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No. IV.


[CONCERNING this piece and its author see Account of Marlowe and his Writings. old ed. is,

The title-page of the

The Second Part of Hero and Leander conteyning their further Fortunes by Henry Petowe. Sat cito, si sit bene. London. Printed by Thomas Purfoot, for Andrew Harris, and are to be sould at his shop under the Popes head next to the Royall Exchange. 1598, 4to.]

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She is, however, altogether mistaken; for Euristippus, the brother and successor to Archilaus, in great fury accuses her of having poisoned the last-mentioned personage, and is resolved to make her feel his vengeance.

'Oft haue I read that stone relents at raine,

And I impleat their barren wombe with store; Teares streaming downe, they wet and wet againe ; Yet pittilesse they harden more and more; And when my longing soule lookes they should sonder,

"Her doome was thus: ere three moneths' date I touch the flintie stone, and they seeme stronger;

They stronge, I weake,-alas, what hope haue I!
Hero wants comfort, Hero needs must die.'

tooke end,

If she found none that would her cause defend,
Vntimely death should seize her as a pray,
And vnresisting life should death obay.
Meane-time within a rocke-fram'd castle strong
She was imprison'd, traytors vile among.
Where, discontented when she should haue rested,
Her foode bad fare, with sighes and teares she

And when the breathlesse horses of the Sunne
Had made their stay, and Luna had begun
With cheerefull smyling browes to grace darke

Clad in blacke sable weedes, for want of light,
This all-alone sad lady gan to play,
Framing sweet musick to her well-a-day;
Th' effect whereof this sonnet plainely showes,
The fountaine whence springs Hero's heauie woes.

'NIGHT'S mourning blacke and mistie vailing hew
Shadowes the blessed comfort of the sunne,
At whose bright gaze I wonted to renew

My liueles life, when life was almost done.
Done is my life, and all my pleasure done,
For he is gone in whome my life begun :
Vnhappie I, poore I, and none as I,
But pilgrim he, poore he, that should be by.

'My loue exil'd, and I in prison fast,
Out-streaming teares breake into weeping raine:
He too soone banisht, I in dungeon cast,

He for me mourneth, I for him complaine.
He's banished, yet liues at libertie,

And I exil'd, yet liue in miserie;

He weepes for me far off, I for him here:
I would I were with him, and he more nere!

'But this imprisoning caue, this woefull cell,

This house of sorrow and increasing woe,
Griefe's tearie chamber where sad care doth dwell,

Where liquid teares, like top-fil'd seas, doe flow,
Beating their waues 'gainst still relentles stone,
Still still they smile on me, and I still mone;
I weepe to stone, and stone of stone I finde,
Colde stone colde comfort yeilds,-oh, most


When the melodious shrill-toung'd nightingale
With heauie cheere had warbled this sad tale,
Night's drowsie god an iuorie cannopie
Curtaines before the windowes of faire beautie:
Drown'd thus in sleepe, she spent the wearie

There leaue I Hero in a heauie plight.
Now to the woefull pilgrime I returne,
Whose passions force the gentle birdes to mourne:
They see Leander weepe, with heauie note
They faintly singe, as when they singe by rote;
While he gan descant on his miserie,
The pretie fowles doe make him melodie.

'BRIGHT heauen's immortall mouing sphcares,
And Phoebus all diuine,

Rue on lowe earth's vnfained teares
That issue from earth's eyne.

Eyes were these no-cyes whilst eies' eye-sight

But these darke eyes' cleere sight sad sorrow wasted.

'What creature liuing liues in griefe
That breathes on Tellus' soile,
But heauens pitie with reliefe,
Saue me, a slaue to spoyle?

Spoyle doe his worst; spoyle cannot spoile me


Spoyle neuer spoyl'd so true a loue before.

The stricken deere stands not in awe
Of blacke grym irefull death,
For he findes hearbes* that can withdrawe
The shaft, to saue his breath;
The chased deere hath soilet to coole his heate;
The toyled steed is vp in stable set;

* For he findes hearbes, &c.] See note*, p. 212. soile] See note †, p. 264.

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On that day there is a great assembly of knights and ladies. Hero, at the Duke's command, is brought forth from her dungeon; and her beauty excites much admiration among the crowd.

Yet, since her lord Leander was not nie,
She was resolu'd eyther to liue or die.
But her Leander, carefull of his loue,
Intending loue's firme constancie to proue,
(Yf to his lot the honour did befall,)
Withdrew himselfe into the pallaice-hall,
Where he was armed to his soules content,

"Though by the sterne Duke she was dishonored,
Yet of the people she was honored;
Mongst whome exil'd Leander, all vnscene
And all vnknowne, attended on his queene.
When to the neere-adioyning pallaice-gate,
The place appointed for the princely combate,
They did approch, there might all eies behold
The Duke in armour of pure beaten gold,
Mounted vpon a steed as white as snow,
The proud Duke Euristippus, Hero's foe.
Hero being seated in rich maiestie,
A seruile hand-mayd to captiuitie,
From whence she might behold that gentle knight,
That for her sake durst hazard life in fight;
For this was all the comfort Hero had,
So many eyes shed teares to see her sad;
Her hand-maide Hope perswaded her, some one
Vndaunted knight would be her champion;

And priuily conducted to a tent,
From whence he issu'd foorth at trumpet's sound;
Who, at the first encounter, on the ground
Forced the mazed Duke sore panting lie,
Drown'd in the ryuer of sad extacie.
At length reuiuing, he doth mount againe;
Whome young Leander in short time had slaine.
The Duke quite dead, this all-vnknowne young

Was foorthwith made the heire of Sestos' right;
The princesse Hero set at libertie,
Kept by the late dead Duke in miserie;
Whose constancie Leander gan to proue,
And now anew begins to court his loue."

Hero, having no idea who he is, concludes an answer to his addresses by saying,

"This backe-retired pilgrime liu'd secure,

And in vnknowen disguise he did indure

Full two moneths' space, vntill the time drew nie 'Praysing thy all-admired chastitie: To free faire Hero or inforce her die."

"But rest content and satisfied with this, Whilst true Leander liues, true Hero's his.''And thy Leander liues, sweete soule,' sayde he,

Though thus disguis'd, I am that banisht knight
That for affecting thee was put to flight;
Hero, I am Leander, thy true phere,*

As true to thee as life to me is deere.'
When Hero all-amazed gan reuiue,
And she that then seem'd dead was now aliue,
With kinde imbracements, kissing at each straine,
She welcoms him and kisses him againe :
'By thee my ioyes haue shaken of dispaire,
All stormes be past, and weather waxeth faire ;
By thy returne Hero receaues more ioye
Then Paris did when Hellen was in Troy;
By thee my heauy doubts and thoughts are fled,
And now my wits with pleasant thoughts are

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Deafe be my eares to heare another voice,
To force me smile or make my soule reioyce;
Lame be my feete when they presume to moue,
To force Leander seeke another loue;
And when thy faire,* sweet faire, I gin disgrace,
Heauen to my soule afford no resting-place!'
What he to her, she vow'd the like to him;
All sorrowes fled, their ioyes anew begin.

* faire] i. e. beauty.

Full many yeares those louers liu'd in fame,
That all the world did much admire the same.
Their liues' spent date, and vnresisted death
At hand to set a period to their breath,
They were transform'd by all-diuine decrees
Into the forme and shape of two pine-trees,
Whose nature's such, the female pine will die,
Vnles the male be euer planted by;

A map for all succeeding times to come,
To view true loue, which in their loues begun."

And so the poem concludes.


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