The Works of Christopher Marlowe, Vol. 3 | Page 5

some vile tongues will blot?

But you are fair, ay me! so wondrous fair,
So young, so gentle, and
so debonair.
As Greece will think, if thus you live alone,
Some one
or other keeps you as his own. 290 Then, Hero, hate me not, nor from
me fly,
To follow swiftly-blasting infamy.
Perhaps thy sacred
priesthood makes thee loath:
Tell me to whom mad'st thou that
heedless oath?"
"To Venus," answer'd she; and, as she spake,
Forth
from those two tralucent cisterns brake
A stream of liquid pearl,
which down her face
Made milk-white paths, whereon the gods might
trace
To Jove's high court. He thus replied: "The rites
In which
Love's beauteous empress most delights, 300 Are banquets, Doric
music, midnight revel,
Plays, masks, and all that stern age counteth
evil.
Thee as a holy idiot doth she scorn;
For thou, in vowing
chastity, hast sworn
To rob her name and honour, and thereby

Committ'st a sin far worse than perjury,
Even sacrilege against her
deity,
Through regular and formal purity.
To expiate which sin, kiss
and shake hands:
Such sacrifice as this Venus demands." 310 Thereat
she smil'd, and did deny him so,

As put[18] thereby, yet might he
hope for mo;
Which makes him quickly reinforce his speech,
And
her in humble manner thus beseech:
"Though neither gods nor men
may thee deserve,
Yet for her sake, whom you have vow'd to serve,

Abandon fruitless cold virginity,
The gentle queen of Love's sole
enemy.
Then shall you most resemble Venus' nun,
When Venus'

sweet rites are performed and done. 320 Flint-breasted Pallas joys in
single life;
But Pallas and your mistress are at strife.
Love, Hero,
then, and be not tyrannous;
But heal the heart that thou hast wounded
thus;
Nor stain thy youthful years with avarice:
Fair fools delight to
be accounted nice.
The richest[19] corn dies, if it be not reapt;

Beauty alone is lost, too warily kept."
These arguments he us'd, and
many more;
Wherewith she yielded, that was won before. 330 Hero's
looks yielded, but her words made war:
Women are won when they
begin to jar.
Thus, having swallow'd Cupid's golden hook,
The
more she striv'd, the deeper was she strook:
Yet, evilly feigning anger,
strove she still,
And would be thought to grant against her will.
So
having paus'd a while, at last she said,
"Who taught thee rhetoric to
deceive a maid?
Ay me! such words as these should I abhor,
And
yet I like them for the orator." 340 With that, Leander stooped to have
embrac'd her,
But from his spreading arms away she cast her,
And
thus bespake him: "Gentle youth, forbear
To touch the sacred
garments which I wear.
Upon a rock, and underneath a hill,
Far
from the town (where all is whist[20] and still,
Save that the sea,
playing on yellow sand,
Sends forth a rattling murmur to the land,

Whose sound allures the golden Morpheus
In silence of the night to
visit us), 350 My turret stands; and there, God knows, I play
With
Venus' swans and sparrows all the day.
A[21] dwarfish beldam bears
me company,
That hops about the chamber where I lie,
And spends
the night, that might be better spent,
In vain discourse and apish
merriment:--
Come thither." As she spake this, her tongue tripp'd,

For unawares "Come thither" from her slipp'd;
And suddenly her
former colour chang'd,
And here and there her eyes through anger
rang'd; 360 And, like a planet moving several ways
At one self
instant, she, poor soul, assays,

Loving, not to love at all, and every
part
Strove to resist the motions of her heart:
And hands so pure, so
innocent, nay, such
As might have made Heaven stoop to have a
touch,
Did she uphold to Venus, and again
Vow'd spotless chastity;
but all in vain;
Cupid beats down her prayers with his wings;
Her

vows above[22] the empty air he flings: 370 All deep enrag'd, his
sinewy bow he bent,
And shot a shaft that burning from him went;

Wherewith she strooken, look'd so dolefully,
As made Love sigh to
see his tyranny;
And, as she wept, her tears to pearl he turn'd,
And
wound them on his arm, and for her mourn'd.
Then towards the
palace of the Destinies,
Laden with languishment and grief, he flies,

And to those stern nymphs humbly made request,
Both might
enjoy each other, and be blest. 380 But with a ghastly dreadful
countenance,
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; 390 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,
400 And sweetly on