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The Blazon of Iealovsie

A Subiect not written of by any heretofore. First written in Italian, by that learned Gentleman Benedetto Varchi ... And Translated into English, with speciall Notes vpon the same; by R. T. [i.e. Robert Tofte]
 
 

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[Fayre Ladies, yee, who talking vp and downe this way]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


13

[Fayre Ladies, yee, who talking vp and downe this way]

Fayre Ladies, yee, who talking vp and downe this way,
Pleasant and sad, accompanied, yet (alone) I see,
Ah, tell me, where's my Life? where is my Death I pray?
Why, is shee (now) not here? as she was wont to be.
Pleasant we are, when her we call but to our minde:
Sad, that, we cannot haue her wisht-for Company,
Whom Envy and bad Iealovsie doe stay behind,
Whom neighbors good, more than their own mishap makes cry.
But who can Louers bridle? who Lawes can them giue?
None can the Mind restraine. Anger and deep Despight
The Body for a while (perhaps) may vexe and grieue,
Which (now) on Her, and (then) on Me doth often light.
Yet if the Countenance be the Harts bright myrrour true
(As oft it is) then did we see her Beautie fayre,
To be ecclipst, whilst wee her louely Eyes did view
Teares to distill from Limbecke of sad Care,
My comfort's this, in me fault was there none,
'Twas dread of lewd Tongues made her stay at home.