groome Whose climing thoughts at last will breake their necke God lieue my hate might helpe to build thy tombe And I suruiue to triumph on thy wracke That when the world shall see thy loue disgraced Men may beware of loue too highly placed What wanton marke of loose immodestie Could'st thou decipher in me all this while Dar'st thou presume to touch a deitie Before she grace thee with a yeelding smile thought Poore foole what starres bewitch thy wretched To fancie her that sets thee so at nought Thou seest my bodie straight as Cedar tree That fames the woods of rich Arabia My browes embost with heauens rich Heraldree Tables containing Beauties perfect lawe Mine eyes two twinkling stars whose piercing raies Haue power to dim the brightest summer daies My face the Sunne-enlightning beauties skye Whose charmefull spels the proudest can controule Loues Adamant to euery wandring eye That like a Syren can inchant the soule The shop where Nature sets her art to showe Where crimson Roses sleepe in beds of snowe Poore foolish flie why plaist thou with the flame Looke not on beautie for it soone will burne thee Shun shun the thought which may procure thy shame The fire once kindled t' is too late to turne thee I am mild Venus mongst gentilitie But fierce Medusa to thy baser eye Thy birth too base for me to beare thy name Thy person nothing hath that may commend thee Thy liuing will not let thee play such game Thy threed-bare loue full little can befriend thee Renounce thy suite roote out these fancies straight Thou art no Atlas for so great a waight Or else in sight of heauen I here protest I loue thee so to liue thy foe till death For could one kinde looke euer make thee blest First would I forced be to yeeld my breath The more thy loue the greater is thy paine I will not stay to heare thee speake againe With this she left the Melancholy place This fatall groue the bed of mine vnrest And backe vnto her fellowes hies a pace Leauing me prostrate heauily distrest Looke how a bright starre shooteth in the night So fast she fled and vanisht from my sight Farewell quoth I sweet Saint of puritie Wonder of women and the worlds admire More was I speaking but it would not be Griefe stopt my dumbe tongue with too much desire That I was forste to sigh insteede of speaking As if my swolne heart were already breaking Then brake th'vnchannel'd issue of mine eyes My teares gaue vent vnto my tired soule Who breath'd hot sighes like lightning from the skye Such is Desire which no man can controule And pining griefe still thinkes it treble wrong When heart is barr'd the aydance of the tongue Thus as a man laid speechles in a traunce Or one resembling deaths anatomie The birds in silence wondring at my chaunce Abruptly ceast their busie harmonie Till some propitious powre to ease my paine Restor'd my sense and thus I cri'd amaine O quis te nostris oculis pulcherrima Virgo Obiecit Deus visam te protinus idem Eripuit nobis saeuo vt consumerer igni Illa meo nunquam facies de pectore abibit Illam vos etiam mecum discetis amare Intonsi montes vos vmbriferae conualles Siue greges inter captabo frigus auram Flumina seu propter salices in valle putabo Aut agitans instabo aliud quodcunque tibi ante Carmina pauca canam te pectore suspirabo Toto vnam te corde priùs dediscet amare Gramina ouis nemora alta ferae vaga flumina pisces Quà m tua de nostris vellatur cura medullis O decus atque animi nostri pergrata voluptas I lookt about if any would replie Griefe best is pleasde with partners in his plaining The Damsell gone I saw no creature nye Saue trees and stones which could not know my meaning To whom shrill Eccho in pittie of my paine Records my woes and tels them o're againe And now the night with darkenes ouer-spred Had drawne her sable curtaines ore the earth And from her cole-blacke melancholy bed Sent foggie mists and filthie vapours foorth When home I went poore haples and forlorne Cursing the day that euer I was borne O blacke Despaire foule lot of faithfull Loue Blasting our hopes ere they begin to bud Whose dogged nature pittie cannot moue Nor ought can pacifie but humane blood A thousand times thou end'st a wretched life Which liues againe to pine in further strife The Nimphes and Satyrs in their ayrie bowres Dansed their Chorus but it would not please me No pastures walkes nor wreath of sweetest flowres No flocks no friends nor no delight could ease me Her doome is past intreatie could not stay it I owe Despaire a death and I must pay it This plot this place this melancholy groue I singled out to lay my Cares to sleepe To end my life and with my life my loue Pitty not me sweet friend forbeare to weepe Death chang'd to life I neuer shall repent That life is dead that liues in discontent Eub The weary Sunne now settles in the West And time permits not speake what I was ment This night I purpose thou shalt be my guest I 'le tell thee things perhaps to thy content And e're our Lambes lye downe to rest to morrow I 'le find a salue to counterpoise thy sorrow
extremitie But wisdome weake my Reasons force was small To conquer loue which conquers wit and all I know no bastard Hauke can soare so high As doth the Hobbie towring high by kind Nor Aegle-like behold the worlds faire eye But with his beames their sight is stricken blind I know gainst Nature actions are in vaine And high-pitcht thoughts reape nothing but disdaine Yet Phaebus shining little Gnats may play Small flies may pearch them by the Aegles side It lies in compasse of thy yea or nay To be my bane or to become my Bride Loue strikes a match t'wixt mortall men and Gods Sweete loue me then can be no greater oddes O be remembred was not Vulcan lame Yet was he Lord of louely Venus bed Or if he were not more his wife to blame That rul'd the raynes to make him beare the head Such Vulcanes now are ours who doting olde Marrie young Maids to keepe them from co-colde Diuine Aurora full as faire as she Whose heauen-di'de face the Graces still admire Lou'd gray-beard Tython as ill fac'te as he And in her choice so pleas'd her chast desire That oft she said when Beauties dowre is spent Mine old-mans loue shall yeeld me sweet content I will not muffle vp a meane estate As smoth-tongu'd sutors daily vse to doe Bragging of Birth of Friends of this and that Of money lands yea and of Vertue too Breathing vaine boasts of many a golden shower And things God wot were neuer in their power A shame to boast of bloods antiquitie Wherein no honour nor true Vertue lies Each Brute may bragge hereof as well as we One still succeeding as another dyes T' is Vertue Minion doth nobilitate And makes a Monarch of a meane estate Let others promise Mountaines if they list Intrapping fooles by false insinuations Till womens hopes doe end in Had I wist And make them say Mens words are but temptations I hate all shifts plaine dealing still is blest I like the meane and here set downe my rest My dwelling is within a countrie Farme My table richly furnisht with Content My robes are such as keepe my body warme My pleasures rate sits at an easie rent My cheere is great my charge is very small My fruits my flocks my foes are none at all My life is nothing but a world of Loue I loue my God and next I loue my King I loue my Caesars friends that sit aboue I honour Vertue aboue any thing I loue my countrey and my dearest kin Briefly I nothing hate but mizers sin I spend the day time on these pleasant Plaines And while my Lambes grow wanton with the spring Vpon an oaten pype I cheere my paines And being wearie straight I fall to sing This done I laugh againe and shake my crowne To see the world of late turn'd vpside downe Our Fathers plained in their weary daies How much the world was chang'd from that of yore We say of late t' is turned many waies Yet will not stand as Adams did before Each side is turn'd and yet it standeth wrong And will doe still I 'le tell thee wench how long While Kings do thirst for Countries and for Crownes And Princes pray vpon their Neighbour Landes Might treads down right and Treason selleth Townes Iustice lies fetterd in oppressions bandes So long the righteous gods will surely frowne And we shall finde the world turn'd vpside downe While Nobles vainely vaunting of their blood Doe sell themselues to sensuall appetite Neglecting time to doe their Countrey good To punish wrongs ayde the poore-mans right So long the righteous gods will surely frowne And we shall finde the world turn'd vpside downe While citties swim in Lucre Lust and Pride No art but craft no gainefull trade but sinne While veluet breeches is allow'd to ride And aged Wisdome walketh bare and thinne So long the righteous gods will surely frowne And we shall finde the world turn'd vpside downe While Leacherie and Lucar strike a match Making a compound of two deadly sinnes And or'e th' Hesperian fruite like dragons watch Or as the Eden-keeping Cherubims So long the righteous gods will surely frowne And we shall finde the world turn'd vpside downe While poore are pincht by grunting Auarice And Gentils forste their ioyntures for to sell To Father Grauity whose biting vice Will send his soule for handsill vnto hell So long the righteous gods will surely frowne And we shall finde the world turn'd vpside downe While younglings chuse their Louers by their coyne Seeking to graft vpon a golden tree Goods make the choice the diuell he must ioyne But ware their soules the Priest will haue his fee So long the righteous gods will surely frowne And we shall finde the world turn'd vpside downe Briefly while Vices maske in Vertues weed And Reason made a Baude to each abuse While Beasts are fatted good men suffer need And all things altered from their proper vse So long the righteous gods will surely frowne And we shall finde the world turn'd vpside downe Thus while the world in sinne is madly tost Some beare the purse but Iudas loues no poore The rest in pleasures Labyrinth are lost And would returne but Custome keepes the doore I sit aloofe and laugh the world to scorne Happie in this to be a Shepheard borne I am a King my Conscience is my Crowne My Court is thoughts enriched with Content My minde to me is as a walled Towne My Treasure Grace which neuer can be spent The want of worldly things is very small To him whose heart desires them not at all I make my power the limits to my will And count wel doing summe of all my wealth My wishes fewe and easie to fulfill My care is none but soule and bodies health In Heauen my happe on God my hopes relye Loe thus I liue and thus I meane to dye Say me then Sweeting dost thou like mine offer My loue my life and all at thy commaund Say canst thou stoope vnto a poore mans proffer Thou art my Iudge here I holde vp my hand Now passe the speedy doome of life or death Or cure my bane or kill me with a breath I had no sooner said but straight began The cloudes appeare that menaced a storme Her face faire skie being turned pale and wan What might I hope but tempest euery houre The cursed Fates haue cloud-ecclipst my Sun Whose light once lost of force my life is done First darts her amiable brow coy frownes And cruell hate inserted in disdaine Inthrones her selfe then scorne and wrath abounds And where before Loue-tempting lookes did raigne There proud Contempt arm'd with disdainfull ire Scornd proffer'd seruice of my poore desire Heart-slaine with lookes I fell vpon the ground Her meaning strooke me ere her words were done As weapons met before they make a sound Or as the deadly bullet of a gunne Yet all my passions had no power to moue her But thus she rates me that so much did loue her Presumptuous Swaine proud selfe-conceited
be a Cocke of Venus game My martyrd minde was cast in Cupids iayle And none but one my prisoned thoughts can bayle Vt vidi vt perij now I duly sing Moaning my skant foresight with wealaday For at mine eyes my heart did sucke the sting That workes my ruine and my liues decay No maruaile men enioy a seldome rest Nestling such Traytor foes within their breast O passing priuiledge that blind men haue In wanting sight they want a thousand sinnes And neuer any yet was Venus Slaue But in his eye the venome first beginnes Blinde are not poyson'd with the baites of Beautie Which Syren-like tise men from God and dutie Poore foolish Blinkard Beads-man vnto Christ For restitution of long lacked sight I maruaile what they fancie so inticte To be desirous of this lothsome light Alas what profit haue we by our eyes Saue sinnes attaint in viewing Vanities Lament O Heauens sight robbeth thee of Saints And mourne poore soules sight spoyleth you of grace Yet sight deserueth not these hard complaints Lust is the theefe Sight but his entring place Yet must I say Sight is not free from sin Since theefe he is that theefe receiueth in Why rage I thus against my retchles eyes No sense but train'd me to my Tragedie And cowardly consorted to deuise My liuing death past hope or remedie Yea all my parts tooke part to doe me wrong And I alone must battaile with my tongue Poore helples helpe that wronged louers haue Whē harts deep wound is veng'd with shallow words The Prisoner rayling yet is made a slaue Griefe fights with shadowes while it feeleth swords So pecks the Doue whilst Rauens pierst her brest So fares the Wren when Children rob her nest Finding my senses foes I made appeale To the right-deeming censure of my hart Hoping that Reason would become my bayle And rid me from this inward pining smart But long ere this the Senses insurrection Brought Reason Heart and all in foule subiection Where should a man goe seeke for siluer streames When springs are poysned fountaines turnd to mud What brightnes can arise from borowed beames When Phoebus fleets the soueraigne of our good Or wher 's the soules Atturney when the hart Being once corrupted takes the worser part Misguided heart made alyen from the forme Of thy pure Makers glorious Creation Coward why didst thou yeeld to Fancies storme And stoupe to Lust that foule abhomination Hadst thou with Reasons bit checkt raging will A small foresight might haue forestald this ill O where was Prayer the Soules Ambassadour To muster heauenly troupes of powerfull ayde When Sinne and Hell first labour'd to defloure Thy bodies Temple Gods vnspotted Maide Christ bids thee knock for help thou shalt haue it Then let him helples dye that will not craue it Thou shouldst haue sommond Hope and Charitie Mount-mouing Faith hot Zeale and perfect Loue Free-giuen Grace true Courage Constancie With such like gifts descending from aboue The smallest handfull of this holy band Had kept the diuell from seazing on thy land Looke as the Chaffe disperst before the wind Or as the dewe exhaled by the Sunne Or as a dreame which waking none can find Or as a thought ended ere well begunne So fancies dye so soone we stifle euill If we resist the motiues of the deuill O hartles hart false slaue to false delight Why didst thou tremble ere the Trumpet sounded Yeelding thy selfe to sinne before the fight And dastardly depart the field vnwounded When Guides misguide themselues the simple sort By their ill-sample render vp the Fort. Fye foolish man why stormst thou at the hart When Eyes and Sense are muffled vp in blindnes He steppes on Stage and this is all his part To welcome Beautie with a world of kindnes As is the sympathie twixt flaxe and fire Such is the heart compar'd to hot desire Poore Heart I wrong thee with my wrong exclames Seeking to crosse my foe I kill my friend Extremitie still vrgeth such extreames And sorrow smites at him that next doth stand Much like a Curre who smitten with a stone Bites the poore peble le ts the Man alone Much like a Curre said I nay not so wise For why I know my griefes vnhappie ground I see the roote from whence my passions rise And view the lure that did my life confound O blab-tongue Tantalus why dost not eate Fondling t' is I must pine in sight of meate Then let me learne at last to leuell right See where Contempt sits laughing at my fall Ye hel-borne Furies helpe to frame a flight To kill Disdaine that holds my life in thrall That words with woes may some fit measure keepe Helpe me to rage to curse and then to weepe O faire and kind O filthie monstrous lye I cry you mercie Madame for mistaking The blind man colours hardly can discrye And my poore reasons light is now but waking iest What heart once thought now tongue bewraies in Thou foule Apostata notorious beast Can I report her foule impietie When as my tongue did tremble once to name her Faine would I speake but when I speake I die My ioynts apall'd with feare refuse to shame her Courage my Heart for loue she left thee griefe Make change a robbry and so call her thiefe O shallow-braind inuention course discourse In this high taske I doe her merits wrong The spring is drie it seemeth by the sourse Whē naught but New gate tearmes can store the tongue I 'le fetch from hel sterne words to shake the Center And with mine action make them fiercely rent her O proud presuming foule abhominable Sinnes shop friends shame hels bait and natures mole Worse then the offall of Augias stable Ill thriue the beast that brought vs such a foale And let fell crosses all her ioyes depriue Through whom my faithfull heart thus dyes aliue O wooluish heart wrapt in a womans hyde That spurnst at profferd dutie lendest loue To Lads that seeke a Lemmon not a Bryde Whom neither time hath try'd nor seruice prou'd In men t' is said their wils must stand for pay But Lust-breathd fury guides a womans way If loue be hated hate be blest with loue If Merit merit standing next the doore If haile-shot winne when Cannons cannot moue If Trueth and Promise soiourne from our shoare If weaker vessels weare the crest on high While mens best hope is hopeles for to die Why are not Natures workes in generall Prone to like crosses and to like confusion The greater seeking still to hurt the small The mightie wrong the weake by fell intrusion Why shines not Phoebus in the fulsome night While Luna lends the day her duskie light Why fall not Starres as thicke as winters haile Why is not Sommer colde and Winter warme Or why doth not the earths foundation faile Sinking in seas that long haue sought his harme Why doe not all things that on earth remaine To their rude-formed chaos turne againe O excrement of all exceeding ill How couldst thou
Thou helpst a man a while to cast his dice And turn'st thy wheele vpon him in a trice Thou dost vsurpe the worlds round circled stage Acting thereon thy variable scenes Where oft inspired with a bedlam rage Thou plaguest the innocent with endles paines And those that seeme to day but lookers on Thou makst thine actors ere tomorrow gone O hatefull Hag thou hast betray'd my life In giuing weapons vnto Cupids wrath Perceiuing Loue and Reason were at strife Thou falsly train'dst me on to Errors path Where taking vantage on my hard distresse Loue forst my heart his valour to confesse For Loue had labour'd long to worke my fall Battring the bulwarke of my naked brest But Reason gaue his force no ground at all Bidding the blinde Boy set his heart at rest For more he sought to trie this fond conclusion The more my courage shin'd in his confusion Till thou to spit the venome of thy spite Subornedst Cupid how he soone might slay me Abandoning his bowe and arrowes quite You laid this priuie complot to betray me When Fortune first had brought me to the bay A Maydens eyes should steale my heart away Immortall heauens and ye great powers aboue From whose faire influence all iustice flowes Worke your reuenge on Fortune and on Loue From whom the title of my trouble growes That men beholding it may safely say No sinne can scape vnpunisht past his day While thus I prosecute my fruitles playning Two Shepheards summon'd me to see their sport Whose suddaine sight soone mou'd me to abstaining Least they might heare my tragicall report Clearing my face from cloudes of discontent With these two louing swaines away I went Like as the soft and tender leaued flowre Whose drouping colour shewes his life is done Being lately drenched in some dismall showre Till he attract refreshing from the sunne So I whose hopes but lately seem'd to die Was now reuiu'd by beauties fresh supplie For now in Tropicke of false Fortunes height My nest was built by sweetest Beauties side Loues yoke was easie now I felt no waight My ship was carried with a gentle tide I sate too hot yet still I did desire To liue a Salamander in the fire Now did I wish the day would ne're be done So loth I was to leaue this Paradise Or that our reuels were but new begun But swift-wing'd Pleasure passeth with a trise For Loue had sworne when ere I did depart I should perchance goe home without a hart Now while I court the Loadstarre of my life And with her prettie parley feede mine eares O sugred words yet sharper then a knife Distilling Nectar-droppes on all that heares The merry swaines broke of our priuate pleasure And musicke summond vs to daunce a Measure Taking this Ladie by the lillie hand I taught her quickly treade the shepheards round Lo now blowes vp the secret-smoking brand Which did my reason and my sense confound For Loue is nine-liu'd kill him ne're so much The wanton Boy reuiueth with a tutch Looke as a man stung by the noysome Aspe Whose hony-poyson tickles with delight Sucks in the venome of this mortall waspe Wholy suspecties of the serpents spight So I so mad that reason could not turne me Bath'd in the flame which afterward did burne me Oft did I striue to take her in mine armes And tell my harts griefe by some silent motion She was too young to leuell at my harmes Or picke a meaning from my dum deuotion Oft would my dotage make me daunce amisse And then begin new measure with a kisse She bad me dance true but I lou'd my faining Hang him that loues and has no mother-wit I said our musick err'd in ouer-straining No meruaile then my footing could not hit And to preuent the iarres that came by this Our lips made musicke where our feete did misse Our countrey Round by this was almost done When wanton wearie suddainly she grew Nay then quoth I would we had ne're begun Faire Nimph cheere vp thy selfe and dance a new For if thou droope our hearts will fall as fast As Autumne leaues before the Winters blast Behold the sunne-beames for thy Beauties sake Dancing Lauoltoes on the liquid floare The whistling winds vnwonted musicke make Whiles Syrens sit and sing vpon the shoare Yea the fierce Wolfe is come to see thee play And for thy sake our Lambes keepe holyday See see faire Flora deckt in summers pride Burning in emulation of thy beautie And Venus nestled by Adonis side Seeking to doe his loue peculiar dutie Faire heauens Queene sits dallying with her Ioue Least he should see thee and so change his Loue. If then the treasure of thy supreme faire Breed iealousie in gods wonder in men O doe not thus thy beauties worth impaire Quitting our kindnes with vnkinde disdaine Gentilitie should beare a gentle minde And perfect Beautie neuer proues vnkinde This said I train'd her friendly from the rest Into a sweete and solitarie place Where Loue himselfe might daigne to build his nest All things consorted with so great a grace Had Mars plaid double here with Loues faire queen Their double-dealing Phaebus ne're had seen For why such was the shadow of this groue All thicke beset with circle-branching trees It gaue no passage to the sunne aboue Whose piercing light our actions ouersees But here and there small day-holes did appeare To light the ground and let in cooling aire Amidst this Thicket with a silent gliding A Christall brooke ran in a flowrie brim Where labouring Swans train'd vp by natures guiding Record a thousand sweete notes as they swim Sweet notes they were tun'd with a sweeter voice That charm'd the trees and made the stones reioice Here summers Queene had made her flowry bed Of the white Lillie and the crimson Rose With thousand other kinds of white and red Whose heauenly hew her art did so dispose As bred amazement in the dazled sight And cloy'd the senses with a worlds delight The chirping Birds to shunne the heate of Iune Fled to the shelter of this shadie ground Where praising Nature in a siluerie tune The hollow caues and vallies made resound In briefe this plot contain'd the perfect sum Of all the sweetes in faire Elisium While towards this Paradice we made our way We were incountred by the glorious sunne Who purposely to force this faire Nimph stay Some hotter now then when his course begunne That he might feede his false eye with her sight Whose beautie dimm'd the glorie of his light My Loue was faint and forste to set her downe Whose Angels face distilled pearly sweate Loue bad me giue her there a grasse-greene gowne In spite of Phaebus and his forced heate But while my lingring thoughts stood to deuise I saw God Morpheus seazing on my prize Whereat I fell into a iealous trance Sleepe eyes quoth I see not my Loue prophan'd Or if heauens power haue power to helpe mischance Let not the Rose of beautie thus be stain'd Fie fie quoth Reason where
's thy wits in keepeâ— Disturbe her not thy Loue is but a sleepe I laught to thinke hart-burning iealousie Should build a stage for Puppets in my braine Presenting visions to my phantasie That nothing were nor could returne againe Self-biting Curre a bolde vnbidden guest Whose foule disturbance marres true Louers feast Me thought her sleeping proued sleepe diuine Me thought the windes for pitie would not blow Shut were the casements of her christall eyen Which waking like two siluer Moones did show Shut were the day-bright eyes where all might see Faire Beautie linckt in loue with Chastitie Sleepe on quoth I sweet Saint of puritie Yet sleeping smile thy beautie on the aire That euery creature humbled at thy knee May offer homage to thy supreme faire But turne from Phaebus least his fond desire Cause him descend and set the world on fire I 'le charme the brazen doores of fearefull dreames And bind the sterne God Morpheus in a chaine Least he molest thy minde with idle theames Which in the fancies of the night doe raigne And guard thy person with as deare a price As if I kept the gates of Paradice For thy sake Acol shall perfume the winds With costly Myrre and curious Ambergreece I 'le venter more then Iason did to find The happie fortune of a golden fleece Which I my selfe full safelie meane to keepe And wrap thee in it when thou g'ins to sleepe And you sweet birds whose nimble-relisht notes Rauish the soule of man and cheere the day Stay the shrill descant of your siluery throtes Till Beautie wake and bid your musicke play Or if you needes will sing some tune deuise Whose Angel-sound may charme all Argus eyes Thus did I greete the Idoll of my hart Offring vp teares before her sleeping shrine And was beginning to bewray my smart When loe as if her spirit could deuine Opening the closet of her lockt-vp eyes She did preuent me in this cunning wise Shepheard I glory in the happie chance That made me Mistris of so kinde a man And one so well my praises can aduance Good Lord how long since you the whetstone wan Your high-pitcht words are like the torch by night That wasts it selfe in giuing others light Tell me whose person did you passionate Expressing motions of internate woe Grieuing your selfe to gesse at others fate You were to blame that would not let me knowe Nor seeke my helpe to play some tragicke part For I can sigh too yet ne're rent my hart Belike your Swaines intend a Comedie To be presented in some solemne place And loue-sicke you these passions must descrie Which to adorne with action and with grace You daily thus make triall of your part With sighes and teares that neuer pierce the hart Ah would to God flint-harted wench thought I Thou feltst the crosse which loue hath laid vpon me Or that my woes gaue not thy words the lye And my poore heart had power henceforth to shunne thee Thy Mother wanton was not halfe so olde Yet knew she when a sutors tale was tolde Loue brought me in to acte this wooing scene The argument was written in thy face The words were such as might expresse my paine The end to win thee to a liking grace And euery period had his sense made plaine With teares which Chorus-like mine eyes did raine Thou didst not sleep yet hearing could not moue thee A colde presage for him that meanes to wooe My wanton gesture seem'd to say I loue thee But all was labour lost that I could doe My suite was sleeueles thy regard so colde As if that I anothers tale had tolde This said my hart but this I durst not say So loude the regent of my hart might heare me The place vnfit my fancie to bewray The time and other circumstance did feare me Her scene perform'd my tongue thus acts his part Hiding the Loue that reuel'd in my hart Faire Saint if Loue haue forste me to offending With yrksome prattle crossing thy repose O blame the beautie on thy face depending That giues a tongue of praises to thy foes Then graunt me leaue how euer others deeme To giue thy Beautie excellent esteeme But please thee Sweeting finish out our walke The pleasure great the labour is but small And in yond Eden see how euery stalke Brags the sweete blossomes he is blest withall I 'le load thy lappe with Floras tender pride And bring thee homeward in the Euen-tide Thus said I brought her to this shadie rest This green-dy'd groue this summers Paradice Where Loue by pleading hard might make me blest Where I was bent to cast my Fortunes dice And in a minute ease or end the strife Or win my Loue or else to lose my life Now while the Damsell wondring Natures store Seaz'd on the flowry treasure of the spring And more she gatherd still desiring more The last is best and new sels euery thing I madly tost betweene Despaire and Ioy Prai'd for successe to the blind-seeing Boy Great Prince of Loue to whose victorious hand My frozen hart was forste perforce to yeeld And in my bosome entertaine the brand Gainst which weake Reason neuer man could sheeld O be propitious to an humble Swaine And giue my loue successe to quite my paine Thou art so little else our Poets misse That thou canst hide thee in a wanton eye So subtile thou canst enter with a kisse So craftie thou canst counterfaite to dye Or being dead thy qualitie is such To liue againe by vertue of a tuch O lend me thy insinuating power Words steep'd in syrop of Ambrosia To force my Danae with their golden shower That she may blesse me with a yeelding nay Each sentence be a sweet inchanting charme Vpon her hart-strings playing loues alarme So shall thy glorie be immortall still The conquest woon to set thy captiues free And cure their wounds whom thou mighst iustly kill O exercise thy pittie then in me That finding her to ease my heauie bands May blesse the time I fell into thy hands By this her bosome stor'd her lap was full And wanton weary quickly set her downe No prettie flower there was but she did pull No colour set in Ariadnes crowne Or in the compasse of faire Iris Bowe She did not gather to enrich her showe Now powrefull Loue that reuel'd in my hart Contrould my silence hating to be mute Still rubs the soare that made my wound to smart And strongly vrg'd me to commence my sute Till fancie growne too headstrong to retire Thus in a word I tolde her my desire Goddesse quoth I for lesse thou canst not be God lieue thou couldst or that my birth were better My loue my life both consecrate to thee I offer as an insufficient debter O stand propitious to an humble Swaine That craues but loue to answer loue againe I call to record Venus and her Sonne No meanes vnsought no art vnwrought by me To quench this flame when first it was begunne Foreseeing still this foule