The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania

Written by the right honorable the Lady Mary Wroath

Wroth, Mary (ca. 1586-ca. 1640)

[section]

Urania

PAMPHILIA, TO AMPHILANTHVS.

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Urania

[Vnseene, vnknowne, I here alone complaine]

Vnseene , vnknowne, I here alone complaine
To Rocks, to Hills, to Meadowes, and to Springs,
Which can no helpe returne to ease my paine,
But back my sorrowes the sad Eccho brings.
Thus still encreasing are my woes to me,
Doubly resounded by that monefull voice,
Which seemes to second me in miserie,
And answere giues like friend of mine owne choice.
Thus onely she doth my companion proue,
The others silently doe offer ease:
But those that grieue, a grieuing note doe loue;
Pleasures to dying eies bring but disease:
And such am I, who daily ending liue,
Wayling a state which can no comfort giue.

[Here all alone in silence might I mourne]

Here all alone in silence might I mourne:
But how can silence be where sorrowes flow?
Sigh's with complaints have poorer paines out-worne
But broken hearts can only true griefe show.

Drops of my dearest bloud shall let Loue know
Such teares for her I shed, yet still do burne,
As no spring can quench least part of my woe,
Till this liue earth, againe to earth doe turne.

Hatefull all thought of comfort is to me,
Despised day, let me still night possesse;
Let me all torments feele in their excesse,
And but this light allow my state to see.

Which still doth wast, and wasting as this light,
Are my sad dayes vnto eternall night.

[Heart drops distilling like a new cut-vine]

Heart drops distilling like a new cut-vine
Weepe for the paines that doe my soule oppresse,
Eyes doe no lesse
For if you weepe not, be not mine,
Silly woes that cannot twine
An equall griefe in such excesse.

You first in sorrow did begin the act,
You saw and were the instruments of woe,
To let me know
That parting would procure the fact
Wherewith young hopes in bud are wrackt,
Yet deerer eyes the rock must show.

Which neuer weepe, but killingly disclose
Plagues, famine, murder in the fullest store,
But threaten more.
This knowledge cloyes my brest with woes
T'auoid offence my heart still chose
Yet faild, and pity doth implore.

[Adieu sweet Sun]

Adieu sweet Sun
Thy night is neare
Which must appeare
Like mine, whose light but new begun
Weares as if spun
By chance not right,
Led by a light
False, and pleasing, euer wun.

Come once in view
Sweet heat, and light
My heauy sp'rit
Dull'd in thy setting, made anew
If you renew,
Daysies doe grow,
And spring below
Blest with thy warm'th, so once I grew.

Wilt thou returne,
Deare blesse mine eyes
Where loues zeale lyes
Let thy deere obiect mildly burne
Nor flie, but turne
'Tis season now
Each happy bow
Both buds and blooms, why should I mourne?

[Beare part with me most straight and pleasant Tree]

Beare part with me most straight and pleasant Tree,
And imitate the Torments of my smart
Which cruell Loue doth send into my heart,
Keepe in thy skin this testament of me:

Which Loue ingrauen hath with miserie,
Cutting with griefe the vnresisting part,
Which would with pleasure soone haue learnd loues art,
But wounds still curelesse, must my rulers bee.

Thy sap doth weepingly bewray thy paine,
My heart-blood drops with stormes it doth sustaine,
Loue sencelesse, neither good nor mercy knowes
Pitiles I doe wound thee, while that I
Vnpitied, and vnthought on, wounded crie:
Then out-liue me, and testifie my woes.

[My thoughts thou hast supported without rest]

My thoughts thou hast supported without rest,
My tyred body here hath laine opprest
With loue, and feare: yet be thou euer blest;
Spring, prosper, last; I am alone vnblest.

[Drowne me not you cruell teares]

Drowne me not you cruell teares,
Which in sorrow witnes beares
Of my wailing,
And Loues failing.

Flouds but couer, and retire
Washing faces of desire
Whose fresh growing
Springs by flowing.

Meadowes euer yet did loue
Pleasant streames which by them moue:
But your falling
Claimes the calling

Of a torrent curstly fierce
Past wits power to rehearse;
Only crying,
Or my dying
May in stead of verse or prose
My disasterous end disclose.

[The Sunne hath no long iourney now to goe]

The Sunne hath no long iourney now to goe
While I a progress haue in my desires,
Disasters dead-low-water-like do show
The sand, that ouerlook'd my hop'd-for hyres.

Thus I remaine like one that's laid in Briers,
Where turning brings new paine and certaine woe,
Like one, once burn'd bids me auoid the fires,
But loue (true fire) will not let me be slow.

Obedience, feare, and loue doe all conspire
A worth-lesse conquest gain'd to ruine me,
Who did but feele the height of blest desire
When danger, doubt, and losse, I straight did see.
Restlesse I liue, consulting what to doe,
And more I study, more I still vndoe.

110

[Sweete solitarines, ioy to those hearts]

Sweete solitarines, ioy to those hearts
That feele the pleasure of Loues sporting darts,
Grudge me not, though a vassall to his might,
And a poore subiect to curst changings spite,
To rest in you, or rather restlesse moue
In your contents to sorrow for my loue.
A Loue, which liuing, liues as dead to me,
As holy reliques which in boxes be,
Plac'd in a chest, that ouerthrowes my ioy,
Shut vp in change, which more then plagues destroy.
These, O you solitarinesse, may both endure,
And be a Chirurgion to find me a cure:
For this curst corsiue eating my best rest
Memorie, sad memorie in you once blest,
But now most miserable with the weight
Of that, which onely shewes Loues strange deceit;
You are that cruell wound that inly weares
My soule, my body wasting into teares.
You keepe mine eies vnclos'd, my heart vntide,
From letting thought of my best dayes to slide.
Froward Remembrance, what delight haue you,
Ouer my miseries to take a view?
Why doe you tell me in this same-like place
Of Earths best blessing I haue seene the face?
But maskd from me, I onely see the shade
Of that, which once my brightest Sun-shine made.
You tell me, that I then was blest in Loue,
When equall passions did together moue.
O why is this alone to bring distresse
Without a salue, but torments in excesse?
A cruell Steward you are to inrole
My once-good dayes, of purpose to controle
With eyes of sorrow; yet leaue me vndone
By too much confidence my thrid so sponne:
In conscience moue not such a spleene of scorne,
Vnder whose swellings my despaires are borne.
Are you offended (choicest Memorie),
That of your perfect gift I did glorie?
If I did so offend, yet pardon me.
Since 'twas to set forth your true exclencie.

111

Sufficiently I thus doe punish'd stand,
While all that curst is, you bring to my hand.
Or, is it that I no way worthy was
In so rich treasure my few dayes to passe?
Alas, if so and such a treasure giuen
Must I for this to Hell-like paine bee driuen?
Fully torment me now, and what is best
Together take, and mem'ry with the rest,
Leaue not that to me, since but for my ill,
Which punish may, and millions of hearts kill.
Then may I lonely sit downe with my losse
Without vexation, for my losses crosse:
Forgetting pleasures late embrac'd with Loue,
Linck'd to a faith, the world could neuer moue;
Chain'd with affection, I hop'd could not change,
Not thinking Earth could yeeld a place to range:
But staying, cruelly you set my blisse
With deepest mourning in my sight, for misse
And thus must I imagine my curse more,
When you I lou'd add to my mischiefs store:
If not, then Memory continue still,
And vex me with your perfectest knowne skill,
While you deare solitarinesse accept
Me to your charge, whose many passions kept
In your sweet dwellings haue this profit gaind,
That in more delicacie none was paind:
Your rarenesse now receiue my rarer woe
With change, and Loue appoints my soule to know.

121

[Deare Loue, alas, how haue I wronged thee]

Deare Loue, alas, how haue I wronged thee,
That ceaselesly thou still dost follow me?
My heart of Diamond cleare, and hard I find,
May yet be pierc'd with one of the same kind,
Which hath in it ingrauen a loue more pure,
Then spotlesse white, and deepe still to endure,
Wrought in with teares of neuer resting paine,
Caru'd with the sharpest point of curs'd disdaine.
Raine oft doth wash away a slender marke,
Teares make mine firmer, and as one small sparke
In straw may make a fier from sparkes of loue
Kindles incessantly in me to moue;
While cruelst you, doe onely pleasure take,
To make me faster ty'd to scornes sharpe stake,
Tis harder, and more strength must vsed be
To shake a tree, then boughes we bending see:
So to moue me it was alone your power
None else could ere haue found a yeelding hower
Curs'd be subiection, yet blest in this sort,
That 'gainst all but one choice, my heart a fort
Hath euer lasted: though beseig'd, not mou'd,
But by their misse my strength the stronger prou'd
Resisting with that constant might, that win
They scarce could parly, much lesse foes get in.
Yet worse then foes your slighnings proue to be,
When careles you no pitie take on me.
Make good my dreames, wherein you kind appeare,
Be to mine eyes, as to my soule, most deare.
From your accustomed strangenesse, at last turne;
An ancient house once fir'd, will quickly burne,
And wast vnhelp'd, my long loue claimes a time
To haue aid granted to this height I clime.
A Diamond pure, and hard, an vnshak't tree
A burning house find helpe, and prize in mee.

122

[Stay mine eyes, these floods of teares]

Stay mine eyes, these floods of teares
Seemes but follies weakely growing,
Babes at nurse such wayling beares,
Frowardnesse such drops bestowing:
But Niobe must shew my fate,
She wept and grieu'd her selfe a state.

My sorrowes like her Babes appeare
Daily added by increasing;
She lost them, I loose my Deare,
Not one spar'd from woes ne're ceasing:
She made a rock, heauen drops downe teares,
Which pitie shewes, and on her weares.

143

[Deare, how doe thy winning eyes]

Sh.
Deare , how doe thy winning eyes
my senses wholly tye?

She.
Sense of sight wherein most lyes
change, and Variety.

Sh.
Change in me?

She.
Choice in thee some new delights to try.

Sh.
When I change or choose but thee
then changed be mine eyes.

She.
When you absent, see not me,
will you not breake these tyes?

Sh.
How can I,
euer flye, where such perfection lies?

She.
I must yet more try thy loue,
how if that I should change?

Sh.
In thy heart can neuer mooue
a thought so ill, so strange.

She.
Say I dye?

Sh.
Neuer I, could from thy loue estrange.

She.
Dead, what canst thou loue in me,
when hope, with life is fledd?

Sh.
Vertue, beauty, faith in thee,
which liue will, though thou dead,

She.
Beauty dyes.

Sh.
Not where lyes a minde so richly spedd.

She.
Thou do'st speake so faire, so kind,
I cannot chose but trust,

Sh.
None vnto so chaste a minde
should euer be vniust.

She.
Then thus rest,
true possest, of loue without mistrust.

144

[Loue what art thou? A vaine thought]

Loue what art thou? A vaine thought,
In our mindes by fancy wrought,
Idle smiles did thee beget,
While fond wishes made the nett
Which so many fooles haue caught.

Loue what art thou? light, and faire,
Fresh as morning, cleere as th' ayre:
But too soone thy euening change,
Makes thy worth with coldnesse range,
Still thy ioy is mixt with care.

Loue what art thou? a sweet flowre,
Once full blowne, dead in an houre.
Dust in winde as staid remaines
As thy pleasure, or our gaines,
If thy humour change to lowre.

Loue what art thou? Childish, vaine,
Firme as bubbles made by raine:
Wantonnesse thy greatest pride,
These foule faults thy vertues hide,
But babes can no staydnesse gaine.

Loue what art thou? Causelesse curst,
Yet alas these not the worst,
Much more of thee may bee said,
But thy Law I once obay'd,
Therefore say no more at first.

[Who can blame me if I loue?]

Who can blame me if I loue?
Since Loue before the World did moue.
When I loued not, I despair'd,
Scarce for handsomenesse I car'd;
Since so much I am refin'd,
As new fram'd of state, and mind,
Who can blame me if I loue,
Since Loue before the World did moue.

Some in truth of Loue beguil'd
Haue him blinde and Childish stil'd:

145

But let none in these persist,
Since so iudging iudgement mist,
Who can blame me?

Loue in Chaos did appeare
When nothing was, yet he seemd cleare:
Nor when light could be descride,
To his crowne a light was tide.
Who can blame me?

Loue is truth, and doth delight,
Where as honour shines most bright:
Reason's selfe doth loue approue,
Which makes vs our selues to loue.
Who can blame me?

Could I my past time begin,
I would not commit such sin
To liue an houre, and not to loue,
Since loue makes vs perfect proue,
Who can blame me?

152

[Pray thee Diana tell mee, is it ill]

Pray thee Diana tell mee, is it ill,
as some doe say, thou think'st it is, to loue?
Me thinks thou pleased art with what I proue,
since ioyfull light thy dwelling still doth fill.

Thou seemst not angry, but with cheerefull smiles
beholdst my Passions; chaste indeed thy face
Doth seeme, and so doth shine, with glorious grace;
for other loues, the trust of Loue beguiles.

Be bright then still, most chast and cleerest Queene,
shine on my torments with a pittying eye:
Thy coldnesse can but my despaires discry,
and my Faith by thy clearenesse better seeme.

Let those haue heat, that dally in the Sunne,
I scarse haue knowne a warmer state then shade:
Yet hottest beames of zeale haue purely made
my selfe an offring burnt, as I was wonne.

Once sacrific'd, but ashes can remaine,
which in an Iuory box of truth inclose
The Innocency whence my ruines flowes,
accept them as thine, 'tis a chast Loues gaine.

161

[Teares some times flow from mirth, as well as sorrow]

Teares some times flow from mirth, as well as sorrow,
Pardon me then, if I againe doe borrow
Of thy moist rine some smiling drops, approouing
Ioy for true ioy, which now proceeds from louing.

166

[How doe I finde my soules extreamest anguish]

How doe I finde my soules extreamest anguish,
With restlesse care my harts eternall languish?

167

Torments in life, increasing still with anguish,
Vnquiet sleepes which breed my senses languish.
Hope yet appeares, which somewhat helpes my anguish,
And lends a sparke of life to salue this languish:
Breath to desire, and ease to forgone anguish,
Balmes, but not cures, to bitter tasting languish.
Yet strait I feele, hope proues but greater anguish,
False in it selfe, to me brings cruell languish.
Could I not hope, I suffer might my anguish
At least with lesser torture smart and languish.
For (Rebell hope) I see thy smiles are anguish
Both Prince, and subiect, of e'relasting languish.

170

[Gone is my ioy, while here I mourne]

Gone is my ioy, while here I mourne
In paines of absence, and of care:
The heauens for my sad griefes doe turne
Their face to stormes, and shew despaire.

The dayes are darke, the nights oprest
With cloud'ly weeping for my paine,
Which in shew acting seeme distrest,
Sighing like griefe for absent gaine.

The Sunne giues place, and hides his face,
That day can now be hardly knowne;
Nor will the starres in night yeeld grace
To Sun-robd heauen by woe o'rethrowne.

Our light is fire in fearefull flames,
The ayre tempestious blasts of wind:
For warmth, we haue forgot the name,
Such blasts and stormes are vs assind.

And still you blessed heauens remaine
Distemperd, while this cursed power
Of absence rules, which brings my paine,
Lest your care be more still to lower.

But when my Sunne doth back returne,
Call yours againe to lend his light,
That they in flames of ioy may burne,
Both equall shining in our sight.

186

[When I with trembling aske if you loue still]

When I with trembling aske if you loue still,
My soule afflicted lest I giue offence,
Though sensibly discerning my worst ill;
Yet rather then offend, with griefe dispence.

Faintly you say you must; poore recompence
When gratefull loue is force, I see the hill
Which marrs my prospect loue, and Oh from thence
I tast, and take of losse the poison'd pill.

While one coale liues, the rest dead all about
That still is fire: so your loue now burnd out
Tells what you were, though to deceiuing led.

The Sunne in Summer, and in Winter shewes
Like bright, but not like hot, faire false made blowes
You shine on me, but you loues heate is dead.

212

[You powers diuine of loue-commanding eyes]

You powers diuine of loue-commanding eyes,
Within whose lids are kept the fires of loue;
Close not your selues to ruine me, who lies
In bands of death, while you in darkenesse moue.

One looke doth giue a sparck to kindle flames
To burne my heart, a martyr to your might,
Receiuing one kind smile I find new frames
For loue, to build me wholly to your light.

My soule doth fixe all thoughts vpon your will,
Gazing vnto amazement, greedy how
To see those blessed lights of loues-heauen, bow
Themselues on wretched me, who else they kill.

You then that rule loues God, in mercy flourish:
Gods must not murder, but their creatures nourish.

[You pure and holy fire]

You pure and holy fire
Which kindly now will not aspire
To hot performance of your Nature, turne
Crosse to your selfe and neuer burne
These Reliques of a blessed hand,
Ioynd with mutuall holy band
Of loue and deare desire.

Blame me not dearest lines,
That with loues flames your blacknesse twines,
My heart more mourning doth for you expresse,
But griefe for sorrow is no lesse.
Deepest groanes can couer, not change woe,
Hearts the tombe, keepes in the showe,
Which worth from ill refines.

Alas yet as you burne,
My pitie smarts, and groanes to turne
Your paines away, and yet you must consume
Content in me, must beare no plume,
Dust-like Dispaire may with me liue,
Yet shall your memory out-driue
These paines wherein I mourne.

228

You reliques of pure loue
To sacred keepe with me remooue,
Purg'd by this fire from harme, and iealous feare,
To liue with me both chast and cleare:
The true preserueresse of pure truths,
Who to your graue giues a youth
In faith to liue and mooue.

Famous body's still in flames,
Did anciently preserue their names,
Vnto this funerall nobly you are come,
Honour giuing you this tombe.
Teares and my loue performe your rights,
To which constancie beares lights
To burne, and keepe from blame.

241

[Loue peruse me, seeke, and finde]

Loue peruse me, seeke, and finde
How each corner of my minde
is a twine
wouen to shine.
Not a Webb ill made, foule fram'd,
Bastard not by Father nam'd,
such in me
cannot bee.
Deare behold me, you shall see
Faith the Hiue, and loue the Bee,
which doe bring,
gaine and string.
Pray desist me, sinewes daines
Holds, and loues life in those gaines;
lying bare
to despaire,
When you thus annottomise
All my body, my heart prise;
being true
iust to you.
Close the Truncke, embalme the Chest,
Where your power still shall rest,
ioy entombe,
Ioues iust doome.

249

[From victory in loue I now am come]

From victory in loue I now am come
Like a commander kild at the last blow:
In stead of Lawrell, to obtaine a tombe
With triumph that a steely faith I show.
Here must my graue be, which I thus will frame
Made of my stony heart to other name,
Then what I honor, scorne brings me my tombe,
Disdaine the Priest to bury me, I come.

Cloath'd in the reliques of a spotlesse loue,
Embrace me you that let true louers in;
Pure fires of truth doe light me when I mooue,
Which lamp-like last, as if they did begin.
On you the sacred tombe of loue, I lay
My life, neglect sends to the hellish way,
As offering of the chastest soule that knew
Loue, and his blessing, till a change both slew.

250

Here doe I sacrifice worlds time of truth,
Which onely death can let me part with all,
Though in my dying, haue perpetuall youth
Buried alone in you, whereby I fall.
Open the graues where louers Saints haue laine,
See if they will not fill themselues with paine
Of my affliction, or striue for my place,
Who with a constant honour gaine this grace.

Burne not my body yet, vnlesse an Vrne
Be fram'd of equall vertue with my loue
To hold the ashes, which though pale, will burne
In true loues embers, where he still will moue;
And by no meanes, let my dust fall to earth,
Lest men doe enuy this my second birth,
Or learne by it to find a better state
Then I could doe for loue immaculate.

Thus here, O here's my resting place ordain'd,
Fate made it e're I was; I not complaine,
Since had I kept, I had but blisse obtain'd,
And such for loyalty I sure shall gaine.
Fame beares the torches for my last farewell
To life, but not to loue, for there I dwell,
But to that place, neglect appoints for tombe
Of all my hopes; thus Death I come, I come.

271

[I who doe feele the highest part of griefe]

I who doe feele the highest part of griefe,
shall I be left without reliefe?
I who for you, doe cruell torments beare,
will you alasse leaue me in feare?
Know comfort neuer could more welcome bee,
then in this needfull time to mee,
One drop of comfort will be higher prized
then seas of ioyes, if once despiz'd,
Turne not the tortures which for you I try
vpon my hart, to make me dye.
Haue I offended? 'twas at your desire,
when by your vowes you felt loues fire.
What I did erre in, was to please your will
can you get, and the ofspring kill?

272

The greatest fault, which I committed haue
is you did aske, I freely gaue.
Kindly relent, let causlesse curstnes flye,
giue but one sigh, I bless'd shall dye.
But O you cannot, I haue much displeas'd
striuing to gaine, I losse haue seaz'd.
My state I see, and you your ends haue gain'd
I'me lost since you haue me obtain'd.
And since I cannot please your first desire
I'le blow, and nourish scorners fire
As Salimanders in the fire doe liue:
so shall those flames my being giue.
And though against your will, I liue and moue,
forsaken creatures liue and loue
Doe you proceed, and you may well confesse
you wrong'd my care, while I care lesse.

276

[Blame me not dearest, though grieued for your sake]

Blame me not dearest, though grieued for your sake,
Loue mild to you, on me triumphing sits,
Sifting the choysest ashes of my wits,
Burnt like a Phænix, change but such could shake.

And a new heat, giuen by your eyes did make
Embers dead cold, call Spirits from the pits
Of darke despaire, to fauour new felt fits,
And as from death to this new choice to wake.

Loue thus crownes you with power, scorne not the flames,
Though not the first, yet which as purely ries
As the best light, which sets vnto our eyes,
And then againe ascends free from all blames.

Purenesse is not alone in one fix'd place,
Who dies to liue, finds change a happy grace.

294

[Loue among the clouds did houer]

Loue among the clouds did houer
Seeking where to spie a louer:
In the Court he none could find,
Townes too meane were in that kind,
At last as he was ripe to crying,
In Forrest woods he found one lying

297

Vnder-neath a tree fast sleeping,
Sprit of Loue her body keeping,
Where the soule of Cupid lay
Though he higher then did stay,
When he himselfe in her discrying,
He hasted more then with his flying.

And his tender hand soft laying
On her breast his fires were playing,
Wak'd her with his baby game,
She who knew loue was no shame
With his new sport; smild as delighted,
And homeward went by Cupid lighted.

See the shady Woods bestowing
That, which none can aske as owing
But in Courts where plenties flow,
Loue doth seldome pay, but owe,
Then still giue me this Country pleasure,
Where sweet loue chastly keepes his treasure.

303

[Infernall Spirits listen to my moanes]

Infernall Spirits listen to my moanes,
From Cauy depths, giue hearing to my groanes
Great Pluto, let thy sad abiding moue
With Hellish fires, to flame for fires of loue;
Let Charon passe my woes vnto thine eares:
His boate if empty they shall load it well,
With tortures great, as are the paines of Hell,
And waightier then the Earth this body beares.

Take downe my spirit, cloyd with griefe and paine
Coniure the darkest Pits, to let me gaine
Some corner for a rest; if not, let mee
O Pluto wander, and complaine to thee:
No corsiue can make wounds haue torture more,
Nor this disfauor vex a forelorne soule;
(If all thy furys were put in a role)
Then Loue giues me; ah bitter eating sore.

Call thy great Counsell, and afflicted Sp'rits,
Examine well their woes, with all their nights,
And you shall find none there that are not mine,
Nay, my least, with their greatest ioyntly twine.
Let saddest Echo from her hollow Caue,
Answere the horrid plaints my sorrow giues,
Which in like mournefull, and vast cauerne liues;
Then iudge the murdering passions which I haue.

My Iudge is deafe, then, O thy iustice proue,
Mend thou the fault of proud forgetfull loue,
Release me from thy Court, and send me out
Vnto thy Brother Ioue, whose loue and doubt
Hath oft transform'd him from his heauenly kind:
So now from thee transforme my killing care
To blessing, and from Hell into the Ayre,
Darke griefe should not a louing fancy bind.

318

[The ioy yon say the Heauens in motion trie]

The ioy yon say the Heauens in motion trie
Is not for change, but for their constancy.
Should they stand still, their change you then might moue,
And serue your turne in praise of fickle loue.
That pleasure is not but diuersified,
Plainely makes proofe your youth, not iudgement tried.
The Sunnes renewing course, yet is not new,
Since tis but one set course he doth pursue,
And though it faigned be, that he hath chang'd,
Twas when he from his royall seate hath raing'd:
His glorious splendor, free from such a staine,
Was forc'd to take new shapes, his end to gaine.
And thus indeed the Sunne may giue you leaue,
To take his worst part, your best to deceiue.
And whereof he himselfe hath been ashamd,
Your greatnesse praiseth, fitter to be blamd,
Nothing in greatnes loues a strange delight,
Should we be gouernd then by appetite?
A hungry humour, surfetting on ill,
Which Glutton-like with cramming will not fill.
No Serpent can bring forth so foule a birth,
As change in loue, the hatefullst thing on earth.
Yet you doe venture this vice to commend,
As if of it, you Patron were, or Friend.
Foster it still, and you shall true man be
Who first for change, lost his felicitie.
Riuers (tis true) are clearest when they run,
But not because they haue new places won;
For if the ground be muddy where they fall,
The clearenesse with their change, doth change with all,
Lakes may be sweet, if so their bottoms be;
From rootes, not from the leaues our fruit we see.
But loue too rich a prize is for your share,
Some little idle liking he can spare
Your wit to play withall; but true loue must
Haue truer hearts to lodge in, and more iust,
While this may be allow'd you for loues might,
As for dayes glory framed was the night.
That you can outward fairenesse so affect,
Shewes that the worthier part you still neglect.

319

Or else your many changings best appeares;
For beauty changeth faster then the yeares:
And that you can loue greatnesse, makes it knowne,
The want of height in goodnesse of your owne.
Twas not a happinesse in ancient time
To hold plurality to be no crime,
But a meere ignorance, which they did mend,
When the true light did glorious lusture lend.
And much I wonder you will highly rate
The brutish loue of Nature, from which state
Reason doth guide vs, and doth difference make
From sensuall will, true reasons lawes to take.
Wer't not for Reason, we but brutish were,
Nor from the beasts did we at all differ;
Yet these you praise, the true stile opinion,
By which truths gouernment is shroudly gon.
Honor by you esteemd a title, true,
A title cannot claimd by change as due.
It is too high for such low worth to reach,
Heauen gifts bestow'th as to belong to each.
And this true loue must in reuenge bestow
On you, his sacred power, with paine to know:
A loue to giue you fickle, loose, and vaine,
Yet you with ceaselesse griefe, seeke to obtaine
Her fleeting fauours, while you wayling proue,
Meerely for punishment a steddy loue:
Let her be faire, but false, great, disdainefull,
Chast, but to you, to all others, gainefull,
Then shall your liberty and choice be tide
To paine, repentance, and (the worst sinne) pride.
But if this cannot teach you how to loue,
Change still, till you can better counsell proue:
Yet be assur'd, while these conceits you haue,
Loue will not owne one shot (you say) he gaue.
His are all true, all worthy, yours vniust,
Then (changing you) what can you from him trust.
Repentance true felt, oft the Gods doth win,
Then in your Waine of loue, leaue this foule sin:
So shall you purchase fauour, bannish shame,
And with some care obtaine a louers name.

336

[As these drops fall: so Hope drops now on me]

As these drops fall: so Hope drops now on me
sparingly, coole, yet much more then of late,
as with Dispaire I changed had a state
yet not posses'd, gouerne but modestly.

Deerest, let these dropps heauenly showers proue
and but the Sea fit to receiue thy streames,
in multitudes compare but with Sun beames,
and make sweete mixture, twixt them, and thy loue.

The Seas rich plenty ioynd to our delights,
the Sunn's kind warmth, vnto thy pleasing smiles,
when wisest hearts thy loue-make-eyes beguiles,
and vassell brings to them the greatest Sprites.

Raine on me rather then be drye; I gaine
nothing so much as by such harmeles teares,
which take away the paines of louing feares,
and finely winns an euerlasting raigne.

337

But if like heate drops you do wast away
glad, as disburden'd of a hot desire;
let me be rather lost, perish in fire,
then by those hopefull signes brought to decay:

Sweete be a louer puer, and permanent,
cast off gay cloathes of change, and such false slights:
loue is not loue, but where truth hath her rights,
else like boughs from the perfect body rent.

355

[You, who ending neuer saw]

You , who ending neuer saw
Of pleasures best delighting,
You that cannot wish a thaw.
Who feeles no frost of spighting,
Keeping Cupids hand in awe,
That sees but by your lighting.
Bee not still too cruell bent
against a soule distressed,
Whose heart loue long since hath rent,
And pittilesse oppressed:
But let malice now be spent,
And former ills redressed.
Grieue I doe for what is past,
Let fauour then be granted,
Theeues by iudgement to dye cast,
Haue not of mercy wanted;
But alone at feasts I fast,
As Thiefe of pleasure scanted:
You accuse me that I stole
From you your hearts directing,
All your thoughts at my controule,
Yet passions still reiecting;
But you place me in the roule
Of left loues new electing.
Though I kinder was to it,
My heart in place bestowing,
To make roome for yours more fit,
As iust exchange truth flowing,

356

Till you fondly gain'd the bit,
And flying, left loue owing.
Which debt resting still vnpaid,
Let this at last be gained,
When your new loues haue you staid,
With welcome choyce obtained:
Let change on your brest be laid,
While I liue still vnstained.

390

[Cruell Remembrance alas now be still]

Cruell Remembrance alas now be still,
Put me not on the Racke to torture me:
I doe confesse my greatest misery
Liues in your plenty, my last harme your skill.

Poyson, and Venome onely once doe kill,
While you perpetually new mischiefes fee,
To vexe my soule with endlesse memory,
Leauing no thought that may increase my ill.

Els haue you neede to tell me I was blest,
Rich in the treasure of content, and loue,
When I like him, or her had sweetest rest
But passd like daies, you stay and vexings proue.

Chang'd from all fauours you add vnto despaire
Who vnder these waights grone, most wretched are.

392

[Vnquiet griefe, search further in my heart]

Vnquiet griefe, search further in my heart,
If place bee found which thou hast not possest;
Or so much space can build hopes smallest rest:
Take it, 'tis thine, mine is the lodge of smart.

Dispaire, dispaire hath vs'd the skilfulst art,
To ruine hope, and murther easefull rest:
O me, dispaire, my Vine of hope hath prest,
Rauish'd the grapes, the leaues left for my part.

Yet Ruler griefe, nor thou Despaire deny,
This last request proclaimes 'twas not suspect
Graffed this bud of sorrow in my brest:
But knowledge dayly doth my losse descry.
Cold loue's now match'd with care, change with respect,
When true flames liud, these false fires were supprest.

409

[Losse my molester at last patient be]

Losse my molester at last patient be,
And satisfied with thy curst selfe, or moue
Thy mournefull force thus oft on periurd loue,
To wast a life which liues by mischeifes fee.

Who will behould true misery, veiw me,
And find what wit hath fain'd, I fully proue;
A heauen-like blessing chang'd throwne from aboue,
Into Dispaire, whose worst ill I doe see.

Had I not happy beene, I had not knowne
So great a losse, a King depos'd, feeles most
The torment of a Throne-like-want, when lost,
And vp must looke to what late was his owne.

Lucifer downe cast, his losse doth grieue,
My Paradice of ioy gone, doe I liue?

416

[O that I might but now as senselesse bee]

O that I might but now as senselesse bee
Of my felt paines, as is that pleasant Tree,
Of the sweet musique, thou deare Byrd dost make,
Who I imagine doth my woes partake.
Yet contrary we doe our passions mooue,
Since in sweet notes thou dost thy sorrowes prooue.
I but in sighs, and teares, can shew I grieue,
And those best spent, if worth doe them beleeue.
Yet thy sweet pleasures makes me euer finde
That happinesse to me, as Loue is blinde,
And these thy wrongs in sweetnesse to attire,
Throwes downe my hopes to make my woes aspire.
Besides, of me th' aduantage thou hast got,
Thy griefe thou vtter'st, mine I vtter not.
Yet thus at last we may agree in one,
I moure for what still is, thou, what is gone.

418

[Deare, though vnconstant, these I send to you]

Deare , though vnconstant, these I send to you
As witnesses, that still my Loue is true.
Receiue these Lines as Images of Death,
That beare the Infants of my latest breath,
And to my tryumph, though I dye in woe,
With welcome glory, since you will it so,
Especially, my ending is the lesse,
When I Examples see of my distresse.
As Dido, one whose misery was had
By Loue, for which shee in Deathes robes was clad;
Yet lost shee lesse then I, for I possest
And loue enioy'd, she lik'd, what was profest
Most cruell, and the death-lik'st kind of ill,
To lose the blessing of contentments will.
Faire Ariadne neuer tooke more care,
Then I did how you might in safety fare,
Her thrid my life was to draw you from harme,
My study wholly how I might all charme
That dangerous were, while pleasures you optain'd,
And I the hazard with the labour gain'd:
Yet shee this his life sau'd, he her honor lost,
That false Prince Theseus flying, left her crost
With his abandoning her truth, and loue
Leaning her desolate, alone to proue
His Loue, or ended, or but giuen for neede,
Caus'd her with misery to gaine that meed.

419

I Ariadne am alike oppress'd,
Alike deseruing, and alike distress'd:
Vngratefull Demophon, to Phillis faire
A Thracian Lady, causs'd by like dispaire,
Or greater farr, for after feruent loue,
In which bless'd time he freely still did proue:
What is desir'd, or lou'd, he left this Queene
And bliss, for a lesse Kingdome which had beene
Before his fathers, and by reason right,
For Theseus was his Sire that King of spight.
Thus did he both inherit state, and ill,
While Phillis selfe, her louely selfe did kill,
Making a Tree her Throne, a Cord the end
Of her affections, which his shame did send.
I strangled am, with your vnkindnes choak'd
While cruelty is with occasions cloak'd.
Medea Witch, with her enchanting skill
Did purchase what was craued by her will,
Yet was by Iason left at last, which showes
Loue only free from all bewitching blowes.
But his owne witchcraft, which is worst of ills,
Neuer absenting till all ioy it spills.
Charms it may be, with-held you now from me,
Breake through them, leaue that Circes so oft free,
The Syrens songe, Calypsoes sweete delights
And looke on faith, which light is of true lights.
Turne backe the eyes of your chang'd heart, and see
How much you sought, how fondly once sought me,
What trauell did you take to win my loue?
How did you sue that I as kind would proue?
This is forgot as yester dayes lik'd sport,
Loue winning lasting long, once won proues short.
I like Penelope haue all this time
Of your absenting, let no thought to clime
In me of change, though courted, and pursu'd
By loue, perswasions, and euen fashons rude
Almost to force extending, yet still she
Continued constant, and as I am free.
Ten yeares a cause was for Vlisses stay
While Troy beseiged was, but then away
Was homeward bent by all, saue him who stayd,
And ten yeares more on forraine beautyes pray'd.
Against his will, he oft his will enioyed.
And with variety at last was cloy'd.
Chainge wearyed him, when weary he return'd,
And from his wandring then to staydnes turn'd.
Come you now backe, I thus inuite you home,
And loue you, as if you did neuer roame:

420

I haue forgot it as if neuer done,
And doe but thinke me a new to be wone.
I shall appeare, it may be, as I did,
And all passd falts shall in my breast be hid,
Try me againe, and you shall truely find,
Where fairenesse wanteth, clearenes of a minde;
Fairer, and richer then the masse of all
Their persons, which from me haue made you fall,
If ioyn'd together, and from thence to frame
A minde of beauteous faith, fit for the name
Of worthy Constancy inrich'd with truth,
Which gaue me to you, and so held my youth
In young desires, still growing to your loue,
Nourish them now, and let me your loue proue.
Leaue the new powerfull charms of strangers tongus,
Which alwayes truth with their faire falshood wrongs.
Come backe to me, who neuer knew the plot
To crosse your minde, or to thy will an nott:
Come, I say, come againe, and with Vlisses
Enioy the blessings of your best blisses;
Happy the comfort of a chaste loues bed,
Blessed the pillow that vpholds the head
Of loyall louing, shame's the others due,
Leaue those for me who cannot be but true.
Come, and giue life, or in your stay send death
To her that liues in you, else drawes no breath.

423

[Why doe you so much wish for raine, when I]

Why doe you so much wish for raine, when I,
Whose eyes still showring are, stand you so nigh?
Thinke you that my poore eyes now cannot lend
You store enough? alas, but rightly bend
Your looks on me, and you shall see a store
Able to moisten Earth, and ten earths more:
Sighs to make Heauen as soft as tender wooll,
And griefe sufficient to make vp the full
Of all despaires, then wish not, since in me
Contained are teares, griefe, and misery.

426

Lindamira's Complaint.

1.

Deare eyes farewell, my Sunne once, now my end,
While your kinde willing grace I felt, all ioy
In soule I knew withdrawne, you now destroy.
The house that being gaue to loues best friend.

You now alas to other obiects bend
That warmth of blisse which best delights enioy,
Striuing to win an oft won idle toy,
By falshood nurs'd, such creatures seldome mend.

Try your new loues, affect the choyce of store,
And be assur'd they likewise will choose more,
Which I yet grieue; for though the losse I beare.

I would haue none with you to challenge right;
But beare you must for making choyce so light:
Yet still your beames Ile loue, shine you elsewhere.

2.

O deadly rancour to a constant heart,
Frownes, and neglect, my only sauours be:
Sometimes a cold respect is granted me;
But hot flames to those eyes ioy in my smart.

Once yet for Iustice sake weigh my hard part,
In gratefulnesse I should kinde vsage see;
For being tied alone to you els free,
Till by your wrongs now ioynd with heart-broke smart.

A glorious triumph you no doubt shall haue,
To crowne your victory on murders graue,
While falshood beares the armes my life hath won.

I onely for twise seauen yeares loue shall gaine
Change, worse then absence, or death's cruelst paine:
The last yet got, you haue your labour done.

3.

A Surgeon I would aske, but 'tis too late,
To stay the bleeding wound of my hurt heart:

427

The roote is toucht, and the last drops depart
As weeping for succeeding others fate.

Alas that my kild heart should waile my state,
Or leisure haue to thinke on ought but smart,
Nor doth it, but with pitie beare a part,
With her embrac'd yours like a louing mate.

But now vnmarried by a new disdaine
Cold death must take the body from her loue
And thou poore heart must end for my vnworth.

Conscience is lost, and outward fairenes gaines
The place where worth did, or else seemd to moue,
Thus world-like change new triall still brings forth.

4.

O memorie , could I but loose thee now,
At least learne to forget as I did moue
My best, and onely thoughts to waite on loue,
And be as Registers of my made vow.

Could I but let my mind to reason bow,
Or see plaine wrongs, neglects, and slightings proue
In that deare Sphear, which as the Heauens aboue
I prizd, and homage to it did allow.

Canst thou not turne as well a Traitor too
Since Heauen-like powers teach thee what to doo?
Canst not thou quite forget thy pleasures past;

Those blessed houres, the onely time of blisse,
When we feard nothing but we time might misse
Long enough to enioy what's now off cast.

5.

Leaue me vaine Hope, too long thou hast possest
My mind, made subiect to thy flattring skill,
While Aprill mornings did my pleasures fill,
But cloudy dayes soone changd me from that rest;

And weeping afternoones to me adrest,
My vtter ruine framd by Fortunes will,
When knowledge said Hope did but breed, and kill,
Producing only shadowes at the best.

428

Yet Hope tis true, thy faults did faire appeare
And therefore loth to thinke thou counseldst me
Or wilfully thy errors would not see
But catch at Sunne moates which I held most deare

Till now alas with true felt losse I know,
Thy selfe a Bubble each faire face can blow.

6

Though you forsake me, yet alas permit
I may haue sorrow, for my poysn'd crosse;
Thinke not, though dead, to ioy I cannot hit
Vpon a torture, for my soule-pierc'd losse.

Or if by chance I smile, I hopes ingrosse,
Nor for I die not, I doe bliss admit,
Most griefe will oft giue leaue for show to toss
Vpon the waues, where Shipwrack'd comfort split.

Thinke then your will, and left, leaue me yet more
Vexe not my loathed life, to ruine bent;
Be satisfied with glut of your bad change:

Lay me vnthought on, in the loue-kill'd store,
My griefe's my owne, or since for you 'tis sent,
Let me haue that part from you while you range.

7

Some doe, perhapts, both wrong my loue, and care,
Taxing me with mistrust, and Ielousie,
From both which sinnes in loue like freedome, free
I liue, these slanders but new raised are.

What though from griefe, my soule I doe not spare,
When I perceiue neglect's slight face on me?
While vnto some the louing smiles I see,
I am not Iealous, they so well doe fare.

But doubt my selfe lest Nesse worthy am,
Or that it was but flashes, no true flame,
Dazl'd my eyes, and so my humour fed.

If this be iealousie, then doe I yeeld,
And doe confesse I thus goe arm'd to field,
For by such Iealousie my loue is led:

449

[From a long way, and Pilgrimage for Loue]

From a long way, and Pilgrimage for Loue,
I am return'd weary'd with Trauels paine,
Not finding ease, or those vexations mooue:
First, to my soule they are, where to remaine
They vow to setle; then alas, can I
Thinke of a rest, but trauell till I die.

453

[Did I boast of liberty?]

Did I boast of liberty?
'Twas an insolency vaine:
I doe onely looke on thee,
and I captiue am againe.

482

[Loue farewell I now discouer]

Loue farewell I now discouer
Thee a Tyrant o're a louer,
All thy promis'd sweets proue crosses,
Thy rewards are only losses.

A pritty thing I did deeme thee,
Innocent, and mild esteeme thee,

483

But I find thee as curst matter
As a swelling high wrought water.

Cupids name a pleasant folly
Hath beguiled hearts-most holly,
Euen to sacrifize in homage,
Life and soule vnto their domage.

Mine an offering once I profferd,
Happily refusd when offerd,
Ile keepe now but to reuile thee,
From the craft which did beguile me.

494

[Faithfull louers keepe from hence]

Faithfull louers keepe from hence
None but false ones here can enter:

495

This conclusion hath from whence
Falsehood flowes: and such may venter.

498

[Egypts Pyramid's inclose their Kings]

Egypts Pyramid's inclose their Kings,
But this farr brauer, nobler things;
Vertue, Beauty, Loue, Faith, all heere lye
Kept in Myras Tombe, shut from eye:
The Phœnix dyes to raise another faire,
Borne of her ashes, to be heire;
So this sweete Place may claime that right in woe,
Since heere she lyes, Heauen willing so.

512

[If a cleere fountaine still keeping a sad course]

If a cleere fountaine still keeping a sad course,
Weepe out her sorrowes in drops, which like teares fall;
Maruell not if I lament my misfortune,
brought to the same call.

Who thought such faire eyes could shine, and dissemble?
Who thought such sweete breath could poyson loues shame?
Who thought those chast eares could so be defiled?
hers be the sole blame.

While loue deseru'd loue, of mine ctill she fail'd not,
Foole I to loue still where mine was neglected,
Yet faith, and honor, both of me claim'd it,
although reiected.

Oft haue I heard her vow, neuer sweete quiet
Could once possesse her while that I was else where,
But words were breath then, and as breath they wasted
into a lost Ayre.

So soone is loue lost, not in heart imprinted,
Silly I, knew not the false power of changing,
Loue I expected, yet (ah) was deceiued,
more her fond ranging.

Infant Loue tyed me not to mistrust change,
Vowes kept me fearelesse, yet all those were broken:
Loue, faith, and friendship by her are dissolued,
suffer'd vnspoken.

514

[That which to some their wishes ends present]

That which to some their wishes ends present,
Is counted day, which former crosses mend,
Yet night-like day my blessings do preuent,
And brings that losse, whereto my mischeifs tend.

By dayes approach, alasse, that light doth end,
Which is the onlylight of my content,
And more I see, day striue her light to lend
The darker am I, by sad parting rent.

Like one long kept in prison, brought to light;
But for his end, condemned nere to bee
Freed from his Dungeon, till that wretched hee,
Conclude his liuing with his latest sight.

So now with griefe, doth day appeare to mee,
And Oh! too early since we parting see.

515

[Fond aged man, why doe you on me gaze]

Wo.
Fond aged man, why doe you on me gaze,
Knowing my answer? resolution take
Follow not fondly in an vnusd Maze
As if impossibilities to shake.
For know I hate you still, and your poore loue
Can mee as soone as Rocks to pitie moue.

Man.
Alas my dearest soule, too long I knew
I lou'd in vaine, your scorne I felt likewise,
Your hate I saw; yet must I still pursue
Your fairest sight, though you doe me despise;
For loue is blind, and though I aged be,
I can nor part from it, nor it from me.

Wo.
What blame dost thou deserue, if thou wilt still
Follow my hate, who will not breath to change,
And striue to gaine as if from scorne, or ill
Louing disdaine as Iuels rich, and strang:
Or canst thou vainely hope thy wailing cries
Can moue a pitty? no let this suffice.

Man.
Pitie, alas I nere could looke to see
So much good hap; yet Deere be not to cruell,
Though you thus young hate aged loue in me,
My loue hath youth, or you shall see loues fuell
Deseruing your reward, then not denie,
Let me now see those eyes kind, or I die.

Wo.
These eyes of mine thou neuer shalt behold,
If clouds of true disdaine may dim desire,
They shall as blacke be as thy faults are bold,
Demanding what's vnfit: a poore old fire
Wasted like Triumphs, sparcles onely liue,
And troubled rise from embers which outliue.

Man.
I doe confesse a boldnesse tis in me
Ought to resist, if your sweet selfe command;
Yet blind me needs you must, for if I see,
Mine eyes must rest on you, and gazing stand:
Heauen not forbids the bacest worme her way,
Hide that deare beauty, I must needs decay.

Wo.
My beauty I will hide, mine eyes put out,
Rather then be perplexed with thy sight,
A mischiefe certaine worse is, then a doubt,
Such is thy sight, thy absence my delight;
Yet mine the ill, since now with thee I stay.
Tyred with all misfortune cannot stray.

516

Man.

Thy beautie hide? O no, still cruell liue
To me most haplesse; dim not that bright light
Which to this Earth all lights and beauties giue.
Let me not cause for euer darkest night,
No, no, blessed be those eyes and fairest face,
Lights of my soule, and guides to all true grace.

My sweet commanderesse shall I yet obay
And leaue you here alas vnguarded? shall
I not then for sorrow euer stray
From quiet peace, or hope, and with curst thrall
Sit downe and end? yet if you say I must
Here will I bide in banishment accurst:
While you passe on as cruell, happy still
That none else triumph may vpon mine ill.

520

[A Sheephard who no care did take.]

1

A Sheephard who no care did take.
of ought but of his flock,
Whose thoughts no pride could higher make,
Then to maintaine his stock,
Whose sheepe his loue was, and his care,
Their good, his best delight:
The Lambs his ioy, their sport his fare,
His pleasure was their sight.

2

Till Loue (an enuier of mans blisse)
Did turne this merry life
To teares, to wishes which nere misse
Incombrances with strife.
For whereas he was best content,
With looking on his sheepe:
His time in woes, must now be spent,
And broken is his sleepe.

513

3

Thus first his wofull change beganne,
A Lamb he chanc't to misse,
Which to finde out, about hee ran.
Yet finds not where it is.
But as he past (O fate vnkind)
his ill led him that way,
Whereas a willow Tree behind,
A faire young Maiden lay.

4

Her bed was on the humble ground,
her head vpon her hand,
While sighs di'd shew, her heart was bound
In Loue's vntying band.
Cleere teares her cleerest eyes let fall,
Vpon her Loue-borne face:
Which Heauenly drops did sorrow call,
proud witnes of disgrace.

5

The Shephard stay'd, and fed his eyes,
no farther might he passe,
But there his freedome to sight tyes,
His bondage, his ioy was.
His Lambe he deemes not halfe so faire,
Though it were very white:
And liberty he thinkes a care,
Nor breath's but by her sight.

6

His former life is alter'd quite,
His Sheepe feede in her eyes,
Her face his feild is of delight,
And flocks he doth despise.
The rule of them he leaues to none,
His Scrip he threw away:
And many he forsakes for one,
One, he must now obey.

7

Vnhappy man whose loosing found,
What better had bin lost:
Whose gaine doth spring from such a ground,
Whereby he must be crost.

522

The worldly care he now neglects,
for Cupids seruice tyes,
Care only to his fond respects,
where waue-like treasure lyes.

8

As this lost man still gazing stood,
Amaz'd at such a sight:
Imagining no heauenly food
To feede on but her sight;
Wishing but her beames to behold,
Yet greiu'd he for her griefe,
When mournfully he did vnfold
Her woes without reliefe.

9

His new Sun rose, and rysing said,
Farwell faire Willow tree,
The roote of my estate decay'd,
The fruit for haplesse me:
What though thy branch, a signe be made,
Of labour lost in loue?
Thy beauty doth no sooner vade,
Then those best fortunes proue.

10

My songs shall end with willow still,
Thy branches I will weare:
Thou wilt accompany my ill,
And with me sorrow beare.
True friend said she, then sigh'd, and turn'd,
Leauing that restlesse place,
And Sheephard, who in pasiions burn'd
lamenting his sad case.

11

Ths Maid now gone, alone he left,
Still on her footsteps gaz'd,
And heartlesse growne, by loue bereft
of mirth, in spirit rais'd,
To satisfie his restlesse thought,
He after her will hye,
His ruine to be sooner brought,
And sooner harme to try.

523

12

Then thus his latest leaue he tooke,
My Sheepe (said he) farwell,
Let some new Shepheard to you looke
Whose care may mine excell.
I leaue you to your freedome now,
Loues-lawes so fast me bind,
As no time I can you allow,
Or goe poore flock, and find

13

The Maid whom I so dearely loue,
Say it was her deare sight,
Which from your keepe doth me remoue,
And kills my first delight.
Goe you my Dog, who carefull were
To guard my Sheepe from harme,
Looke to them still, no care forbeare,
Though loue my senses charme.

14

But you my Pipe that musick gaue,
And pleasd my silent rest,
Of you I company will craue,
Our states now suteth best.
For if that Faire no pity giue,
My dying breath shall cry,
Through thee the paines, wherein I liue,
Whereby I breath to dye.

15

Madly he ran from ease to paine
Not sicke, yet farre from well,
Heart robd by two faire eyes, his gaine
Must prooue his worldly Hell.
After his heart he fast doth hie,
His heart to her did flie,
And for a biding place did crie,
Within her breast to lie.

16

She that refusd, when he her spide,
Her whom he held most deare,
Lie weeping by a Riuers side
Beholding papers neare.

524

Her ruling eyes must yet be dimbd,
While pearle like teares she shed,
Like shadowes on a Picture limbd;
At last these words she read.

17

When I vnconstant am to thee
Or false doe euer proue,
Let happinesse be banisht me,
Nor haue least taste of loue.
But this alas too soone, cryd she,
Is O by thee forgot,
My hopes and ioyes now murtherd be,
And falsehood is my lot.

18

Too late I find what tis to trust
To words, or oathes, or teares,
Since they that vse them prooue vniust
And colour but our feares.
Poore fooles ordaind to be deceiu'd
And trust to be betrayd,
Scornd when our hearts are vs bereau'd
Sought to, a while delayd.

19

Yet though that thou so false hast been,
I still will faithfull be;
And though thou thinkst to leaue no sinne,
Ile make my loyalty
To shine so cleare, as thy foule fault
To all men shall be knowne,
Thy change to thy changd heart be brought,
My faith abroad be blowne.

20

This hauing said, againe she rose
The papers putting by,
And once againe a new way chose
Striuing from griefe to fly:
But as she going was along
That pleasant running streame,
She saw the Sallow trees among,
The Shepheard Aradeame.

525

21

For so this wofull Lad was call'd,
But when she him beheld,
What witchcraft hath thee now inthral'd,
And brought thee to this field?
What can the cause, or reason be,
That thou art hither come:
Where all must tast of misery,
And mirth with griefe intombe?

22

If mirth must heere intombed be,
Faire Sheephardesse, said he?
This place the fittest is for me,
If you vse cruelty:
For know I hither come, to see
Your selfe, wherein now lyes
My life, whose absence martir'd me,
Whose sight my power tyes.

23

Giue me but leaue to liue with you,
It is the life I craue:
To you I bound am to be true,
My life to you I gaue;
When first I did behold you lye,
In shade of willow tree:
That time my soule did to you tye,
Those eyes did murther me.

24

Is this the reason (ah cryd she?)
The more I waile your case,
Who thus partaker, needs will be
In griefe, and in disgrace,
I pitty you, but cannot ayd
You, nor redresse your ill,
Since ioy and paine together pay'd,
Scarce satisfies the will.

25

If I doe tye you, I release
The bond wherein you are,
Your freedome shall not find decrease,
Nor you accuse my care.

526

The paine I haue is all my owne,
None can of it beare part,
Sorrow my strength hath ouerthrowne,
Disdaine hath killd my heart.

26

And Sheepheard if that you doe loue,
This counsell take of me,
This humor fond in time remoue,
Which can but torture thee;
Take it from her who too too well
Can witnesse it is so:
Whose hope seem'd Heauen, yet prou'd a Hell,
And comfort chang'd to woe.

27

For I was lou'd, or so I thought,
And for it lou'd againe,
But soone those thoughts my ruine brought,
And nourish'd all my paine,
They gaue the milke that fed beleife
Till wean'd, they proued dry:
Their latter nourishment was griefe,
So famish't I must dye.

28

Then see your chance, I cannot change,
Nor my affection turne,
Disdaine which others moues to range,
Makes me more constant burne,
My sighs I'me sure cannot you please,
My griefe no Musicke prooue,
My flowing teares your passions ease,
Nor woes delight your Loue.

29

If my sight haue your freedome wonn,
Receiue it backe againe;
So much my selfe I finde vndone,
By gifts which proue no gaine.
As I lament with them that loue,
So true in Loue I am,
And liberty wish all to proue,
Whose hearts waste in this flame.

527

30

Yet giue me leaue (sigh'd he with teares)
To liue but where you are,
My woes shal waite vpon your feares,
My sighs attend your care:
Ile weepe when euer you shall waile,
If you sigh, I will cry,
When you complaine, Ile neuer faile
To waile my misery.

31

I will you guard, and safely keepe
From danger, and from feare,
Still will I watch when you doe sleepe,
And for both, sorrowes beare.
Make me not free, I bondage craue,
Nor seeke else but to serue,
This freedome will procure my graue,
These bonds my life preserue.

32

For life, and ioy, and ease, and all
Alasse lyes in your hands:
Then doe not cause my only fall,
I ty'd am in such bands.
Part hence I cannot, nor loue leaue,
But heere must euer bide:
Then pitty let my paine receiue,
Doe not from mercy slide.

33

If that (said she) you constant are,
Vnto your comming ill,
Ile leaue this place, yet let all care
Accompany me still:
And Sheepheard liue, and happy be,
Let iudgment rule your will,
Seeke one whose hart from loue is free,
And who your ioy may fill.

34

For I loue's bond-slaue am, and ty'd
In fetters of Disdaine:
My hopes are frozen, my Spring dry'd,
My Sommer drown'd with paine:

528

I lou'd, and worse, I said I lou'd,
Free truth my ruine brought,
And so your speech the like hath mou'd
and losse for gayning bought.

35

With that away she hasted fast,
Left him his cares to holde,
Who now to sorrow make all hast,
Woes driue his hopes to fould:
Now he can see, and weeping say
His fortune blind he finds,
A heart to harbour his decay,
A state which mischeife binds.

36

This now he feeles, and wofully
His birth, and life he blames,
Yet passions rules, when reasons lye
in darke, or quenched flames:
That place he first beheld her in,
his byding he doth make:
The Tree his liberty did win,
He cals his Martyr stake.

37

And pleasingly doth take his fall,
his griefe accoumpts delight:
Freedome, and ioy this bitter thrall,
His food her absent sight.
In contraryes his pleasures be,
While mourning giues him ease,
His Tombe shall be that haplesse Tree,
Where sorow did him ceaze.

38

And thus did liue, though daily dy'd,
The Sheephard Arideame,
Whose causlesse teares which neuer dry'd
were turnd into a streame,
Himselfe the head, his eyes the spring
Which fed that Riuer cleere,
Which to true harts this good doth bring
When they approch it neere,

529

39

And drinke of it, to banish quite
All fickell thoughts of change,
But still in one choyce to delight,
And neuer thinke to range:
Of this sweete water I did drinke,
Which did such faith infuse,
As since to change, I cannot thinke,
Loue will death sooner chuse.

538

[Rise, rise from sluggishnes, fly fast my Deere]

Rise , rise from sluggishnes, fly fast my Deere,
The early Larke preuents the rising lights:
The Sunne is risen, and shines in the rights
Of his bright glory, till your eyes appeare.

539

Arise, and make your two Sunnes so cleare show,
As he for shame his beames call backe againe,
And drowne them in the Sea for sorrowes paine,
That you, Commandresse of the light may know,

The dutie Sunne, and all must yeeld to you
Where richnesse of desert doth lie imbracd,
Night by your brightnes wholly now defac'd,
And Day alone left to you as lights due.

Yet be as waighty still in loue to me,
Presse me with loue, rather then lightly flie
My passions like to women, made to tie
Of purpose to vnloose, and oft be free.

Thus may your lightnesse shewing ruine me,
I cannot liue if your affections dye,
Or leaue off liuing in my constancy
Be light and heauy too, so wee agree.

547

[Haue I lost my liberty]

1

Haue I lost my liberty,
And my selfe, and all, for thee
O Loue?
Yet wilt thou no fauour giue
In my losse thy blame will liue;
Alas remoue.

2

Pitie claimes a iust reward,
But proud thoughts are thy best guard
Once smile:
Glory tis to saue a life
When deceiuers are in strife
Which to beguile.

3

Your gaine hath my paine begot,
But neglect doth proue my lot,
O turne,
Say it was some other harme,
And not your still sought for Charme
Did make me burne.

548

4

Thus may you all blame recall,
Sauing me from ruins thrall
Then loue
Pitie me, Ile no more say
You to cruelty did sway,
But loyall proue.

5

Else be sure your tricks Ile blaze,
And your triumph Castle raze
Take heed,
Conquerours cannot remaine
Longer then mens hearts they gaine,
Worse will you speed.

6

You a King set vp by loue,
Traytors soone may you remoue
From by,
Take this counsell serue loues will
And seeke not a heart to kill,
Least both doe cry.

549

[Loue growne proud with victory]

Loue growne proud with victory,
Seekes by sleights to conquer me,
Painted showes he thinks can bind
His commands in womens mind.
Loue but glories in fond louing,
I most ioy in not remouing.

550

Loue a word, a looke, a smile,
In these shapes can some beguile,
But he some new way must proue
To make me a vassell loue.
Loue but &c.

Loue must all his shadowes leane
Or himselfe he will deceiue,
Who loues not the perfect skie,
More then clouds that wanton slie.
Loue but &c.

Loue, yet thus thou maist me win,
If thy staidnesse would begin
Then like friends w'would kindly meete
When thou proou'st as true as sweete
Loue then glory in thy louing
And Ile ioy in my remouing.

554

[This no wonder's of much waight]

This no wonder's of much waight,
'Tis the hell of deepe deceit.

PAMPHILIA, TO AMPHILANTHVS.

1

When night's blacke Mantle could most darknesse proue,
And sleepe (deaths Image) did my senses hyre,
From Knowledge of my selfe, then thoughts did moue
Swifter then those, most switnesse neede require.

In sleepe, a Chariot drawne by wing'd Desire,
I saw; where sate bright Venus Queene of Loue,
And at her feete her Sonne, still adding Fire
To burning hearts, which she did hold aboue,

But one heart flaming more then all the rest,
The Goddesse held, and put it to my breast,
Deare Sonne now shut, said she, thus must we winne;

He her obeyd, and martyr'd my poore heart.
I waking hop'd as dreames it would depart,
Yet since, O me, a Louer I haue beene.

2

Deare eyes how well indeed, you doe adorne
That blessed Sphere, which gazing soules hold deare?
The loued place of sought for triumphs, neere
The Court of Glory, where Loues force was borne.

How may they terme you Aprills sweetest morne?
When pleasing lookes, from those bright lights appeare
A Sunne-shine day, from clowdes, and mists still cleare:
Kinde nursing fires for wishes yet vnborne.

Two Starres of Heauen sent downe to grace the Earth,
Plac'd in that Throne which giues all ioyes their birth,
Shining, and burning; pleasing yet their Charmes:

Which wounding euen in hurts are deem'd delights;
So pleasant is their force, so great their mights,
As happy they can tryumph in their harmes.

3

Yet is there hope, then Loue but play thy part;
Remember well thy selfe, and thinke on me;
Shine in those eyes which conquer'd haue my heart,
And see if mine, be slacke to answer thee.

Lodge in that breast, and pitty moouing see,
For flames which in mine burne in truest smart,
Exciling thoughts, that touch Inconstancy,
Or those which waste not in the constant Art.

Watch but my sleepe, if I take any rest,
For thought of you, my spirit so distrest,
As pale and famish'd, I for mercy cry.

Will you your seruant leaue? thinke but on this,
Who weares Loue's Crowne, must not doe so amisse
But seeke their good, who on thy force doe lye.

4

Forbeare darke night, my ioyes now budd againe,
Lately growne dead, while cold aspects, did chill
The roote at heart, and my chiefe hope quite kill,
And thunders strooke me in my pleasures waine.

Then I alas with bitter sobs, and paine,
Priuately groan'd, my Fortunes present ill;
All light of comfort dimb'd, woes in prides fill,
With strange encrease of griefe, I grieu'd in vaine.

And most, when as a memory to good
Molested me, which still as witnes stood,
Of those best dayes, in former time I knew:

Late gone as wonders past, like the great Sow,
Melted and wasted, with what, change must know:
Now backe the life comes where as once it grew.

5

Can pleasing sight misfortune euer bring?
Can firme desire a painefull torment trye?
Can winning eyes proue to the heart a sting?
Or can sweet lips in Treason hidden lye?

The Sunne most pleasing, blindes the strongest eye,
If two much look'd on, breaking the sights string;
Desires still crost must vnto mischiefe hie,
And as Despaire, a lucklesse chance may fling.

Eyes hauing none, reiecting prooues a sting,
Killing the budd before the tree doth spring;
Sweet lipps, not louing, do as poyson proue:

Desire, sight, eyes, lipps; seeke, see, proue, and finde,
You loue may winn, but curses, if vnkinde,
Then shew you harmes dislike, and ioy in loue.

6

O striue not still to heape disdaine on me,
Nor pleasure take, your cruelty to show
On haplesse me, on whom all sorrowes flow,
And byding make, as giuen, and lost by thee.

Alas, euen griefe is growne to pitty me,
Scorne cryes out 'gainst it selfe such ill to show,
And would giue place for ioyes delights to flow;
Yet wretched I, all torture beare from thee.

Long haue I suffer'd, and esteem'd it deare,
Since such thy will, yet grew my paine more neere:
Wish you may ende, say so, you shall it haue;

For all the deapth of my heart-held despaire,
Is that for you, I feele not Death for care,
But now Ile seeke it, since you will not saue.

Song. 1.

The Spring now come at last
To Trees, Fields, to Flowres,
And Meadowes makes to taste
His pride, while sad showres
Which from mine eyes doe flow
Makes knowne with cruell paines,
Cold Winter yet remaines,
No signe of Spring wee knowe.

The Sunne which to the Earth
Giues heate, light, and pleasure,
Ioyes in Spring hateth Dearth,
Plenty makes his Treasure.
His heate to me is colde,
His light all darknesse is,
Since I am barrd of blisse,
I heate, nor light behold

A Shepherdesse thus said,
Who was with griefe opprest,
For truest Loue betrayd,
Barrd her from quiet rest:
And weeping thus, said shee,
My end approacheth neere,
Now Willow must I weare,
My Fortune so will bee.

With Branches of this tree
Ile dresse my haplesse head,
Which shall my witnesse bee,
My hopes in Loue are dead:
My cloathes imbroder'd all,
Shall be with Garlands round,
Some scatter'd, others bound;
Some tyde, some like to fall.

The Barke my Booke shall bee,
Where dayly I will write,
This tale of haples mee,
True slaue to Fortunes spite.
The roote shall be my bedd,
Where nightly I will lye
Wailing in constancy,
Since all true loue is dead.

And these Lines I will leaue,
If some such Louer come,
Who may them right conceiue,
and place them on my Tombe:
She who still constant lou'd
Now dead with cruell care,
Kill'd with vnkind Dispaire,
And change, her end heere prou'd.

7

Loue leaue to vrge, thou knowest thou hast the hand
'Tis Cowardize to striue where none resist,
Pray thee leaue off, I yeeld vnto thy band,
Doe not thus still in thine owne power persist.

Behold, I yeeld; let forces be dismist,
I am thy Subiect conquer'd bound to stand
Neuer thy foe, but did thy claime assist,
Seeking thy due of those who did withstand.

But now it seemes thou would'st I should thee loue,
I doe confesse, 'twas thy will made mee choose,
And thy faire shewes made me a Louer proue,
When I my freedome did for paine refuse.

Yet this, Sir god, your Boy-ship I despise,
Your charmes I obey, but loue not want of eyes.

8.

Ledd by the power of griefe to wailings brought,
By false conceit of change fallen on my part;
I seeke for some small ease by lines which bought,
Increase the paine; griefe is not cur'd by Art.

Ah! how vnkindnesse moues within the heart,
Which still is true and free from changing thought:
What vnknowne woe it breeds, what endlesse smart,
With ceaslesse teares which causelesly are wrought.

It makes me now to shun all shining light,
And seeke for blackest clouds me light to giue:
Which to all others onely darknesse driue;
They on me shine, for Sunne disdaines my sight.

Yet though I darke doe liue, I triumph may,
Vnkindnes, nor this wrong shall loue allay.

9.

Bee you all pleas'd, your pleasures grieue nor me;
Doe you delight? I enuy not your ioy:
Haue you content? contentment with you be;
Hope you for blisse? hope still, and still enioy.

Let sad misfortune, haplesse me destroy,
Leaue crosses to rule me, and still rule free:
While all delights their contraries imploy,
To keepe good backe, and I but torments see.

Ioyes are bereau'd me, harmes doe only tarry,
Despaire takes place, disdaine hath got the hand:
Yet firme loue holds my senses in such band,
As (since despised) I with sorrow marry.

Then if with griefe I now must coupled bee,
Sorrow Ile wed; Despaire thus gouernes mee.

10.

The weary Traueller, who tyred, sought
In places distant farre, yet found no end
Of paine or labour, nor his state to mend:
At last with ioy is to his home backe brought.

Findes not more ease though he with ioy be fraught,
When past his feare content like soules ascend:
Then I, on whom new pleasures doe descend,
Which now as high as first-borne blisse is wrought.

He tyred with his paines, I with my minde;
He all content receiues by ease of lymbs:
I, greatest happinesse that I doe finde,
Beliefe for faith, while hope in pleasure swimmes.

Truth saith 'twas wrong conceit bred my despight,
Which once acknowledg'd, brings my hearts delight.

11.

You endlesse torments that my rest oppresse,
How long will you delight in my sad paine?
Will neuer Loue your fauour more expresse?
Shall I still liue, and euer feele disdaine?

Alasse now stay, and let my griefe obtaine
Some end; feede not my heart with sharpe distresse:
Let me once see my cruell fortunes gaine,
At least release, and long-felt woes redresse.

Let not the blame of cruelty disgrace
The honour'd title of your god-head Loue;
Giue not iust cause for me so say, a place
Is found for rage alone on me to moue.

O quickly end, and doe not long debate
My needfull ayd, lest helpe doe come too late.

12.

Cloy'd with the torments of a tedious night,
I wish for day; which come, I hope for ioy:
When crosse I finde, new tortures to destroy,
My woe-kild heart, first hurt by mischiefes might.

Then crye for night, and once more day takes flight.
And brightnesse gone, what rest should heere inioy
Vsurped is: Hate will her force imploy;
Night cannot Griefe intombe though blacke as spite.

My thoughts are sad, her face as sad doth seeme;
My paines are long, her howers tedious are;
My griefe is great, and endlesse is my care;
Her face, her force, and all of woes esteeme.
Then welcome Night, and farewell flattering day,
Which all hopes breed, and yet our ioyes delay.

Song. 2.

All Night I weepe, all Day I cry, Ay me,
I still doe wish, though yet deny, ay me:
I sigh, I mourne, I say that still,
I only am the store for ill, ay me.

In coldest hopes I freeze, yet burne, ay me,
From flames I striue to flye, yet turne, ay me:
From griefe I hast, but sorrowes hye,
And on my heart all woes doe lye, ay me.

From contraries I seeke to run, ay me,
But contraries I cannot shun, ay me:
For they delight their force to trye,
And to Despaire my thoughts doe tye, ay me.

Whither alasse then shall I goe, ay me,
When as Despaire all hopes outgoe, ay me:
If to the Forrest Cupid hies,
And my poore soule to his law tyes, ay me.

To the Court: O no, he cryes fye, ay me,
There no true loue you shall espye, ay me:
Leaue that place to falsest Louers,
Your true loue all truth discouers, ay me,

Then quiet rest, and no more proue, ay me,
All places are alike to Loue, ay me:
And constant be in this begun,
Yet say, till Life with Loue be done, Ay me.

13.

Deare famish not what you your selfe gaue foode,
Destroy not what your glory is to saue:
Kill not that soule to which you spirit gaue,
In pitty, not disdaine, your triumph stood.

An easie thing it is to shed the bloud
Of one who at your will yeelds to the graue:
But more you may true worth by mercy craue,
When you preserue, not spoyle, but nourish good.

Your sight is all the food I doe desire,
Then sacrifice me not in hidden fire,
Or stop the breath which did your praises moue.

Thinke but how easie 'tis a sight to giue,
Nay, euen desert, since by it I doe liue,
I but Camelion-like, would liue, and loue.

14.

Am I thus conquer'd? haue I lost the powers,
That to withstand which ioyes to ruine me?
Must I bee still, while it my strength deuoures,
And captiue leads me prisoner bound, vnfree?

Loue first shall leane mens fant'sies to them free,
Desire shall quench loues flames, Spring, hate sweet showres;
Loue shall loose all his Darts, haue sight, and see
His shame and wishings, hinder happy houres.

Why should we not Loues purblinde charmes resist?
Must we be seruile, doing what he list?
No, seeke some host to harbour thee: I flye

Thy Babish tricks, and freedome doe professe;
But O, my hurt makes my lost heart confesse:
I loue, and must; so farewell liberty.

15.

Truely (poore night) thou welcome art to me,
I loue thee better in this sad attire
Then that which rayseth some mens fant'sies higher,
Like painted outsides, which foule inward be.

I loue thy graue and saddest lookes to see,
Which seemes my soule and dying heart entire,
Like to the ashes of some happy fire,
That flam'd in ioy, but quench'd in misery.

I loue thy count'nance, and thy sober pace,
Which euenly goes, and as of louing grace
To vs, and mee, among the rest opprest,

Giues quiet peace to my poore selfe alone,
And freely grants day leaue; when thou art gone,
To giue cleare light, to see all ill redrest.

16.

Sleepe fye possesse me not, nor doe not fright
me with thy heauy, and thy deathlike might:
For counterfetting's vilder then death's sight;
And such deluding more my thoughts doe spight.

Thou suffer'st falsest shapes my soule t'affright,
Sometimes in likenesse of of a hopefull spright;
And oft times like my Loue, as in despight;
Ioying, thou canst with malice kill delight.

When I (a poore foole made by thee) thinke ioy
Doth flow, when thy fond shadowes doe destroy
My that while sencelesse selfe, left free to thee.

But now doe well, let me for euer sleepe,
And so for euer that deere Image keepe
Or still wake that my senses may be free.

17.

Sweet shades, why doe you seeke to giue delight
To me, who deeme delight in this vilde place:
But torment, sorrow, and mine owne disgrace,
To taste of ioy, or your vaine pleasing sight?

Shew them your pleasures who saw neuer night
Of griefe, where ioyings fawning smiling face
Appeares as day, where griefe found neuer space:
Yet for a sigh, a groane, or enuies spite.

But O: on me a world of woes doe lye,
Or els on me all harmes striue to relye,
And to attend like seruants bound to me.

Heate in desire, while frosts of care I proue,
Wanting my loue, yet surfet doe with loue,
Burne and yet freeze, better in Hell to be.

18.

Which should I better like of, day or night?
Since all the day, I liue in bitter woe:
Inioying light more cleere my wrongs to know,
and yet most sad, feeling in it all spite.

In night when darknesse doth forbid all light;
Yet see I griefe apparant to the show,
Follow'd by iealousie, whose fond tricks flow,
And on vnconstant waues of doubt alight.

I can behold rage cowardly to feede
Vpon foule error, which these humors breede,
Shame doubt and feare, yet boldly will thinke ill.

All those in both I feele, then which is best
Darke to ioy by day, light in night opprest?
Leaue both and end, these but each other spill.

Song. 3.

Stay my thoughts doe not aspire,
To vaine hopes of high desire;
See you not all meanes bereft,
To inioy no ioy is left,
Yet still me thinkes my thoughts doe say,
Some hopes doe liue amid dismay.

Hope then once more, Hope for ioy,
Bury feare which ioyes destroy,
Thought hath yet some comfort giuen,
Which despaire hath from vs driuen:
Therefore deerely my thoughts cherish,
Neuer let such thinking perish.

'Tis an idle thing to plaine,
Odder farre to dye for paine;
Thinke and see how thoughts doe rise,
Winning where there no hope lies;
Which alone is louers treasure,
For by thoughts we loue doe measure.

Then kinde thought my fant'sie guide,
Let me neuer haplesse slide;
Still maintaine thy force in me,
Let me thinking still be free;
Nor leaue thy might vntill my death,
But let me thinking yeeld vp breath.

19.

Come darkest Night, becomming sorrow best,
Light leaue thy light, fit for a lightsome soule:
Darknesse doth truely sute with me opprest,
Whom absence power doth from mirth controule.

The very trees with hanging heads condole
Sweet Summers parting, and of leaues distrest,
In dying colours make a grief-full role;
So much (alas) to sorrow are they prest.

Thus of dead leaues, her farewell carpets made,
Their fall, their branches, all their mournings proue,
With leauelesse naked bodies, whose hues vade
From hopefull greene to wither in their loue.

If trees, and leaues for absence mourners be,
No maruell that I grieue, who like want see.

20.

The Sunne which glads the earth at his bright sight,
When in the morne he showes his golden face,
And takes the place from tedious drowsie Night.
Making the world still happy in his grace.

Shewes happinesse remaines not in one place,
Nor may the Heauens alone to vs giue light,
But hide that cheerefull face, though no long space,
Yet long enough for tryall of their might.

But neuer Sun-set could be so obscure,
No Desart euer had a shade so sad:
Nor could black darknesse euer proue so bad,
As paines which absence makes me now indure.

The missing of the Sunne a while makes Night,
But absence of my ioy sees neuer light.

21.

When last I saw thee, I did not thee see,
It was thine Image which in my thoughts lay
So liuely figur'd, as no times delay
Could suffer me in heart to parted be.

And sleepe so fauourable is to me,
As not to let thy lou'd remembrance stray:
Lest that I waking might haue cause to say,
There was one mnute found to forget thee.

Then, since my faith is such, so kinde my sleepe,
That gladly thee presents into my thought,
And still true Louer-like thy face doth keepe,
So as some pleasure shadow-like is wrought.

Pitty my louing, nay of conscience giue
Reward to me in whom thy selfe doth liue.

22.

Like to the Indians scorched with the Sunne,
The Sunne which they doe as their God adore:
So am I vs'd by Loue, for euermore
I worship him, lesse fauours haue I wonne.

Better are they who thus to blacknesse run,
And so can onely whitenesse want deplore:
Thou I who pale and white am with griefes store,
Nor can haue hope, but to see hopes vndone.

Besides their sacrifice receiu'd in sight,
Of their chose Saint, mine hid as worthlesse rite,
Grant me to see where I my offerings giue.

Then let me weare the marke of Cupids might,
In heart, as they in skin of Phœbus light,
Not ceasing offerings to Loue while I liue.

23.

When euery one to pleasing pastime hies,
Some hunt, some hauke, some play while some delight
In sweet discourse, and musicke shewes ioyes might:
Yet I my thoughts doe farre aboue these prize.

The ioy which I take is, that free from eyes
I sit and wonder at this day-like night,
So to dispose themselues as void of right,
And leaue true pleasure for poore vanities.

When others hunt, my thoughts I haue in chase;
If hauke, my minde at wished end doth flye:
Discourse, I with my spirit talke and cry;
While others musicke choose as greatest grace.

O God say I, can these fond pleasures moue,
Or musicke bee but in sweet thoughts of Loue?

24.

Once did I heare an aged father say
Vnto his sonne, who with attention heares
What Age and wise experience euer cleares
From doubts of feare, or reason to betray.

My sonne (said hee) behold thy father gray,
I once had as thou hast, fresh tender yeares,
And like thee sported destitute of feares;
But my young faults made me too soone decay.

Loue once I did, and like thee, fear'd my Loue,
Led by the hatefull threed of Iealousie,
Striuing to keepe, I lost my liberty,
And gain'd my griefe, which still my sorrowes moue.

In time shun this, to loue is no offence,
But doubt in Youth, in Age, breeds penitence.

Song. 4.

Sweetest Loue returne againe,
Make not too long stay;
Killing mirth and forcing paine;
Sorrow leading way:
Let vs not thus parted be,
Loue, and absence nere agree.

But since you must needs depart,
And me haplesse leaue;
In your iourney take my heart,
Which will not deceiue:
Yours it is, to you it flies,
Ioying in those loued eyes.

So in part we shall not part,
Though we absent be,
Tyme, nor place, nor greatest smart,
Shall my bands make free:
Tyed I am, yet thinke it gaine,
In such knots I feele no paine.

But can I liue, hauing lost
Chiefest part of me?
Heart is fled, and sight is crost,
These my fortunes be:
Yet deare heart goe, soone returne,
As good there as heere to burne.

25.

Poore eyes bee blinde, the light behold no more,
Since that is gone which is your deare delight:
Rauish'd from you by greater power and might,
Making your losse a gaine to others store.

Oreflow and drowne, till sight to you restore
That blessed Starre, and as in hatefull spight,
Send forth your teares in flouds to kill all sight,
And lookes, that lost wherein you ioy'd before.

Bury those beames which in some kindled fires,
And conquer'd haue their loue-burnt hearts desires,
Losing, and yet no gaine by you esteem'd;

Till that bright Starre doe once againe appeare,
Brighter then Mars when hee doth shine most cleare;
See not then by his might be you redeem'd.

26.

Deare cherish this, and with it my soules will,
Nor for it ran away doe it abuse:
Alas it left (poore me) your brest to choose,
As the best shrine, where it would harbour still.

Then fauour shew, and not vnkindly kill
The heart which fled to you, but doe excuse
That which for better did the worse refuse;
And pleas'd Ile be, though heartlesse my life spill.

But if you will bee kinde and iust indeed,
Send me your heart, which in mine's place shall feede
On faithfull loue to your deuotion bound,

There shall it see the sacrifices made
Of pure and spotlesse Loue, which shall not vade,
While soule and body are together found.

27.

Fie tedious Hope, why doe you still rebell?
Is it not yet enough you flatter'd me,
But cunningly you seeke to vse a Spell
How to betray; must these your Trophees bee?

I look'd from you farre sweeter fruite to see,
But blasted were your blossomes when they fell:
And those delights expected from hands free,
Wither'd and dead, and what seemd blisse proues hell.

No Towne was won by a more plotted slight,
Then I by you, who may my fortune write,
In embers of that fire which ruin'd me:

Thus Hope your falshood calls you to be tryde,
You'r loth, I see, the tryall to abide;
Proue true at last, and gaine your liberty.

28.

Griefe, killing griefe, haue not my torments beene
Already great and strong enough? but still
Thou dost increase, nay glory in mine il,
And woes new past, afresh new woes begin?

Am I the onely purchase thou canst win?
Was I ordain'd to giue despaire her fill,
Or fittest I should mount misfortunes hill,
Who in the plaine of ioy cannot liue in?

If it be so, Griefe come as welcome guest,
Since I must suffer for anothers rest;
Yet this (good Griefe) let me intreat of thee,

Vse still thy force, but not from those I loue
Let me all paines and lasting torments proue;
So I misse these, lay all thy waights on me.

29.

Flye hence, O Ioy, no longer heere abide,
Too great thy pleasures are for my despaire
To looke on, losses now must proue my fare;
Who not long since on better foode relide.

But foole, how oft had I Heau'ns changing spi'de
Before of mine owne fate I could haue care:
Yet now past time I can too late beware,
When nothings left but sorrowes faster ty'de.

While I enioyd that Sunne, whose sight did lend
Me ioy, I thought that day could haue no end:
But soone a night came cloath'd in absence darke;

Absence more sad, more bitter then is gall,
Or death, when on true Louers it doth fall;
Whose fires of loue, disdaine reasts poorer sparke.

30.

You blessed shades, which giue me silent rest,
Witnes but this when death hath clos'd mine eyes,
And separated me from earthly tyes;
Being from hence to higher place adrest.

How oft in you I haue laine heere opprest?
And haue my miseries in wofull cryes
Deliuer'd forth, mounting vp to the Skyes?
Yet helplesse, backe return'd to wound my brest.

Which wounds did but striue how to breed more harm
To me, who can be cur'd by no one charme
But that of Loue, which yet may me releeue;

If not, let Death my former paines redeeme,
My trusty friends, my faith vntouch'd, esteeme,
And witnesse I could loue, who so could grieue.

Song. 5.

Time onely cause of my vnrest,
By whom I hop'd once to be blest,
How cruell art thou turn'd?
That first gau'st life vnto my loue,
And still a pleasure not to moue,
Or change, though euer burn'd.

Haue I thee slack'd, or left vndone
One louing rite, and so haue wonne,
Thy rage, or bitter changing?
That now no minutes I shall see,
Wherein I may least happy be,
Thy fauours so estranging.

Blame thy selfe and not my folly,
Time gaue time but to be holy,
True Loue such ends best loueth:
Vnworthy Loue doth seeke for ends,
A worthy Loue, but worth pretends;
Nor other thoughts it proueth.

Then stay thy swiftnes cruell Time,
And let me once more blessed clime
to ioy, that I may praise thee:
Let me pleasure sweetly tasting,
Ioy in Loue, and faith not wasting,
and on Fames wings Ile raise thee.

Neuer shall thy glory dying,
Bee vntill thine owne vntying,
that Tyme no longer liueth,
'Tis a gaine such time to lend,
Since so thy fame shall neuer end,
But ioy for what she giueth.

31.

After long trouble in a tedious way,
Of Loues vnrest, laid downe to ease my paine,

Hoping for rest, new torments I did gaine,
Possessing me, as if I ought t'obey.

When Fortune came, though blinded, yet did stay,
And in her blessed armes did me inchaine:
I, cold with griefe, thought no warmth to obtaine,
Or to dissolue that yce of ioyes decay.

Till rise (said she) Reward to thee doth send
By me the seruant of true Louers ioy:
Bannish all clouds of doubt, all feares destroy;
And now on Fortune, and on Loue depend.

I her obey'd, and rising felt that Loue
Indeed was best, when I did least it moue.

32.

How fast thou fliest, O Time, on Loues swift wings,
To hopes of ioy, that flatters our desire:
Which to a Louer still contentment brings;
Yet when we should inioy, thou dost retire.

Thou stay'st thy pace (false Time) from our desire
When to our ill thou hast'st with Eagles wings:
Slow only to make vs see thy retire
Was for Despaire, and harme, which sorrow brings.

O slake thy pace, and milder passe to Loue,
Be like the Bee, whose wings she doth but vse
To bring home profit; masters good to proue,
Laden, and weary, yet againe pursues.

So lade thy selfe with hony of sweet ioy,
And do not me (the Hiue of Loue) destroy.

33.

How many eyes (poore Loue) hast thou to guard
Thee from thy most desired wish, and end?
Is it because some say th' art blinde, that barr'd
From sight, thou should'st no happinesse attend?

Who blame thee so, small Iustice can pretend,
Since 'twixt thee and the Sunne no question hard
Can be; his sight but outward, thou can'st bend
The heart, and guide it freely thus vnbar'd.

Art thou, while we both blinde and bold, oft dare
Accuse thee of the harmes our selues should finde:

Who led with folly, and by rashnesse blinde
Thy sacred power doe with a child's compare.

Yet Loue, this boldnesse pardon; for admire
Thee sure we must, or be borne without fire.

34.

Take heed mine eyes, how you your looks doe cast,
Lest they betray my hearts most secret thought:
Be true vnto your selues; for nothing's bought
More deare then Doubt, which brings a Louers fast.

Catch you alwatching eyes ere they be past,
Or take yours fix't, where your best Loue hath sought
The pride of your desires; let them be taught
Their faults for shame they could no truer last.

Then looke, and looke with ioy, for conquest won,
Of those that search'd your hurt in double kinde:
So you kept safe, let them themselues looke blinde,
Watch, gaze, and marke till they to madnesse run.

While you mine eyes enioy full sight of Loue,
Contented that such happinesses moue.

35.

False Hope which feeds but to destroy and spill
What it first breeds, vnnaturall to the birth
Of thine owne wombe, conceiuing but to kill
And plenty giues to make the greater dearth.

So Tyrants doe, who falsly ruling Earth,
Outwardly grace them, and with profits fill,
Aduance those who appointed are to death;
To make their greater fall to please their will.

Thus shadow they their wicked vile intent,
Colouring euill with a show of good:
While in faire showes their malice so is spent;
Hope kill's the heart, and Tyrants shed the blood.

For Hode deluding brings vs to the pride
Of our desires the farther downe to slide.

36.

How well (poore heart) thou witnesse canst, I loue,
How oft my grief hath made thee shed forth teares,

Drops of thy dearest blood, and how oft feares
Borne testimony of the paines I proue?

What torments hast thou suffer'd, while aboue
Ioy thou tortur'd wert with racks, which longing bears:
Pinch'd with desires, which yet but wishing reares
Firme in my faith, in constancie, to moue.

Yet is it said, that sure loue cannot be,
Where so small shew of passion is descri'd;
When thy chiefe paine is, that I must it hide
From all, saue onely one, who should it see.

For know, more passion in my heart doth moue,
Then in a million that make shew of loue.

Song. 6.

You happy blessed eyes,
Which in that ruling place,
Haue force both to delight, and to disgrace;
Whose light allures and tyes
All hearts to your command:
O looke on me who doe at mercy stand.

'Tis you that rule my life,
'Tis you my comforts giue,
Then let not scorne to me my ending driue:
Nor let the frownes of strife
Haue might to hurt those lights;
Which while they shine they are true loues delights.

See but when Night appeares
And Sunne hath lost his force,
How his losse doth all ioy from vs diuorce:
And when he shines, and cleares
The Heauens from clowdes of Night,
How happy then is made our gazing sight?

But more then Sun's faire light
Your beames doe seeme to me,
Whose sweetest lookes doe tye, and yet make free:
Why should you then so spight
Poore me? as to destroy
The only pleasure that I taste of ioy.

Shine then, O dearest lights
With fauour and with loue
And let no cause, your cause of frownings moue:

But as the soules delights,
So blesse my then blest eyes,
Which vnto you their true affection tyes.

Then shall the Sunne giue place,
As to your greater might,
Yeelding that you doe show more perfect light.
Then but grant this grace,
Vnto your Loue-tide slaue,
To shine on me, who to you all faith gaue.

And when you please to frowne,
Vse your most killing eyes
On them, who in vntruth and falshood lies,
But (Deare) on me cast downe
Sweet lookes, for true desire;
That banish doe all thoughts of faigned fire.

37.

Night, welcome art thou to my minde distrest,
Darke, heauy, sad, yet not more sad then I:
Neuer could'st thou finde fitter company
For thine owne humour, then I thus opprest.

If thou beest darke, my wrongs still vnredrest
Saw neuer light, nor smallest blisse can spye:
If heauy ioy from mee to fast doth hie,
And care out-goes my hope of quiet rest.

Then now in friendship ioyne with haplesse me,
Who am as sad and darke as thou canst be,
Hating all pleasure or delight of life,
Silence and griefe, with thee I best doe loue.

And from you three I know I cannot moue,
Then let vs liue companions without strife.

38.

What pleasure can a banish'd creature haue
In all the pastimes that inuented are
By wit or learning? Absence making warre
Against all peace that may a biding craue.

Can wee delight but in a welcome graue,
Where we may bury paines? and so be farre
From loathed company, who alwaies iarre
Vpon the string of mirth that pastime gaue.

The knowing part of ioy is deem'd the heart,
If that be gone what ioy can ioy impart
When senslesse is the feeler of our mirth?

No, I am banish'd and no good shall finde,
But all my fortunes must with mischiefe binde;
Who but for misery did gaine a birth.

39.

If I were giuen to mirth, 'twould be more crosse,
Thus to be robbed of my chiesest ioy:
But silently I beare my greatest losse;
Who's vs'd to sorrow, griefe will not destroy.

Nor can I as those pleasant wits inioy
My owne fram'd wordes which I account the drosse
Of purer thoughts, or reckon them as mosse;
While they (wit-sick) themselues to breath imploy.

Alas, thinke I, your plenty shewes your want;
For where most feeling is wordes are more scant;
Yet pardon me, liue and your pleasure take.

Grudge not if I (neglected) enuy show,
'Tis not to you that I dislike doe owe;
But (crost my selfe) wish some like me to make.

40.

It is not Loue which you poore fooles doe deeme,
That doth appeare by fond and outward showes
Of kissing, toying, or by swearings gloze:
O no, these are farre off from loues esteeme.

Alas, they are not such that can redeeme
Loue lost, or winning keepe those chosen blowes:
Though oft with face and lookes loue ouerthrowes;
Yet so slight conquest doth not him beseeme.

'Tis not a shew of sighes or teares can proue
Who loues indeed, which blasts of faigned loue,
Increase or dye, as fauours from them slide.

But in the soule true loue in safety lies
Guarded by faith, which to desert still hies:
And yet kinde lookes do many blessings hide.

41.

You blessed Starres, which doe Heauen's glory show,
And at your brightnesse make our eyes admire:
Yet enuy not, though I on earth below,
Inioy a sight which moues in me more fire.

I doe confesse such beauty breeds desire
You shine, and clearest light on vs bestow:
Yet doth a sight on Earth more warmth inspire
Into my louing soule his grace to know.

Cleare, bright, and shining, as you are, is this
Light of my ioy: fix't stedfast, nor will moue
His light from me, nor I change from his loue;
But still increase as th' earth of all my blisse.

His sight giue life vnto my loue-rould eye,
My loue content, because in his loue lies.

42.

If euer loue had force in humane brest,
If euer he could moue in pensiue heart:
Or if that he such powre could but impart
To breed those flames, whose heat brings ioyes vnrest.

Then looke on me; I am to these adrest,
I am the soule that feeles the greatest smart:
I am that heartlesse Trunck of hearts depart;
And I that One, by loue, and griefe opprest.

None euer felt the truth of loues great misse
Of eyes till I depriued was of blisse;
For had he seene, he must haue pitty show'd.

I should not haue beene made this Stage of woe,
Where sad Disasters haue their open show:
O no, more pitty he had sure bestow'd.

Song. 7.

Sorrow , I yeeld, and grieue that I did misse;
Will not thy rage be satisfied with this?
As sad a Diuell as thee,
Made me vnhappy be:
Wilt thou not yet consent to leaue, but still
Striue how to show thy cursed diuelish skill?

I mourne, and dying am, what would you more?
My soule attends, to leaue this cursed shoare
Where harmes doe onely flow,
Which teach me but to know
The saddest houres of my lifes vnrest,
And tyred minutes with griefes hand opprest.

Yet all this will not pacifie thy spight,
No, nothing can bring ease but my last night,
Then quickely let it be,
While I vnhappy see
That time so sparing, to grant Louers blisse,
Will see for time lost, there shall no griefe misse.

Nor let me euer cease from lasting griefe,
But endlesse let it be without reliefe;
To winn againe of Loue,
The fauour I did proone,
And with my end please him, since dying, I
Haue him offended, yet vnwillingly.

43.

O dearest eyes, the lights, and guides of Loue,
The ioyes of Cupid, who himselfe borne blinde,
To your bright shining, doth his tryumphs binde;
For, in your seeing doth his glory moue.

How happy are those places where you prooue
Your heauenly beames, which makes the Sun to find
Enuy and grudging, he so long hath shin'd
For your cleare lights, to match his beames aboue.

But now alas, your sight is heere forbid,
And darkenes must these poore lost roomes possesse,
So be all blessed lights from henceforth hid,
That this blacke deede of darkenesse haue excesse.

For why should Heauen affoord least light to those,
Who for my misery such darkenesse chose.

44.

How fast thou hast st O Spring with sweetest speed)
To catch thy water which before are runne,
And of the greater Riuers welcome woone,
Ere these thy new-borne streames these places feede.

Yet you doe well, lest staying here might breede
Dangerous flouds, your sweetest bankes t'orerunn,
And yet much better my distresse to shunn,
Which maks my tears your swiftest course succeed.

But best you doe when with so hasty flight
You fly my ills, which now my selfe outgoe,
Whose broken heart can testifie such woe,
That so orecharg'd, my life-bloud, wasteth quite.

Sweet Spring then keepe your way be neuer spent,
And my ill dayes, or griefes, assunder rent.

45.

Good now be still, and doe not me torment,
With multitude of questions, be at rest,
And onely let me quarrell with my breast,
Which stil lets in new stormes my soule to rent.

Fye, will you still my mischiefes more augment?
You say, I answere crosse, I that confest
Long since, yet must I euer be opprest,
With your tongue torture which wil ne're be spent?

Well then I see no way but this will fright,
That Deuill speech; alas, I am possest,
And madd folkes senseles are of wisdomes right,

The hellish spirit, Absence, doth arrest.
All my poore senses to his cruell might,
Spare me then till I am my selfe, and blest

46.

Loue thou hast all, for now thou hast me made
So thine, as if for thee I were ordain'd,
Then take thy conquest, nor let me be pain'd
More in thy Sunne, when I doe seeke thy shade.

No place for helpe haue I left to inuade,
That shew'd a face where least ease might be gain'd;
Yet found I paine increase, and but obtain'd,
That this no way was to haue loue allay'd

When hott, and thirsty, to a Well I came,
Trusting by that to quench part of my paine,
But there I was by Loue afresh imbrac'd

Drinke I could not, but in it I did see
My selfe a liuing glasse as well as shee;
For loue to see himselfe in, truely plac'd.

47.

O stay mine eyes, shed not these fruitlesse teares,
Since hope is past to win you back againe,
That treasure which being lost breeds all your paine;
Cease from this poore betraying of your feares.

Thinke this too childish is, for where griefe reares
So high a powre for such a wretched gaine:
Sighes nor laments should thus be spent in vaine;
True sorrow neuer outward wailing beares.

Be rul'd by me, keepe all the rest in store,
Till no roome is that may containe one more;
Then in that Sea of teares drowne haplesse me,

And Ile prouide such store of sighes, as part
Shall be enough to breake the strongest heart:
This done, we shall from torments freed be.

48.

How like a fire doth Loue increase in me?
The longer that it lasts the stronger still;
The greater, purer, brighter; and doth fill
No eye with wonder more then hopes still bee.

Bred in my breast, when fires of Loue are free
To vse that part to their best pleasing will,
And now vnpossible it is to kill
The heate so great where Loue his strength doth see.

Mine eyes can scarce sustaine the flames, my heart
Doth trust in them my passions to impart,
And languishingly striue to shew my loue.

My breath not able is to breath least part
Of that increasing fuell of my smart;
Yet loue I will, till I but ashes proue.

Sonnet.

Let griefe as farre be from your dearest breast
As I doe wish, or in my hands to ease;
Then should it banish'd be, and sweetest rest
Be plac'd to giue content by Loue to please.

Let those disdaines which on your heart doe ceaze,
Doubly returne to bring her soules vnrest:
Since true loue will not that belou'd displease;
Or let least smart to their minds be addrest.

But oftentimes mistakings be in loue.
Be they as farre from false accusing right,
And still truth gouerne with a constant might
So shall you only wished pleasures proue.

And as for me, she that shewes you least scorne,
With all despite and hate, be her heart torne.

Song.

O me , the time is come to part,
And with it my life-killing smart:
Fond Hope leaue me, my deare must goe,
To meete more ioy, and I more woe.

Where still of mirth inioy thy fill,
One is enough to suffer ill:
My heart so well to sorrow vs'd,
can better be by new griefes bruis'd.

Thou whom the Heauens themselues like made,
should neuer sit in mourning shade:
No, I alone must mourne and end,
Who haue a life in griefe to spend.

My swiftest pace to wailings bent,
Shewes ioy had but a short time lent,
To bide in me where woes must dwell,
And charme me with their cruell spell.

And yet when they their witchcrafts trye,
They only make me wish to dye:
But ere my faith in loue they change,
In horrid darknesse will I range.

Song.

Say Venus how long haue I lou'd, and seru'd you heere?
Yet all my passions scorn'd or doubted, although cleere;
Alas thinke loue deserueth loue, and you haue lou'd,
Looke on my paines and see if you the like haue prou'd:
Remember then you are the Goddesse of Desire,
and that your sacred powre hath touch'd and felt this fire.

Perswade these flames in me to cease, or them redresse
in me (poore me) who stormes of loue haue in excesse,
My restlesse nights may show for me, how much I loue,
My sighes vnfaignd, can witnes what my heart doth proue:
My saddest lookes doe show the griefe my soule indures,
Yet all these torments from your hands no helpe procures.

Command that wayward Childe your Son to grant your right,
and that his Bow and shafts he yeeld to your faire sight,
To you who haue the eyes of ioy, the heart of loue,
And then new hopes may spring, that I may pitty moue:
Let him not triumph that he can both hurt and saue,
And more, bragge that to your selfe a wound he gaue.

Rule him, or what shall I expect of good to see?
Since he that hurt you, he (alas) may murther mee.

Song.

I that am of all most crost,
Hauing, and that had haue lost,
May with reason thus complaine,
Since loue breeds loue, and Loues paine.

That which I did most desire,
To allay my louing fire,
I may haue, yet now must misse,
Since another Ruler is.

Would that I no Ruler had,
Or the seruice not so bad,
Then might I with blisse enioy
That which now my hopes destroy.

And that wicked pleasure got,
Brings with it the sweetest lot:
I that must not taste the best,
Fed, must starue, and restlesse rest.

Song.

Loue as well can make abiding
In a faithfull Shepheards brest
As in Princes: whose thoughts sliding
Like swift Riuers neuer rest.

Change to their minds is best feeding,
To a Shepheard all his care,
Who when his Loue is exceeding,
Thinks his faith his richest fare.

Beauty but a slight inuiting,
Cannot stirre his heart to change;
Constancye his chiefe delighting,
Striues to flee from fant'sies strange,

Fairnesse to him is no pleasure,
If in other then his loue;
Nor can esteeme that a treasure,
Which in her smiles doth not moue.

This a Shepheard once confessed,
Who lou'd well, but was not lou'd:
Though with scorne & griefe oppressed
could not yet to change be mou'd.

But himselfe he thus contented,
While in loue he was accurst:
This hard hap he not repented,
Since best Louers speed the worst.

Song.

Dearest if I by my deseruing,
May maintaine in your thoughts my loue,
Let me it still enioy;
Nor faith destroy:
But pitty Loue where it doth moue.

Let no other new Loue inuite you,
To leaue me who so long haue serud:
Nor let your power decline
But purely shine
On me, who haue all truth preseru'd.

Or had you once found my heart straying,
Then would not I accuse your change,
But being constant still
It needs must kill
One, whose soule knowes not how to range.

Yet may you Loues sweet smiles recouer,
Since all loue is not yet quite lost,
But tempt not Loue too long
Lest so great wrong
Make him thinke he is too much crost.

Song.

Fairest and still truest eyes,
Can you the lights be, and the spies
Of my desires?
Can you shine cleare for Loues delight,
And yet the breeders be of spight,
And Iealous fires?

Marke what lookes doe you behold,
Such as by Iealousie are told
They want your Loue.
See how they sparckle in distrust,
Which by a heate of thoughts vniust
In them doe mooue.

Learne to guide your course by Art,
Change your eyes into your heart,
And patient be:
Till fruitlesse Ielousie giue leaue,
By safest absence to receiue
What you would see.

Then let Loue his triumph haue,
And Suspition such a graue,
As not to mooue.
While wished freedome brings that blisse
That you enioy what all ioy is
Happy to Loue.

Sonnet. 1.

In night yet may we see some kinde of light,
When as the Moone doth please to shew her face,
And in the Sunns roome yeelds her light, and grace,
Which otherwise must suffer dullest night:

So are my fortunes barrd from true delight,
Cold, and vncertaine, like to this strange place,
Decreasing, changing in an instant space,
And euen at full of ioy turnd to despight.

Iustly on Fortune was bestowd the Wheele,
Whose fauours fickle, and vnconstant reele,
Drunke with delight of change and sudden paine;

Where pleasure hath no setled place of stay,
But turning still, for our best hopes decay,
And this (alas) we louers often gaine.

2.

Loue like a Iugler comes to play his prize,
And all mindes draw his wonders to admire,
To see how cunningly he (wanting eyes)
Can yet deceiue the best sight of desire.

The wanton Childe, how he can faine his fire
So prettily, as none sees his disguise,
How finely doe his trickes; while we fooles hire
The badge, and office of his tyrannies.

For in the ende such Iugling he doth make,
As he our hearts instead of eyes doth take;
For men can onely by their slights abuse,

The sight with nimble, and delightfull skill,
But if he play, his gaine is our lost will,
Yet Child-like we cannot his sports refuse.

3.

Most blessed night, the happy time for Loue,
The shade for Louers, and their Loues delight,
The raigne of Loue for seruants free from spight,
The hopefull seasons for ioyes sports to mooue.

Now hast thou made thy glory higher prooue,
Then did the God, whose pleasant Reede did smite
All Argus eyes into a death-like night,
Till they were safe, that none could Loue reprooue.

Now thou hast cloasd those eyes from prying sight
That nourish Iealousie, more then ioyes right,
While vaine Suspition fosters their mistrust,

Making sweet sleepe to master all suspect,
Which els their priuate feares would not neglect,
But would embrace both blinded, and vniust.

4.

Cruell Suspition, O! be now at rest,
Let daily torments bring to thee some stay,
Alas, make not my ill thy ease-full pray,
Nor giue loose raines to Rage, when Loue's opprest.

I am by care sufficiently distrest,
No Racke can stretch my heart more, nor a way
Can I finde out, for least content to lay
One happy foot of ioy, one step that's blest.

But to my end thou fly'st with greedy eye,
Seeking to bring griefe by base Iealousie;
O, in how strange a Cage am I kept in?

No little signe of fauour can I prooue,
But must be way'd, and turn'd to wronging loue,
And with each humour must my state begin.

5.

How many nights haue I with paine endurd?
Which as so many Ages I esteem'd,
Since my misfortune, yet no whit redeem'd
But rather faster ty'de, to griefe assur'd.

How many houres haue my sad thoughts endur'd
Of killing paines? yet is it not esteem'd
By cruell Loue, who might haue these redeemd,
And all these yeeres of houres to ioy assur'd.

But fond Childe, had he had a care to saue,
As first to conquer, this my pleasures graue,
Had not beene now to testifie my woe.

I might haue beene an Image of delight,
As now a Tombe for sad misfortunes spight,
Which Loue vnkindly, for reward doth show.

6.

My paine still smother'd in my grieued brest,
Seekes for some ease, yet cannot passage finde,
To be dischargd of this vnwelcome guest,
When most I striue, more fast his burthens binde.

Like to a Ship on Goodwins cast by winde,
The more shee striue, more deepe in Sand is prest,
Till she be lost: so am I in this kind
Sunck, and deuour'd, and swallow'd by vnrest.

Lost, shipwrackt, spoyld, debar'd of smallest hope,
Nothing of pleasure left, saue thoughts haue scope;
Which wander may; goe then my thoughts and cry:

Hope's perish'd, Loue tempest-beaten, Ioy lost,
Killing Despaire hath all these blessings crost;
Yet Faith still cries, Loue will not falsifie.

7.

An end fond Ielousie, alas I know
Thy hiddenest, and thy most secret Art,
Thou canst no new inuention frame but part,
I haue already seene, and felt with woe.

All thy dissemblings, which by faigned showe,
Wonne my beliefe, while truth did rule my heart,
I with glad minde embrac'd, and deemd my smart
The spring of ioy, whose streames with blisse should flow.

I thought excuses had beene reasons true,
And that no falshood could of thee ensue,
So soone beliefe in honest mindes is wrought;

But now I finde thy flattery, and skill,
Which idely made me to obserue thy will,
Thus is my learning by my bondage bought.

8.

Poore Loue in chaines, and fetters like a thiefe
I met ledd forth, as chast Diana's gaine
Vowing the vntaught Lad should no reliefe
From her receiue, who gloried in fond paine.

She call'd him thiefe, with vowes he did mainetaine
He neuer stole, but some sadd slight of griefe
Had giuen to those who did his power disdaine,
In which reuenge his honour was the chiefe.

Shee said he murther'd and therefore must dye,
He that he caus'd but Loue, did harmes deny,
But while she thus discoursing with him stood;

The Nymphes vnti'de him and his chaines tooke off,
Thinking him safe; but he (loose) made a scoffe,
Smiling and scorning them, flew to the wood.

9.

Pray doe not vse these wordes, I must be gone;
Alasse doe not foretell mine ills to come:
Let not my care be to my ioyes a Tombe;
But rather finde my losse with losse alone.

Cause me not thus a more distressed one,
Not feeling blisse, because of this sad doome
Of present crosse; for thinking will orecome
And loose all pleasure, since griefe breedeth none.

Let the misfortune come at once to me,
Nor suffer me with griefe to punish'd be;
Let mee be ignorant of mine owne ill:

Then now with the fore-knowledge quite to lose
That which with so much care and paines Loue chose
For his reward, but ioy now, then mirth kill.

10.

Folly would needs make mee a Louer be,
When I did little thinke of louing thought;
Or euer to be tyde, while shee told me
That none can liue, but to these bands are brought.

I (ignorant) did grant, and so was bought,
And sold againe to Louers slauery:
The duty to that vanity once taught,
Such band is, as wee will not seeke to free.

Yet when I well did vnderstand his might,
How he inflam'd and forc'd one to affect:
I loud and smarted, counting it delight
So still to waste, which Reason did reiect.

When Loue came blind-fold, and did challenge me.
Indeed I lou'd, but wanton Boy not hee,

Song.

The Spring time of my first louing,
Finds yet no winter of remouing;
Nor frosts to make my hopes decrease:
But with the Summer still increase.

The trees may teach vs Loue's remaining,
Who suffer change with little paining:
Though Winter make their leaues decrease,
Yet with the Summer they increase.

As birds by silence shew their mourning
in cold, yet sing at Springs returning:
So may Loue nipt a while decrease,
but as the Summer soone increase.

Those that doe loue but for a season,
Doe falsifie both Loue and Reason:
For Reason wills, if Loue decrease,
It like the Summer should increase.

Though Loue sometimes may be mistaken,
the truth yet ought not to be shaken:
Or though the heate a while decrease,
It with the Summer may increase.

And since the Spring time of my louing
Found neuer Winter of remouing:
Nor frosts to make my hopes decrease,
Shall as the Summer still increase.

Song.

Loue a childe is euer crying,
Please him, and he strait is flying;
Giue him, he the more is crauing,
Neuer satisfi'd with hauing.

His desires haue no measure,
Endlesse folly is his treasure:
What he promiseth, he breaketh,
Trust not one word that he speaketh.

Hee vowes nothing but false matter,
And to cousen you hee'l flatter:
Let him gain the hand, hee'l leaue you,
And still glory to deceiue you.

Hee will triumph in your wailing,
And yet cause be of your failing:
These his vertues are, and slighter
Are his guifts; his fauours lighter.

Fathers are as firme in staying,
Wolues no fiercer in their praying.
As a childe then leaue him crying,
Nor seeke him so giu'n to flying.

Being past the paines of Loue,
Freedome gladly seekes to moue:
Sayes that Loues delights were pretty;
But to dwell in them twere pitty.

And yet truly sayes, that Loue
Must of force in all hearts moue:
But though his delights are pretty,
To dwell on them were a pitty.

Let Loue slightly passe like Loue,
Neuer let it too deepe moue:
For though Loues delights are pretty,
To dwell in them were great pitty.

Loue no pitty hath of Loue,
Rather griefes then pleasures moue:
So though his delights are pretty,
To dwell in them would be pitty.

Those that like the smart of Loue,
In them let it freely moue:
Els though his delights are pretty,
Doe not dwell in them for pitty.

O pardon Cupid, I confesse my fault,
Then mercy grant me in so iust a kinde:
For treason neuer lodged in my minde
Against thy might, so much as in a thought.

And now my folly I haue dearely bought,
Nor could my soule least rest of quiet finde;
Since Rashnes did my thoughts to Error binde,
Which now thy fury, and my harme hath wrought.

I curse that thought and hand which that first fram'd,
For which by thee I am most iustly blam'd:
But now that hand shall guided be aright,

And giue a Crowne vnto thy endlesse praise,
Which shall thy glory and thy greatnesse raise,
More then these poore things could thy honor spight.

A Crowne of Sonnets dedicated to Love.

1

In this strange Labyrinth how shall I turne,
Wayes are on all sides, while the way I misse:
If to the right hand, there in loue I burne,
Let mee goe forward, therein danger is.

If to the lost, suspition hinders blisse;
Let mee turne backe, shame cryes I ought returne:
Nor faint, though crosses which my fortunes kisse,
Stand still is harder, although sure to mourne.

Thus let mee take the right, or left hand way,
Goe forward, or stand still, or back retire:
I must these doubts indure without allay
Or helpe, but trauell finde for my best hire.

Yet that which most my troubled sense doth moue,
Is to leaue all and take the threed of Loue.

2.

Is to leaue all and take the threed of Loue,
Which line straight leades vnto the soules content,
Where choice delights with pleasures wings do moue,
And idle fant'sie neuer roome had lent.

When chaste thoughts guide vs, then our minds are bent
To take that good which ills from vs remoue:
Light of true loue brings fruite which none repent;
But constant Louers seeke and wish to proue.

Loue is the shining Starre of blessings light,
The feruent fire of zeale, the root of peace,
The lasting Lampe, fed with the oyle of right,
Image of Faith, and wombe for ioyes increase.

Loue is true Vertue, and his ends delight,
His flames are ioyes, his bands true Louers might.

3.

His flames are ioyes, his bandes true Louers might,
No staine is there, but pure, as purest white,
Where no cloud can appeare to dimme his light,
Nor spot defile, but shame will soon requite.

Heere are affections tryde by Loues iust might
As Gold by fire, and black discern'd by white;
Error by truth, and darknes knowne by light,
Where Faith is vallu'd, for Loue to requite.

Please him, and serue him, glory in his might
And firme hee'le be, as Innocency white,
Cleere as th' ayre, warme as Sun's beames, as day light
Iust as Truth, constant as Fate, ioyd to requite.

Then Loue obey, striue to obserue his might
And be in his braue Court a glorious light.

4.

And be in his braue Court a glorious light
Shine in the eyes of Faith, and Constancy
Maintaine the fires of Loue, still burning bright,
Not slightly sparkling, but light flaming be.

Neuer to slake till earth no Starres can see,
Till Sun, and Moone doe leaue to vs darke night,
And second Chaos once againe doe free
Vs, and the World from all diuisions spight.

Till then affections which his followers are,
Gouerne our hearts, and prooue his powers gaine,
To taste this pleasing sting, seeke with all care
For happy smarting is it with small paine.

Such as although it pierce your tender heart,
And burne, yet burning you will loue the smart.

5.

And burne, yet burning you will loue the smart,
When you shall feele the waight of true desire,
So pleasing, as you would not wish your part
Of burthen should be missing from that fire.

But faithfull and vnfaigned heate aspire
Which sinne abollisheth, and doth impart
Salues to all feare, with vertues which inspire
Soules with diuine loue; which shewes his chast Art.

And guide he is to ioyings, open eyes
He hath to happinesse, and best can learne
Vs, meanes how to deserue this he descries,
Who blinde, yet doth our hidn'st thoughts diserne.

Thus we may gaine since liuing in blest Loue,
He may our Prophet, and our Tutor prooue.

6.

He may our Prophet, and our Tutor prooue,
In whom alone we doe this power finde,
To ioyne two hearts as in one frame to mooue
Two bodies, but one soule to rule the minde

Eyes which must care to one deare Obiect binde,
Eares to each others speach as if aboue
All else, they sweete, and learned were; this kind
Content of Louers witnesseth true loue.

It doth inrich the wits, and make you see
That in your selfe which you knew not before,
Forcesing you to admire such gifts should be
Hid from your knowledge, yet in you the store.

Millions of these adorne the throane of Loue,
How blest are they then, who his fauours proue?

7.

How bless'd be they then, who his fauors proue,
A life whereof the birth is iust desire?
Breeding sweete flame, which harts inuite to moue,
In these lou'd eyes, which kindle Cupids fire,

And nurse his longings with his thoughts intire,
Fix't on the heat of wishes form'd by Loue,
Yet whereas fire destroyes, this doth aspire,
Increase, and foster all delights aboue.

Loue will a Painter make you, such, as you
Shall able be to draw, your onely deare,
More liuely, perfect, lasting, and more true
Then rarest Workeman, and to you more neere.

These be the least, then all must needs confesse,
He that shuns Loue, doth loue himselfe the lesse.

8.

He that shuns Loue, doth loue himselfe the lesse,
And cursed he whose spirit, not admires
The worth of Loue, where endlesse blessednes
Raignes, & commands, maintain'd by heau'nly fires.

Made of Vertue, ioyn'd by Truth, blowne by Desires,
Strengthned by Worth, renew'd by carefulnesse,
Flaming in neuer-changing thoughts: bryers
Of Iealousie shall here misse welcomnesse.

Nor coldly passe in the pursutes of Loue
Like one long frozen in a Sea of yce:
And yet but chastly let your passions moone,
No thought from vertuous Loue your minds intice.

Neuer to other ends your Phant'sies place,
But where they may returne with honor's grace.

9.

Bvt where they may returne with Honor's grace,
Where Venus follies can no harbour winne,
But chased are, as worthlesse of the face,
Or stile of Loue, who hath lasciuious beene.

Our hearts are subiect to her Sonne, where sinne
Neuer did dwell, or rest one minutes space;
What faults he hath in her did still beginne,
And from her breast he suck'd his fleeting pace.

If Lust be counted Loue, 'tis falsely nam'd,
By wickednesse, a fairer glosse to set
Vpon that Vice, which else makes men asham'd,
In the owne Phrase to warrant, but beget

This Childe for Loue, who ought like Monster borne,
Be from the Court of Loue, and Reason torne.

10.

Bee from the Court of Loue, and reason torne,
For Loue in Reason now doth put his trust,
Desert and liking are together borne
Children of Loue, and Reason, Parents iust.

Reason aduiser is, Loue ruler must
Be of the State, which Crowne he long hath worne;
Yet so, as neither will in least mistrust
The gouernment where no feare is of scorn.

Then reuerence both their mights thus made of one,
But wantonnesse, and all those errors shun,
Which wrongers be, Impostures, and alone
Maintainers of all follies ill begunne.

Fruit of a sower, and vnwholesome grownd
Vnprofitably pleasing, and vnsound.

11.

Vnprofitably pleasing, and vnsound.
When Heauen gaue liberty to fraile dull earth,
To bring foorth plenty that in ills abound,
Which ripest, yet doe bring a certaine dearth.

A timelesse, and vnseasonable birth,
Planted in ill, in worse time springing found,
Which Hemlocke like might feed a sicke-wits mirth
Where vnrul'd vapours swimme in endlesse round.

Then ioy we not in what we ought to shunne,
Where shady pleasures shew, but true borne fires
Are quite quench'd out, or by poore ashes won,
Awhile to keepe those coole, and wann desires.

O no, let Loue his glory haue, and might
Be giu'n to him, who triumphs in his right.

12.

Be giu'n to him, who triumphs in his right;
Nor fading be, but like those blossomes faire,
Which fall for good, and lose their colours bright,
Yet dye not, but with fruit their losse repaire:

So may Loue make you pale with louing care,
When sweet enioying shall restore that light,
More cleere in beauty, then we can compare,
If not to Venus in her chosen might.

And who so giue themselues in this deare kinde,
These happinesses shall attend them still,
To be supplide with ioyes enrich'd in minde,
With treasures of content, and pleasures fill.

Thus loue to be diuine, doth here appeare,
Free from all foggs, but shining faire and cleare.

13.

Free from all foggs, but shining faire, and cleare,
Wise in all good, and innocent in ill,
Where holy friendship is esteemed deare,
With Truth in loue, and Iustice in our Will.

In Loue these titles onely haue their fill
Of happy life-maintainer, and the meere
Defence of right, the punisher of skill,
And fraude, from whence directions doth appeare.

To thee then, Lord commander of all hearts,
Ruler of our affections, kinde, and iust,
Great King of Loue, my soule from faigned smarts,
Or thought of change, I offer to your trust,

This Crowne, my selfe, and all that I haue more,
Except my heart, which you bestow'd before.

14.

Except my heart, which you bestowd before,
And for a signe of Conquest gaue away
As worthlesse to be kept in your choice store;
Yet one more spotlesse with you doth not stay.

The tribute which my heart doth truely pay,
Is faith vntouch'd, pure thoughts discharge the score
Of debts for me, where Constancy beares sway,
And rules as Lord, vnharmd by Enuies sore.

Yet other mischeifes faile not to attend,
As enemies to you, my foes must be,
Curst Iealousie doth all her forces bend
To my vndoing, thus my harmes I see.

So though in Loue I feruently doe burne,
In this strange Labyrinth how shall I turne?

Song. 1.

Sweet , let me enioy thy sight
More cleare, more bright then morning Sun,
Which in Spring-time giues delight
And by which Summers pride is wun.
Present sight doth pleasures moue
Which in sad absence we must misse:
But when met againe in loue,
Then twice redoubled is our blisse.

Yet this comfort absence giues,
And only faithfull louing tries,
That though parted, Loues force liues
As iust in heart, as in our eyes:

But such comfort banish quite,
Farre sweeter is it, still to finde
Fauour in thy loued sight,
Which present smiles with ioyes combind.

Eyes of gladnesse, lipps of Loue,
And hearts from passion not to turne,
But in sweet affections mooue,
In flames of Faith to liue, and burne.
Dearest then, this kindnesse giue,
And grant me life, which is your sight,
Wherein I more blessed liue,
Then graced with the Sunnes faire light.

2.

Sweet Siluia in a shady wood,
With her faire Nimphs layd downe,
Saw not farre off where Cupid stood,
The Monarch of Loues Crowne,
All naked, playing with his wings,
Within a Mirtle Tree,
Which sight a sudden laughter brings,
His Godhead so to see.

An fondly they began to iest,
With scoffing, and delight,
Not knowing he did breed vnrest,
And that his will's his right:
When he perceiuing of their scorne,
Grew in such desperate rage,
Who but for honour first was borne,
Could not his rage asswage.

Till shooting of his murth'ring dart,
Which not long lighting was,
Knowing the next way to the heart,
Did through a poore Nymph passe:
This shot the others made to bow,
Besides all those to blame,
Who scorners be, or not allow
Of powerfull Cupids name.

Take heede then nor doe idly smile,
Nor Loues commands despise,
For soone will he your strength beguile,
Although he want his eyes.

3.

Come merry Spring delight vs,
For Winter long did spight vs,
In pleasure still perseuer,
Thy beauties ending neuer:
Spring, and grow
Lasting so,
With ioyes increasing euer.

Let cold from hence be banish'd,
Till hopes from me be vanish'd,
But blesse thy daynties growing
In fulnesse freely flowing:
Sweet Birds sing
For the Spring,
All mirth is now bestowing.

Philomel in this Arbour
Makes now her louing Harbour,
Yet of her state complaining,
Her Notes in mildnesse strayning,
Which though sweet,
Yet doe meet.
Her former luckelesse paining.

4.

Louers learne to speake but truth,
Sweare not, and your oathes forgoe,
Giue your age a constant youth,
Vow no more then what you'le doe.

Thinke it sacriledge to breake
What you promise, shall in loue
And in teares what you doe speake
Forget not, when the ends you proue.

Doe not thinke it glory is
To entice, and then deceiue,
Your chiefe honors lye in this,
By worth what wonne is, not to leaue.

'Tis not for your fame to try,
What we weake, not oft refuse,
In our bounty our faults lye,
When you to doe a fault will chuse.

Fye leaue this, a greater gaine,
tis to keepe when you haue won,
Then what purchas'd is with paine,
Soone after in all scorne to shun.

For if worthlesse to be priz'd,
Why at first will you it moue?
And if worthy, why dispis'd?
You cannot sweare, and lie, and loue.

Loue alasse you cannot like,
Tis but for a fashion mou'd,
None can chuse, and then dislike,
Vnlesse it be by fashood prou'd.

But your choyce is, and your loue.
How most number to deceiue,
As if honors claime did moue
Like Popish Law, none safe to leaue.

Flye this folly, and returne
Vnto truth in Loue, and try,
None but Martir's happy burne,
More shamefull ends they haue that lye.

1.

My heart is lost, what can I now expect,
An euening faire after a drowsie day?
Alas, fond Phant'sie, this is not the way,
To cure a mourning heart, or salue neglect:

They who should helpe, doe me, and helpe reiect,
Embracing loose desires, and wanton play,
While wanton base delights, doe beare the sway,
And impudency raignes without respect.

O Cupid let they Mother know her shame,
'Tis time for her to leaue this youthfull flame,
Which doth dishonor her, is ages blame,
And takes away the greatnes of thy name.

Thou God of Loue, she only Queene of lust,
Yet striues by weakning thee, to be vniust.

2.

Late in the Forrest I did Cupid see
Cold, wett, and crying, he had lost his way,
And being blinde was farther like to stray;
Which sight, a kind compassion bred in me.

I kindly tooke, and dry'd him, while that he,
(Poore Child) complain'd, he sterued was with stay
And pin'd for want of his accustom'd prey,
For none in that wilde place his Host would be.

I glad was of his finding, thinking sure,
This seruice should my freedome still procure,
And in my armes I tooke him then vnharm'd,

Carrying him safe vnto a Myrtle bowre,
But in the way he made me, feele his powre,
Burning my heart, who had him kindly warm'd.

3.

Ivno still iealous of her husband Ioue,
Descended from aboue, on earth to try,
Whether she there could find his chosen Loue,
Which made him from the Heau'ns so often flye.

Close by the place where I for shade did lye,
She chafing came, but when shee saw me moue,
Haue you not seene this way (said she) to hye
One, in whom vertue neuer grownde did proue?

Hee, in whom Loue doth breed, to stirre more hate,
Courting a wanton Nimph for his delight;
His name is Iupiter, my Lord, by Fate,
Who for her, leaues Me, Heauen, his Throne, and light.

I saw him not (said I) although heere are
Many, in whose hearts, Loue hath made like warre,

4.

When I beheld the Image of my deare,
With greedy lookes mine eies would that way bend,
Feare, and Desire, did inwardly contend;
Feare to be mark'd, Desire to draw still neere.

And in my soule a Spirit would appeare,
Which boldnes warranted, and did pretend
To be my Genius; yet I durst not lend,
My eyes in trust, where others seem'd so cleare.

Then did I search, from whence this danger rose,
If such vnworthynesse in me did rest,
As my staru'd eyes must not with sight be blest,
When Iealousie her poyson did disclose.

Yet in my heart vnseene of Iealous eye,
The truer Image shall in tryumph lye.

5.

Like to huge Clowdes of smoake which well may hide
The face of fairest day, though for a while:
So wrong may shaddow me, till truth doe smile,
And Iustice Sunne-like hath those vapours tyde.

O doating Time, canst thou for shame let slid,
So many minutes, while ills doe beguile
Thy age, and worth, and falshoods thus defile
Thy auncient good, where now but crosses bide?

Looke but once vp, and leaue thy toyling pace
And on my miseries thy dimme eye place,
Goe not so fast, but giue my care some ende,

Turne not thy glasse (alas) vnto my ill
Since thou with sand it canst not so farre fill,
But to each one my sorrowes will extend.

6.

O that no day would euer more appeare,
But clowdy night to gouerne this sad place,
Nor light from Heauen these haples roomes to grace
Since that light's shadow'd which my Loue holds deare.

Let thickest mists in enuy master here,
And Sunne-borne day for malice show no face,
Disdaining light, where Cupid, and the race
Of Louers are despisd, and shame shines cleere.

Let me be darke, since barr'd of my chiefe light,
And wounding Iealousie commands by might,
But Stage-play-like disguised pleasures giue:

To me it seemes, as ancient fictions make
The Starrs, all fashions, and all shapes partake,
While in my thoughts true forme of Loue shall liue.

7.

No time, no roome, no thought, or writing can
Giue rest, or quiet to my louing heart,
Or can my memory, or Phant'sie scan,
The measure of my still renewing smart.

Yet whould I not (deare Loue) thou should'st depart,
But let my passions as they first began,
Rule, wound, and please, it is thy choysest Art,
To giue disquiet, which seemes ease to man.

When all alone, I thinke vpon thy paine,
How thou dost trauell our best selues to gaine,
Then houerly thy lessons I doe learne;

Thinke on thy glory, which shall still ascend,
Vntill the world come to a finall end,
And then shall we thy lasting powre dicerne.

8.

How Glowworme-like the Sun doth now appeare,
Cold beames doe from his glorious face descend
Which shewes his daies, and force draw to an ende,
Or that to leaue taking, his time growes neere.

The day his face did seeme but pale, though cleare,
The reason is, he to the North must end
His light, and warmth must to that climat bend,
Whose frozen parts could not loues heat hold deare

Alas, if thou bright Sunne to part from hence
Grieue so, what must I haplesse leave from thence,
Where thou dost goe my blessing fall attend;

Thou shalt enioy that sight for which I dye,
And in my heart thy fortunes doe enuy,
Yet grieue, I'le loue thee, for this state may 'mend.

9.

My Muse now happy lay thy head to rest,
Sleepe in the quiet of a faithfull loue,
Write you no more, but let the Phant'sies mooue
Some other hearts, wake not to new vnrest.

But if you Study be those thoughts adrest
To truth, which shall eternall goodnes prooue;
Enioying of true ioy the most, and best
The endles gaine which neuer will remoue.

Leaue the discourse of Venus, and her sonne
To young beginners, and their braines inspire
With storyes of great Loue, and from that fire,
Get heat to write the fortunes they haue wonne.

And thus leaue off; what's past shewes you can loue,
Now let your Constancy your Honor proue.

FINIS.