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The Sonnets following were written by the Author, after he beganne to decline from his passionate affection, and in them he seemeth to please himselfe, with describing the vanitie of Love, the frailtie of Beautie, and the sower fruits of Repentance.

[Now haue I spun the web of my owne woes]

I

Now haue I spun the web of my owne woes,
And labour'd long to purchase my owne losse:
Too late I see, I was beguil'd with showes,
And that which once seem'd gold, now proues but drosse.
Thus am I both of help and hope bereaued,
He neuer tryed that neuer was deceiued.

II

Once did I loue, but more then once repent,
When vintage came, my grapes were sower, or rotten
Long time in griefe and pensiue thoughts I spent,
And all for that which Time hath made forgotten.
O strange effects' of Time, which once being lost;
Makes men secure of that they loued most.

III

Thus haue I long in th'ayre of error houer'd,
And runne my ship vpon Repentance shelfe:
Truth hath the vale of Ignorance vncouer'd,
And made me see, and seeing, know my selfe.
Of former follies now I must repent,
And count this worke part of my time ill spent.

IIII

“VVhat thing is Loue? A Tyrant of the minde,
“Begot by heate of youth, brought forth by sloth;
“Nurst with vain thoughts, & changing as the wind
“A deepe dissembler, voyd of faith and troth.
“Fraught with fond errors, doubts, despite, disdaine,
“And all the plagues that earth and hell containe.

V

Like to a man that wanders all the day
Through waies vnknown, to seeke a thing of worth
And at the night sees he hath gone astray:
As neare his end as vvhen he first set forth,
Such is my case, whose hope vntimely crost,
After long errors, proues my labour lost.

VI

Fail'd of that hap, whereto my hope aspired,
Depriu'd of that which might haue bin mine owne,
Another now must haue that I desired,
And things too late by their euents are knowne:
Thus doe vve vvith for that cannot be got,
And vvhen it may, then vve regard it not.

VII

Ingratefull Loue, since thou hast plaid thy part,
Enthralling him, vvhom Time hath since made free,
It rests for me to vse both wit and Art,
That of my wrongs I may reuenged be:
And in those eyes where first thou took'st thy fire,
Thy selfe shalt perish through my cold desire.

VIII

Grieue not thy selfe for that cannot be had,
And things once curelesse, let them carelesse rest:
Blame not thy fortune, though thou deeme it bad,
VVhat's past and gone, can neuer be redrest.
“The onely helpe for that cannot begained,
“Is to forget it might haue beene obtained.

IX

How happy once did I my selfe esteeme,
VVhile Loue with hope my fond desire did cherish?
My state as blissefull as a Kings did seeme,
Had I beene sure my ioyes should neuer perish.
The thoughts of men are fed with expectation,
“Pleasures themselues are but imagination.

X

VVhy should we hope for that which is to come,
VVhere the euent is doubtfull and vnknowne?
Such fond presumptions soone receiue their doome,
VVhen things expected we count as our owne.
VVhose issue oft times in the end proues nought
But hope, a shadow, and an idle thought.

XI

In vaine doe we complaine our life is short,
VVhich well dispos'd, great matters might effect:
VVhile wee our selues in toyes and idle sport,
Consume the better part, without respect:
And carelesse, as though time should neuer end it,
Twixt sleepe and waking prodigally spend it.

XII

Youthfull desire is like the Summer season,
That lasts not long, for winter must succeede:
And so our passions must giue place to reason,
And riper yeares more ripe effects must breed.
Of all the seede youth sowed in vaine desires,
I reaped nought but thistles, thornes, and bryers.

XIII

To erre, and doe amisse, is giuen to men by kinde:
VVho walkes so sure, but sometimes treads awry?
But to continue still in errors blinde,
A bad and beastiall nature doth descry.
Who proues not, fails not, and brings nought to end;
VVho proues and failes, may afterward amend.

XIIII

There was but one, and doubtlesse she the best,
VVhom I did more then all the world esteeme:
She hauing fail'd, I disauow the rest:
For now I finde things are not as they seeme.
“Default of that wherein our will is crost,
“Oft times vnto our good auaileth most.

XV

I fare like him, who now his land-hope spent,
By vnknowne Seas sayles to the Indian shore,
Returning thence no richer then he went,
Yet cannot much his fortune blame therefore,
Since who so venters forth vpon the Mayne,
Makes a good Mart, if he returne againe.

XVI

Louers conceits are like a flatt'ring Glasse,
That makes the lookers fairer then they are:
VVho pleas'd in their deceit, contented passe,
Such one was mine, who thought there was none faire,
None witty, modest, vertuous but she.
Yet now I finde the Glasse abused me.

XVII

A diew fond Loue, the mother of all error,
Repleate with hope and feare, with ioy and paine:
False fire of fancy, full of care and terror,
Shadow of pleasures fleeting, short and vaine,
Dye loathed loue, receiue thy latest doome,
Night be thy graue, Obliuion be thy tombe.

XVIII

VVho so would be rapt vp into the heauens,
To see a world of strange imaginations;
VVho carelesse would leaue all at sixe and seauen,
To wander in a Labyrinth of passions;
VVho would at once all kindes of folly proue:
VVhen he hath nought to doe, then let him loue.

XIX

“VVhat thing is Beautie? Natures dearest Minion,
“The snare of youth; like the inconstant Moone,
“VVaxing and wayning; error of opinion;
“A mornings flower, that withereth ere noone;
“A swelling fruit, no sooner ripe then rotten,
“Which sicknes makes forlorne, and time forgotten.

XX

The Spring of youth which now is in his prime.
VVinter of age with hoary frosts shall nip:
Beautie shall then be made the prey of Time,
And sower remorse deceitfull pleasures whip.
Then henceforth let Discretion rule Desire,
And Reason quench the flame of Cupids fire.

XXI

O what a life vvas that sometime I led,
VVhen Loue vvith passions did my peace incumber
VVhile like a man neyther aliue nor dead,
I was rapt from my selfe, as one in slumber?
VVhose idle senses charm'd with fond illusion,
Did nourish that vvhich bred their owne confusion

XXII

The childe for euer after dreads the fire
That once therewith by chance his finger burned:
VVater of Time, distill'd, doth coole desire,
And farre hee ran (they say) that neuer turned
After long stormes I see the Port at last,
Folly farewell, for now my loue is past.

XXIII

Base seruile thoughts of men too much deiected,
That seek, and crouch, & kneele for womens grace,
Of vvhom your paine and seruice is neglected,
Your selues despis'd: Riuals before your face:
The more you sue, the lesse you shall obtaine,
The lesse you win, the more shall be your gaine.

XXIIII

In looking backe vnto my follies past,
VVhile I the present with times past compare:
And thinke how many houres I then did wast,
Painting on clouds, and building in the ayre:
I sigh within my selfe, and say in sadnes,
This thing, which fooles call Loue, is nought but madnes.

XXV

“The things we haue, we most of all neglect;
“And that we haue not greedily we craue;
“The things we may haue little vve respect;
“And still we couer that we cannot haue:
“Yet how soe'er in our conceit we prise them,
“No sooner gotten but vve straight despise them.

XXVI

VVho seates his loue vpon a womans will,
And thinkes thereon to build an happy state:
Shall be deceiu'd, vvhen least he thinkes of ill,
And rue his folly vvhen it is too late.
He plowes on sand, and sowes vpon the winde,
That hopes for constant loue in women kinde.

XXVII

I will no longer spend my time in toyes,
Seeing Loue is error, folly, and offence:
An idle fit for fond and retchlesse boyes,
Or else for men depriu'd of common sense,
Twixt Lunacy and Loue these ods appeare,
Th'one makes fools monthly, th'other all the yeare.

XXVIII

VVhile season seru'd to sow, my plough lay still;
My Grafts vnset, when others Trees did bloome;
I spent the Spring in sloath, and slept my fill:
But neuer thought of Winters colde to come,
Till Spring was spent, and Summer well nigh gone,
Then I awak'd, and saw my Haruest none.

XXIX

Now Ioue sits all alone blacke attyre,
His broken Bow and Arrowes lying by him;
His fire extinct, that whilome fed desire,
Himselfe the scorne of Louers that passe by him:
VVho this day freely may disport and play,
For it is Philoparthens Holy-day.

XXX

Nay, thinke not Loue, with all thy cunning slight,
To catch me once againe: thou com'st too late:
Sterne Industry puts Idlenesse to flight,
And Time hath changed both my name and state:
Then seeke else where for Mates that may befriend thee;
For I am busie, and cannot attend thee.

XXXI

Loose Idlenesse, the nurse of fond Desire;
Roote of all ils that doe our youth betide,
That whilome didst through Loue my wracke conspire,
I banish thee, and rather wish t'abide
All austere hardnesse, and continuall paine,
Then to reuoke thee, or to loue againe.

XXXII

The time will come, when looking in a Glasse,
Thy riueled face with sorrow thou shalt see
And sighing say, it is not as it vvas,
These cheeks were wont more faire and fresh to be:
But now what once made me so much admired,
Is least regarded, and of none desired.

XXXIII

Though thou be faire, thinke Beauty is a blast,
A mornings dewe, a shadow quickly gone,
A painted flower, vvhose colour vvill not last:
Time steales away when least we thinke thereon;
Most precious Time, too vvastfully expended,
Of vvhich alone the sparing is commended.

XXXIIII

How vaine is youth, that cross'd in his desire,
Doth fret and fume, and inwardly repine,
As though 'gainst heauen it selfe he would conspire,
And vvith his frailtie 'gainst his Fate combine:
VVho of it selfe continues constant still,
And doth vs good oft times against our will.

XXXV

In prime of youth vvhen yeeres and vvit vvas ripe,
Vnhappy VVill to ruine led the vvay:
VVit daunc'd about, vvhen Folly gan to pipe,
And VVill and hee together vvent astray.
Nought then but pleasure was the good they sought
VVhich now Repentance proues too dearly bought.

XXXVI

Hee that in matters of delight and pleasure
Can bridle his outragious affection:
And temper it in some indifferent measure,
Doth proue himselfe a man of good discretion.
In conquering VVill true courage most is showne,
And sweet temptations make mens vertues known.

XXXVII

Each naturall thing by course of kinde vve see,
In his perfection long continueth not:
Fruits once full ripe vvill then fall from the Tree,
Or in due time not gathered soone vvill rot.
It is decreed by doome of Powers diuine,
Things at their height must thence againe decline.

XXXVIII

Thy large smooth forehead wrinckled shall appeare
Vermilion hue, to pale and wan shall turne;
Time shal deface what Youth hath held most deare;
Yea those clear eyes vvhich once my hart did burne,
Shall in their hollow circles logde the night,
And yeeld more cause of terror then delight.

XXXIX

Loe here the record of my follies past,
The fruits of wit vnstaid, and houres misspent:
Full wise is hee that perils can fore-cast,
And so by others harmes his owne preuent.
All worldly pleasure that delights the sense,
Is but a short sleepe, and times vaine expence.

XL

The Sunne hath twice his annuall course perform'd,
Since first vnhappy I beganne to loue:
VVhose errors now by Reasons rule reform'd,
Conceits of Loue but smoake and errors proue.
VVho of his folly seekes more praise to winne,
VVhere I haue made an end, let him beginne.
J. C.
FINIS.
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