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To the Right honorable & vertuous Ladie
Bridgett Countesse of Sussex, VV. B. vvisheth health of bodie, content of minde,
vvith increase of all Honourable perfection, and eternall happinesse in the
vvorlde to come.
CERTAINE VERSES VPON THE ALPHEBET OF HER LADYSHIPS NAME.
B
Bewties
chiefe ornament of natures treasure,
R Richlie adornes her heauenlie countenance:
I In wisdomes schoole she builds her bower of pleasure,
D Diuine for wit and Godly gouernance.
G Garnished with vertue, grace, and modestie,
E Euen in her breast true honour is inrold:
T To praise her patience, loue, and loyaltie,
T The Muses charge it is with pens of gold.
R Richlie adornes her heauenlie countenance:
I In wisdomes schoole she builds her bower of pleasure,
D Diuine for wit and Godly gouernance.
G Garnished with vertue, grace, and modestie,
E Euen in her breast true honour is inrold:
T To praise her patience, loue, and loyaltie,
T The Muses charge it is with pens of gold.
S She is the starre that giues a golden light
V Vnto posterities, for liberall minde:
S She puts ambitious couetousnes to flight,
S So bountifull she is so meeke and kinde,
E Endles her honor, vnspotted is her fame,
X Xhrist graunt his glorie to this vertuous name.
V Vnto posterities, for liberall minde:
S She puts ambitious couetousnes to flight,
S So bountifull she is so meeke and kinde,
E Endles her honor, vnspotted is her fame,
X Xhrist graunt his glorie to this vertuous name.
[Thoughts make men sigh, sighes make men sick at hart]
Thoughts make men sigh, sighes make men sick at hart,
sicknes consumes, consumption killes at last:
Death is the end of euerie deadlie smart,
and sweet the ioy where euery paine is past:
But oh the time of death too long delayed,
where tried patience is too ill apayed.
sicknes consumes, consumption killes at last:
Death is the end of euerie deadlie smart,
and sweet the ioy where euery paine is past:
But oh the time of death too long delayed,
where tried patience is too ill apayed.
Hope harpes on heauen, but liues in halfe a hell,
hart thinkes of life but findes a deadly hate:
Eares harke for blis, but heares a dolefull bell,
Eyes looke for ioy, but see a vvofull state:
But eyes, and eares, and hart, and hope deceaued,
tongue tels a truth, how is the minde conceaued.
hart thinkes of life but findes a deadly hate:
Eares harke for blis, but heares a dolefull bell,
Eyes looke for ioy, but see a vvofull state:
But eyes, and eares, and hart, and hope deceaued,
tongue tels a truth, how is the minde conceaued.
Conceited thus to thinke but say no more,
to sigh and sob till sorrow haue an end:
And so to die till death may life restore,
or carefull faith may finde a constant friend:
That patience may yet in her passion proue,
iust at my death I found my life of loue.
to sigh and sob till sorrow haue an end:
And so to die till death may life restore,
or carefull faith may finde a constant friend:
That patience may yet in her passion proue,
iust at my death I found my life of loue.
Loue is a spirit high presuming,
that falleth oft ere he sit fast:
Care is a sorrow long consuming,
which yet doth kill the heart at last:
Death is a wrong to life and loue,
and I the paines of all must proue.
that falleth oft ere he sit fast:
Care is a sorrow long consuming,
which yet doth kill the heart at last:
and I the paines of all must proue.
Words are but trifles in regarding,
and passe away as puffes of winde,
Deedes are too long in their rewardinge,
and out of sight are out of minde,
And though so little fauour feed,
as findes no fruit in word or deed.
and passe away as puffes of winde,
Deedes are too long in their rewardinge,
and out of sight are out of minde,
And though so little fauour feed,
as findes no fruit in word or deed.
Truth is a thought too long in triall,
and knowne but coldly entertainde:
Loue is too long in his deniall:
and in the end but hardly gainde:
And in the gaine the sweet so small
that I must taste the sowre of all.
and knowne but coldly entertainde:
Loue is too long in his deniall:
and in the end but hardly gainde:
And in the gaine the sweet so small
that I must taste the sowre of all.
But oh the death too long enduring,
where nothing can my paine appease:
And oh the care too long in curing,
where patient hurt hath neuer ease:
And oh that euer Loue should know,
the ground whereof a greefe doth grow.
But heauens release me from this hel,
or let me die and I am well.
where nothing can my paine appease:
And oh the care too long in curing,
where patient hurt hath neuer ease:
And oh that euer Loue should know,
the ground whereof a greefe doth grow.
But heauens release me from this hel,
or let me die and I am well.
[Your face ]
[_]
In the following poem each set of three stanzas is grouped in a block across the page, so that the text can also be read horizontally.
Your face
So faire
First bent
Mine eye.
So faire
First bent
Mine eye.
Your tongue
So sweet
Then drew
Mine eare
So sweet
Then drew
Mine eare
Your wit
So sharpe
So hite
My hart
So sharpe
So hite
My hart
Mine eye
To like
Your face
Doth lead
To like
Your face
Doth lead
Mine eare
To learne
Your tongue
Doth teach
To learne
Your tongue
Doth teach
My hart
To loue
Your wit
Doth moue
To loue
Your wit
Doth moue
Your face
With beames
Doth blind
Mine eye
With beames
Doth blind
Mine eye
Your tongue
With sound
Doth charme
Mine eare
With sound
Doth charme
Mine eare
Your wit
With arte
Doth rule
My hart
With arte
Doth rule
My hart
Mine eye
With life
Your face
Doth feed
With life
Your face
Doth feed
My eare
With hope
Your tongue
Doth feast
With hope
Your tongue
Doth feast
My hart
With skill
Your wit
Doth fill
With skill
Your wit
Doth fill
Oh face
With frownes
Wrong not
Mine eye
With frownes
Wrong not
Mine eye
O tongue
With checks
Vex not
My eare
With checks
Vex not
My eare
O wit
With smart
Wound not
My hart
With smart
Wound not
My hart
This eye
Shall ioy
Your face
To serue
Shall ioy
Your face
To serue
This eare
Shall bend
Your tongue
To trust
Shall bend
Your tongue
To trust
This hart
Shall swere
Your wittes
To feare
Shall swere
Your wittes
To feare
[Flow forth abundant teares bedew this dolefull face]
Flow forth abundant teares bedew this dolefull face,disorder now thy haires that liues in such disgrace:
Ah death exceedeth far this life which I endure,
that still keepes me in warre, who can no peace procure
I loue whome I should hate, she flyes I follow fast,
such is my bitter state, I wish no life to last:
Alas affection strong to whom I must obay,
my reason so doth wrong, as it can beare no sway.
My field of flint I finde my haruest vaine desire,
for he that sowed wind, now reapeth storme for hire:
Alas like flowers of Spaine, thy graces rorie be,
I pricke these hands of mine for haste to gather thee:
But now shall sorrow slack, I yeeld to mortall strife,
to die, this for thy sake, shall honour all my life.
FINIS.
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