BY this fair
Psiche's womb began to breed,
And was made pregnant by immortal seed;
Yet this condition was on her impos'd,
That it should mortal prove, if she disclos'd
Her husbands counsels: who can now relate
The joy that she conceiv'd to propagate
A divine birth? she reckons every day,
And week, and month, and does her womb surve,
And wonders since so little was instill'd,
So small a vessel should so much be fill'd.
Her husband smelling of her sisters drift,
Began to call fair
Psiche unto shrift,
And warn her thus, The utmost day, says he,
And latest chance is now befalln to thee;
A sex pernicious to thine own dear bloud
Has taken arms up to withstand thy good.
Again thy sisters with regardless care
Of love, or piety, come to ensnare,
And tempt thy faith, which I forbad before,
That thou my shape and visage shouldst explore:
In lieu of which take up a like defence,
Protecting with religious continence
Our house from ruine, and thy self prevent,
And our small pledge from dangers imminent.
Psiche with sighs and tears together blent,
Breaks off his speech, Since you a document
Have of my silence and my love, quoth she,
VVhy should you fear to trust my constancie:
Which to confirm, bid
Zephirus fulfil
Once more his duty, and obey my will.
That since your long'd for sight I am deni'd,
I may behold my sisters by my side.
Turn not away my love, I thee beseek,
By thy curl'd hair, and by thy silken cheek:
Deign from thy bounty this small boon to spare,
Since the forc'd ignorance of what you are,
Must not offend me, nor the darkest night,
VVhere I embrace you in a greater light.
Charm'd with her sugar'd words, he gives consent,
That the swift wind with haste incontinent,
Although unwilling, should display his wing,
And the she-traitors to fair
Psiche bring.
Thus altogether met, her sisters twain
Embrace their prey, and a false love do feign.
Psiche, says one, you are a mother grown,
Me-thinks your womb like a full Rose is blown.
O what a mass of comfort will accrue
Unto our friends and family from you?
Certs this your child, if it be half so fair
As is the mother, must be
Cupid's heir,
Thus they with flatteries and with many a smile,
Pretending false affection, her beguile;
And she out of her innocence, poor Maid,
Gave easie credit unto all they said;
And too too kind, to a fair chamber led,
VVhere with celestial dainties she them fed.
She speaks unto the Lute, and straight it hears;
She calls for raptures, and they swell their ears.
All sorts of Musick sound, with many a lay,
Yet none was present seen to sing or play.
But as no mirth is pleasant to a dull
And heavy soul, no less, they that are full
Of cankred malice, all delight disdain,
But what doth nourish their delighted pain.
So that no gifts nor price might mollifie,
Nor no reward nor kindness qualifie
Their hardned hearts, still they are on fire,
To sound her through, and make a strict inquire
What was her husband, what his form, and age,
And whence he did deduce his parentage:
You read, how from simplicity at first
She feign'd a formal story, and what erst
She told, she had forgot, and 'gan to feign
Another rale, and of another strain;
How that he was a man both rich and wise,
Of middle years, and of a middle size:
A Merchant by profession, that did deal
For many thousands in the Common-weal.
With that they check'd her in the full career
Of her discourse, says one, Nay, sister dear,
Pray do not strive thus to impose upon
Your loving friends, sure this description
Must to his person needs be contrary,
When in it self your speech does disagree.
You lately boasted he was young and fair;
What, does the soil or nature of the air
Bring age so soon? and that he us'd to range
About the woods, loe there's another change.
[...]o you conceit so ignorantly of us,
We know not
Tethis from
Hippolitus?
Green fields from seas, a billow from a hill,
[...]ishes from beasts? then we had little skill.
You much dissemble, or you have forgot
His form, and function, or you know them not.
Then with the pressure of her eyes, she freed
One tear from prison, and did thus proceed:
Psiche we grieve, and pitty you, that thus
Are grown so careless and incurious
Of what you ought to fear: you think your self
Much happy in your husband, and your pelf,
But are deceived, for we that watch,
And at each opportunity do catch,
To satisfie our doubts, for truth have found,
Both by his crawling footsteps on the ground,
And by report of neighbouring husbandmen,
That have espy'd him flying from his den.
When he to them most hideously has yell'd,
From his huge throat, with blood and poyson swel'd,
That this your husband is of Serpent breed,
Either of
Cadmus, or of
Hydra's seed.
Call but the
Pythian Oracle to mind,
That you to such hard destiny assign'd;
And think not all your art, or policy,
Can cancell his prophetical decree.
Let not his Monsters usage for awhile,
Your soul of just suspition beguile,
As that you still shall live at such high rare,
And that these happy days shall ne're have date.
Far be it, that my words should ill portend,
Yet trust me, all these joys must have an end:
The time will come, when this your Paramour,
In whom you so delight, shall you devour.
And when your womb casts her abortive brood,
Then
Saturn like, he will make that his food.
For this prediction also bore a share,
In what the god fore-told, but lest despair
Should load you with too great oppression,
It was conceal'd, and therefore stands upon,
Whether through our advice, you will be sav'd,
Or in his beastly entrailes be engrav'd.
Now if this uncouth life, and solitude
Please you, then follow it, and be still stew'd
In the rank lust of a lascivious worme:
Yet we our pious duties shall performe.
Psyche that tender was, grew wan, and pale,
And swoon for dread of this so sad a tale.
Then fell she from the sphear of her right mind,
And forgot all those precepts she combin'd,
And vow'd to keep, and her self headlong threw
Into a thousand griefs, that must ensue.
At last reviv'd, having her self upheav'd,
With fainting voice, thus half her words out breath'd
Truly my sisters dear, full well I see
How you persist in constant piety:
Nor did they, who suggest such words as these,
In my opinion altogether lease:
For to this hour, I never did survay
My husband's shape, but forc'd am to obay
What he commands, do embrace i'th night,
A thing uncertain, and that shuns the light:
Therefore to your assertions I assent,
That with good reason seem so congruent;
For in my thoughts I cannot judge at least
But he must be a monster, or some beast,
He uses so much cautionary care,
And threatens so much ill, if I should dare
To view his face; so I referre me to
Your best advice, t' instruct me what to do:
Her sisters now arriv'd at the full scope
Of their base plots, and seeing the gate ope
That kept her heart, scorn any artfull bait,
But use their down-right weapons of deceit:
Saying, dear
Psiche, nature should prevail
So much with us, if mischief did assail
Your person, in our sight: we were too blame
Should we permit, and not divert the same;
Yet wise men have their ways, and eyes still clear,
And leave no mists of danger, or of fear:
You do but brave your death, when you repell
The whispers of your Genius, which would tell
The peril you re in; nor are you sure
Of longer life, till you are quite secure:
Which to effect, provide a sword that's keen,
And with it, a bright Lamp, and both unseen
Hide in some place, untill a fitting hour
Shall call them, to assist you with their power:
Trust me, such spies, and counsellors are mure,
And never nice, or slow to execute
Any design, so when your husbands eyes
Are seal'd with sleep, from your soft couch arise,
And seise this Dragon, when he least takes heed,
Like
Pallas arm'd, and to his death proceed;
And where his neck, and head, are joyn'd in one,
Make me a speedy separation:
Alcides Son of
Jove, as rumour goes,
Strangled two
Serpents in his swadling cloaths:
And can your strength fail to bring that to passe,
Which half the labour of an infant was?
Such wicked words they pour into her ear,
More poisonous than her husband could appear.
Psiche was troubled, as the sea, in wind
Approv'd their counsel, and again declin'd
What they perswade; now hastens, now delays,
Dares, and not dares, and with a blush betrays,
Her wandring passion, which knows no mean,
But travels from extream, unto extream:
She loves him now, and does again detest,
Loves as a husband, hates him as a beast.
The only check, and bridle to her hate,
Was the fam'd story, and revengeful fate
Of
Danans Daughters, who in hell are bound
To fill a Vessel, they can never sound:
She told the story to them, how all these
Were fifty Virgins, call'd the
Belides;
Her Sifters lift; while
Psiche does discover,
How each was too inhumane to her lover:
And in on night made all their husbands-bleed;
With hearts, hard as the steel, that did the deed:
Yet one says she, most worthy of the name
Of wife, and to it everlasting fame:
Hight
Hypermnestra, with officious lye,
Met with her Father; and his perjury:
Who said unto her husband, youth arise,
Least a long sleep unfear'd, do thee surprize.
I will not hold thee captive, nor will strike
This to thy heart; altough my sisters, like
So many cruell
Lionesses, void
Of mercy, all their husbands have destroy'd.
I am of nature soft, nor do I dare
To view, much less to act my massacre;
What though my Father me in prison lay,
Or load with Iron chains, or send away
Far from his Kingdome, into banishment,
Or tortures use, cause I would not consent
To murder thee; however take thy flight,
Post for thy life, whilst
Venus and the night
Do favour thee, and only this vouchsafe
When I am dead, to write my Epitaph:
The meer remembrance of this vertuous deed,
Did a remorce, and kind of pity breed
In
Psiche's brest, for passions are infus'd,
According to the stories, we are us'd
To read; and many men do amorous prove,
By viewing acts, and monuments of love:
But yet her Sisters malice, that still stood
In opposition, against all that's good,
Ceases not to precipiate her on,
Till they had gain'd this confirmation;
To put in act what ere they did desire,
Thus fury like, they did her soul inspire:
Night and her husband came, and now the sport
Of
Venus ended, he began to snort,
Psiche, though weak of mind, and body both,
Yet urg'd by cruell fate, and her rash oath,
Rose up to make provision for her sin;
Lye still fair maid, thou mayest more honour win,
And make thy murder glory, not a crime;
If thou wouldst kill those thoughts, that do beslime
And knaw upon thy breast, and never cease
With hishing clamours to disturbe thy peace,
When thine own heart with
Serpents doth abound;
Seek not without, that may within be found.
Yet was she not so cruell in her hast,
But ere she kild him, she his lips would tast,
Wishing she need not rise out from her bed,
But that she had the power to kisse him dead:
Now with her lips she labours all she may,
To suck his soul out, whilst he sleeping lay,
Tih she at last through a transfused kiss,
Left her own soul, and was inspir'd by his;
And had her soul within his body stay'd,
Till he therein his vertues had convay'd,
And all pollution would from thence remove,
Then after all her thoughts had been of love;
Bur since she could not both of them retain,
She restor'd his, and took her own again:
Sorry, that she was forc'd it to transfer,
And wisht though dead, that he might live in her:
Then in one hand she held the emulous light,
And in the other took the sword, so bright
As 'twould her beauty, and the fire out-shine,
And she thus arm'd, became more masculine.
But when by friendship of the Lamp, her eye
Had made a perfect true discovery
Of all was in the room, what did she see?
Object of Love, wonder of Deity.
The
god of love himself,
Cupid the fair.
Lye sweetly sleeping in his golden hair:
At this so heavenly sight, the lampy spire
Encreas'd his flames, and burnt more pure, and higher.
The very senceless sacrilegious steel,
Did a strong vertue from his presence feel,
Which turn'd the edge, poor
Psiche all amaz'd,
With joy, and wonder on his beauty gaz'd.
His neck so white, his colour so exact,
His limbes, that were so curiously compact:
His body sleck, and smooth, that it might not
Venus repent, t' have such a Son begot.
A bright reflection and pefumed sent,
Fill'd all the room with a mixt blandishment,
Shot from his wings, and at his feet did lye
His
Bow, and
Arrows, and his
Armory.
And in this extasie she thought to hide
The cursed steel, but in her own dear side;
And had perform'd it sure, had not the sword,
Flew from her her hand, out of its own accord.
Glansing on all with eyes unsatisfied,
At last she his artillery espyed.
The Quiver was of Needle-work wrought round
With trophies of his own, where
Cupid crown'd.
Sate in the midst, with a Bay-wreath, which he
Had proudly pluckt from the
Peneian tree.
Next
Venus and
Adonis, sad with pain,
The one of
love, the other of
disdain:
There
Jove in all his borrowed shapes was drest,
His thests, and his adulteries exprest,
As Emblems of
Loves triumph; and these were
Drawn with such lively colours, men would swear,
That
Laeda lay within a perfect bower,
And
Danaes golden streams, were a true shower.
Saturns two other Sons did seem to throw
Their
Tridents at his feet, and him allow
For their Supreme; and there were kneeling by
Gods, Nymphs, and all their Geneology
Since the first
Chaos, saving the abuse,
And
Cupids pride, none could the work traduce.
Pallas in envy of
Araeknes skill,
Or else to curry favour and fulfill
Cupids behest, which she durst not withstand,
Had fram'd the emulous piece with her own hand.
And there were portray'd more a thousand loves
Besides himself; the skins of Turtle-doves
Lin'd it within, and at the upper end,
A silver plate the Quiver did extend,
I all of small holes, where his bright shafts did lye;
Whose plumes were stiff of gums of
Araby.
His Bow was of the best, and finest Yew
That in all
Ida, or fair
Tempe grew:
[...]mooth as his cheek, and checkerd as his wing,
And at each end, tipt with a Pear; the string
Drawn from the Optick of a Ladies eye,
That whensoere he shoots, strikes harmony.
[...]siche with timorous heed, did softly touch
His weapons, least her prophane hand might smutch
The gloss of them: then drew a shaft, whose head
Was wrought of Gold, for some are done with Lead,
And laid her fingers end upon the Dart,
Tempting the edge, until it caus'd to smart:
[...]or being poi
[...]ted sharp, it raz'd the skin,
[...]ill drops of blood did trickle from within,
he wounded with the poison, which it bore,
Grew more in love, than ere she was before.
Then as she would her self incorporate,
he did her numerous kisses equal make
Into his hairs, that with her breath did play,
[...]teept with rich
Nectar, and
Ambrosia.
[...]hus being ravisht with excess of joy,
With kissing, and embracing the sweet Boy.
[...]oe, in the height of all her jollity,
Whether from envy, or from treachery:
Or that it had a burning appetite,
[...]o touch that silken skin, that lookt so white.
The wicked Lamb in an unlucky hour,
[...] drop of scalding oil did let down poure
On his right shoulder, whence in horrid wise
A blister, like a bubble did arise,
And boil'd up in his flesh, with a worse fume,
Than blood of Vipers, or the
Lernean spume.
Neer die the Dog-star rage with so great heat
In dry
Apuliae, nor
Alcides sweat
Under his shirt so. Cruell oil, that thou
Who of all others hast the smoothest brow,
Shouldst play the traitor? who had any thing
Worse than my self, as fire, or venom'd sting,
Or
Sulphur blasted him, shouldst first have came,
And with thy powerful breath suckt out the flame.
For though he be
Loves god, it were but vain,
To think he should be priviledge from pain.
For we in
Homer have like wounded read,
Of
Mars, and
Venus, both by
Diomed.
But for this hainous and audacious fact,
Cupid among his statutes did enact,
Henceforth all lights be banisht, and exempt,
From bearing office in
Loves government.
And in the day each should his passage mark,
Or learn to find his Mistress in the dark.
Sure all the crew of lovers shall thee hate,
Nor blest
Minerva hold thee consecrate.
When
Cupid saw his counsells open laid,
Psiches dear faith, and his own plots betray'd,
He buckled on his wings, away to fly;
And had she not caught hold upon his thigh,
And hung as an
appendix of his flight,
He questionless had vanisht from her sight.
But as when men are in deep rivers drown'd,
And tane up dead, have their close fingers found,
Clasping the weeds; so, though her armes were rack.
With her more bodies weight, and sinews crackt;
To follow him through the forc'd Element:
Yet held she fast, untill he did relent,
And his ambitious wings gan downward steer,
And stoop to earth, with a mild Cancileer.