BRITTONS BOWRE OF Delights CONTAYNING Many most delectable and fine deuices of rare Epitaphes pleasant Poems Pastorals and Sonets By N. B. Gent. Imprinted at London by Richard Ihones at the Rose and Crowne neere Holborne Bridge 1591. To the Gentlemen Readers GENTLEMEN I present you here in the Authours absence with sundrie fine Deuices and rare conceytes in English verse by the names of Epitaphes Poems Pastorals and Sonets some of worthines and some of wantonnes yet all in my poore censure wittie pleasant commendable It any like you as I hope they wil partly for the well penning of them but specially for the Subiet and worthinesse of the persons they doo concerne though happly you esteeme the rest of lesse regard I then haue my desire and count my labour and charges well bestowed I am onely the Printer of them chiefly to pleasure you and partly to profit my selfe if they prooue to your good liking if otherwise my hope is frustrate my labour lost and all my cost is cast away Pardon mee good Gentlemen of my presumption protect me I pray you against those Caâ—…ellers and findfaults that neuer like of any thing that they see printed though it be neuer so wel compiled And where you happen to find any fault impute it to bee committed by the Printers negligence then otherwise by any ignorance in the Author and especially in A 3 about the middest of the page for lime or lead I pray you read it line or lead So shall your poore Printer haue iust cause hereafter to be more carefull and acknowledge himselfe most bounden at all times to do you seruice to the vtmost of his power Yours R. I. Printer Amoris Lachrimae A most singular and sweete Discourse of the life and death of S. P. S. Knight AMong the woes of those vnhappie wights That haue set downe the sorrowes of their time Whose liues are most deuoid of al delights And passe in griefe the pleasures of their prime Let me discourse the secrets of my care More then conceyte or sorrow can declare Some loose their wealth it is a slender losse My life hath lost the treasure of my trust Some loose their health alas a common crosse My lifes delight is buried in the dust Some loose their friendes it is no one mans woe I lost a friend such one there are no moe Some loose their loue a sorrow neere the heart In kinde affect the crosse of onely crosses Some loose their liues where sorrowes neuer part Some loose themselues in thinking of their lossess More then my selfe is such a friend bereft me All wealth nor health nor loue nor life hath left me And shall I tell what kinde of man he was Whome thus I lou'de and neuer creature hated Imagine first it dooth my reason passe To write of him whome hiest power created For euerie part that vertue had desired 〈◊〉 of the heauens and of the world admired Yet as my heart for griefe and sorrow can I will describe the substance of his state In childish yeares he was esteemd a man And halfe a man more halfe a magistrate On whome the Arts and Muses so attended As all in all for all he was commended Whose wisdome was not seene in wanton toies And though a wanton yet not deuoid of wit Of worldly ieasts he neuer made his toies Although sometimes he had a taste of it For let the best that liues do what he can In some things yet he shewes himself a man But if on earth there were a man diuine For Natures gifts and Vertues secret grace Then giue me leaue to say this loue of mine Was here too good to haue a dwelling place But liues in heauen in some high Angels office Where God himselfe dooth vse him in his seruice To say yet more what in effect he was Let this suffice in summe he was a man Whose heauenly wisedome found the way to passe More then the power of Wit and Reason can In whose attempts the world thus well did know him Nothing but death could euer ouerthrow him Comely of shape and of a manly face Noble in birth and of a princely minde Kinde in effect and of a courtly grace Courteous to all and carefull of the kinde Valure and Vertue Learning Bountie Loue These were the parts that did his honour proue Whose full perfection thus hath wisedome peased His wordes were substance and his deeds diuine Reason the ground whereon his hope were raysed Labour his life and Learning was his line Truth was his loue and Triall his intent Care his couceipt and Honour his content He spake no worde but carried full his waight He nothing did that euer tooke disgrace He had no minde to muse vpon deceyte He built in heauen his onely byding place He lou'd the Church where Saints do build the steepls And sought the worlde where Angels are the people He trauaild farre when he was neerest home Where was no earth he could behold a land He sawe a house without eare lime or lome And saild the seas where there was neuer sand He sounded depths without eare lime or lead And found out life where other meÌ„ were dead He fearde no foe nor euer sought a friend He knew no want and made no care of wealth He nought begun but had a care to end And neuer lou'd the honour had in stealth By fire and sword he wonne his worthy fame That hath aduaunc'd the honour of his name In all the skie he honoured but a starre That was his course of all his kind affection Whose flame was nere although the fire a farre Gaue him the light of loues direction He was so kind and constant where he loued As once resolu'd he could not he remoued His hands was free to helpe the needie hart His heart was franke to fill the emptie hand His most desire was to reward desart And holde vp state where honour could not stande His onely iâ—…y was honour of the stelde To conquere men and make the Captaines yeelde Much was his care and of his Countrey most Little his ioy and in himselfe the least All for his friend did seeme but little cost Yet to himselfe a little was a feast High was their happe that might but be about him Death is their life that mourne to be without him Nowe iudge the life in leauing such a ioy The death in losse of such a daintie friend What may remoue the roote of this annoy Or howe this griefe may euer haue an ende And if it be a care incurable Thinke of the death where it is â—…urable To liue in death is but a dying life To die in life is but a liuing death Betwixt these two is such a deadly strife As make me draw this melancholike breath Wherein conceite dooth liue so discontented As neuer heart was euer so tormented A torment onely made but for the minde A minde ordainde but onely to distresse And such distresse as can no comfort finde But leaues
The flowers haue had a frost each hearbe hath lost her sauor And Phillida the faire hath lost the comfort of her fauor Now all these carefull sights so kill me in conceit That how to hope vpon delights it is but meere deceit And therefore my sweet Muse that knowst what help is best Do now thy heauenly cunning vse to set my heart at rest And in a dreame bewray what fate shall be my friend Whether my life shall still decay or when my sorow end A Sonet THe prettie Turtle-doue that with no little mone When she hath lost her louing mate sits mourning all alone The Swan that alwaies sings an houre before hir death Whose deadly gripes do giue the grones y t draw away hir breath The Pellican that pecks the blood out of hir brest And by her death doth only feed her yong ones in the nest The Hart imparked close within a plot of ground Who dare not ouer-looke the pale for feare of huÌ„ters 〈◊〉 The Hound in kenell tied that heares the chase go by And boâ—…tles wishing foot abrode in vaine doth howle cry The Tree with withered â—…op that hath his branches dead And haÌ„geth down his hiest bowes while other hold vp head Endure not halfe the death the sorow nor disgrace That my poore wretched mind abides where none caÌ„ wail my case For truth hath lost his trust more deare then Turtle-doue And what a death to such a life that such a pain doth proue The Swan for sorrow sings to see her death so â—…e I die because I see my death and yet I cannot die The Pellican doth feed their yong ones with their blood I bleed to death to feed desires that neuer do me good My heart imparked round within the ground of griefe Is to beset with hounds of hate it lookes for no reliefe And sweet desire my dogge is clogged so with care He cries and dies to heare delights come not where they are My tree of true delight is sabd with sorrow so As but the heauens do sooner helpe will be his ouerthrow In summe my dole my death and my disgrace is such As neuer man that euer liu'd knew euer halfe so much A Poem GO Muse vnto the Bower whereas my mistres dwels And tell her of her seruaÌ„ts loue but tel her nothing els And speake but in her eare that none may heare but she That if she not the sooner helpe there is no helpe for me Not that I â—…eare to speake but it is strange to heare That shee will neuer looke on him that holds her loue so deare Perhaps she knowes it not or if she do she will not Yet let her kindnes haue a care that though she hurt she kil not And though it be to strange yet let her this beleue me That dead meÌ„ liue yet I am dead yet liue if she releue me For yet are not so colde the coales of kinde desire But in the ashes liues a sparke to kindle loue a fire Which fier his fuell hath but from those fairest eies Where faith doth burne fancie flame fauor neuer dies A Poem PUre of the faire that neuer fadeth hue Exceeding sweet that euery sweet exceedeth Neere to the heauens where highest glaces growe ' Excellent fruit that such a fancie feedeth Loue in the eyes and honour in the heart O Princes Angelles Goddesse heauenly feature Perfection farre aboue all natures arte Exception none was euer such a creature Rich vertuous wise faire courteous comely kinde Ioy to the hearts of all that doo beholde her Courtly of grace and of a princely minde High in the heauens the Angels haue enrolde her A Pastorall MIne eyes haue seene the Idoll of my heart Mine eyes haue heard the wonder of the wise Mine heart hath toucht the comfort of mine eyes Nowe handes be true vnto your happie heart Tongue say thy heart shall all in silence serue Heart to thy head doo not thy thoughts impart Eyes see the sight that doth your sight preserue And nowe thou eye thou tongue thou hand and heart But looke or speake or touch or turne awrie The heauens pronounce the due of your desart Be true and liue but if a Traitor die A Poem LIke to an Hermit poore in place obscure I meane to spende my dayes in endlesse doubt To waile such woes as time cannot recure Where none but loue shall euer finde me out My foode shall be of care and sorrow made My drinke nought else but teares falne from mine eyes And for my light in such obscured shade The flames shall scrue that from my heart arise A gowne of griefe my bodie shall attire And broken hope the staffe of all my stay Of late repentance linkt with long desire The Couch is made whereon my bones to lay And at my gate Dispaire shall linger still To let in Death when Loue and Fortune will Of his Mistresse loue TO trie whose art and strength did most excell My Mistresse Loue and faire Diana met The Ladies three forthwith to shooting fell And for the prize the richest Iewell set Sweete Loue did both her bowe and arrowes gage Diana did her bewtie rare lay downe My Mistresse pawnde her crueltie and rage And she that wanne had all for her renowne It fell out thus when as the match was done My Mistresse gat the bewtie and the bowe And streight to trie the weapons she had wonne Upon my heart she did a shaft bestow By Bewtie bound by Loue and Uigor slaine The losse is mine where hers was all the gaine Of a discontented minde POets come all and each one take a penne Let all the heads that euer did indite Let Sorrow rise out of her darkest denne And helpe an heart an heauie tale to write And if all these or any one can touch The smallest part of my tormenting paine Then will I thinke my griefe is not so much But that in time it may be healde againe But if no one can once come neare the thought Of that I feele and no man else can finde Then let him say that deare his cunning bought There is no death to discontented minde Of his Mistresse beautie WHat ailes mine eies or are my wits distraught Do I not see or know not what I see No maruell though to see that wonder wrought That on the earth an other cannot be What ment the gods when first they did creat you To make a face to mocke all other features Angels in heauen will surely deadly hate you To leaue the world so full of foolish creatures Cheeks that enâ—…haine the highest harts in thrall Is it set downe such faire shall neuer fade you Hands that the harts of highest thoughts appall Was not Minerua mad when she had made you Faire looks on you and fate well Bewties grace Wise why your wits the wisest doth abash Sweet where is sweet but in your sweetest face Rich to your will all treasure is but trash Oh how these hands are catching at those eyes To
wa◅ where Loue Reason fought Whose colour pale shewed some what did appall Her pacient heart with some vnhappie thought And so sweet Saint with sorrow ouercome She stood amazde as she were striken dombe Then I behelde a sight of daintie Nymphes Did straight before her stately eyes appeare And downe on knees fell all these heauenly impes To comfort her amid her heauie cheare And when she heard that euery one had spoken Prace peace quoth she for Bewties hart is brokē Alas Alas ye little sillie things God knowes I know still little do you know What do belong vnto the state of Kings What sets them vp or seekes their ouerthrow What kind of care do breed their sorrow most What death is life wher dearest friends are lost But wish I yet I had but such a friend As by desert delight did holde full deare And feare by force did see his fatall end Yet no conceit could serue to keepe him heare Would it not grieue each vaine within her hart To see so sweet and deare a friend depart Then let this be a sparke of all my paine Alas alas t'is but a sparke in deed My sorrow sinks into so deepe a vaine As makes the hart of highest fauour bleed The chiefest staffe of my assured stay With no small griefe is gone is gone away My Cupid was to me a child of loue But no such babe as ioied in childrens bables For mark his life his mind would soone approue Such feined fancies were but Ouids fables Who was as far from knowing my Cupido As faithfull loue is farre from foule Libido He neuer liued by deedes of vaine desire Nor wrapt himselfe in Carpets of conceite But hautie Fame had set his heart on fire To shew the mind that neuer ment deceite But seekes by armes to pul ambition downe That wrought by force to wring me from my crowne O care most rare and worthy kinde regarde O rare regard and worthie high renowne O high renowne that rightly maist reward The carefull heart to keepe me in my crowne And honor seekes where due desert may beare it Which wonne by force with fauor he shall weare it Wherewith me thought I heard a sudden larme To horse to horse the Caualir◅es cried And after that a crie of arme arme arme And downe they ranne vnto a riuer side Where I might heare the trumpet drumme and ◅ife Sound vp the honour of a souldiers life Anon I saw the shippes drawe nigh the shore And all aboord went horse and man apace Where launching out the gunnes shot off so sore As where I stood did seemt to shake the place And Trumpets shrill so sounded in the streame As I awooke and all was but a dreame Pastorals and Sonets A deuice of Diogenes Tubbe DIo◅enes was tearmed but a Dogge Tide to a Tubbe where lay but little treasure Who for his life was counted but a Hogge That knewe no part of any worldly pleasure What said the king yet in his greatest throne Either himselfe Dogenes or none For when the king did bid him aske and haue His minde was not of any masse of wealth He askt no more then other creatures haue The chiefest comfort of his happie health Take not away quoth he thou canst not giue Out of the Sunne for by the same I liue The good poore soule doth thinke no creature harme Onely he liues obscurely in his Tunne Most is his care to keepe his carkas warme All his delight to looke vpon the Sunne And could the heauens but make the Sunne to know him He should not liue should keepe his shining fro him A Metaphor A Little fire doth make the faggot burne When blowing much will put the fire out Silence but s◅ld doth serue the lo◅re turne And too much su◅e for fauour hath a flouce Then let thus much suffice for my desire The smallest blowing make the greatest fire Concei◅e is quicke would so were sweete content Eyes hath a glaunce of too too great a grace Spirits do speake in silence of intent And thoughts are spirites of a setret place In silence then let heart in sunder breake Eyes shall behold but spirites shall not speake Of the birth and bringing vp of desire VVHen wert thou born Desire in pompe and prime of May By whō sweet boy wert thou begot by good cōceit mē say Tell me who was thy nurse fresh youth in sugred ioy What was thy meat and dayly food sore sighes with great annoy What had you then to drinke vnfained louers teares What cradle were you rocked in in hope deuoide of feares What brought you then a sleepe sweet speach that liked men best And where is now your dwelling place in gentle hearts I rest Doth companie displease it doth in many one Where would Desire then choose to be he likes to muse alone What feedeth most your sight to gaze on fauour still Who find you most to be your foe Disdaine of my good will Will euer age or death bring you vnto decay No no Desire both liues and dies ten thousand times a day E. of Ox. Finis A pleasant Sonet I Will forget that ere I sawe thy face I will forget thou art so braue a wight I will forget thy stately comely grace I will forget thy hue that is so bright I will forget thou art the fairest of all I will forget thou winnest the golden ball I will forget thy forehead fea◅ly framde I will forget thy Christall eyes so cleere I will forget that no part may be blamde I will forget that thou hadst nere thy yeere I will forget Uermelion is thy hue I will forget there is no Saint but thou I will forget thy dimpled chin so fine I will forget to approch thy seemely sight I will forget throughout the world so wide I will forget nones bewtie halfe so bright I will forget thou stainst the brightest starr I wil forget thou passest Cynthea farre I will forget that feature is thy pheere I will forget thy bewtie dims the Sunne I will forget that hue not comes thee neere I will forget thy fame will nere be donne I will forget thou art the fairest of all That euer was or is or euer shall And then I will forget when grew my withered stalke I will forget to eate to drinke or sleepe I will forget to see to speake to walke I will forget to mourne to laugh to weepe I will forget to heare to feele or taste I will forget my life and all at last And now I will forget the place where thou dost dwell I will forget thy selfe and so fare well Another sweete Sonet I Seeke the thing that I do dayly see And faine would gaine that is already wonne I follow that which doth not from me flee Nor neuer seekes my companie to shuune I granted am what I do seeme to craue Yet so I want that fainest I would haue Hard is my hap since I am f◅rst to i◅y Where as there doth no ioy at all
remaine And secke for blisse where rests nought but annoy And for good will reape nought but deepe disdaine Lucklesse my lot I labour but in vaine I seeke to winne what I see others gaine Seeing hope and hap and all at once doth faile And that despaire is nowe my chiefest guide Whereby I see no ransome will me baile Out of the bondes wherein I now am tide I am content in bondage for to serue Untill my faith my freedome doe deserue A Poem H Honour of loue when loue in honour is O Olde men admire and yong men are amazed P Perfection rare where nothing is amisse T The glasse of grace where eyes are ouer-gazed O Onely the face of such a heauenly feature N Not on the earth can be a fairer creature A Sonet EYe lie awake in hope of blessed seeing Hope thought that happe was ouer-long in lingring In came the Lasse oh my thrise happie beeing Sences thought long vntill they were a fingring Tongue spar'd to speake least it should speake too sparing Hart drownd in feare rauisht denied her honour Handes sawe the price and long to be a sharing Pittie said holde but Courage cried vpon her Silent she stood yet in her silent speaking Wordes of more force then is great loue his thunder Ioyes weare her eyes sorrowes asunder breaking Sweete was her face each member was a wonder Heauen is hers to her by heauens assigned Skies are her thoughts where pleasant Planets raigned Franke is her minde to no ill craft inclined Loue is the crosse wherein her heart is chained Blisse was to see her steps to bedward bending Musicke to heare herselfe herselfe vnlacing Straunge the aspect of two sonnes then discending Sweete was the kisse but sweeter the imbracing Another fine Sonet VVHo deales with fire may burne his fingers ends And water drownes the foote that goes too deepe A lauish tongue will quickly loose his friends And he a foole that can no counsell keepe Yet where desire doth egge the tongue to speake Somewhat must out or else the heart will breake To speake but truth deserue no deadly blame Though truth mistane sometime be pettie treason Yet causelesse death deserueth no defame Though ruthlesse rage will neuer yeeld to reason Then since desire doth egge me on so ◅ore Truth will I speake although I speake no more The truth is this there is no fire to loue Nor water like to Bewties heauenly bro◅kes No friend to faith to talke for hearts behoue Nor wit so wise to liue by onely lookes Nor sweet desire by silence entertained Nor kind Aspect that euer loue disdained A Pastorall SWeet birds that sit and sing amid the shadie vallies And see how sweetly Phillis walks amid her gardē allies Go round about her bower and sing as ye are bidden To her is only knowne his faith that frō the world is hidden And she among you all that hath the sweetest voice Go chirpe of him that neuer told yet neuer changd his choise And not forget his faith that liu'd for euer lou'd Yet neuer made his fancie knowne nor euer fauour mou'◅ And euer let your ground of all your grace be this To you to you to you the due of loue and honour is On you on you on you our musicke all attendeth For as on you our Muse begun in you all musicke endeth Coridons supplication to Phillis SWeet Phillis if a sillie Swaine may sue to thee for grace See not thy louing shepheard slaine With looking on thy face But thinke what power thou hast got Upon my flocke and mee Thou feest they now regard me not but all doe follow thee And if I haue so farre presumed With prying in thine eyes Yet let not comfort be consumed That in thy pitie lyes But as thou art that Phillis faire That fortune fauour giues So let not loue die in dispaire That in thy fauour liues The Deere do bruise vpon the brier The birds do pricke the cheries And will not Bewtie grunnt Desire One handfull of her berries If so it be that thou hast sworne That none shall looke on thee Yet let me know thou dost not scorns To cast a looke on mee But if thy Brwtie make thee prowde Thinke then what is ordained The heauens haue neuer yet allowed That Loue should be disdained Then least the Fates that fauour Loue Should curse thee for vnkinde Let m◅ report for thy behoue The honour of thy minde Let Coridon with full consent Set downe what he hath seene That Phillida with Loues content Is sworne the Shepheards Queene A Sonet HEr face her tongue her wit So faire so sweete so sharpe First bent then drew then hit Mine cye mine eare mine hart Mine eye mine eare mine heart To like to learne to loue Your face your tongue your wit Doth lead doth teach doth moue Her face her tongue her wit With beame with sound with art Doth binde doth charme doth rule Mine eye mine eare mine heart Mine eye mine eare mine heart With life with hope with skill Your face your tongue your wit Doth feed doth feast doth fill Oh face oh tongue oh wit With frownes with checks with smart Wring not vex not moue not Mine eye mine eare mine hart This eye this eare this heart Shall ioy shall bind shall sweare Your face your tongue your wit To serue to loue to feare A Louers complaint WHo knowes his cause of griefe And can the same descrie And yet finds no reliefe Poore wretch but onely I. What foule will seeke the snare That he be caught thereby If thereof he be ware Poore wretch but onely I. What fish will bite the baite If he the hooke espie Or if he see deceite Poore wretch but onely I Who's hee will seeke to mount The toppe of Turrets hie To fall that makes account Poore wretch but onely I. Who shee will scale the height Of A Etna hill to frie So deare to bie delight Poore wretch but onely I. The Hart will shunne the toyle If he perceiue it lie No one would take such foyle Poore wretch but onely I. Who seckes to get and gaine The things that fates denie Must liue and die in paine Poore wretch as now do I. And heart my plaints to finish In Lymbo lake I lie My griefe you must diminish Poore wretch or else I die A Shepheards dreame A Sillie Shepheard lately sate among a flocke of sheepe Where musing long on this and that At last he fell a sleepe And in the slumber as he lay He gaue a piteous grone He thought his sheepe were runne away And he was left alone He whopt he whistled and he calde But not a sheepe came neere him Which made the shepheard sore appalde to see that none would heare him But as the Swaine amazed stood In this most solemne vaine Came Phillida out of the wood And stood before the Swaine Whom when the Shepheard did behold He straight began to weepe And at the heart he grew a cold To thinke vpon his sheepe For wel
he knew where came the Queene The Shepheard durst not stay And where that he durst not be seene The sheepe must needes away To aske her if she saw his flocke Might happen pacience moue And haue an answere with a mocke That such demaunders proue Yet for because he saw her come Alone out of the wood He thought he would not stand as dumbe when speach might do him goo And therefore falling on his knees To aske but for his sheepe He did awake and so did leese The honour of his sleepe A pleasant sweet song LAid in my restlesse bed In dreame of my desire I sawe within my troubled head A heape of thoughts appeare And each of them so strange In sight before mine eyes That now I sigh and then I smile As cause thereby doth rise I see how that the little boy In thought how oft that he Doth wish of God to scape the rod a tall yong man to be I saw the yong man trauelling From sport to paines opprest How he would be a rich olde man To liue and lie at rest The olde man too who seeth His age to drawe on sore Would be a little boy againe To liue so long the more Where at I sigh and smile How Nature craues her fee From boy to man from man to boy Would chop and change degree A Sonet of Time and Pleasure TIme is but short and short the course of time Pleasures do passe but as a puffe of winde Care hath account to make for euerie crime And peace abides but with the setled minde Of little paine doth pacience great proceede And after sicknesse health is daintie sweet A friend is best approued at a neede And sweet the thought where care kindnes meet Then thinke what comfort doth of kindnes breed To know thy sicknesse sorrow to thy friend And let thy faith vpon this fauour feed That loue shall liue when death shall haue an end And he that liues assured of thy loue Prayes for thy life thy health and highest hap And hopes to see the height of thy behoue Lulde in the sweet of Loues desired lap Till when take paines to make thy pillow soft And take a nap for Natures better rest He liues below that yet doth lookâ—… aloft And of a friend do not 〈◊〉 the least Of a Louer in dispaire THough froward fate hath forst my griefe And blacke dispaire this deadly paine Yet time I trust will bring reliese When loyall faith shall haue her gaine Till then the stormes of banisht state And penance in this Hermits Cell Shall trie her cause of wrong full hate Whose malice lo keepes me in hell A Sonet of faire womens ficklenesse in loue IF women would be faire and yet not fond Or that their loue were firme not fickle still I would not wonder that they make meÌ„ bond By seruice long to purchase their good will But when I see how firme these creaturs are I laugh that men forget themselues so farre To marke their choise they make and how they chaunge How oft from Venus they do cleaue to Pan Unsetled still like haggards vile they raunge These gentle birds that flie from man to man Who would not scorn shake them froÌ„ his fist And let theÌ„ go faire fooles which way they list If for disport we faine and flatter both To passe the time when nothing can displease And traine them still vnto our subtill oth Till wearie of their wits our selues we ease 〈◊〉 then we say when we their fancies trie To play with fooles oh what a dolt was I. Of the foure Elements Tâ—…e Aire with sweet my sences do delight The Earth with flowers doth glad my heauie â—…ie The Fire with warmth reuiues my dying spirit The Water cooles that is too hote and drie The Aire the Earth the Water and the fire All doe me good what can I more desire Oh no the Aire infected sore I finde The Earth her flowers do wither and decay The Fire so whote it doth inflame the minde And Water washeth white and all away The Aire the Earth Fire Water all annoy me How can it be but they must needes destroy me Sweete Aire do yet a while thy sweetnesse holde Earth let thy flowers not fall away in prime Fire do not burne my heart is not a colde Water drie vp vntill another time Or Aire or Earth Fire Water heare my prayer Or slaâ—…e me once Fire Water Earth or Aire Hearke in the Aire what deadly thunder threateth See on the Earth how euerie flower falleth Oh with the Fire how euery sinewe sweateth Oh howe the Water my pâ—…nting heart appalleth The Aire the Earth Fire Water all do grieue me Heauens shew your power yet some way to relieue me This is not Aire that euerie creature feedeth Nor this the Earth where euerie flower groweth Nor this the Fire that cole and bauen breedeth Nor this the Water that both ebth and floweth These Elements are in a worde enclosed Where happie heart hath heauenly rest reposed Brittons farewell to Hope MY Hope farewell leaue off thy lingring stay Nowe yeeld thy selfe as prisoner vnto thrall Pricke on thy wings make now no more delay Be set thou art with Enuies furies all Oh Follie flie fond Fancie leaue thy roome Thou art condemde Dispaire hath giuen thy doome Thy threed whereon thy hope did hang so long Dame Enuies rust hath fretted quite in twaine And spitefull spite hath gnawne thee to the bone That sue thou maist but all is spent in vaine She is reuert and giues me still the nay And keepes me like the Spaniell all the day When caught I was I was content to yeeld My loue was lim'd and linked to her will And prisoner I was brought out of the field Of libertie to serue in thraldome still There lost I ioyes my toiles did then beginne When as I sought a froward heart to winne I sought I sued I was at becke and bay I crept I kneelde a heauen it was to please I thought my selfe the happiest man that day If one faire worde I caught my heart to ease But when that deeds of wordes should then ensue All then was turn'd like vnto Cresseds crew Thus do I sue and serue but all in vaine With lingring on my loathsome life in wo Thus do I seeke to winne but losse I gaine And for a friend obtaine a spitefull fo Then farewell hope the gaine of my desart Dispaire doth grow within my pensiue hart N. B. Gent. FINIS