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TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE SIR GEORGE CAREY, OF THE MOST HONORABLE ORDER OF THE GARTER KNIGHT: Baron of Hunsdon, Captaine of her Maiesties gentlemen Pensioners, Gouernor of the Isle of Wight, Lieutenant of the countie of Southt. Lord Chamberlaine of her Maiesties most Royall house, and of her Highnes most honourable priuie Counsell.

[_]

The following poems are scored for music in the source text. Variations for different voices have been ignored. Repetition marks have been ignored

I. Vnquiet thoughts

Vnquiet thoughts your ciuill slaughter stint,
& wrap your wrongs within a pensiue hart
And you my tongue that maks my mouth a minte,
& stamps my thoughts to coyne them words by arte:
Be still for if you euer doo the like,
Ile cut the string, that maks the hammer strike.
But what can staie my thoughts they may not start,
Or put my tongue in durance for to dye?
When as these eies the keyes of mouth and harte
Open the locke where all my loue doth lye;
Ile seale them vp within their lids for euer,
So thoughts & words and looks shall dye together,
How shall I then gaze on my mistresse eies?
My thoughts must haue some vēt els hart wil break,
My tongue would rust as in my mouth it lies
If eyes and thoughts were free and that not speake.
Speake then and tell the passions of desire
Which turns mine eies to floods, my thoghts to fire

II. Whoeuer thinks or hopes of loue for loue

Who euer thinks or hopes of loue for loue,
Or who belou'd in Cupids lawes doth glorie,
Who ioyes in vowes or vowes not to remoue,
Who by this light-god hath not ben made sorry.
Let him see me ecclipsed from my son
With darke clowdes of an earth: Quite ouer runne
Who thinks that sorrowes felte, desires hidden,
Or humble faith in constant honor arm'd,
Can keepe loue from the friut that is forbidden,
Who thinks that change is by entreatie charm'd,
Looking on me let him know loues delights
Are treasures hid in caues, but kept by Sprights.

III. My thoughts are wingde with hops

My thoughts are wingde with hops, my hops with loue,
Moūt loue vnto the moone in cleerest night,
And say as she doth in the heauens mooue
In earth so wanes & waxeth my delight:
And whisper this but softly in her eares,
Hope oft doth hang the head, and trust shed teares.
And you my thoughts that some mistrust do carry,
If for mistrust my mistrisse do you blame,
Say though you alter, yet you do not varry,
As she doth change, and yet remaine the same:
Distrust doth enter harts, but not infect,
And loue is sweetest seasned with suspect.
If she for this, with cloudes do maske her eies,
And make the heauens darke with her disdaine,
With windie sighes disperse them in the skies,
Or with thy teares dissolue them into raine;
Thoughts, hopes, & loue returne to me no more,
Till Cynthia shine as she hath done before.

IIII. If my complaints could passions mooue

If my complaints could passions mooue,
Or make loue see wherein I suffer wrong:
My passions weare enough to prooue,
That my despayrs had gouernd me to long,
O loue I liue and dye in thee
Thy wounds do freshly bleed in mee
Thy griefe in my deepe sighes still speakes,
Yet thou doest hope when I despaire,
And when I hope thou makst me hope in vaine.
My hart for thy vnkindnes breakes,
Thou saist thou canst my harmes repaire.
Yet for redresse thou letst me still complaine.
Can loue be ritch and yet I want,
Is loue my iudge and yet am I condemn'd?
Thou plenty hast, yet me dost scant,
Thou made a god, and yet thy power contemn'd.
That I do liue it is thy power,
That I desire it is thy worth,
If loue doth make mens liues too sowre
Let me not loue, nor liue henceforth:
Die shall my hopes, but not my faith,
That you that of my fall may hearers be
May here despaire, which truly saith,
I was more true to loue, then loue to me.

V. Can shee excuse my wrongs with vertues cloake

Can shee excuse my wrongs with vertues cloake:
Shall I call her good when she proues vnkind
Are those cleere fiers which vannish in to smoake:
Must I praise the leaues where no fruit I find.
No no where shadowes do for bodies stand,
Thou maist be abusde if thy sight be dime
Cold loue is like to words written on sand,
Or to bubbles which on the water swim.
Wilt thou be thus abused still,
Seeing that she will right thee neuer
If thou canst not ore come her will,
Thy loue will be thus fruitles euer
Was I so base that I might not aspire
Vnto those high ioyes which she houlds frō me,
As they are high so high is my desire,
If she this deny what can granted be.
If she will yeeld to that which reason is,
It is reasons will that loue should be iust,
Deare make me happie still by granting this,
Or cut of delayes if that dye I must.
Better a thousand times to dye
Then for to liue t{hus} still tormented,
Deare but remem{ber} it was I
Who for thy sake did dye contented.

VI. Now O now I needs must part

Nnow O now I needs must part,
Parting though I obsent mourne,
Absence can no ioye empart,
Ioye once fled can not returne,
While I liue I needs must loue,
Loue liues not when hope is gone,
Now at last despayre doth proue,
Loue deuided loueth none:
Sad dispaire doth driue me hence,
this dispaire vnkindnes sends.
If that parting be offence,
it is she which then offendes.
Deare when I from thee am gone,
Gone are all my ioyes at once,
I loued thee and thee alone
In whose loue I ioyed once:
And although your sight I leaue,
Sight wherein my ioyes doo lye
Till that death do sence bereaue,
Neuer shall affection dye.
Deare if I doe not returne,
Loue and I shall die togither,
For my absence neuer mourne
Whom you might haue ioyed euer:
Part we must though now I dye,
Die I doe to part with you.
Him despayre doth cause to lie,
Who both liued and dieth true.

VII. Deare if you chāge ile neuer chuse againe

Deare if you chāge ile neuer chuse againe,
Sweete if you shrinke Ile neuer thinke of loue,
Fayre if you faile, ile iudge all beauty vaine,
Wise if to weake moe wits ile neuer proue.
Deare, sweete, faire, wise, change shrinke nor be not weake,
And on my faith, my faith shall neuer breake.
Earth with her flowers shall sooner heau'n adorne,
Heauen her bright stars through earths dim globe shall moue,
Fire heate shall loose and frosts of flames be borne,
Ayre made to shine as blacke as hell shall proue:
Earth, heauen, fire, ayre, the world transform'd shall vew,
E're I proue false to faith, or strange to you.

VIII. Bvrst forth my teares

Bvrst forth my teares assist my forward griefe,
And shew what paine imperious loue prouokes:
Kind tender lambes lament loues scant reliefe,
And pine, since pensiue care my freedome yoaks.
O pine to see me pine my tender flocks.
Sad pining care that neuer may haue peace,
At beauties gate in hope of pitty knocks:
But mercy sleeps while deepe disdaine encrease,
And beautie hope in her faire boosome yoaks,
O greiue to heare my griefe, my tender flocks.
Like to the windes my sighes haue winged beene,
Yet are my sighes and sutes repaide with mocks,
I pleade, yet she repineth at my teene:
O ruthles rigor harder the the rocks,
That both the Shephard kils, & his poore flocks?

IX. Go christall teares

Go christall teares, like to the morning showers,
& sweetly weepe in to thy Ladies brest,
And as the deawes reuiue the dropping flowers,
So let your drops of pittie be adrest:
To quicken vp the thoughts of my desert,
which sleeps to sound whilst I from her departe.
Hast haplesse sighs and let your burning breath
Dissolue the Ice of her indurate harte,
Whose frosen rigor like forgetfull death,
Feeles neuer any touch of my desarte:
Yet fighs and teares to her I sacryfise,
Both from a spotles hart and pacient eyes.

X. Thinkst thou then by thy fayning

Thinkst thou then by thy fayning,
Sleepe with a proude disdaining,
Or with thy craftie closing,
Thy cruell eyes reposing,
To driue me from thy sight,
When sleepe yeelds more delight,
Such harmles beauty gracing.
And while sleepe fayned is,
May not I steale a kisse,
Thy quiet armes embracing.
O that thy sleepe dissembled,
Were to a trance resembled,
Thy cruell eies deceiuing,
Of liuely sence bereauing:
Then should my loue requite
Thy loues vnkind despite,
While fury triumpht bouldly
In beauties sweet disgrace:
And liu'd in deepe embrace:
Of her that lou'de so couldly.
Should then my loue aspiring,
Forbidden ioyes desiring:
So farre exceede the duty
That vertue owes to beauty?
No, Loue seeke not thy blisse,
Beyond a simple kisse,
For such deceits are harmeles,
Yet kisse a thousand fould,
For kisses may be bould
When louely sleepe is armlesse.

XI. Come away, come sweet loue

Come away, come sweet loue,
The goulden morning breakes
All the earth, all the ayre
Of loue and pleasure speakes,
Teach thine armes then to embrace,
And sweet rosie lips to kisse,
And mixe our soules in mutuall blisse.
Eies were made for beauties grace,
Vewing ruing Loue lōg pains,
Procurd by beauties rude disdaine.
Come awaie come sweet loue,
The goulden morning wasts,
While the son from his sphere,
His fierie arrows casts:
Making all the shadowes flie,
Playing, staying in the groue,
To entertaine the stealth of loue,
Thither sweet loue let vs hie,
Flying, dying, in desire,
Wingd with sweet hopes and heau'nly fire.
Come away, come sweet loue,
Doe not in vaine adorne,
Beauties grace that should rise,
Like to the naked morne:
Lillies on the riuers side,
And faire Cyprian flowers new blowne,
Desire no beauties but their owne,
Ornament is nurce of pride,
Pleasure, measure, loues delight,
Hast then sweet loue our wished flight.

XII. Rest a while you cruell cares

Rest a while you cruell cares,
Be not more seuere thē loue
Beauty kils & beautie spares,
& sweet smiles sad sighs remoue.
Laura fayre queen, of my delight,
Come grāt me loue in loues despite,
And if I euer faile to honor thee:
Let this heauenly sight I see,
Be as darke as hel to me.
If I speake my words want waite,
Am I mute, my hart doth breake,
If I sigh she feares deceit,
Sorrow then for me must speake:
Cruel, vnkind, with fauour view,
The wound that first was made by you:
And if my torments fained be,
Let this heauenly light I see,
Be as darke as hell to me.
Neuer houre of pleasing rest,
Shall reuiue my dying ghost,
Till my soule hath repossest,
The sweet hope which loue hath lost:
Laura redeeme the soule that dies,
By fury of thy murdering eies,
And if it proues vnkind to thee,
Let this heauenly light I see,
Be as darke as hell to me.

XIII. Sleep wayward thoughts

Sleep wayward thoughts, and rest you with my loue,
Let not my loue, be with my loue diseasd.
Touch not proud hands, lest you her anger moue,
But pine you with my longings long displeasd.
Thus wile she sleeps I sorrow for her sake,
So sleeps my loue, and yet my loue doth wake.
But ô the fury of my restles feare,
The hidden anguish of my flesh desires,
The glories and the beauties that appeare,
Between her browes neere Cupids closed fires
Thus while she sleeps moues sighing for hir sake
So sleepes my loue and yet my loue doth wake.
My loue doth rage, and yet my loue doth rest,
Feare in my loue, and yet my loue secure,
Peace in my loue, and yet my loue opprest,
Impatient yet of perfect temprature,
Sleepe dainty loue, while I sigh for thy sake,
So sleepes my loue, and yet my loue doth wake.

XIIII. Al ye whō loue or fortune hath betraide

Al ye whō loue or fortune hath betraide,
All ye that dreame of blisse but liue in greif,
Al ye whose hopes are euermore delaid,
Al ye whose sighes or sicknes wants releife:
Lend eares and teares to me most haples man,
That sings my sorrowes like the dying Swanne.
Care that confumes the heart with inward paine,
Paine that presents sad care in outward vew,
Both tyrant like enforce me to complaine,
But still in vaine, for none my plaints will rue,
Teares, sighes, and ceaseles cries alone I spend,
My woe wants comfort, and my sorrow end.

XV. Wilt thou vnkind thus reaue me of my harte

[1]

Wilt thou vnkind thus reaue me
Of my harte, and so leaue me:
Farewell but yet or ere I part (O cruell) kisse me
Sweete my Iewell. Farewell.

2

Hope by disdayne growes chereles
feare doth loue, loue doth feare,
beautie peareles. Farewell.

3

If no delayes can moue thee,
life shall dye, death shall liue
stil to loue thee. Farewell.

4

Yet be thou mindfull euer,
heate from fire, fire from heat
none can seuer. Farewell.

5

True loue cannot be chainged,
though delight from desert
be estranged. Farewell.

XVI. Would my conceit ye first enforst my woe

Would my conceit ye first enforst my woe,
Or els mine eyes which still ye same encrease,
Might be extinct, to end my sorrowes so
Which nowe are such as nothing can release:
Whose life is death, whose sweet each change of sowre
And eke whose hell renueth euery houre.
Each houre amidst the deepe of hell I frie,
Each houre I wast and wither where I sit,
But that sweet houre wherein I wish to die,
My hope alas may not enioy it yet,
Whose hope is such bereaued, of the blisse,
Which vnto all saue me allotted is.
To all saue me is free to liue or die,
To all saue me remaineth hap or hope,
But all perforce, I must abandon I,
Sith Fortune still directs my hap a slope,
Wherefore to neither hap nor hope I trust,
But to my thralles I yeeld, for so I must.

XVII. Come againe: sweet loue doth now enuite

[1]

Come againe: sweet loue doth now enuite,
Thy graces that refraine,
To do me due delight,
To see, to heare, to touch, to kisse, to die,
With thee againe in sweetest simphathy.

2

Come againe that I may cease to mourne,
Through thy vnkind disdaine,
For now left and forlorne:
I sit, I sigh, I weepe, I faind, I die,
In deadly paine, and endles miserie.

1

All the day the sun that lends me shine,
By frownes do cause me pine,
And feeds me with delay:
Her smiles, my springs, that makes my ioies to grow,
Her frowes the winters of my woe:

2

All the night, my sleepes are full of dreames,
My eies are full of streames,
My hart takes no delight:
To see the fruits and ioies that some do find,
And marke the stormes are me asignd,

3

Out alas, my faith is euer true,
Yet will she neuer rue,
Nor yeeld me any grace:
Her eies of fire, her hart of flint is made,
Whom teares nor truth may once inuade.

4

Gentle loue draw forth thy wounding dart,
Thou canst not pearce her hart,
For I that do approue:
By sighs and teares more hote then are thy shafts:
Did tempt while she for triumps laughs.

XVIII. His golden locks time hath to siluer turnde

His golden locks time hath to siluer turnde,
O time too swift, O swiftnes neuer ceasing,
His youth gainst time & age hath euer spurnd,
But spurnd in vaine, youth waneth by encreasing:
Beautie, strength, youth are flowers but fading seene,
Duty, Faith, Loue are roots and euer greene.
His helmet now shall make a hiue for bees,
And louers sonets turne to holy psalmes:
A man at armes must now serue on his knees,
And feed on prayers which are ages almes,
But though from court to cotage he departe
His saint is fure of his vnspotted hart.
And when he saddest sits in homely Cell,
Hele teach his swaines this Caroll for a songe,
Blest be the harts that wish my soueraigne well,
Curst be the soule that thinke her any wrong:
Goddes allow this aged man his right,
To be your beadsman now ye was your knight.

XIX. Awake sweet loue thou art returnd

Awake sweet loue thou art returnd,
My hart which lōg in absence mournd
Liues nowe in perfect ioy,
Let loue which neuer absent dies.
Now liue for euer in her eyes
When came my first anoy,
Only her selfe hath seemed faire,
She only I could loue,
She onely draue me to dispaire
When she vnkind did proue.
Dispayer did make me wish to die
That I my ioyes migyt end,
She onely which did make me flie
My state may now amend.
If she esteeme thee now ought worth,
She will not grieue thy loue henceforth,
Which so dispaire hath proued,
Dispaire hath proued now in me,
That loue will not vnconstant be,
Though long in vaine I loued.
If she at last reward thy loue.
And all thy harmes repaire,
Thy happinesse will sweeter proue,
Raisde vp from deepe dispaire.
And if that now thou welcome be,
When thou with her dost meete,
She al this while but plaide with thee:
To make thy ioies more sweet.

XX. Come heauy sleepe

Come heauy sleepe, ye Image of true death:
And close vp these my weary weeping eyes,
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vitall breath,
And tears my hart with sorrows sigh swoln crys.
Com & posses my tired thoghts, worne soule,
That liuing dies, till thou one me bestoule.
Come shadow of my end and shape of rest,
Alied to death, child to this black fast night,
Come thou and charme these rebels in my brest,
Whose waking fancies doth my mind affright.
O come sweet sleepe, come or I die for euer,
Come ere my last sleepe, coms or come neuer.

XXI. Away with these selfe louing lads

[1]

Away with these selfe louing lads,
Whom Cupids arrowe neuer glads:
Away poore soules that sigh & weepe
In loue of them that lie & sleepe,
For Cupid is a medooe god,
& forceth none to kisse the rod.

2

God Cupids shaft like destinie,
Doth either good or ill decree:
Desert is borne out of his bow,
Reward vpon his feet doth go,
What fooles are they that haue not knowne
That loue likes no lawes but his owne?

3

My song they be of Cyntihas praise,
I weare her rings on hollidaies,
On euery tree I write her name,
And euery day I reade the same:
Where honor, Cupids riuall is,
There miracles are seene of his:

4

If Cinthia craue her ring of me,
I blot her name out of the tree,
If doubt do darken things held deere,
Then well fare nothing once a yeere:
For many run, but one must win,
Fooles only hedge the Cuckoo in.

5

The worth that worthinesse should moue
Is loue, which is the bowe of loue,
And loue as well the foster can,
As can the mighty Noble-man:
Sweet Saint, tis true you worthie be,
Yet without loue nought worth to me.
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