Arisbas, Euphues amidst his slumbers Or Cupid's Iourney to Hell. Decyphering a myrror of Constancie, a Touch-stone of tried affection, begun in chaste desires, ended in choise delights: And emblasoning Beauties glorie, adorned by Natures bountie. VVith the Trivmph of Trve Loue, in the Soyle of false Fortune. By I. D. i.e. John Dickenson] |
 |
Arisbas his Sonet. |
 | Arisbas, Euphues amidst his slumbers |  |
Arisbas his Sonet.
Should I accuse mine eyes that boldly gazed
On that fayre obiect not to be obteyned,
Or blame the worth in Europes wonder blazed,
That them to looke and me to loue constreyned?
On that fayre obiect not to be obteyned,
Or blame the worth in Europes wonder blazed,
That them to looke and me to loue constreyned?
Eyes for excuse alleadgde preuailing reason,
Heart in extreames on fancies wrong exclaymed:
Hopes sun-shine clowded like obscurest season,
Yeelds to despeire at my misfortunes aymed.
Heart in extreames on fancies wrong exclaymed:
Hopes sun-shine clowded like obscurest season,
Yeelds to despeire at my misfortunes aymed.
Nature too lauish outward graces planted,
Vertue too friendly inward bounties sowed:
Yet those faire eyes of courteous looks are scanted,
And angels hue on tygres thoughts bestowed.
Vertue too friendly inward bounties sowed:
Yet those faire eyes of courteous looks are scanted,
And angels hue on tygres thoughts bestowed.
Tush, loue which not alike did wound vs both,
Is cause, that I my death-like life doe loath.
Is cause, that I my death-like life doe loath.
| Arisbas, Euphues amidst his slumbers | |