 | The Poetry of George Wither |  |
II. VOL. II
FAIRE-VIRTUE, THE MISTRESSE OF PHIL'ARETE.
------nihil veremur
Istos, qui in platea, modo huc, modo illuc
In re pretereunt sua occupati.
Catul. Carm. xv.
Istos, qui in platea, modo huc, modo illuc
In re pretereunt sua occupati.
Catul. Carm. xv.
7
PHILARETE TO HIS MISTRESS.
Hail, thou fairest of all creatures
Upon whom the sun doth shine,
Model of all rarest features
And perfections most divine.
Thrice all hail, and blessed be
Those that love and honour thee.
Upon whom the sun doth shine,
Model of all rarest features
And perfections most divine.
Thrice all hail, and blessed be
Those that love and honour thee.
Of thy worth this rural story
Thy unworthy swain hath penn'd;
And to thy ne'er-ending glory,
These plain numbers doth commend,
Which ensuing times shall warble,
When 'tis lost that's writ in marble.
Thy unworthy swain hath penn'd;
And to thy ne'er-ending glory,
These plain numbers doth commend,
Which ensuing times shall warble,
When 'tis lost that's writ in marble.
Though thy praise and high deservings
Cannot all be here express'd,
Yet my love and true observings
Someway ought to be profess'd,
And where greatest love we see,
Highest things attempted be.
Cannot all be here express'd,
Yet my love and true observings
Someway ought to be profess'd,
And where greatest love we see,
Highest things attempted be.
By thy beauty I have gained
To behold the best perfections;
By the love I have obtained,
To enjoy the best affections.
And my tongue to sing thy praise,
Love and beauty thus doth raise.
To behold the best perfections;
By the love I have obtained,
To enjoy the best affections.
And my tongue to sing thy praise,
Love and beauty thus doth raise.
8
What although in rustic shadows
I a shepherd's breeding had?
And confined to these meadows
So in homespun russet clad?
Such as I have now and then
Dared as much as greater men.
I a shepherd's breeding had?
And confined to these meadows
So in homespun russet clad?
Such as I have now and then
Dared as much as greater men.
Though a stranger to the Muses,
Young, obscured, and despis'd:
Yet such art thy love infuses,
That I thus have poetiz'd.
Read, and be content to see
Thy admired power in me.
Young, obscured, and despis'd:
Yet such art thy love infuses,
That I thus have poetiz'd.
Read, and be content to see
Thy admired power in me.
And, oh grant, thou sweetest beauty
Wherewith ever earth was grac'd,
That this trophy of my duty
May with favour be embrac'd:
And disdain not in these rhymes
To be sung to after-times.
Wherewith ever earth was grac'd,
That this trophy of my duty
May with favour be embrac'd:
And disdain not in these rhymes
To be sung to after-times.
Let those doters on Apollo
That adore the Muses so,
And like geese each other follow,
See what love alone can do.
For in love-lays, grove and field
Nor to schools nor courts will yield.
That adore the Muses so,
And like geese each other follow,
See what love alone can do.
For in love-lays, grove and field
Nor to schools nor courts will yield.
On this glass of thy perfection
If that any women pry,
Let them thereby take direction
To adorn themselves thereby.
And if aught amiss they view,
Let them dress themselves anew.
If that any women pry,
Let them thereby take direction
To adorn themselves thereby.
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Let them dress themselves anew.
Young men shall by this acquainted
With the truest beauties grow,
So the counterfeit or painted
They may shun when them they know.
But the way all will not find,
For some eyes have, yet are blind.
With the truest beauties grow,
So the counterfeit or painted
They may shun when them they know.
But the way all will not find,
For some eyes have, yet are blind.
Thee entirely I have loved,
So thy sweetness on me wrought;
Yet thy beauty never moved
Ill temptations in my thought,
But still did thy beauty's ray,
Sun-like, drive those fogs away.
So thy sweetness on me wrought;
Yet thy beauty never moved
Ill temptations in my thought,
But still did thy beauty's ray,
Sun-like, drive those fogs away.
Those that mistresses are named,
And for that suspected be,
Shall not need to be ashamed,
If they pattern take by thee;
Neither shall their servants fear
Favours openly to wear.
And for that suspected be,
Shall not need to be ashamed,
If they pattern take by thee;
Neither shall their servants fear
Favours openly to wear.
Thou to no man favour deignest
But what's fitting to bestow;
Neither servants entertainest
That can ever wanton grow;
For the more they look on thee,
Their desires still bettered be.
But what's fitting to bestow;
Neither servants entertainest
That can ever wanton grow;
For the more they look on thee,
Their desires still bettered be.
This thy picture, therefore, show I
Naked unto every eye,
Yet no fear of rival know I,
Neither touch of jealousy;
For the more make love to thee,
I the more shall pleased be.
Naked unto every eye,
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Neither touch of jealousy;
For the more make love to thee,
I the more shall pleased be.
I am no Italian lover
That will mew thee in a jail;
But thy beauty I discover,
English-like, without a veil.
If thou may'st be won away,
Win and wear thee he that may.
That will mew thee in a jail;
But thy beauty I discover,
English-like, without a veil.
If thou may'st be won away,
Win and wear thee he that may.
Yet in this thou may'st believe me,
So indifferent though I seem,
Death with tortures would not grieve me
More than loss of thy esteem;
For if virtue me forsake,
All a scorn of me will make.
So indifferent though I seem,
Death with tortures would not grieve me
More than loss of thy esteem;
For if virtue me forsake,
All a scorn of me will make.
Then as I on thee relying
Do no changing fear in thee,
So, by my defects supplying,
From all changing keep thou me;
That unmatched we may prove,
Thou for beauty, I for love.
Do no changing fear in thee,
So, by my defects supplying,
From all changing keep thou me;
That unmatched we may prove,
Thou for beauty, I for love.
Then while their loves are forgotten
Who to pride and lust were slaves,
And their mistresses quite rotten
Lie unthought on in their graves.
Kings and queens, in their despite,
Shall to mind us take delight.
Who to pride and lust were slaves,
And their mistresses quite rotten
Lie unthought on in their graves.
Kings and queens, in their despite,
Shall to mind us take delight.
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FAIR VIRTUE OR THE MISTRESS OF PHILARETE.
Two pretty rills do meet, and meeting make
Within one valley a large silver lake,
About whose banks the fertile mountains stood
In ages passed bravely crown'd with wood,
Which, lending cold-sweet shadows, gave it grace
To be accounted Cynthia's bathing-place,
And from her father Neptune's brackish court
Fair Thetis thither often would resort,
Attended by the fishes of the sea,
Which in those sweeter waters came to play.
There would the daughter of the sea-god dive;
And thither came the land-nymphs every eve
To wait upon her, bringing for her brows
Rich garlands of sweet flowers and beechy boughs.
Within one valley a large silver lake,
About whose banks the fertile mountains stood
In ages passed bravely crown'd with wood,
Which, lending cold-sweet shadows, gave it grace
To be accounted Cynthia's bathing-place,
And from her father Neptune's brackish court
Fair Thetis thither often would resort,
Attended by the fishes of the sea,
Which in those sweeter waters came to play.
There would the daughter of the sea-god dive;
And thither came the land-nymphs every eve
To wait upon her, bringing for her brows
Rich garlands of sweet flowers and beechy boughs.
For pleasant was that pool, and near it then
Was neither rotten marsh nor boggy fen.
It was nor overgrown with boist'rous sedge,
Nor grew there rudely then along the edge
A bending willow nor a prickly bush,
Nor broadleaf'd flag, nor reed, nor knotty rush;
But here, well order'd, was a grove with bowers:
There grassy plots set round about with flowers.
Here you might through the water see the land
Appear, strow'd o'er with white or yellow sand.
Yon, deeper was it; and the wind by whiffs
Would make it rise and wash the little cliffs,
On which oft pluming sat, unfrighted than,
The gaggling wildgoose and the snow-white swan:
With all those flocks of fowls which to this day
Upon those quiet waters breed and play.
Was neither rotten marsh nor boggy fen.
It was nor overgrown with boist'rous sedge,
Nor grew there rudely then along the edge
A bending willow nor a prickly bush,
Nor broadleaf'd flag, nor reed, nor knotty rush;
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There grassy plots set round about with flowers.
Here you might through the water see the land
Appear, strow'd o'er with white or yellow sand.
Yon, deeper was it; and the wind by whiffs
Would make it rise and wash the little cliffs,
On which oft pluming sat, unfrighted than,
The gaggling wildgoose and the snow-white swan:
With all those flocks of fowls which to this day
Upon those quiet waters breed and play.
For though those excellences wanting be,
Which once it had, it is the same that we
By transposition name the Ford of Arle,
And out of which along a chalky marl
That river trills whose waters wash the fort
In which brave Arthur kept his royal court.
North-east, not far from this great pool, there lies
A tract of beechy mountains, that arise
With leisurely-ascending to such height,
As from their tops the warlike Isle of Wight
You in the ocean's bosom may espy,
Though near two hundred furlongs thence it lie.
The pleasant way, as up those hills you climb,
Is strewed o'er with marjoram and thyme,
Which grows unset. The hedgerows do not want
The cowslip, violet, primrose, nor a plant
That freshly scents, as birch both green and tall;
Low sallows, on whose bloomings bees do fall;
Fair woodbines, which about the hedges twine;
Smooth privet, and the sharp, sweet eglantine;
With many moe, whose leaves and blossoms fair
The earth adorn, and oft perfume the air.
Which once it had, it is the same that we
By transposition name the Ford of Arle,
And out of which along a chalky marl
That river trills whose waters wash the fort
In which brave Arthur kept his royal court.
North-east, not far from this great pool, there lies
A tract of beechy mountains, that arise
With leisurely-ascending to such height,
As from their tops the warlike Isle of Wight
You in the ocean's bosom may espy,
Though near two hundred furlongs thence it lie.
The pleasant way, as up those hills you climb,
Is strewed o'er with marjoram and thyme,
Which grows unset. The hedgerows do not want
The cowslip, violet, primrose, nor a plant
That freshly scents, as birch both green and tall;
Low sallows, on whose bloomings bees do fall;
Fair woodbines, which about the hedges twine;
Smooth privet, and the sharp, sweet eglantine;
13
The earth adorn, and oft perfume the air.
When you unto the highest do attain,
An intermixture both of wood and plain
You shall behold, which, though aloft it lie,
Hath downs for sheep and fields for husbandry.
So much, at least, as little needeth more,
If not enough to merchandise their store.
An intermixture both of wood and plain
You shall behold, which, though aloft it lie,
Hath downs for sheep and fields for husbandry.
So much, at least, as little needeth more,
If not enough to merchandise their store.
In every row hath Nature planted there
Some banquet for the hungry passenger.
For here the hazel-nut and filbert grows;
There bulloes, and a little further sloes;
On this hand standeth a fair wilding-tree;
On that large thickets of black cherries be.
The shrubby fields are raspice-orchards there,
The new-fell'd woods like strawberry-gardens are:
And had the king of rivers blest those hills
With some small number of such pretty rills
As flow elsewhere, Arcadia had not seen
A sweeter plot of earth than this had been.
Some banquet for the hungry passenger.
For here the hazel-nut and filbert grows;
There bulloes, and a little further sloes;
On this hand standeth a fair wilding-tree;
On that large thickets of black cherries be.
The shrubby fields are raspice-orchards there,
The new-fell'd woods like strawberry-gardens are:
And had the king of rivers blest those hills
With some small number of such pretty rills
As flow elsewhere, Arcadia had not seen
A sweeter plot of earth than this had been.
For what offence this place was scanted so
Of springing waters, no record doth show,
Nor have they old tradition left that tells;
But till this day at fifty-fathom wells
The shepherds drink. And strange it was to hear
Of any swain that ever lived there,
Who either in a pastoral ode had skill,
Or knew to set his fingers to a quill.
For rude they were who there inhabited;
And to a dull contentment being bred,
They no such art esteem'd, nor took much heed
Of anything the world without them did.
Of springing waters, no record doth show,
Nor have they old tradition left that tells;
But till this day at fifty-fathom wells
The shepherds drink. And strange it was to hear
Of any swain that ever lived there,
Who either in a pastoral ode had skill,
Or knew to set his fingers to a quill.
14
And to a dull contentment being bred,
They no such art esteem'd, nor took much heed
Of anything the world without them did.
E'en there, and in the least-frequented place
Of all these mountains, is a little space
Of pleasant ground hemm'd in with dropping trees,
And those so thick that Phœbus scarcely sees
The earth they grow on once in all the year,
Nor what is done among the shadows there.
Along those lonely paths, where never came
Report of Pan or of Apollo's name,
Nor rumour of the Muses till of late,
Some nymphs were wand'ring; and by chance or fate
Upon a laund arrived, where they met
The little flock of pastor Philaret.
They were a troop of beauties known well nigh
Through all the plains of happy Britany.
A shepherd's lad was he, obscure and young,
Who, being first that ever there had sung,
In homely verse expressed country loves,
And only told them to the beechy groves,
As if to sound his name he never meant
Beyond the compass that his sheep-walk went.
Of all these mountains, is a little space
Of pleasant ground hemm'd in with dropping trees,
And those so thick that Phœbus scarcely sees
The earth they grow on once in all the year,
Nor what is done among the shadows there.
Along those lonely paths, where never came
Report of Pan or of Apollo's name,
Nor rumour of the Muses till of late,
Some nymphs were wand'ring; and by chance or fate
Upon a laund arrived, where they met
The little flock of pastor Philaret.
They were a troop of beauties known well nigh
Through all the plains of happy Britany.
A shepherd's lad was he, obscure and young,
Who, being first that ever there had sung,
In homely verse expressed country loves,
And only told them to the beechy groves,
As if to sound his name he never meant
Beyond the compass that his sheep-walk went.
They saw not him, nor them perceived he,
For in the branches of a maple-tree
He shrouded sat, and taught the hollow hill
To echo forth the music of his quill,
Whose tattling voice redoubled so the sound,
That where he was concealed they quickly found.
And there they heard him sing a madrigal,
That soon betrayed his cunning to them all.
For in the branches of a maple-tree
He shrouded sat, and taught the hollow hill
To echo forth the music of his quill,
Whose tattling voice redoubled so the sound,
That where he was concealed they quickly found.
15
That soon betrayed his cunning to them all.
Full rude it was, no doubt, but such a song
Those rustic and obscured shades among
Was never heard, they say, by any ear,
Until his Muses had inspired him there.
Though mean and plain his country habit seemed,
Yet by his song the ladies rightly deemed
That either he had travelled abroad,
Where swains of better knowledge make abode,
Or else that some brave nymph, who used that grove,
Had deigned to enrich him with her love.
Those rustic and obscured shades among
Was never heard, they say, by any ear,
Until his Muses had inspired him there.
Though mean and plain his country habit seemed,
Yet by his song the ladies rightly deemed
That either he had travelled abroad,
Where swains of better knowledge make abode,
Or else that some brave nymph, who used that grove,
Had deigned to enrich him with her love.
Approaching nearer, therefore, to this swain,
They him saluted, and he them again,
In such good fashion as well seemed to be
According to their state and his degree.
Which greetings being passed, and much chat,
Concerning him, the place, with this and that,
He to an arbour doth those beauties bring,
Where he them prays to sit, they him to sing,
And to express that untaught country art,
In setting forth the mistress of his heart,
Which they o'erheard him practise, when unseen
He thought no ear had witness of it been.
They him saluted, and he them again,
In such good fashion as well seemed to be
According to their state and his degree.
Which greetings being passed, and much chat,
Concerning him, the place, with this and that,
He to an arbour doth those beauties bring,
Where he them prays to sit, they him to sing,
And to express that untaught country art,
In setting forth the mistress of his heart,
Which they o'erheard him practise, when unseen
He thought no ear had witness of it been.
At first, as much unable, he refused,
And seemed willing to have been excused
From such a task. “For, trust me, nymphs,” quoth he,
“I would not purposely uncivil be,
Nor churlish in denying what you crave;
But, as I hope great Pan my flock will save,
I rather wish that I might, heard of none,
Enjoy my music by myself alone;
Or that the murmurs of some little flood,
Joined with the friendly echoes of the wood,
Might be the impartial umpires of my wit,
Than vent it where the world might hear of it.
And doubtless I had sung less loud while-ere,
Had I but thought of any such so near.
Not that I either wish obscurified
Her matchless beauty, or desire to hide
Her sweet perfections; for by Love I swear,
The utmost happiness I aim at here,
Is but to compass worth enough to raise
A high-built trophy equal with her praise.
And seemed willing to have been excused
From such a task. “For, trust me, nymphs,” quoth he,
“I would not purposely uncivil be,
Nor churlish in denying what you crave;
But, as I hope great Pan my flock will save,
I rather wish that I might, heard of none,
16
Or that the murmurs of some little flood,
Joined with the friendly echoes of the wood,
Might be the impartial umpires of my wit,
Than vent it where the world might hear of it.
And doubtless I had sung less loud while-ere,
Had I but thought of any such so near.
Not that I either wish obscurified
Her matchless beauty, or desire to hide
Her sweet perfections; for by Love I swear,
The utmost happiness I aim at here,
Is but to compass worth enough to raise
A high-built trophy equal with her praise.
Which, fairest ladies, I shall hope in vain,
For I was meanly bred on yonder plain;
And, though I can well prove my blood to be
Deriv'd from no ignoble stems to me,
Yet fate and time them so obscured and crost,
That with their fortunes their esteem is lost:
And whatsoe'er repute I strive to win,
Now from myself alone it must begin.
For I have no estate, nor friends, nor fame,
To purchase either credit to my name,
Or gain a good opinion, though I do
Ascend the height I shall aspire unto.
For I was meanly bred on yonder plain;
And, though I can well prove my blood to be
Deriv'd from no ignoble stems to me,
Yet fate and time them so obscured and crost,
That with their fortunes their esteem is lost:
And whatsoe'er repute I strive to win,
Now from myself alone it must begin.
For I have no estate, nor friends, nor fame,
To purchase either credit to my name,
Or gain a good opinion, though I do
Ascend the height I shall aspire unto.
If any of those virtues yet I have,
Which honour to my predecessors gave,
There's all that's left me. And though some contemn
Such needy jewels, yet it was for them
My fair one did my humble suit affect,
And deigned my adventurous love respect;
And by their help I passage hope to make
Through such poor things, as I dare undertake.
Which honour to my predecessors gave,
There's all that's left me. And though some contemn
Such needy jewels, yet it was for them
My fair one did my humble suit affect,
And deigned my adventurous love respect;
17
Through such poor things, as I dare undertake.
But, you may say, what goodly thing, alas,
Can my despised meanness bring to pass?
Or what great monument of honour raise
To Virtue, in these vice-abounding days,
In which a thousand times more honour finds
Ignoble gotten means, than noble minds?
Indeed, the world affordeth small reward
For honest minds, and therefore her regard
I seek not after; neither do I care,
If I have bliss, how others think I fare:
For, so my thoughts have rest, it irks not me,
Though none but I do know how blest they be.
Here, therefore, in these groves and hidden plains,
I pleased sit alone, and many strains
I carol to myself these hills among,
Where no man comes to interrupt my song.
Whereas, if my rude lays make known I should
Beyond their home, perhaps some carpers would,
Because they have not heard from whence we be,
Traduce, abuse, and scoff both them and me.
For if our great and learned shepherds, who
Are graced with wit, and fame, and favours too,
With much ado escape uncensur'd may,
What hopes have I to pass unscoff'd, I pray,
Who yet unto the Muses am unknown,
And live unhonour'd here among mine own?
Can my despised meanness bring to pass?
Or what great monument of honour raise
To Virtue, in these vice-abounding days,
In which a thousand times more honour finds
Ignoble gotten means, than noble minds?
Indeed, the world affordeth small reward
For honest minds, and therefore her regard
I seek not after; neither do I care,
If I have bliss, how others think I fare:
For, so my thoughts have rest, it irks not me,
Though none but I do know how blest they be.
Here, therefore, in these groves and hidden plains,
I pleased sit alone, and many strains
I carol to myself these hills among,
Where no man comes to interrupt my song.
Whereas, if my rude lays make known I should
Beyond their home, perhaps some carpers would,
Because they have not heard from whence we be,
Traduce, abuse, and scoff both them and me.
For if our great and learned shepherds, who
Are graced with wit, and fame, and favours too,
With much ado escape uncensur'd may,
What hopes have I to pass unscoff'd, I pray,
Who yet unto the Muses am unknown,
And live unhonour'd here among mine own?
A gadding humour seldom taketh me
To range out further than yon mountains be;
Nor hath applausive rumour born my name
Upon the spreading wings of sounding fame.
Nor can I think, fair nymphs, that you resort
For other purpose than to make a sport
At that simplicity which shall appear
Among the rude untutor'd shepherds here.
To range out further than yon mountains be;
Nor hath applausive rumour born my name
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Nor can I think, fair nymphs, that you resort
For other purpose than to make a sport
At that simplicity which shall appear
Among the rude untutor'd shepherds here.
I know that you my noble mistress ween
At best a homely milk-maid on the green,
Or some such country lass, as tasked stays
At servile labour until holidays.
For poor men's virtues so neglected grow,
And are now prized at a rate so low,
As 'tis impossible you should be brought
To let it with belief possess your thought,
That any nymph, whose love might worthy be,
Would deign to cast respective eyes on me.
At best a homely milk-maid on the green,
Or some such country lass, as tasked stays
At servile labour until holidays.
For poor men's virtues so neglected grow,
And are now prized at a rate so low,
As 'tis impossible you should be brought
To let it with belief possess your thought,
That any nymph, whose love might worthy be,
Would deign to cast respective eyes on me.
You see I live possessing none of those
Gay things with which the world enamour'd grows.
To woo a courtly beauty I have neither
Rings, bracelets, jewels, nor a scarf, nor feather.
I use no double-dyed cloth to wear;
No scrip embroider'd richly do I bear;
No silken belt, nor sheephook laid with pearls,
To win me favour from the shepherds' girls;
No place of office or command I keep,
But this my little flock of homely sheep;
And in a word, the sum of all my pelf
Is this—I am the master of myself.
Gay things with which the world enamour'd grows.
To woo a courtly beauty I have neither
Rings, bracelets, jewels, nor a scarf, nor feather.
I use no double-dyed cloth to wear;
No scrip embroider'd richly do I bear;
No silken belt, nor sheephook laid with pearls,
To win me favour from the shepherds' girls;
No place of office or command I keep,
But this my little flock of homely sheep;
And in a word, the sum of all my pelf
Is this—I am the master of myself.
No doubt in courts of princes you have been,
And all the pleasures of the palace seen.
There you beheld brave courtly passages
Between heroës and their mistresses.
You there, perhaps, in presence of the King,
Have heard his learned bards and poets sing.
And what contentment, then, can wood or field
To please your curious understandings yield?
I know you walked hither but to prove
What silly shepherds do conceive of love;
Or to make trial how our simpleness
Can passion's force or beauty's power express;
And when you are departed, you will joy
To laugh, or descant on the shepherd's boy.
And all the pleasures of the palace seen.
There you beheld brave courtly passages
Between heroës and their mistresses.
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Have heard his learned bards and poets sing.
And what contentment, then, can wood or field
To please your curious understandings yield?
I know you walked hither but to prove
What silly shepherds do conceive of love;
Or to make trial how our simpleness
Can passion's force or beauty's power express;
And when you are departed, you will joy
To laugh, or descant on the shepherd's boy.
But yet, I vow, if all the art I had
Could any more esteem, or glory add
To her unmatched worth, I would not weigh
What you intended.” “Prithee, lad,” quoth they,
“Distrustful of our court'sy do not seem.
Her nobleness can never want esteem,
Nor thy concealed measures be disgraced,
Though in a meaner person they were placed,
If thy too modestly refused quill
But reach that height, which we suppose it will.
Thy meanness or obscureness cannot wrong
The nymph thou shalt eternize in thy song.
For, as it higher rears thy glory, that
A noble mistress thou hast aimed at,
So more unto her honour it will prove,
That, whilst deceiving shadows others move,
Her constant eyes could pass unmoved by
The subtle time's bewitching bravery,
And those obscured virtues love in thee,
That with despised meanness clouded be.
Now, then, for her sweet sake, whose beauteous eye
Hath filled thy soul with heavenly poesy,
Sing in her praise some new inspired strain;
And, if within our power there shall remain
A favour to be done may pleasure thee,
Ask, and obtain it, whatsoe'er it be.”
Could any more esteem, or glory add
To her unmatched worth, I would not weigh
What you intended.” “Prithee, lad,” quoth they,
“Distrustful of our court'sy do not seem.
Her nobleness can never want esteem,
Nor thy concealed measures be disgraced,
Though in a meaner person they were placed,
If thy too modestly refused quill
But reach that height, which we suppose it will.
Thy meanness or obscureness cannot wrong
The nymph thou shalt eternize in thy song.
For, as it higher rears thy glory, that
A noble mistress thou hast aimed at,
So more unto her honour it will prove,
That, whilst deceiving shadows others move,
Her constant eyes could pass unmoved by
The subtle time's bewitching bravery,
And those obscured virtues love in thee,
That with despised meanness clouded be.
Now, then, for her sweet sake, whose beauteous eye
20
Sing in her praise some new inspired strain;
And, if within our power there shall remain
A favour to be done may pleasure thee,
Ask, and obtain it, whatsoe'er it be.”
“Fair ladies,” quoth the lad, “such words as those
Compel me can:” and, therewithal he rose,
Return'd them thanks, obeisance made, and than
Down sat again, and thus to sing began.
Compel me can:” and, therewithal he rose,
Return'd them thanks, obeisance made, and than
Down sat again, and thus to sing began.
You that at a blush can tell
Where the best perfections dwell,
And the substance can conjecture,
By a shadow, or a picture,
Come and try if you by this
Know my mistress, who she is.
Where the best perfections dwell,
And the substance can conjecture,
By a shadow, or a picture,
Come and try if you by this
Know my mistress, who she is.
For though I am far unable
Here to match Apelles' table,
Or draw Zeuxes' cunning lines,
Who so painted Bacchus' vines
That the hungry birds did muster
Round the counterfeited cluster;
Though I vaunt not to inherit
Petrarch's yet unequall'd spirit;
Nor to quaff the sacred well,
Half so deep as Astrophel:
Though the much-commended Celia,
Lovely Laura, Stella, Delia,
Who in former times excell'd,
Live in lines unparallel'd;
Making us believe 'twere much,
Earth should yield another such;
Yet, assisted but by nature,
I essay to paint a creature
Whose rare worth in future years
Shall be prais'd as much as theirs.
Nor let any think amiss
That I have presumed this;
For a gentle nymph is she,
And hath often honour'd me.
She's a noble spark of light,
In each part so exquisite,
Had she in times passed been
They had made her beauty's queen.
Then shall cowardly despair
Let the most unblemish'd fair,
For default of some poor art
Which her favour may impart,
And the sweetest beauty fade
That was ever born or made?
Shall, of all the fair ones, she
Only so unhappy be,
As to live in such a time,
In so rude, so dull a clime,
Where no spirit can ascend
High enough to apprehend
Her unprized excellence,
Which lies hid from common-sense?
Never shall a stain so vile
Blemish this, our poets' isle.
I myself will rather run
And seek out for Helicon.
I will wash and make me clean
In the waves of Hippocrene;
And in spite of fortune's bars,
Climb the hill that braves the stars,
Where, if I can get no Muse
That will any skill infuse,
Or my just attempt prefer,
I will make a Muse of her,
Whose kind heat shall soon distil
Art into my ruder quill.
By her favour I will gain
Help to reach so rare a strain,
That the learned hills shall wonder
How the untaught valleys under,
Met with raptures so divine,
Without knowledge of the Nine.
Here to match Apelles' table,
Or draw Zeuxes' cunning lines,
Who so painted Bacchus' vines
That the hungry birds did muster
Round the counterfeited cluster;
Though I vaunt not to inherit
Petrarch's yet unequall'd spirit;
Nor to quaff the sacred well,
Half so deep as Astrophel:
Though the much-commended Celia,
Lovely Laura, Stella, Delia,
Who in former times excell'd,
Live in lines unparallel'd;
21
Earth should yield another such;
Yet, assisted but by nature,
I essay to paint a creature
Whose rare worth in future years
Shall be prais'd as much as theirs.
Nor let any think amiss
That I have presumed this;
For a gentle nymph is she,
And hath often honour'd me.
She's a noble spark of light,
In each part so exquisite,
Had she in times passed been
They had made her beauty's queen.
Then shall cowardly despair
Let the most unblemish'd fair,
For default of some poor art
Which her favour may impart,
And the sweetest beauty fade
That was ever born or made?
Shall, of all the fair ones, she
Only so unhappy be,
As to live in such a time,
In so rude, so dull a clime,
Where no spirit can ascend
High enough to apprehend
Her unprized excellence,
Which lies hid from common-sense?
Never shall a stain so vile
Blemish this, our poets' isle.
I myself will rather run
22
I will wash and make me clean
In the waves of Hippocrene;
And in spite of fortune's bars,
Climb the hill that braves the stars,
Where, if I can get no Muse
That will any skill infuse,
Or my just attempt prefer,
I will make a Muse of her,
Whose kind heat shall soon distil
Art into my ruder quill.
By her favour I will gain
Help to reach so rare a strain,
That the learned hills shall wonder
How the untaught valleys under,
Met with raptures so divine,
Without knowledge of the Nine.
I, that am a shepherd's swain,
Piping on the lowly plain,
And no other music can,
Than what learn'd I have of Pan,
I, who never sung the lays
That deserve Apollo's bays,
Hope not only here to frame
Measures which shall keep her name
From the spite of wasting times,
But, enshrined in sacred rhymes,
Place her where her form divine
Shall to after ages shine,
And without respect of odds,
Vie renown with demi-gods.
Piping on the lowly plain,
And no other music can,
Than what learn'd I have of Pan,
I, who never sung the lays
That deserve Apollo's bays,
Hope not only here to frame
Measures which shall keep her name
From the spite of wasting times,
But, enshrined in sacred rhymes,
Place her where her form divine
Shall to after ages shine,
And without respect of odds,
Vie renown with demi-gods.
23
Then, whilst of her praise I sing,
Hearken, valley, grove, and spring;
Listen to me, sacred fountains,
Solitary rocks, and mountains;
Satyrs, and you wanton elves,
That do nightly sport yourselves;
Shepherds, you that on the reed
Whistle while your lambs do feed;
Aged woods and floods, that know
What hath been long times ago,
Your more serious notes among,
Hear how I can in my song
Set a nymph's perfection forth;
And when you have heard her worth,
Say if such another lass
Ever known to mortal was.
Hearken, valley, grove, and spring;
Listen to me, sacred fountains,
Solitary rocks, and mountains;
Satyrs, and you wanton elves,
That do nightly sport yourselves;
Shepherds, you that on the reed
Whistle while your lambs do feed;
Aged woods and floods, that know
What hath been long times ago,
Your more serious notes among,
Hear how I can in my song
Set a nymph's perfection forth;
And when you have heard her worth,
Say if such another lass
Ever known to mortal was.
Listen, lordlings, you that most
Of your outward honours boast;
And you gallants, that think scorn
We, to lowly fortunes born,
Should attain to any graces
Where you look for sweet embraces;
See if all those vanities
Whereon your affection lies,
Or the titles, or the power,
By your fathers' virtues your,
Can your mistresses enshrine
In such state as I will mine,
Who am forced to importune
Favours in despite of fortune.
Of your outward honours boast;
And you gallants, that think scorn
We, to lowly fortunes born,
Should attain to any graces
Where you look for sweet embraces;
See if all those vanities
Whereon your affection lies,
Or the titles, or the power,
By your fathers' virtues your,
Can your mistresses enshrine
In such state as I will mine,
Who am forced to importune
Favours in despite of fortune.
Beauties, listen, chiefly you,
That yet know not virtue's due.
You that think there are no sports,
Nor no honours, but in courts;
Though of thousands there lives not
Two, but die and are forgot;
See if any palace yields
Ought more glorious than the fields,
And consider well if we
May not as high-flying be
In our thoughts, as you that sing
In the chambers of a King.
See, if our contented minds,
Whom Ambition never blinds—
We, that clad in homespun grey,
On our own sweet meadows play—
Cannot honour, if we please,
Where we list as well as these;
Or as well of worth approve,
Or with equal passions love.
See if beauties may not touch
Our soon-loving hearts as much;
Or our services effect
Favours, with as true respect
In your good conceits to rise,
As our painted butterflies.
24
You that think there are no sports,
Nor no honours, but in courts;
Though of thousands there lives not
Two, but die and are forgot;
See if any palace yields
Ought more glorious than the fields,
And consider well if we
May not as high-flying be
In our thoughts, as you that sing
In the chambers of a King.
See, if our contented minds,
Whom Ambition never blinds—
We, that clad in homespun grey,
On our own sweet meadows play—
Cannot honour, if we please,
Where we list as well as these;
Or as well of worth approve,
Or with equal passions love.
See if beauties may not touch
Our soon-loving hearts as much;
Or our services effect
Favours, with as true respect
In your good conceits to rise,
As our painted butterflies.
And you fairest, give her room,
When your sex's pride doth come,
For that subject of my song
I invoke these groves among,
To be witness of the lays
Which I carol in her praise.
And because she soon will see
If my measures faulty be,
Whilst I chant them, let each rhyme
Keep a well-proportion'd time,
And with strains that are divine
Meet her thoughts in every line.
Let each accent there present
To her soul a new content;
And with ravishings so seize her,
She may feel the height of pleasure.
When your sex's pride doth come,
For that subject of my song
I invoke these groves among,
To be witness of the lays
Which I carol in her praise.
25
If my measures faulty be,
Whilst I chant them, let each rhyme
Keep a well-proportion'd time,
And with strains that are divine
Meet her thoughts in every line.
Let each accent there present
To her soul a new content;
And with ravishings so seize her,
She may feel the height of pleasure.
You enchanting spells that lie
Lurking in sweet poesy,
And to none else will appear
But to those that worthy are,
Make her know there is a power
Ruling in these charms of your,
That transcends a thousand heights
Ordinary men's delights;
And can leave within her breast
Pleasures not to be exprest.
Let her linger on each strain
As if she would hear 't again,
And were loth to part from thence
Till she had the quintessence
Out of each conceit she meets,
And had stored her with those sweets.
Lurking in sweet poesy,
And to none else will appear
But to those that worthy are,
Make her know there is a power
Ruling in these charms of your,
That transcends a thousand heights
Ordinary men's delights;
And can leave within her breast
Pleasures not to be exprest.
Let her linger on each strain
As if she would hear 't again,
And were loth to part from thence
Till she had the quintessence
Out of each conceit she meets,
And had stored her with those sweets.
Make her by your art to see,
I, that am her swain, was he
Unto whom all beauties here
Were alike and equal dear;
That I could of freedom boast,
And of favours with the most;
Yet now, nothing more affecting,
Sing of her, the rest neglecting.
I, that am her swain, was he
Unto whom all beauties here
Were alike and equal dear;
That I could of freedom boast,
26
Yet now, nothing more affecting,
Sing of her, the rest neglecting.
Make her heart with full compassion
Judge the merit of true passion;
And as much my love prefer,
As I strive to honour her.
Judge the merit of true passion;
And as much my love prefer,
As I strive to honour her.
Lastly, you that will, I know,
Hear me, wh'er you should or no;
You that seek to turn all flowers,
By your breath's infectious powers,
Into such rank, loathsome weeds
As your dunghill nature breeds;
Let your hearts be chaste, or here
Come not till you purge them clear.
Mark, and mark then, what is worst:
For whate'er it seem at first,
If you bring a modest mind,
You shall nought immodest find.
Hear me, wh'er you should or no;
You that seek to turn all flowers,
By your breath's infectious powers,
Into such rank, loathsome weeds
As your dunghill nature breeds;
Let your hearts be chaste, or here
Come not till you purge them clear.
Mark, and mark then, what is worst:
For whate'er it seem at first,
If you bring a modest mind,
You shall nought immodest find.
But if any too severe
Hap to lend a partial ear,
Or out of his blindness yawn
Such a word as Oh profane,
Let him know thus much from me,
If here's ought profane, 'tis he
Who applies these excellences
Only to the touch of senses,
And, dim-sighted, cannot see
Where the soul of this may be.
Hap to lend a partial ear,
Or out of his blindness yawn
Such a word as Oh profane,
Let him know thus much from me,
If here's ought profane, 'tis he
Who applies these excellences
Only to the touch of senses,
And, dim-sighted, cannot see
Where the soul of this may be.
Yet, that no offence may grow,
'Tis their choice to stay or go.
Or if any for despite
Rather comes than for delight,
For his presence I'll not pray,
Nor his absence; come he may.
Critics shall admitted be,
Though I know they'll carp at me;
For I neither fear nor care
What in this their censures are.
'Tis their choice to stay or go.
27
Rather comes than for delight,
For his presence I'll not pray,
Nor his absence; come he may.
Critics shall admitted be,
Though I know they'll carp at me;
For I neither fear nor care
What in this their censures are.
If the verse here used be
Their dislike, it liketh me.
If my method they deride,
Let them know Love is not tied
In his free discourse to choose
Such strict rules as arts-men use.
These may prate of Love; but they
Know him not: for he will play
From the matter now and then,
Off and on, and off again.
Their dislike, it liketh me.
If my method they deride,
Let them know Love is not tied
In his free discourse to choose
Such strict rules as arts-men use.
These may prate of Love; but they
Know him not: for he will play
From the matter now and then,
Off and on, and off again.
If this prologue tedious seem,
Or the rest too long they deem,
Let them know my love they win,
Though they go ere I begin,
Just as if they should attend me
Till the last, and there commend me.
For I will for no man's pleasure
Change a syllable or measure,
Neither for their praises add
Ought to mend what they think bad,
Since it never was my fashion
To make work of recreation.
Or the rest too long they deem,
Let them know my love they win,
Though they go ere I begin,
Just as if they should attend me
Till the last, and there commend me.
For I will for no man's pleasure
Change a syllable or measure,
Neither for their praises add
Ought to mend what they think bad,
Since it never was my fashion
To make work of recreation.
Pedants shall not tie my strains
To our antique poets' veins;
As if we, in latter days,
Knew to love, but not to praise.
Being born as free as these,
I will sing as I shall please,
Who as well new paths may run,
As the best before have done.
I disdain to make my song
For their pleasures short or long.
If I please I'll end it here:
If I list I'll sing this year.
And, though none regard of it,
By myself I pleas'd can sit,
And with that contentment cheer me,
As if half the world did hear me.
28
As if we, in latter days,
Knew to love, but not to praise.
Being born as free as these,
I will sing as I shall please,
Who as well new paths may run,
As the best before have done.
I disdain to make my song
For their pleasures short or long.
If I please I'll end it here:
If I list I'll sing this year.
And, though none regard of it,
By myself I pleas'd can sit,
And with that contentment cheer me,
As if half the world did hear me.
But because I am assured
All are either so conjured,
As they will my song attend
With the patience of a friend,
Or, at least, take note, that I
Care not much, now willingly
I these goodly colours lay,
Wind, nor rain, shall wear away;
But retain their purest glass
When the statues made of brass
For some prince's more renown,
Shall be wholly overthrown,
Or, consum'd with canker'd rust,
Lie neglected in the dust.
All are either so conjured,
As they will my song attend
With the patience of a friend,
Or, at least, take note, that I
Care not much, now willingly
I these goodly colours lay,
Wind, nor rain, shall wear away;
But retain their purest glass
When the statues made of brass
For some prince's more renown,
Shall be wholly overthrown,
Or, consum'd with canker'd rust,
Lie neglected in the dust.
And my reason gives direction,
When I sing of such perfection,
First, those beauties to declare,
Which, though hers, without her are.
To advance her fame, I find,
Those are of a triple kind.
Privileges she hath store,
At her birth, since, and before.
When I sing of such perfection,
29
Which, though hers, without her are.
To advance her fame, I find,
Those are of a triple kind.
Privileges she hath store,
At her birth, since, and before.
From before her birth the fame
She of high descents may claim;
Whose well-gotten honours may
Her deserving more display.
For from heavenly race she springs,
And from high and mighty kings.
She of high descents may claim;
Whose well-gotten honours may
Her deserving more display.
For from heavenly race she springs,
And from high and mighty kings.
At her birth she was by fate
In those parents fortunate
Whose estates and virtues stood
Answerable to their blood.
In those parents fortunate
Whose estates and virtues stood
Answerable to their blood.
Then the nation, time, and place,
To the rest may add some grace.
For the people, with the clime,
And the fashions of the time,
In all which she hath been blest,
By enjoying them at best,
Do not only mend the features,
But oft-times make better natures.
Whereas, those who hap not so,
Both deform'd and ruder grow.
To the rest may add some grace.
For the people, with the clime,
And the fashions of the time,
In all which she hath been blest,
By enjoying them at best,
Do not only mend the features,
But oft-times make better natures.
Whereas, those who hap not so,
Both deform'd and ruder grow.
In these climes and latter days
To deserve sweet beauty's praise,
Where so many females dwell,
That each seemeth to excel,
Is more glory twenty-fold,
Than it was in days of old,
When our ordinary fair ones
Might have been esteemed rare ones,
And have made a subject fit
For their bravest poet's wit.
Little rush-lights, or a spark,
Shineth fairly in the dark,
And to him occasion gives
That from sight of lesser lives
To adore it; yet the ray
Of one torch will take away
All the light of twenty more
That shin'd very well before.
So those petty beauties, which
Made the times before us rich,
Though but sparkles, seem'd a flame
Which hath been increased by fame,
And their true affections, who
Better never liv'd to know.
Whereas, her if they had seen,
She had sure adored been,
And taught ages past to sing
Sweeter in their sonneting.
To deserve sweet beauty's praise,
Where so many females dwell,
That each seemeth to excel,
Is more glory twenty-fold,
30
When our ordinary fair ones
Might have been esteemed rare ones,
And have made a subject fit
For their bravest poet's wit.
Little rush-lights, or a spark,
Shineth fairly in the dark,
And to him occasion gives
That from sight of lesser lives
To adore it; yet the ray
Of one torch will take away
All the light of twenty more
That shin'd very well before.
So those petty beauties, which
Made the times before us rich,
Though but sparkles, seem'd a flame
Which hath been increased by fame,
And their true affections, who
Better never liv'd to know.
Whereas, her if they had seen,
She had sure adored been,
And taught ages past to sing
Sweeter in their sonneting.
Such a ray, so clear, so bright,
Had outshined all the light
Of a thousand such as theirs,
Who were then esteemed stars;
And would have enlighten'd near
Half the world's wide hemisphere.
She is fairest that may pass
For a fair one, where the lass
Trips it on the country green,
That may equal Sparta's queen;
Where in every street you see
Throngs of nymphs and ladies be,
That are fair enough to move
Angels and enamour Jove.
She must matchless features bring
That now moves a Muse to sing,
Whenas one small province may
Show more beauties in a day
Than the half of Europe could
Breed them in an age of old.
Such is she, and such a lot
Hath her rare perfection got.
Had outshined all the light
Of a thousand such as theirs,
Who were then esteemed stars;
And would have enlighten'd near
Half the world's wide hemisphere.
She is fairest that may pass
For a fair one, where the lass
31
That may equal Sparta's queen;
Where in every street you see
Throngs of nymphs and ladies be,
That are fair enough to move
Angels and enamour Jove.
She must matchless features bring
That now moves a Muse to sing,
Whenas one small province may
Show more beauties in a day
Than the half of Europe could
Breed them in an age of old.
Such is she, and such a lot
Hath her rare perfection got.
Since her birth, to make the colour
Of so true a beauty fuller,
And to give a better grace
To that sweetness in the face,
She hath all the furth'rance had,
Noble educations add;
And not only knoweth all
Which our ladies courtship call,
With those knowledges that do
Grace her sex, and suit thereto,
But she hath attain'd to find,
What is rare with womankind,
Excellences whereby she
May in soul delighted be,
And reap more contentment than
One of twenty thousand can.
Of so true a beauty fuller,
And to give a better grace
To that sweetness in the face,
She hath all the furth'rance had,
Noble educations add;
And not only knoweth all
Which our ladies courtship call,
With those knowledges that do
Grace her sex, and suit thereto,
But she hath attain'd to find,
What is rare with womankind,
Excellences whereby she
May in soul delighted be,
And reap more contentment than
One of twenty thousand can.
By this means hath better'd bin
All without her, and within.
For it hath by adding arts
To adorn her native parts,
Raised to a noble flame,
Which shall lighten forth her fame,
Those dear sparks of sacred fire
Which the Muses did inspire
At her birth, that she complete
Might with them befit a seat.
32
For it hath by adding arts
To adorn her native parts,
Raised to a noble flame,
Which shall lighten forth her fame,
Those dear sparks of sacred fire
Which the Muses did inspire
At her birth, that she complete
Might with them befit a seat.
But, perhaps I do amiss
To insist so long on this.
These are superficial things,
And but slender shadowings
To the work I have in hand.
Neither can you understand
What her excellence may be,
Till herself describ'd you see.
Nor can mine or any pen
Paint her half so lovely then
As she is indeed. For here
Might those Deities appear,
Which young Paris view'd at will,
Naked, upon Ida hill;
That I from those three might take
All their beauties one to make;
Those, no question, well compact,
Would have made up one exact.
Something yet we miss of might,
To express her sweetness right;
Juno's majesty would fit;
Venus beauty, Pallas wit
Might have brought to pattern hers,
In some show'd particulars,
But they never can express
Her whole frame or worthiness
With those excellences which
Make both soul and body rich.
To insist so long on this.
These are superficial things,
And but slender shadowings
To the work I have in hand.
Neither can you understand
What her excellence may be,
Till herself describ'd you see.
Nor can mine or any pen
Paint her half so lovely then
As she is indeed. For here
Might those Deities appear,
Which young Paris view'd at will,
Naked, upon Ida hill;
That I from those three might take
All their beauties one to make;
Those, no question, well compact,
Would have made up one exact.
Something yet we miss of might,
To express her sweetness right;
Juno's majesty would fit;
Venus beauty, Pallas wit
33
In some show'd particulars,
But they never can express
Her whole frame or worthiness
With those excellences which
Make both soul and body rich.
Pallas sometimes was untoward,
Venus wanton, Juno froward;
Yea, all three infected were,
With such faults as women are.
And though falsely deified,
Frailties had, which she'll deride.
Venus wanton, Juno froward;
Yea, all three infected were,
With such faults as women are.
And though falsely deified,
Frailties had, which she'll deride.
By herself must therefore she
Or by nothing pattern'd be.
And I hope to paint her so,
By herself, that you shall know
I have served no common dame
Of mean worth or vulgar fame,
But a nymph that's fairer than
Pen or pencil portrait can.
And to-morrow if you stray
Back again this uncouth way,
I my simple art will show;
But the time prevents me now.
For, except at yonder glade,
All the land is under shade;
That, before these ewes be told,
Those my wethers in the fold,
Ten young wainlings driven down
To the well beneath the town,
And my lambkins changed from
Broom-leas to the mead at home,
'Twill be far in night: and so
I shall make my father woe
For my stay, and be in fear
Somewhat is mischanced here.
On your way I'll therefore bring you,
And a song or two I'll sing you,
Such as I, half in despair,
Made when first I woo'd my fair;
Whereunto my boy shall play,
That my voice assist it may.
Or by nothing pattern'd be.
And I hope to paint her so,
By herself, that you shall know
I have served no common dame
Of mean worth or vulgar fame,
But a nymph that's fairer than
Pen or pencil portrait can.
And to-morrow if you stray
Back again this uncouth way,
I my simple art will show;
But the time prevents me now.
For, except at yonder glade,
All the land is under shade;
That, before these ewes be told,
Those my wethers in the fold,
Ten young wainlings driven down
To the well beneath the town,
And my lambkins changed from
34
'Twill be far in night: and so
I shall make my father woe
For my stay, and be in fear
Somewhat is mischanced here.
On your way I'll therefore bring you,
And a song or two I'll sing you,
Such as I, half in despair,
Made when first I woo'd my fair;
Whereunto my boy shall play,
That my voice assist it may.
1.
Come, my Muse, if thou disdain,
All my comforts are bereft me;
No delight doth now remain,
I nor friend nor flock have left me,
They are scattered on the plain.
All my comforts are bereft me;
No delight doth now remain,
I nor friend nor flock have left me,
They are scattered on the plain.
Men, alas, are too severe,
And make scoffs at lovers' fortunes;
Women, hearted like the bear,
That regards not who importunes,
But doth all in pieces tear.
And make scoffs at lovers' fortunes;
Women, hearted like the bear,
That regards not who importunes,
But doth all in pieces tear.
If I should my sorrows show
Unto rivers, springs, or fountains,
They are senseless of my woe;
So are groves, and rocks, and mountains.
Then, oh, whither shall I go?
Unto rivers, springs, or fountains,
They are senseless of my woe;
So are groves, and rocks, and mountains.
Then, oh, whither shall I go?
35
Means of harbour me to shield
From despair, ah, know you any?
For nor city, grange, nor field,
Though they lend content to many,
Unto me can comfort yield.
From despair, ah, know you any?
For nor city, grange, nor field,
Though they lend content to many,
Unto me can comfort yield.
I have wept and sighed too,
For compassion to make trial—
Yea, done all that words can do,
Yet have nothing but denial.
What way is there then to woo?
For compassion to make trial—
Yea, done all that words can do,
Yet have nothing but denial.
What way is there then to woo?
Shall I swear, protest, and vow?
So have I done most extremely.
Should I die? I know not how.
For from all attempts unseemly,
Love and Virtue keeps me now.
So have I done most extremely.
Should I die? I know not how.
For from all attempts unseemly,
Love and Virtue keeps me now.
I have heard that Time prevails;
But I fear me 'tis a fable.
Time and all endeavour fails;
To bear more my heart's unable,
Yet none careth what it ails.
But I fear me 'tis a fable.
Time and all endeavour fails;
To bear more my heart's unable,
Yet none careth what it ails.
Lines to some have oped the door,
And got entrance for affection.
Words well-spoken much implore
By the gesture's good direction:
But a look doth ten times more.
And got entrance for affection.
Words well-spoken much implore
By the gesture's good direction:
But a look doth ten times more.
'Tis the eye that only reads
To the heart love's deepest lectures.
By a moving look it pleads,
More than common-sense conjectures,
And a way to pity leads.
To the heart love's deepest lectures.
36
More than common-sense conjectures,
And a way to pity leads.
This I knowing did observe,
Both by words and looks complaining,
Yet for pity I may starve:
There's no hope of my obtaining
Till I better can deserve.
Both by words and looks complaining,
Yet for pity I may starve:
There's no hope of my obtaining
Till I better can deserve.
Yea, and he that thinks to win
By desert, may be deceived.
For they who have worthiest bin,
Of their right have been bereaved,
And a groom admitted in.
By desert, may be deceived.
For they who have worthiest bin,
Of their right have been bereaved,
And a groom admitted in.
Wherefore, Muse, to thee I call;
Thou, since nothing else avails me,
Must redeem me from my thrall.
If thy sweet enchantment fails me,
Then adieu, love, life, and all.
Thou, since nothing else avails me,
Must redeem me from my thrall.
If thy sweet enchantment fails me,
Then adieu, love, life, and all.
2.
Tell me, my heart, what thoughts these pantings move?
My thoughts of Love.
What flames are these, that set thee so on fire?
Flames of Desire.
What means hast thou, contentment's flower to crop?
No means but Hope.
Yet let us feed on Hope, and hope the best.
For they amid their griefs are something blest,
Whose thoughts, and flames, and means, have such free scope
They may at once both Love, Desire, and Hope.
My thoughts of Love.
What flames are these, that set thee so on fire?
Flames of Desire.
What means hast thou, contentment's flower to crop?
No means but Hope.
37
For they amid their griefs are something blest,
Whose thoughts, and flames, and means, have such free scope
They may at once both Love, Desire, and Hope.
But say what fruit will love at last obtain?
Fruitless Disdain.
What will those hopes prove, which yet seem so fair?
Hopeless Despair.
What end shall run those passions out of breath?
An endless Death.
Oh, can there be such cruelty in Love?
And doth my fortune so ungentle prove,
She will no fruit, nor hope, nor end bequeath,
But cruellest Disdain, Despair, and Death?
Fruitless Disdain.
What will those hopes prove, which yet seem so fair?
Hopeless Despair.
What end shall run those passions out of breath?
An endless Death.
Oh, can there be such cruelty in Love?
And doth my fortune so ungentle prove,
She will no fruit, nor hope, nor end bequeath,
But cruellest Disdain, Despair, and Death?
Then what new study shall I now apply?
Study to Die.
How might I end my care, and die content?
Care to Repent.
And what good thoughts may make my end more holy?
Think on thy Folly.
Yes, so I will; and since my fate can give
No Hope, but ever without Hope to live,
My studies, cares, and thoughts, I'll all apply
To weigh my Folly well, Repent and Die.
Study to Die.
How might I end my care, and die content?
Care to Repent.
And what good thoughts may make my end more holy?
Think on thy Folly.
Yes, so I will; and since my fate can give
No Hope, but ever without Hope to live,
My studies, cares, and thoughts, I'll all apply
To weigh my Folly well, Repent and Die.
38
3.
Sad eyes, what do you ail
To be thus ill-disposed?
Why doth your sleeping fail,
Now all men's else are closed?
Was't I, that ne'er did bow
In any servile duty,
And will you make me now
A slave to love and beauty?
To be thus ill-disposed?
Why doth your sleeping fail,
Now all men's else are closed?
Was't I, that ne'er did bow
In any servile duty,
And will you make me now
A slave to love and beauty?
What though thy mistress smile,
And in her love affects thee?
Let not her eye beguile,
I fear she disrespects thee.
Do not, poor heart, depend
On those vain thoughts that fill thee;
They'll fail thee in the end,
So must thy passions kill thee.
And in her love affects thee?
Let not her eye beguile,
I fear she disrespects thee.
Do not, poor heart, depend
On those vain thoughts that fill thee;
They'll fail thee in the end,
So must thy passions kill thee.
What hopes have I, that she
Will hold her favours ever,
When so few women be,
That constant can persever?
Whate'er she do protest,
When fortunes do deceive me,
Then she, with all the rest,
I fear, alas, will leave me.
Will hold her favours ever,
When so few women be,
That constant can persever?
Whate'er she do protest,
When fortunes do deceive me,
Then she, with all the rest,
I fear, alas, will leave me.
Whilst youth and strength remains,
With art that may commend her,
Perhaps she nought disdains,
Her servant should attend her.
But it is one to ten,
If crosses overtake me,
She will not know me then,
But scorn and so forsake me.
With art that may commend her,
Perhaps she nought disdains,
Her servant should attend her.
39
If crosses overtake me,
She will not know me then,
But scorn and so forsake me.
Shall then in earnest truth
My careful eyes observe her?
Shall I consume my youth,
And short my time to serve her?
Shall I, beyond my strength,
Let passion's torments prove me,
To hear her say at length,
Away, I cannot love thee?
My careful eyes observe her?
Shall I consume my youth,
And short my time to serve her?
Shall I, beyond my strength,
Let passion's torments prove me,
To hear her say at length,
Away, I cannot love thee?
Oh, rather let me die
Whilst I thus gentle find her;
'Twere worse than death if I
Should find she proves unkinder.
One frown, though but in jest,
Or one unkindness feigned,
Would rob me of more rest
Than e'er could be regained.
Whilst I thus gentle find her;
'Twere worse than death if I
Should find she proves unkinder.
One frown, though but in jest,
Or one unkindness feigned,
Would rob me of more rest
Than e'er could be regained.
But in her eyes I find
Such signs of pity moving,
She cannot be unkind,
Nor err, nor fail in loving.
And on her forehead this
Seems written to relieve me;
My heart no joy shall miss
That love, or she, can give me.
Such signs of pity moving,
She cannot be unkind,
Nor err, nor fail in loving.
And on her forehead this
Seems written to relieve me;
My heart no joy shall miss
That love, or she, can give me.
40
Which if I find, I vow,
My service shall persever:
The same that I am now,
I will continue ever.
No other's high degree,
Nor beauteous look shall change me.
My love shall constant be,
And no estate estrange me.
My service shall persever:
The same that I am now,
I will continue ever.
No other's high degree,
Nor beauteous look shall change me.
My love shall constant be,
And no estate estrange me.
When other noble dames
By greater men attended,
Shall with their lives and names
Have all their glories ended,
With fairest queens shall she
Sit sharing equal glory,
And times to come shall be
Delighted with our story.
By greater men attended,
Shall with their lives and names
Have all their glories ended,
With fairest queens shall she
Sit sharing equal glory,
And times to come shall be
Delighted with our story.
In spite of others' hates,
More honour I will do her,
Than those that with estates
And helps of Fortune woo her.
Yea, that true worth I spy,
Though monarchs strove to grace it,
They should not reach more high,
Than I dare hope to place it.
More honour I will do her,
Than those that with estates
And helps of Fortune woo her.
Yea, that true worth I spy,
Though monarchs strove to grace it,
They should not reach more high,
Than I dare hope to place it.
And though I never vaunt
What favours are possessed,
Much less content I want,
Than if they were expressed.
Let others make their mirth
To blab each kiss or toying,
I know no bliss on earth
Like secret love enjoying.
What favours are possessed,
Much less content I want,
Than if they were expressed.
41
To blab each kiss or toying,
I know no bliss on earth
Like secret love enjoying.
And this shall be the worst
Of all that can betide me;
If I, like some accurst,
Should find my hopes deride me,
My cares will not be long,
I know which way to mend them;
I'll think who did the wrong,
Sigh, break my heart, and end them.
Of all that can betide me;
If I, like some accurst,
Should find my hopes deride me,
My cares will not be long,
I know which way to mend them;
I'll think who did the wrong,
Sigh, break my heart, and end them.
Hail, fair beauties, and again,
Hail to all your goodly train.
What I promised yesterday,
If it please you, hear ye may:
For now once begun have I,
Sing I will, though none were by.
And though freely on I run,
Yet confused paths to shun,
First that part shall be disclosed,
That's of elements composed.
There the two unequal pair,
Water, fire, earth and air,
Each one suiting a complexion,
Have so cunning a commixtion,
As they, in proportion sweet,
With the rarest temper meet.
Either inasmuch as needeth,
So as neither ought exceedeth.
This pure substance is the same,
Which the body we do name.
Were that of immortal stuff,
'Tis refin'd and pure enough
To be call'd a soul; for sure,
Many souls are not so pure.
I that with a serious look
Note of this rare model took,
Find that nature in their places
So well couched all the graces,
As the curious't eyes that be
Can nor blot nor blemish see.
Hail to all your goodly train.
What I promised yesterday,
If it please you, hear ye may:
For now once begun have I,
Sing I will, though none were by.
And though freely on I run,
Yet confused paths to shun,
First that part shall be disclosed,
That's of elements composed.
There the two unequal pair,
Water, fire, earth and air,
Each one suiting a complexion,
Have so cunning a commixtion,
As they, in proportion sweet,
With the rarest temper meet.
Either inasmuch as needeth,
42
This pure substance is the same,
Which the body we do name.
Were that of immortal stuff,
'Tis refin'd and pure enough
To be call'd a soul; for sure,
Many souls are not so pure.
I that with a serious look
Note of this rare model took,
Find that nature in their places
So well couched all the graces,
As the curious't eyes that be
Can nor blot nor blemish see.
Like a pine it groweth straight,
Reaching an approved height:
And hath all the choice perfections,
That inflame the best affections.
In the motion of each part,
Nature seems to strive with Art,
Which her gestures most shall bless
With the gifts of pleasingness.
Reaching an approved height:
And hath all the choice perfections,
That inflame the best affections.
In the motion of each part,
Nature seems to strive with Art,
Which her gestures most shall bless
With the gifts of pleasingness.
When she sits, methinks I see
How all virtues fixed be
In a frame, whose constant mould
Will the same unchanged hold.
If you note her when she moves,
Cytherea drawn with doves
May come learn such winning motions
As will gain to love's devotions
More than all her painted wiles,
Such as tears, or sighs, or smiles.
How all virtues fixed be
In a frame, whose constant mould
Will the same unchanged hold.
If you note her when she moves,
Cytherea drawn with doves
May come learn such winning motions
As will gain to love's devotions
More than all her painted wiles,
Such as tears, or sighs, or smiles.
43
Some, whose bodies want true graces,
Have sweet features in their faces;
Others, that do miss them there,
Lovely are some other where;
And to our desires do fit,
In behaviour, or in wit;
Or some inward worth appearing
To the soul, the soul endearing:
But in her your eye may find
All that's good in womankind.
What in others we prefer,
Are but sundry parts of her;
Who most perfect doth present
What might one and all content.
Yea, he that in love still ranges,
And each day, or hourly changes,
Had he judgment but to know
What perfection in her grow,
There would find the spring of store,
Swear a faith, and change no more.
Have sweet features in their faces;
Others, that do miss them there,
Lovely are some other where;
And to our desires do fit,
In behaviour, or in wit;
Or some inward worth appearing
To the soul, the soul endearing:
But in her your eye may find
All that's good in womankind.
What in others we prefer,
Are but sundry parts of her;
Who most perfect doth present
What might one and all content.
Yea, he that in love still ranges,
And each day, or hourly changes,
Had he judgment but to know
What perfection in her grow,
There would find the spring of store,
Swear a faith, and change no more.
Neither in the total frame
Is she only void of blame;
But each part survey'd asunder
Might beget both love and wonder.
If you dare to look so high,
Or behold such majesty,
Lift your wond'ring eyes and see
Whether ought can better'd be.
Is she only void of blame;
But each part survey'd asunder
Might beget both love and wonder.
If you dare to look so high,
Or behold such majesty,
Lift your wond'ring eyes and see
Whether ought can better'd be.
There's her hair, with which love angles,
And beholders' eyes entangles;
For, in those fair curled snares,
They are hamper'd unawares,
And compell'd to swear a duty
To her sweet enthralling beauty.
In my mind 'tis the most fair
That was ever called hair,
Somewhat brighter than a brown;
And her tresses waving down
At full length, and so dispread
Mantles her from foot to head.
And beholders' eyes entangles;
For, in those fair curled snares,
44
And compell'd to swear a duty
To her sweet enthralling beauty.
In my mind 'tis the most fair
That was ever called hair,
Somewhat brighter than a brown;
And her tresses waving down
At full length, and so dispread
Mantles her from foot to head.
If you saw her arched brow,
Tell me, pray, what art knows how
To have made it in a line
More exact or more divine.
Beauty there may be descried
In the height of all her pride;
'Tis a meanly-rising plain,
Whose pure white hath many a vein,
Interlacing like the springs
In the earth's enamellings.
If the tale be not a toy
Of the little winged Boy,
When he means to strike a heart,
Thence he throws the fatal dart,
Which of wounds still makes a pair,
One of Love, one of Despair.
Tell me, pray, what art knows how
To have made it in a line
More exact or more divine.
Beauty there may be descried
In the height of all her pride;
'Tis a meanly-rising plain,
Whose pure white hath many a vein,
Interlacing like the springs
In the earth's enamellings.
If the tale be not a toy
Of the little winged Boy,
When he means to strike a heart,
Thence he throws the fatal dart,
Which of wounds still makes a pair,
One of Love, one of Despair.
Round her visage—or so near
To a roundness doth appear,
That no more of length it takes,
Than what best proportion makes.
To a roundness doth appear,
That no more of length it takes,
Than what best proportion makes.
Short her chin is, and yet so
As it is just long enow;
Loveliness doth seem to glory
In that circling promontory.
Pretty moving features skip
'Twixt that hillock and the lip,
If you note her but the while
She is pleased to speak or smile.
As it is just long enow;
45
In that circling promontory.
Pretty moving features skip
'Twixt that hillock and the lip,
If you note her but the while
She is pleased to speak or smile.
And her lips, that knew no dullness,
Full are, in the meanest fullness;
Those the leaves be whose unfolding
Brings sweet pleasures to beholding;
For such pearls they do disclose,
Both the Indies match not those;
Yet are so in order placed,
As their whiteness is more graced.
Each part is so well disposed,
And her dainty mouth composed,
So as there is no distortion
Misbeseems that sweet proportion.
Full are, in the meanest fullness;
Those the leaves be whose unfolding
Brings sweet pleasures to beholding;
For such pearls they do disclose,
Both the Indies match not those;
Yet are so in order placed,
As their whiteness is more graced.
Each part is so well disposed,
And her dainty mouth composed,
So as there is no distortion
Misbeseems that sweet proportion.
When her ivory teeth she buries
'Twixt her two enticing cherries,
There appears such pleasures hidden,
As might tempt what were forbidden.
If you look again, the whiles
She doth part those lips in smiles,
'Tis as when a flash of light
Breaks from heaven to glad the night.
'Twixt her two enticing cherries,
There appears such pleasures hidden,
As might tempt what were forbidden.
If you look again, the whiles
She doth part those lips in smiles,
'Tis as when a flash of light
Breaks from heaven to glad the night.
Other parts my pencil crave,
But those lips I cannot leave;
For methinketh I should go
And forsake those cherries so,
There's a kind of excellence
Holds me from departing hence.
I would tell you what it were,
But my cunning fails me there.
They are like in their discloses
To the morning's dewy roses,
That beside the name of fair
Cast perfumes that sweet the air.
Melting soft her kisses be,
And had I now two or three,
More inspired by their touch,
I had prais'd them twice as much.
But those lips I cannot leave;
For methinketh I should go
46
There's a kind of excellence
Holds me from departing hence.
I would tell you what it were,
But my cunning fails me there.
They are like in their discloses
To the morning's dewy roses,
That beside the name of fair
Cast perfumes that sweet the air.
Melting soft her kisses be,
And had I now two or three,
More inspired by their touch,
I had prais'd them twice as much.
But, sweet Muses, mark ye how
Her fair eyes do check me now,
That I seem'd to pass them so,
And their praises overgo;
And yet blame me not, that I
Would so fain have pass'd them by;
For I feared to have seen them,
Lest there were some danger in them.
Yet such gentle looks they lend,
As might make her foe a friend;
And by their allurings move
All beholders unto love.
Such a power is also there,
As will keep those thoughts in fear;
And command enough I saw,
To hold impudence in awe.
There may he, that knows to love,
Read contents which are above
Their ignoble aims, who know
Nothing that so high doth grow.
Whilst she me beholding is,
My heart dares not think amiss;
For her sight most piercing clear,
Seems to see what's written there.
Her fair eyes do check me now,
That I seem'd to pass them so,
And their praises overgo;
And yet blame me not, that I
Would so fain have pass'd them by;
For I feared to have seen them,
Lest there were some danger in them.
Yet such gentle looks they lend,
As might make her foe a friend;
And by their allurings move
All beholders unto love.
Such a power is also there,
As will keep those thoughts in fear;
And command enough I saw,
To hold impudence in awe.
There may he, that knows to love,
Read contents which are above
47
Nothing that so high doth grow.
Whilst she me beholding is,
My heart dares not think amiss;
For her sight most piercing clear,
Seems to see what's written there.
Those bright eyes, that with their light
Oftentimes have blest my sight,
And in turning thence their shining
Left me in sad darkness pining,
Are the rarest, loveliest grey,
And do cast forth such a ray,
As the man that black prefers,
More would like this grey of hers.
Oftentimes have blest my sight,
And in turning thence their shining
Left me in sad darkness pining,
Are the rarest, loveliest grey,
And do cast forth such a ray,
As the man that black prefers,
More would like this grey of hers.
When their matchless beams she shrouds,
'Tis like Cynthia hid in clouds.
If again she show them light,
'Tis like morning after night.
And 'tis worthy well beholding,
With how many a pretty folding
Her sweet eyelids grace that fair,
Meanly fring'd with beaming hair;
Whereby neatly overspread,
Those bright lamps are shadowed.
'Tis like Cynthia hid in clouds.
If again she show them light,
'Tis like morning after night.
And 'tis worthy well beholding,
With how many a pretty folding
Her sweet eyelids grace that fair,
Meanly fring'd with beaming hair;
Whereby neatly overspread,
Those bright lamps are shadowed.
'Twixt the eyes no hollow place,
Wrinkle, nor undecent space,
Disproportions her in ought,
Though by envy faults were sought.
Wrinkle, nor undecent space,
Disproportions her in ought,
Though by envy faults were sought.
On those eyebrows never yet
Did disdainful scowling sit.
Love and Goodness gotten thither,
Sit on equal thrones together;
And do throw just scorn on them
That their government contemn.
Did disdainful scowling sit.
Love and Goodness gotten thither,
48
And do throw just scorn on them
That their government contemn.
Then, almost obscur'd, appears
Those her jewel-gracing ears,
Whose own beauties more adorn,
Than the richest pearl that's worn
By the proudest Persian dames,
Or the best that Nature frames.
There the voice, in love's meanders,
Those their pretty circlings wanders,
Whose rare turnings will admit
No rude speech to enter it.
Those her jewel-gracing ears,
Whose own beauties more adorn,
Than the richest pearl that's worn
By the proudest Persian dames,
Or the best that Nature frames.
There the voice, in love's meanders,
Those their pretty circlings wanders,
Whose rare turnings will admit
No rude speech to enter it.
Stretching from mount forehead lies
Beauty's cape betwixt her eyes.
Which two crystal-passing lakes
Love's delightful isthmus makes;
Neither more nor less extending
Than most meriteth commending.
Those in whom that part hath been
Best deserving praises seen,
Or, survey'd without affection,
Came the nearest to perfection,
Would scarce handsome ones appear
If with her compared they were.
For it is so much excelling,
That it passeth means of telling.
Beauty's cape betwixt her eyes.
Which two crystal-passing lakes
Love's delightful isthmus makes;
Neither more nor less extending
Than most meriteth commending.
Those in whom that part hath been
Best deserving praises seen,
Or, survey'd without affection,
Came the nearest to perfection,
Would scarce handsome ones appear
If with her compared they were.
For it is so much excelling,
That it passeth means of telling.
On the either side of this
Love's most lovely prospect is:
Those her smiling cheeks, whose colour
Comprehends true beauty fuller
Than the curious't mixtures can,
That are made by art of man.
It is beauty's garden-plot,
Where as in a true-love knot,
So the snowy lily grows,
Mixed with the crimson rose,
That as friends they joined be.
Yet they seem to disagree
Whether of the two shall reign,
And the lilies oft obtain
Greatest sway, unless a blush
Help the roses at a push.
Hollow fallings none there are;
There's no wrinkle, there's no scar;
Only there's a little mole,
Which from Venus' cheek was stole.
Love's most lovely prospect is:
Those her smiling cheeks, whose colour
Comprehends true beauty fuller
49
That are made by art of man.
It is beauty's garden-plot,
Where as in a true-love knot,
So the snowy lily grows,
Mixed with the crimson rose,
That as friends they joined be.
Yet they seem to disagree
Whether of the two shall reign,
And the lilies oft obtain
Greatest sway, unless a blush
Help the roses at a push.
Hollow fallings none there are;
There's no wrinkle, there's no scar;
Only there's a little mole,
Which from Venus' cheek was stole.
If it were a thing in Nature
Possible, that any creature
Might decaying life repair
Only by the help of air,
There were no such salve for death
As the balm of her sweet breath.
Or if any human power
Might detain the soul an hour
From the flesh to dust bequeathing,
It would linger on her breathing,
And be half in mind that there
More than mortal pleasures were.
And whose fortune were so fair
As to draw so sweet an air,
Would no doubt let slighted lie
The perfumes of Araby.
For the English eglantine
Doth, through envy of her, pine.
Violets, and roses too,
Fears that she will them undo;
And it seems that in her breast
Is compos'd the Phœnix' nest.
Possible, that any creature
Might decaying life repair
Only by the help of air,
There were no such salve for death
As the balm of her sweet breath.
Or if any human power
Might detain the soul an hour
From the flesh to dust bequeathing,
It would linger on her breathing,
And be half in mind that there
More than mortal pleasures were.
And whose fortune were so fair
As to draw so sweet an air,
Would no doubt let slighted lie
50
For the English eglantine
Doth, through envy of her, pine.
Violets, and roses too,
Fears that she will them undo;
And it seems that in her breast
Is compos'd the Phœnix' nest.
But descend awhile, mine eye;
See if polish'd ivory,
Or the finest-fleeced flocks,
Or the whitest Albion rocks,
For comparisons may stand,
To express that snowy hand.
When she draws it from her glove
It hath virtue to remove,
Or disperse 't, if there be ought
Cloudeth the beholder's thought.
If that palm but toucheth your,
You shall feel a secret power
Cheer your heart, and glad it more,
Though it droop'd with grief before.
See if polish'd ivory,
Or the finest-fleeced flocks,
Or the whitest Albion rocks,
For comparisons may stand,
To express that snowy hand.
When she draws it from her glove
It hath virtue to remove,
Or disperse 't, if there be ought
Cloudeth the beholder's thought.
If that palm but toucheth your,
You shall feel a secret power
Cheer your heart, and glad it more,
Though it droop'd with grief before.
Through the veins disposed true
Crimson yields a sapphire hue,
Which adds grace, and more delight,
By embracing with the white.
Smooth, and moist, and soft, and tender,
Are her palms; the fingers slender,
Tipp'd with mollified pearl:
And if that transformed girl
Whose much cunning made her dare
With Jove's daughter to compare,
Had that hand worn, maugre spite,
She had shamed the goddess quite.
For there is in every part
Nature perfecter than Art.
Crimson yields a sapphire hue,
Which adds grace, and more delight,
By embracing with the white.
Smooth, and moist, and soft, and tender,
Are her palms; the fingers slender,
Tipp'd with mollified pearl:
And if that transformed girl
Whose much cunning made her dare
With Jove's daughter to compare,
51
She had shamed the goddess quite.
For there is in every part
Nature perfecter than Art.
These were joined to those arms
That were never made for harms;
But possess the sweetest graces,
That may apt them for embraces.
Like the silver streams they be,
Which from some high hill we see
Clipping in a goodly vale,
That grows proud of such a thrall.
That were never made for harms;
But possess the sweetest graces,
That may apt them for embraces.
Like the silver streams they be,
Which from some high hill we see
Clipping in a goodly vale,
That grows proud of such a thrall.
Neither alabaster rocks,
Pearl-strow'd shores, nor Cotswold flocks,
Nor the mountains tipp'd with snow,
Nor the milk-white swans of Po,
Can appear so fair to me
As her spotless shoulders be.
They are like some work of state,
Cover'd with the richest plate,
And a presence have, that strike
With devotions, goddess-like.
Pearl-strow'd shores, nor Cotswold flocks,
Nor the mountains tipp'd with snow,
Nor the milk-white swans of Po,
Can appear so fair to me
As her spotless shoulders be.
They are like some work of state,
Cover'd with the richest plate,
And a presence have, that strike
With devotions, goddess-like.
'Twixt those shoulders, meanly spread,
To support that globe-like head,
Riseth up her neck, wherein
Beauty seemeth to begin
To disclose itself in more
Tempting manner than before.
How therein she doth excel,
Though I would, I cannot tell:
For I naught on earth espy,
That I may express it by.
To support that globe-like head,
Riseth up her neck, wherein
Beauty seemeth to begin
To disclose itself in more
Tempting manner than before.
How therein she doth excel,
Though I would, I cannot tell:
For I naught on earth espy,
52
There should lovers, as in duty
Hang rich trophies up to beauty.
'Tis proportion'd to a height
That is even with delight.
Yet it is a great deal higher
Than to answer base desire.
Hang rich trophies up to beauty.
'Tis proportion'd to a height
That is even with delight.
Yet it is a great deal higher
Than to answer base desire.
Where the neck hath end, begins
That smooth path where love's close gins
Are thick placed to enthral
Such as that way straggle shall.
There a pleasing passage lies,
Far beyond the sight of eyes:
And much more delight contains
Than the old Elysian plains.
That smooth path where love's close gins
Are thick placed to enthral
Such as that way straggle shall.
There a pleasing passage lies,
Far beyond the sight of eyes:
And much more delight contains
Than the old Elysian plains.
Whatsoever others say,
There's alone the Milky Way,
That to beauty's walks doth go,
Which, if others came to know,
In possessing their delight,
They should never reach the height
Of the pleasures which I share,
Whilst that those debarred are.
There's alone the Milky Way,
That to beauty's walks doth go,
Which, if others came to know,
In possessing their delight,
They should never reach the height
Of the pleasures which I share,
Whilst that those debarred are.
Yet unspoken of there rests
Her two twin-like lovely breasts,
Whose round-rising, pretty panting,
I would tell, but art is wanting.
Words can never well declare
Her fair sweet perfections there:
For, would measures give me leave
To express what I conceive,
I do know I should go near
Half to ravish all that hear.
And, but that I learn to season
What I apprehend with reason,
It had made my passions' weight
Sink me through my own conceit.
There I find so large a measure
Of an unexpressed pleasure,
That my heart, through strong surmise,
In a pleasing fainting lies.
Her two twin-like lovely breasts,
Whose round-rising, pretty panting,
I would tell, but art is wanting.
Words can never well declare
Her fair sweet perfections there:
For, would measures give me leave
To express what I conceive,
53
Half to ravish all that hear.
And, but that I learn to season
What I apprehend with reason,
It had made my passions' weight
Sink me through my own conceit.
There I find so large a measure
Of an unexpressed pleasure,
That my heart, through strong surmise,
In a pleasing fainting lies.
He that there may rest to prove,
Softer finds those beds of love,
Than the cotton ripest grown,
Or fine pillows of such down,
As in time of moulting, fans
From the breasts of silver swans.
Those two sisters are a pair
Smooth alike, like soft, like fair,
If together they be view'd.
Yet if they apart be shew'd,
That you touch, or see, seems smoother,
Softer, fairer, than the other.
Softer finds those beds of love,
Than the cotton ripest grown,
Or fine pillows of such down,
As in time of moulting, fans
From the breasts of silver swans.
Those two sisters are a pair
Smooth alike, like soft, like fair,
If together they be view'd.
Yet if they apart be shew'd,
That you touch, or see, seems smoother,
Softer, fairer, than the other.
That the colour may delight,
So much red as makes the white
Purer seem, is shed among:
And then here and there along
Runs a sapphire-mine, whose blue,
Shadow'd, makes so brave a show
On those lily mounts, as tho'
Beauty's simples there did grow.
In the vale, 'twixt either hill,
Lies desire in ambush still;
And surpriseth every eye
Which doth that way dare to pry.
So much red as makes the white
Purer seem, is shed among:
And then here and there along
Runs a sapphire-mine, whose blue,
Shadow'd, makes so brave a show
On those lily mounts, as tho'
Beauty's simples there did grow.
In the vale, 'twixt either hill,
54
And surpriseth every eye
Which doth that way dare to pry.
There is sure the twy-top hill
Where the poets learn their skill.
That's Parnassus where the Muses
Chaste and wise Minerva uses.
Her two cherrilets are those,
Whence the pleasant'st nectar flows:
And no fruits e'er equall'd these,
Fetch'd from the Hesperides.
Where the poets learn their skill.
That's Parnassus where the Muses
Chaste and wise Minerva uses.
Her two cherrilets are those,
Whence the pleasant'st nectar flows:
And no fruits e'er equall'd these,
Fetch'd from the Hesperides.
Once, as Cynthia's games she chased,
And for air left half unlaced
Her light summer robe of green,
Beauty's safe but slender screen,
Unawares I partly spied
That fair lily field unhid,
Which you may her belly name;
Yet nor she nor I to blame,
For it was but what mine eye
Might behold with modesty.
And for air left half unlaced
Her light summer robe of green,
Beauty's safe but slender screen,
Unawares I partly spied
That fair lily field unhid,
Which you may her belly name;
Yet nor she nor I to blame,
For it was but what mine eye
Might behold with modesty.
'Tis a fair and matchless plain
Where unknown delights remain;
'Tis the store-house wherein pleasure
Hides the richest of her treasure;
Which true modesty in ward
Keeps with a continual guard
Of such virtues as she's sure
No corruption can allure.
Where unknown delights remain;
'Tis the store-house wherein pleasure
Hides the richest of her treasure;
Which true modesty in ward
Keeps with a continual guard
Of such virtues as she's sure
No corruption can allure.
There, they say, for mind it well,
I do this by hearsay tell,
Grows her navel, which doth seem
Like some jewel of esteem;
With so wondrous cunning wrought
That an injury 'tis thought
Such a beauty, with the rest,
Should, unknown, be unexprest.
I do this by hearsay tell,
55
Like some jewel of esteem;
With so wondrous cunning wrought
That an injury 'tis thought
Such a beauty, with the rest,
Should, unknown, be unexprest.
Somewhat else there is, that's hidden,
Which to name I am forbidden:
Neither have I ever pried
After that should be unspied.
Never shall my maiden Muse
So herself and me abuse,
As to sing what I may fear
Will offend the choicest ear.
Though I know, if none be by
But true friends to modesty,
I might name each part at will,
And yet no man's thought be ill.
Which to name I am forbidden:
Neither have I ever pried
After that should be unspied.
Never shall my maiden Muse
So herself and me abuse,
As to sing what I may fear
Will offend the choicest ear.
Though I know, if none be by
But true friends to modesty,
I might name each part at will,
And yet no man's thought be ill.
Yet, for fear loose hearers may
Judge amiss, if more I say,
I'll descend to shun all blame,
To the pillars of this frame;
Where, though I ne'er aim'd so high
As her dainty youthful thigh—
Whose rare softness, smoothness, fullness,
Being known, would teach my dullness
Such a strain as might befit
Some brave Tuscan poet's wit—
Once a saucy bush I spied,
Pluck her silken skirts aside;
So discover'd unto me
All those beauties to the knee.
And, before the thorns' entanglings
Had let go the silver spanglings,
I perceived the curious knitting
Of those joints were well befitting;
Such a noble piece of work,
'Mongst whose turnings seem'd to lurk
Much to entertain the sight
With new objects of delight.
Judge amiss, if more I say,
I'll descend to shun all blame,
To the pillars of this frame;
Where, though I ne'er aim'd so high
As her dainty youthful thigh—
Whose rare softness, smoothness, fullness,
Being known, would teach my dullness
Such a strain as might befit
Some brave Tuscan poet's wit—
Once a saucy bush I spied,
Pluck her silken skirts aside;
So discover'd unto me
56
And, before the thorns' entanglings
Had let go the silver spanglings,
I perceived the curious knitting
Of those joints were well befitting;
Such a noble piece of work,
'Mongst whose turnings seem'd to lurk
Much to entertain the sight
With new objects of delight.
Then the leg for shape as rare,
Will admit of no compare.
Straight it is; the ankle lean,
Full the calf, but in the mean;
And the slender foot doth fit,
So each way to suit with it,
As she nothing less excels
Therein, than in all things else.
Yea, from head to foot her feature
Shows her an unblemish'd creature:
In whom love with reason might
Find so matchless a delight,
That more cannot be acquired,
Nor a greater bliss desired.
Will admit of no compare.
Straight it is; the ankle lean,
Full the calf, but in the mean;
And the slender foot doth fit,
So each way to suit with it,
As she nothing less excels
Therein, than in all things else.
Yea, from head to foot her feature
Shows her an unblemish'd creature:
In whom love with reason might
Find so matchless a delight,
That more cannot be acquired,
Nor a greater bliss desired.
Yet if you will rest an hour
Under yonder shady bower,
I anon my Muse will raise
To a higher pitch of praise.
But awhile with raspice-berries,
Strawberries, ripe pears, and cherries
(Such as these our groves do bear),
We will cool our palates there.
And those homely cates among,
Now and then a past'ral song
Shall my lad here sing and play,
Such as you had yesterday.
Under yonder shady bower,
I anon my Muse will raise
To a higher pitch of praise.
But awhile with raspice-berries,
Strawberries, ripe pears, and cherries
(Such as these our groves do bear),
57
And those homely cates among,
Now and then a past'ral song
Shall my lad here sing and play,
Such as you had yesterday.
1.
A lad whose faith will constant prove,
And never know an end,
Late by an oversight in love,
Displeas'd his dearest friend.
For which incens'd, she did retake
The favours which he wore,
And said he never for her sake
Should wear or see them more.
And never know an end,
Late by an oversight in love,
Displeas'd his dearest friend.
For which incens'd, she did retake
The favours which he wore,
And said he never for her sake
Should wear or see them more.
The grief whereof, how near it went,
And how unkindly took,
Was figur'd by the discontent
Appearing in his look.
At first he could not silence break,
So heavy sorrow lay,
But when his sighs gave way to speak,
Thus sadly did he say:
And how unkindly took,
Was figur'd by the discontent
Appearing in his look.
At first he could not silence break,
So heavy sorrow lay,
But when his sighs gave way to speak,
Thus sadly did he say:
“My only dear;” and with that speech,
Not able to sustain
The floods of grief at sorrow's breach,
He paus'd awhile again.
At length, nigh fainting, did express
These words, with much ado:
“Oh, dear, let not my love's excess
Me and my love undo.”
Not able to sustain
The floods of grief at sorrow's breach,
He paus'd awhile again.
58
These words, with much ado:
“Oh, dear, let not my love's excess
Me and my love undo.”
She, little moved with his pain,
His much distraction eyed;
And changing love into disdain,
Thus, still unkind, replied:
“Forbear to urge one kindness more,
Unless you long to see
The good respect you had before
At once all lost in me.”
His much distraction eyed;
And changing love into disdain,
Thus, still unkind, replied:
“Forbear to urge one kindness more,
Unless you long to see
The good respect you had before
At once all lost in me.”
With that, dismay'd, his suit he ceased,
And down his head he hung;
And as his reason's strength decreased,
His passion grew more strong.
But, seeing she did slight his moan,
With willow garlands wreath'd,
He sat him down, and all alone
This sad complaint he breath'd:
And down his head he hung;
And as his reason's strength decreased,
His passion grew more strong.
But, seeing she did slight his moan,
With willow garlands wreath'd,
He sat him down, and all alone
This sad complaint he breath'd:
“Oh heavens!” quoth he, “why do we spend
Endeavours thus in vain;
Since what the Fates do fore-intend,
They never change again?
Nor faith, nor love, nor true desert,
Nor all that man can do,
Can win him place within her heart,
That is not born thereto.
Endeavours thus in vain;
Since what the Fates do fore-intend,
They never change again?
Nor faith, nor love, nor true desert,
Nor all that man can do,
Can win him place within her heart,
That is not born thereto.
59
“Why do I fondly waste my youth
In secret sighs and tears?
Why to preserve a spotless truth,
Taste I so many cares?
For women, that no worth respect,
Do so ungentle prove,
That some shall win by their neglect
What others lose with love.
In secret sighs and tears?
Why to preserve a spotless truth,
Taste I so many cares?
For women, that no worth respect,
Do so ungentle prove,
That some shall win by their neglect
What others lose with love.
“Those that have set the best at naught,
And no man could enjoy,
At last by some base gull are caught,
And gotten with a toy.
Yea, they that spend an age's light,
Their favours to obtain,
For one unwilling oversight
May lose them all again.
And no man could enjoy,
At last by some base gull are caught,
And gotten with a toy.
Yea, they that spend an age's light,
Their favours to obtain,
For one unwilling oversight
May lose them all again.
“How glad, and fain, alas! would I
For her have underwent
The greatest care, ere she should try
The smallest discontent?
Yet she that may my life command,
And doth those passions know,
Denieth me a poor demand,
In height of all my woe.
For her have underwent
The greatest care, ere she should try
The smallest discontent?
Yet she that may my life command,
And doth those passions know,
Denieth me a poor demand,
In height of all my woe.
“Oh, if the noblest of her time,
And best beloved of me,
Could for so poor, so slight a crime,
So void of pity be,
Sure, had it been some common one
Whose patience I had tried,
No wonder I had been undone,
Or unforgiven died.
And best beloved of me,
Could for so poor, so slight a crime,
So void of pity be,
60
Whose patience I had tried,
No wonder I had been undone,
Or unforgiven died.
“A thousand lives I would have laid,
So well I once believed
She would have deign'd to lend me aid,
If she had seen me grieved.
But now I live to see the day
Where I presumed so,
I neither dare for pity pray,
Nor tell her of my woe.
So well I once believed
She would have deign'd to lend me aid,
If she had seen me grieved.
But now I live to see the day
Where I presumed so,
I neither dare for pity pray,
Nor tell her of my woe.
“Yet let not, poor despised heart,
Her worth ought question'd be
Hadst thou not failed in desert,
She had not failed thee.
But lest, perhaps, they flout thy moan,
That should esteem thee dear,
Go, make it by thyself alone,
Where none may come to hear.
Her worth ought question'd be
Hadst thou not failed in desert,
She had not failed thee.
But lest, perhaps, they flout thy moan,
That should esteem thee dear,
Go, make it by thyself alone,
Where none may come to hear.
“Still keep thy forehead crown'd with smiles,
What passion e'er thou try,
That none may laugh at thee, the whiles
Thou discontented lie.
And let no wrong by chance disdain
A love so truly fair,
But rather never hope again,
And thou shalt ne'er despair.”
What passion e'er thou try,
That none may laugh at thee, the whiles
Thou discontented lie.
And let no wrong by chance disdain
A love so truly fair,
But rather never hope again,
And thou shalt ne'er despair.”
61
2.
O'ertired by cruel passions that oppress me,
With heart nigh broken, time no hope would give me,
Upon my bed I laid me down to rest me;
And gentle sleep I wooed to relieve me.
But oh, alas! I found that on the morrow
My sleeping joys brought forth my waking sorrow.
With heart nigh broken, time no hope would give me,
Upon my bed I laid me down to rest me;
And gentle sleep I wooed to relieve me.
But oh, alas! I found that on the morrow
My sleeping joys brought forth my waking sorrow.
For lo! a dream I had so full of pleasure,
That to possess what to embrace I seem'd
Could not affect my joy in higher measure
Than now it grieves me that I have but dream'd.
Oh, let my dreams be sighs and tears hereafter,
So I that sleeping weep, may wake in laughter.
That to possess what to embrace I seem'd
Could not affect my joy in higher measure
Than now it grieves me that I have but dream'd.
Oh, let my dreams be sighs and tears hereafter,
So I that sleeping weep, may wake in laughter.
Fain would I tell how much that shadow pleased me;
But tongue and pen want words and art in telling:
Yet this I'll say, to show what horror seized me
When I was robb'd of bliss, so much excelling:
Might all my dreams be such, oh, let me never
Awake again, but sleep and dream for ever.
But tongue and pen want words and art in telling:
Yet this I'll say, to show what horror seized me
When I was robb'd of bliss, so much excelling:
Might all my dreams be such, oh, let me never
Awake again, but sleep and dream for ever.
For when I waking saw myself deceived,
And what an inward Hell it had procured,
To find myself of all my hopes bereaved,
It brought on passions not to be endured:
And knew I next night had such dreams in keeping,
I'd make my eyes forswear for ever sleeping.
And what an inward Hell it had procured,
To find myself of all my hopes bereaved,
It brought on passions not to be endured:
And knew I next night had such dreams in keeping,
I'd make my eyes forswear for ever sleeping.
62
3.
You woody hills, you dales, you groves,
You floods, and every spring,
You creatures, come, whom nothing moves,
And hear a shepherd sing.
For to heroës, nymphs, and swains,
I long have made my moan;
Yet what my mournful verse contains
Is understood of none.
You floods, and every spring,
You creatures, come, whom nothing moves,
And hear a shepherd sing.
For to heroës, nymphs, and swains,
I long have made my moan;
Yet what my mournful verse contains
Is understood of none.
In song Apollo gave me skill;
Their love his sisters deign:
With those that haunt Parnassus' hill
I friendship entertain:
Yet this is all in vain to me,
So haplessly I fare,
As those things which my glory be
My cause of ruin are.
Their love his sisters deign:
With those that haunt Parnassus' hill
I friendship entertain:
Yet this is all in vain to me,
So haplessly I fare,
As those things which my glory be
My cause of ruin are.
For Love hath kindled in my breast
His never-quenched fire:
And I, who often have exprest
What other men desire,
Because I could so dive into
The depth of others' moan,
Now I my own affliction show,
I heeded am of none.
His never-quenched fire:
And I, who often have exprest
What other men desire,
Because I could so dive into
The depth of others' moan,
Now I my own affliction show,
I heeded am of none.
63
Oft have the nymphs of greatest worth
Made suit my songs to hear:
As oft, when I have sighed forth
Such notes as saddest were,
“Alas!” said they, “poor gentle heart,
Whoe'er that shepherd be:”
But none of them suspects my smart,
Nor thinks it meaneth me.
Made suit my songs to hear:
As oft, when I have sighed forth
Such notes as saddest were,
“Alas!” said they, “poor gentle heart,
Whoe'er that shepherd be:”
But none of them suspects my smart,
Nor thinks it meaneth me.
When I have reach'd so high a strain
Of passion in my song,
That they have seen the tears to rain
And trill my cheek along,
Instead of sigh, or weeping eye,
To sympathize with me,
“Oh, were he once in love,” they cry,
“How moving would he be!”
Of passion in my song,
That they have seen the tears to rain
And trill my cheek along,
Instead of sigh, or weeping eye,
To sympathize with me,
“Oh, were he once in love,” they cry,
“How moving would he be!”
Oh, pity me, you powers above,
And take my skill away;
Or let my hearers think I love,
And feign not what I say:
For if I could disclose the smart
Which I unknown do bear,
Each line would make them sighs impart,
And every word a tear.
And take my skill away;
Or let my hearers think I love,
And feign not what I say:
For if I could disclose the smart
Which I unknown do bear,
Each line would make them sighs impart,
And every word a tear.
“Had I a mistress,” some do think,
“She should revealed be;
And I would favours wear, or drink
Her health upon my knee.”
Alas, poor fools! they aim awry,
Their fancy flags too low:
Could they my love's rare course espy,
They would amazed grow.
“She should revealed be;
And I would favours wear, or drink
Her health upon my knee.”
64
Their fancy flags too low:
Could they my love's rare course espy,
They would amazed grow.
But let nor nymph nor swain conceive
My tongue shall ever tell
Who of this rest doth me bereave,
Or where I am not well.
But if you sighing me espy,
Where rarest features be,
Mark where I fix a weeping eye,
And swear you, there is she.
My tongue shall ever tell
Who of this rest doth me bereave,
Or where I am not well.
But if you sighing me espy,
Where rarest features be,
Mark where I fix a weeping eye,
And swear you, there is she.
Yet, ere my eyes betray me shall,
I'll swell and burst with pain:
And for each drop they would let fall,
My heart shall bleed me twain.
For since my soul more sorrow bears
Than common lovers know,
I scorn my passions should, like theirs,
A common humour show.
I'll swell and burst with pain:
And for each drop they would let fall,
My heart shall bleed me twain.
For since my soul more sorrow bears
Than common lovers know,
I scorn my passions should, like theirs,
A common humour show.
Ear never heard of, heretofore,
Of any love like mine.
Nor shall there be for evermore
Affection so divine.
And that to feign it none may try,
When I dissolv'd must be,
The first I am it lived by,
And die it shall with me.
Of any love like mine.
Nor shall there be for evermore
Affection so divine.
And that to feign it none may try,
When I dissolv'd must be,
The first I am it lived by,
And die it shall with me.
65
Boy, ha' done; for now my brain
Is inspir'd afresh again,
And new raptures pressing are,
To be sung in praise of her,
Whose fair picture lieth nigh,
Quite unveil'd to every eye.
No small favour hath it been
That such beauty might be seen:
Therefore, ever may they rue it,
Who with evil eyes shall view it.
Yea, what ancient stories tell,
Once to rude Actæon fell,
When with evil thoughts he stood
Eyeing Cynthia in the flood,
May that fatal horned curse
Light upon them, or a worse.
Is inspir'd afresh again,
And new raptures pressing are,
To be sung in praise of her,
Whose fair picture lieth nigh,
Quite unveil'd to every eye.
No small favour hath it been
That such beauty might be seen:
Therefore, ever may they rue it,
Who with evil eyes shall view it.
Yea, what ancient stories tell,
Once to rude Actæon fell,
When with evil thoughts he stood
Eyeing Cynthia in the flood,
May that fatal horned curse
Light upon them, or a worse.
But, whatever others be,
Lest some fault be found in me,
If unperfect this remain,
I will over-trim 't again.
Therefore, turn where we begun:
And now all is overrun,
Mark if everything exprest
Suit not so unto the rest,
As if Nature would prefer
All perfections unto her.
Wherefore seems it strange to any
That they daily see so many,
Who were else most perfect creatures,
In some one part want true features?
Since, from all the fair'st that live,
Nature took the best, to give
Her perfection in each part.
I alone except her heart;
For, among all woman-kind,
Such as hers is hard to find.
Lest some fault be found in me,
If unperfect this remain,
I will over-trim 't again.
Therefore, turn where we begun:
And now all is overrun,
Mark if everything exprest
Suit not so unto the rest,
As if Nature would prefer
All perfections unto her.
Wherefore seems it strange to any
That they daily see so many,
Who were else most perfect creatures,
In some one part want true features?
Since, from all the fair'st that live,
66
Her perfection in each part.
I alone except her heart;
For, among all woman-kind,
Such as hers is hard to find.
If you truly note her face,
You shall find it hath a grace
Neither wanton, nor o'er-serious,
Nor too yielding, nor imperious;
But with such a feature blest,
It is that which pleaseth best,
And delights each sev'ral eye,
That affects with modesty.
Lowliness hath in her look
Equal place with greatness took;
And if beauty anywhere
Claims prerogatives, 'tis there;
For at once thus much 'twill do,
Threat, command, persuade, and woo.
You shall find it hath a grace
Neither wanton, nor o'er-serious,
Nor too yielding, nor imperious;
But with such a feature blest,
It is that which pleaseth best,
And delights each sev'ral eye,
That affects with modesty.
Lowliness hath in her look
Equal place with greatness took;
And if beauty anywhere
Claims prerogatives, 'tis there;
For at once thus much 'twill do,
Threat, command, persuade, and woo.
In her speech there is not found
Any harsh, unpleasing sound,
But a well-beseeming power,
Neither higher, neither lower,
Than will suit with her perfection;
'Tis the loadstone of affection;
And that man, whose judging eyes
Could well sound such mysteries,
Would in love make her his choice,
Though he did but hear her voice.
For such accents breathe not, whence
Beauty keeps non-residence.
Never word of hers I hear
But 'tis music to mine ear,
And much more contentment brings
Than the sweetly-touched strings
Of the pleasing lute, whose strains
Ravish hearers when it plains.
Any harsh, unpleasing sound,
But a well-beseeming power,
Neither higher, neither lower,
Than will suit with her perfection;
'Tis the loadstone of affection;
And that man, whose judging eyes
Could well sound such mysteries,
Would in love make her his choice,
Though he did but hear her voice.
For such accents breathe not, whence
Beauty keeps non-residence.
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But 'tis music to mine ear,
And much more contentment brings
Than the sweetly-touched strings
Of the pleasing lute, whose strains
Ravish hearers when it plains.
Raised by her discourse, I fly
In contented thoughts so high,
That I pass the common measures
Of the dulled senses' pleasures,
And leave far below my flight
Vulgar pitches of delight.
In contented thoughts so high,
That I pass the common measures
Of the dulled senses' pleasures,
And leave far below my flight
Vulgar pitches of delight.
If she smile, and merry be,
All about her are as she,
For each looker-on takes part
Of the joy that's in her heart.
All about her are as she,
For each looker-on takes part
Of the joy that's in her heart.
If she grieve, or you but spy
Sadness peeping through her eye,
Such a grace it seems to borrow,
That you'll fall in love with sorrow,
And abhor the name of mirth
As the hateful'st thing on earth.
Should I see her shed a tear,
My poor eyes would melt, I fear.
For much more in hers appears,
Than in other women's tears;
And her look did never feign
Sorrow where there was no pain.
Sadness peeping through her eye,
Such a grace it seems to borrow,
That you'll fall in love with sorrow,
And abhor the name of mirth
As the hateful'st thing on earth.
Should I see her shed a tear,
My poor eyes would melt, I fear.
For much more in hers appears,
Than in other women's tears;
And her look did never feign
Sorrow where there was no pain.
Seldom hath she been espied
So impatient as to chide:
For if any see her so,
They'll in love with anger grow.
Sigh, or speak, or smile, or talk,
Sing, or weep, or sit, or walk,
Everything that she doth do
Decent is, and lovely too.
Each part that you shall behold
Hath within itself enrolled
What you could desire to see,
Or your heart conceive to be.
Yet if from that part your eye
Moving, shall another spy,
There you see as much or more
Than you thought to praise before.
So impatient as to chide:
For if any see her so,
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Sigh, or speak, or smile, or talk,
Sing, or weep, or sit, or walk,
Everything that she doth do
Decent is, and lovely too.
Each part that you shall behold
Hath within itself enrolled
What you could desire to see,
Or your heart conceive to be.
Yet if from that part your eye
Moving, shall another spy,
There you see as much or more
Than you thought to praise before.
While the eye surveys it, you
Will imagine that her brow
Hath all beauty; when her cheek
You behold, it is as like
To be deemed fairest too,
So much there can beauty do.
Look but thence upon her eye,
And you wonder, by and by,
How there may be anywhere
So much worthy praise as there.
Yet if you survey her breast,
Then as freely you'll protest
That in them perfection is;
Though I know that one poor kiss
From her tempting lips would then
Make all that forsworn again.
For the selfsame moving grace
Is at once in every place.
Will imagine that her brow
Hath all beauty; when her cheek
You behold, it is as like
To be deemed fairest too,
So much there can beauty do.
Look but thence upon her eye,
And you wonder, by and by,
How there may be anywhere
So much worthy praise as there.
Yet if you survey her breast,
Then as freely you'll protest
That in them perfection is;
Though I know that one poor kiss
From her tempting lips would then
Make all that forsworn again.
For the selfsame moving grace
Is at once in every place.
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She her beauty never foils
With your ointments, waters, oils,
Nor no loathsome fucus settles,
Mix'd with Jewish fasting spittles.
Fair by nature being born,
She doth borrow'd beauty scorn;
Whoso kisses her needs fear
No unwholesome varnish there;
For from thence he only sips
The pure nectar of her lips,
And at once with these he closes
Melting rubies, cherries, roses.
With your ointments, waters, oils,
Nor no loathsome fucus settles,
Mix'd with Jewish fasting spittles.
Fair by nature being born,
She doth borrow'd beauty scorn;
Whoso kisses her needs fear
No unwholesome varnish there;
For from thence he only sips
The pure nectar of her lips,
And at once with these he closes
Melting rubies, cherries, roses.
Then in her behaviour she
Striveth but herself to be;
Keeping such a decent state,
As indeed she seems to hate
Precious leisure should be spent
In abused compliment.
Though she knows what other do,
And can all their courtship too,
She is not in so ill case,
As to need their borrow'd grace.
Striveth but herself to be;
Keeping such a decent state,
As indeed she seems to hate
Precious leisure should be spent
In abused compliment.
Though she knows what other do,
And can all their courtship too,
She is not in so ill case,
As to need their borrow'd grace.
Her discourses sweeten'd are
With a kind of artless care,
That expresseth greater art
Than affected words impart.
So her gestures, being none
But that freeness which alone
Suits the braveness of her mind,
Make her, of herself, to find
Postures more becoming far
Than the mere acquired are.
With a kind of artless care,
That expresseth greater art
Than affected words impart.
So her gestures, being none
But that freeness which alone
Suits the braveness of her mind,
Make her, of herself, to find
Postures more becoming far
70
If you mark when for her pleasure
She vouchsafes to foot a measure,
Though with others' skill she pace,
There's a sweet delightful grace
In herself, which doth prefer
Art beyond that art in her.
She vouchsafes to foot a measure,
Though with others' skill she pace,
There's a sweet delightful grace
In herself, which doth prefer
Art beyond that art in her.
Neither needs she beat her wit
To devise what dressings fit.
Her complexion, and her feature,
So beholding are to Nature,
If she in the fashions go,
All the reason she doth so
Is because she would not err
In appearing singular:
Doubtless not for any thought
That 'twill perfect her in ought.
To devise what dressings fit.
Her complexion, and her feature,
So beholding are to Nature,
If she in the fashions go,
All the reason she doth so
Is because she would not err
In appearing singular:
Doubtless not for any thought
That 'twill perfect her in ought.
Many a dainty-seeming dame
Is in native beauties lame.
Some are graced by their tires,
As their quoifs, their hats, their wires.
One a ruff doth best become;
Falling-bands much alt'reth some.
And their favours oft we see
Changed as their dressings be:
Which her beauty never fears,
For it graceth all she wears.
If ye note her tire to-day,
That doth suit her best, you'll say.
Mark what she next morn doth wear;
That becomes her best, you'll swear.
Yea, as oft as her you see,
Such new graces still there be,
As she ever seemeth grac'd
Most by that she weareth last,
Though it be the same she wore
But the very day before.
Is in native beauties lame.
Some are graced by their tires,
As their quoifs, their hats, their wires.
One a ruff doth best become;
Falling-bands much alt'reth some.
And their favours oft we see
Changed as their dressings be:
Which her beauty never fears,
For it graceth all she wears.
If ye note her tire to-day,
That doth suit her best, you'll say.
Mark what she next morn doth wear;
That becomes her best, you'll swear.
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Such new graces still there be,
As she ever seemeth grac'd
Most by that she weareth last,
Though it be the same she wore
But the very day before.
When she takes her tires about her
(Never half so rich without her),
At the putting on of them,
You may liken every gem
To those lamps which at a play
Are set up to light the day;
For their lustre adds no more
To what Titan gave before,
Neither doth their pretty gleamings
Hinder ought his greater beamings;
And yet, which is strange to me,
When those costly deckings be
Laid away, there seems descried
Beauties which those veils did hide;
And she looks as doth the moon
Past some cloud through which she shone;
Or some jewel watch, whose case,
Set with diamonds, seems to grace
What it doth contain within,
Till the curious work be seen;
Then 'tis found that costly shrining
Did but hinder t'other's shining.
(Never half so rich without her),
At the putting on of them,
You may liken every gem
To those lamps which at a play
Are set up to light the day;
For their lustre adds no more
To what Titan gave before,
Neither doth their pretty gleamings
Hinder ought his greater beamings;
And yet, which is strange to me,
When those costly deckings be
Laid away, there seems descried
Beauties which those veils did hide;
And she looks as doth the moon
Past some cloud through which she shone;
Or some jewel watch, whose case,
Set with diamonds, seems to grace
What it doth contain within,
Till the curious work be seen;
Then 'tis found that costly shrining
Did but hinder t'other's shining.
If you chance to be in place
When her mantle she doth grace,
You would presently protest
Irish dressings were the best.
If again she lay it down,
While you view her in a gown,
And how those her dainty limbs
That close-bodied garment trims,
You would swear, and swear again,
She appeared loveliest then.
When her mantle she doth grace,
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Irish dressings were the best.
If again she lay it down,
While you view her in a gown,
And how those her dainty limbs
That close-bodied garment trims,
You would swear, and swear again,
She appeared loveliest then.
But if she so truly fair
Should untie her shining hair
And at length that treasure shed,
Jove's endured Ganimed,
Neither Cytherea's joy,
Nor the sweet self-loving boy
Who in beauty did surpass,
Nor the fair'st that ever was,
Could, to take you prisoner, bring
Looks so sweetly conquering.
Should untie her shining hair
And at length that treasure shed,
Jove's endured Ganimed,
Neither Cytherea's joy,
Nor the sweet self-loving boy
Who in beauty did surpass,
Nor the fair'st that ever was,
Could, to take you prisoner, bring
Looks so sweetly conquering.
She excels her whom Apollo
Once with weeping eyes did follow;
Or that nymph who, shut in towers,
Was beguil'd with golden showers;
Yea, and she, whose love was wont
To swim o'er the Hellespont
For her sake, though in attire
Fittest to inflame desire,
Seem'd not half so fair to be,
Nor so lovely as is she.
For the man whose happy eye
Views her in full majesty,
Knows she hath a power that moves
More than doth the Queen of Loves,
When she useth all her power
To inflame her paramour.
Once with weeping eyes did follow;
Or that nymph who, shut in towers,
Was beguil'd with golden showers;
Yea, and she, whose love was wont
To swim o'er the Hellespont
For her sake, though in attire
Fittest to inflame desire,
Seem'd not half so fair to be,
Nor so lovely as is she.
For the man whose happy eye
Views her in full majesty,
Knows she hath a power that moves
73
When she useth all her power
To inflame her paramour.
And sometime I do admire
All men burn not with desire.
Nay, I muse her servants are not
Pleading love; but oh, they dare not:
And I therefore wonder why
They do not grow sick and die.
All men burn not with desire.
Nay, I muse her servants are not
Pleading love; but oh, they dare not:
And I therefore wonder why
They do not grow sick and die.
Sure they would do so, but that
By the ordinance of Fate,
There is some concealed thing
So each gazer limiting,
He can see no more of merit
Than beseems his worth and spirit.
For in her a grace there shines,
That o'er-daring thoughts confines,
Making worthless men despair
To be loved of one so fair.
Yea, the destinies agree,
Some good judgments blind should be,
And not gain the power of knowing
Those rare beauties in her growing.
Reason doth as much imply:
For, if every judging eye
Which beholdeth her should there
Find what excellences are,
All, o'ercome by those perfections,
Would be captive to affections.
So, in happiness unblest,
She for lovers should not rest.
By the ordinance of Fate,
There is some concealed thing
So each gazer limiting,
He can see no more of merit
Than beseems his worth and spirit.
For in her a grace there shines,
That o'er-daring thoughts confines,
Making worthless men despair
To be loved of one so fair.
Yea, the destinies agree,
Some good judgments blind should be,
And not gain the power of knowing
Those rare beauties in her growing.
Reason doth as much imply:
For, if every judging eye
Which beholdeth her should there
Find what excellences are,
All, o'ercome by those perfections,
Would be captive to affections.
So, in happiness unblest,
She for lovers should not rest.
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This, well heeding, think upon:
And, if there be any one
Who alloweth not the worth
Which my Muse hath painted forth,
Hold it no defect in her,
But that he's ordain'd to err.
Or if any female wight
Should detract from this I write,
She, I yield, may show her wit,
But disparage her no whit;
For on earth few women be,
That from Envy's touch are free;
And who ever Envy knew
Yield those honours that were due?
And, if there be any one
Who alloweth not the worth
Which my Muse hath painted forth,
Hold it no defect in her,
But that he's ordain'd to err.
Or if any female wight
Should detract from this I write,
She, I yield, may show her wit,
But disparage her no whit;
For on earth few women be,
That from Envy's touch are free;
And who ever Envy knew
Yield those honours that were due?
Though sometimes my song I raise
To unused heights of praise,
And break forth as I shall please
Into strange hyperboles,
'Tis to show conceit hath found
Worth beyond expression's bound.
Though her breath I do compare
To the sweet'st perfumes that are;
Or her eyes, that are so bright,
To the morning's cheerful light;
Yet I do it not so much
To infer that she is such,
As to show that being blest
With what merits name of best,
She appears more fair to me
Than all creatures else that be.
To unused heights of praise,
And break forth as I shall please
Into strange hyperboles,
'Tis to show conceit hath found
Worth beyond expression's bound.
Though her breath I do compare
To the sweet'st perfumes that are;
Or her eyes, that are so bright,
To the morning's cheerful light;
Yet I do it not so much
To infer that she is such,
As to show that being blest
With what merits name of best,
She appears more fair to me
Than all creatures else that be.
Her true beauty leaves behind
Apprehensions in my mind,
Of more sweetness than all art,
Or inventions can impart;
Thoughts too deep to be expressed,
And too strong to be suppressed;
Which oft raiseth my conceits
To so unbelieved heights,
That I fear some shallow brain
Thinks my Muses do but feign.
Sure, he wrongs them if he do:
For, could I have reached to
So like strains as these you see,
Had there been no such as she?
Is it possible that I,
Who scarce heard of poesy,
Should a mere Idea raise
To as true a pitch of praise
As the learned poets could,
Now, or in the times of old,
All those real beauties bring
Honour'd by their sonneting—
Having arts, and favours too,
More t'encourage what they do?
No; if I had never seen
Such a beauty, I had been
Piping in the country shades
To the homely dairymaids,
For a country fiddler's fees,
Clouted cream, and bread and cheese.
75
Of more sweetness than all art,
Or inventions can impart;
Thoughts too deep to be expressed,
And too strong to be suppressed;
Which oft raiseth my conceits
To so unbelieved heights,
That I fear some shallow brain
Thinks my Muses do but feign.
Sure, he wrongs them if he do:
For, could I have reached to
So like strains as these you see,
Had there been no such as she?
Is it possible that I,
Who scarce heard of poesy,
Should a mere Idea raise
To as true a pitch of praise
As the learned poets could,
Now, or in the times of old,
All those real beauties bring
Honour'd by their sonneting—
Having arts, and favours too,
More t'encourage what they do?
No; if I had never seen
Such a beauty, I had been
Piping in the country shades
To the homely dairymaids,
For a country fiddler's fees,
Clouted cream, and bread and cheese.
I no skill in numbers had,
More than every shepherd's lad,
Till she taught me strains that were
Pleasing to her gentle ear.
Her fair splendour and her worth
From obscureness drew me forth;
And, because I had no Muse,
She herself deign'd to infuse
All the skill by which I climb
To these praises in my rhyme:
Which if she had pleased to add
To that art sweet Drayton had;
Or that happy swain that shall
Sing Britannia's Pastoral;
Or to theirs, whose verse set forth
Rosalind and Stella's worth;
They had doubled all their skill
Gained on Apollo's hill,
And as much more set her forth,
As I'm short of them in worth.
They had unto heights aspired,
Might have justly been admired;
And in such brave strains had moved
As of all had been approved.
More than every shepherd's lad,
76
Pleasing to her gentle ear.
Her fair splendour and her worth
From obscureness drew me forth;
And, because I had no Muse,
She herself deign'd to infuse
All the skill by which I climb
To these praises in my rhyme:
Which if she had pleased to add
To that art sweet Drayton had;
Or that happy swain that shall
Sing Britannia's Pastoral;
Or to theirs, whose verse set forth
Rosalind and Stella's worth;
They had doubled all their skill
Gained on Apollo's hill,
And as much more set her forth,
As I'm short of them in worth.
They had unto heights aspired,
Might have justly been admired;
And in such brave strains had moved
As of all had been approved.
I must praise her as I may;
Which I do mine own rude way:
Sometime setting forth her glories
By unheard-of allegories.
Think not, though, my Muse now sings
Mere absurd or feigned things.
If to gold I like her hair,
Or to stars her eyes so fair;
Though I praise her skin by snow,
Or by pearls her double row,
'Tis that you might gather thence
Her unmatched excellence.
Which I do mine own rude way:
Sometime setting forth her glories
By unheard-of allegories.
Think not, though, my Muse now sings
Mere absurd or feigned things.
If to gold I like her hair,
Or to stars her eyes so fair;
Though I praise her skin by snow,
77
'Tis that you might gather thence
Her unmatched excellence.
Eyes as fair for eyes hath she
As stars fair for stars may be;
And each part as fair doth show,
In it kind, as white in snow.
'Tis no grace to her at all
If her hair I sunbeams call:
For, were there a power in art
So to portrait every part,
All men might those beauties see
As they do appear to me.
I would scorn to make compare
With the glorious't things that are.
As stars fair for stars may be;
And each part as fair doth show,
In it kind, as white in snow.
'Tis no grace to her at all
If her hair I sunbeams call:
For, were there a power in art
So to portrait every part,
All men might those beauties see
As they do appear to me.
I would scorn to make compare
With the glorious't things that are.
Nought I e'er saw fair enow
But the hair, the hair to show.
Yet some think him overbold
That compares it but to gold.
He from reason seems to err,
Who, commending of his dear,
Gives her lips the ruby's hue,
Or by pearls her teeth doth show.
But what pearls, what rubies can
Seem so lovely fair to man,
As her lips whom he doth love,
When in sweet discourse they move,
Or her lovelier teeth, the while
She doth bless him with a smile?
But the hair, the hair to show.
Yet some think him overbold
That compares it but to gold.
He from reason seems to err,
Who, commending of his dear,
Gives her lips the ruby's hue,
Or by pearls her teeth doth show.
But what pearls, what rubies can
Seem so lovely fair to man,
As her lips whom he doth love,
When in sweet discourse they move,
Or her lovelier teeth, the while
She doth bless him with a smile?
Stars indeed fair creatures be,
Yet amongst us where is he
Joys not more the while he lies
Sunning in his mistress' eyes,
Than in all the glimmering light
Of a starry winter's night?
Yet amongst us where is he
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Sunning in his mistress' eyes,
Than in all the glimmering light
Of a starry winter's night?
Him to flatter most suppose,
That prefers before the rose
Or the lilies, while they grow,
Or the flakes of new-fall'n snow,
Her complexion whom he loveth;
And yet this my Muse approveth.
For, in such a beauty, meets
Unexpressed moving sweets,
That the like unto them no man
Ever saw but in a woman.
Look on moon, on stars, on sun,
All God's creatures overrun,
See if all of them presents
To your mind such sweet contents;
Or, if you from them can take
Ought that may a beauty make,
Shall one half so pleasing prove,
As is hers whom you do love?
For indeed, if there had been
Other mortal beauties seen,
Objects for the love of man,
Vain was their creation than.
Yea, if this could well be granted,
Adam might his Eve have wanted.
But a woman is the creature
Whose proportion with our nature
Best agrees, and whose perfections
Sympathize with our affections,
And not only finds our senses
Pleasure in their excellences,
But our reason also knows
Sweetness in them, that outgoes
Human wit to comprehend,
Much more, truly, to commend.
That prefers before the rose
Or the lilies, while they grow,
Or the flakes of new-fall'n snow,
Her complexion whom he loveth;
And yet this my Muse approveth.
For, in such a beauty, meets
Unexpressed moving sweets,
That the like unto them no man
Ever saw but in a woman.
Look on moon, on stars, on sun,
All God's creatures overrun,
See if all of them presents
To your mind such sweet contents;
Or, if you from them can take
Ought that may a beauty make,
Shall one half so pleasing prove,
As is hers whom you do love?
For indeed, if there had been
Other mortal beauties seen,
Objects for the love of man,
Vain was their creation than.
Yea, if this could well be granted,
Adam might his Eve have wanted.
But a woman is the creature
Whose proportion with our nature
79
Sympathize with our affections,
And not only finds our senses
Pleasure in their excellences,
But our reason also knows
Sweetness in them, that outgoes
Human wit to comprehend,
Much more, truly, to commend.
Note the beauty of an eye;
And if ought you praise it by
Leave such passion in your mind,
Let my reason's eye be blind.
Mark if ever red or white
Anywhere gave such delight
As when they have taken place
In a worthy woman's face.
He that so much hath not noted,
Will not, or is grown besotted.
And if ought you praise it by
Leave such passion in your mind,
Let my reason's eye be blind.
Mark if ever red or white
Anywhere gave such delight
As when they have taken place
In a worthy woman's face.
He that so much hath not noted,
Will not, or is grown besotted.
Such as lovers are conceive
What impressions beauty leave
And those hearts that fire have took
By a love-inflaming look,
Those believe what here I say,
And suppose not that I stray
In a word, by setting forth
Any praise beyond true worth.
What impressions beauty leave
And those hearts that fire have took
By a love-inflaming look,
Those believe what here I say,
And suppose not that I stray
In a word, by setting forth
Any praise beyond true worth.
And yet, wherefore should I care
What another's censures are,
Since I know her to be such
As no praise can be too much?
All that see her will agree
In the self-same mind with me,
If their wit be worth the having,
Or their judgment merit craving.
And the man that kens her not,
Speaks, at best, he knows not what:
So his envy or good will,
Neither doth her good nor ill.
What another's censures are,
Since I know her to be such
80
All that see her will agree
In the self-same mind with me,
If their wit be worth the having,
Or their judgment merit craving.
And the man that kens her not,
Speaks, at best, he knows not what:
So his envy or good will,
Neither doth her good nor ill.
Then fools' cavils I disdain,
And call back my Muse again
To decipher out the rest,
For I have too long digressed.
And call back my Muse again
To decipher out the rest,
For I have too long digressed.
This is she, in whom there meets
All variety of sweets.
An epitome of all
That on earth we fair may call.
Nay, yet more I dare aver:
He that is possess'd of her,
Shall at once all pleasure find,
That is reap'd from womankind.
All variety of sweets.
An epitome of all
That on earth we fair may call.
Nay, yet more I dare aver:
He that is possess'd of her,
Shall at once all pleasure find,
That is reap'd from womankind.
Oh, what man would further range,
That in one might find such change?
What dull eye such worth can see,
And not sworn a lover be?
Or from whence was he, could prove
Such a monster in his love,
As in thought to use amiss
Such unequall'd worth as this?
Pity 'twere that such a creature,
Phœnix-like for matchless feature,
Should so suffer, or be blamed
With what now the times are shamed.
That in one might find such change?
What dull eye such worth can see,
And not sworn a lover be?
Or from whence was he, could prove
Such a monster in his love,
As in thought to use amiss
Such unequall'd worth as this?
Pity 'twere that such a creature,
Phœnix-like for matchless feature,
81
With what now the times are shamed.
Beauty, unto me divine,
Makes my honest thoughts incline
Unto better things than that
Which the vulgar aimeth at.
And, I vow, I grieve to see
Any fair and false to be;
Or when I sweet pleasures find
Match'd with a defiled mind.
But above all others her
So much doth my soul prefer,
That to him, whose ill desire
Should so nurse a lawless fire
As to tempt to that which might
Dim her sacred virtue's light,
I could wish that he might die
Ere he did it, though 'twere I.
Makes my honest thoughts incline
Unto better things than that
Which the vulgar aimeth at.
And, I vow, I grieve to see
Any fair and false to be;
Or when I sweet pleasures find
Match'd with a defiled mind.
But above all others her
So much doth my soul prefer,
That to him, whose ill desire
Should so nurse a lawless fire
As to tempt to that which might
Dim her sacred virtue's light,
I could wish that he might die
Ere he did it, though 'twere I.
For if she should hap to stray,
All this beauty would away,
And not her alone undo,
But kill him that prais'd her, too.
But I know her Maker will
Keep her undistained still,
That ensuing ages may
Pattern out by her the way
To all goodness; and if Fate
That appoints all things a date
Hear me would, I'd wish that she
Might for aye preserved be.
And that neither wasting cares,
Neither all-consuming years,
Might from what she is estrange her,
Or in mind or body change her.
For oh, why should envious Time
Perpetrate so vile a crime
As to waste, or wrong, or stain,
What shall ne'er be match'd again?
All this beauty would away,
And not her alone undo,
But kill him that prais'd her, too.
But I know her Maker will
Keep her undistained still,
That ensuing ages may
Pattern out by her the way
To all goodness; and if Fate
That appoints all things a date
Hear me would, I'd wish that she
Might for aye preserved be.
And that neither wasting cares,
82
Might from what she is estrange her,
Or in mind or body change her.
For oh, why should envious Time
Perpetrate so vile a crime
As to waste, or wrong, or stain,
What shall ne'er be match'd again?
Much I hope it shall not be:
For, if Love deceive not me,
To that height of fair she grows,
Age or sickness, beauty's foes,
Cannot so much wrong it there,
But enough there will appear,
Ever worthy to be loved;
And that heart shall more be moved,
Where there is a judging eye,
With those prints it doth espy
Of her beauty wrong'd by Time,
Than by others in their prime.
For, if Love deceive not me,
To that height of fair she grows,
Age or sickness, beauty's foes,
Cannot so much wrong it there,
But enough there will appear,
Ever worthy to be loved;
And that heart shall more be moved,
Where there is a judging eye,
With those prints it doth espy
Of her beauty wrong'd by Time,
Than by others in their prime.
One advantage she hath more,
That adds grace to all before.
It is this—her beauty's fame
Hath not done her honour shame.
For where beauty we do find,
Envy still is so unkind
That although their virtues are
Such as pass their beauties far,
Yet on slander's rocks they be
Shipwreck'd oftentimes, we see;
And are subject to the wrongs
Of a thousand spiteful tongues,
When the greatest fault they had
Was that some would make them bad,
And not finding them for action,
Sought for vengeance by detraction.
That adds grace to all before.
It is this—her beauty's fame
Hath not done her honour shame.
For where beauty we do find,
Envy still is so unkind
That although their virtues are
Such as pass their beauties far,
Yet on slander's rocks they be
Shipwreck'd oftentimes, we see;
And are subject to the wrongs
Of a thousand spiteful tongues,
83
Was that some would make them bad,
And not finding them for action,
Sought for vengeance by detraction.
But her beauty sure no tongue
Is so villainous to wrong.
Never did the jealous't ear
Any muttering rumour hear
That might cause the least suspects
Of indifferent defects.
And, which somewhat stranger is,
They whose slanders few can miss,
Though set on by evil will
And habituated ill,
Nothing can of her invent
Whence to frame disparagement;
Which, if we respect the crimes
Of these loose injurious times,
Doth not only truly prove
Great discretion in her love,
And that she hath liv'd upright
In each jealous tongue's despite,
But it must be understood
That her private thoughts are good.
Yea, 'tis an apparent sign
That her beauty is divine:
And that angels have a care
Men's polluting tongues should spare
To defile what God hath given
To be dear to earth and heaven.
Is so villainous to wrong.
Never did the jealous't ear
Any muttering rumour hear
That might cause the least suspects
Of indifferent defects.
And, which somewhat stranger is,
They whose slanders few can miss,
Though set on by evil will
And habituated ill,
Nothing can of her invent
Whence to frame disparagement;
Which, if we respect the crimes
Of these loose injurious times,
Doth not only truly prove
Great discretion in her love,
And that she hath liv'd upright
In each jealous tongue's despite,
But it must be understood
That her private thoughts are good.
Yea, 'tis an apparent sign
That her beauty is divine:
And that angels have a care
Men's polluting tongues should spare
To defile what God hath given
To be dear to earth and heaven.
Tell me, you that hear me now,
Is there any one of you
Wanteth feeling of affection,
Or that loves not such perfection?
Can there be so dull an ear
As of so much worth to hear,
And not seriously incline
To this saint-like friend of mine?
If there be, the fault doth lie
In my artless poesy.
For if I could reach the strain
Which methinks I might obtain,
Or but make my measures fly,
Equal with my fantasy,
I would not permit an ear
To attend unravish'd here,
If but so much sense it knew
As the blocks that Orpheus drew.
84
Wanteth feeling of affection,
Or that loves not such perfection?
Can there be so dull an ear
As of so much worth to hear,
And not seriously incline
To this saint-like friend of mine?
If there be, the fault doth lie
In my artless poesy.
For if I could reach the strain
Which methinks I might obtain,
Or but make my measures fly,
Equal with my fantasy,
I would not permit an ear
To attend unravish'd here,
If but so much sense it knew
As the blocks that Orpheus drew.
Think on this description well,
And your noblest ladies tell;
Which of you, that worth can see,
This my mistress would not be?
And your noblest ladies tell;
Which of you, that worth can see,
This my mistress would not be?
You brave English, who have run
From the rising of the sun,
Till in travelling you found
Where he doth conclude his round;
You, that have the beauties seen,
Which in farthest lands have been;
And survey'd the fair resorts
Of the French and Spanish courts,
With the best that fame renowns
In the rich trans-Alpine towns,
Do not, with our brainless fry
That admire each novelty,
Wrong your country's fame in ought
But here freely speak your thought;
And I durst presume you'll swear
She's not matched anywhere.
From the rising of the sun,
Till in travelling you found
Where he doth conclude his round;
You, that have the beauties seen,
Which in farthest lands have been;
And survey'd the fair resorts
Of the French and Spanish courts,
With the best that fame renowns
In the rich trans-Alpine towns,
85
That admire each novelty,
Wrong your country's fame in ought
But here freely speak your thought;
And I durst presume you'll swear
She's not matched anywhere.
Gallants, you that would so fain
Nymphs' and ladies' loves obtain,
You that strive to serve and please
Fairest queens and empresses,
Tell me this and tell me right,
If you would not, so you might,
Leave them all despis'd, to prove
What contents are in her love?
Nymphs' and ladies' loves obtain,
You that strive to serve and please
Fairest queens and empresses,
Tell me this and tell me right,
If you would not, so you might,
Leave them all despis'd, to prove
What contents are in her love?
Could your fathers ever tell
Of a nymph did more excel?
Or hath any story told
Of the like, in times of old?
Dido was not such a one,
Nor the Trojan's paragon,
Though they so much favour found,
As to have their honours crown'd
By the best of poets' pens,
Ever known before, or since.
Of a nymph did more excel?
Or hath any story told
Of the like, in times of old?
Dido was not such a one,
Nor the Trojan's paragon,
Though they so much favour found,
As to have their honours crown'd
By the best of poets' pens,
Ever known before, or since.
For had Dido been so fair,
Old Anchises' noble heir
Jove's command had disobeyed,
And with her in Carthage stayed,
Where he would have quite forswore
Seeing the Lavinian shore.
Or, had Leda's daughter been,
When she was the Spartan queen,
Equal with this lovely one,
Menelaus had never gone
From her sight so far away
As to leave her for a prey,
And his room to be possest
By her wanton Phrygian guest.
Old Anchises' noble heir
Jove's command had disobeyed,
And with her in Carthage stayed,
Where he would have quite forswore
Seeing the Lavinian shore.
Or, had Leda's daughter been,
86
Equal with this lovely one,
Menelaus had never gone
From her sight so far away
As to leave her for a prey,
And his room to be possest
By her wanton Phrygian guest.
But lest yet among you some
Think she may behind these come,
Stay a little more and hear me,
In another strain I'll rear me.
I'll unmask a beauty, now,
Which to kiss the gods may bow,
And so feelingly did move,
That your souls shall fall in love.
Think she may behind these come,
Stay a little more and hear me,
In another strain I'll rear me.
I'll unmask a beauty, now,
Which to kiss the gods may bow,
And so feelingly did move,
That your souls shall fall in love.
I have yet the best behind:
Her most fair, unequall'd mind.
This that I have here expressed
Is but that which veils the rest,
An incomparable shrine,
Of a beauty more divine.
Her most fair, unequall'd mind.
This that I have here expressed
Is but that which veils the rest,
An incomparable shrine,
Of a beauty more divine.
Whereof ere I farther speak,
Off again my song I'll break,
And if you among the roses,
Which yon quickset hedge encloses,
Will with plucking flowers beguile
Tedious-seeming time awhile,
Till I step to yonder green,
Whence the sheep so plain are seen,
I will be returned ere
You an hour have stay'd there.
And excuse me now, I pray,
Though I rudely go away,
For affairs I have to do,
Which, unless I look into,
I may sing out summer here
Like the idle grasshopper,
And at winter hide my head,
Or else fast till I am dead.
Off again my song I'll break,
And if you among the roses,
Which yon quickset hedge encloses,
Will with plucking flowers beguile
Tedious-seeming time awhile,
Till I step to yonder green,
Whence the sheep so plain are seen,
I will be returned ere
You an hour have stay'd there.
87
Though I rudely go away,
For affairs I have to do,
Which, unless I look into,
I may sing out summer here
Like the idle grasshopper,
And at winter hide my head,
Or else fast till I am dead.
Yet if rustic past'ral measures
Can aught add unto your pleasures,
I will leave you some of those
Which it pleas'd me to compose
When despairing fits were over,
And I, made a happy lover,
Exercis'd my loving passion
In another kind of fashion
Than to utter I devised,
When I feared to be despised.
Can aught add unto your pleasures,
I will leave you some of those
Which it pleas'd me to compose
When despairing fits were over,
And I, made a happy lover,
Exercis'd my loving passion
In another kind of fashion
Than to utter I devised,
When I feared to be despised.
Those shall lie in gage for me
Till I back returned be,
And in writing here you have them;
Either sing, or read, or leave them.
Till I back returned be,
And in writing here you have them;
Either sing, or read, or leave them.
SONNET 1.
Admire not, shepherd's boy,
Why I my pipe forbear;
My sorrows and my joy
Beyond expression are.
Though others may
In songs display
Their passions, when they woo,
Yet mine do fly
A pitch too high
For words to reach unto.
Why I my pipe forbear;
My sorrows and my joy
Beyond expression are.
Though others may
In songs display
Their passions, when they woo,
88
A pitch too high
For words to reach unto.
If such weak thoughts as those
With others' fancies move,
Or if my breast did close
But common strains of love,
Or passion's store
Learned me no more
To feel than others do,
I'd paint my cares
As black as theirs,
And teach my lines to woo.
With others' fancies move,
Or if my breast did close
But common strains of love,
Or passion's store
Learned me no more
To feel than others do,
I'd paint my cares
As black as theirs,
And teach my lines to woo.
But oh! thrice happy ye
Whose mean conceit is dull,
You from those thoughts are free
That stuff my breast so full:
My love's excess
Lets to express
What songs are used to,
And my delights
Take such high flights,
My joys will me undo.
Whose mean conceit is dull,
You from those thoughts are free
That stuff my breast so full:
My love's excess
Lets to express
What songs are used to,
And my delights
Take such high flights,
My joys will me undo.
I have a love that's fair,
Rich, wise, and nobly born;
She's true perfection's heir,
Holds nought but vice in scorn.
A heart to find
More chaste, more kind,
Our plains afford no moe;
Of her degree
No blab I'll be,
For doubt some prince should woo.
Rich, wise, and nobly born;
She's true perfection's heir,
Holds nought but vice in scorn.
89
More chaste, more kind,
Our plains afford no moe;
Of her degree
No blab I'll be,
For doubt some prince should woo.
And yet I do not fear,
Though she my meanness knows,
The willow branch to wear,
No, nor the yellow hose.
For if great Jove
Should sue for love,
She would not me forego;
Resort I may
By night or day,
Which braver dare not do.
Though she my meanness knows,
The willow branch to wear,
No, nor the yellow hose.
For if great Jove
Should sue for love,
She would not me forego;
Resort I may
By night or day,
Which braver dare not do.
You gallants, born to pelf,
To lands, to titles' store,
I'm born but to myself,
Nor do I care for more.
Add to your earth,
Wealth, honours, birth,
And all you can thereto,
You cannot prove
That height of love
Which I in meanness do.
To lands, to titles' store,
I'm born but to myself,
Nor do I care for more.
Add to your earth,
Wealth, honours, birth,
And all you can thereto,
You cannot prove
That height of love
Which I in meanness do.
Great men have helps to gain
Those favours they implore;
Which, though I win with pain,
I find my joys the more.
Each clown may rise,
And climb the skies,
When he hath found a stair:
But joy to him
That dares to climb,
And hath no help but air.
Those favours they implore;
90
I find my joys the more.
Each clown may rise,
And climb the skies,
When he hath found a stair:
But joy to him
That dares to climb,
And hath no help but air.
Some say that love repents
Where fortunes disagree;
I know the high'st contents
From low beginnings be.
My love's unfeigned
To her that deigned
From greatness stoop thereto;
She loves 'cause I,
So mean, dared try
Her better worth to woo.
Where fortunes disagree;
I know the high'st contents
From low beginnings be.
My love's unfeigned
To her that deigned
From greatness stoop thereto;
She loves 'cause I,
So mean, dared try
Her better worth to woo.
And yet, although much joy
My fortune seems to bless,
'Tis mix'd with more annoy
Than I shall e'er express:
For with much pain
Did I obtain
The gem I'll ne'er forego,
Which yet I dare
Nor show, nor wear,
And that breeds all my woe.
My fortune seems to bless,
'Tis mix'd with more annoy
Than I shall e'er express:
For with much pain
Did I obtain
The gem I'll ne'er forego,
Which yet I dare
Nor show, nor wear,
And that breeds all my woe.
91
But fie, my foolish tongue,
How loosely now it goes!
First let my knell be rung,
Ere I do more disclose.
Mount thoughts on high,
Cease words, for why
My meaning to divine,
To those I leave
That can conceive
So brave a love as mine.
How loosely now it goes!
First let my knell be rung,
Ere I do more disclose.
Mount thoughts on high,
Cease words, for why
My meaning to divine,
To those I leave
That can conceive
So brave a love as mine.
And now no more I'll sing
Among my fellow swains;
Nor groves nor hills shall ring
With echoes of my plains.
My measures be
Confused, you see,
And will not suit thereto;
'Cause I have more
Brave thoughts in store
Than words can reach unto.
Among my fellow swains;
Nor groves nor hills shall ring
With echoes of my plains.
My measures be
Confused, you see,
And will not suit thereto;
'Cause I have more
Brave thoughts in store
Than words can reach unto.
SONNET 2.
Hence, away, you Sirens, leave me,
And unclasp your wanton arms;
Sugar'd words shall ne'er deceive me,
Though thou prove a thousand charms;
Fie, fie, forbear;
No common snare
Could ever my affection chain:
Your painted baits
And poor deceits
Are all bestow'd on me in vain.
And unclasp your wanton arms;
Sugar'd words shall ne'er deceive me,
Though thou prove a thousand charms;
Fie, fie, forbear;
No common snare
Could ever my affection chain:
92
And poor deceits
Are all bestow'd on me in vain.
I'm no slave to such as you be;
Neither shall a snowy breast,
Wanton eye, or lip of ruby,
Ever rob me of my rest.
Go, go, display
Your beauty's ray
To some o'er-soon enamour'd swain.
Those common wiles
Of sighs and smiles
Are all bestow'd on me in vain.
Neither shall a snowy breast,
Wanton eye, or lip of ruby,
Ever rob me of my rest.
Go, go, display
Your beauty's ray
To some o'er-soon enamour'd swain.
Those common wiles
Of sighs and smiles
Are all bestow'd on me in vain.
I have elsewhere vow'd a duty;
Turn away thy tempting eyes.
Show not me a naked beauty,
Those impostures I despise.
My spirit loathes
Where gaudy clothes
And feigned oaths may love obtain.
I love her so,
Whose look swears no,
That all your labours will be vain.
Turn away thy tempting eyes.
Show not me a naked beauty,
Those impostures I despise.
My spirit loathes
Where gaudy clothes
And feigned oaths may love obtain.
I love her so,
Whose look swears no,
That all your labours will be vain.
Can he prize the tainted posies
Which on every breast are worn,
That may pluck the spotless roses
From their never-touched thorn?
I can go rest
On her sweet breast,
That is the pride of Cynthia's train:
Then hold your tongues,
Your mermaid songs
Are all bestow'd on me in vain.
Which on every breast are worn,
That may pluck the spotless roses
From their never-touched thorn?
93
On her sweet breast,
That is the pride of Cynthia's train:
Then hold your tongues,
Your mermaid songs
Are all bestow'd on me in vain.
He's a fool that basely dallies
Where each peasant mates with him.
Shall I haunt the thronged valleys
Whilst there's noble hills to climb?
No, no; though clowns
Are scared with frowns,
I know the best can but disdain:
And those I'll prove;
So shall your love
Be all bestow'd on me in vain.
Where each peasant mates with him.
Shall I haunt the thronged valleys
Whilst there's noble hills to climb?
No, no; though clowns
Are scared with frowns,
I know the best can but disdain:
And those I'll prove;
So shall your love
Be all bestow'd on me in vain.
Yet I would not deign embraces
With the greatest, fairest she,
If another shared those graces
Which had been bestow'd on me.
I gave that one
My love where none
Shall come to rob me of my gain.
Your fickle hearts
Makes tears and arts
And all bestow'd on me in vain.
With the greatest, fairest she,
If another shared those graces
Which had been bestow'd on me.
I gave that one
My love where none
Shall come to rob me of my gain.
Your fickle hearts
Makes tears and arts
And all bestow'd on me in vain.
I do scorn to vow a duty
Where each lustful lad may woo.
Give me her whose sun-like beauty
Buzzards dare not soar unto.
She, she it is
Affords that bliss
For which I would refuse no pain.
But such as you,
Fond fools, adieu;
You seek to captive me in vain.
Where each lustful lad may woo.
94
Buzzards dare not soar unto.
She, she it is
Affords that bliss
For which I would refuse no pain.
But such as you,
Fond fools, adieu;
You seek to captive me in vain.
Proud she seem'd in the beginning,
And disdained my looking on;
But that coy one in the winning
Proves a true one being won.
Whate'er betide
She'll ne'er divide
The favour she to me shall deign.
But your fond love
Will fickle prove,
And all that trust in you are vain.
And disdained my looking on;
But that coy one in the winning
Proves a true one being won.
Whate'er betide
She'll ne'er divide
The favour she to me shall deign.
But your fond love
Will fickle prove,
And all that trust in you are vain.
Therefore know, when I enjoy one,
And for love employ my breath,
She I court shall be a coy one,
Though I win her with my death.
A favour there
Few aim at dare.
And if, perhaps, some lover plain,
She is not won,
Nor I undone,
By placing of my love in vain.
And for love employ my breath,
She I court shall be a coy one,
Though I win her with my death.
A favour there
Few aim at dare.
And if, perhaps, some lover plain,
She is not won,
Nor I undone,
By placing of my love in vain.
95
Leave me then, you Sirens, leave me,
Seek no more to work my harms;
Crafty wiles cannot deceive me,
Who am proof against your charms.
You labour may
To lead astray
The heart that constant shall remain,
And I the while
Will sit and smile
To see you spend your time in vain.
Seek no more to work my harms;
Crafty wiles cannot deceive me,
Who am proof against your charms.
You labour may
To lead astray
The heart that constant shall remain,
And I the while
Will sit and smile
To see you spend your time in vain.
SONNET 3.
When Philomela with her strains
The spring had welcomed in,
And Flora to bestrow the plains
With daisies did begin,
My love and I, on whom suspicious eyes
Had set a thousand spies,
To cozen Argus strove;
And seen of none
We got alone
Into a shady grove.
The spring had welcomed in,
And Flora to bestrow the plains
With daisies did begin,
My love and I, on whom suspicious eyes
Had set a thousand spies,
To cozen Argus strove;
And seen of none
We got alone
Into a shady grove.
On every bush the eglantine,
With leaves perfumed hung,
The primrose made the hedgerows fine,
The woods of music rung.
The earth, the air, and all things did conspire
To raise contentment higher;
That, had I come to woo,
Nor means of grace,
Nor time, nor place,
Were wanting thereunto.
With leaves perfumed hung,
The primrose made the hedgerows fine,
The woods of music rung.
The earth, the air, and all things did conspire
To raise contentment higher;
96
Nor means of grace,
Nor time, nor place,
Were wanting thereunto.
With hand in hand alone we walked,
And oft each other eyed;
Of love and passions past we talked,
Which our poor hearts had tried.
Our souls infus'd into each other were:
And what may be her care,
Did my more sorrow breed;
One mind we bore,
One faith we swore,
And both in one agreed.
And oft each other eyed;
Of love and passions past we talked,
Which our poor hearts had tried.
Our souls infus'd into each other were:
And what may be her care,
Did my more sorrow breed;
One mind we bore,
One faith we swore,
And both in one agreed.
Her dainty palm I gently prest,
And with her lips I play'd;
My cheek upon her panting breast,
And on her neck I laid.
And yet we had no sense of wanton lust:
Nor did we then mistrust
The poison in the sweet;
Our bodies wrought
So close, we thought,
Because our souls should meet.
And with her lips I play'd;
My cheek upon her panting breast,
And on her neck I laid.
And yet we had no sense of wanton lust:
Nor did we then mistrust
The poison in the sweet;
Our bodies wrought
So close, we thought,
Because our souls should meet.
With pleasant toil we breathless grew,
And kiss'd in warmer blood;
Upon her lips the honey-dew
Like drops on roses stood;
And on those flowers play'd I the busy bee,
Whose sweets were such to me,
Them could I not forego.
No, not to feast
On Venus' breast,
Whence streams of sweetness flow.
And kiss'd in warmer blood;
Upon her lips the honey-dew
Like drops on roses stood;
97
Whose sweets were such to me,
Them could I not forego.
No, not to feast
On Venus' breast,
Whence streams of sweetness flow.
But kissing and embracing we
So long together lay,
Her touches all inflamed me,
And I began to stray.
My hands presum'd so far, they were too bold;
My tongue unwisely told
How much my heart was changed.
And virtue quite
Was put to flight,
Or for the time estranged.
So long together lay,
Her touches all inflamed me,
And I began to stray.
My hands presum'd so far, they were too bold;
My tongue unwisely told
How much my heart was changed.
And virtue quite
Was put to flight,
Or for the time estranged.
Oh! what are we, if in our strength
We over-boldly trust?
The strongest forts will yield at length,
And so our virtues must.
In me no force of reason had prevailed
If she had also failed;
But ere I further strayed,
She sighing kissed
My naked wrist,
And thus in tears she said:
We over-boldly trust?
The strongest forts will yield at length,
And so our virtues must.
In me no force of reason had prevailed
If she had also failed;
But ere I further strayed,
She sighing kissed
My naked wrist,
And thus in tears she said:
“Sweetheart,” quoth she, “if in thy breast
Those virtues real be,
Which hitherto thou hast profest,
And I believed in thee,
Thyself and me, oh, seek not to abuse.
Whilst thee I thus refuse
In hotter flames I fry;
Yet let us not
Our true love spot,
Oh, rather let me die.
Those virtues real be,
98
And I believed in thee,
Thyself and me, oh, seek not to abuse.
Whilst thee I thus refuse
In hotter flames I fry;
Yet let us not
Our true love spot,
Oh, rather let me die.
“For if thy heart should fall from good,
What would become of mine?
As strong a passion stirs my blood,
As can distemper thine.
Yet in my breast this rage I smother would,
Though it consume me should,
And my desires contain:
For where we see
Such breaches be,
They seldom stop again.
What would become of mine?
As strong a passion stirs my blood,
As can distemper thine.
Yet in my breast this rage I smother would,
Though it consume me should,
And my desires contain:
For where we see
Such breaches be,
They seldom stop again.
“Are we the two that have so long
Each other's loves embraced?
And never did affection wrong,
Nor think a thought unchaste?
And shall, oh, shall we now our matchless joy
For one poor touch destroy,
And all content forego?
Oh no, my dear;
Sweetheart, forbear;
I will not lose thee so.
Each other's loves embraced?
And never did affection wrong,
Nor think a thought unchaste?
And shall, oh, shall we now our matchless joy
For one poor touch destroy,
And all content forego?
Oh no, my dear;
Sweetheart, forbear;
I will not lose thee so.
99
“For, should we do a deed so base,
As it can never be,
I could no more have seen thy face,
Nor would'st thou look on me.
I should of all our passions grow ashamed,
And blush when thou art named;
Yea, though thou constant wert,
I being nought,
A jealous thought
Would still torment my heart.
As it can never be,
I could no more have seen thy face,
Nor would'st thou look on me.
I should of all our passions grow ashamed,
And blush when thou art named;
Yea, though thou constant wert,
I being nought,
A jealous thought
Would still torment my heart.
“What goodly thing do we obtain
If I consent to thee?
Rare joys we lose, and what we gain
But common pleasures be:
Yea, those, some say, who are to lust inclin'd,
Drive love out of the mind;
And so much reason miss,
That they admire
What kind of fire
A chaste affection is.
If I consent to thee?
Rare joys we lose, and what we gain
But common pleasures be:
Yea, those, some say, who are to lust inclin'd,
Drive love out of the mind;
And so much reason miss,
That they admire
What kind of fire
A chaste affection is.
“No vulgar bliss I aimed at
When first I heard thee woo;
I'll never prize a man for that
Which every groom can do.
If that be love, the basest men that be
Do love as well as we,
Who, if we bear us well,
Do pass them then,
As angels men
In glory do excel.”
When first I heard thee woo;
I'll never prize a man for that
Which every groom can do.
If that be love, the basest men that be
Do love as well as we,
100
Do pass them then,
As angels men
In glory do excel.”
Whilst thus she spake a cruel band
Of passions seized my soul,
And what one seemed to command,
Another did control.
'Twixt good and ill I did divided lie.
But as I raised mine eye,
In her methought I saw
Those virtues shine
Whose rays divine
First gave desire a law.
Of passions seized my soul,
And what one seemed to command,
Another did control.
'Twixt good and ill I did divided lie.
But as I raised mine eye,
In her methought I saw
Those virtues shine
Whose rays divine
First gave desire a law.
With that I felt the blush of shame
Into my cheeks return;
And love did with a chaster flame
Within my bosom burn.
My soul her light of reason had renew'd;
And by those beams I view'd
How slyly lust ensnares:
And all the fires
Of ill desires
I quenched with my tears.
Into my cheeks return;
And love did with a chaster flame
Within my bosom burn.
My soul her light of reason had renew'd;
And by those beams I view'd
How slyly lust ensnares:
And all the fires
Of ill desires
I quenched with my tears.
Go, wantons, now, and flout at this
My coldness, if you list;
Vain fools, you never knew the bliss
That doth in love consist.
You sigh, and weep, and labour to enjoy
A shade, a dream, a toy;
Poor folly you pursue;
And are unblessed,
Since every beast
In pleasure equals you.
My coldness, if you list;
Vain fools, you never knew the bliss
That doth in love consist.
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A shade, a dream, a toy;
Poor folly you pursue;
And are unblessed,
Since every beast
In pleasure equals you.
You never took so rich content,
In all your wanton play,
As this to me hath pleasure lent,
That chaste she went away.
For as some sins which we committed have,
Sharp stings behind them leave,
Whereby we vexed are,
So ill suppressed
Begetteth rest
And peace without compare.
In all your wanton play,
As this to me hath pleasure lent,
That chaste she went away.
For as some sins which we committed have,
Sharp stings behind them leave,
Whereby we vexed are,
So ill suppressed
Begetteth rest
And peace without compare.
But lest this conquest slight you make,
Which on myself I won,
Twelve labours I will undertake
With Jove's victorious son,
Ere I will such another brunt endure.
For, had Diana pure
Thus tempted been to sin,
That queen of night,
With her chaste light,
Had scarce a maiden bin.
Which on myself I won,
Twelve labours I will undertake
With Jove's victorious son,
Ere I will such another brunt endure.
For, had Diana pure
Thus tempted been to sin,
That queen of night,
With her chaste light,
Had scarce a maiden bin.
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Oh! how honoured are my songs,
Graced by your melodious tongues!
And how pleasing do they seem,
Now your voices carol them!
Were not yet that task to do,
Which my word enjoins me to,
I should beg of you to hear
What your own inventions were.
Graced by your melodious tongues!
And how pleasing do they seem,
Now your voices carol them!
Were not yet that task to do,
Which my word enjoins me to,
I should beg of you to hear
What your own inventions were.
But before I ought will crave,
What I promised you shall have.
And as I on mortal creatures
Call'd, to view her body's features,
Showing how to make the senses
Apprehend her excellences,
Now I speak of no worse subject
Than a soul's and reason's object:
And relate a beauty's glories,
Fitting heavenly auditories.
Therefore, whilst I sit and sing,
Hem me, angels, in a ring;
Come, ye spirits, which have eyes
That can gaze on deities,
And unclogg'd with brutish senses,
Comprehend such excellences.
Or, if any mortal ear
Would be granted leave to hear,
And find profit with delight
In what now I shall indite,
Let him first be sure to season
A prepared heart with reason:
And with judgment drawing nigh,
Lay all fond affections by.
So, through all her veilings, he
Shall the soul of beauty see.
What I promised you shall have.
And as I on mortal creatures
Call'd, to view her body's features,
Showing how to make the senses
Apprehend her excellences,
Now I speak of no worse subject
Than a soul's and reason's object:
And relate a beauty's glories,
Fitting heavenly auditories.
Therefore, whilst I sit and sing,
Hem me, angels, in a ring;
Come, ye spirits, which have eyes
That can gaze on deities,
And unclogg'd with brutish senses,
Comprehend such excellences.
Or, if any mortal ear
Would be granted leave to hear,
And find profit with delight
In what now I shall indite,
Let him first be sure to season
A prepared heart with reason:
103
Lay all fond affections by.
So, through all her veilings, he
Shall the soul of beauty see.
But avoid, you earth-bred wights,
Cloy'd with sensual appetites:
On base objects glut your eyes,
Till your starveling pleasure dies:
Feed your ears with such delights,
As may match your gross conceits:
For, within your muddy brain,
These you never can contain.
Cloy'd with sensual appetites:
On base objects glut your eyes,
Till your starveling pleasure dies:
Feed your ears with such delights,
As may match your gross conceits:
For, within your muddy brain,
These you never can contain.
Think not, you who by the sense
Only judge of excellence,
Or do all contentment place
In the beauty of a face,
That these higher thoughts of our
Soar so base a pitch as your.
I can give, as well as you,
Outward beauties all their due:
I can most contentments see,
That in love or women be.
Only judge of excellence,
Or do all contentment place
In the beauty of a face,
That these higher thoughts of our
Soar so base a pitch as your.
I can give, as well as you,
Outward beauties all their due:
I can most contentments see,
That in love or women be.
Though I dote not on the features
Of our daintiest female creatures,
Nor was e'er so void of shames
As to play their lawless games,
I more prize a snowy hand
Than the gold on Tagus' strand,
And a dainty lip before
All the greatest monarch's store.
Yea, from these I reap as true
And as large contents as you.
Of our daintiest female creatures,
Nor was e'er so void of shames
As to play their lawless games,
I more prize a snowy hand
Than the gold on Tagus' strand,
And a dainty lip before
All the greatest monarch's store.
Yea, from these I reap as true
104
Yet to them I am not tied:
I have rarer sweets espied,
Wider prospects of true pleasure,
Than your curbed thoughts can measure.
In her soul my soul descries
Objects that may feed her eyes.
And the beauty of her mind
Shows my reason where to find
All my former pleasure doubled,
Neither with such passion troubled,
As wherewith it oft was crost,
Nor so easy to be lost.
I have rarer sweets espied,
Wider prospects of true pleasure,
Than your curbed thoughts can measure.
In her soul my soul descries
Objects that may feed her eyes.
And the beauty of her mind
Shows my reason where to find
All my former pleasure doubled,
Neither with such passion troubled,
As wherewith it oft was crost,
Nor so easy to be lost.
I that ravish'd lay, well-nigh,
By the lustre of her eye,
And had almost sworn affection
To the fore-express'd perfection,
As if nothing had been higher
Whereunto I might aspire,
Now have found, by seeking nearer,
Inward worth that shining clearer
By a sweet and secret moving,
Draws me to a dearer loving.
And whilst I that love conceive,
Such impressions it doth leave
In the intellective part,
As defaceth from my heart
Every thought of those delights
Which allure base appetites;
And my mind so much employs
In contemplating those joys
Which a purer sight doth find
In the beauty of her mind,
That I so thereon am set,
As methinks I could forget
All her sweetest outward graces,
Though I lay in her embraces.
By the lustre of her eye,
And had almost sworn affection
To the fore-express'd perfection,
As if nothing had been higher
Whereunto I might aspire,
Now have found, by seeking nearer,
Inward worth that shining clearer
By a sweet and secret moving,
Draws me to a dearer loving.
And whilst I that love conceive,
Such impressions it doth leave
In the intellective part,
As defaceth from my heart
Every thought of those delights
Which allure base appetites;
And my mind so much employs
In contemplating those joys
105
In the beauty of her mind,
That I so thereon am set,
As methinks I could forget
All her sweetest outward graces,
Though I lay in her embraces.
But some, thinking with a smile
What they would have done the while,
Now suppose my words are such
As exceed my power too much.
For all those our wantons hold
Void of vigour, dull, and cold,
Or at best but fools, whose flame
Makes not way unto their shame,
Though at length with grief they see
They the fools do prove to be.
What they would have done the while,
Now suppose my words are such
As exceed my power too much.
For all those our wantons hold
Void of vigour, dull, and cold,
Or at best but fools, whose flame
Makes not way unto their shame,
Though at length with grief they see
They the fools do prove to be.
These the body so much minded,
That their reason, over-blinded
By the pleasures of the sense,
Hides from them that excellence,
And that sweetness, whose true worth
I am here to blazon forth.
That their reason, over-blinded
By the pleasures of the sense,
Hides from them that excellence,
And that sweetness, whose true worth
I am here to blazon forth.
'Tis not, 'tis not those rare graces
That do lurk in women's faces,
'Tis not a display'd perfection,
Youthful eyes, nor clear complexion,
Nor a skin, smooth satin like,
Nor a dainty rosy cheek,
That to wantonness can move
Such as virtuously do love.
Beauty rather gently draws
Wild desires to reason's laws;
And oft frights men from that sin
They had else transgressed in,
Through a sweet amazement strook
From an over-ruling look.
Beauty never tempteth men
To lasciviousness, but when
Careless idleness hath brought
Wicked longings into thought.
Nor doth youth, or heat of blood,
Make men prove what is not good,
Nor the strength of which they vaunt;
'Tis the strength and power they want;
And the baseness of the mind
Makes their brute desires inclin'd
To pursue those vain delights
Which affect their appetites;
And so blinded do they grow,
Who are overtaken so,
As their dullness cannot see,
Nor believe that better be.
That do lurk in women's faces,
'Tis not a display'd perfection,
Youthful eyes, nor clear complexion,
Nor a skin, smooth satin like,
Nor a dainty rosy cheek,
That to wantonness can move
Such as virtuously do love.
Beauty rather gently draws
106
And oft frights men from that sin
They had else transgressed in,
Through a sweet amazement strook
From an over-ruling look.
Beauty never tempteth men
To lasciviousness, but when
Careless idleness hath brought
Wicked longings into thought.
Nor doth youth, or heat of blood,
Make men prove what is not good,
Nor the strength of which they vaunt;
'Tis the strength and power they want;
And the baseness of the mind
Makes their brute desires inclin'd
To pursue those vain delights
Which affect their appetites;
And so blinded do they grow,
Who are overtaken so,
As their dullness cannot see,
Nor believe that better be.
Some have blood as hot as their,
Whose affections loosest are;
Bodies that require no art
To supply weak Nature's part;
Youth they have; and sure might, too,
Boast of what some shameless do;
Yet their minds, that aim more high
Than those baser pleasures lie,
Taught by virtue can suppress
All attempts of wantonness,
And such powerful motives frame
To extinguish passion's flame,
That, by reason's good direction,
Qualifying loose affection,
They'll in midst of beauty's fires
Walk unscorch'd of ill desires;
Yet no such as stupid shame
Keeps from actions worthy blame,
But in all so truly man,
That their apprehensions can
Prize the body's utmost worth,
And find many pleasures forth
In those beauties—more than you,
That abuse them, ever knew.
Whose affections loosest are;
Bodies that require no art
To supply weak Nature's part;
Youth they have; and sure might, too,
Boast of what some shameless do;
Yet their minds, that aim more high
Than those baser pleasures lie,
Taught by virtue can suppress
All attempts of wantonness,
107
To extinguish passion's flame,
That, by reason's good direction,
Qualifying loose affection,
They'll in midst of beauty's fires
Walk unscorch'd of ill desires;
Yet no such as stupid shame
Keeps from actions worthy blame,
But in all so truly man,
That their apprehensions can
Prize the body's utmost worth,
And find many pleasures forth
In those beauties—more than you,
That abuse them, ever knew.
But perhaps her outward grace,
Here described, hath ta'en such place
In some o'er-enamour'd breast,
And so much his heart possessed,
As he thinks it passeth telling,
How she may be more excelling,
Or what worth I can prefer
To be more admired in her.
Therefore now I will be brief,
To prevent that misbelief.
And if there be present here
Any one whose nicer ear
Tasks my measures as offending,
In too seriously commending
What affects the sense, or may
Injure virtue any way,
Let them know 'tis understood
That if they were truly good,
It could never breed offence
That I showed the excellence,
With the power of God and nature,
In the beauty of his creature:
They from thence would rather raise
Cause to meditate his praise,
And thus think: How fair must He
That hath made this fair one be!
Here described, hath ta'en such place
In some o'er-enamour'd breast,
And so much his heart possessed,
As he thinks it passeth telling,
How she may be more excelling,
Or what worth I can prefer
To be more admired in her.
Therefore now I will be brief,
To prevent that misbelief.
And if there be present here
Any one whose nicer ear
Tasks my measures as offending,
In too seriously commending
What affects the sense, or may
Injure virtue any way,
Let them know 'tis understood
108
It could never breed offence
That I showed the excellence,
With the power of God and nature,
In the beauty of his creature:
They from thence would rather raise
Cause to meditate his praise,
And thus think: How fair must He
That hath made this fair one be!
That was my proposed end,
And to make them more attend
Unto this, so much excelling,
As it passeth means of telling.
And to make them more attend
Unto this, so much excelling,
As it passeth means of telling.
But, at worst, if any strain
Makes your memories retain
Sparks of such a baneful fire
As may kindle ill desire,
This that follows after shall
Not alone extinguish all,
But e'en make you blush with shame,
That your thoughts were so to blame.
Yet I know, when I have done,
In respect of that bright sun
Whose inestimable light
I would blazon to your sight,
These ensuing flashes are
As to Cynthia's beams a star;
Or a petty comet's ray,
To the glorious eye of day.
For what power of words or art
Can her worth at full impart?
Or what is there may be found,
Plac'd within the senses' bound,
That can paint those sweets to me,
Which the eyes of love do see?
Or the beauties of that mind
Which her body hath enshrined?
Makes your memories retain
Sparks of such a baneful fire
As may kindle ill desire,
This that follows after shall
Not alone extinguish all,
But e'en make you blush with shame,
That your thoughts were so to blame.
Yet I know, when I have done,
In respect of that bright sun
Whose inestimable light
I would blazon to your sight,
These ensuing flashes are
As to Cynthia's beams a star;
Or a petty comet's ray,
To the glorious eye of day.
For what power of words or art
Can her worth at full impart?
109
Plac'd within the senses' bound,
That can paint those sweets to me,
Which the eyes of love do see?
Or the beauties of that mind
Which her body hath enshrined?
Can I think the Guide of Heaven
Hath so bountifully given
Outward features, cause He meant
To have made less excellent
Her divine part? Or suppose
Beauty goodness doth oppose,
Like those fools who do despair
To find any good and fair?
Rather there I seek a mind
Most excelling, where I find
God hath to the body lent
Most beseeming ornament.
But, though he that did inspire
First the true Promethean fire,
In each several soul did place
Equal excellence and grace,
As some think, yet have not they
Equal beauties every way.
For they more or less appear
As the outward organs are:
Following much the temp'rature
Of the body, gross or pure.
And I do believe it true,
That, as we the body view
Nearer to perfection grow,
So the soul herself doth show
Others more and more excelling
In her power, as in her dwelling.
For that pureness giveth way,
Better to disclose each ray
To the dull conceit of man,
Than a grosser substance can.
Thus, through spotless crystal, we
May the day's full glory see;
When, if clearest sunbeams pass
Through a foul polluted glass,
So discolour'd they'll appear,
As those stains they shone through were.
Hath so bountifully given
Outward features, cause He meant
To have made less excellent
Her divine part? Or suppose
Beauty goodness doth oppose,
Like those fools who do despair
To find any good and fair?
Rather there I seek a mind
Most excelling, where I find
God hath to the body lent
Most beseeming ornament.
But, though he that did inspire
First the true Promethean fire,
In each several soul did place
Equal excellence and grace,
As some think, yet have not they
Equal beauties every way.
For they more or less appear
As the outward organs are:
Following much the temp'rature
Of the body, gross or pure.
And I do believe it true,
That, as we the body view
Nearer to perfection grow,
110
Others more and more excelling
In her power, as in her dwelling.
For that pureness giveth way,
Better to disclose each ray
To the dull conceit of man,
Than a grosser substance can.
Thus, through spotless crystal, we
May the day's full glory see;
When, if clearest sunbeams pass
Through a foul polluted glass,
So discolour'd they'll appear,
As those stains they shone through were.
Let no critic cavil then,
If I dare affirm again
That her mind's perfections are
Fairer than her body's far;
And I need not prove it by
Axioms of philosophy,
Since no proof can better be
Than their rare effect in me.
For, while other men complaining,
Tell their mistresses' disdaining,
Free from care I write a story
Only of her worth and glory.
If I dare affirm again
That her mind's perfections are
Fairer than her body's far;
And I need not prove it by
Axioms of philosophy,
Since no proof can better be
Than their rare effect in me.
For, while other men complaining,
Tell their mistresses' disdaining,
Free from care I write a story
Only of her worth and glory.
While most lovers pining sit,
Robb'd of liberty and wit,
Vassaling themselves with shame
To some proud imperious dame,
Or in songs their fate bewailing,
Show the world their faithless failing,
I, enwreath'd with boughs of myrtle,
Fare like the beloved turtle.
Robb'd of liberty and wit,
Vassaling themselves with shame
To some proud imperious dame,
Or in songs their fate bewailing,
Show the world their faithless failing,
111
Fare like the beloved turtle.
Yea, while most are most untoward,
Peevish, vain, inconstant, froward,
While their best contentments bring
Nought but after-sorrowing,
She those childish humours slighting
Hath conditions so delighting,
And doth so my bliss endeavour,
As my joy increaseth ever.
Peevish, vain, inconstant, froward,
While their best contentments bring
Nought but after-sorrowing,
She those childish humours slighting
Hath conditions so delighting,
And doth so my bliss endeavour,
As my joy increaseth ever.
By her actions I can see
That her passions so agree
Unto reason, as they err
Seldom to distemper her.
That her passions so agree
Unto reason, as they err
Seldom to distemper her.
Love she can, and doth, but so
As she will not overthrow
Love's content by any folly,
Or by deeds that are unholy.
Dotingly she ne'er affects;
Neither willingly neglects
Honest love; but means doth find
With discretion to be kind.
'Tis nor thund'ring phrase, nor oaths,
Honours, wealth, nor painted clothes,
That can her good liking gain,
If no other worth remain.
As she will not overthrow
Love's content by any folly,
Or by deeds that are unholy.
Dotingly she ne'er affects;
Neither willingly neglects
Honest love; but means doth find
With discretion to be kind.
'Tis nor thund'ring phrase, nor oaths,
Honours, wealth, nor painted clothes,
That can her good liking gain,
If no other worth remain.
Never took her heart delight
In your court-hermaphrodite,
Or such frothy gallants as
For the time's heroës pass,
Such who, still in love, do all
Fair, and sweet, and lady call,
And where'er they hap to stray,
Either prate the rest away,
Or of all discourse to seek
Shuffle in at cent or gleek.
In your court-hermaphrodite,
Or such frothy gallants as
For the time's heroës pass,
Such who, still in love, do all
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And where'er they hap to stray,
Either prate the rest away,
Or of all discourse to seek
Shuffle in at cent or gleek.
Goodness more delights her than
All their mask of folly can.
Fond she hateth to appear,
Though she hold her friend as dear
As her part of life unspent,
Or the best of her content.
All their mask of folly can.
Fond she hateth to appear,
Though she hold her friend as dear
As her part of life unspent,
Or the best of her content.
If the heat of youthful fires
Warm her blood with those desires
Which are by the course of nature
Stirred in every perfect creature,
As those passions kindle, so
Doth Heaven's grace and reason grow
Abler to suppress in her
Those rebellions, and they stir
Never more affection then
One good thought allays again.
Warm her blood with those desires
Which are by the course of nature
Stirred in every perfect creature,
As those passions kindle, so
Doth Heaven's grace and reason grow
Abler to suppress in her
Those rebellions, and they stir
Never more affection then
One good thought allays again.
I could say so chaste is she
As the new-blown roses be;
Or the drifts of snow that none
Ever touch'd or look'd upon.
But that were not worth a fly,
Seeing so much chastity
Old Pygmalion's picture had:
Yea, those eunuchs, born or made
Ne'er to know desire, might say
She deserv'd no more than they;
Whereas, whilst their worth proceeds
From such wants as they must needs
Be unmov'd, 'cause nature framed
No affections to be tamed,
Through her dainty limbs are spread
Vigour, heat, and freely shed
Life-blood into every vein,
Till they fill and swell again:
And no doubt they strive to force
Way in some forbidden course,
Which by grace she still resists,
And so curbs within their lists
Those desires, that she is chaster
Than if she had none to master.
As the new-blown roses be;
Or the drifts of snow that none
Ever touch'd or look'd upon.
But that were not worth a fly,
Seeing so much chastity
Old Pygmalion's picture had:
Yea, those eunuchs, born or made
Ne'er to know desire, might say
She deserv'd no more than they;
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From such wants as they must needs
Be unmov'd, 'cause nature framed
No affections to be tamed,
Through her dainty limbs are spread
Vigour, heat, and freely shed
Life-blood into every vein,
Till they fill and swell again:
And no doubt they strive to force
Way in some forbidden course,
Which by grace she still resists,
And so curbs within their lists
Those desires, that she is chaster
Than if she had none to master.
Malice never lets she in,
Neither hates she ought but sin.
Envy if she could admit,
There's no means to nourish it,
For her gentle heart is pleased
When she knows another's eased:
And there's none who ever got
That perfection she hath not.
So that no cause is there why
She should any one envy.
Neither hates she ought but sin.
Envy if she could admit,
There's no means to nourish it,
For her gentle heart is pleased
When she knows another's eased:
And there's none who ever got
That perfection she hath not.
So that no cause is there why
She should any one envy.
Mildly angry she'll appear,
That the baser rout may fear
Through presumption to misdo:
Yet she often feigns that too.
But let wrong be whatsoever,
She gives way to choler never.
That the baser rout may fear
Through presumption to misdo:
Yet she often feigns that too.
But let wrong be whatsoever,
She gives way to choler never.
If she e'er of vengeance thought
'Twas nor life nor blood was sought,
But, at most, some prayer to move
Justice for abused love,
Or that fate would pay again
Love's neglectors with disdain.
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But, at most, some prayer to move
Justice for abused love,
Or that fate would pay again
Love's neglectors with disdain.
If she ever crav'd of fate
To obtain a higher state,
Or ambitiously were given,
Sure, 'twas but to climb to heaven.
Pride is from her heart as far
As the poles in distance are.
For her worth, nor all this praise,
Can her humble spirit raise
Less to prize me than before,
Or herself to value more.
To obtain a higher state,
Or ambitiously were given,
Sure, 'twas but to climb to heaven.
Pride is from her heart as far
As the poles in distance are.
For her worth, nor all this praise,
Can her humble spirit raise
Less to prize me than before,
Or herself to value more.
Were she vain, she might allege
'Twere her sex's privilege.
But she's such as doubtless no man
Knows less folly in a woman.
'Twere her sex's privilege.
But she's such as doubtless no man
Knows less folly in a woman.
To prevent a being idle,
Sometime, with her curious needle,
Though it be her meanest glory,
She so limns an antique story,
As Minerva, would she take it,
Might her richest sample make it.
Sometime, with her curious needle,
Though it be her meanest glory,
She so limns an antique story,
As Minerva, would she take it,
Might her richest sample make it.
Otherwhile, again, she rather
Labours with delight to gather
Knowledge from such learned writs
As are left by famous wits,
Where she chiefly seeks to know
God, herself, and what we owe
To our neighbour, since with these
Come all needful knowledges.
Labours with delight to gather
Knowledge from such learned writs
As are left by famous wits,
Where she chiefly seeks to know
God, herself, and what we owe
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Come all needful knowledges.
She, with Adam, never will
Long to learn both good and ill;
But her state well understood,
Rests herself content with good.
Long to learn both good and ill;
But her state well understood,
Rests herself content with good.
Avarice abhorreth she
As the loathsom'st things that be;
Since she knows it is an ill
That doth ripest virtue kill,
And, where'er it comes to rest,
Though in some strict matron's breast,
Be she ne'er so seeming just,
I'll no shows of goodness trust.
For, if you but gold can bring,
Such are hired to any thing.
As the loathsom'st things that be;
Since she knows it is an ill
That doth ripest virtue kill,
And, where'er it comes to rest,
Though in some strict matron's breast,
Be she ne'er so seeming just,
I'll no shows of goodness trust.
For, if you but gold can bring,
Such are hired to any thing.
If you think she jealous be,
You are wide, for credit me,
Her strong'st jealousies nought are
Other than an honest care
Of her friends; and most can tell
Whoso wants that, loves not well.
You are wide, for credit me,
Her strong'st jealousies nought are
Other than an honest care
Of her friends; and most can tell
Whoso wants that, loves not well.
Though some little fear she shows,
'Tis no more than love allows:
So the passion do not move her
Till she grieve or wrong her lover.
She may think he may do ill,
Though she'll not believe he will:
Nor can such a harmless thought
Blemish true affection ought;
Rather, whenas else it would
Through security grow cold,
This her passion, keeping measure,
Strengthens love and sweetens pleasure.
'Tis no more than love allows:
So the passion do not move her
Till she grieve or wrong her lover.
She may think he may do ill,
Though she'll not believe he will:
Nor can such a harmless thought
Blemish true affection ought;
Rather, whenas else it would
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This her passion, keeping measure,
Strengthens love and sweetens pleasure.
Cruelty her soul detests,
For within her bosom rests
Noblest pity, usher'd by
An unequall'd courtesy,
And is griev'd at good men's moan
As the grief were all her own.
For within her bosom rests
Noblest pity, usher'd by
An unequall'd courtesy,
And is griev'd at good men's moan
As the grief were all her own.
Just she is; so just, that I
Know she would not wrong a fly,
Or oppress the meanest thing
To be mistress to a king.
Know she would not wrong a fly,
Or oppress the meanest thing
To be mistress to a king.
If our painters would include
Temperance and Fortitude
In one picture, she would fit
For the nonce to pattern it.
Patient as the lamb is she,
Harmless as the turtles be;
Yea, so largely stor'd with all
Which we mortals goodness call,
That if ever virtue were,
Or may be, incarnate here,
This is she, whose praises I
Offer to eternity.
Temperance and Fortitude
In one picture, she would fit
For the nonce to pattern it.
Patient as the lamb is she,
Harmless as the turtles be;
Yea, so largely stor'd with all
Which we mortals goodness call,
That if ever virtue were,
Or may be, incarnate here,
This is she, whose praises I
Offer to eternity.
She's no image trimmed about,
Fair within and foul without,
But a gem that doth appear
Like the diamond, everywhere
Sparkling rays of beauty forth,
All of such unblemish'd worth,
That, were 't possible your eye
Might her inmost thoughts espy,
And behold the dimmest part
Of the lustre in her heart,
It would find that centre pass
What the superficies was.
And that every angle there
Like a diamond's inside were.
Fair within and foul without,
But a gem that doth appear
Like the diamond, everywhere
Sparkling rays of beauty forth,
All of such unblemish'd worth,
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Might her inmost thoughts espy,
And behold the dimmest part
Of the lustre in her heart,
It would find that centre pass
What the superficies was.
And that every angle there
Like a diamond's inside were.
For, although that excellence
Pass the piercing'st eye of sense,
By their operations we
Guess at things that hidden be.
So, beyond our common reach,
Wise men can by reason teach
What the influences been
Of a planet when unseen,
Or the beauty of a star
That doth shine above us far.
So, by that wide-beaming light
Wherewith Titan courts our sight,
By his clothing of the earth,
By the woundrous, various birth
Of new creatures yearly bred
Through his heat, and nourished,
And by many virtues moe,
Which our senses reach unto,
We conclude they are not all
Which make fair that goodly ball.
Pass the piercing'st eye of sense,
By their operations we
Guess at things that hidden be.
So, beyond our common reach,
Wise men can by reason teach
What the influences been
Of a planet when unseen,
Or the beauty of a star
That doth shine above us far.
So, by that wide-beaming light
Wherewith Titan courts our sight,
By his clothing of the earth,
By the woundrous, various birth
Of new creatures yearly bred
Through his heat, and nourished,
And by many virtues moe,
Which our senses reach unto,
We conclude they are not all
Which make fair that goodly ball.
Though she prize her honour more
Than the far-fetched precious store
Of the rich Molucchi, or
All the wealth was traffick'd for,
Since our vessels passage knew
Unto Mexico, Peru,
Or those spacious kingdoms which
Make the proud Iberians rich,
'Tis not that uncertain blast
Keeps my mistress good or chaste.
She that but for honour's sake
Doth of ill a conscience make,
More in fear what rumour says,
Than in love to virtuous ways;
Though she seem'd more civil than
You have seen a courtesan
For an honour, and cries, oh, fie!
At each show of vanity;
Though she censure all that be
Not so foolish coy as she;
Though she with the Roman dame
Kill herself to purchase fame;
She would prostitute become
To the meanest, basest groom,
If so closely they may do it
As the world should never know it.
Than the far-fetched precious store
Of the rich Molucchi, or
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Since our vessels passage knew
Unto Mexico, Peru,
Or those spacious kingdoms which
Make the proud Iberians rich,
'Tis not that uncertain blast
Keeps my mistress good or chaste.
She that but for honour's sake
Doth of ill a conscience make,
More in fear what rumour says,
Than in love to virtuous ways;
Though she seem'd more civil than
You have seen a courtesan
For an honour, and cries, oh, fie!
At each show of vanity;
Though she censure all that be
Not so foolish coy as she;
Though she with the Roman dame
Kill herself to purchase fame;
She would prostitute become
To the meanest, basest groom,
If so closely they may do it
As the world should never know it.
So at best those women prove
That for honour virtue love.
Give me her that goodness chooseth
For its own sake, and refuseth
To have greatest honours gain'd
With her secret conscience stain'd.
Give me her that would be poor,
Die disgrac'd, nay, thought a whore,
And each time's reproach become,
Till the general day of doom,
Rather than consent to act
Pleasing sin, though by the fact,
With esteem of virtuous, she
Might the German Empress be.
Such my mistress is, and nought
Shall have power to change her thought;
Pleasures cannot tempt her eye
On their baits to glance awry,
For their good she still esteems
As it is, not as it seems,
And she takes no comfort in
Sweetest pleasure sour'd with sin.
That for honour virtue love.
Give me her that goodness chooseth
For its own sake, and refuseth
To have greatest honours gain'd
With her secret conscience stain'd.
Give me her that would be poor,
Die disgrac'd, nay, thought a whore,
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Till the general day of doom,
Rather than consent to act
Pleasing sin, though by the fact,
With esteem of virtuous, she
Might the German Empress be.
Such my mistress is, and nought
Shall have power to change her thought;
Pleasures cannot tempt her eye
On their baits to glance awry,
For their good she still esteems
As it is, not as it seems,
And she takes no comfort in
Sweetest pleasure sour'd with sin.
By herself she hath such care,
That her actions decent are.
For, were she in secret hid,
None might see her what she did,
She would do as if for spies
Every wall were stuck with eyes,
And be chary of her honour
'Cause the heavens do look upon her.
And oh, what had power to move
Flames of lust, or wanton love,
So far to disparage us,
If we all were minded thus?
These are beauties that shall last
When the crimson blood shall waste,
And the shining hair wax grey,
Or with age be worn away.
These yield pleasures such as might
Be remembered with delight,
When we gasp our latest breath
On the loathed bed of death.
That her actions decent are.
For, were she in secret hid,
None might see her what she did,
She would do as if for spies
Every wall were stuck with eyes,
And be chary of her honour
'Cause the heavens do look upon her.
And oh, what had power to move
Flames of lust, or wanton love,
So far to disparage us,
If we all were minded thus?
These are beauties that shall last
When the crimson blood shall waste,
And the shining hair wax grey,
Or with age be worn away.
These yield pleasures such as might
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When we gasp our latest breath
On the loathed bed of death.
Though discreetly speak she can,
She'll be silent rather than
Talk while others may be heard,
As if she did hate or fear'd
Their condition who will force
All to wait on their discourse.
Reason hath on her bestow'd
More of knowledge than she ow'd
To that sex, and grace with it
Doth aright her practice fit.
She'll be silent rather than
Talk while others may be heard,
As if she did hate or fear'd
Their condition who will force
All to wait on their discourse.
Reason hath on her bestow'd
More of knowledge than she ow'd
To that sex, and grace with it
Doth aright her practice fit.
Yet hath fate so framed her,
As she may at sometime err:
But if e'er her judgment stray,
'Tis that other women may
Those much pleasing beauties see
Which in yielding natures be.
For since no perfection can
Here on earth be found in man,
There's more good in free submissions
Than there's ill in our transgressions.
Should you hear her once contend,
In discoursing, to defend,
As she can, a doubtful cause,
She such strong positions draws
From known truths, and doth apply
Reasons with such majesty,
As if she did undertake
From some oracle to speak:
And you could not think what might
Breed more love or more delight.
As she may at sometime err:
But if e'er her judgment stray,
'Tis that other women may
Those much pleasing beauties see
Which in yielding natures be.
For since no perfection can
Here on earth be found in man,
There's more good in free submissions
Than there's ill in our transgressions.
Should you hear her once contend,
In discoursing, to defend,
As she can, a doubtful cause,
She such strong positions draws
From known truths, and doth apply
Reasons with such majesty,
As if she did undertake
From some oracle to speak:
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Breed more love or more delight.
Yet, if you should mark again
Her discreet behaviour when
She finds reason to repent
Some wrong-pleaded argument,
She so temperately lets all
Her mis-held opinions fall,
And can with such mildness bow,
As 'twill more enamour you
Than her knowledge: for there are
Pleasing sweets without compare
In such yieldings, which do prove
Wit, humility, and love.
Yea, by those mistakings you
Her condition so shall know,
And the nature of her mind
So undoubtedly shall find,
As will make her more endear'd
Than if she had never err'd.
Her discreet behaviour when
She finds reason to repent
Some wrong-pleaded argument,
She so temperately lets all
Her mis-held opinions fall,
And can with such mildness bow,
As 'twill more enamour you
Than her knowledge: for there are
Pleasing sweets without compare
In such yieldings, which do prove
Wit, humility, and love.
Yea, by those mistakings you
Her condition so shall know,
And the nature of her mind
So undoubtedly shall find,
As will make her more endear'd
Than if she had never err'd.
Farther, that she nought may miss
Which worth praise in woman is,
This unto the rest I add:
If I wound or sickness had,
None should for my curing run,
No, not to Apollo's son;
She so well the virtue knows,
Of each needful herb that grows,
And so fitly can apply
Salves to every malady,
That if she no succour gave me,
'Twere no means of art could save me.
Which worth praise in woman is,
This unto the rest I add:
If I wound or sickness had,
None should for my curing run,
No, not to Apollo's son;
She so well the virtue knows,
Of each needful herb that grows,
And so fitly can apply
Salves to every malady,
That if she no succour gave me,
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Should my soul oppressed lie,
Sunk with grief and sorrow nigh,
She hath balm for minds distrest,
And could ease my pained breast.
She so well knows how to season
Passionate discourse with reason,
And knows how to sweeten it,
Both with so much love and wit,
That it shall prepare the sense
To give way with less offence.
For griev'd minds can ill abide
Counsel churlishly applied,
Which, instead of comfortings,
Desperation often brings.
Sunk with grief and sorrow nigh,
She hath balm for minds distrest,
And could ease my pained breast.
She so well knows how to season
Passionate discourse with reason,
And knows how to sweeten it,
Both with so much love and wit,
That it shall prepare the sense
To give way with less offence.
For griev'd minds can ill abide
Counsel churlishly applied,
Which, instead of comfortings,
Desperation often brings.
But hark, nymphs, methinks I hear
Music sounding in mine ear.
'Tis a lute, and he's the best
For a voice in all the west
That doth touch it. And the swain
I would have you hear so fain,
That my song forbear will I,
To attend his melody.
Music sounding in mine ear.
'Tis a lute, and he's the best
For a voice in all the west
That doth touch it. And the swain
I would have you hear so fain,
That my song forbear will I,
To attend his melody.
Hither comes he day by day,
In these groves to sing and play.
And in yon close arbour he
Sitteth now, expecting me.
He so bashful is, that mute
Will his tongue be, and his lute,
Should he happen to espy
This unlook'd-for company.
In these groves to sing and play.
And in yon close arbour he
Sitteth now, expecting me.
He so bashful is, that mute
Will his tongue be, and his lute,
Should he happen to espy
This unlook'd-for company.
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If you, therefore, list to hear him,
Let's with silence walk more near him.
'Twill be worth your pains, believe me,
If a voice content may give ye,
And await you shall not long,
For he now begins a song.
Let's with silence walk more near him.
'Twill be worth your pains, believe me,
If a voice content may give ye,
And await you shall not long,
For he now begins a song.
SONNET 1.
What is the cause, when elsewhere I resort,I have my gestures and discourse more free?
And, if I please, can any beauty court,
Yet stand so dull and so demure by thee?
Why are my speeches broken whilst I talk?
Why do I fear almost thy hand to touch?
Why dare I not embrace thee as we walk,
Since with the greatest nymphs I've dared as much?
Ah! know that none of those I e'er affected,
And therefore used a careless courtship there,
Because I neither their disdain respected,
Nor reckoned them or their embraces dear.
But, loving thee, my love hath found content
And rich delights in things indifferent.
SONNET 2.
Why covet I thy blessed eyes to see,Whose sweet aspect may cheer the saddest mind?
Why, when our bodies must divided be,
Can I no hour of rest or pleasure find?
Why do I sleeping start, and waking moan,
To find that of my dreamed hopes I miss?
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Of such a thing as thy perfection is?
And wherefore, when we meet, doth passion stop
My speechless tongue, and leave me in a panting?
Why doth my heart, o'ercharged with fear and hope,
In spite of reason, almost droop to fainting?
Because in me thy excellences moving
Have drawn me to an excellence in loving.
SONNET 3.
Fair, since thy virtues my affections move,And I have vow'd my purpose is to join
In an eternal band of chastest love
Our souls, to make a marriage most divine.
Why, thou may'st think, then seemeth he to prize
An outward beauty's fading hue so much?
Why doth he read such lectures in mine eyes?
And often strive my tender palm to touch?
Oh, pardon my presuming; for I swear
My love is soiled with no lustful spot:
Thy soul's perfections through those veils appear,
And I half faint that I embrace them not.
No foul desires doth make thy touches sweet:
But my soul striveth with thy soul to meet.
SONNET 4.
Shall I wasting in despair
Die because a woman's fair?
Or make pale my cheeks with care
'Cause another's rosy are?
Be she fairer than the day,
Or the flowery meads in May,
If she be not so to me
What care I how fair she be?
Die because a woman's fair?
Or make pale my cheeks with care
'Cause another's rosy are?
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Or the flowery meads in May,
If she be not so to me
What care I how fair she be?
Should my heart be griev'd or pin'd
'Cause I see a woman kind?
Or a well-disposed nature
Joined with a lovely feature?
Be she meeker, kinder than
Turtle-dove or pelican,
If she be not so [to] me
What care I how kind she be?
'Cause I see a woman kind?
Or a well-disposed nature
Joined with a lovely feature?
Be she meeker, kinder than
Turtle-dove or pelican,
If she be not so [to] me
What care I how kind she be?
Shall a woman's virtues move
Me to perish for her love?
Or her well-deserving known,
Make me quite forget mine own?
Be she with that goodness blest
Which may gain her name of best,
If she be not such to me
What care I how good she be?
Me to perish for her love?
Or her well-deserving known,
Make me quite forget mine own?
Be she with that goodness blest
Which may gain her name of best,
If she be not such to me
What care I how good she be?
'Cause her fortune seems too high,
Shall I play the fool and die?
Those that bear a noble mind,
Where they want of riches find
Think what with them they would do
That without them dare to woo.
And unless that mind I see
What care I though great she be?
Shall I play the fool and die?
Those that bear a noble mind,
Where they want of riches find
Think what with them they would do
That without them dare to woo.
And unless that mind I see
What care I though great she be?
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Great, or good, or kind, or fair,
I will ne'er the more despair;
If she love me, this believe,
I will die ere she shall grieve.
If she slight me when I woo
I can scorn and let her go,
For if she be not for me
What care I for whom she be?
I will ne'er the more despair;
If she love me, this believe,
I will die ere she shall grieve.
If she slight me when I woo
I can scorn and let her go,
For if she be not for me
What care I for whom she be?
SONNET 5.
I wandered out a while agone,
And went I know not whither:
But there do beauties many a one
Resort and meet together.
And Cupid's power will there be shown
If ever you come thither.
And went I know not whither:
But there do beauties many a one
Resort and meet together.
And Cupid's power will there be shown
If ever you come thither.
For like two suns, two beauties bright
I shining saw together,
And tempted by their double light
My eyes I fix'd on either;
Till both at once so thrall'd my sight,
I lov'd, and knew not whether.
I shining saw together,
And tempted by their double light
My eyes I fix'd on either;
Till both at once so thrall'd my sight,
I lov'd, and knew not whether.
Such equal sweet Venus gave,
That I preferr'd not either,
And when for love I thought to crave
I knew not well of whether.
For one while this I wish'd to have,
And then I that had liefer.
That I preferr'd not either,
And when for love I thought to crave
I knew not well of whether.
For one while this I wish'd to have,
And then I that had liefer.
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A lover of the curious't eye
Might have been pleas'd in either,
And so, I must confess, might I,
Had they not been together.
Now both must love or both deny,
In one enjoy I neither.
Might have been pleas'd in either,
And so, I must confess, might I,
Had they not been together.
Now both must love or both deny,
In one enjoy I neither.
But yet at last I 'scap'd the smart
I fear'd at coming hither;
For seeing my divided heart,
I choosing, knew not whether,
Love angry grew, and did depart,
And now I care for neither.
I fear'd at coming hither;
For seeing my divided heart,
I choosing, knew not whether,
Love angry grew, and did depart,
And now I care for neither.
See, these trees so ill did hide us,
That the shepherd hath espied us,
And, as jealous of his cunning,
All in haste away is running.
To entreat him back again
Would be labour spent in vain.
You may therefore now betake ye
To the music I can make ye,
Who do purpose my invention,
Shall pursue my first intention.
That the shepherd hath espied us,
And, as jealous of his cunning,
All in haste away is running.
To entreat him back again
Would be labour spent in vain.
You may therefore now betake ye
To the music I can make ye,
Who do purpose my invention,
Shall pursue my first intention.
For in her whose worth I tell
Many excellences dwell
Yet unmention'd, whose perfections
Worthy are of best affections.
Many excellences dwell
Yet unmention'd, whose perfections
Worthy are of best affections.
That which is so rare to find,
Both in man and womankind,
That, whose absence love defaceth,
And both sexes more disgraceth
Than the spite of furrow'd age,
Sicknesses, or sorrow's rage,
That's the jewel so divine
Which doth on her forehead shine,
And therewith endow'd is she
In an excellent degree:
Constancy, I mean, the purest
Of all beauties, and the surest;
For whoe'er doth that profess,
Hath an endless loveliness.
Both in man and womankind,
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And both sexes more disgraceth
Than the spite of furrow'd age,
Sicknesses, or sorrow's rage,
That's the jewel so divine
Which doth on her forehead shine,
And therewith endow'd is she
In an excellent degree:
Constancy, I mean, the purest
Of all beauties, and the surest;
For whoe'er doth that profess,
Hath an endless loveliness.
All afflictions, labours, crosses,
All our dangers, wounds, and losses,
Games of pleasure we can make
For that matchless woman's sake,
In whose breast that virtue bideth;
And we joy whate'er betideth.
All our dangers, wounds, and losses,
Games of pleasure we can make
For that matchless woman's sake,
In whose breast that virtue bideth;
And we joy whate'er betideth.
Most dejected hearts it gladdeth,
Twenty thousand glories addeth
Unto beauty's brightest ray,
And preserves it from decay;
'Tis the salt that's made to season
Beauty for the use of reason;
'Tis the varnish, and the oiling,
Keeps her colours fresh from spoiling;
'Tis an excellence whereby
Age, though join'd with poverty,
Hath more dear affection won
Than fresh youth and wealth have done;
'Tis a loveliness endearing
Beauties scarce worth note appearing;
Whilst a fairer fickle dame
Nothing gains but scorn and shame.
Twenty thousand glories addeth
Unto beauty's brightest ray,
And preserves it from decay;
'Tis the salt that's made to season
Beauty for the use of reason;
'Tis the varnish, and the oiling,
Keeps her colours fresh from spoiling;
'Tis an excellence whereby
Age, though join'd with poverty,
Hath more dear affection won
Than fresh youth and wealth have done;
'Tis a loveliness endearing
129
Whilst a fairer fickle dame
Nothing gains but scorn and shame.
Further, 'tis a beauty such
As I cannot praise too much,
Nor frame measures to express,
No, nor any man, unless
He who more than all men crost
Finds it in that woman lost,
On whose faith he would have pawn'd
Life, and all he could command.
Such a man may by that miss
Make us know how dear it is,
When, o'ercharg'd with grief, he shall
Sigh, and break his heart withal.
As I cannot praise too much,
Nor frame measures to express,
No, nor any man, unless
He who more than all men crost
Finds it in that woman lost,
On whose faith he would have pawn'd
Life, and all he could command.
Such a man may by that miss
Make us know how dear it is,
When, o'ercharg'd with grief, he shall
Sigh, and break his heart withal.
This is that perfection which
In her favour makes me rich.
All whose beauties, named before,
Else would but torment me more;
And in having this, I find,
Whate'er haps, a quiet mind.
Yea, 'tis that which I do prize
Far above her lips, her eyes,
Or that general beauty whence
Shines each several excellence.
In her favour makes me rich.
All whose beauties, named before,
Else would but torment me more;
And in having this, I find,
Whate'er haps, a quiet mind.
Yea, 'tis that which I do prize
Far above her lips, her eyes,
Or that general beauty whence
Shines each several excellence.
For, alas! what gain'd hath he
Who may clip the fairest she
That the name of woman bears,
If, unhappily, he fears
Any other's worth may win
What he thought his own had bin?
Him base-minded deem I should,
Who, although he were in hold,
Wrapp'd in chains, would not disdain
Love with her to entertain
That both daughter to a peer,
And most rich and lovely were,
When a brainless gull shall dare
In her favours with him share,
Or the action of a player
Rob him of a hope so fair.
Who may clip the fairest she
That the name of woman bears,
If, unhappily, he fears
Any other's worth may win
What he thought his own had bin?
130
Who, although he were in hold,
Wrapp'd in chains, would not disdain
Love with her to entertain
That both daughter to a peer,
And most rich and lovely were,
When a brainless gull shall dare
In her favours with him share,
Or the action of a player
Rob him of a hope so fair.
This I dread not: for I know
Strained gestures, painted show,
Shameless boastings, borrow'd jests,
Female looks, gay-plumed crests,
Vows nor protestations vain,
Wherewith fools are made so vain,
Move her can, save to contemn,
Or, perhaps, to laugh at them.
Strained gestures, painted show,
Shameless boastings, borrow'd jests,
Female looks, gay-plumed crests,
Vows nor protestations vain,
Wherewith fools are made so vain,
Move her can, save to contemn,
Or, perhaps, to laugh at them.
Neither can I doubt or fear
Time shall either change or wear
This her virtue, or impair
That which makes her soul so fair:
In which trust great comforts are,
Which the fear of loss would mar.
Time shall either change or wear
This her virtue, or impair
That which makes her soul so fair:
In which trust great comforts are,
Which the fear of loss would mar.
Nor hath this my rare hope stood
So much in her being good,
With her love to blessed things,
As in her acknowledgings
From a higher Power to have them,
And her love to Him that gave them.
For, although to have a mind
Naturally to good inclin'd,
And to love it, would assure
Reason that it might endure,
Yet, since man was first unjust,
There's no warrant for such trust.
Virtues that most wonder win,
Would converted be to sin,
If their flourishings began
From no better root than man.
Our best virtues, when they are
Of themselves, we may compare
To the beauty of a flower
That is blasted in an hour,
And which, growing to be fuller,
Turns into some loathed colour.
But those being freely given
And confirm'd in us from heaven,
Have a promise on them past,
And for evermore shall last,
Diamond-like, their lustre clearing
More and more by use and wearing.
So much in her being good,
With her love to blessed things,
As in her acknowledgings
From a higher Power to have them,
And her love to Him that gave them.
For, although to have a mind
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And to love it, would assure
Reason that it might endure,
Yet, since man was first unjust,
There's no warrant for such trust.
Virtues that most wonder win,
Would converted be to sin,
If their flourishings began
From no better root than man.
Our best virtues, when they are
Of themselves, we may compare
To the beauty of a flower
That is blasted in an hour,
And which, growing to be fuller,
Turns into some loathed colour.
But those being freely given
And confirm'd in us from heaven,
Have a promise on them past,
And for evermore shall last,
Diamond-like, their lustre clearing
More and more by use and wearing.
But if this rare worth I praise
Should by Fate's permission raise
Passions in some gentle breast
That distemper may his rest,
And be author of such treason
As might nigh endanger reason,
Or enforce his tongue to crave
What another man must have,
Mark, in such a strait as this,
How discreet her dealing is.
She is nothing of their humours
Who their honour build on rumours,
And had rather private sporting
Than allow of open courting;
Nor of theirs that would seem holy
By divulging others' folly:
Further is she from their guise,
That delight to tyrannize,
Or make boastings in espying
Others for their favours dying.
Should by Fate's permission raise
Passions in some gentle breast
That distemper may his rest,
And be author of such treason
As might nigh endanger reason,
Or enforce his tongue to crave
What another man must have,
Mark, in such a strait as this,
How discreet her dealing is.
132
Who their honour build on rumours,
And had rather private sporting
Than allow of open courting;
Nor of theirs that would seem holy
By divulging others' folly:
Further is she from their guise,
That delight to tyrannize,
Or make boastings in espying
Others for their favours dying.
She a spirit doth possess
So replete with nobleness,
That, if she be there beloved
Where she ought not to be moved
Equally to love again,
She doth so well entertain
That affection, as there's none
Can suppose it ill bestown.
So replete with nobleness,
That, if she be there beloved
Where she ought not to be moved
Equally to love again,
She doth so well entertain
That affection, as there's none
Can suppose it ill bestown.
From deluding she is free;
From disdain as far is she;
And so feelingly bears part
Of what pains another's heart,
That no curse of scorned duty
Shall draw vengeance on her beauty.
Rather, with so tender fear
Of her honour and their care
She is touch'd, that neither shall
Wrong unto herself befall,
By the favour she doth show,
Nor will she neglect them so
As may just occasion give
Any way to make them grieve.
From disdain as far is she;
And so feelingly bears part
Of what pains another's heart,
That no curse of scorned duty
Shall draw vengeance on her beauty.
Rather, with so tender fear
Of her honour and their care
She is touch'd, that neither shall
Wrong unto herself befall,
By the favour she doth show,
Nor will she neglect them so
As may just occasion give
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Hope she will not let them see,
Lest they should presuming be,
And aspire to that which none
Ever must enjoy but one.
From despair she keeps them too,
Fearing they might hap to do,
Either through love's indiscretions
Or much over-stirred passions,
What might with their hurt and shame
Into question call her name,
And a scandal on her bring
Who is just in everything.
She hath mark'd how others run,
And by them hath learn'd to shun
Both their fault who, overwise,
Err by being too precise;
And their folly that, o'erkind,
Are to all complaints inclin'd.
For her wit hath found the way
How awhile to hold them play;
And that inconvenience shun
Whereinto both seem to run,
By allowing them a scope
Just bewixt despair and hope.
Where confin'd, and reaching neither,
They do take a part in either,
Till, long living in suspense,
Tired by her indifference,
Time at last their passion wears;
Passions wearing, reason clears;
Reason gives their judgment light;
Judgment bringeth all to right.
So their hope appearing vain,
They become themselves again,
And with high applauses, fit
For such virtue with such wit,
They that service only proffer
She may take and they may offer.
Lest they should presuming be,
And aspire to that which none
Ever must enjoy but one.
From despair she keeps them too,
Fearing they might hap to do,
Either through love's indiscretions
Or much over-stirred passions,
What might with their hurt and shame
Into question call her name,
And a scandal on her bring
Who is just in everything.
She hath mark'd how others run,
And by them hath learn'd to shun
Both their fault who, overwise,
Err by being too precise;
And their folly that, o'erkind,
Are to all complaints inclin'd.
For her wit hath found the way
How awhile to hold them play;
And that inconvenience shun
Whereinto both seem to run,
By allowing them a scope
Just bewixt despair and hope.
Where confin'd, and reaching neither,
They do take a part in either,
Till, long living in suspense,
Tired by her indifference,
Time at last their passion wears;
Passions wearing, reason clears;
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Judgment bringeth all to right.
So their hope appearing vain,
They become themselves again,
And with high applauses, fit
For such virtue with such wit,
They that service only proffer
She may take and they may offer.
Yet this course she never proves,
Save with those whose virtuous loves
Use the noblest means of gaining
Favours worthy the obtaining.
And if such should chance to err,
Either 'gainst themselves or her,
In some oversights, when they
Are through passion led astray,
She so well man's frailty knows,
With the darts that beauty throws,
As she will not adding terror
Break the heart for one poor error.
Rather, if still good they be,
Twenty remedies hath she
Gently to apply, where sense
Hath invaded reason's fence,
And, without or wound or scar,
Turns to peace a lawless war.
Save with those whose virtuous loves
Use the noblest means of gaining
Favours worthy the obtaining.
And if such should chance to err,
Either 'gainst themselves or her,
In some oversights, when they
Are through passion led astray,
She so well man's frailty knows,
With the darts that beauty throws,
As she will not adding terror
Break the heart for one poor error.
Rather, if still good they be,
Twenty remedies hath she
Gently to apply, where sense
Hath invaded reason's fence,
And, without or wound or scar,
Turns to peace a lawless war.
But to those whose baser fires
Breathe out smoke of such desires
As may dim with impure steams
Any part of beauty's beams,
She will deign no milder way
Those foul burnings to allay,
Save with such extreme neglect
As shall work her wish'd effect.
Breathe out smoke of such desires
As may dim with impure steams
Any part of beauty's beams,
She will deign no milder way
135
Save with such extreme neglect
As shall work her wish'd effect.
And to use so sharp a cure
She's not oft constrained, sure,
'Cause upon her forehead still
Goodness sits, so fear'd of ill,
That the scorn and high disdains,
Wherewithal she entertains
Those loathed glances, giveth ending
To such flamings in the tinding,
That their cooled hopes needs must
Freeze desires in heat of lust.
She's not oft constrained, sure,
'Cause upon her forehead still
Goodness sits, so fear'd of ill,
That the scorn and high disdains,
Wherewithal she entertains
Those loathed glances, giveth ending
To such flamings in the tinding,
That their cooled hopes needs must
Freeze desires in heat of lust.
'Tis a power that never lies
In the fair'st immodest eyes.
Wantons, 'tis not your sweet eyeings,
Forced passions, feigned dyings,
Gestures, temptings, tears, beguilings,
Dancings, singings, kissings, smilings,
Nor those painted sweets with which
You unwary men bewitch,
All united, nor asunder,
That can compass such a wonder,
Or to win you love prevails
Where her moving virtues fails.
In the fair'st immodest eyes.
Wantons, 'tis not your sweet eyeings,
Forced passions, feigned dyings,
Gestures, temptings, tears, beguilings,
Dancings, singings, kissings, smilings,
Nor those painted sweets with which
You unwary men bewitch,
All united, nor asunder,
That can compass such a wonder,
Or to win you love prevails
Where her moving virtues fails.
Beauties, 'tis not at all those features,
Placed in the fairest creatures,
Though their best they should discover,
That can tempt from her a lover.
'Tis not those soft snowy breasts,
Where love rock'd in pleasure rests,
And, by their continual motions,
Draweth hearts to vain devotions;
Nor the nectar that we sip
From a honey-dropping lip;
Nor those eyes whence beauty's lances
Wound the heart with wanton glances;
Nor those sought delights that lie
In love's hidden treasury,
That can liking gain where she
Will the best beloved be.
Placed in the fairest creatures,
Though their best they should discover,
That can tempt from her a lover.
'Tis not those soft snowy breasts,
Where love rock'd in pleasure rests,
136
Draweth hearts to vain devotions;
Nor the nectar that we sip
From a honey-dropping lip;
Nor those eyes whence beauty's lances
Wound the heart with wanton glances;
Nor those sought delights that lie
In love's hidden treasury,
That can liking gain where she
Will the best beloved be.
For should those who think they may
Draw my love from her away,
Bring forth all their female graces,
Wrap me in their close embraces,
Practise all the art they may,
Weep, or sing, or kiss, or pray,
And with sighs and looks come woo me,
When they soonest may undo me,
One poor thought of her would arm me
So as Circe could not harm me.
Since beside those excellences
Wherewith others please the senses,
She whom I have prized so
Yields delights for reason too,
Who could dote on thing so common
As mere outward-handsome woman?
Those half-beauties only win
Fools to let affection in;
Vulgar wits, from reason shaken,
Are with such impostures taken;
And with all their art in love,
Wantons can but wantons move.
But when unto those are join'd
Those things which adorn the mind,
None their excellences see
But they straight enthralled be.
Fools and wise men, worst and best,
Subject are to love's arrest.
For, when virtue woos a lover,
She's an unresisted mover,
That will have no kind of nay,
And in love brooks no delay.
Draw my love from her away,
Bring forth all their female graces,
Wrap me in their close embraces,
Practise all the art they may,
Weep, or sing, or kiss, or pray,
And with sighs and looks come woo me,
When they soonest may undo me,
One poor thought of her would arm me
So as Circe could not harm me.
Since beside those excellences
Wherewith others please the senses,
She whom I have prized so
Yields delights for reason too,
Who could dote on thing so common
As mere outward-handsome woman?
Those half-beauties only win
Fools to let affection in;
Vulgar wits, from reason shaken,
Are with such impostures taken;
And with all their art in love,
137
But when unto those are join'd
Those things which adorn the mind,
None their excellences see
But they straight enthralled be.
Fools and wise men, worst and best,
Subject are to love's arrest.
For, when virtue woos a lover,
She's an unresisted mover,
That will have no kind of nay,
And in love brooks no delay.
She can make the sensual wights
To restrain their appetites;
And, her beauty when they see,
Spite of vice, in love to be;
Yea, although themselves be bad,
Praise the good they never had.
She hath to her service brought
Those that her have set at nought,
And can fair enough appear
To enflame the most severe.
To restrain their appetites;
And, her beauty when they see,
Spite of vice, in love to be;
Yea, although themselves be bad,
Praise the good they never had.
She hath to her service brought
Those that her have set at nought,
And can fair enough appear
To enflame the most severe.
She hath oft allured out
The religiously devout
From their cloisters and their vows,
To embrace what she allows,
And to such contentments come,
As blind zeal had barr'd them from,
While, her laws misunderstood,
They did ill for love of good.
The religiously devout
From their cloisters and their vows,
To embrace what she allows,
And to such contentments come,
As blind zeal had barr'd them from,
While, her laws misunderstood,
They did ill for love of good.
Where I find true worth to be
Sweetest are their lips to me;
And embraces tempt me to
More than outward beauties do,
That my firm belief is this:
If ever I do amiss,
Seeming good the bait will lay
That to ill shall me betray,
Since, where shows of goodness are,
I am oft embolden'd there
Freedoms to permit and use
Which I elsewhere do refuse,
For because I think they mean
To allow no deed unclean.
Sweetest are their lips to me;
138
More than outward beauties do,
That my firm belief is this:
If ever I do amiss,
Seeming good the bait will lay
That to ill shall me betray,
Since, where shows of goodness are,
I am oft embolden'd there
Freedoms to permit and use
Which I elsewhere do refuse,
For because I think they mean
To allow no deed unclean.
Yet where two love virtue shall
Both at once, they seldom fall.
For when one hath thoughts of ill,
T'other helps exile them still.
Both at once, they seldom fall.
For when one hath thoughts of ill,
T'other helps exile them still.
My fair virtue's power is this.
And that power the beauty is,
Which doth make her here exprest
Equally both fair and blest.
And that power the beauty is,
Which doth make her here exprest
Equally both fair and blest.
This was that contenting grace
Which affection made me place
With so dear respect that never
Can it fail, but last for ever.
Which affection made me place
With so dear respect that never
Can it fail, but last for ever.
This a servant made me sworn,
Who beforetime held in scorn
To yield vassalage or duty,
Though unto the queen of beauty.
Yet that I her servant am,
It shall more be to my fame
Than to own these woods and downs,
Or be lord of fifty towns.
And my mistress to be deem'd,
Shall more honour be esteem'd
Than those titles to acquire
Which most women most desire.
Yea, when you a woman shall
Countess or a duchess call,
That respect it shall not move,
Neither gain her half such love
As to say, Lo, this is she
That supposed is to be
Mistress to Philarete,
And that lovely nymph which he
In a pastoral poem famed,
And Fair Virtue there hath named.
Yea, some ladies, ten to one,
If not many, now unknown,
Will be very well-a-paid
When by chance she hears it said
She that fair one is whom I
Here have praised concealedly.
Who beforetime held in scorn
To yield vassalage or duty,
Though unto the queen of beauty.
Yet that I her servant am,
It shall more be to my fame
Than to own these woods and downs,
139
And my mistress to be deem'd,
Shall more honour be esteem'd
Than those titles to acquire
Which most women most desire.
Yea, when you a woman shall
Countess or a duchess call,
That respect it shall not move,
Neither gain her half such love
As to say, Lo, this is she
That supposed is to be
Mistress to Philarete,
And that lovely nymph which he
In a pastoral poem famed,
And Fair Virtue there hath named.
Yea, some ladies, ten to one,
If not many, now unknown,
Will be very well-a-paid
When by chance she hears it said
She that fair one is whom I
Here have praised concealedly.
And though now this age's pride
May so brave a hope deride,
Yet when all their glories pass
As the thing that never was,
And on monuments appear
That they e'er had breathing here
Who envy it, she shall thrive
In her fame, and honour'd live
Whilst Great Britain's shepherds sing
English in their sonneting.
And whoe'er in future days
Shall bestow the utmost praise
On his love that any man
Attribute to creature can,
'Twill be this, that he hath dared
His and mine to have compared.
May so brave a hope deride,
Yet when all their glories pass
As the thing that never was,
And on monuments appear
That they e'er had breathing here
Who envy it, she shall thrive
In her fame, and honour'd live
Whilst Great Britain's shepherds sing
English in their sonneting.
140
Shall bestow the utmost praise
On his love that any man
Attribute to creature can,
'Twill be this, that he hath dared
His and mine to have compared.
Oh! what stars did shine on me
When her eyes I first did see!
And how good was their aspect
When we first did both affect!
For I never since to changing
Was inclined, or thought of ranging.
When her eyes I first did see!
And how good was their aspect
When we first did both affect!
For I never since to changing
Was inclined, or thought of ranging.
Me so oft my fancy drew
Here and there, that I ne'er knew
Where to place desire before
So that range it might no more,
But as he that passeth by,
Where in all her jollity
Flora's riches in a row
Doth in seemly order grow,
And a thousand flowers stand
Bending as to kiss his hand,
Out of which delightful store
One he may take, and no more,
Long he pausing, doubteth whether
Of those fair ones he should gather:
Here and there, that I ne'er knew
Where to place desire before
So that range it might no more,
But as he that passeth by,
Where in all her jollity
Flora's riches in a row
Doth in seemly order grow,
And a thousand flowers stand
Bending as to kiss his hand,
Out of which delightful store
One he may take, and no more,
Long he pausing, doubteth whether
Of those fair ones he should gather:
First the primrose courts his eyes;
Then the cowslip he espies;
Next the pansy seems to woo him;
Then carnations bow unto him,
Which whilst that enamour'd swain
From the stalk intends to strain,
As half fearing to be seen,
Prettily her leaves between
Peeps the violet, pale to see
That her virtues slighted be,
Which so much his liking wins,
That to seize her he begins;
Yet, before he stoop'd so low,
He his wanton eye did throw
On a stem that grew more high,
And the rose did there espy,
Who, beside her precious scent,
To procure his eyes content,
Did display her goodly breast;
Where he found at full exprest
All the good that nature showers
On a thousand other flowers;
Wherewith he, affected, takes it,
His beloved flower he makes it,
And, without desire of more,
Walks through all he saw before:
Then the cowslip he espies;
Next the pansy seems to woo him;
Then carnations bow unto him,
Which whilst that enamour'd swain
141
As half fearing to be seen,
Prettily her leaves between
Peeps the violet, pale to see
That her virtues slighted be,
Which so much his liking wins,
That to seize her he begins;
Yet, before he stoop'd so low,
He his wanton eye did throw
On a stem that grew more high,
And the rose did there espy,
Who, beside her precious scent,
To procure his eyes content,
Did display her goodly breast;
Where he found at full exprest
All the good that nature showers
On a thousand other flowers;
Wherewith he, affected, takes it,
His beloved flower he makes it,
And, without desire of more,
Walks through all he saw before:
So I wandering but erewhile
Through the garden of this isle,
Saw rich beauties, I confess,
And in number numberless;
Yea, so differing-lovely too,
That I had a world to do
Ere I could set up my rest
Where to choose, and choose the best.
Through the garden of this isle,
Saw rich beauties, I confess,
And in number numberless;
Yea, so differing-lovely too,
That I had a world to do
Ere I could set up my rest
Where to choose, and choose the best.
One I saw whose hair excell'd,
On another's brow there dwell'd
Such a majesty, it seem'd
She was best to be esteem'd.
On another's brow there dwell'd
142
She was best to be esteem'd.
This had with her speeches won me,
That with silence had undone me.
On her lips the Graces hung,
T'other charm'd me with her tongue.
In her eyes a third did bear
That which did anew ensnare.
Then a fourth did fairer show,
Yet wherein I did not know;
Only this perceived I,
Somewhat pleas'd my fantasy.
Now the wealth I most esteem'd;
Honour then I better deem'd.
Next, the love of beauty seiz'd me,
And then virtue better pleas'd me.
Juno's love I nought esteem'd,
Whilst a Venus fairer seem'd.
Nay, both could not me suffice;
Whilst a Pallas was more wise:
Though I found enough in one
To content if still alone.
That with silence had undone me.
On her lips the Graces hung,
T'other charm'd me with her tongue.
In her eyes a third did bear
That which did anew ensnare.
Then a fourth did fairer show,
Yet wherein I did not know;
Only this perceived I,
Somewhat pleas'd my fantasy.
Now the wealth I most esteem'd;
Honour then I better deem'd.
Next, the love of beauty seiz'd me,
And then virtue better pleas'd me.
Juno's love I nought esteem'd,
Whilst a Venus fairer seem'd.
Nay, both could not me suffice;
Whilst a Pallas was more wise:
Though I found enough in one
To content if still alone.
Amaryllis I did woo;
And I courted Phyllis too.
Daphne for her love I chose;
Chloris for that damask rose
In her cheek I held as dear;
Yea, a thousand lik'd well near,
And, in love with altogether,
Feared the enjoying either,
'Cause, to be of one possest,
Barred the hope of all the rest.
And I courted Phyllis too.
Daphne for her love I chose;
Chloris for that damask rose
In her cheek I held as dear;
Yea, a thousand lik'd well near,
And, in love with altogether,
Feared the enjoying either,
'Cause, to be of one possest,
143
Thus I fondly far'd, till Fate—
Which, I must confess, in that
Did a greater favour to me
Than the world can malice do me—
Show'd to me that matchless flower,
Subject for this song of our.
Whose perfection having eyed,
Reason instantly espied
That desire, which rang'd abroad,
There would find a period.
And no marvel if it might;
For it there hath all delight,
And in her hath Nature placed
What each several fair one graced.
Which, I must confess, in that
Did a greater favour to me
Than the world can malice do me—
Show'd to me that matchless flower,
Subject for this song of our.
Whose perfection having eyed,
Reason instantly espied
That desire, which rang'd abroad,
There would find a period.
And no marvel if it might;
For it there hath all delight,
And in her hath Nature placed
What each several fair one graced.
Nor am I alone delighted
With those graces all united
Which the sense's eye doth find
Scattered throughout womankind,
But my reason finds perfections
To inflame my soul's affections.
Yea, such virtues she possesseth,
As with firmest pleasures blesseth,
And keeps sound that beauty's state
Which would else grow ruinate.
With those graces all united
Which the sense's eye doth find
Scattered throughout womankind,
But my reason finds perfections
To inflame my soul's affections.
Yea, such virtues she possesseth,
As with firmest pleasures blesseth,
And keeps sound that beauty's state
Which would else grow ruinate.
In this flower are sweets such store
I shall never wish for more,
Nor be tempted out to stray
For the fairest buds in May.
I shall never wish for more,
Nor be tempted out to stray
For the fairest buds in May.
Let who list for me advance
The admired flowers of France;
Let who will praise and behold
The reserved marigold;
Let the sweet-breath'd violet now
Unto whom she pleaseth bow,
And the fairest lily spread
Where she will her golden head;
I have such a flower to wear,
That for those I do not care.
The admired flowers of France;
144
The reserved marigold;
Let the sweet-breath'd violet now
Unto whom she pleaseth bow,
And the fairest lily spread
Where she will her golden head;
I have such a flower to wear,
That for those I do not care.
Never shall my fancy range,
Nor once think again of change;
Never will I, never more,
Grieve or sigh as heretofore,
Nor within the lodgings lie
Of despair or jealousy.
Nor once think again of change;
Never will I, never more,
Grieve or sigh as heretofore,
Nor within the lodgings lie
Of despair or jealousy.
Let the young and happy swains
Playing on the Britain plains
Court unblam'd their shepherdesses,
And with their gold-curled tresses
Toy uncensur'd, until I
Grutch at their prosperity.
Playing on the Britain plains
Court unblam'd their shepherdesses,
And with their gold-curled tresses
Toy uncensur'd, until I
Grutch at their prosperity.
Let all times, both present, past,
And the age that shall be last,
Vaunt the beauties they bring forth;
I have found in one such worth
That, content, I neither care
What the best before me were,
Nor desire to live and see
Who shall fair hereafter be;
For I know the hand of Nature
Will not make a fairer creature;
Which, because succeeding days
Shall confess, and add their praise
In approving what my tongue,
Ere they had their being, sung;
Once again come lend an ear,
And a rapture you shall hear,
Though I taste no Thespian spring,
Will amaze you whilst I sing.
I do feel new strains inspiring,
And to such brave heights aspiring,
That my Muse will touch a key
Higher than you heard to-day.
And the age that shall be last,
Vaunt the beauties they bring forth;
I have found in one such worth
That, content, I neither care
What the best before me were,
Nor desire to live and see
Who shall fair hereafter be;
For I know the hand of Nature
Will not make a fairer creature;
Which, because succeeding days
145
In approving what my tongue,
Ere they had their being, sung;
Once again come lend an ear,
And a rapture you shall hear,
Though I taste no Thespian spring,
Will amaze you whilst I sing.
I do feel new strains inspiring,
And to such brave heights aspiring,
That my Muse will touch a key
Higher than you heard to-day.
I have beauties to unfold
That deserve a pen of gold,
Sweets that never dream'd of were,
Things unknown, and such as ear
Never heard a measure sound
Since the sun first ran his round.
That deserve a pen of gold,
Sweets that never dream'd of were,
Things unknown, and such as ear
Never heard a measure sound
Since the sun first ran his round.
When Apelles limn'd to life
Loathed Vulcan's lovely wife,
With such beauties he did trim
Each sweet feature and each limb,
And so curiously did place
Every well-becoming grace,
That 'twas said, ere he could draw
Such a piece, he naked saw
Many women in their prime,
And the fairest of that time;
From all which he parts did take,
Which aright disposed make
Perfect beauty. So, when you
Know what I have yet to show,
It will seem to pass so far
Those things which expressed are
That you will suppose I've been
Privileged, where I have seen
All the good that's spread in parts
Through a thousand women's hearts,
With their fair'st conditions, lie
Bare without hypocrisy,
And that I have took from thence
Each dispersed excellence
To express her who hath gained
More than ever one obtained.
Loathed Vulcan's lovely wife,
With such beauties he did trim
Each sweet feature and each limb,
And so curiously did place
Every well-becoming grace,
That 'twas said, ere he could draw
Such a piece, he naked saw
Many women in their prime,
And the fairest of that time;
From all which he parts did take,
Which aright disposed make
Perfect beauty. So, when you
Know what I have yet to show,
146
Those things which expressed are
That you will suppose I've been
Privileged, where I have seen
All the good that's spread in parts
Through a thousand women's hearts,
With their fair'st conditions, lie
Bare without hypocrisy,
And that I have took from thence
Each dispersed excellence
To express her who hath gained
More than ever one obtained.
And yet soft; I fear in vain
I have boasted such a strain.
Apprehensions ever are
Greater than expression far;
And my striving to disclose
What I know, hath made me lose
My invention's better part,
And my hopes exceed my art.
I have boasted such a strain.
Apprehensions ever are
Greater than expression far;
And my striving to disclose
What I know, hath made me lose
My invention's better part,
And my hopes exceed my art.
Speak I can; yet think I more;
Words compar'd with thoughts are poor.
And I find, had I begun
Such a strain, it would be done
When we number all the sands
Wash'd o'er perjured Goodwin's lands.
For of things I should indite,
Which, I know, are infinite.
I do yield my thoughts did climb
Far above the power of rhyme;
And no wonder it is so,
Since there is no art can show
Red in roses, white in snow,
Nor express how they do grow.
Yea, since bird, beast, stone, and tree,
That inferior creatures be,
Beauties have which we confess
Lines unable to express,
They more hardly can enrol
Those that do adorn a soul.
But suppose my measures could
Reach the height I thought they would,
Now relate I would not tho'
What did swell within me so.
For if I should all descry,
You would know as much as I,
And those clowns the Muses hate
Would of things above them prate,
Or with their profaning eyes,
Come to view those mysteries
Whereof, since they disesteem'd them,
Heaven hath unworthy deem'd them.
Words compar'd with thoughts are poor.
And I find, had I begun
Such a strain, it would be done
When we number all the sands
Wash'd o'er perjured Goodwin's lands.
For of things I should indite,
Which, I know, are infinite.
I do yield my thoughts did climb
Far above the power of rhyme;
And no wonder it is so,
147
Red in roses, white in snow,
Nor express how they do grow.
Yea, since bird, beast, stone, and tree,
That inferior creatures be,
Beauties have which we confess
Lines unable to express,
They more hardly can enrol
Those that do adorn a soul.
But suppose my measures could
Reach the height I thought they would,
Now relate I would not tho'
What did swell within me so.
For if I should all descry,
You would know as much as I,
And those clowns the Muses hate
Would of things above them prate,
Or with their profaning eyes,
Come to view those mysteries
Whereof, since they disesteem'd them,
Heaven hath unworthy deem'd them.
And beside, it seems to me
That your ears nigh tired be.
I perceive the fire that charmeth
And inspireth me scarce warmeth
Your chill hearts; nay, sure, were I
Melted into poesy,
I should not a measure hit,
Though Apollo prompted it,
Which should able be to leave
That in you which I conceive.
That your ears nigh tired be.
I perceive the fire that charmeth
And inspireth me scarce warmeth
Your chill hearts; nay, sure, were I
Melted into poesy,
I should not a measure hit,
Though Apollo prompted it,
Which should able be to leave
That in you which I conceive.
148
You are cold; and here I may
Waste my vital heat away
Ere you will be moved so much
As to feel one perfect touch
Of those sweets which, yet conceal'd,
Swell my breast to be reveal'd.
Waste my vital heat away
Ere you will be moved so much
As to feel one perfect touch
Of those sweets which, yet conceal'd,
Swell my breast to be reveal'd.
Now my words I therefore cease,
That my mounting thoughts in peace
May alone those pleasures share
Whereof lines unworthy are.
And so you an end do see
Of my song, though long it be.
That my mounting thoughts in peace
May alone those pleasures share
Whereof lines unworthy are.
And so you an end do see
Of my song, though long it be.
No sooner had the shepherd Philaret
To this description his last period set,
But instantly, descending from a wood,
Which on a rising ground adjoining stood,
A troop of satyrs, to the view of all,
Came dancing of a new-devised brawl.
The measures they did pace by him were taught them,
Who to so rare a gentleness had brought them,
That he had learned their rudeness an observing
Of such respect unto the well-deserving
As they became to no men else a terror,
But such as did persist in wilful error,
And they the ladies made no whit afeard,
Though since that time they some great men have scar'd.
To this description his last period set,
But instantly, descending from a wood,
Which on a rising ground adjoining stood,
A troop of satyrs, to the view of all,
Came dancing of a new-devised brawl.
The measures they did pace by him were taught them,
Who to so rare a gentleness had brought them,
That he had learned their rudeness an observing
Of such respect unto the well-deserving
As they became to no men else a terror,
But such as did persist in wilful error,
And they the ladies made no whit afeard,
Though since that time they some great men have scar'd.
Their dance the Whipping of Abuse they named;
And though the shepherd, since that, hath been blamed,
Yet now 'tis daily seen in every town,
And there's no country dance that's better known,
Nor that hath gain'd a greater commendation
'Mongst those that love an honest recreation.
149
Yet now 'tis daily seen in every town,
And there's no country dance that's better known,
Nor that hath gain'd a greater commendation
'Mongst those that love an honest recreation.
This scene presented, from a grove was heard
A set of viols; and there was prepared
A country banquet, which this shepherd made
To entertain the ladies in the shade.
And 'tis suppos'd his song prolonged was
Of purpose, that it might be brought to pass;
So well it was perform'd, that each one deem'd
The banquet might the city have beseem'd.
Yet better was their welcome than their fare,
Which they perceiv'd, and the merrier were.
A set of viols; and there was prepared
A country banquet, which this shepherd made
To entertain the ladies in the shade.
And 'tis suppos'd his song prolonged was
Of purpose, that it might be brought to pass;
So well it was perform'd, that each one deem'd
The banquet might the city have beseem'd.
Yet better was their welcome than their fare,
Which they perceiv'd, and the merrier were.
One beauty, tho', there sat amongst the rest,
That look'd as sad as if her heart opprest
With love had been. Whom Philaret beholding
Sit so demurely, and her arms enfolding,
“Lady,” quoth he, “am I, or this poor cheer,
The cause that you so melancholy are?
For, if the object of your thoughts be higher,
It fits nor me to know them, nor inquire.
But if from me it cometh that offends,
I seek the cause, that I may make amends.”
That look'd as sad as if her heart opprest
With love had been. Whom Philaret beholding
Sit so demurely, and her arms enfolding,
“Lady,” quoth he, “am I, or this poor cheer,
The cause that you so melancholy are?
For, if the object of your thoughts be higher,
It fits nor me to know them, nor inquire.
But if from me it cometh that offends,
I seek the cause, that I may make amends.”
“Kind swain,” said she, “it is nor so, nor so.
No fault in you, nor in your cheer I know.
Nor do I think there is a thought in me
That can too worthy of your knowledge be.
Nor have I, many a day, more pleasure had
Than here I find, though I have seemed sad.
No fault in you, nor in your cheer I know.
Nor do I think there is a thought in me
That can too worthy of your knowledge be.
Nor have I, many a day, more pleasure had
150
“My heart is sometimes heavy when I smile;
And when I grieve I often sing the while.
Nor is it sadness that doth me possess,
But rather musing with much seriousness
Upon that multitude of sighs and tears,
With those innumerable doubts and fears
Through which you passed ere you could acquire
A settled hope of gaining your desire.
For you dared love a nymph so great and fair
As might have brought a prince unto despair;
And sure the excellency of your passions
Did then produce as excellent expressions.
And when I grieve I often sing the while.
Nor is it sadness that doth me possess,
But rather musing with much seriousness
Upon that multitude of sighs and tears,
With those innumerable doubts and fears
Through which you passed ere you could acquire
A settled hope of gaining your desire.
For you dared love a nymph so great and fair
As might have brought a prince unto despair;
And sure the excellency of your passions
Did then produce as excellent expressions.
“If, therefore, me the suit may well become,
And if to you it be not wearisome,
In name of all these ladies I entreat
That one of those sad strains you would repeat
Which you compos'd when greatest discontent
Unsought-for help to your invention lent.”
And if to you it be not wearisome,
In name of all these ladies I entreat
That one of those sad strains you would repeat
Which you compos'd when greatest discontent
Unsought-for help to your invention lent.”
“Fair nymph,” said Philaret, “I will do so.
For, though your shepherd doth no courtship know,
He hath humanity, and what's in me
To do you service may commanded be.”
For, though your shepherd doth no courtship know,
He hath humanity, and what's in me
To do you service may commanded be.”
So, taking down a lute that near him hung,
He gave 't his boy, who played, whilst this he sung.
He gave 't his boy, who played, whilst this he sung.
151
SONNET I.
Ah me!
Am I the swain,
That late from sorrow free,
Did all the cares on earth disdain?
And still untouch'd, as at some safer games,
Play'd with the burning coals of love and beauty's flames?
Was't I could dive and sound each passion's secret depth at will,
And from those huge o'erwhelmings rise by help of reason still?
And am I now, oh heavens! for trying this in vain
So sunk that I shall never rise again?
Then let despair set sorrow's string
For strains that dolefull'st be,
And I will sing,
Ah me.
Am I the swain,
That late from sorrow free,
Did all the cares on earth disdain?
And still untouch'd, as at some safer games,
Play'd with the burning coals of love and beauty's flames?
Was't I could dive and sound each passion's secret depth at will,
And from those huge o'erwhelmings rise by help of reason still?
And am I now, oh heavens! for trying this in vain
So sunk that I shall never rise again?
Then let despair set sorrow's string
For strains that dolefull'st be,
And I will sing,
Ah me.
But why,
O fatal Time!
Dost thou constrain that I
Should perish in my youth's sweet prime?
I but awhile ago, you cruel powers,
In spite of fortune, cropp'd contentment's sweetest flowers.
And yet, unscorned, serve a gentle nymph, the fairest she
That ever was beloved of man, or eyes did ever see.
Yea, one whose tender heart would rue for my distress;
Yet I, poor I, must perish natheless.
And, which much more augments my care,
Unmoaned I must die,
And no man e'er
Know why.
O fatal Time!
Dost thou constrain that I
Should perish in my youth's sweet prime?
I but awhile ago, you cruel powers,
In spite of fortune, cropp'd contentment's sweetest flowers.
And yet, unscorned, serve a gentle nymph, the fairest she
That ever was beloved of man, or eyes did ever see.
Yea, one whose tender heart would rue for my distress;
Yet I, poor I, must perish natheless.
And, which much more augments my care,
Unmoaned I must die,
And no man e'er
Know why.
152
Thy leave,
My dying song,
Yet take, ere grief bereave
The breath which I enjoy too long.
Tell thou that fair one this: my soul prefers
Her love above my life, and that I died hers:
And let him be for evermore to her remembrance dear,
Who loved the very thought of her whilst he remained here.
And now farewell, thou place of my unhappy birth,
Where once I breathed the sweetest air on earth.
Since me my wonted joys forsake,
And all my trust deceive,
Of all I take
My leave.
My dying song,
Yet take, ere grief bereave
The breath which I enjoy too long.
Tell thou that fair one this: my soul prefers
Her love above my life, and that I died hers:
And let him be for evermore to her remembrance dear,
Who loved the very thought of her whilst he remained here.
And now farewell, thou place of my unhappy birth,
Where once I breathed the sweetest air on earth.
Since me my wonted joys forsake,
And all my trust deceive,
Of all I take
My leave.
Farewell,
Sweet groves, to you;
You hills, that highest dwell;
And all you humble vales, adieu.
You wanton brooks and solitary rocks,
My dear companions all, and you, my tender flocks;
Farewell, my pipe, and all those pleasing songs whose moving strains
Delighted once the fairest nymphs that dance upon the plains;
You discontents, whose deep and over-deadly smart
Have, without pity, broke the truest heart,
Sighs, tears, and every sad annoy
That erst did with me dwell,
And all others joy,
Farewell.
Sweet groves, to you;
You hills, that highest dwell;
And all you humble vales, adieu.
You wanton brooks and solitary rocks,
My dear companions all, and you, my tender flocks;
Farewell, my pipe, and all those pleasing songs whose moving strains
Delighted once the fairest nymphs that dance upon the plains;
You discontents, whose deep and over-deadly smart
Have, without pity, broke the truest heart,
Sighs, tears, and every sad annoy
That erst did with me dwell,
And all others joy,
Farewell.
153
Adieu,
Fair Shepherdesses;
Let garlands of sad yew
Adorn your dainty golden tresses.
I that loved you, and often with my quill
Made music that delighted fountain, grove, and hill;
I whom you loved so, and with a sweet and chaste embrace,
Yea, with a thousand rarer favours, would vouchsafe to grace,
I now must leave you all alone, of love to plain,
And never pipe nor never sing again.
I must for evermore be gone;
And therefore bid I you,
And every one,
Adieu.
Fair Shepherdesses;
Let garlands of sad yew
Adorn your dainty golden tresses.
I that loved you, and often with my quill
Made music that delighted fountain, grove, and hill;
I whom you loved so, and with a sweet and chaste embrace,
Yea, with a thousand rarer favours, would vouchsafe to grace,
I now must leave you all alone, of love to plain,
And never pipe nor never sing again.
I must for evermore be gone;
And therefore bid I you,
And every one,
Adieu.
I die!
For oh, I feel
Death's horrors drawing nigh;
And all this frame of nature reel.
My hopeless heart, despairing of relief,
Sinks underneath the heavy weight of saddest grief,
Which hath so ruthless torn, so rack'd, so tortur'd every vein,
All comfort comes too late to have it ever cur'd again
My swimming head begins to dance death's giddy round;
A shuddering chillness doth each sense confound:
Benumb'd is my cold-sweating brow;
A dimness shuts my eye;
And now, oh, now
I die.
For oh, I feel
Death's horrors drawing nigh;
And all this frame of nature reel.
My hopeless heart, despairing of relief,
Sinks underneath the heavy weight of saddest grief,
Which hath so ruthless torn, so rack'd, so tortur'd every vein,
All comfort comes too late to have it ever cur'd again
My swimming head begins to dance death's giddy round;
A shuddering chillness doth each sense confound:
Benumb'd is my cold-sweating brow;
A dimness shuts my eye;
And now, oh, now
I die.
154
So movingly these lines he did express,
And to a tune so full of heaviness,
As if, indeed, his purpose had been past
To live no longer than the song did last,
Which in the nymphs such tender passion bred,
That some of them did tears of pity shed.
And to a tune so full of heaviness,
As if, indeed, his purpose had been past
To live no longer than the song did last,
Which in the nymphs such tender passion bred,
That some of them did tears of pity shed.
This she perceiving, who first craved the song,
“Shepherd,” she said, “although it be no wrong
Nor grief to you those passions to recall,
Which heretofore you have been pain'd withal,
But comforts rather, since they now are over,
And you, it seemeth, an enjoying lover,
Yet some young nymphs among us I do see
Who so much moved with your passions be,
That if my aim I taken have aright,
Their thoughts will hardly let them sleep to-night.
“Shepherd,” she said, “although it be no wrong
Nor grief to you those passions to recall,
Which heretofore you have been pain'd withal,
But comforts rather, since they now are over,
And you, it seemeth, an enjoying lover,
Yet some young nymphs among us I do see
Who so much moved with your passions be,
That if my aim I taken have aright,
Their thoughts will hardly let them sleep to-night.
“I dare not, therefore, beg of you again
To sing another of the selfsame strain,
For fear it breed within them more unrest
Than women's weaknesses can well digest.
Yet in your measures such content you have,
That one song more I will presume to crave.
And if your memory preserves of those
Which you of your affections did compose
Before you saw this mistress, let us hear
What kind of passions then within you were.”
To sing another of the selfsame strain,
For fear it breed within them more unrest
Than women's weaknesses can well digest.
Yet in your measures such content you have,
That one song more I will presume to crave.
And if your memory preserves of those
Which you of your affections did compose
Before you saw this mistress, let us hear
What kind of passions then within you were.”
To which request he instantly obey'd,
And this ensuing song both sung and play'd.
And this ensuing song both sung and play'd.
155
SONNET 2.
You gentle nymphs that on these meadows play,
And oft relate the loves of shepherds young,
Come, sit you down; for, if you please to stay,
Now may you hear an uncouth passion sung.
A lad there is, and I am that poor groom,
That['s] fall'n in love, and cannot tell with whom.
And oft relate the loves of shepherds young,
Come, sit you down; for, if you please to stay,
Now may you hear an uncouth passion sung.
A lad there is, and I am that poor groom,
That['s] fall'n in love, and cannot tell with whom.
Oh, do not smile at sorrow as a jest;
With others' cares good natures moved be;
And I should weep if you had my unrest;
Then at my grief how can you merry be?
Ah, where is tender pity now become?
I am in love, and cannot tell with whom.
With others' cares good natures moved be;
And I should weep if you had my unrest;
Then at my grief how can you merry be?
Ah, where is tender pity now become?
I am in love, and cannot tell with whom.
I that have oft the rarest features view'd,
And beauty in her best perfection seen;
I that have laugh'd at them that love pursued,
And ever free from such affections been,
Lo, now at last so cruel is my doom,
I am in love, and cannot tell with whom.
And beauty in her best perfection seen;
I that have laugh'd at them that love pursued,
And ever free from such affections been,
Lo, now at last so cruel is my doom,
I am in love, and cannot tell with whom.
My heart is full nigh bursting with desire,
Yet cannot find from whence these longings flow;
My breast doth burn, but she that lights the fire
I never saw, nor can I come to know.
So great a bliss my fortune keeps me from,
That though I dearly love, I know not whom.
Yet cannot find from whence these longings flow;
My breast doth burn, but she that lights the fire
I never saw, nor can I come to know.
So great a bliss my fortune keeps me from,
That though I dearly love, I know not whom.
156
Ere I had twice four springs renewed seen,
The force of beauty I began to prove;
And ere I nine years old had fully been,
It taught me how to frame a song of love,
And little thought I, this day should have come,
Before that I to love had found out whom.
The force of beauty I began to prove;
And ere I nine years old had fully been,
It taught me how to frame a song of love,
And little thought I, this day should have come,
Before that I to love had found out whom.
For on my chin the mossy down you see,
And in my veins well-heated blood doth glow;
Of summers I have seen twice three times three,
And fast my youthful time away doth go,
That much I fear I aged shall become,
And still complain, I love I know not whom.
And in my veins well-heated blood doth glow;
Of summers I have seen twice three times three,
And fast my youthful time away doth go,
That much I fear I aged shall become,
And still complain, I love I know not whom.
Oh! why had I a heart bestow'd on me
To cherish dear affections so inclin'd?
Since I am so unhappy born to be
No object for so true a love to find.
When I am dead it will be missed of some,
Yet, now I live, I love I know not whom.
To cherish dear affections so inclin'd?
Since I am so unhappy born to be
No object for so true a love to find.
When I am dead it will be missed of some,
Yet, now I live, I love I know not whom.
I to a thousand beauteous nymphs am known;
A hundred ladies' favours do I wear;
I with as many half in love am grown;
Yet none of them, I find, can be my dear.
Methinks I have a mistress yet to come,
Which makes me sing, I love I know not whom.
A hundred ladies' favours do I wear;
I with as many half in love am grown;
Yet none of them, I find, can be my dear.
Methinks I have a mistress yet to come,
Which makes me sing, I love I know not whom.
157
There lives no swain doth stronger passion prove
For her whom most he covets to possess,
Than doth my heart, that being full of love,
Knows not to whom it may the same profess.
For he that is despis'd hath sorrow some,
But he hath more that loves and knows not whom.
For her whom most he covets to possess,
Than doth my heart, that being full of love,
Knows not to whom it may the same profess.
For he that is despis'd hath sorrow some,
But he hath more that loves and knows not whom.
Knew I my love as many others do,
To some one object might my thoughts be bent,
So they divided should not wandering go
Until the soul's united force be spent.
As his that seeks and never finds a home,
Such is my rest, that love and know not whom.
To some one object might my thoughts be bent,
So they divided should not wandering go
Until the soul's united force be spent.
As his that seeks and never finds a home,
Such is my rest, that love and know not whom.
Those whom the frowns of jealous friends divide
May live to meet and descant on their woe;
And he hath gain'd a lady for his bride
That durst not woo her maid awhile ago.
But oh! what end unto my hopes can come
That am in love, and cannot tell with whom?
May live to meet and descant on their woe;
And he hath gain'd a lady for his bride
That durst not woo her maid awhile ago.
But oh! what end unto my hopes can come
That am in love, and cannot tell with whom?
Poor Colin grieves that he was late disdain'd,
And Chloris doth for Willy's absence pine;
Sad Thirsis weeps, for his sick Phœbe pain'd;
But all their sorrows cannot equal mine.
A greater care, alas! on me is come:
I am in love, and cannot tell with whom.
And Chloris doth for Willy's absence pine;
Sad Thirsis weeps, for his sick Phœbe pain'd;
But all their sorrows cannot equal mine.
A greater care, alas! on me is come:
I am in love, and cannot tell with whom.
158
Narcissus-like did I affect my shade,
Some shadow yet I had to dote upon;
Or did I love some image of the dead,
Whose substance had not breathed long agone,
I might despair, and so an end would come;
But, oh, I love! and cannot tell you whom.
Some shadow yet I had to dote upon;
Or did I love some image of the dead,
Whose substance had not breathed long agone,
I might despair, and so an end would come;
But, oh, I love! and cannot tell you whom.
Once in a dream methought my love I view'd,
But never waking could her face behold;
And doubtless that resemblance was but shew'd
That more my tired heart torment it should.
For, since that time, more griev'd I am become,
And more in love; I cannot tell with whom.
But never waking could her face behold;
And doubtless that resemblance was but shew'd
That more my tired heart torment it should.
For, since that time, more griev'd I am become,
And more in love; I cannot tell with whom.
When on my bed at night to rest I lie,
My watchful eyes with tears bedew my cheek;
And then, oh, would it once were day, I cry;
Yet when it comes I am as far to seek.
For who can tell, though all the earth he roam,
Or when, or where, to find he knows not whom?
My watchful eyes with tears bedew my cheek;
And then, oh, would it once were day, I cry;
Yet when it comes I am as far to seek.
For who can tell, though all the earth he roam,
Or when, or where, to find he knows not whom?
Oh! if she be among the beauteous trains
Of all you nymphs that haunt the silver rills;
Or if you know her, ladies of the plains,
Or you that have your bowers on the hills,
Tell, if you can, who will my love become,
Or I shall die, and never know for whom.
Of all you nymphs that haunt the silver rills;
Or if you know her, ladies of the plains,
Or you that have your bowers on the hills,
Tell, if you can, who will my love become,
Or I shall die, and never know for whom.
159
The ladies smiled oft when this they heard,
Because the passion strange to them appear'd.
And stranger was it, since, by his expression,
As well as by his own unfeign'd confession,
It seemed true. But, having sung it out,
And seeing scarcely manners they it thought
To urge him farther, thus to them he spake:
“Fair ladies, forasmuch as doubt you make
To re-command me, of mine own accord
Another strain I freely will afford.
Because the passion strange to them appear'd.
And stranger was it, since, by his expression,
As well as by his own unfeign'd confession,
It seemed true. But, having sung it out,
And seeing scarcely manners they it thought
To urge him farther, thus to them he spake:
“Fair ladies, forasmuch as doubt you make
To re-command me, of mine own accord
Another strain I freely will afford.
“It shall not be of love, nor any song
Which to the praise of beauty doth belong,
But that hereafter, when you hence are gone,
Your shepherd may be sometime thought upon.
To show you also what content the field
And lovely grove to honest minds may yield.
That you my humble fate may not despise
When you return unto your braveries,
And not suppose that in these homely bowers
I hug my fortune 'cause I know not yours.
Such lines I'll sing as were composed by me
When some proud courtiers, where I hapt to be,
Did, like themselves, of their own glories prate,
As in contempt of my more happy state.
And these they be.”
Which to the praise of beauty doth belong,
But that hereafter, when you hence are gone,
Your shepherd may be sometime thought upon.
To show you also what content the field
And lovely grove to honest minds may yield.
That you my humble fate may not despise
When you return unto your braveries,
And not suppose that in these homely bowers
I hug my fortune 'cause I know not yours.
Such lines I'll sing as were composed by me
When some proud courtiers, where I hapt to be,
Did, like themselves, of their own glories prate,
As in contempt of my more happy state.
And these they be.”
160
SONNET.
Lordly gallants, tell me this,
Though my safe content you weigh not,
In your greatness what one bliss
Have you gain'd that I enjoy not?
You have honours, you have wealth,
I have peace, and I have health;
All the day I merry make,
And at night no care I take.
Though my safe content you weigh not,
In your greatness what one bliss
Have you gain'd that I enjoy not?
You have honours, you have wealth,
I have peace, and I have health;
All the day I merry make,
And at night no care I take.
Bound to none my fortunes be;
This or that man's fall I fear not;
Him I love that loveth me;
For the rest a pin I care not.
You are sad when others chaff,
And grow merry as they laugh;
I, that hate it, and am free,
Laugh and weep as pleaseth me.
This or that man's fall I fear not;
Him I love that loveth me;
For the rest a pin I care not.
You are sad when others chaff,
And grow merry as they laugh;
I, that hate it, and am free,
Laugh and weep as pleaseth me.
You may boast of favours shown
Where your service is applied,
But my pleasures are mine own,
And to no man's humours tied.
You oft flatter, soothe, and feign;
I such baseness do disdain,
And to none be slave I would,
Though my fetters might be gold.
Where your service is applied,
But my pleasures are mine own,
And to no man's humours tied.
You oft flatter, soothe, and feign;
I such baseness do disdain,
And to none be slave I would,
Though my fetters might be gold.
161
By great titles some believe
Highest honours are attained;
And yet kings have power to give
To their fools what these have gained.
Where they favour, there they may
All their names of honour lay;
But I look not rais'd to be
Till mine own wing carry me.
Highest honours are attained;
And yet kings have power to give
To their fools what these have gained.
Where they favour, there they may
All their names of honour lay;
But I look not rais'd to be
Till mine own wing carry me.
Seek to raise your titles higher,
They are toys not worth my sorrow:
Those that we to-day admire
Prove the age's scorn to-morrow.
Take your honours; let me find
Virtue in a free-born mind;
This the greatest kings that be
Cannot give nor take from me.
They are toys not worth my sorrow:
Those that we to-day admire
Prove the age's scorn to-morrow.
Take your honours; let me find
Virtue in a free-born mind;
This the greatest kings that be
Cannot give nor take from me.
Though I vainly do not vaunt
Large demesnes to feed my pleasure,
I have favours where you want
That would buy respect with treasure.
You have lands lie here and there,
But my wealth is everywhere,
And this addeth to my store,
Fortune cannot make me poor.
Large demesnes to feed my pleasure,
I have favours where you want
That would buy respect with treasure.
You have lands lie here and there,
But my wealth is everywhere,
And this addeth to my store,
Fortune cannot make me poor.
162
Say you purchase with your pelf
Some respect where you importune,
Those may love me for myself
That regard you for your fortune.
Rich, or born of high degree,
Fools as well as you may be:
But that peace in which I live
No descent nor wealth can give.
Some respect where you importune,
Those may love me for myself
That regard you for your fortune.
Rich, or born of high degree,
Fools as well as you may be:
But that peace in which I live
No descent nor wealth can give.
If you boast that you may gain
The respect of high-born beauties,
Know I never wooed in vain,
Nor preferred scorned duties.
She I love hath all delight,
Rosy-red with lily-white,
And, whoe'er your mistress be,
Flesh and blood as good as she.
The respect of high-born beauties,
Know I never wooed in vain,
Nor preferred scorned duties.
She I love hath all delight,
Rosy-red with lily-white,
And, whoe'er your mistress be,
Flesh and blood as good as she.
Note of me was never took
For my woman-like perfections,
But so like a man I look,
It hath gain'd me best affections.
For my love as many showers
Have been wept as have for yours;
And yet none doth me condemn
For abuse or scorning them.
For my woman-like perfections,
But so like a man I look,
It hath gain'd me best affections.
For my love as many showers
Have been wept as have for yours;
And yet none doth me condemn
For abuse or scorning them.
163
Though of dainties you have store
To delight a choicer palate,
Yet your taste is pleas'd no more
Than is mine in one poor sallet.
You to please your senses feed,
But I eat good blood to breed,
And am most delighted than
When I spend it like a man.
To delight a choicer palate,
Yet your taste is pleas'd no more
Than is mine in one poor sallet.
You to please your senses feed,
But I eat good blood to breed,
And am most delighted than
When I spend it like a man.
Though you lord it over me,
You in vain thereof have braved,
For those lusts my servants be
Whereunto your minds are slaved.
To yourselves you wise appear,
But alas, deceiv'd you are.
You do foolish me esteem
And are that which I do seem.
You in vain thereof have braved,
For those lusts my servants be
Whereunto your minds are slaved.
To yourselves you wise appear,
But alas, deceiv'd you are.
You do foolish me esteem
And are that which I do seem.
When your faults I open lay
You are moved and mad with vexing;
But you ne'er could do or say
Ought to drive me to perplexing.
Therefore, my despised power
Greater is by far than your;
And, whate'er you think of me,
In your minds you poorer be.
You are moved and mad with vexing;
But you ne'er could do or say
Ought to drive me to perplexing.
Therefore, my despised power
Greater is by far than your;
And, whate'er you think of me,
In your minds you poorer be.
164
You are pleased more or less,
As men well or ill report you;
And show discontentedness
When the times forbear to court you.
That in which my pleasures be
No man can divide from me;
And my care it adds not to
Whatso others say or do.
As men well or ill report you;
And show discontentedness
When the times forbear to court you.
That in which my pleasures be
No man can divide from me;
And my care it adds not to
Whatso others say or do.
Be not proud because you view
You by thousands are attended,
For alas, it is not you,
But your fortune that's befriended.
Where I show of love have got
Such a danger fear I not,
Since they nought can seek of me,
But for love belov'd to be.
You by thousands are attended,
For alas, it is not you,
But your fortune that's befriended.
Where I show of love have got
Such a danger fear I not,
Since they nought can seek of me,
But for love belov'd to be.
When your hearts have everything
You are pleasantly disposed,
But I can both laugh and sing
Though my foes have me enclosed.
Yea, when dangers me do hem,
I delight in scorning them,
More than you in your renown,
Or a king can in his crown.
You are pleasantly disposed,
But I can both laugh and sing
Though my foes have me enclosed.
Yea, when dangers me do hem,
I delight in scorning them,
More than you in your renown,
Or a king can in his crown.
165
You do bravely domineer
Whilst the sun upon you shineth,
Yet if any storm appear
Basely then your mind declineth.
But or shine, or rain, or blow,
I my resolutions know;
Living, dying, thrall, or free,
At one height my mind shall be.
Whilst the sun upon you shineth,
Yet if any storm appear
Basely then your mind declineth.
But or shine, or rain, or blow,
I my resolutions know;
Living, dying, thrall, or free,
At one height my mind shall be.
When in thraldom I have lain
Me not worth your thought you prized.
But your malice was in vain,
For your favours I despised.
And, howe'er you value me,
I with praise shall thought on be,
When the world esteems you not,
And your names shall be forgot.
Me not worth your thought you prized.
But your malice was in vain,
For your favours I despised.
And, howe'er you value me,
I with praise shall thought on be,
When the world esteems you not,
And your names shall be forgot.
In these thoughts my riches are,
Now, though poor or mean you deem me,
I am pleased, and do not care
How the times or you esteem me.
For those toys that make you gay
Are but play-games for a day.
And when Nature craves her due
I as brave shall be as you.
Now, though poor or mean you deem me,
I am pleased, and do not care
How the times or you esteem me.
For those toys that make you gay
Are but play-games for a day.
And when Nature craves her due
I as brave shall be as you.
166
Here Philaret did give his song an ending,
To which the nymphs so seriously attending
About him sat, as if they had supposed
He still had somewhat more to be disclosed:
And well they knew not whether did belong
Most praise unto the shepherd or his song;
For though, they must confess, they often hear
Those lays which much more deeply learned are,
Yet, when they well considered of the place,
With how unlikely in their thought it was
To give them hope of hearing such a strain,
Or that so young and so obscure a swain
Should such a matchless beauty's favour get,
And know her worth so well to sing of it,
They wondered at it, and some thus surmised
That he a greater man was, so disguised,
Or else that she whom he so much had praised
Some goddess was, that those his measures raised
Of purpose to that rare-attained height,
In envy's and presuming art's despite.
To which the nymphs so seriously attending
About him sat, as if they had supposed
He still had somewhat more to be disclosed:
And well they knew not whether did belong
Most praise unto the shepherd or his song;
For though, they must confess, they often hear
Those lays which much more deeply learned are,
Yet, when they well considered of the place,
With how unlikely in their thought it was
To give them hope of hearing such a strain,
Or that so young and so obscure a swain
Should such a matchless beauty's favour get,
And know her worth so well to sing of it,
They wondered at it, and some thus surmised
That he a greater man was, so disguised,
Or else that she whom he so much had praised
Some goddess was, that those his measures raised
Of purpose to that rare-attained height,
In envy's and presuming art's despite.
But whilst they musing with themselves bethought
Which way out of this shepherd to have wrought,
What nymph this fair one was, and where she lived,
Lo, at that very instant there arrived
Three men that by their habits courtiers seemed;
For, though obscure, by some he is esteemed
Among the greatest, who do not contemn
In his retired walks to visit him;
And there they taste those pleasures of the mind
Which they can nor in court nor city find.
Some news or message these new guests had brought him,
And to make haste away, it seems, besought him,
For instantly he rose, and that his nurture
Might not be taxed by a rude departure,
Himself excusing, he those nymphs did pray
His noble friends might bring them on their way:
Who, as it seems, he said, were therefore come
That they might wait upon them to their home.
So with their favour he departed thence,
And, as they thought, to meet her excellence
Of whom he sung. Yet many deem that this
But an idea of a mistress is,
Because to none he yet had deign'd the telling
Her proper name, nor shown her place of dwelling.
Which way out of this shepherd to have wrought,
What nymph this fair one was, and where she lived,
Lo, at that very instant there arrived
Three men that by their habits courtiers seemed;
For, though obscure, by some he is esteemed
Among the greatest, who do not contemn
In his retired walks to visit him;
And there they taste those pleasures of the mind
Which they can nor in court nor city find.
167
And to make haste away, it seems, besought him,
For instantly he rose, and that his nurture
Might not be taxed by a rude departure,
Himself excusing, he those nymphs did pray
His noble friends might bring them on their way:
Who, as it seems, he said, were therefore come
That they might wait upon them to their home.
So with their favour he departed thence,
And, as they thought, to meet her excellence
Of whom he sung. Yet many deem that this
But an idea of a mistress is,
Because to none he yet had deign'd the telling
Her proper name, nor shown her place of dwelling.
When he was gone a lady from among
Those nymphs took up his lute and sung this song.
Those nymphs took up his lute and sung this song.
THE NYMPH'S SONG.
Gentle swain, good speed befall thee,
And in love still prosper thou,
Future times shall happy call thee,
Though thou lie neglected now.
Virtue's lovers shall commend thee,
And perpetual fame attend thee.
And in love still prosper thou,
Future times shall happy call thee,
Though thou lie neglected now.
Virtue's lovers shall commend thee,
And perpetual fame attend thee.
168
Happy are these woody mountains
In whose shadows thou dost hide,
And as happy are those fountains
By whose murmurs thou dost bide;
For contents are here excelling
More than in a prince's dwelling.
In whose shadows thou dost hide,
And as happy are those fountains
By whose murmurs thou dost bide;
For contents are here excelling
More than in a prince's dwelling.
These thy flocks do clothing bring thee,
And thy food out of the fields;
Pretty songs the birds do sing thee;
Sweet perfumes the meadow yields;
And, what more is worth the seeing,
Heaven and earth thy prospect being?
And thy food out of the fields;
Pretty songs the birds do sing thee;
Sweet perfumes the meadow yields;
And, what more is worth the seeing,
Heaven and earth thy prospect being?
None comes hither who denies thee
Thy contentments for despite,
Neither any that envies thee
That wherein thou dost delight;
But all happy things are meant thee,
And whatever may content thee.
Thy contentments for despite,
Neither any that envies thee
That wherein thou dost delight;
But all happy things are meant thee,
And whatever may content thee.
Thy affection reason measures,
And distempers none it feeds;
Still so harmless are thy pleasures,
That no other's grief it breeds;
And if night beget thee sorrow,
Seldom stays it till the morrow.
And distempers none it feeds;
Still so harmless are thy pleasures,
That no other's grief it breeds;
And if night beget thee sorrow,
Seldom stays it till the morrow.
169
Why do foolish men so vainly
Seek contentment in their store,
Since they may perceive so plainly
Thou art rich in being poor?
And that they are vexed about it,
Whilst thou merry art without it.
Seek contentment in their store,
Since they may perceive so plainly
Thou art rich in being poor?
And that they are vexed about it,
Whilst thou merry art without it.
Why are idle brains devising
How high titles may be gain'd,
Since, by those poor toys despising,
Thou hast higher things obtain'd?
For the man who scorns to crave them
Greater is than they that have them.
How high titles may be gain'd,
Since, by those poor toys despising,
Thou hast higher things obtain'd?
For the man who scorns to crave them
Greater is than they that have them.
If all men could taste that sweetness
Thou dost in thy meanness know,
Kings would be to seek where greatness
And their honours to bestow;
For it such content would breed them
As they would not think they need them.
Thou dost in thy meanness know,
Kings would be to seek where greatness
And their honours to bestow;
For it such content would breed them
As they would not think they need them.
And if those who so aspiring
To the court-preferments be,
Knew how worthy the desiring
Those things are enjoy'd by thee,
Wealth and titles would hereafter
Subjects be for scorn and laughter.
To the court-preferments be,
Knew how worthy the desiring
Those things are enjoy'd by thee,
Wealth and titles would hereafter
Subjects be for scorn and laughter.
170
He that courtly styles affected
Should a May-lord's honour have:
He that heaps of wealth collected
Should be counted as a slave:
And the man with few'st things cumbered
With the noblest should be numbered.
Should a May-lord's honour have:
He that heaps of wealth collected
Should be counted as a slave:
And the man with few'st things cumbered
With the noblest should be numbered.
Thou their folly hast discerned
That neglect thy mind and thee;
And to slight them thou hast learned,
Of what title e'er they be,
That no more with thee obtaineth
Than with them thy meanness gaineth.
That neglect thy mind and thee;
And to slight them thou hast learned,
Of what title e'er they be,
That no more with thee obtaineth
Than with them thy meanness gaineth.
All their riches, honours, pleasures,
Poor unworthy trifles seem,
If compared with thy treasures,
And do merit no esteem.
For they true contents provide thee,
And from them can none divide thee.
Poor unworthy trifles seem,
If compared with thy treasures,
And do merit no esteem.
For they true contents provide thee,
And from them can none divide thee.
Whether thralled or exiled;
Whether poor or rich thou be;
Whether praised or reviled,
Not a rush it is to thee.
This nor that thy rest doth win thee,
But the mind which is within thee.
Whether poor or rich thou be;
Whether praised or reviled,
Not a rush it is to thee.
This nor that thy rest doth win thee,
But the mind which is within thee.
171
Then, oh why so madly dote we
On those things that us o'er-load?
Why no more their vainness note we,
But still make of them a god?
For, alas! they still deceive us,
And in greatest need they leave us.
On those things that us o'er-load?
Why no more their vainness note we,
But still make of them a god?
For, alas! they still deceive us,
And in greatest need they leave us.
Therefore have the Fates provided
Well, thou happy swain, for thee,
That may'st here so far divided
From the world's distractions be.
Thee distemper let them never,
But in peace continue ever.
Well, thou happy swain, for thee,
That may'st here so far divided
From the world's distractions be.
Thee distemper let them never,
But in peace continue ever.
In these lonely groves enjoy thou
That contentment here begun,
And thy hours so pleas'd employ thou
Till the latest glass be run.
From a fortune so assured
By no temptings be allured.
That contentment here begun,
And thy hours so pleas'd employ thou
Till the latest glass be run.
From a fortune so assured
By no temptings be allured.
Much good do 't them with their glories,
Who in courts of princes dwell.
We have read in antique stories
How some rose, and how they fell.
And 'tis worthy well the heeding;
There's like end where's like proceeding,
Who in courts of princes dwell.
We have read in antique stories
How some rose, and how they fell.
And 'tis worthy well the heeding;
There's like end where's like proceeding,
172
Be thou still in thy affection
To thy noble mistress true,
Let her never-match'd perfection
Be the same unto thy view,
And let never other beauty
Make thee fail in love or duty.
To thy noble mistress true,
Let her never-match'd perfection
Be the same unto thy view,
And let never other beauty
Make thee fail in love or duty.
For if thou shalt not estranged
From thy course professed be,
But remain for aye unchanged,
Nothing shall have power on thee.
Those that slight thee now shall love thee,
And, in spite of spite, approve thee.
From thy course professed be,
But remain for aye unchanged,
Nothing shall have power on thee.
Those that slight thee now shall love thee,
And, in spite of spite, approve thee.
So those virtues, now neglected,
To be more esteem'd will come;
Yea, those toys so much affected
Many shall be wooed from,
And the golden age deplored
Shall by some be thought restored.
Thus sang the nymph, so rarely well inspired,
To be more esteem'd will come;
Yea, those toys so much affected
Many shall be wooed from,
And the golden age deplored
Shall by some be thought restored.
That all the hearers her brave strains admired.
And as I heard by some that there attended,
When this her song was finished, all was ended.
173
A Postscript
If any carp for that my younger times
Brought forth such idle fruit as these slight rhymes,
It is no matter, so they do not swear
That they so ill-employed never were.
Whilst their desires perhaps they looselier spent,
I gave my heats of youth this better vent,
And oft by writing thus the blood have tamed,
Which some with reading wanton lays enflamed.
Brought forth such idle fruit as these slight rhymes,
It is no matter, so they do not swear
That they so ill-employed never were.
Whilst their desires perhaps they looselier spent,
I gave my heats of youth this better vent,
And oft by writing thus the blood have tamed,
Which some with reading wanton lays enflamed.
Nor care I, though their censure some have pass'd
Because my songs exceed the fiddler's last.
For do they think that I will make my measures
The longer or the shorter for their pleasures?
Or maim or curtolize my free invention
Because fools weary are of their attention?
No; let them know, who do their length contemn,
I make to please myself, and not for them.
Because my songs exceed the fiddler's last.
For do they think that I will make my measures
The longer or the shorter for their pleasures?
Or maim or curtolize my free invention
Because fools weary are of their attention?
No; let them know, who do their length contemn,
I make to please myself, and not for them.
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A Miscellany of Epigrams, Sonnets, Epitaphs, and such other Verses as were found written with the Poem aforegoing.
1. OF THE INVENTION OF THE NINE MUSES.
The acts of ages past doth Clio write,The tragedy's Melpomene's delight,
Thalia is with comedies contented,
Euterpe first the shepherd's pipe invented,
Terpsichore doth song and lute apply,
Dancing Erato found geometry,
Calliope on loving verses dwells,
The secrets of the stars Urania tells,
Polymnia with choice words the speech doth trim,
And great Apollo shares with all of them.
Those thrice three feminines we Muses call;
But that one masculine is worth them all.
2. OF THE LABOURS OF HERCULES.
First he the strong Nemean lion slew;The many-headed Hydra next o'erthrew.
The Erymanthian boar he thirdly foils;
Then of his golden horns the stag he spoils.
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Next he the queen of Amazons o'er-swayed.
Then cleansed Augeas' stalls, with filth so full;
And eighthly tamed the untamed bull.
He slew proud Diomedes with his horses;
From triple Geryon his rich herd he forces.
He slew the dragon for the fruit of gold,
And made black Cerberus the day behold.
These were his twelve stout labours. And they say
With fifty virgins in one night he lay.
If true it be, 'tis thought he labour'd more
In that one act than in the twelve before.
3. BEING LEFT BY A GENTLEMAN IN HIS DINING-ROOM, WHERE WAS NOTHING BUT A MAP OF ENGLAND TO ENTERTAIN HIM, HE THUS TURNED IT INTO VERSE.
Fair England in the bosom of the seas,
Amid her two-and-fifty provinces,
Sits like a glorious empress, whose rich throne
Great nymphs of honour come to wait upon.
Amid her two-and-fifty provinces,
Sits like a glorious empress, whose rich throne
Great nymphs of honour come to wait upon.
First in the height of bravery appears
Kent, East-, and South-, and Middle-Saxon shires;
Next, Surrey, Berkshire, and Southampton get,
With Dorset, Wilton, and rich Somerset.
Then Devon, with the Cornish promontory;
Gloucester and Worcester, fair Sabrina's glory.
Then Salop, Suffolk, Norfolk large and fair,
Oxford and Cambridge, that thrice-learned pair.
Then Lincoln, Derby, Yorkshire, Nottingham,
Northampton, Warwick, Stafford, Buckingham.
Chester and Lancaster, with herds well stor'd,
Huntingdon, Hertford, Rutland, Hereford.
Then princely Durham, Bedford, Leicester, and
Northumber-, Cumber-, and cold Westmoreland.
Kent, East-, and South-, and Middle-Saxon shires;
Next, Surrey, Berkshire, and Southampton get,
With Dorset, Wilton, and rich Somerset.
Then Devon, with the Cornish promontory;
Gloucester and Worcester, fair Sabrina's glory.
Then Salop, Suffolk, Norfolk large and fair,
Oxford and Cambridge, that thrice-learned pair.
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Northampton, Warwick, Stafford, Buckingham.
Chester and Lancaster, with herds well stor'd,
Huntingdon, Hertford, Rutland, Hereford.
Then princely Durham, Bedford, Leicester, and
Northumber-, Cumber-, and cold Westmoreland.
Brave English shires, with whom lov'd equally
Welsh Monmouth, Radnor, and Montgomery,
Add all the glory to her train they can;
So doth Glamorgan, Brecknock, Cardigan,
Carnarvon, Denbigh, Merionethshire,
With Anglesea, which o'er the sea doth rear
Her lofty head. And with the first, though last,
Flint, Pembroke, and Carmarthen might be plac'd.
For all of these unto their power maintain
Their mistress England with a royal train.
Yea, for supporters at each hand hath she
The Wight and Man, that two brave islands be.
Welsh Monmouth, Radnor, and Montgomery,
Add all the glory to her train they can;
So doth Glamorgan, Brecknock, Cardigan,
Carnarvon, Denbigh, Merionethshire,
With Anglesea, which o'er the sea doth rear
Her lofty head. And with the first, though last,
Flint, Pembroke, and Carmarthen might be plac'd.
For all of these unto their power maintain
Their mistress England with a royal train.
Yea, for supporters at each hand hath she
The Wight and Man, that two brave islands be.
From these I to the Scottish nymphs had journey'd
But that my friend was back again returned,
Who having kindly brought me to his home,
Alone did leave me in his dining-room,
Where I was fain, and glad I had the hap,
To beg an entertainment of his map.
But that my friend was back again returned,
Who having kindly brought me to his home,
Alone did leave me in his dining-room,
Where I was fain, and glad I had the hap,
To beg an entertainment of his map.
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4. AN EPITAPH UPON THE RIGHT VIRTUOUS LADY, THE LADY SCOTT.
Let none suppose this relic of the justWas here wrapt up to perish in the dust;
No, like best fruits her time she fully stood,
Then being grown in faith, and ripe in good,
With steadfast hope that she another day
Should rise with Christ, with Death here down she lay.
And that each part which her in life had grac'd
Preserv'd might be, and meet again at last,
The poor, the world, the heavens, and the grave,
Her alms, her praise, her soul, her body have.
5. AN EPITAPH UPON A WOMAN AND HER CHILD, BURIED TOGETHER IN THE SAME GRAVE.
Beneath this marble stone doth lieThe subject of Death's tyranny—
A mother, who in this close tomb
Sleeps with the issue of her womb.
Though cruelly inclin'd was he,
And with the fruit shook down the tree,
Yet was his cruelty in vain,
For tree and fruit shall spring again.
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6. A CHRISTMAS CAROL.
So now is come our joyful'st feast;
Let every man be jolly.
Each room with ivy-leaves is dress'd,
And every post with holly.
Though some churls at our mirth repine,
Round your foreheads garlands twine,
Drown sorrow in a cup of wine,
And let us all be merry.
Let every man be jolly.
Each room with ivy-leaves is dress'd,
And every post with holly.
Though some churls at our mirth repine,
Round your foreheads garlands twine,
Drown sorrow in a cup of wine,
And let us all be merry.
Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke,
And Christmas blocks are burning;
Their ovens they with baked meats choke,
And all their spits are turning.
Without the door let sorrow lie,
And if for cold it hap to die,
We'll bury 't in a Christmas pie,
And evermore be merry.
And Christmas blocks are burning;
Their ovens they with baked meats choke,
And all their spits are turning.
Without the door let sorrow lie,
And if for cold it hap to die,
We'll bury 't in a Christmas pie,
And evermore be merry.
Now every lad is wondrous trim,
And no man minds his labour;
Our lasses have provided them
A bag-pipe and a tabor.
Young men, and maids, and girls and boys,
Give life to one another's joys,
And you anon shall by their noise
Perceive that they are merry.
And no man minds his labour;
Our lasses have provided them
A bag-pipe and a tabor.
Young men, and maids, and girls and boys,
Give life to one another's joys,
And you anon shall by their noise
Perceive that they are merry.
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Rank misers now do sparing shun,
Their hall of music soundeth,
And dogs thence with whole shoulders run,
So all things there aboundeth.
The country-folk themselves advance,
For crowdy-mutton's come out of France;
And Jack shall pipe, and Jill shall dance,
And all the town be merry.
Their hall of music soundeth,
And dogs thence with whole shoulders run,
So all things there aboundeth.
The country-folk themselves advance,
For crowdy-mutton's come out of France;
And Jack shall pipe, and Jill shall dance,
And all the town be merry.
Ned Swash hath fetch'd his bands from pawn,
And all his best apparel;
Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn
With droppings of the barrel;
And those that hardly all the year
Had bread to eat or rags to wear,
Will have both clothes and dainty fare,
And all the day be merry.
And all his best apparel;
Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn
With droppings of the barrel;
And those that hardly all the year
Had bread to eat or rags to wear,
Will have both clothes and dainty fare,
And all the day be merry.
Now poor men to the justices
With capons make their arrants,
And if they hap to fail of these
They plague them with their warrants.
But now they feed them with good cheer,
And what they want they take in beer,
For Christmas comes but once a year,
And then they shall be merry.
With capons make their arrants,
And if they hap to fail of these
They plague them with their warrants.
But now they feed them with good cheer,
And what they want they take in beer,
For Christmas comes but once a year,
And then they shall be merry.
Good farmers in the country nurse
The poor, that else were undone.
Some landlords spend their money worse,
On lust and pride at London.
There the roysters they do play,
Drab and dice their land away,
Which may be ours another day;
And therefore let's be merry.
The poor, that else were undone.
Some landlords spend their money worse,
On lust and pride at London.
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Drab and dice their land away,
Which may be ours another day;
And therefore let's be merry.
The client now his suit forbears,
The prisoner's heart is eased,
The debtor drinks away his cares,
And for the time is pleased.
Though others' purses be more fat,
Why should we pine or grieve at that?
Hang sorrow, care will kill a cat,
And therefore let's be merry.
The prisoner's heart is eased,
The debtor drinks away his cares,
And for the time is pleased.
Though others' purses be more fat,
Why should we pine or grieve at that?
Hang sorrow, care will kill a cat,
And therefore let's be merry.
Hark how the wags abroad do call
Each other forth to rambling;
Anon you'll see them in the hall
For nuts and apples scambling.
Hark how the roofs with laughters sound!
Anon they'll think the house goes round,
For they the cellar's depth have found,
And there they will be merry.
Each other forth to rambling;
Anon you'll see them in the hall
For nuts and apples scambling.
Hark how the roofs with laughters sound!
Anon they'll think the house goes round,
For they the cellar's depth have found,
And there they will be merry.
The wenches with their wassail-bowls
About the streets are singing,
The boys are come to catch the owls,
The wild mare in is bringing.
Our kitchen-boy hath broke his box,
And to the dealing of the ox
Our honest neighbours come by flocks,
And here they will be merry.
About the streets are singing,
The boys are come to catch the owls,
The wild mare in is bringing.
Our kitchen-boy hath broke his box,
And to the dealing of the ox
Our honest neighbours come by flocks,
And here they will be merry.
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Now kings and queens poor sheepcotes have,
And mate with everybody;
The honest now may play the knave,
And wise men play at noddy.
Some youths will now a-mumming go,
Some others play at rowland-hoe,
And twenty other gameboys moe,
Because they will be merry.
And mate with everybody;
The honest now may play the knave,
And wise men play at noddy.
Some youths will now a-mumming go,
Some others play at rowland-hoe,
And twenty other gameboys moe,
Because they will be merry.
Then wherefore in these merry days
Should we, I pray, be duller?
No; let us sing some roundelays
To make our mirth the fuller.
And, whilest thus inspir'd we sing,
Let all the streets with echoes ring;
Woods, and hills, and everything,
Bear witness we are merry.
Should we, I pray, be duller?
No; let us sing some roundelays
To make our mirth the fuller.
And, whilest thus inspir'd we sing,
Let all the streets with echoes ring;
Woods, and hills, and everything,
Bear witness we are merry.
7. AN EPITAPH UPON THE PORTER OF A PRISON.
Here lie the bones of him that was of lateA churlish porter of a prison gate.
Death many an evening at his lodging knock'd,
But could not take him, for the door was lock'd;
Yet at a tavern late one night he found him,
And getting him into the cellar, drown'd him.
On which the world, that still the worst is thinking,
Reports abroad that he was kill'd with drinking;
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Rejoice, as if his fortune were the better;
Their sorrow's likely to be ne'er the shorter,
The warden lives, though death hath took the porter.
8. A SONNET UPON A STOLEN KISS.
Now gentle sleep hath closed up those eyesWhich waking kept my boldest thoughts in awe,
And free access unto that sweet lip lies,
From whence I long the rosy breath to draw;
Methinks no wrong it were if I should steal
From those two melting rubies one poor kiss;
None sees the theft that would the thief reveal,
Nor rob I her of ought which she can miss;
Nay, should I twenty kisses take away,
There would be little sign I had done so;
Why then should I this robbery delay?
Oh! she may wake, and therewith angry grow.
Well, if she do, I'll back restore that one,
And twenty hundred thousand more for loan.
9. AN EPITAPH UPON ABRAM GOODFELLOW, A COMMON ALEHOUSE-HUNTER.
Beware thou look not who hereunder lies,
Unless thou long to weep away thine eyes.
This man, as sorrowful report doth tell us,
Was, when he lived, the prince of all Goodfellows.
That day he died, it cannot be believed
How out of reason all the alewives grieved,
And what abominable lamentation
They made at Black-boy and at Salutation;
They howl'd and cried, and ever more among
This was the burden of their woeful song:
Well, go thy ways, thy like hath never been,
Nor shall thy match again be ever seen;
For out of doubt now thou art dead and gone,
There's many a tap-house will be quite undone,
And Death by taking thee did them more scathe,
Than yet the alehouse project done them hath.
Unless thou long to weep away thine eyes.
This man, as sorrowful report doth tell us,
Was, when he lived, the prince of all Goodfellows.
That day he died, it cannot be believed
How out of reason all the alewives grieved,
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They made at Black-boy and at Salutation;
They howl'd and cried, and ever more among
This was the burden of their woeful song:
Well, go thy ways, thy like hath never been,
Nor shall thy match again be ever seen;
For out of doubt now thou art dead and gone,
There's many a tap-house will be quite undone,
And Death by taking thee did them more scathe,
Than yet the alehouse project done them hath.
Lo, such a one but yesterday was he,
But now he much is alter'd, you do see.
Since he came hither he hath left his riot,
Yea, changed both his company and diet,
And now so civil lies, that to your thinking
He neither for an alehouse cares, nor drinking.
But now he much is alter'd, you do see.
Since he came hither he hath left his riot,
Yea, changed both his company and diet,
And now so civil lies, that to your thinking
He neither for an alehouse cares, nor drinking.
10. AN EPITAPH UPON A GENTLEWOMAN WHO HAD FORETOLD THE TIME OF HER DEATH.
Her who beneath this stone consuming liesFor many virtues we might memorize.
But, most of all, the praise deserveth she
In making of her words and deeds agree.
For she so truly kept the word she spake,
As that with Death she promise would not break.
“I shall,” quoth she, “be dead before the mid
Of such a month.” And, as she said, she did.
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11. AN EPITAPH ON A CHILD, SON TO SIR W. H. KNIGHT.
Here lies, within a cabinet of stone,The dear remainder of a pretty one,
Who did in wit his years so far outpass,
His parents' wonder and their joy he was.
And by his face you might have deemed him
To be on earth some heavenly Cherubim.
Six years with life he labour'd, then deceased,
To keep the sabbath of eternal rest;
So that which many thousand able men
Are lab'ring for till threescore years and ten
This blessed child attained to ere seven,
And now enjoys it with the saints of Heaven.
12. A SONG.
Now, young man, thy days and thy glories appear
Like sunshine and blossoms in spring of the year;
Thy vigour of body, thy spirits, thy wit,
Are perfect and sound and untroubled yet.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Like sunshine and blossoms in spring of the year;
Thy vigour of body, thy spirits, thy wit,
Are perfect and sound and untroubled yet.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Mis-spend not a morning so excellent clear;
Never for ever was happiness here.
Thy noontide of life hath but little delight,
And sorrows on sorrows will follow at night.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Never for ever was happiness here.
Thy noontide of life hath but little delight,
And sorrows on sorrows will follow at night.
185
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
That strength and those beauties that grace thee today
To-morrow may perish and vanish away.
Thy wealth or thy pleasures, or friends that now be,
May waste or deceive, or be traitors to thee.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
To-morrow may perish and vanish away.
Thy wealth or thy pleasures, or friends that now be,
May waste or deceive, or be traitors to thee.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Thy joints are yet nimble, thy sinews unslack,
And marrow unwasted doth strengthen thy back.
Thy youth from diseases preserveth the brain,
And blood with free passage plumps every vein.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
And marrow unwasted doth strengthen thy back.
Thy youth from diseases preserveth the brain,
And blood with free passage plumps every vein.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
But trust me it will not for ever be so;
Those arms that are mighty shall feebler grow.
And those legs so proudly supporting thee now,
With age or diseases will stagger and bow.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Those arms that are mighty shall feebler grow.
And those legs so proudly supporting thee now,
With age or diseases will stagger and bow.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Then all those rare features now graceful in thee
Shall, ploughed with Time's furrows, quite ruined be.
And they who admired and loved thee so much,
Shall loathe, or forget thou hadst ever been such.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Shall, ploughed with Time's furrows, quite ruined be.
And they who admired and loved thee so much,
Shall loathe, or forget thou hadst ever been such.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
186
Those tresses of hair which thy youth do adorn
Will look like the meads in a winterly morn.
And where red and white intermixed did grow,
Dull paleness a deadly complexion will show.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Will look like the meads in a winterly morn.
And where red and white intermixed did grow,
Dull paleness a deadly complexion will show.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
That forehead imperious, whereon we now view
A smoothness and whiteness enamelled with blue,
Will lose that perfection which youth now maintains,
And change it for hollowness, wrinkles, and stains.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
A smoothness and whiteness enamelled with blue,
Will lose that perfection which youth now maintains,
And change it for hollowness, wrinkles, and stains.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Those ears thou with music didst oft entertain,
And charm with so many a delicate strain,
May miss of those pleasures wherewith they are fed,
And never hear song more when youth is once fled.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
And charm with so many a delicate strain,
May miss of those pleasures wherewith they are fed,
And never hear song more when youth is once fled.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Those eyes which so many so much did admire,
And with strange affections set thousands on fire,
Shut up in that darkness which age will constrain,
Shall never see mortal, no, never again.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind then, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
And with strange affections set thousands on fire,
Shut up in that darkness which age will constrain,
Shall never see mortal, no, never again.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind then, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Those lips whereon beauty so fully discloses
The colour and sweetness of rubies and roses,
Instead of that hue will ghastliness wear,
And none shall believe what perfection was there.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
The colour and sweetness of rubies and roses,
187
And none shall believe what perfection was there.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Thy teeth that stood firmly, like pearls in a row,
Shall rotten, and scatter'd disorderly grow;
The mouth whose proportion earth's wonder was thought,
Shall, robb'd of that sweetness, be prized at nought.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Shall rotten, and scatter'd disorderly grow;
The mouth whose proportion earth's wonder was thought,
Shall, robb'd of that sweetness, be prized at nought.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
That gait and those gestures that win thee such grace
Will turn to a feeble and staggering pace.
And thou that o'er mountains ran'st nimbly to-day,
Shall stumble at every rub in the way.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Will turn to a feeble and staggering pace.
And thou that o'er mountains ran'st nimbly to-day,
Shall stumble at every rub in the way.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
By these imperfections old age will prevail,
Thy marrow, thy sinews, and spirits will fail.
And nothing is left thee, when those are once spent,
To give or thyself or another content.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Thy marrow, thy sinews, and spirits will fail.
And nothing is left thee, when those are once spent,
To give or thyself or another content.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Those fancies that lull thee with dreams of delight
Will trouble thy quiet the comfortless night.
And thou that now sleepest thy troubles away,
Shalt hear how each cock'rel gives warning of day.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Will trouble thy quiet the comfortless night.
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Shalt hear how each cock'rel gives warning of day.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Then thou that art yet unto thousands so dear,
Of all shalt despis'd or neglected appear;
Which, when thou perceiv'st, though now pleasant it be,
Thy life will be grievous and loathsome to thee.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Of all shalt despis'd or neglected appear;
Which, when thou perceiv'st, though now pleasant it be,
Thy life will be grievous and loathsome to thee.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
That lust which thy youth can so hardly forego
Will leave thee, and leave thee repentance and woe.
And then in thy folly no joy thou canst have,
Nor hope other rest than a comfortless grave.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Will leave thee, and leave thee repentance and woe.
And then in thy folly no joy thou canst have,
Nor hope other rest than a comfortless grave.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
For next shall thy breath be quite taken away,
Thy flesh turn'd to dust, and that dust turn'd to clay;
And those thou hast loved, and share of thy store,
Shall leave thee, forget thee, and mind thee no more.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Thy flesh turn'd to dust, and that dust turn'd to clay;
And those thou hast loved, and share of thy store,
Shall leave thee, forget thee, and mind thee no more.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
And yet if in time thou remember not this,
The slenderest part of thy sorrow it is:
Thy soul to a torture more fearful shall wend,
Hath ever and ever, and never an end.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
The slenderest part of thy sorrow it is:
Thy soul to a torture more fearful shall wend,
Hath ever and ever, and never an end.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
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13. A DREAM.
When bright Phœbus at his rest
Was reposed in the west,
And the cheerful daylight gone,
Drew unwelcome darkness on,
Night her blackness wrapp'd about me,
And within 'twas as without me.
Was reposed in the west,
And the cheerful daylight gone,
Drew unwelcome darkness on,
Night her blackness wrapp'd about me,
And within 'twas as without me.
Therefore on my tumbled bed
Down I laid my troubled head,
Where mine eyes, inured to care,
Seldom used to slumb'ring were.
Yet, o'ertired of late with weeping,
Then by chance they fell a-sleeping.
Down I laid my troubled head,
Where mine eyes, inured to care,
Seldom used to slumb'ring were.
Yet, o'ertired of late with weeping,
Then by chance they fell a-sleeping.
But such visions me diseased,
As in vain that sleep I seized:
For I sleeping fancies had,
Which yet waking make me sad.
Some can sleep away their sorrow,
But mine doubles every morrow.
As in vain that sleep I seized:
For I sleeping fancies had,
Which yet waking make me sad.
Some can sleep away their sorrow,
But mine doubles every morrow.
Walking to a pleasant grove,
Where I used to think of love,
I methought a place did view
Wherein Flora's riches grew.
Primrose, hyacinth, and lilies,
Cowslips, violets, daffodillies.
Where I used to think of love,
I methought a place did view
Wherein Flora's riches grew.
Primrose, hyacinth, and lilies,
Cowslips, violets, daffodillies.
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There a fountain close beside
I a matchless beauty spied.
So she lay as if she slept,
But much grief her waking kept.
And she had no softer pillow
Than the hard root of a willow.
I a matchless beauty spied.
So she lay as if she slept,
But much grief her waking kept.
And she had no softer pillow
Than the hard root of a willow.
Down her cheeks the tears did flow,
Which a grieved heart did show,
Her fair eyes the earth beholding,
And her arms themselves enfolding;
She her passion to betoken,
Sigh'd as if her heart were broken.
Which a grieved heart did show,
Her fair eyes the earth beholding,
And her arms themselves enfolding;
She her passion to betoken,
Sigh'd as if her heart were broken.
So much grief methought she shew'd,
That my sorrow it renew'd;
But when nearer her I went
It increased my discontent;
For a gentle nymph she proved
Who me long unknown had loved.
That my sorrow it renew'd;
But when nearer her I went
It increased my discontent;
For a gentle nymph she proved
Who me long unknown had loved.
Straight on me she fix'd her look,
Which a deep impression took;
And, “Of all that live,” quoth she,
“Thou art welcomest to me.”
Then, misdoubting to be blamed,
Thus she spake, as half ashamed.
Which a deep impression took;
And, “Of all that live,” quoth she,
“Thou art welcomest to me.”
Then, misdoubting to be blamed,
Thus she spake, as half ashamed.
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“Thee unknown I long affected,
And as long in vain expected;
For I had a hopeful thought
Thou wouldst crave what others sought;
And I for thy sake have stay'd
Many wanton springs a maid.
And as long in vain expected;
For I had a hopeful thought
Thou wouldst crave what others sought;
And I for thy sake have stay'd
Many wanton springs a maid.
“Still, when any wooed me,
They renew'd the thought of thee;
And in hope thou would'st have tried
Their affections, I denied.
But a lover forc'd upon me
By my friends hath now undone me.
They renew'd the thought of thee;
And in hope thou would'st have tried
Their affections, I denied.
But a lover forc'd upon me
By my friends hath now undone me.
“What I waking dared not show,
In a dream thou now dost know:
But to better my estate
Now, alas, it is too late.
And I, both awake and sleeping,
Now consume my youth in weeping.”
In a dream thou now dost know:
But to better my estate
Now, alas, it is too late.
And I, both awake and sleeping,
Now consume my youth in weeping.”
Somewhat then I would have said,
But replyings were denied.
For, methought, when speak I would,
Not a word bring forth I could.
And as I a kiss was taking,
That I lost too, by awaking.
But replyings were denied.
For, methought, when speak I would,
Not a word bring forth I could.
And as I a kiss was taking,
That I lost too, by awaking.
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14. CERTAIN VERSES WRITTEN TO HIS LOVING FRIEND, UPON HIS DEPARTURE.
Swift Time, that will by no entreaty stay,
Is now gone by, and summons me away;
And what my grief denies my tongue to do,
My true affection drives my pen unto.
Dear heart, that day and that sad hour is come
In which thy face I must be banished from,
And go to live where peradventure we
Hereafter must for aye divided be.
Is now gone by, and summons me away;
And what my grief denies my tongue to do,
My true affection drives my pen unto.
Dear heart, that day and that sad hour is come
In which thy face I must be banished from,
And go to live where peradventure we
Hereafter must for aye divided be.
For, 'twixt our bodies, which now close are met,
A thousand hills and valleys shall be set,
A thousand groves, a thousand weeping springs,
And many thousand other envious things,
Which, when we are departed, keep us may
From coming nearer till our dying day.
A thousand hills and valleys shall be set,
A thousand groves, a thousand weeping springs,
And many thousand other envious things,
Which, when we are departed, keep us may
From coming nearer till our dying day.
So these our hands, which thus each other touch
Shall never after this time do so much;
Nor shall these eyes, which yet themselves delight,
With mutual gazing on each other light,
Be ever raised up again so near
To view each other in their proper sphere;
Nor e'er again, through those their crystal orbs,
Read what sad passion our poor hearts disturbs.
Shall never after this time do so much;
Nor shall these eyes, which yet themselves delight,
With mutual gazing on each other light,
Be ever raised up again so near
To view each other in their proper sphere;
Nor e'er again, through those their crystal orbs,
Read what sad passion our poor hearts disturbs.
Which when we think upon, we scarce contain
Their swelling flood-gates, but a pearly rain
Drops from those plenteous springs; and forth are sent
From those sad dungeons where our hearts are pent,
So many sighs that, in our parting now,
A storm of passions we must venture through,
Whose fury I would stay to see o'erpast
Before I went, in spite of all my haste,
But that I view some tokens which foretell
That by delay the floods will higher swell,
And, whilst to be divided we are loth,
With some worse peril overwhelm us both.
Their swelling flood-gates, but a pearly rain
Drops from those plenteous springs; and forth are sent
From those sad dungeons where our hearts are pent,
So many sighs that, in our parting now,
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Whose fury I would stay to see o'erpast
Before I went, in spite of all my haste,
But that I view some tokens which foretell
That by delay the floods will higher swell,
And, whilst to be divided we are loth,
With some worse peril overwhelm us both.
Oh! rather let us wisely undergo
A sorrow that will daily lesser grow,
Than venture on a pleasing mischief which
Will unawares our honest hearts bewitch,
And bring us to such pass at last that we
Shall ne'er perceive it till undone we be.
A sorrow that will daily lesser grow,
Than venture on a pleasing mischief which
Will unawares our honest hearts bewitch,
And bring us to such pass at last that we
Shall ne'er perceive it till undone we be.
I find your love, and so the same approve,
That I shall ever love you for that love,
And am so covetous of such dear pelf,
That for it I could give away myself.
And yet I rather would go pine and die
For want thereof, than live till you or I
Should give or take one dram of that delight
Which is another's, and so mar outright
Our most unstain'd affection, which hath yet
No inclination unto ill in it.
That I shall ever love you for that love,
And am so covetous of such dear pelf,
That for it I could give away myself.
And yet I rather would go pine and die
For want thereof, than live till you or I
Should give or take one dram of that delight
Which is another's, and so mar outright
Our most unstain'd affection, which hath yet
No inclination unto ill in it.
Nay, though it more unsufferable were,
I would e'en that just liberty forbear
Which honest friendship is allow'd to take,
If I perceived it me unapt did make
To master my affections, or to go
On those affairs that reason calls me to.
I would e'en that just liberty forbear
Which honest friendship is allow'd to take,
If I perceived it me unapt did make
To master my affections, or to go
On those affairs that reason calls me to.
Those parents that discreet in loving be,
When on their new-born child a wen they see
Which may perchance in aftertime disgrace
The sweet proportion of a lovely face,
Although it wound their souls to hear the moan,
And see the tortures of their pretty one,
To weep a little rather are content
Whilst he endures the surgeon's instrument,
Than suffer that foul blemish there to spread,
Until his face be quite disfigured.
When on their new-born child a wen they see
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The sweet proportion of a lovely face,
Although it wound their souls to hear the moan,
And see the tortures of their pretty one,
To weep a little rather are content
Whilst he endures the surgeon's instrument,
Than suffer that foul blemish there to spread,
Until his face be quite disfigured.
So we, betwixt whose souls there is begot
That sweet babe, friendship, must beware no spot
Through our indulgent indiscretion grow,
That may the beauty of our love o'erthrow;
Let's rather bear a little discontent,
And learn of reason those things to prevent
Which mar affection, that our friendship may
Wax firmer and more lovely every day.
That sweet babe, friendship, must beware no spot
Through our indulgent indiscretion grow,
That may the beauty of our love o'erthrow;
Let's rather bear a little discontent,
And learn of reason those things to prevent
Which mar affection, that our friendship may
Wax firmer and more lovely every day.
There is indeed to gentle hearts no smarting
That is more torment to them than departing
From those they love; and doubtless if that we
Were so united as the married be,
Our bodies at our parture would be so
As if each of them did a soul forego.
That is more torment to them than departing
From those they love; and doubtless if that we
Were so united as the married be,
Our bodies at our parture would be so
As if each of them did a soul forego.
But in our flesh we are, and must remain,
Perpetual strangers, and ourselves contain
From that embrace which marriage love allows,
Or else, I injure virtue, you your vows,
And for a short unworthy pleasure mar
Those rich contentments which eternal are,
Of which I am in hope that always we
Should in each other's presence guiltless be.
But in our absence sure I am we shall
Not only still be innocent of all
That simple folly and that oversight
To which our many frailties tempt us might,
But by this means shall also 'scape the blot
Wherewith ill tongues our names would seek to spot.
Perpetual strangers, and ourselves contain
From that embrace which marriage love allows,
Or else, I injure virtue, you your vows,
And for a short unworthy pleasure mar
Those rich contentments which eternal are,
Of which I am in hope that always we
Should in each other's presence guiltless be.
But in our absence sure I am we shall
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That simple folly and that oversight
To which our many frailties tempt us might,
But by this means shall also 'scape the blot
Wherewith ill tongues our names would seek to spot.
Which if you fear, and would avoid the wrongs
That may befall you by malicious tongues,
Then seek my absence, for I have in that
Unto my friends been too unfortunate;
Yet as I love fair virtue, there is no man
E'er heard me boast the favours of a woman
To her dishonour, neither, by my soul,
Was I e'er guilty of an act so foul
As some imagine; neither do I know
That woman yet with whom I might be so;
For never kindnesses to me were show'd
Which I dared think for evil end bestow'd:
Nor ever, to this present hour, did I
Turn friendship, favour, opportunity,
Or ought vouchsaf'd me, thereby to acquire
Those wicked ends which wantons do desire:
For whensoever lust begun to flame,
It was extinguish'd by true love and shame.
That may befall you by malicious tongues,
Then seek my absence, for I have in that
Unto my friends been too unfortunate;
Yet as I love fair virtue, there is no man
E'er heard me boast the favours of a woman
To her dishonour, neither, by my soul,
Was I e'er guilty of an act so foul
As some imagine; neither do I know
That woman yet with whom I might be so;
For never kindnesses to me were show'd
Which I dared think for evil end bestow'd:
Nor ever, to this present hour, did I
Turn friendship, favour, opportunity,
Or ought vouchsaf'd me, thereby to acquire
Those wicked ends which wantons do desire:
For whensoever lust begun to flame,
It was extinguish'd by true love and shame.
But what would this my innocence prevail
When your fair name detraction should assail?
And how abhorr'd should I hereafter be
If you should suffer infamy by me?
You fear it not one half so much, you say,
As you are loth I should depart away,
And hap what will, you think to be content
Whilst I am here, and you still innocent.
Indeed, those friends approve I not which may
By every slanderous tongue be talk'd away;
But yet I like not him that will not strive,
As much as in him lieth, free to live
From giving just occasions of offence,
For else he vainly brags of innocence;
And so do we, unless that without blame
We purpose with our love to keep our fame.
When your fair name detraction should assail?
And how abhorr'd should I hereafter be
If you should suffer infamy by me?
You fear it not one half so much, you say,
As you are loth I should depart away,
And hap what will, you think to be content
Whilst I am here, and you still innocent.
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By every slanderous tongue be talk'd away;
But yet I like not him that will not strive,
As much as in him lieth, free to live
From giving just occasions of offence,
For else he vainly brags of innocence;
And so do we, unless that without blame
We purpose with our love to keep our fame.
Then let us pleased part; and though the dearness
Of our affection covets both a nearness
In mind and body, let us willingly
Beget a virtue of necessity.
And since we must compelled be to live
By time and place divided, let us strive
In the despite of time and distance, so
That love of virtue may more perfect grow,
And that this separation we lament
May make our meeting fuller of content.
Of our affection covets both a nearness
In mind and body, let us willingly
Beget a virtue of necessity.
And since we must compelled be to live
By time and place divided, let us strive
In the despite of time and distance, so
That love of virtue may more perfect grow,
And that this separation we lament
May make our meeting fuller of content.
Betwixt our bodies, this I'll not deny,
There is a dear respective sympathy,
Which makes us mutually both joy and grieve
As there is cause: and farther, I believe
That our contentment is imperfect till
They have each other in possession still:
But that which in us two I love dare name,
Is 'twixt our souls, and such a powerful flame,
As nothing shall extinguish nor obscure
Whilst their eternal substance doth endure;
No, not our absence, nor that mighty space
Betwixt my home and your abiding-place.
There is a dear respective sympathy,
Which makes us mutually both joy and grieve
As there is cause: and farther, I believe
That our contentment is imperfect till
They have each other in possession still:
But that which in us two I love dare name,
Is 'twixt our souls, and such a powerful flame,
As nothing shall extinguish nor obscure
Whilst their eternal substance doth endure;
No, not our absence, nor that mighty space
Betwixt my home and your abiding-place.
For ere your eyes my eyes had ever seen,
When many thousand furlongs lay between
Our unknown bodies, and before that you
Had seen my face, or thought the same to view,
You most entirely loved me, you say;
Which shows our souls had then found out the way
To know each other, and unseen of us,
To make our bodies meet unthought of thus.
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Our unknown bodies, and before that you
Had seen my face, or thought the same to view,
You most entirely loved me, you say;
Which shows our souls had then found out the way
To know each other, and unseen of us,
To make our bodies meet unthought of thus.
Then much less now shall hill, or dale, or grove,
Or that great tract of ground which must remove
My body from you, there my soul confine,
To keep it back from yours, or yours from mine.
Nay, being more acquainted than they were,
And active spirits, that can anywhere
Within a moment meet, they to and fro
Will every minute to each other go,
And we shall love with that dear love wherein
Will neither be offence nor cause of sin.
Or that great tract of ground which must remove
My body from you, there my soul confine,
To keep it back from yours, or yours from mine.
Nay, being more acquainted than they were,
And active spirits, that can anywhere
Within a moment meet, they to and fro
Will every minute to each other go,
And we shall love with that dear love wherein
Will neither be offence nor cause of sin.
Yea, whereas carnal love is ever colder
As youth decays, and as the flesh grows older,
And, when the body is dissolved, must
Be buried with oblivion in the dust,
We then shall dearer grow, and this our love,
Which now imperfect is, shall perfect prove,
For there's no mortal power can rob true friends
Of that which noblest amity attends,
Nor any separation that is able
To make the virtuous lovers miserable.
Since, when disasters threaten most dejection,
Their goodness maketh strongest their affection,
And that which works in others' loves denial
In them more noble makes it by the trial.
As youth decays, and as the flesh grows older,
And, when the body is dissolved, must
Be buried with oblivion in the dust,
We then shall dearer grow, and this our love,
Which now imperfect is, shall perfect prove,
For there's no mortal power can rob true friends
Of that which noblest amity attends,
Nor any separation that is able
To make the virtuous lovers miserable.
Since, when disasters threaten most dejection,
Their goodness maketh strongest their affection,
And that which works in others' loves denial
In them more noble makes it by the trial.
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'Tis true that when we part we know not whether
These bodies shall for ever meet together,
As you have said. Yet, wherefore should we grieve,
Since we a better meeting do believe?
If we did also know that when we die
This love should perish everlastingly,
And that we must, as brutish creatures do,
Lose with our bodies all our dearness too,
Our separation then a sorrow were
Which mortal heart had never power to bear,
And we should faint and die to think upon
The passions would be felt when I were gone.
But seeing in the soul our love is plac'd,
And seeing souls of death shall never taste,
No death can end our love—nay, when we die,
Our souls, that now in chains and fetters lie,
Shall meet more freely to partake that joy,
Compar'd to which our friendship's but a toy,
And for each bitterness in this our love
We shall a thousand sweet contentments prove.
These bodies shall for ever meet together,
As you have said. Yet, wherefore should we grieve,
Since we a better meeting do believe?
If we did also know that when we die
This love should perish everlastingly,
And that we must, as brutish creatures do,
Lose with our bodies all our dearness too,
Our separation then a sorrow were
Which mortal heart had never power to bear,
And we should faint and die to think upon
The passions would be felt when I were gone.
But seeing in the soul our love is plac'd,
And seeing souls of death shall never taste,
No death can end our love—nay, when we die,
Our souls, that now in chains and fetters lie,
Shall meet more freely to partake that joy,
Compar'd to which our friendship's but a toy,
And for each bitterness in this our love
We shall a thousand sweet contentments prove.
Meanwhile, we that together living may
Through human weaknesses be led astray,
And unawares make that affection foul
Which virtue yet keeps blameless in the soul,
By absence shall preserved be as clean
As to be kept in our best thoughts we mean,
And in our prayers for each other shall
Give and receive more kindnesses than all
The world can yield us; and when other men
Whose love is carnal are tormented when
Death calls them hence, because they robbed be
Of all their hope for evermore to see
The object of their love, we shall avoid
That bitter anguish wherewith they are cloy'd.
And whensoe'er it happens thou or I
Shall feel the time approaching us to die,
It shall not grieve us at our latest breath
To mind each other on the bed of death,
Because of any oversight or sin
Whereof we guilty in our souls have bin;
Nor will death fear us, 'cause we shall perceive
That these contentments which we had not leave
To take now we are living, shall be gain'd
When our imprison'd souls shall be unchain'd:
Nay, rather wish to die, we might possess
The sweet fruition of that happiness
Which we shall then receive in the perfection
Of Him that is the fullness of affection.
Through human weaknesses be led astray,
And unawares make that affection foul
Which virtue yet keeps blameless in the soul,
By absence shall preserved be as clean
As to be kept in our best thoughts we mean,
And in our prayers for each other shall
Give and receive more kindnesses than all
The world can yield us; and when other men
Whose love is carnal are tormented when
Death calls them hence, because they robbed be
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The object of their love, we shall avoid
That bitter anguish wherewith they are cloy'd.
And whensoe'er it happens thou or I
Shall feel the time approaching us to die,
It shall not grieve us at our latest breath
To mind each other on the bed of death,
Because of any oversight or sin
Whereof we guilty in our souls have bin;
Nor will death fear us, 'cause we shall perceive
That these contentments which we had not leave
To take now we are living, shall be gain'd
When our imprison'd souls shall be unchain'd:
Nay, rather wish to die, we might possess
The sweet fruition of that happiness
Which we shall then receive in the perfection
Of Him that is the fullness of affection.
If time prevented not, I had in store
To comfort thee so many reasons more,
That thou wouldst leave to grieve, although we should
Each other's persons never more behold.
But there is hope. And then, that know you may
True friends can in their absence find the way
To compass their contentments whom they love,
You shall ere long the power it hath approve.
Meanwhile, you still are dear; yea, live or die,
My soul shall love you everlastingly.
And howsoe'er there seem such cause of sorrow,
Yet those that part and think to meet to-morrow
Death may divide to-night, and as before
Their fear was less, their grief will be the more.
Since, therefore, whether far I live or nigh
There is in meeting an uncertainty,
Let us for that which surest is provide,
Part like those friends whom nothing can divide;
And since we lovers first became, that we
Might to our power each other's comfort be,
Let's not the sweetness of our love destroy,
But turn these weepings into tears of joy.
On which condition I do give thee this,
To be both mine and sorrow's parting kiss.
To comfort thee so many reasons more,
That thou wouldst leave to grieve, although we should
Each other's persons never more behold.
But there is hope. And then, that know you may
True friends can in their absence find the way
To compass their contentments whom they love,
You shall ere long the power it hath approve.
Meanwhile, you still are dear; yea, live or die,
My soul shall love you everlastingly.
And howsoe'er there seem such cause of sorrow,
Yet those that part and think to meet to-morrow
Death may divide to-night, and as before
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Since, therefore, whether far I live or nigh
There is in meeting an uncertainty,
Let us for that which surest is provide,
Part like those friends whom nothing can divide;
And since we lovers first became, that we
Might to our power each other's comfort be,
Let's not the sweetness of our love destroy,
But turn these weepings into tears of joy.
On which condition I do give thee this,
To be both mine and sorrow's parting kiss.
Philarete.
FINIS
| The Poetry of George Wither | |