Loved I am, and yet complain of love: As loving not, accus’d in love I die. When pity most I crave, I cruel prove: Still seeking love, love found, as much I fly. Burnt in myself, I muse at other’s fire; What I call wrong, I do the same and more: Barr’d of my will, I have beyond desire; I wail for want, and yet am chok’d with store. {209} This is thy work, thou god for ever blind: Though thousands old, a boy entitled still. Thus children do the silly birds they find, With stroking hurt, and too much cramming kill. Yet thus much love, O love, I crave of thee: Let me be lov’d, or else not loved be. Basilius made no great haste from beyond the trees, till he perceived she had fully ended her music. But then loth to lose the precious fruit of time, he presented himself unto her, falling down upon both his knees, and holding up his hands, as the old governess of Danae is painted, when she suddenly saw the golden shower, “O heavenly woman, or earthly goddess,” said he, “let not my presence be odious unto you, nor my humble suit seem of small weight in your ears. Vouchsafe your eyes to descend upon this miserable old man, whose life hath hitherto been maintained but to serve as an increase of your beautiful triumphs. You only have overthrown me, and in my bondage consists my glory. Suffer not your own work to be despised of you, but look upon him with pity, whose life serves for your praise.” Zelmane, keeping a countenance askance she understood him not, told him it became her evil to suffer such excessive reverence of him, but that it worse became her to correct him, to whom she owed duty; that the opinion she had of his wisdom was such as made her esteem greatly of his words; but that the words themselves sounded so, that she could not imagine what they might intend. “Intend,” said Basilius, proud that that was brought in question, “what may they intend but a refreshing of my soul, and assuaging of my heart, and enjoying those your excellencies, wherein my life is upheld, and my death threatened?” Zelmane lifting up her face as if she had received a mortal injury of him, “and is this the devotion your ceremonies have been bent to?” said she: “is it the disdain of my estate, or the opinion of my lightness that have emboldened such base fancies towards me? enjoying quoth you? now little joy come to them that yield to such enjoying.”