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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A louing Epistle, written by Ruphilus a
yonge Gentilman, to his best beloued Lady
Elriza, as followeth.
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 | A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions |  |
A louing Epistle, written by Ruphilus a yonge Gentilman, to his best beloued Lady Elriza, as followeth.
Twice
hath my quaking hand withdrawen this pen away
And twice againe it gladly would, before I dare beewray
The secret shrined thoughts, that in my hart do dwell,
That neuer wight as yet hath wist, nor I desire to tell.
But as the smoothered cole, doth wast and still consume,
And outwardly doth geue no heate, of burnyng blaze or fume:
So hath my hidden harmes, been harbred in my corpce,
Till faintyng limmes and life and all, had welnigh lost his force:
Yet stand I halfe in doubt, whiche of these two to choose,
To hide my harmes still to my hurt, or els this thraldome loose.
I will lay feare aside, and so my tale beginne:
Who neuer durst assaile his foe: did neuer conquest win.
And twice againe it gladly would, before I dare beewray
The secret shrined thoughts, that in my hart do dwell,
That neuer wight as yet hath wist, nor I desire to tell.
But as the smoothered cole, doth wast and still consume,
And outwardly doth geue no heate, of burnyng blaze or fume:
So hath my hidden harmes, been harbred in my corpce,
Till faintyng limmes and life and all, had welnigh lost his force:
Yet stand I halfe in doubt, whiche of these two to choose,
To hide my harmes still to my hurt, or els this thraldome loose.
I will lay feare aside, and so my tale beginne:
Who neuer durst assaile his foe: did neuer conquest win.
Lo here my cause of care to thee unfolde I will:
Help thou Minerua, graunt I pray, some of thy learned skill.
Help all you Muses nine, my wofull Pen to write:
So stuffe my verse with pleasant wordes, as she may haue delight,
With heedyng eares to reade my greeif and great vnrest:
Some wordes of plaint may moue perhaps, to pitty my request.
Oft haue I hard complaint, how Cupid beares a sway
In brittle youth, and would commaund: and how they did obay.
When I with skorning eares did all their talke dispise:
But well I see the blinded boy: in lurking den hee lies,
To catch the careles sorte: awayting with his Darte:
Hee threw at mee when I vnwares, was wounded to the harte.
To speake and pray for helpe, now loue hath mee constrainde:
And makes mee yeeld to serue the sorte, that lately I disdainde.
Sith beggars haue no choyce: nor neede had euer law
The subiecte Ore doth like his yoke: when hee is driuen to draw.
That Ruphilus this wrote: thou wonder wilt I know,
Cause neuer erst in louinge vearse: my labor I bestowe,
Well, woful loue is mine, and weeping lines I wright,
And doubtfull wordes with driery cheere: beseemes a careful wight
O thou Elrisa fayre, the beuty of thine eyes
Hath bred such bale within my brest, and cau'sde such strife to ryse.
As I can not forget: vntill deuouring death
Shal leaue to mee a senceles goast: and rid my longer breath,
Or at the least that thou: doo graunt mee some releefe
To ease the greedy gripes I feele, and end my great mischeefe.
As due to mee by right, I can no mercy craue,
Thou hast the power to graunt mee life: refuse not for to saue.
Put to thy helping hand, to salue the wounded sore,
Though thou refuse it for my sake: yet make thine honour more,
Too cruell were the facte: if thou shouldst seeke to kill
Thy faythful freend that loues thee so: and doth demaund no ill.
Thy heauenly shape I saw: thy passing bewty bright,
Enforst mee to assay the bayt: where now my bane I bight
I nought repent my loue: nor yet forthinke my facte,
The Gods I know were all agreed: and secretly compacte.
To frame a worke of prayse: to show their power deuine
By good aduice this on the earth: aboue the rest to shine.
Whose perfecte shape is such: as Cupid feares his fall,
And euery wight that hath her seene, I say (not one) but all
With one consent they cry: lo here dame Venus ayer,
Not Danae nor shee dame Lede: was euer halfe so faire.
Though Princes sue for grace: and ech one do thee woo,
Mislyke not this my meane estate: wherwith I can nought doo,
As highest seates wee see: be subiect to most winde,
So base and poore estates we know, be hateful to the minde.
The happy meane is mine: which I do haply holde,
Thy honor is to yeeld for loue: and not for heape of golde.
If euer thou hast felte: the bitter panges that stinges
A louers brest: or knowest the cares, that Cupid on vs flinges.
Then pitty my request: and wayle my wofull case,
Whose life to death with hasty wheeles: doo toumble on apace.
Uouchsafe to ease the paine: that loue on mee doth whelme,
Let not thy freend to shipwracke go: sith thou doost hold his helme.
Who yeeldeth all hee hath: as subiect to thy will,
If thou commaund hee doth obey, and all thy heastes fulfill.
But if thou call to minde: when I did part thee fro,
What was the cause of my exile: and why I did forgo
The happy life I held, and lost there with thy sight,
Well mayst thou wayle thy want of troth: & rue thy great vnright
If thou be found to fayle thy vow that thou hast sworne
Or that one iot of my good will, out of thy minde be worne.
Or if my absence long: to thy disgrace hath wrought mee
Or hindering tales of my back freends: vnto such state hath brought mee.
I can and will accurse the cause of my ill speede:
But well, I hope, my feare is more: then is the thing indeede.
Yet blame mee not though I doo stand somewhat in feare
The cause is great of my exile, which hardly I do beare.
Who hath a sternles ship amidst the trustles Seaes,
Full greedely desires the porte: where hee may ride at ease.
Thy bewty bids mee trust, vnto thy promise past,
My absence longe and not to speake: doth make mee doubt as fast.
For as the sommers sonne, doth make eche thing to spring:
Euen so the frosen winters blast, as deadly doth them wring.
Unsuer thus I liue in dreade I wot not why
Yet was there neuer day so bright, but there be cloudes in sky.
Who hath of puer Golde, a running streame or flud
And is restraind for comming nigh, this treasure great and good.
Hee must abide a time: till Fortune graunt him grace,
That hee haue power by force to win: his riche desired place.
I neede not thus to doo: nor yet so much mistrust,
I know no time can change thy minde: or make thee bee vniust.
No more then water soft, can stir a stedfast rocke:
Or seely flyes vpon their backes can beare away a blocke.
Eche beast on earth wee see: that liuing breath doth draw,
Bee faythfull found vnto their mates: and keepes of loue the law.
My wretched life to ease: when I doo seke to turne,
Thy bewty bright doth kindle mee, in greater flame to burne.
No day, no night, nor time, that geues mee mirth or rest,
Awake, asleape, and at my meales, thou doost torment my brest.
Though weary lothsome lyfe: in care and wo haue clad mee,
Remembrance of thy heauenly face, giues cause again to glad mee.
Thus Ioyfull thoughtes a while, doth lessen much my payne
But after calme and fayer tides, the stormes do come agayne.
And I in cares doo flame, to thinke of my exile,
That I am barred from thy sight: I curse and ban the while.
Would God I had the craft a Laborinth to frame,
And also had a Mynotaure: inclosed in the same:
And that our enemies all, might therin take some paine,
Till Dedales line I did them bringe, to helpe them out againe.
Then should my sorowes seace, and drowne my deepe dispaire,
Then should my life be blest with Ioyes: and raisde aboue the ayre,
But as the mazed birde, for feare dare skantly fly,
When hee hath scapte the Falcons foote: euen so I know should I
Scarse able be to speake, or any word to say,
Least Argus wayting ielous eyes, might haply mee bewray
But oh Elrisa mine, why doo I stir such war
Within my selfe to thinke of this: and yet thy loue so far?
Why rather should not I: giue vp the life I haue
And yeeld my weary wretched corps: vnto the gaping grau
If I hopte not that thou with faith didst binde thy life,
This hand of mine with bloody sworde, should stint my cruel strife.
No length of lingring time: no distance can remooue,
The fayth that I haue haue vowed to thee: nor alter once my loue.
Beleeue this to bee true, that streames shall soner turne,
Or frosen Ice to fier coales, on blasing flame to burne.
Then I will seke to change: or alter once my minde,
All plagues I pray may fall on me, if I be found vnkinde.
Or if I meane to swarue while I haue liuing breath
God graunt my end then may be such as Agamemnons death.
I wish thy life no harme: but yet I woulde thou knew
The wofull ende that Cressed made, because shee was vntrue.
Those angry gods or men, asonder that doo set vs,
Shal neuer pearce our mindes in twaine nor eke to loue can let vs
As well they may deuide the fier from the flame,
And euery beast that now is wilde, as soone shalbe made tame.
Let not this pistle long, my sute with thee deface,
Who pleadeth for his life thou knowest: at large must tel his case.
And all these wordes I write, to one effect do tende,
I am all thine, and not mine owne: and herewithal to ende.
I pray thee to regarde: thy health and my request,
And that my loue doo neuer fleet out of thy secret brest.
Help thou Minerua, graunt I pray, some of thy learned skill.
Help all you Muses nine, my wofull Pen to write:
So stuffe my verse with pleasant wordes, as she may haue delight,
With heedyng eares to reade my greeif and great vnrest:
Some wordes of plaint may moue perhaps, to pitty my request.
Oft haue I hard complaint, how Cupid beares a sway
In brittle youth, and would commaund: and how they did obay.
When I with skorning eares did all their talke dispise:
But well I see the blinded boy: in lurking den hee lies,
To catch the careles sorte: awayting with his Darte:
Hee threw at mee when I vnwares, was wounded to the harte.
To speake and pray for helpe, now loue hath mee constrainde:
And makes mee yeeld to serue the sorte, that lately I disdainde.
Sith beggars haue no choyce: nor neede had euer law
The subiecte Ore doth like his yoke: when hee is driuen to draw.
That Ruphilus this wrote: thou wonder wilt I know,
Cause neuer erst in louinge vearse: my labor I bestowe,
Well, woful loue is mine, and weeping lines I wright,
And doubtfull wordes with driery cheere: beseemes a careful wight
O thou Elrisa fayre, the beuty of thine eyes
Hath bred such bale within my brest, and cau'sde such strife to ryse.
Shal leaue to mee a senceles goast: and rid my longer breath,
Or at the least that thou: doo graunt mee some releefe
To ease the greedy gripes I feele, and end my great mischeefe.
As due to mee by right, I can no mercy craue,
Thou hast the power to graunt mee life: refuse not for to saue.
Put to thy helping hand, to salue the wounded sore,
Though thou refuse it for my sake: yet make thine honour more,
Too cruell were the facte: if thou shouldst seeke to kill
Thy faythful freend that loues thee so: and doth demaund no ill.
Thy heauenly shape I saw: thy passing bewty bright,
Enforst mee to assay the bayt: where now my bane I bight
I nought repent my loue: nor yet forthinke my facte,
The Gods I know were all agreed: and secretly compacte.
To frame a worke of prayse: to show their power deuine
By good aduice this on the earth: aboue the rest to shine.
Whose perfecte shape is such: as Cupid feares his fall,
And euery wight that hath her seene, I say (not one) but all
With one consent they cry: lo here dame Venus ayer,
Not Danae nor shee dame Lede: was euer halfe so faire.
Though Princes sue for grace: and ech one do thee woo,
Mislyke not this my meane estate: wherwith I can nought doo,
As highest seates wee see: be subiect to most winde,
So base and poore estates we know, be hateful to the minde.
The happy meane is mine: which I do haply holde,
Thy honor is to yeeld for loue: and not for heape of golde.
If euer thou hast felte: the bitter panges that stinges
A louers brest: or knowest the cares, that Cupid on vs flinges.
Then pitty my request: and wayle my wofull case,
Whose life to death with hasty wheeles: doo toumble on apace.
Uouchsafe to ease the paine: that loue on mee doth whelme,
Let not thy freend to shipwracke go: sith thou doost hold his helme.
Who yeeldeth all hee hath: as subiect to thy will,
If thou commaund hee doth obey, and all thy heastes fulfill.
But if thou call to minde: when I did part thee fro,
What was the cause of my exile: and why I did forgo
Well mayst thou wayle thy want of troth: & rue thy great vnright
If thou be found to fayle thy vow that thou hast sworne
Or that one iot of my good will, out of thy minde be worne.
Or if my absence long: to thy disgrace hath wrought mee
Or hindering tales of my back freends: vnto such state hath brought mee.
I can and will accurse the cause of my ill speede:
But well, I hope, my feare is more: then is the thing indeede.
Yet blame mee not though I doo stand somewhat in feare
The cause is great of my exile, which hardly I do beare.
Who hath a sternles ship amidst the trustles Seaes,
Full greedely desires the porte: where hee may ride at ease.
Thy bewty bids mee trust, vnto thy promise past,
My absence longe and not to speake: doth make mee doubt as fast.
For as the sommers sonne, doth make eche thing to spring:
Euen so the frosen winters blast, as deadly doth them wring.
Unsuer thus I liue in dreade I wot not why
Yet was there neuer day so bright, but there be cloudes in sky.
Who hath of puer Golde, a running streame or flud
And is restraind for comming nigh, this treasure great and good.
Hee must abide a time: till Fortune graunt him grace,
That hee haue power by force to win: his riche desired place.
I neede not thus to doo: nor yet so much mistrust,
I know no time can change thy minde: or make thee bee vniust.
No more then water soft, can stir a stedfast rocke:
Or seely flyes vpon their backes can beare away a blocke.
Eche beast on earth wee see: that liuing breath doth draw,
Bee faythfull found vnto their mates: and keepes of loue the law.
My wretched life to ease: when I doo seke to turne,
Thy bewty bright doth kindle mee, in greater flame to burne.
No day, no night, nor time, that geues mee mirth or rest,
Awake, asleape, and at my meales, thou doost torment my brest.
Though weary lothsome lyfe: in care and wo haue clad mee,
Remembrance of thy heauenly face, giues cause again to glad mee.
Thus Ioyfull thoughtes a while, doth lessen much my payne
But after calme and fayer tides, the stormes do come agayne.
That I am barred from thy sight: I curse and ban the while.
Would God I had the craft a Laborinth to frame,
And also had a Mynotaure: inclosed in the same:
And that our enemies all, might therin take some paine,
Till Dedales line I did them bringe, to helpe them out againe.
Then should my sorowes seace, and drowne my deepe dispaire,
Then should my life be blest with Ioyes: and raisde aboue the ayre,
But as the mazed birde, for feare dare skantly fly,
When hee hath scapte the Falcons foote: euen so I know should I
Scarse able be to speake, or any word to say,
Least Argus wayting ielous eyes, might haply mee bewray
But oh Elrisa mine, why doo I stir such war
Within my selfe to thinke of this: and yet thy loue so far?
Why rather should not I: giue vp the life I haue
And yeeld my weary wretched corps: vnto the gaping grau
If I hopte not that thou with faith didst binde thy life,
This hand of mine with bloody sworde, should stint my cruel strife.
No length of lingring time: no distance can remooue,
The fayth that I haue haue vowed to thee: nor alter once my loue.
Beleeue this to bee true, that streames shall soner turne,
Or frosen Ice to fier coales, on blasing flame to burne.
Then I will seke to change: or alter once my minde,
All plagues I pray may fall on me, if I be found vnkinde.
Or if I meane to swarue while I haue liuing breath
God graunt my end then may be such as Agamemnons death.
I wish thy life no harme: but yet I woulde thou knew
The wofull ende that Cressed made, because shee was vntrue.
Those angry gods or men, asonder that doo set vs,
Shal neuer pearce our mindes in twaine nor eke to loue can let vs
As well they may deuide the fier from the flame,
And euery beast that now is wilde, as soone shalbe made tame.
Let not this pistle long, my sute with thee deface,
Who pleadeth for his life thou knowest: at large must tel his case.
And all these wordes I write, to one effect do tende,
I am all thine, and not mine owne: and herewithal to ende.
And that my loue doo neuer fleet out of thy secret brest.
FINIS.
| A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions | |