 | Parthenophil and Parthenophe |  |
CANZON 1.
[All bewties farre perfections rest in thee]
All bewties farre perfections rest in thee,
And sweetest, grace of graces
Deckes thy face bone faces:
All vertue takes her glorie from thy minde:
The muses in thy wittes haue their places,
And in thy thoughtes all mercies bee:
Thine hart from all hardnesse free:
An holy place in thy thoughtes holinesse doth finde:
In fauorable speech kinde:
A sacred tongue, and eloquent:
Action sweet, and excellent:
Musique it selfe in ioyntes of her fayre fingers is:
She chauntresse of singers is:
Her plighted faith, is firme, and permanent.
O now, now, helpe, wilt thou take some compassion?
She thinkes I flatter, writing on this fashion.
And sweetest, grace of graces
Deckes thy face bone faces:
All vertue takes her glorie from thy minde:
The muses in thy wittes haue their places,
And in thy thoughtes all mercies bee:
Thine hart from all hardnesse free:
An holy place in thy thoughtes holinesse doth finde:
In fauorable speech kinde:
A sacred tongue, and eloquent:
Action sweet, and excellent:
Musique it selfe in ioyntes of her fayre fingers is:
She chauntresse of singers is:
Her plighted faith, is firme, and permanent.
O now, now, helpe, wilt thou take some compassion?
She thinkes I flatter, writing on this fashion.
Thy bewtie past, with misorder stayned is.
In thee no graces finde rest:
In thee (who sought it) saw lest.
And all thy thoughtes be vayne, and vicious:
Thy braynes with heauie dullnesse are opprest.
Of thee no mercy gayned is,
Thine hart hard, and fayned is.
A minde prophane, and of the worst suspicious:
In speech not delicious:
A toung ty'de which cannot vtter,
Gesture lame, like wordes which stutter:
Thy hands, and minde vnap'te in musique to reioyce:
For songes vnfitte, an hoarse voyce:
Thy faith vnconstant, whatsoeare thou mutter.
Be gracious, no, she thinckes my wordes be bitter,
Through my misfortunes, they for my selfe be fitter.
In thee no graces finde rest:
In thee (who sought it) saw lest.
And all thy thoughtes be vayne, and vicious:
Thy braynes with heauie dullnesse are opprest.
Of thee no mercy gayned is,
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A minde prophane, and of the worst suspicious:
In speech not delicious:
A toung ty'de which cannot vtter,
Gesture lame, like wordes which stutter:
Thy hands, and minde vnap'te in musique to reioyce:
For songes vnfitte, an hoarse voyce:
Thy faith vnconstant, whatsoeare thou mutter.
Be gracious, no, she thinckes my wordes be bitter,
Through my misfortunes, they for my selfe be fitter.
O'h how long, how long shall I be distrest?
How long in vayne, shall I moane?
How long in payne, shall I groane?
How long shall I bathe in continuall teares?
How long shall I sit sad, and sigh alone?
How long shall feare discomfort giue?
How long shall hopes let me liue?
How long shall I lye bounde in dispaires, and feares?
VVith sorrow still my hart weares,
my sundry fancies subdue me,
Thine eyes kill me, when they vew me:
VVhen thou speakes with my soule thy voyce musique maketh,
And soules from silence waketh.
Thy browes smiles quicken me, whose frownes slew me,
Then fayre sweet behold, see me poore wretch in torment,
Thou perceiuest well, but thine hart will not relent.
How long in vayne, shall I moane?
How long in payne, shall I groane?
How long shall I bathe in continuall teares?
How long shall I sit sad, and sigh alone?
How long shall feare discomfort giue?
How long shall hopes let me liue?
How long shall I lye bounde in dispaires, and feares?
VVith sorrow still my hart weares,
my sundry fancies subdue me,
Thine eyes kill me, when they vew me:
VVhen thou speakes with my soule thy voyce musique maketh,
And soules from silence waketh.
Thy browes smiles quicken me, whose frownes slew me,
Then fayre sweet behold, see me poore wretch in torment,
Thou perceiuest well, but thine hart will not relent.
Mine eyes and sleepe, be fierce professed foes:
Much care and teares did make it,
Nor yet will they forsake it.
But they will vexe my braynes, and troubled eyes:
If any sorrow sleepe, they will wake it.
Still sighing mine hart ouer throwes,
Yet art thou cause of these woes.
But what auayles if I make to the deafe such horrible outcryes?
She heares not my miseries,
O sorrow sorrow cease a while!
Let her but looke on me, and smile,
And from me for a time thou shalt be banished,
My comfortes are vanished:
Nor hope, nor time, my sorrowes can beguile.
Yet cease I not to cry for mercy, vexed thus:
But thou wilt not releeue vs, which perplexed vs.
Much care and teares did make it,
Nor yet will they forsake it.
But they will vexe my braynes, and troubled eyes:
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Still sighing mine hart ouer throwes,
Yet art thou cause of these woes.
But what auayles if I make to the deafe such horrible outcryes?
She heares not my miseries,
O sorrow sorrow cease a while!
Let her but looke on me, and smile,
And from me for a time thou shalt be banished,
My comfortes are vanished:
Nor hope, nor time, my sorrowes can beguile.
Yet cease I not to cry for mercy, vexed thus:
But thou wilt not releeue vs, which perplexed vs.
Ah would thou set some limites to my woes,
That after such a time set,
(As penance to some crime set)
Forbearance through sweet hope I might endure:
But as byrd (caught in the fowler's lyme set)
No meanes for his libertie knowes,
Me such dispaire ouergoes,
That I can finde no comfortable hope of cure:
Then since nothing can procure
My sweet comfort, by thy kindnesse,
Arm'd in peace, to beare this blindnesse)
I voluntarily submit to this sorrow;
(As earst) each euen, and morrow:
Can womens harts harbour such vnkindnesse?
Oh relent, relent, and change thy behauiour:
Fowle is the name of tyraunt, sweet of sauiour.
That after such a time set,
(As penance to some crime set)
Forbearance through sweet hope I might endure:
But as byrd (caught in the fowler's lyme set)
No meanes for his libertie knowes,
Me such dispaire ouergoes,
That I can finde no comfortable hope of cure:
Then since nothing can procure
My sweet comfort, by thy kindnesse,
Arm'd in peace, to beare this blindnesse)
I voluntarily submit to this sorrow;
(As earst) each euen, and morrow:
Can womens harts harbour such vnkindnesse?
Oh relent, relent, and change thy behauiour:
Fowle is the name of tyraunt, sweet of sauiour.
Long to the rockes haue I made my complaintes,
And to the woodes desolate
My plaintes went, early, and late;
To the forsaken mountaines, and riuers:
Yet comfortlesse, and still disconsolate.
Mine hart as it was wonted faintes:
Such small helpe, comes from such saintes.
VVhy should men which in such paine liue, be call'de liuers?
Such arrowes beare loues quiuers,
Now (since rockes, and woodes will not heare,
Nor hilles, and floodes my sorrowes beare,
In sounding Ecchoes, and swift waues, the world about)
These papers report it out,
VVhose lasting Chronicles, shall time out-weare.
Then take remorse (deare loue) and to these vnited
Shall be thy mercies, with match-lesse prayse recited.
And to the woodes desolate
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To the forsaken mountaines, and riuers:
Yet comfortlesse, and still disconsolate.
Mine hart as it was wonted faintes:
Such small helpe, comes from such saintes.
VVhy should men which in such paine liue, be call'de liuers?
Such arrowes beare loues quiuers,
Now (since rockes, and woodes will not heare,
Nor hilles, and floodes my sorrowes beare,
In sounding Ecchoes, and swift waues, the world about)
These papers report it out,
VVhose lasting Chronicles, shall time out-weare.
Then take remorse (deare loue) and to these vnited
Shall be thy mercies, with match-lesse prayse recited.
You happelesse windes, with my sighes infected,
Whose fumes you neuer let rise
To please her with sacrifice:
But euermore ingrosse cloudes them choaked,
So that my deare, could neuer them comprise,
O you (that neuer detected
My plaintes, but them neglected,
VVhich in your murmures brought might haue her prouoked,
VVhen them with cloudes you cloaked)
Know, that a prouder spirite flyes,
Bearing them to posterities,
And layes them open wide, that the world may vew them,
That all which read, may rewe them,
When they shall pearce thine eares, though not thine eyes.
Then sweet fayre, pittie my long seruice, and deutie,
Least thine hard hart be more famous, then thy bewtie.
Then do no longer despise
But with kinde pittie relent thee,
Cease to vexe, and torment mee:
If shames feare moue not, which all discouers,
Feare plague of remorse-lesse louers.
Whose fumes you neuer let rise
To please her with sacrifice:
But euermore ingrosse cloudes them choaked,
So that my deare, could neuer them comprise,
O you (that neuer detected
My plaintes, but them neglected,
VVhich in your murmures brought might haue her prouoked,
VVhen them with cloudes you cloaked)
Know, that a prouder spirite flyes,
Bearing them to posterities,
And layes them open wide, that the world may vew them,
That all which read, may rewe them,
When they shall pearce thine eares, though not thine eyes.
Then sweet fayre, pittie my long seruice, and deutie,
Least thine hard hart be more famous, then thy bewtie.
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But with kinde pittie relent thee,
Cease to vexe, and torment mee:
If shames feare moue not, which all discouers,
Feare plague of remorse-lesse louers.
| Parthenophil and Parthenophe | |