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Had you the power in all things to fupply me,
And fhould you nothing in the world deny me;
To give me fuch a Hector to my brother,
You could not, the earth bears not such another.
By him alone all Afia is well mann'd;

He like an enemy against Greece shall stand,
Oppos'd to your beft fortunes, wherefore ftrive you?
You do not know his valour that must wive you,
Or what hid worth is in me; but at length
You will confefs when you have prov'd my ftrength.
Thus either war fhall fill our steps pursue,
Or Greece fhall fall in Troy's all conquering view.
Nor would I fear for fuch a royal wife,
To fet the univerfal world at ftrife.
To gain rich prizes, men will venture far,
The hope of purchase makes us bold in war.
If all the world about you fhould contend,
Your name fhould be eterniz'd without end;
Only be bold; and fearless may we fail
Into my country, with a profperous gale!
If the gods grant me my expected day,
It to the full fhall all these covenants pay.

Helen to Paris.

No fooner came mine eye unto the fight
Of thy rude lines, but I muft needs re-write.
Dar'ft thou (O fhameless) in fuch heinous wife,
The laws of hofpitality defpife?

And being a stranger, from thy country's reach,
Solicit a chafte wife to wedlock's breach ?
Was it for this our free Tanarian port
Receiv'd thee and thy train, in friendly fort?
And when great Neptune nothing could appeafe,
Gave thee fafe harbour from the stormy feas?

Was it for this, our kingdom's arms spread wide
To entertain thee from the water-fide?

Yet thou of foreign foil remote from hence,
A ftranger, coming we fcarce knew from whence.
Is perjur'd wrong the recompence of right?
Is all our friendship guerdon'd with despight?
I doubt me then, whether in our court doth tarry
A friendly gueft, or a fierce adversary.

Nor blame me, for if juftly you confider,
And these presumptions well compare together,
So fimple my complaint will not appear,
But you yourself muft needs excufe my fear.
Well, hold me fimple, much it matters not,
Whilft I preferve my chafte name far from fpot;
For when I feem touch'd with a bashful shame,
It fhew; how highly I regard my fame.

When I feem fad, my countenance is not feigned;
And when I lour, my look is unconstrained.
But fay my brow be cloudy, my name's clear,
And reverently you fhall of Helen hear.
No man from me adulterate fpoils can win;
For to this hour I have fported without fin:
Which makes me in my heart the more to wonder,
What hope you have in time to bring me under:
Or from mine eye what comfort thou canst gather,
To pity thee, and not despise thee rather.
Becaufe once Thefeus hurry'd me from hence,
And did to me a kind of violence;
Follows it therefore, I am of fuch price,
That ravish'd once, I fhould be ravish'd twice?
Was it my fault, becaufe I ftriv'd in vain,
And wanted ftrength his fury to restrain?
He flatter'd, and fpake fair, I ftruggled still;
And what he got, was much against my will.

Of all his toil, he reap'd no wifhed fruit,
For with my wrangling I withstood his fuit.
At length I was reftor'd, untouch'd, and clear;
In all my Rape, I fuffer'd nought fave fear:
A few untoward kiffes he (God wot)
Of further favours he could never boaft;
Dry, without relifh, by much ftriving got,
And them with much ado, and to his coft.
I doubt your purpose aims at greater bliffes,
And hardly would alone be pleas'd with kiffcs.
Thou haft fome further aim, and feck'ft to do
What, Jove defend, I fhould confent unto.
He bore not thy bad mind, but did restore me
Unblemish'd to the place from whence he bore me.
The youth was bafhful, and thy boldness lack'd,
And 'tis well known, repented his bold fact.
Thefeus repented, fo fhould Paris do,
Succeed in love and in repentance too,
Nor am I angry; who can angry be
With him that loves her? if your heart agree
With your kind words, your fuit I could applaud,
So I were fure your lines were void of fraud.
I caft not these strange doubts, or this dispense,
Like one that were bereft all confidence ¿
Nor that I with myfelf am in difgrace,
Or do not know the beauty of my face:
But becaufe too much truft hath damag'd fuch
As have believ'd men in their loves too much.
And now the general tongue of women faith,
Mens words are full of treafon, void of faith."

Let others fin, and hours of pleasures waste, "Tis rare to find the fober matron chafte. Why? fay it be that fin prevails with fair ones, May not my name be rank❜d among the rare ones?

Because my mother Lada was beguil'd,
Muft I ftray 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 swan.
She was deceiv'd by error; if I yield

To your unjuft requeft, nothing can fhield
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 confess)
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 pass the kin I claim from Tantalus,
From Pelops, and from noble Tindarus;
Lada by Jove, in fhape of fwan, beguil'd,
Herfelf fo chang'd, and by him made with child,
Proves Jove my father. Then you idly strive,
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 leaft) 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 ftrength 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 boaft your ftreets 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 pafs the bounds of fhame, and tread awry;
If ever you fhould put me to my fhifts,
Yourself fhould move me more than all your gifts.
Or if I ever fhall tranfgrefs by stealth,
It fhall be for your fake, not for
But as your gifts I fcorn not, fo fuch seem
Moft precious, where the giver we esteem.
More than your prefents it fhall Helen please,
That you for her have paft the ftormy 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 stretch
Your amorous arm outright, the bowl to reach,
That next me ftands, making excufe to fip
Juft in the felf-fame place that kifs'd my lip.
How oft have I obferv'd your finger make
Tricks and conceited figns, which ftrait I take?

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