'Twixt man and wife, it for the time would cease; The flames of love it quench'd, and would increase; Held in a prince's hand, it would put out The dreadful'st comet; it would ease[78] all doubt Of threaten'd mischiefs; it would bring asleep Such as were mad; it would enforce to weep Most barbarous eyes; and many more effects This picture wrought, and sprung[79] Leandrian[80] sects; Of which was Hero first; for he whose form, 170 Held in her hand, clear'd such a fatal storm, From hell she thought his person would defend her, Which night and Hellespont would quickly send her. With this confirm'd, she vow'd to banish quite All thought of any check to her delight; And, in contempt of silly bashfulness, She would the faith of her desires profess, Where her religion should be policy, To follow love with zeal her piety; Her chamber her cathedral-church should be, 180 And her Leander her chief deity; For in her love these did the gods forego; And though her knowledge did not teach her so, Yet did it teach her this, that what her heart Did greatest hold in her self-greatest part, That she did make her god; and 'twas less naught To leave gods in profession and in thought, Than in her love and life; for therein lies Most of her duties and their dignities; And, rail the brain-bald world at what it will, 190 That's the grand atheism that reigns in it still. Yet singularity she would use no more, For she was singular too much before; But she would please the world with fair pretext: Love would not leave her conscience perplext: Great men that will have less do for them, still Must bear them out, though th' acts be ne'er so ill; Meanness must pander be to Excellence; Pleasure atones Falsehood and Conscience: Dissembling was the worst, thought Hero then, 200 And that was best, now she must live with men. O virtuous love, that taught her to do best When she did worst, and when she thought it least! Thus would she still proceed in works divine, And in her sacred state of priesthood shine, Handling the holy rites with hands as bold, As if therein she did Jove's thunder hold, And need not fear those menaces of error, Which she at others threw with greatest terror. O lovely Hero, nothing is thy sin, 210 Weigh'd with those foul faults other priests are in! That having neither faiths, nor works, nor beauties, T' engender any 'scuse for slubbered[81] duties, With as much countenance fill their holy chairs, And sweat denouncements 'gainst profane affairs, As if their lives were cut out by their places, And they the only fathers of the graces. Now, as with settled mind she did repair Her thoughts to sacrifice her ravished hair