The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton For the First Time Collected and Edited: With Memorial-Introduction, Notes and Illustrations, Glossarial Index, Facsimilies, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart. In Two Volumes |
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PASSIONATE
SHEPHEARD,
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 | The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton |  |
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THE PASSIONATE SHEPHEARD,
OR The Shepheardes Loue: set downe in Passions to his Shepheardesse Aglaia.
With many excellent conceited Poems and pleasant Sonnets, fit for young heads to passe away idle houres.
4
Bonerto the faithfull Shepheard, to Aglaia
his faire Shepheardesse, wisheth more
wealth than the Sheepes-wooll, and a
better Garland then the
Bay-leafe.
5
Pastorall Verses written by the Shepheard Bonerto, to his beloued Shepheardesse Aglaia.
Pastor Primus.
Tell mee all yee shepheards swaines,On Mineruas Mountaine plaines:
Yee that onely sit and keepe
Flockes (but of the fairest sheepe)
Did you see this blesséd day,
Faire Aglaia walke this way?
If yee did oh tell me then,
If yee bee true meaning men:
How shee fareth with her health,
All the world of all your wealth:
Say a truth, and say no more:
Did yee euer see before,
Such a shepherdesse as shee?
Can there such another bee?
Euer did your eies beholde,
Pearles, or pretious stones in golde,
Or the Starres in Phœbus skies,
Sparkle like her sunny eyes?
Doe but truth, and truth confesse:
Is she not that shepheardesse,
That in state of beauties stay,
Caries all the praise away?
Tell me truly, shepehard, tell,
On your plaines did euer dwell,
Such a peereles paragon,
For pure eyes to looke vpon?
Oh the chaste commaunding kindnes,
That disswades affection's blindenes!
Settes it not your hearts on fire?
Yet forbiddes yee to aspire.
Doth it not coniure your sences,
That yee fall not in offences?
Hath shee not that wit diuine,
That doth all your wittes refine.
And doth limite loue his measure,
That he purchase no displeasure.
Hath shee not your spirits wrought,
In obedience to her thought,
Where your hearts vnto her eye,
In a kinde of Simpathie,
Frame the best conceited fashion,
Of a blesséd fancie's passion,
Which may neuer passe that ace,
That may keepe you in her grace?
O yee truest harted creatures!
In the truest kindest natures
Who, when all your thought assemble,
Neuer doe in one dissemble:
In loue's beauties honour's face,
Let Aglaia be your grace.
Past. 2.
Siluan Muses can yee sing,Of the beautie of the spring?
Haue yee seene on earth that Sunne,
That a heauenly course hath runne?
Haue yee liu'd to see those eyes?
Where the pride of beautie lies,
Haue yee heard that heauenly voice,
That may make loues heart reioyce?
Haue yee seene Aglaia, shee
Whome the world may ioy to see.
If yee haue not seene all these?
Then yee doe but labour leese,
While yee tune your pipes to play,
But an idle Roundelay.
And in sad discomfort's denne:
Euerie one goe bite her penne:
That shee cannot reach the skill,
How to clime that blesséd hill.
Where Aglaiae's prayses dwell
Whose exceedings doe excell,
6
Shee is that faire Shepheardesse,
To whome fairest flockes a fielde,
Doe their seruice duely yeelde:
On whome neuer Muse hath gazéd,
But in musing is amazéd;
Where the honour is to much,
For their highest thoughtes to touch.
This confesse, and get yee gone,
To your places euery one.
And in silence onely speake
When yee find your speech to weake.
Blesséd be Aglaia yet,
Though the Muses die for it.
Come abroad you blesséd Muses,
Yee that Pallas chiefly choses,
When shee would commend a creature,
In the honour of loues nature.
For the sweet Aglaia faire,
All to sweeten all the ayre:
Is abroad this blesséd day,
Haste yee therefore, come away:
And to kill Loue's Maladies,
Meete her with your Melodies.
Flora hath bin all about,
And hath brought her wardrope out;
With her fairest sweetest flowers,
All to trimme vp all your Bowers.
Bid the Shepheards and their Swaynes
See the beautie of their plaines.
And commaund them with their flockes
To doe reuerence on the rockes.
Where they may so happie be
As her shadowe but to see.
Bidde the Birdes in euery bush,
Not a bird to be at hush:
But to sit, chirip, and sing,
To the beautie of the spring,
Call the siluan Nimphes together,
Bid them bring their musickes hither,
Trees, their barky silence breake,
Cracke yet though they cannot speake.
Bid the purest whitest Swanne,
Of her feathers make her fanne:
Let the Hound the Hare goe chase,
Lambes and Rabbets runne at bace.
Flies be dauncing in the Sunne:
While the Silke-wormes webbes are spunne.
Hange a fish on euerie hooke,
As shee goes along the brooke:
So with all your sweetest powers,
Entertaine her in your bowers.
Where her eare may ioy to heare,
How yee make your sweetest quire:
And in all your sweetest vaine,
Still Aglaia strike the straine.
But when shee her walke doth turne,
Then begin as fast to mourne:
All your flowers and Garlands wither,
Put vp all your pipes together:
Neuer strike a pleasing straine
Till shee come abrode againe.
Past. 3.
Who can liue in heart so glad,As the merrie countrie lad?
Who vpon a faire greene balke
May at pleasures sit and walke?
And amidde the Azure skies,
See the morning Sunne arise?
While hee heares in euery spring,
How the Birdes doe chirpe and sing:
Or, before the houndes in crie,
See the Hare goe stealing by:
Or along the shallow brooke,
Angling with a baited hooke:
See the fishes leape and play,
In a blesséd Sunny day:
Or to heare the Partridge call,
Till shee haue her Couye all:
Or to see the subtill foxe,
How the villaine plies the box:
After feeding on his pray,
How he closely sneakes away,
Through the hedge and downe the furrow,
Till he geets into his burrowe.
Then the Bee to gather honey,
And the little blacke-haird Cony,
On a banke for Sunny place,
With her fore-feete wash her face:
Are not these with thousandes moe,
Then the Courts of Kinges doe knowe?
The true pleasing spirits sights,
That may breede true loues delightes,
But with all this happinesse,
To beholde that Shepheardesse,
To whose eyes all Shepheards yeelde,
All the fairest of the fielde.
Faire Aglaia in whose face,
Liues the Shepheard's highest Grace:
In whose worthy wonder praise,
See what her true Shepheard saies.
Shee is neither proude nor fine,
But in spirit more diuine:
Shee can neither lower nor leere,
But a sweeter smiling cheere:
She had neuer painted face,
But a sweeter smiling grace:
Shee can neuer loue dissemble,
Truth doth so her thoughts assemble,
That where wisdome guides her will,
Shee is kind and constant still,
All in summe she is that creature,
Of that truest comfortes Nature,
That doth shewe (but in exceedinges)
How their praises had their breedings:
7
In their fictions of loue's treasure:
Proud high spirits seeke their graces,
In their Idoll painted faces:
My loue's spirit's lowlinesse,
In affections humblenesse,
Vnder heau'n no happines
Seekes but in this Shepheardesse.
For whose sake I say and sweare,
By the passions that I beare,
Had I got a Kinglie grace,
I would leaue my Kinglie place.
And in heart be truelie glad:
To become a Country Lad.
Hard to lie, and goe full bare,
And to feede on hungry fare:
So I might but liue to bee,
Where I might but sit to see,
Once a day, or all day long,
The sweet subiect of my song:
In Aglaiae's onely eyes,
All my worldly paradise.
A Solemne long enduring Passion.
Past. 4.
Wearie thoughts doe waite vpon meGriefe hath to much ouer gone me
Time doth howerly ouer-toyle me,
While deepe sorrowes seeke to spoile me
Wit and sences all amazéd,
In their Graces ouer gazéd:
In exceeding torments tell me,
Neuer such a death befell mee.
Loue, oh life of more tormenting,
Then the world hath inuenting.
Neuer ceizd vpon a creature,
In a truer killing nature.
Not with Venus idle itching,
Nor with vaine affectes bewitching:
But with wit and reason's seeing,
Nature's beauties sweetest being:
Time and truth on earth declaring,
Excellence hath no comparing.
Not a Haire but hath in holding,
Honors hart, in loues beholding:
Not an eye, but in her glaunces,
Graceth reason in Loues traunces,
Not a looke but hath in louing,
Faith too fast for euery moouing.
Not a worde, but in commaunding,
Daunteth folly from demaunding.
Not a lippe, but makes the Cherrie,
Onely held a prettie Berrie:
Not a breath that softly blowes,
But perfumeth where it goes:
Not a truth but doth display,
All the Chesse in battaile ray:
Where the princely eye may see:
How they all in order bee.
King and Queene, Knight, Bishop, Rooke:
And the Pawne his place hath tooke.
Blesséd cheeke, the sweetest chaine,
Of affections sweetest vaine.
What can sweetest iudgements say,
But thou cariest sweete away?
Prettie cheeke, in whose sweet pit,
Loue would liue and die to sit.
Let mee thinke no more on thee,
Thou hast too much wounded me:
And that skarre vpon thy throate,
No such starre on Stellas coate.
Let me chide, yet with that stay,
That did weare the skinne away:
But alas shall I goe lower,
In sweet similies to showe her?
When to touch her praises tittle,
Nature's sweetnes is to little:
Where each Sinow, Limme and ioynt,
Perfect shape in euery point,
From corruptions eye concealed,
But to vertue loue reuealed,
Binde my thoughts to silence speaking,
While my hart must lye a breaking.
Petrarche, in his thoughts diuine,
Tasso in his highest line.
Ariosto's best inuention.
Dante's best obscur'd intention.
Ouid in his sweetest vaine:
Pastor Fidos purest straine.
With the finest Poet's wit,
That of wonders euer writ:
Were they all but now aliue,
And would for the Garland striue,
In the gratious praise of loue,
Heere they might their passions prooue.
On such excellences grownded;
That their wittes would be confounded.
And in enuie at my grace,
To beholde this blesséd face:
Finding all their wittes too weake,
Of her wonder worth to speake,
In a fretting humor'd vaine,
Runne into their graues againe.
But aye me! what inward wound,
Laies my comforts all a ground?
Absence, oh that world of woe,
That too neere the heart doth goe:
When the eye cannot beholde,
That the spirit hath in holde.
Loue must liue and looke a farre,
In a dreame vpon a starre:
But indeed beholde no light:
In darke absence onely night:
But what haue I said? aye me!
8
Sight of absence such a presence
Of Mineruas excellence.
In loue's liuing memorie,
That the light can neuer die.
No, first die all Poetts' loue,
Ere faith such a fiction prooue.
In obliuious light to place,
Such a blesséd starre of grace:
As in bright Aglaiae's eyes,
Shewes an earthly paradise.
If my Suite be not too great,
Thus much let thy swaine entreate:
Where no colde suspect can harme thee,
Looke into my hearte and warme thee,
Turne my Musicke to thy minde,
Let it know no other kinde.
Breake my pipe if that it play,
Other then the rounddelay.
Cut my throate if that I sing,
But vnto thy fauour's string.
Neuer grace my louely flocke,
But vpon the blessed rocke,
Where thy Grace may giue them feeding,
And thy blessing all their breeding.
I haue neither Plummes nor Cherries,
Nuttes, nor Aples, nor Straw-berries;
Pinnes nor Laces, Pointes nor gloues,
Nor a payre of painted Doues:
Shuttle-Cocke nor trundle ball,
To present thy loue with all:
But a heart as true and kinde,
As an honest faithfull minde
Can deuice for to inuent,
To thy patience I present:
At thy fairest feete it lies:
Blesse it with thy blesséd eyes:
Take it vp into thy handes,
At whose onely grace it standes,
To be comforted for euer,
Or to looke for comfort neuer:
Oh it is a strange affecte,
That my fancie doth effect.
I am caught and can not start,
Wit and reason, eye and heart:
All are witnesses to mee,
Loue hath sworne me slaue to thee,
Let me then be but thy slaue,
And no further fauour craue:
Send mee foorth to tende thy flocke,
On the highest Mountaine rocke.
Or commaund me but to goe,
To the valley grownd belowe:
All shall be a like to me,
Where it please thee I shall bee.
Let my face be what thou wilt:
Saue my life, or see it spilt.
Keepe fasting on thy Mountaine:
Charge me not come neere thy Fountaine.
In the stormes and bitter blastes,
Where the skie all ouercasts.
In the coldest frost and snowe,
That the earth did euer knowe:
Let me sit and bite my thumbes,
Where I see no comfort comes.
All the sorrowes I can prooue,
Cannot put me from my loue.
Tell me that thou art content,
To beholde me passion rente,
That thou know'st I deerely loue thee,
Yet withall it cannot mooue thee.
That thy pride doth growe so great,
Nothing can thy grace intreate,
That thou wilt so cruell bee,
As to kill my loue and mee:
That thou wilt no foode reserue,
But my flockes and I shall sterue.
Be thy rage yet nere so great,
When my little Lambes doe bleate,
To beholde their Shepheard die:
Then will truth her passion trie.
How a Hart it selfe hath spent,
With concealing of content.
Past. 5.
Now witts prooue what yee can doe,I haue worke to set yee to:
That will trie the Quintessence
Of your humor's excellence.
Tis no dreadefull Tragœdy,
Nor no pleasant Comœdie,
Tis no fiction of a fancy,
Nor a furie of a franzie,
But a subject of that worth,
That must bring strange wonders foorth.
Yet take heede to flye to high,
Least you lose your winges thereby.
Keepe your compasse in that care,
That doth onely truth declare.
Where in safety of conceite,
Yee may winne your honor's height.
There if ye haue power to finde,
Prayses in their purest kinde:
In Aglaias blesséd name,
Worke to winne your worthy fame.
Seeke not out for Similes,
Least yee doe your labour leese.
And for figures neuer take them,
Least shee doe but Ciphers make them,
And for substance truely founded,
Loue will in her Grace be grounded.
But if in heigh Contemplation
Of your sence's Admiration,
Yee do finde in strange coniecture,
Reasons wonders Architecture:
In a frame of such a fashion,
As doth plundge the hart in passion,
9
How to fall vpon vnfolding,
Then in silence set it downe,
Of the blesséd Lawrell crowne:
Let Aglaia take the grace,
Where the graces haue their place.
And in fine let this suffise yee,
That I kindely doe aduise yee,
How so ere yee are conceited,
Thus let all your Cares be straited.
Mooue not from her, nor yet mooue her,
Loue but doe not say yee loue her:
So that passions sweetly wittie,
May in patience best haue pittie:
So liue happie to attend her,
But if needes yee must commend her,
To this counte your prayses call:
In her selfe, her selfe is all.
Sundry sweet Sonnets and Passionated Poems.
A farewell to the world and the pleasures thereof.
Sonet I.
Now for the last farewell I meane to make,
To all the troubles, of my tiréd thought:
This leaue at last, and this last leaue I take,
Of some and all that haue my sorrowe sought.
To all the troubles, of my tiréd thought:
This leaue at last, and this last leaue I take,
Of some and all that haue my sorrowe sought.
First youth farewell the fore Runner of wit,
A time more staide, hath taught me better stages,
Then where repentance doth with sorrowe sit,
To shew the ruines of vnbridled Ages.
A time more staide, hath taught me better stages,
Then where repentance doth with sorrowe sit,
To shew the ruines of vnbridled Ages.
Next farewell Beautie, thou bewitching glasse,
That blind'st the eye, of all unseason'd seeing:
Mine eye now sees, wherein my blindnesse was,
I could not see my blindnesse in thy being.
That blind'st the eye, of all unseason'd seeing:
Mine eye now sees, wherein my blindnesse was,
I could not see my blindnesse in thy being.
Friendship farewell, where faith doth finde no trust,
For men are Monsters, and then what are women?
Experience now prooues Iudgement was vniust,
Where wit was folly, that made slaues of free-men.
For men are Monsters, and then what are women?
Experience now prooues Iudgement was vniust,
Where wit was folly, that made slaues of free-men.
And loue farewell, the Laborinthe of time,
Which killes the spirits with continuall care,
I now haue found the Snaile out by his slime,
And will not come, where such slye creepers are.
Which killes the spirits with continuall care,
I now haue found the Snaile out by his slime,
And will not come, where such slye creepers are.
And power farewell, the perill of conceite,
Where pride is hellish in impatience:
Strong is my weakenes, that now bids me waite,
But on the blessing of obedience.
Where pride is hellish in impatience:
Strong is my weakenes, that now bids me waite,
But on the blessing of obedience.
And hope farewell, the weakest holde of wit,
That euer help't, the heart to happinesse:
For wisdome's care, that well hath sounded it,
Findes it a flatterer but of idlenes.
That euer help't, the heart to happinesse:
For wisdome's care, that well hath sounded it,
Findes it a flatterer but of idlenes.
And farewell fortune, the moste idle fiction,
That euer fancy laide her labour on:
Truth, against whome there is no contradiction,
Showes one of force, but fortune there is none.
That euer fancy laide her labour on:
Truth, against whome there is no contradiction,
Showes one of force, but fortune there is none.
And arte farewell, the onely woe of wit,
That beates the Anuile of a busy braine,
With simple skill I now had rather sit
Then work for grace, and other get the gaine.
That beates the Anuile of a busy braine,
With simple skill I now had rather sit
Then work for grace, and other get the gaine.
And farewell time, that neuer giuest rest,
Vnto the body or the spirits paine:
Eternall blisse, hath so my spirite blest,
I will not harken vnto time againe.
Vnto the body or the spirits paine:
Eternall blisse, hath so my spirite blest,
I will not harken vnto time againe.
And farewell all that may be bid farewell,
Within this world of wretchednes and woe:
My spirit seekes but only there to dwell,
Where puer truth doth no corruption knowe.
Within this world of wretchednes and woe:
My spirit seekes but only there to dwell,
Where puer truth doth no corruption knowe.
A Gowne of Veluet and a chaine of pearle,
Shall now bewitche mine eyes with folly gazes
When vnderneath, an idle headed girle,
May feede the minde, but with dishonor's mazes.
Shall now bewitche mine eyes with folly gazes
When vnderneath, an idle headed girle,
May feede the minde, but with dishonor's mazes.
The seate of power too neere the Sin of pride,
Shall with Ambition, not infect my minde:
A ioyfull peace, within my soule hath tride,
The sweetest life is in the meane to finde.
Shall with Ambition, not infect my minde:
A ioyfull peace, within my soule hath tride,
The sweetest life is in the meane to finde.
The filéd tongue of fayning eloquence:
Shall now no more abuse my simple trust:
In yea and nay, I finde that excellence,
Where perfect iudgements cannot prooue vniust.
Shall now no more abuse my simple trust:
In yea and nay, I finde that excellence,
Where perfect iudgements cannot prooue vniust.
The sound of warre shal not inchaunt mine ear
With honour's musicke, to abuse my heart:
The blesséd peace, that patient spirits beare,
In heauenly consortes haue no bloudy parte.
With honour's musicke, to abuse my heart:
The blesséd peace, that patient spirits beare,
In heauenly consortes haue no bloudy parte.
The long delaying studdie of the lawe,
Shall beate no hammers in my wearie braine,
Nor loose my Corne in striuing for a strawe,
But keepe my right, & hate a wrongfull gaine.
Shall beate no hammers in my wearie braine,
Nor loose my Corne in striuing for a strawe,
But keepe my right, & hate a wrongfull gaine.
The greedie labours, of the grumbling Chuffe,
I will not followe, for a rusty wealth:
But in discretion thinke that worke enough,
That cloathes the flesh, and keepes the soule in health.
I will not followe, for a rusty wealth:
But in discretion thinke that worke enough,
That cloathes the flesh, and keepes the soule in health.
And I wil leaue Court, Cittie, towne and fielde,
Warres, Lawe and traffique, pollycie and paine:
And see what life the country loue will yeelde,
Where Shepheards keepe the flockes vpon the plaine.
Warres, Lawe and traffique, pollycie and paine:
And see what life the country loue will yeelde,
Where Shepheards keepe the flockes vpon the plaine.
There will I sit and in the sacred sence,
Of heauenly vertues high instructions:
Learne in Aglaias nature's excellence,
Of Loue's conceites, to make the best constructions.
Where God alone shall in my soule be loued,
And faithe's affection in true fancy proued.
Of heauenly vertues high instructions:
Learne in Aglaias nature's excellence,
Of Loue's conceites, to make the best constructions.
Where God alone shall in my soule be loued,
And faithe's affection in true fancy proued.
10
Which done, my heart shall lie vpon my brest,
That truth shall shewe the secret of my thought:
Where patience prooues the spirit onely blest,
That lookes at heauen and sets the world at nought.
That truth shall shewe the secret of my thought:
Where patience prooues the spirit onely blest,
That lookes at heauen and sets the world at nought.
Thus will I sit, and set my pipe in tune,
And plaie as merry as the day is long:
And as in Aprill, so againe in Iune,
Fit both my spring, and haruest with a song.
And plaie as merry as the day is long:
And as in Aprill, so againe in Iune,
Fit both my spring, and haruest with a song.
My Pipe shall bee but of a dainty reede,
That growes within the Riuer of delight:
Where euerie stop shall stand my heart in steed,
To guide the spirrit of my musicke right.
That growes within the Riuer of delight:
Where euerie stop shall stand my heart in steed,
To guide the spirrit of my musicke right.
And for my ditties, they shall be diuine:
When time shall onely on Aglaia rest,
While fancy so shall euerie note refine,
That euerie passion shall be well exprest.
When time shall onely on Aglaia rest,
While fancy so shall euerie note refine,
That euerie passion shall be well exprest.
And when the Musicke of my pipe is done,
Then what is needefull to my flocke goe see:
And from the plant that prospers in the Sunne,
Cut of the succors least they spoyle the tree.
Then what is needefull to my flocke goe see:
And from the plant that prospers in the Sunne,
Cut of the succors least they spoyle the tree.
And then goe looke vnto the worme and flie,
That may annoy my Lambkins, or their Dambes,
And to each griefe such presente helpe apply,
As may preserue the smallest of my Lambes.
That may annoy my Lambkins, or their Dambes,
And to each griefe such presente helpe apply,
As may preserue the smallest of my Lambes.
And if I see the Wolfe, the Brocke, the Foxe,
Or any varmin stealing downe a furrowe:
To make a praye among my prettie flocke,
Send out my Dog, and beate him to his borough.
Or any varmin stealing downe a furrowe:
To make a praye among my prettie flocke,
Send out my Dog, and beate him to his borough.
And when I heare the Nightingale recorde,
The Musicke, wherein Nature pleaseth Arte:
To trie how loue can with her tune accorde,
To sound the passions of a painting hearte:
The Musicke, wherein Nature pleaseth Arte:
To trie how loue can with her tune accorde,
To sound the passions of a painting hearte:
And when that shee her warbling Tunnes doth ease,
And shades her selfe from parching sommer's heate,
Then learne of her, how I may holde my peace,
While lesser Birdes, the idle ayre doe beate:
And shades her selfe from parching sommer's heate,
Then learne of her, how I may holde my peace,
While lesser Birdes, the idle ayre doe beate:
And when I sit vpon that sweetest mountaine,
Where growes the grasse, that feedes my fairest flockes,
And there beholde, that Christall cleerest fountaine,
That sendes her streames distilling through the Rockes.
Where growes the grasse, that feedes my fairest flockes,
And there beholde, that Christall cleerest fountaine,
That sendes her streames distilling through the Rockes.
And seeing there the heartes-ease growing by it,
The onely flower of fancie's best affection:
And thinke how Nature in her pride doth die it:
To put downe painting in her Arte's prefection.
The onely flower of fancie's best affection:
And thinke how Nature in her pride doth die it:
To put downe painting in her Arte's prefection.
Then lift mine eye vnto that hande on high,
That worketh all thinges by his holy will:
And giue all glory to this Maiestie:
Whose onely wisdome shewes all wonder skill.
That worketh all thinges by his holy will:
And giue all glory to this Maiestie:
Whose onely wisdome shewes all wonder skill.
Then on the earth fall humbly on my face,
And pray to him that made both day and night:
First to inspire me with his holy grace,
And then to blesse me in Aglaia's light.
And pray to him that made both day and night:
First to inspire me with his holy grace,
And then to blesse me in Aglaia's light.
And when I see the Trees beginne to Bud,
And euerye grasse, put foorth his fairest greene,
And euerie kidde begin to chew the Cudde,
And Flora haunt it like a Medowe Queene.
And euerye grasse, put foorth his fairest greene,
And euerie kidde begin to chew the Cudde,
And Flora haunt it like a Medowe Queene.
And all the Muses, dresse vp all their bowers,
And set their Consorts in so high a Key:
As if they met in Musicke's sweetest powers,
To play and sing some Princely Roundelay.
And set their Consorts in so high a Key:
As if they met in Musicke's sweetest powers,
To play and sing some Princely Roundelay.
Then still againe vnto my God on high,
Giue all due prayse, who in his grace hath prooued,
Aglaia blesséd in his gratious eye:
That so doth liue of Creatures all beloued.
Giue all due prayse, who in his grace hath prooued,
Aglaia blesséd in his gratious eye:
That so doth liue of Creatures all beloued.
The description and praise of his fairest Loue.
Sonet. 2.
Vp on the Hill of happinesse,
In beautie's Gratious blessednes:
Bonerto's fairest Shepheardesse,
In wisdome's honors worthinesse:
Aglaia liues, long may shee liue,
The worth that doth this wonder giue.
In beautie's Gratious blessednes:
Bonerto's fairest Shepheardesse,
In wisdome's honors worthinesse:
Aglaia liues, long may shee liue,
The worth that doth this wonder giue.
An Eye in which faire beautie's light,
Hath none of Phœbus' killing sight:
But of a farre more heauenly Grace,
To warme the heart, not burne the face:
A fore-head that faire fronte of blisse,
That shewes where beautie gracéd is.
Hath none of Phœbus' killing sight:
But of a farre more heauenly Grace,
To warme the heart, not burne the face:
A fore-head that faire fronte of blisse,
That shewes where beautie gracéd is.
A Haire that holdes the heart's affections,
Euen by the eye of lawe's directions:
Which wauing finely in the ayre,
Describes the pride of Beauties faire,
While loue beholdes with vertue's eye,
There doth not lye a hayre awrie.
Euen by the eye of lawe's directions:
Which wauing finely in the ayre,
Describes the pride of Beauties faire,
While loue beholdes with vertue's eye,
There doth not lye a hayre awrie.
A cheeke the chaine of loue's best chaunce,
That pleaseth passion in his Traunce:
A lippe to loue, more kindely sweete,
Then Hiues where Hony-Bees do meete.
A breath that so the ayre perfumes,
As all corruptious sence consumes.
That pleaseth passion in his Traunce:
A lippe to loue, more kindely sweete,
Then Hiues where Hony-Bees do meete.
A breath that so the ayre perfumes,
As all corruptious sence consumes.
And for her teeth, no Granam studdes,
Nor like the Knagges of Blacke-thorne buddes:
But where conceites, are kindely met,
Like Orient Pearles, in Rubies set.
And for a Toung in reason's sence,
The Trumpet of true eloquence.
Nor like the Knagges of Blacke-thorne buddes:
But where conceites, are kindely met,
Like Orient Pearles, in Rubies set.
And for a Toung in reason's sence,
The Trumpet of true eloquence.
And for a wit in wisdome's will,
So gouernéd with gracious skill:
That Admiration best can tell,
Where excellence doth truely dwell.
And for a spirite to that wit:
The world too weake to iudge of it.
So gouernéd with gracious skill:
That Admiration best can tell,
Where excellence doth truely dwell.
And for a spirite to that wit:
The world too weake to iudge of it.
11
I speake not of inferiour partes,
Nor of their prayses due desartes:
I rather loue my thoughts to raise,
To blesséd spirits and their prayse.
And where the best is set before:
But name Aglaia and no more.
Nor of their prayses due desartes:
I rather loue my thoughts to raise,
To blesséd spirits and their prayse.
And where the best is set before:
But name Aglaia and no more.
But if I had the painter's Arte,
To set a glasse on euery parte,
Her necke should seeme a piller fit,
For to vpholde the state of wit.
Whose smoothnesse would amase his sight:
When he should sit to paint the white.
To set a glasse on euery parte,
Her necke should seeme a piller fit,
For to vpholde the state of wit.
Whose smoothnesse would amase his sight:
When he should sit to paint the white.
Her Brestes should be those Balles of blisse,
That loue and beautie neuer misse,
But if a stroke doe chaunce to fall:
The heart should answere for the ball.
While honor's eye should iudge the set,
What loue may loose, and vertue get.
That loue and beautie neuer misse,
But if a stroke doe chaunce to fall:
The heart should answere for the ball.
While honor's eye should iudge the set,
What loue may loose, and vertue get.
Her armes should be those Angell bowes,
That blesséd wisdome onely knowes:
Her fingers, shaftes; that where they light,
Doe kill the eyes of idle sight:
While honor so guides Nature's eye:
There can no feather flye awry.
That blesséd wisdome onely knowes:
Her fingers, shaftes; that where they light,
Doe kill the eyes of idle sight:
While honor so guides Nature's eye:
There can no feather flye awry.
Her belly should that mountaine be,
That may put downe Parnassus hill:
Where Pallas might reioyce to see,
The subiects of her sweetest skill,
While all her Muses might deuise,
To judge of Nature's paradise.
That may put downe Parnassus hill:
Where Pallas might reioyce to see,
The subiects of her sweetest skill,
While all her Muses might deuise,
To judge of Nature's paradise.
But for that Marke of Modesty,
That sweares the silence of conceite:
While that descretion's carefull eye,
Is caried but to honor's height.
A Moone Eclipséd should descrie,
The daunger of a wickéd Eye.
That sweares the silence of conceite:
While that descretion's carefull eye,
Is caried but to honor's height.
A Moone Eclipséd should descrie,
The daunger of a wickéd Eye.
Now for the nexte adioyning Limmes,
Where strength and straightnes both agree,
To showe how nature sweetely trimmes,
All partes wherein her prayses be:
Should Sampson's pillers figure plaine,
How all Philistians should be slaine.
Where strength and straightnes both agree,
To showe how nature sweetely trimmes,
All partes wherein her prayses be:
Should Sampson's pillers figure plaine,
How all Philistians should be slaine.
Now for her legges, her knees and feete,
Which so euen carry euerie parte:
That beautie, loue, and honor meete.
To show the pride of Nature's arte:
I would but as I saide before,
But make her picture and no more.
Which so euen carry euerie parte:
That beautie, loue, and honor meete.
To show the pride of Nature's arte:
I would but as I saide before,
But make her picture and no more.
But painting is too poore a skill,
Where colours can but shadowe showe
The Poet's wit too weake for will:
To speake of that he doth not knowe,
While onely Admiration
Must make her declaration.
Where colours can but shadowe showe
The Poet's wit too weake for will:
To speake of that he doth not knowe,
While onely Admiration
Must make her declaration.
And how shall I then silly swaine,
Once looke at such a pure aspect?
As but vertues gratious vaine,
My rudenes neuer would respect,
But rather leaue the lonely spring,
Then stay to heare the Shepheard sing.
Once looke at such a pure aspect?
As but vertues gratious vaine,
My rudenes neuer would respect,
But rather leaue the lonely spring,
Then stay to heare the Shepheard sing.
Alas I know not, this is all,
I hope but from a hill of grace:
When heauenly fates will fauour fall,
A gratious heart, a gathering place.
Where I some little crum shall finde.
That may refresh a woeful minde.
I hope but from a hill of grace:
When heauenly fates will fauour fall,
A gratious heart, a gathering place.
Where I some little crum shall finde.
That may refresh a woeful minde.
Till when, and then, and euermore,
I will be but her Shepheard swaine;
And for my seruice seeke no more:
But on Petharé's Mountaine plaine,
I may one leaue my flocke to keepe,
And folde my Lambes, and feede my sheepe.
I will be but her Shepheard swaine;
And for my seruice seeke no more:
But on Petharé's Mountaine plaine,
I may one leaue my flocke to keepe,
And folde my Lambes, and feede my sheepe.
At Shearing time she shall commaund,
The finest fleece of all my wooll:
And if her pleasure but demaund,
The fattest from the leane to cull.
She shall be mistresse of my store:
Let mee alone to worke for more.
The finest fleece of all my wooll:
And if her pleasure but demaund,
The fattest from the leane to cull.
She shall be mistresse of my store:
Let mee alone to worke for more.
My cloake shall lie vpon the ground,
From wet and dust to keepe her feete:
My pipe with his best measure's sound,
Shall welcome her with musicke sweete.
And in my skrippe, some cates at least:
Shall bid her to a Shepheard's feast.
From wet and dust to keepe her feete:
My pipe with his best measure's sound,
Shall welcome her with musicke sweete.
And in my skrippe, some cates at least:
Shall bid her to a Shepheard's feast.
My staffe shall stay her, in her walke,
My dog shall at her heeles attend her:
And I will holde her with such talke,
As I doe hope shall not offend her,
My Eawes shall bleate, my Lambes shall play,
To shew her all the sport they may.
My dog shall at her heeles attend her:
And I will holde her with such talke,
As I doe hope shall not offend her,
My Eawes shall bleate, my Lambes shall play,
To shew her all the sport they may.
Why I will tell her twentie thinges,
That I haue heard my mother tell:
Of plucking of the Buzzard's winges,
For killing of her Cockerell,
And hunting Rainard to his denne,
For frighting of her sitting Hen.
That I haue heard my mother tell:
Of plucking of the Buzzard's winges,
For killing of her Cockerell,
And hunting Rainard to his denne,
For frighting of her sitting Hen.
How shee would say, when shee was young,
That Louers were ashamde to lie:
And truth was so on euerie tongue,
That Loue ment naught but honestie.
And Sirra (quoth shee) then to me
Let euer this thy lesson be.
That Louers were ashamde to lie:
And truth was so on euerie tongue,
That Loue ment naught but honestie.
And Sirra (quoth shee) then to me
Let euer this thy lesson be.
Looke when thou louest, loue but one,
And let her worthy be thy loue:
Then loue her in thy heart alone,
And let her in thy passions prooue,
Aglaia all that in thy minde,
Within thy heart her loue shali finde.
And let her worthy be thy loue:
Then loue her in thy heart alone,
And let her in thy passions prooue,
Aglaia all that in thy minde,
Within thy heart her loue shali finde.
12
And as shee bad, I haue obeyed,
I loue in heart but one alone:
Whose worthines my wits dismaid,
In finding such a worthy one.
As in Aglaia all doth prooue,
All under heauen my only loue.
I loue in heart but one alone:
Whose worthines my wits dismaid,
In finding such a worthy one.
As in Aglaia all doth prooue,
All under heauen my only loue.
And in that loue to liue and die,
And die, but in that loue to liue:
And loue that cannot liue to lie,
Shall for my truth this warrant giue:
My life or death, to saue or lose,
Shall in her loue be to dispose.
And die, but in that loue to liue:
And loue that cannot liue to lie,
Shall for my truth this warrant giue:
My life or death, to saue or lose,
Shall in her loue be to dispose.
Her eyes shall be my Sunne to guide me,
Her hand shall holde me by the hearte,
Her censure onely shall decide me:
What I protest in euerie parte.
In heart to serue and loue her so,
As vnder heauen to loue no moe.
Her hand shall holde me by the hearte,
Her censure onely shall decide me:
What I protest in euerie parte.
In heart to serue and loue her so,
As vnder heauen to loue no moe.
And if all this will not suffice,
To make her knowe an honest care,
Then shall shee see before her eyes,
Of what true forces passions are.
When silence discontent shall prooue,
How death shall make an ende of loue.
To make her knowe an honest care,
Then shall shee see before her eyes,
Of what true forces passions are.
When silence discontent shall prooue,
How death shall make an ende of loue.
And yet before that finall houre,
Where passions play their latest parte,
When sweetes are seuer'd, from their sower,
While onely life is in the heart:
The last effect of loue to trie,
I will but make my will and die.
Where passions play their latest parte,
When sweetes are seuer'd, from their sower,
While onely life is in the heart:
The last effect of loue to trie,
I will but make my will and die.
And I will tell her such fine tales,
As for the nonce, I will deuise:
Of Lapwinges and of Nightingales:
And how the Swallow feedes on flies.
And of the Hare, the Fox, the Hound,
The Pastor and the Medow ground.
As for the nonce, I will deuise:
Of Lapwinges and of Nightingales:
And how the Swallow feedes on flies.
And of the Hare, the Fox, the Hound,
The Pastor and the Medow ground.
And of the springes, and of the wood,
And of the Forrestes and the Deere,
And of the riuers and the floods,
And of the mirth and merrie cheere,
And of the lookes and of the glaunces,
Of Maides and young men in their daunces:
And of the Forrestes and the Deere,
And of the riuers and the floods,
And of the mirth and merrie cheere,
And of the lookes and of the glaunces,
Of Maides and young men in their daunces:
Of clapping handes, and drawing gloues,
And of the tokens of loue's truth,
And of the pretty Turtle Doues,
That teach the billinge trickes of youth.
And how they kindely ought to wooe,
Before the tother thing they doe.
And of the tokens of loue's truth,
And of the pretty Turtle Doues,
That teach the billinge trickes of youth.
And how they kindely ought to wooe,
Before the tother thing they doe.
Sonet. 3.
Foolish loue is onely folly,
Wanton Loue is too vnholly:
Greedy loue is couetous,
Idle loue is friuolous,
But the gratious loue is it:
That doth prooue the worth of wit.
Wanton Loue is too vnholly:
Greedy loue is couetous,
Idle loue is friuolous,
But the gratious loue is it:
That doth prooue the worth of wit.
Beautie but deceiues the eye,
Flatterie leades the eare awrye:
Welth doth but inchaunt the wit,
Want the ouerthrowe of it.
While in wisdome's worthy Grace,
Vertue sees the sweetest face.
Flatterie leades the eare awrye:
Welth doth but inchaunt the wit,
Want the ouerthrowe of it.
While in wisdome's worthy Grace,
Vertue sees the sweetest face.
There hath loue found out his life,
Peace without all thought of strife:
Kindenes in discretion's care,
Truth that clearely doth declare.
Faith doth in true fancy prooue,
Lust the excremente of loue.
Peace without all thought of strife:
Kindenes in discretion's care,
Truth that clearely doth declare.
Faith doth in true fancy prooue,
Lust the excremente of loue.
Then in faith my fancie see,
How my loue may construéd bee,
How it growes, and what it seekes,
How it liues, and what it likes.
So in highest grace regarde it,
Or in lowest scorne discarde it.
How my loue may construéd bee,
How it growes, and what it seekes,
How it liues, and what it likes.
So in highest grace regarde it,
Or in lowest scorne discarde it.
Sonet. 4.
Tell mee, tell mee pretty Muse,
Canst thou neither will nor chuse,
But be busie with my braine,
Still to put my wits to paine?
Shall my heart within my brest,
Neuer haue an hower of Rest?
Canst thou neither will nor chuse,
But be busie with my braine,
Still to put my wits to paine?
Shall my heart within my brest,
Neuer haue an hower of Rest?
Idle humor what doth ayle thee?
Not a thought that can auayle thee:
Be thou neere so woe begon thee,
Beautie will not looke vpon thee,
Fortune wholy hath forlorne thee,
And for loue, it hath forsworne thee.
Not a thought that can auayle thee:
Be thou neere so woe begon thee,
Beautie will not looke vpon thee,
Fortune wholy hath forlorne thee,
And for loue, it hath forsworne thee.
But if vertue haue procurd thee,
And that honour haue coniur'd thee.
In affection's royalty,
To discharge loue's loyaltie,
That the Eye of truth may see,
Then doe what thou wilt for me.
And that honour haue coniur'd thee.
In affection's royalty,
To discharge loue's loyaltie,
That the Eye of truth may see,
Then doe what thou wilt for me.
Worke my wit vnto thy will,
Keepe thy hammers working still:
Vse thine arte in euery thought,
With such temper to be wrought,
That Aglaia may aprooue,
Vertue's skill in framing Loue.
Keepe thy hammers working still:
Vse thine arte in euery thought,
With such temper to be wrought,
That Aglaia may aprooue,
Vertue's skill in framing Loue.
But if any labour lacke,
Or if either flawe or cracke
Make the mettall not so fine,
That the worke be not deuine,
And well fit for honour's store,
Neuer come at me no more.
Or if either flawe or cracke
Make the mettall not so fine,
That the worke be not deuine,
And well fit for honour's store,
Neuer come at me no more.
13
Sonet. 5.
I care not what I say nor doe,My thoughts are spent:
Since no conceite can bring me to
My heart's content:
I cannot speake and if I coulde,
It were in vaine:
And yet if that I could, I would
Reueale my payne.
But since it is to great to showe,
And I must bide it.
I leaue it to remorce to knowe,
How care doth hide it.
And sue but to those inward eyes
That see my heart,
To looke on patience how she dies:
In passion's smart.
And say what in themselues they see,
Where truth excelles:
I know the heart that honours mee
And loues none else.
Sonet. 6.
Fooles cannot know what fancie is,
Where wisdome findes true wit:
And who can euer ayme at blisse,
That hath no thought of it.
Where wisdome findes true wit:
And who can euer ayme at blisse,
That hath no thought of it.
A shallow braine can neuer iudge,
The sweet or sower betweene:
For Vulcan was but held a drudge,
While Venus was a Queene.
The sweet or sower betweene:
For Vulcan was but held a drudge,
While Venus was a Queene.
A muddie spirite dwells in drosse,
While pure affection's fire,
Enflames the heart that feeles no crosse
To compasse his desire.
And sweetly doth conseale his griefe:
Who rather dies then begges reliefe.
While pure affection's fire,
Enflames the heart that feeles no crosse
To compasse his desire.
And sweetly doth conseale his griefe:
Who rather dies then begges reliefe.
Sonet. 7.
Pe
tharco, I protest,
I will proclaime thy pride,
And what it is.
By that faire Phœnix nest,
Thy little hill doth hide,
In honor's blisse.
Enuie shall hate the place,
Where thou beholdest alone,
Loue's Paradice:
Vnworthy of the grace,
To see that worthy one,
Of Angelles eyes.
And I will raise againe,
The Poetes that are dead,
To raile on thee:
Because thou doste contriue,
The spirit that hath bred,
This death in me.
I will proclaime thy pride,
And what it is.
By that faire Phœnix nest,
Thy little hill doth hide,
In honor's blisse.
Enuie shall hate the place,
Where thou beholdest alone,
Loue's Paradice:
Vnworthy of the grace,
To see that worthy one,
Of Angelles eyes.
And I will raise againe,
The Poetes that are dead,
To raile on thee:
Because thou doste contriue,
The spirit that hath bred,
This death in me.
My best fancy, flye a franzye
Keepe desiring in admiring,
Beautie's nature in a creature:
Keepe desiring in admiring,
Beautie's nature in a creature:
Looue and honor looke vpon her,
Bid the graces, in their places,
To her beautie doe their duetie.
Bid the graces, in their places,
To her beautie doe their duetie.
Thinke not vainely, but all plainely:
Say and sweare it, who shall heare it,
She is wholy, her selfe soly.
Say and sweare it, who shall heare it,
She is wholy, her selfe soly.
Nature's Iewell, reason's fuell,
Honor's treasure, Grace's pleasure,
Passions spelling, thoughts excelling.
Honor's treasure, Grace's pleasure,
Passions spelling, thoughts excelling.
Declaration, Admiration.
Sonet. 8.
Poets die all: in loue's triall,Truth hath found yee,
Wonders feeding, on exceeding,
Doth confound yee.
Weake wittes perish, what can cherrish
Heart sicke fancy?
Wisdome seeing, in loue's being,
Reason's franzye
All Intentions, and inuentions
Of witte's wonder:
See the creature, in worthe's nature,
Keepe yee vnder.
To the Phœnix, beautie's Radix,
Would compare her.
Leaue your writing, no enditing,
And declare her.
Muses' silence, to loue's essence,
Doth resigne her,
Loue not daring in comparing
To define her.
Sonet. 9.
Faire faces are eyes' witches,
That but inchaunt the minde:
Fond humors reason's itches,
That but affection blinde.
While loue is but a mockery,
To cheate the world with foolerie.
That but inchaunt the minde:
Fond humors reason's itches,
That but affection blinde.
While loue is but a mockery,
To cheate the world with foolerie.
Youth but a blaze of time,
Whome Age to ashes bringes:
Time but a weary chime,
That death to sorrowe ringes:
While wealth the weight of care doth prooue,
The world hath little what to loue.
Whome Age to ashes bringes:
Time but a weary chime,
That death to sorrowe ringes:
While wealth the weight of care doth prooue,
The world hath little what to loue.
14
Beautie is sildome wise,
Nor wit hath fortune friend,
And loue in Argus eyes
Findes Iealouzie a fiend.
While truth doth gaine so little grace,
As makes the world a woefull place.
Nor wit hath fortune friend,
And loue in Argus eyes
Findes Iealouzie a fiend.
While truth doth gaine so little grace,
As makes the world a woefull place.
And vertue is so poore,
Shee liues by pittie most:
While pride doth ope her doore,
But onely vnto cost.
And power is growne so daungerous,
As makes discretion timorous.
Shee liues by pittie most:
While pride doth ope her doore,
But onely vnto cost.
And power is growne so daungerous,
As makes discretion timorous.
And fancie is so fickle,
That faith is in mistrust:
And friendship is so tickle,
That judgments prooues vniust.
While nature's blot in Reason's blame,
Doth shew the world a wicked frame.
That faith is in mistrust:
And friendship is so tickle,
That judgments prooues vniust.
While nature's blot in Reason's blame,
Doth shew the world a wicked frame.
Woordes are but blastes of breath,
Thoughts but the witte's illusion:
Deedes but desartes of death,
All but the worlde's confusion.
Where wordes and thoughts, and deedes doe trie,
The worlde wrapt vp in miserie.
Thoughts but the witte's illusion:
Deedes but desartes of death,
All but the worlde's confusion.
Where wordes and thoughts, and deedes doe trie,
The worlde wrapt vp in miserie.
What then on earth remaineth
That reason can discouer?
But that the heart disdaineth,
Which is the spirit's louer.
Saue that which wisdome findes in wit,
Is in the worlde but none of it.
That reason can discouer?
But that the heart disdaineth,
Which is the spirit's louer.
Saue that which wisdome findes in wit,
Is in the worlde but none of it.
For which conceal'd content,
In honor's carefull chest,
Wherein the spirit spent,
Is onely truely blest.
I will subscribe to reason's will,
To liue in purgatory still.
In honor's carefull chest,
Wherein the spirit spent,
Is onely truely blest.
I will subscribe to reason's will,
To liue in purgatory still.
For such the worlde I finde,
A place where eyes may see,
What moste may glad the minde,
Yet neere the better be,
Because the world hath smallest parte,
Of that which moste doth please the hearte.
A place where eyes may see,
What moste may glad the minde,
Yet neere the better be,
Because the world hath smallest parte,
Of that which moste doth please the hearte.
Then heauen's protest for me,
In spight of worldly spight:
Aglaia all shall be,
Where loue in honour's light,
In iudgements of discretion's eyes:
Doth make the world a Paradice.
In spight of worldly spight:
Aglaia all shall be,
Where loue in honour's light,
In iudgements of discretion's eyes:
Doth make the world a Paradice.
For were it not thrise good,
In Nature, wit, and grace:
Where truth hath vnderstood,
The cleerenes of my Case,
My loue on earth should neuer dwell,
But hate the world as halfe a hell.
In Nature, wit, and grace:
Where truth hath vnderstood,
The cleerenes of my Case,
My loue on earth should neuer dwell,
But hate the world as halfe a hell.
Then wherein goodnes showes,
The grace of fancie's blisse:
Which no Corruption knowes,
Nor earth come where it is:
Let me this true conclusion prooue,
I hate the world, but for thy loue.
The grace of fancie's blisse:
Which no Corruption knowes,
Nor earth come where it is:
Let me this true conclusion prooue,
I hate the world, but for thy loue.
Sonet. 10.
Faire eye spill me not,
Be of a better nature:
Sweet woordes kill me not,
But comforte a poore creature.
Be of a better nature:
Sweet woordes kill me not,
But comforte a poore creature.
But if yee needes will spill me,
Let it bee with loue's blindenesse:
And if yee needes will kill me,
Let it bee with loue's kindnesse.
Let it bee with loue's blindenesse:
And if yee needes will kill me,
Let it bee with loue's kindnesse.
Then shall your worth be proouéd,
In prayse's high perfection:
And in that prayse belouéd,
In fancie's deere affection.
In prayse's high perfection:
And in that prayse belouéd,
In fancie's deere affection.
And looue in honor's residence,
Shall write but of your excellence.
Shall write but of your excellence.
Sonet. 11.
Pretty twinckling starry eyes,
How did Nature first deuise,
Such a sparkling in your sight,
As to giue loue such delight,
As to make him like a flye,
Play with lookes vntill he die?
How did Nature first deuise,
Such a sparkling in your sight,
As to giue loue such delight,
As to make him like a flye,
Play with lookes vntill he die?
Sure yee were not made at first,
For such mischiefe to be curst:
As to kill affection's care,
That doth onely truth declare.
Where worthe's wonders neuer wither,
Loue, and Beautie liue together.
For such mischiefe to be curst:
As to kill affection's care,
That doth onely truth declare.
Where worthe's wonders neuer wither,
Loue, and Beautie liue together.
Blesséd eyes then giue your blessing,
That in passion's best expressing:
Loue that onely liues to grace yee,
May not suffer pride deface yee.
But in gentle thoughte's directions,
Shew the praise of your perfections.
That in passion's best expressing:
Loue that onely liues to grace yee,
May not suffer pride deface yee.
But in gentle thoughte's directions,
Shew the praise of your perfections.
FINIS.
| The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton | |