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Salmacis
and Hermaphroditus
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There was he comne to seeke some
pleasing brooke.
No sooner came he, but the Nymph
was strooke:
And though she hasted to imbrace
the boy,
Yet did the Nymph awhile deferre
her ioy,
Till she had bound vp her loose
flagging haire,
And ordred well the garments she
did weare,
Fayning her count'nance with a
louers care,
And did deserue to be accounted
fayre.
And thus much spake she while the
boy abode:
O boy, most worthy to be thought
a god,
Thou mayst inhabit in the glorious
place
Of gods, or maist proceed from
humane race:
Thou mayst be Cupid, or
the god of wine,
That lately woo'd me with the swelling
vine:
But whosoe're thou art, O happy
he,
That was so blest, to be a sire
to thee;
Thy happy mother is most blest
of many,
Blessed thy sisters, if her wombe
bare any,
Both fortunate, and O thrise happy
shee,
Whose too much blessed brests gaue
suck to thee:
If any wife with thy sweet bed
be blest,
O, she is farre more happy then
the rest;
If thou hast any, let my sport
be sto'ne,
Or else let me be she, if thou
hast none.
Here did she pause a while, and
then she sayd,
Be not obdurate to a silly mayd.
A flinty heart within a snowy brest,
Is like base mold lockt in a golden
chest:
They say the eye's the Index of
the heart,
And shewes th'affection of eche
inward part: |
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| © Twilight
Pictures,
September
2000. This text is freely available for educational, non-profit uses
only. Please report any errors or suggestions to
Drew Whitehead. |
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