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| Marin, for love of Florimell, |
| In languor wastes his life: |
| The nymph his mother getteth her, |
| And gives to him for wife. |
I O WHAT an endlesse worke have I in hand, | |
To count the seas abundant progeny, | |
Whose fruitfull seede farre passeth those in land, | |
And also those which wonne in th azure sky! | |
For much more eath to tell the starres on hy, | 5 |
Albe they endlesse seeme in estimation, | |
Then to recount the seas posterity: | |
So fertile be the flouds in generation, | |
So huge their numbers, and so numberlesse their nation. | |
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II Therefore the antique wisards well invented, | 10 |
That Venus of the fomy sea was bred; | |
For that the seas by her are most augmented. | |
Witnesse th exceeding fry which there are fed, | |
And wondrous sholes, which may of none be red. | |
Then blame me not, if I have errd in count | 15 |
Of gods, of nymphs, of rivers yet unred: | |
For though their numbers do much more surmount, | |
Yet all those same were there, which erst I did recount. | |
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III All those were there, and many other more, | |
Whose names and nations were too long to tell, | 20 |
That Proteus house they fild even to the dore; | |
Yet were they all in order, as befell, | |
According their degrees disposed well. | |
Amongst the rest was faire Cymodoce, | |
The mother of unlucky Marinell, | 25 |
Who thither with her came, to learne and see | |
The manner of the gods when they at banquet be. | |
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IV But for he was halfe mortall, being bred | |
Of mortall sire, though of immortall wombe, | |
He might not with immortall food be fed, | 30 |
Ne with th eternall gods to bancket come; | |
But walkt abrode, and round about did rome, | |
To view the building of that uncouth place, | |
That seemd unlike unto his earthly home: | |
Where, as he to and fro by chaunce did trace, | 35 |
There unto him betid a disaventrous case. | |
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V Under the hanging of an hideous clieffe | |
He heard the lamentable voice of one | |
That piteously complaind her carefull grieffe, | |
Which never she before disclosd to none, | 40 |
But to her selfe her sorrow did bemone. | |
So feelingly her case she did complaine, | |
That ruth it moved in the rocky stone, | |
And made it seeme to feele her grievous paine, | |
And oft to grone with billowes beating from the maine. | 45 |
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VI Though vaine I see my sorrowes to unfold, | |
And count my cares, when none is nigh to heare, | |
Yet, hoping griefe may lessen being told, | |
I will them tell though unto no man neare: | |
For Heaven, that unto all lends equall eare, | 50 |
Is farre from hearing of my heavy plight; | |
And lowest Hell, to which I lie most neare, | |
Cares not what evils hap to wretched wight; | |
And greedy seas doe in the spoile of life delight. | |
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VII Yet loe! the seas I see by often beating | 55 |
Doe pearce the rockes, and hardest marble weares; | |
But his hard rocky hart for no entreating | |
Will yeeld, but when my piteous plaints he heares, | |
Is hardned more with my aboundant teares. | |
Yet though he never list to me relent, | 60 |
But let me waste in woe my wretched yeares, | |
Yet will I never of my love repent, | |
But joy that for his sake I suffer prisonment. | |
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VIII And when my weary ghost, with griefe outworne, | |
By timely death shall winne her wished rest, | 65 |
Let then this plaint unto his eares be borne, | |
That blame it is to him, that armes profest, | |
To let her die, whom he might have redrest. | |
There did she pause, inforced to give place | |
Unto the passion that her heart opprest; | 70 |
And after she had wept and waild a space, | |
She gan afresh thus to renew her wretched case: | |
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IX Ye gods of seas, if any gods at all | |
Have care of right, or ruth of wretches wrong, | |
By one or other way me, woefull thrall, | 75 |
Deliver hence out of this dungeon strong, | |
In which I daily dying am too long. | |
And if ye deeme me death for loving one | |
That loves not me, then doe it not prolong, | |
But let me die and end my daies attone, | 80 |
And let him live unlovd, or love him selfe alone. | |
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X But if that life ye unto me decree, | |
Then let mee live as lovers ought to do, | |
And of my lifes deare love beloved be: | |
And if he shall through pride your doome undo, | 85 |
Do you by duresse him compell thereto, | |
And in this prison put him here with me: | |
One prison fittest is to hold us two: | |
So had I rather to be thrall then free; | |
Such thraldome or such freedome let it surely be. | 90 |
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XI But O vaine judgement, and conditions vaine, | |
The which the prisoner points unto the free! | |
The whiles I him condemne, and deeme his paine, | |
He where he list goes loose, and laughes at me. | |
So ever loose, so ever happy be. | 95 |
But where so loose or happy that thou art, | |
Know, Marinell, that all this is for thee. | |
With that she wept and waild, as if her hart | |
Would quite have burst through great abundance of her smart. | |
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XII All which complaint when Marinell had heard, | 100 |
And understood the cause of all her care | |
To come of him, for using her so hard, | |
His stubborne heart, that never felt misfare, | |
Was toucht with soft remorse and pitty rare; | |
That even for griefe of minde he oft did grone, | 105 |
And inly wish that in his powre it weare | |
Her to redresse: but since he meanes found none, | |
He could no more but her great misery bemone. | |
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XIII Thus whilst his stony heart with tender ruth | |
Was toucht, and mighty courage mollifide, | 110 |
Dame Venus sonne, that tameth stubborne youth | |
With iron bit, and maketh him abide, | |
Till like a victor on his backe he ride, | |
Into his mouth his maystring bridle threw, | |
That made him stoupe, till he did him bestride: | 115 |
Then gan he make him tread his steps anew, | |
And learne to love, by learning lovers paines to rew. | |
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XIV Now gan he in his grieved minde devise, | |
How from that dungeon he might her enlarge: | |
Some while he thought, by faire and humble wise | 120 |
To Proteus selfe to sue for her discharge; | |
But then he feard his mothers former charge | |
Gainst womens love, long given him in vaine: | |
Then gan he thinke, perforce with sword and targe | |
Her forth to fetch, and Proteus to constraine; | 125 |
But soone he gan such folly to forthinke againe. | |
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XV Then did he cast to steale her thence away, | |
And with him beare, where none of her might know. | |
But all in vaine: forwhy he found no way | |
To enter in, or issue forth below: | 130 |
For all about that rocke the sea did flow. | |
And though unto his will she given were, | |
Yet without ship or bote her thence to row, | |
He wist not how her thence away to bere; | |
And daunger well he wist long to continue there. | 135 |
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XVI At last when as no meanes he could invent, | |
Backe to him selfe he gan returne the blame, | |
That was the author of her punishment; | |
And with vile curses and reprochfull shame | |
To damne him selfe by every evill name; | 140 |
And deeme unworthy or of love or life, | |
That had despisde so chast and faire a dame, | |
Which him had sought through trouble and long strife, | |
Yet had refusde a god that her had sought to wife. | |
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XVII In this sad plight he walked here and there, | 145 |
And romed round about the rocke in vaine, | |
As he had lost him selfe, he wist not where; | |
Oft listening if he mote her heare againe, | |
And still bemoning her unworthy paine: | |
Like as an hynde whose calfe is falne unwares | 150 |
Into some pit, where she him heares complaine, | |
An hundred times about the pit side fares, | |
Right sorrowfully mourning her bereaved cares. | |
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XVIII And now by this the feast was throughly ended, | |
And every one gan homeward to resort. | 155 |
Which seeing, Marinell was sore offended, | |
That his departure thence should be so short, | |
And leave his love in that sea-walled fort. | |
Yet durst he not his mother disobay; | |
But her attending in full seemly sort, | 160 |
Did march amongst the many all the way: | |
And all the way did inly mourne, like one astray. | |
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XIX Being returned to his mothers bowre, | |
In solitary silence far from wight, | |
He gan record the lamentable stowre | 165 |
In which his wretched love lay day and night, | |
For his deare sake, that ill deservd that plight: | |
The thought whereof empierst his hart so deepe, | |
That of no worldly thing he tooke delight; | |
Ne dayly food did take, ne nightly sleepe, | 170 |
But pynd, and mournd, and languisht, and alone did weepe; | |
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XX That in short space his wonted chearefull hew | |
Gan fade, and lively spirits deaded quight: | |
His cheeke bones raw, and eie-pits hollow grew, | |
And brawney armes had lost their knowen might, | 175 |
That nothing like himselfe he seemd in sight. | |
Ere long so weake of limbe, and sicke of love | |
He woxe, that lenger he note stand upright, | |
But to his bed was brought, and layd above, | |
Like ruefull ghost, unable once to stirre or move. | 180 |
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XXI Which when his mother saw, she in her mind | |
Was troubled sore, ne wist well what to weene, | |
Ne could by search nor any meanes out find | |
The secret cause and nature of his teene, | |
Whereby she might apply some medicine; | 185 |
But weeping day and night, did him attend, | |
And mournd to see her losse before her eyne, | |
Which grievd her more that she it could not mend: | |
To see an helpelesse evill double griefe doth lend. | |
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XXII Nought could she read the roote of his disease, | 190 |
Ne weene what mister maladie it is, | |
Whereby to seeke some meanes it to appease. | |
Most did she thinke, but most she thought amis, | |
That that same former fatall wound of his | |
Whyleare by Tryphon was not throughly healed, | 195 |
But closely rankled under th orifis: | |
Least did she thinke, that which he most concealed, | |
That love it was, which in his hart lay unrevealed. | |
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XXIII Therefore to Tryphon she againe doth hast, | |
And him doth chyde as false and fraudulent, | 200 |
That fayld the trust which she in him bad plast, | |
To cure her sonne, as he his faith had lent: | |
Who now was falne into new languishment | |
Of his old hurt, which was not throughly cured. | |
So backe he came unto her patient: | 205 |
Where searching every part, her well assured, | |
That it was no old sore which his new paine procured; | |
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XXIV But that it was some other maladie, | |
Or griefe unknowne, which he could not discerne: | |
So left he her withouten remedie. | 210 |
Then gan her heart to faint, and quake, and earne, | |
And inly troubled was, the truth to learne. | |
Unto himselfe she came, and him besought, | |
Now with faire speches, now with threatnings sterne, | |
If ought lay hidden in his grieved thought, | 215 |
It to reveale: who still her answered, there was nought. | |
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XXV Nathlesse she rested not so satisfide, | |
But leaving watry gods, as booting nought, | |
Unto the shinie heaven in haste she hide, | |
And thence Apollo, king of leaches, brought. | 220 |
Apollo came; who, soone as he had sought | |
Through his disease, did by and by out find | |
That he did languish of some inward thought, | |
The which afflicted his engrieved mind; | |
Which love he red to be, that leads each living kind. | 225 |
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XXVI Which when he had unto his mother told, | |
She gan thereat to fret and greatly grieve; | |
And comming to her sonne, gan first to scold | |
And chyde at him, that made her misbelieve: | |
But afterwards she gan him soft to shrieve, | 230 |
And wooe with faire intreatie, to disclose | |
Which of the nymphes his heart so sore did mieve; | |
For sure she weend it was some one of those | |
Which he had lately seene, that for his love he chose. | |
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XXVII Now lesse she feared that same fatall read, | 235 |
That warned him of womens love beware: | |
Which being ment of mortall creatures sead, | |
For love of nymphes she thought she need not care, | |
But promist him, what ever wight she weare, | |
That she her love to him would shortly gaine: | 240 |
So he her told: but soone as she did heare | |
That Florimell it was, which wrought his paine, | |
She gan a fresh to chafe, and grieve in every vaine. | |
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XXVIII Yet since she saw the streight extremitie, | |
In which his life unluckily was layd, | 245 |
It was no time to scan the prophecie, | |
Whether old Proteus true or false had sayd, | |
That his decay should happen by a mayd: | |
Its late, in death, of daunger to advize, | |
Or love forbid him that is life denayd: | 250 |
But rather gan in troubled mind devize | |
How she that ladies libertie might enterprize. | |
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XXIX To Proteus selfe to sew she thought it vaine, | |
Who was the root and worker of her woe, | |
Nor unto any meaner to complaine; | 255 |
But unto great King Neptune selfe did goe, | |
And on her knee before him falling lowe, | |
Made humble suit unto his Majestie, | |
To graunt to her her sonnes life, which his foe, | |
A cruell tyrant, had presumpteouslie | 260 |
By wicked doome condemnd a wretched death to die. | |
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XXX To whom God Neptune, softly smyling, thus: | |
Daughter, me seemes of double wrong ye plaine, | |
Gainst one that hath both wronged you and us: | |
For death t adward I weend did appertaine | 265 |
To none but to the seas sole soveraine. | |
Read therefore who it is, which this hath wrought, | |
And for what cause; the truth discover plaine. | |
For never wight so evill did or thought, | |
But would some rightfull cause pretend, though rightly nought. | 270 |
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XXXI To whom she answerd: Then it is by name | |
Proteus, that hath ordaynd my sonne to die; | |
For that a waift, the which by fortune came | |
Upon your seas, he claymd as propertie: | |
And yet nor his, nor his in equitie, | 275 |
But yours the waift by high prerogative. | |
Therefore I humbly crave your Majestie, | |
It to replevie, and my sonne reprive: | |
So shall you by one gift save all us three alive. | |
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XXXII He graunted it: and streight his warrant made, | 280 |
Under the sea-gods seale autenticall, | |
Commaunding Proteus straight t enlarge the mayd | |
Which, wandring on his seas imperiall, | |
He lately tooke, and sithence kept as thrall. | |
Which grieved receiving with meete thankefulnesse, | 285 |
Departed straight to Proteus therewithall: | |
Who, reading it with inward loathfulnesse, | |
Was grieved to restore the pledge he did possesse. | |
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XXXIII Yet durst he not the warrant to withstand, | |
But unto her delivered Florimell. | 290 |
Whom she receiving by the lilly hand, | |
Admyrd her beautie much, as she mote well; | |
For she all living creatures did excell; | |
And was right joyous, that she gotten had | |
So faire a wife for her sonne Marinell. | 295 |
So home with her she streight the virgin lad, | |
And shewed her to him, then being sore bestad. | |
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XXXIV Who soone as he beheld that angels face, | |
Adornd with all divine perfection, | |
His cheared heart eftsoones away gan chace | 300 |
Sad death, revived with her sweet inspection, | |
And feeble spirit inly felt refection; | |
As withered weed through cruell winters tine, | |
That feeles the warmth of sunny beames reflection, | |
Liftes up his head, that did before decline, | 305 |
And gins to spread his leafe before the faire sunshine. | |
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XXXV Right so himselfe did Marinell upreare, | |
When he in place his dearest love did spy; | |
And though his limbs could not his bodie beare, | |
Ne former strength returne so suddenly, | 310 |
Yet chearefull signes he shewed outwardly. | |
Ne lesse was she in secret hart affected, | |
But that she masked it with modestie, | |
For feare she should of lightnesse be detected: | |
Which to another place I leave to be perfected. | 315 |
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