I think Nashe's Thomalin must be naked in the Choise of Valentines,
because you can't thack a breech with your clothes on. Not that I'd
propose Milton had Nashe in mind when he was composing Paradise Lost --
but then, who knows -- even Nashe feels divine power (see below, or
something).
az
On him hir eyes continualy were fixt,
With hir eye-beames his melting looke's were mixt,
Which lyke the Sunne, that twixt tuo glasses plaies
From one to th'other cast's rebounding rayes.
He lyke a starre, that to reguild his beames
Sucks-in the influence of Phebus streames,
Imbathe's the lynes of his descending light
In the bright fountaines of hir clearest sight.
She faire as fairest Planet in the Skye
Hir puritie to no man doeth denye.
The verie chamber, that enclowds hir shine,
Looke's lyke the pallace of that God deuine,
Who leade's the daie about the zodiake,
And euerie euen discends to th'Ocean lake:
So fierce and feruent is hir radiance,
Such fyrie stake's she darts at euerie glance,
As might enflame the icie limmes of age,
And make pale death his surquedrie aswage
To stand and gaze upon hir Orient lamps
Where Cupid all his chiefest ioyes encamps,
And sitts, and playes with euerie atomie
That in his Sunne-beames swarme aboundantlie.
Andrew Zurcher
Queens' College
Cambridge CB3 9ET
United Kingdom
+44 1223 335 572
hast hast post hast for lyfe
|