Amanda :: :: University of Virginia Library

Of noted pearlesse beauties I shall tell,
Yet leave Amanda without parallel,
From thy bright eyes I have receiv'd a wound,
Deeper then Henry from his Rosamond,
I'le be thy Knight and Vaughans office do,
I'le bo thy Labyrinth and Keeper too

As thou art fairer then French Isabel,
So in thy breast farre greater comforts dwell;
Thy love can me to richer joyes prefer,
Then, e're she did her lovely Mortimer:
Had'st thou been living when that famous Lasse
Fitz-waters daughter so admired was,
Sweetest Matilda when to Dunmow gone,
Had ne'er been courted by the Princely John;
If my Amanda e're shall be a Nun,
Oh Heavens may she be a wedded one,
I'le answer all her Vowes of chastity,
I'le be her constant Monk and Monastry,
I'le be the careful Abbot, she shall be
My pretty Abbesse and my Nunnerie,

What though the Nunn'rie fall, we'l love, and then
Replenish with young Monks and Nunns agen;

Because thy beautie is of greater power,
Then that of Alice walking on the tower,
Storm'd by all features in their excellence,
Edward the black (that stout victorious Prince,)
With lesse disdain might have been check't by thee,
Then by the Lady of Count Sal'sburie,

If Owen Tudor prais'd his Madams hue,
'Cause in her cheeks the rose and lilie grew,
Thou'rt more praise-worthy then was Katherine,
There's fresher York and Lancaster in thine:

Had thy sweet features with thy beauty met
In William do-la-pool's faire Margaret,
The Peers surpriz'd had never giv'n consent,
For th' Duke of Suffolks five years banishment,
For the Exchange of Mauns, Anjou and Main,
T' have giv'n a Kingdom for thee had been gain:

What King would not his Crown and Scepter pawne,
To purchase lilies, and the whitest lawne,
From thy pure hands, jems from thy sparkling eyes,
Thy rubie lips, and such rich rarities?
Who would not leave a throne one night to lie
Upon the sweet bags of thy Rosarie?

Most princely Virgin, had'st thou lived, when
The goddesse Beautie was ador'd by men;
Edward would have preferr'd thee farre before,
The Goldsmiths Jewel, famous Missresse Shore,
Had he but seen thy face, and heard thy wit,

To thee that King his sugred lines had writ,
The great Controwler Love had made thee be,
Great Lady Governesse to's Majestie:
For who Amanda would not put off state,
And lose a Heav'n with thee t'inoculate?
Who would not forfeit all his libertie,
Lock't up and folded in thine armes to be?

Were I a Sultan or an Emperour,
Thus would I write to thee my Paramour.
“Oft go my robes and these gold chaines of mine,
“To twist my legs with those soft legs of thine;
“I'le be no longer Prince, may I but be,
“Squire o'th' body to so faire a she;
“I'le lose my honour and my royal throne,
“And think I have them all in thee alone;
“I who am worship't with a bended knee,
“Will be thy servant, and bend mine to thee;
“Off goes my Crown, I'le be no King of men,
“That Princely name I'le ne'er put on agen;
“Till thou into thine armes when I am hurld,
“Shalt make me King of thy sweet lesser world;
“No kingly pleasure like to loves delight,
“Thy kisse shall crown me, I'le be crown'd all night;
“And when the pleasant night is past away,
“Then shall succeed my Coronation day;
“Wee'l spend our time in love's sweet merriments,
“In stately tiltings, justs and tournaments;
“Like the stout Brandon in the Court of France.
“His loved Mary's honour to advance;
“Had he then took (thou brightest Queen of light

“Thy name his signal when he 'gan to fight,
“Without chastisements from his piercing steel,
“The Giant Almain had been forc't to kneel;

“Were Surrey travel'd now to Tuskanie,
“Off'ring to reach his gauntlet out for thee;
“If on the guilt tree in the List he set,
“Thy pretty lovely, pretty counterfeit,
“All Planet-struck with those two stars, thy eyne,
“(Outshining farre, his heav'nly Geraldine;)
“There would no staffe be shiver'd, none would dare,
“A beautie with Amanda's to compare:

“All those faire Ladies which we Beauties call,
“Are Mauritanians, and not faire at all,
“The proudest Madam, and the brightest she,
“Is but a Gypsie, if compar'd with thee,
“And all those Princely faire ones that live nigh,
“Are tawnie, tann'd and sun-burnt with thine eye;
“Off goes my robe, and these gold chains of mine,
“To twist my legs with those soft legs of thine.

Thou art so faire, that in a Sun-shine day,
When Phœbus beams are darted ev'ry way,
If thou walk out with thy encountring eyes,
Sweet Daphne fills me with strange jealousies,
Should thy chaste body turn t' a Lawrel tree,
Oh may my browes be e're impal'd with thee;
If I'm a Poet thou hast made me so;
Then if thy armes to Lawrel branches grow,
'Tis fit in justice, and in love thou twine,
Those leavie armes about this head of mine.

In the green pastures, if thou walk about,

Where crooked crystal streams flow in and out,
If Jove should change thee as his Inach is,
Streight would I wish my metempsycosis;
A female shape my loving soul should take,
So would I be a Milkmaid for thy sake;
My lips should milk thee, and thy milk should be
Suck possets, and sweet Syllibubs to me;
Into a Cow by Jove wert thou bettaid,
I'd stroke thy tetts, and be thy darie-maid;
The god must needs change me in changing you,
If thou wert Iò I'd be Argus too.

Within the wood, when thou walk'st here and there,
The chaste Calisto's storie makes me fear;
Up to the Sun if thou but lift thy eyes,
I'd read the peevish Clytie's jeaiousies;
Thinking thou may'st by Phœbus be preferr'd,
I think on her who was alive interr'd,
Interr'd alive should'st thou (my Dearest) be,
For Phæbus sake, as was Lencothoe;
Surely the mournful Sunne to solemnize
His fairest well-beloveds obsequies;
Would weep upon thy grave, (to sprinkle thee)
Showres of Nectar to eternity;
Stil'd from thy Corps then would arise from thence
Nothing but perfumes and sweet frankincense;
From thy dew'd grave still there would flow agen,
Odours and incense for the gods of men.

When e're I see the kindled fire flame,
I think how Jove unto Ægina came;
Though I am not so hot a flame as Jove,

His flame was fire, mine's the flame of love;
And if good lawes shall stand in force with us,
We will beget the world an Æacn:

I feare all shapes what e're appear to me,
Least in't some god be come to ravish thee;
It was a Bull that took Europa up,
Bright Theophane makes me dread the tup;
The shepheard mindes me of Mnemosyne.
The Eagle, Astria makes me think on thee,
Still I suspect when e're from thee I go,
Some rival counterfeit Amphitrio,
For Læda's sake I hate the lovely Swan,
I hate not only animals but man.
Nay when I drink a Cup of wine to thee,
I think how Bacchus took Erigone.

Should'st thou be crusted up like Niobe,
And turn'd to marble like the Parian she,
In Guido's Temple hugg'd by th' noble boy,)
Thou couldst not lover want, nor they love's joy;
For should'st thou die, and o're thy grave have set,
Thy heavenly featur'd carved counterfeit;
Hard by thy tomb I'd stand immoveably,
And on thy image ever fix my eye,
As if both eyes (too narrow flood gates kept
The moisture back, and I too slowly wept;
Like marble I'd sweat, each pore should drop a tear,
Tear after tear, till dry as dust I were;
Then should my body into ashes fall,
Black ashes, mourners for thy Funeral;
Sweet Cupid, Sexton to this dust of mine,

Should throw in dust to dust, my dust to thine;

Should'st thou not love me whil'st thou livest here,
But give thy heart to some one other where,
If thou t' Elysium 'fore thy servant went,
I'd make thy very Statue penitent,
So strange a mourner for thy death I'd be.
Thy tombe or ghost should fall in love with me,

Wert thou to passe over Cocytus ferrie
In that old Sculler, Grandsire Charons wherrie,
The wrizled gray-beard for his hapennie
Would lick his lips, and ask a kisse of thee;
On those black lakes should'st thou but drop a tear,
Styx and Cocytus would run crystal clear;
The Cells of darknesse shouldst thou go to view,
The scorched souls would 'gin their Barichu;
If with one kiss great Iove thou would'st but please,
Ixion's ransom'd and the Bellides;
Heaven would readmit poor Tantalus,
And grant reprieve to th' Pirate Sisyphus:
For one sweet smile from thy pure lip can quell
The wrath of furies, and redeem half hell;

Oh my Amanda thou'rt so rare a she,
There's none hath features to compare with thee,
Should the age present, and the ages past
Club for a beautie, they'l come short at last;
I'le name no Helen snatch't by old Priam's boy,
For whom a ten yeares siedge was laid at Troy,
With so great slaughter both of horse and men;
Those we count trulls would have been handsome then:

I'le name no Hero, for the stars have blest us,
With better beauties then that starre of Sestus;
Holland's Diana, and another Moon,
The faire Philippa, like the Sunne at noon.
A heavenly daughter of Northumberland's,
Young Capell's glory, and the Lady Sands,
That blithe smooth Madam; had I thee alone
Amanda, I'd enjoy these all in one;
Thou art a matchlesse peerlesse Paragon,
One that an Angel might well doat upon;

Had that comparison bin made by thee,
Which once was made by proud Cassiope,
Those water Fairies the Neriades.
Sending no horrid Monster from the seas,
To eate up beasts, and men; would proudly tell,
That thy sweet Beautie was their paralell;
Or to a rock suppose thou chained were,
To be devoured by a Monster there,
As was the heav'nly faire Andromeda,
The rock would moulder or else melt away:
With thy sweet self, as deeply fall'n in love;
Each Angel would thy Guardian Perseus prove:
With lesse presumption then Antigone,
Heaven's proud Juno can't compare with thee;
No, my Amanda, for I dare prefer,
Thee 'fore the stately Queen o'th' Thunderer,
Fore her and comely Venus both together,
Though Iove bring bolts, and Mars his gauntlet hither.