his beutie t'haue let in And on this verdict giuen agreed they bin VVherefore because his beauty did allure yee Your Doome is this in teares still to be drowned VVhen his faire forchead with disdain is frowned SONNET II. Beuty and Maiesty are falne at ods Th'one claimes his checke the other claimes his chin Then Vertue comes and puts her title in Quoth she I make him like th'immortall Gods Quoth Maiestie I owne his lookes his Brow His lips quoth Loue his eies his faire is mine And yet quoth Maiesty he is not thine I mixe Disdaine with Loues congealed Snow I but quoth Loue his lockes are mine by right His stately gate is mine quoth Maiestie And mine quoth Vertue is his Modestie Thus as they striue about this heauenly wight Atlast the other two to Vertue yeeld The lists of Loue fought in faire Beauties field SONNET III. The Stoicks thinke and they come neere the truth That vertue is the chiefest good of all The Academicks on Idea call The Epicures in pleasure spend their youth The Perrepatetickes iudge felicitie To be the chiefest good aboue all other One man thinks this that conceaues another So that in one thing very few agree Let Stoicks haue their Vertue if they will And all the rest their chiefe supposed good Let cruell Martialists delight in blood And Mysers ioy their bags with gold to fill My chiefest good my chiefe felicity Is to be gazing on my loues faire eie SONNET IIII. Two stars there are in one faire firmament Of some intitled Ganymedes sweet face VVhich other stars in brightnes doe disgrace As much as Po in clearenes passeth Trent Nor are they common natur'd stars for why These stars whē other shine vaile their pure light And when all other vanish out of sight They adde a glory to the worlds great eie By these two stars my life is onely led In them I place my ioy in them my pleasure Loues piercing Darts Natures precious treasure VVith their sweet foode my fainting soule is fed Then when my sunne is absent from my sight How can it chuse with me but be darke night SONNET V. It is reported of faire Thetis Sonne Achilles famous for his chiualry His noble minde and magnanimity That when the Troian wars were new begun VVhos'euer was deepe-wounded with his speare Could neuer be recured of his maime Nor euer after be made whole againe Except with that speares rust he holpen were Euen so it fareth with my fortune now VVho being wounded with his piercing eie Must either thereby finde a remedy Or els to be releeu'd I know not how Then if thou hast a minde stil to annoy me Kill me with kisses if thou wilt destroy me SONNET VI. Sweet Corrall lips where Natures treasure lies The balme of blisse the soueraigue salue of sorrow The secret touch of loues heart-burning arrow Come quench my thirst or els poore Daphne dies One night I dream'd alas twas but a Dreame That I did feele the sweetnes of the same Where-with inspir'd I young againe became And from my heart a spring of blood did streame But when I wak'e I found it nothing so Saue that my limbs me thought did waxe more strong And I more lusty far far more yong This gift on him rich Nature did bestow Then if in dreaming so I so did speede What should I doe if I did so indeede SONNET VII Sweet Thames I honour thee not for thou art The chiefest Riuer of the fairest Ile Nor for thou dost admirers eies beguile But for thou hold'st the keeper of my heart For on thy waues thy Christal billow'd waues My fairest faire my siluer Swan is swimming Against the sunne his pruned feathers trimming VVhilst Neptune his faire feete with water laues Neptune I feare not thee not yet thine eie And yet alas Apollo lou'd a boy And Cyparissus was Siluanus ioy No no I feare none but faire Thetis I For if she spie my Loue alas aie me My mirth is turn'd to extreame miserie SONNET VIII Sometimes I wish that I his pillow were So might I steale a kisse and yet not seene So might I gaze vpon his sleeping eine Although I did it with a panting feare But when I well consider how vaine my wish is Ah foolish Bees thinke I that doe not lucke His lips for hony but poore flowers doe plucke Which haue no sweet in them when his sole kisses Are able to reuiue a dying soule Kisse him but sting him not for if you doe His angry voice your flying will pursue But when they heare his tongue what can controule Their back returne for then they plaine may see How hony-combs from his lips dropping bee SONNET IX Diana on a time walking the wood To sport herselfe of her faire traine forlorne Chaunc't for to pricke her foote against a thorne And from thence issu'd out a streame of blood No sooner shee was vanisht out of sight But loues faire Queen came there away by chāce And hauing of this hap a glym'ring glance She put the blood into a christall bright When being now comne vnto mount Rhodope With her faire hands she formes a shape of Snow And blends it with this blood from whence doth grow A louely creature brighter then the Dey And being christned in faire Paphos shrine She call'd him Ganymede as all diuine SONNET X. Thus was my loue thus was my Ganymed Heauens ioy worlds wonder natures fairest work In whose aspect Hope and Dispaire doe lurke Made of pure blood in whitest snow yshed And for sweete Venus only form'd his face And his each member delicately framed And last of all faire Ganymede him named His limbs as their Creatrix her imbrace But as for his pure spotles vertuous minde Because it sprung of chaste Dianaes blood Goddesse of Maides directresse of all good Hit wholy is to chastity inclinde And thus it is as far as I can proue He loues to be belou'd but not to loue SONNET XI Sighing and sadly sitting by my Loue He ask't the cause of my hearts sorrowing Coniuring me by heauens eternall King To tell the cause which me so much did moue Compell'd quoth I to thee I will confesse Loue is the cause and onely loue it is That doth depriue me of my heauenly blisse Loue is the paine that doth my heart oppresse And what is she quoth he whō thou do'st loue Looke in this glasse quoth I there shalt thou see The perfect for me of my faelicitie When thinking that it would strāge Magique proue He open'd it and taking off the couer He straight perceau'd himselfe to be my Louer SONNET XII Some talke of Ganymede th' Idalian Boy And some offaire Adonis make their boast Some talke of him whom louely Lada lost And some of Ecchoes loue that was so coy They speake by heere-say 1 of perfect truth They partially commend the persons named And for them sweete Encomions haue framed I onely t'him haue sacrifiz'd my youth As for those wonders of antiquitie And those
whom later ages haue inioy'd But ah what hath not cruell death destroide Death that enuies this worlds felicitie They were perhaps lesse faire then Poets write But he is fairer then I can indite SONNET XIII Speake Eccho tell how may I call my loue Loue. But how his Lamps that are so christaline Eyne Oh happy starts that make your heauens diuine And happy Iems that admiration moue How tearm'st his goldē tresses wau'd with aire Haire Oh louely haire of your more-louely Maister Image of loue faire shape of Alablaster Why do'st thou driue thy Louer to dispaire How do'st thou cal the bed wher beuty grows Rose Faire virgine-Rose whose mayden blossoms couer The milke-white Lilly thy imbracing Louer Whose kisses makes thee oft thy red to lose And blushing oft for shame whē he hath kist thee He vades away thou raing'st where it list thee SONNET XIIII Here hold this gloue this milk-white cheueril gloue Not quaintly ouer-wrought with curious knots Nor deckt with golden spangs nor siluer spots Yet wholsome for thy hand as thou shalt proue Ah no sweet boy place this gloue neere thy heart Weare it and lodge it still within thy brest So shalt thou make me most vnhappy blest So shalt thou rid my paine and case my smart How can that be perhaps thou wilt reply A gloue is for the hand not for the heart Nor can it well be prou'd by common art Nor reasons rule To this thus answere I If thou from gloue do'st take away the g Then gloue is loue and so I send it thee SONNET XV. A fairest Ganymede disdaine me not Though silly Sheepeheard I presume to loue thee Though my harsh songs Sonnets cannot moue thee Yet to thy beauty is my loue no blot Apollo Ioue and many Gods beside S'daind not the name of cūtry shepheards swains Nor want we pleasure though we take some pains We liue contentedly a thing call'd pride Which so corrupts the Court and euery place Each place I meane where learning is neglected And yet of late euen learnings selfe's infected I know not what it meanes in any case Wee onely when Molorchus gins to peepe Learne for to folde and to vnfold our sheepe SONNET XVI Long haue I long'd to see my Loue againe Still haue I wisht but neuer could obtaine it Rather than all the world if I might gaine it Would I desire my loues sweet precious gaine Yet in my soule I see him euerie day See him and see his still sterne countenaunce But ah what is of long continuance Where Maiestie and Beautie beares the sway Sometimes when I imagine that I see him As loue is full of foolish fantasies VVeening to kisse his lips as my loues fee s I feele but Aire nothing but Aire to bee him Thus with Ixion kisse I cloudes in vaine Thus with Ixion feele I endles paine SONNET XVII Cherry-lipt Adonis in his snowie shape Might not compare with his pure Iuorie white On whose faire front a Poets pen may write Whose rosiate red excels the crimson grape His loue-enticing delicate soft limbs Are rarely fram'd t'intrap poore gazing eies His cheekes the Lillie and Carnation dies With louely tincture which Apolloes dims His lips ripe strawberries in Nectar wet His mouth a Hiue his tongue a hony-combe Where Muses like Bees make their mansion His teeth pure Pearle in blushing Correll set Oh how can such a body sinne-procuring Be slow to loue and quicke to hate enduring SONNET XVIII Not Megabaetes nor Cleonymus Of whom great Plutarck makes such mention Praysing their faire with rare inuention As Ganymede were halfe so beauteous They onely pleas'd the eies of two great Kings But all the worlde at my loue stands amazed Nor one that on his Angels face hath gazed But rauisht with delight him Presents brings Some weaning Lambs and some a suckling Kyd Some Nuts and fil-beards others Peares Plums Another with a milk-white Heyfar comes As lately Aegons man Damaetas did But neither he nor all the Nymphs beside Can win my Ganymede with them t'abide SONNET XIX Ah no nor I my selfe though my pure loue Sweete Ganymede to thee hath still beene pure And euen till my last gaspe shall aie endure Could euer thy obdurate beuty moue Then cease oh Goddesse sonne for sure thou art A Goddesse sonne that canst resist desire Cease thy hard heart and entertaine loues fire Within thy sacred breast by Natures art And as I loue thee more then any Creature Loue thee because thy beautie is diuine Loue thee because my selfe my soule is thine Wholie deuoted to thy louelie feature Euen so of all the vowels I and V Are dearest vnto mee as doth ensue SONNET XX. But now my Muse toyld with continuall care Begins to faint and slacke her former pace Expecting fauour from that heauenly grace That maie in time her feeble strength repaire Till when sweete youth th' essence of my soule Thou that dost sit and sing at my hearts griefe Thou that dost send thy shepheard no reliefe Beholde these lines the sonnes of Peares and Dole Ah had great Colin chiefe of sheepheards all Or gentle Rowland my professed friend Had they thy beautie or my pennance pend Greater had beene thy fame and lesse my fall But since that euerie one cannot be wittie Pardon l craue of them and of thee pitty FINIS AN ODE NIghts were short and daies were long Blossoms on the Hauthorn's hung Philomaele Night-Musicues King Tolde the comming of the spring Whose sweete siluer-sounding voice Made the little birds reioice Skipping light from spray to spray Till Aurora shew'd the day Scarce might one see when I might see For such chaunces sudden bee By a well of Marble-stone A Shepheard lying all alone Weepe he did and his weeping Made the fading flowers spring Daphnis was his name I weene Youngest Swaine of Summers Queene VVhen Aurora saw t'was he Weepe she did for companie Weepe she did for her sweete sonne That when antique Troy was wonne Suffer'd death by lucklesse fate Whom she now laments too late And each morning by Cocks crew Showers downe her siluer dew Whose teares falling from their spring Giue moysture to each liuing thing That on earth increase and grow Through power of their friendlie foe Whose effect when Flora felt Teares that did her bosome melt For who can resist teares often But Shee whom no teares can soften Peering straite aboue the banks Shew'd herselfe to giue her thanks Wondring thus at Natures worke Wherein many maruailes lurke Me thought I heard a dolefull noise Consorted with a mournfull voice Drawing nie to heare more plaine Heare I did vnto my paine For who is not pain'd to heare Him in griefe whom heart holdes deare Silly swaine with griefe ore-gone Thus to make his piteous mone Loue I did alas the while Loue I did but did beguile My deare loue with louing so VVhom as then I did not know Loue I did the fairest boy That these fields did ere enioy Loue I did faire Ganymed Venus
darling beauties bed Him I thought the fairest creature Him the quintessence of Nature But yet alas I was deceiu'd Loue of reason is bereau'd For since then I saw a Lasse Lasle that did in beauty passe Passe faire Ganymede as farre As Phoebus doth the smallest starre Loue commaunded me to loue Fancy bade me not remoue My affection from the swaine Whom I neuer could obtaine For who can obtaine that fauour Which he cannot graunt the crauer Loue at last though loath preuailde Loue that so my heart assailde Wounding me with her faire eies Ah how Loue can subtelize And deuize a thousand shifts How to worke men to his drifts Her it is for whom I mourne Her for whom my life I scorne Her for whom I weepe all day Her for whom I sigh and say Either She or els no creature Shall enioy my loue whose ceature Though I neuer can obtaine Yet shall my true loue remaine Till my body turn'd to clay My poore soule must passe away To the heauens where I hope Hit shall finde a resting scope Then since I loued thee alone Remember me when I am gone Scarce had he these last words spoken But me thought his heart was broken With great griefe that did abound Cares and griefe the heart confound In whose heart thus riu'd in three ELIZA written I might see In Caracters of crimson blood VVhose meaning well I vnderstood VVhich for my heart might not behold I hyed me home my sheepe to folde FINIS CASSANDRA VPon a gorgious gold embossed bed With Tissue curtaines drawne against the sunne Which gazers eies into amazement led So curiously the workmanship was done Lay faire Cassandra in her snowie smocke Whose lips the Rubies and the pearles did locke And from her Iuory front hung dangling downe A bush of long and louely curled haire VVhose head impalled with a precious Crowne Of orient Pearle made her to seeme more faire And yet more faire she hardly could be thought Then Loue and Nature in her face had wrought By this young Phoetus rising from the East Had tane a view of this rare Paragon Wherewith he soone his radiant beames addrest And with great ioy her sleeping gaz'd vpon Til at the iast through her bright caze meÌ„ts cleare He stole a kisse and softly call'd her Deare Yet not so softly but thetewith awak't Shee gins to open her faire christ all couers Wherewith the wounded God for terror quakt Viewing those darts that kill disdained louers And blushing red to see himselfe so shamed He scorns his Coach his owne beauty blamed Now with a trice he leaues the azures skies As whilome Ioue did at Europaes rape And rauisht with her loue-aluring eies He turns himselfe into a humane shape And that his wish the sooner might ensue He sutes himselfe like one of Venus crew Vpon his head he wore a Hunters hat Of crimson veluet spangd with stars of gold Which grac'd his louely face and ouer that A siluer hatband ritchly to behold On his left shoulder hung a loose Tyara As whilome vs'd faire Penthesilea Faire Penthesilea th' Amazonian Queene When she to Troy came with her warlike band Of braue Viragoes glorious to be seene Whose manlike force no power might withstand So look't Apollo in his louely weedes As he vnto the I roian Damzell speedes Not faire Adonis in his chiefest pride Did seeme more faire then young Apollo seemed When he through th aire inuisibly did glide T'obraine his Loue which he Angelike deemed Whom finding in her chamber all alone He thus begins t'expresse his pitcous mone O fairest faire aboue all faires quoth hee If euer Loue obtained Ladies fauour Then shew thy selfe compassionate to me Whose heart surpriz'd with thy diuine behauiour Yeelds my selfe captiue to thy conqu'ring eies Oh then shew mercy doe not tyrannize Scarce had Apollo vtter'd these last words Rayning downe pearle from his immortall cies VVhen the for answere naught but feare affords Filling the place with lamentable cries But Phoe bus fearing much these raging fits VVith sugred kisses sweetely charm'd her lips And tell's her softly in her softer eare That he a God is and no mortall creature Where with abandoning all needlesse feare A common frailtie of weake womans nature She boldly askes him of his deitie Gracing her question with her wanton eie Which charge to him no sooner was assignde But taking faire Cassandra by the hand The â—â—e be wraier of his secrete minde He first begins to let her vnderstand That he from Demogorgon was deseended Father ofth ' Earth of Gods men commended The tenor of which tale he now recites Closing each period with a rauisht kisle VVhich kindnes she vnwillingly requites Conioyning oft her Corrall lips to his Not that she lou'd the loue of any one But that she meant to cozen him anone Hee briefly t'her relates his pedegree The sonne of loue sole guider of the sunne He that slue Pychon so victoriouslie He that the name of wisdomes God hath wonne The God of Musique and of Poetry Of Phisicke Learning and Chirurgery All which he eloquently reckons vp That she might know how great a God he was And beeing charm'd with Cupids golden cup He partiallie vnto her praise doth passe Calling her tipe of honour Queene of beauty To whom all eies owe tributary duety I loued once quoth hee aie me I lou'd As faire a shape as euer nature framed Had she not been so hard t'haue beene remou'd By birth a sea Nymph cruell Daphne named Whom for shee would not to my will agree The Gods transform'd into a Laurell tree Ah therefore be not with that word he kist her Be not quot he so proud as Daphne was Ne care thou for the anger of my sister She cannot nay she shall not hurt my Cass For if she doe I vow by dreadfull night Neuer againe to lend her of my light This said he sweetly doth imbrace his loue Yoaking his armes about her Iuory necke And call's her wanton Venus milk-white Doue VVhose ruddie lips the damaske roses decke And euer as his tongue compiles her praise Loue daintie Dimples in her cheekes doth raise And meaning now to worke her stratagem Vpon the silly God that thinks none ill She hugs him in her armes and kisses him Th' easlyer to intice him to her will And being not able to maintaine the feeld Thus she begins or rather seemes to yeeld VVoon with thy words and rauisht with thy beauty Loe here Cassandra yeelds her selfe to thee Requiring nothing for thy vowed duety But only firmnesle Loue and secrecy Which for that now euen now I mean to try thee A boone I craue which thou canst not deny me Scarce were these honywords breath'd from her lips But he supposing that she ment good-faith Her filed tongues temptations interceps And like a Nonice thus to her he saith Aske what thou wilt and I will giue it thee Health wealth long life wit art or dignitie Here-with she blushing red for shame did adde A crimson