The Works of Thomas Campion Complete Songs, Masques, and Treatises with a Selection of the Latin Verse: Edited with an introduction and notes by Walter R. Davis |
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| 4. | THE FOURTH BOOKE |
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 | The Works of Thomas Campion |  |
167
THE FOURTH BOOKE
TO MY WORTHY FRIEND, Mr. JOHN MOUNSON,
Sonne and Heyre to Sir Thomas Mounson, Knight and Baronet.
On you th'affections of your Fathers Friends,With his Inheritance by right descends;
But you your gracefull youth so wisely guide,
That his you hold, and purchase much beside.
Love is the fruit of Vertue, for whose sake
Men onely liking each to other take.
If sparkes of vertue shin'd not in you then,
So well how could you winne the hearts of men?
And, since that honour and well-suted Prayse
Is Vertues Golden Spurre, let mee now rayse
Unto an act mature your tender age,
This halfe commending to your Patronage:
Which from your Noble Fathers, but one side,
Ordain'd to doe you honour, doth divide.
And so my love betwixt you both I part,
On each side placing you as neare my heart.
Yours ever, THOMAS CAMPIAN.
169
I.
[Leave prolonging thy distresse]
Leave prolonging thy distresse:
All delayes afflict the dying.
Many lost sighes long I spent, to her for mercy crying;
But now, vaine mourning, cease:
Ile dye, and mine owne griefes release.
All delayes afflict the dying.
Many lost sighes long I spent, to her for mercy crying;
But now, vaine mourning, cease:
Ile dye, and mine owne griefes release.
Thus departing from this light
To those shades that end all sorrow,
Yet a small time of complaint, a little breath Ile borrow,
To tell my once delight
I dye alone through her despight.
To those shades that end all sorrow,
Yet a small time of complaint, a little breath Ile borrow,
To tell my once delight
I dye alone through her despight.
II.
[Respect my faith, regard my service past]
Respect my faith, regard my service past;
The hope you wing'd call home to you at last.
Great prise it is that I in you shall gaine,
So great for you hath been my losse and paine.
My wits I spent and time for you alone,
Observing you and loosing all for one.
The hope you wing'd call home to you at last.
Great prise it is that I in you shall gaine,
So great for you hath been my losse and paine.
My wits I spent and time for you alone,
Observing you and loosing all for one.
Some rais'd to rich estates in this time are,
That held their hopes to mine inferiour farre:
Such scoffing mee, or pittying me, say thus,
Had hee not lov'd, he might have liv'd like us.
O then, deare sweet, for love and pitties sake,
My faith reward, and from me scandall take.
That held their hopes to mine inferiour farre:
Such scoffing mee, or pittying me, say thus,
Had hee not lov'd, he might have liv'd like us.
O then, deare sweet, for love and pitties sake,
My faith reward, and from me scandall take.
170
III.
[Thou joy'st, fond boy, to be by many loved]
Thou joy'st, fond boy, to be by many loved,
To have thy beauty of most dames approved.
For this dost thou thy native worth disguise
And play'st the Sycophant t'observe their eyes.
Thy glasse thou councel'st more t'adorne thy skin,
That first should schoole thee to be fayre within.
To have thy beauty of most dames approved.
For this dost thou thy native worth disguise
And play'st the Sycophant t'observe their eyes.
Thy glasse thou councel'st more t'adorne thy skin,
That first should schoole thee to be fayre within.
'Tis childish to be caught with Pearle, or Amber,
And woman-like too much to cloy the chamber;
Youths should the Field affect, heate their rough Steedes,
Their hardned nerves to fit for better deedes.
Is't not more joy strong Holds to force with swords,
Then womens weakenesse take with lookes or words?
And woman-like too much to cloy the chamber;
Youths should the Field affect, heate their rough Steedes,
Their hardned nerves to fit for better deedes.
Is't not more joy strong Holds to force with swords,
Then womens weakenesse take with lookes or words?
Men that doe noble things all purchase glory:
One man for one brave Act hath prov'd a story:
But if that one tenne thousand Dames o'ercame,
Who would record it, if not to his shame?
'Tis farre more conquest with one to live true
Then every houre to triumph Lord of new.
One man for one brave Act hath prov'd a story:
But if that one tenne thousand Dames o'ercame,
Who would record it, if not to his shame?
'Tis farre more conquest with one to live true
Then every houre to triumph Lord of new.
IV.
[Vaile, love, mine eyes, O hide from me]
Vaile, love, mine eyes, O hide from me
The plagues that charge the curious minde:
If beauty private will not be,
Suffice it yet that she proves kinde.
Who can usurp heav'ns light alone?
Stars were not made to shine on one.
The plagues that charge the curious minde:
If beauty private will not be,
Suffice it yet that she proves kinde.
Who can usurp heav'ns light alone?
Stars were not made to shine on one.
Griefes past recure fooles try to heale,
That greater harmes on lesse inflict;
The pure offend by too much zeale,
Affection should not be too strict.
Hee that a true embrace will finde
To beauties faults must still be blinde.
That greater harmes on lesse inflict;
The pure offend by too much zeale,
Affection should not be too strict.
Hee that a true embrace will finde
To beauties faults must still be blinde.
171
V.
[Ev'ry Dame affects good fame, what ere her doings be]
Ev'ry Dame affects good fame, what ere her doings be,
But true prayse is Vertues Bayes, which none may weare but she.
Borrow'd guise fits not the wise, a simple look is best;
Native grace becomes a face, though ne'er so rudely drest.
Now such new found toyes are sold, these women to disguise,
That, before the yeare growes old, the newest fashion dyes.
But true prayse is Vertues Bayes, which none may weare but she.
Borrow'd guise fits not the wise, a simple look is best;
Native grace becomes a face, though ne'er so rudely drest.
Now such new found toyes are sold, these women to disguise,
That, before the yeare growes old, the newest fashion dyes.
Dames of yore contended more in goodnesse to exceede
Then in pride to be envi'd for that which least they neede:
Little Lawne then serv'd the Pawne, if Pawne at all there were;
Home-spun thread, and houshold bread, then held out all the yeare.
But th'attyres of women now weare out both house and land;
That the wives in silkes may flow, at ebbe the Good-men stand.
Then in pride to be envi'd for that which least they neede:
Little Lawne then serv'd the Pawne, if Pawne at all there were;
Home-spun thread, and houshold bread, then held out all the yeare.
But th'attyres of women now weare out both house and land;
That the wives in silkes may flow, at ebbe the Good-men stand.
Once agen, Astraea, then, from heav'n to earth descend,
And vouchsafe in their behalfe these errours to amend:
Aid from heav'n must make all eev'n, things are so out of frame,
For let man strive all he can, hee needes must please his Dame.
Happy man, content that gives, and what hee gives enjoyes;
Happy Dame, content that lives, and breakes no sleepe for toyes.
And vouchsafe in their behalfe these errours to amend:
Aid from heav'n must make all eev'n, things are so out of frame,
For let man strive all he can, hee needes must please his Dame.
Happy man, content that gives, and what hee gives enjoyes;
Happy Dame, content that lives, and breakes no sleepe for toyes.
173
VI.
[So sweet is thy discourse to me]
So sweet is thy discourse to me,
And so delightfull is thy sight,
As I taste nothing right but thee.
O why invented Nature light?
Was it alone for beauties sake,
That her grac't words might better take?
And so delightfull is thy sight,
As I taste nothing right but thee.
O why invented Nature light?
Was it alone for beauties sake,
That her grac't words might better take?
No more can I old joyes recall:
They now to me become unknowne,
Not seeming to have beene at all.
Alas, how soone is this love growne
To such a spreading height in me
As with it all must shadowed be!
They now to me become unknowne,
Not seeming to have beene at all.
Alas, how soone is this love growne
To such a spreading height in me
As with it all must shadowed be!
174
VII.
[There is a Garden in her face]
There is a Garden in her face,
Where Roses and white Lillies grow;
A heav'nly paradice is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits doe flow.
There Cherries grow, which none may buy
Till Cherry ripe themselves doe cry.
Where Roses and white Lillies grow;
A heav'nly paradice is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits doe flow.
There Cherries grow, which none may buy
Till Cherry ripe themselves doe cry.
Those Cherries fayrely doe enclose
Of Orient Pearle a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter showes,
They looke like Rose-buds fill'd with snow.
Yet them nor Peere nor Prince can buy,
Till Cherry ripe themselves doe cry.
Of Orient Pearle a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter showes,
They looke like Rose-buds fill'd with snow.
Yet them nor Peere nor Prince can buy,
Till Cherry ripe themselves doe cry.
Her Eyes like Angels watch them still;
Her Browes like bended bowes doe stand,
Threatning with piercing frownes to kill
All that attempt with eye or hand
Those sacred Cherries to come nigh,
Till Cherry ripe themselves doe cry.
Her Browes like bended bowes doe stand,
Threatning with piercing frownes to kill
All that attempt with eye or hand
Those sacred Cherries to come nigh,
Till Cherry ripe themselves doe cry.
176
VIII.
[To his sweet Lute Apollo sung the motions of the Spheares]
To his sweet Lute Apollo sung the motions of the Spheares,
The wondrous order of the Stars, whose course divides the yeares,
And all the Mysteries above:
But none of this could Midas move,
Which purchast him his Asses eares.
The wondrous order of the Stars, whose course divides the yeares,
And all the Mysteries above:
But none of this could Midas move,
Which purchast him his Asses eares.
Then Pan with his rude Pipe began the Country-wealth t'advance,
To boast of Cattle, flockes of Sheepe, and Goates on hils that dance,
With much more of this churlish kinde:
That quite transported Midas minde,
And held him rapt as in a trance.
To boast of Cattle, flockes of Sheepe, and Goates on hils that dance,
With much more of this churlish kinde:
That quite transported Midas minde,
And held him rapt as in a trance.
This wrong the God of Musicke scorn'd from such a sottish Judge,
And bent his angry bow at Pan, which made the Piper trudge:
Then Midas head he so did trim
That ev'ry age yet talkes of him
And Phoebus right revenged grudge.
And bent his angry bow at Pan, which made the Piper trudge:
Then Midas head he so did trim
That ev'ry age yet talkes of him
And Phoebus right revenged grudge.
177
IX.
[Young and simple though I am]
Young and simple though I am,
I have heard of Cupids name:
Guesse I can what thing it is
Men desire when they doe kisse.
Smoake can never burne, they say,
But the flames that follow may.
I have heard of Cupids name:
Guesse I can what thing it is
Men desire when they doe kisse.
Smoake can never burne, they say,
But the flames that follow may.
I am not so foule or fayre
To be proud, nor to despayre;
Yet my lips have oft observ'd,
Men that kisse them presse them hard,
As glad lovers use to doe
When their new met loves they wooe.
To be proud, nor to despayre;
Yet my lips have oft observ'd,
Men that kisse them presse them hard,
As glad lovers use to doe
When their new met loves they wooe.
Faith, 'tis but a foolish minde,
Yet, me thinkes, a heate I finde,
Like thirst longing, that doth bide
Ever on my weaker side,
Where they say my heart doth move.
Venus, grant it be not love.
Yet, me thinkes, a heate I finde,
Like thirst longing, that doth bide
Ever on my weaker side,
Where they say my heart doth move.
Venus, grant it be not love.
If it be, alas, what then?
Were not women made for men?
As good 'twere a thing were past,
That must needes be done at last.
Roses that are over-blowne
Growe lesse sweet, then fall alone.
Were not women made for men?
As good 'twere a thing were past,
That must needes be done at last.
Roses that are over-blowne
Growe lesse sweet, then fall alone.
Yet nor Churle, nor silken Gull
Shall my Mayden blossome pull:
Who shall not I soone can tell;
Who shall, would I could as well:
This I know, who ere hee be,
Love hee must, or flatter me.
Shall my Mayden blossome pull:
Who shall not I soone can tell;
Who shall, would I could as well:
This I know, who ere hee be,
Love hee must, or flatter me.
178
X.
[Love me or not, love her I must or dye]
Love me or not, love her I must or dye;
Leave me or not, follow her needs must I.
O, that her grace would my wisht comforts give:
How rich in her, how happy should I live!
Leave me or not, follow her needs must I.
O, that her grace would my wisht comforts give:
How rich in her, how happy should I live!
All my desire, all my delight should be
Her to enjoy, her to unite to mee:
Envy should cease, her would I love alone:
Who loves by lookes, is seldome true to one.
Her to enjoy, her to unite to mee:
Envy should cease, her would I love alone:
Who loves by lookes, is seldome true to one.
Could I enchant, and that it lawfull were,
Her would I charme softly that none should heare.
But love enforc'd rarely yeelds firme content;
So would I love that neyther should repent.
Her would I charme softly that none should heare.
But love enforc'd rarely yeelds firme content;
So would I love that neyther should repent.
XI.
[What meanes this folly, now to brave it so]
What meanes this folly, now to brave it so,
And then to use submission?
Is that a friend that straight can play the foe?
Who loves on such condition?
And then to use submission?
Is that a friend that straight can play the foe?
Who loves on such condition?
Though Bryers breede Roses, none the Bryer affect,
But with the flowre are pleased.
Love onely loves delight and soft respect:
He must not be diseased.
But with the flowre are pleased.
Love onely loves delight and soft respect:
He must not be diseased.
These thorny passions spring from barren breasts,
Or such as neede much weeding.
Love onely loves delight and soft respect;
But sends them not home bleeding.
Or such as neede much weeding.
Love onely loves delight and soft respect;
But sends them not home bleeding.
Command thy humour, strive to give content,
And shame not loves profession.
Of kindnesse never any could repent
That made choyse with discretion.
And shame not loves profession.
Of kindnesse never any could repent
That made choyse with discretion.
179
XII.
[Deare, if I with guile would guild a true intent]
Deare, if I with guile would guild a true intent,
Heaping flattries that in heart were never meant,
Easely could I then obtaine
What now in vaine I force;
Fals-hood much doth gaine,
Truth yet holds the better course.
Heaping flattries that in heart were never meant,
Easely could I then obtaine
What now in vaine I force;
Fals-hood much doth gaine,
Truth yet holds the better course.
Love forbid that through dissembling I should thrive,
Or, in praysing you, my selfe of truth deprive:
Let not your high thoughts debase
A simple truth in me;
Great is beauties grace,
Truth is yet as fayre as shee.
Or, in praysing you, my selfe of truth deprive:
Let not your high thoughts debase
A simple truth in me;
Great is beauties grace,
Truth is yet as fayre as shee.
Prayse is but the winde of pride, if it exceedes;
Wealth, pris'd in it selfe, no outward value needes.
Fayre you are, and passing fayre;
You know it, and 'tis true:
Yet let none despayre
But to finde as fayre as you.
Wealth, pris'd in it selfe, no outward value needes.
Fayre you are, and passing fayre;
You know it, and 'tis true:
Yet let none despayre
But to finde as fayre as you.
180
XIII.
[O Love, where are thy Shafts, thy Quiver, and thy Bow?]
O Love, where are thy Shafts, thy Quiver, and thy Bow?
Shall my wounds onely weepe, and hee ungaged goe?
Be just, and strike him, to, that dares contemne thee so.
Shall my wounds onely weepe, and hee ungaged goe?
Be just, and strike him, to, that dares contemne thee so.
No eyes are like to thine, though men suppose thee blinde,
So fayre they levell when the marke they list to finde:
Then strike, o strike the heart that beares the cruell minde.
So fayre they levell when the marke they list to finde:
Then strike, o strike the heart that beares the cruell minde.
Is my fond sight deceived? or doe I Cupid spye
Close ayming at his breast, by whom despis'd I dye?
Shoot home, sweet Love, and wound him, that hee may not flye!
Close ayming at his breast, by whom despis'd I dye?
Shoot home, sweet Love, and wound him, that hee may not flye!
O then we both will sit in some unhaunted shade,
And heale each others wound which Love hath justly made:
O hope, o thought too vaine, how quickly dost thou fade!
And heale each others wound which Love hath justly made:
O hope, o thought too vaine, how quickly dost thou fade!
At large he wanders still, his heart is free from paine,
While secret sighes I spend, and teares, but all in vaine:
Yet, Love, thou know'st, by right I should not thus complaine.
While secret sighes I spend, and teares, but all in vaine:
Yet, Love, thou know'st, by right I should not thus complaine.
181
XIV.
[Beauty is but a painted hell]
Beauty is but a painted hell:
Aye me, aye me,
Shee wounds them that admire it,
Shee kils them that desire it.
Give her pride but fuell,
No fire is more cruell.
Aye me, aye me,
Shee wounds them that admire it,
Shee kils them that desire it.
Give her pride but fuell,
No fire is more cruell.
Pittie from ev'ry heart is fled,
Aye me, aye me;
Since false desire could borrow
Teares of dissembled sorrow,
Constant vowes turne truthlesse,
Love cruell, Beauty ruthlesse.
Aye me, aye me;
Since false desire could borrow
Teares of dissembled sorrow,
Constant vowes turne truthlesse,
Love cruell, Beauty ruthlesse.
Sorrow can laugh, and Fury sing,
Aye me, aye me;
My raving griefes discover
I liv'd too true a lover:
The first step to madnesse
Is the excesse of sadnesse.
Aye me, aye me;
My raving griefes discover
I liv'd too true a lover:
The first step to madnesse
Is the excesse of sadnesse.
182
XV.
[Are you what your faire lookes expresse?]
Are you what your faire lookes expresse?
Oh then be kinde:
From law of Nature they digresse
Whose forme sutes not their minde:
Fairenesse seene in th'outward shape
Is but th'inward beauties Ape.
Oh then be kinde:
From law of Nature they digresse
Whose forme sutes not their minde:
Fairenesse seene in th'outward shape
Is but th'inward beauties Ape.
Eyes that of earth are mortall made,
What can they view?
All's but a colour or a shade,
And neyther alwayes true.
Reasons sight, that is eterne,
Ev'n the substance can discerne.
What can they view?
All's but a colour or a shade,
And neyther alwayes true.
Reasons sight, that is eterne,
Ev'n the substance can discerne.
Soule is the Man; for who will so
The body name?
And to that power all grace we owe
That deckes our living frame.
What, or how, had housen bin,
But for them that dwell therein?
The body name?
And to that power all grace we owe
That deckes our living frame.
What, or how, had housen bin,
But for them that dwell therein?
Love in the bosome is begot,
Not in the eyes;
No beauty makes the eye more hot,
Her flames the spright surprise:
Let our loving mindes then meete,
For pure meetings are most sweet.
Not in the eyes;
No beauty makes the eye more hot,
Her flames the spright surprise:
Let our loving mindes then meete,
For pure meetings are most sweet.
183
XVI.
[Since she, ev'n shee, for whom I liv'd]
Since she, ev'n shee, for whom I liv'd,
Sweet she by Fate from me is torne,
Why am not I of sence depriv'd,
Forgetting I was ever borne?
Why should I languish, hating light?
Better to sleepe an endlesse night.
Sweet she by Fate from me is torne,
Why am not I of sence depriv'd,
Forgetting I was ever borne?
Why should I languish, hating light?
Better to sleepe an endlesse night.
Be 't eyther true, or aptly fain'd,
That some of Lethes water write,
'Tis their best med'cine that are pain'd
All thought to loose of past delight.
O would my anguish vanish so!
Happy are they that neyther know.
That some of Lethes water write,
'Tis their best med'cine that are pain'd
All thought to loose of past delight.
O would my anguish vanish so!
Happy are they that neyther know.
184
XVII.
[I must complain, yet doe enjoy my Love]
I must complain, yet doe enjoy my Love;
She is too faire, too rich in lovely parts:
Thence is my grief, for Nature, while she strove
With all her graces and divinest Arts
To form her too too beautifull of hue,
Shee had no leasure left to make her true.
She is too faire, too rich in lovely parts:
Thence is my grief, for Nature, while she strove
With all her graces and divinest Arts
To form her too too beautifull of hue,
Shee had no leasure left to make her true.
Should I, agriev'd, then wish shee were lesse fayre?
That were repugnant to mine owne desires:
Shee is admir'd, new lovers still repayre;
That kindles daily loves forgetfull fires.
Rest, jealous thoughts, and thus resolve at last:
Shee hath more beauty then becomes the chast.
That were repugnant to mine owne desires:
Shee is admir'd, new lovers still repayre;
That kindles daily loves forgetfull fires.
Rest, jealous thoughts, and thus resolve at last:
Shee hath more beauty then becomes the chast.
186
XVIII.
[Think'st thou to seduce me then with words that have no meaning?]
Think'st thou to seduce me then with words that have no meaning?
Parats so can learne to prate, our speech by pieces gleaning:
Nurces teach their children so about the time of weaning.
Parats so can learne to prate, our speech by pieces gleaning:
Nurces teach their children so about the time of weaning.
Learne to speake first, then to wooe: to wooing much pertayneth:
Hee that courts us, wanting Arte, soone falters when he fayneth,
Lookes a-squint on his discourse, and smiles when hee complaineth.
Hee that courts us, wanting Arte, soone falters when he fayneth,
Lookes a-squint on his discourse, and smiles when hee complaineth.
Skilfull Anglers hide their hookes, fit baytes for every season;
But with crooked pins fish thou, as babes doe that want reason;
Gogians onely can be caught with such poore trickes of treason.
But with crooked pins fish thou, as babes doe that want reason;
Gogians onely can be caught with such poore trickes of treason.
Ruth forgive me, if I err'd from humane hearts compassion
When I laught sometimes too much to see thy foolish fashion:
But, alas, who lesse could doe that found so good occasion?
When I laught sometimes too much to see thy foolish fashion:
But, alas, who lesse could doe that found so good occasion?
187
XIX.
[Her fayre inflaming eyes]
Her fayre inflaming eyes,
Chiefe authors of my cares,
I prai'd in humblest wise
With grace to view my teares:
They beheld me broad awake,
But, alasse, no ruth would take.
Chiefe authors of my cares,
I prai'd in humblest wise
With grace to view my teares:
They beheld me broad awake,
But, alasse, no ruth would take.
Her lips with kisses rich,
And words of fayre delight,
I fayrely did beseech
To pitty my sad plight:
But a voyce from them brake forth
As a whirle-winde from the North.
And words of fayre delight,
I fayrely did beseech
To pitty my sad plight:
But a voyce from them brake forth
As a whirle-winde from the North.
Then to her hands I fled,
That can give heart and all;
To them I long did plead,
And loud for pitty call:
But, alas, they put mee off
With a touch worse then a scoffe.
That can give heart and all;
To them I long did plead,
And loud for pitty call:
But, alas, they put mee off
With a touch worse then a scoffe.
So backe I straight return'd,
And at her breast I knock'd;
Where long in vaine I mourn'd,
Her heart so fast was lock'd:
Not a word could passage finde,
For a Rocke inclos'd her minde.
And at her breast I knock'd;
Where long in vaine I mourn'd,
Her heart so fast was lock'd:
Not a word could passage finde,
For a Rocke inclos'd her minde.
Then downe my pray'rs made way
To those most comely parts
That make her flye or stay,
As they affect deserts:
But her angry feete, thus mov'd,
Fled with all the parts I lov'd.
To those most comely parts
That make her flye or stay,
As they affect deserts:
But her angry feete, thus mov'd,
Fled with all the parts I lov'd.
Yet fled they not so fast
As her enraged minde:
Still did I after haste,
Still was I left behinde,
Till I found 'twas to no end
With a Spirit to contend.
As her enraged minde:
Still did I after haste,
Still was I left behinde,
Till I found 'twas to no end
With a Spirit to contend.
188
XX.
[Turne all thy thoughts to eyes]
Turne all thy thoughts to eyes,
Turne all thy haires to eares,
Change all thy friends to spies,
And all thy joyes to feares:
True Love will yet be free,
In spite of Jealousie.
Turne all thy haires to eares,
Change all thy friends to spies,
And all thy joyes to feares:
True Love will yet be free,
In spite of Jealousie.
Turne darknesse into day,
Conjectures into truth,
Beleeve what th'envious say,
Let age interpret youth:
True love will yet be free,
In spite of Jealousie.
Conjectures into truth,
Beleeve what th'envious say,
Let age interpret youth:
True love will yet be free,
In spite of Jealousie.
Wrest every word and looke,
Racke ev'ry hidden thought,
Or fish with golden hooke,
True love cannot be caught:
For that will still be free,
In spite of Jealousie.
Racke ev'ry hidden thought,
Or fish with golden hooke,
True love cannot be caught:
For that will still be free,
In spite of Jealousie.
189
XXI.
[If any hath the heart to kill]
If any hath the heart to kill,
Come rid me of this wofull paine.
For while I live I suffer still
This cruell torment all in vaine:
Yet none alive but one can guesse
What is the cause of my distresse.
Come rid me of this wofull paine.
For while I live I suffer still
This cruell torment all in vaine:
Yet none alive but one can guesse
What is the cause of my distresse.
Thanks be to heav'n, no grievous smart,
No maladies my limbes annoy;
I beare a sound and sprightfull heart,
Yet live I quite depriv'd of joy:
Since what I had, in vaine I crave,
And what I had not, now I have.
No maladies my limbes annoy;
I beare a sound and sprightfull heart,
Yet live I quite depriv'd of joy:
Since what I had, in vaine I crave,
And what I had not, now I have.
A Love I had, so fayre, so sweet,
As ever wanton eye did see.
Once by appointment wee did meete;
Shee would, but ah, it would not be:
She gave her heart, her hand shee gave;
All did I give, shee nought could have.
As ever wanton eye did see.
Once by appointment wee did meete;
Shee would, but ah, it would not be:
She gave her heart, her hand shee gave;
All did I give, shee nought could have.
What Hagge did then my powers forespeake,
That never yet such taint did feele?
Now shee rejects me as one weake,
Yet am I all compos'd of steele.
Ah, this is it my heart doth grieve:
Now though shee sees, shee'le not believe!
That never yet such taint did feele?
Now shee rejects me as one weake,
Yet am I all compos'd of steele.
Ah, this is it my heart doth grieve:
Now though shee sees, shee'le not believe!
190
XXII.
[Beauty, since you so much desire]
Beauty, since you so much desire
To know the place of Cupids fire:
About you somewhere doth it rest,
Yet never harbour'd in your brest,
Nor gout-like in your heele or toe;
What foole would seeke Loves flame so low?
But a little higher, but a little higher,
There, there, o there lyes Cupids fire.
To know the place of Cupids fire:
About you somewhere doth it rest,
Yet never harbour'd in your brest,
Nor gout-like in your heele or toe;
What foole would seeke Loves flame so low?
But a little higher, but a little higher,
There, there, o there lyes Cupids fire.
Thinke not, when Cupid most you scorne,
Men judge that you of Ice were borne;
For, though you cast love at your heele,
His fury yet sometime you feele;
And where-abouts if you would know,
I tell you still, not in your toe:
But a little higher, but a little higher,
There, there, o there lyes Cupids fire.
Men judge that you of Ice were borne;
For, though you cast love at your heele,
His fury yet sometime you feele;
And where-abouts if you would know,
I tell you still, not in your toe:
But a little higher, but a little higher,
There, there, o there lyes Cupids fire.
192
XXIII.
[Your faire lookes urge my desire]
Your faire lookes urge my desire:
Calme it, sweet, with love.
Stay, o why will you retire?
Can you churlish prove?
If Love may perswade,
Loves pleasures, deare, deny not:
Here is a grove secur'd with shade;
O then be wise, and flye not.
Calme it, sweet, with love.
Stay, o why will you retire?
Can you churlish prove?
If Love may perswade,
Loves pleasures, deare, deny not:
Here is a grove secur'd with shade;
O then be wise, and flye not.
Harke, the Birds delighted sing,
Yet our pleasure sleepes.
Wealth to none can profit bring,
Which the miser keepes:
O come, while we may,
Let's chayne Love with embraces;
Wee have not all times time to stay,
Nor safety in all places.
Yet our pleasure sleepes.
Wealth to none can profit bring,
Which the miser keepes:
O come, while we may,
Let's chayne Love with embraces;
Wee have not all times time to stay,
Nor safety in all places.
What ill finde you now in this?
Or who can complaine?
There is nothing done amisse,
That breedes no man payne.
'Tis now flowry May,
But ev'n in cold December,
When all these leaves are blowne away,
This place shall I remember.
Or who can complaine?
There is nothing done amisse,
That breedes no man payne.
'Tis now flowry May,
But ev'n in cold December,
When all these leaves are blowne away,
This place shall I remember.
193
XXIV.
[Faine would I wed a faire yong man that day and night could please mee]
Faine would I wed a faire yong man that day and night could please mee,When my mind or body grieved, that had the powre to ease mee.
Maids are full of longing thoughts that breed a bloudlesse sickenesse,
And that, oft I heare men say, is onely cur'd by quicknesse.
Oft have I beene woo'd and prai'd, but never could be moved:
Many for a day or so I have most dearely loved,
But this foolish mind of mine straight loaths the thing resolved.
If to love be sinne in mee, that sinne is soone absolved.
Sure, I thinke I shall at last flye to some holy Order;
When I once am setled there, then can I flye no farther.
Yet I would not dye a maid, because I had a mother:
As I was by one brought forth, I would bring forth another.
FINIS.
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