A mvsicall banqvet Furnished with varietie of delicious Ayres, Collected out of the best Authors in English, French, Spanish and Italian |
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 | A mvsicall banqvet |  |
[I. My heauie sprite opprest with sorrowes might]
The Right Honourable George Earle of Cumberland.
My heauie sprite opprest with sorrowes might,
Of wearied limbs the burthen soare sustaines,
With silent grones and harts teares still complaines,
Yet I breath still and liue in lifes despight.
Haue I lost thee? All fortunes I accurse,
Bids thee farewell, with thee all ioyes farewell,
And for thy sake this world becomes my hell.
II.
[Change thy minde since she doth change]
The Right Honourable Robert: Earle of Essex: Earle Marshall of England.
[1]
Change thy minde since she doth change,Let not Fancy still abuse thee.
Thy vntruth cannot seeme strange,
When her falshood doth excuse thee.
Loue is dead and thou art free,
She doth liue but dead to thee.
2
Whilst she lou'd thee best a while,See how she hath still delaid thee.
Vsing shewes for to beguile,
Those vaine hopes that haue deceiu'd thee.
Now thou seest although too late,
Loue loues truth which women hate.
3
Loue no more since she is gone,Shee is gone and loues another.
Being once deceiu'd by one,
Leaue her loue but loue none other.
She was false bid her adew,
She was best but yet vntrue.
4
Loue farewell more deere to meeThen my life which thou preseruest.
Life all ioyes are gone from thee,
Others haue what thou deseruest.
Oh my death doth spring from hence
I must dye for her offence.
5
Dye, but yet before thou dyeMake her know what she hath gotten.
She in whom my hopes did lye,
Now is chang'd, I quite forgotten.
She is chang'd, but changed base,
Baser in so vilde a place.
III.
[O eyes leaue off your weeping]
[1]
O eyes leaue off your weeping,Loue hath the thoughts in keeping,
That may content you,
Let not this misconceiuing,
Where comforts are receiuing,
Causes torment you.
2
Cloudes threaten but a shower,Hope hath his happy houre,
Though long in lasting.
Time needs must be attended,
Loue must not be offended
With too much hasting.
3
But O the painfull pleasure,Where Loue attends the leasure
Of liues wretchednesse.
Where Hope is but illusion,
And Feare is but confusion
Of Loues happinesse.
4
But happy Hope that seethHow Hope and Hap agreeth,
Of life depriue me,
Or let me be assured,
When life hath death endured,
Loue will reuiue me.
IIII.
[Goe my Flocke, goe get you hence]
Sir Phillip Sidney.
[1]
Goe my Flocke, goe get you hence,Seeke some other place of feeding,
Where you may haue some defence,
Fro the stormes in my breast breeding,
And showers from mine eyes proceeding.
2
Leaue a wretch in whom all woeCan abide to keepe no measure.
Merry flocke such one forgoe,
Vnto whom Myrth is displeasure,
Onely rich in measures treasure.
3
Yet alas before you goeHeare your wofull Maisters story,
Which to stones I else would shew,
Sorrow onely then hath glory
When tis excellently sorry.
4
Stella, fayrest Shepherdesse,Fayrest but yet cruelst euer.
Stella, whom the heau'ns still blesse,
Though against me she perseuer,
Though I blisse inherit neuer.
5
Stella, hath refused meeStella, who more Loue hath proued
In this Catiffe hart to be
Then can in good to vs be moued
Towards Lambe-kins best beloued.
6
Stella hath refused meeAstrophel, that so well serued,
In this pleasant spring (Muse) see
While in pride Flowers be preseru'd
Himselfe onely Winter-starued.
7
Why alas then doth she sweareThat she loueth mee so deerely,
Seeing mee so long to beare
Coales of Loue that burne so cleerely,
And yet leaue me hopelesse meerely.
8
Is that Loue? forsooth I trowIf I saw my good Dogge grieued
And a help for him did know
My Loue should not be belieued
But hee were by mee relieued.
9
No she hates mee (well away)Fayning Loue, somewhat to please mee,
Knowing, if she should display
All her hate, Death soone would seize me,
And of hideous torments ease me.
10
Then my flocke now adew,But alas, if in your straying
Heauenly Stella meet with you,
Tell her in your pittious blaying,
Her poore slaues iust decaying.
V.
[O deere life when shall it be]
Sir Phillip Sidney.
[1]
O deere life when shall it be,That mine eyes thine eyes may see,
And in them thy minde discouer,
Whether absence hath had force,
Thy remembrance to diuorce,
From the Image of thy Louer?
2
O if I my selfe finde not,By thine absence oft forgot,
Nor debarde from Beauties treasure.
Let no Tongue aspire to tell
In what high I shall dwell,
Onely Thought aymes at the pleasure.
3
Thought therefore will I send thee,To take vp the place for mee,
Long I will not after tarry.
There vnseene thou mayst be bolde
Those fayre wonders to behold,
Which in them my hopes doe carry.
4
Thought, see thou no place forbeare,Enter brauely euery where,
Seize on all to her belonging.
But if thou wouldest guarded be,
Fearing her beames, take with thee,
Strength of liking, rage of longing.
5
O my Thoughts, my thoughts, surcease,Your delights my woes increase,
My life fleetes with too much thinking.
Thinke no more, but dye in mee
Till thou shalt receiued be
At her lips my Nectar drinking.
[VI. To plead my faith where faith hath no reward]
The Right Honourable Robert, Earle of Essex: Earle Marshall of England.
To plead my faith where faith hath no reward,
To moue remorse where fauour is not borne,
To heape complaints wher she doth not regard,
Were fruitlesse, bootelesse, vaine and yeeld but scorne.
To moue remorse where fauour is not borne,
To heape complaints wher she doth not regard,
Were fruitlesse, bootelesse, vaine and yeeld but scorne.
I loued her whom all the world admir'de.
I was refus'de of her that can loue none,
And my vaine hopes which far too high asspir'de
Is dead and buri'd and foreuer gone.
I was refus'de of her that can loue none,
And my vaine hopes which far too high asspir'de
Is dead and buri'd and foreuer gone.
Forget my name since you haue scornde my Loue,
And womanlike doe not too late lament,
Since for your sake I doe all mischiefe proue.
I none accuse nor nothing doe repent.
And womanlike doe not too late lament,
Since for your sake I doe all mischiefe proue.
I none accuse nor nothing doe repent.
I was as fonde as euer she was faire,
Yet lou'd I not more then I now dispaire.
Yet lou'd I not more then I now dispaire.
VII.
[In a groue most rich of shade]
Sir Phillip Sidney.
[1]
In a groue most rich of shade,Where Birds wanton musicke made,
May then in his pide weeds shewing,
New perfumes with flowers fresh growing.
2
Astrophell with Stella sweetDid for mutuall comfort meet,
Both within themselues oppressed,
But either in each other blessed.
3
Him great harmes had taught much careHer faire necke a foule yoke bare,
But her sight his care did banish,
In his sight her yoke did vanish.
4
Wept they had, alas the while,But now teares themselues did smile,
While their eyes by Loue directed,
Interchangeably, reiected.
5
Sigh'd they had, but now betwixtSighs of woe were glad sighs mixt,
With Armes crost, yet testifying
Restlesse rest, and liuing dying.
6
Their eares hungry of each wordWhich the deare tongue would afford,
But their tongues restrain'd from walking,
Till their harts had ended talking.
7
But when their tongues could not speake,Loue it selfe did silence breake,
Loue did see his lips asunder,
Thus to speake in Loue and wonder.
8
Stella, soueraigne of my Ioy,Faire Triumphres in annoy.
Stella, starre of heauenly fire,
Stella, load-starre of desire.
9
Stella, in whose shining eyes,Are the lights of Cupids skyes,
Whose beames when they are once darted,
Loue therewith is straight imparted.
10
Stella, whose voice when it speakes,Senses all asunder breake.
Stella, whose voyce when it singeth,
Angels to acquaintance bringeth.
11
Stella, in whose body is,Writ the Caracters of blisse.
Whose sweet face all beautie passeth,
Saue the minde which it surpasseth.
12
Graunt, O graunt, but speach (alas)Failes me, fearing on to passe.
Graunt to me, what am I saying?
But no fault there is in praying.
13
Graunt (O deere) on knees I pray,(Knees on ground hee then did stay)
That not I but since I proue you,
Time and place from mee nere moue you.
14
Neuer season was more fit,Neuer roome apt for it.
Smiling ayre allowes my reason,
These Birds sing, now vse the season.
15
This small winde which so sweet is,See how it leaues doth kisse,
Each tree in his best attyring,
Sence of Loue to Loue inspyring.
16
Loue makes earth the water drinke,Loue to earth makes water sincke,
And if dumbe things be so wittie,
Shall a heauenly Grace want pittie?
17
There his hands in their speech faineWould haue made tongues language plaine
But her hands his hands compelling,
Gaue repulse, all Grace expelling.
18
Therewithall, away she wentLeauing him with passion rent
With what she had done and spoken,
That therewith my song is broken.
VIII.
[Farre from triumphing Court and wonted glory]
Sir Henry Lea.
[1]
Farre from triumphing Court and wonted glory,He dwelt in shadie vnfrequented places,
Times prisoner now he made his pastime story,
Gladly forgets Courts erst afforded graces,
That Goddesse whom hee serude to heau'n is gone,
And hee one earth, In darknesse left to moane.
2
But loe a glorious light from his darke restShone from the place where erst this Goddesse dwelt
A light whose beames the world with fruit hath blest
Blest was the Knight while hee that light beheld.
Since then a starre fixed on his head hath shinde,
And a Saints Image in his hart is shrinde.
3
Rauisht with ioy so grac't by such a Saint,He quite forgat his Cell and selfe denaid,
He thought it shame in thankfulnesse to faint,
Debts due to Princes must be duely paid.
Nothing so hatefull to a noble minde,
As finding kindnesse for to proue vnkinde.
4
But ah poore Knight though thus in dreame he ranged,Hoping to serue this Saint in sort most meete,
Tyme with his golden locks to siluer changed
Hath with age-fetters bound him hands and feete,
Aye mee, hee cryes, Goddesse my limbs grow faint,
Though I times prisoner be, be you my Saint.
[IX. Lady if you so spight me]
Lady if you so spight me,Wherfore do you so oft kisse and delight mee?
Sure that my hart opprest and ouercloyed,
May breake thus ouerioyde,
If you seeke to spill mee,
Come kisse me sweet and kill mee,
So shal your hart be eased,
And I shall rest content and dye well pleased.
[X. In darknesse let mee dwell]
In darknesse let mee dwell, The ground, shall sorrow be,The roofe Dispaire to barre all cheerfull light from mee,
The wals of marble blacke that moistned still shall weepe,
My musicke hellish iarring sounds to banish friendly sleepe.
Thus wedded to my woes, And bedded to my Tombe,
O Let me liuing die, till death doe come.
FINIS.
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