The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton For the First Time Collected and Edited: With Memorial-Introduction, Notes and Illustrations, Glossarial Index, Facsimilies, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart. In Two Volumes |
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 | The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton |  |
Sonet. 9.
Faire faces are eyes' witches,
That but inchaunt the minde:
Fond humors reason's itches,
That but affection blinde.
While loue is but a mockery,
To cheate the world with foolerie.
That but inchaunt the minde:
Fond humors reason's itches,
That but affection blinde.
While loue is but a mockery,
To cheate the world with foolerie.
Youth but a blaze of time,
Whome Age to ashes bringes:
Time but a weary chime,
That death to sorrowe ringes:
While wealth the weight of care doth prooue,
The world hath little what to loue.
Whome Age to ashes bringes:
Time but a weary chime,
That death to sorrowe ringes:
While wealth the weight of care doth prooue,
The world hath little what to loue.
14
Beautie is sildome wise,
Nor wit hath fortune friend,
And loue in Argus eyes
Findes Iealouzie a fiend.
While truth doth gaine so little grace,
As makes the world a woefull place.
Nor wit hath fortune friend,
And loue in Argus eyes
Findes Iealouzie a fiend.
While truth doth gaine so little grace,
As makes the world a woefull place.
And vertue is so poore,
Shee liues by pittie most:
While pride doth ope her doore,
But onely vnto cost.
And power is growne so daungerous,
As makes discretion timorous.
Shee liues by pittie most:
While pride doth ope her doore,
But onely vnto cost.
And power is growne so daungerous,
As makes discretion timorous.
And fancie is so fickle,
That faith is in mistrust:
And friendship is so tickle,
That judgments prooues vniust.
While nature's blot in Reason's blame,
Doth shew the world a wicked frame.
That faith is in mistrust:
And friendship is so tickle,
That judgments prooues vniust.
While nature's blot in Reason's blame,
Doth shew the world a wicked frame.
Woordes are but blastes of breath,
Thoughts but the witte's illusion:
Deedes but desartes of death,
All but the worlde's confusion.
Where wordes and thoughts, and deedes doe trie,
The worlde wrapt vp in miserie.
Thoughts but the witte's illusion:
Deedes but desartes of death,
All but the worlde's confusion.
Where wordes and thoughts, and deedes doe trie,
The worlde wrapt vp in miserie.
What then on earth remaineth
That reason can discouer?
But that the heart disdaineth,
Which is the spirit's louer.
Saue that which wisdome findes in wit,
Is in the worlde but none of it.
That reason can discouer?
But that the heart disdaineth,
Which is the spirit's louer.
Saue that which wisdome findes in wit,
Is in the worlde but none of it.
For which conceal'd content,
In honor's carefull chest,
Wherein the spirit spent,
Is onely truely blest.
I will subscribe to reason's will,
To liue in purgatory still.
In honor's carefull chest,
Wherein the spirit spent,
Is onely truely blest.
I will subscribe to reason's will,
To liue in purgatory still.
For such the worlde I finde,
A place where eyes may see,
What moste may glad the minde,
Yet neere the better be,
Because the world hath smallest parte,
Of that which moste doth please the hearte.
A place where eyes may see,
What moste may glad the minde,
Yet neere the better be,
Because the world hath smallest parte,
Of that which moste doth please the hearte.
Then heauen's protest for me,
In spight of worldly spight:
Aglaia all shall be,
Where loue in honour's light,
In iudgements of discretion's eyes:
Doth make the world a Paradice.
In spight of worldly spight:
Aglaia all shall be,
Where loue in honour's light,
In iudgements of discretion's eyes:
Doth make the world a Paradice.
For were it not thrise good,
In Nature, wit, and grace:
Where truth hath vnderstood,
The cleerenes of my Case,
My loue on earth should neuer dwell,
But hate the world as halfe a hell.
In Nature, wit, and grace:
Where truth hath vnderstood,
The cleerenes of my Case,
My loue on earth should neuer dwell,
But hate the world as halfe a hell.
Then wherein goodnes showes,
The grace of fancie's blisse:
Which no Corruption knowes,
Nor earth come where it is:
Let me this true conclusion prooue,
I hate the world, but for thy loue.
The grace of fancie's blisse:
Which no Corruption knowes,
Nor earth come where it is:
Let me this true conclusion prooue,
I hate the world, but for thy loue.
| The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton | |