Castara The Third Edition of 1640; Edited and Collated with the Earlier Ones of 1634, 1635 — Context and Discussion

ature had her selfe undone. But if you when this you heare Fall downe murdered through your eare, Begge of _Jove_ that you may have In her cheeke a dimpled grave. Lilly, Rose, and Violet, Shall the perfum'd Hearse beset While a beauteous sheet of Lawne, O're the wanton corps is drawne: And all lovers use this breath; "Here lies _Cupid_ blest in death."

_Upon_ CUPID'S _death and buriall in_ CASTARA'S _cheeke_.

_Cupids_ dead. Who would not dye, To be interr'd so neere her eye? Who would feare the sword, to have Such an Alabaster grave? O're which two bright tapers burne, To give light to the beauteous Urne. At the first _Castara_ smil'd, Thinking _Cupid_ her beguil'd, Onely counterfeiting death. But when she perceiv'd his breath Quite expir'd: the mournefull Girle, To entombe the boy in Pearle, Wept so long; till pittious _Jove_, From the ashes of this Love, Made ten thousand _Cupids_ rise, But confin'd them to her eyes: Where they yet, to shew they lacke No due sorrow, still weare blacke. But the blacks so glorious are Which they mourne in, that the faire Quires of starres, look pale and fret, Seeing themselves out shin'd by jet.

Fly on thy swiftest wing, ambitious Fame, And speake to the cold North _Castara's_ name: Which very breath will, like the East wind, bring The temp'rate warmth, and musicke of the Spring. Then from the Articke to th' Antarticke Pole, Haste nimbly and inspire a gentler soule, By naming her, ith' torrid South; that he May milde as _Zephirus_ coole whispers be. Nor let the West where heaven already joynes, The vastest Empire, and the wealthiest Mines: Nor th' East in pleasures wanton, her condemne, For not distributing her gifts on them. For she with want would have her bounty meete. Loves noble charity is so discreete.

_A Dialogue betweene_ ARAPHILL _and_ CASTARA.

ARAPH. Dost not thou _Castara_ read Am'rous volumes in my eyes? Doth not every motion plead What I'de shew, and yet disguise? Sences act each others part. Eyes, as tongues, reveale the heart.

CAST. I saw love, as lightning breake From thy eyes, and was content Oft to heare thy silence speake. Silent love is eloquent. So the sence of learning heares, The dumbe musicke of the Spheares.

ARAPH. Then there's mercy in your kinde, Listning to an unfain'd love, Or strives he to tame the wind, Who would your compassion move? No y'are pittious, as y're faire. Heaven relents, o'recome by prayer.

CAST. But loose man too prodigall Is in the expence of vowes; And thinks to him kingdomes fall When the heart of woman bowes: Frailty to your armes may yeeld; Who resists you, wins the field.

ARAPH. Triumph not to see me bleede, Let the Bore chased[9] from his den, On the wounds of mankinde feede. Your soft sexe should pitty men. Malice well may practise Art, Love hath a transparent heart.

CAST. Yet is love all one deceit, A warme frost, a frozen fire. She within her selfe is great, Who is slave to no desire. Let youth act, and age advise, And then love may finde his eyes.

ARAPH. _Hymens_ torch yeelds a dim light, When ambition joynes our hands. A proud day, but mournefull night, She sustaines, who marries lands. Wealth slaves man, but for their Ore, Th' Indians had beene free, though poore.

CAST. And yet wealth the fuell is Which maintaines the nuptiall fire, And in honour there's a blisse. Th' are immortall who aspire. But truth sayes, no joyes are sweete, But where hearts united meete.

ARAPH. Roses breath not such a sent, To perfume the neighbr'ing groves; As when you affirme content, In no spheare of glory moves. Glory narrow soules combines: Noble hearts Love onely joynes.

[9] chased. 1634, 1635.

_To_ CASTARA, _Intending a journey into the Countrey_.

Why haste you hence _Castara_? can the earth, A glorious mother, in her flowry birth, Shew Lillies like thy brow? Can she disclose In emulation of thy cheeke, a Rose, Sweete as thy blush? Upon thy selfe then set Just value, and scorne it, thy counterfet. The Spring's still with thee; But perhaps the field, Not warm'd with thy approach, wants force to yeeld, Her tribute to the Plough; O rather let Th' ingratefull earth for ever be in debt To th' hope of sweating industry, than we Should starve with cold, who have no heat but thee. Nor feare the publike good. Thy eyes can give A life to all, who can deserve to live.

_Upon_ CASTARA'S _departure_.