his desire and aswaged his heate with her swete imbracement he asked her pleasantly whether she thought that the greatnes of a Prince was able to shew more perfect affection then the good hart and loyall seruice of a meane gentleman The gentlewoman hearing his voyce which she knew very well perceyuing therby that it was not the Prince whom she had pleasured but the gentleman that she thought to displease and depriue of that fauoure which his entire affetion had wel deserued vnderstanding very well to what end his wordes did tend sighing a litle she said If my wisdome had bene as greate as my bewtie I had not depriued my self of libertie to make me a slaue to one that set so light by me neither had mine expectacion bene thus deceaued nor my selfe so beguiled But seeing it is so fallen out and that the liberalitie of a Prince hath bene so great to preferre the loue of his seruaunt before his owne priuate affections it is great reason that 〈◊〉 shoulde hold me contented and shew my selfe as liberall 〈◊〉 you whose loyaltie hath well deserued it as he hath done that gaue me this good example wherfore I do here wholy betake my selfe vnto you accepting you for my only frend so long as liâ—e and your good liking shall last with assured promise neuer more to aâ—â—er my choyce or allow of any other in that respect but alwaies and in all thing to be most humble at your commaundement These and such like wordes she vsed vnto him and afterwards falling into more pleasaunt talke they passed the time till morning came and then the gentleman with a gracious Conge takinge leaue of his Mistresse departed with the Prince his maister being both well satisfied who diuerse times after when occasion serued receaued the like contentemente But nowe least I ingender in your hartes some extreame enuie by speaking ouermuch of this their excéeding pleasure I thinke it best to hold my peace and so auoyde the inconuenience which otherwise might insue A lamentable discourse of the loue betwene Barisor and Flora with the piteous end of them both Not without great reason do the Poets faine foolish loue to be naked for vndoubtedly he is naked of all good vertues They do likewise make him blind to shew that for want of good foresight he suffereth him selfe to fal into all maner of vices I may then very well conclude with them and say that his subiectes are so naked so blind and voyde of naturall sense that being in a maner dispoiled of all good vertues they suffer them selues to be led into such filthy pudles froÌ„ whence they are not able to get out againe till their hard fortune do make them feele the smart of their wilfull folly as plainly appeareth by the story ensuing The most renowmed king of Hungarie the last that raigned in those partes before the Turke had wasted the countrie and brought it vnder his subiection did in his life time hold an open Court and had in his traine a great number of gentlemen and Ladies so well accomplished in all perfections as there was no Prince in Christendome comparable vnto him where loue had so liuely displayed himselfe that it was harde to finde in any other Courte whatsoeuer more affectionate seruauntes to their Ladies then was one gentlemaÌ„ of his house named Barisor who though he were but basely borne and little fauoured with the giftes of fortune notwithstanding nature farre more gracious vnto him made him in all vertue and beautie so perfect that without comparison hee was accounted the most accomplished gentleman in the Courte and had such aduauntage aboue all other that aswell in all manner of Gentlemanlike exercises as also in martiall exploites hee alwayes shewed himselfe farre to surmount the rest which made him to be so welbeloued and estéemed of euery one especially of the Ladies of the court that by meanes of the good countenance they gaue him generally he tooke great pleasure oftentimes to beare them company shewing him selfe so courteous and seruiceable vnto them that therby he drew vnto him the hartes of most of them In this honourable troupe there was a Lady named Flora of an auncyent house and very rich in possessions who séeing this gentleman so much estéemed and praised of euery one saue only of her could no longer forbeare to shew him the like freendly and fauourable countenaunce He on the other side beholding the delicate complection and naturall beautie of this worthy Gentlewoman was in such sorte surprysed that he did in a maner lose all his senses Loue incontinently during these amorous regards vsing his accustomed force at one instant tyed the heartes of these twaine so straightly together and brought them to that passe that it was easie to iudge by their outward countenaunce how they were inwardly tormented which though it seemed very straunge vnto them at the first specially to the young Lady yet when it had once taken roote in her heart it was so surely setled as it did accompany her to her graue Thus to discouer their secrete thoughts hauing yet none other meanes but onely the amorous glaunces of their gasing eyes they could not sufficiently discouer the force of this new fire wherewith they were so greately inflamed which so much tormented the minde of the poore Gentleman that being on a day al alone in his chamber and almost out of his wittes through extreame sorrow he caste him selfe downe vpon his bed thinking to recouer some rest but Loue and the continuall remembrance of this new passion so often renued his griefe that in the end he was enforced for the ease of his mind to sing to his Wife these verses following Another to the like effect Like as the Steere that neuer felt the Yoake But liued free in Woods and pastures still Or like the horse that neuer yet was broake Nor brought with bit t' obay the Riders will So rangde I long and wandred ofte astray Vntaught to bridle my desires alas Amidst my thoughts blinde Cupid bore such sway That bastard boy not he whose sonne Ioue was Whose brande was smothering heate not much vnleâ—ke To that cleere flame which broyleth in my brest Wherin I ioy as in the thing I seeke And therefore since I therewithall am blest And Reasons yoake hath made my sences tame I crie O happie yoake O noble flame His song ended sighing bitterly he sayd O vnhappie and miserable wretch that I am well worthy am I to lose both life and liberty to become a slaue and the most vnhappy gentleman on earth that haue setled mine affection in so high a place that not so much as mine eyes much les my thoughts shal euer be able to attaine vnto it which makes me worthy of a thousand deathes if it were possible to endure so many what may I then expect but euen my vtter ruine both of body and soule seeing my selfe without all hope of remedie at the very beginning of my loue considering the
despaire doth shew no gaine Good hap says hope despaire cries contrarie hope bids me liue despaire would haue me die Thus twixt those two at point of death I liue in hope of good yet fearing froward chaunce In you it lyes a happy hap to geue to bring me out of this despairing traunce Oh help me then that thus on knees doe crie Assure my hope or in despaire I die The Louer craueth rewarde for his long and faythfull seruice OH Loue to whome I long haue bene a slaue consider wel how truely I haue serud And blame not him who is compeld to craue the due reward that he hath wel deserud Let trustie troth be euer yet regarded that faithful seruants may be wel rewarded Thou knowest how long that I haue liued a thrall thou knowest againe my true and faithful minde And thou canst tel how landes limme life and all by faith full fast I once did firmely finde To serue a Saint all this thou loue doest know and how my faith I neuer did forgoe And since thou knowest I neuer reapt reward nor euer sought til now reward to craue Sweete loue let now my humble suite be heard and pittie take vpon thy silly slaue And cause the Saint whom I so long haue serud to lend me liking as I haue deserud Oh amour WHat thing is loue a God as Poets wright why Poets faine then how can that be true What is it then some worldly sweete delight oh then their loue why should so many rue It is a griefe then why are men so vaine to ioy in that which doth procure their paine But such a pain as pleasure bringes withal and such a griefe as yealds a heauenly ioy Doth make the heart to think the hurt but smal when fancie rids the minde of selfe annoy And such is sure the panges that louers proue that wretched wights can ioy so much in loue But peace I sée loue is a God in deede who diuers wayes doth worke in minde of man Whose mighty power mans reason doth exceede by working woe or comfort now and than But is it so is loue a power diuine then God of Gods spéede well this loue of mine Nought dare I do therfore oh God of loue I thée beséeche to worke for thy behooue Of a hauty minde THe conquest rare doth greatest glory gaine the strongest fortes by stoutest wightes are won The hardest thinges atchiude with greatest payne do bréede most ease when so the worke is done Well labors he how so his time be spent that for his paines doth reape his hartes content God knowes my hart and what I do desire but what I seeke doth few or no man know The nobler harte the higher doth aspier and for my selfe I cannot stoupe to lowe But if I séeke to clyme a steppe to hye God saue the childe for if I fall I dye In high attemptes the boldest bloudes of all do best preuaile when perill once is past Then lyue or dye or stand or slyde or fall clyme sure I will God set my footing fast And helpe me so to height of my desire that I may wishe saue heauen to clyme no hyer After many misfortunes he craueth death as the ender of all calamities I Longe in iest haue wishd and calde for death when foolishe toyes haue gone agaynst my mynde But dying now at latest gaspe of breath I call to God that I may fauoure find That sinne bréede not my soules eternall paine that dyinge here I may not dye agayne For now I sée the woes of wretched will and now I finde the filthie shame of sinne And now by grace I knowe the good from ill I lothe the state that I haue liued in I see the lyfe of man is but a floure which springes growes fades and dyeth in an houre What are we all but euen a clod of claye first made of earth whence back agayne we must A life vnsure which lasteth not a daye A death most sure to which each one may trust And yet that death yeldes lyfe by heauenly grace which grace God graunt ech one in wretched case And for my selfe God me my sinnes forgiue and God forgeue each one that is amisse Oure sinnes forgeue God graunt oure soules may lyue From wretched worlde with him in heauenly blisse And thus I end my solemne dyinge songe Lord saue my soule I dyinge lyue too longe He proueth vertue to be better then worldly riches THe golde that first within the ground doth growe doth come to stand on top of pillers hye The pretious Pearle that likewise lyes full low the Prince accountes a iewell for his eye What iemme so rare that euer yet was founde but that at first did growe out of the grounde Then when you see your pallace trimly deckt straight cal to minde from whence that decking came And to the ground haue presently respect who by Gods help did first bring forth the same And thinke the iemme that makes the brauest show ful rough at first within the ground did grow The man whose minde is ful and wholy bent to vertues throne to treade the redy way And meetes mishap ere halfe his iorney spent to lothsome vice to leade him out astray Where is the fault but in a froward wil who goes without the guide of wisdomes skill But what if wit be rulde by sage aduise and then doe chaunce to meete with naked neede It bootes alas but litle to be wise if wealth do want to help to doe the déede Yet wealthy wise who walkes to vertues schoole when he comes there shal see himselfe a foole How should the minde then séeke out vertues throne or els what minde is best to seeke the same The seate is straunge and standeth all alone and vertue she is thought a heauenly dame Which makes me thinke it is some heauenly place which heauenly minde must game by heauenly grace Which heauenly guide God graunt my willing minde with wisdomes skil to seeke out vertues schoole That though wealth want yet wit may wisely finde how long too long that I haue liued a foole And I may see from vertues heauenly way what wanton toyes haue led my minde astray The louer being ouercome is compelled of necessitie â—o sing of sorrow FAine would I write some pretie pleasaunt toy to put away fond fancies out of mind But secret spite so chokes me with annoy as wearied wits can litle pleasure find So that I sée if ought at all I write my song must be of sorrow and despite And sorrowes song who would desire to sing that dolefull dumpe doth lend but small delite And yet the mind which wretched woes do wring can sing no song but smackes of some despite For if of myrth it doth the more disease and solemne songs do litle paine appease Then sadde and swéete since that no song I see which may delite of cheare the heauy hart I can but â—igh let others sing for me no musicke mirth can ease my secret smart
sore yet heales againe That is the cause of great despight And yet doth purchase sweete delight That healeth some of deadly smarte And strikes some other dead at harte It should be straunge what so it is But sure if I iudge not amisse T is all one with the same that I Propounded you T is loue perdie Mors mihi vita COnsumde with cares and ouerwhelmde with woes I bidde adue to such as liue in ioy Contented well my loathed life to lose as fortune stil did follow with annoy For as I féele my death drawe neareâ— on I see the smarte of all my sorrowes gone Whereby I see sweete death the ende of dole while life prolonges the wretched soule in payne The salue of death makes sickest hartes soone hole when care is found a comforte all in vaine Yet dying thus ere I be throughly dead accepte this counsaile of a carefull head Loue not to liue nor yet desire to die but liue to die so dying looke to liue Such dying life such liuing death haue I which makes me thus the world this comfort giue To dread no death but count him for our frend who bringes vs ioyes and makes our sorrowes ende The Nightingales note THe Nightingale that singes the sweetest note of any birde that flyeth in the ayre Whose choise of sounde with warblings in the throate reuiues the harte that dyeth in despayre In Aprill first recordes then sings in Maye and that mâ—onth past she singing goes awaye Which heauenly note might hold but halfe the yeare the ioy thereof woulde cloy our eares with sweete Nothing so good so rare nor yet so deare but chaunge for worse the foolish man thinkes meete So sweete and shorte is Philomelas songe and nought esteemed that lasteth once too longe But yet this songe that Philomela singes of sorrow groanes although the sounde delight Or harde mishappe wherof such mischiefe springes she but recordes the sounde of her despight So with that birde may I singe fie fie fie while others ioy in song to heare me crie Nil nisi probatum AMonge mishappes which kill a careful hart to finde a foe of an assured frend Is such a griefe as breedes that deadly smart which vntill death can neuer take his ende Oh wretched world where faith is so vniust that surest frendes are sometime harde to trust But all too late I finde the prouerbe true that frends are founde as fortune skoules or smiles But twise accurst that hollow harted crue whose flattering face the simple minde begiles And for my selfe since frendshippe such I finde I will accounte of each one in his kinde Faire wordes shal stande for open flatterie till faithfull deedes may merite no mistrust And secreat traynes shal stande for treacherie till tryall finde her dealinges not vniust But where I finde the trothe at neede I crie with such a friend I vow to liue and die The clogge of care THe clogge of care that hangs on heauie harte pulles downe the head from loftie mindes delight The sighes that grow of sorrowes secreat smarte in time consumes the wretched carcase quight But comforte yet may cut that clogge away the cause of dole whereby delights decay And then the harte will holde vp head on hie and ioy as much as it did mourne before Oh comforte come and cut of by and by that cruell clogge that cuttes my harte so sore I haue too long to carefull thoughtes bene tide my minde cannot the burthen long abide But all in vaine for comforte stil I crie my clogge of care is such I cannot goe I sée too plaine my dolefull destenie to waste my dayes in worlds of carefull woe Which makes me thus to ende my solemne songe the carefull harte can neuer holde out longe Another THe Plowman sure are ye and I the sandie field Your haruest then must needes be grosse that such a earth doth shielde The golde I meane my selfe the hutch my husbandes harte The Marte is done put vp your pipes goe whistle for your parte And let me liue at rest deuoyde of slaunders blotte Contented with my faithfull feere whome fortune did alofte For sure the Letchers loue comes euer out of time I meane not to deface my fame with such a couerte crime I am no Younckers pray I skilles am in scapes I doe detest the doting loue of Roysters and their rapes I meane to runne the race of these my poasting dayes In such a sorte that none shall check my youthfull wanton wayes Leaue then to ransacke her that careth for no chaunge Ne seeke to false her faulcones faith with haggarde hauke to raunge Vpon two Gentlewomens names MY fancie led me sodainlie as I did sitte and sow Amongst some other secrete thinges a secrete cause to know Remembring how the Poets vse Good Gentlewomen to abuse All in their ditties when they chuse Resounding fame to blow Extolling in their Sonets then The onely prayse of faithfull men They list not see how we women Passe them as I will show Harke not what Poets prattle then from reason they declinde In Platoes Schoole thou mayst it learne how frendship is definde Loue lyketh where is loyaltie Lyke loyaltie in lyke degree In wemen this is chiefe to see Peruse and you shal finde So saith he that this frendlines Only doth springe from humblenes None barreth women gentlenes Except they barre their kinde Perhappes I coulde adioyne to this where most affection dwels How there the flower of frendlines most pleasantly it smels Enritching womens goodly grace But here I neede not in this place Experience proueth well this case Aske her I say naught els Then sith it comes to vs by kinde Keepe not the secret cause to finde In Poetrie that is so blinde No true tale once it tels Sith loyaltie affection and likenes of degree On perfecte proofe from cradle vp hath linked thee to me No treasure riche nor golden mine Exchaunge shall make at any time For as I was so am I thine Reposing trust in thee Enduring so I doe pretende No chaunge to make till life doe ende Damon was neuer dearer frende So thou my Pithias be A merry conceate OVr Wilkin now will wedde the goodlyest girle I gesse That ere this countrey bredde it is that bounsinge Besse That euery iacke for ale and cakes At euery game his Lady makes He thinkes his Ladie beares the bel Pore horechit Hob And she belowtes the mome as well And there a bobbe How ere the worlde it wagges his Besse must needes be braue Gogs vish these rotten ragges are vitter vor a zlaue Then vor my Ladie zweares our Wil And therewithall he smackes his Gil. And she requites his busse againe He likes wel that He payes his Ladie for her paine That hittes her patte To beare his flaunting porte our Wilkin wanteth welth He shames to yeald the sporte and therefore seekes by stelth To maintaine this his iollie ruffe He stryketh handes with Saunder Snuffe So forth together they two trigge To make a
〈◊〉 farewell vnto you both twixt hope and feare farewell all foolish strife Follie farewell which I haue fancyed so and farewell fancie that first wroughtst my woe Adue desire for death is harde at hande and yet againe I say adue to death Though loathed life doe in deathes daunger stande yet faith assures when bodie loseth breath The soule in heauen shall liue and fare right wel which makes me crie come death and life farewel Both frendes and foes vnto you all farewell farewell my frendes for frendshippe I haue found Farewell my foes that truth in time may tell when that â—y bones be buryed in the ground That with the worlde I die in charitie and so adue the bell hath done I die And yet once more to death agayne adue for dying thus me thinkes I liue againe My certayne hope showes ioyes that do ensue and hart findes ease of former pinching payne Which makes me thus by certayne prouse to tell faithe feares no death I dying liue farewell Counsaile geuen to a frend WHen gallant youthe hath gone a while at will and folowed that which fancie doth affecte And sées in tyme by proufe of sacred skill What wisdome would that reason should respect He then returnes from former vanytie and treades the pathe to true felicitie When witte doth waye the wanton toyes of will and will doth yéelde to folow wittes aduice And willing witte doth learne by wisdomes skil of perfecte good to knowe the passing price Then worldly toyes are all had in despight and Heauenly ioyes are all the hartes delight When fancie leaues to follow fonde desire and wisdome doth dame fortunes force defie And nature doth but reasones will require and conscience will conceale no trecherie Then if my mynde do not mistake his markes the skye will fall and we shall want no larkes The secrete sute of a louer NOt what I woulde yet would I what I wright not what I meane yet meane I what I saye Not what I mought yet would I what I might not what I can yet will I what I may My spéeche is darke but you perceyue much light then marke my wordes and gesse my meaning right For this you know my tonge so fast is tyde as for my lyfe I cannot yet speake playne Yet do I seeke to haue my mynde descride therby to speake some libertie to gayne For if my tonge might tell my tale in kynde my harte would hope to haue some ease of mynde But oh harde happe my hope his helpe denyes and hope halfe past dispaire doth drowne my mynde Yet reason showes that thou in deede art wise and ruth reportes that I shall fauour find Which makes me thus in midst of my distresse in secrete sorte to sue for some redresse Of sweet contentes WHat aâ—le I wretch or whereto was I borne what meanes my mynd my fancie so to set The greatest iemmes I seme to haue in scorne and daylie séeke the thinge I cannot get The reason is I seeke a thinge to craue which will would wishe but hope can neuer haue What is it welth no many rich I see as many seeke but few or none can haue Bewtie oh no faire ladies many be and t is I saye no common thinge I craue What is it loue tushe loue is but a toye yet faithfull loue is sure a heauenly ioy And therefore Loue I cannot choose but léeke but lyking lookes and lacke breedes discontent And they shal finde that doe such sorrowe seeke that lothed lacke doth luckles loue lamente What is it then whereof I am so faine oh t is contente I seeke but cannot gaine Oh sweete contente what one doth thée enioy who liues contente alas I least of all Content doth breede delight without annoy contente mislykes no fortune that can fall Contente is that which few or none can finde yet must I seeke to set at rest my minde One that had made his full choise MY foolish dayes and wanton lustes be past in vayne you seeke 〈◊〉 me againe Let be your toyes my thoughts are fixed fast Citheria should her selfe but lose her paine Remember not to me wonted delight each sweete so past is now but bitter gall Darcknes I 〈◊〉 that earst I counted light my reason is redéemde from fancies thrall Applie your selues to set some other snare perhaps ye may speede better if ye doe Such woodcockes many in the worlde there are that will be caught I am no pray for you One hath me fast already hers am I Ne will I be anothers till I die A Countrey Carrolle translated out of Belaye A Crowne for Ceres wil I make of euerie kinde of corne With garlandes made of faiâ—e 〈◊〉 boughes I Bacchus will adorne Two pottes of milke to Pales laste I purpose to present That they may heare my humble suite and to my will aâ—ente That Ceres may enforce the ground a plenteous croppe to yeald That Bacchus may the clustred grapes well prosper in the field That Pales so her mantle spread vpon the pleasaunt soyle That grasse and holesome hâ—rbes may grow to quite my painfull toyle The same in another sorte WIth fragrante flowers with eares of corne with leaues that largely grow On euery vine lets garlands make our thankefull mindes to show To Pales Ceres sacred dames and Bacchus last of all Who all our meddowes fields and grounds when we for grace did call With grasse with graine and grapes so filde as they did déeme it best We fearde no heate no hayle no colde for they our labour blest From all that might the grasse the eare or tender braunche offende The cattle birdes or greedie goate that from the hilles descend In summer season in the springe or Authume did not spoile The grasse the eare the sprouting budde but fedde on others soile Let mowiers then make merry now let Reapers all reioyce Let vintners vaunte of their good happe and all exalte their voice To praise the meddowes fieldes and ground that gaue so greate increase And laude their name that wrought this worke els will their goodnes cease Barnes garners sellers so are heapte with hay with corne and wine That neuer earst the like was seeâ—e with any mortall eyine An Epigram out of the same Author THough false Aeneas now be dead Dido laid in graue yet others lefte they in their stead that like coÌ„ditioÌ„s haue Who with the show of marriage rites which is a holy thing do hide their fleshly fonde delights that follie forth doth bring Verses translated out of the foresaide Poet. WIth loue with grace and perfect worthines the powers diuine were compassed rounde about The skie was clad and cloathd in comely sorte with burning rayes of happye heauenly hew All thinges were full of beutie and of blisse the sea was calme the winde was meeke and milde VVhen here below the Paragon was borne whose faire white skinne exceedes the Lillie farre Whose haire like golde doth glister in the sunne whose lippes doe staine the perfecte crimson die
to finde some swéete redresse And sure I finde but what for sweete delight the bitter fruites of broyle and dire despight Then who seekes so were better not to seeke or if he séeke were better lose then finde For he that findes vnto his most misléeke will where he findes his burthen leaue behinde And stande content with laboure spent in vaine rather then beare it to his further paine Yet he that seekes to finde out sweete delight and seeking séekes the surest way he may T is tenne to one but he shal méete despight which if he finde he néedes must beare away Or els despight wil driue him too and fro from all delight into a world of woe So that which way so ere he goe to worke to finde the way that leades vnto delight Such enuious hagges shal finde in secreate lurke as stil will seeke to driue him on despight Yet what of this in spite of all despight my minde shal séeke to finde out my delight The louer argueth betweene delight and despight WHen ioyes doe fade and all delight decayes and pinching paine possesseth pleasures place And wretched woe in wearie wofull wayes drawes forth the life in griefe and great disgrace Who then can choose but in his harte to crie adue delight I must in sorrow die Adue deligh oh what a dolefull song why solemne songes serue best for silly soules Then why shrinke I who dying liue too long and daylie heare the howerly carefull knowles The bell of bale ringes out both day and night to bid me die and bid adue delight Yet mindes wil mourne when mirth is changd to â—â—ne and hearts wil yearne to bid delight adue The sowrest life seemes sweete til latest grone many repente and yet repentance rue The fancie likes that breedes the harts despight which makes me singe adue to all delight And yet God knowes it is a sighing song and such a song as greeues me sore to sing But since my Lute is lost I playd on long and sorrow is my onely Musickes string Which runnes betweene the frets of foule despight I am content to sing adue delight Oh miseri amanti WHat greater woe can be then want of wish and what such ioy as to attaine the same A soure sauce doth marre the daintiest dish no greater griefe then that which growes in game What spight to that which pleasaunte sporte procures what sorrow such as man in mirth indures This wante of wishe which worketh deadly woe and being gainde doth breede as great a ioy This soure sauce that marreth sweete meate so this griefe in game this pleasure with annoy This spitefull sporte and mourneful 〈◊〉 to proue is but to leade a luckles life in loue For see the ioyes are woes of louers wish whose gaine yealds losse whose want bréedes wailful woe Whose sauce is sorrow to his daintiest dish whose griefe in game is doubt in yea or 〈◊〉 Whose spight in sporte is ioy amisse conceiud whose mirth in mone is death the minde deceiud Oh 〈◊〉 wish which each way worketh woe oh luckles loue which yeldes such sower swéete oh froward fates that first ordained so that mone with mirth should match so farre vnméete Oh wretch aid me that thus am forc'd to proue the gréeuous ioyes by luckles lottes of loue A Farewell to Fancie FAncy farewell my doating dayes are done my yeares are young but wit is waxen old Reason sayth now my retchlesse rafe is runne and wisdome hath my wanton will controld And tels me plaine that pleasures frutes are paine and worldly thinges are all and some but vaine Kingdomes bréede cares and treasure is but trashe beauty bides not and fauour fades away Frendship bréedes foes loue leaueth in the lash the fayrest lookes when liking doth decay Byting bréedes lust lust losse losse little ease small ease great griefe great griefe no small disease Disease breedes dole dole breedeth doleful care care doth consume consumption day by day Doth feede on flesh till bones be left so bare that loathed life must haue his dying day And worldly death breedes life in heauen on hie to which good life God graunt that I may die The Louer being kaught craueth comforte SWeete soule or Saint I know not which to say whose heauenlie power or heauenly hart at least With onely sight my senses doth dismay as minde amasde can take no hower of rest To thée alas vnknowne this suite I moue comforte thy slaue whom thou hast caught in loue What haue I sayd alas by only sight and haue thy lookes then linckt my hart in loue Yea in thy lookes I sée such swéete delight as to desire diuinest mindes may moue Therefore thus cought with onely looke I say a looke I loue and more too as I may But since that may rests only in thy will by lookes to shew my graunted leaue to liue Let me enioy such lookes of liking still that I may vowe my minde shal neuer moue But looke and like and loue that only looke on which to looke such sweete delight I tooke And thus I liue in hope to see the looke that by delight may bid me seeke to serue Nor doe I care what toile I vndertooke by thy commaunde thy liking to deserue So humbly thus this earnest suite I moue doe bid me serue where I am bound to loue The Louer craueth either speedie release or els speedie death DRiuen by desire to séeke out sweete delight I fast am caught in dungeon of distresse Where cloase clapt vp I lie in such despight as reason shewes no way to séeke redresse But captiue like to sit alone and crie adue delight I must in sorrow die Too true I finde who followes on his eye is sildome sure the high way right to hitte For many toyes doe leade the minde awrie except that wil be guyded on by witte For mistes doe fall to dimme the clearest eyne so fell a fogge before these eyes of mine I sawe a dame which did mine eye delight but secreat hurte of loue I could not sée For why her state was set on such a hight as oh I finde no clyming vp for me So to delight in loue I sought the way in whose despight I finde mine owne decay Yet farewel sweete the cause of all my care I blame not thée mine eye did worke my woe But since that loue lendes such vnhappy share the kindest harte to kill with sorrow so I am content in this distresse to lie til loue release or death wil let me die A Louer voweth constancie to his Ladie IN little chestes the greatest iewels lie and smallest heads are thought of greatest witte Clearest the sight that can by vew of eye discerne the marke that hardest is to hitte And happy he that beares his hande so right as hauing seene is sure to hit the whight Your chest I finde the carefull casket is where now doth rest the iemme of chiefe account Your sight of sence hath found by sure aduice the heauenly wight vpon Dianas mount
that she would be mine But yet content ye with your choise subscribe ye to my saint Whose worthy praise no siluer voice nor penne can fully painte Lenuoy Let it suffice I liue to proue it here In all respectes she neuer had her peere The despairing Louer TO painte the passions of a payned harte or shew the panges that foolish loue constraines When honest meaning lackes his due desarte the onely meane to purchase greater paines Alas I rue because my reason failes whilest fonde desire settes vp her swiftest sailes Too swifte in deede to passe the daungerous seas such daungerous seas as can be hardly paste Yet past all helpe and hope to purchase ease amidst the waues my â—rased barke I caste And cast the best although I count it vaine till fates accorde to sende reliefe againe A sorrowfull Sonette IF to the life that euer lastes this life a moment be If time consume our youthfull yeares which we no more shall sée If euery thinge that beareth breath doe waste and weare to nought Why dreamest thou in prisoned spright why doest thou take such thought VVhy doest thou so detest the day and wishe the darcksome night If to a safer place thou seeke to take thy speedie flight There is the good that euery soule ought chieflie to desire There is the rest whereto eachone woulde willingly aspire There loue doth lie there pleasure dwels there there my soule I say Amidst the highest heauens thou maist the image well suruay Of her whose beautie here on earth I haue adornde from time of birth The hurte that groweth by golde SOme say the golden worlde is gone but I suppose not so Now raignes the glistering golden age that greatly workes our woe For golde is now the God on earth now golde doth gouerne all Golde makes and marres if golde we wante in vaine for grace we call Golde geues and takes from kinges their crownes golde maintaines blooddie warre Golde bringes the greatest to theire graues and breedeth many a iarre Golde geues the iacke a gentils name and gaines him great account No faulte so foule but golde afoordes golde makes the meanest mounte Golde is the cause of all our care since first this golde was founde No faith nor frendshippe hath beene seene but fraude did most abounde Oh wretched golde would God thy name had neuer here beene knowen Then shoulde we not haue knowen the harme that by thy name hath growen He should I now haue cause to say so greatly to my griefe That wante of thee to winne good will doth make me wante reliefe The passions of a Louer MY Mistres eyes augment my kindled flame her golden lockes haue caught my captiue hart Her hurtfull hand my haples fall doth frame her wordes bewitch my minde and breede my smarte Her glistering eyes disgrace the brightest starre her crisped heare surmounts the glorious sunne Her handes in whitenes passe the Iuorie farre her wittie wordes immortall fame hath woon Her louely eyes doe much amase my minde her golden lockes alas doe linke me fast Beholde my state beholde what happe I finde no other ioy my pyning ghoast could tast Since cruel Loue within my breast did shrine her eyes her heare her handes her speach diuine The follie of Loue. ALas I see no hope is lefte at all by seruing thee to set my harte at rest Yet from this follie can I neuer fall nor leaue thy loue that likes my fancie best I am my selfe mine owne and onlie foe I see the pitte and plunge my selfe therein And though the meanes be founde to ease my woe foole that I am I seeke no ease to winne Though nothing happe that may my hope aduaunce from seruing thée yet can I not refraine No not though death or worse if worse might chaunce this is the good that I by lot doe gaine I see the best and know the worst aswell yet seeke the worst and bidde the best farewell To his vnconstant frend ROsetta retchlesse Dame since thou hast chaungde thy minde And in my absence to thy shame hast shewde thy selfe vnkinde I haue as well I might withdrawne my fonde desire From fancying one that is so light to make such quicke retire Henceforth for beauties blaze where no deserte is founde I will not set my selfe to gaze so great good will to ground This warning may suffice to make me wise at last Els greater daungers will arise then those alreadie past But tell when thou hast tride what good thou gaynste thereby Thou wast the first that gan to slide thy falshode made me flie Whilest I with store of teares did waile the wante of thee Thou toauest abroad with ruffeled heare and hadst no minde of me Forgetting my good will thou gauest thy selfe in charge To such as sought to spoyle thee still and leftst thy Loue at large As wauering as the winde that alters euery hower So wauering is thy wandring minde whereof thou hast no power But tell c. Where are thy solemne vowes at parting made to me Where are the teares with bended browes that then these eyes did see Would any man suppose such plaints should passe in vaine From one that onely loues to glose and glorie in her gaine O false periured wight accursed shall he be That in thy doinges takes delight or puttes his trust in thee But tell c. The man that holdes my place and pleades to please the best For all his faire dissembling face may loue thée with the least But she whom now I serue and honor with my harte Aboue all dames doth best deserue so prisde by due desarte Kéepe thou thy new come frende for I will stick to mine We loue and when our likes shal ende one toumbe our bones shall shrine But tell when thou hast tried what good thou gainst thereby Thou wast the first that gan to slide thy falsehoode made me flie The Louer ouercome with sorrow desireth death THe more my knowledge growes the more my power decayes To all mishappes my haples life is prone at all assayes My secrete flame augmentes amidst my floode of teares Before one griefe be fully gone another straight appeares Both night and day my thoughtes are chieflie on my graue In darcknes is my most delight no mirth my minde can haue The day dislykes me much the ceaseles griefes I taste At night when all things els take rest my woefull harte doth waste I neuer cease to weepe and yet I know not why In this vnconstant wauering worlde no trueth at all I trie A monstrous sea it is of sorrow griefe and payne Yet no where els can I finde meanes how I may comforte gayne Come therefore gentle death cutte of my line of life That by such death a thousande deathes may cease this secrete strife A Lady lamenteth the death of her louer WHy is my crased corps so strong against my wil that all the griefes I feele caÌ„not coÌ„sume me quite Who holdes my wretched soule whereas it likes so ill And will not let
of teares had quencht it long ago How may I rightly tearme this straunge tormenting griefe No fire no life no death it is and yet it lackes reliefe A dialogue betweene Reason and the harte of a Louer Reason ABide a while my harte why doest thou haste away Harte I goe to seeke the louelie eyes that must my griefes allay Reason I pray thee â—arke a while my leisure will not serue Harte A feruente fire prickes me foorth and will not let me swerue Reason Alas poore harte alas how little is thy skill Thou hast not yet the sense to see the ende of all thy ill Those eyes that so thou seekest will with a glaunce or twaine To ashes soone conuerte thee quite that els mightst safe remaine These eyes they are thy foes then should they succoure thee Harte They are my frendes no foes I finde that will so frendlie be Reason Oh this deceaues me most the suttle birder so With fained notes deceaues the birdes and seekes to breed their woe Harte Thou much beguilest thy selfe or enuiest at my state The case is not as thou conceauest but as I saide of late The poore vnhappie birde vnto her death doth flie I goe to seeke those glorious eyes to purchase life thereby The contrarieties in Loue. TO me the night seemes shorte the day too long I flie from loue but follow still his trace Vnto my selfe extreame my selfe I wrong And wronged so returne to thee for grace Greate are my paines and yet they please me well I sée the best and fondly séeke the worst Desire drawes on despayre doth hope expell Twixte weale and woe thus is my case accurst I proue to runne but proue my proufe is vaine The light seemes darke the darke séemes light to me Though free yet bond I willingly remaine Youres am I most mine owne I may not be My will I wishe but dare not shew my sute Loue biddes me speake and speaking makes me mute The Louer to his bedde O Bedde o restles bedde and made for ease why doest thou not perfourme thy parte to me To me a plague why doest thou others please and please him least that most hath neede of thee I lay me downe in hope to rest awhile I prooue to sléepe and so let slippe my griefe But sower conceites my sweetest ioyes exile and lets the rest that most should lende reliefe The swelling seas when stormes and tempestes rise moue not so much as doth my troubled minde Of this or that so still it doth deuise for euery cause a new conceite to finde Amidst my care this comforte yet I haue that in my bedde when restles I remaine I may be bolde without offence to craue what likes me best although I craue in vaine And when I craue and crauing want my will May waile my wante and fréelie wéepe my fill A Louer whose ladie saide he was an vnfortunate flatterer wryteth these verses for answere thereunto IF euer wordes did wringe me at the harte My harte was grieued at that I hearde of late To let good will be barde for my desarte Desaruing loue to finde disdainefull hate Such is my happe such is my haples fate The heauens haue wilde my will must needes obay And hath no law the prouerbe so doth say Say what I can it cannot helpe a whitte All that I doe I see is done in vaine In vaine I worke in vaine I waste my witt In vaine I proue to purchase ease with paine A sillie proofe that bringes such sorte gaine Such sorte gaine for golde that geues me drosse Harde is my happe that alwayes liue by losse By losse I liue by life my selfe I lose I lose my selfe and yet I liue to loue I loue to liue and liue to like of those That feare my fraude although my faith they proue My secrete sighes my sorrowes cannot moue Her hardned harte whose beautie bindes me still To sue to serue to seeke and like her will Flatter alas I would I could doe so So should my griefe be shortlie easde thereby Truth is my trust let truthles treason goe Wordes are but winde where words no works doe try True dealinge was my Sire plaine meaning I Plaine as I am can singe a plaine songe best Best for my soule small for my bodies rest Vnfortunate there did she fitte me right A righter name she neuer gaue to none Fortune my foe death woorkes me all despight But let her spight she spightes not me alone Besides my selfe she spightes at many a one One is there yet which onely one am I That feare not fate but fortunes force defy Like he that list her false dissemblinge lookes Séeke who so will her faire entysing baites In such swete showes I sée vnsauerie hookes Which warnes my witte to shunne her sweete conceites Who hopes for happe vnhapie wretch he waightes Her cursed cuppe that will his mynde infecte And worke his woe ere he the worste suspecte Suspecte not yet though I suspend my chaunce That any chaunce can chaunge my constante mynde The hardest happe shall moste my hope aduaunce And make me hope although no happe I finde My hart hath vowde my vow her vertues binde To byde her owne and onely hers to be Whose sight lendes light whose light lends life to me The tormented louer that durst not reueale his state A Happie lyfe I led and liude at ease WheÌ„ prickt with loue I would at lardge complaine And to the flame that fedde my fond disease Geue vent at will to helpe my present paine But now aye me my wretched case is such As sâ—ase I can permit a sighe to passe To ease my hart that hath bene chardgd too much With chaunge of griefes that waxe a heauie masse I loue and yet I dare not say I leeke Tormented still I seeme to liue content Consumde with care I can no comforte seeke Such is my state so is my fancie bente But though I plaine my plaintes are much the lesse The lesse my griefe though little be my ioy Because I feele and finde this sower successe From sweete desire doth springe and spread annoy Yet let me see some comforte haue I more More then I thought to comforte me withall Amidst my griefes that growing grieue me sore This only grace vnto my lotte doth fall To write at night the wordes I feare to tell When wanting inke salte teares doe serue me well A dialogue betweene the Louer and Loue. Loue. Loue. O Loue when wast thou borne When euerie leaueles tree And parched soyle began to spring a seemly sight to see Louer Who brought thee foorth at first Lo. The nurce of all annoy Euen idlenes the plague to man and ende of all his ioy Louer Who gaue thee all this power to warre with worldlie wights Loue. An ardent hope a colde despaire that lets your chiefe delights Louer Where doest thou harbor most Lo. In young tender harts That tirant-like I still tormente with store of piercing darts Louer Yet tel who trainde thee vp
Lo. Sweete beautie only she To whom both youth and vanitie obedient seruants be Louer What is the chiefest foode thou feedest thy selfe withall Loue. A faire cleare light which ledes me forth seldome lets me fal Louer Fearest thou the length of time that alters all thinges quite Or doest thou doute the dinte of death that daūts the worthiest wight Loue. No no I Way thē not for though they change my state I take my rest and turne againe to that I was of late The humble petition of a passionate Louer MAke me to liue swéet mistres make me liue exchaunge my chance make mirth of mourning cheare Exchange my death a lasting life to giue so worke my harte so weake whilest thou art here That when my soule shall from my bodie flie it may els where a better place supplie Make me to liue that at the instant hower when thy swete eyes I shall assaye to touche Both sence and sight may want there wonted power that in thy armes whome I estéeme so much My pyning corse may mildely passe away and of my life make this the latest day Ioyne both our soules ioyne both our soules in one linke both our hartes in bandes of like good will Make both our mindes to match in mirth or moane let our selfe lawe leade our affections still So let our thoughtes our wordes and workes agrée as if I liude in thee and thou in me Forbid me not thy lippes that like me well denie me not thy bosome for my due Those louely beames where loue him selfe doth dwell those blazing beames that scarce mine eyes can view Vouchsafe swéete harte that sweetely I may kisse and by such sweetenes turne my bale to blisse Nought that I haue can I accounte mine owne nought that thou hast in right thou recknest thine Mine eyes are thine as all my déedes haue showen euen so thine eyes they are or should be mine My harte is thine thy harte is due to me so loue allowes if so our lyking be Thou arte my fire and I thy kindled flame I am thy soule be thou my soule againe Imbrace thine owne and so auoyde the blame thou mayst incurre by shewing proude disdaine Linke fast our lippes that so with like delight we may exchaunge our soules our sense and sight So let vs change as by our chaunge we may be more assured of that we most misdoubt And not by chaunging change that chaunce away that might perchaunce be better brought about My séeking is that such exchange shoulde make our doubtful loue a déeper roote to take So is my wishe and so I hope it will so may I liue a most contented life So shall I finde to please my fancie still so may my state be euer frée from strife So shall I thinke my selfe the happyest man that euer liude since first my life began The changeable state of Louers WHome loue hath made obedyent to his law doth euerie hower exchaunge his shape anew I proued it well that longe haue liude in awe and often chaungde the more my chaunce I rue First to a hart a woefull wounded harte I was transformde then to a sillie swanne That singing shewde his death without desarte nexte to a flower whose colour soone waxt wan At laste alas a Fountaine was I made as soone dryed vp for from my blubbered eyes The water flowed till all began to fade and now the beast I am in flame that fries But yet ere longe I hope a voice to be to vaunte of her that makes no counte of me The vanitie of Louers SInce griefes increase since this my quenchles fire Consumes me still alas what bootes it me To say and sweare I will with speede retire And neuer loues her louely face to see Since when I wante poore wretch her wished sight Her wished sight the cause of all my care New cares beginnes to cutte of all delight And breake my vowes so snarlde in Cupids snare Who Tyrant-like alas the more my paine Within her eyes hath pleasaunte poysone plaste The sight whereof doth search through euerie vaine And helpeles quite my fainting harte doth waste Thus am I forste though sore against my wil To séeke and léeke the cause of all my ill FINIS