Diana of George of Montemayor :: :: University of Virginia Library

Syrenus.
Who hath of Cupids cates and dainties prayed,
May feede his stomacke with them at his pleasure:
If in his drinke some ease he hath essaied,
Then let him quench his thirsting without measure:
And if his weapons pleasant in their manner,
Let him imbrace his standard and his banner.
For being free from him, and quite exempted,
Ioyfull I am, and proud, and well contented.

Syluanus.
Of Cupids daintie cates who hath not prayed,
May be depriued of them at his pleasure:
If wormewood in his drinke he hath essaied,
Let him not quench his thirsting without measure:
And if his weapons cruell in their manner,
Let him abiure his standard and his banner:
For I not free from him, and not exempted,
Ioyfull I am, and proud, and well contented.

Syrenus.
Loue's so expert in giuing many a trouble,
That now I knowe not, why he should be praised:
He is so false, so changing, and so double,
That with great reason he must be dispraised:
Loue (in the end) is such a iarring passion,
That none should trust vnto his peeuish fashion:
For of all mischiefe he's the onely Master,
And to my good a torment and disaster.

Syluanus.
Loue's so expert in giuing ioy, not trouble,
That now I knowe not, but he should be praised:
He is so true, so constant, neuer double,
That in my minde he should not be dispraised:
Loue (in the end) is such a pleassing passion,
That euery one may trust vnto his fashion:

165

For of all good he is the onely Master,
And foe vnto my harmes, and my disaster.

Syrenus.
Not in these sayings to be proou'd a lier,
He knowes, that doth not loue, nor is beloued:
Now nights and daies I rest, as I desier,
After I had sush greefe from me remoued:
And cannot I be glad, since thus estranged,
My selfe from false Diana I haue changed?
Hence, hence false Loue I will not entertaine thee,
Since to thy torments thou dost seeke to traine me.

Syluanus.
Not in these sayings to be proou'd a lier,
He knowes, that loues, and is againe beloued:
Now nights an daies I rest in sweete desier,
After I had such happy fortune proued:
And cannot I be glad, since not estranged,
My selfe into Seluagia I haue changed?
Come, come good Loue, and I will entertaine thee,
Since to thy sweete content thou seek'st to traine mee.

166

A Sonnet.

[From whence O Paper mine such happie fauour]

From whence O Paper mine such happie fauour,
That vndeseruedly thou must be placed
Before that flowre that yeeldes the sweetest sauour,
Which nature hath with all her powres graced?
Thou shalt the figure see (my louing Paper)
Where all the vertues make their wished dwelling,
And of the rest not any one escape her,
Graces, and giftes, and beauties most excelling.

Then when thou com'st before my heauenly treasure,
Say thus from me to her. He sends me hither,
Who liues to serue thee, whilst his life extendeth:
In onely this his thoughts are musing euer:
In ioy of this both nights and daies he spendeth:
To serue thee is his onely sport and pleasure.

[Poore I that am not now for thee]

Poore I that am not now for thee
(If any health I haue to lend)
To thee, that hast each part of me
All that I haue, I meane to send.

Receiue this letter left alone,
That to conuert all his to thine,
And not in any thing his owne,
This onely paper is behinde.

Since I haue giu'n thee all the rest,
Thine honour it shall not gainstand,
To take a thing, that is in the lest:
A peece of paper at my hand.

167

So poore and base a thing as this,
Cannot offend thy minde so high:
Why then, it cannot be amisse,
To take and reade it by and by.

But in the same if thou dost find
Words written ill, and not well coucht,
Knowe that my hand did like the winde
Tremble, when that my pen it toucht.

The blots, which heere thou see'st disgrace
My letter, making it to blame,
My teares they are, that fell apace,
Knowing to thee I wrote the same.

Reade it, I pray thee, to the end:
And make an end of all my woes,
Open thine eies to this I send,
And to my griefes giue some repose.

And to the end thou maist it reede,
It comes not from an En'mies brest,
But from a faithfull hart indeede,
And from a friend aboue the rest.

It is no letter, that defies
(Defied for I am too much)
Alas in conquer'd men it lies
Not in their power to be such.

In endlesse peace I seeke to liue,
And on thy grace I doe relie,
If not, the doome and sentence giue
Vnto my life condemn'd to die.

I haue contended to this howre
Thy mighty forces to resist,
And now I finde, thy onely powre
Doth conquer (Mistresse) as thou list.

It is not much, that in the field
Vnto thy valour I giue place,
Since that the God of loue doth yeeld
Himselfe, vnto thy wounding face.

So that now subiect I remaine
Vnto thy sou'raine force, I see,
Then wound me not, for t'is in vaine,
Since wholy I doe yeeld to thee.

My life I put into thy hands,
And now doe with me at thy will:
But yet behold, how pitie stands
Entreating thee thou wouldst not kill.

So shalt thou make thy conquest braue,
If in thy spoiles and triumphes, such
Remorse of pitie thou wilt haue,
Which all the world commends so much.

I sawe thee sit not long agoe
Feasting with ioy and pleasant fare,
And I, bicause I could not soe,
Did feede vpon my woes and care.

There leisurely thou didst begin
Of other cates and flesh to feede,
But I with haste did rauin in
My pains, wherwith my hart did bleede.

The Riuer water thou didst drinke
With freest minde deuoid of care,
But I in fluds of teares did sinke,
The which to drinke I did not spare.

I sawe thee with thy little knife
Cutting thy bread and meate againe,
And then (me thought) my wofull life
Should in like sort be cut in twaine.

A little Boy sat in thy lap,
Thou didst imbrace him with great ioy:
Oh would it had beene then my hap
To haue beene that same little Boy.

Thou gau'st to him a louing kisse:
What heere I felt, I will repeate,
Let it suffice, that I was this
Most happy childe, but in conceate.

But not contented vvith the same,
Marking the place where thou didst lay
Thy lips, vnto the childe I came,
And tooke from him the kisse avvay.

Each thing of thine so vvell I loue,
That if I see them to decay,
Me thinks' my care it doth behoue
To saue, to cast them not avvay.

168

For all the bones, which thou didst leaue,
With greedy stomacke I did picke,
Bicause I onely did conceaue,
That they thy daintie mouth did licke.

The place I marked of the pot,
That did thy Corall lips diuide,
When thou didst drinke and I did not
Forget to drinke of that same side.

And with the wine which I did shed
Of purpose, on the cloth aboue:
Often (in vaine) these words in red
My finger wrote: I loue, I loue:

(Disdainfull) thou dost not esteeme
These signes, nor these inductions know,
Or dost at least (as it doth seeme
Dissemble: it must needes be so.

And onely that thou dost dissemble,
Which might vnto my profit fall,
But that which makes me now to tremble,
Alas, thou fainest not at all.

By seeing such effects in me,
That thou dost cause my heauines,
Thou fain'st, my plaintes are not for thee,
But for some other Shepherdesse.

Thou seest how for thy loue I paine,
And at thy gracious feete I lie.
(To greeue me more) yet dost thou faine,
That for another I doe die.

But if thy beauties in great store
Engender pride of such excesse,
Thou must beleeue, and faine no more,
That my pure loue is no whitlesse.

If thy perfections doe surpasse
All beauties that the world doth breede,
As much as Dimond passeth glasse,
So doth my loue all loues exceede.

And when thou com'st to know, that none
Is worthy of thy louely grace,
Thou must not faine, that I am one,
That may deserue so sweete a place.

I am not worthy of so deere
A choice (I say) to be my lot,
Since all the world hath not thy peere,
For that it selfe deserues thee not.

And though I said so (in a vaine)
I shall not be beleeu'd, I knowe;
For well thou know'st what one doth faine,
Is of a thing which is not soe.

Dispose of me euen at thy will,
And faine as much as any one,
So thou beleeue, and faine not still,
That I loue none, but thee alone.

Then on thy gentlenes I call
In pitie, which thou hast forgot,
Thou would'st not mocke my loue at all,
Nor faine, that I doe loue thee not.

Great Ioue can witnesse heere to thee,
That it doth greeue me not so much,
The little loue thou bear'st to me,
As once to faine, that mine is such.

Nor it doth greeue me of thy guise,
To see thee mocke me in such sort:
Or that my things in any wise
May cause thy laughter and thy sport.

But it doth glad me without measure,
That thou dost mocke my loue so lost,
Since by such meanes I giue thee pleasure:
(Although it be vnto my cost.)

To make thee laugh, I doe adiure
The heauens (as I thy loue may ioy)
That many times I doe procure
To doe, and tell thee many a toy.

And though I know none will omit
To call me foole (not without cause)
A simple man of little wit,
Sweruing too much from reasons lawes:

Yet Shepherdesse it skils me not,
Nor it doth not my minde dismay
That all repute me for a sot,
So I may please thee any way.

169

Since that I cannot (Shepherdesse)
With things in earnest please thy vaine,
I will content thee (at the lest)
Frō hence with toies (though to my pain)

To thee they are but things in iest
(For so thou mean'st to take them all)
But euer to my painfull brest
True they haue proou'd, and so they shall.

Mocke me thy fill, since thou dost make
It all thy glee, thy sport, and laughter:
But I doe wish, that Loue may take
A narrow count of thee heereafter.

I once did also iest with loue,
Loue did I scoffe, and loue despise,
But to my paine I now doe proue
What did thereof to me arise.

And this is that poore silly mee
This wicked traitor brought vnto;
But woe is me, that now with thee
I knowe not what he meanes to do.

With iestes and sports of thousand fashions
Two thousand fauors thou didst lend me,
But yet the God of loue, to passions
In earnest turnes them, to offend me.

With thine owne hand (O what a thing)
In iesting didst thou carue to me?
In iest thou saidst and sometimes sing,
Mine onely Shepherd thou shalt be.

O sweetest foode of sauourie tast,
Of force my poore life to maintaine:
Sweet words, whose sound did bind me fast,
Of force to giue me rest againe.

Both word, and deede, and what did passe
(Though but a merry iest it were yet)
So singular a grace it was,
That in my brest I cannot beare it.

To sickest men to giue great store
Of meate, and so much as they craue,
It is not good, but iust no more,
Then it is meete for them to haue.

Fauours I craue by heapes of thee,
That thou wouldst giue me (Shepherdesse)
But yet (perhaps) they may kill me,
For little force I doe possesse.

It hurts the driest field and meade,
As much to cast in them great plentie
Of water, as if they lay deade,
Of water, and of moisture emptie.

So fauours in the selfe same sort,
If that they haue no rule, nor measure,
Suffice to make ones life more short,
As wel as scornes, hates, and displeasure.

But in the end, and howsoeuer,
Take thy full ioy, although I die.
Whether it be with death for euer,
Or with my life, I care not I.

Mocke, and with me doe what thou list,
And happen will, what happen may,
My will thy will shall not resist,
But thy commaund shall still obay,

Commaund me then to be thy loue,
Commaund me in thy loue to end,
And he that rules, and is aboue
All harts, commaund thy hart to bend.

Since mightie Loue commaunds my hart,
Of force thy louer I must bee,
Ioine thou with loue, and take his part,
Then all the world shall honour thee.

But I haue written to be plaine
Enough, since thou hast not thy fill
By giuing me continuall paine,
Desiring yet to serue thee still.

But in the end now will I cease,
Although my torment doth not end:
Desire is conquerd by the feare
I haue, thy patience to offend.

170

A Sonnet.

[I plaid with Loue, Loue plaid with me againe]

I plaid with Loue, Loue plaid with me againe,
I mocked him, but I was mockt in deede,
He would not let my hart his art exceede:
For (though a Boy) yet mocks he doth disdaine.
A friend he is to those, that doe not faine:
My iestes (it seemes) doe true affection breede:
And now, if Loue is not reuenged with speede,
My hart can witnes that with earnest paine.
Goe louers then to iest it out apace
With this God Cupid but a boy, and blinde,
And you shall see, if it be good or noe?
Thinking to haue delight, you shall haue woe,
Seeking cold water, fire you shall finde,
Who plaies with boies, comes often to disgrace.

172

[It may fall out the heauens may turne at leisure]

Syluanus.
It may fall out the heauens may turne at leisure,
And stay themselues vpon the highest mountaines:
And Ezla, and Mondego, at their pleasure.
With hastie course turne backe vnto their fountaines:
And that the flaxe, or reede, laid to the fire,
May not consume in flames, but burne like wire:
But yet the day and time shall happen neuer,
When Syluan shall not loue Seluagia euer.

137

Seluagia.
The ground shall first be void, nor trod, nor vsed,
Leesing her nature, and her proper being:
First shall the raine, and vvater be refused
Of plants, no moisture round about them seeing:
First shall our life vvith aire be not sustained,
And first the foode of hunger be disdained:
Before the vvorld shall see a deede so hainous,
Seluagia not to loue her deere Syluanus.

Syluanus.
The presence of the vvoolfe, that doth deuoure
The sillie lambes, in shades shall not be feared:
As little shall the hare, vvithin her bovvre
The yalping hounds, nor harts of lions teared;
Nor Mouse of Cat, All hate shall be extruded,
And louing peace tvvixt all shall be concluded:
But yet the time and day shall happen neuer
When Syluan shall not loue Seluagia euer.

Seluagia.
The flocke of little chickes (the dams deere treasure)
Of rauening kites and gleades shall be eschevved:
The Partridge shall securely liue in pleasure,
Of praying Goshauke being not pursued:
The pullaine shall not be of Foxe molested,
But peace, and truce tvvixt all shall be suggested:
But neuer lies a deede in her so hainous,
As that Seluagia should forget Syluanus.

Syluanus.
I say, vvhile any part shall be maintained
Of thy Syluanus vvith blood and vitall povvres,
And vvhilst each member of the same sustained
Shall be vvith soule, vnto their latest hovvres;
And if (besides) the soule can loue (expired)
When to the graue the body is retired,
In life, in death, else let him prosper neuer:
Syluan's shall loue his Shepherdesse for euer.

Seluagia.
I say, vvhile liuing breath shall not be vvanting
In thy Seluagia, louing thee so truly:
And vvhile her soule, vvithin her body panting,
Shall make aboade, and gouerne it so duly:
And aftervvardes, if that (the same deceased)
Body and soule may be in loue increased,
In life, and death, and after death so hainous,
Seluagia shall for euer loue Syluanus.

174

[The Gods graunt you to frolicke in your hall]

The Gods graunt you to frolicke in your hall,
His yeeres, that so long time vvith nature striue,
And that in happie fortune you may liue,
Free from all kinde of sorrovves great or small:
And in your loue one haire may neuer fall
Of iealousie, a plague eid like a sieue.
Let heauens to temporall goodes their fauours giue.
Fire, aire, sea, earth, and nature at your call.
The rot may neuer touch your soundest stockes,
Feare of the vvoolfe your shades may not molest:
And vvily foxe not feare your pretie lambes.
In plenty may encrease your goodly stockes,
Tvvo kids may yeerely yeane your fruitfull dams,
And your faire Evves vvith double tvvinlings blest.

176

[Faire Shepherdesse Diana]

Faire Shepherdesse Diana,
Where dost thou now thy figure hide,
More bright then cleere Diana,
When to her full course she is hide.

Venus, the Goddesse faire,
Of beauties all the soueraine,
Wonders at this affaire,
That now her beauties doe not raine.

A sunnie beame thou art,
And who beholdes thy heauenly dies,
Thou wound'st with natures art,
And wounded, in his passions dies.

Thou art a Dimond well,
From whence sweete liquor floweth fast,
Ambrosium thou art well,
From which mine eies shall neuer fast.

Each thing in thee thou hast
To make thee perfect in each part,
If now thou would'st but haste
To pitie, not my soule to part.

This wager will I beare,
And lay, Thou wantest not an ounce,
More cruell then a Beare
To be, or Tygre, or an Ounce.

Cruell thou art in praying,
For thee I burne, as flames in Kill,
Those that to thee are praying
For mercie, thou dost scorne and kill.

My soule thine absence teares,
And giues vnto the same againe
Torments, my torments teares,
(Teares that doe make so small a gaine.)

More bitter then the gall,
Thy absence is, or Sallow wan,
With sorrow it doth gall
My hart, and makes me pale and wan.

In beautie not a peere
Thou hast, for it exceedes the rest,
But where it doth appeere,
Thy crueltie there giues no rest.

O what a foole am I
To wish to see her in this plaine,
That from her mouth an (I)
Will not afford, but (No) so plaine.

No paine I doe deserue
For words, hauing worse deeds essai'd
For whom Loue thus doth serue,
It is not much this to haue said.

177

If that thou mean'st to seale
Thy crueltie in deedes to leaue,
How can I then conceale
The same in song among these leaues?

Faire Shepherdesse, who bad
Thee flie from me? If thou dost waigh,
So base a thing, and bad,
Deserues not glory any way.

180

[The fearefull Bat that lurks in stonie wall]

The fearefull Bat that lurks in stonie wall,
Flies heere and there assured of her sight,
When that she sees the signes of darksome night
Approching on, contented therewithall;
But when she spies the sunnie beames so bright,
Her fault she doth acknowledge and recall.
So novv of late to me it did befall:
For I did thinke there vvas no other light
Nor beautie then in her, vvho did inuite
My senses first to loue: but (to my thrall)
When I beheld Diana so bedight
With beauties, and such grace Angelicall,
Then by and by I knevv that heeretofore
I plainly err'd: but neuer could doe more.

[The open fieldes, the meadovves fresh and greene]

The open fieldes, the meadovves fresh and greene
Their colour and their signe of hope had lost,
Hauing not Syluan, and Seluagia seene,
With vvhose svveete presence they did alvvaies bost.

The goodly vales and hils vvere hard and dried,
Without the steps, that novv doth make them glad,
Shepherds and sheepe in melancholie died,
Depriued of their songs, that once they had.

Now all with pride will shew their ioies againe,
All will reioice, as once they did before:
The hill, the vale, the field, the meade, and plaine,
For merry spring and sommer they restore:
Welcome Seluagia then, your ioyfull spring,
And her Syluanus, that doth sommer bring.

183

[In this greene Meade mine Eies what doe you see]

In this greene Meade mine Eies what doe you see,
The Bagpipe of my Nymph so passing faire?
Vnlesse my senses Dreame, so should it be,
For Sure this is the Oke, wherewith despaire
She lean'd vnto, and heere the grasse yet lies,
And field, that she did water with her eies.

What doubt I then? mine Eies see it so plaine:
For Sure I knowe, this is the very Meade,
And tree that did her tender lims sustaine:
This is the Bagpipe, which my Nymph did treade
Vpon: This is the Oke, the happy beame,
Whereto she lean'd, I knowe this is no Dreame.

But if I Dreame, that thinking with mine Eies
All this I see, and all doth prooue but nought:
And if this Oke in dreame I doe surmise,
And see this Meade, but onely in my thought,
Where my faire Nymph did print her goodly feete:
O Sure it were a dreame to me most sweete.

Ioue thee I pray, if this I doe but feare,
And if my Dreame doth fall out Sure or no?
By all the loue to Nymphes, that thou didst beare,
Open mine Eies the trueth that I may knowe:
Helpe me to pray him greene and flowrie Meade,
Helpe me to pray him, Oke with branchie heade.

184

What hath deseru'd this faire and stately Oke,
Why that should not be Sure, which I doe see?
What hainous fault could this fine Meade prouoke,
Why things in deede should seeme but Dreames to mee?
Vnto mine Eies what is befallen of late,
Why that they should not see my Nymphes estate?

This Bagpipe of my Nymph I will deuise,
To hang it heere (faire Oke) to honour thee:
A woorthy Trophee, though before mine Eies
Lying disgrac't for teares they cannot see,
If it be Sure, or if I dreame in vaine,
(Spoil'd in this Meade with parching sunne and raine)

That gracious Nymph that gaue my hart the stroke
In this greene Meade, I sawe (a heauenly prize)
And (if I dreame not) leaning to that Oke;
Nay, Sure, I did behold her with mine Eies:
O that she had but seene me then againe,
Or that I had but seene or dream'd in vaine.

[I am Dianes, th' Arabian bird in beautie and in grace]

I am Dianes, th' Arabian bird in beautie and in grace,
Let no man therefore once preseume to take me from this place.

185

[Shepherds giue eare and now be still]

Shepherds giue eare and now be still
Vnto my passions, and their cause,
And what they be?
Since that with such an earnest will,
And such great signes of friendships lawes
You aske it me.

It is not long, since I was whole,
Nor since I did in euery part
Sreewill resigne:
It is not long, since in my sole
Possession I did knowe my hart,
And to be mine.

186

It is not long, since euen and morrow
All pleasure that my hart could finde,
Was in my power:
It is not long, since greefe and sorrow
My louing hart began to binde,
And to deuoure.

It is not long, since companie
I did esteeme, a ioy indeede
Still to frequent:
Nor long, since solitarily
I liu'd, and that this life did breede
My sole content.

Desirous I (wretched) to see
But thinking not to see so much
As then I sawe:
Loue made me knowe in what degree
His valour and braue force did touch
Me with his lawe.

First he did put no more nor lesse
Into my hart then he did view
That there did want:
But when my brest in such excesse
Of liuely flames to burne I knew,
Then were so scant.

My ioies, that now did so abate
(My selfe estranged euery way
From former rest)
That I did knowe, that my estate
And that my life was euery day
In deathes arrest.

I put my hand into my side,
To see what was the cause of this
Vnwonted vaine,
Where I did feele, that torments hied
By endlesse death to preiudice
My life vvith paine.

Bicause I savve, that there did vvant
My hart, wherein I did delight
(My deerest hart)
And he that did the same supplant,
No iurisdiction had of right
To play that part.

The iudge, and robber, that remaine
Within my soule, their cause to trie
Are there all one:
And so the giuer of the paine,
And he that is condemn'd to die,
Or I, or none.

To die I care not any way,
Though without why, to die I greeue,
As I doe see:
But for bicause I heard her say,
None die for loue, for I beleeue
None such there bee.

Then this thou shalt beleeue by mee
Too late, and without remedie
As did (in breefe)
Anaxarete, and thou shalt see,
The little she did satisfie
With after greefe.

188

The end of the first booke.