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. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXII. |
| LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXI. |
| LXXXII. | LXXXII VERSES |
| LXXXIII. |
| LXXXIV. |
| LXXXV. |
| LXXXVI. |
| LXXXVII. |
| LXXXVIII. |
 | The plays & poems of Robert Greene |  |
316
LXXXII
VERSES
Deceyuing world that with alluring toyes,
Hast made my life the subiect of thy scorne:
And scornest now to lend thy fading ioyes,
To lengthen my life, whom friends haue left forlorn
How well are they that die ere they be borne.
And neuer see thy sleights, which few men shun
Till vnawares they helpelesse are vndone.
Hast made my life the subiect of thy scorne:
And scornest now to lend thy fading ioyes,
To lengthen my life, whom friends haue left forlorn
How well are they that die ere they be borne.
And neuer see thy sleights, which few men shun
Till vnawares they helpelesse are vndone.
Oft haue I sung of loue and of his fire,
But now I finde that Poet was advizde
Which made full feasts increasers of desire,
And proues weak loue was with the poor despizde:
For when the life with food is not suffizde,
What thoughts of loue, what motion of delight,
What pleasance can proceed from such a wight?
But now I finde that Poet was advizde
Which made full feasts increasers of desire,
And proues weak loue was with the poor despizde:
For when the life with food is not suffizde,
What thoughts of loue, what motion of delight,
What pleasance can proceed from such a wight?
Witnes my want the murderer of my wit,
My rauisht sense of woonted fury reft,
Wants such conceit, as should in Poems fit,
Set downe the sorrow wherein I am left,
But therefore haue high heauens, their gifts bereft.
Because so long they lent them me to vse,
And I so long their bounty did abuse.
My rauisht sense of woonted fury reft,
Wants such conceit, as should in Poems fit,
Set downe the sorrow wherein I am left,
But therefore haue high heauens, their gifts bereft.
Because so long they lent them me to vse,
And I so long their bounty did abuse.
O that a yeere were graunted me to liue,
And for that yeare my former wits restorde,
What rules of life, what counsell would I giue?
How should my sinne with sorrow be deplorde?
But I must die of euery man abhorde,
Time loosely spent will not againe be woone,
My time is loosely spent, and I vndone.
And for that yeare my former wits restorde,
What rules of life, what counsell would I giue?
How should my sinne with sorrow be deplorde?
But I must die of euery man abhorde,
Time loosely spent will not againe be woone,
My time is loosely spent, and I vndone.
| The plays & poems of Robert Greene | |