 | Parthenophil and Parthenophe |  |
ELEGIE XVI.
[Ah were my teares (as many writers bee)]
Ah were my teares (as many writers bee)Meere droppes of incke proceeding from my penne,
Then in these sable weedes you should not see
Me seuer'd from societie of men:
Ah me all colours do mine eyes displease,
Saue those two colours, of pure white, and redde,
And yet I dare not florish it in these,
Because I can not, for my colour's dead.
Those colours florish round about each where,
But cheefely with my mistresse in their kinde,
And fayne I would her louely colours weare
So that it might be pleasing to her minde:
But nought will please her ouer-cruell eye,
But blacke, and payle on body, and in face:
Then she triumphes in bewties tyrannie,
When she sees bewtie, bewtie can disgrace.
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Can blubber'd bleare-eyes drowne in seaes of teares:
And laughes to here poore louers how they moane,
Ioyes in the paper which her prayses beares,
And (for his sake that sent) that schœdule teares:
What but pale enuie doth her hart assaile)
When she would be still fayre, add laugh alone,
And (for her sake) all other's mourne, and paile.
| Parthenophil and Parthenophe | |