The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania :: :: University of Virginia Library

Vnseene , vnknowne, I here alone complaine
To Rocks, to Hills, to Meadowes, and to Springs,
Which can no helpe returne to ease my paine,
But back my sorrowes the sad Eccho brings.
Thus still encreasing are my woes to me,
Doubly resounded by that monefull voice,
Which seemes to second me in miserie,
And answere giues like friend of mine owne choice.
Thus onely she doth my companion proue,
The others silently doe offer ease:
But those that grieue, a grieuing note doe loue;
Pleasures to dying eies bring but disease:
And such am I, who daily ending liue,
Wayling a state which can no comfort giue.

[Here all alone in silence might I mourne]

Here all alone in silence might I mourne:
But how can silence be where sorrowes flow?
Sigh's with complaints have poorer paines out-worne
But broken hearts can only true griefe show.

Drops of my dearest bloud shall let Loue know
Such teares for her I shed, yet still do burne,
As no spring can quench least part of my woe,
Till this liue earth, againe to earth doe turne.

Hatefull all thought of comfort is to me,
Despised day, let me still night possesse;
Let me all torments feele in their excesse,
And but this light allow my state to see.

Which still doth wast, and wasting as this light,
Are my sad dayes vnto eternall night.

[Heart drops distilling like a new cut-vine]

Heart drops distilling like a new cut-vine
Weepe for the paines that doe my soule oppresse,
Eyes doe no lesse
For if you weepe not, be not mine,
Silly woes that cannot twine
An equall griefe in such excesse.

You first in sorrow did begin the act,
You saw and were the instruments of woe,
To let me know
That parting would procure the fact
Wherewith young hopes in bud are wrackt,
Yet deerer eyes the rock must show.

Which neuer weepe, but killingly disclose
Plagues, famine, murder in the fullest store,
But threaten more.
This knowledge cloyes my brest with woes
T'auoid offence my heart still chose
Yet faild, and pity doth implore.

[Adieu sweet Sun]

Adieu sweet Sun
Thy night is neare
Which must appeare
Like mine, whose light but new begun
Weares as if spun
By chance not right,
Led by a light
False, and pleasing, euer wun.

Come once in view
Sweet heat, and light
My heauy sp'rit
Dull'd in thy setting, made anew
If you renew,
Daysies doe grow,
And spring below
Blest with thy warm'th, so once I grew.

Wilt thou returne,
Deare blesse mine eyes
Where loues zeale lyes
Let thy deere obiect mildly burne
Nor flie, but turne
'Tis season now
Each happy bow
Both buds and blooms, why should I mourne?

[Beare part with me most straight and pleasant Tree]

Beare part with me most straight and pleasant Tree,
And imitate the Torments of my smart
Which cruell Loue doth send into my heart,
Keepe in thy skin this testament of me:

Which Loue ingrauen hath with miserie,
Cutting with griefe the vnresisting part,
Which would with pleasure soone haue learnd loues art,
But wounds still curelesse, must my rulers bee.

Thy sap doth weepingly bewray thy paine,
My heart-blood drops with stormes it doth sustaine,
Loue sencelesse, neither good nor mercy knowes
Pitiles I doe wound thee, while that I
Vnpitied, and vnthought on, wounded crie:
Then out-liue me, and testifie my woes.

[My thoughts thou hast supported without rest]

My thoughts thou hast supported without rest,
My tyred body here hath laine opprest
With loue, and feare: yet be thou euer blest;
Spring, prosper, last; I am alone vnblest.

[Drowne me not you cruell teares]

Drowne me not you cruell teares,
Which in sorrow witnes beares
Of my wailing,
And Loues failing.

Flouds but couer, and retire
Washing faces of desire
Whose fresh growing
Springs by flowing.

Meadowes euer yet did loue
Pleasant streames which by them moue:
But your falling
Claimes the calling

Of a torrent curstly fierce
Past wits power to rehearse;
Only crying,
Or my dying
May in stead of verse or prose
My disasterous end disclose.

[The Sunne hath no long iourney now to goe]

The Sunne hath no long iourney now to goe
While I a progress haue in my desires,
Disasters dead-low-water-like do show
The sand, that ouerlook'd my hop'd-for hyres.

Thus I remaine like one that's laid in Briers,
Where turning brings new paine and certaine woe,
Like one, once burn'd bids me auoid the fires,
But loue (true fire) will not let me be slow.

Obedience, feare, and loue doe all conspire
A worth-lesse conquest gain'd to ruine me,
Who did but feele the height of blest desire
When danger, doubt, and losse, I straight did see.
Restlesse I liue, consulting what to doe,
And more I study, more I still vndoe.

110

[Sweete solitarines, ioy to those hearts]

Sweete solitarines, ioy to those hearts
That feele the pleasure of Loues sporting darts,
Grudge me not, though a vassall to his might,
And a poore subiect to curst changings spite,
To rest in you, or rather restlesse moue
In your contents to sorrow for my loue.
A Loue, which liuing, liues as dead to me,
As holy reliques which in boxes be,
Plac'd in a chest, that ouerthrowes my ioy,
Shut vp in change, which more then plagues destroy.
These, O you solitarinesse, may both endure,
And be a Chirurgion to find me a cure:
For this curst corsiue eating my best rest
Memorie, sad memorie in you once blest,
But now most miserable with the weight
Of that, which onely shewes Loues strange deceit;
You are that cruell wound that inly weares
My soule, my body wasting into teares.
You keepe mine eies vnclos'd, my heart vntide,
From letting thought of my best dayes to slide.
Froward Remembrance, what delight haue you,
Ouer my miseries to take a view?
Why doe you tell me in this same-like place
Of Earths best blessing I haue seene the face?
But maskd from me, I onely see the shade
Of that, which once my brightest Sun-shine made.
You tell me, that I then was blest in Loue,
When equall passions did together moue.
O why is this alone to bring distresse
Without a salue, but torments in excesse?
A cruell Steward you are to inrole
My once-good dayes, of purpose to controle
With eyes of sorrow; yet leaue me vndone
By too much confidence my thrid so sponne:
In conscience moue not such a spleene of scorne,
Vnder whose swellings my despaires are borne.
Are you offended (choicest Memorie),
That of your perfect gift I did glorie?
If I did so offend, yet pardon me.
Since 'twas to set forth your true exclencie.

111

Sufficiently I thus doe punish'd stand,
While all that curst is, you bring to my hand.
Or, is it that I no way worthy was
In so rich treasure my few dayes to passe?
Alas, if so and such a treasure giuen
Must I for this to Hell-like paine bee driuen?
Fully torment me now, and what is best
Together take, and mem'ry with the rest,
Leaue not that to me, since but for my ill,
Which punish may, and millions of hearts kill.
Then may I lonely sit downe with my losse
Without vexation, for my losses crosse:
Forgetting pleasures late embrac'd with Loue,
Linck'd to a faith, the world could neuer moue;
Chain'd with affection, I hop'd could not change,
Not thinking Earth could yeeld a place to range:
But staying, cruelly you set my blisse
With deepest mourning in my sight, for misse
And thus must I imagine my curse more,
When you I lou'd add to my mischiefs store:
If not, then Memory continue still,
And vex me with your perfectest knowne skill,
While you deare solitarinesse accept
Me to your charge, whose many passions kept
In your sweet dwellings haue this profit gaind,
That in more delicacie none was paind:
Your rarenesse now receiue my rarer woe
With change, and Loue appoints my soule to know.

121

[Deare Loue, alas, how haue I wronged thee]

Deare Loue, alas, how haue I wronged thee,
That ceaselesly thou still dost follow me?
My heart of Diamond cleare, and hard I find,
May yet be pierc'd with one of the same kind,
Which hath in it ingrauen a loue more pure,
Then spotlesse white, and deepe still to endure,
Wrought in with teares of neuer resting paine,
Caru'd with the sharpest point of curs'd disdaine.
Raine oft doth wash away a slender marke,
Teares make mine firmer, and as one small sparke
In straw may make a fier from sparkes of loue
Kindles incessantly in me to moue;
While cruelst you, doe onely pleasure take,
To make me faster ty'd to scornes sharpe stake,
Tis harder, and more strength must vsed be
To shake a tree, then boughes we bending see:
So to moue me it was alone your power
None else could ere haue found a yeelding hower
Curs'd be subiection, yet blest in this sort,
That 'gainst all but one choice, my heart a fort
Hath euer lasted: though beseig'd, not mou'd,
But by their misse my strength the stronger prou'd
Resisting with that constant might, that win
They scarce could parly, much lesse foes get in.
Yet worse then foes your slighnings proue to be,
When careles you no pitie take on me.
Make good my dreames, wherein you kind appeare,
Be to mine eyes, as to my soule, most deare.
From your accustomed strangenesse, at last turne;
An ancient house once fir'd, will quickly burne,
And wast vnhelp'd, my long loue claimes a time
To haue aid granted to this height I clime.
A Diamond pure, and hard, an vnshak't tree
A burning house find helpe, and prize in mee.

122

[Stay mine eyes, these floods of teares]

Stay mine eyes, these floods of teares
Seemes but follies weakely growing,
Babes at nurse such wayling beares,
Frowardnesse such drops bestowing:
But Niobe must shew my fate,
She wept and grieu'd her selfe a state.

My sorrowes like her Babes appeare
Daily added by increasing;
She lost them, I loose my Deare,
Not one spar'd from woes ne're ceasing:
She made a rock, heauen drops downe teares,
Which pitie shewes, and on her weares.

143

[Deare, how doe thy winning eyes]

Sh.
Deare , how doe thy winning eyes
my senses wholly tye?

She.
Sense of sight wherein most lyes
change, and Variety.

Sh.
Change in me?

She.
Choice in thee some new delights to try.

Sh.
When I change or choose but thee
then changed be mine eyes.

She.
When you absent, see not me,
will you not breake these tyes?

Sh.
How can I,
euer flye, where such perfection lies?

She.
I must yet more try thy loue,
how if that I should change?

Sh.
In thy heart can neuer mooue
a thought so ill, so strange.

She.
Say I dye?

Sh.
Neuer I, could from thy loue estrange.

She.
Dead, what canst thou loue in me,
when hope, with life is fledd?

Sh.
Vertue, beauty, faith in thee,
which liue will, though thou dead,

She.
Beauty dyes.

Sh.
Not where lyes a minde so richly spedd.

She.
Thou do'st speake so faire, so kind,
I cannot chose but trust,

Sh.
None vnto so chaste a minde
should euer be vniust.

She.
Then thus rest,
true possest, of loue without mistrust.

144

[Loue what art thou? A vaine thought]

Loue what art thou? A vaine thought,
In our mindes by fancy wrought,
Idle smiles did thee beget,
While fond wishes made the nett
Which so many fooles haue caught.

Loue what art thou? light, and faire,
Fresh as morning, cleere as th' ayre:
But too soone thy euening change,
Makes thy worth with coldnesse range,
Still thy ioy is mixt with care.

Loue what art thou? a sweet flowre,
Once full blowne, dead in an houre.
Dust in winde as staid remaines
As thy pleasure, or our gaines,
If thy humour change to lowre.

Loue what art thou? Childish, vaine,
Firme as bubbles made by raine:
Wantonnesse thy greatest pride,
These foule faults thy vertues hide,
But babes can no staydnesse gaine.

Loue what art thou? Causelesse curst,
Yet alas these not the worst,
Much more of thee may bee said,
But thy Law I once obay'd,
Therefore say no more at first.

[Who can blame me if I loue?]

Who can blame me if I loue?
Since Loue before the World did moue.
When I loued not, I despair'd,
Scarce for handsomenesse I car'd;
Since so much I am refin'd,
As new fram'd of state, and mind,
Who can blame me if I loue,
Since Loue before the World did moue.

Some in truth of Loue beguil'd
Haue him blinde and Childish stil'd:

145

But let none in these persist,
Since so iudging iudgement mist,
Who can blame me?

Loue in Chaos did appeare
When nothing was, yet he seemd cleare:
Nor when light could be descride,
To his crowne a light was tide.
Who can blame me?

Loue is truth, and doth delight,
Where as honour shines most bright:
Reason's selfe doth loue approue,
Which makes vs our selues to loue.
Who can blame me?

Could I my past time begin,
I would not commit such sin
To liue an houre, and not to loue,
Since loue makes vs perfect proue,
Who can blame me?

152

[Pray thee Diana tell mee, is it ill]

Pray thee Diana tell mee, is it ill,
as some doe say, thou think'st it is, to loue?
Me thinks thou pleased art with what I proue,
since ioyfull light thy dwelling still doth fill.

Thou seemst not angry, but with cheerefull smiles
beholdst my Passions; chaste indeed thy face
Doth seeme, and so doth shine, with glorious grace;
for other loues, the trust of Loue beguiles.

Be bright then still, most chast and cleerest Queene,
shine on my torments with a pittying eye:
Thy coldnesse can but my despaires discry,
and my Faith by thy clearenesse better seeme.

Let those haue heat, that dally in the Sunne,
I scarse haue knowne a warmer state then shade:
Yet hottest beames of zeale haue purely made
my selfe an offring burnt, as I was wonne.

Once sacrific'd, but ashes can remaine,
which in an Iuory box of truth inclose
The Innocency whence my ruines flowes,
accept them as thine, 'tis a chast Loues gaine.

161

[Teares some times flow from mirth, as well as sorrow]

Teares some times flow from mirth, as well as sorrow,
Pardon me then, if I againe doe borrow
Of thy moist rine some smiling drops, approouing
Ioy for true ioy, which now proceeds from louing.

166

[How doe I finde my soules extreamest anguish]

How doe I finde my soules extreamest anguish,
With restlesse care my harts eternall languish?

167

Torments in life, increasing still with anguish,
Vnquiet sleepes which breed my senses languish.
Hope yet appeares, which somewhat helpes my anguish,
And lends a sparke of life to salue this languish:
Breath to desire, and ease to forgone anguish,
Balmes, but not cures, to bitter tasting languish.
Yet strait I feele, hope proues but greater anguish,
False in it selfe, to me brings cruell languish.
Could I not hope, I suffer might my anguish
At least with lesser torture smart and languish.
For (Rebell hope) I see thy smiles are anguish
Both Prince, and subiect, of e'relasting languish.

170

[Gone is my ioy, while here I mourne]

Gone is my ioy, while here I mourne
In paines of absence, and of care:
The heauens for my sad griefes doe turne
Their face to stormes, and shew despaire.

The dayes are darke, the nights oprest
With cloud'ly weeping for my paine,
Which in shew acting seeme distrest,
Sighing like griefe for absent gaine.

The Sunne giues place, and hides his face,
That day can now be hardly knowne;
Nor will the starres in night yeeld grace
To Sun-robd heauen by woe o'rethrowne.

Our light is fire in fearefull flames,
The ayre tempestious blasts of wind:
For warmth, we haue forgot the name,
Such blasts and stormes are vs assind.

And still you blessed heauens remaine
Distemperd, while this cursed power
Of absence rules, which brings my paine,
Lest your care be more still to lower.

But when my Sunne doth back returne,
Call yours againe to lend his light,
That they in flames of ioy may burne,
Both equall shining in our sight.

186

[When I with trembling aske if you loue still]

When I with trembling aske if you loue still,
My soule afflicted lest I giue offence,
Though sensibly discerning my worst ill;
Yet rather then offend, with griefe dispence.

Faintly you say you must; poore recompence
When gratefull loue is force, I see the hill
Which marrs my prospect loue, and Oh from thence
I tast, and take of losse the poison'd pill.

While one coale liues, the rest dead all about
That still is fire: so your loue now burnd out
Tells what you were, though to deceiuing led.

The Sunne in Summer, and in Winter shewes
Like bright, but not like hot, faire false made blowes
You shine on me, but you loues heate is dead.

212

[You powers diuine of loue-commanding eyes]

You powers diuine of loue-commanding eyes,
Within whose lids are kept the fires of loue;
Close not your selues to ruine me, who lies
In bands of death, while you in darkenesse moue.

One looke doth giue a sparck to kindle flames
To burne my heart, a martyr to your might,
Receiuing one kind smile I find new frames
For loue, to build me wholly to your light.

My soule doth fixe all thoughts vpon your will,
Gazing vnto amazement, greedy how
To see those blessed lights of loues-heauen, bow
Themselues on wretched me, who else they kill.

You then that rule loues God, in mercy flourish:
Gods must not murder, but their creatures nourish.

[You pure and holy fire]

You pure and holy fire
Which kindly now will not aspire
To hot performance of your Nature, turne
Crosse to your selfe and neuer burne
These Reliques of a blessed hand,
Ioynd with mutuall holy band
Of loue and deare desire.

Blame me not dearest lines,
That with loues flames your blacknesse twines,
My heart more mourning doth for you expresse,
But griefe for sorrow is no lesse.
Deepest groanes can couer, not change woe,
Hearts the tombe, keepes in the showe,
Which worth from ill refines.

Alas yet as you burne,
My pitie smarts, and groanes to turne
Your paines away, and yet you must consume
Content in me, must beare no plume,
Dust-like Dispaire may with me liue,
Yet shall your memory out-driue
These paines wherein I mourne.

228

You reliques of pure loue
To sacred keepe with me remooue,
Purg'd by this fire from harme, and iealous feare,
To liue with me both chast and cleare:
The true preserueresse of pure truths,
Who to your graue giues a youth
In faith to liue and mooue.

Famous body's still in flames,
Did anciently preserue their names,
Vnto this funerall nobly you are come,
Honour giuing you this tombe.
Teares and my loue performe your rights,
To which constancie beares lights
To burne, and keepe from blame.

241

[Loue peruse me, seeke, and finde]

Loue peruse me, seeke, and finde
How each corner of my minde
is a twine
wouen to shine.
Not a Webb ill made, foule fram'd,
Bastard not by Father nam'd,
such in me
cannot bee.
Deare behold me, you shall see
Faith the Hiue, and loue the Bee,
which doe bring,
gaine and string.
Pray desist me, sinewes daines
Holds, and loues life in those gaines;
lying bare
to despaire,
When you thus annottomise
All my body, my heart prise;
being true
iust to you.
Close the Truncke, embalme the Chest,
Where your power still shall rest,
ioy entombe,
Ioues iust doome.

249

[From victory in loue I now am come]

From victory in loue I now am come
Like a commander kild at the last blow:
In stead of Lawrell, to obtaine a tombe
With triumph that a steely faith I show.
Here must my graue be, which I thus will frame
Made of my stony heart to other name,
Then what I honor, scorne brings me my tombe,
Disdaine the Priest to bury me, I come.

Cloath'd in the reliques of a spotlesse loue,
Embrace me you that let true louers in;
Pure fires of truth doe light me when I mooue,
Which lamp-like last, as if they did begin.
On you the sacred tombe of loue, I lay
My life, neglect sends to the hellish way,
As offering of the chastest soule that knew
Loue, and his blessing, till a change both slew.

250

Here doe I sacrifice worlds time of truth,
Which onely death can let me part with all,
Though in my dying, haue perpetuall youth
Buried alone in you, whereby I fall.
Open the graues where louers Saints haue laine,
See if they will not fill themselues with paine
Of my affliction, or striue for my place,
Who with a constant honour gaine this grace.

Burne not my body yet, vnlesse an Vrne
Be fram'd of equall vertue with my loue
To hold the ashes, which though pale, will burne
In true loues embers, where he still will moue;
And by no meanes, let my dust fall to earth,
Lest men doe enuy this my second birth,
Or learne by it to find a better state
Then I could doe for loue immaculate.

Thus here, O here's my resting place ordain'd,
Fate made it e're I was; I not complaine,
Since had I kept, I had but blisse obtain'd,
And such for loyalty I sure shall gaine.
Fame beares the torches for my last farewell
To life, but not to loue, for there I dwell,
But to that place, neglect appoints for tombe
Of all my hopes; thus Death I come, I come.

271

[I who doe feele the highest part of griefe]

I who doe feele the highest part of griefe,
shall I be left without reliefe?
I who for you, doe cruell torments beare,
will you alasse leaue me in feare?
Know comfort neuer could more welcome bee,
then in this needfull time to mee,
One drop of comfort will be higher prized
then seas of ioyes, if once despiz'd,
Turne not the tortures which for you I try
vpon my hart, to make me dye.
Haue I offended? 'twas at your desire,
when by your vowes you felt loues fire.
What I did erre in, was to please your will
can you get, and the ofspring kill?

272

The greatest fault, which I committed haue
is you did aske, I freely gaue.
Kindly relent, let causlesse curstnes flye,
giue but one sigh, I bless'd shall dye.
But O you cannot, I haue much displeas'd
striuing to gaine, I losse haue seaz'd.
My state I see, and you your ends haue gain'd
I'me lost since you haue me obtain'd.
And since I cannot please your first desire
I'le blow, and nourish scorners fire
As Salimanders in the fire doe liue:
so shall those flames my being giue.
And though against your will, I liue and moue,
forsaken creatures liue and loue
Doe you proceed, and you may well confesse
you wrong'd my care, while I care lesse.

276

[Blame me not dearest, though grieued for your sake]

Blame me not dearest, though grieued for your sake,
Loue mild to you, on me triumphing sits,
Sifting the choysest ashes of my wits,
Burnt like a Phænix, change but such could shake.

And a new heat, giuen by your eyes did make
Embers dead cold, call Spirits from the pits
Of darke despaire, to fauour new felt fits,
And as from death to this new choice to wake.

Loue thus crownes you with power, scorne not the flames,
Though not the first, yet which as purely ries
As the best light, which sets vnto our eyes,
And then againe ascends free from all blames.

Purenesse is not alone in one fix'd place,
Who dies to liue, finds change a happy grace.

294

[Loue among the clouds did houer]

Loue among the clouds did houer
Seeking where to spie a louer:
In the Court he none could find,
Townes too meane were in that kind,
At last as he was ripe to crying,
In Forrest woods he found one lying

297

Vnder-neath a tree fast sleeping,
Sprit of Loue her body keeping,
Where the soule of Cupid lay
Though he higher then did stay,
When he himselfe in her discrying,
He hasted more then with his flying.

And his tender hand soft laying
On her breast his fires were playing,
Wak'd her with his baby game,
She who knew loue was no shame
With his new sport; smild as delighted,
And homeward went by Cupid lighted.

See the shady Woods bestowing
That, which none can aske as owing
But in Courts where plenties flow,
Loue doth seldome pay, but owe,
Then still giue me this Country pleasure,
Where sweet loue chastly keepes his treasure.

303

[Infernall Spirits listen to my moanes]

Infernall Spirits listen to my moanes,
From Cauy depths, giue hearing to my groanes
Great Pluto, let thy sad abiding moue
With Hellish fires, to flame for fires of loue;
Let Charon passe my woes vnto thine eares:
His boate if empty they shall load it well,
With tortures great, as are the paines of Hell,
And waightier then the Earth this body beares.

Take downe my spirit, cloyd with griefe and paine
Coniure the darkest Pits, to let me gaine
Some corner for a rest; if not, let mee
O Pluto wander, and complaine to thee:
No corsiue can make wounds haue torture more,
Nor this disfauor vex a forelorne soule;
(If all thy furys were put in a role)
Then Loue giues me; ah bitter eating sore.

Call thy great Counsell, and afflicted Sp'rits,
Examine well their woes, with all their nights,
And you shall find none there that are not mine,
Nay, my least, with their greatest ioyntly twine.
Let saddest Echo from her hollow Caue,
Answere the horrid plaints my sorrow giues,
Which in like mournefull, and vast cauerne liues;
Then iudge the murdering passions which I haue.

My Iudge is deafe, then, O thy iustice proue,
Mend thou the fault of proud forgetfull loue,
Release me from thy Court, and send me out
Vnto thy Brother Ioue, whose loue and doubt
Hath oft transform'd him from his heauenly kind:
So now from thee transforme my killing care
To blessing, and from Hell into the Ayre,
Darke griefe should not a louing fancy bind.

318

[The ioy yon say the Heauens in motion trie]

The ioy yon say the Heauens in motion trie
Is not for change, but for their constancy.
Should they stand still, their change you then might moue,
And serue your turne in praise of fickle loue.
That pleasure is not but diuersified,
Plainely makes proofe your youth, not iudgement tried.
The Sunnes renewing course, yet is not new,
Since tis but one set course he doth pursue,
And though it faigned be, that he hath chang'd,
Twas when he from his royall seate hath raing'd:
His glorious splendor, free from such a staine,
Was forc'd to take new shapes, his end to gaine.
And thus indeed the Sunne may giue you leaue,
To take his worst part, your best to deceiue.
And whereof he himselfe hath been ashamd,
Your greatnesse praiseth, fitter to be blamd,
Nothing in greatnes loues a strange delight,
Should we be gouernd then by appetite?
A hungry humour, surfetting on ill,
Which Glutton-like with cramming will not fill.
No Serpent can bring forth so foule a birth,
As change in loue, the hatefullst thing on earth.
Yet you doe venture this vice to commend,
As if of it, you Patron were, or Friend.
Foster it still, and you shall true man be
Who first for change, lost his felicitie.
Riuers (tis true) are clearest when they run,
But not because they haue new places won;
For if the ground be muddy where they fall,
The clearenesse with their change, doth change with all,
Lakes may be sweet, if so their bottoms be;
From rootes, not from the leaues our fruit we see.
But loue too rich a prize is for your share,
Some little idle liking he can spare
Your wit to play withall; but true loue must
Haue truer hearts to lodge in, and more iust,
While this may be allow'd you for loues might,
As for dayes glory framed was the night.
That you can outward fairenesse so affect,
Shewes that the worthier part you still neglect.

319

Or else your many changings best appeares;
For beauty changeth faster then the yeares:
And that you can loue greatnesse, makes it knowne,
The want of height in goodnesse of your owne.
Twas not a happinesse in ancient time
To hold plurality to be no crime,
But a meere ignorance, which they did mend,
When the true light did glorious lusture lend.
And much I wonder you will highly rate
The brutish loue of Nature, from which state
Reason doth guide vs, and doth difference make
From sensuall will, true reasons lawes to take.
Wer't not for Reason, we but brutish were,
Nor from the beasts did we at all differ;
Yet these you praise, the true stile opinion,
By which truths gouernment is shroudly gon.
Honor by you esteemd a title, true,
A title cannot claimd by change as due.
It is too high for such low worth to reach,
Heauen gifts bestow'th as to belong to each.
And this true loue must in reuenge bestow
On you, his sacred power, with paine to know:
A loue to giue you fickle, loose, and vaine,
Yet you with ceaselesse griefe, seeke to obtaine
Her fleeting fauours, while you wayling proue,
Meerely for punishment a steddy loue:
Let her be faire, but false, great, disdainefull,
Chast, but to you, to all others, gainefull,
Then shall your liberty and choice be tide
To paine, repentance, and (the worst sinne) pride.
But if this cannot teach you how to loue,
Change still, till you can better counsell proue:
Yet be assur'd, while these conceits you haue,
Loue will not owne one shot (you say) he gaue.
His are all true, all worthy, yours vniust,
Then (changing you) what can you from him trust.
Repentance true felt, oft the Gods doth win,
Then in your Waine of loue, leaue this foule sin:
So shall you purchase fauour, bannish shame,
And with some care obtaine a louers name.

336

[As these drops fall: so Hope drops now on me]

As these drops fall: so Hope drops now on me
sparingly, coole, yet much more then of late,
as with Dispaire I changed had a state
yet not posses'd, gouerne but modestly.

Deerest, let these dropps heauenly showers proue
and but the Sea fit to receiue thy streames,
in multitudes compare but with Sun beames,
and make sweete mixture, twixt them, and thy loue.

The Seas rich plenty ioynd to our delights,
the Sunn's kind warmth, vnto thy pleasing smiles,
when wisest hearts thy loue-make-eyes beguiles,
and vassell brings to them the greatest Sprites.

Raine on me rather then be drye; I gaine
nothing so much as by such harmeles teares,
which take away the paines of louing feares,
and finely winns an euerlasting raigne.

337

But if like heate drops you do wast away
glad, as disburden'd of a hot desire;
let me be rather lost, perish in fire,
then by those hopefull signes brought to decay:

Sweete be a louer puer, and permanent,
cast off gay cloathes of change, and such false slights:
loue is not loue, but where truth hath her rights,
else like boughs from the perfect body rent.

355

[You, who ending neuer saw]

You , who ending neuer saw
Of pleasures best delighting,
You that cannot wish a thaw.
Who feeles no frost of spighting,
Keeping Cupids hand in awe,
That sees but by your lighting.
Bee not still too cruell bent
against a soule distressed,
Whose heart loue long since hath rent,
And pittilesse oppressed:
But let malice now be spent,
And former ills redressed.
Grieue I doe for what is past,
Let fauour then be granted,
Theeues by iudgement to dye cast,
Haue not of mercy wanted;
But alone at feasts I fast,
As Thiefe of pleasure scanted:
You accuse me that I stole
From you your hearts directing,
All your thoughts at my controule,
Yet passions still reiecting;
But you place me in the roule
Of left loues new electing.
Though I kinder was to it,
My heart in place bestowing,
To make roome for yours more fit,
As iust exchange truth flowing,

356

Till you fondly gain'd the bit,
And flying, left loue owing.
Which debt resting still vnpaid,
Let this at last be gained,
When your new loues haue you staid,
With welcome choyce obtained:
Let change on your brest be laid,
While I liue still vnstained.

390

[Cruell Remembrance alas now be still]

Cruell Remembrance alas now be still,
Put me not on the Racke to torture me:
I doe confesse my greatest misery
Liues in your plenty, my last harme your skill.

Poyson, and Venome onely once doe kill,
While you perpetually new mischiefes fee,
To vexe my soule with endlesse memory,
Leauing no thought that may increase my ill.

Els haue you neede to tell me I was blest,
Rich in the treasure of content, and loue,
When I like him, or her had sweetest rest
But passd like daies, you stay and vexings proue.

Chang'd from all fauours you add vnto despaire
Who vnder these waights grone, most wretched are.

392

[Vnquiet griefe, search further in my heart]

Vnquiet griefe, search further in my heart,
If place bee found which thou hast not possest;
Or so much space can build hopes smallest rest:
Take it, 'tis thine, mine is the lodge of smart.

Dispaire, dispaire hath vs'd the skilfulst art,
To ruine hope, and murther easefull rest:
O me, dispaire, my Vine of hope hath prest,
Rauish'd the grapes, the leaues left for my part.

Yet Ruler griefe, nor thou Despaire deny,
This last request proclaimes 'twas not suspect
Graffed this bud of sorrow in my brest:
But knowledge dayly doth my losse descry.
Cold loue's now match'd with care, change with respect,
When true flames liud, these false fires were supprest.

409

[Losse my molester at last patient be]

Losse my molester at last patient be,
And satisfied with thy curst selfe, or moue
Thy mournefull force thus oft on periurd loue,
To wast a life which liues by mischeifes fee.

Who will behould true misery, veiw me,
And find what wit hath fain'd, I fully proue;
A heauen-like blessing chang'd throwne from aboue,
Into Dispaire, whose worst ill I doe see.

Had I not happy beene, I had not knowne
So great a losse, a King depos'd, feeles most
The torment of a Throne-like-want, when lost,
And vp must looke to what late was his owne.

Lucifer downe cast, his losse doth grieue,
My Paradice of ioy gone, doe I liue?

416

[O that I might but now as senselesse bee]

O that I might but now as senselesse bee
Of my felt paines, as is that pleasant Tree,
Of the sweet musique, thou deare Byrd dost make,
Who I imagine doth my woes partake.
Yet contrary we doe our passions mooue,
Since in sweet notes thou dost thy sorrowes prooue.
I but in sighs, and teares, can shew I grieue,
And those best spent, if worth doe them beleeue.
Yet thy sweet pleasures makes me euer finde
That happinesse to me, as Loue is blinde,
And these thy wrongs in sweetnesse to attire,
Throwes downe my hopes to make my woes aspire.
Besides, of me th' aduantage thou hast got,
Thy griefe thou vtter'st, mine I vtter not.
Yet thus at last we may agree in one,
I moure for what still is, thou, what is gone.

418

[Deare, though vnconstant, these I send to you]

Deare , though vnconstant, these I send to you
As witnesses, that still my Loue is true.
Receiue these Lines as Images of Death,
That beare the Infants of my latest breath,
And to my tryumph, though I dye in woe,
With welcome glory, since you will it so,
Especially, my ending is the lesse,
When I Examples see of my distresse.
As Dido, one whose misery was had
By Loue, for which shee in Deathes robes was clad;
Yet lost shee lesse then I, for I possest
And loue enioy'd, she lik'd, what was profest
Most cruell, and the death-lik'st kind of ill,
To lose the blessing of contentments will.
Faire Ariadne neuer tooke more care,
Then I did how you might in safety fare,
Her thrid my life was to draw you from harme,
My study wholly how I might all charme
That dangerous were, while pleasures you optain'd,
And I the hazard with the labour gain'd:
Yet shee this his life sau'd, he her honor lost,
That false Prince Theseus flying, left her crost
With his abandoning her truth, and loue
Leaning her desolate, alone to proue
His Loue, or ended, or but giuen for neede,
Caus'd her with misery to gaine that meed.

419

I Ariadne am alike oppress'd,
Alike deseruing, and alike distress'd:
Vngratefull Demophon, to Phillis faire
A Thracian Lady, causs'd by like dispaire,
Or greater farr, for after feruent loue,
In which bless'd time he freely still did proue:
What is desir'd, or lou'd, he left this Queene
And bliss, for a lesse Kingdome which had beene
Before his fathers, and by reason right,
For Theseus was his Sire that King of spight.
Thus did he both inherit state, and ill,
While Phillis selfe, her louely selfe did kill,
Making a Tree her Throne, a Cord the end
Of her affections, which his shame did send.
I strangled am, with your vnkindnes choak'd
While cruelty is with occasions cloak'd.
Medea Witch, with her enchanting skill
Did purchase what was craued by her will,
Yet was by Iason left at last, which showes
Loue only free from all bewitching blowes.
But his owne witchcraft, which is worst of ills,
Neuer absenting till all ioy it spills.
Charms it may be, with-held you now from me,
Breake through them, leaue that Circes so oft free,
The Syrens songe, Calypsoes sweete delights
And looke on faith, which light is of true lights.
Turne backe the eyes of your chang'd heart, and see
How much you sought, how fondly once sought me,
What trauell did you take to win my loue?
How did you sue that I as kind would proue?
This is forgot as yester dayes lik'd sport,
Loue winning lasting long, once won proues short.
I like Penelope haue all this time
Of your absenting, let no thought to clime
In me of change, though courted, and pursu'd
By loue, perswasions, and euen fashons rude
Almost to force extending, yet still she
Continued constant, and as I am free.
Ten yeares a cause was for Vlisses stay
While Troy beseiged was, but then away
Was homeward bent by all, saue him who stayd,
And ten yeares more on forraine beautyes pray'd.
Against his will, he oft his will enioyed.
And with variety at last was cloy'd.
Chainge wearyed him, when weary he return'd,
And from his wandring then to staydnes turn'd.
Come you now backe, I thus inuite you home,
And loue you, as if you did neuer roame:

420

I haue forgot it as if neuer done,
And doe but thinke me a new to be wone.
I shall appeare, it may be, as I did,
And all passd falts shall in my breast be hid,
Try me againe, and you shall truely find,
Where fairenesse wanteth, clearenes of a minde;
Fairer, and richer then the masse of all
Their persons, which from me haue made you fall,
If ioyn'd together, and from thence to frame
A minde of beauteous faith, fit for the name
Of worthy Constancy inrich'd with truth,
Which gaue me to you, and so held my youth
In young desires, still growing to your loue,
Nourish them now, and let me your loue proue.
Leaue the new powerfull charms of strangers tongus,
Which alwayes truth with their faire falshood wrongs.
Come backe to me, who neuer knew the plot
To crosse your minde, or to thy will an nott:
Come, I say, come againe, and with Vlisses
Enioy the blessings of your best blisses;
Happy the comfort of a chaste loues bed,
Blessed the pillow that vpholds the head
Of loyall louing, shame's the others due,
Leaue those for me who cannot be but true.
Come, and giue life, or in your stay send death
To her that liues in you, else drawes no breath.

423

[Why doe you so much wish for raine, when I]

Why doe you so much wish for raine, when I,
Whose eyes still showring are, stand you so nigh?
Thinke you that my poore eyes now cannot lend
You store enough? alas, but rightly bend
Your looks on me, and you shall see a store
Able to moisten Earth, and ten earths more:
Sighs to make Heauen as soft as tender wooll,
And griefe sufficient to make vp the full
Of all despaires, then wish not, since in me
Contained are teares, griefe, and misery.

426

Lindamira's Complaint.

1.

Deare eyes farewell, my Sunne once, now my end,
While your kinde willing grace I felt, all ioy
In soule I knew withdrawne, you now destroy.
The house that being gaue to loues best friend.

You now alas to other obiects bend
That warmth of blisse which best delights enioy,
Striuing to win an oft won idle toy,
By falshood nurs'd, such creatures seldome mend.

Try your new loues, affect the choyce of store,
And be assur'd they likewise will choose more,
Which I yet grieue; for though the losse I beare.

I would haue none with you to challenge right;
But beare you must for making choyce so light:
Yet still your beames Ile loue, shine you elsewhere.

2.

O deadly rancour to a constant heart,
Frownes, and neglect, my only sauours be:
Sometimes a cold respect is granted me;
But hot flames to those eyes ioy in my smart.

Once yet for Iustice sake weigh my hard part,
In gratefulnesse I should kinde vsage see;
For being tied alone to you els free,
Till by your wrongs now ioynd with heart-broke smart.

A glorious triumph you no doubt shall haue,
To crowne your victory on murders graue,
While falshood beares the armes my life hath won.

I onely for twise seauen yeares loue shall gaine
Change, worse then absence, or death's cruelst paine:
The last yet got, you haue your labour done.

3.

A Surgeon I would aske, but 'tis too late,
To stay the bleeding wound of my hurt heart:

427

The roote is toucht, and the last drops depart
As weeping for succeeding others fate.

Alas that my kild heart should waile my state,
Or leisure haue to thinke on ought but smart,
Nor doth it, but with pitie beare a part,
With her embrac'd yours like a louing mate.

But now vnmarried by a new disdaine
Cold death must take the body from her loue
And thou poore heart must end for my vnworth.

Conscience is lost, and outward fairenes gaines
The place where worth did, or else seemd to moue,
Thus world-like change new triall still brings forth.

4.

O memorie , could I but loose thee now,
At least learne to forget as I did moue
My best, and onely thoughts to waite on loue,
And be as Registers of my made vow.

Could I but let my mind to reason bow,
Or see plaine wrongs, neglects, and slightings proue
In that deare Sphear, which as the Heauens aboue
I prizd, and homage to it did allow.

Canst thou not turne as well a Traitor too
Since Heauen-like powers teach thee what to doo?
Canst not thou quite forget thy pleasures past;

Those blessed houres, the onely time of blisse,
When we feard nothing but we time might misse
Long enough to enioy what's now off cast.

5.

Leaue me vaine Hope, too long thou hast possest
My mind, made subiect to thy flattring skill,
While Aprill mornings did my pleasures fill,
But cloudy dayes soone changd me from that rest;

And weeping afternoones to me adrest,
My vtter ruine framd by Fortunes will,
When knowledge said Hope did but breed, and kill,
Producing only shadowes at the best.

428

Yet Hope tis true, thy faults did faire appeare
And therefore loth to thinke thou counseldst me
Or wilfully thy errors would not see
But catch at Sunne moates which I held most deare

Till now alas with true felt losse I know,
Thy selfe a Bubble each faire face can blow.

6

Though you forsake me, yet alas permit
I may haue sorrow, for my poysn'd crosse;
Thinke not, though dead, to ioy I cannot hit
Vpon a torture, for my soule-pierc'd losse.

Or if by chance I smile, I hopes ingrosse,
Nor for I die not, I doe bliss admit,
Most griefe will oft giue leaue for show to toss
Vpon the waues, where Shipwrack'd comfort split.

Thinke then your will, and left, leaue me yet more
Vexe not my loathed life, to ruine bent;
Be satisfied with glut of your bad change:

Lay me vnthought on, in the loue-kill'd store,
My griefe's my owne, or since for you 'tis sent,
Let me haue that part from you while you range.

7

Some doe, perhapts, both wrong my loue, and care,
Taxing me with mistrust, and Ielousie,
From both which sinnes in loue like freedome, free
I liue, these slanders but new raised are.

What though from griefe, my soule I doe not spare,
When I perceiue neglect's slight face on me?
While vnto some the louing smiles I see,
I am not Iealous, they so well doe fare.

But doubt my selfe lest Nesse worthy am,
Or that it was but flashes, no true flame,
Dazl'd my eyes, and so my humour fed.

If this be iealousie, then doe I yeeld,
And doe confesse I thus goe arm'd to field,
For by such Iealousie my loue is led:

449

[From a long way, and Pilgrimage for Loue]

From a long way, and Pilgrimage for Loue,
I am return'd weary'd with Trauels paine,
Not finding ease, or those vexations mooue:
First, to my soule they are, where to remaine
They vow to setle; then alas, can I
Thinke of a rest, but trauell till I die.

453

[Did I boast of liberty?]

Did I boast of liberty?
'Twas an insolency vaine:
I doe onely looke on thee,
and I captiue am againe.

482

[Loue farewell I now discouer]

Loue farewell I now discouer
Thee a Tyrant o're a louer,
All thy promis'd sweets proue crosses,
Thy rewards are only losses.

A pritty thing I did deeme thee,
Innocent, and mild esteeme thee,

483

But I find thee as curst matter
As a swelling high wrought water.

Cupids name a pleasant folly
Hath beguiled hearts-most holly,
Euen to sacrifize in homage,
Life and soule vnto their domage.

Mine an offering once I profferd,
Happily refusd when offerd,
Ile keepe now but to reuile thee,
From the craft which did beguile me.

494

[Faithfull louers keepe from hence]

Faithfull louers keepe from hence
None but false ones here can enter:

495

This conclusion hath from whence
Falsehood flowes: and such may venter.

498

[Egypts Pyramid's inclose their Kings]

Egypts Pyramid's inclose their Kings,
But this farr brauer, nobler things;
Vertue, Beauty, Loue, Faith, all heere lye
Kept in Myras Tombe, shut from eye:
The Phœnix dyes to raise another faire,
Borne of her ashes, to be heire;
So this sweete Place may claime that right in woe,
Since heere she lyes, Heauen willing so.

512

[If a cleere fountaine still keeping a sad course]

If a cleere fountaine still keeping a sad course,
Weepe out her sorrowes in drops, which like teares fall;
Maruell not if I lament my misfortune,
brought to the same call.

Who thought such faire eyes could shine, and dissemble?
Who thought such sweete breath could poyson loues shame?
Who thought those chast eares could so be defiled?
hers be the sole blame.

While loue deseru'd loue, of mine ctill she fail'd not,
Foole I to loue still where mine was neglected,
Yet faith, and honor, both of me claim'd it,
although reiected.

Oft haue I heard her vow, neuer sweete quiet
Could once possesse her while that I was else where,
But words were breath then, and as breath they wasted
into a lost Ayre.

So soone is loue lost, not in heart imprinted,
Silly I, knew not the false power of changing,
Loue I expected, yet (ah) was deceiued,
more her fond ranging.

Infant Loue tyed me not to mistrust change,
Vowes kept me fearelesse, yet all those were broken:
Loue, faith, and friendship by her are dissolued,
suffer'd vnspoken.

514

[That which to some their wishes ends present]

That which to some their wishes ends present,
Is counted day, which former crosses mend,
Yet night-like day my blessings do preuent,
And brings that losse, whereto my mischeifs tend.

By dayes approach, alasse, that light doth end,
Which is the onlylight of my content,
And more I see, day striue her light to lend
The darker am I, by sad parting rent.

Like one long kept in prison, brought to light;
But for his end, condemned nere to bee
Freed from his Dungeon, till that wretched hee,
Conclude his liuing with his latest sight.

So now with griefe, doth day appeare to mee,
And Oh! too early since we parting see.

515

[Fond aged man, why doe you on me gaze]

Wo.
Fond aged man, why doe you on me gaze,
Knowing my answer? resolution take
Follow not fondly in an vnusd Maze
As if impossibilities to shake.
For know I hate you still, and your poore loue
Can mee as soone as Rocks to pitie moue.

Man.
Alas my dearest soule, too long I knew
I lou'd in vaine, your scorne I felt likewise,
Your hate I saw; yet must I still pursue
Your fairest sight, though you doe me despise;
For loue is blind, and though I aged be,
I can nor part from it, nor it from me.

Wo.
What blame dost thou deserue, if thou wilt still
Follow my hate, who will not breath to change,
And striue to gaine as if from scorne, or ill
Louing disdaine as Iuels rich, and strang:
Or canst thou vainely hope thy wailing cries
Can moue a pitty? no let this suffice.

Man.
Pitie, alas I nere could looke to see
So much good hap; yet Deere be not to cruell,
Though you thus young hate aged loue in me,
My loue hath youth, or you shall see loues fuell
Deseruing your reward, then not denie,
Let me now see those eyes kind, or I die.

Wo.
These eyes of mine thou neuer shalt behold,
If clouds of true disdaine may dim desire,
They shall as blacke be as thy faults are bold,
Demanding what's vnfit: a poore old fire
Wasted like Triumphs, sparcles onely liue,
And troubled rise from embers which outliue.

Man.
I doe confesse a boldnesse tis in me
Ought to resist, if your sweet selfe command;
Yet blind me needs you must, for if I see,
Mine eyes must rest on you, and gazing stand:
Heauen not forbids the bacest worme her way,
Hide that deare beauty, I must needs decay.

Wo.
My beauty I will hide, mine eyes put out,
Rather then be perplexed with thy sight,
A mischiefe certaine worse is, then a doubt,
Such is thy sight, thy absence my delight;
Yet mine the ill, since now with thee I stay.
Tyred with all misfortune cannot stray.

516

Man.

Thy beautie hide? O no, still cruell liue
To me most haplesse; dim not that bright light
Which to this Earth all lights and beauties giue.
Let me not cause for euer darkest night,
No, no, blessed be those eyes and fairest face,
Lights of my soule, and guides to all true grace.

My sweet commanderesse shall I yet obay
And leaue you here alas vnguarded? shall
I not then for sorrow euer stray
From quiet peace, or hope, and with curst thrall
Sit downe and end? yet if you say I must
Here will I bide in banishment accurst:
While you passe on as cruell, happy still
That none else triumph may vpon mine ill.

520

[A Sheephard who no care did take.]

1

A Sheephard who no care did take.
of ought but of his flock,
Whose thoughts no pride could higher make,
Then to maintaine his stock,
Whose sheepe his loue was, and his care,
Their good, his best delight:
The Lambs his ioy, their sport his fare,
His pleasure was their sight.

2

Till Loue (an enuier of mans blisse)
Did turne this merry life
To teares, to wishes which nere misse
Incombrances with strife.
For whereas he was best content,
With looking on his sheepe:
His time in woes, must now be spent,
And broken is his sleepe.

513

3

Thus first his wofull change beganne,
A Lamb he chanc't to misse,
Which to finde out, about hee ran.
Yet finds not where it is.
But as he past (O fate vnkind)
his ill led him that way,
Whereas a willow Tree behind,
A faire young Maiden lay.

4

Her bed was on the humble ground,
her head vpon her hand,
While sighs di'd shew, her heart was bound
In Loue's vntying band.
Cleere teares her cleerest eyes let fall,
Vpon her Loue-borne face:
Which Heauenly drops did sorrow call,
proud witnes of disgrace.

5

The Shephard stay'd, and fed his eyes,
no farther might he passe,
But there his freedome to sight tyes,
His bondage, his ioy was.
His Lambe he deemes not halfe so faire,
Though it were very white:
And liberty he thinkes a care,
Nor breath's but by her sight.

6

His former life is alter'd quite,
His Sheepe feede in her eyes,
Her face his feild is of delight,
And flocks he doth despise.
The rule of them he leaues to none,
His Scrip he threw away:
And many he forsakes for one,
One, he must now obey.

7

Vnhappy man whose loosing found,
What better had bin lost:
Whose gaine doth spring from such a ground,
Whereby he must be crost.

522

The worldly care he now neglects,
for Cupids seruice tyes,
Care only to his fond respects,
where waue-like treasure lyes.

8

As this lost man still gazing stood,
Amaz'd at such a sight:
Imagining no heauenly food
To feede on but her sight;
Wishing but her beames to behold,
Yet greiu'd he for her griefe,
When mournfully he did vnfold
Her woes without reliefe.

9

His new Sun rose, and rysing said,
Farwell faire Willow tree,
The roote of my estate decay'd,
The fruit for haplesse me:
What though thy branch, a signe be made,
Of labour lost in loue?
Thy beauty doth no sooner vade,
Then those best fortunes proue.

10

My songs shall end with willow still,
Thy branches I will weare:
Thou wilt accompany my ill,
And with me sorrow beare.
True friend said she, then sigh'd, and turn'd,
Leauing that restlesse place,
And Sheephard, who in pasiions burn'd
lamenting his sad case.

11

Ths Maid now gone, alone he left,
Still on her footsteps gaz'd,
And heartlesse growne, by loue bereft
of mirth, in spirit rais'd,
To satisfie his restlesse thought,
He after her will hye,
His ruine to be sooner brought,
And sooner harme to try.

523

12

Then thus his latest leaue he tooke,
My Sheepe (said he) farwell,
Let some new Shepheard to you looke
Whose care may mine excell.
I leaue you to your freedome now,
Loues-lawes so fast me bind,
As no time I can you allow,
Or goe poore flock, and find

13

The Maid whom I so dearely loue,
Say it was her deare sight,
Which from your keepe doth me remoue,
And kills my first delight.
Goe you my Dog, who carefull were
To guard my Sheepe from harme,
Looke to them still, no care forbeare,
Though loue my senses charme.

14

But you my Pipe that musick gaue,
And pleasd my silent rest,
Of you I company will craue,
Our states now suteth best.
For if that Faire no pity giue,
My dying breath shall cry,
Through thee the paines, wherein I liue,
Whereby I breath to dye.

15

Madly he ran from ease to paine
Not sicke, yet farre from well,
Heart robd by two faire eyes, his gaine
Must prooue his worldly Hell.
After his heart he fast doth hie,
His heart to her did flie,
And for a biding place did crie,
Within her breast to lie.

16

She that refusd, when he her spide,
Her whom he held most deare,
Lie weeping by a Riuers side
Beholding papers neare.

524

Her ruling eyes must yet be dimbd,
While pearle like teares she shed,
Like shadowes on a Picture limbd;
At last these words she read.

17

When I vnconstant am to thee
Or false doe euer proue,
Let happinesse be banisht me,
Nor haue least taste of loue.
But this alas too soone, cryd she,
Is O by thee forgot,
My hopes and ioyes now murtherd be,
And falsehood is my lot.

18

Too late I find what tis to trust
To words, or oathes, or teares,
Since they that vse them prooue vniust
And colour but our feares.
Poore fooles ordaind to be deceiu'd
And trust to be betrayd,
Scornd when our hearts are vs bereau'd
Sought to, a while delayd.

19

Yet though that thou so false hast been,
I still will faithfull be;
And though thou thinkst to leaue no sinne,
Ile make my loyalty
To shine so cleare, as thy foule fault
To all men shall be knowne,
Thy change to thy changd heart be brought,
My faith abroad be blowne.

20

This hauing said, againe she rose
The papers putting by,
And once againe a new way chose
Striuing from griefe to fly:
But as she going was along
That pleasant running streame,
She saw the Sallow trees among,
The Shepheard Aradeame.

525

21

For so this wofull Lad was call'd,
But when she him beheld,
What witchcraft hath thee now inthral'd,
And brought thee to this field?
What can the cause, or reason be,
That thou art hither come:
Where all must tast of misery,
And mirth with griefe intombe?

22

If mirth must heere intombed be,
Faire Sheephardesse, said he?
This place the fittest is for me,
If you vse cruelty:
For know I hither come, to see
Your selfe, wherein now lyes
My life, whose absence martir'd me,
Whose sight my power tyes.

23

Giue me but leaue to liue with you,
It is the life I craue:
To you I bound am to be true,
My life to you I gaue;
When first I did behold you lye,
In shade of willow tree:
That time my soule did to you tye,
Those eyes did murther me.

24

Is this the reason (ah cryd she?)
The more I waile your case,
Who thus partaker, needs will be
In griefe, and in disgrace,
I pitty you, but cannot ayd
You, nor redresse your ill,
Since ioy and paine together pay'd,
Scarce satisfies the will.

25

If I doe tye you, I release
The bond wherein you are,
Your freedome shall not find decrease,
Nor you accuse my care.

526

The paine I haue is all my owne,
None can of it beare part,
Sorrow my strength hath ouerthrowne,
Disdaine hath killd my heart.

26

And Sheepheard if that you doe loue,
This counsell take of me,
This humor fond in time remoue,
Which can but torture thee;
Take it from her who too too well
Can witnesse it is so:
Whose hope seem'd Heauen, yet prou'd a Hell,
And comfort chang'd to woe.

27

For I was lou'd, or so I thought,
And for it lou'd againe,
But soone those thoughts my ruine brought,
And nourish'd all my paine,
They gaue the milke that fed beleife
Till wean'd, they proued dry:
Their latter nourishment was griefe,
So famish't I must dye.

28

Then see your chance, I cannot change,
Nor my affection turne,
Disdaine which others moues to range,
Makes me more constant burne,
My sighs I'me sure cannot you please,
My griefe no Musicke prooue,
My flowing teares your passions ease,
Nor woes delight your Loue.

29

If my sight haue your freedome wonn,
Receiue it backe againe;
So much my selfe I finde vndone,
By gifts which proue no gaine.
As I lament with them that loue,
So true in Loue I am,
And liberty wish all to proue,
Whose hearts waste in this flame.

527

30

Yet giue me leaue (sigh'd he with teares)
To liue but where you are,
My woes shal waite vpon your feares,
My sighs attend your care:
Ile weepe when euer you shall waile,
If you sigh, I will cry,
When you complaine, Ile neuer faile
To waile my misery.

31

I will you guard, and safely keepe
From danger, and from feare,
Still will I watch when you doe sleepe,
And for both, sorrowes beare.
Make me not free, I bondage craue,
Nor seeke else but to serue,
This freedome will procure my graue,
These bonds my life preserue.

32

For life, and ioy, and ease, and all
Alasse lyes in your hands:
Then doe not cause my only fall,
I ty'd am in such bands.
Part hence I cannot, nor loue leaue,
But heere must euer bide:
Then pitty let my paine receiue,
Doe not from mercy slide.

33

If that (said she) you constant are,
Vnto your comming ill,
Ile leaue this place, yet let all care
Accompany me still:
And Sheepheard liue, and happy be,
Let iudgment rule your will,
Seeke one whose hart from loue is free,
And who your ioy may fill.

34

For I loue's bond-slaue am, and ty'd
In fetters of Disdaine:
My hopes are frozen, my Spring dry'd,
My Sommer drown'd with paine:

528

I lou'd, and worse, I said I lou'd,
Free truth my ruine brought,
And so your speech the like hath mou'd
and losse for gayning bought.

35

With that away she hasted fast,
Left him his cares to holde,
Who now to sorrow make all hast,
Woes driue his hopes to fould:
Now he can see, and weeping say
His fortune blind he finds,
A heart to harbour his decay,
A state which mischeife binds.

36

This now he feeles, and wofully
His birth, and life he blames,
Yet passions rules, when reasons lye
in darke, or quenched flames:
That place he first beheld her in,
his byding he doth make:
The Tree his liberty did win,
He cals his Martyr stake.

37

And pleasingly doth take his fall,
his griefe accoumpts delight:
Freedome, and ioy this bitter thrall,
His food her absent sight.
In contraryes his pleasures be,
While mourning giues him ease,
His Tombe shall be that haplesse Tree,
Where sorow did him ceaze.

38

And thus did liue, though daily dy'd,
The Sheephard Arideame,
Whose causlesse teares which neuer dry'd
were turnd into a streame,
Himselfe the head, his eyes the spring
Which fed that Riuer cleere,
Which to true harts this good doth bring
When they approch it neere,

529

39

And drinke of it, to banish quite
All fickell thoughts of change,
But still in one choyce to delight,
And neuer thinke to range:
Of this sweete water I did drinke,
Which did such faith infuse,
As since to change, I cannot thinke,
Loue will death sooner chuse.

538

[Rise, rise from sluggishnes, fly fast my Deere]

Rise , rise from sluggishnes, fly fast my Deere,
The early Larke preuents the rising lights:
The Sunne is risen, and shines in the rights
Of his bright glory, till your eyes appeare.

539

Arise, and make your two Sunnes so cleare show,
As he for shame his beames call backe againe,
And drowne them in the Sea for sorrowes paine,
That you, Commandresse of the light may know,

The dutie Sunne, and all must yeeld to you
Where richnesse of desert doth lie imbracd,
Night by your brightnes wholly now defac'd,
And Day alone left to you as lights due.

Yet be as waighty still in loue to me,
Presse me with loue, rather then lightly flie
My passions like to women, made to tie
Of purpose to vnloose, and oft be free.

Thus may your lightnesse shewing ruine me,
I cannot liue if your affections dye,
Or leaue off liuing in my constancy
Be light and heauy too, so wee agree.

547

[Haue I lost my liberty]

1

Haue I lost my liberty,
And my selfe, and all, for thee
O Loue?
Yet wilt thou no fauour giue
In my losse thy blame will liue;
Alas remoue.

2

Pitie claimes a iust reward,
But proud thoughts are thy best guard
Once smile:
Glory tis to saue a life
When deceiuers are in strife
Which to beguile.

3

Your gaine hath my paine begot,
But neglect doth proue my lot,
O turne,
Say it was some other harme,
And not your still sought for Charme
Did make me burne.

548

4

Thus may you all blame recall,
Sauing me from ruins thrall
Then loue
Pitie me, Ile no more say
You to cruelty did sway,
But loyall proue.

5

Else be sure your tricks Ile blaze,
And your triumph Castle raze
Take heed,
Conquerours cannot remaine
Longer then mens hearts they gaine,
Worse will you speed.

6

You a King set vp by loue,
Traytors soone may you remoue
From by,
Take this counsell serue loues will
And seeke not a heart to kill,
Least both doe cry.

549

[Loue growne proud with victory]

Loue growne proud with victory,
Seekes by sleights to conquer me,
Painted showes he thinks can bind
His commands in womens mind.
Loue but glories in fond louing,
I most ioy in not remouing.

550

Loue a word, a looke, a smile,
In these shapes can some beguile,
But he some new way must proue
To make me a vassell loue.
Loue but &c.

Loue must all his shadowes leane
Or himselfe he will deceiue,
Who loues not the perfect skie,
More then clouds that wanton slie.
Loue but &c.

Loue, yet thus thou maist me win,
If thy staidnesse would begin
Then like friends w'would kindly meete
When thou proou'st as true as sweete
Loue then glory in thy louing
And Ile ioy in my remouing.

554

[This no wonder's of much waight]

This no wonder's of much waight,
'Tis the hell of deepe deceit.