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Eglogs, Epytaphes, and Sonettes

Newly written by Barnabe Googe
Googe, Barnabe (1540-1594)

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[section]
  
Alexander Neuyll.
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[subsection]
  
[dedication]
  
The Preface of L. Blundeston.
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[Eglogs.]
 1. 
Egloga prima
 2. 
Egloga secunda.
 3. 
Egloga tertia.
 4. 
Egloga quarta.
 5. 
Egloga quinta.
 6. 
Egloga sexta.
 7. 
Egloga septima.
 8. 
Egloga octaua.
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Epytaphes.
  
An Epytaphe of the Lorde Sheffeldes death.
  
An Epytaphe of M. Shelley slayne at Musselbroughe.
  
An Epytaphe of Maister Thomas Phayre.
  
An Epytaphe of the Death of Nicolas Grimaold.
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Sonettes.
  
To Mayster Alexander Nowell.
  
To Doctor Bale.
  
To M. Edwarde Cobham.
  
Of Edwardes of the Chappell.
  
To L. Blundeston.
  
The Aunswere of L. Blundeston to the same.
  
To Alexander Neuell.
  
Alexander Neuells Answere to the same.
  
To M. Henrye Cobham of the most blessed state of Lyfe.
  
To Alexander Neuell of the blessed Sate of him that feeles not the force of Cupids flames.
  
Alexander Neuells Awnswere to the same.
  
To Maystresse A.
  
To George Holmeden of a ronnynge Heade.
  
To the Translation of Pallingen.
  
The Harte absent.
  
To Alexander Neuell.
  
The Aunswere of A. Neuell to the same.
  
To Maystresse D.
  
Out of an olde Poet.
  
[Ons musynge as I sat]
  
[When I do heare thy name]
  
[Vnhappye tonge]
  
Oculi augent dolorem.
  
[Accuse not God, yf fancie fond]
  
[Two Lynes shall tell the Gryefs]
  
Of the vnfortunate choyse of his Ualentyne.
  
The vncertayntie of Lyfe.
  
A Refusall.
  
Of Maistres. D S.
  
Of Money.
  
Goyng towardes Spayne.
  
At Bonyuall in Fraunce.
  
Commynge home warde out of Spayne.
  
To L. Blundeston of Ingratitude.
  
The Aunswere of L. Blundeston to the same.
  
To the Tune of Appelles.
  
Cupido Conquered.

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Out of an olde Poet.

Fye Fye, I lothe
to speake wylt thou my lust,
Compell me nowe,
to doo so foule an acte.
Nay rather God,
with Flame consume to dust.
My carryon vyle,
then I perfourme this facte
Let rather thoughtes,
that long, haue weryed me:
Or sycknes suche
as Fancy fonde hath brought,
O gapyng Hell,
dryue me now downe to the,
Let boylyng sygbes,
consume me all to nought.
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