Some vehement oaths it took, yea, and good proofs
Ere she could make me think that it was she :
Yet, finding certainly that she it was,

And pitying her greatly, all the more
That men had told me, even as you do now,
Of that great likeness which between us is,
I took the dearest care I could of her,
And understood the woful history
Of her adventure; ay, and therewithal,
Of that most noble constancy in you,
Lord Argalus, which, whoso loveth not,
He sheweth him a hater of all good,
Ay, and unworthy with mankind to live.

But naught of outward cherishing could salve
Her inward sore: a few days since she died.
But, ere she died, Parthenia earnestly
Desir'd me and persuaded that of none
As husband I should think, saving of you,
The one man that was worthy to be lov'd.
Withal she bade me give this ring to you,
Desiring, and, by love's authority,
Commanding you to turn that love to me
Which you had borne to her; assuring you
Nothing there is can please her spirit more
Than to behold us twain together matcht.

And now, my lord, albeit this office I take
Upon me be not suitable to me,

In sex or in estate, seeing my sex

Should rather look to be desir'd, yet, sooth,
Desert uncommon claims uncommon deed :
And therefore I am come with faithful love
Built on your worthiness, to offer you
Myself, and to beseech you to accept
The offer; and, if these noble gentlemen
Here present, say it is great folly, yet
Let them withal say that it is great love."

With that she staid, attending earnestly
The answer Argalus should make; who, first
Heaving most hearty sighs, the obsequies
Of his Parthenia, answered thus to her.

"Madam, I am infinitely bound to you For not less rare than noble courtesy, And infinitely bound because of that Sweet kindness I perceive you shew'd to her;" (With that the tears ran down his face, but yet He follow'd on, she listening grave,)" and just As much as so unfortunate a man,

Fit to be spectacle of misery,

Can do you service, here you may be sure That you have made a purchase of a slave Who, while I live, shall never fail you at need. But this great matter you propose to me, Wherein I am not so blind as not to see

What happiness 'twould be-O excellent
Lady, if but my heart were mine to give,
You should possess it before anyone ;
But it is dead Parthenia's: there began
All matter of affection and there ends.
I hope not long to tarry after her

With whose good beauty only had I been
In love, I should be now with you who have
The same; but 'twas Farthenia's self I lov'd
And love; which never likeness can make one;
Which no commandment ever can dissolve ;
Which never any foulness can defile;
Which never any death can bring to end."

"And must I bear disgrace to be refus'd?"
Said she. But he, " Nay, use not that hard word,
Who know your own exceeding worthiness,

Far above my desert: I but refuse
Happiness, since the only happiness

I could or can desire, I am refus'd."

But scarcely had he said these words than she

Ran unto him and fell upon his neck;

'Why, then, take thy Parthenia, Argalus !"

And there she stood, Parthenia's very self.

Then, seeing grief forbade him to believe,
She told him all the truth with circumstance;
How, being gone away, meaning to die,

Moaning aloud in solitary place,

Helen, the Queen of Corinth, passing by,
Walking alone, heard her and never left

Till she had heard the whole of her discourse;
And, pitying her greatly, Helen sent

A skill'd physician of her own, in hope

That he could help her; which he well perform'd In that same sort they saw. Then she, with her Taking of the queen's servants, thought to make This trial, whether Argalus would yet

Quickly forget his true Parthenia or no.

And Helen's servants well confirm'd her speech,
And Argalus believ'd what he desir'd
More than ten thousand years of mortal life ;
And so the wedding-feast was made for them.

TO ANNIE.

SPRINGTIME, Love! how short a time it seems since the snow and frost,

And the mist thick-falling over the hills and the daylight early lost;

The strong keen wind and the short-liv'd sun and the cosy household blaze,

And you, bright-fac'd and sober-gown'd, all pleasant and sweet to my gaze,

With your gracious wisdom calm beneath your pretty childly ways.

Ay, it was just a month, a month, I lost the count of, Dear;

That's how the beautiful summer-time has suddenly come so near;

It seems as it were but yesterday the doctor stood close

by

With the face so grave it needed not to tell me that I must die :