The plays & poems of Robert Greene Edited with introductions and notes by J. Churton Collins |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. | LX FRANCESCOES ROVNDELAY. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXII. |
| LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXI. |
| LXXXII. |
| LXXXIII. |
| LXXXIV. |
| LXXXV. |
| LXXXVI. |
| LXXXVII. |
| LXXXVIII. |
 | The plays & poems of Robert Greene |  |
LX
FRANCESCOES ROVNDELAY.
Sitting and sighing in my secret muse,
As once Apollo did, surprisde with loue,
Noting the slippery wayes young yeeres do vse,
What fond affects the prime of youth doth moue,
With bitter teares despairing I do crie,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
As once Apollo did, surprisde with loue,
Noting the slippery wayes young yeeres do vse,
What fond affects the prime of youth doth moue,
With bitter teares despairing I do crie,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
When wanton age, the blossome of my time,
Drewe me to gaze vpon the gorgeous sight,
That beauty pompous in her highest prime,
Presents to tangle men with sweete delight,
Then with despairing teares my thoughts did crie,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
Drewe me to gaze vpon the gorgeous sight,
That beauty pompous in her highest prime,
Presents to tangle men with sweete delight,
Then with despairing teares my thoughts did crie,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
When I surueid the riches of her lookes;
Whereout flew flames of neuer quencht desire,
Wherein lay baites, that Venus snares with hookes,
Oh, where proud Cupid sate all armde with fire:
Then toucht with loue my inward soule did crie,
‘Wo worth the faultes and follies of mine eie.’
Whereout flew flames of neuer quencht desire,
Wherein lay baites, that Venus snares with hookes,
Oh, where proud Cupid sate all armde with fire:
Then toucht with loue my inward soule did crie,
‘Wo worth the faultes and follies of mine eie.’
The milke white Galaxia of her brow,
Where Loue doth daunce lauoltas of his skill,
Like to the Temple, where true louers vow
To follow what shall please their Mistresse will,
Noting her iuorie front, now do I crie,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
Where Loue doth daunce lauoltas of his skill,
292
To follow what shall please their Mistresse will,
Noting her iuorie front, now do I crie,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
Hir face like siluer Luna in hir shine,
All tainted through with bright vermillion straines,
Like lillies dipt in Bacchus choicest wine,
Powdred and interseamd with azurde vaines,
Delighting in their pride now may I crie,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
All tainted through with bright vermillion straines,
Like lillies dipt in Bacchus choicest wine,
Powdred and interseamd with azurde vaines,
Delighting in their pride now may I crie,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
The golden wyers that checkers in the day,
Inferiour to the tresses of her haire,
Her amber tramells did my heart dismay,
That when I lookte, I durst not ouer-dare:
Prowd of her pride, now am I forst to cri,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
Inferiour to the tresses of her haire,
Her amber tramells did my heart dismay,
That when I lookte, I durst not ouer-dare:
Prowd of her pride, now am I forst to cri,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
These fading beauties drew me on to sin,
Natures great riches framde my bitter ruth,
These were the trappes that loue did snare me in,
Oh, these, and none but these haue wrackt my youth.
Misled by them, I may dispairing crie,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
Natures great riches framde my bitter ruth,
These were the trappes that loue did snare me in,
Oh, these, and none but these haue wrackt my youth.
Misled by them, I may dispairing crie,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
By these I slipt from vertues holy tracke,
That leades vnto the highest Christall sphere,
By these I fell to vanitie and wracke,
And as a man forlorne with sin and feare,
Despaire and sorrow doth constraine me crie,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
That leades vnto the highest Christall sphere,
By these I fell to vanitie and wracke,
And as a man forlorne with sin and feare,
Despaire and sorrow doth constraine me crie,
‘Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.’
| The plays & poems of Robert Greene | |