A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions Garnished and decked with diuers dayntie deuises, right delicate and delightfull, to recreate eche modest minde withall. First framed and fashioned in sundrie formes, by diuers worthy workemen of late dayes: and now, ioyned together and builded up: By T. P. [i.e. Thomas Procter] |
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The Louer forsaken, writeth to his Lady
a desperate Farwell.
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 | A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions |  |
The Louer forsaken, writeth to his Lady a desperate Farwell.
Euen hee that whilome was: thy faithful freend most iust,That thrise three yeeres hath spent & past, reposing all his trust
In thy bewayling words, that seemed sugar sweet
The selfsame man vnwillingly: doth with these lines thee greet.
I can not speake with thee: and speaking is but paine,
To speake and pray and not to speede: too fruitles were the gayne.
Inforste therfore I write, and now vnfolde my minde,
I loue, and like as earst I did, I am not yet declinde.
Though time that trieth all, hath turnde the loue you ought,
No changing time could alter mee: or wrest awry my thought.
Ungratefull folkes I do detest, as monsters foule and strange.
Sith first I did you know: I neuer spake the thing
That did intend you to beguile, or might repentance bring.
Thrise hath my pen falne downe: vpon this paper pale,
And scantly can my hart consent: to write to thee this tale.
Least hasty Iudgmentes might, misdeeme my giltles minde,
To charge that malice moues my speech, or some new frend to finde
The gods I vouch to ayd: who knowes the troth I ment,
To swarue or fleet from that I vowed, was neuer my intent.
But as the Courser fearce, by pearcing spur doth run,
So thy desertes enforce mee now: to see this worke begun.
Would God I had no cause to leaue that I did loue,
Or lothe the thing that likt mee so: nor this mishap to proue.
But sith no thing in earth: in one estate can bide,
Why striue I then against the streame, or toyle against the tide?
And haue you now forgot, how many yeeres I sought,
To get your grace with whot good will: how dearly I it bought.
There is no one aliue, that nature euer made
That hath such giftes of vertues race, and such vntroth doth shade.
If fayth might haue bin found, within a womans brest,
I did beleeue within thy hart, shee chose her place to rest.
Unskilful though I bee, and cannot best deserne,
Where craft for troth doth preace in place, yet am I not to learne.
And I did thinke you such: that litle knew of guile,
But seemings now be plaste for deedes, and please fulwel the while
Why doo I wunder thus? to thinke this same so strange,
Who hath assayed and knoweth not? that wemen choose to change.
Haue you thus sone forgot, the doutes and dreades you made,
Of yongmens loue how litle holde, how sone away they fade.
How hardly you beleeued: how often would you say,
My wordes were spoken of the splene: and I as oft denay.
How oft did you protest with handes vpstretcht to skyes?
How oft with othes vnto the Gods? how oft with weeping eyes?
Did you beseech them all, to rid your spending dayes?
When that you thought to leaue your freend: to dy without delayes
To see you sweare so solemly, and ment to be forsworne.
But as the Sirens singe, when treason they procure,
So smyling baytes the harmles soules: vnto their bane alure.
Thy fawning flattering wordes, which now full falce I finde,
Perswades mee to content my selfe, and turne from Cressids kinde.
And all the sorte of those: that vse such craft I wish
A speedy end, or lothsome life, to liue with Lasars dish.
Yet pardon I do pray: and if my wordes offend,
A crased ship amid the streame, the Marriner must mende.
And I thus tost and turnd: whose life to shipwracke goes
Complaynes of wrongs thou hast mee don, and all my greefe forth showes.
And could your hart consent? and could you gree therto?
Thus to betray your faythful freend, and promis to vndo?
If nought your wordes could binde, to holde your suer behest,
Nor ought my loue ne othes you sware, could bide within your brest
Yet for the worldly shame, that by this facte might rise,
Or for the losse of your good name, for dealing in this wise.
Or thus to see mee greeu'd: tormented still in payne,
Thy gentil hart should haue bin pleasde such murder to refrayne.
But through thy cruell deede: if that vntamed death,
With speedy dart shall rid my life, or leaue my lyuing breath.
The gods then can and will: requite thy bloddy acte,
And them I pray with lowly sute, for to reuenge thy facte.
God graunt the earth may bring: nought forth to thy auayle,
Nor any thing thou takest in hand, to purpose may preuayle.
Thy most desired freend, I wish may bee most coy,
Wherin thou doost thee most delite: and takest the greatest ioy.
That same I would might turne: vnto thy most mischeefe,
That in thy life thy hart may feele, the smart of others greefe.
But sith no good can come: of thy mishap to mee,
I graunt some blame I doo deserue, that thus desire to see
Thy blisfull life so changde, from weale to wretched state,
When freendes do breake the bonde of loue, then is their greatest hate.
Thy deedes do sure deserue, much more reuenging spight,
Then hart can thinke or tongue can tel, or this my pen can wright.
A hart more hard then Tigar wilde: and more it can perswade.
Then Tullyes cunning tongue: or Ouids louing tale,
Well may I curse and ban them both, that so haue brewed my bale.
I feare to praise to far: least haply I begin,
To kindle fier that well is quencht, and burne mee all within.
For well I may compare: and boldly dare it say,
Thou art the Queene of women kinde, and all they ought obay.
And all for shame doo blush, when thou doost come in place,
They curse ech thing that gaue thee life, and more disdain thy face.
Then any liuyng wight: doth hate the Serpent foule,
Or birdes that singe and flies by day, abhors the shrikyng Owle.
Oh that a constant minde: had guided forth thy dayes,
I had not then assayd myshap: nor pen spoke thy disprayse.
Decreed sith that thou art, for euer to forsake mee,
In sorrows sweete I wil mee shrine: till death shall list to take mee,
Bewayle O woful eyes, with fluds of flowing teares,
This great mischaunce thy lothsome life, that all ill hap vp beares,
Since parted is your ioy, resigne likewise your sight,
I neuer will agree to like, or looke on other wight.
Nor neuer shall my mouth consent to pleasant sound,
But pale and leane with hollow lookes: till death I will bee found.
And you vnhappy handes: with lyking foode that fed mee,
Leaue of to labor more for mee: since sorrow thus hath sped mee.
Lament vnlustie legges: bee lame for euer more,
Sith shee is gone for whom you kept: your willing pace in store.
O hatefull heauy hart: bewayle thy great vnrest,
Consume thy selfe or part in twaine: within my blouddy brest.
And yee my sences all: whose helpe was aye at hand,
To length the life that lingreth now, and lothsomely doth stand.
Yee sonne, ye moone and starres: that gyues the gladsome light
Forbeare to show your force a while: let all bee irkesome night.
Let neuer soyle bringe forth, agayn the lusty greene
Nor trees that new dispoyled are, with leafe be euer seene.
Let neither birde nor beast: posses their wonted minde
Let all the thinges that liues on earth, be turned from their kinde.
Let all their torments come abroad: with lyuing wightes to rayne.
Let peace be turnd to war, let all consume with fier,
Sith I must dye that once did ioy, and lose that I desier.
I hate my life and breath, I hate delighting food,
I hate my greefe I hate my death: I hate that doth mee good.
I hate the gentill hart: that rueth on my payne,
I hate the cruell stubborn sorte, that doth my life disdayne.
I hate al sortes of men, that haue their life in price,
And those I hate that folow death, esteeming them vnwise
I hate those carefull thoughtes that thinke on my sweet fo,
I hate my selfe then twice as much: if I forget her so.
I hate, what would you more, I wot not what I hate,
I wish her dead and layed in graue: I wish her better state.
Come wilde and sauadge beastes, stretch forth your cruell pawes,
Dismember mee, consume my flesh: imbrew your greedy iawes.
Within your entrayles: see a coffin ye prepare,
To tombe this carefull corpes that now, vnwillingly I bare.
Come lingringe slothful death: that doost the wretch deny
To show thy force and ridst the riche, that list not for to dye.
Is this the recompence? is this the due reward?
Doth loue thus pay his seruants hier? and doth hee thus regard?
And doth hee vse to set, the harmles soules on fier,
With faire sweet intisinge lookes: to kindle their desier?
Fye false loue that hast so decte, with bewty bright,
A Lady faire with such vntroth, to worke such cruell spight.
And ye that doo pursue blinde loue with speedy pace,
Restraine your steps example take, of this my wofull case.
Let this alone suffise, that in few wordes I say,
Who can beware by others harmes, thrice blest and happy they.
Beleeue this to bee true: that now too true I proue,
But litle troth in womens breast: and fleeting in their loue.
God graunt each wight on earth, that serues with faythfull minde,
A better hap and that hee may, a truer Mystrisse finde.
FINIS.
| A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions | |