The Works of Christopher Marlowe Volume III Part 22

[319] "Findat."

[320] Ed. B "in fields."--Ed. C "in field."

[321] Old eds. "swearest."

[322] Old eds. "your."

[323] "Et faciles curvis vallibus este viae."

ELEGIA XVII.[324]

Quod Corinnae soli sit serviturus.

To serve a wench if any think it shame, He being judge, I am convinced of blame.

Let me be slandered, while my fire she hides, That Paphos, and[325] flood-beat Cythera guides.

Would I had been my mistress' gentle prey, Since some fair one I should of force obey.

Beauty gives heart; Corinna's looks excell; Ay me, why is it known to her so well?

But by her gla.s.s disdainful pride she learns, Nor she herself, but first trimmed up, discerns. 10 Not though thy face in all things make thee reign, (O face, most cunning mine eyes to detain!) Thou ought'st therefore to scorn me for thy mate, Small things with greater may be copulate.

Love-snared Calypso is supposed to pray A mortal nymph's[326] refusing lord to stay.

Who doubts, with Peleus Thetis did consort, Egeria with just Numa had good sport.

Venus with Vulcan, though, smith's tools laid by, With his stump foot he halts ill-favouredly. 20 This kind of verse is not alike; yet fit, With shorter numbers the heroic sit.

And thou, my light, accept me howsoever; Lay in the mid bed, there be my lawgiver.

My stay no crime, my flight no joy shall breed, Nor of our love, to be ashamed we need.

For great revenues I good verses have, And many by me to get glory crave.

I know a wench reports herself Corinne; What would not she give that fair name to win? 30 But sundry floods in one bank never go, Eurotas cold, and poplar-bearing Po; Nor in my books shall one but thou be writ, Thou dost alone give matter to my wit.

FOOTNOTES:

[324] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[325] Old eds. "and the."

[326] Marlowe reads "nymphae" for "nymphe."

ELEGIA XVIII.[327]

Ad Macrum, quod de amoribus scribat.

To tragic verse while thou Achilles train'st, And new sworn soldiers' maiden arms retain'st, We, Macer, sit in Venus' slothful shade, And tender love hath great things hateful made.

Often at length, my wench depart I bid, She in my lap sits still as erst she did.

I said, "It irks me:" half to weeping framed, "Ay me!" she cries, "to love why art ashamed?"

Then wreathes about my neck her winding arms, And thousand kisses gives, that work my harms: 10 I yield, and back my wit from battles bring, Domestic acts, and mine own wars to sing.

Yet tragedies, and sceptres fill'd my lines, But though I apt were for such high designs, Love laughed at my cloak, and buskins painted, And rule, so soon with private hands acquainted.

My mistress' deity also drew me fro it, And love triumpheth o'er his buskined poet.

What lawful is, or we profess love's art: (Alas, my precepts turn myself to smart!) 20 We write, or what Penelope sends Ulysses, Or Phillis' tears that her Demophoon misses.

What thankless Jason, Macareus, and Paris, Phedra, and Hippolyte may read, my care is.

And what poor Dido, with her drawn sword sharp, Doth say, with her that loved the Aonian harp.

As[328] soon as from strange lands Sabinus came, And writings did from divers places frame, White-cheeked Penelope knew Ulysses' sign, The step-dame read Hippolytus' l.u.s.tless line. 30 aeneas to Elisa answer gives, And Phillis hath to read, if now she lives.

Jason's sad letter doth Hypsipyle greet; Sappho her vowed harp lays at Phoebus' feet.

Nor of thee, Macer, that resound'st forth arms, Is golden love hid in Mars' mid alarms.

There Paris is, and Helen's crimes record, With Laodamia, mate to her dead lord, Unless I err to these thou more incline, Than wars, and from thy tents wilt come to mine. 40

FOOTNOTES:

[327] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[328] The original has "Quam cito de toto rediit meus...o...b.. Sabinus," &c.

ELEGIA XIX.[329]

Ad rivalem cui uxor curae non erat.

Fool, if to keep thy wife thou hast no need, Keep her from me, my more desire to breed; We scorn things lawful; stolen sweets we affect; Cruel is he that loves whom none protect.

Let us, both lovers, hope and fear alike, And may repulse place for our wishes strike.[330]

What should I do with fortune that ne'er fails me?

Nothing I love that at all times avails me.

Wily Corinna saw this blemish in me, And craftily knows by what means to win me. 10 Ah, often, that her hale[331] head ached, she lying, Willed me, whose slow feet sought delay, be flying!

Ah, oft, how much she might, she feigned offence; And, doing wrong, made show of innocence.

So, having vexed, she nourished my warm fire, And was again most apt to my desire.

To please me, what fair terms and sweet words has she!

Great G.o.ds! what kisses, and how many ga'[332] she!

Thou also that late took'st mine eyes away, Oft cozen[333] me, oft, being wooed, say nay; 20 And on thy threshold let me lie dispread, Suff'ring much cold by h.o.a.ry night's frost bred.

So shall my love continue many years; This doth delight me, this my courage cheers.

Fat love, and too much fulsome, me annoys, Even as sweet meat a glutted stomach cloys.

In brazen tower had not Danae dwelt, A mother's joy by Jove she had not felt.

While Juno Io keeps, when horns she wore, Jove liked her better than he did before. 30 Who covets lawful things takes leaves from woods, And drinks stolen waters in surrounding floods.

Her lover let her mock that long will reign: Ay me, let not my warnings cause my pain!

Whatever haps, by sufferance harm is done, What flies I follow, what follows me I shun.

But thou, of thy fair damsel too secure, Begin to shut thy house at evening sure.

Search at the door who knocks oft in the dark, In night's deep silence why the ban-dogs[334] bark. 40 Whither[335] the subtle maid lines[336] brings and carries, Why she alone in empty bed oft tarries.

Let this care sometimes bite thee to the quick, That to deceits it may me forward p.r.i.c.k.

To steal sands from the sh.o.r.e he loves a-life[337]

That can affect[338] a foolish wittol's wife.

Now I forewarn, unless to keep her stronger Thou dost begin, she shall be mine no longer.

Long have I borne much, hoping time would beat thee To guard her well, that well I might entreat thee.[339] 50 Thou suffer'st what no husband can endure, But of my love it will an end procure.

Shall I, poor soul, be never interdicted?