I

PROLOGUE AT ISCHIA

The Castle Terrace . V ITTORIA C OLONNA and J ULIA G ONZAGA .

VITTORIA .

Will you then leave me, Julia, and so soon,
To pace alone this terrace like a ghost?

JULIA

To-morrow, dearest.

VITTORIA

Do not say to-morrow.
A whole month of to-morrows were too soon.
You must not go. You are a part of me.

JULIA .

I must return to Fondi.

I dreamt again the dream of yore;
The sweet May night was glowing,
We sate 'neath the linden-tree once more,
Eternal fidelity vowing.

There was vowing and swearing well-nigh to the morn,
And kisses, and whispers, and laughter;
That I might be mindful of what I had sworn
You bit my hand just after.

O darling, with eyes so bright and clear,
Provoking, enslaving, delighting —
The swearing was quite en regle , my dear,

( The Head speaks. )
Oh that the footstool I might be
Whereon my darling's feet are set;
Though she should sore betrample me,
Never would I complain or fret.

( The Heart speaks. )

Oh that the cushion I might be
Wherein her pins my darling sticks!
Though she should stab and prick at me,
I would rejoice in stabs and pricks.

( The Song speaks. )

PROLOGUE .

There once was a knight, who was moody and drear,
Wan and hollow beyond all telling;
He staggered and stumbled, now hither, now here,
Some desolate dream him compelling.
So wooden, so lumpish, so clumsy was he,
That the girls and the flowers they tittered with glee,
When he shambled along past their dwelling.

In the gloomiest corner he sat there remote,
And shrank where his fellows were thronging;

Goe you my lynes, Embassadors of love,
With my harts trybute to her conquering eyes,
From whence, if you one teare of pitty move
For all my woes, that onely shall suffise.

When you Minerva in the sunne behold,
At her perfection stand you then and gaze,
Where, in the compasse of a Marygold,
Meridianis sits within a maze.

And let Invention of her beauty vaunt,

When first I ended, then I first began,
The more I travell, further from my rest,
Where most I lost, there most of all I wan,
Pyned with hunger, rysing from a feast.

Mee thinks I flee, yet want I legs to goe,
Wise in conceite, in acte a very sot,
Ravisht with joy, amidst a hell of woe,
What most I seeme, that surest am I not.

I build my hopes, a world above the skye,
Yet with the Mole, I creepe into the earth,
In plenty, am I starv'd with penury,
And yet I surfet in the greatest dearth.

Define my love, and tell the joyes of heaven,
Expresse my woes, and shew the paynes of hell,
Declare what fate unlucky starres have given,
And aske a world upon my life to dwell.

Make knowne that fayth, unkindnes could not move,
Compare my worth with others base desert,
Let vertue be the tuch-stone of my love,
So may the heavens reade wonders in my hart.

Behold the Clowdes which have eclips'd my sunne,
And view the crosses which my course doth let,
Tell mee, if ever since the world begunne,

Who list to praise the dayes delicious lyght,
Let him compare it to her heavenly eye:
The sun-beames to that lustre of her sight,
So may the learned like the similie.

The mornings Crimson, to her lyps alike,
The sweet of Eden , to her breathes perfume,
The fayre Elizia , to her fayrer cheeke,
Unto her veynes, the onely Phaenix plume.

The Angels tresses, to her tressed hayre,

The golden Sunne upon his fiery wheeles,
The horned Ram doth in his course awake:
And of just length our night and day doth make,
Flinging the Fishes backward with his heeles.

Then to the Tropicke takes his full Careere,
Trotting his sun-steeds till the Palfrays sweat,
Bayting the Lyon in his furious heat,
Till Virgins smyles doe sound his sweet reteere.

But my faire Planet, who directs me still,
Unkindly, such distemprature doth bring,
Makes Summer Winter, Autumne in the Spring,
Crossing sweet nature by unruly will.

Sweet secrecie, what tongue can tell thy worth?
What mortall pen suffyciently can prayse thee?
What curious Pensill serves to lim thee forth?
What Muse hath power, above thy height to raise thee?

Strong locke of kindnesse, Closet of loves store,
Harts Methridate, the soules preservative,
O vertue, which all vertues doe adore,
Cheefe good, from whom all good things we derive.

O rare effect, true bond of friendships measure,
Conceite of Angels, which all wisdom teachest,
O richest Casket of all heavenly treasure,