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
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
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
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
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
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
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
pride The argument all bare is of more worth Then when it hath my added praise beside Oh blame me not if I no more can write Looke in your glasse and there appeares a face That overgoes my blunt invention quite Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace Were it not sinfull then striving to mend To marre the subject that before was well For to no other passe my verses tend Then of your graces and your gifts to tell And more much more thâ—n in my verse can sit Your owne glasse showes you when you looke in it A Lovers excuse for his long absence O Never say that I was false of heart Though absence seem'd my flame to quallifie As easie might I from my selfe depart As from my soule which in thy brest doth lye That is my home of love if I have rang'd Like him that travels I returne againe Iust to the time not with the time exchang'd So that my selfe bring water for my staine Never beleeve though in my nature raign'd All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood That it could so prâ—posterously be stain'd To leave for nothing all thy summe of good For nothing this wide Vniverse I call Save thou my Rose in it thou art my all Alas 't is true I have gone here and there And made my selfe a motley to the view Gor'd mine owne thoughts sold cheape what is most deare Made old offences of affections new Most true it is that I have lookt on truth Asconce and strangely But by all above These blenches gave my heart another youth And worse affaies prou'd thee my best of love Now all is done have what shall have no end Mine appetite I never more will grinde On newer proofe to trie an older friend A God in love to whom I am confin'd Then give me welcome next my heaven the best Even to thy pure and most most loving brest A complaint OFor my sake doe you wish fortune chide The guiltie goddesse of my harmelesse deeds That did not better for my life provide Then publick meanes which publicke manners breeds Thence comes it that my name receives a brand And almost thence my nature is subdu'd To what it workes in like the Dyers hand Pitty me then and wish I were renu'de Whilst like a willing patient I will drinke Potions of Eysell gainst my strong infection No bitternesse that I will bitter thinke Nor double pennance to correct correction Pittie me then deare friend and I assure yee Even that your pittie is enough to cure me Your love and pittie doth th' impression fill Which vulgar scandall stampt upon my brow For what care I who calls me well or ill So you ore-greene my bad my good alow You are my All the world and I must strive To know my shames and prayses from your tongue None else to me nor I to none alive That my steel'd sence or changes right or wrong In so profound Abisme I throw all care Of others voyces that my Adderssence To cryttick and to flatterer stopped are Marke how with my neglect I doe dispence You are so strongly in my purpose bred That all the world beside me thinkes y' are dead Selfe flattery of her beautie SInce I left you mine eye is in my minde And that which governes me to goe about Doth part his function and is partly blind Seemes seeing but effectually is out For it no forme delivers to the heart Of birds or flower or shape which it doth lack Of his quick objects hath the mind no part Nor his owne vision houlds what it doth catch For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight The most sweet favour or deformedst creature The mountaine or the sea the day or night The Crow or Dove it shapes them to your feature Incapable of more repleat with you My most true minde thus maketh mine untrue Or whether doth my minde being crown'd with you Drinke up the monarchs plague this flattery Or whether shall I say mine eye saith true And that your love taught it this Alcumie To make of monsters and things indigest Such cherubins as your sweet selfe resemble Creating every bad a perfect best As fast as objects to his beames assemble Oh t is the first t is flattry in my seeing And my great mind most kindly drinkes it up Mine eye well knowes what with his gust is greeing And to his pallat doth prepare the cup If it be poison'd t is the lesser sinne That mine eye loves it and doth first beginne Those lines that I before have writ doe lie Even those that said I could not love you deerer Yet then my judgement knew no reason why My most full flaâ—e should afterwards burne clearer But reckoning time whose milliond accidents Creepe in twixt vowes and change decrees of Kings Tan sacred beautie blunt the sharp'st intents Divert strong minds to th' course of altring things Alas why fearing of times tiranny Might I not then say now I love you best When I was certaine ore in-certaintie Crowning the present doubting of the rest Love is a Babe then might I not say so To give full growth to that which still doth grow Tryall of loves constancy ACcuse me thus that I have scanted all Wherein I should your great deserts repay Forgot upon your dearest love to call Whereto all bonds doe tie me day by day That I have frequent binne with unknowne minds And given to time your owne deare purchas'd right That I have hoysted saile to all the winds Which should transport me farthest from your sight Booke both my wilfulnesse and errour downe And on just proofe surmise accumilate Bring me within the levell of your frowne But shoote not at me in your wakened hate Since my appeale sayes I did strive to proove The constancy and vertue of your love Like as to make our appetites more keene With eager compounds we our pallat urge As to prevent our malladies unseene We sicken to shun sicknesse when we purge Even so being full of your neare cloying sweetnesse To bitter sawces did I frame my feeding And sicke of wel-fare found a kinde of meetnesse To be discas'd ere that there was true needing Thus pollicie in love t' anticipate The ills that were not grew to faults assured And brought to medicine a healthfull state Which ranke of goodnesse would by ill be cured But thence I learne and find the lesson true Drugs poyson him that so fell sicke of you What potions have I drunke of Syren teareâ— Distil'd from Limbecks foule as hell within Applying feares to hopes and hopes to feares Still loosing when I saw my selfe to win What wretched errors hath my heart committed Whilst it hath thought it selfe so blessed never How have mine eyes out of their Spheares beene fitted In the distraction of this madding fever O benefit of ill now I finde true That better iâ— by evill still made better And ruin'd love when it is built anew Growes fairer then at first more strong far greater So I returne
numbred be The houses guilt rich Temples that excell And you will say I neere the great Gods dwell You shall behold high Isliums lofty Towers And Troyes brave walls built by immortall powers But made by Phoebus the great god of fire And by the touch of his melodious Lyer If we have people to inhabite when The sad earth groanes to beare such troopes of men Iudge Hellen Likewise when you come to Land The Asian women shall admiring stand Saluting thee with welcome more and lesse In preasing throngs and numbers numberlesse More than our Courts can hold of you most faire You to your selfe will say alasse how baire And poore Achaya is when with great pleasure You see each house containe a Cities Treasure Mistake me not I Sparta doe not scorne I hold the Land blest where my love was borne Though barren else rich Sparta Hellen bore And therefore I that Province must adore Yet is your Land methinks but leane and emty You worthy of a Clyme that flowes with plenty Full Troy I prostrate it is yours by duty This petty seat becomes not your rich beauty Attendance Preperation Curtsie State Fit such a heavenly forme on which should waite Cost Fresh variety Delicious diet Pleasure Contentment and Luxurious ryot VVhat Ornaments we use what fashions faigne You may perceive by me and my proud traine Thus we attire our men but with more cost Of gold and Pearle the rich Gownes are Imbosâ— Of our chiefe Ladies guesse by what you see You may he soone induc'd to credit me Be tractable faire Spartan nor contemne A Trojan borne deriv'd from Royall â—â—emme He was a Trojan and allide to Hector That waites upon Ioves cup and fills him Nectâ—r A Trojan did the faire Aurora wed And nightly slept within her Roseat bed The Goddesses that ends nigh and enters day From our faire Trojan Coast stole him away Anchises was a Trojan whom Loves Queene Making the Trees of Ida a thicke Screene Twixt Heaven and her oft lay with view me well I am a Troyan too in Troy I dwell Thy Husband Menelaus hither bring Compare our shapes our yeares and every thing I make you Iudgeâ—â—e wrong me if you can You needs must say I am the properer man None of my line hath turn'd the Sun to blood And rob'd his Steeds of their Ambroâ—iall food My Father grew not from the Caucasse Rocke Nor shall I graft you in a bloodâ— Stocke Priam neere wrong'd the guiltlesse soule or further Made the Myrtâ—an Sea looke red with murther Nor thirsteth my great Grand sire in the Lake Of Lethe Chin deepe yet no thirst can slake Nor after ripened Apples vainely skips Who flie him still and yet still touch his lips But what of this If you be so deriv'd You not withstanding are no right depriv'd You grace your Stocke and being so divine Iove is of force compell'd into your Line Oh mischiefe whilst I vainely speake of this Your Husband all-unworthy of such blisse Injoyes you this long night enfolds your waste And where he lists may boldly touch and taste So when you sat at Table many a â—oy Passeth betweene you my vext soule t' annoy At such high feasts I wish my enemie sit Where discontent attends on every bit I never yet was plac'd at any Feast But oft it irke me that I was your Guest That which offends me most thy rude Lord knowes For still his armes about thy necke he throwes Which I no sooner spie but I grow mad And hate the man whose courting makes me sad Shall I be plaine I am ready to sinke downe When I behold him wrape you in his Gowne When you sit smiling on his amorous knee His fingers presse where my hands itch to be But when he hugs you I am forc'd to frowne The meate I 'am eating will by no means downe But stickes halfe way amidst these discontents I have observ'd you laugh at my lamentâ— And with a scornefull yet a wanton smile Deride my sighes and grones oft to beguile My passions and to quench my fiery rage By quaffing healths I' have thought my flame â—'asswage But Bacchus full cups make my flames burne heigher Adde wine to love and you add fire to fire To shun the sight of many a wanton feate Betwixt your Lord and you I shift my seate And turne my head but thinking of your grace Love skrewes my head to gaze backe on your face What were I best to doe To see you play Mads me and I perforce must turne away And to forbeare the place where you abide Would kill me dead should I but start aside As much as lies in me I strive to bury The shape of Love in mirths spight I seeme merry But oh the more I seeke it to suppresse The more my blabbing lookes my love professe You know my Love which I in vaine should hide Would God it did appeare to none beside Oh Iove how often have I turned my cheecke To hide th' apparant teares that passage seeke From forth my eyes and to a corner stept Least any man should aske wherefore I wept How often have I told you pitious tales Of constant Lovers and how Love prevailes When such great heed to my discourse I tooke That every accent suited to your looke Inforged names my selfe I represented The Lover so perplex'd and so tormented If you will know Behold I am the same Paris was meant in that true Lovers name As often that I might the more seâ—urely Speake loose immodest words that sound impurely That they offencelesse might your sweet eares tutch I have lispt them up like one had drunke too much Once I remember your loose vaile betrai'd Your naked skinne and a faire passage made To my â—namored eye Oh skin much brighter Than snow or purest milke in colour whiter Than your faire mother Laeda when Iove grac'd her And in the shape of Feathered Swan imbrac'd her Whilst as this ravishing sight I stood amazed And without interruption freely gazed The wreathed handle of the Bowle I grasp'd Fell from my hold my strengthlesse hand unclasp'd A Goblet at that time I held by chance And downe it fell for I was in a trance Kisse your faire Daughter and to her I skip And snatch your kisses from your sweet childs lippe Sometimes I throw my selfe along and lie Singing Love-songs and if you cast your eye On my effeminate gesture I still finde Some pretty covered signes to speake my minde And then my earnest suit bluâ—tly invades Aethra and Climenea your two chiefe maides But they returne me answers full of feare And to my motions lend no further eare Oh that you were the prize of some great strife And he that wins might claime you for his wife Hyppomenes with swift Atlanta ran And at one course the Goale and Lady wan Even she by whom so many Suters perish'd Was in the bosome of her new Love cheerish'd So Hercules for Dejaâ—eira strove Brakâ—Aâ—helous horne and gain'd his love Had I such liberty
such freedome granted My resolution never could be danted Your selfe should find and all the world should see Hellen a prize alone reserv'd for me There is not left me any meanes most faire To Court you now but by intreateâ— and prayer Vnlesse as it becomes me you thinke meete That I should prostrate fall and kisse your feete Oh all the honour that our last age wins Then glory of the two Tindarian Twins Worthy to be Ioves wife in heaven to raigne Were you not Ioves owne Daughter of his straine To the Sygean confines I will carry thee And in the Temple of great Pallas marry thee Or in this Island where I vent my moanes I le begge a Tombe for my exiled bones My wound is not a slight race with an arrow But it hath pierc'd my heart and burnt my marrow This Prophesie my Sister oft hath sounded That by an heavenly Dart I should be wounded Oh then forbeare faire Hellen to oppose you Against the gods they say I shall not lose you Yeeld you to their beheast and you shall finde The gods to your pititions likewise kinde A thousand things at once are in me braine Which that I may essentially complaine And not in papers empty all my head Anon at night receive me to your bed Blush you at this or Lady doe you feare To violate the Nuptiall lawes austeare Oh simple Hellen Foolish I might say What profite reape you to be Chaste I pray I st possible that you a world to winne Should keepe that face that beauty without sinne Rather you most your glorious face exchange For one lesse Faire or else not seeme so strange Beauty and Chastity at variance are T is hard to finde one woman chaste and faire Venus will not have beauty over aw'de High Iove himselfe stolne pleasures will applaude And by such theevish pastimes we may gather How Iove'gainst wedloâ—kes lawes became your father He and your mother Laeda both transgrest When you were got she bare a tender breast What glory can you gaine Love sweetes to smother Or to be counted chaster than your mother Professe stricke chastity when with great joy I lead you as my Bride-espous'd through Troy Then I inteate you raine your pleasures in I wish thy Paris may be all thy sinne If citherea her firme Covenant keepe Though I with in your bosome nightly sleepe We shall not much misdoe but so offend That we by marriage may our guilt amend Your husband hath himselfe this businesse aided And though not with his tongue he hath perswaded By all his deeds as much least he should stay Our private meetings he is farre away Of purpose rid unto the farthest West That he might leave his wife unto his guest No fitter time he could have found to visite The Chrisean royall Scepter and to ceize it Oh simple simple Husband but he 's gone And going left you this to thinke upon Faire wife quoth he I prethee in my place Regard the Trojan Prince and doe him grace Behold a witnesse I againsts you stand You have beene carelesse of this kinde command Count from his first dayes journey never since Did you regard or grace the Trojan Prince What thinke you of your Husband that he knowe The worth and value of the face he owes Who but a Foole such beauty would indanger Or trust it to the mercy of a Stranger Then royall Queene if neither may intreate My quenchlesse passion nor Loves raging heate Can winne you we are wooed both to this crime Even by the fit advantage of the time Either to love sweet sport we must agree Or shew our selves to be worse fooles than he He tooke you by the hand the houre he rode And knowing I with you must make abode Brings you to me what should I further say It was his minde to give you quite away What meant he else Then le ts be blithe and jolly And make the best use of your Husbands folly What should we doe Your husband is farre gone And this cold night poore soule you lie alone I want a bedfellow so doe we either What lets us then but that we lie together You slumbring thinke on me on you I dreame Both our desires are fervent and extreame Sweet then appoint the night why doe you stay Oh night more clearer than the brightest day Then I dare freely speake protest and sweare And of my vowes the gods shall record beare Then will I seale the contract and the strife From that day forward we are man and wife Then questionlesse I shall so farre perswade That you with me shall Troyes rich Coast invade And with your Phrygian guest at last agree Our potent Kingdome and rich Crowne to see But if you blushing feare the vulger bruite That sayes you follow me to me make suite Feare it not Hellen I le so worke with Fame I will alone be guilty of all blame Duke Theseus was my instance and so were Your brothers Lady Can I come more neere To ensample my attempts by Theseus haled Hellen perforce your brothers they prevailed With the Leucippian Sisters now from these I le count my selfe the fourth if Hellen please Our Trojan Navy rides upon the Coast Rig'd arm'd and man'd and I can proudly boast The bankes are high why doe you longer stay The windes and Oares are ready to make way You shall be like a high Majesticke Queene Led through the Dardan Citty and be seene By millions who your State having commended Will wondring sweare some Goddesse is discended Where ere you walke the Priests shall incence burne No way you shall your eye or body turne But sacrificed beasts the ground shall beate And bright religious fires the Welken heate My father mother brother sisters all Islium and Troy in pompe majesticall Shall with rich gifts present you but alasse Not the least part so farre they doe surpasse Can my Epistle speake you may behold More than my words or writings can unfold Nor feare the bruite of warre or threatning Steele When we are fled to dogge us at the heele Or that all Graecia will their powers unite Of many ravish'd can you one recite Whom warre repurchas'd these be idle feares Rough blustering Boreas faire Orithea beares Vnto the land of Thrace yet Thrace still free And Athens rais'd no rude Hostility In winged Pegasus did Iason saile And from great Colchos he Medea stale Yet Thessaly you see can shew no scarre Of former wounds in the Thessalian warre He that first ravish'd you In such a Fleete As ours is Ariadne brought from Creete Yet Mynos and Duke Theseus were agreed About that quarrell not abreast did bleede Lesse is the danger trust me then the feare That in these vaine and idle doubts appeare But say rude warre should be proclaim'd at length Know I am valiant and have sinowie strength The weapons that I use are apt to kill Asia besides more spacious fields can fill With armed men then Greece amongst us are More perfect Souldiers more