Lavra. The Toyes of a Traueller Or The Feast of Fancie. Diuided into three Parts. By R. T. [i.e. Robert Tofte] |
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| I. |
| II. |
The scond part
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| III. |
 | Lavra. The Toyes of a Traueller |  |
II. The scond part
I
If I somewhile looke vp into the skies,I see (faire Lady) that same cheerefull light
Which like to you doth shine, in glorious wise:
And if on th' earth I chance to cast my sight,
The moouelesse Centre firme to me doth show,
The hardnesse which within your hart doth grow.
If seas I view the flowing waues most plaine
Your fickle faith do represent to mee:
So as I still behold you to my paine,
When as the skies, or th' earth, or seas I see:
For in your seemely selfe doth plaine appeare.
Like faith like hardnesse, and like brightnes cleare.
II
Maruel I do not, though thou doest not seeMy griefes, and martires, which I still sustaine,
For thou the Mole of loue doest seeme to me;
But if a Mole, th' art onely to my paine.
How comes it then that seeing thou art blinde,
Thou me consumst, as if thou hadst thy sight?
Why, as thy nature by instinct doth bind
Stayest not below? packe hence, and leaue this light,
Either those eies stil shut, not me to grieue.
Or vnder ground, in darkenes alwayes liue.
III
If whilome (in times past) that Spartane Lasse(The Flower of Greece, Dan Paris costly ioy)
Through her faire feature the onely causer was,
So manie Knights were slaine at Siedge of Troy:
Thou Laura art vnlike vnto her farre,
In this our Age a much more blessed Starre.
For she brought warres, strife, death, and crueltie;
Where thou (alone) bringst peace and pleasure still.
Ah happie thrice that liggs in loue with thee:
And if by chance (vnwares) thou sometime kill,
Thou (with thy smile) the wound canst heale againe,
And giue him life, whom thou before hadst slaine.
Pisa.
IIII
Shoot forth no more those darts from lightning eyes,(Vnkinde) why seekst to stop my fainting breath?
Goe, and inuent some new kinde exercise,
Play the right Tyrant, choyces vse in death:
New weapons seeke wherewith mee to offend;
Whereby I dying, content may rest thy will.
But tell me? wouldst so faine my life should end?
And knowst not, sweet extreames doo sudden kill?
Cruell, kisse me but once, and thou shalt see
Ended my life with that same Kisse to bee.
V
If what is heauie craues the Center base,(The earth below) as nature willes the same,
Heauie the wofull griefes are in this case,
Which inward in my heart I do sustaine.
And if what's light, by kinde aloft doth mount,
Then light's my Loue with thee, of light account.
So that in doubtfull dangerous extreame,
Wretch that I am, my selfe am sore afraide
And doubt of thee, so farre from golden meane,
Nor know I wel out of this depth to wade.
Lest that my life be shortned, or I die,
VVhether it heauy, falles; or light, ascends on hie.
VI
Ladie what time I seeke in mournefull noteTo shew mine agonies and bloudie mone.
My voyce doth faile, and hoarse and harsh my throte,
And this doth come through you, through you alone.
For whilst I thinke by meanes of you in song
To mittigate some part of this my smart,
Insteede thereof you do me double wrong,
And with a glaunce you take away my hart:
So that I finde great hurt by this your theft,
Since where before but voyce, now hart's bereft.
VII
As rockes become exposde gainst waues and windeMore hard; such is thy nature (stubborne Dame)
Opposde gainst waters of my plaints most kind,
And windes of mine hote sighes which inward flame;
That hardnes such to encrease bout heart is found,
As to it, soft might seeme the Diamond.
Hence forward then let no man thinke to mooue
By weeping or lamenting, to his will
This selfe willd saint, which too too well I prooue,
A senselesse stone to be vnto me still:
Since to my griefe, from all good lucke debard
With plaints, and sighes, she doth become more hard.
VIII
Harke louers, harke, a strangie myracle,Of one depriude of heart, yet death doth scape
Mine L. a flower gaue me, which sweete did smell:
And for the same away my life did take:
So that I only breathe through sent of flower,
And without heart, not without life I liue,
Then is not this of mightie Loue his power
A wonder strange, which he for sport doth giue?
When that a flower sustaineth me alone
VVith life, who in my bodie heart haue none.
IX
VVhen I did part from thee the other night,Me thought a fowle blacke Dog with vgly shape
Did follow me, and did me sore affright,
And all the way did greedy on me gape:
Nor I this curre how he at me did howle
Can well as yet forget, with chaps most fowle.
Then thinking of his colour hatefull blacke,
Me thought some ill, my Thought did feare to come,
And said within me, turne againe, turne backe,
If forward thou doest go, thou art vndone.
Then pardon Lady, if I backe againe
Am come this night with you for to remaine.
X
My mourning mistresse garments blacke doth beare,And I in blacke like her attired am:
Yet diuers is the cause why blacke we weare,
She for anothers death doth shew the same:
I for another reason beare this sute,
Onely to shew by this my outward weede
Mine inward griefe, although my tongue be mute,
Of tender heart which deadly sighes doth bleede.
Thrise happy I, if (as in habite we
Are both in one) our mindes both one might be.
XI
If April fresh, doth kindely giue vs flowers,September yeeldes with more increase the frute:
(Sweetest) you haue in bosome (Beauties Bowers)
Both these sweete tides, whence forth they alwayes shute
Both flower and fruite alonely you alone
Can giue me when you please, or else can none.
Oh dainty bosome, bosome rich in prise,
Surmounting mountaines huge of beaten gold:
Whose whitenes braues the whitest snow that lies
On highest hilles, whose height none can behold:
In you my soule doth hope without annoy,
Both spring and haruest, one day to enioy.
Roma.
XII
Drawne (cunning Painter) hast thou with great Aire,The shadow of my louely Laura faire;
Which obiect sweet not smally ioyes my hart,
But little didst thou thinke, nor wast thou ware,
That where thou thoughtst my fancie for to please,
Effect contrary sortes to my Desire,
So that it breedes in bodie mine, vnease
And (senslesse) burnes my hart with feeling fire:
Oh strange successe, what made was for Content,
Doth most displease, and (liuelesse) doth torment.
XIII
When first the cruell Faire deignd graciouslyTo looke on mee with kinde and curteous view,
And cast on mee a louely glauncing eye,
She knew not that I was her seruant trew:
But she no sooner ware was of the same,
But that she turnd her backe with great disdaine.
So as the wound I (then) close bare in brest,
I (now) through griefe, show outward in my face:
But if that she by whom I wounded rest,
Liues in compassion cold toward me sanz grace:
Hard harted is she, cruell was she to her frend,
And wicked shalbe world withouten end.
XIIII
VVhen first the Sunne did shine vpon her eyes,VVho fairest mongst her beauteous Sex doth show,
The Heauens her daintie corps (in curteous wise)
Couerd with chilly cold, and whitest snow.
She (through the nature of that Humor cold)
Both coldest Ice (at once) and purest VVhite
Drawes to her selfe: then none for strange should hold
Though to mee faire and cruell is her sight,
Since that the Heauens (for fauours) did impart
A snow-white corps to her, and frozen hart.
XV
The duskie clowde in skie (with shadow darke)Doth couer oft the Sunnes most cleerest light,
So as his beames we cannot see nor marke.
And he himselfe doth play at least in sight:
Ah were I such a clowd on earth to couer
My sweetest Sunne, as doth that clowd the other.
But if that clowd doo vanish soone away,
And dooth as momentarie passe and vade;
Eternall would I bee, to hide her ay,
And of a harder mixture would be made.
Oh happie I, oh fortunate Eclips,
With kissing so to darken those faire lips.
XVI
From milke of Iuno (as the Poets faine)The Lilly had his whitenes, passing white,
And from Adonis blood (that louely Swaine)
The Rose his colour red, which doth delight.
Thou (pretie Soule) hast both the colours rare
Of these sweet flowers, which others all exceed;
Thy Brest's a bed of beauteous Lillies faire,
Thy daintie cheekes pure damask Roses breed,
O frutefull Garden flowring, where appeare
The Rose and Lilly, at all times of yeare.
XVII
Of constant Loue I am the wasted fire,The furious winde's my Ladies angrie eye,
Who whilst she kindles both through wrathfull ire,
The flame encreaseth, mounting to the skye.
In midst is Loue, halfe dead of greeuous paine,
And (doubtfull) wyndes about like sparkling flame.
He feares the heate, and trembles, being turnd
Vnto this blast, which still more sharpe doth rise;
Nor is his feare in vaine, when so he is burnd:
For one of these must hap in sudden wise,
Either the fire must spoyle him as his pray,
Or whirling winde els blow him quite away.
XVIII
My Laura wonders that in visage paleI beare of death it selfe the liuely show,
But if she muse at this, her musing's stale,
For this sad colour had I long agoe.
The fire (close burning in my veynes) doth make
That outward ashes in my face you view:
But if that she would on me pittie take
Who is the cause of this my palish view,
This kindled heate shall die, which now doth burne,
And my first colour shall againe returne.
XIX
Whilst foming Steed I spurre vnto the quicke,To make him gallop to my Loue amaine,
Loue doth my thoughts (through fancy) forward prick,
The end of wished iourney mine to gaine:
But light's his hurt, tis but a little smart;
Where mine is mortall, sounding to the hart.
Run then (my Gelding swift) like Pegasus,
Flie hence with wings, for wings hath my desire;
Both of vs (forst amaine) are forward thus,
And kindled in vs is a burning fire:
Thou through two spurres in flanke prouokd art sore,
But thousands inwardly my hart doo gore.
XX
Rich is the Diamond, a iemme of prise,Yet such the nature strange is of the same,
That who the powder thereof drinkes, straight dies,
And as (if poyson twere) doth take his bane:
So thou another precious iewell art,
In name and nature not vnmuch alike,
Since death thou giu'st vnto the louing hart;
If but a kisse one suckes from thee most sweete,
Whilst he doth swallow downe his sugred baite,
The ioy's so great, it kills him through concaite.
XXI
The Greclans vsde to offer vp their haireVnto their Riuers, whom they did esteeme
As mightie Gods, and them great honor bare,
As if no vertue small in them had been:
Doo thou the like (sweet Laura) vnto mee,
Who for my loue deserue a greater fee.
Thy golden tresses on me doo bestow,
Who hold whole Riuers flowing in mine eyes:
Yet would not I thou off shouldst cut them tho.
Doost muse, and aske how this thou maist deuise?
Ile tell thee: Giue thy selfe to mee for mine,
So shalt thou giue vncut thy tresses fine.
XXII
One louely glaunce which from the eyes did passeOf Ladie mine, hath changd my gentle hart
From hardest Diamond to brittle glasse:
And now againe (vnto my bitter smart
Through dreadfull frowne) she turnes it suddenly
As twas before, from glasse to Diamond.
So if she will she may, (and presently
As likes her) change me, who to her am bound:
If cruell shee, my hart is hard to breake:
If pittifull, tis gentle, brittle, weake.
XXIII
Two windes, one calme, another fierce to see,Th' one of the Spring, of Winter th' other right
I plainly (Ladie) doo discerne in thee:
The first (which makes me ioy) breathes from thy sight
Such daintie flowers in diuers coloured show,
As makes to blush Dame Iris raynie Bow.
The second (which makes mee to pine away)
Blowes from thine inward brest a deadly blast,
Where doth eternall hardnes alwaies stay,
Which I don see eternall ay to last:
So as calme Zephyrus in face thou art,
But rough as boystrous Boreas in thine hart.
XXIIII
No sooner doo I earnest fix mine eyesOn my faire Sunne, but that I her perceaue
To vanish like a clowd in darkest wise,
As if (eclypst) her light it did bereaue:
I know not if shee's troubled thus, because
She doth disdaine I should behold her so;
Or if for feare this shadow to her drawes,
Least mee her beames should hurt, which glistring show.
Say then sweet Loue (for thou knowst best) if still
I shall behold her, or no more, thou will.
XXV
Oh that I were fly Proteus, for to takeOn mee that forme, which most I like or wish;
Then would I change my selfe into the shape
Of that thy little whelpe, thy ioy and blisse,
Into that little worme thou so doost like,
And dallying plaist with him both day and night.
Those sauerie smackes, those busses, sweet which bee,
VVhich thou to him doost giue, should all be mine;
And I would make my hart to leap for glee,
VVhilst I did licke that bosome faire of thine:
But since I to despaire of this am brought,
My wish shall Proteus be, thy Dog my thought.
XXVI
Say (gentle frend) tell me in curtesieBefore what was I? and what am I now?
A senselesse shadow? or a bodie, I?
Neither of both? marke, and Ile tell thee how,
No bodie now, for that by proud disdaine
Of scornfull Shee, disliu'd was: shadow none,
For that did vnder-ground goe with the same,
Vnwilling it should wander all alone,
VVhat am I then? Euen one that doth not know
VVhat now he is, or what he was can show.
XXVII
The blazing Starre foretells the haplesse fallAnd sudden death of others, soone to come:
To me a Face (brighter than Comets all)
Doth with her lookes my fortune hard forerunne:
And with her shooting darts from glauncing eye,
Presageth that ere long I needs must dye.
The blazing Starre death onely prophecies,
This doth foreshew to mee a harder fate,
And dares me to mine end in warlike wise,
Not how this Challenge know I to escape.
Ah cruell Starre, of death not onely signe,
But murtherer th' art of this poore life of mine.
XXVIII
The Crow makes warre with the Cameleon,And being hurt to th' Laurell straight doth flie,
And through the frute he findeth thereupon
Is heald of hurt, findes food, and liues thereby.
Loue the Cameleon is, the Crow am I,
And battell wage with him vnto the death:
He wounds me deadly, whereupon I hie
To thee (my Laurall) to restore my breath.
Thou me reuiu'st, such vertue's in thee rife,
As thou at once doost giue me food and life.
XXIX
Amongst the Parthians is a kinde of groundOf nature such, as though it farre doth stand
From fire,) yet fire to take it straight is found,
And flying thether, burnes it out of hand:
This pray so sure of Loue, am I faire Dame,
And you to mee (which burneth mee) the flame.
So that if I to you farre off doo show,
You kindle straight in mee a quenchlesse fire:
And yet although within it burne me so,
Sweete is the heate whose fuell is Desire:
For rather I in fire neere you would bee,
Than freed from flame you farther off to see.
XXX
Loue, ope my hart, hot fire thou forth shalt take:Open my Lauras, in it thou shalt finde
Cold frost: then of these two contraries make
But one, and that same one frame thou more kinde.
Of both our harts, make but one louing hart,
And giue it vnto which thou please of twaine:
Giue it to her, to her doo it impart,
Or vnto mee: it skills not much the same.
Ile doubt no more, when but one hart we haue
Betweene vs both: for this is all I craue.
XXXI
Vnto an Image may I right compareMy Mistres, since so cruell shee's to mee;
VVhich standeth for a signe or shadow faire,
To which the simple ignorant bow with knee:
And though with eyes, mouth, eares, and feet it show,
Yet dooth it neither see, talke, heare or goe.
So playes my Choyce, when I appeare in sight,
Nor see, nor speake, nor heare, nor stay she will,
So as an Idoll she resembleth right,
Blinde, mute, deafe, mouelesse, senselesse standing still:
Then am not I worse than a liuelesse Blocke,
To worship such a painted coloured Stocke.
Fiorenza.
XXXII
Both iemmes and pearle their proper value haue,But yet vnlike, for not alike's their prise;
Some sought for are, and each one doth them craue,
Others (more base) doo passe in worthlesse wise.
A Iuell rich and princelike Iemme is she
Whom I esteeme, and such account of make,
Yet in her selfe no price hath for to see,
For it is holden at so high a rate:
As all the gold nor siluer which doth ly
In th' earth or sea, the same (at worth) can by.
XXXIII
If loue (wherein I burne) were but a fire,I quencht it had with water of my teares;
If water, these my plaints, I this Desire
Had dryde through inward heate, my hart that taints:
But Loue that in my griefes doth take delight,
Both fire and water turnes to worke mee spite.
Flie then this Loue, since such is his great power,
As waues to fire, and fire to waues he turnes,
And with an absent Beautie euerie hower,
My fainting hart with Fancies fuell burnes,
And gainst all sense makes mee of CARe and IL,
More than of good and ComfoRT to haue will.
XXXIIII
Riuers vnto the Sea doo tribute pay:A most vnconstant moouing Sea art thou,
And I within mine eyes (bedeawed ay)
A Riuer hold of bitter teares as now.
Receiue then from these moystned cheekes of mine
Into thy lap the water I foorth powre,
Of dutie mine and of thy Debt a signe,
And mixt together with my sweet thy sowre:
So shall the water to the water bee
More precious, and the Sea more rich to th' Sea.
XXXV
Such is the vertue of the Sunnie heate,As seazing on the cockle shell, which lies
On seaish shore, whereon his beames doo beate
It makes it brightly shine, in orient wise:
So that through secret power of radiant Sunne,
Of worthlesse shell, a Pearle it doth become.
So Ladie, you through force of Beauties power,
If you shall deigne to glaunce on me your eye,
And raine with grace on me a smiling shower,
A Iewell rich you make me by and by:
And if no Pearle, at least a precious Stone;
This (onely) can you doo, or els can none.
XXXVI
The blood of faire Adonis, Venus changdInto a Flower; who, whilst he did pursue
(In Forrest thicke, whereas he hunting rangd)
The sauage Boare to kill, the Boare him slue:
Doo thou the like, sweet Loue doo thou the same,
Whilst now my life doth languish through thy power,
And whilst my wound makes me for to remaine
Withouten blood, transforme to a flower:
That where I liuing cannot, dead I may
A loued Flower in Lauras bosome stay.
XXXVII
An Ocean sea of water calme am I,Wherein kinde Loue the forme of fish doth take,
Leaping alongst the shore most wantonly:
Then Ladie, of a Fisher d'on the shape;
Ah, what sweete fishing shall you haue to like,
If Loue you chance to catch, while he doth bite?
Come then, and nak't into this water hie,
He cannot scape, but (here) perforce must bide,
(Lesse to my hart to saue himselfe he flie)
Then quickly strip thy selfe, lay feare aside:
For of this daintie pray, which thou shalt take,
Both Sea, Fish, and thy Selfe, thou glad shalt make.
XXXVIII
Rich Damaske Roses in faire cheekes doo bideOf my sweet Girle, like Aprill in his prime:
But her hard Hart cold chilly snow doth hide,
Of bitter Iammer the perfect signe.
Her Haire of gold, showes yealow like the Corne
In Iuly, when the Sunne doth scortch the ground;
And her faire Brest ripe frute, which doth adorne
September rich: so as in her is found
Both Haruest, Summer, Winter, Spring to bee;
Which you in Brest, Haire, Hart, and Face may see.
XXXIX
Th' immortall Parcæ (fatall Sisters three)Of mortall men doo sing the shunlesse fate,
What once was, what is now, and what shalbee,
Their life, their death, their fortune, and their state:
Our Song let bee like theirs, Three they were;
And so our number is, Three are we here.
Sing Laura then, sing Loue, and sing will I
Of dreery fortune mine, sing let vs all,
Let's sing in dolefull tune most mournfully,
How tis, how twas, and haplesse still shall fall,
The Present, Passed, and (which none can mend)
What shalbe world to come withouten end.
XL
The Heauens their restlesse Sphere doo alwayes moue,In thee doth moue the faith which thou didst plight:
And I Ixion-like still in my loue,
Doo roule, and yet I roule my wheele aright:
So that twixt vs continuall motions wend.
But which is worse (vnconstant Wench) I see
The Heauens will haue their motions without end,
Which (neuer ceasing) roule continually:
And thou like them to roule doost meane thy fill,
And since tis so, Ile roule too, gainst my will.
The Conclusion of the second Part.
Thus is the second Course now serued in,A Course too course for such a daintie Dame;
Yet (Ladie) though the cheere be bad and thin,
Because it comes of Zeale, accept the same:
And though not worthy of your grace it bee,
Yet make it gracious through your curtesie.
Great sumptuous Feasts the stomacke doth dislike,
Which oft in bodie dangerous surfets breed:
Where dishes few reuiue our sense and spright,
And Nature's pleasd on little for to feed.
This as a sawce (your appetite to moue)
Accept, where meate's the HaRT, where Cooke is Loue.
Nor thinke the worse, though I haue spun a shred
So fine (I meane your praise) I cannot mend,
Since tis a worke to ground the wisest Hed,
And marre I should this loome, the Cloth not mend:
So Venus matchlesse shape Apelles drew,
But how to finish it he neuer knew.
Farre more's my minde, than is my feeble might,
My pensill for thy picture is too weake:
The Sunne is onely for the Eagles sight,
My strength's too small, this hardned yce to breake.
Not painted scarce I thee haue shadowed heere:
This taske's for such as haue in skill no peere.
R. T.
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