The Rocke of Regard diuided into foure parts. The first, the Castle of delight: Wherein is reported, the wretched end of wanton and dissolute liuing. The second, the Garden of Vnthriftinesse: Wherein are many sweete flowers, (or rather fancies) of honest loue. The thirde, the Arbour of Vertue: Wherein slaunder is highly punished, and vertuous Ladies and Gentlewomen, worthily commended. The fourth, the Ortchard of Repentance: Wherein are discoursed, the miseries that followe dicing, the mischiefes of quareling, the fall of prodigalitie: and the souden ouerthrowe of foure notable cousners, with diuers other morall, natural, & tragical discourses: documents and admonitions being all the inuention, collection and translation of George Whetstons |
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Dom Diego his triumphe.
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 | The Rocke of Regard |  |
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Dom Diego his triumphe.
Who
can report that neuer tasted bale?
What difference is, tweene sorrow and delite?
And who may tell, a more triumphant tale,
Then hee in ioy, that late was kept in spite?
I am the man: in mone there was none such:
My mone is past, my mirth must be as much.
What difference is, tweene sorrow and delite?
And who may tell, a more triumphant tale,
Then hee in ioy, that late was kept in spite?
I am the man: in mone there was none such:
My mone is past, my mirth must be as much.
Sith so: alone, I rule in throne of ioy,
Of pleasures mount, I weald the golden Mace,
Then leaue to bragge, yon Princes proud of Troy,
Your brayd delights, by mee can haue no place,
Once beautes blisse, to vaunt doth make you bould,
I haue such hap, and tenne times more in hould.
Of pleasures mount, I weald the golden Mace,
Then leaue to bragge, yon Princes proud of Troy,
Your brayd delights, by mee can haue no place,
Once beautes blisse, to vaunt doth make you bould,
I haue such hap, and tenne times more in hould.
And by your leaue, your Ladies blemisht are,
Aske Theseus, who first lopt fayre Hellens loue?
Syr Diomede, the spoile of Troylus ware,
Suppose them true, whom none could euer proue,
Your lightning ioyes, such lasting woes did brue,
As you may wish, your fames to die with you.
Aske Theseus, who first lopt fayre Hellens loue?
Syr Diomede, the spoile of Troylus ware,
Suppose them true, whom none could euer proue,
Your lightning ioyes, such lasting woes did brue,
As you may wish, your fames to die with you.
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But Lady mine, I wrong thee much in this,
To peize thy praise, with such as liu'de or liue,
For natures toile, some wayes disabled is,
Shee frames our forme, but can no fortune giue,
But thou wert shapt (for feare of fortunes spight,)
Of precious moold, by force of heauenly might.
To peize thy praise, with such as liu'de or liue,
For natures toile, some wayes disabled is,
Shee frames our forme, but can no fortune giue,
But thou wert shapt (for feare of fortunes spight,)
Of precious moold, by force of heauenly might.
By heauenly might, and worthie well such toyle,
Whose liuely limms, the Indian riches showe,
Her haire fine gold, her front doth yuorie foyle,
Her eyes giue light, as diamonds there did growe,
Her words of worth (as cause doth cause her speake
Tweene rockes of pearle, their pleasaunt passage breake.
Whose liuely limms, the Indian riches showe,
Her haire fine gold, her front doth yuorie foyle,
Her eyes giue light, as diamonds there did growe,
Her words of worth (as cause doth cause her speake
Tweene rockes of pearle, their pleasaunt passage breake.
What should I say? of truth from top too to,
These precious gems, in beautie shee doth staine,
And more then that (besides the outward sho)
Their vertues shee, with vauntage doth retaine,
So that of force, I (forst) must her define:
Not bound to kinde, but wholy is diuine.
These precious gems, in beautie shee doth staine,
And more then that (besides the outward sho)
Their vertues shee, with vauntage doth retaine,
So that of force, I (forst) must her define:
Not bound to kinde, but wholy is diuine.
Thrise happie man (whose loue this Saint did lure)
Dom Diego late, euen very wretchednesse,
Now maist thou daunt (thy vauntage is so sure)
That none aliue thy pleasures halfe possesse,
Through chaunce of loue, do thousands chaunce on death,
But dying I, my loue inlargde my breath.
Dom Diego late, euen very wretchednesse,
Now maist thou daunt (thy vauntage is so sure)
That none aliue thy pleasures halfe possesse,
Through chaunce of loue, do thousands chaunce on death,
But dying I, my loue inlargde my breath.
The scource of woe, is sauourie sauce to taste,
Our sweete delights, if once delight wee feele,
The rough repulse (if battring tyre be plaste)
Amends the spoile, when walles (perforce) do reele,
Of euery thinge, the goodnes doth increase,
If once afore, the losse did vs distresse.
Our sweete delights, if once delight wee feele,
The rough repulse (if battring tyre be plaste)
Amends the spoile, when walles (perforce) do reele,
Of euery thinge, the goodnes doth increase,
If once afore, the losse did vs distresse.
Sufficient proofe, my lingring loue can shoe,
I tyred hope, ere time my truth could trie,
Yea desperate wretch, forworne with wreake of woe,
I left my sute, and sought the meane to die,
Now winning her, whose want wrought such annoy,
On former griefes, I graft my fruites of ioy.
I tyred hope, ere time my truth could trie,
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I left my sute, and sought the meane to die,
Now winning her, whose want wrought such annoy,
On former griefes, I graft my fruites of ioy.
In waxe say I, men easily graue their will,
In Marble stone, the woorke with paine is wonne,
But perfect once, the print remayneth still,
When waxen seales, with euery browse are donne:
Euen so in loue, soone wonne, as soone is loste,
When forst through faith, it bydes both fire & frost.
In Marble stone, the woorke with paine is wonne,
But perfect once, the print remayneth still,
When waxen seales, with euery browse are donne:
Euen so in loue, soone wonne, as soone is loste,
When forst through faith, it bydes both fire & frost.
I can not vaunt of easie conquerd loue:
I graunt with faith, I foyle Geneuras scorne,
But now in peace, Distrust shall neuer moue,
One ielous thought, of wilde Acteons horne,
And yet forsooth, this feare hee liueth in,
To lose the wight, with words, that words did win.
I graunt with faith, I foyle Geneuras scorne,
But now in peace, Distrust shall neuer moue,
One ielous thought, of wilde Acteons horne,
And yet forsooth, this feare hee liueth in,
To lose the wight, with words, that words did win.
O happie loue, whose torments proue so sweete,
O friendly foes, whose treason, tride my trueth,
O luckie man, Dom Roderic to meete,
Geneura thou, thrise honord, for thy ruth,
Thou, onely thou, (the rest of small auaile)
Didst saue my life, when hope and all did faile.
O friendly foes, whose treason, tride my trueth,
O luckie man, Dom Roderic to meete,
Geneura thou, thrise honord, for thy ruth,
Thou, onely thou, (the rest of small auaile)
Didst saue my life, when hope and all did faile.
Now forth, I throw, my Gauntlet for this grace,
To chalenge such, as seeke to foile thy fame,
For sure the Armes, that durst my sweete imbrace,
Dares to defend, the honour of her name,
If which I faile, in prison let mee sterue,
So doome my fault, for so I should deserue.
To chalenge such, as seeke to foile thy fame,
For sure the Armes, that durst my sweete imbrace,
Dares to defend, the honour of her name,
If which I faile, in prison let mee sterue,
So doome my fault, for so I should deserue.
| The Rocke of Regard | |