neck, but for hurt cheeks,[166] be led. 40
Meeter it were her lips were blue with kissing,
And on her neck a wanton's[167] mark not missing.
But, though I like a swelling flood was driven,
And as a prey unto blind anger given,
Was't not enough the fearful wench to chide?
Nor thunder, in rough threatenings, haughty pride?
Nor shamefully her coat pull o'er her crown,
Which to her waist her girdle still kept down?
But cruelly her tresses having rent,
My nails to scratch her lovely cheeks I bent. 50
Sighing she stood, her bloodless white looks shewed,
Like marble from the Parian mountains hewed.
Her half-dead joints, and trembling limbs I saw,
Like poplar leaves blown with a stormy flaw.
Or slender ears, with gentle zephyr shaken,
Or waters' tops with the warm south-wind taken.
And down her cheeks, the trickling tears did flow,
Like water gushing from consuming snow.
Then first I did perceive I had offended;
My blood the tears were that from her descended. 60
Before her feet thrice prostrate down I fell,
My fearËd hands thrice back she did repel.
But doubt thou not (revenge doth grief appease),
With thy sharp nails upon my face to seize;
Bescratch mine eyes, spare not my locks to break
(Anger will help thy hands though ne'er so weak);
And lest the sad signs of my crime remain,
Put in their place thy kembËd[168] hairs again.

FOOTNOTES:

[162] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[163] I should like to omit this word, to which there is nothing to correspond in the original.

[164] Marlowe has misunderstood the original "Sic nisi vittatis quod erat Cassandra capillis."

[165] "Pessima Tydides scelerum monumenta reliquit."

[166] An awkward translation of

"Si sinerent lÊsÊ, candidia tota, genÊ."

[167] So ed. B.--Ed. C. "wanton."

[168] Old eds. "keembed." ("Pone recompositas in statione comas.")

ELEGIA VIII.[169]

Execratur lenam quÊ puellam suam meretricis arte instituebat.

There is--whoe'er will know a bawd aright,
Give ear--there is an old trot Dipsas hight.[170]
Her name comes from the thing: she being wise,[171]
Sees not the morn on rosy horses rise,
She magic arts and Thessal charms doth know,
And makes large streams back to their fountains flow;
She knows with grass, with threads on wrung[172] wheels spun,
And what with mares' rank humour[173] may be done.
When she will, cloudes the darkened heaven obscure,
When she will, day shines everywhere most pure. 10
If I have faith, I saw the stars drop blood,
The purple moon with sanguine visage stood;
Her I suspect among night's spirits to fly,
And her old body in birds' plumes to lie.
Fame saith as I suspect; and in her eyes,
Two eyeballs shine, and double light thence flies.
Great grandsires from their ancient graves she chides,
And with long charms the solid earth divides.
She draws chaste women to incontinence,
Nor doth her tongue want harmful eloquence. 20
By chance I heard her talk; these words she said,
While closely hid betwixt two doors I laid.
"Mistress, thou knowest thou hast a blest youth pleased,
He stayed and on thy looks his gazes seized.
And why should'st not please; none thy face exceeds;
Ay me, thy body hath no worthy weeds!
As thou art fair, would thou wert fortunate!
Wert thou rich, poor should not be my state.
Th' opposËd star of Mars hath done thee harm;
Now Mars is gone, Venus thy side doth warm, 30
And brings good fortune; a rich lover plants
His love on thee, and can supply thy wants.
Such is his form as may with thine compare,
Would he not buy thee, thou for him should'st care."[174]
She blushed: "Red shame becomes white cheeks; but this
If feigned, doth well; if true, it doth amiss.
When on thy lap thine eyes thou dost deject,
Each one according to his gifts respect.
Perhaps the Sabines rude, when Tatius reigned
To yield their love to more than one disdained. 40
Now Mars doth rage abroad without all pity,
And Venus rules in her ∆neas' city.
Fair women play; she's chaste whom none will have
Or, but for bashfulness, herself would crave.
Shake off these wrinkles that thy front assault;
Wrinkles in beauty is a grievous fault.
Penelope in bows her youths' strength tried,
Of horn the bow was that approved[175] their side.
Time flying slides hence closely, and deceives us,
And with swift horses the swift year[176] soon leaves us. 50
Brass shines with use; good garments would[177] be worn;
Houses not dwelt in, are with filth forlorn.
Beauty, not exercised, with age is spent,
Nor one or two men are sufficient.
Many to rob is more sure, and less hateful,
From dog-kept flocks come preys to wolves most grateful.
Behold, what gives the poet but new verses?
And therefore many thousand he rehearses.
The poet's god arrayed in robes of gold,
Of his gilt harp the well-tuned strings doth hold. 60
Let Homer yield to such as presents bring,
(Trust me) to give, it is a witty thing.
Nor, so thou may'st obtain a wealthy prize,
The vain name of inferior slaves despise.
Nor let the arms of ancient lines[178] beguile thee;
Poor lover, with thy grandsires I exile thee.
Who seeks, for being fair, a night to have,
What he will give, with greater instance crave.
Make a small price, while thou thy nets dost lay;
Lest they should fly; being ta'en, the tyrant play. 70
Dissemble so, as loved he may be thought,
And take heed lest he gets that love for naught.
Deny him oft; feign now thy head doth ache:
And Isis now will show what 'scuse to make.
Receive him soon, lest patient use he gain,
Or lest his love oft beaten back should wane.
To beggars shut, to bringers ope thy gate;
Let him within hear barred-out lovers prate.
And, as first wronged, the wrongËd sometimes banish;
Thy fault with his fault so repulsed will vanish. 80
But never give a spacious time to ire;
Anger delayed doth oft to hate retire.
And let thine eyes constrainËd learn to weep,
That this or that man may thy cheeks moist keep.
Nor, if thou cozenest one, dread to forswear,
Venus to mocked men lends a senseless ear.
Servants fit for thy purpose thou must hire,
To teach thy lover what thy thoughts desire.
Let them ask somewhat; many asking little,
Within a while great heaps grow of a tittle. 90
And sister, nurse, and mother spare him not;
By many hands great wealth is quickly got.
When causes fail thee to require a gift
By keeping of thy birth, make but a shift.
Beware lest he, unrivalled, loves secure;
Take strife away, love doth not well endure.
On all the bed men's tumbling[179] let him view,
And thy neck with lascivious marks made blue.
Chiefly show him the gifts, which others send:
If he gives nothing, let him from thee wend. 100
When thou hast so much as he gives no more,
Pray him to lend what thou may'st ne'er restore.
Let thy tongue flatter, while thy mind harm works;
Under sweet honey deadly poison lurks.
If this thou dost, to me by long use known,
(Nor let my words be with the winds hence blown)
Oft thou wilt say, 'live well;' thou wilt pray oft,
That my dead bones may in their grave lie soft."
As thus she spake, my shadow me betrayed;
With much ado my hands I scarcely stayed; 110
But her blear eyes, bald scalp's thin hoary fleeces,
And rivelled[180] cheeks I would have pulled a-pieces.
The gods send thee no house, a poor old age,
Perpetual thirst, and winter's lasting rage.

FOOTNOTES:

[169] Not in Isham copy or ed A.

[170] "Est quÊdam, nomine Dipsas, anus."

[171]

"Nigri non illa parentem
Memnonis in roseis sobria vidit equis."

Cunningham suggests that "wise" was "one of the thousand and one euphemisms for 'inebriated.'"

[172] The spelling in old eds. is "wrong."

[173]

"Virus amantis equÊ."

[174] "Si te non emptam vellet emendus erat." (Marlowe's copy must have read "amandus.")

[175] Proved their strength. "Qui _latus argueret_ corneus arcus erat."

[176] The usual reading is "_Ut_ celer admissis labitur _amnis aquis_."

[177] "Vestis bona _quaerit haberi_."

[178] Old eds. "liues."

[179] "Ille viri toto videat _vestigia_ lecto."

[180] "_Rugosas_ genas."

ELEGIA IX.[181]

Ad Atticum, amantem non oportere desidiosum esse, sicuti nec militem.

All lovers war, and Cupid hath his tent;
Attic, all lovers are to war far sent,
What age fits Mars, with Venus doth agree;
'Tis shame for eld in war or love to be.
What years in soldiers captains do require,
Those in their lovers pretty maids desire.
Both of them watch: each on the hard earth sleeps:
His mistress' door this, that his captain's keeps.
Soldiers must travel far: the wench forth send,[182]
Her valiant lover follows without end. 10
Mounts, and rain-doubled floods he passeth over,
And treads the desert snowy heaps do[183] cover.
Going to sea, east winds he doth not chide,
Nor to hoist sail attends fit time and tide.
Who but a soldier or a lover's bold
To suffer storm-mixed snows with night's sharp cold?
One as a spy doth to his enemies go,
The other eyes his rival as his foe.
He cities great, this thresholds lies before:
This breaks town gates, but he his mistress' door. 20
Oft to invade the sleeping foe 'tis good,
And armed to shed unarmËd people's blood.
So the fierce troops of Thracian Rhesus fell,
And captive horses bade their lord farewell.
Sooth,[184] lovers watch till sleep the husband charms,
Who slumbering, they rise up in swelling arms.
The keepers' hands[185] and corps-du-gard to pass,
The soldier's, and poor lover's work e'er was.
Doubtful is war and love; the vanquished rise,
And who thou never think'st should fall, down lies. 30
Therefore whoe'er love slothfulness doth call,
Let him surcease: love tries wit best of all.
Achilles burned, Briseis being ta'en away;
Trojans destroy the Greek wealth, while you may.
Hector to arms went from his wife's embraces,
And on Andromache[186] his helmet laces.
Great Agamemnon was, men say, amazed,
On Priam's loose-trest daughter when he gazed.
Mars in the deed the blacksmith's net did stable;
In heaven was never more notorious fable. 40
Myself was dull and faint, to sloth inclined;
Pleasure and ease had mollified my mind.
A fair maid's care expelled this sluggishness,
And to her tents willed me myself address.
Since may'st thou see me watch and night-wars move:
He that will not grow slothful, let him love.

FOOTNOTES:

[181] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[182] "Mitte puellam."

[183] Old eds. "to."

[184] So ed. B.--Ed. C "such."

[185] "Custodum transire _manus_ vigilumque catervas." (For "hands" the poet should have written "bands.")

[186] "Et galeam capiti quae daret uxor erat."

ELEGIA X.[187]

Ad puellam, ne pro amore prÊmia poscat.

Such as the cause was of two husbands' war,
Whom Trojan ships fetch'd from Europa far,
Such as was Leda, whom the god deluded
In snow-white plumes of a false swan included.
Such as Amymone through the dry fields strayed,
When on her head a water pitcher laid.
Such wert thou, and I feared the bull and eagle,
And whate'er Love made Jove, should thee inveigle.
Now all fear with my mind's hot love abates:
No more this beauty mine eyes captivates. 10
Ask'st why I change? because thou crav'st reward;
This cause hath thee from pleasing me debarred.
While thou wert plain[188] I loved thy mind and face:
Now inward faults thy outward form disgrace.
Love is a naked boy, his years saunce[189] stain,
And hath no clothes, but open doth remain.
Will you for gain have Cupid sell himself?
He hath no bosom where to hide base pelf.
Love[190] and Love's son are with fierce arms at[191] odds;
To serve for pay beseems not wanton gods. 20
The whore stands to be bought for each man's money,
And seeks vild wealth by selling of her coney.
Yet greedy bawd's command she curseth still,
And doth, constrained, what you do of goodwill.
Take from irrational beasts a precedent;
'Tis shame their wits should be more excellent.
The mare asks not the horse, the cow the bull,
Nor the mild ewe gifts from the ram doth pull.
Only a woman gets spoils from a man,
Farms out herself on nights for what she can; 30
And lets[192] what both delight, what both desire,
Making her joy according to her hire.
The sport being such, as both alike sweet try it,
Why should one sell it and the other buy it?
Why should I lose, and thou gain by the pleasure,
Which man and woman reap in equal measure?
Knights of the post[193] of perjuries make sale,
The unjust judge for bribes becomes a stale.
'Tis shame sold tongues the guilty should defend,
Or great wealth from a judgment-seat ascend. 40
'Tis shame to grow rich by bed-merchandise,[194]
Or prostitute thy beauty for bad price.
Thanks worthily are due for things unbought;
For beds ill-hired we are indebted nought.
The hirer payeth all; his rent discharged,
From further duty he rests then enlarged.
Fair dames forbear rewards for nights to crave:
Ill-gotten goods good end will never have.
The Sabine gauntlets were too dearly won,
That unto death did press the holy nun. 50
The son slew her, that forth to meet him went,
And a rich necklace caused that punishment.
Yet think no scorn to ask a wealthy churl;
He wants no gifts into thy lap to hurl.
Take clustered grapes from an o'er-laden vine,
May[195] bounteous love[196] Alcinous' fruit resign.
Let poor men show their service, faith and care;
All for their mistress, what they have, prepare.
In verse to praise kind wenches 'tis my part,
And whom I like eternise by mine art. 60
Garments do wear, jewels and gold do waste,
The fame that verse gives doth for ever last.
To give I love, but to be asked disdain;
Leave asking, and I'll give what I refrain.

FOOTNOTES:

[187] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[188] "Simplex."

[189] Sans.

[190] "Nec _Venus_ apta," &c.

[191] Old eds. "to."

[192] "Vendit."

[193] "Non bene conducti testes."

[194] So ed. B.--ed. C "bad merchandise."

[195] Old eds. "many."

[196] The original has "ager."

ELEGIA XI.[197]

Napen alloquitur, ut paratas tabellas ad Corinnam perferat.

In skilful gathering ruffled hairs in order,
NapË, free-born, whose cunning hath no border,[198]
Thy service for night's scapes is known commodious,
And to give signs dull wit to thee is odious.[199]
Corinna clips me oft by thy persuasion:
Never to harm me made thy faith evasion.
Receive these lines; them to my mistress carry;
Be sedulous; let no stay cause thee tarry,
Nor flint nor iron are in thy soft breast,
But pure simplicity in thee doth rest. 10
And 'tis supposed Love's bow hath wounded thee;
Defend the ensigns of thy war in me.
If what I do, she asks, say "hope for night;"
The rest my hand doth in my letters write.
Time passeth while I speak; give her my writ,
But see that forthwith she peruseth it.
I charge thee mark her eyes and front in reading:
By speechless looks we guess at things succeeding.
Straight being read, will her to write much back,
I hate fair paper should writ matter lack. 20
Let her make verses and some blotted letter
On the last edge to stay mine eyes the better.
What needs she tire[200] her hand to hold the quill?
Let this word "Come," alone the tables fill.
Then with triumphant laurel will I grace them
And in the midst of Venus' temple place them,
Subscribing, that to her I consecrate
My faithful tables, being vile maple late.

FOOTNOTES:

[197] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[198] Bound.

[199] "Et dandis ingeniosa notis."

[200] So Dyce for "try" of the old eds.

ELEGIA XII.[201]

Tabellas quas miserat execratur quod amica noctem negabat.

Bewail my chance: the sad book is returned,
This day denial hath my sport adjourned.
Presages are not vain; when she departed,
NapË by stumbling on the threshold, started.
Going out again, pass forth the door more wisely,
And somewhat higher bear thy foot precisely.
Hence luckless tables! funeral wood, be flying!
And thou, the wax, stuffed full with notes denying!
Which I think gathered from cold hemlock's flower,
Wherein bad honey Corsic bees did pour: 10
Yet as if mixed with red lead thou wert ruddy,
That colour rightly did appear so bloody.
As evil wood, thrown in the highways, lie,
Be broke with wheels of chariots passing by!
And him that hewed you out for needful uses,
I'll prove had hands impure with all abuses.
Poor wretches on the tree themselves did strangle:
There sat the hangman for men's necks to angle.
To hoarse scrich-owls foul shadows it allows;
Vultures and Furies[202] nestled in the boughs. 20
To these my love I foolishly committed,
And then with sweet words to my mistress fitted.
More fitly had they[203] wrangling bonds contained
From barbarous lips of some attorney strained.
Among day-books and bills they had lain better,
In which the merchant wails his bankrupt debtor.
Your name approves you made for such like things,
The number two no good divining brings.
Angry, I pray that rotten age you racks,
And sluttish white-mould overgrow the wax. 30

FOOTNOTES:

[201] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[202] "Volturis in ramis et _strigis_ ova tulit."

[203] Old eds. "thy."

ELEGIA XIII.

Ad Auroram ne properet.

Now o'er the sea from her old love comes she
That draws the day from heaven's cold axletree.
Aurora, whither slid'st thou? down again!
And birds for[204] Memnon yearly shall be slain.
Now in her tender arms I sweetly bide,
If ever, now well lies she by my side.
The air is cold, and sleep is sweetest now,
And birds send forth shrill notes from every bough.
Whither runn'st thou, that men and women love not?
Hold in thy rosy horses that they move not. 10
Ere thou rise, stars teach seamen where to sail,
But when thou com'st, they of their courses fail.
Poor travellers though tired, rise at thy sight,
And[205] soldiers make them ready to the fight.
The painful hind by thee to field is sent;
Slow oxen early in the yoke are pent.
Thou coz'nest boys of sleep, and dost betray them
To pedants that with cruel lashes pay them.
Thou mak'st the surety to the lawyer run,
That with one word hath nigh himself undone. 20
The lawyer and the client hate thy view,
Both whom thou raisest up to toil anew.
By thy means women of their rest are barred,
Thou settst their labouring hands to spin and card.
All[206] could I bear; but that the wench should rise,
Who can endure, save him with whom none lies?
How oft wished I night would not give thee place,
Nor morning stars shun thy uprising face.
How oft that either wind would break thy coach,
Or steeds might fall, forced with thick clouds' approach. 30
Whither go'st thou, hateful nymph? Memnon the elf
Received his coal-black colour from thyself.
Say that thy love with Cephalus were not known,
Then thinkest thou thy loose life is not shown?
Would Tithon might but talk of thee awhile!
Not one in heaven should be more base and vile.
Thou leav'st his bed, because he's faint through age,
And early mount'st thy hateful carriage:
But held'st[207] thou in thy arms some Cephalus,
Then would'st thou cry, "Stay night, and run not thus." 40
Dost punish[208] me because years make him wane?
I did not bid thee wed an agËd swain.
The moon sleeps with Endymion every day;
Thou art as fair as she, then kiss and play.
Jove, that thou should'st not haste but wait his leisure,
Made two nights one to finish up his pleasure.
I chid[209] no more; she blushed, and therefore heard me,
Yet lingered not the day, but morning scared me.

FOOTNOTES:

[204] So Dyce for "from" of the old eds.

[205] This line is omitted in ed. A.

[206] Isham copy and ed. A "This."

[207] Isham copy and ed. A "had'st."

[208] Isham copy and ed. A "Punish ye me."

[209] So the Isham copy. The other old eds. "chide."

ELEGIA XIV.[210]

Puellam consolatur cui prÊ nimia cura comÊ deciderant.

Leave colouring thy tresses, I did cry;
Now hast thou left no hairs at all to dye.
But what had been more fair had they been kept?
Beyond thy robes thy dangling locks had swept.
Fear'dst thou to dress them being fine and thin,
Like to the silk the curious[211] Seres spin.
Or threads which spider's slender foot draws out,
Fastening her light web some old beam about?
Not black nor golden were they to our view,
Yet although [n]either, mixed of either's hue; 10
Such as in hilly Ida's watery plains,
The cedar tall, spoiled of his bark, retains.
Add[212] they were apt to curl a hundred ways,
And did to thee no cause of dolour raise.
Nor hath the needle, or the comb's teeth reft them,
The maid that kembed them ever safely left them.
Oft was she dressed before mine eyes, yet never,
Snatching the comb to beat the wench, outdrive her.
Oft in the morn, her hairs not yet digested,
Half-sleeping on a purple bed she rested; 20
Yet seemly like a Thracian Bacchanal,
That tired doth rashly[213] on the green grass fall.
When they were slender and like downy moss,
Thy[214] troubled hairs, alas, endured great loss.
How patiently hot irons they did take,
In crookËd trannels[215] crispy curls to make.
I cried, "'Tis sin, 'tis sin, these hairs to burn,
They well become thee, then to spare them turn.
Far off be force, no fire to them may reach,
Thy very hairs will the hot bodkin teach." 30
Lost are the goodly locks, which from their crown,
Phoebus and Bacchus wished were hanging down.
Such were they as Diana[216] painted stands,
All naked holding in her wave-moist hands.
Why dost thy ill-kembed tresses' loss lament?
Why in thy glass dost look, being discontent?
Be not to see with wonted eyes inclined;
To please thyself, thyself put out of mind.
No charmËd herbs of any harlot scathed thee,
No faithless witch in Thessal waters bathed thee. 40
No sickness harmed thee (far be that away!),
No envious tongue wrought thy thick locks' decay.
By thine own hand and fault thy hurt doth grow,
Thou mad'st thy head with compound poison flow.
Now Germany shall captive hair-tires send thee,
And vanquished people curious dressings lend thee.
Which some admiring, O thou oft wilt blush!
And say, "He likes me for my borrowed bush.
Praising for me some unknown Guelder[217] dame,
But I remember when it was my fame." 50
Alas she almost weeps, and her white cheeks,
Dyed red with shame to hide from shame she seeks.
She holds, and views her old locks in her lap;
Ay me! rare gifts unworthy such a hap!
Cheer up thyself, thy loss thou may'st repair,
And be hereafter seen with native hair.

FOOTNOTES:

[210] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[211] The original has "colorati Seres."

[212] So ed. B.--Ed. C "And."

[213] "Temere."

[214] Old eds. "They."

[215] Cunningham and the editor of 1826 may be right in reading "trammels" (_i.e._ ringlets). "Trannel" was the name for a bodkin. (The original has "Ut fieret torto flexilis orbe sinus.")

[216] "Nuda _Dione_."

[217] "Nescio quam pro me laudat nunc iste _Sygambram_."

ELEGIA XV.

Ad invidos, quod fama poetarum sit perennis.

Envy, why carp'st thou my time's spent so ill?
And term'st[218] my works fruits of an idle quill?
Or that unlike the line from whence I sprung[219]
War's dusty honours are refused being young?
Nor that I study not the brawling laws,
Nor set my voice to sail in every cause?
Thy scope is mortal; mine, eternal fame.
That all the world may[220] ever chant my name.
Homer shall live while Tenedos stands and Ide,
Or to[221] the sea swift Simois shall[222] slide. 10
AscrÊus lives while grapes with new wine swell,
Or men with crookËd sickles corn down fell.
The[223] world shall of Callimachus ever speak;
His art excelled, although his wit was weak.
For ever lasts high Sophocles' proud vein,
With sun and moon Aratus shall remain.
While bondmen cheat, fathers [be] hard,[224] bawds whorish,
And strumpets flatter, shall Menander flourish.
Rude Ennius, and Plautus[225] full of wit,
Are both in Fame's eternal legend writ. 20
What age of Varro's name shall not be told,
And Jason's Argo,[226] and the fleece of gold?
Lofty Lucretius shall live that hour,
That nature shall dissolve this earthly bower.
∆neas' war and Tityrus shall be read,
While Rome of all the conquered[227] world is head.
Till Cupid's bow, and fiery shafts be broken,
Thy verses, sweet Tibullus, shall be spoken.
And Gallus shall be known from East to West,
So shall Lycoris whom he lovËd best. 30
Therefore when flint and iron wear away,
Verse is immortal and shall ne'er decay.
To[228] verse let kings give place and kingly shows,
And banks o'er which gold-bearing Tagus flows.
Let base-conceited wits admire vild things;
Fair Phoebus lead me to the Muses' springs.
About my head be quivering myrtle wound,
And in sad lovers' heads let me be found.
The living, not the dead, can envy bite,
For after death all men receive their right. 40
Then though death racks[229] my bones in funeral fire,
I'll live, and as he pulls me down mount higher.

The same, by B. I.[230]

Envy, why twitt'st thou me, my time's spent ill?
And call'st my verse fruits of an idle quill?
Or that (unlike the line from whence I sprung)
War's dusty honours I pursue not young?
Or that I study not the tedious laws;
And prostitute my voice in every cause?
Thy scope is mortal; mine eternal fame,
Which through the world shall ever chant my name.
Homer will live, whilst Tenedos stands, and Ide,
Or to the sea, fleet Symois doth slide: 10
And so shall Hesiod too, while vines do bear,
Or crookËd sickles crop the ripened ear.
Callimachus, though in invention low,
Shall still be sung, since he in art doth flow;
No loss shall come to Sophocles' proud vein;
With sun and moon Aratus shall remain.
Whilst slaves be false, fathers hard, and bawds be whorish,
Whilst harlots flatter, shall Meander flourish.
Ennius, though rude, and Accius' high-reared strain,
A fresh applause in every age shall gain. 20
Of Varro's name, what ear shall not be told?
Of Jason's Argo and the fleece of gold?
Then, shall Lucretius' lofty numbers die,
When earth, and seas in fire and flames shall fry.
Tityrus, Tillage, ∆ney shall be read,[231]
Whilst Rome of all the conquered world is head.
Till Cupid's fires be out, and his bow broken,
Thy verses, neat Tibulus, shall be spoken.
Our Gallus shall be known from East to West,
So shall Lycoris, whom he now loves best. 30
The suffering ploughshare or the flint may wear,
But heavenly poesy no death can fear.
Kings shall give place to it, and kingly shows,
The banks o'er which gold-bearing Tagus flows.
Kneel hinds to trash: me let bright Phoebus swell,
With cups full flowing from the Muses' well.
The frost-drad[232] myrtle shall impale my head,
And of sad lovers I'll be often read.
Envy the living, not the dead doth bite,
For after death all men receive their right. 40
Then when this body falls in funeral fire,
My name shall live, and my best part aspire.

FOOTNOTES:

[218] Isham copy and ed. A "tearmes our."

[219] Dyce's correction for "come" of the old eds.

[220] Isham copy and ed. A "might."

[221] So Isham copy and ed. A.--Dyce follows ed. B, "Or into sea."

[222] So old eds.--Dyce "doth."

[223] Isham copy and ed. A omit this line and the next.

[224] So Dyce.--Old eds. "fathers hoord." ("_Durus_ pater.")

[225] The poet must have read "animosi _Maccius_ oris." The true reading is "animosique _Accius_ oris."

[226] Old eds. "Argos."

[227] Isham copy and ed. A "conquering."

[228] Isham copy and ed. A "Let kings give place to verse."

[229] So the Isham copy.--Ed. A (followed by Dyce) gives "rocks."--Eds. B and C "rakes" (and so Cunningham).

[230] _I.e._ Ben Jonson, who afterwards introduced it into the _Poetaster_ (I. 1). This version is merely a revision of the preceding, which must also have been written by Ben Jonson.

[231] "Tityrus et fruges ∆neÔaque arma legentur."

[232] "Metuentem frigora myrtum."

P. OVIDII NASONIS AMORUM.

LIBER SECUNDUS.

ELEGIA I.[233]

Quod pro gigantomachia amores scribere sit coactus.

I, Ovid, poet, of my[234] wantonness,
Born at Peligny, to write more address.
So Cupid wills. Far hence be the severe!
You are unapt my looser lines to hear.
Let maids whom hot desire to husbands lead,[235]
And rude boys, touched with unknown love, me read:
That some youth hurt, as I am, with Love's bow,
His own flame's best-acquainted signs may know.
And long admiring say, "By what means learned,
Hath this same poet my sad chance discern'd?" 10
I durst the great celestial battles tell,
Hundred-hand Gyges, and had done it well;
With Earth's revenge, and how Olympus top
High Ossa bore, Mount Pelion up to prop;
Jove and Jove's thunderbolts I had in hand,
Which for[236] his heaven fell on the giants' band.
My wench her door shut, Jove's affairs I left,
Even Jove himself out of my wit was reft.
Pardon me, Jove! thy weapons aid me nought,
Her shut gates greater lightning than thine brought. 20
Toys, and light elegies, my darts I took,
Quickly soft words hard doors wide-open strook.
Verses reduce the hornËd bloody moon,
And call the sun's white horses back[237] at noon.
Snakes leap by verse from caves of broken mountains,[238]
And turnËd streams run backward to their fountains.
Verses ope doors; and locks put in the post,
Although of oak, to yield to verses boast.
What helps it me of fierce Achill to sing?
What good to me will either Ajax bring? 30
Or he who warred and wandered twenty year?
Or woful Hector whom wild jades did tear?
But when I praise a pretty wench's face,
She in requital doth me oft embrace.
A great reward! Heroes of[239] famous names
Farewell! your favour nought my mind inflames.
Wenches apply your fair looks to my verse,
Which golden Love doth unto me rehearse.

FOOTNOTES:

[233] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[234] Old eds. "thy."

[235] A clear instance of a plural verb following a singular subject.

[236] "Quod bene pro coelo mitteret ille suo."

[237] Old eds. "blacke."

[238] "Carmine dissiliunt, _abruptis faucibus_, angues." ("Fauces" means both "jaw" and "mountain-gorge." Marlowe has gone desperately wrong.)

[239] Old eds. "O."

ELEGIA II.[240]

Ad Bagoum, ut custodiam puellÊ sibi commissÊ laxiorem habeat.

Bagous, whose care doth thy[241] mistress bridle,
While I speak some few, yet fit words, be idle.
I saw the damsel walking yesterday,
There, where the porch doth Danaus' fact[242] display:
She pleased me soon; I sent, and did her woo;
Her trembling hand writ back she might not do.
And asking why, this answer she redoubled,
Because thy care too much thy mistress troubled.
Keeper, if thou be wise, cease hate to cherish,
Believe me, whom we fear, we wish to perish. 10
Nor is her husband wise: what needs defence,
When unprotected[243] there is no expense?
But furiously he follow[244] his love's fire,
And thinks her chaste whom many do desire:
Stolen liberty she may by thee obtain,
Which giving her, she may give thee again:
Wilt thou her fault learn? she may make thee tremble.
Fear to be guilty, then thou may'st dissemble.
Think when she reads, her mother letters sent her:
Let him go forth known, that unknown did enter. 20
Let him go see her though she do not languish,
And then report her sick and full of anguish.
If long she stays, to think the time more short,
Lay down thy forehead in thy lap to snort.
Inquire not what with Isis may be done,
Nor fear lest she to the the‡tres run.
Knowing her scapes, thine honour shall increase;
And what less labour than to hold thy peace?
Let him please, haunt the house, be kindly used,
Enjoy the wench; let all else be refused. 30
Vain causes feign of him, the true to hide,
And what she likes, let both hold ratified.
When most her husband bends the brows and frowns,
His fawning wench with her desire he crowns.
But yet sometimes to chide thee let her fall
Counterfeit tears: and thee lewd hangman call.
Object thou then, what she may well excuse,
To stain all faith in truth, by false crimes' use.
Of wealth and honour so shall grow thy heap:
Do this, and soon thou shalt thy freedom reap. 40
On tell-tales' necks thou seest the link-knit chains,
The filthy prison faithless breasts restrains.
Water in waters, and fruit, flying touch,
Tantalus seeks, his long tongue's gain is such.
While Juno's watchman Iˆ too much eyed,
Him timeless[245] death took, she was deified.
I saw one's legs with fetters black and blue,
By whom the husband his wife's incest[246] knew:
More he deserved; to both great harm he framed,
The man did grieve, the woman was defamed. 50
Trust me all husbands for such faults are sad,
Nor make they any man that hears them glad.
If he loves not, deaf ears thou dost importune,
Or if he loves, thy tale breeds his misfortune.
Nor is it easy proved though manifest;
She safe by favour of her judge doth rest.
Though himself see, he'll credit her denial,
Condemn his eyes, and say there is no trial.
Spying his mistress' tears he will lament
And say "This blab shall suffer punishment." 60
Why fight'st 'gainst odds? to thee, being cast, do hap
Sharp stripes; she sitteth in the judge's lap.
To meet for poison or vild facts[247] we crave not;
My hands an unsheathed shining weapon have not.
We seek that, through thee, safely love we may;
What can be easier than the thing we pray?

FOOTNOTES:

[240] Not in Isham copy or ed. "A."

[241] So ed. B.--Ed. C "my."

[242] The original has "agmen." Cunningham suggests "pack." If we retain "fact" the meaning is "Danaus' guilt."

[243] Old eds. "vn-protested." ("Unde nihil, quamvis non tueare, perit.")

[244] So ed. B.--Ed. C "follows." (The sense wanted is "Furiously let him follow" &c.)

[245] "Ante suos annos occidit."

[246] "Unde vir incestum scire coactus erat." (Here "incestum" is "adultery.")

[247] "Scelus."

ELEGIA III.[248]

Ad Eunuchum servantem dominam.

Ay me, an eunuch keeps my mistress chaste,
That cannot Venus' mutual pleasure taste.
Who first deprived young boys of their best part,
With self-same wounds he gave, he ought to smart.
To kind requests thou would'st more gentle prove,
If ever wench had made lukewarm thy love:
Thou wert not born to ride, or arms to bear,
Thy hands agree not with the warlike spear.
Men handle those; all manly hopes resign,
Thy mistress' ensigns must be likewise thine. 10
Please her--her hate makes others thee abhor;
If she discards thee, what use serv'st thou for?
Good form there is, years apt to play together:
Unmeet is beauty without use to wither.
She may deceive thee, though thou her protect;
What two determine never wants effect.
Our prayers move thee to assist our drift,
While thou hast time yet to bestow that gift.

FOOTNOTES:

[248] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

ELEGIA IV.

Quod amet mulieres, cujuscunque formÊ sint.

I mean not to defend the scapes[249] of any,
Or justify my vices being many;
For I confess, if that might merit favour,
Here I display my lewd and loose behaviour.
I loathe, yet after that I loathe I run:
Oh, how the burthen irks, that we should[250] shun.
I cannot rule myself but where Love please;
Am[251] driven like a ship upon rough seas.
No one face likes me best, all faces move,
A hundred reasons make me ever love. 10
If any eye me with a modest look,
I burn,[252] and by that blushful glance am took;
And she that's coy I like, for being no clown,
Methinks she would be nimble when she's down.
Though her sour looks a Sabine's brow resemble,
I think she'll do, but deeply can dissemble.
If she be learned, then for her skill I crave her;
If not, because she's simple I would have her.
Before Callimachus one prefers me far;
Seeing she likes my books, why should we jar? 20
Another rails at me, and that I write,
Yet would I lie with her, if that I might:
Trips she, it likes me well; plods she, what than[253]?
She would be nimbler lying with a man.
And when one sweetly sings, then straight I long,
To quaver on her lips even in her song;
Or if one touch the lute with art and cunning,
Who would not love those hands[254] for their swift running?
And her I like that with a majesty,
Folds up her arms, and makes low courtesy. 30
To[255] leave myself, that am in love with all,
Some one of these might make the chastest fall.
If she be tall, she's like an Amazon,
And therefore fills the bed she lies upon:
If short, she lies the rounder: to speak[256] troth,
Both short and long please me, for I love both.
I[257] think what one undecked would be, being drest;
Is she attired? then show her graces best.
A white wench thralls me, so doth golden yellow:
And nut-brown girls in doing have no fellow. 40
If her white neck be shadowed with black hair,
Why so was Leda's, yet was Leda fair.
Amber-tress'd[258] is she? then on the morn think I:
My love alludes to every history:
A young wench pleaseth, and an old is good,
This for her looks, that for her womanhood:
Nay what is she, that any Roman loves,
But my ambitious ranging mind approves?

FOOTNOTES:

[249] "Mendosos ... mores."

[250] "Heu quam, quae studeas ponere, ferre grave est."

[251] So eds. B, C.--Isham copy and ed. A "And."

[252] This is Dyce's certain correction for the old eds. "blush." (The originals has "uror.")

[253] Then.

[254] Ed. A "those _nimble_ hands."

[255]

"Ut taceam de me, qui causa tangor ab omni,
Illic Hippolytum pone, Priapus erit."

[256] So Isham copy and ed. A.--Eds. B, C "say."

[257] This and the next three lines are omitted in Isham copy and ed. A.

[258] So eds. B, C.--Isham copy and ed. A "yellow trest."

ELEGIA V.[259]

Ad amicam corruptam.

No love is so dear,--quivered Cupid, fly!--
That my chief wish should be so oft to die.
Minding thy fault, with death I wish to revel;
Alas! a wench is a perpetual evil.
No intercepted lines thy deeds display,
No gifts given secretly thy crime bewray.
O would my proofs as vain might be withstood!
Ay me, poor soul, why is my cause so good?
He's happy, that his love dares boldly credit;
To whom his wench can say, "I never did it." 10
He's cruel, and too much his grief doth favour,
That seeks the conquest by her loose behaviour.
Poor wretch,[260] I saw when thou didst think I slumbered;
Not drunk, your faults on the spilt wine I numbered.
I saw your nodding eyebrows much to speak,
Even from your cheeks, part of a voice did break.
Not silent were thine eyes, the board with wine
Was scribbled, and thy fingers writ a line.
I knew your speech (what do not lovers see?)
And words that seemed for certain marks to be. 20
Now many guests were gone, the feast being done,
The youthful sort to divers pastimes run.
I saw you then unlawful kisses join;
(Such with my tongue it likes me to purloin);
None such the sister gives her brother grave,
But such kind wenches let their lovers have.
Phoebus gave not Diana such, 'tis thought,
But Venus often to her Mars such brought.
"What dost?" I cried; "transport'st thou my delight?
My lordly hands I'll throw upon my right. 30
Such bliss is only common to us two,
In this sweet good why hath a third to do?"
This, and what grief enforced me say, I said:
A scarlet blush her guilty face arrayed;
Even such as by Aurora hath the sky,
Or maids that their betrothËd husbands spy;
Such as a rose mixed with a lily breeds,
Or when the moon travails with charmËd steeds.
Or such as, lest long years should turn the dye,
Arachne[261] stains Assyrian ivory. 40
To these, or some of these, like was her colour:
By chance her beauty never shinËd fuller.
She viewed the earth; the earth to view, beseemed her.
She lookËd sad; sad, comely I esteemed her.
Even kembËd as they were, her locks to rend,
And scratch her fair soft cheeks I did intend.
Seeing her face, mine upreared arms descended,
With her own armour was my wench defended.
I, that erewhile was fierce, now humbly sue,
Lest with worse kisses she should me endue. 50
She laughed, and kissed so sweetly as might make
Wrath-kindled Jove away his thunder shake.
I grieve lest others should such good perceive,
And wish hereby them all unknown[262] to leave.
Also much better were they than I tell,
And ever seemed as some new sweet befell.
'Tis ill they pleased so much, for in my lips
Lay her whole tongue hid, mine in hers she dips.
This grieves me not; no joinËd kisses spent,
Bewail I only, though I them lament. 60
Nowhere can they be taught but in the bed;
I know no master of so great hire sped.[263]

FOOTNOTES:

[259] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[260] So Dyce for "Poor _wench_" of the old eds.--The original has "Ipse miser vidi."

[261] "Maeonis Assyrium femina tinxit opus." Dyce remarks that Marlowe "was induced to give this extraordinary version of the line by recollecting that in the sixth book of Ovid's _Metamorphoses_ Arachne is termed 'Maeonis,' while her father is mentioned as a dyer."

[262] A bad mistranslation of "Et volo non ex hac illa fuisse nota."

[263] Far from the original "Nescio quis pretium grande magister habet."

ELEGIA VI.[264]

In mortem psittaci.

The parrot, from East India to me sent,[265]
Is dead; all fowls her exequies frequent!
Go godly[266] birds, striking your breasts, bewail,
And with rough claws your tender cheeks assail.
For woful hairs let piece-torn plumes abound,
For long shrild[267] trumpets let your notes resound.
Why Philomel dost Tereus' lewdness mourn?
All wasting years have that complaint now[268] worn.
Thy tunes let this rare bird's sad funeral borrow;
Itys[269] a great, but ancient cause of sorrow. 10
All you whose pinions in the clear air soar,
But most, thou friendly turtle-dove, deplore.
Full concord all your lives was you betwixt,
And to the end your constant faith stood fixt.
What Pylades did to Orestes prove,
Such to the parrot was the turtle-dove.
But what availed this faith? her rarest hue?
Or voice that how to change the wild notes knew?
What helps it thou wert given to please my wench?
Birds' hapless glory, death thy life doth quench. 20
Thou with thy quills might'st make green emeralds dark,
And pass our scarlet of red saffron's mark.
No such voice-feigning bird was on the ground,
Thou spok'st thy words so well with stammering sound.
Envy hath rapt thee, no fierce wars thou mov'dst;
Vain-babbling speech, and pleasant peace thou lov'dst.
Behold how quails among their battles live,
Which do perchance old age unto them give.
A little filled thee, and for love of talk,
Thy mouth to taste of many meats did balk. 30
Nuts were thy food, and poppy caused thee sleep,
Pure water's moisture thirst away did keep.
The ravenous vulture lives, the puttock[270] hovers
Around the air, the cadess[271] rain discovers.
And crow[272] survives arms-bearing Pallas' hate,
Whose life nine ages scarce bring out of date.
Dead is that speaking image of man's voice,
The parrot given me, the far world's[273] best choice.
The greedy spirits[274] take the best things first,
Supplying their void places with the worst. 40
Thersites did Protesilaus survive;
And Hector died, his brothers yet alive.
My wench's vows for thee what should I show,
Which stormy south winds into sea did blow?
The seventh day came, none following might'st thou see,
And the Fate's distaff empty stood to thee:
Yet words in thy benumbËd palate rung;
"Farewell, Corinna," cried thy dying tongue.
Elysium hath a wood of holm-trees black,
Whose earth doth not perpetual green grass lack. 50
There good birds rest (if we believe things hidden),
Whence unclean fowls are said to be forbidden.
There harmless swans feed all abroad the river;
There lives the phoenix, one alone bird ever;
There Juno's bird displays his gorgeous feather,
And loving doves kiss eagerly together.
The parrot into wood received with these,
Turns all the godly[275] birds to what she please.
A grave her bones hides: on her corps' great grave,
The little stones these little verses have. 60
_This tomb approves I pleased my mistress well
My mouth in speaking did all birds excell._

FOOTNOTES:

[264] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[265] Dyce remarks that Marlowe's copy had "ales mihi missus" for "imitatrix ales."

[266] So Dyce for "goodly" of the old eds. ("piÊ volucres").

[267] Shrill.

[268] So Dyce for "not" of the old eds.

[269] So Dyce for "It is as great."

[270] "Miluus."

[271] "Graculus."

[272] Old eds. "crowes."

[273] Old eds. "words."

[274] Marlowe was very weak in Latin prosedy. The original has "manibus rapiuntur avaris."

[275] Old eds. "goodly" ("_pias_ volueres").

ELEGIA VII.[276]

AmicÊ se purgat, quod ancillam non amet.

Dost me of new crimes always guilty frame?
To overcome, so oft to fight I shame.
If on the marble theatre I look,
One among many is, to grieve thee, took.
If some fair wench me secretly behold,
Thou arguest she doth secret marks unfold.
If I praise any, thy poor hairs thou tearest;
If blame, dissembling of my fault thou fearest.
If I look well, thou think'st thou dost not move,
If ill, thou say'st I die for others' love. 10
Would I were culpable of some offence,
They that deserve pain, bear't with patience.
Now rash accusing, and thy vain belief,
Forbid thine anger to procure my grief.
Lo, how the miserable great-eared ass,
Dulled with much beating, slowly forth doth pass!
Behold Cypassis, wont to dress thy head,
Is charged to violate her mistress' bed!
The gods from this sin rid me of suspicion,
To like a base wench of despised condition. 20
With Venus' game who will a servant grace?
Or any back, made rough with stripes, embrace?
Add she was diligent thy locks to braid,
And, for her skill, to thee a grateful maid.
Should I solicit her that is so just,--
To take repulse, and cause her show my lust?
I swear by Venus, and the winged boy's bow,
Myself unguilty of this crime I know.

FOOTNOTES:

[276] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

ELEGIA VIII.[277]

Ad Cypassim ancillam CorinnÊ.