Because my mother Læda was beguil'd,
Muft I stray too, that am her eldest child?
I must confefs my mother made a rape,
But Jove beguil'd her in a borrow'd fhape:
When the (poor foul) nor dreamt of god nor man,
He trod her like a milk-white feather'd fwan,
She was deceiv'd by error; if I yield

To your unjust request, nothing can thield
Me from reproach; I cannot plead concealing :
'Twas in her, error; 'tis in me, plain dealing.
She happily err'd; he that her honour spilt,
Had in himself full power to falve the guilt.
Her error happy'd me too (I confefs)
If to be Jove's child, be a happiness.

T'omit high Jove, of whom I stand in awe, As the great grandfire to our father-in-law;. To pafs the kin I claim from Tantalus, From Pelops, and from noble Tindarus; Læda by Jove, in fhape of fwan, beguil'd, Herself fo chang'd, and by him made with child, Proves Jove my father. Then you idly ftrive, Your name from gods and princes to derive. What need you of old Priam make relation, Laomedon, or your great Phrygian nation? Say all be true; what then? He of whom most To be of your alliance, you fo boast, Jove (five degrees at least) from you removed, To be the firft from me, is plainly proved. And tho' (as I believ'd well) Troy may ftand Powerful by fea, and full of strength by land; And no dominion to your ftate fuperior, I hold our clime nothing to Troy inferior..

Say, you in riches pafs us, or in number

Of people, whom you boast your streets to cumber;
Yet yours a barbarous nation is, I tell you,
And in that kind do we of Greece excel you:
Your rich epiftle doth fuch gifts prefent,
As might the goddeffes themselves content,
And woo them to your pleasure: but if I
Shall pass the bounds of fhame, and tread awry;
If ever you should put me to my shifts,
Yourself should move me more than all your gifts.
Or if I ever shall tranfgrefs by stealth,

It shall be for your fake, not for your wealth.
But as your gifts I fcorn not, fo fuch feem
Moft precious, where the giver we esteem.
More than your prefents it fhall Helen please,
That you for her have paft the stormy feas;
That the hath caus'd your toil, that you refpect her,
And more than all your Trojan dames affect her.

But you're a wag in troth, the notes and figns
You make at table in the meats and wines,
I have obferv'd, when I leaft feem'd to mind them,
For at the first my curious eye did find them.
Sometimes (you wanton) your fix'd eye advances
His brightness against mine, darting fweet glances,
Out-gazing me with fuch a ftedfaft look,

That my daz'd eyes their fplendor have forfook;
And then you figh, and by and by you ftretch
Your amorous arm outright, the bowl to reach,
That next me ftands, making excufe to fip
Juft in the felf-fame place that kiss'd my lip.
How oft have I obferv'd your finger make
Tricks and conceited figns, which strait I take?

How often doth your brow your smooth thoughts cloke,
When, to my feeming, it hath almost spoke?
And ftill I fear'd my husband would have spy'd you;
In troth you are to blame, and I must chide you.
You are too manifeft a lover (tufh)

At fuch known figns I could not chufe but blush.
And to myfelf I oft was forc'd to fay,

This man at nothing fhames. Is this (I pray)
Ought fave the truth? Oft-times upon the board
Where Helen was engraven, you the word
Amo have underwrit, in new-fpilt wine:
(Good footh) at first I could not scan the line,
Nor understand your meaning. Now (oh! fpite)
Myself am now taught fo to read and write.
Should I offend, as fin to me is strange,

Thefe blandifhments have power chafte thoughts to
Or if I could be mov'd to ftep aftray,

[change. Thefe would provoke me to lafcivious play: Befides, I must confefs, you have a faceSo admirable rare, so full of grace,

That it hath power to woo, and to make feizure
Of the most bright chafte beauties to your pleasure.
Yet had I rather stainless keep my fame,

Than to a ftranger hazard my good name..
Make me your inftance, and forbear the fair;
Of that which moft doth please you, make most spare.
The greatest virtues, of which wife men boaft,.
Is to abstain from that which pleaseth most.
How many gallant youths (think you) defire
That which you covet, fcorch'd with the felf-fame fire?
Are all the world fools? only Paris wife?
Or is there none, fave you, have judging eyes?
No, no, you view no more than others fee,
But you are plainer and more bold with me.

You are more earnest to pursue your game;
I yield you not more knowledge, but lefs fhame.
I would to God that you had fail'd from Troy,
When my virginity and bed to enjoy,
A thoufand gallant princely fuiters came:
Had I beheld young Paris, I proclaim,
Of all thofe thousand I had made you chief,
And Spartan Menelaus, to his grief,
Should to my cenfure have fubfcrib’d and yielded.
But now (alas!) your hopes are weakly builded;
You covet goods poffefs'd, pleafures foretafted;
Tardy you come, that should before have hafted;
What you defire, another claims as due:
As I could with t' have been efpous'd to you,
So let me tell you, fince it is my fate,

I hold me happy in my prefent state.

Then ceafe, fair prince, an idle fuit to move,
Seek not to harm her, whom you feem to love.
In my contented state let me be guided,
As both my fates and fortunes have provided;
Nor in fo vain a queft your fpirits toil,
To feek at my hands an unworthy fpoil..

But fee how foon poor women are deluded,
Venus herself this covenant hath concluded:
For in the Idean. vallies you efpy

Three goddeffes, ftrip'd naked to your eye;
And when the first had promis'd you a crown,
The fecond fortitude and war's renown;

The third befpake you thus ; crown, nor war's pride,
Will I bequeath, but Helen to thy bride.

I scarce believe those high immortal creatures
Would to your eye expofe their naked features...

Or fay, the first part of your tale be pure,

And meet with truth, the fecond's falfe I'm fure;
In which poor I was thought the greatest meed,
In fuch a high caufe by the gods decreed.

I have not of my beauty fuch opinion,
T'imagine it prefer'd before dominion,

Or fortitude; nor can your words perfuade me,
The greatest gift of all the goddess made me.
It is enough to me men praife my face,

But from the gods I merit no fuch grace:

Nor doth the praise, you charge me with, offend me,
If Venus do not enviously commend me.

But, lɔ! I grant you, and imagine true
Your free report, claiming your praise as due?
Who would in pleafing things call fame a lyar,
But give that credit which we most defire ?

That we have mov'd thefe doubts, be not you griev'd,
The greatest wonders are the leaft believ'd:
Know then, I firft am pleas'd that Venus ought me
Such undeferved grace; next that you thought me
The greatest meed. Nor fcepter, nor war's fame,
Did you prefer before poor Helen's name.
(Hard heart! 'tis time thou fhouldft at laft come down)
Therefore I am your valour, I your crown.
Your kindness conquers me, do what I can;
I were hard hearted not to love this man.
Obdurate I was never, and yet coy

To favour him whom I can ne'er enjoy.
What profits it the barren fands to plough,
And in the furrows our affe&ions fow?
In the fweet theit of Venus I am rude,
And know not how my husband to delude.