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Elegia III. De amica quæ perjuraverat. - Christopher Marlowe, The Works of Christopher Marlowe, vol. 3 (Poems) [1598]

Edition used:

The Works of Christopher Marlowe, ed. A.H. Bullen (London: John C. Nimmo, 1885). Vol. 3.

Part of: The Works of Christopher Marlowe, 3 vols.

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Elegia III.2
De amica quæ perjuraverat.

  • What, are there gods? herself she hath forswore,
  • And yet remains the face she had before.
  • How long her locks were ere her oath she took.
  • So long they be since she her faith forsook.
  • Fair white with rose-red was before commixt;
  • Now shine her looks pure white and red betwixt.
  • Her foot was small: her foot's form is most fit:
  • Comely tall was she, comely tall she's yet.
  • Sharp eyes she had: radiant like stars they be,
  • By which she, perjured oft, hath lied to1 me.

    10

  • In sooth, th' eternal powers grant maids society
  • Falsely to swear; their beauty hath some deity.
  • By her eyes, I remember, late she swore,
  • And by mine eyes, and mine were painèd sore.
  • Say gods: if she unpunished you deceive,
  • For other's faults why do I loss receive.
  • But did you not so envy2 Cepheus' daughter,
  • For her ill-beauteous mother judged to slaughter.
  • 'Tis not enough, she shakes your record off,
  • And, unrevenged, mocked gods with me doth scoff.

    20

  • But by my pain to purge her perjuries,
  • Cozened, I am the cozener's sacrifice.
  • God is a name, no substance, feared in vain,
  • And doth the world in fond belief detain.
  • Or if there be a God, he loves fine wenches,
  • And all things too much in their sole power drenches.
  • Mars girts his deadly sword on for my harm;
  • Pallas' lance strikes me with unconquered arm;
  • At me Apollo bends his pliant bow;
  • At me Jove's right hand lightning hath to throw.

    30

  • The wrongèd gods dread fair ones to offend,
  • And fear those, that to fear them least intend.
  • Who now will care the altars to perfume?
  • Tut, men should not their courage so consume.
  • Jove throws down woods and castles with his fire,
  • But bids his darts from perjured girls retire.
  • Poor Semele among so many burned,
  • Her own request to her own torment turned.
  • But when her lover came, had she drawn back,
  • The father's thigh should unborn Bacchus lack.

    40

  • Why grieve I? and of heaven reproaches pen?
  • The gods have eyes, and breasts as well as men.
  • Were I a god, I should give women leave,
  • With lying lips my godhead to deceive.
  • Myself would swear the wenches true did swear,
  • And I would be none of the gods severe.
  • But yet their gift more moderately use,
  • Or in mine eyes, good wench, no pain transfuse.

[2]Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[1]Old eds. “by.”

[2]“At non invidiæ vobis Cephéia virgo est, Pro male formosa jussa parente mori!”

  • (“Invidiæ” here means “discredit, odium.”)