ck-sands, nor the barking gulfe,
Or gaping _Scylla_ shall this Vnion part,
But still Ile chayne thee in my twining armes,
And if I cannot liue Ile die with thee.
_Pom._ O how thy loue doth ease my greeued minde,
Which beares a burthen heauier then the Heauens,
Vnder the which steele-shouldred Atlas grones
But now thy loue doth hurt thy selfe and me, 420
And thy to ardent strong affection,
Hinders my setled resolution.
Then by this loue, and by these christall eyes,
More bright then are the Lamps of _Ioues_ high house,
Let me in this (I feare) my last request.
Not to indanger thy beloued life,
But in this ship remayne, and here awaite,
How Fortune dealeth with our doubtfull State,
_Cor._ Not so perswaded as coniurd sweete loue,
By thy commanding meeke petition. 430
I cannot say I yeeld, yet am constraind,
This neuer meeting parting to permit,
Then go deere loue, yet stay a little while,
Some what I am shure, tis more I haue to say,
Nay nothing now but Heauens guide thy steps.
Yet let me speake, why should we part so soone,
Why is my talke tedious? may be tis the last.
Do women leaue their husbands in such hast,
_Pom._ More faithfull, then that fayre deflowred dame,
That sacrifizde her selfe to Chastety, 440
And far more louing then the _Charian_ Queene,
That dranke her Husbands neuer sundred heart.
If that I dye, yet will it glad my soule,
Which then shall feede on those _Elisian_ ioyes,
That in the sacred Temple of thy breast,
My liuing memory shall shrined bee.
But if that enuious fates should call thee hence,
And Death with pale and meager looke vsurpe,
Vpon those rosiate lips, and Currall cheekes,
Then Ayre be turnde, to poyson to infect me, 450
Earth gape and swallow him that Heauens hate,
Consume me Fire with thy deuouring flames,
Or Water drowne, who else would melt in teares.
But liue, liue happy still, in safety liue,
Who safety onely to my life can giue. _Exit._
_Cor._ O he is gon, go hie thee after him,
My vow forbids, yet still my care is with thee,
My cryes shall wake the siluer Moone by night,
And with my teares I will salute the Morne.
No day shall passe with out my dayly plaints,