Such as might sweeten hell: his thought destroys All her destroying thoughts; she thought she felt His heart in hers, with her contentions melt, And chide her soul that it could so much err, To check the true joys he deserv'd in her. Her fresh heat-blood cast figures in her eyes, And she suppos'd she saw in Neptune's skies How her star wander'd, wash'd in smarting brine, For her love's sake, that with immortal wine Should be embath'd, and swim in more heart's-ease Than there was water in the Sestian seas. Then said her Cupid-prompted spirit: "Shall I Sing moans to such delightsome harmony? Shall slick-tongu'd Fame, patch'd up with voices rude, The drunken bastard of the multitude, (Begot when father Judgment is away, And, gossip-like, says because others say, Takes news as if it were too hot to eat, And spits it slavering forth for dog-fees meat,) Make me, for forging a fantastic vow, Presume to bear what makes grave matrons bow? Good vows are never broken with good deeds, For then good deeds were bad: vows are but seeds, And good deeds fruits; even those good deeds that grow From other stocks than from th' observed vow. That is a good deed that prevents a bad; Had I not yielded, slain myself I had. Hero Leander is, Leander Hero; Such virtue love hath to make one of two. If, then, Leander did my maidenhead git, Leander being myself, I still retain it: We break chaste vows when we live loosely ever, But bound as we are, we live loosely never: Two constant lovers being join'd in one, Yielding to one another, yield to none. We know not how to vow till love unblind us, And vows made ignorantly nerver bind us. Too true it is, that, when 'tis gone, men hate The joys as vain they took in love's estate: But that's since they have lost the heavenly light Should show them way to judge of all things right. When life is gone, death must implant his terror: As death is foe to life, so love to error. Before we love, how range we through this sphere, Searching the sundry fancies hunted here! Now with desire of wealth transported quite Beyond our free humanity's delight; Now with ambition climbing falling towers, Whose hope to scale, our fear to fall devours; Now rapt with pastimes, pomp, all joys impure: In things without us no delight is sure. But love, with all joys crown'd, within doth sit: O goddess, pity love, and pardon it!" Thus spake she weeping: but her goddess' ear Burn'd with too stern a heat, and would not hear. Ay me! hath heaven's strait fingers no more graces For such as Hero than for homeliest faces? Yet she hop'd well, and in her sweet conceit Weighing her arguments, she thought them weight, And that the logic of Leander's beauty, And them together, would bring proofs of duty; And if her soul, that was a skillful glance Of heaven's great essence, found such imperance In her love's beauties, she had confidence Jove lov'd him too, and pardon'd her offence: Beauty in heaven and earth this grace doth win, It supples rigour, and it lessens sin.