The Works of Christopher Marlowe, Vol. 3 (of 3). Christopher Marlowe

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      Threatening a thousand deaths at every glance,

      They answer'd Love, nor would vouchsafe so much

      As one poor word, their hate to him was such:

      Hearken awhile, and I will tell you why.

      Heaven's wingèd herald, Jove-born Mercury,

      The self-same day that he asleep had laid

      Enchanted Argus, spied a country maid,

      Whose careless hair, instead of pearl t'adorn it,

      Glister'd with dew, as one that seemed to scorn it;

      Her breath as fragrant as the morning rose;

      Her mind pure, and her tongue untaught to glose:

      Yet proud she was (for lofty Pride that dwells

      In tower'd courts, is oft in shepherds' cells),

      And too-too well the fair vermillion knew

      And silver tincture of her cheeks that drew

      The love of every swain. On her this god

      Enamour'd was, and with his snaky rod

      Did charm her nimble feet, and made her stay,

      The while upon a hillock down he lay,

      And sweetly on his pipe began to play,

      And with smooth speech her fancy to assay,

      Till in his twining arms he lock'd her fast,

      And then he woo'd with kisses; and at last,

      As shepherds do, her on the ground he laid,

      And, tumbling in the grass, he often stray'd

      Beyond the bounds of shame, in being bold

      To eye those parts which no eye should behold;

      And, like an insolent commanding lover,

      Boasting his parentage, would needs discover

      The way to new Elysium. But she,

      Whose only dower was her chastity,

      Having striven in vain, was now about to cry,

      And crave the help of shepherds that were nigh.

      Herewith he stay'd his fury, and began

      To give her leave to rise: away she ran;

      After went Mercury, who used such cunning,

      As she, to hear his tale, let off her running

      (Maids are not won by brutish force and might,

      But speeches full of pleasures and delight);

      And, knowing Hermes courted her, was glad

      That she such loveliness and beauty had

      As could provoke his liking; yet was mute,

      And neither would deny nor grant his suit.

      Still vow'd he love: she, wanting no excuse

      To feed him with delays, as women use,

      Or thirsting after immortality,

      (All women are ambitious naturally),

      Impos'd upon her lover such a task,

      As he ought not perform, nor yet she ask;

      A draught of flowing nectar she requested,

      Wherewith the king of gods and men is feasted.

      He, ready to accomplish what she will'd,

      Stole some from Hebe (Hebe Jove's cup fill'd),

      And gave it to his simple rustic love:

      Which being known,—as what is hid from Jove?—

      He inly storm'd, and wax'd more furious

      Than for the fire filch'd by Prometheus;

      And thrusts him down from heaven. He, wandering here,

      In mournful terms, with sad and heavy cheer,

      Complain'd to Cupid: Cupid, for his sake,

      To be reveng'd on Jove did undertake;

      And those on whom heaven, earth, and hell relies,

      I mean the adamantine Destinies,

      He wounds with love, and forc'd them equally

      To dote upon deceitful Mercury.

      They offer'd him the deadly fatal knife

      That shears the slender threads23 of human life;

      At his fair-feather'd feet the engines laid,

      Which th' earth from ugly Chaos' den upweigh'd.

      These he regarded not; but did entreat

      That Jove, usurper of his father's seat,

      Might presently be banish'd into hell,

      And agèd Saturn in Olympus dwell.

      They granted what he crav'd; and once again

      Saturn and Ops began their golden reign:

      Murder, rape, war, and24 lust, and treachery,

      Were with Jove clos'd in Stygian empery.

      But long this blessèd time continu'd not:

      As soon as he his wishèd purpose got,

      He, reckless of his promise, did despise

      The love of th' everlasting Destinies.

      They, seeing it, both Love and him abhorr'd,

      And Jupiter unto his place restor'd:

      And, but that Learning, in despite of Fate,

      Will mount aloft, and enter heaven-gate,

      And to the seat of Jove itself advance,

      Hermes had slept in hell with Ignorance.

      Yet, as a punishment, they added this,

      That he and Poverty should always kiss;

      And to this day is every scholar poor:

      Gross gold from them runs headlong to the boor.

      Likewise the angry Sisters, thus deluded,

      To venge themselves on Hermes, have concluded

      That Midas' brood shall sit in Honour's chair,

      To which the Muses' sons are only heir;

      And fruitful wits, that inaspiring25 are,

      Shall, discontent, run into regions far;

      And few great lords in virtuous deeds shall joy

      But be surpris'd with every garish toy,

      And still enrich the lofty servile clown,

      Who with encroaching guile keeps learning down.

      Then muse not Cupid's suit no better sped,

      Seeing in their loves the Fates were injurèd.

      THE SECOND SESTIAD