University of Virginia Library

TO LICIA THE WISE, KINDE, Vertuous, and fayre.

Bright matchles starre, the honour of the skie,
From whose cleare shine, heavens vawt hath all his light,
I send these Poems to your gracefull eye:
Doe you but take them, and they have their right.
I build besides a Temple to your name,
Wherein my thoughtes shall daily sing your praise:
And will erect an aulter for the same,
Which shall your vertues, and your honour raise.
But heaven the Temple of your honour is,
Whose brasen toppes your worthie selfe made proude:
The ground an aulter, base for such a blisse
With pitie torne, because I sigh'd so loude.
And since my skill no worship can impart,
Make you an incense of my loving heart.

Sonnet. I.

[Sadde all alone, not long I musing satte]

Sadde all alone, not long I musing satte,
But that my thoughtes compell'd me to aspire,
A Laurell garland in my hande I gatte:
So the Muses I approch'd the nyer.
My sute was this, a Poet to become,
To drinke with them, and from the heavens be fedde:
Phæbus denyed, and sware there was no roome,
Such to be Poets as fonde fancie ledde:
With that I mourn'd; and sat me downe to weepe,
Venus she smil'd, and smyling to me saide,
Come drinke with me, and sitt thee still and sleepe:
This voyce I heard: and Venus I obayde.
That poyson (sweete), hath done me all this wrong,
For nowe of love, must needes be all my song.

Sonnet. II.

[Wearie was love, and sought to take his rest]

Wearie was love, and sought to take his rest,
He made his choice, uppon a virgins lappe:
And slylie crept, from thence unto her breast,
Where still he meant, to sport him in his happe,
The virgin frown'd, like Phœbus in a cloude,
Go packe sir boy, here is no roome for such
My breast no wanton foolish boyes must shroude;
This saide, my Love did giue the wagge a tuch,
Then as the foot, that treads the stinging snake,
Hastes to be gone, for feare what may ensewe,
So love, my love, was forst for to forsake,
And for more speede, without his arrowes flewe.
Pardon (he saide) for why you seem'd to me,
My mother Venus, in her pride to be.

Sonnet. III.

[The heavens beheld the beautie of my Queene]

The heavens beheld the beautie of my Queene,
And all amaz'd, to wonder thus began:
Why dotes not Iove, as erst we all have seene,
And shapes him selfe like to a seemely man?
Meane are the matches, which he sought before,
Like bloomelesse buddes, too base to make compare,
And she alone hath treasur'd beauties store:
In whome all giftes and princely graces are.
Cupid reyly'd: I posted with the Sunne,
To viewe the maydes that lived in those dayes,
And none there was, that might not well be wonne:
But she, most hard, most cold, made of delayes.
Heavens were deceiv'd, and wrong they doe esteeme,
She hath no heat, although she living seeme.

Sonet. IIII.

[Love, and my love, did range the forrest wilde]

Love, and my love, did range the forrest wilde,
Mounted alyke, upon swift coursers both:
Love her encountred, though he was a childe,
Let's strive (saith he) whereat my love vvas vvroth,
And scorn'd the boy, and checkt him with a smile,
I mounted am, and armed with my speare,
Thou art too weake, thy selfe doe not beguile,
I could thee conquere, if I naked were:
With this love wept, and then my love reply'd:
Kisse me (sweet boy) so: weepe (my boy) no more,
Thus did my love, and thus her force she try'd,
Love was made yee, that fier was before.
A kisse of hers, as I poore soule doe proove,
Can make the hottest freese, and coldest love.

Sonnet. V.

[Love with her haire, my love by force hath ty'd]

Love with her haire, my love by force hath ty'd,
To serve her lippes, her eies, her voice, her hand,
I smil'd for joy, when I the boye espy'd,
To lie inchain'd, and live at her commaund.
She if she looke, or kisse, or sing, or smile,
Cupid withall, doth smile, doth sing, doth kisse,
Lippes, handes, voice, eies, all hearts that may beguile,
Bicause she scornes, all hearts but onlie this:
Venus for this in pride began to frowne:
That Cupid borne a god, inthrald should be:
She in disdaine, her prettie sonne threwe downe,
And in his place, with love she chained me.
So now (sweet love) though I my selfe be thrale,
Not her a goddesse, but thy selfe I call.

Sonnet. VI.

[My love amaz'd did blush her selfe to see]

My love amaz'd did blush her selfe to see,
Pictur'd by arte, all naked as she was:
How could the Painter, knowe so much by me,
Or Art effect, what he hath brought to passe?
It is not lyke, he naked me hath seene,
Or stoode so nigh, for to observe so much,
No, sweete, his eyes so nere have never bene,
Nor could his handes, by arte have cunning such:
I showed my heart, wherein you printed were,
You, naked you, as here you painted are,
In that (My Love) your picture I must weare,
And show't to all, unlesse you have more care:
Then take my heart, and place it with your owne,
So shall you naked never more be knowne.

Sonnet. VII.

[Death in a rage, assaulted once my heart]

Death in a rage, assaulted once my heart,
With love of her, my love that doeth denie.
I scorn'd his force, and wisht him to depart,
I heartlesse was, and therefore could not die:
I live in her, in her I plac'd my life,
She guydes my soule, and her I honour must,
Nor is this life, but yet a living strife,
A thing unmeet, and yet a thing most just:
Cupid inrag'd, did flie to make me love,
My heart lay garded with those burning eies,
The sparkes whereof denyed him to remoove;
So conquerd now, he like a captive lies,
Thus two at once by love were both undone:
My heart not lov'd, and armlesse Venus Sonne.

Sonet. VIII.

[Harde are the rockes, the marble, and the steele]

Harde are the rockes, the marble, and the steele,
The auncient oake, with wind, and weather tost,
But you my love, farre harder doe I feele,
Then flinte, or these, or is the winters frost.
My teares too weake, your heart they can not moove,
My sighes, that rocke, like wind it cannot rent,
Too Tyger-like you sweare, you cannot love:
But teares, and sighes, you fruitlesse backe have sent.
The frost too hard, not melted with my flame,
I Cynders am, and yet you feele no heate:
Surpasse not these (sweet love) for verie shame,
But let my teares, my vowes, my sighes, entreat,
Then shall I say, as I by triall finde:
These all are hard, but you (my love) are kind.

Sonnet. IX.

[Love was layd downe, all wearie fast asleepe]

Love was layd downe, all wearie fast asleepe,
Whereas my love his armour tooke away,
The boye awak'd, and straight began to weepe,
But stood amaz'd and knew not what to say:
Weepe not, my boy, said Venus to her sonne,
Thy weapons, non-can weild, but thou alone,
Lycia the faire, this harme to thee hath done,
I sawe her here, and presentlie was gone,
She will restore them, for she hath no need,
To take thy weapons, where thy valour lies,
For men to wound, the Fates have her decreed,
With favour, handes, with beautie, and with eies,
No, Venus no: she scornes them (credite me)
But robb'd thy sonne, that none might care for thee.

Sonnet. X.

[A paynter drew, the image of the boye]

A paynter drew, the image of the boye,
Swift love, with winges all naked, and yet blind:
With bowe and arrowes, bent for to destroye,
I blam'd his skill, and fault I thus did fynde:
A needlesse taske, I see thy cunning take,
Misled by love, thy fancie thee betrayde,
Love is no boye, nor blinde, as men him make,
Nor weapons weares, whereof to be affrayde:
But if thou love, wilt paint with greatest skill,
A Love, a mayde, a goddesse, and a Queene:
Woonder, and viewe at Lycias picture still,
For other love, the world hath never seene:
For she alone, all hope, all comfort gives:
Mens hearts, soules all, led by her favour lives.

Sonnet. XI.

[In Ida vale three Queenes the shepheard sawe]

In Ida vale three Queenes the shepheard sawe,
Queenes of esteeme, divine, they were all three:
A sight of worth, but I a wonder shawe,
There vertues all in one alone to be.
Lycia the fayre, surpassing Venus pride,
(The matchlesse Queene commaunder of the goddes,
When drawen with doves, she in her pompe doeth ride)
Hath farre more beautie, and more grace by oddes.
Iuno Ioves wife, unmeete to make compare,
I graunt a goddesse, but not halfe so mylde:
Minerva wise, a vertue, but not rare.
Yet these are meane, if that my love but smyl'de.
She them surpasseth, when their prides are full:
As farre as they surpasse the meanest trull.

Sonnet. XIII.

[I wish sometimes, although a wortlesse thing.]

I wish sometimes, although a wortlesse thing.
Spurd by ambition, glad for to aspyre,
My selfe a Monarch, or some mightie King:
And then my thoughtes doe wish for to be hyer.
But when I view what windes the Cedars tosse,
What stormes men feele that covet for renowne,
I blame my selfe that I have wisht my losse,
And scorne a kingdome, though it give a crowne.
A' Licia thou, the wonder of my thought,
My heartes content, procurer of my blisse,
For whome a crowne, I doe esteme as nought,
And Asias wealth, too meane to buy a kisse;
Kisse me sweete love, this favour doe for me:
Then Crownes and Kingdomes shall I scorne for thee.

Sonnet. XIII.

[Inamour'd Iove, commaunding did intreat]

Inamour'd Iove, commaunding did intreat,
Cupid to wound my love which he deny'd,
And swore he could not, for she wanted heate.
And would not love, as he full oft had try'd.
Iove in a rage, impatient this to heare,
Reply'd vvith threats: Ile make you to obey:
Whereat the boye did flie away for feare.
To Lycias eyes, where safe intrench'd he lay:
Then Iove, he scorn'd, and darde him to his face,
For novv more safe than in the heavens he dwell'd,
Nor could Ioves wrath, doe vvrong to such a place
Where grace and honour, have their kingdome helde.
Thus in the pride, and beautie of her eyes:
The seelie boye, the greatest god defies,

Sonnet. XIIII.

[My love lay sleeping, where birdes musicke made]

My love lay sleeping, where birdes musicke made,
Shutting her eies, disdainfull of the light,
The heat was great, but greater vvas the shade:
Which her defended from his burning sight:
This Cupid savv, and came a kisse to take:
Sucking svveet Nectar from her sugred breath:
She felt the touch, and blusht, and did avvake,
Seeing t'was love. which she did thinke was death:
She cut his vvinges, and caused him to stay,
Making a vovve, hee should not thence depart,
Vnlesse to her, the vvanton boy could pay,
The truest, kindest and most loving heart:
His feathers still, she used for a fanne:
Till by exchange, my heart his feathers vvan.

Sonnet. XV.

[I stood amaz'd, and sawe my Licia shine]

I stood amaz'd, and sawe my Licia shine,
Fairer then Phœbus, in his brightest pride,
Set foorth in colours, by a hand divine,
Where naught was wanting, but a soule to guide.
It was a picture, that I could descrye:
Yet made with arte, so as it seem'd to live,
Surpassing faire, and yet it had no eye:
Whereof my senses, could no reason give.
With that the Painter bidde me not to muse,
Her eyes are shut, but I deserve no blame.
For if she saw, in faith, it could not chuse:
But that the worke, had wholly beene a flame.
Then burne me (sweete) with brightnesse of your eyes,
That Phænix like, from thence I may arise.

Sonnet. XVI.

[Graunt fayrest kind, a kisse unto thy friend]

Graunt fayrest kind, a kisse unto thy friend,
A blush replyde, and yet a kisse I had:
It is not heaven, that can such nectar send,
Whereat my senses, all amaz'd, were glad.
This done, she fled, as one that was afrayde,
And I desyr'd to kisse, by kissing more,
My love she frown'd, and I my kissing stayde,
Yet wisht to kisse her, as I did before:
Then as the vine, the propping elme doeth claspe,
Lothe to depart, till both together dye:
So folde me (sweete) untill my latest gaspe,
That in thy armes, to death, I kist, may lye.
Thus whilest I live, for kisses I must call,
Still kisse me, (sweete) or kisse me not at all.

Sonnet. XVII.

[As are the sandes (faire Licia) on the shore]

As are the sandes (faire Licia) on the shore,
Or colourd floures, garlands of the spring,
Or as the frosts not seene, nor felt before,
Or as the fruites that Autume foorth doth bring,
As twinckling starres, the tinsell of the night,
Or as the fish that gallope in the seas,
As aires each part that still escapes our sight:
So are my sighes, controllers of my ease.
Yet these are such, as needes must have an end,
For things finite, none els hath nature done:
Onlie the sighes, vvhich from my heart I send,
Will never cease, but where they first begunne.
Accept them (sweet) as incense due to thee:
For you immortall made them so to be.

Sonnet. XVIII.

[I sweare (faire Licia) still for to be thine]

I sweare (faire Licia) still for to be thine,
By heart, by eies, by what I held most deare,
Thou checkt mine oath, and said: these were not mine,
And that I had no right by them to sweare.
Then by my sighes, my passions, and my teares,
My vowes, my prayers, my sorrowe, and my love,
My griefe, my joy, my hope, and hopeles feares
My heart is thine, and never shall remoove.
These are not thine, though sent unto thy viewe,
All els I graunt, by right they are thine owne,
Let these suffice, that what I sweare is true,
And more than this, if that it eould be known.
So shall all these, though troubles ease my griefe:
If that they serve, to worke in thee beliefe.

Sonnet. XIX.

[That tyme (faire Licia) when I stole a kisse]

That tyme (faire Licia) when I stole a kisse,
From of those lippes, where Cupid lovelie laide,
I quakt for colde, and found the cause was this,
My life which lov'd, for love behind me staid:
I sent my heart, my life for to recall:
But that was held, not able to returne,
And both detain'd as captives were in thrall,
And judg'd by her, that both by sighes should burne:
(Faire) burne them both, for that they were so bolde,
But let the altar be within thy heart:
And I shall live, because my lyfe you holde,
You that give lyfe, to everie living part,
A flame I tooke, when as I stole the kisse:
Take you my lyfe, yet can I live with this.

Sonnet. XX.

[First did I feare, when first my love began]

First did I feare, when first my love began,
Possest in fittes, by watchfull jealousie,
I sought to keepe, what I by favour wanne,
And brookt no partner in my love to be.
But Tyrant sicknesse, fedde upon my love,
And spred his ensignes, dy'd with colour white,
Then was suspition, glad for to remoove:
And loving much did feare to loose her quite.
Erect (faire sweet) the collours thou didst weare,
Dislodge thy griefes, the shortners of content:
For now of lyfe, not love, is all my feare,
Least lyfe, and love be both together spent.
Live but (faire love) and banish thy disease:
And love (kind heart) both when, and whom thou please.

Sonnet. XXI.

[Lycia my love was sitting in a grove]

Lycia my love was sitting in a grove,
Tuning her smiles unto the chirping songs,
But straight she spy'd, where two together strove,
Ech one complaining of the others wrongs.
Cupid did crie, lamenting of the harme:
Ioves messenger, thou wrong'st me too too farre:
Vse thou thy rodde, relye upon thy charme:
Thinke not by speach, my force thou canst debarre.
A rodde (syr boy) were fitter for a childe,
My weapons oft, and tongue, and minde you tooke?
And in my wrong at my distresse thou smil'de,
And scorn'd to grace me with a loving looke.
Speake you (sweet love) for you did all the wrong,
That broke his arrowes, and did binde his tong.

Sonnet. XXII

[I might have dyed, before my lyfe begunne]

I might have dyed, before my lyfe begunne,
When as my father for his countries good,
The Persians favour and the Sophy vvonne:
But yet with daunger, of his dearest blood.
Thy father (sweet) whome daunger did beset,
Escaped all, and for no other end:
But onely this, that you he might beget:
Whom heavens decreed, into the world to send.
Then father, thanke thy daughter for thy lvfe,
And Neptune praise, that yeelded so to thee,
To calme the tempest, when the stormes were ryfe,
And that thy daughter should a Venus be.
I call thee Venue (sweet) but be not wroth,
Thou art more chast, yet seas did favour both.

Sonnet. XXIII.

[My love was maskt, and armed with a fanne]

My love was maskt, and armed with a fanne,
To see the Sunne so carelesse of his light,
Which stood and gaz'd, and gazing, waxed wanne,
To see a starre, himselfe that was more bright.
Some did surmize, she hidde her from the sunne:
Of whome, in pride, she scorn'd for to be kist:
Or fear'd the harme, by him to others done,
But these the reason of this woonder mist,
Nor durst the Sunne, if that her face were bare,
In greatest pride, presume to take a kisse:
But she more kinde, did shew she had more care,
Then with her eyes, eclypse him of his blisse.
Vnmaske you (sweet) and spare not, dimme the sunne:
Your light's ynough, although that his were done.

Sonnet. XXIIII.

[When as my love, lay sicklie in her bedde]

When as my love, lay sicklie in her bedde,
Pale death did poste, in hope to have a praie,
But she so spotlesse made him, that he fledde,
Vnmeet to die (he cry'd) and could not staie.
Backe he retyr'd, and thus the heavens he told,
All thinges that are, are subject unto me,
Both townes, and men, and what the world doth hold,
But let faire Licia still immortall be.
The heauens did graunt: a goddesse she was made,
Immortall, faire, unfit to suffer chaung,
So now she lives, and never more shall fade,
In earth a goddesse, what can be more strange?
Then will I hope, a goddesse and so neare,
She cannot chuse my sighes, and praiers but heare.

Sonnet. XXV.

[Seven are the lights, that wander in the skies]

Seven are the lights, that wander in the skies,
And at these seven, I wonder in my love,
To see the Moone, how pale she doeth arise,
Standing amaz'd, as though she durst not move:
So is my sweet, much paler than the snowe,
Constant her lookes, those lookes that cannot change,
Mercurie the next, a god sweet tong'd we know,
But her sweet voice, doth woonders speake more strange:
The rising Sunne doeth boast him of his pride,
And yet my love is farre more faire than he.
The warlike Mars, can weildles weapons guide,
But yet that god, is farre more weake than she.
The lovelie Venus, seemeth to be faire,
But at her best, my love is farre more bright:
Saturne for age, with groans doth dimme the aire;
Whereas my love, with smiles doth give it light.
Gaze at her browes, where heaven ingrafted is:
Then sigh, and sweare, there is no heaven but this.

Sonnet. XXVI.

[I live (sweete love) whereas the gentle winde]

I live (sweete love) whereas the gentle winde,
Murmures with sport, in midst of thickest bowes,
Where loving Wood-bine, doth the Harbour binde,
And chirping birdes doe eccho foorth my vowes:
Where strongest elme, can scarce support the vine,
And sweetest flowres enameld have the ground,
Where Muses dwell, and yet hereat repine:
That on the earth so rare a place was found.
But windes delight, I wish to be content:
I praise the Wood-bine, but I take no joye:
I moane the birdes, that musicke thus have spent:
As for the rest, they breede but mine annoye.
Live thou (fayre Licia) in this place alone:
Then shall I joye, though all of these were gone.

Sonnet. XXVII.

[The Chrystal streames, wherein my love did swimme]

The Chrystal streames, wherein my love did swimme,
Melted in teares, as partners of my woe,
Her shine was such, as did the fountaine dimme;
The pearlike fountaine, whiter than the snowe,
Then lyke perfume, resolved with a heate,
The fountaine smoak'd, as if it thought to burne:
A woonder strange, to see the colde so great,
And yet the fountaine, into smoake to turne.
I searcht the cause, and found it to be this,
She toucht the water, and it burnt with love,
Now by her meanes, it purchast hath that blisse,
Which all diseases, quicklie can remoove.
Then if by you, these streames thus blessed be:
(Sweet) graunt me love, and be not woorse to me.

Sonnet. XXVIII.

[In tyme the strong and statelie turrets fall]

In tyme the strong and statelie turrets fall,
In tyme the Rose, and silver Lillies die,
In tyme the Monarchs captives are and thrall,
In tyme the sea, and rivers are made drie:
The hardest flint, in tyme doth melt asunder,
Still living fame, in tyme doth fade away,
The mountaines proud, we see in tyme come under,
And earth for age, we see in tyme decay:
The sunne in tyme, forgets for to retire,
From out the east, where he was woont to rise,
The basest thoughtes, we see in time aspire,
And greedie minds, in tyme do wealth dispise,
Thus all (sweet faire) in tyme must have an end:
Except thy beautie, vertues, and thy friend.

Sonnet. XXIX.

[Why dy'd I not when as I last did sleepe?]

Why dy'd I not when as I last did sleepe?
(O sleepe too short that shadowed foorth my deare)
Heavens heare my prayers, nor thus me waking keepe:
For this were heaven, if thus I sleeping weare.
For in that darke there shone a Princely light:
Two milke-white hilles, both full of Nectar sweete:
Her Ebon thighes, the wonder of my sight,
Where all my senses with their objectes meete:
I passe those sportes, in secret that are best,
Wherein my thoughtes did seeme alive to be;
We both did strive, and wearie both did rest:
I kist her still, and still she kissed me.
Heavens let me sleepe, and shewes my senses feede:
Or let me wake, and happie be indeede.

Sonnet. XXI.

[When as my Lycia sayled in the seas]

When as my Lycia sayled in the seas,
Viewing with pride, god Neptunes stately crowne,
A calme she made, and brought the merchant ease,
The storme she stayed, and checkt him with a frowne.
Love at the stearne, sate smiling, and did sing:
To see howe seas, had learnd for to obey:
And balles of fire, into the waves did fling.
And still the boy, full wanton thus did say:
Both poles we burnt, whereon the world doeth turne,
The rownd of heaven, from earth unto the skies:
And nowe the seas we both intend to burne:
I with my bowe, and Licia with her eyes.
Then since thy force, heavens, earth, nor seas can move,
I conquer'd, yeeld; and doe confesse I love.

Sonnet. XXXI.

[When as her lute is tuned to her voyce]

When as her lute is tuned to her voyce,
The aire growes proude, for honour of that sound:
And rockes doe leape, to shewe howe they rejoyce,
That in the earth, such Musicke should be found.
When as her haire, more worth, more pale, then golde,
Like silver threed, lies waffting in the ayre:
Diana like she lookes, but yet more bolde:
Cruell in chase, more chaste, and yet more fayre.
When as she smyles, the cloudes for envie breakes,
She Iove in pride encounters with a checke:
The Sunne doeth shine for joye when as she speakes:
Thus heaven, and earth doe homage at her becke.
Yet all these graces blottes, not graces are:
Yf you my love, of love doe doe take no care.

Sonnet XXXII.

[Yeares, months, daies, houres, in sighes I sadlie spend]

Yeares, months, daies, houres, in sighes I sadlie spend,
I blacke the night, wherein I sleeplesse tosse:
I love my griefs, yet wish them at an end,
Thus tymes expence, encreaseth but my losse.
I musing stand, and woonder at my love:
That in so faire, should be a heart of steele:
And then I thinke, my fancie to remove:
But then more painfull, I my passions feele.
Thus must I love (sweet faire) untill I die,
And your unkindnesse, doth my love encrease;
I conquerd am, I can it not denie:
My lyfe must end, yet shall my love not cease.
Then heavens, make Licia faire, most kind to me:
Or with my life, my loue may finisht be.

Sonnet. XXXIII.

[I wrote my sighs, and sent them to my love]

I wrote my sighs, and sent them to my love,
I prais'd that faire, that none ynough could praise:
But plaintes, nor praises, could faire Lycia moove,
Above my reach, she did her vertues raise.
And thus reply'd: False Scrawle, untrue thou art,
To faine those sighes, that no where can be sound:
For halfe those praises, came not from his hart:
Whose faith and love, as yet was never found.
Thy maisters lyfe, (false Scrawle) shall be thy doome:
Because he burnes, I judge thee to the flame:
Both your attempts, deserve no better roome,
Thus at her word, we ashes both became.
Beleeve me (faire) and let my paper live:
Or be not faire, and so me freedome give.

Sonnet. XXXIIII.

[Pale are my lookes, forsaken of my lyfe]

Pale are my lookes, forsaken of my lyfe,
Cynders my bones, consumed with thy flame,
Floodes are my teares, to end this burning stryfe,
And yet I sigh, for to increase the same.
I mourne alone, because alone I burne:
Who doubts of this, then let him learn to love,
Her lookes, colde yce into a flame can turne:
As I distressed in my selfe doe prove.
Respect (faire Licia) what my torments are,
Count but the tyth, both of my sighes and teares,
See how my love, doeth still increase my care,
And cares increase, my lyfe to nothing weares.
Send but a sigh, my flame for to increase,
Or lend a teare, and cause it so to cease.

Sonnet. XXXV.

[When as I wish, faire Licia for a kisse]

When as I wish, faire Licia for a kisse:
From those sweet lippes, where Rose and Lillies strive,
Straight doe mine eies, repine at such a blisse,
And seeke my lippes, thereof for to deprive,
When as I seeke, to glut mine eies, by sight:
My lippes repine, and call mine eyes away:
Thus both contend, to have each others right:
And both conspire, to worke my full decay.
O force admyr'd, of beautie in her pride:
In whose each part, such strange effects there be,
That all my forces, in themselves devide:
And make my senses, plainlie disagree.
If all were mine, this envie would be gone:
Then graunt me all (faire sweet) or grant me none.

Sonnet. XXXVI.

[Heare how my sighes, are ecchoed of the wind]

Heare how my sighes, are ecchoed of the wind,
See how my teares, are pittied by the raine:
Feele what a flame, possessed hath my mind,
Taste but the griefe, which I possesse in vaine.
Then if my sighes, the blustering windes surpasse:
And watrie teares, the droppes of raine exceed,
And if no flame, like mine, nor is, nor was:
Nor griefe like that, wheron my soule doth feed:
Relent (faire Licia) when my sighes doe blowe,
Yeeld at my teares, that flint-like, droppes consume:
Accept the flame, that doth my incense showe,
Allowe the griefe, that is my hearts perfume.
Thus sighes, and teares, flame, griefe, shall plead for me,
So shall I pray, and you a goddesse be.

Sonnet. XXXVIII.

[I speake (faire Licia) what my torments be]

I speake (faire Licia) what my torments be:
But then my speach; too partiall doe I finde:
For hardlie words, can with those thoughts agree:
Those thoughtes that swarme, in such a moubled mind.
Then doe I vowe, my tongue shall never speake:
Nor tell my griefe, that in my heart doth lie:
But cannon-like, I then surchardg'd, doe breake,
And so my silence, worse than speach I trie.
Thus speach, or none, they both doe breed my care:
I live dismayd, and kill my heart with griefe:
In all respectes, my case alyke doth fare:
To him that wants, and dare not aske reliefe.
Then you (faire Licia) soveraigne of my heart:
Read to your selfe, my anguish, and my smart.

Sonnet. XXXVIII.

[Sweet, I protest, and seale it with an oath]

Sweet, I protest, and seale it with an oath:
I never saw, that so my thoughtes did please:
And yet content displeas'd I see them wroth:
To love so much, and cannot have their ease.
I tolde my thoughts, my soveraigne made a pause,
Dispos'd to graunt, but willing to delay:
They then repin'd, for that they knewe no cause,
And swore they wisht, she flatlie would say nay.
Thus hath my love, my thoughts with treason fild:
And gainst my soveraigne, taught them to repine:
So thus my treason, all my thoughts hath kill'd,
And made faire Licia, say she is not mine.
But thoughts too rash, my heart doth now repent:
And as you please, they sweare, they are content.

Sonnet. XXXIX.

[Faire matchlesse Nymph, respect but what I crave]

Faire matchlesse Nymph, respect but what I crave,
My thoughts are true, and honour is my love:
I fainting die, whome yet a smile might save:
You gave the wound, and can the hurt remove.
Those eyes, like starres, that twinkle in the night,
And cheeks like rubies pale, in lilies dy'd,
Those Ebon hands hands, that darting have such might,
That in my soule, my loue and live devide.
Accept the passions, of a man possest:
Let Love be lov'd, and graunt me leave to live:
Disperse those clouds, that darkened have my rest:
And let your heaven, a sun-like smile but give.
Then shall I praise, that heaven for such a sunne,
That saved my life, when as my griefe begun.

Sonnet. XL.

[My griefe begunne (faire Saint) when first I saw]

My griefe begunne (faire Saint) when first I saw,
Love in those eyes, sit ruling, with disdaine:
Whose sweet commandes, did keepe a world in awe:
And caus'd them serve, your favour to obtaine.
I stood as one enchaunted with a frowne,
Yet smilde to see, all creatures serue those eyes:
Where each with sighes, paid tribute to that crowne:
And thought them graced, by your dumme replyes.
But I, ambitious, could not be content:
Till that my service, more than sighes made knowne:
And for that end, my heart to you I sent:
To say, and sweare, that (faire) it is your owne.
Then greater graces (Licia) doe impart:
Not dumme replies, unto a speaking heart.

A SONNET MADE VPON THE TWO Twinnes, daughters of the Ladie Mollineux, both passing like, and exceeding faire.

Poets did faine, that heavens a Venus had:
Matchlesse her selfe, and Cupid was her sonne,
Men sew'd to these, and of their smiles were glad,
By whome so manie famous were undone.
Now Cupid mournes, that he hath lost his might:
And that these two, so comelie are to see:
And Venus frowns, because they have her right.
Yet both so like, that both shall blamelesse be.
With heavens two twinnes, for godhead these may strive
And rule a world, with least part of a frowne:
Fairer then these, two twinnes are not alive:
Both conquering Queenes, & both deserve a crowne.
My thoughts presage, which tyme to come shall trie:
That thousands conquerd, for their love shall die.

Sonnet. XLI.

[If (aged Charon), when my life shall end]

If (aged Charon), when my life shall end,
I passe thy ferrye, and my wafftage pay,
Thy oares shall fayle thy boate, and maste shall rend,
And through the deepe, shall be a drye foote-way.
For why my heart with sighs doth breath such flame,
That ayre and water both incensed be.
The boundlesse Ocean from whose mouth they came,
For from my heate not heaven it selfe is free.
Then since to me thy losse can be no gaine:
Avoyd thy harme and flye what I foretell.
Make thou my love with me for to be slaine,
That I with her, and both with thee may dwel.
Thy fact thus (Charon) both of us shall blesse:
Thou save thy boat, and I my love possesse.

Sonnet. XLII.

[For if alone thou thinke to waft my love]

For if alone thou thinke to waft my love,
Her cold is such as can the sea commaund.
And frolen Ice shall let thy boate to move,
Nor can thy forces rowe it from the land.
But if thou friendly both at once shalt take,
Thy selfe mayst rest for why my sighes will blowe.
Our colde and heate so sweete a thawe shall make,
As that thy boate without thy helpe shall rowe.
Then will I sitte and glut me on those eyes,
Wherewith my life, my eyes could never fill.
Thus from thy boate, that comfort shall arise,
The want whereof my life and hope did kill.
Together plac'd so thou her skorne shalt crosse,
Where if we part, thy boate must suffer losse.

Sonnet. XLIII.

[Are those two starres, her eyes, my lifes light gone?]

Are those two starres, her eyes, my lifes light gone?
By which my soule was freed from all darke.
And am I left distres'd, to live alone?
Where none my teares and mournefull tale shall marke.
Ah Sunne, why shine thy lookes, thy lookes like gold.
When horseman brave thou risest in the East.
Ah Cynthia pale, to whome my griefes I told,
Why doe you both rejoyce both man and beast?
And I alone, alone that darke possesse
By Licias absence brighter then the Sunne,
Whose smyling light did ease my sadde distresse
And broke the clowdes when teares like rayne begun.
Heavens graunt that light and so me waking keepe:
Or shut my eyes, and rocke me fast a-sleepe.

Sonnet. XLIIII.

[Cruell fayre Love, I justly do complaine]

Cruell fayre Love, I justly do complaine,
Of too much rigour, and thy heart unkind.
That for mine eyes, thou hast my bodie slaine,
And would not graunt, that I should favour find.
I look'd (fayre Love) and you my love lookt fayre,
I sigh'd for love, and you for sport did smyle.
Your smyles were such as did perfume the ayre,
And this perfumed did my heart beguyle,
Thus I confesse, the fault was in mine eyes,
Begun with sighes, and ended with a flame:
I for your love, did all the world despise,
And in these poems, honour'd have your name.
Then let your love so with my fault dispense,
That all my parts feele not mine eyes offense.

Sonnet. XLV.

[There shone a Comet, and it was full west.]

There shone a Comet, and it was full west.
my thoughts presaged, what it did portend:
I found it threatned, to my heart unrest,
And might in tyme, my joyes and comfort end.
I further sought, and found it was a Sunne:
Which day, nor night, did never use to set:
It constant stood, when heavens did restlesse run,
And did their vertues, and their forces let.
The world did muse, and wonder what it meant,
A Sunne to shine, and in the west to rise:
To search the trueth, I strength and spirits spent,
At length I found, it was my Licias eyes:
Now never after, soule shall live in darke,
That hath the hap, this westerne Sunne to marke.

Sonnet. XLVI.

[If he be dead, in whome no hart remaines]

If he be dead, in whome no hart remaines,
Or livelesse be, in whome no lyfe is found:
If he doe pyne that never comfort gaines,
And be distrest, that hath his deadlie wound.
Then must I dye whose heart els where is clad,
And livelesse passe the greedie wormes to feed:
Then must I pine, that never comfort had,
And be distrest, whose wound with teares doth bleed,
Which if I doe, why doe I not waxe cold?
Why rest I not lyke one that wants a hart?
Why moove I still, lyke him that lyfe doth hold?
And sense enjoy both of my joy and smart.
Lyke Nyobe Queene, which made a stone, did weepe,
Licia, my heart dead and alive doth keepe.

Sonnet XLVII.

[Lyke Memnons rocke toucht, with the rising Sunne]

Lyke Memnons rocke toucht, with the rising Sunne,
Which yeelds a sownd, and ecchoes foorth a voice:
But when its' drownde, in westerne seas is dunne,
And drousie lyke, leaves off to make a noice.
So I (my love) inlightned with your shyne,
A Poets skill within my soule I shroud,
Not rude lyke that, which finer wittes declyne,
But such as Muses to the best allowde.
But when your figure, and your shape is gone,
I speechlesse am, lyke as I was before:
Or if I write, my verse is fill'd with moane,
and blurd with teares, by falling in such store.
Then muse not (Licia) if my Muse be slacke,
For when I wrote, I did thy beautie lacke.

Sonnet. XLVIII.

[I saw (sweet Licia) when the spydar ranne]

I saw (sweet Licia) when the spydar ranne,
Within your house, to weave a woorthlesse web:
You present were, and feard her with your fanne,
So that amazed, speedilie she fled.
She in your house such sweete perfumes did smell,
And heard the Muses, with their notes refin'd:
Thus fill'd with envie, could no longer dwell,
But straight return'd, and at your house repin'd,
Then tell me (spidar) why of late I sawe
Thee loose thy poison, and thy bowels gone,
Did these enchaunt, and keepe thy limmes in awe,
And made thy forces, to be small or none?
No. no. thou didst by chaunce my Licia see,
Who for her looke, Minerva seem'd to thee.

Sonnet. XLIX.

[If that I dye (fayre Lycia) with disdaine]

If that I dye (fayre Lycia) with disdaine,
Or hartlesse live, surprised with thy wrong;
Then heavens and earth shall accent both my paine,
And curse the time so cruell, and so long.
If you be kinde (my Queene) as you are fayre,
And ayde my thoughtes, that still for conquest strive.
Then will I sing, and never more dispayre,
And praise your kindnesse, whylst I am alive.
Till then I pay the tribute of my teares,
To moove thy mercie and thy constant trueth.
Respect (fayre love) howe these with sorrowe weares
The truest heart: unlesse it finde some ruthe.
Then grace me (sweet) and with thy favour rayse me,
So shall I live, and all the world shall praise thee.

Sonnet. L.

[A' Licia sigh, and say thou art my owne]

A' Licia sigh, and say thou art my owne,
Nay be my owne, as you full oft have sayd.
So shall your trueth unto the world be knowne,
And I resolv'd, where now I am afrayd.
And if my tongue æternize can your prayse,
Or silly speech increase your worthy fame.
If ought I can, to heaven your worth can rayse,
The age to come, shall wonder at the same.
In this respect, your love (sweete love) I told,
My faith and trueth I vow'd should be for ever.
You were the cause, if that I was too bold,
Then pardon this my fault, or love me never.
But if you frowne, I wish that none beleeve me;
For slayne with sighes, Ile dye, before I greeve thee.

Sonnet. LI.

[When first the Sunne, whome all my senses serve]

When first the Sunne, whome all my senses serve,
Began to shine upon this earthly round,
The heav'ns for her, all graces did reserve,
That Pandor-like, with all she might abound.
Apollo plac'd his brightnesse in her eyes,
His skill presaging, and his musicke sweete.
Mars gave his force, all force she now defyes.
Venus her smyles, wherewith she Mars did meete.
Python a voyce, Dyana made her chaste,
Ceres gave plentie: Cupid lent his bowe:
Thetis his feete: there Pallas wisdome plac't.
With these she Queene-like kept a world in awe.
Yet all these honours deemed are but pelfe.
For she is much more worthie of her selfe.

Sonnet. LII.

[O sugred talke, wherewith my thoughtes doe live]

O sugred talke, wherewith my thoughtes doe live:
O browes loves Trophee, and my senses shine:
O charming smyles, that death or life can give:
O heavenly kisses from a mouth devine:
O wreaths too strong, and tramels made of hayre:
O pearles inclosed in an Ebon pale,
O Rose and Lillyes in a field most fayre,
Where modest whyte, doth make the red seeme pale.
O voyce whose accents live within my heart,
O heavenly hand that more then Atlas holds,
O sighes perfum'd, that can release my smart.
O happy they, whome in her armes she folds.
Nowe if you aske where dwelleth all this blisse,
Seeke out my love, and she will shew you this.

AN ODE.

Love I repent me that I thought,
My sighes, and languish, dearely bought.
For sighes aud languish both did prove,
That he that languisht, sight for love.
Cruell rigour foe to state,
Lookes disdainfull, fraught with hate.
I did blame, but had no cause,
(Love hath eyes, but hath no lawes)
She was sadde, and could not chuse,
To see me sigh, and sitt, and muse.
We both did love, and both did doubt,
Least any should our love finde out.
Our heartes did speake by signes most hidden,
This meanes was left, all els forbidden.
I did frowne, her love to trye,
She did sigh, and straight did crye.
Both of us did signes beleeve,
Yet either grieved friend to greeve.
I did looke, and then did smyle;
She left sighing all that whyle.
Both were glad to see that change:
Things in love that are not strange.
Suspicion foolish foe to reason,
Caus'd me seeke, to finde some treason.
I did court another Dame,
(False in love it is a shame)
She was sorrie this to vewe,
Thinking faith was prov'd untrewe.
Then she swore, she would not love,
One whome false, she once did prove:
I did vowe I never ment,
From promise made, for to relent.
The more I said, the worse she thought,
My othes and vowes were dem'd as nought.
(False) (she sayde) howe can it be,
To court another, yet love me.
Crownes and Love no partners brooke,
If she be lyk'd, I am forsooke.
Farewell false, and love her still,
Your chaunce was good, but mine was ill.
No harme to you, but this I crave,
That your newe love, may you desave.
And jeast with you, as you have donne,
For light's the love, that's quickely wonne.
Kinde, and fayre-sweete, once beleeve me,
Ieast I did, but not to greeve thee.
Court I did, but did not love,
All my speach was you to prove.
Wordes and sighes, and what I spent,
(In shewe to her) to you were ment,
Fond I was your love to crosse,
(Ieasting love oft brings this losse.)
Forget this fault, and love your frend,
Which vowes his trueth unto the end,
Content (she sayd) if this you keepe,
Thus both did kisse, and both did weepe.
For women, long they can not chyde,
As I by proofe in this have tryde.

A dialogue betwixt two: Sea-nymphes, DORIS and GALATEA, concerning Polyphemus, briefely translated out of Lucian.

Doris.
Thy love (fayre Nymph) that courts thee on this plaine,
As shepheards say, and all the world can tell.
Is that foule rude Sicilian Cyclop-swayne,
A shame (sweete Nymph) that he with thee should mell.

Galatea.
Smyle not (fayre Doris) though he foule doe seeme,
Let passe thy wordes that savour of disgrace,
He's worth my love, and so I him esteeme.
Renownd by birth and comon of Neptunes race.
Neptune that doth the glassye Ocean tame,
Neptune, by birth from mighty Iove which came.

Doris.
I graunt an honour to be Neptunes chyld,
A grace to be so neere with Iove allyde.
But yet (sweete Nymph) with this be not beguyld,
Where natures graces are by lookes descryde.
So foule, so rough, so ugglye like a Clowne,
And worse then this, a Monster with one eye.
Foule is not graced, though it weare a Crowne,
But fayre is Bewtie, none can that denye.

Galatea.
Nor is he foule, or shapelesse as you say,
Or worse, for that he clownish seem's to be,
Rough, Satyr-like, the better he will play,
And manly lookes the fitter are for me.
His frowning smyles are graced by his beard,
His eye-light Sunne-like, shrowded is in one.
This me contents, and others makes afeard,
He sees ynough, and therefore wanteth none.

With one eye.

Doris.
Nay then I see (sweete Nimph) thou art in love,
And loving, doates; and doating, doest commend.
Foule to be fayre, this oft doe lovers proove,
I wish him fayrer, or thy love an end.

Galatea.
Doris, I love not, yet I hardly beare,
Disgracefull tearms, which you have spoke in scorne.
You are not lov'd: and that's the cause I feare:
For why, my love, of Iove him selfe was borne.
Feeding his sheepe of late, amidst this plaine,
When as we Nymphes did sport us on this shore,
He skorn'd you all, my love for to obtaine;
That greev'd your hearts: I knew as much before.
Nay smyle not Nymphes, the trueth I onely tell,
For fewe can brooke, that others should excell.

Doris.
Should I envie that blinde did you that spite?
Or that your shape doeth pleease so foule a groome?
The shepheard thought of milke, you look'd so white,
The downe did erre, and foolish was his doome,
Your looke was pale, and so his stomach fed,
But farre from faire, where white doth want his red.

Galatea.
Though pale my looke, yet he my love did crave,
And lovelie you, unlyk'd, unlov'd I view:
It's better farre one base, than none to have,
Your faire is foule, to whome there's none will sew:
My love doth tune his love unto his harpe,
His shape is rude, but yet his witt is sharpe.

Doris.
Leave off (sweet Nymph) to grace a woorthlesse downe.
He itch'd with love, and then did sing or say,
The noise was such, as all the Nymphes did frowne,
And well suspected, that some Asse did bray.
The woods did chyde, to heare this uglie sound,
The prating Eccho scorn'd for to repeate,
This grislie voice did feare the hollow ground,
Whilst artlesse fingers did his harpstrings beat.
Two Bear-whelps in his armes this monster bore,
With these new puppies did this wanton play,
Their skinnes was rough, but yet your loves was more:
He fouler was and farre more fierce than they,
I cannot chuse (sweet Nymph) to thinke, but smyle,
That some of us, thou fearst will thee beguyle.

Galatea.
Scorne not my love, untill it can be knowne,
That you have one that's better of your owne.

Doris.
I have no love, nor if I had, would boast,
Yet wo'd have bene, by such as well might speed:
But him to love, the shame of all the coast,
So uglie foule, as yet, I have no need.
Now thus we learne what foolish love can doe,
To thinke him faire, that's foule and uglie to.

A LOVERS MAZE.

AN ELEGIE.

[Downe in a bed, and on a bed of doune]

ELEGIE. II.

[Distance of place, my love and me did part]

ELEGIE. III.

[If sadde complaint would shewe a lovers payne]

THE RISING TO THE CROWNE of RICHARD the third.