Ovid's heroical epistles Englished by W.S.

[illustration]

The Argument of the nineteenth Epistle.

AContius going to Diana's sacrifice, which were celebrated by Virgins in Delos, the chiefest I stand of all the Cycledes in the Aegean sea, fell in love with Cyd••••pe a noble Maid: but he in regard of the inequality of his birth, not da••ing to solicite her love, did cunningly write on a fair Apple these two verses.

Iuro ti••i sane per mystica sacra Diana, Me tibi ven••u••am comitem, spon••am{que} ••uturam.

By Diana's sacred rites I sw••ar to thee, Thy loving Confort and Wife I will be.

And so he cast the Apple at the Maids feet; who ignorant of his cunning, reading it at unawars, she promi••ed that she would be wife to 〈◊〉〈◊〉. For it wa•• a law, that was spoken before the gods in the ••emp••e of Diana should be ••atified. So that Acontius endea∣vo••rs in this E••stle to perswade her, that Diana had insl••cted sicknesse on her, because she had violated her promise made in the goddesses presenc••. And to allure her to his d••stres, his Exordium endeavours to make her c••n••ident to read without any suspition of deceit, like the former. Afterward he strives to make her husband contemptible in her sight, perswading her that he was the cause of all her sicknesse.

ACONTIUS to CYDIPPE.

BE not af••raid, since that thou shalt not swear, ••s thou didst before to thy Lover, here; For thou didst swear enough at that same time, VVhen thou didst p••omise that thou wouldst be mine. R••ad it; and so may the sic••ness leave thee, And p••ins, wh••ch also are a pain to me. For why shou'd t••y ingenuous cheeks be spred, As in 〈◊〉〈◊〉, ••emple with blushing red. Since to perform thy prom••se I do move thee, And not loosely but as a husband love thee. For i•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 words 'thou would•• but call to mind, VVhic•• I did write upon the Apples rinde; And cast, before thee, being read by thee, In ••eading it ••h••u didst promise to me, Even ••hat which I do now of thee desi••e, My words and faith do not at onc•• expire.

When Diana depriv'd thee first of health, I fear'd it; Virgin think upon thy self. And now I fear the same, for now at length The flame o•• love in me ha••h gotten strength. My strong affection doth ••ne••ease, and grow, Encourag'd by that hope which you did shew. Thou gav'st me hope, from thee it did proceed, Diana is a witness to thy deed. For thou didst swear by Diana's majesty, Acom•••••• I do mean to marry thee. And to these words which from thy mouth then went, Diana bow'd in token of consent. If thou dost urge, thou we••t de••eiv'd by me, The deceit came from love, my love f••om thee. Seeking thereby to thee to be united, That should win favour, wherewith thou art frighted. I'me not so crafty by nature or use, Thy beauty doth this craftinesse infuse. Ingenious love, and not my art first joyn'd Those words which thee to me did firmly bind. For love this cunning trick to me disclos'd And words of marriage into lines compos'd. yet let this Act of mine deceitfull prove, If it be deceit to get what we love. And now I write, for favour I intrear, Complain of this, if this be a cecei••. If loving thee, an injury I do thee, Though thou forbid me, I will love and woe thee. Some have by force their Sweet-hearts away brought, To write a Letter, shall it be a fault? Since that a Letter a new knot doth tye Of that promis'd love between thee and I. Though thou art coy to me, yet I shall make thee More kind, and I do know that I shall t••ke thee.

For albeit thou scape out of this net, Thou shalt not scape all those which love can set. And if that gentle means, and art do fail, Then force against thy coinesle shall prevail. I do not hold that Paris was in fault, or those who their desires by force have sought. And so will I: although that death should be His sad reward, that ventures to steal thee. Wert thou lesse fair, my suit would be more cold, But now thy beauteous face doth make me bold. My flame of love proceeds from thy fair eyes, Which do out shine the bright stars in the skies. And from thy white neck, which thy brown hair graces, And from thy armes fit onely for imbraces. Thy modest countenance also taketh me Where silent beauties sweetly placed be. Thy feet like ivory are so pure and white, That Thetis, I suppose, hath not the like. I were happy, if I might praise the rest, Thy parts summ'd up together would be best. It is no wonder since thou art so fair, If by thy own words I did thee insnare. For if thou should'st confess thy self to be Taken by my deceit and treachery; Let me bea•• the envy of it, and blame, So that I may the fruits of love obtain. Achilles did by force fair Bris••••s take, yet she lov'd him, and would not him forsake. F••nd fault with what thou wilt and angry be, So that in danger I may enjoy thee. I that have mov'd your anger, will appease you, And if you give me leave, I'le strive to please you. For I will stand before you, and there weep, VVhile my tears with my words due time shall keep

And like some servant that correction fears, I hold my hands up, and beg with my tears. Assume your right, I'me a ••••ave to your b••auty, Be you my Mistriss, and teach me my duty. Although that you should stri••e me, and should tear In an imperious manner my long hair. I'le suffer all, and onely affraid be, Left you should hurt your ••and with striking me. Thou needst not ••etter me with iron chains, "He serveth willingly whom love constrains. When thou hast satisfyed thy wrath on me, Thou wilt then say; how pat••ent is he? And noting my patience say, since I see That he can serve so well, he shall serve me. I know thou dost condemn me in absence, And my good cause doth want a just defence. That only which I on the Apple writ Is my offence, yet love ndited it. Besi••es Dia••a should not mocked be, Keep thy promise with her, though not with me. She sa•• the blush, ••hen as thou art deceiv'd. And she did hea•• those words which thou didst read. And who can be more violent than sh••, To those that do prophane her Maj••sty. Who more angry than Al••h•••• with her son, M••re ••e••ce then was the Boar of Calydon. She made ••cteon•• hounds their Master hunt, As he with them to chase wild beasts was wont She did N••••b•• to a stone transforme Which in Bythinia stands, and seems to mourn. Cyd••pp••, I dare not speak truth to thee, Let my admonishment seem false to be. yet I must speak, her wrath inflicts on thee This sicknesse, when that thou should'st marri'd be.

From perjury shee'd have thee keep thy self "By sicknesse she would bring thy mind to health. And when to break thy vow thou wouldst begin, She keeps thee from committing of that sin. Then do not thou Di•••••• more incense, She may be brought to remit thy offence, That so thy feaver may not quite destroy Thy beauty sav'd, that I may it enjoy. Preserve that beauty, which my love fi••st bred, Where snowy whitenesse shaddoweth the re••, May those would cro••••e our love, endure that pain, VVhich I while thou art sick do now sustain. I would not have thee sick, nor married be, I know not which of the••e would most grieve me. Som••times it grie••eth me, that I should grieve thee, And that I did so cunningly deceive thee. For my mistris's ••erjury, O punish me, ye gods; fro•• punishment let her be free. And sometimes I occasion take to go By the door, that I may know how you do. And in a secret ma••ner enquiring keep Of your maid, how you cat, and take your sleep. I would I h••d been a Physitian bred, To feel thy pulse, and sit upon thy bed. And wo is me, that I must absent be▪ While that my rival is perhaps with th••e. He holds thy hand, and sits on thy beds side, Who is by all the gods, and me envy'd. And while that he t••y beating pulse doth try, Thy white arm he doth often touch thereby. He handles thee, and then perhaps a kisse, Rewards his service with to•• great a blis••e. Who hath permitted thee to reap my crop? And take away the fruits of all my hope?

Her self, and Kisses thou must understand Are mine by promise, then take off thy hand. Take of•• thy hand, for she my own sh••ll be, Unlesse thou wilt commit adultery. Some other Maiden chuse that yet is free, For of her tenemen I must Land-lord be. Thou may'st believe our covenants if not m••, To shew they're firm let her read them to thee, Therefore thou hast no right, I say to thee, Vnto her marriage bed, 'tis kept for me. Though her Father to thee dip her assign, Yet thy right cannot be so good as mine. Her Fathes did betroth her unto thee, But she her self did give her self to me. He promis'd before men she should be thine, She promis'd before Diana she would be mine. He breaks his word, she violates her oath, And dost thou dote which is the worst of both? Lastly consider, what the event may be, For he's in health, but sick in bed is she. In our contentions too much ods there are, Thy hope is not like mine, nor yet thy fear. Thy love is not so dangerous but I If I should suffer a repulse must dye. Perhaps that hereafter thou wilt approve her, But it is I that now do clearly love her. Therefore in justice, that same love of thine Vnto my love all title should resign. Since for thy love he unjustly doth contend, Cydippe why do I this Letter send? Diana for his sake doth thee afflict, Forbid him then thy house, if thou hast wit. And for his sake this sicknesse light on thee, May he that causeth it, so punish'd be.

For if thou wilt his fained love reject, And not love whom the goddesse doth not respect. Thou shalt then presently regain thy health, When thou art well, I shall be well my self. Fear not sweet Maid, thou shalt have thy health now; If to the goddesse thou wilt keep thy vow. "The heavenly powers our sacrifices scorne, "Unless we faithfully our vowes perform Yet some do lancing suffer for healths sake, And some for health do bitter potions take. But if thou keep thy self from perjury', Thou shalt preserve thy heal••h, thy saith, and me. Thy former fa••••t may yet a pardon find, Through ignorance, or fo••getfulnesse of mind. Thy si••kne••••e and my words admonish thee, "For know the gods cannot deceiv'd be. Yet should••st thou scape this sickness, being a Maid, Being ma••ried, thou wilt need Di••n••'s aid. Having heard thy promise she will aske thee If I the father of thy burthen be. If thou do••st vow, yet she will not believe, If t••ou swear'st she knows 'tis but to deceive. For thee, not for thy self this care I take, And my mind is thus trouble•• for thy sake. Let not ••hy Pa••en••s for thy s••ckne••••e w••ep; Or why dost thou in ••gnorance them keep? Though to thy Mother thou dost all relate, Cy••i••••••, thou need'st not to blush thereat. Tell her ••ow I did first behold thy eyes, While thou did'st to Diana sac••ifice And at the first side if thou ma••ked'st me, I stood and gaz'd with fixed eyes on thee. And while I wondring stood m•• cloak oft fell From my shoulder, which passion seem'd to tell,

And after that an Apple I did fit, VVherein most cunningly these words I writ. VVhich in Diana's pres••nce read by thee, Thou didst bind thy self then to marry me. That she the Tenour of the words may know, As thou read'st them once, read them to her so. Then she will say forthwith, pray marry me Him, whom the goddess hath allotted thee. Since that Diana is pleas'd, chuse no other, For the goddess will be to thee a mother. And tell he•• if she aske thee, who I am, The goddess choice can be to thee no shame. In ••aea where Corycian Nymphs have, In Parnassus hill an old famous Cave. I was born, and (it birth be not contemn'd) From no base Parantage I did descend. I have wealth, and my life from spot is free, And there is none whom I love more than thee. Had'st thou not swo••n, yet thou need'st must like Such a husband, and I such a wife would seek. Diana in a dream bid me to write These lines, and waking love bid me indite. And ••s loves arrow now hath wo••nded me, Take heed Diana's arrow wound not thee. At once have pity on me, and thy sel••, At once thou mayst restore us both to health; Which if thou g••ant, when the Trumpets procla••m, Diana's solemn sacra••ice again, I'le offer a golden Apple and on it These two verses shall be most fairly w••it. Ac••ntius th••s Apple offer'd to testi••y. The gods the words writ in't did ratify. Lest a longer Letter try t••ee being weake. I have but one word more to write, or speak.

And in the usuall way as all can tell I will conclude my letter here; Farewell.