EUL. Wither, ye pleasant gardens, where she trod! White lilies droop, and blasted daisies wink, And weep in pearly dew! blind Vesper mourn; Hang thy cold tears on ev'ry grassy blade! Groan loud, ye woods, and tear your leafy hair! Let wind and hoary frost kill every flow'r; For she is gone who made continual May Let foggy mists envelope sun and stars; For she is gone who made perpetual day. Confounded nature, stand amaz'd; dissolve Thy rolling engines, and unbrace the seas; Fling all into their first disorder'd lump; For thy chief paragon, thy rich masterpiece, The jewel for which thou didst venture all, Is lost, is lost! And can I live to speak it? How died she? ROL. By a poison'd draught. EUL. The very word poison infects my breath. Durst thou presume to pass that coral porch? Were not her lips sufficient antidote? Durst thou descend through those close-winding stairs With treacherous intent? How could thy venom Seize on her, and not (sweeten'd) lose his virtue, Or rather vicious quality? may toads, Dragons, and mandrakes be thy gally-pots! This body was a casket for the graces, No cask for poison. With her dies all love. Cupid may break his bow, his arrows burn, Then quench his taper in a flood of tears. Is she dead? ROL. Or in a long trance? EUL. She may revive. I'll visit her. Art may prolong her days, Whether she will or no. [_Exeunt._ SCENE VI. CHORUS. 1. _Alecto, rising from the lakes_ _Of nights sad empery_,[337] _With knotty bunch of curled snakes_ _Doth lash fair Brittany._ 2. _More ghastly monster did not spring_ _From the Hibernian flood:_ _With which Morvidus_[338] _combating,_ _Of foe became his food._ 3. _Shall no more shepherds in the shade_ _Sit whistling without care?_ _Shall never spear be made a spade,_ _And sword a ploughing-share?_ 4. _Grant, heaven, at last that music loud_ _Of bloody Mars be still:_ _That Britain's virgins in a crowd_ _With hymns the sky may fill!_ _2d Song._ _Nor is Landora's loss_ _The least part of our mournful muse:_ _Jove, Juno for to cross,_ _This Trojan dame for bride did choose._ _Where she doth shine_ _'Bove Guendoline_,[339] _The amazon of her days:_ _And Mercia wise_ _Law to devise._ _O, sound Landora's praise._