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The Whole Works of William Browne

of Tavistock ... Now first collected and edited, with a memoir of the poet, and notes, by W. Carew Hazlitt, of the Inner Temple

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I. Love Poems.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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263

I. Love Poems.

[Loue who will, for Ile loue none]

1

Loue who will, for Ile loue none,
Theres fooles enough besides me:
Yet if each woman haue not one,
Come to me where I hide me,
And if she can the place attain,
For once Ile be her foole againe.

2

It is an easye place to find,
And women sure should know it;
Yet thither serues not euery wind,
Nor many men can show it:
It is the storehouse, where doth lye
All womens truth & constancy.

3

If the Jorney be so long,
No woman will aduentvr;

264

But dreading her weake vessels wrong,
Ye voiage will not enter:
Then may she sigh & lye alone,
In loue with all, yet loude of none.

ON A FAIRE LADYES YELLOW HAIRE POWDRED WITH WHITE.

WRITTEN IN THE DISSOLUING OF A SNOW.

Say, why on your hayre yet stayes
That Snow resembling white;
Since the Suns lesse powerfull rayes
Thawd that wch fell last night?
Sure to hinder those extreames
Of Loue they might bestow;
Art hath hid your Golden Beames
Within a fleece of Snow.
Yet as on a Cloth of gould,
With siluer flowers wrought ore,
We doe now and then beholde
A radyant wyre or more:
So sometymes the amorous ayre
Doth with youre faire lockes playe,
And vncloudes a Golden hayre;
And then breakes forth the daye.
On your Cheekes the Rosy Morne
We plainly then descry;
And a thousand Cupids borne,
And playing in each eye.

265

Now we all are at a staye,
And know not where to turne vs;
If we wish that Snow awaye,
Those Glorious beames would burne vs.
If it should not fall amayne,
And cloud your louefull eyes,
Each gentle heart would sone be slayne,
And made their Sacrifice.

[Not longe agone a youthfull swayne]

Not longe agone a youthfull swayne,
Much wronged by a maid's disdayne,
Before Loues Altar came & did implore
That he might like her lesse, or she loue more.
The god him heard, & she began
To doate on him, he (foolish man)
Cloyde with much sweets, thus changde his note before,
O let her loue me lesse, or I like more.

[Shall I loue againe, & try]

1

Shall I loue againe, & try
If I still must loue to lose,
And make weake mortalitye
Giue new birth vnto my woes?
No, let me euer liue from Loues enclosing,
Rather yn loue to liue in feare of loosing.

2

One whom hasty Nature giues
To the world without his sight,

266

Not so discontented lives,
As a man deprived of light:
'Tis knowledge that gives vigour to our woe,
And not the want, but losse that paines us soe.

3

With the Arabian Bird then be
Both the Louer and belou'd;
Be thy lines thy progeny
By some gracious faire approu'd;
So may'st thou live, & be belov'd of many,
Without the feare of losse, or want of any.

[Deepe are the wounds which strike a vertuous name]

Deepe are the wounds which strike a vertuous name;
Sharpe are the darts Reuenge still sets on wing:
Consumeing Jealousies abhorred flame!
Deadly the frownes of an enraged King.
Yet all these to Disdaynes heart-searching string
(Deepe, sharpe, consuming, deadlye) nothing be,
Whose darts, wounds, flames, and frownes, meet all in me.

[Poore silly foole! thou striv'st in vaine to knowe]

1

Poore silly foole! thou striv'st in vaine to knowe
If I enioy, or loue whom thou lou'st soe;
Since my affection euer secret tryde
Bloomes like the ferne, & seeds still vnespide.

2

And as the subtill flames of Heauen, that wound
The inward part, yet leaue the outward sound:

267

My loue warres on my heart, kills that within,
When merry are my lookes, & fresh my skin.

3

Of yellow Jaundice louers as you be,
Whose Faces straight proclaime their maladye,
Thinke not to find me one; who knowe full well,
That none but french & fooles loue now & tell.

4

His griefes are sweet, his Joyes (o) heauenly move,
Whoe from the world conceales his honest loue;
Nay, letts his Mistris know his passions source,
Rather by reason then by his discourse.

5

This is my way, and in this language new
Shewing my merit, it demands my due;
And hold this Maxim, spight of all dispute,
He askes enough that serues well & is mute.

[Wellcome, wellcome, doe I sing]

Wellcome, wellcome, doe I sing,
Far more wellcome yn ye spring;
He that parteth from you neuer,
Shall enioy a spring for euer.
Love, that to ye voice is nere
Breaking from your Iu'ry pale,
Need not walke abroad to heare
The delightfull Nightingale.
Wellcome, wllc ome, then I sing,
Far more welcome yn ye spring;

268

He that parteth from you neuer,
Shall enioy a spring for euer.
Love, that lookes still on your eyes,
Though ye winter haue begun
To benumbe our Arteryes,
Shall not want the Summers Sun.
Wellcome, wellcome, yn I sing, &c.
Love that still may see your cheekes,
Where all rarenes still reposes,
Is a foole, if ere he seekes
Other Lillyes, other roses.
Wellcome, wellcome, &c.
Love, to whom your soft lips yeelds,
And perceiues your breath in kissing,
All the Odours of the fields
Neuer, neuer shall be missing.
Wellcome, &c.
Love that question would anew
What faire Eden was of old,
Let him rightly study you,
And a briefe of that behold.
Welcome, welcome, yn I, &c.

[Ye merry birds, leaue of to sing]

Ye merry birds, leaue of to sing,
And lend your eares a while to me;
Or if you needs will court the Spring
With your enticing harmonye,
Flye from this groue, leaue me alone;
Your mirth cannot befit my mone.

269

But if yt any be inclyned
To sing as sad a song as I;
Let that sad bird be now so kind,
As stay & beare me companye:
And we will striue, which shall outgoe
Loues heauy straines, or my sad woe.
Ye Nimphes of Thames, if any Swan
Be readye now her last to sing;
O bring her hither, if yee can,
And sitting by vs in a ring,
Spend each a sigh, while she & I
Together sing, together dye.
Alas! how much I erre to call
More sorrow, where there is such store;
Ye gentle Birds, come not at all,
And Isis' Nimphes forbeare ye shore.
My sighs as groues of mandrakes be,
And would kill any one but me.
To me my griefes none other are,
Then poison is to one, that long
Had fed on it without impaire
Vnto his health, or Natures wrong;
What others liues would quickly spill,
I take, but cannot take to kill.
Then sorrow, since thou wert ordaind
To be ye inmate of my hart,
Thriue there so long, till thou hast gaind
In it then life a greater part:
And if thou wilt not kill, yet be
The means that some one pitye mee.

270

Yet would I not that pitty haue
From any other heart then hers,
Who first my wound of sorrowe gaue;
And if she still that cure deferres,
It was my ffate that did assure
A hand to wound, but none to cure.

A SIGH FROM OXFORD.

Goe, and if thou chance to finde
That is southwardes bent a wynde,
Take it vp on any hire,
But be sure it doe not tyre:
If with Loue-sighes mixt it bee,
Be secure 'twill carry thee;
Spurre it on, and make more haste,
Then ye Fleet that went out last;
Doe not stay to curle a Rill,
Clense a Corne, or driue a Mill;
Nor to crispe a locke, or turne it:
Thou hast fire, and so mayst burne it.
For thy lodging doe not come
In a bagpipe or a drumme:
In the belly of some Lute
That hath strooke Apollo mute;
Or a gentle ladyes eare,
That might dreame, whilst thou art there,
Of such vowes as thou dost carry,
There for one night thou mayst tarry;
Whisper there thy Message to her;
And if she haue any woor,
In her sleepe perhaps she maye
Speake what she denyes the daye,
And instruct thee to replye
To my Cælia more then I.

271

For thy lodging (the next daye)
Doe not thankelesse goe awaye;
Giue the Lute a Test of Ayre,
That a Poets Sigh lay there;
And informe it with a soule
Of so high diuine controule,
That whoeuer heares it next
Shall be with a Muse perplext;
And a Lawyer shall reherse
His Demurres and Pleas in verse.
In the Ladyes Labrynth leaue
Not a sound that may deceaue;
Driue it thence; and after see
Thou there leaue some part of thee,
By which shee maye well descry
Any louers forgery:
For yt neuer will admit
Ought that is not true as it.
When that office thou hast done,
And the Lady lastly wonne,
Let the ayre thou leftst the Girle,
Twine a dropp, and then a pearle;
Which I wish that she would weare
For a pendant in her Eare;
And its vertue still shall be,
To detect all flatterie.
Could I giue each Monarch such,
None would say I sighd to much.
When thy largesse thou hast giuen,
(My best sigh next that for heauen)
Make not any longer stay;
Kisse thine Hostesse, and awaye.
If thou meet, as thou dost stirre,
Any Sigh a Passenger,
Stand vpon thy Guard, and be
Jealous of a Robberye;

272

For the sighes that trauell now,
Beare not so much truth as thou;
Those may robbe thee to supply
That defect of constancye
Which their Masters left to be
Filld by what was stolne from thee:
Yet aduenture, for in soothe
Few dare meddle now with truthe;
'Tis a coyne that will not paye
For their Meat or horses haye;
'Tis cride downe, & such a coyne
As no great Thiefe will purloyne.
Petty-foot-sighes thou mayst meet,
From the counter or the Fleet,
To a Wife or Mistresse sent,
That her Louers meanes hath spent,
Of such ones beware, for those,
Much spent on their masters woes,
May want of that store which thou
Carry'st to my Cælia nowe:
And so robbe thee, and then spend thee,
Soe as I did nere intend thee;
With dishonor thou shalt moue
To begg an Almes, not get a loue.
Shun them, for they haue noe ruthe,
And know that few are hang'd for Truthe:
Naye the Lawes haue bin more briefe
To iayle that theft, more then a thiefe;
The Hue and Cry will not goe post
For the worth which thou hast lost.
Yet for Faith and Truth betrayde
Countryes heretofore haue payde.
Warye be, and fearing Losse,
Like those of the Rosy-Crosse,
Be not seen, but hye thee on
Like an Inspiration;

273

And as ayre, ascending hyer,
Turnes to drops, or else to fire;
So when thou art neerer come
To my Starre, and to thy Home,
If thou meet a Sigh, which she
Hath but coldly sent to me,
Kisse it, for thy warmer ayre
Will dissolue into a teare;
As the steame of Roses will
At the Cold top of a Still:
Nor shalt thou be lost; her eyes
Haue Apollo's facultys;
Their faire Rayes will work amayne,
And turne thee to a Sigh againe.
What thou art yet closely shroude,
Rise vp like a fleecy cloude;
And as thou doest so aspire,
To her Element of fire,
(Which afarre its forces darte,
And exhal'd thee from my heart).
Make thyne owne shape, iust as we
Fashion Clouds by phantasie;
Be a Cupid, be a Heart
Wounded, and her rayes the dart;
Have a Chasma too, and there
Only let our vowes appeare:
Lastly, I would wish thee be
Such a clowd resembling me,
That Ixion-like she might
Claspe thee with his appetite;
Yet more temperate and chaste,
And whilst thou art so imbrac't,
And afforded some sweet sipps
From her Muse inspiring lipps,
Vanish! and then slip by Art
Through those Rubyes to her heart.

274

Wynde yt round, and let yt be
Thoughtles of all earth, but mee;
Grow acquainted with that ayre,
Which doth to her heart repayre;
And so temper and so blysse yt,
And so fanne yt, and so kysse yt,
That the new borne Rose may be,
Not so truly chast as she.
With that Regent, from that howre,
Lieger lye Embassadour:
Keepe our truce vnbroke, preferre
All the suites I send to her:
Get Dyspatches, that may stand
With the good of either hand;
Soe that you be bold and true,
Neuer feare what may ensue;
For there is noe pollicy
Like to that of Honesty.
Gett into her Mynion thought,
Howsoeuer dearly bought;
And procure that she dispense
To transport some kisses thence:
These are Rarityes and deare,
For like hers I meet none heere.
This thy charge is; then begonne
With thy full Cōmission:
Make her myne, and cleere all doubts;
Kill each jealousye that sprouts;
Keepe the honor of thy place;
Let no other sigh Disgrace
Thy iust worth, and neuer sitt
To her, though [s]he brybe for it.
And when I shall call thee home,
To send another in thy roome;
Leaue these thoughts for Agents there:

275

Ffirste, I thinke her pure and chaste,
As the Ice congealed last;
Next, as Iron (though it glowes)
Neuer melts but once, and flowes;
So her loue will only be
Fluent once, and that to me:
Lastly, as the glow-wormes might
Neuer kindled other light,
I belieue that fire which she
Haplye shewes in louing mee,
Neuer will encorage man,
(Though her loues meridian
Heat him to it) once to dare
To mention Loue, though vnaware;
Much lesse fire a Sigh that may
Incorporate with my faire Raye.
I haue read of two erewhile,
Enemyes burnt in one pyle;
That their flames would neuer kisse,
But made a seuerall Pyramis.
Lett all Sighes that come to thee,
By thy loue inlightened be;
If they ioyne and make one flame,
Be secure from me they came.
If they seperate, beware,
There is Craft that would ensnare;
Myne are rarifyde and iust;
Truth and loue: the others lust.
With this charge, farewell, and try
What must be my destenye:
Wooe, secure her; pleade thy due;
This sigh is not so long as true:
And whoever shall enclyne
To send another after myne,
Though he haue more cunning farre,
Then the Jugler Gondimar,

276

All his sleights, and all his faults,
Hollownesse of heart, and halts;
By thy chaster fire will all
Be so wrought diaphanall;
She shall looke through them, and see
How much he comes short of mee:
Then my sigh shall be approud,
And kisse that heart whome I haue loude.

[A haples shepherd on a daye]

A haples shepherd on a daye
Yede to St. Michaels Mounte,
And spent more teares vpon the waye,
Then all the sands could counte.
Ffull was the Sea (so were the eyes
Of the vnhappy Louer)
Yet without Oare or Wynd in Skies,
His sighs did waft him over.

[Coelia is gone, & now sit I]

Coelia is gone, & now sit I
As Philomela, (on a thorne,
Turn'd out of natures liverye)
Mirthles, alone, & all forlorne;
Onelye she sings not, while my sorrowes can
Afford such notes as fit a dying swan.
So shuts the Marygold her leaues
At the departure of ye sunne;
Soe from honeysuckle sheaues
The Bee goes, when ye day is done.
Soe sits the Turtle, when she is but one;
So is all woe; as I, now she is gone.
To some few Birds, kind Nature hath
Made all the summer as one daye,
Which once enioyde, cold winters wrath,
As night, they sleeping passe away:

277

Those happy creatures are, that know not yet
The paines to be deprivde, or to forgett.
I oft haue heard men saye there be
Some, that with confidence professe
The helpefull art of memorie;
But could they teach Forgetfulnes,
I'd learne and trye what further art could doe,
To make me loue her, & forget her to.
Sad Melancholy that perswades
Men from themselues, to think they be
Headles or other bodyes shades,
Hath long & bootles dwelt with me;
For could I thinke she some Idea were,
I still might loue, forget, & haue her heere;
But such she is not: nor would I,
For twice as many torments more,
As her bereaued company
Hath brought to those I felt before;
For then noe future time might hap to know,
That she deseru'd, or I did loue her soe.
Ye howres then but as minutes be,
(Though soe I shall be sooner old,)
Till I those louely graces see,
Which but in her can none behold.
Then be an age that wee may neuer trye
More griefe in parting, but grow old & dye.