Alcilia Philoparthens louing Folly. Wherevnto Js Added Pigmalions Image. With The Loue of Amos and Lavra. And also Epigrammes by Sir I. H. and others. Neuer before imprinted |
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AMORIS PRÆLVDIVM:
VEL, Epistola ad Amicam.
To thee Alcilia, solace of my youth,
These rude and scattered rimes I haue addressed:
The certaine witnesse of my loue and truth,
That truely cannot be in words expressed;
VVhich if I shall perceiue thou tak'st in gree,
I will from henceforth write of none but thee.
These rude and scattered rimes I haue addressed:
The certaine witnesse of my loue and truth,
That truely cannot be in words expressed;
VVhich if I shall perceiue thou tak'st in gree,
I will from henceforth write of none but thee.
Here may you find the wounds your selfe haue made
The many sorrowes I haue long sustain'd:
Here may you see that Loue must be obey'd;
How much I hop'd, how little I haue gain'd:
That as for you the paines haue beene endur'd,
Euen so by you they may at length be cur'd.
The many sorrowes I haue long sustain'd:
Here may you see that Loue must be obey'd;
How much I hop'd, how little I haue gain'd:
That as for you the paines haue beene endur'd,
Euen so by you they may at length be cur'd.
I will not call for aide to any Muse,
It is for learned Poets so to doe:
Affection must my want of Art excuse,
My workes must haue their patronage from you,
VVhose sweet assistance if obtaine I might,
I should be able both to speake and wright.
It is for learned Poets so to doe:
Affection must my want of Art excuse,
My workes must haue their patronage from you,
VVhose sweet assistance if obtaine I might,
I should be able both to speake and wright.
Meane while vouchsafe to reade this, as assignde
To no mans censure, but to yours alone:
Pardon the faults, that you therein shall finde,
And thinke the Writers heart was not his owne.
Experience of examples daily proue
That no man can be well aduis'd, and loue.
To no mans censure, but to yours alone:
Pardon the faults, that you therein shall finde,
And thinke the Writers heart was not his owne.
Experience of examples daily proue
That no man can be well aduis'd, and loue.
And though the worke it selfe deserue it not,
Such is your worth with my great wants compar'd:
Yet may my Loue vnfained, without spot
Challenge so much, (if more cannot be spar'd,)
Then (louely Virgin) take this in good part,
The rest vnseene is seal'd vp in the hart.
Such is your worth with my great wants compar'd:
Yet may my Loue vnfained, without spot
Challenge so much, (if more cannot be spar'd,)
Then (louely Virgin) take this in good part,
The rest vnseene is seal'd vp in the hart.
Iudge not by this the depth of my Affection,
VVhich farre exceedes the measure of my skill:
But rather note herein your owne perfection,
So shall appeare my want of Art, not VVill.
VVhereof, this now as part, in lieu of greater
I offer as an insufficient debter.
VVhich farre exceedes the measure of my skill:
But rather note herein your owne perfection,
So shall appeare my want of Art, not VVill.
VVhereof, this now as part, in lieu of greater
I offer as an insufficient debter.
Sic incipit stultorum Tragicomedia.
It was my chance (vnhappy chance to mee)
As all alone I wandred on my way:
Voyd of distrust, from doubt of dangers free,
To passe a groue, where LOVE in Ambush lay.
VVho ayming at mee with his feather'd Dart,
Conuey'd it by mine Eye vnto my Hart.
As all alone I wandred on my way:
Voyd of distrust, from doubt of dangers free,
To passe a groue, where LOVE in Ambush lay.
VVho ayming at mee with his feather'd Dart,
Conuey'd it by mine Eye vnto my Hart.
VVhere (retchlesse Boy) he let the Arrow sticke,
VVhere I, as one amazed, senselesse stood:
The hurt was great, yet seemed but a pricke,
The wound was deepe, and yet appear'd no bloud,
“But inwardly it bleedes, Proofe teacheth this,
“VVhen wounds doe so the danger greater is.
VVhere I, as one amazed, senselesse stood:
The hurt was great, yet seemed but a pricke,
The wound was deepe, and yet appear'd no bloud,
“But inwardly it bleedes, Proofe teacheth this,
“VVhen wounds doe so the danger greater is.
Pausing a while, and grieued with my wound,
I look'd about, expecting some reliefe:
Small hope of helpe, no ease of paine I found,
Like all at once to perish in my griefe:
VVhen hastily I plucked forth the Dart.
But left the head fast fixed in my Hart.
I look'd about, expecting some reliefe:
Small hope of helpe, no ease of paine I found,
Like all at once to perish in my griefe:
VVhen hastily I plucked forth the Dart.
But left the head fast fixed in my Hart.
Fast fixed in my Hart I left the head;
From whence I doubt it will not be remoued:
Ah what vnluckie chance that way me lead?
O Loue, thy force thou might'st else-where haue proued,
And shew'd thy power, where thou art not obey'd;
“The Conquest's small, where no resist is made.
From whence I doubt it will not be remoued:
Ah what vnluckie chance that way me lead?
O Loue, thy force thou might'st else-where haue proued,
And shew'd thy power, where thou art not obey'd;
“The Conquest's small, where no resist is made.
But nought (alas) auayles it to complaine,
I rest resolu'd with Patience to endure:
The Fire being once disperst through euery veyne,
It is too late to hope for present cure.
Now Philoparthen must new follyes proue,
And learne a little, what it is to loue.
I rest resolu'd with Patience to endure:
The Fire being once disperst through euery veyne,
It is too late to hope for present cure.
Now Philoparthen must new follyes proue,
And learne a little, what it is to loue.
These Sonnets following, were written by the Author, (who giueth himselfe this fained name of Philoparthen, as his accidentall attribute) at diuers times, and vpon diuers occasions, and therefore in the forme and matter they differ, and sometimes are quite contrary one to another, considering the nature and qualitie of Love, which is a Passion full of varietie, and contrarietie in it selfe.
[Vnhappy Eyes that first my Heart betraid]
I
Vnhappy Eyes that first my Heart betraid,Had you not seene, my griefe had not bin such:
And yet how may I iustly you vpbraid,
Since what I saw delighted me so much?
But hence, alas, proceedeth all my smart,
Vnhappie Eyes that first betray'd my Hart.
II
To seeke aduentures, as Fate hath assign'd,My slender Barke now flotes vpon the Maine:
Each troubled thought an Oare, each sigh a winde,
VVhose often puffes haue rent my Sayles in twaine.
LOVE steeres the Boat, which, for that sight he lacks,
Is still in danger of tenne thousand wracks.
III
VVhat sodaine chance hath chang'd my wonted chear,VVhich makes me other then I seeme to be?
My dayes of ioy, that once were bright and cleare,
Are turn'd to night, my mirth to miserie.
Ah, well I weene that somewhat is amisse,
But sooth to say, I know not what it is.
IIII
VVhat, am I dead? Then could I feele no smart:But still in me the sense of griefe reuiueth.
Am I aliue? Ah no, I haue no heart;
For she that hath it, me of life depriueth.
Oh that she would restore my heart againe,
Or giue mee hers, to counteruayle my paine.
V
If it be LOVE, to waste long houres in griefe;If it be LOVE, to wish, and not obtaine;
If it be LOVE, to pine without reliefe;
If it be LOVE, to hope, and neuer gaine:
Then may you thinke that he hath truely lou'd,
VVho for your sake, all this and more haue prou'd.
VI
If ought that in mine Eyes haue done amisse,Let them receiue deserued punishment:
For so the perfect rule of Iustice is,
Each for his owne deedes should be prais'd or shent.
Then doubtlesse it is both 'gainst Law and sence
My Heart should suffer for mine Eyes offence.
VII
I am not sicke, and yet I am not sound;I eare and sleepe, and yet me thinkes I thriue not:
I sport and laugh, and yet my griefes abound;
I am not dead, and yet me thinkes I liue not.
What vncouth cause hath these strange passions bred,
To make at once, sicke, sound, aliue, and dead?
VIII
Some thing I want, but what I cannot say;O now I know, it is my selfe I want:
My Loue with her hath tane my Heart away.
Yea, Heart and all; and left me very scant.
Such power hath LOVE, & nought but LOVE alone,
To make diuided Creatures liue in one.
Come gentle Death, & strike me with thy dart
Life is but loathsome to a man opprest.
Death.
How can I kill thee when thou hast no heart?
That which thou hadst is in anothers breast.
Philo.
Then must I liue, and languish still in paine?
Death.
Yea, till thy Loue restore thy heart againe.
X
VVere Loue a fire, my teares might quench it lightly;Or were it water, my hot heart might dry it;
If Ayre, then might it passe away more slightly,
Or were it Earth, the world would soone descry it.
If Fire, nor VVater, Ayre nor Earth it be,
VVhat then is it that thus tormenteth me?
XI
To paint her outward shape and gifts of mindeIt doth exceed my wit and cunning farre:
She hath no fault, but that she is vnkinde.
All other parts in her so compleate are
That who to view them thoughly would deuise,
Must haue his body nothing else but Eyes.
XII
Faire is my Loue, whose parts are so well framedBy Natures speciall order and direction:
That shee her selfe is more then halfe ashamed,
In hauing made a worke of such perfection.
And well may Nature blush at such a feature,
Seeing her selfe excelled in her creature.
XIII
Her bodie is straight, slender, and vpright;Her visage comely, and her lookes demure,
Mixt with a chearfull grace that yeelds delight;
Her eyes like starres, bright shining, cleare, and pure,
VVhich I describing, Loue bids stay my pen,
And sayes it's not a worke for mortall men.
XIIII
The auncient Poets write of Graces three,VVhich meeting altogether in one Creature,
In all points perfect make the same to bee,
For inward vertues, and for outward feature.
But smile Alcilia, and the world shall see,
That in thine eyes an hundred graces bee.
XV
As Loue had drawne his Bow ready to shoote,Ayming at me with resolute intent:
Straight Bow and Shaft he cast downe at his foote,
And said, why needlesse should one Shaft be spent?
Ile spare it then, and now it shall suffice
In stead of Shafts to vse Alciliaes eyes.
XVI
Blush not my Loue, for feare least Phœbus spie,VVhich if he doe, then doubtlesse he vvill say
Thou seek'st to dim his clearnesse with thine eye,
That clearnesse which from East brings gladsome day.
But most of all, least Ioue should see I dread,
And take thee vp to heauen like Ganymede.
VVhat is the cause Alcilia is displeased?
Lo.
Because she wants that which shold most content her
Phil.
O did I know it, soone should she be eased.
Loue.
Perhaps thou dost, and that doth most torment her.
Phil.
Yet let her aske what she desires to haue.
Loue.
Gesse by thy selfe; for maidens must not craue.
XVIII
My Loue by chance her tender finger pricked,As in the darke I striued for a kisse:
VVhose bloud I seeing, offerd to haue licked;
But halfe in anger she refused this.
O that she knew the difference of the smart,
Twixt her prick'd finger and my wounded hart.
I pray the tell, what makes my hart to tremble
VVhen on a sodaine I Alcilia spye?
Loue.
Because thy heart cannot thy ioy dissemble,
Thy life and death are both lodg'd in her eye.
Phil.
Dost thou not her with self-same passion strike?
Loue.
O no, her heart and thine are not alike.
XX
Such are thy parts of body and of minde,That if I should not loue thee as I doe;
I should too much degenerate from kinde,
And thinke the world would blame my weaknes to.
For he, whom such perfections cannot moue,
Is eyther senslesse, or not borne to loue.
XXI
Alcilia's eyes haue set my heart on fire,The pleasing obiect that my paine doth feede:
Yet still to see those eyes I doe desire,
As if my helpe should from my hurt proceede.
Happy were I, might there in her be found,
A will to heale, as there was power to wound.
XXII
Vnwise was hee that painted Loue a Boy,VVho for his strength a Gyant should haue beene:
It's strange a childe should worke so great annoy:
Yet howsoeuer strange, too truely seene.
“But what is he that dares at Loue repine
“VVhose workes are wonders, and himselfe diuine?
XXIII
My faire Alcilia, gladly would I know it,If euer louing passion pierc'd thy hart:
Oh no; for then thy kindnesse soone would shew it,
And of my paines thy selfe would beare some part.
Full little knoweth hee that hath not proued,
VVhat hell it is to loue, and not be loued.
XXIIII
Loue, art thou blinde? nay, thou canst see too well;And they are blinde that so report of thee:
That thou doest see, my selfe by proofe can tell,
A haplesse proofe thereof is made by mee:
For sure I am, had'st thou not had thy sight,
Thou neuer could'st haue hit my heart so right.
XXV
Long haue I languish'd, and indur'd much smart,Since haplesse I the cruell faire did loue,
And lodg'd her in the center of my heart,
VVho there abiding, reason should her moue,
Though of my paines she no compassion take,
Yet to respect me, for her owne sweet sake.
XXVI
In midst of VVinter season, as the Snow,VVhose milk-white mantle ouer-spreds the ground:
In part the colour of my loue is so,
Yet their effects I haue contrary found.
For when the sunne appeares, Snow melts anone,
But I melt alwayes when my Sunne is gone.
XXVII
The sweet content at first I seem'd to proue,VVhile yet Desire vnfledg'd could scarcely flye:
Did make me thinke there was no life to Loue,
Till all too late Time taught the contrarie.
For, like a Flye, I sported with the flame,
Till, like a Foole, I perish'd in the same.
XXVIII
After darke night, the chearfull day appeareth;After an ebbe, the riuer flowes againe;
After a storme, the cloudy heauen cleareth:
All labours haue their end, or ease of paine;
Each creature hath reliefe and rest, saue I,
VVho onely dying liue, and liuing dye.
XXIX
Sometimes I seeke for company to sport,VVhereby I might my pensiue thoughts beguile:
Sometimes againe I hide me from resort,
And muse alone; but yet alas the while,
In changing place I cannot change my minde,
For where so e'er I flye, my selfe I finde.
XXX
Faine would I speak, but straight my hart doth trēbleAnd checkes my tongue that should my griefes reueale:
And so I striue my passion to dissemble,
VVhich all the Art I haue cannot conceale:
Thus standing mute, my hart with longing sterueth
It grieues a man to aske what he deserueth.
XXXI
Since you desire the cause of me to know,For which these diuers passions I haue proued:
Looke in your glasse, which will not faile to show
The shadowed portrait of my best beloued.
If that suffice not, looke into my hart,
VVhere it's ingrauen in a new-found Art.
XXXII
The painefull Plow-man hath his hearts delight,VVho through his daily toyle his body tyreth:
Yet merrily comes whistling home at night,
And sweetly takes the ease his paine requireth.
But neyther dayes nor nights can yeeld me rest,
Borne to be wretched, and to liue opprest.
XXXIII
O well were it, if Nature would deuise,That men with men together might engender:
As Grafts from Trees, one from another rise,
Then nought of due to women should we render,
But vaine conceit, that Nature should doe this,
Since well wee know, her selfe a woman is.
XXXIIII
Vpon the Altar where Loues fire burned;My sighs and teares for sacrifice I offer'd:
When Loue in rage from me his countenance turned,
And did reiect, what I so humbly proffer'd.
If hee my heart expect, alas it's gone,
How can a man giue that is not his owne?
XXXV
Alcilia said, she did not know my minde,Because my words did not declare my loue:
Thus where I merit most, least helpe I finde,
And her vnkindnesse all too late I proue.
Grant Loue, that shee of whom thou art neglected,
May one day loue, and little be respected.
XXXVI
The Cynicke being ask'd when he would loue,Made answere, when hee nothing had to doe:
For Loue was sloath; but he did neuer proue
By his experience what belong'd thereto.
For had he tasted but as much as I,
He would haue soone reform'd his heresie.
XXXVII
O iudge me not, sweet Loue, by outward show,Though sometimes strange I seeme, and to neglect thee:
Yet didst thou but my inward passions know,
Thou shouldst perceiue how highly I respect thee.
“When lookes are fixed, the hart oft times doth tremble,
Little loues he that cannot much dissemble.
XXXVIII
Parting from thee, euen from my selfe I part,Thou art the starre by which my life is guided:
I haue the body, but thou hast the hart;
The better part is from it selfe diuided.
Thus doe I liue, and this doe I sustaine,
Till gracious fortune make vs meet againe.
XXXIX
Open the sluces of my feeble eyes,And let my teares haue passage from their fountain:
Fil all the earth with plaints, the aire with cries,
Which may pierce rocks, & reach the highest mountain
That so Loues wrath by these extreames appeased,
My griefes may cease, and my poore heart be eased.
XL
“After long sicknes, health brings more delight;“Seas seem more calm, by storms once ouerblowne;
“The day's more chearfull by the passed night;
“Each thing is by his contrary best knowne;
“Continuall ease is paine; Change somtimes meeter;
“Discords in Musicke, make the Musicke sweeter.
XLI
Feare to offend, forbids my tongue to speake,And signes and sighes must tell my inward woe:
But (aye the while) my heart with griefe doth break,
And she by signes my sorrowes will not know,
The stillest streames we see in deepest foords;
And loue is greatest when it wanteth words.
XLII
“No paine so great, but may be eas'd by Art,“Though much we suffer, yet despair we should not
“In midst of griefes Hope alwayes hath some part,
“And Time may heale, what Art & Reason could not.
Oh what is then this passion I indure,
VVhich neither Reason, Art, nor Time can cure?
XLIII
“Pale Iealousie, fiend of eternall night,“Mishapen creature, borne before thy time,
“The Impe of horror, foe to sweet delight,
“Making each error seeme a haynous crime:
“Ah too great pittie (were there remedie,)
“That euer Loue should keepe thee companie.
XLIIII
The dayes are now come to their shortest date,And must in time by course increase againe:
But onely I continue at one state,
Voide of all hope of helpe, or ease of paine.
For dayes of ioy must still be short with me,
And nights of sorrow must prolonged be.
XLV
Sleepe now my Muse, and henceforth take thy rest,VVhich all too long thy selfe in vaine hast wasted:
Let it suffice I still must liue opprest,
And of my paine the fruit must ne'er be tasted.
“Then sleepe my Muse: Fate cannot be withstood,
“It's better sleepe then wake and doe no good.
XLVI
VVhy shold I loue, since she doth proue vngrateful?Since for reward I reape nought but disdaine:
Loue thus to be requited it is hatefull,
And Reason would I should not loue in vaine.
Yet all in vaine, when all is out of season,
For Loue hath no societie with Reason.
XLVII
Harts-ease and I haue beene at ods too long,I follow fast, but still he flyes from mee:
I sue for grace, and yet sustaine the wrong,
So gladly would I reconciled bee.
Loue make vs one: so shalt thou worke a wonder,
Vniting them, that were so farre asunder.
XLVIII
Vncouth, vnkist, our auncient Poet said,And he that hides his wants, when hee hath neede:
May after haue his want of wit bewraid,
And faile of his desire, when others speede.
Then boldly speake: the worst is at first entring;
“Much good successe men miste for lack of ventring.
XLIX
Declare thy griefes wherewith thou art opprest,And let the world be witnesse of thy woes:
Let not thy thoughts lye buryed in thy brest,
But let thy tongue thy discontents disclose.
“For who conceales his paine when he is grieued,
“May well be pittied, but no way relieued.
L
VVretched is hee, that louing sets his hartOn her, whose loue from pure affection swerued:
VVho doth permit each one to haue a part
Of that which none but he alone deserueth.
Giue all or none: For once of this be sure,
Lordship and Loue no partners may endure.
LI
VVho spends the weary day in pensiue thought,And night in dreames of horror, and affright:
Whose welth is want, whose hope is come to nought;
Himselfe the marke for Loue and Fortunes spight:
Let him appeare, if any such there bee,
His case and mine most fitly will agree.
LII
Faire tree, but fruitlesse, sometimes full of sap,VVhich now yeelds nought at all that may delight me:
Some cruell frost, or some vntimely hap
Hath made thee barren, onely to despite me.
Such Trees in vaine with hope doe feede desire,
And serue for fuell to increase Loues fire.
LIII
In company, while sad and mute I sit,My thoughts else-where, then there I seeme to be
Potless'd with some deepe Melancholy fit,
One of my friends obserues the same in me,
And sayes in iest, (which I in earnest proue)
Hee lookes like one, that had lost his first Loue.
LIIII
Twixt Hope and Feare in doubtfull ballance peazed,My Fate, my Fortune, and my Loue depends:
Sometime my Hope is rais'd, when Loue is pleased.
Which feare weighs down, whé ought his wil offends
The heauens are somtimes cleer, and somtimes lowre
“And he that loues, must tast both sweet and sowre.
LV
Retyre my wandring thoughts vnto your rest,Doe not henceforth consume your selues in vaine:
No mortall man in all poynts can be blest,
VVhat now is mine, may be anothers paine.
The watry clouds are cleere, when stormes are past,
And things in their extreames long cannot last.
LVI
The fire of Loue is first bred in the eye,And thence conuayes his heate vnto the hart:
VVhere it lies hid, till Time his force descry:
The tongue thereto addes fuell for his part.
The touch of lips, which doth succeed the same,
Kindles the rest, and so it proues a flame.
LVII
The tender sprigs that sprowted in the field,And promis'd hope of fruit to him that planted:
In stead of fruit doth nought but blossomes yeeld,
Though care and paine to prune it neuer wanted,
Euen so my hopes doe nought but blossomes proue,
And yeeld no fruits to recompence my loue.
LVIII
Though little signe of loue in show appeare,Yet thinke true loue of colours hath no neede:
It's not the glorious garments which men weare
That make them others then they are indeede.
“In meanest show the most affection dwels,
And richest pearles are found in simplest shels.
LIX
Let not thy tongue thy inward thoughts disclose,Or tell the sorrowes that thy heart endures:
Let no mans eare be witnesse of thy woes,
Since pittie neyther helpe nor ease procures.
And onely hee is truely said to mone,
VVhose griefes none knoweth but himselfe alone.
LX
A thousand times I curse these idle rimes,VVhich doe their makers follies vaine set forth:
Yet blesse I them againe as many times,
For that in them I blaze Alcilia's worth.
Meane while I fare as doth the Torch by night,
VVhich wastes it selfe in giuing others light.
LXI
Enough of this: for all is nought regarded,And she not once with my complaints is moued:
Dye haplesse Loue, since thou art not rewarded;
Yet ere thou dye, to witnesse that I loued,
Report my truth, and tell the faire vnkinde,
That she hath lost, what none but she shall finde.
LXII
Louers lament you that haue truely loued;For Philoparthen now hath lost his loue:
The greatest losse that euer Louer proued;
O let his hard hap some compassion moue.
VVho had not rued the losse of her so much,
But that he knowes the world yeelds no more such.
LXIII
Vpon the Ocean of conceited error,My weary spirit many stormes haue past,
VVhich now in harbour, free from wonted terror,
Ioy the possession of their rest at last:
And henceforth safely they may lye at road;
And neuer roue for had-I-wist abroad.
Loues Accusation at the Iudgement-seate of Reason, wherein the Authors whole successe in his loue is couertly described.
In Reasons Court, my selfe being Plaintiffe there,Loue was by processe summon'd to appeare.
That so the wrong which he had done to mee
Might be made knowne; and all the world might see,
And seeing, rue, what to my cost I proued,
While faithfull, but vnfortunate I loued.
After I had obtained audience,
I thus began to giue in euidence.
The Authors Euidence against Loue.
Most sacred Queene, and Soueraigne of mans heart,Which of the minde doest rule the better part:
First bred in Heauen, and from thence hither sent
To guide mens actions by thy regiment;
Vouchsafe a while to heare the sad complaint
Of him that Loue hath long kept in restraint:
And as to you it properly belongs,
Grant Iustice of my vndeserued wrongs.
Since first this wretch, sent from the neather hell,
To plague the world with new-found cruelties,
Vnder the shadow of two Christall eyes,
Betraid my sense; and as I slumbring lay,
Felloniously conuay'd my heart away,
Which most vniustly he detain'd from me,
And exercis'd thereon strange tyrannie.
Sometime his manner was to sport and game;
With Bry'rs and Thornes to rase and pricke the same;
Sometime with Nettles of desire to sting it;
Sometime with Pinsons of despaire to wring it:
Sometime againe, hee would annoynt the sore,
And heale the place that hee had hurt before;
But hurtfull helps, and ministred in vaine,
Which serue'd onely to renue my paine.
For after that more wounds hee added still,
Which pierced deepe, but had no power to kill.
Vnhappy med'cine, which instead of cure,
Giues strength to make the patient more indure!
But that which was most strange of all the rest,
My selfe being thus twixt life and death distrest,
Oft times when as my paine exceeded measure,
Hee would perswade mee that the same was pleasure.
My trauell, rest; and all my sower, sweet;
My wounds, but gentle strokes: whereat he smil'd,
And by these sleights my carelesse youth beguil'd.
Thus did I fare, as one that liuing dy'd;
(For greater paines I thinke hath no man try'd,)
Disquiet thoughts, like Furyes, in my brest
Nourish'd the poyson that my spirits possest.
Now griefe, then ioy, now warre, then peace vnstable:
Nought sure I had, but to be miserable.
I cannot vtter all, (I must confesse,)
Men may conceiue more then they can expresse.
But to be short, (which cannot be excus'd,)
With vaine illusions Loue my hope abus'd,
Perswading me J stood vpon firme ground,
When vnawares my selfe on sands I found.
This is the poynt which most I doe inforce,
That Loue without all pitty or remorse
Did suffer me to languish still in griefe,
Void of contentment, succour, or reliefe:
And when I look'd my paynes should be rewarded,
I did perceiue that they were nought regarded:
For why (alas) these haplesse eyes did see,
Alcilia lou'd another more then mee:
My Hope, my Loue, and Fortune thus were crost.
Proceeding further, Reason bad me stay;
For the defendant had something to say.
Then to the Iudge, for Iustice loud J cride,
And so I paused, and Loue thus replide.
Loues Reply to the Author.
Since Reason ought to lend indifferent eares.Vnto both parts, and iudge as truth appeares:
Most gracious Lady, giue me leaue to speake,
And answere his complaint, that seekes to wreake
His spight and malice on me without cause,
In charging me to haue transgress'd thy Lawes.
Of all his Follies he imputes the blame
To me poore Loue, that nought deserues the same:
Himselfe it is that hath abused me,
As by mine answere shall well proued be.
Fond youth, thou knowst what I for thee effected,
(Though now I finde it little be respected)
I purg'd thy wit which was before but grosse,
The mettall pure I seuer'd from the drosse:
And did inspire thee with my sweetest fire.
That kindled in thee courage and desire.
Which cumber mens imaginations
With auarice, ambition, or vaine-glory,
Desire of things fleeting and transitorie.
No base conceit, but such as Powers aboue
Haue knowne and felt, J meane th'instinct of Loue:
Which making men all earthly things despise,
Transports them to a heauenly Paradise.
Where thou complain'st of sorrowes in thy heart,
Who liues on earth but therein hath his part?
Are these thy fruits? Are these the best rewards
For all the pleasing glances, slye regards,
The sweet stolne kisses, amorous conceits,
So many smiles, so many faire intreats,
Such kindnesse as Alcilia did bestow
All for my sake, as well thy selfe doest know?
That Loue should thus be vsed it is hatefull,
But all is lost that's done for one vngratefull.
Where he alledgeth that hee was abus'd,
In that he truely louing was refus'd:
That's most vntrue, and plainely may be tride:
Who neuer ask'd, could neuer be denide.
But he affected rather single life,
Then yoke in Marriage, matching with a wife.
Poore loue (God wot) that pouertie impaires:
Worldly respects Loue little doth regard;
Who loues, hath onely loue for his reward.
He meriteth a Louers name indeede
That casts no doubts, which paine suspicion breede,
But desperately at hazard throwes the Dice,
Neglecting due regard of friends aduice;
That wrestles with his Fortune and his Fate,
Which had ordain'd to better his estate;
That hath no care of wealth, no feare of lacke,
But venters forward, though he see his wracke;
That with Hopes wings, like Icarus, doth flye,
Though for his rashnesse he like fortune trye;
That to his fame the world of him may tell,
How, while hee soar'd aloft, adowne he fell.
And so true Loue awarded him this doome,
In scaling heauen, to haue the Sea his Tombe:
That making shipwracke of his dearest fame,
Betrayes himselfe to pouertie and shame:
That hath no sense of sorrow, or repent;
No dread of perils farre, or imminent,
But doth preferre before all pompe or pelfe,
The sweet of Loue, as dearer then himselfe:
Would make way through to compasse his desire.
For which he would (though heauen and earth forbad it,)
Hazard to lose a Kingdome, if he had it.
These be the things wherein I glory most,
Whereof this mine accuser cannot boast:
Who was indifferent in his losse or gaine,
And better pleas'd to faile then to obtaine.
All quallified Affection Loue doth hate,
And likes him best that's most intemperate.
But hence proceedes his malice and despight,
While he himselfe barres of his owne delight.
For when as he Alcilia first affected,
Like one in shew thou little loue respected,
He masqu'd disguis'd, and entertain'd his thought,
With hope of that which he in secret sought:
And still forbare to vtter his desire,
Till his delay receiu'd her worthy hire.
And well we know what Maides themselues would haue
Men must sue for, and by petitions craue.
But he regarding more his wealth then will,
Had little care his fancie to fulfill.
Yet when he saw Alcilia lou'd another,
The secret fire which in his brest did smother,
If Temperance had not allay'd the same:
Which afterward so quench'd he did not finde
But that some sparke remained still behinde.
Thus when time seru'd hee did refuse to craue it,
And yet enuy'd another man should haue it:
As though faire Maids should waite at yong mens pleasure,
While they, twixt sport and earnest, loue at leasure.
Nay, at the first, when it is kindly proffer'd
Maides must accept, lest twice it be not offer'd:
Else though their beauty seeme their good t'importune,
Yet may they lose the better of their fortune.
Thus as this fondling coldly went about it,
So in the end he cleerely went without it:
For while hee doubtfull seem'd to make a stay,
A Mungrell stole the Maidens heart away:
For which though he lamented much in show;
Yet was he inward glad it fell out so.
Now Reason, you may plainely iudge by this,
Not I, but he the false dissembler is:
Who while fond loue his luke-warme bloud did feede,
Made signe of more then he sustain'd indeede:
And fill'd his Rimes with fables and with lyes,
Which without passion he did oft deuise.
That pittied him, thinking hee lou'd too much,
And with conceit rather to shew his wit,
Then manifest his faithfull loue by it.
Much more then this could I lay to his charge,
But time would faile to open all at large.
Let this suffice to shew his bad intent,
And proue that Loue is cleare and innocent.
Thus at the length, though late, he made an end,
And both of vs did earnestly attend
The finall iudgement Reason should award,
When thus he gan to speake With due regard
The matter hath beene heard on eyther side,
For Iudgement you must longer time abide:
The cause is waightie and of great import,
And so she smiling did adiorne the Court:
Little auail'd it then to argue more:
So I return'd in worse case then before.
Loue decyphered.
Love
, and I, are now diuided,
Conceit by Error was misguided:
Alcilia hath my loue despised,
“No man loues that is aduised.
Time at length hath Truth directed,
Loue hath miss'd what hee expected:
Yet missing that which long he sought,
I haue found that I little thought.
Errors in time may be redrest;
“The shortest follies are the best.
Conceit by Error was misguided:
Alcilia hath my loue despised,
“No man loues that is aduised.
Time at length hath Truth directed,
Loue hath miss'd what hee expected:
Yet missing that which long he sought,
I haue found that I little thought.
Errors in time may be redrest;
“The shortest follies are the best.
Loue and Youth are now asunder,
Reasons glory, Natures wonder:
My thoughts long bound are now inlarg'd,
My follies pennance is discharg'd.
Thus Time hath altered my state,
Repentance neuer comes too late.
Ah well I finde that Loue is nought
But folly, and an idle thought:
The difference is twixt Loue and mee,
That Loue is blinde, and I can see.
Reasons glory, Natures wonder:
My thoughts long bound are now inlarg'd,
My follies pennance is discharg'd.
Thus Time hath altered my state,
Repentance neuer comes too late.
Ah well I finde that Loue is nought
But folly, and an idle thought:
The difference is twixt Loue and mee,
That Loue is blinde, and I can see.
Loue is honie mixt with gall;
A thraldome free, a freedome thrall;
A bitter sweet, a pleasant sowre,
Got in a yeere, lost in an howre;
A peacefull warre, a warlike peace,
VVhose wealth brings want, whose want increase;
Full long pursuite, and little gaine;
Vncertaine pleasure, certaine paine;
Regard of neyther right nor wrong;
For short delights, repentance long.
A thraldome free, a freedome thrall;
A bitter sweet, a pleasant sowre,
Got in a yeere, lost in an howre;
A peacefull warre, a warlike peace,
VVhose wealth brings want, whose want increase;
Full long pursuite, and little gaine;
Vncertaine pleasure, certaine paine;
Regard of neyther right nor wrong;
For short delights, repentance long.
Loue is a sicknesse of the thought,
Conceit of pleasure dearely bought;
A restlesse passion of the minde;
A Labyrinth of errors blinde;
A sugred poyson, faire deceit;
A baite for fooles, a furious heate;
A chilling cold; a wondrous passion
Exceeding mans imagination:
VVhich none can tell in whole nor part,
But onely he that feeles the smart.
Conceit of pleasure dearely bought;
A restlesse passion of the minde;
A Labyrinth of errors blinde;
A sugred poyson, faire deceit;
A baite for fooles, a furious heate;
A chilling cold; a wondrous passion
Exceeding mans imagination:
VVhich none can tell in whole nor part,
But onely he that feeles the smart.
Loue is sorrow mixt with gladnesse,
Feare with hope, and hope with madnesse.
Long did I loue, but all in vaine,
I louing was not lou'd againe;
For which my heart sustain'd much woe,
It fits not Maides to vse men so.
Iust deserts are not regarded,
Neuer loue so ill rewarded:
But all is lost that is not sought,
Oft wit proues best that's dearest bought.
Feare with hope, and hope with madnesse.
Long did I loue, but all in vaine,
I louing was not lou'd againe;
For which my heart sustain'd much woe,
It fits not Maides to vse men so.
Iust deserts are not regarded,
Neuer loue so ill rewarded:
But all is lost that is not sought,
Oft wit proues best that's dearest bought.
VVomen were made for mens reliefe,
To comfort, not to cause their griefe.
VVhere most I merit, least I finde,
No maruell, since that Loue is blinde.
Had she beene kinde as she was faire,
My case had beene more strange and rare.
But women loue not by desart,
Reason in them hath weakest part.
Then henceforth let them loue that list,
I will beware of had-I-wist.
To comfort, not to cause their griefe.
VVhere most I merit, least I finde,
No maruell, since that Loue is blinde.
Had she beene kinde as she was faire,
My case had beene more strange and rare.
But women loue not by desart,
Reason in them hath weakest part.
Then henceforth let them loue that list,
I will beware of had-I-wist.
These faults had better beene conceal'd,
Then to my shame abroad reueal'd:
Yet though my youth did thus miscarry,
My harmes may make others more wary.
Loue is but a youthful fit;
And some men say it's signe of wit:
But he that loues as I haue done,
To passe the day and see no Sunne,
Must change his noate, and sing, Erraui,
Or else may chance to cry Peccaui.
Then to my shame abroad reueal'd:
Yet though my youth did thus miscarry,
My harmes may make others more wary.
Loue is but a youthful fit;
And some men say it's signe of wit:
But he that loues as I haue done,
To passe the day and see no Sunne,
Must change his noate, and sing, Erraui,
Or else may chance to cry Peccaui.
The longest day must haue his night,
Reason triumphs in Loues despight,
I follow now Discretions lore,
Henceforth to like, but loue no more.
Then gently pardon what is past,
For Loue drawes onward to his last.
He walkes (they say) with wary eye,
VVhose foote-steps neuer tread awry.
My Muse a better worke intends,
And here my Louing-folly ends.
Reason triumphs in Loues despight,
I follow now Discretions lore,
Henceforth to like, but loue no more.
Then gently pardon what is past,
For Loue drawes onward to his last.
He walkes (they say) with wary eye,
VVhose foote-steps neuer tread awry.
My Muse a better worke intends,
And here my Louing-folly ends.
After long stormes and tempests past,
I see the Hauen at the last,
VVhere I must rest my weary Barke,
And there vnlade my care and carke:
My paines and trauels long indur'd,
And all my wounds must there be cur'd:
Ioyes out of date shall be renew'd,
To thinke of perils past eschew'd:
VVhen I shall sit full blithe and iolly,
And talke of Louers and their folly:
I see the Hauen at the last,
VVhere I must rest my weary Barke,
And there vnlade my care and carke:
My paines and trauels long indur'd,
And all my wounds must there be cur'd:
Ioyes out of date shall be renew'd,
To thinke of perils past eschew'd:
VVhen I shall sit full blithe and iolly,
And talke of Louers and their folly:
Then Loue and Folly both adieu,
Long haue I beene misled by you:
Folly may new aduentures trie,
But Reason sayes that Loue must dye:
Yea, dye indeede although it grieue him,
For my cold heart cannot relieue him:
Yet for her sake, whom I once loued,
(Though all in vaine, as Time haue proued)
Ile take the paines (if shee consent)
To write his VVill and Testament.
Long haue I beene misled by you:
Folly may new aduentures trie,
But Reason sayes that Loue must dye:
Yea, dye indeede although it grieue him,
For my cold heart cannot relieue him:
Yet for her sake, whom I once loued,
(Though all in vaine, as Time haue proued)
Ile take the paines (if shee consent)
To write his VVill and Testament.
Loues last Will and Testament.
My
spirit I bequeath vnto the ayre;
My body shall vnto the earth repaire;
My burning brond vnto the Prince of hell,
T'increase mens paines that there in darknes dwell:
For well I weene, aboue nor vnder ground,
A greater paine then that may not be found.
My sweet conceits of pleasure and delight
To Erebus, and to eternall night:
My sighs, my teares, my passions, and laments;
Distrust, despaire, all these my hourely rents,
With other plagues that Louers mindes inthrall,
Vnto Obliuion J bequeath them all.
My broken Bow and Shafts I giue to Reason;
My cruelties, my sleights, and forged treason,
To women-kinde, and to their seede for aye,
To wreake their spight, and work poore mens decay;
Reseruing onely for Alcilia's part,
Small kindnesse, and lesse care of Louers smart:
For shee is from the vulgar sort excepted,
And had shee Philoparthens loue respected,
Requiting it with like affection,
She might haue had the praise of all perfection.
This done; if I haue any faith or troth
To Philoparthen I assigne them both;
For vnto him of right they doe belong,
Who truely louing suffred too much wrong.
Time shall be sole Executor of my Will,
Who may these things in order due fulfill.
To warrant this my Testament for good,
I haue subscrib'd it with my dying bloud.
My body shall vnto the earth repaire;
My burning brond vnto the Prince of hell,
T'increase mens paines that there in darknes dwell:
For well I weene, aboue nor vnder ground,
A greater paine then that may not be found.
My sweet conceits of pleasure and delight
To Erebus, and to eternall night:
My sighs, my teares, my passions, and laments;
Distrust, despaire, all these my hourely rents,
With other plagues that Louers mindes inthrall,
Vnto Obliuion J bequeath them all.
My broken Bow and Shafts I giue to Reason;
My cruelties, my sleights, and forged treason,
To women-kinde, and to their seede for aye,
To wreake their spight, and work poore mens decay;
Reseruing onely for Alcilia's part,
Small kindnesse, and lesse care of Louers smart:
For shee is from the vulgar sort excepted,
And had shee Philoparthens loue respected,
She might haue had the praise of all perfection.
This done; if I haue any faith or troth
To Philoparthen I assigne them both;
For vnto him of right they doe belong,
Who truely louing suffred too much wrong.
Time shall be sole Executor of my Will,
Who may these things in order due fulfill.
To warrant this my Testament for good,
I haue subscrib'd it with my dying bloud.
And so hee dy'd that all this bale had bred,
And yet my heart misdoubts hee is not dead:
For sure I feare should I Alcilia spie,
She might eftsoones reuiue him with her eye.
Such power diuine remaineth in her sight,
To make him liue againe in Deaths despight.
And yet my heart misdoubts hee is not dead:
For sure I feare should I Alcilia spie,
She might eftsoones reuiue him with her eye.
Such power diuine remaineth in her sight,
To make him liue againe in Deaths despight.
The Sonnets following were written by the Author, after he beganne to decline from his passionate affection, and in them he seemeth to please himselfe, with describing the vanitie of Love, the frailtie of Beautie, and the sower fruits of Repentance.
[Now haue I spun the web of my owne woes]
I
Now haue I spun the web of my owne woes,And labour'd long to purchase my owne losse:
Too late I see, I was beguil'd with showes,
And that which once seem'd gold, now proues but drosse.
Thus am I both of help and hope bereaued,
He neuer tryed that neuer was deceiued.
II
Once did I loue, but more then once repent,When vintage came, my grapes were sower, or rotten
Long time in griefe and pensiue thoughts I spent,
And all for that which Time hath made forgotten.
O strange effects' of Time, which once being lost;
Makes men secure of that they loued most.
III
Thus haue I long in th'ayre of error houer'd,And runne my ship vpon Repentance shelfe:
Truth hath the vale of Ignorance vncouer'd,
And made me see, and seeing, know my selfe.
Of former follies now I must repent,
And count this worke part of my time ill spent.
IIII
“VVhat thing is Loue? A Tyrant of the minde,“Begot by heate of youth, brought forth by sloth;
“Nurst with vain thoughts, & changing as the wind
“A deepe dissembler, voyd of faith and troth.
“Fraught with fond errors, doubts, despite, disdaine,
“And all the plagues that earth and hell containe.
V
Like to a man that wanders all the dayThrough waies vnknown, to seeke a thing of worth
And at the night sees he hath gone astray:
As neare his end as vvhen he first set forth,
Such is my case, whose hope vntimely crost,
After long errors, proues my labour lost.
VI
Fail'd of that hap, whereto my hope aspired,Depriu'd of that which might haue bin mine owne,
Another now must haue that I desired,
And things too late by their euents are knowne:
Thus doe vve vvith for that cannot be got,
And vvhen it may, then vve regard it not.
VII
Ingratefull Loue, since thou hast plaid thy part,Enthralling him, vvhom Time hath since made free,
It rests for me to vse both wit and Art,
That of my wrongs I may reuenged be:
And in those eyes where first thou took'st thy fire,
Thy selfe shalt perish through my cold desire.
VIII
Grieue not thy selfe for that cannot be had,And things once curelesse, let them carelesse rest:
Blame not thy fortune, though thou deeme it bad,
VVhat's past and gone, can neuer be redrest.
“The onely helpe for that cannot begained,
“Is to forget it might haue beene obtained.
IX
How happy once did I my selfe esteeme,VVhile Loue with hope my fond desire did cherish?
My state as blissefull as a Kings did seeme,
Had I beene sure my ioyes should neuer perish.
The thoughts of men are fed with expectation,
“Pleasures themselues are but imagination.
X
VVhy should we hope for that which is to come,VVhere the euent is doubtfull and vnknowne?
Such fond presumptions soone receiue their doome,
VVhen things expected we count as our owne.
VVhose issue oft times in the end proues nought
But hope, a shadow, and an idle thought.
XI
In vaine doe we complaine our life is short,VVhich well dispos'd, great matters might effect:
VVhile wee our selues in toyes and idle sport,
Consume the better part, without respect:
And carelesse, as though time should neuer end it,
Twixt sleepe and waking prodigally spend it.
XII
Youthfull desire is like the Summer season,That lasts not long, for winter must succeede:
And so our passions must giue place to reason,
And riper yeares more ripe effects must breed.
Of all the seede youth sowed in vaine desires,
I reaped nought but thistles, thornes, and bryers.
XIII
To erre, and doe amisse, is giuen to men by kinde:VVho walkes so sure, but sometimes treads awry?
But to continue still in errors blinde,
A bad and beastiall nature doth descry.
Who proues not, fails not, and brings nought to end;
VVho proues and failes, may afterward amend.
XIIII
There was but one, and doubtlesse she the best,VVhom I did more then all the world esteeme:
She hauing fail'd, I disauow the rest:
For now I finde things are not as they seeme.
“Default of that wherein our will is crost,
“Oft times vnto our good auaileth most.
XV
I fare like him, who now his land-hope spent,By vnknowne Seas sayles to the Indian shore,
Returning thence no richer then he went,
Yet cannot much his fortune blame therefore,
Since who so venters forth vpon the Mayne,
Makes a good Mart, if he returne againe.
XVI
Louers conceits are like a flatt'ring Glasse,That makes the lookers fairer then they are:
VVho pleas'd in their deceit, contented passe,
Such one was mine, who thought there was none faire,
None witty, modest, vertuous but she.
Yet now I finde the Glasse abused me.
XVII
A diew fond Loue, the mother of all error,Repleate with hope and feare, with ioy and paine:
False fire of fancy, full of care and terror,
Shadow of pleasures fleeting, short and vaine,
Dye loathed loue, receiue thy latest doome,
Night be thy graue, Obliuion be thy tombe.
XVIII
VVho so would be rapt vp into the heauens,To see a world of strange imaginations;
VVho carelesse would leaue all at sixe and seauen,
To wander in a Labyrinth of passions;
VVho would at once all kindes of folly proue:
VVhen he hath nought to doe, then let him loue.
XIX
“VVhat thing is Beautie? Natures dearest Minion,“The snare of youth; like the inconstant Moone,
“VVaxing and wayning; error of opinion;
“A mornings flower, that withereth ere noone;
“A swelling fruit, no sooner ripe then rotten,
“Which sicknes makes forlorne, and time forgotten.
XX
The Spring of youth which now is in his prime.VVinter of age with hoary frosts shall nip:
Beautie shall then be made the prey of Time,
And sower remorse deceitfull pleasures whip.
Then henceforth let Discretion rule Desire,
And Reason quench the flame of Cupids fire.
XXI
O what a life vvas that sometime I led,VVhen Loue vvith passions did my peace incumber
VVhile like a man neyther aliue nor dead,
I was rapt from my selfe, as one in slumber?
VVhose idle senses charm'd with fond illusion,
Did nourish that vvhich bred their owne confusion
XXII
The childe for euer after dreads the fireThat once therewith by chance his finger burned:
VVater of Time, distill'd, doth coole desire,
And farre hee ran (they say) that neuer turned
After long stormes I see the Port at last,
Folly farewell, for now my loue is past.
XXIII
Base seruile thoughts of men too much deiected,That seek, and crouch, & kneele for womens grace,
Of vvhom your paine and seruice is neglected,
Your selues despis'd: Riuals before your face:
The more you sue, the lesse you shall obtaine,
The lesse you win, the more shall be your gaine.
XXIIII
In looking backe vnto my follies past,VVhile I the present with times past compare:
And thinke how many houres I then did wast,
Painting on clouds, and building in the ayre:
I sigh within my selfe, and say in sadnes,
This thing, which fooles call Loue, is nought but madnes.
XXV
“The things we haue, we most of all neglect;“And that we haue not greedily we craue;
“The things we may haue little vve respect;
“And still we couer that we cannot haue:
“Yet how soe'er in our conceit we prise them,
“No sooner gotten but vve straight despise them.
XXVI
VVho seates his loue vpon a womans will,And thinkes thereon to build an happy state:
Shall be deceiu'd, vvhen least he thinkes of ill,
And rue his folly vvhen it is too late.
He plowes on sand, and sowes vpon the winde,
That hopes for constant loue in women kinde.
XXVII
I will no longer spend my time in toyes,Seeing Loue is error, folly, and offence:
An idle fit for fond and retchlesse boyes,
Or else for men depriu'd of common sense,
Twixt Lunacy and Loue these ods appeare,
Th'one makes fools monthly, th'other all the yeare.
XXVIII
VVhile season seru'd to sow, my plough lay still;My Grafts vnset, when others Trees did bloome;
I spent the Spring in sloath, and slept my fill:
But neuer thought of Winters colde to come,
Till Spring was spent, and Summer well nigh gone,
Then I awak'd, and saw my Haruest none.
XXIX
Now Ioue sits all alone blacke attyre,His broken Bow and Arrowes lying by him;
His fire extinct, that whilome fed desire,
Himselfe the scorne of Louers that passe by him:
VVho this day freely may disport and play,
For it is Philoparthens Holy-day.
XXX
Nay, thinke not Loue, with all thy cunning slight,To catch me once againe: thou com'st too late:
Sterne Industry puts Idlenesse to flight,
And Time hath changed both my name and state:
Then seeke else where for Mates that may befriend thee;
For I am busie, and cannot attend thee.
XXXI
Loose Idlenesse, the nurse of fond Desire;Roote of all ils that doe our youth betide,
That whilome didst through Loue my wracke conspire,
I banish thee, and rather wish t'abide
All austere hardnesse, and continuall paine,
Then to reuoke thee, or to loue againe.
XXXII
The time will come, when looking in a Glasse,Thy riueled face with sorrow thou shalt see
And sighing say, it is not as it vvas,
These cheeks were wont more faire and fresh to be:
But now what once made me so much admired,
Is least regarded, and of none desired.
XXXIII
Though thou be faire, thinke Beauty is a blast,A mornings dewe, a shadow quickly gone,
A painted flower, vvhose colour vvill not last:
Time steales away when least we thinke thereon;
Most precious Time, too vvastfully expended,
Of vvhich alone the sparing is commended.
XXXIIII
How vaine is youth, that cross'd in his desire,Doth fret and fume, and inwardly repine,
As though 'gainst heauen it selfe he would conspire,
And vvith his frailtie 'gainst his Fate combine:
VVho of it selfe continues constant still,
And doth vs good oft times against our will.
XXXV
In prime of youth vvhen yeeres and vvit vvas ripe,Vnhappy VVill to ruine led the vvay:
VVit daunc'd about, vvhen Folly gan to pipe,
And VVill and hee together vvent astray.
Nought then but pleasure was the good they sought
VVhich now Repentance proues too dearly bought.
XXXVI
Hee that in matters of delight and pleasureCan bridle his outragious affection:
And temper it in some indifferent measure,
Doth proue himselfe a man of good discretion.
In conquering VVill true courage most is showne,
And sweet temptations make mens vertues known.
XXXVII
Each naturall thing by course of kinde vve see,In his perfection long continueth not:
Fruits once full ripe vvill then fall from the Tree,
Or in due time not gathered soone vvill rot.
It is decreed by doome of Powers diuine,
Things at their height must thence againe decline.
XXXVIII
Thy large smooth forehead wrinckled shall appeareVermilion hue, to pale and wan shall turne;
Time shal deface what Youth hath held most deare;
Yea those clear eyes vvhich once my hart did burne,
Shall in their hollow circles logde the night,
And yeeld more cause of terror then delight.
XXXIX
Loe here the record of my follies past,The fruits of wit vnstaid, and houres misspent:
Full wise is hee that perils can fore-cast,
And so by others harmes his owne preuent.
All worldly pleasure that delights the sense,
Is but a short sleepe, and times vaine expence.
XL
The Sunne hath twice his annuall course perform'd,Since first vnhappy I beganne to loue:
VVhose errors now by Reasons rule reform'd,
Conceits of Loue but smoake and errors proue.
VVho of his folly seekes more praise to winne,
VVhere I haue made an end, let him beginne.
J. C.
FINIS.
EPIGRAMMES.
Don Pedro's Debt.
Don Pedro 's out of debt, be bolde to say it;For they are said to owe, that meane to pay it.
Sextus Wit.
To haue good wit is Sextus thought by many;But sure he hides it all, hee shewes not any.
Of casting out Spirits by Prayer, without Fasting.
A vertuous Dame, who for her state and qualitie,Did euer loue to keepe great Hospitalitie;
Her name I must not name in plaine reciting,
But thus, The chiefe Instrument of writing,
Was by Duke Humphrey's Guests so boldly hanted,
That her good minde therewith was sorely danted:
She sighing said, one day, to a carelesse lester,
These ill-bred guests my boord and house so pester,
That I pray God oft times with all my heart,
That they would leaue their haunt, and hence depart.
He that by his owne humour haply ghest,
What manner Sprite these smell-feasts had possest;
Tolde her the surest way such Sprites out-casting,
Was to leaue Prayer a while, and fall to Fasting.
Of wicked Prayers.
A husband and a Wife oft disagreeing,And eyther weary of the others being,
In choller great eyther deuoutly prayes
To God, that he would shorten th'others dayes:
But more deuout then both their Sonne and Heyre
Prayes God that he would grant them both their prayer.
The Author, of his Fortune.
Take Fortune as it fals, so one aduiseth,But Heywood bids me take it as it riseth:
And while I thinke to doe as both doe teach,
It fals and riseth quite besides my reach.
Of Misse-pointing.
Dames are indu'd with vertues excellent:What man is he can proue that? they offend
Daily, they serue the Lord with good intent
Seld, they displease their Husbands to the end
Alwayes, to please them well they doe intend
Neuer, in them one shall finde shrewdnesse much,
Such are their humours, and their grace is such.
To his Wife.
My Mall, the former Verses this doth teach you,That some deceiue, some are deceiu'd by shewes:
For this that in your prayse so firmely goes,
With one false poynt and stop will ouer reach you,
And turne the prayse to scorne, the Verse to Prose,
By which you may be slandered, all as shrewes,
And some perhaps may speake, and say no treason,
The Verses had more time, the Prose more reason.
Of a Precise Taylor.
A taylor thought a man of vpright dealing,TRue but for lying, honest but for stealing:
Did fall one day extreamely sicke by chance,
And on the sudden, was in wondrous trance.
The fiends of hell mustring in fearefull manner,
Of sundry coloured silkes displaid a banner
Which he had stolne, and wisht as they did tell,
That he might finde it all one day in hell.
The man affrighted with this apparision,
Vpon recouerie grew a great precision:
He bought a Bible of the best translation,
And in his life he shewde great reformation.
He walked mannerly, he talked meekely.
He heard three lectures, and two sermons weekly.
He vou'd to shun all companie vnruly,
And in his speech he vsd no oath but truly.
And calously to keepe the saboths rest,
His meate for that day on the eue was drest.
And least the custome which he had to steale,
Might cause him sometime to forget his zeale,
He giues his Iournyman a speciall charge,
That if the stuffe allowance being large,
He found his fingers were to filch inclind,
Bid him to haue the banner in his mind.
This done, I scant can tell the rest for laughter,
A captaine of a ship came three daies after,
And brought three yardes of veluet, and three quarters,
To make venetians downe belowe the garters.
He that precisely knew what was ynough,
Soone slipt aside three quarters of the stuffe.
His man espying it, said in derision,
Maister remember how you saw the vision.
Peace knaue quoth he, I did not see one ragge,
Of such a coloured silke in all the flagge.
Of a Cittizen and his Sonne
A cittizen that dwelt neare Temple barre,By hap one day fell with his sonne at iarre:
Who for his euill life and lewd demerit,
He oft affirm'd he would quite disinherit.
And vow'd his goods and lands all to the poore.
His sonne what with his play, what with his (------)
Was so consumed at last, that he did lacke,
Meate for his mouth, and clothing for his backe.
O craftiē pouertie, his father now,
May giue him all he hath, yet keepe his vow.
Mistaking a word.
An English Lad long woed a lasse of Wales,And entertain'd her with such prettie tales,
As though she vnderstood not, yet to try him,
She gaue consent at last to vnderly him.
Both hauing dallied to their full societie,
The wench to show some womanly sobrietie,
Told in her language she was well ypaide,
And Diggon, Diggon once or twise she said.
Digge on in welch doth signifie ynough,
Which he mistaking, answeres thus in snuffe:
Diggon that can (quoth he) for I so sore
Haue diggde alreadie, I can digge no more.
Of his Cooke, named Cornish.
My Cornish Cooke in rage and fury great,Did chase, and chide, and curse & sweare, and sweate.
Because the turne-broach burned had the meate.
And with the basting ladle did him beate.
Was not my Cooke a rash and angry Cullion,
When he should bast the meate, to bast the Scullion?
Of his Writings.
My Writings oft displease you. What's the matter?You loue not to heare truth, nor I to flatter.
Of a Ladyes Cabinet.
A vertuous Lady sitting in a muse,As oftentimes faire vertuous Ladyes vse,
Did leane her elbow on her knee full hard,
The other distant from it halfe a yard.
Her Knight to taunt her with some priuie token,
Said, Wife, awake, your Cabinet stands open.
Shee rose, and blusht, and smil'd, and soft did say,
Then locke it if you list, you keepe the key.
Of Wiues ruling.
Concerning Wiues, hold this a certaine rule,That if at first, you let them haue the rule,
Your selfe at last, with them shall haue no rule,
Except you let them euermore to rule.
Of Gella's Periwig.
See you the goodly hayre that Gella weares'Tis certaine her owne hayre, one would haue thought it.
Shee sweares it is her owne, and true she sweares:
For hard by Temple-barre last day she bought it.
So faire an hayre vpon so foule a fore-head,
Augments disgrace, and shewes her grace was borrow'd.
Of a Prater, out of Martiall.
Who so is hoarse, yet still to prate doth presse,Proues he can neyther speake, nor hold his Peace.
Of trusting to his Friend.
If you will shrowd your selfe from all mishaps,And shun the cause of many after-claps;
Put not in any one too much beliefe,
Your ioy will be the lesse, so will your griefe.
Of Faustus, a stealer of Verses.
I heare that Faustus oftentimes rehearsesTo his chaste Mistresse certaine of my Verses:
In which, by vse, so perfit he is growne;
That shee, poore foole, doth thinke they are his owne.
I would esteeme it (trust me) grace, not shame,
If Danyel, or if Dauies did the same.
Nor would I storme, or would I quarrels picke,
I when I list, to them could doe the like.
But who can wish a man a fouler spight,
Then haue a blinde man take away his sight?
A begging theefe is dangerous to my purse,
A beggage Poet to my Verse is worse.
An Epitaph by a man of his Father.
God workes wonders now and than,Here lyes a Lawyer was an honest man.
An Epitaph of Aretine.
Heere lyes Aretine that poysonous Toade,Whose spightfull tongue and Pen, all Saints beshrow him,
Did raile on Prince and Priest, and all but God,
And said for his excuse he did not know them.
FINIS.
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