wrought You now are dust conâ—umde as t were to nought Though conquering War doth make in time to come Many things florish and with Fame to rise Yet in the end when all is past and done Time doth All this consume in spitefull wise All Mâ—â—uments all Monarchs that haue been Time in the end destroyes and weares out cleane And since t is so I will contented liue In discontent for if that Time can make An end of All and end to each thing giue May be some order he for me will take May be in th' end when I shall tried bee To th' vtmost I my guerdon iust may see Roma ALBA thinkst thou thy Month shall still be MAY And that thy Colour fresh still faire will be That Time and Fortune will not weare away Beautie which God and Nature lends to thee Yes yes that white and red thy Cheekes now show Shall quicklie change and blacke and yellow grow The Giniper the longer it doth flower The older still it waxeth bowing still And that sweete face of thine which now hath power Whole worlds with wondering at the same to fill Shall though it now sauns blemish be a Staine Hereafter with thicke wrinkeled Clifts remaine Great care to keepe this Beautie fraile must be Which we God knowes a small time doe enioy Doe what we can we lose it suddenle Why then being courted shouldst thou seeme so coy Fortunes wings made of Times featherâ—â—eere stay But eare thou them canst measure flit away Then be not ouer hard like changeles Fate But let my Cries force thee at last relent Doe not oppose thy selfe too obstinate Gainst him whose time to honor thee is spent Ah let me speake the trueth though somewhat bold Though now th' art young thou one day must be old Riuers of gorie blood into the Sea In sted of Waters shall most swiftlie runne The hugie Ocean drie as land shall be And darke as pitch shall shew the glistering Sunne LOVE shall of Loue and kindenes be depriude And vastie world sauns people shall abide The Night shall lightsome be as Day most plaine The Heauens with their coloured cloudes shall fall Fore LOVE in me a new IDEA frame Or my firme Heart from ALBA alter shall Ah fore I change let horror stop my breth Vnworthie Her vnworthie of this earth As heretofore so still I will her loue Nere shall my constant Heart lie languishing In hope another Beautie for to proue Which flitting fancie to mine eyes might bring My faâ—â—h Acanthus like shall flourish greene Which th'older t is the fresher still is seene I am no glasse but perfect Diamound My constant minde holdes still where first it tooke Though not my selfe my soule 's in English ground ITALIANS lookes but not there LOVES I brooke The Globelike World is round and hath no end Such is my Faith to her my Fairest frend Fano Gold 's changde to Lead and Emmeralds into Glasse Lillies proue Weedes and Roses Nettles bee No harmles Beasts now through the fields doe passe To feede on Hill or Valleys shade we see Wilde Tigers fierce and rauenous Lions fell In open Plaine and cooly Groues doe dwell In stead of milde and pleasing Accents sweete From hollow Places fearfull Voices sound Eccho amongst the craggie rocks doth weepe And heauie makes her noyse with sighs rebound Riuers against their wonted course do runne The Moone lookes black eclipsed is the Sunne The Sallow shakes his boughes and inward grieues The Cypresse shew'th as if he sickly were And melancholy bares his lothed leaues A signe presaging some great cause of feare Phoebus no more doth combe his tresses fâ—â—re But careles lets them feltred hang in th'aâ—re Ghosts through the Citie ghastfully appeere And hideous shapes the mindes of men afright No Day we haue but darknes euery where And turnd the World is topsie turuy quite The cause of all this change is my faire Loue Since to the countrie hence she doth remoue On bended knees low groueling on the ground Before the CRVEL FAIRE I prostrate lay But what I sought of Her could not be found My kinde request was dasht with ruffe Denay With me she sharply gan expostulate Nor would she once pitie my hard Estate Teares I did shed but teares I shed in vaine Vowes I did make my Vowes she did reiect Prayers I offred Prayers she did disdaine Presents I sent but them sh'would not accept If teares vowes prayers nor presents can doe good What then remaines but for to offer blood Then Cruell take this Blood Oblations Fee Which at thy shrine from Hart I sacrifice I know t will doe thee good and liketh thee And I bestow it in most hartie wise Neuer â—o much I of my life did make But that I could dispend it for thy sake What needst thou then ad water to the Seas Beames to the Sunne or light vnto the Day When I more readie am if so thou please My selfe to kill then thou my life to slay Ah let me know thy minde thus vex not still A kinde of Pitie t is quickly to kill In stately Bed twixt sheetes more white then snow Where late my Pearle mine ALBA faire did lie I restlesse vp and downe tosse to and fro Whilst trickling teares distill from blubbred eye Ah gentle sleepe do thou deuise some Meane For comfort mine whilst I of her shall dreame You downy Pillowes you which but of late Her daintie selfe did kindly entertaine Once of two louing Bodies charge do take By your soft yeelding call her back againe For she is gone and Troynouant hath left And being gone my hart with heâ— hath rest For both of vs here 's roume enough to see We bâ—th in rest with ease may here remaine And heâ—e two soules vnited one shall bee Two bodies ioynd together One not twaine But t is in vaine for were she here I know Though you agreede agree she would not so Yet call her back and pray to her for me For I am hoarse with praying ouer long· Ah to no purpose t is to call I see She cannot heare she too too farre is gon Yet will I still her praises haroldise And mongst the beautious Saints her canonise Heare me a Martyr for religious Loue Thou Faire Tormentor Motiue of my paine All Racks and Tortors gainst my patience proue And when th' hast done begin afresh againe Wearie shalt thou be of tormenting me Before I grieued at these plagues will be Too deare I prise thy beautie to repent Or wish I had not such sower stormes endur'd Though I thy hard hart finde nere to relent Custome and time to woes haâ—e me inur'd What ill so great but I would willing take And beare the brunt assur'd of thy sweet sake The sweet remembrance of thy sight of yore Th' only companion is of my deare life Thy presence was which absent I adoâ—e My paradise and place of ioy most rife So I alâ—ne am not though None 's with mee And was in Heauen when I thy
hath no power ouer my Thoughts or Minde VVhich is the cause I count my selfe most free Though I my selfe in greatest Bondage finde I can so feede on Fancie and subdue Enuie by sweet Imagination true No sweeter Musick to the Miserable Than is Despayre therefore the more I feele Of bitternes of sorrow sower and fell The more of Sweetnes it doth seeme to yeeld Vaine ' esteeme my life all libertie Since I do want mine ALBAS Companie Vse Miserie hath made familiar now VVith me that I count sorrow chiefest Ioy And him the welcomst Guest I do alow That saddest tales can tell of bloodiest Noy Then Cruell think what life I still haue led Since so in post away from me th' art fled Thrice precious purse by daintie Hand ywrought Of Beauties First Borne Fauours rightfull Heire Not for a world of wealth purchast or bought But freely giuen for Loue by ALBA faire Giuen to me vnworthie of the same As one not meriting so great a Gaine T is not the richnes hereof though t is much Nor rarenes of the worke surpassing skill That I account of though that it be such As euery eye with masement it doth fill But cause t' was made by that Alconquering Hand Whose becke eueÌ„ Loues own self doth countermaÌ„d Dan Fortunatus Bagge which Histories Affirme endles to be for golden store And that it helde of Quoyne Infinities To this my purse is needy base and poore Golde in the inside onely of his purse waâ— seene But mine hath alwaies Golde without and 〈◊〉 Pure gold t is wrought with yet her Haires more bright Saft is the Silke more fast her snowie skinne Orient the Perle yet are her teeth more white The Cullerâ— rare her cheekes the prise tho winne Ah precious Purse where what I doe beholde Are Cullours rare fine Perle saft Silke pure Golde Warme showers raine fast from forth my blubbred eyes My heauie Thoughts are Clowdes â—eplete with woes Hot liuely Flames from out my breast arise My skalding sighs the wind 's that forth them blowes Fire burning Cancer and Aquarius cold Ore me their powers predominant do hold The flames themsâ—lues vp to the heauens lift Where they by thousands round about doe turne The waters runne like to a Torrent swift Hence comes it that my selfe I drowne and burne By reason of two spitefull Qualities Moysture and Heate my life in danger lies My teares a great streame make they so abound A quenchles burning this my secret Fire Hope doth despaire and there her selfe hath drownde And Hart to cinders burnes through her Desire Fancie 〈◊〉 frolike and doth still reuiue Reason's so sick not long shee le keepe aliue ALBA my Teares accounteth as a Toy And for a sport mine ardent Heat she holds For in her eyes Cocitus me to noy And Phlegeton in breast she fierce enfolds Thus she my Hart doth still anatomise With keenest rasor of her Crueltise Haires louely Browne immur'd with pearle and gold How ill fits you this Ribbon Carnatine Since I no more your Mistris now behold Of my disaster most vnlucky signe Who to me gaue this Bracelet for a FAVOVR A work by Beautie framde through LOVES true labour How often would she bout my Wrist still prie And vnderminde me by deuise as t were Making a shew of Doubt and Ielousie As if I it forgot bout me to beare But now I feare me through her staying ore long Both LOVE Her self and Me she much doth wrong VVho euer saw a Beautie such so faire Lodgde in a subiect so vnconstant found VVho euer saw more loyall Louer rare To â—uch hard Fortune causeles to be bound Ah why is not as is her face her Minde Th'one's Faire the other I Forgetfull finde Then louely Haires my dearest Harts best Ease You must from Handwrist mine to Hatband black There must you bide though me it doth displease Since whom I would I most of all do lack This sable place doth fit you best to mourne Where you vnseene shall lie till she returne â—h happie Handkèrcher that keepst the signe As only Monument vnto my Fame How deare my Loue was to sweet ALBA mine VVhen so to shew my Loue she did me blame Relique of LOVE I do not enuie thee Though whom thy Master cannot thou dost see Only let me intreat this Fauour small VVhen in her chamber all alone by chance Open her pretie Casket for some work she shall And hap her eye on thee vnwares to glance Ah then the colour of her face but marke And thou by that shalt know her inward hart If she shall blush and grieue thee so to view And wistly cast on thee a piteous eye It is a signe her loue continues true And that her faith she doth not falsifie Ah theâ— a fresh her faith more firme to moue Bleed thou againe for to reuiue her Loue. But if she seeing thee no account doth make Flinging thee here and there without regard Know then expired is my louing Date My Hope deceiu'd my Fortune ouer hard Yet if she doth but sighing say to thee Saftly Farewell deare SERVANT happie mee Those ebbon windowes sweete those cheerfull eyes Where LOVE at LAVVGH and sweete looke on doth play Are on the sudden changde in strangie wise And do Disdaines Ensigne gainst me display Darke now they seeme and sower ore passing bad Making my life seeme to me black and sad Those cheerfull eyes which wont to comfort me And to mine hangrie soule yeeld nourishment Denie me food nor will they pleased be But mew me vp as starueling closely pent My walks I vâ—de which faire and easie were Are stopt with blood-drawing braÌ„bles euery where My crased hart thus skorned for his Loue And plagude with proud disdaine and sdainfull Pride Waâ—les so as would a Rock though flintie moue Nor â—etter course hath this Disgrace to bide Then sighs and Teares which forth he seâ—ds apace And damned like still begs but nere finds grace Sweet stay of my weake tottring life nie falne â—alme to my wounds and Cordiall to my griefe â—â—ght to my darknes to my storme milde Calme Ease to my paine and to my want Reliefe Ah who hath now and that so suddenly Of pitie thee depriu'd to make me die Poore wasted Hart that wandrest not astray Although the PEARLE her orient colour change Thou which in thy first Faith vnstaind dost stay Although she from her plighted vow doth range Ah where are now thy cheerfull daies of Hope Thy Liues line Loue what wretched haÌ„d hath broke Alas poore soule how badly art thou vsde For thy much louing louing ouer long Causeles without desert to be refusde And for thy right to be repaid with wrong Fond do betimes from Fancies Fort retire Reason retaine and banish rash Desire What meanst thou careles thus to seek thy Carâ— Call home thy Wits giue ore although with losse Els like one blindfold art thou caught in snare And wilt too late returne by weeping crosse Seest noâ— that shut is Loues sweet passage
plaine That opens wide the path of proud Disdaine If so why shouldst thou beg in vaine for grace Rather demaund thy pasport and away Better at first giue ore in midst of Race Then lose in th' end though longer time thou stay Then if she 'le not admit thee as a frend Let her thee manum it as Free to wend. O that I were where bides mine ALBA faire VVhose person to possesse is pleasure such As driues away all melancholy Care Which doth the Hart through Griefs impression touch Whose louely Locks All do more curious deeme When they most careles to be dressed seeme Her sweet Lookes most alluring be when they Most chaste do seeme in modest glancing show Her words the more they vertuously do way The more in counâ— for amorous they go Her dressings such as when neglected most She 's thought as then to haue bestowd most cost Sweet Fortune when I meet my louely Treasure Dash my Delights with some small light disgrace Lest I enioying sweetnes boue all measure Surfet without recure on that faire face Her wonted coynesse let her vse a while My fierce Desire by Diet to beguile Lest with the fulnes of my ioyes abate The sweetnes and I perish straight before I do possesse them at too deare a rate But soft Fond Icarus how high wilt soare Thou dreamst I think or foulie dost mistake I dreame indeed Ah might I neuer wake Like as the Hawke cast from the Faulkners fist Freed from the Mew doth ioyfull take his flight Soaring aloft in th' aire as best him list Now here now there doth finde no small delight Enioying that which Treasures all doth passe His libertie wherefore he prisoner was But when th'acquainted Hollow he doth heare And seeth the Lure cast forth him home to traine As one obedient full of awfull feare He leaues his flight and backward turnes againe Chusing in ancient bonds for to be bound Fore faithles to his Lord he will be found So ALBA though I wanton otherwhile Do runne abrode and other Ladies court Seeking the time with pleasures to beguile And oft my selfe with words of course do sport Dissemâ—â—â—ng with Dissemblers cunninglie As is the guise with tongue with hand and Eye Yet when I thinke vpon thy face diuine Thy Beautie cals me home straight as a Lure All other banishing from Hart of mine And in LOVES Bands to thee doth binde me sure And since my Faith and Fates do so ordaine I am content thy prisoner to remaine Where are those Haires so louely Browne in show Where is that snowy Mount of Iuorie white With damaske Rose where do the Lillies grow Whose Colours whose sweetnes All delight Where are those cheerfull Lights Lamps of cleere Loue Wherein a beautious Heauen doth alwaies moue Where are those Margarite Pearles withouten prise And Rubies rich my matchles Treasures store With other Graces wonders to the Wise Worthy that euery Lawrell them adore I know not I vnles in her they be In Her who 's Faire Alas too Faire for me VVhy haue not then my Stars so courteous bin In this to me as they are in the rest That I by loftie stile might Beautie win And blaze abrode her praise deseruing best VVhy haue not I the Gift her Gifts to thâ—nder And make the world thereat admire and wonder Could I but as she doth deserue aright Sing as a Cignet sweete with pleasing vaine Her Vertues rare her staining Beauties sight As I am blunt in Wit and dull in Braine I then should see her Courteous Gentle Milde VVhere now I finde her Cruell Proud and Wilde Needes must I ALBA leaue yet she 'le not part Though I doe loue her yet still my Desire Seekes her to keepe in Closet of my Hart And though she doth against me thus conspire Yet with my Soule I must her Error moane Since so vnkindelie she her selfe hath showne My secret griefes I le in my selfe disiest The world shall neuer know her hatefull Pride Her shame my Bane I will conceale in brest And as a Monument there shall it bide ALBA farewell all pittie now is fled And since t is so Adew I am but Dead But thou my Hart come thou from her thy way T is time I thinke to leaue that witching face Where too too much vnkindenes still doth stay For Loyall Loue there is no resting place Simple â—â—odwill to soâ—ourne findes it vaine Where Thoughts are falls and Double do remaine My nere stainde Faith my life shall testifie To future Age that shall hereafter come To shew the world my spotles Loyaltie And yet perhaps againe may shine the Sunne When as my Trueth vnto her being knowne She may at last receiue me for her owne The Conclusion of the second Part. IF I should count the spending of my time Since Her I lost with whom I left my life How I in Griefe without reliefe doe pine My seldome Pleasures and my Corsies rife If I should take vpon me these to tell It were in vaine for t' were impossibell Yet still the more I suffer for her sake The more my Hart doth studie to endure The world shall know the Pennance he doth make And how his Thoughts are loyall chaste and pure So small account he maketh for to die At his owne Death he seeketh wilfully Of Her he still doth buzze me in the eare And wilâ— me make a Iournie to that place To haue a sight of Her to him so deare Whose beautious shape all Beauties doth disgrace Alas I would full faine Her selfe doth know But Danger to offend doth still say No. Then since poore Hart thou canst not haue thy will But longst â—or what thou neuer shalt obtaine Consume tâ—y selfe with thy recureles ill As Women that with Longing breede their banâ— And as thou diest let this thy Comfort be Thy LOVE was VERTVE hers was CHASTITIE R.T. THE THIRD PART OF THE MONETHS MIND OF A MELANCHOLY LOVER By R. T. Gentleman AT LONDON Printed by Felix Kingston for Matthew Lownes 1598. Alla Crudelissima LO here the course spun Web of Discontent Extract from out the cause of my trew Griefe The Quintesence of my Complaint close pent Wherein my Hart hath line without reliefe The Glasse wherein my sorrowes each may see Thou cruell ALBA thus haste plagued me Thinke on the Mestfull MONTHS MINDE I still keepe Depriude of thee how I doe liue forlorne All night I sigh all day I waile and weepe As one that hath all pleasures quite forsworne Thus caâ—efull I doe care for careles thee Whilst wretchles thou makst no account of mee Knewst thou what t' were to Loue and what to hate I know with Malice thine thou wouldst dispence And wouldst enhaunce my Bale to blissefull state And Loue with Loue not Rigor recompence Ah gainst me doe not thou thy wrath incite Monstrous it is Loue to repayâ—e with spite Be gracious then though I haue graceles bin Let Fauour thine aboue my Merit show Against the Tide why shouldst thou
be fed I will embrace the time for to beguile Such golden Thoughts as are within my head Golden indeede Golde Thoughts of sâ—â—h a one As I prefer fore Golde though she a Stone But sleepe or die Then dye thou canst not sleepe For thee to sleepe it is impossibell To thinke what 's past broade waking will thee keepâ—â— Which thou must still conceale not any tell My comfort 's this that waking as I die I see my Loue in Thought though not with eye Pure Iuâ—rie white with spot of Crimson red Where Beauties First Borne lay the perfect Molde Or like Aurora rising from her Bed Such was mine ALBA faire for to beholde Such was She when She louely LOVE ore came The Conquerors Glory Conquereds Pleasing Shame But now that Cullâ—r faire hath changde his grace Through Burning Feuer deadly in his kinde And Sallow Palenes stained hath that Face To whome the Prize for Fauour was assinde Sicke is my Lady sicke is all Delight And brightest Day is turnde to darkest Night Fortune hath stolne from ALBA tooke from LOVE From him she takes his Solace Sport and Play From Her her Beautie which she would improue And to her selfe would falsely it conuay Being Pitifull she Cruell seemes to be And in her Blindenes sheweth â—hat she can see False Fortune darke as Moâ—â—â— in any Good â—ut to doe Hurt as Argus full of Eyes â—n outward shew a Tiger fierce and wood â—nd yet to me she 's Kinde in piteous wise Since She by drawing Beautie from that place Quencht hath my Fier to ease me for a space My Harte vpon his Deathbed sicke did lye Calling vpon proude ALBA but in vaine Too Cruell she for pittie it did crie Yet had Repulse through Rigor of Disdaine So as to liue thus long it could not bide But soone gaue vp the Ghost and so he dide Then to the Chappell of bad Fortunâ— harde By smoking sighes it quickelie was conuaide A place for these sad Funerals preparde Where in a Tombe of Loyaltie t' was laide Anger Suspect Griefe Sorow Care and Feare VVith dismall Doubtes the chiefest Mourners were About the Hierce great store of Teares were shed The Torches that did burne so cleare and bright VVere ALBAS eyes by Crueltie misled VVhilest she triumpht to see so wofull sight Pittie the Dirge did sing with wofull Plâ—â—â— Assisted with a blacke and dismall Saunt Vpon the Monument yplacâ—d was Fire Sworde and Corde with Arrowes sharpe keenâ—â— The Epitaph for such as by should pas VVas thus subscribde an carued to be seene Loe here that gentle Hart entombde doth lie Whom cruell ALBA causeles forst to die Poore Soule in couert ioy thy Care fauns rest VVeare VVillow in thy Hat Baies in thy Hart Gold when it bubleth least then boyles it best VVater runs smoothest in the deepest part By thy great warines let it be seene Not what thou now art but what thou hast beene The greatest comfort as a Louers dew Is of his Mistris Secrets much to know Yet no lesse labor for him being Trew Then naught to say nor ought thereof to show Of men we learne to speake things to reueale Of Gods silent to be and to conceale Yet sweete's the Beautie of mine ALBA faire What blabst thou it yea blab it willinglie Bees that doe die with honey buried are With dulcet notes and heauenly Harmonie And they that dying doe Beautie still commend Shall be with kindenes honored in the end Then hope thou well and haue well as they say Long haue I hopte but Hoping is in vaine Hope with Allusions dallying doth me pay Yet but for Hope the Hart would breake in twaine Ah MELT my Hart would Melted once thou were Thou shouldst not then haue cause so much to feare The Fall of Leafe the Spring tide of my Loue Flowring a fresh with Hope I found to bee But now alas the Spring time for to proue Fall of the Leafe of my lost Loue I see The Carnouale of my sweet LOVE is past Now comes the Lent of my long Hate at last LOVE is reuolted whilst he Traytor like Against his prince gainst me his Soueraigne Weapons vniust sauns cause takes vp to fight And doth his fealtie and his Homage staine He is reuolted and mine ALBA's fled I seeme aliue here yet in deede am dead In vaine I wish for what I cannot haue And seeke with griefe to aggrauate my Mone What is to me denied that still I craue Gaulling my selfe with fond Conceiâ—s alone Yet I forgiue her little knoweth she That she her owne Hart wounds when she â—ils me Meane time in vncouth Sorrowes secret Cell My haples Fortune hard I will disiest Hating all ioy I priuat there will dwell Because I of my wish am dispossest Like Petrark chaste of Laura coy I plaine Of whom I neuer yet could Fauour gaine How long shall I importune thee with Cries And presse thee for some Grace bard flintie Dame How long my sute deplore in pitious wise And yet be frustrate of that I complaine Vrge me with ought if so thou canst of Ill Do but obiect and answer thee I will Cite me at LOVES great Audit to appeare And if a iust account I giue not thee Of all my Life since Loyall I did sweare Vnto thy Cruell selfe casheere thou mee But if I true haue bin and dealt vpright Thou dost me wrong to set by me so light More then high time t is for thee to relent My sorrowes flowes aboue their wonted bound And well nie breake my Hart where they art pent For so great Force a too too slender ground Then 〈◊〉 supplant not from my wished rest But do abiure harsh Rigor from thy brest Affect me not inflict on me fresh woe Thy Loue my seruice merits not thy Hate My loyall Hart to thee didst thou but know Thou wouldst not thus reuenge but rew my state Nor am I ouer bolde in what I craue Pitie not Fauour I desire to haue TAVVNY and BLACK my Courtly Colours be Tawny because forsooke I am I weare Black since mine ALBAS Loue is dead to me Yet liueth in another I do beare Then welcome TAVVNY since I am forsaken And come deare BLACK since my Loue 's from me taken The princelike Eagle's neuer smit with Thunder Nor th' Oliue tree with Lightning blasted showes No marâ—â—â—lâ—â—hen it is to me or wonder Thoâ—gh my â—oy Dame in Loue to me hard growes More deafe to me she is then sensles stock Her Hart 's obdurate like the hardned rock But what meane I thus without Reason prate I am no more forsaken then I was My Loue 's no more dead then it was of late For yet mine ALBA nere for me did passe My Loue 's not dead she neuer me forsooâ—â— For ALBA nere yet me in fauour tooke As many Fauours haue I as before For since I her first lou'd she me disdainde And still doth so still wounding me the more As in despayre I haue ere since remainde Yet I in BLACK
nor my Griefes decrease Thousands of quicksands hath he all about I thousand cares that on my Hart do sease His waues are cut in twaine my Hart throughout The whistling reedes about his banks do sound Sorrow in me is of my song the ground Both windes and raine vpon him daily fall I still distill salt showres and sighs amaine By tempests oft his Channels broke are all My Bowels cleft be with continuall paine His bottâ—me none can well perceiue or see My Torments without depth sauns sounding bee Only we differ thus he still doth bide Here swallowing them that passe alongst this place I vade away and Cruell Homicide Murther I do my selfe in pitious case Who then can rid me Notamie of Woe From these hell plagues None but my Cruell Foe ALBA I haue not liued ouer long Yet haue I hollow eyes and haires halfe gray My yeares not many for I am but yong Though wrinckled be my cheekes and lims decay But is this Destnie or i ft pure Deceit That hath on me thus wrought this cunning feaâ— I ft be the first why then none could preuent My wretched Stars to scape this miserie I ft be the latter that such ill me ment I needes must think it was mine Enemie It was indeed thy selfe it was Faire Witch That with thy beautie wrought me to be sich Thou art too Faire I see for to be true And too too False for one that is so Faire Yet for my wrongs thou seemest not to rue Nor for my Crosses ought at All dost care And yet my Loue 's more feruent still towâ—rds thee My sparks growne flames my cinders bonfires bee Only I grieue my daies are at an end Fore I can of thee any fauour gaine And which is worse I likely am to spend All the Remainder yet no Grace obtaine Vnhappie Pilgrim I borne still to euill To shrine her for a Saint who is a Deuill When Beautie sickneth then Desire doth die Fauor doth vade most flouring in his prime Then LOVE doth ebbe when flowes Aduersitie But Friendship bides out euery stormie Time Ah ALBA I not doted haue on thee But lou'd thee deare as deere as deere might bee Affection alwaies either grounded is On Vertue and Vertue nere peeuish showeâ— Or else on Beautie counted chiefest blisse And Beautie praisde through Loue more fairer growes I neuer Peruerse was nor Sullen yet But praisde thy Beautie to mine vtmost wit To thee I both a Friend and Louer am Yet euery Louer is no Constant Friend But who a Friend in Nature is and Name As Louer true begins and true doth end Thy truesâ— Friend am I more then another And vnto thee the faithfulst loyalst Louer Vertue in me Affection shall subdue Wisedome all Lust my Friendship sweetest Beautie I le not be fickle false but constant true Seruing thee still with all respect of Dutie And when I shall be buried dead and gone My Ghost shall as thy Slaue thee tend vpon Ah Speake then shall these Torments I endure Of Bloody Thoughts and nere expressed paine Neuer remorse of stubborne thee procure And shall they breede still my eternall bane Yet grant me things impossible to wish To feede Conceite since that no hurt it is Then shalt thou see through this I holde so deare I le longe my life prolong and Spiriâ—s spend And to my selfe that Creature none may heare I le softlie call it Loue till life shall end And if what I thus whisper Any vrge I le name it Honor so my selfe to purge May I but this sweete Contemplation holde I then shall liue of All men most content Taking more pleasure in my Thoughts though olde Then ere I did in youthly Actions spent Grant me this â—race to thee t is mattâ—r small And all my Crosses I le sweete Blessings call Ah that tho'wldst daigne this might be christned Loue That Fauour as rewardâ— for it might be But I doe feare I shall thee too much moue This ouer boldenes Dearest pardon me And lâ—t me hope one day some gentle power May turne to Sweete this my most bitter Sower Time was and is and euer shall be still That I to honor thee will nâ—uer spare But for to call it Loue or Pure Goodwill I neuer durst although I seemde to dare Then suffer me to follow this my Vaine Flatteâ—ing my selfe although I nothing gaine None pleased hath mine eyes but ALBA bright None but sweete ALBA doth possesse my Haâ—t Mine eares in ALBA onely take delight And â—his my Soule from ALBA nere shall part To follow thâ—e all Fortunes I le forsake And vnto thee alone my selfe betake The Godâ— haue set such difference twixt our slate That all must be pure Dewtie Reuerence Nothing I must terâ—e LOVE such is my Fate Except thou daine therewith foâ— to dispence And since I know that so thâ—u dost command I condescend will to it out of hand Yet my Vnspotted Thoughts my pining Corse My Dâ—scontented Life let them obtaine One blessed Fauour throuâ—h thy kinde remorse Though they not merit least part of the same So I with Ioy shall end my wearie daies And dying sound abroad thy nere dying Praise The Conclusion of the last Part. IF Vertuous Loue be Honor and no Shame Let no man causeles seeke my chaste Desire To bridle in with base conceited raine Since Virtue kindled in my brest this fire The Wise I hope will no Exceptions take Nor Gainst my Loue nor gainst these Toyes I make For by the Diall of Discretion sound Mine Actions all â—nd Cariage I direct And fearefull am I least I should be found T' haue done amisse in any due respect LADIE I hope no liue is here set downe Sauns awfull looking backe vnto your frowne No Worthlesse Thought doth lodge within my brest Since as my Guides I follow thy faire Eyes Sparkes of true Vertue in me now dâ—e rest Infused by those beames in wondrous wise Those with an vncouth Flame set me on fire The rightest pathes of HONOR to aspire By these conducted to Eternall Ioy I hope foâ— to be lifted vp to 'th Skie From all Disgrace from trouble and annoy Where of my selfe I nere dâ—â—â—mount so hie Be gracious then Sweete Goddesse of my Thought For thy power t is doth make me soare aloft Il Disgratiato R. T. G. CERTAINE DIVINE POEMS WRITTEN BY THE foresaid Author R.T. Gentleman â—mprinted at London by F. K. for Matthew Lownes Deo Optimo Maximo WIth Teares in Eyes with drops of Blood from Hart With skalding sighs from inward grieued Soule A CONVERTITE from Vaine LOVE now I part Whilst for my Sinnes fore Heauen I do condole I know and knowledge I haue liued wrong And wilfull sought mine owne Destruction long The Temple of my Heauenly GOD I haue For earthly Goddesse stainde blasphemously Selling my selfe to Satan for his Slaue Whilst I transgrest in vile Apostasie Banisht my selfe I haue from Paradize Through thriftles Toyes of base-borne Vanities O thou that on swift Cherubins dost
amaine Or like the Fire whose heate doth soone appale To heare thy selfe not others sing I long Sweet Bird thy Notes are sweete sweet is thy Song Sing then sweet Bird with Ruddie Breast thy fill For I do loue affect and honor thee Thou Sweet I Constant so continuing still A Cignet thou and I le a Louer bee So shall no loue be like the loue of mine No stile compare with stile so rare of thine Then be not mute when thou maist gently moue Keep not alwaies thy sorrowes to thy selfe Still mone not priuatly like turtle Doue Content of Mind's worth all seeke thine owne Health Thinke All things haue their course the time may come Though now obscurde yet bright may shine thy Sunne Per Ignoto An Answer BOund by Desert thy Merits but not mine A Stranger thou how shall I make amends That of thy friendship such assured signe To me scant knowne such louing Verses sends Thanks giue I that 's a yonger Brothers reward Nought els I haue my Fortune iâ— so hard My worthles lines th' hast red as thou dost write But partiall thou too much the same dost praise To sing still kindly thou dost me inuite My Glorie but indeed my Shame to blaze Alas I cannot dead in that sweet Fire Which did enflame in me such chast Desire Then boldly sang I when those louely Eyes Were guideâ—â—o me but now that they are gonâ— Now that my Sunne shines not in cheerfull wise Nor my Fire heates me I will weep and 〈◊〉 I weep saith Cruell Aâ—na weep thy fill For neuer more I see or loue thâ—e will But thou that constant art in thy vowde Loue And as Belou'd thy Ladies loue dost gaine With thy sweet Sâ—ile and my sad Plaines to mouâ— Each Readers harts seeke thou in â—â—â—rous vaine In sâ—creâ— still I le sorrow like the Doue And when my Sunne shall shine then will I moue R. T. To my deare friend R. T. Gent. SWeet Cignet that so sweetly dost deplore Thy sad lamenting Passions and thy loue â—here TAMESIS doth flow alongst the shore â—nd from cleere Isis doth his passage moue Running alongst braue Troynouants right side Till ceasles she into the Sea doth glide â—hou to the Nymphs dost sing so sweet a tune â—racing thy selfe with such a sugred note â—s VVaues and VVindes are still and calâ—nie soonâ— â—o heare thee nor desire they blow or flote Whilst they do breathe to vs this gentle Gust Only let ROBIN sing All other Birds be hushâ— I. M. Gent. The Answer of the Author T Is thou not I that singst so sweet a Song Where MERSIE streames whose waues are Siluer fouÌ„d Whose baâ—kes are Gold whilst he doth gâ—â—de along â—nto the swelling Trent his vtmost bound You that in Loues Quire sing heare him alone Not me my Song 's vnpleasant full of mone Heare him who chaunts with such a pleasant Lay As he Seas stormes can when he list asswage Make stealing Time against his will to stay And calme the Windes when most they seeme to rage Heare him to vs to heare him t is a Grace Your Glorie to be husht and giue him place R. T. The Author to Master R.A. DEare friend in whom Euterpe doth in still Each rare Conceit within thy learned brest Guiding so happily thy pleasing quill Whilst of thy Mistris Beautie th' art in Quest Making our TAMESIS for fame as rare As Tiber when proud Rome Worlds scepter bare That LAVVREL greene which in my youthfull yeares I lou'd so much so deare as like could none A fatall barren Cypresse now appeares Which scarce in harsh and hatefull Verse I mâ—ne Too true presage of Falling of my Sunne And hastie Poste of my sad Griefes to come Then to what end since that it is in vaine My sicklie penne my bloodles hand to write Calast thou on me that thus liue still in paine Since blinded I haue lost mine ALBAS sight MERCIE no Mercie me no more will show Now doth it ebbe where it was wont to flow But thou whose Blood is hot and in thy Prime And daily ioyest thy Cynthias Companie Rowse thee and of right Eagle shew the signe And with thy Verse thy flight cut through the skie Whilst I mine ALBAS absence still bewaile Whose sight being lost my sences needs must faile R. T. An Answer EVterpe nor the Muses her sweet Mates Pernassus drops infuse into my Braine My table is not furnisht with rare Cates Daintie Conceits which come from Poets vaine No sacred Furie me inspires t' endite But what first comes in braine straight that I write Thy Lawrel greene that thou hast lou'd so long Doth florish still nor fatall Cypresse t is To feare too much thy selfe them much dost wrong And ouer-much to grieue thou dost amisse No Sunne but falls as well as it doth rise And who in Loue liues without Contraries Though ALBA's gone yet she 'le againe returne Then write that she may know thou dost her minde What Ladies promise HONOR will performe Nor thinkâ— that Beautie alwaies is vnkinde ALBA is milde MERCIE will Mercie show No Riuer ebs but it againe must flow I am at best and in my youthfull prime My louely Cynthias Fauour I enioy Yet think not but my Day is darkt sometime As I do taste of Blisse so feele I noy Thus chirps one ROBIN REDBREST to another Ah do not thy rare Gifts through sorrow smother R. A. TO THE PICTVRE OF HIS MISTRIS LIke to the Porpose Tempests prophesier I play before the storme of my sad Teares Or as the Swanne whose sweetest Note is higher When Death is neerest which he gently beares So sing I now that ALBA mine is parted Who hath me left disliude and quite vnharted Turne inke from Blacke to Gore in bloodiwise Paper from white change thou to deadly pale Whilst I my Readers eyes doe rumatise With brinish drops to heare this wofull Tale. This wofull tale where sorrow is the ground Whose bottom's such as nere the Depth is found But vnto whom shaâ—â— now dedicate This mestfull verse this mournfull Elegie Euen to my cruell Mistresse COVNTERFAITE Of Beautâ—es shape the right Eternitie Then to her PICTVRE I present this verse Of my slaine Hart dead for pure loue the Hoâ—â—â— Here may I touch kisse talke doe what I please Without Controle Frowne Anger or Disdain To breake ones minde in griefe yet t is some And boldly speake without replie againe Ah that I were Pigmalion in this place That Venus me as him she did would graâ— ALBA Alla Crudelissima Loe here the MONTHS MIND of my deare boughâ— Louâ— Which once a Month I vowd to memorise When first I sought the CRVEL FAIRE to moue Who alwaies did my sighs and teares despise This must my SABBOTH be and HOLIDAY On which I to my Goddesse vse to pray This Feast I solemnise for her sweete sake In absence hers as if she present were For my proud CHOICE who pitie none doth take On me that liue twixt Hope despaire and feare
Deare ALBA then accept this Sacrifice These dutious Teares the Tribute of mine eyes Thinke how perplext fore PICTVRE thine I stand Thinke of the depth of my sad Passion How I haue alwaies bin at thy command How none but thee my thoughts still muse vpon Thinke how I euer tendred thy Good naâ—â— Conseruing with my dearest Blood the same 〈◊〉 how I still of thee had due respect 〈◊〉 thou at all times â—idst me vse too hard 〈…〉 withouten cause thou didst reiect 〈…〉 meaning too too meane reward 〈◊〉 â—hese wrongs which I endured haue 〈◊〉 â—emember me Nought els I craue Troinoâ—anâ— Since spightfull Fortune sore against my will Hath drawne me farre from place where thou dost liue And that of force I must obey her still Although to liue so doth me deadly grieue Yet though my Bodie is farre off MY HART Is still with thee from whence is nere shall part Only of thee sweete Ladie this I craue That till our thred of life shall be vnspun Thou wilt vouchsafe me in thy minde to haue And not forget the Loue twixt vs begun But in thy Hart the same for to repose As I the like in inward soule doe close This only can still me in life conserue Thy gracious Fauour and thy Pitie sweete This is the pretious Balme the pure Preserue Which I doe hope to finde and still will seeke This makes me liue although with great vnrest Since of thy selfe I haue bin dispossest Thou art my Hope my Hauen my Comfort chiefe On thee alone on none elâ— I relie Only to thee I come to begge reliefe In thee it is if I shall liue or die DEAREST remember t is a Gift more rare CONSTANT to be then to be counted FAIRE Two sparkling stars fine golde pure Ebonie From whence Loue takes his Brands his Shafts Bow Two daintie Apples which though hid from eye Through vaile of Lawne through lawne more faire do show A cherrie lip with Iuoâ—ie teeth most white Where Cupid begs within that Grate so bright Vermilion Flowers that grow in Heauen aboue Snow which no wet can marre nor Sunne can melt Right Margarite Pearle which alwaies Orient proue A Voyce that Hart of marble makes to swelt A Smile that calmes the raging of the Sea And Skie more cleere makes then was wont to bee Graue staied wisedome in yong and tender yeares A stately Gate and Port maiesticall A Carriage where in vertue borne appeares Lookes that disdaine and yet delight withall Numbers of Fauours Beauties infinite With Modestie chaste pure and milde Delighâ— An humble Soule within a Bodie rich A lowly Thought within a conquering Hart These are the workes which I commend so mich Which Heauens LOVE haue framde by curious Art All these I once enioyde but they being gone My Note is changde my Mirth is turnde to Mone Ah might I once perswaded be at last These skalding sighs of mine should haue an end That I for Sower some Sweet at length might taste And that the CRVEL FAIRE would not contend Euer gainst me I then would gently take And suffer all these wrongs for her sweete sake Too well I know and I confesse the same That too too loftie is my proud Desire My soaring Thoughts deseruing mickle blame And I ore bold presume too high t' aspire Yet still me thinkes mine Ayme being not base I should deserue some little tynie Grace Say then sweete LOVE for thou with ALBA mine Dost soiorne wheresoeuer she doth bide Say am I like that to obtaine in time From which I now am so farre off and wide Ah say the truth doth she once thinke on me Doth she but wish that I with her might be Ah had not Reason my Desires refrainde I had my Thoughts deare Soueraigne seene ere this Whose Grace I sought but bootles to haue gainde The only ioy I in this world would wish Rather would I see those chaste beautious Eyes Then chuse to be in matchlesse Paradise As Christall Glasse in which the Sunne doth shine I like mine ALBAS Angels heauenly feature But when she deadly wounds this Corâ—e of mine I lothe her more then any murthring Creature More then a Theefe that robs and stealeth pelfe I hate her when she steales me from my selfe My hart is grieu'd cause it doth disagree For whilst my Minde to loue her doth deuise And thinks her worthie honored for to bee A Sdainfull thought through Hatred doth arise Which skornes that one so Rich a Theefe shuld proue That one so Faire a Murtheresse is in loue I know not what to seeke nor what I should Yet haue I sought till I haue lost my sense Although truth to confesse faine loue I would And yet not die for this too Cruell wench Betwixt these two fain would I find a Meane Alas Women haue none they alwaies keepe â—h'extreme Then how for me i ft possible to loue If my best ALBA once from me be tooke How shall I liue when thousand Deaths I proue When not this one the least I scarce can brooke Ah woe is me a double mixt Desire To haste my Death the sooner doth conspire Such is the rare perfection of sweete Beautie Of my faire ALBA my sole choise Delight That if that any PAINTER doth his dutie To shadow forth her Luster passing bright He loseth both his labour and his time As one ore bold so high a step to clime For whilst he giues his minde attentiuely And studieth to match Nature with his Art Marking her Feature with a watchfull eye To portray forth most liuely euery part Such brightnes comes from her such glistring rayes As he 's struck blinde and darkned goes his wayes This is the cause that who in hand doth take In curious wise her pearlesse Counterfate Hoping himselfe immortall so to make Doth fall into like dangerous estate Thinking to shadow her he shadowed is And so his eyes and purpose he doth misse That she were drawne in midst of Hart it were Far better and my selfe haue plaste her so For though in darke she hidden doth appeere Yet vnto me she faire and bright doth show My Hart 's the Boord where limnde you may her see My Teares the Oyle my Blood the Colours bee Fano Bright were the Heauens and husht was euery winde Cleere was the day when as mine ALBA faire Brought forth with ioy Lucina being kinde A daintie Babe for feature passing rare Adorning all the world with this glad welth A gift t' enrich the World Vs and her self What time she was in trauell of this Childe No thunder lightning nor no storme was heard But all was quiet peacefull calme and milde As if the skies t' offend her were afeard Whilst th' earth attended on her and the Sea As though they staid at her command to be Then did the Windes not vsing so before A gentle gale blow calmely euery where And fild the blisfull Aire with sweetes great store Each bird and fowle shewing a merry cheere Whilst that blest Day
MONTHS MIND A â—hast Fault though no Follie in her finde Since that mine ALBA tooke her leaue of mee I leaue haue tooke of pleasure and of ioy And did with sorrow at that time agree To soiorne with him in his chiefe Annoy My Woes still greene encrease continually Which faine I would but cannot remedie And were it not but that my dauntlesse Hart Doth comfort me with hope of better cheere I soone would rid me of this vncouth smart And leaue this life which I haue bought too deare Oft do I weep to LOVE and him I pray Either to ease my paines or me to slay Yet though I beg I finde but small reliefe As do at Rich mens gates the Needy poore Who more they crie to aggrauate their griefe The lesse they finde their Almes at the doore So LOVE the more my cries I to him senâ— The lesse my plants he skornefull doth attend And yet my sute is small small is the Grace That I desire for somewhat I deserue T is only for to die before her face From whom in Dutie yet I nere did swerue That she might know my life doth me annoy Vnles I might her company enioy Ladie when first vpon faire Venus Day I came acquainted with thy seemely â—elfe And vowde thy loyall Votarie to stay Proffring to thee my liuing life and welth As I was then so am I still the same Neuer to change for change exchangeth shame Within the Center of mine inward Hart As signe of euerlasting Monument Which fatall Death shall hardly from me part Thy high prizde Loue full surely haue I pent Neuer to be remou'd but there to lie World without end for aye continuallie For thee I longde for thee I much did dare For thee I hopte and feard bid sweet and sower Liking thee I for Others did not care Ore this my Hart thou hadst so great a power All otheâ— Faces in respect of thine I skornde as Masks thou only seemst Diuine Since LOVE then me with such affection framde That he hath me adopted Thine alone That I delight not but to heare thee namde And only like to heare thy praises showne Ah keepe thy plighted Faith vnstainde to me Though now farre off from hence thou Absent be Disdaine assaulted hath mine ALBA faire Fixing fast foot deep in her marble brest A blacksome Clowde hath darkt my beautious Aire Where cheerfull Sunne before with smile did rest She most vnlike her selfe a Tyrant showes Whilst as a Tiger mad with rage she growes All for her pleasure me for to displease Pitie she bandies from her tender hart Poyson not honey now must her appease Yet my Desire runs headlong to his smart Headlong he runs to her spite-tainted minde Which ouer fierce and cruell he doth finde My hopeles Chance through Vaile as t were I see Her quondam beautious eyes are bloodshot now Exorde desirde intreated they 'le not be They 'le not relent repent nor yeeld or bow Lightnings of Anger they do shew arighâ— Thunders of Furie darting forth despight The dangers great my harmeles Hart doth spiâ— Yet for all this from her he 'le not retire And whilst more humble he fore her doth lie The more she sullen swels with wrathfull Ire A Monster then I may her mirorise Since she delights in such strange Tragedies Dried hath th'iniurious Feuer those faire Flowers VVhich in the cheekes of my faire ALBA lay Scorcht are those paradized coloured Bowers LOVES LOBBIE where he wantonly did play Yet not extinguisht is mine amorous flame Some sparkes are yet remainders of the same As she lookes now so lookes the Moone in skies When mongst the gloomie clowdes portending raine She with her watrie horned head forth pries Spreading abrode her dewie beames amaine So we Aurora vse for to depaint Mongst palish violets when she looketh faint Pitie is mixt with griefe in her faire face And Griefe with Pitie in the same conioyne Where LOVE though sick sits with a louely grace In midst of sickly palenes in her eyne Sicknes it selfe so louely nere did looke But since her Inne in ALBAS breast she tooke That stately Haughtines she had before Now changde is into low Humilitie And that same glance that faithles was of yore Now faithfull sheweth and full of Loyaltie So with her Colour if she did Cruell take Yet Pitifull her Palenes doth her make Like bloodie Lion or a stinging Snake With proud Disdaine to aggrauate my smart Loue into me vnaskt his way doth take Died all with blood and Blood t is of my Hart Which wounded deepe still languishing doth lie Expecting euery minute when to die Thousands of Wounds my life hath quite bereft And wanting blood Palenes sits in my face My soule this Corse his mansion House hath left Nor dares he back retire to his old place This Martyrdome although there 's many see None me caresseth or doth comfort mee My Life runnes fondly to his mortall Foe Hoping for Help where he his hurt did finde My spirits after him amaine doe goe Whilst liueles Bodie doth remaine behinde On which grim death doth seaze as on hâ—s pray And of his breath to reaue him doth assay A farre off Peace I see but Warre at hand Loue single strikes me but with double paine Kild is my hart by Cruell she 's Command And he that slew him cleped is Disdaine Loe here of my kinde Dame the Exercise Hate is her Chapman Blood her Marchandise Praxitiles and Myron workmen rare Apelles skilde learnde Homer famous wight Were these aliue the Picture of my Faire To carue to cut to paint and thereof write In marble brasse boord or in bookes at large They sone would faint ore prest with so great charge And yet may be her beautious Countenance With chisell toole with pensell and with pen They rightly might haue shadowed though by chance Because they in their Age were rarest Men. But had they come the nobler part to show Their cunning then had soone tooke th' ouerthrow If my bright Sunne renowmd per Excellence Through the illustrious splendar of her gleames Doth dimme and darken our Intelligence By vertue of her more then radiant beames What Hand or Thought in hand could euer take A worke so endles with good end to make Deare ALBA I by thee am still forbid By Statue Image Picture or by Verse To shew the Vertues rare within thee hid As not being able least part to rehearse It shall suffice as sacred I admire Thy spotles life thy more then chast Desire To thee farre off from me these sighs I send To thee farre off from Loue I neere to die To know if thou thy selfe will minde wilt mend Desisting from thy hatefull Crueltie Beautie if it be milde it is renound If it be proud a foule reproch t is found Thou makst a shew as if thou wouldst be kinde But t is a shadow not a substance right For comming vnto triall straight I finde Thy sdainfull chast lookes puts my Hope to flight Whilst
thou dost seeme at these my Woes to grieue Yet them with succour neuer dost relieue Thy Griefe for me a passion 's in a play Which men doth rauish with Melancholy But acted once and out of sight away In minde no longer there doth stay but dy Thou art the Actor playing such a part My griefes neere deeply pearce into thy hart O would I could from Reasons Court obtaine A Supersedeas LOVE for to remoue From out my Breast to thee to ease my paine That thou the force thereof a while mightst proue But Destnie wils that I thy slaue do stay And so I will who bound is must obey Why haue the Heauens thus changed mine Estate Deseruing well to complot my Decay Why rather was not so ordainde my fate That ALBA nere should wend from me away I neuer changing my first vowed Loue Why should vnconstant she from me remoue Fond man is she vnconstant to be calde Who after course of world doth runne her race Are not all men by fortune puld and halde Neuer to bide still in one certaine place Nothing is more commended in the Sea Then th'often Ebbings and the Flowings bee Ah ALBA if thou shouldst continue still In one selfe place t' would be a Paradise But thou t' allay our proud Affectioâ—s will T' eclipse thine owne perfections dost deuise Thinkâ—â—g it is enough if but with eye We ioy a small glimse of thy Maiestie Then to encrease our Griefes thou dost decrease Our pleasures and thy selfe from vs dost hide When we for nothing lookt but peace and ease Euen at thy Best and in thy Beauties pride But why talke I where I cannot be hard Or heard she me she would not me regard Where are my Vowes withouten number now My teares withouten measure that I shed My skalding sighs to make proud ALBA bow They all are gone forgot quite banished Yet though they not deserue her loue they craue Me thinks some better fortune they should haue But if the Gods in iudgement partiall fit Vnequall viewers of each iniurie And with condigne reuenge seeke not to quit So monstrous wrong such nere heard Crueltie Why then I Reason none for Louers see That they should bide such paine for loyaltie Yet neither Hopes preferment were it great Nor feare of punishment though to my paine Nor counsell of the Wisest that entreat Nor company of best where I remaine Shall euer make me once my Humour chaâ—ge Nor from my first deuoted Vow to range My youths chiefe Flower of all my life the prime In melancholy passion I will spend Careles behauiour shall my latter time Because forsooke she cares not for me end Thus will I still continue during breath Doting on her who doth deuise my death Fond that I am like Greekish Wrastler vaine Striuing to lift a waight impossible I caught so strange incurable a straine As thereby brused sore I brainsick fell Fixing my thoughts aboue my reach I fall Into Disease without recure at all The stately Cedar whose tops seeme in show For height to reach vnto the azur'd skie Neuer his head bowes to the shrubs below That in the deepe and hollow Valleys lie Th'yuie that climing vp by th'elme doth runne Neuer can get hold of the beames of Sunne ALBA I honor in humilitie Whom none ought or should dare venter to loue Though I presume with importunitie Sometimes my sute in vaine to her to moue For her â—ffections be immortall rare Her vertues such as infinite they are Then suffer me to gaze on ALBA mine With my mindes eyes though absent now she be I knew when I enioyde her sight ah happie time That time I feare I neuer more shall see But t is all one for were the Cruell here I of my purpose should be nere the neere Am I so mad to thinke that such a Toy As Sorcerie is should ought preuaile for me That witchcraft power hath for to make me ioy And cause me here mine absent Mistres see I cannot chuse but thinke all to be tales And that Enchantment little here preuailes What though the Sunne is darkened by this skill And Moone 's remoude from out her setled cours Wilde beasts made stand amazed tame and still And waters turnde from their first wonted sours Yet cannot Art by force make setled Loue From his first Center where he resteth moue The Gods not men do rule the inward Hart They can appoynt Affection as they please Stones Yearbs and Words may vsen be by Art Yet these the Louers griefes can smalely ease Not Exorsisms Spels Mettals Planets Fire Can alter once the setled firme Desire Then I le with Discontent be satisfied And hopeles liue in hope though Hope in vaine Resoluing all base coynes to abide Since I despaire her grace for to obtaine Vnhappie I may case ore desperate No Skill nor cunning can my paine abate Hard hap had I to fall into thy hand Who giu'st thy selfe to endles crueltie When to thy flintie heart wilt giue command To change his wont and somewhat gentler be Wilt thou thy Beautie faire adulterise And seekst thou still on me to tiranise I ft possible thy yeares so few and small So many ancient mischiefes should containe Thy swelling pride I long haue borne withall Because that Beautie thereof is to blame Which still the more in fairenes it exceedes The more it ioyes in coy disdained deedes I grieue at thy deuises gainst me wrought And sorrow that wits sharper that they show The shroder and vnhappier should be thought Prone vnto ill but vnto Goodnes slow But for â—o seeke to murther through disdaine A harmeles heart is worse then Murderers staine What moues thee then thy selfe thus to disgrace Vnfitting for thy Sex where nought should be But kindenes milde far altring from thy face Where nothing but rare beautie we can see If then so faire a Sunne such foule cloudes hide Let me still in eternall Darkenes bide The bitter plaints wherewith my soule I wound With skalding sighs which smoke from forth my breast My cheekes through griefe pale wan and hollow found My troubled Thoughts which reaue me of my reâ—t Salt watrie teares which raine from blubbâ—ing eye Warme blood from Haâ—t distilling inwardly The seruile yoke which did my freedome breake My willing minde to doe what wild Command The state wherein I brought my selfe most weake The frost and fire wherein I still did stand The snare in which LOVE wrapt me so about As from the same I nere yet could get out All these and many another worser griefe Are no such plagues as is that Marble Hart That Marble Hart that yeelds me no reliefe Nor euer sought some comfort to impart The reuolution of the Heauens nor any â—ime Can make that Breast to yeeld to my Designe Vertue doth hinder it in my despight Chaste Honestie maintaines her in her force Then LOVE farewell all Hope I le banish quite I see in Flint is found no kind remorse If Teares Vowes Gifts Prayers Othes no good can
doe Nor Loue obtaine in vaine t is then to sue Deare to my Soule for Deare I may thee call Since thou farre dearer then my selfe I holde When wilt thou rid me from this loathed thrall In which I am through Fancies bandes enrold When wilt thou keepe thy promise vnto mee Whereof no deedes but words I yet can see Why doubtfull still doest thou my ioyes prolong And driuste me of in dalliance without cause Me and thy selfe why doest thou double wrong To keepe thy word why so long doest thou pause Thus for to loâ—e thy golden â—ime t is sin Which once being past againe thou canst not win Matters of state we vse to politize Procrastinating for aduantage great LOVE lingring hates and lothes to temporize Delaie's too â—olde for his orewarmed heate Ah doe not driue me of thus still in vaine Still for to lose t is much once let me gaine Dearer to me then th'apple of mine eyes Let word and deede but once for all agree Not any can in face thee equalize If but a little more thou kinde wouldst be Then with allusiue Sightes feede not me still But graunt at last for to performe my will Ye luke warme Teares which from my nere dride eyes Streame downe amaine like fountaines day and night Wende to my Lady in most humble wise And shew to her my most vnhappie plight Wende vnto her who outwardly in shew Seemes pittifull but inward is not so Weepe you â—o her and say I st possible A Creature that so courteous seemes to all Shoulde haue a hart more cruell and more fell Then Tiger harder then a stony wall Ah why seemes she not inwardly as kinde As she doth outward shew the world to blinde This my Icarian soaring boue my reach Though Beautie serenising fals my Hart How I ore bolde my headlong fall doth teach Whilest LOVE doth play gainst me a subtile part Yet Beauties Birth I am by her I breath Though liue against her fauour and her leaue Wilde fire with milke is quencht rigor with teares Yet naught her stubborne minde can mollifie Vnto my prayers she stops her deafened eares And with Despayre requites my Courtesie Thus am I still starre crossed in my Loue As one bewitcht with whom no good doth proue How long shall I diue in this vastie Sea To finde this Perle this Orient MARGARITE How long this bottome founding shall I be Yet nere attaine this precious Iewell bright My labors like to Hercules abound Who more he did the more to doe stil found I am too weake with Ospraies eyes to looke Against the fierie beames of this faire Sun Too great a Burthen haue I fondly tooke For my weake shoulders long since ouercome The more I seeke the farther I to finde Like to the wretch that of his sight is blinde My brused Bulwarke is not strong enough For to resist this beautious Batterie My yoke too small to draw so huge a plough Mine eyes too dimme such Brightnes to descries This shâ—wes that as vnluckie I was borne To die vnfortunate I must not scorne Yet I le not leaue to intercessionate To her hard Breast for my too gentle Hart That if her Rigor she 'le not mitigate At least she 'le somewhat ease me of this Smart I onely craue if she 'le not yeelde reliefe T'adiourne my paine and to proroge my Griefe Thrise trebble blessed BRACELET rich in prise I enuie not thy perlie fret nor golde But fortune thine because in happie wise The place of perfect pleasure thou dost holde About that wrist thou turnst and windst so oft More white then Snow then thistle down more soft Base mindes loue Golde t is not thy Golde I steeme For this I onely value thee at much Because an Ornament th' art to be seene Of her white Hand yclept of right NONESVCH NONESVCH indeede whose Beautie is so rare As nere the like attainde the perfects Faire This is the cause so highlie I thee rate As all the golden Mines of Indian ground Nor Seas of Pearle can counteruaile thy state Wherein thou art this present to be found And if that trueth I shall confesse indeâ—â—e The wealth of all the world thou dost exceede But when I marke how by strange cunning Art Faire louelie Haires with Pearle and Golde conioyne A pleasing ioy doth seaze vpon my Heart Whilest with strange pleasures Fancie feeds my mind So as sweete BRACELET thou dost rightly proue To be th' enchantment of bewitching LOVE Liue Louely Fame which when thou first didst take Possession of my Heart wert stony colde And bashfull but when entrance thou didst make Then as Triumphant thou didst keepe thy holde Changing both Thought state that where before Colde chillie Yee was hot Desire burnt sore If I thee honor worship serue and loue He knowes who guides the restles Globe on high But enuious Fates on me their force doe proue And me from thee haue banisht spitefully So that more paine I doe each houre abide Then if that thousands sorts of deaths I dide But fore that peereles matchles shape of thine The better part wherein my Soule doth rest Shall out of minde or memory of mine Whereby I only happy liue and blest All things shall chaunce impossible that be My selfe forget my selfe will I fore thee The Sunne shall lose his power and darke become The Skies shall melt and into horror fall The earth shall sinke the world be quite vndone And fore this chance all strange things happen shall Though now thou bidste in Albions fruitfull land And I where Mantuan Duke his Court doth stand Mantua Such as do liggen in Delight and ioy And haue what Hart can wish or Thought deuise Spending their time withouten dire Annoy Liuing amongst their friends in iocondwise And who with Loue of Ladies theirs are blest May in Eternam Requiem happie rest Me sillie Trauailer a pilgrim poore Who through hard hap these blessings all do misse Care doth become since want I do endure Of Countrie Friends and Loue my chiefest blisse And yet this CARE not Ill but well with mee Obseruing still Decorum doth agree A Trauailer farre from his Natiue coast With Care doth rise with Care him downe doth lay And though from piller tost he be to poste When All him leaue yet Care with him doth stay Not like vaine pleasure who away doth pâ—ake When he his Bark through want perceiues to leake Thanks then to Care of Poore the comfort chiefe The best companion that we Strangers finde In Countries strange forlorne without reliefe Who quiet gentle patient is and kinde Then constant CARE not Comfort I do craue And might I chuse I CARE with L. would haue This Tower this Castle this huge Prison strong Begirt with high and double fenced Wall Where I to be kept prisoner thus haue wrong Can neuer hurt nor do me harme at all Since I was pent here I am nothing changde But as before when I abrode still rangde This place restraines my Bodies libertie But
alwaies swim And as a froward Tortoys backeward goe Not Night but Light giue me with those faire Eyes Fierce Serpents not milde Doues enuenomise To thee Deare Faire that mak'st me fare amisse To thee my Goddesse I my prayers make And prostrate fall before thy Shrine of Blisse Crauing of thee that them in worth thou take Whilest I to thee my Hart in humble wise Vpon thy beautious Altar sacrifise Peruse with kindenes this my sad complaint Since I with pacience doe abide the paine And but thy willing eare herewith acquaint So thy remembrance not forget the same Thy hart gainst me not still induratize But my sad thoughts in me retranquillize I will not leaue vntill I leaue to loue And leaue to loue I will not till I die But thy hard flintie Breast I le somewhat moue To moane my Griefe the cause I alwaies crie Crie will I to thee till my Voyce be hoâ—rse And neuer leaue thee till thou take remorse From thy faire eyes the Sunnes Prâ—cursors bright This fire hath sprung which all my parts doth burne No Art-Enammeld lines that I do write No praies nor praiers to Mercie thâ—e â—an turne Yet come the worst the Age to come shall say I bare the prize for Constancie away Burnham Now earthly Goddesse haue thou some regarde To me thy seruant crauing what is iust Though long at last yeelde to me some rewarde Since I relie on thee and wholy trust Thinke on the pennance sore I doe endure Which to my Soule thine Absence doth procure Support my feeble Thoughts that scarse can moue For thou wert wont such better to commend Who would persist more loyall in their Loue And perseuere vnto the latest end Then those who wheÌ„ Loues course they gan to run Would giue it ore before halfe way were done I cannot doe so for my longing Hart Is knit in thine in such perfection strange That Death these twaine in sunder cannot part Nor length of Time nor Places distance change Thy Beâ—utious Vertue Vertuous Beautie tiâ— That makes me ioy in noy take Bale for blis Ah where art thou kinde Friendship that of yore Still with thy cheerefull smile didst comfort mee And sweetely wouldst with me my state deplore When heauie sad and grieu'd thou didst me see Ah where are those Alcinoi daies as now I Metamorphosde am I know not how Cleere shines the Sonne yet shines it not on me Faire is the Morne yet darkâ—ned is my Light Others the Spring I Fall of leafe doe see Whilest I enioy no Day but gloomy Night Thou art the cause sweete ALBA for thy Loue In absence thine these bitter-Brunts I proue Whilest thou like Princesse entertained art By thy kinde Tenants in most dutious wise Seeking to shew the zeale of their pure Hart By all the pleasing meanes they can deuise Striuing who shall thee better entertaine Signes of thy welcome home to them againe I here am left alone all poste alone As LOVES true Pledge that lies for Faith to Pawne Onely to waite thy parture and to mone Whilest my Conceits on Sorrowes Tent are drawne Like to the Bird on solitarie branch Wailing his Mates sowre losse through hard mischaÌ„ce Then louely thou my Harts deare Treasurer Let me obtaine this Fauour at thy Grace That thoâ— delay no longer nor defer But daine me once more see thy heauenly face Else here I vow if so thou come not soone Me shalt thou not see thou shalt see my Foome Now that my weary spirits do runne their race To those transplendent Lamps of ALBA faire And gazing there in vaine do plead for grace Leauing their ancient lodging nakte and bare She as their Foe stands on her Brauerie And passage to their Entrance doth denie They finding shut fast close milde Pities gate And seeing in what danger I remaine With haste returne from whence they came of late Retiring to their wonted Home againe Where they repose of Hope quite dispossest And there with Feare and Care together rest Disdaine those eyes spoyles that before were bright And fierce Desire that to reuenge hath minde Increaseth still in hart to worke me spite Deuising how to make her more vnkinde The orâ— the Bellowes vnto Furie blowes The other Slaue to wrathfull Anger showes But though to me she seemes as pitilesse Seeking my Death without cause to conspire Yet wiâ—â— I beare with all wrongs nere the lesse Resolu'd to bide the vtmost of her Ire Against her wrath I le true and Humble be For Faith 's my Fence my Shield's Humilitie Poore Meleager being in disdaine With furious Altea cruell mother his She flang his fatall Brand in firie flame Long time kept by her as her chiefest blis So as through fire it did consumde decay His wretched life did peece-meale waste away Altea mine ALBA is Meleager I The fatall Brand where bides my life her Loue No longer then she keepes this happely For me no longer may my spirits moue Long time Affection kept it but as now She flings it in the flame with angrie brow Anger 's the Fire Suspect kindles the Flame Conceit 's the Belâ—owes wherewith she doth blow Haste was the hand which flung it in the same The Coles Vnkindnes that did burne it so Ah but one drop of Water of her Grace If so I had t would quencht be in small space Thus do I burne and burning breathe my last And breathing last to naught consume away Like to that Lampe whose Oyle when it doth waste By lesser light and lesser doth decay Yet in this Fire I crie still for to moue her Ah piâ—ie me th' vnhappiest loyall Louer Thou solitarie Mountaine Mount of Mone Pleasing to me mine only solace chiefe How like are we we two seeme but as One Since thou shewst sad and I still to haue Griefe Thou with wilde sauadge Woods art compast round And in my Breast sharp austere Thoughts are found The huger Hill in bignes thou dost show The more All thee vncouth and sauadge deeme The more that I in yeares in Loue do grow The more deformed Creature I do seeme Water from thee from euery side doth come And teares from out mine eyes as Fountaines run Thou dost abide the blustring furious winde The paine of skalding sighs perforce I feele Tempests and stormes to thee are oft vnkinde But worse to me is ALBAS Hart of steele Thoâ—â—rooken art by Ioues sire from aboue And I am blasted with Lightning of Loue. Thou wantest Fruit and I am without Hart Only in this my Griefes do thine exceede That where as thou insensible still art I liuing feele too well the Brunt indeede Yet wert thou worse I like in thee to stay Since that my Pearle mine ALBA's gone her way O that I might my Griefes set downe at large And to the world make knowne mine Iniurie But I not dare the Cruell giues in charge Them to keepe close and This beare patientlie Being so grieuous as but part to know Would make the flintiest Hart to split for woe
ride Creator of all Creatures that do liue Whose Loue was such as thou for Man hast dide Though he thee hated skorned and did grieue Vouchsafe to view and rue my desprate state And me once more from sinne regenerate Ah looke vpon me with milde Mercies eye Clense me with purest Water of thy Grace Remember not how I haue gone awry Since I renounce to runne more such a Race Ah glorious Spouse thy Beautie I desire For now to Heâ—uen not Earth my Thoughts aspire Griefe that was once farre off remou'd from me Begins as now for to approach me nere Clad in his Weedes which Black and fearfâ—ll be And crownde with fatall Cypresse doth appeare With wringing Hands he doth bewaile my ruth And mournes that I haue straide so wide froÌ„ Truth Reason the Cochman to my wandring Thought As in a Christall glasse doth shew most plaine My gazing eyes how I haue fondly wrought Spending my Time in Toyes and Fancies vaine He shew'th me now another Nouell LOVE Another path wherein my feete to moue As One who in his Trauaile doth espie By chance a hideous Serpent or foule Snake That long before vnseene did closely lie Behinde some stub where he his Nest did make Shaking his three-forkt hissing tongue apace Quickly himselfe retireth from that place So I by louing wrong vnhappie Wight Hauing amisse straide long time and awrie When I at last of Death had but a sight Although farre off yet backward gan I hie Backward I came with hastie speedie foote Leauing that Course which I at first had tooke Thou wâ—ndring Spirit to whom Ioue doth commit Of this my Body fraile the gouernment Why gadding thus from Truth so farre dost flit Why are thine eyes with wilfull blindnes pent Why dost not marke what Danger is at hand What damned Death doth at thine elbow stand Ah be not flattred with this poysenous LOVE But call thy former Wits to thee againe Those wicked Thoughts roote out and hence remoue Whilst Life in thee to do it doth remaine What Mortall is by mortall Death suppresse Thy Gaine shall be the more thy Losse the lesse Heauen once thy Mansion was and dwelling place Now Hell thou seekst by running thus astray Vnhappie Soule to be in such a case So wilfully to seeke thine owne Decay Thou woundst thy selfe to God a Rebbell th' art And only striu'st to please the World in Hart. Alas in whom now dost thou put thy trust On whom dost thou relie or hope on now Ah turne and still liue shalt thou with the Iust Ah turne againe and trebble blessed thou Thou then shalt be whereas the Blessed are Pure Soule mongst Soules mongst Stars a brightsome Starre What 's God The Sourse of Goodnes and the Sprinâ— What is that Goodnes Such a Goodnes sound As aye increaseth without perishing How is it made In frame and fashion Round Like to a Forme that in it doth containe His End and his Beginning in the same This Goodnes first from whence did it proceede Three proper Veines there be that forth do runne Out of one sacred Sea from Heauen decreede Which coâ—passe doth All what so ere sees Sunne Cannot we see it This ESSENCE most Diuine No Mortall Man hath seene at any time How can it then be if it neere be seene That iâ— our mindes oft lifteth vp on High As if in Vision we in Heauen had beene It makes vs view such Wonders with Faiths eye With Faithâ— cleere eye which shines to vs so bright As vnto Heauen it is our Guide and Light What is that Faith A Gift which if Defect In him that firme beleeueth be not found It blindfold leades him yet with steps direct Vnto that place where perfect Ioyes abound Where God the Father Sonne and Holy Ghost Doe raigne in Glorie great of Mightiest most Thou LIFE which Life art calde and yet art Death Thou DEATH which Death art termde and yet art Life Say which of you maintaine my vâ—tall breath Within thiâ— wretched Vale of Worldly strife Say which prolongs my Life most of you Twaine Or thou LIFE or thou DEATH say both the same I more then LIFE straight DEATH doth answer make Nay I quoth LIFE farre more then DEATH to me And for this Cause this only Name I take Of LIFE which by my meanes alone can be Because whilst I within thy Body liue Death no way can thee hinder hurt or grieue But I by cutting off DEATH straight replies This slender Thred whereby Men runne their race Bring euery Faithfull soule in friendly wise Where he a better path for aye may trace Making him leade a Life eternallie A LIFE that still doth liue and neuer die Wherefore what ere he be that meanes to ioy This other LIFE that is Celestiall He muâ—â— not scorne to scape from worlds annoy Nor thinke it much to come when DEATH shall call For DEATH noâ— LIFE doth help vs at the end LIFE is our Foe but DEATH our dearest Friend All fraile most happie Day in blessed wise A Day of Griefe yet Honorable Day In which the Father did for Sacrifise Offer his Sonne to saue Man from decay Clensing our Soules defilde with sinfull mind With Innocent with pure and pretious Blood Vpon that Crosse now sacred then Prophane He â—ide for vs who could not dye indeede Whilst closing his fayre eyes for Mortals gaine He opened all the Gates of Heauen with speede Restoring them that Kingdome we had lost VVhich nothing Vs but Him too dearly cost Not his but our Due was it for to Die Those Torments which he meekly did endure His Crowne of Thornes his Wounds done spitefully That Cursed Scourge that spilt his Blood so pure All these to Vs and not to him did long Yet for our sakes our Christ himselfe did wrong Then if for pitie Graues do open wide Hils cleaue and Marble pillars rent in twaine If Heauens themselues their Lights for griefe do hide And if the Sunne for sorow clipst remaine VVhat Mortall hart is there that doth not breake VVhen he but thinks or of this Day doth speake That Vertue through whose power rulde is my soule Only through Vertuous Loue from Loue set free Takes force afresh as one that would controule And finding strong himselfe within to bee Vnbridled Will he seekes to bridle now And tries to breake what fore he scarce could bow New Lords new Lawes New Customes breake the Olde And where before a dark and mistie clowde My minde as in a prison did infolde Now is it loosde from out that gloomie shrowde My Hart doth iump euen iust with his desire And by their Eye know both what to require My watchfull Soule recouered hath well nie The former state in which he liued in And being free doth call to memorie VVhat bound he did forget through wretched sin VVhilâ—â— for his life repentant he attends Immortally to liue for his amends Not any part there is of Bodie mine But filled is with true not false Delight Yet doth it grieue