That you have not the faith which you pretended,
But that in cruelty you said me no,
When vainly were my tears on you expended,
And no wise for Argaeus’ sake, although
With this pretext you have yourself defended.
Our loves bad been concealed and free from blame;
But here I stand exposed to certain shame.’
“ ‘To me such preface needs not (said anew
The good Philander), bound by amity
To my Argaeus still; thy pleasure shew:
I what I ever was will be, and I,
Although from him I bear such ill undue,
Accuse him not; for him would I defy
Even death itself; and let the world, allied
With my ill destiny, against me side!’
“The impious woman answered, ‘ ’Tis my will
Thou slay him who would do us foul despite;
Nor apprehend to encounter any ill:
For I the certain mean will tell aright.
He will return, his purpose to fulfil,
At the third hour, when darkest is the night;
And, at a preconcerted signal made,
Be without noise by me within conveyed.
“ ‘Let it not irk thee to await the peer
Within my chamber, where no light will be;
Till I shall make him doff his warlike gear,
And, almost naked, yield him up to thee.’
So did his wife into that quicksand steer
Her hapless husband (it appears to me)
If wife she rightly could be called; more fell
And cruel than a fury sprung from hell.
“She drew my brother forth, that guilty night,
With his good arms in hand, and him again
Secreted in the chamber without light,
Till thither came the wretched castellain.
As it was ordered, all fell out aright,
For seldom ill design is schemed in vain.
So fell Argaeus by Philander’s sword,
Who for Morando took the castle’s lord.
“One blow divided head and neck; for nought
Was there of helm, the warrior to defend.
Without a struggle was Argaeus brought
To his unhappy life’s disastrous end,
And he who slew him never had such thought,
Nor this would have believed: to aid his friend
Intent, (strange chance!) he wrought him in that blow
The worst that could be done by mortal foe.
“When now, unknown, on earth Argaeus lay,
My brother to Gabrina gave the blade,
(So was she named) who lived but to betray.
She, who discovery had till then delayed,
Wills that Philander with a light survey
The man whom he on earth has lifeless laid,
And she, with the assistance of the light,
Shows him Argaeus in the murdered wight.
“And threatens, save he with desires comply
To which her bosom had been long a prey,
What he would be unable to deny
She to the assembled household will display,
And he like traitor and assassin die,
Upon her tale, in ignominious way:
And minds him fame is not to be despised,
Albeit so little life by him be prized.
“Philander stood oppressed with grief and fear,
When his mistake to him the woman showed,
And to have slain her in his wrath went near,
And long be doubted, so his choler glowed;
And, but that Reason whispered in his ear
That he was in an enemy’s abode,
For lack of faulchion in his empty sheath,
He would have torn her piecemeal with his teeth.
“As sometimes vessel by two winds which blow
From different points is vext upon the main,
And now one speeds the bark an end, and now
Another squall impels her back again;
Still on her poop assailed, or on her prow,
Till she before the strongest flies amain:
Philander, so distraught by two designs,
Takes what he pregnant with least ill opines.
“Reason demonstrates with what peril fraught
His case, not more with death than lasting stain,
If in the castle were that murder taught;
Nor any time has he to sift his brain.
Will he or nill he, in conclusion nought
Is left him but the bitter cup to drain.
Thus in his troubled heart prevailing more,
His fear his resolution overbore.
“The fear of shameful punishment’s pursuit
Made him with many protestations swear
To grant in every thing Gabrina’s suit,
If from the fortilage they safely fare.
So plucks that impious dame, parforce, the fruit
Of her desires, and thence retreat the pair.
Thus home again the young Philander came,
Leaving behind him a polluted name;
“And deeply graven in his bosom bore
The image of his friend so rashly slain;
By this to purchase, to his torment sore,
A Progne, a Medea; impious gain!
—And but his knightly faith, and oaths he swore,
Were to his fury as a curbing rein,
From him when safe she would have met her fate;
But lived subjected to his bitterest hate.
“Thenceforth he nevermore was seen to smile:
All his discourse was sad, and still ensued
Sobs from his breast; afflicted in the style
Of vext Orestes, when he in his mood
Had slain his mother and Egisthus vile;
By vengeful furies for the deed pursued.
Till broken by the ceaseless grief he fed,
He sickened and betook himself to bed.
“Now in the harlot, when she had discerned
This other set by her so little store,
The former amorous flame was quickly turned
Into despiteous rage and hatred sore;
Nor with less wrath she towards my brother burned
Than for Argaeus she had felt before;
And she disposed herself, in treasons versed,
To slay her second husband like the first.
“Of a deceitful leech she made assay,261
Well fitted for the work she had in hand,
Who better knew what deadly poisons slay
Than he the force of healing syrup scanned;
And promised him his service to repay
With a reward exceeding his demand,
When he should, with some drink of deadly might,
Of her detested husband rid her sight.
“In presence of myself and more beside,
The wicked elder, with his deadly dole,
Approaching my unhappy brother, cried,
‘It was a sovereign drink to make him whole.’
But here a new device Gabrina tried,
