Pasqvils Mistresse Or the worthie and vnworthie woman. VVith his description and passion of that Furie, Iealousie |
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| PASQVILS DESCRIPTION OF HIS Mistresse,
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 | Pasqvils Mistresse |  |
PASQVILS DESCRIPTION OF HIS Mistresse,
with a passion vpon the Ielousie of her match.
My sweete Muse beholde a creature,
Of the world the sweetest feature,
Garnisht with those inward graces,
That adorne the fairest faces:
Which described in their essence,
Shew the earth a heauenly presence.
Of the world the sweetest feature,
Garnisht with those inward graces,
That adorne the fairest faces:
Which described in their essence,
Shew the earth a heauenly presence.
Haires, no haires, but golden wires,
Binding life in loues desires:
Eyes no eyes, but starry glories,
Reasons states, and honours stories:
Cheekes enchaining hearts beholding,
Lippes maintaining loues vnfolding.
Binding life in loues desires:
Eyes no eyes, but starry glories,
Reasons states, and honours stories:
Cheekes enchaining hearts beholding,
Lippes maintaining loues vnfolding.
Necke, no necke, but alablaster,
Natures mistresse, Reasons master:
Breasts, not breasts, but beauties moūtains,
Of M[illeg.] milke the fountaines:
Armes embracing loues deseruing:
Hands vnlacing loues preseruing.
Natures mistresse, Reasons master:
Breasts, not breasts, but beauties moūtains,
Of M[illeg.] milke the fountaines:
Armes embracing loues deseruing:
Hands vnlacing loues preseruing.
Belly, no, but Venus bedding,
All too faire for Vulcans wedding,
Nauell, not, but Natures signet,
All the graces grau'n within it:
For the secret sweete of reason,
Careful thoughts must speak no treason.
All too faire for Vulcans wedding,
Nauell, not, but Natures signet,
All the graces grau'n within it:
For the secret sweete of reason,
Careful thoughts must speak no treason.
Thighes, no thighes, but beauties pillers,
Made for beauties best welwillers:
Knees, not knees, but Pallas bending,
While Diana was commending:
Legs, no legs, but honours passage,
To the life of louers message.
Made for beauties best welwillers:
Knees, not knees, but Pallas bending,
While Diana was commending:
Legs, no legs, but honours passage,
To the life of louers message.
Feete, no feete, but fauours staying,
Where no fauours are decaying:
Toes, not toes, but each a token
Of more trueth, then may be spoken:
That in all, for much perfection,
Natures draught by loues direction.
Where no fauours are decaying:
Toes, not toes, but each a token
Of more trueth, then may be spoken:
That in all, for much perfection,
Natures draught by loues direction.
This faire creature, wonder-woman,
Seene to few, and knowne to no man,
By those heauenly powers created,
That haue hellish humours hated,
While the Angels all were sleeping,
Fell to cursed creatures keeping.
Seene to few, and knowne to no man,
By those heauenly powers created,
That haue hellish humours hated,
While the Angels all were sleeping,
Fell to cursed creatures keeping.
Cursed creatures, carnall diuels,
Hates of good, and grounds of euils,
Wronging vertue, killing reason,
Vowing trueth, but working treason:
These, oh these, by loues illusion,
Wrought the course of my confusion.
Hates of good, and grounds of euils,
Wronging vertue, killing reason,
Vowing trueth, but working treason:
These, oh these, by loues illusion,
Wrought the course of my confusion.
Hatefull course in heart concealed:
But, by hell to be reuealed:
In wich briefely is contained,
Neuer eased, euer pained:
In which cruell cares tormented,
Liues my comfort discontented.
But, by hell to be reuealed:
In wich briefely is contained,
Neuer eased, euer pained:
In which cruell cares tormented,
Liues my comfort discontented.
Pittie weepes to see this wonder,
Loue and vertue liue asunder,
Honour sigheth without ceasing
To beholde this hell increasing,
And the heart of loue is dying,
While he heares his darling crying.
Loue and vertue liue asunder,
Honour sigheth without ceasing
To beholde this hell increasing,
And the heart of loue is dying,
While he heares his darling crying.
Oh how is the soule agriued,
Where no sorrowes are relieued,
And where crosses are so many,
Not the comforts can be any!
Thinke if this be hell mistaken,
So of heauenly hopes forsaken.
Where no sorrowes are relieued,
And where crosses are so many,
Not the comforts can be any!
Thinke if this be hell mistaken,
So of heauenly hopes forsaken.
But, oh wicked wretched frenzy,
That hast so corrupted fancy,
Helplesse, hopelesse, matchlesse shamelesse,
Dost thou thinke thou shalt be namelesse?
No: the world shall knowe thine euill
Ielouzie, thou art the diuell.
That hast so corrupted fancy,
Helplesse, hopelesse, matchlesse shamelesse,
Dost thou thinke thou shalt be namelesse?
No: the world shall knowe thine euill
Ielouzie, thou art the diuell.
This is that same inward treason,
That hath so confounded reason:
This is that same hellish humour,
Fils the world so full of rumour:
This is it that kils the louer,
That he neuer can recouer.
That hath so confounded reason:
This is that same hellish humour,
Fils the world so full of rumour:
This is it that kils the louer,
That he neuer can recouer.
This is that same hellish fiende,
That was neuer vertues friend:
This is that same foolish blindnesse,
That confoundeth louers kindnesse:
This is it, by proofe of many,
Neuer yet did good to any.
That was neuer vertues friend:
This is that same foolish blindnesse,
That confoundeth louers kindnesse:
This is it, by proofe of many,
Neuer yet did good to any.
Then, on thee, and thy possessor,
Wilfull follies plaine professor,
(That hast so my mistresse wronged,
And her helplesse woes prolonged)
Fall the curse of loues confusion,
By the death of loues illusion.
Wilfull follies plaine professor,
(That hast so my mistresse wronged,
And her helplesse woes prolonged)
Fall the curse of loues confusion,
By the death of loues illusion.
A description of Jelousie.
VVithin the hart ther breeds a kind of thought
Begotten (as some gesse it) by the eye:
But, I doe rather thinke it to be wrought,
By a blinde sight that euer lookes awry,
And only feedes but of a Lunacy:
Which being gotten kindly in the head,
Workes a weake wit, to bring a foole to bed.
Begotten (as some gesse it) by the eye:
But, I doe rather thinke it to be wrought,
By a blinde sight that euer lookes awry,
And only feedes but of a Lunacy:
Which being gotten kindly in the head,
Workes a weake wit, to bring a foole to bed.
It thinks it knowes not what, nor how, nor why:
But once perswaded, twill not beremooued,
Cares for no trueth, belieueth euery lye,
That hath apparance, though it be not prooued,
Loues but in feare, and feares it is not loued,
Frets, chases, and grieues, and neuer is at rest:
Because the worst doth euer doubt the best.
But once perswaded, twill not beremooued,
Cares for no trueth, belieueth euery lye,
That hath apparance, though it be not prooued,
Loues but in feare, and feares it is not loued,
Frets, chases, and grieues, and neuer is at rest:
Because the worst doth euer doubt the best.
It workes, and watches, pries, and peeres about,
Takes counsell, staies yet goes on with intent,
Bringes in one humour, puts another out,
And findes out nothing but all discontent,
And keepes the spirit still so passion-rent,
That in the world, if that there be a hell,
Aske, but in loue, what ielousie can tell.
Takes counsell, staies yet goes on with intent,
Bringes in one humour, puts another out,
And findes out nothing but all discontent,
And keepes the spirit still so passion-rent,
That in the world, if that there be a hell,
Aske, but in loue, what ielousie can tell.
It would haue more then all it doth possesse,
And turnes content vnto a crosse conceite,
It brings discretion but into distresse,
Where feare doth onely but on folly waite,
While doubts do only dwell vpon deceite:
It doth abuse the wit, distract the minde,
And knows not what to seeke, nor how to finde.
And turnes content vnto a crosse conceite,
It brings discretion but into distresse,
Where feare doth onely but on folly waite,
While doubts do only dwell vpon deceite:
It doth abuse the wit, distract the minde,
And knows not what to seeke, nor how to finde.
It doth amaze the eye, enchaunt the eare,
And wholie kils the stomackes appetite.
With spightfull thoughts it doth the spirit teare,
And keepes poore patience in a pitious plight,
While darke suspicion makes the day a night:
It is, in summe, a very hellish fiende,
That neuer yet was loue, nor beauties friend.
And wholie kils the stomackes appetite.
With spightfull thoughts it doth the spirit teare,
And keepes poore patience in a pitious plight,
While darke suspicion makes the day a night:
It is, in summe, a very hellish fiende,
That neuer yet was loue, nor beauties friend.
It is a plague, that Nature was ordained,
In beauties eie, to wounde the heart of loue,
An inward poyson, that hath throughly vain'd
The haplesse wit, that workes for wils behoue,
To make a Iacke Dawe of a turtle Doue,
Where best, contentmēts are too much abused,
While wilfull follies can not be excused.
In beauties eie, to wounde the heart of loue,
An inward poyson, that hath throughly vain'd
The haplesse wit, that workes for wils behoue,
To make a Iacke Dawe of a turtle Doue,
Where best, contentmēts are too much abused,
While wilfull follies can not be excused.
It is the death of ioy, twixt man and wife,
Where loue is too much loaden with mistrust:
It makes the maide to feare the married life,
Least firmest faith should fall to be vniust:
It beats the braine and grindes the wit to dust,
It makes the wise a foole, the wealthie poore,
And her that wold kepe house, to ope the dore.
Where loue is too much loaden with mistrust:
It makes the maide to feare the married life,
Least firmest faith should fall to be vniust:
It beats the braine and grindes the wit to dust,
It makes the wise a foole, the wealthie poore,
And her that wold kepe house, to ope the dore.
Oh, tis a childe of an vnhappie choyce,
Nurst by the milke of an ilfauour'd beast:
Which neuer suffers reason to reioyce,
But keepes the heart within an Hornets neast,
Which nought but venome bring into the breast:
It is, in summe, a kinde of secret ill,
That neuer yet did good, nor euer will.
Nurst by the milke of an ilfauour'd beast:
Which neuer suffers reason to reioyce,
But keepes the heart within an Hornets neast,
Which nought but venome bring into the breast:
It is, in summe, a kinde of secret ill,
That neuer yet did good, nor euer will.
How it hath handled many a haplesse heart,
Let them describe it, that do better knowe it:
But how it workes the sowles continuall smart,
He that is able, let him truely showe it,
Or seeke by all meanes how he may forgoe it:
But for my selfe, I say no more but this,
God blesse me from it, and my misteris.
Let them describe it, that do better knowe it:
But how it workes the sowles continuall smart,
He that is able, let him truely showe it,
Or seeke by all meanes how he may forgoe it:
But for my selfe, I say no more but this,
God blesse me from it, and my misteris.
And such as will be madde, let them be so.
Who cannot iudge of good, conceiue it ill.
He, that will take a finger for a toe,
Must either blame his wit, or else his will,
That knowes his folly, and will be so still.
Who will be ledde but onely by illusion,
Must be content to fall vpon confusion.
Who cannot iudge of good, conceiue it ill.
He, that will take a finger for a toe,
Must either blame his wit, or else his will,
That knowes his folly, and will be so still.
Who will be ledde but onely by illusion,
Must be content to fall vpon confusion.
And thus my friend, what so thou be that readest
These fewe inuectiue lines of Iealousie
(Hoping that thou thy fancie better feedest,
Then with the aspen leaues of Lunacy,
Whose iuyce giues nothing, but inconstancie)
I wish thy loue more kindly to be borne,
Or for thy iealous head, a huge great horne.
These fewe inuectiue lines of Iealousie
(Hoping that thou thy fancie better feedest,
Then with the aspen leaues of Lunacy,
Whose iuyce giues nothing, but inconstancie)
I wish thy loue more kindly to be borne,
Or for thy iealous head, a huge great horne.
What art thou angry? are thy ribbes so gald,
T[illeg.] bide the chinking of a spurre?
Be still a while: and be not so appald:
A thousand gownes are furd with Cony furre.
Euery one's not dead, that hath the Murre:
Louers may looke, and laugh, and happly like:
But many a one may frowne, that wil not strike.
T[illeg.] bide the chinking of a spurre?
Be still a while: and be not so appald:
A thousand gownes are furd with Cony furre.
Euery one's not dead, that hath the Murre:
Louers may looke, and laugh, and happly like:
But many a one may frowne, that wil not strike.
Because her eye is faire, shall thine be fowle?
Because that she is wild, wilt thou be fond?
Because that shee doth smile, must thou needs scoule?
Because that she is free, wilt thou be bod?
Oh make not so a puddle of a pond:
Be pleased to thinke of euery thing the best.
For, Ielousie is but an idle iest.
Because that she is wild, wilt thou be fond?
Because that shee doth smile, must thou needs scoule?
Because that she is free, wilt thou be bod?
Oh make not so a puddle of a pond:
Be pleased to thinke of euery thing the best.
For, Ielousie is but an idle iest.
Mistrust doth argue but a misconceit:
S[illeg.] what in thy selfe amisse:
Doubt but a dreaming only on deceite:
Beare, but a curse, where neuer fell a blisse,
[illeg.], and laugh, [illeg.] face, and coll & kisse,
And thou [illeg.] as merry as a cricket,
While [illeg.] shall stand without the wicket.
S[illeg.] what in thy selfe amisse:
Doubt but a dreaming only on deceite:
Beare, but a curse, where neuer fell a blisse,
[illeg.], and laugh, [illeg.] face, and coll & kisse,
And thou [illeg.] as merry as a cricket,
While [illeg.] shall stand without the wicket.
FINIS.
| Pasqvils Mistresse | |