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Helen affuredly had borne from all

The prize of beauty, the bright golden ball.

Only of you may this your kingdom boast,
By you it is renown'd in every coaft:
Rumour hath every where your beauty blaz'd:
In what remote clime is not Helen prais'd?
From the bright eaftern fun's up-rife, inquire,
Even to his downfall, where he flakes his fire;
There lives not any of our fex that dare

Contend with you, that are proclaim'd so fair.
Truft me; for truth I speak: nay, what's most true,
Too fparingly the world hath spoke of you.
Fame that hath undertook your name to blaze,
Play'd but the envious housewife in your praise.
More than report could promise, or fame blazon,
Are thefe divine perfections that I gaze on:
Thefe were the fame that made duke Thefeus lavifh,
Who in thy prime and nonage did thee ravish :
And worthy rape for fuch a worthy man!
Thrice happy ravisher! to feize thee then,
When thou wert stript stark naked to the skin;
A fight of force to make the gods to fin.
Such is your country's guife, at seasons when
With naked ladies they mix'd naked men.

That he did fteal thee from thy friends, I praise

him;

And for that deed, I to the heavens will raife him.
That he return'd thee back, by Jove I wonder;
Had I been Thefeus, he that fhould afunder
Have parted us, or fnatch'd thee from my bed,
First from my fhoulders should have par'd my head :
So rich a purchase, fuch a glorious prey,
Should conftantly have been detain'd for aye.

Could thefe my ftrong arms poffibly unclafp,
Whilft in their amorous folds they Helen grasp?
Neither by forc'd conftraint, nor by free giving,
Could you depart that compafs, and I living.
But if by rough inforce I must restore you,
Some fruits of love (which I fo long have bore you)
I firft would reap, and fome sweet favour gain,
That all my fuit were not beftow'd in vain.
Either with me you shall abide and stay,
Or for your pass your maidenhead should pay :
Or fay, I fpar'd you that, yet would I try
What other favour I could elfe come by ;
All that belongs to love I would not mifs,
You fhould not let me both to clip and kifs.

Give me your heart, fair queen, my heart you

owe,

And what my refolution is, you know.
Till the laft fire, my breathless body take,
The fire within my breast can never flake.
Before large kingdoms I prefer'd your face,
And Juno's love, and potent gifts difgrace;
To fold you
in
my amorous arms I chus'd,
And Pallas' virtues fcornfully refus'd:

When they, with Venus, on the hill of Ide,
Made me the judge their beauties to decide.
Nor do I yet repent me, having took
Beauty, and ftrength, and fcepter'd rule forfook:
Methinks I chus'd the best (nor think it ftrange)
I still perfift, and never mean to change.

Only that my employment be not vain,

(Oh! you more worth than any empire's gain !) Let me intreat: left you my birth should scorn, Or parentage, know, I am royal born :

By marrying me, you fhall not wrong your ftate,
Nor be a wife to one degenerate.

Search the records where we did first begin,
And you fhall find the Pleiads of our kin
1;
Nay, Jove himself, all others to forbear
That in our stock renowned princes were.
My father of all Afia reigns fole king,
Whofe boundless coaft fcarce any feather'd wing
Can give a girdle to; a happier land,
A neighbour to the ocean, cannot stand.
There in a narrow compafs you may fee
Cities and towers, more than may numb'red be;
The houses gilt, rich temples that excel,
And you will fay, I near the great gods dwell.
You fhall behold high Ilium's lofty towers,
And Troy's brave walls, built by no mortal powers;
But made by Phoebus, the great god of fire,
And by the touch of his melodious lyre.

Afk if we have people to inhabit, when

The fad earth groans, to bear fuch troops of men;
Judge, Helen, likewife when you come to land,
The Afian women fhall admiring ftand,
Saluting thee with welcome, more and lefs,
In preffing throngs, and numbers numberless.
More, that our courts can hold of you (most fair)
You to yourself will fay, alas! how bare.
And poor Achaia is! when, with great pleasure,
You fee each houfe contain a city's treasure.

Miftake me not, I Sparta do not fcorn, I hold the land bleft where my love was born: Tho' barren elfe, rich Sparta Helen bore, And therefore I that province must adore. Yet is your land, methinks, but lean and empty, You worthy of a clime that flows with plenty :

Full Troy I proftrate, it is yours by duty;
This petty feat becomes not your rich beauty.
Attendance, preparation, curt'fy, flate,

Fit fuch a heavenly form; on which should wait
Coft, fresh variety, delicious diet,

Pleasure, contentment, and luxurious riot.
What ornaments we ufe, what fashions feign,
You may perceive by me and my proud train.
Thus we attire our men ; but with more coft
Of gold and pearl, the rich gowns are imbot
Of our chief ladies; guefs by what you fee,
You may be foon induc'd to credit me.

Be tractable, fair Spartan, nor contemn
A Trojan born, deriv❜d from royal flem;
He was a Trojan, and ally'd to Hector,
That waits upon Jove's cup, and fills him nectar.
A Trojan did the fair Aurora wed,

And nightly flept within her rofeat bed.
The goddess that ends night, and enters day,
From our fair Trojan coaft ftole him away.
Anchifes was a Trojan, whom love's queen
(Making the trees of Ida a thick fkreen.

'Twixt heaven and her) oft lay with. View me well,
I am a Trojan too, in Troy I dwell.
Thy husband Menelaus hither bring,

Compare our shapes, our years, and every thing:
I make you judges, wrong me if you can;
You needs muft fay, I am the properer man.
None of my line hath turn'd the fun to blood,
And robb'd his fteeds of their ambrofial food.
My father grew not from the Caucafe' rock,
Nor fhall I graft you in a bloody stock.

Priam ne'er wrong'd the guiltless foul, or further,
Made the Myrtean fea look red with murder:
Nor thirfteth my great grandfire in the lake
Of Lethe, chin-deep, yet no thirst can slake :
Nor after ripen'd apples vainly skips,

Who fly him ftill, and yet ftill touch his lips.
But what of this? if you be fo deriv'd,
You, notwithstanding, are no right depriv'd :
You grace your stock, and being fo divine,
Jove is of force compell'd into your line.

Oh mifchief! whilft I vainly fpeak of this,
Your husband all unworthy of fuch blifs,
Enjoys you this long night, enfolds your waist,
And where he lifts, may boldly touch and taste.
So when you fat at table, many a toy
Paffeth between you, my vex'd foul t'annoy.
At fuch high feafts I wish my enemy fit,
Where difcontent attends on every bit.
I never yet was plac'd at any feast,
But oft it irk'd me that I was your guest.

That which offends me most, thy rude lord knows;
For ftill his arms about thy neck he throws.
Which I no fooner fpy, but I grow mad,
And hate the man whofe courting makes me fad.
Shall I be plain? I am ready to fink down,
When I behold him wrap you in his gown;
When you fit fmiling on his amorous knee,
His fingers prefs where my hands itch to be.
But when he hugs you, I am forc'd to frown;
The meat I'm eating will by no means down,
But flicks half way: amidft these discontents,
I have obferv'd you laugh at my laments,
And with a fcornful, yet a wanton smile,
Deride my fighs and groans. Oft to beguile

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