beautie of thy mind And that in guesse they measure by thy deeds Then churls their thoughts although their eyes were kind To thy faire flower adde the ranke smell of weeds But why thy odor matcheth not thy show The soyle is this that thou doest common grow Injurious Time LIke as the waves make towards the pibled shore So doe our minutes hasten to their end Each changing place with that which goes before In sequent toile all forwards do contend Nativitie once in the maine of light Crawles to maturitie wherewith being crown'd Crooked eclipses gainst his glory fight And time that gave doth now his gift confound Time doth transfixe the florish set on youth And delves the paralels in beauties brow Feedes on the rarities of natures truth And nothing stands but for his Sithe to mow And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand Praysing thy worth dispight his cruell hand Against my love shall be as I am now With times injurious hand chrusht and ore-worne When houres have dreind his blood and fild his brow With lines and wrincles when his youthfull morne Hath travaild on to Ages steepie night And all those beauties whereof now he 's King Are vanishing or vanisht out of sight Stealing away the treasure of his Spring For such a time doe I now fortifie Against confounding Ages cruell knife That he shall never cut from memory My sweet loves beautie though my lovers life His beautie shall in these blacke lines be seene And they shall live and he in them still greene When I have seene by times fell hand defaced The rich proud cost of outworne buried age When sometime loftie towers I see downe rased And brasle eternall slave to mortall rage When I have seene the hungry Ocean gaine Advantage on the Kingdome of the shoare And the firme soile win of the watry maine Increasing store with losse and losse with store When I have seene such interchange of state Or state it selfe confounded to decay Ruine hath taught me thus to ruminate That time will come and take my love away This thought is as a death which cannot choose But weepe to have that which it feares to loose Since brasse nor stone nor earth nor boundlesse sea But sad mortallity ore-swaies their power How with this rage shall beautie hold a plea Whose action is no stronger then a flower O how shall sommers hungry breath hold out Against the wrackfull siedge of battring dayes When rocks impregnable are not so stoute Nor gates of steele so strong but time decayes O fearefull meditation where a lack Shall times best Iewell from times chest lie hid Or what strong hand can hold his swift foote back Or who his spoile or beautie can forbid O none unlesse this miracle have might That in black inck my love may still shine bright Tyr'd with all these for restfull death I cry As to behold desart a begger borne And needie Nothing trimd in jollitie And purest faith unhappily forsworne And gilded honour shamefully misplast And maiden vertue rudely strumpeted And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd And strength by limping sway disabled And Art made tung-tide by authoritie And Folly Doctor-like controuling skill And simple-Truth miscalde Simplicitie And captive-good attending Captaine ill Tyr'd with all these from these would I be gone Save that to dye I leave my love alone True Admiration WHat is your substance whereof are you made That millions of strange shaddowes on you tend Since every one hath every one one shade And you but one can every shaddow lend Discribe Adonis and the counterfet Is poorely imitated after you On Hellens cheeke all art of beautie set And you in Grecian tires are painted new Speake of the spring and foyzen of the yeare The one doth shaddow of your beautie show The other as your bountie doth appeare And you in every blessed shape we know In all externall grace you have some part But you like none none you for constant heart O how much more doth beautie beautious seeme By that sweet ornament which truth doth give The Rose lookes faire but fairer we it deeme For that sweet odor which doth in it live The Canker-bloomes have full as deepe a die As the perfumed tincture of the Roses Hang on such thornes and play as wantonly When summers breath their masked buds discloses But for their vertue onely in their show They live unmoov'd and unrespected fade Die to themselves Sweet Roses doe not so Of their sweet deathes are sweetest odors made And so of you beautious and lovely youth When that shall vade by verse distils your truth The sorce of love BEing your slave what should I doe but tend Vpon the houres and times of your desire I have no precious time at all to spend Nor services to doe till you require Nor dare I chide the world without end houre Whilst I my soveraigne watch the clock for you Not thinke the bitternesse of absence sowre When you have bid your servant once adue Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be or your affaires suppose But like a sad slave stay and thinke of nought Save where you are how happy you make those So true a foole is love that in your Will Though you doe any thing he thinkes no ill That God for bid that made me first your slave I should in thought controule your times of pleasure Or at your hand th' account of houres to crave Being your vassaâ—le bound to stay your leisure Oh let me suffer being at your beck Th' imprison'd absence of your libertie And patience tame to sufferance bide each check Without accusing you of injury Be where you list your charter is so strong That you your selfe may priviledge your time To what you will to you it doth belong Your selfe to pardon of selfe-doing crime I am to waite though waiting so be hell Not blame your pleasure be it ill or well The beautie of Nature IF there be nothing new but that which is Hath beene before how are our braines beguild Which labouring for invention beare amisse The second burthen of a former child O that record could with a back-ward looke Even of five hundreth courses of the Sunne Show me your image in some antique booke Since mine at first in character was done That I might see what the old world could say To this composed wonder of your frame Whether we are mended or where better they Or whether revolution be the same Oh sure I am the wits of former dayes To subjects worse have given admiring praise Loves crueltie FRom fairest creatures we desire increase That thereby beauties Rose might never die But as the riper should by time decease His tender heire might beare his memory But thou contracted to thine owne bright eyes Feedst thy lights flame with selfe substantiall fewell Making a famine where aboundance lies Thy selfe thy foe to thy sweet selfe too cruell Thou that art now the worlds fresh ornament And only herauld to the gaudy
vadeth suddainly A flower that dies when first it gins to bud A brittle glasse that 's broken presently A doubtfull good a glosse a glasse a flower Lost vaded broken dead within an houre And as goods lost are â—eld or never found As vaded glosse no rubbing will refresh As flowers dead lie withered on the ground As broken glasse no symant can redresse So beautie blemisht once for ever lost Inspite of phisicke painting paine and cost Melancholy thoughts IF the dull substance of my flesh were thought Injurious distance should not stop my way For then dispight of space I would be brought From limits farre remote where thou doost stay No matter then although my foote did stand Vpon the farthest earth remoov'd from thee For nimble thought can jumpe both sea and land As soone as thinke the place where he would be But ah thought kills me that I am not thought To leape large lengths of miles when thou art gone But that so much of earth and water wrought I must attend times leasure with my mone Receiving naughts by elements so sloe But heavy teares badges of eithers woe The other two slight ayre and purging fire Are both with thee where ever I abide The first my thought the other my desire These present absent with swift motion slide For when these quicker Elements are gone In tender Embassie of love to thee My life being made of foure with two alone Sinkes downe to death opprest with melancholy Vntill lives composition be recured By those swift messengers return'd from thee Who even but now come backe againe assured Of their faire health recounting it to me This told I joy but then no longer glad I send them back againe and straight grow sad Loves Losse SWeet Rose faire flower untimely pluckt soone vaded Plukt in the bud and vaded in the spring Bright Orient pearle alacke too timely shaded Faire creature kild too soone by Deaths sharpe sting Like a greene plumbe that hangs upon a tree And fals through winde before the fall should be I weepe for thee and yet no cause I have For why thou lefts me nothing in thy Will And yet thou lefts me more then I did crave For why I craved nothing of thee still O yes deare friend I pardon crave of thee Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me Loves Releefe FVll many a glorious morning have I seene Flatter the mountaine tops with soveraigne eye Kissing with golden face the meddowes greene Gilding pale streames with heavenly alcumy Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ougly rack on his celestiall face And from the forlorne world his visage hide Stealing unseene to west with this disgrace Even so my Sunne one early morne did shine With all triumphant splender on my brow But out alack he was but one houre mine The region cloude hath mask'd him from me novv Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth Suns of the world may staine when heavens sun stayneâ— Why didst thou promise such a beautious day And make me travaile forth vvithout my cloake To let base clouds ore take me in my way Hiding thy brav'ry in their rotten smoke T is not enough that through the cloude thou breake To dry the raine on my storme-beaten face For no man vvell of such a salve can speake That heales the vvound and cures not the disgrace Nor can thy shame give phisicke to my griefe Though thou repent yet I have still the losse Th' offenders sorrovv lends but vveake reliefe To him that beares the strong offences losse Ah but those teares are pearle vvhich thy love sheeds And they are rich and ransome all ill deeds No more be greev'd at that which thou hast done Roses have thornes and silver fountaines mud Clouds and eclipses staine both Moone and Sunne And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud All men make faults and even I in this Authorizing thy trespas with compare My selfe corrupting salving thy amisse Excusing their sins more then their sins are For to thy sensuall fault I bring in sence Thy adverse partie is thy Advocate And gainst my selfe a lawfull plea commence Such civill war is in my love and hate That I an accessarâ— needs must be To that sweet theefe vvhich sourely robs from me Vnanimitie LEt me confesse that we tvvo must be twaine Although our undevided loves are one â—o shall those blots that do with me remaine Without thy helpe by me be borne alone â—n our two loves there is but one respect Though in our lives a seperable spight Which though it alter not loves sole effect Yet doth it steale sweet houres from loves delight I may not ever-more acknowledge thee Least my bewailed guilt should doe thee shame Nor thou vvith publike kindnesse honour me Vnlesse thou take that honour from thy name But doe not so I love thee in such sort As thou being mine mine is thy good report As a decrepit father takes delight To see his active child doe deeds of youth So I made lame by Fortunes dearest spight Take all my comfort of thy vvorth and truth For whether beautie birth or vvealth or vvit Or any of these all oâ— all or more â—ntitled in their parts do crowned sit â— make my love ingrafted to this store So then I am not lame poore nor dispis'd Whilst that this shadovv doth such substance give That I in thy aboundance an suffic'd And by a part of all thy glory live Looke vvhat is best that best I vvish in thee This vvish I have then ten times happy me Loath to depart GOod night good rest ah neither be my share She bad good night that kept my rest away And daft me to a cabben hangde vvith care To descant on the doubts of my decay Farevvell quoth she and come againe tomorrovv Farevvell I could not for I supt with sorrovv Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile In scorne or friendship nill I conster vvhether 'T may be she joyd to jeast at my exile 'T may be againe to make me vvander thither Wander a word for shadovves like my selfe As take the paine but cannot plucke the pelfe Lord hovv mine eyes throvv gazes to the East My heart doth charge the watch the morning rise Doth scite each moving sence from idle rest Not daring trust the office of mine eies While Philomela sits and â—ings I sit and marke And wish her layes vvere tuned like the Larke For she doth vvelcome day-light vvith her ditty And drives avvay darke dreaming night The night so packt I post unto my pretty Hart hath his hope and eies their vvished sight Sorrow chang'd to solace and solace mixt vvith sorrow For vvhy she sight and bad me come to morrovv Were I vvith her the night vvould post too soone But now are minutes added to the houres To spite me now each minute seemes an houre Yet not for me shine Sunne to succour flovvers Pack night peepe day good day of night novv borrow Short night to night and length thy selfe tomorrow A
perhaps compounded am with clay Doe not so much as my poore name rehâ—â—se But let your love even with my life decay Least the wise world should looke into your moâ—â—e And mocke you with me after I am gone O Least the world should taske you to recite What merit liv'd in me that you should loue After my death deare love forget me quite For you in me can nothing worthy prove Vnlesse you would devise some vertuous lye To doe more for me then mine owne desert And hange more prayse upon deceased I Then nigard truth would willingly impart O least your true love may seeme false in this That you for love speake well of me untrue My name be buried where my body is And live no more to shame nor me nor you For I am shamd by that which I bring forth And so should you to love things nothing worth But be contented when that fell arest Without all bayle shall carry me away My life hath in this line some interest Which for memoriall still with thee shall stay When thou reviewest this thou dost review The very part was consecrate to thee The earth can have but earth which is his due My spirit is thine the better part of me So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life The prey of wormes my body being dead The coward conquest of a wretches knife To base of thee to be remembred The worth of that is that which it containes And that is this and this with thee remaines Nil magnic Invidia THat thou art blam'd shall not be thy defect For slanders marke was ever yet the faire The ornament of beautie is suspect A Crow that flies in heavens sweetest ayre So thou be good slander doth but approve Their worth the greater being woo'd of time For Canker vice the sweetest buds doth love And thou present'st a pure unstayned prime Thou hast past by the â—mbush of young dayes Either not assaild or victor being charg'd Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise To tye up envy evermore inlarged If some suspect of ill maske not thy show Then thou alone kingdomes of hearts shouldst owe Love-sicke O How I faint when I of you doe write Knowing a better spirit doth use your name And in the prayse thereof spends all his might To make me tongue-tide speaking of your fame But since your worth wide as the Ocean is The humble as the proudest saile doth beare My sawsie barke inferior farre to his On your broad maine doth wilfully appeare Your shalloweâ— helpe will hold me up a floate Whilst he upon your soundlesse deepe doth ride Or being wrackt I am a worthlesse boatâ— He â—f tall building and of goodly pride Then if he thrive and I be cast away The worst was this my love was my decay Or I shall live your Epitaph to make Or you survive when I in earth am rotten From hence your memory death cannot take Although in me each part will be forgotten Your name from hence immortall life shall have Though I once gone to all the world must dye The earth can yeeld me but a common grave When you intombed in mens eyes shall lie Your monument shall be my gentle verse Which eyes not yet created shall ore-read And tongues to be your being shall rehearse When all the breathers of this world are dead You still shall live such vertue hath my Pen Where breath most breaths even in the mouths of men The Picture of true love LEt me not to the marriage of true mindes Admit impediments love is not love Which alters when it alteration findes Or bends with the remover to remove O no it is an ever fixed marke That lookes on tempests and is never shaken It is the starre to every wandring barke Whose worths unknowne although his hight be taken Lov 's not Times foole though rosie lips and cheeks Within his bending sickles compasse come Love alters not with his breefe houâ—es and weekes But beares it out even to the edge of doome If this be errour and upon me proved I never writ nor no man ever loved In prayse of his Love I Grant thou wert not married to my Muse And therefore mayst without attaint ore-looke The dedicated words which writers use Of their faire subject blessing every booke Thou art as faire in knowledge as in hew Finding thy worth a limmit past my praise And therefore art inforc'd to seekeanew Some fresher stampe of the time bettering dayes And doe so love yet when they have devis'd What strained touches Rhetorich can lend Thou truly faire wert truly simpathizde In true plaine words by thy true telling friend And their grosse painting might be better uâ—'d Where cheekes need blood in thee it is abus'd I never saw that you did painting need And therefore to your faire no painting set I found or thought I found you did exceede The barren tender of a Poetâ— debt And therefore have I slept in your report That you your selfe being extant well might show How farre a moderne quill doth come to short Speaking of worth what worth in you doth grow This silence of my sinne you did impute Which shall be most my glory being dumbe For I impaire not beautie being mute When others would give life and bring a tombe There lives more life in one of your faire eyes Then both your Poets can in praise devise Who is it that sayes most which can say more Then this rich praise that you alone art you In whose confine immured is the store Which should example where your equall grew Leane penurie within that Pen doth dwell That to his subject lends not some small glory But he that writes of you if he can tell That you are you so dignifies his story Let him but coppy what in you is writ Not making worse what nature made so cleere And such a counter-part shall same his writ Making his still admired every where You to your beautious blessings adde a curse Being fond on praise which makes your praises worse My tongue tide Muse in manners holds her still While comments of your praise richly compil'd Reserve their Character with golden quill And precious phrase by all the Muses fil'd I thinke good thoughts whilst other write good words And like unlettered clerke still crie Amen To every Himne that able spirit affords In polisht forme of well refined pen Hearing you praisd I say 't is so 't is true And to the most of praise adde something more But that is in my thought whoâ—e love to you Though words come hind-most holds his ranke before Then others for the breath of words respect Me for my dumbe thoughts speaking in effect A Resignation WAs it the proud full saile of his great verse Bound for the prize of all to precious you That did my ripe thoughts in my braine inhearse Making their tombe the wombe wherein they grew Was it his spirit by spirits taught to write Above a mortall pitch that struck me dead No
spring Within thine owne bud buriest thy content And tender chorle makst wast in niggarding Pitty the world or else this glutton be To eate the worlds due by the grave and thee When fortie Winters shall beseige thy brow And digge deep trenches in thy beauties field Thy youthes proud livery so gaz'd on now Will be a totter'd weed of small worth held Then being askt where all thy beautie lies Where all the treasure of thy lusty dayes To say within thine owne deepe sunken eyes Were an all-eating shame and thriftlesse praise How much more praise deserv'd thy beauties use If thou couldst answere this faire child of mine Shall sum my count and make my old excuse Prooving his beautie by succession thine This were to be new made when thou art old And see thy blood warme when thou feel'st it cold Looke in thy glasse and tell the face thou vewest Now is the time that face should forme an other Whose fresh repaine if now thou not renewest Thou doo'st beguile the world unblesse some mother For where is she so faire whose un-eard wombe Disdaines the tillage of thy husbandry Or who is he so fond will be the tombe Of his selfe love to stop posteritie Thou art thy mothers glasse and she in thee Calls backe the lovely Aprill of her prime So thou through windowes of thine age shalt see Dispight of wrinkles this thy goulded time But if thou live remember not to be Die single and thine Image dies with thee Youthfull glory O That you were your selfe but love you are No longer yours then you your selfe here live Against this comming end you should prepare And your sweet semblance to some other give So should that beauty which you hold in lease Find no determination then you were Your selfe again after your selfes decease When your sweet issue your sweete forme should beare Who lets so faire a house fall to decay Which husbandry in honour might uphold Against the stormy gusts of winters day And barren rage of deaths eternall cold O none but unthrifts dare my love you know You had a Father let your Son say so Not from the stars doe I my judgement plucke And yet me thinkes I have Astronomy But not to tell of good or evill lucke Of plagues of dearths or seasons qualitie Nor can I fortune to breefe minuts tell Pointing to each his thunder raine and vvinde Or say with Princes if it shall goe well By oft predict that I in heaven finde But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive And constant stars in them I read such art As truth and beautie shall together thrive If from thy selfe to store thou wouldst convert Or else of thee this I prognosticate Thy end is Truths and Beauties doome and date When I consider every thing that growes Holds in perfection but a little moment That this huge stage presenteth nought but showeâ— Whereon the Stars in secret influence comment When I perceive that men as plants increase Cheated and checkt even by the selfe-same skie Vaunt in their youthfull sap at height decrease And were their brave state our of memory Then the conceit of this inconstant stay Sets you most rich in youth before my sight Where waâ—tfull time debateth with decay To change your day of youth to fullied night And all in war with Time for love of you As he takes from you I ingraft you new Good Admonition Vt wherefore doe not you a mightier way Make warre upon this bloudy tirant time â—nd fortifie your selfe in your decay â—ith meanes more blessed then my barren time â—ow stand you on the top of happy houres â—nd many maiden gardens yet unset â—ith vertuous wish would beare your living flowers â—uch liker then your painted counterfeit So should the lines of life that life repaire â—hich this Times pensell or my pupill pen â—either in inward worth nor outward faire â—an make you live your selfe in eyes of men To give away your selfe keeps your selfe still And you must live drawne by your owne sweet skill â—ho will beleeve my verse in time to come â—f it were fild with your most high deserts â—hough yet heaven knowes it is but as a tombe â—hich hides your life and showes not halfe your parts â—f I could write the beautie of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces The age to come would say this Poet lies â—uch heavenly touches nere toucht earthly faces â—o should my papers yellowed with their age â—e scorn'd like old men of lesse truth then tongue And your true rights be termd a Poets rage And stretched miter of an Antique song But were some childe of yours alive that time You should live twise in it and in my rime Quicke prevention LOe in the Orient when the gracious light Lifts up his burning head each under eye Doth homage to his new appearing fight Serving with lookes his sacred majestie And having climb'd the steepe up heavenly hill Resembling strong youth in his middle age Yet mortall lookes adore his beautie still Attending on his golden pilgrimage But when from high-most pitch with weary care Like feeble age he reeleth from the day The eyes fore dutious now converted are From his low tract and looke another way So thou thy selfe out-going in thy noon Vnlok'd on diest unlesse thou get a sonne Magazine of beautie VNthriftie lovelinesse why dost thou spend Vpon thy selfe thy beauties legacy Natures bequest gives nothing but doth lend And being frank she lends to those are free Then beautious niggard why doost thou abuse The bountious largesâ—e given thee to give Profitles Vsurer why dost thou use So great a summe of summes yet can'st not live For having traffike with thy selfe alone Thou of thy selfe thy sweet selfe dost deceive Then how when nature calls thee to be gone What acceptable Audit can'st thou leave Thy unus'd beautie must be tomb'd with thee Which used lives th' executor to be Those howres that with gentle worke did frame The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell Will play the tirants to the very same And that unfaire which fairely doth excell For never resting time leads Summer on To hidious winter and confounds him there Sap checkt with frost and lustie leav's quite gon Beautie ore-snow'd and barenesse every where Then were not summers distillation left A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glasse Beauties effect with beautie were bereâ—t Nor it nor no remembrance what it was But flowers distil'd though they with winter meete Leese but their show their substance still lives sweet Then let not winters wragged hand deface In thee thy summer ere thou be distil'd Make sweet some viall treasure thou some place With beauties treasure ere it be selfe kil'd That use is not forbidden usury Which happies those that pay the willing lone That 's for thy selfe to breed another thee Or ten times happier be it ten for one Ten times thy selfe were happier then thou art If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee Then what could death doe
stolne from mine eye As interest of the dead which now appeare But things remov'd that hidden in there lye Thou art the grave where buried love doth live Hung with the trophies of my lovers gon VVho all their parts of me to thee did give That due of many now is thine alone Their images I lov'd I view in thee And thou all they hast all the all of me If thou survive my well contented day When that churle death my bones with dust shall cover And shalt by fortune once more re-survay These poore rude lines of thy deceased Lover Compare them with the bett'ring of the time And though they be out-stript by every pen Reserve them for my love not for their rime Exceeded by the hight of happier men Oh then vouchsafe me but this loving thought Had my friends Muse growne with this growing age A dearer birth then this his love had brought To march in ranckes of better equipage But since he dyed and Poets better prove Theirs for their stile I le read his for his love Friendly concord IF Musicke and sweet Poetrie agree As they must needs the Sister and the brother Then must the love be great twixt thee and me Because thou lov'st the one and I the other Dowland to thee is deare whose heavenly touch Vpon the Lute doth ravish humane sense Spencer to me whose deepe Conceit is such As passing all conceit needs no defence Thou lov'st to heare the sweet melodious sound That Phoebus Lute the Queene of Musicke makes And I in deepe delight am chiefly drownd When as himselfe to singing he betakes One God is God of both as Poets faine One Knight loves Both and both in thee remaine Inhumanitie FAire was the morne when the faire Queene of Love Paler for sorrow then her milke white Dove For Adons sake a youngster proud and wilde Her stand she takes upon a steepe up hill Anon Adonis comes with horne and hounds She silly Queene with more then loves good will Forbad the boy he should not passe those grounds Once quoth she did I see a faire sweet youth Here in these brakes deepe wounded with a Boare Deepe in the thigh a spectacle of ruth See in my thigh quoth she here was the sore She shewed hers he saw more wounds then one And blushing fled and left her all alone A congratulation HOw can my Muse want subject to invent While thou dost breath that powr'st into my verse Thine owne sweet argument too excellent For every vulgar paper to rehearse Oh give thy selfe the thankes if ought in me Worthy perusall stand against thy sight For who 's so dumbe that cannot write to thee When thou thy selfe dost give invention light Be thou the tenth Muse ten times more in worth Then those old nine which rimers invocate And he that cals on thee let him bring forth Eternall numbers to out-live long date If my slight Muse doe please these curious dayes The paine be mine but thine shall be the praise Oh how thy worth with manners may I sing When thou art all the better part of me What can mine owne praise to mine owne selfe bring And what is 't but mine owne when I praise thee Even for this let us devided live And our deare love loose name of single one That by this separation I may give That due to thee which thou deserv'st alone Oh absence what a torment wouldst thou prove Were it not thy soure leisure gave sweet leave To entertaine the time with thoughts of love VVhich time and thoughts so sweetly dost deceive And that thou teachest how to make one twaine By praysing him here who doth hence remaine Take all my loves my love yea take them all What hast thou then more then thou hadst before No love my love that thou mayst true love call All mine was thine before thou hadst this more Then if for my love thou my love receivest I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest But yet be blam'd if thou this selfe deceavest By wilfull taste of what thy selfe refusest I doe forgive thy robb'ry gentle theefe Although thou steale thee all my povertie And yet love knowes it is a greater griefe To beare loves wrong then hates knowne injury Lascivious grace in whom all ill well showes Kill me with spights yet we must not be foes Losse and gaine THose pretty wrongs that libertie commits When I am sometimes absent from thy heart Thy beautie and thy yeares full well befits For still temptation followes where thou art Gentle thou art and therefore to be wonne Beautious thou art therefore to be assailed And when a woman wooes what womans sonne Will sourely leave her till he have prevailed Aye me but yet thou mightâ—â— my seate forbeare And chide thy beautie and thy straying youth Who lead thee in their ryot even there Where thou art forâ—'t to break a twofold truth Hers by thy beautie tempting her to thee Thine by thy beautie being false to me That thou hast her it is not all my griefe And yet it may be sayd I lov'd her dearely That she hath thee is of my wayling cheefe A losse in love that touches me more neerely Loving offendors thus I will excuse yee Thou doest love her because thou knowst I love her And for my sake even so doth she abuse me Suffering my friend for my sake to approve her If I loose thee my losse is my loves gaine And loosing her my friend hath found that losse Both finde each other and I loose both â—waine And both for my sake lay on me this crosse But here 's the joy my friend and I are one Sweet flattery then shee loves but me alone Foolish disdaine VEnus with Adonis sitting by her Vnder a Mirtle shade began to wooe him She told the youngling how god Mars did try her And as he fell to her she fell to him Even thus quoth she the warlike god embrac't me And then she clipt Adonis in her armes Even thus quoth she the warlike god unlac't me As if the boy should use like loving charmes Even thus quoth she he seized on my lippes And with her lips on his did act the seizure And as she fetched breath away he skips And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure Ah that I had my Lady at this bay To kisse and clip me till I run away Ancient Antipothy CRabbed age and youth cannot live together Youth is full of pleasance Age is full of care Youth like summer morne Age like winter weather Youth like summer brave Age like winter bare Youth is full of sport Ages breath is short Youth is nimble Age is lame Youth is hot and bold Age is weake and cold Youth is wild and age is tame Age I doe abhor thee Youth I doe adore thee O my love my love is young Age I doe defie thee Oh sweet Shepheard hie thee For me thinks thou staies too long Beauties valuation BEautie is but a vaine and doubtfull good A shining glosse that
have attain'd'mongst Souldiers grace None will beleeve you that but sees your face Your feature and faire shape is fitter farre For amorus Courtships than remorselesse warre Let rough hew'd Souldiers warlike dangers prove T is pitty Paris should doe ought save love Hector whom you so praise for you may fight I le finde you warre to skirmish every night Which shall become you better were I wise And bold withall I might obtaine the prize In such sweete single Combats hand to hand 'Gainst which no woman that is wise will stand My Champion I le encounter breast to breast Though I were sure to fall and be o'repreast In that your private conference intreate me I apprehend you and you cannot cheate me I know the meaning durst I yeeld there to Of what you would conferre what you would doe You are too forward you too farre would wâ—de But yet God knowes your harvests in the blade My tyred pen shall here his labour end A guilty sence in theevish lines I send Speake next when your occasion best perswades By Clymenea and Aethra my two maides The Passionate Shepheard to his Love LIve with me and be my Love And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and vallies dales and fields And all the craggy mountaines yeelds There will we sit upon the Rockes And see the Shepheards feede their flocks By shallow Rivers by whose falles Melodious birds sing Madrigales There will I make thee a bed of Roses With a thousand fragrant poses A cap of flowers and a Kirtle Imbrodered all with leaves of Mirtle A gowne made of the finest wooll Which from our pretty Lambes we pull Faire lined slippâ—râ— for the cold With buckles of the purest gold A belt of straw and Ivie buds With Corall Claspes and Amber studs And if these pleasures may thee move Then live with me and be my Love The Shepheards Swaines shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning If these delights thy minde may move Then live with me and be my love The Nimphs reply to the Shepheard IF that the world and Love were young And truth in every shepheards tongue These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy Love Time drives the flockes from field to fould When River rage and Rocks grow cold And Philomell becometh dumbe The rest complaines of cares to come The flowers doe fade and wanton fields To wayward Winter reckoning yeelds A hony tongue a heart of gall Is fancies spring but sorrowes fall Thy Gownes thy Shooes thy bed of Roses Thy Cap thy Kirtle and thy Posies Some breake some wither some forgotten In folly ripe in Reason rotten Thy belt of straw and Ivie buds Thy Corell Claspes and Amber studs All these in me no meanes can move To come to thee and be thy Love But could youth last and Love still breede Had joyes no date not age no neede Then these delights my minde might move To live with thee and be thy Love Another of the same Nature COme live with me and be my deare And we will revill all the yeare In plaines and groves on hills and dales Where fragrant ayre breeds sweetest gales There shall you have the beautious Pine The Ceder and the spreading Vine And all the woods to be a skrene Least Phoebus kisse my Summers Queene The seat for your disport shall be Over some River in a Tree Where silver sands and pebbles sing Eternall ditties with the Spring There shall you see the Nymphs at play And how the Satyres spend the day The fishes gliding on the sands Offring their bellies to your hands The Birds with heavenly tuned throates Possesse woods Ecchoes with sweet notes Which to your sences will impart A musique to inflame the heart Vpon the bare and leafelesse Oake The Ring-Doves wâ—â—ingâ— will provoke A colder blood then you possesse To play with me and doe no lesse In bowers of Lawrell trimly dight We will outweare the silent night While Flora busie is to spread Her richest treasure on our bed Ten Glow-wormes shall attend And all their sparkling lights shall spend All to adorne and beautifie Your lodging with most majestie Then in my armes will I inclose Lillies faire mixture with the Rose Whose nice perfections in Loves play Shall turne me to the highest Key Thus as we passe the welcome night In sportfull pléasures and delight The nimble Faries on the grounds Shall dance and sing melodious sounds If these may serve for to intice Your presence to Loves Paradise Then come with me and be my deare And we will straight begin the yeare TAke O take those lippes away That so sweetly were forsworne And those eyes the breake of day Lights which doe mislead the morne But my kisses bring againe Seales of Love though seal'd in vaine Hide O hide those hills of Snow Which thy frozen bosome beares On whose toppes the Pinkes that grow Are of those that Aprils weares But my poore heart first set free Bound in those Icy chaines by theâ— LEt the bird of lowest lay On the sole Arabian tree Herauld sad and Trumpet be To whose sound chast wings obay But thou shrinking harbinger Foule precurrer of the fiend Augour of the feavers end To this Troope come thou not neere From this Session interdict Every foule of Tyrant wing Save the Eagle feathered King Keepe the obsequie so strict Let the Priest in Surplis white That deâ—untive Musicke can Be the death divining Swan Lest the Requiem lack his right And thou treble dated Crow That thy sable gender mak'st With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st 'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go Here the Anthem doth commence Love and constancie is dead Poenix and the Turtle Fled In a mutuall flame from hence So they loved as love in twaine Had the essence but in one Two distincts but in none Number there in love was slaine Hearts remote yet not asunder Distance and no space was seene Twixt thy Turtle and his Queene But in them it were a wonder So betweene them Love did shine That the Turtle saw his right Flaming in the Phoenix sight Either was the others mine Propertie was thus appalled That the selfe was not the same Single Natures double name Neither two nor one was called Reason in it selfe confounded Saw division grow together To themselves yet either neither Simple were so well compounded That it cried how true a twaine Seemeth this concordant one Love hath Reason Reason none If what parts can so remaine Whereupon it made this Threne To the Phoenix and the Dove Co-supreames and starres of Love As Chorus to their tragique Scene Threnes BEauty Truth and Raritie Grace in all Simpliicity Hence inclosed in câ—â—ers lie Death is now the Phoenix nest And the Turtles loyall breast To eternity doth rest Leaving no posterity T was not their infirmity It was married Chastity Truth may seeme but cannot be Beauty bragge but t is not shee Truth and Beautie buried be To this Vrne let those repaire
if thou should'st depart Leaving thee living in posterity Be not selfe-wild for thou art much too faire To be deaths conquest and make wormes thine heire An invitation to Marriage MVsick to heare why hear'st thou musick sadly Sweets with sweets warre not joy delights in joy Why lov'st thou that which thou receavst not gladly Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy If the true concord of well tuned sounds By unions married do offend thine eare They do but sweetly chide thee who confounds In singlenesse the parts that thou should'st beare Marke how one string sweet husband to another Strikes each in each by mutuall ordering Resembling â—ier and child and happy mother Who all in one one pleasing note do sing Whose speechlesse song being many seeming one Sings this to thee thou single wilt prove none It is for feare to wet a widdowes eye That thou consum'st thy selfe in single life Ah if thou issuleâ—â—e shalt hap to die The world will waile thee like a makelesse wife The world will be thy widdow and still weepe That thou no forme of thee hast left behind When every privat widdow well may keepe By childrens eyes her husbands shape in minde Looke what an unthrift in the world doth spend Shifts but his place for still the world enjoyes it But beauties waste hath in the world an end And kept unus'd the user so destroyes it No love toward others in that bosome sits That on himselfe such murdrous shame commits For shame dâ—â—y that thou bear'st love to any Who for thy selfe art so unprovident Grant if thou wilt thou art belov'd of many But that thou none lov'st is most evident For thou art so possest with murdrous hate That gainst thy selfe thou stickst not to conspire Seeking that beautious roofe to ruinate Which to repaire should be thy chiefe desire O change thy thought that I may change my minde Shall hate be fairer log'd then gentle love Be as thy presence is gracious and kind Or to thy selfe at least kind hearted prove Make thee another selfe for love of me That beautie still may live in thine or thee As fast as thou shalt wane so fast thou grow'st In one of thine from that which thou departest And that fresh blood which yongly thou bestow'st Thou maist call thine when thou from youth convertest Herein lives wisedome beautie and increase Without this folly age and cold decay If all were minded so the times should cease And threescore yeares would make the world away Let those whoâ— nature hath not made for store Harsh featurelesse and rude barrenly perish Looke whom she best indow'd she gave the more Which bountious gift thou shouldst in bountie cherrish She carv'd thee for her seâ—le and ment thereby Thou shouldst print more not let that coppy die When I doe count the clock that tels the time And see the brave day sunck in hidious night When I behold the violet past prime And sable curls or silver'd ore with white When loftie trees I see barren of leaves Which erst from heat did canopiâ— the herd And Sommers greene all girded up in sheaves Borne on the beare with white and bristly beard Then of thy beautie doe I question make That thou among the wasts of time must goe Since sweets and beauties doe themselves forsake And die as fast as they see others grow And nothing gainst Times sithe can make defence Save bread to brave him when he takes thee hence False beleefe WHen my Love sweares that she is made of truth I doe beleeve her though I know she lies That she might thinke me some untutor'd youth Vnskilfull in the worlds false forgeries Thus vainly thinking that she thinkes me young Although I know my yeares be past the best I smiling credit her false speaking tongue Outfacing faults in Love with loves ill rest But wherefore sayes my love that shee is young And wherefore say not I that I am old O Loves best habit is a soothing tongue And Age in love loves not to have yeares told Therefore I le lie with Love and Love with me Since that our faults in Love thus smother'd be A Temptation TWo loves I have of Comfort and Despaire That like two Spirits doe suggest me still My better Angell is a Man right faire My worser spirit a Woman colour'd ill To winne me soone to hell my Female evill Tempteth my better Angell from my side And would corrupt my Saint to be a Divell Wooing his puritie with her faire pride And whether that my Angell be turnd feend Suspect I may yet not directly tell For being both to me both to each friend I ghesse one Angell in anothers hell The truth I shall not know but live in doubt Till my bad Angell fire my good one out Fast and loose DId not the heavenly Rhetoricke of thine eye Gainst whom the world could not hold argument Perswade my heart to this false perjurie Vowes for thee broke deserve not punishment A woman I forswore but I will proue Thou being a Goddesse I forswore not thee My vow was earthly thou a heavenly love Thy grace being gaind cures all disgrace in me My vow was breath and breath a vapour is Then thou faire Sun that on this earth doth shine Exhale this vapour vow in thee it is If broken thâ—n it is no fault of mine If by me broke what foole is not so wise To breake an Oath to win a Paradise True content SO is it not with me as with that Muse Stird by a painted beautie to his verse Who heaven it selfe for ornament doth use And every faire with his faire doth reherse Making a cooplement of proud compare With Sunne and Moone with earth and seas rich gems With Aprills first borne flowers and all things rare That heavens ayre in this huge rondure hems O let me true in love but truly write And then beleeve me my love is as faire As any mothers childe though not so bright As those gold candells fixt in heavens ayeâ— Let them say more that like of heare-say well I will not prayse that purpose not to sell A bashfull Lover AS an unperfect actor on the stage Who with his feare is put besides his part Or some fierce thing repleat with too much rage Whose strengths abnndance weakens his owne heart So I for feare of trust forget to say The perfect ceremony of loves right And in mine owne loves strength seeme to decay Ore-charg'd with burthen of mine owne loves might O let my books be then the eloquence And domb presagers of my speaking brest Who pleade for love and looke for recompence More then that tongue that more hath more exprest O learne to read what silent love hath writ To heare with eyes belongs to loves fine wit Strong conceite MY glasse shall not perswade me I am old So long as youth and thou art of one date But when in thee times forrowes I behold Then looke I death my dayes should expiate For all that beautie that doth cover
thee Is but the seemely rayment of my heart Which in thy brest doth live as thine in me How can I then be elder then thou art O therefore love be of thy selfe so wary As I not for my selfe but for thee will Bearing thy heart which I will keepe so chary As tender nurse her babe from faring ill Presume not on thy heart when mine is slaine Thou gav'st me thine not to give backe againe A sweet provocation SWeet Cytheria sitting by a Brooke With young Adonis lovely fresh and greene Did court the Lad with many a lovely looke Such lookes as none could looke but beauties Queene She told him stories to delight his eares She show'd him favors to allure his eye To win his heart she toucht him here and there Touches so soft still conquer chastitie But whether unripe yeares did want conceit Or he refus'd to take her figured proffer The tender nibler would not touch the bait But smile and jest at every gentle offer Then fell she on her backe faire Queene and toward He rose and ran away ah foole too froward A constant vow IF love make me forsworne how shall I sweare to love O never faithcould hold if not to beautie vowed Though to my selfe forsworne to thee I le constant prove Those thoughts to me like Okes to thee like Oâ—iers bowed Studdy his byas leaves and makes his booke thine eyes Where all those pleasures lives that Art can comprehend If knowledge be the marke to know thee shall suffice Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend All ignorant that soule that sees thee without wonder Which is to me some prayse that I thy parts admire Thine eye Ioves lightning seemes thy voyce his dreadfull thunder Which not to anger bent is musick and sweet fire Celestiall as thou art O doe not love that wrong To sing heavens prayse with such an earthly tongue The Exchange A Womans face with natures owne hand painted Hast thou the Master Mistris of my passion A womans gentle heart but not acquainted With shifting change as is false womens fashion An eye more bright then theirs lesse false in rowling Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth A man in hew all Hews in his controuling Which steales mens eyes and womens soules amazeth And for a woman went thou first created Till nature as she wrought thee fell a doting And by addition me of thee defeated By adding one thing to my purpose nothing But since she prickt thee out for womens pleasure Mine be thy love and thy loves use their treasure A disconsolation WEary with toyle I haste me to my bed The deare repose for lims with travaile tired But then begins a journey in my head To worke my minde when bodies work 's expired For then my thoughts from far where I abide Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee And keepe my drooping eye-lids open wide Looking on darkenesse which the blind doe see Save that my soules imaginary sight Presents their shaddow to my sightlesse view Which like a jewell â—hunge in gastly night Makes blacke night beautious and her old face new Loe thus by day my lims by night my mind For thee and for my selfe no quiet finde How can I then returne in happy plight That am debard the benefit of rest When dayes oppression is not eazd by night But day by night and night by day opprest And each though enemies to others raigne Doe in consent shake hands to torture me The one by toyle the other to complaine How far I toyle still farther off from thee I tell the Day to please him thou art bright And do'st him grace when clouds doe blot the heaven So flatter I the swart complexiond night When sparkling stars twire not thou guil'st th' even But day doth daily draw my sorrowes longer And night doth nightly make greefes length seeme stronger When in disgrace with Fortune and mens eyes I all alone be weepe my out-cast state And trouble deafe heaven with my bootlesse cries And looke upon my selfe and curse my fate Wishing me like to one more rich in hope Featur'd like him like him with friends possest Desiring this mans art and that mans skopâ— With what I most injoy contented least Yet in these thoughts my selfe almost despising Haply I thinke on thee and then my state Like to the Larke at breake of day arising From sullen earth sings himns at Heavensgate For thy sweet love remembred such wealth brings That then I scorne to change my state with Kings Cruell Deceit SCarse had the Sunne dride up the deawy morne And scarse the herd gone to the hedge for shade When Cytherea all in love forlorne A longing tariance for Adonis made Vnder an Osyer growing by a brooke A brooke where Adon us'd to coole his spleene Hot was the day she hotter that did looke For his approach that often there had beene Anon he comes and throwes his Mantle by And stood starke naked on the brookes greene brim The Sunne look't on the world with glorious eye Yet not so wistly as this Queene on him He spying her bounst in whereas he stood Oh Iove quoth she why was not I a stood The unconstant Lover FAire is my love but not so faire as fickle Milde as a Dove but neither true nor trustie Brighter then glasse and yet as glasse is brittle Softer then wax and yet as Iron rusty A lilly pale with damaske die to grace her None fairer nor none falser to deface her Her lips to mine how often hath she joyned Betweene each kisse her oathes of true love swearing How many tales to please me hath she coyned Dreading my love the losse thereof still fearing Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings Her faith her oathes her teares and all were jeastings She burnt with love as straw with fire flameth She burnt out love as soone as straw out burneth She fram'd the love and yet she foyld the framing She bad love last and yet she fell a turning Was this a lover or a Letcher whether Bad in the best though excellent in neither The benefit of Friendship WHen to the Sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past I sigh the lacke of many a thing I sought And with old woes new waile my deare times waste Then can I drowne an eye unus'd to flow For precious friends hid in deaths datelesse night And weepe a fresh loves long since canceld woe And moane th' expence of many a vanisht sight Then can I greeve at greevances fore gone And heavily from woe to woe tell ore The sad account of fore-bemoned mone VVhich I new pay as if not payd before But if the while I thinke on thee deare friend All losses are restor'd and sorrowes end Thy bosome is indeared with all hearts VVhich I by lacking have supposed dead And there raignes Love and all Loves loving parts And all those friends which I thought buried How many a holy and obsequious teare Hath deare religious love
the lover sicke to death Wisht himselfe the heavens breath Ayre quoth he thy cheeks may blow Ayre would I might triumph so But alas my hand hath sworne Nere to plucke thee from thy throne Vow alacke for youth unmeet Youth so apt to pluck a sweet Thou for whom Iove would sweare Iuno but an Ethiope were And deny himselfe for Iove Turning mortall for thy Love Loves labour lost MY flocks feede not my Ewes breed not My Rams speed not all is amis Love is dying Faiths defying Harts denying causer of this All my merry Iigges are quite forgot All my Ladies love is lost god wot Where her â—aith was firmely fixt in love There a nay is plac't without remove One silly crosse wrought all my losse O frowning fortune cursed fickle dame For now I see inconstancy More in women then in men remaine In blacke mourne I all feares scorne I Love hath forlorne me living in thrall Heart is bleeding all helpe needing O cruell speeding fraughted with gall My shep heards pipe can sound no deale My Weathers bell rings dolefull knell My curtaile Dogge that wont to have plaid Plaies not at all but seemes afraid With sighes so deepe procures to weepe In howling wise to see my dolefull plight How sighes resound through heartlesse ground Like a thousand vanquisht men in bloudie fight Cleare wells spring not sweet birds sing not Greene plants bring not forth their die Herds stands weeping flockes all sleeping Nimphes blacke peeping fearefully All our pleasure knowne to us poore swaines All our merry meetings on the plaines All our evening sport from us is fled All our love is lost for love is dead Farewell sweet love thy like nere was For a sweet content the cause of all my woe Poore Coridon must live alone Other helpe for him I see that there is none Wholesome counsell WHen as thine eye hath chose the Dame And stalde the deare that thou shouldst strike Let reason rule things worthy blame As well as fancy partly all might Take counsell of some wiser head Neither too young nor yet unwed And when thou com'st thy tale to tell Smooth not thy tongue with filed talke Least she some subtill practise smell A Cripple soone can finde a halt But plainely say thou lovst her well And set her person forth to sale What though her frowning browes be bent Her cloudy lookes will calme ere night And then too late she will repent That thus dissembled her delight And twice desire ere it be day That which with scorne she put away What though she strive to try her strength And ban and braule and say thee nay Her feeble force will yeeld at length When craft hath taught her thus to say Had women beene so strong as men In faith you had not had it then And to her will frame all thy wayes Spare not to spend and chiefly there Where thy desart may merit praise By ringing in thy Ladies eare The strongest castle tower and towne The golden bullet beats it downe Serve alwayes with assured trust And in thy sute be humble true Vnlesse thy Lady prove unjust Prâ—ase never thou to chuse a new When time shall serve be thou not slacke To proffer though she put it back The wiles and guiles that women worke Dissembled with an outward shew The tricks and toyes that in them lurke The Cock that treads them shall not know Have you not heard it said full oft A Womans nay doth stand for nought Thinke women still to strive with men To sinne and never for to Saint There is no heaven by holy then When time with age shall them attaint Were kisses all the joyes in bed One woman would another wed But soft enough too much I feare Least that my mistresse heare my song She will not sticke to round me on th'ere To teach my tongue to be so long Yet will she blush here be it said To heare her secrets so bewraid Sat fuisse SInne of selfe-love possesseth all mine eye And all my soule and all my every part And for this sinne there is no remedy It is so grounded inward in my heart Me thinkes no face so gracious is as mine No shape so true no truth of such account And for my selfe mine owne worth doe define As I all other in all worths surmount But when my glasse shewes me my selfe indeed Beated and chopt with tand antiquitie Mine owne selfe love quite contrary I read Selfe so selfe loving were iniquitie 'T is thee my selfe that for my selfe I praise Painting my age vvith beautie of thy dayes A living monument NOt marble noâ— the guilded monument Of Princes shall out-live this powerfull rime But you shall shine more bright in these contents Then unswept stone besmeer'd with sluttish time When wastefull warre shall Statues overturne And broyles roote out the worke of masonry Nor Mars his sword noâ— warres quicke fire shall burne The living record of your memory Gainst death and all oblivious emnitie Shall you pace forth your praise shall still finde roome Even in the eyes of all posteritie That were this world out to the ending doome So till the judgement that your selfe arise You live in this and dwell in lovers eyes Familiaritie breeds contempt SO am I as the rich whose blessed key Can bring him to his svveet uplocked treasure The which he will not ev'ry hovver survay For blunting the fine point of seldome pleasure Therefore are feasts so sollemne and so rare Since seldome comming in the long yeare set Like stones of worth they thinly placed arâ— Or captaine Ievvells in the carconet So is the time that keepes you as my chest Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide To make some speciall instant speciall blest By new unfoulding his imprison'd pride Blessed are you whose worthinesse gives scope Being had to tryumph being lackt to hope Patiens Armatus IS it thy will thy Image should keepe open My heavie eyelids to the weary night â— Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken While shadowes like to thee doe mocke my sight Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee So farre from home into my deeds to pry To finde out shames and idle houres in me The scope and â—enure of thy Iealousie O no thy love though much is not so great It is my love that keepes mine eye awake Mine owne true love that doth my rest defeat To play the watch-man ever for thy sake For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake else-where From me farre of with others all too neare A Valediction NO longer mourne for me when I am dead Then you shall heare the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world with vildest wormes to dwell Nay if you read this line remember not The hand that writ it for I love you so That I in your svveet thoughts would be forgot If thinking on me then should make you wâ—â— O if I say you looke upon this verse When I
neither he nor his compiers by night Giving him ayde my verse astonished He nor that affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence As victors of my silence cannot boast I was not sicke of any feare from thence But when your countenance fild up his line Then lackt I matter that infeebled mine Farewell thou art too deare for my possessing And like enough thou knowst thy estimate The Charter of thy worth gives thee releasing My bonds in thee are all determinate For how doe I hold thee but by thy granting And for that riches where is my deserving The cause of this faire guift in me is wanting And so my pattent backe againe is sâ—eâ—ving Thy selfe thou gav'st thy owne worth then not knowing Or me to whom thou â—av'st it else mistâ—king So thy great guift upon misprision growing Comes home againe on better judgement making Thus have I had thee as a dreame doth flatter In sleepe a King but waking no such matter Sympathizing love AS it fell upon a Day In the merry Moneth of May Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of Myrtles made Beasts did leape and Birds did sing Trees did grow and Plants did spring Every thing did banish mone Save the Nightingale alone She poore Bird as all forlorne Leand her brest up-till a thorne And there sung the dolefuist Dittie That to heare it was great Pittie Fie fie fie now would she cry Teru Teru by and by That to heare her so complaine Scarse I could from teares refraine For her griefes so lovely showne Made me thinke upon mine owne Ah thought I thou mournst in vaine None takes pitty on thy paine Senslesse trees they cannot heare thee Ruthlesse Beares they will not â—heere thee King Paâ—dion he is dead All thy friends are lapt in Lead All thy fellow Birds doe â—ing Carelesse of thy sorrowing Whilst as fickle Fortune smild Thou and I were both beguild Every one that flatters thee Is no friend in misery Words are easie like the wind Faithfull friends are hard to finde Every man will be thy friend Whilst thou haste wherewith to spend But if store of Crownes be scant No man will supply thy want If that one be prodigall Boubtifull they will him call And with such like flattering Pittie but he were a King If he be addict to vice Quickly him they will intice If to women he be bent They have at Commandement But if Fortune once doe frowne Then farewell his great renowne They that fawnd on him before Vse his company no more He that is thy friend indeede He will helpe thee in thy neede If thou sorrow he will weepe If thou awake he cannot sleepe Thus of every greefe in heart He with thee doth beare a part These are certaine signes to know Faithfull friend from flatt'ring foe Arequest to his scornefull Love WHen thou shalt be dispos'd to set me light And place my merit in the eye of scorne Vpon thy side against thy selfe I le fight And prove thee vertuous though thou art forsworne With mine owne weakenesse being best acquainted Vpon thy part I can set downe a story Of faults conceald wherein I am attainted That thou in loosing me shall win much glory And I by this will be a gainer too For bending all my loving thoughts on thee The injuries that to my selfe I doe Doing thee vantage duble vantage me Such is my love to thee I so belong That for thy right my selfe will beare all wrong Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault And I will comment upon that offence Speake of my lameneâ—â—e and I straight will hault Against thy reasons making no defence Thou canst not love disgrace me halfe so ill To set a forme upon desired change As Ile my selfe disgrace knowing thy will I will acquaintance strangle and looke strange Be absent from thy walkes and in my tongue Thy sweet belooved name no more shall dwell Least I too much prophane should do it wrong And haply of our old acquaintance tell For thee against my selfe I le vow debate For I must nere love him whom thou dost hâ—â—â— Then hate me when thou wilt if ever now Now while the world is bent my deeds to crosse Ioyne with the spight of fortune make me bow And doe not drop in for an after losse Ah doe not when my heart hath scapt this sorrow Come in the rereward of a conquered woe Give not a windy night a rainie morrow To linger out a purposd overthrow If thou wilt leave me doe not leave me last When other pettie griefes have done their spight But in the onset come so shall I taste At first the very worst of fortunes might And other straines of woe which now seeme woe Compar'd with losse of thee will not seeme so Some glory in their birth some in their skill Some in their wealth some in their bodies force Some in their garments though new-fangled ill Some in their Hawkes and bounds some in their Horse And every humour hath his adjunct pkasure Wherein it findes a joy above the rest But these particulers are not my measure All these I better in one generall best Thy love is better then high birth to me Richer then wealth prouder then garments cost Of more delight then Hawkes or Horses be And having thee of all mens pride I boxâ—â— Wretched in this alone that thou mayst take All this away and me most wretched make A Lovers affection though his Love prove unconstant BVt doe thy worst to steale thy selfe away For tearme of life thou art assured mine And life no longer then my love will stay For it depends upon that love of thine Then need I not to feare the worst of wrongs When in the least of them my life hath end I see a better state to me belongs Then that which on my humour doth depend Thou canst not vex me with inconstant minde Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie Oh what a happy title doe I finde Happy to have thy love happy to die But what 's so blessed faire that feares no blot Thou maist be false and yet I know it not So shall I live supposing thou art true Like a deceived husband so loves face May still seeme love to me though alter'd new Thy lookes with me thy heart in other place For their can live no hatred in thine eye Therefore in that I cannot know thy change In manies lookes the false hearts history Is writ in moods and â—roâ—nâ—s and wrinckles strange But heaven in thy creation did decree That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell What ere thy thoughts or thy hearts workings be Thy lookes should nothing thence but sweetnesse tell How like Eâ—es apple doth thy beautie grow If thy sweet vertue answer not thy show They that have power to hurt and will doe none That doe not doe the thing they most doe show Who moving others are themselves as stone Vnmooved cold and to temptation slow They rightly doe inherit heavens
example mai'st thou be denide An Allusion LOe as a carefull huswife runnes to catch One of her feathered creatures broke away Sets downe her babe and makes all swift dispatch In pursuite of the thing she would have stay Whilst her neglected child holds her in chace Cries to catch her whose busie care is bent To follow that which flies before her face Not prizing her poore infants discontent So runst thou after that which flies from thee Whilst I thy babe chase thee a farre behind But if thou catch thy hope turne backe to mee And play the mothers part kisse me be kind So will I pray that thou maist have thy Will If thou turne backe and my loud crying still Life and death THose lips that Loves owne hand did make Breath'd forth the sound that said I hate To me that languisht for her sake But when she saw my wofull state Straight in her heart did mercy come Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was usde in giving gentle doome And taught it thus a new to greete I hate she altered with an end That follow'd it as gentle day Doth follow night who like a fiend From heaven to hell is flowne away I hate from hate away she threw And sav'd my life saying not you A Consideration of death POore soule the center of my sinfull earth My sinfull earth these rebell powers that thee aray Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth Painting thy outward walls in costly gay Why so large cost having so short a lease Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend Shall wormes in heritors of this excesse Eate up thy charge is this thy bodies end Then soule live thou upon thy servants losse And let that pine to aggrivate thy store Buy tearmes divine in selling houres of drosse VVithin be fed without be rich no more So shalt thou feed on death that feedes on men And death once dead ther 's no more dying then Immoderate Passion MY love is as a feaver longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill Th' uncertaine sickly appetite to please My reason the Phisition to my love Angry that his prescriptions are not kept Hath left me and I desperate now approve Desire is death which Phisicke did except Past cure I am now Reason is past care And franticke madde with ever-more unrest My thoughts and my discourse as mad mens are At randome from the truth vainely exprest For I have sworne thee faire and thought thee bright Who art as blacke as hell as darke as night Loves powerfull subtilty O Me what eyes hath love put in my head Which have no correspondence with true sight Or if they have where is my judgement fled That censures falsely what they see aright If that be faire where on my false eyes dote What meanâ—s the world to say it is not so If it be not then love doth well denote Loves eye is not so true as all mens no How can it Oh how can loves eye be true That is so vext with watching and with teares No marvell then though I mistake my view The Sunne it selfe sees not till heaven cleeres O cunning love with teares thou keepst me blinde Least eyes well seeing thy foule faults should finde Canst thou O cruell say I love thee not When I against my selfe with thee partake Doe I not thinke on thee when I forgot Am of my selfe all tyrant for thy sake Who hateth thee that I doe call my friend On whom froun'st thou that I doe faune upon Nay if thou lowrst on me doe I not spend Revenge upon my selfe with present mone What merit do I in my selfe respect That is so proud thy service to dispise When all my best doth worship thy defect Commanded by the motion of thine eyes But love hate on for now I know thy minde Those that can see thou lov'st and I am blinde Oh from what power hast thou this powrefull might With insufficiency my heart to sway To make me give the lie to my true sight And sweare that brightnesse doth not grace the day Whence hast thou this becomming of things ill That in the very refuse of thy deeds There is such strength and warrantise of skill That in my minde thy worst all best exceeds Who taught thee how to make me love thee more The more I heare and see just cause of hate Oh though I love what others doe abhorre With others thou should'st not abhorre my state If thy unworthinesse rais'd love in me More worthy I to be belov'd of thee Retaliation SO oft have I invok'd thee for my Muse And â—ound such faire assistance in my verse As every Alâ—en Pen hath got my use And under thee their poeâ—ie disperse Thine eyes that taught the dumbe on high to sing And heavie ignorance aloft to flie Have added feathers to the learneds wing And given grace a double Majestie Yet be most proud of that which I compile Whose influence is thine and borne of thee In others workes thou dost but mend the stile And Arts with thy sweete graces graced be But thou art all my Art and dost advance As high as learning my rude ignorance Whilst I alone did call upon thy aide My verse alone had all thy gentle grace But now my gracious numbers are decaide And my sicke Muse doth give another place I grant sweet love thy lovely argument Deserves the travell of a worthier pen Yet what of thee thy Poet doth invent He robs thee of and payes it thee againe He lends thee vertue and he stole that word From thy behaviour beautie doth he give And found it in thy theeke he can afford No praise to thee but what in thee doth live Then thanke him not for that Which he doth say Since what he owes thee thou thy selfe dost pay Sunne Set. THat time of yeare thou maist in mee behold When yellow leaves or none or few doe hang Vpon those boughes which shake against the cold Bare ruin'd quires where late the sweet birds sang In me thou seest the twi-lights of such day As after Sun-set fadeth in the West Which by and by blacke night doth take away Deaths second selfe that seales up all in rest In me thou seest the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie As the death bed whereon it must expire Consum'd with that which it was nurâ—isht by T is thou perceiv'st which makes thy love more strong To love that well which thou must leave ere long Thy glasse will shew thee how thy beauties were Thy dyall how thy precious minutes waste The vacant leaves thy mindes imprint will beare And of this booke this learning maist thou taste The wrinckles which thy glasse will truely show Of mouthed graves will give the memory Thou by thy dyals shady stealth maist know Times theevish progresse to eternity Looke what thy memory cannot containe Commit to these waste blacks and thou shalt finde Those children nurst delivered
from thy braine To take a new acquaintance of thy minde These offices so oft as thou wile looke Shall profit thee and much inrich thy booke A monument to Fame NOt mine owne feares nor the propheticke soule Of the wide world dreaming on things to come Can yet the lease of my true love controule Supposde as forfeit to a confin'd doome The mortall Moone hath her eclipse indur'd And the sad Augurs mocke their owne presage Incertainties now crowne themselves assur'd And peace proclaimes â—lives of endlesse age Now with the droppes of this most balmie time My love lookes fresh and death to me subscribes Since spight of him I le live in this poore â—ime While he insults ore dull and speechlesse tribes And thou in this shalt finde thy monument When tyrants crests and tombs of brasse are spent What 's in the braine that inke may character Which hath not figur'd to thee my true spirit What 's new to speake what now to register That may expresse my love or thy deare merit Nothing sweet-love but yet like prayers divine I must each day say ore the very same Counting no old thing old thou mine I thine Even as when first I hallowed thy faire name So that eternall love in loves fresh case Weighes not the dust and injuries of age Nor gives to necessary wrinkleâ— place But makes antiquitie for aye his page â—nding the first conceit of love there bred Where time and outward forme would shew it dead Perjurie LOve is too young to know what conscience is Yet who knowes not conscience is borne of love Then gentle cheater urge not my amisse Least guilty of my faults thy sweet selfe prove For thou betraying me I doe betray My nobler part to my grosse bodies treason My soule doth tell my body that he may Triumph in love flesh staies no farther reason But rising at thy name doth point out thee As his triumphant prize proud of this pride He is contented thy poore drudge to be To stand in thy affaires fall by thy side No want of conscience hold it that I call Her love for whose deare love I rise and fall In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworne But thou art twice forsworne to me love swearing In act thy bed-vow brooke and new faith torne In vowing new hate after new love bearing But why of two oathes breach doe I accuse thee When I breake twenty I am perjur'd most For all my vowes are oathes but to misuse thee And all my honest faith in thee is lost For I have sworne deepe oathes of thy deepe kindenesse Oathes of thy love thy truth thy constancie And to enlighten thee gave eyes to blindnesse Or made them sweare against the thing they see For I have sworne thee faire more perjur'd eye To sweare against the truth so foule a lie The Tale of Cephalus and Procris BEneath Hymetus hill well cloath'd with flowers A holy Well her soft springs gently powers Where stands a Cops in which the wood-Nymphs shrâ—ve No wood it rather seemes a slender Grove The humble shrubs and bushes hide the grasse Here Lawrell Rosemary here Myrtill was Here grew thicke Box and Tam'rix that excells And made a meere confusion of sweet smels The Triffoly the Pine and on this Heath Stands many a plant that feeles coole Zephirs breath Here the young Cephalus tyr'd in the chace Vsd his repofe and rest alone t' embrace And where he sat these words he would repeate Come Ayre sweete Ayre come coole my heate Come gentle Ayre I never will forsake thee I le hug thee thus and in my bosome take thee Some double dutious Tel-tale hapt to heare this And to his jealous wife doth straight-way beare this Which Procris hearing and with all the Name Of Avre sweete Ayre which he did oft proclaime She stands confounded and amaz'd with griefe Be giving this fond tale too sound beleefe And lookes as doe the trees by Winter nipt Whom Frost and cold of fruit and leaves halfe stript She bends like coâ—veile when too ranke it growes Or when the ripe fruits clog the Quince tree bowes But when she comes t' her selfe she teares Her Garments her eyes her cheekes and haires And then she starts and to her feete applies her Then to the Woods starke Wood in rage she hies her Approaching some-what neare her servants they By her appointment in a Vally stay Whilst she alone with creeping paces steales To take the strumpet whom her Lord concealeâ— What mean'st thou Procris in these Groves to hide thee What rage of love doth to this madnesse guide thee Thou hop'st the Ayre he cals in all her braverie Will straight approach and thou shalt see their knavery And now againe it Irkes her to be there For such a killing sight her heart will teare No truce can with her troubled thoughts dispence She would not now be there nor yet be thence Behold the place her jealous minde foretels Here doe they Vse to meete and no where else The Grasse is laid and see their true impression Even here they lay I here was their transgression A bodies print she saw it was his seate Which makes her faint heart gainst her ribs to beate Phoebas the lofty Easterne Hill had scald And all moist vapours from the earth exhald Now in his noone-ride point he shineth bright It was the middle houre twixt noone and night Behold young Cephalus drawes to the place And with the Fountaine water sprinkes his face Procris is hid upon the grasse he lies And come sweete Zephir Come sweet Ayre he cryes She sees her error now from where he stood Her mind returnes to her and her fresh blood Among the Shrubs and Briers she moves and rustles And the injurious boughes away she justels Intending as he lay there to repose him Nimbly to run and in her armes inclose him He quickly casts his eye upon the bush Thinking therein some savage beast did rush His bow he bends and a keene shaft he drawes Vnhappy man what dost thou Stay and pause It is no Bruit beast thou wouldst reave of life Oh man unhappy thou hast slaine thy wife Oh Heaven she cries Oh helpe me I am slaine Still doth thy Arrow in my wound remaine Yet though by timelesse Fate my bones here lie It glads me most that I no Cuck-queane die Her breath thus in the Armes she most affected She breaths into the Ayre before suspected The whilst he lifts her body from the ground And with his teares doth wash her bleeding wound Cupids Treacherie CVpid laid by his brand and fell asleepe A maide of Dyanâ— this advantage found And his love-kindling fire did quickly steepe In a cold vallie-fountaine of that ground Which borrow'd from this holy fire of love A datelesse lively heate still to endure And grew a seething bath which yet men prove Against strange malladies a soveraigne cure But at my mistres eye loves brand new fired Thy boy for triall needes would touch my breast I sicke with
And flattering joy wee le have to recite their playes Shakespeare and Beamond Swannes to whom the Spheareâ— Listen while they call backe the former yeare To teach the truth of Scenes and more for thee There yet remaines brave soule than thou canst see By glimmering of a fancie doe but come And there I le shew thee that illustrous roome In which thy father Iohnson shall be plac'd As in a Globe of radiant fire and grac'd To be of that high Hyrarchy where none But brave soules take illumination Immediatly from heaven but harke the Cocke The Bell-man of the night proclaimes the Clocke Of late strucke one and now I feele the prime Of day breake through the pregnant East t is time I vanish more I had to say But night determines here away Lavinia walking in a frosty Morning I' th nonnage of a Winters day Laviâ—ia glorious as May To give the morne an earlier birth Paced a mile of crusted earth When each place by which she came From her veines conceived flame The amorous plant began to strive Which should first be sinsitive Every hoary headed twâ—gge Drop'd his Snowy Periwigge And each bough his Icy beard On either side his walkes was heard Whispers of decreped wood Calling to their rootes for blood The gentle Soyle did mildely greete The welcome kisses of her feete And to retaine such a Treasure Like waxe dissolving tooke her measure Lavinia stood amaz'd to see Things of yearely certaintie Thus to rebell against their Season And though a stranger to the Reason Backe retiring quench'd their heate And Winter tooke his former Seate A Sigh sent to his Mistresse I Sent a Sigh unto my Mistresse Eare Which went her way and ne're came there I hasted after least some other faire Should mildly entertaine this travelling Ayre Each flowry garden I did search for feare It might mistake a Lilly for her Eare And having there tooke lodging still might dwell Hous'd in the Concave of Christall Bell I sought amongst the Birds thinking it might Resort for company the wing'd flight And so play Truant but alas each note They merrily did warble in the throate Told me it was but the mirthy signe If one were there I knew t was none of thine At last one frosty morning I did spie The subtill wanderer in the skie At sight of me it trembled and for feare I bare it to my Saint and pray'd her take This new borne off-spring for the Masters sake Which she perceiving granted me her lippe And so preferr'd it to her softer tippe And now this pendant burthen now doth heare Each thing that 's whispr'd in her Eare I grieve cause I have lost a teare and she With sorrow is more happier farre than me Yet there is remedy left to ease me Give me but one of hers and so shee le please me An Allegoricall allusion of melancholy thoughts to Bees COme you swarmes of thoughts and bring to this crazie Hive of mine Not your hony but your sting naked I my heart resigne To your Lanclets therefore sticke Every part and parsell thicke From the garden of her face where these Bees were wont to finde Amber sweets in every place scattered by a chiding winde Hie you home for now you are Marchants turn'd to men of warre Some brought me incense from her breath some the Velvet of her brow Some a smile some underueath tincture of lippe curroll now Every one that thence doth â—â—ie Brings a needle from her eye Register the breach of peace for the time is not expir'd 'T was for life but if it cease amity being still required As you write it on my heart Print it with your little dart Leave not so but straight torment Hope whose chiefe adventures chose And for more though now content to draw backwards and depose And from all dominion fling As a Drone though once your King Let him bare his vast designes to desires as vast as they High-roofe thoughts and spacious mindâ— are not for Cottages of clay Monarchies will fit them best Petty States affect but rest Keepe you in for if you stray from your holds no other feares Neede afflict you night or day but by scalding water teares For she vowes in Loves defence Love no more shall fire you hence All the doubt is as you grow Waspes because your bagges are drie So as you your stings forgoe you will turne to arrant Flies And when Summer sets you free Trouble her as well as me Yet beware the baites are laid nets are spread the flames are high You had neede to be afraid for there 's lightning in her eye Every hair's sleeve of silke And each breast a wave of milke Therefore circumspectly light on her hand for Suger growes All the Countrey over quite Feed and say but in the close To the Waspe the Bee the Flie All 's provided for but I. I. G. The Primrose ASke me why I send you here This firstling of the Winter yeere Aske me why I send to you This Primrose all bepearl'd with dew I straight will whisper in your eares The sweets of Love are wash'd with teares Aske me why this flower doth show So yellow greene and sickly too Aske me why the stalke is weake And bending yet it doth not breake I must tell you these discover What doubts and feares are in a Lover A Sigh GOe thou gentle whispering winde Beare this Sigh and if thou finde Where my cruell faire doth rest Cast it in her Snowy breast That inflam'd by my desire It may set her heart on fire Taste her lippe and then confesse If Arabia doe possesse Or that hony Hybla Hill Sweets like those which thence distill Those sweete kisses thou shalt gaine Shall reward thee for thy paine Boldly light upon her lippe There sucke odours and thence skippe To her bosome lastly fall Downe and wander over all Range about those Ivory hills From whose every part distills Amber dew these spices grow There pure streames of Nectar flow There perfume thy selfe and bring All those sweets upon thy wing As thou return'st change by thy power Every weede into a flower Turne every Thistle to a Vine And make the Bramble Eglantine For so rich a booty made Doe but this and I am paide Thou canst with thy powerfull blast Heate apace and coole as fast Thou canst kindle hidden flame And againe destroy the same Then for pitty either stirre Vp the flames of love in her That alike both flames may shine Or else quite extinguish thine A Blush STay lusty blood where canst thou seeke So blest a place as in her cheeke How canst thou from that place retire Where beauty doth command desire But if thou canst not stay then flow Downe to her panting pappes below Flow like a deluge from her Breast Where Venus Swans hath built their nest And so take glory to disdaine With Azure blew each swelling veine Then run boyling through each part Till thou hast warm'd her frozen heart If from love it would retire
Martyr it with gentle fire And having search'd each secret place Fly thou backe into her face Where live blest in changing those White Lylly to a Rose Orpheus Lute WHen Orpheus sweetly did complaine Vpon the Lute with heavie straine How his Eâ—rydices was slaine The trees to heare Obtaine an eare And after left it off againe At every stroake and every stay The boughes kept time and nodding lay And listned bended all one way The Aspin Tree As well as he Began to shake and learne to play If wood could speake a tree might heare If wood could sound true griefe to th' eare A tree might droppe an Amber teare If wood so well Could ring a knell The Cypresse might condole the Beere The standing Nobles of the Grove Hearing dead wood to speake and move The fatall Axe began to love Thy envied death That gave such breath As men alive doe Saints above AM I dispis'd because you say And I beleeve that I am gray Know Lady you have but your day And night will come when men will sweare Time hath spilt Snow on your haire Then when in your glasse you seeke But finde no Rose buds in your cheeke No nor the bed to give thee shew Where such a rare Cornation grew And such a smiling Tulippe too O then too late in close your Chamber keeping It will be told That you are old By those true teares y' are weeping Vpon a Gentlewoman walking on the Grasse SVre 't was the Spring went by for th' earth did waste Her long hid sweets at her approach and plac'd Quicke pregnant flowers upon the verdant grasse To â—eath new freshnesse where she will'd to passe The tender blade vail'd as she trod and kist The foote that covered it but when it mist Her gentle pressure like a wife whose bed Is scorn'd it droopt and since hung downe its head Till by a strength Love gave to entertaine Her wish'd returne it rear'd it selfe againe And now stands tall in pride but had it seene Her face that court of beauty where the Queene Of Love is alwayes resident it would When the Sunne dallies with it weepe in cold And pearled dew at noone greev'd that her face Might not as did her feete daigne equall grace In moving neerer to it what my happy eyes Saw there though from that houre their faculties Are ever forfeit this bright Vision yet Must needs ingage me in a further debt To her then there want quits since what I see In being lesse faire must be a lesse to me On his Love going to Sea FArewell faire Saint may not the Seas or winde Swell like the hearts and eyes you leave behinde But calme and gentle like the lookes you beare Smile in your face and whisper in your eare Let no bold billow offer to arise That it may neerer looke upon your eyes Least winde and wave inamour'd on your forme Doe throng and croud themselves into a storme But if it be your fate vaste Sea 's to Love Of my becalm'd heart learne how to move Move then but in a gentle Lovers pace No wrinckles nor no forrowes in your face And you fierce winds see that you tell your tale In such a breath as may but fill her Saile So whilst you court her each your severall way You shall her safely to her Port convay And lose her in a noble way of wooing Whilst both contribute to your owne undoing ASke me no more where Iove bestowes When Iune is past the fading Rose For in your beauties Orient deepe These flowers as in them Causes sleepe Aske me no more whether doe stray The golden Atomes of the day For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your haire Aske me no more whether doth haste The Nightingale when May is past For in your sweete dividing throate She winters and keepes warme her note Aske me no more where those starres light That downwards fall in dead of night For in your eyes they sit and there Fixed become as in their Spheare Aske me no more if East and West The Phoenixe builds her spiced nest For unto you at last she flies And in your fragrant bosome dies FINIS