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(From England’s Heroical Epistles)
SOMETIMES, to pass the tedious irksome hours, | |
| I climb the top of Woodstock’s mounting tow’rs, | |
| Where in a turret secretly I lie, | |
| To view from far such as do travel by: | |
| Whither, methinks, all cast their eyes at me, | 5 |
| As through the stones my shame did make them see; | |
| And with such hate the harmless walls do view, | |
| As ev’n to death their eyes would me pursue. | |
| The married women curse my hateful life, | |
| Wronging a fair queen and a virtuous wife: | 10 |
| The maidens wish I buried quick may die, | |
| And from each place near my abode to flie. | |
| Well knew’st thou what a monster I would be, | |
| When thou didst build this labyrinth for me, | |
| Whose strange meanders turning ev’ry way, | 15 |
| Be like the course wherein my youth did stray: | |
| Only a clue doth guide me out and in, | |
| But yet still walk I circular in sin. | |
| As in the gallery this other day, | |
| I and my woman past the time away, | 20 |
| ’Mongst many pictures which were hanging by, | |
| The silly girl at length hapt to espy | |
| Chaste Lucrece’ image, and desires to know | |
| What she should be, herself that murder’d so? | |
| Why, girl (quoth I), this is that Roman dame— | 25 |
| Not able then to tell the rest for shame, | |
| My tongue doth mine own guiltiness betray; | |
| With that I sent the prattling wench away, | |
| Lest when my lisping guilty tongue should halt, | |
| My lips might prove the index to my fault. | 30 |
| As that life-blood which from the heart is sent, | |
| In beauty’s field pitching his crimson tent, | |
| In lovely sanguine sutes the lily cheek, | |
| Whilst it but for a resting place doth seek; | |
| And changing oftentimes with sweet delight, | 35 |
| Converts the white to red, the red to white: | |
| The blush with paleness for the place doth strive, | |
| The paleness thence the blush would gladly drive: | |
| Thus in my breast a thousand thoughts I carry, | |
| Which in my passion diversly do vary. | 40 |
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