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The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney

In Three Volumes
Sidney, Philip (1554-1586)

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Volume I, [Volume II]
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Volume III
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Volume IV
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The First Booke or Acte of the Countess of Pembrookes ARCADIA
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The Second Booke or Acte
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The Thirde Booke or Acte.
  
[O sweete glove the witness of my secrett Blisse]
  
[The Merchaunt Man, whome gayne dothe teache ye Sea]
  
[The Merchaunt man, whome many seas have taughte]
  
[Phaebus Farewell, a sweeter Sainte, I serve]
  
[Synce that the Stormy Rage of passyons darcke]
  
[Hearke playntfull Ghostes, Infernall furyes harcke?]
  
[Lyke those sicke folckes in whome straunge Humors flowe]
  
[Howe ys my Sunne (whose Beames are shyning brighte]
  
[This Cave ys Darcke, but yt had never Lighte]
  
[A Banisshed man longe barrd from his Desyer]
  
[My true Love hathe my harte, and I have his]
  
[O wordes whiche falle like Som̄er Deawe on mee]
  
[Doo not Disdayne O streighte upraysed Pyne?]
  
[Sweete Roote say thow, the Roote of my Desyer?]
  
[Yow goodly Pynes whiche still with brave assent]
  
[Lyke Dyvers Flowers whose dyvers Beutyes serve]
  
[Looke up fayre Liddes, the Treasures of my harte]
  
[Whye doest thow haste away]
  
[O, Stealing tyme, the Subject of Delay]
  
[My Lute within thy self, thy Tunes enclose?]
  
[When Twoo Sunnes doo appeare]
  
[Aurora nowe thow shewest thy blusshing Lighte]
  
[Beuty hathe force to catche the Humane sighte]
  
[Let him drincke this, Whome longe in Armes to folde]
  
[Gett hence fowle greeffe, the Cancker of the mynde]
  
[Vertue Bewty and Speeche, did stryke, wounde, Charme]
  
[The Love whiche ys imprinted in my sowle]
  
[What Toungue can her perfections tell?]
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THE THIRDE EGLOGUES.
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The Fourthe Booke or Acte.
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The Fifte and Last Booke or Acte.
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APPENDIX

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122

[Now thanked be the great God Pan]

Now thanked be the great God Pan,
which thus preserves my loved life:
Thanked be I that keepe a man,
who ended hath this fearefull strife:
For if my man must praises have,
what then must I that keepe the knave?
For as the Moone the eies doth please,
with gentle beames not hurting sight:
Yet hath sir Sunne the greatest praise,
because from him doth come her light:
So if my man must praises have,
what then must I that keepe the knave?
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