COME, Fates; I fear you not. All, whom I owe,
Are paid but you. Then 'rest me ere I go.
But chance from you all sovereignty hath got,
Love wounded none but those, whom Death dares not:
True if you were and just in equity,
I should have vanquish'd her, as you did me.
Else lovers should not brave death's pains, and live:
But 't is a rule, "death comes not to relieve."
Or pale and wan death's terrours, are they laid
So deep in lovers, they make death afraid?
Or (the least comfort) have I company?
Or can the Fates love death, as well as me?
Yes, Fates do silk unto her distaff pay
For ransom, which tax they on us do lay.
Love gives her youth, which is the reason why
Youths, for her sake, some wither and some die.
Poor Death can nothing give; yet for her sake,
Still in her turn, he doth a lover take.
And if Death should prove false, she fears him not,
Our Muses to redeem her she hath got.
That fatal night we last kiss'd, I thus pray'd,
(Or rather thus despair'd, I should have said)
Kisses, and yet despair. The forbid tree
Did promise (and deceive) no more than she.
Like lambs that see their teats, and must eat hay,
A food, whose taste bath made me pine away.
Dives, when thou saw'st bliss, and crav'dst to touch
A drop of water, thy great pains were such.
Here grief wants a fresh wit, for mine being spent,
And my sighs weary, groans are all my rent;
Unable longer to endure the pain,
They break like thunder, and do bring down rain.
Thus, till dry tears solder mine eyes, I weep:
And then I dream, how you securely sleep,
And in your dreams do laugh at me. I hate,
And pray Love all may: he pities my state,
But says, I therein no revenge shall find;
The Sun would shine, though all the world were blind.
Yet, to try my hate, Love show'd me your tear;
And I had dy'd, had not your smile been there.
Your frown undoes me; your smile is my wealth;
And as you please to look, I have my health.
Methought Love pitying me, when he saw this,
Gave me your hands, the backs and palms to kiss.
That cur'd me not, but to bear pain gave strength;
And what is lost in force, is took in length.
I call'd on Love again, who fear'd you so,
That his compassion still prov'd greater woe:
For then I dream'd I was in bed with you,
But durst not feel, for fear 't should not be true.
This merits not our anger, had it been;
The queen of chastity was naked seen:
And in bed not to feel the pain, I took,
Was more than for Actæon not to look.
And that breast, which lay ope, I did not know,
But for the clearness, from a lump of snow.
SINCE she must go, and I must mourn, come Night,
Environ me with darkness, whilst I write :
Shadow that Hell unto me, which alone
I am to suffer, when my love is gone.
Alas! the darkest magic cannot do it,
And that great Hell to boot are shadows to it.
Should Cynthia quit thee, Venus, and each star,
It would not form one thought dark as mine are;
I could lend them obscureness now, and say
Out of myself, there should be no more day.
Such is already my self-want of sight,
Did not the fire within me force a light.
Oh Love, that fire and darkness should be mix'd,
Or to thy triumphs such strange torments fix'd!
Is 't because thou thyself art blind, that we
Thy martyrs must no more each other see?
Or tak'st thou pride to break us on thy wheel,
And view old Chaos in the pains we feel?
Or have we left undone some mutual right,
That thus with parting thou seek'st us to spite ?
No, no. The fault is mine, impute it to me,
Or rather to conspiring Destiny;
Which (since I lov'd) for me before decreed,
That I should suffer, when I lov'd indeed:
And therefore sooner now, than I can say
I saw the golden fruit, 't is wrapt away:
Or as I'd watch'd one drop in the vast stream,
And I left wealthy only in a dream.
Yet, Love, thou 'rt blinder than thyself in this,
To vex my dove-like friend for my amiss:
And, where one sad truth may expiate
Thy wrath, to make her fortune run my fate.
So blinded Justice doth, when favourites fall,
Strike them, their house, their friends, their fa
vourites all.
Was 't not enough that thou didst dart thy fires
Into our bloods, inflaming our desires,
And mad'st us sigh and blow, and pant, and
And then thyself into our flames didst turn?
Was 't not enough, that thou didst hazard us
To paths in love so dark and dangerous:
And those so ambush'd round with household spies,
And over all thy husband's tow'ring eyes
Inflam'd with th' ugly sweat of jealousy,
Yet went we not still on in constancy?
Have we for this kept guards, like spy o'er spy?
Had correspondence, whilst the foe stood by?
Stoll'n (more to sweeten them) our many blisses
Of meetings, conference, embracements, kisses?
Shadow'd with negligence our best respects?
Of becks, winks, looks, and often under boards
Varied our language through all dialects
Spoke dialogues with our feet far from our words ?·
Have we prov'd all the secrets of our art,
Yea, thy pale inwards, and thy panting heart?
And after all this passed purgatory,
Must sad divorce make us the vulgar story?
First let our eyes be riveted quite through
Our turning brains, and both our lips grow to:
Let our arms clasp like ivy, and our fear
Freeze us together, that we may stick here;
Till Fortune, that would ruin us with the deed,
Strain his eyes open, and yet make them bleed.
For Love it cannot be, whom hitherto
I have accus'd, should such a mischief do.
Oh Fortune, thou 'rt not worth my least exclaim,
And plague enough thou hast in thy own name:
Do thy great worst, my friends and I have arms,
Though not against thy strokes, against thy harms.
Rend us in sunder, thou canst not divide
Our bodies so, but that our souls are ty'd,
And we can love by letters still, and gifts,
And thoughts, and dreams; love never wanteth shifts,
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I will not look upon the quick'ning Sun,
But straight her beauty to my sense shall run;
The air shall note her soft, the fire most pure;
Waters suggest her clear, and the earth sure;
Time shall not lose our passages; the spring,
How fresh our love was in the beginning;
The summer, how it enripen'd the year;
And autumn, what our golden harvests were.
The winter I'll not think on to spite thee,
But count it a lost season, so shall she.
And, dearest friend, since we must part, drown night
With hope of day; burthens well borne are light.
The cold and darkness longer hang somewhere,
Yet Phoebus equally lights all the sphere.
And what we cannot in like portion pay,
The world enjoys in mass, and so we may.
Be ever then yourself, and let no woe
Win on your health, your youth, your beauty: so
Declare yourself base Fortune's enemy,
No less be your contempt than her inconstancy;
That I may grow enamour'd on your mind,
When my own thoughts I here neglected find.
And this to th' comfort of my dear I vow,
My deeds shall still be, what my deeds are now;
The poles shall move to teach me ere I start,
And when I change my love, I'll change my heart;
Nay, if I wax but cold in my desire,
Think Heav'n hath motion lost, and the world fire:
Much more I could; but many words have made
That oft suspected, which men most persuade:
Take therefore all in this; I love so true,
As I will never look for less in you.
HARK, news! O Envy, thou shalt hear descry'd
My Julia; who as yet was ne'er envy'd.
To vomit gall in slander, swell her veins
With calumny, that Hell itself disdains,
Is her continual practice, does her best,
To tear opinion ev'n out of the breast
Of dearest friends, and (which is worse than vile)
Sticks jealousy in wedlock; her own child
Scapes not the show'rs of envy: to repeat
The monstrous fashions, how, were alive to eat
Dear reputation. Would to God she were
But half so loth to act vice, as to hear
My mild reproof! Liv'd Mantuan now again,
That female mastix to limn with his pen
This she-Chimera, that hath eyes of fire,
Burning with anger, (anger feeds desire)
A TALE OF A CITIZEN AND HIS WIFE.
I SING no harm, good sooth, to any wight,
To lord, to fool, cuckold, beggar, or knight,
To peace-teaching lawyer, proctor, or brave
Reformed or reduced captain, knave,
Officer, juggler, or justice of peace,
Juror or judge; I touch no fat sow's grease;
I am no libeller, nor will be any,
But (like a true man) say there are too many
I fear not ore tenus, for my tale
Nor count nor counsellor will red or pale.
A citizen and his wife th' other day,
Both riding on one horse, upon the way
I overtook; the wench a pretty peat,
And (by her eye) well fitting for the feat:
I saw the fecherous citizen turn back
His head, and on his wife's lip steal a smack.
Whence apprehending that the man was kind,
Riding before to kiss his wife behind,
To get acquaintance with him I began,
And sort discourse fit for so fine a man;
I ask'd the number of the plaguy bill,
Ask'd if the custom-farmers held out still,
Of the Virginian plot, and whether Ward
The traffic of the midland seas had marr'd;
Whether the Britain Burse did fill apace,
And likely were to give th' Exchange disgrace;
Of new-built Aldgate, and the Moorfield crosses,
Of store of bankrupts and poor merchants' losses,
I urged him to speak; but he (as mute
As an old courtier worn to his last suit)
Replies with only yeas and nays; at last
(To fit his element) my theme I cast
On tradesmen's gains; that set his tongué a going,
"Alas, good sir," quoth he," there is no doing
In court nor city now." She smil'd, and I,
And (in my conscience) both, gave him the lie
In one met thought. But he went on apace,
And at the present times with such a face
He rail'd, as fray'd me; for he gave no praise
To any but my lord of Essex' days:
Call'd those the age of action. "True," quoth he,
"There's now as great an itch of bravery,,
And heat of taking up, but cold lay down;
For put to push of pay, away they run:
Our only city-trades of hope now are
Bawds, tavern-keepers, whore, and scrivener;
The much of privileg'd kinsmen, and the store
Of fresh protections, make the rest all poor:
In the first state of their creation
Tongu'd like the night-crow, whose ill-boding cries Though many stoutly stand, yet proves not one
Give out for nothing but new injuries.
Her breath like to the juice in Tenarus,
That blasts the springs, though ne'er so prosperous.
Her hands, I know not how, us'd more to spill
The food of others, than herself to fill.
But, oh! her mind, that Orcus, which includes
Legions of mischief, countless multitudes
of former curses, projects unmade up,
Abuses yet unfashion'd, thoughts corrupt,
Misshapen cavils, palpable untruths,
Inevitable errours, self-accusing loaths:
These, like those atoms swarming in the sun,
Throng in her bosom for creation.
I blush to give her half her due; yet say,
No poison's half so bad as Julia.
A righteous pay-master." Thus ran he on
In a continu'd rage: so void of reason
Seem'd his harsh talk, I sweat for fear of treason.
And (troth) how could I less? when in the prayer
For the protection of the wise lord mayor
And his wise brethren's worships, when one prayeth,
He swore that none could say amen with faith.
To get him off from what I glow'd to hear,
(In happy time) an angel did appear,
The bright sign of a lov'd and well-try'd inn,
Where many citizens with their wives had been
Well us'd and often: here I pray'd him stay,
To take some due refreshment by the way.
'Look, how he look'd that hid his gold, his hope,
And at 's return found nothing but a rope;
So he on me; refus'd and made away,
Though willing she pleaded a weary day:
I found my miss, struck hands, and pray'd him tell
(To hold acquaintance still) where he did dwell;
He barely nam'd the street, promis'd the wine;
But his kind wife gave me the very sign.
To make the doubt clear, that no woman 's true,
Was it my fate to prove it strong in you?
Thought I, but one had breathed purest air,
And must she needs be false, because she 's fair?
Is it your beauty's mark, or of your youth,
Or your perfection not to study truth?
Or think you Heav'n is deaf, or hath no eyes,
Or those it hath smile at your perjuries?
Are vows so cheap with women, or the matter
Whereof they're made, that they are writ in water,
And blown away with wind? Or doth their breath
(Both hot and cold) at once make life and death?
Who could have thought so many accents sweet
Form'd into words, so many sighs should meet,
As from our hearts, so many oaths, and tears
Sprinkled among (all sweet'ned by our fears)
And the divine impression of stol'n kisses,
That seal'd the rest, should now prove empty blisses?
Did you draw bonds to forfeit? sign to break?
Or must we read you quite from what you speak,
And find the truth out the wrong way? or must
He first desire you false, who 'ld wish you just?
O, I profane: though most of women be
This kind of beast, my thoughts shall except thee,
My dearest love; though froward jealousy
With circumstance might urge thy inconstancy,
Sooner I'll think the Sun will cease to cheer
The teeming Earth, and that forget to bear :
Sooner that rivers will run back, or Thames
With ribs of ice in June will bind his streams;
Or Nature, by whose strength the world endures,
Would change her course, before you alter yours.
But oh! that treacherous breast, to whom weak you
Did trust our counsels, and we both may rue,
Having his falsehood found too late, 't was he
That made me cast you guilty, and you me;
Whilst he (black wretch) betray'd each simple word
We spake unto the cunning of a third.
Curs'd may he be, that so our love hath slain,
And wander on the Earth, wretched as Cain,
Wretched as he, and not deserve least pity;
In plaguing him let misery be witty.
Let all eyes shun him, and he shun each eye,
Till he be noisome as his infamy;
May he without remorse deny God thrice,
And not be trusted more on his soul's price;
And after all self-torment, when he dies
May wolves tear out his heart, vultures his eyes;
Swine eat his bowels; and his falser tongue,
That utter'd all, be to some raven flung;
And let his carrion-corse be a longer feast
To the king's dogs, than any other beast.
Now I have curs'd, let us our love revive;
In me the flame was never more alive;
I could begin again to court and praise,
And in that pleasure lengthen the short days
Of my life's lease; like painters, that do take
Delight, not in made works, but whilst they make.
I could renew those times, when first I saw
Love in your eyes, that gave my tongue the law
To like what you lik'd; and at masks and plays
Commend the self-same actors, the same ways;
Ask how you did, and often, with intent
Of being officious, be impertinent;
All which were such soft pastimes, as in these
Love was as subtily catch'd, as a disease;
But being got it is a treasure sweet,
Which to defend is harder than to get:
And ought not be profan'd on either part,
For though 't is got by chance, 't is kept by art.
WHOEVER loves, if he do not propose
The right true end of love, he 's one that goes
To sea for nothing but to make him sick:
Love is a bear-whelp born, if we o'er-lick
Our love, and force it new strong shapes to take,
We err, and of a lump a monster make.
Were not a calf a monster, that were grown
Fac'd like a man, though better than his own?
Perfection is in unity: prefer
One woman first, and then one thing in her.
I, when I value gold, may think upon
The ductilness, the application,
The wholesomness, the ingenuity,
From rust, from soil, from fire ever free:
But if I love it, 't is beause 't is made
By our new nature (use) the soul of trade.
All these in women we might think upon
(If women had them) and yet love but one.
Can men more injure women than to say
They love them for that, by which they 're not they?
Makes virtue woman? must I cool my blood
Till I both be, and find one, wise and good?
May barren angels love so. But if we
Make love to woman, virtue is not she:
As beauties, no, nor wealth: he that strays thus
From her to hers, is more adulterous
Than if he took her maid. Search every sphere
And firmament, our Cupid is not there:
He's an infernal god, and under ground,
With Pluto dwells, where gold and fire abound;
Men to such gods their sacrificing coals
Did not on altars lay, but pits and holes :
Although we see celestial bodies move
Above the earth, the earth we till and love:
So we her airs contemplate, words and heart,
And virtues; but we love the centric part.
Nor is the soul more worthy, or more fit
For love, than this, as infinite as it.
But in attaining this desired place
How much they err, that set out at the face
The hair a forest is of ambushes,
Of springs and snares, fetters and manacles:
The brow becaims us, when 't is smooth and plain;
And when 't is wrinkled, shipwrecks us again.
Smooth, 't is a paradise, where we would have
Immortal stay; but wrinkled, 't is a grave.
The nose (like to the sweet meridian) runs
Not 'twixt an east and west, but 'twixt two suns;
It leaves a cheek, a rosy hemisphere
On either side, and then directs us where
Upon the Islands Fortunate we fall,
Not faint Canaries, but ambrosial.
Unto her swelling lips when we are come,
We anchor there, and think ourselves at home,
For they seem all: there syrens' songs, and there
Wise Delphic oracles do fill the ear;
Then in a creek, where chosen pearls do swell
The remora, her cleaving tongue doth dwell.
These and (the glorious promontory) her chin
Being past the straits of Hellespont, between
The Sestos and Abydos of her breasts,
(Not of two lovers, but two loves the nests)
Succeeds a boundless sea, but yet thine eye
Some island moles may scatter'd there descry ;
And sailing towards her India, in that way
Shall at her fair Atlantic navel stay ;
Though there the current be the pilot made,
Yet ere thou be where thou should'st be embay'd,
Thou shalt upon another forest set,
Where many shipwreck and no further get.
When thou art there, consider what this chase
Misspent, by thy beginning at the face.
Rather set out below; practise my art;
Some symmetry the foot hath with that part
Which thou dost seek, and is thy map for that,
Lovely enough to stop, but not stay at:
Least subject to disguise and change it is;
Men say the Devil never can change his.
It is the emblem, that hath figured
Firmness; 't is the first part that comes to bed.
Civility we see refin'd: the kiss,
Which at the face began, transplanted is,
Since to the hand, since to th' imperial knee,
Now at the papal foot delights to be.
If kings think that the nearer way, and do
Rise from the foot, lovers may do so too:
For as free spheres move faster far than can
Birds, whom the air resists; so may that man,
Which goes this empty and ethereal way,
Than if at beauty's enemies he stay.
Rich Nature hath in women wisely made
Two purses, and their mouths aversely laid :
They then, which to the lower tribute owe,
That way, which that exchequer looks, must go:
He which doth not, his errour is as great,
As who by clyster gives the stomach meat.
TO HIS MISTRESS GOING TO BED.
COME, madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The foe oft-times having the foe in sight
Is tir'd with standing, though he never fight.
Off with that girdle, like Heaven's zone glittering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breast-plate, which you wear,
That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopp'd there.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
Tells me from you, that now it is bed-time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be, and still can stand, so nigh.
Your gown going off such beauteous state reveals,
As when through flow'ry meads th' hill's shadow
steals.
Off with that wiry coronet, and show
The bairy diadem, which on your head doth grow:
Now off with those shoes, and then softly tread
In this Love's hallow'd temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes Heaven's angels us'd to be
Reveal'd to men: thou angel bring'st with thee
A Heav'n like Mahomet's paradise; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we eas❜ly know
By this these angels from an evil sprite;
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
License my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O my America! my Newfoundland !
My kingdom's safest when with one man man'd.
My mine of precious stones: my empery,
How am I bless'd in thus discovering thee!
To enter in these bonds is to be free;
Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
Full nakedness! all joys are due to thee;
As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth'd must be,
To taste whole joys. Gems, which you women use,
Are like Atlanta's ball, cast in men's views;
That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem,
His earthly soul may court that, and not them:
Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings, made
For laymen, are all women thus array'd.
Themselves are only mystic books, which we
(Whom their imputed grace will dignify)
Must see reveal'd. Then since that I may know;
As liberally as to thy midwife show
Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence;
There is no penance due to innocence.
To teach thee, I am naked first; why, then, What need'st thou have more covering than a man?
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HAIL bishop Valentine, whose day this is,
All the air is thy diocese,
And all the chirping choristers
And other birds are thy parishioners:
Thou marry'st every year
The lyric lark, and the grave whispering dove;
The sparrow, that neglects his life for love;
The household bird with the red stomacher;
Thou mak'st the blackbird speed as soon,
As doth the goldfinch or the halcyon;
The husband cock looks out, and straight is sped,
And meets his wife, which brings her feather-bed.
This day more cheerfully than ever shine.
This day, which might inflame thyself, old Valentine.
Till now thou warm'dst with multiplying loves
Two larks, two sparrows, or two doves;
All that is nothing unto this,
For thou this day couplest two phenixes.
Thou mak'st a taper see
What the Sun never saw, and what the ark
(Which was of fowl and beasts the cage and park)
Did not contain, one bed contains through thee
Two phenixes, whose joined breasts Are unto one another mutual nests; Where motion kindles such fires, as shall give Young phenixes, and yet the old shall live: Whose love and courage never shall decline, But make the whole year through thy day, O Valentine.
Up then, fair phenix bride, frustrate the Sun;
Thyself from thine affection
Tak'st warmth enough, and from thine eye
All lesser birds will take their jollity.
Up, up, fair bride, and call
Thy stars from out their several boxes, take
Thy rubies, pearls, and diamonds forth, and make
Thyself a constellation of them all:
And by their blazing signify,
That a great princess falls, but doth not die:
Be thou a new star, that to us portends
Ends of much wonder; and be thou those ends.
Since thou dost this day in new glory shine,
May all men date records from this day, Valentine.
They pay, they give, they lend, and so let fall
No occasion to be liberal.
More truth, more courage in these two do shine,
Than all thy turtles have and sparrows, Valentine.
And by this act of these two phenixes
Nature again restored is;
For since these two are two no more, There 's but one phenix still, as was before. Rest now at last, and we
(As satyrs watch the Sun's uprise) will stay Waiting when your eyes opened let out day, Only desir'd, because your face we see ;
Others near you shall whispering speak, And wagers lay, at which side day will break,
Come forth, come forth, and as one glorious flame, | And win by observing then whose hand it is
Meeting another, grows the same:
So meet thy Frederick, and so
To an unseparable union go;
Since separation
Falls not on such things as are infinite,
Nor things, which are but once, and disunite;
You 're twice inseparable, great, and one.
Go then to where the bishop stays,
To make you one, his way, which divers ways
Must be effected; and when all is past,
And that y' are one, by hearts and hands made fast;
You two have one way left yourselves t' entwine,
Besides this bishop's knot, of bishop Valentine.
But oh! what ails the Sun, that hence he stays
Longer to day than other days?
Stays he new light from these to get?
And finding here such stars, is loath to set?
And why do you two walk
So slowly pac'd in this procession?
Is all your care but to be look'd upon,
And be to others spectacle and talk?
The feast with gluttonous delays
Is eaten, and too long their meat they praise. The maskers come late, and I think will stay, Like fairies, till the cock crow them away. Alas! did not antiquity assign
A night as well as day to thee, old Valentine?
They did, and night is come: and yet we see
Formalities retarding thee.
What mean these ladies, which (as though
They were to take a clock in pieces) go
So nicely about the bride?
A bride, before a good-night could be said,
Should vanish from her clothes into her bed;
As souls from bodies steal, and are not spy'd.
But now she 's laid: what though she be?
Yet there are more delays; for where is he?
He comes and passeth through sphere after sphere;
First her sheets, then her arms, then any where.
Let not this day then, but this night be thine,
Thy day was but the eve to this, O Valentine.
Here lies a she Sun, and a he Moon there,
She gives the best light to his sphere,
Or each is both, and all, and so
They unto one another nothing owe;
And yet they do, but are
So just and rich in that coin which they pay,
That neither would, nor needs, forbear nor stay,
Neither desires to be spar'd, nor to spare:
They quickly pay their debt, and then Take no acquittances, but pay again;
That opens first a curtain, her's or his;
This will be tried to morrow after nine,
Till which hour we thy day enlarge, O Valentine.
ALLOPHANES FINDING IDIOS IN THE COUNTRY IN CHRISTMAS TIME, REPREHENDS HIS ABSENCE FROM COURT, AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET; IDIOS GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF HIS PURPOSE THEREIN, AND OF HIS ACTIONS THERE.
UNSEASONABLE man, statue of ice,
What could to country's solitude entice
Thee, in this year's cold and decrepid time?
Nature's instinct draws to the warmer clime
Ev'n smaller birds, who by that courage dare
In numerous fleets sail through their sea, the air.
What delicacy can in fields appear,
Whilst Flora herself doth a frize jerkin wear?
Whilst winds do all the trees and hedges strip
Of leaves, to furnish rods enough to whip
Thy madness from thee, and all springs by frost
Having tak'n cold, and their sweet murmurs lost?
If thou thy faults or fortunes would'st lament
With just solemnity, do it in Lent:
At court the spring already advanced is,
The Sun stays longer up; and yet not his
The glory is; far other, other fires;
First zeal to prince and state; then love's desires
Burn in one breast, and like Heav'n's two great lights,
The first doth govern days, the other nights.
And then that early light, which did appear
Before the Sun and Moon created were,
The prince's favour, is diffus'd o'er all,
From which all fortunes, names, and natures, fall;
Then from those wombs of stars, the bride's bright
At every glance a constellation flies,
And sows the court with stars, and doth prevent
In light and power the all-ey'd firmament.
First her eyes kindle other ladies' eyes,
Then from their beams their jewels' lustres rise,
And from their jewels torches do take fire;
And all is warmth, and light, and good desire.
Most other courts, alas! are like to Hell,
Where in dark plots fire without light doth dwell:
Or but like stoves, for lust and envy get
Continual but artificial heat;
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