that faire unkinde Renewes my love and I no favour finde Sweete are my dreames my dreames that are not sweet Long are the nightes the nightes that are not long Meete are the panges these panges that are unmeet Wrong'd is my heart my heart that hath no wrong Thus dreames and night my heart my pangs and all In taste in length conspire to worke my fall Sweet are my dreames because my love they showe Vnsweet my dreames because but dreames they are Long are the nights because no helpe I know Short are the nights because the end my care Thus dreames and nightes wherein my love takes spor Are sweet unsweet are long and yet too short Meet are my panges because I was too bolde Vnmeet my panges because I lov'd so well Wrong'd was my heart because my griefe it tolde Not wrongd for why my griefe it could not tell Thus you my love unkindlie cause this smart That will not love to case my panges and heart Proud is her looke her looke that is not proude Done are my dayes my dayes that are not done Lowd are my sighes my sighes that are not lowd Begun my death my death not yet begunne Thus looks and dayes and sighs and death might move So kind so faire to give consent to love Proud is her looke because she scornes to see Not proud her looke for none dare say so much Done are my dayes because they haplesse be Not done my dayes because I wish them such Thus lookes and dayes increase this loving strife Not proude nor done nor dead nor giving life Loud are my sighes because they pearce the skie Not loud my sighes because they are not heard My death begunne because I heartlesse crie But not begunne because I am debard Thus sighes and death my heart no comfort give Both lyfe denie and both do make me live Bold are her smiles her smiles that are not bold Wise are her wordes those words that are not wise Cold are her lippes those lippes that are not colde I se are those hands those handes that are not I se Thus smiles and wordes her lippes her hands and she Bold wise cold I se loves cruell torments be Bold are her smiles because they anger slay Not bold her smiles because they blush so oft Wise are her wordes because they woonders say Not wise her wordes because they are not soft Thus smiles and wordes so cruell and so bold So blushing wise my thoughtes in prison hold Colde are her lippes because they breath no heate Not colde her lippes because my heart they burne I se are her handes because the snow's so great Not Ise her handes that all to ashes turne Thus lippes and handes cold Ise my sorrowe bred Hands warme-white-snow and lippes cold cherrie red Small was her wast the wast that was not small Gold was her haire the haire that was not gold Tall was her shape the shape that was not tall Folding the armes the armes that did not folde Thus haire and shape those folding armes and wast Did make me love and loving made me waste Small was her wast because I could it spanne Not small her wast because she wasted all Gold was her haire because a crowne it wanne Not gold her haire because it was more pale Thus smallest waste the greatest wast doth make And finest haire most fast a lover take Tall was her shape because she toucht the skie Not tall her shape because she comelie was Folding her armes because she hearts could tie Not folded armes because all bands they passe Thus shape and armes with love my heart did plie That hers I am and must be till I die Sad was her joy her joy that was not sadde Short was her staie her staie that was not short Glad was her speach her speach that was not glad Sporting those toyes those toyes that were not sport Thus was my heart with joy speach toyes and stay Possest with love and so stollen quite avvay Sadde was her joy because she did suspect Not sad her joy because her joy she had Short was her staie because to smal effect Long was her stay because I was so sadde Thus joy and staie both crost a lovers sporte The one was sadde the other too too short Glad was her speach because shee spake her mind Not glad her speach because affraid to speake Sporting her toyes because my love was kinde Not toyes in sport because my heart they breake Thus speach and toyes my love began in jest Sweet yeeld to love and make thy servant blest Tread you the Maze sweet love that I have run Marke but the steppes which I imprinted have End but your love whereas my thoughtes begun So shall I joye and you a servant have If not sweet loue then this my sute denie So shall you live and so your servant die AN ELEGIE Downe in a bed and on a bed of doune Love she and I to sleepe together lay She lyke a wanton kist me with a frowne Sleepe sleepe she saide but meant to steale away I could not choose but kisse but wake but smile To see how she thought us two to beguile She faind a sleepe I wakt her with a kisse A kisse to me she gave to make me sleepe If I did wrong sweete love my fault was this In that I did not you thus waking keepe Then kisse me sweet that so I sleepe may take Or let me kisse to keepe you still awake The night drew on and needs she must be gone She waked love and bid him learne to waite She sigh'd she said to leave me there alone And bid love stay but practise no deceit Love wept for griefe and sighing made great mone And could not sleepe nor staie if she were gone Then staie sweet love a kisse with that I gave She could not staie but gave my kisse againe A kisse was all that I could gett or crave And with a kisse she bound me to remaine A Licia still I in my dreames did crie Come Licia come or els my heart will die ELEGIE II. 1 Distance of place my love and me did part Yet both did sweare we never would remove In signe thereof I bid her take my heart Which did and doth and can not chuse but love Thus did we part in hope to meete againe Where both did vow most constant to remaine 2 A She there was that past betwixt us both By whome ech knew how others cause did fare For men to trust men in their love are loth Thus had we both of love a lovers care Haply he seekes his sorrowes to renue That for his love doth make another sue 3 By her a kisse a kisse to me she sent A kisse for price more worth then purest gold She gave it her to me the kisse was ment A she to kisse what harme if she were bold Happy those lippes that had so sweete a kisse For heaven it selfe scarce yeeldes so sweete a blisse 4 This modest she blushing for shame of
long I musing satte But that my thoughtes compell'd me to aspire A Laurell garland in my hande I gatte So the Muses I approch'd the nyer My sute was this a Poet to become To drinke with them and from the heavens be fedde Phaebus denyed and sware there was no roome Such to be Poets as fonde fancie ledde With that I mourn'd and sat me downe to weepe Venus she smil'd and smyling to me saide Come drinke with me and sitt thee still and sleepe This voyce I heard and Venus I obayde That poyson sweete hath done me all this wrong For nowe of love must needes be all my song Sonnet II. Wearie was love and sought to take his rest He made his choice uppon a virgins lappe And slylie crept from thence unto her breast Where still he meant to sport him in his happe The virgin frown'd like Phoebus in a cloude Go packe sir boy here is no roome for yâ—â— My breast no wanton foolish boyes must shroude This saide my Love did giue the wagge a tuch Then as the foot that treads the stinging snake Hastes to be gone for feare what may ensewe So love my love was forst for to forsake And for more speede without his arrowes flewe Pardon he saide for why you seem'd to me My mother Venus in her pride to be Sonnet III. The heavens beheld the beautie of my Queene And all amaz'd to wonder thus began Why dotes not Iove as erst we all have seene And shapes him selfe like to a seemely man Meane are the matches which he sought before Like bloomelesse buddes too base to make compate And she alone hath treasur'd beauties store In whome all giftes and princely graces are Cupid reyly'd I posted with the Sunne To viewe the maydes that lived in those dayes And none there was that might not well be wonne But she most hard most cold made of delayes Heavens were deceiv'd and wrong they doe esteeme She hath no heat although she living seeme Sonet IIII. Love and my love did range the forrest wilde Mounted alyke upon swift coursers both Love her encountred though he was a childe Let 's strive saith he whereat my love vvas vvroth And scorn'd the boy and checkt him with a smile I mounted am and armed with my speare Thou art too weake thy selfe doe not beguile I could thee conquere if I naked were With this love wept and then my love reply'd Kisse me sweet boy so weepe my boy no more Thus did my love and thus her force she try'd Love was made yee that fier was before A kisse of hers as I poore soule doe proove Can make the hottest freese and coldest love Sonnet V. Love with her haire my love by force hath ty'd To serve her lippes her eies her voice her hand I smil'd for joy when I the boye espy'd To lie inchain'd and live at her commaund She if she looke or kisse or sing or smile Cupid withall doth smile doth sing doth kisse Lippes handes voice eies all hearts that may beguile Bicause she scornes all hearts but onlie this Venus for this in pride began to frowne That Cupid borne a god inthrald should be She in disdaine her prettie sonne threwe downe And in his place with love she chained me So now sweet love though I my selfe be thrale Not her a goddesse but thy selfe I call Sonnet VI. My love amaz'd did blush her selfe to see Pictur'd by arte all naked as she was How could the Painter knowe so much by me Or Art effect what he hath brought to passe It is not lyke he naked me hath seene Or stoode so nigh for to observe so much No sweete his eyes so nere have never bene Nor could his handes by arte have cunning such I showed my heart wherein you printed were You naked you as here you painted are In that My Love your picture I must weare And show 't to all unlesse you have more care Then take my heart and place it with your owne So shall you naked never more be knowne Sonnet VII Death in a rage assaulted once my heart With love of her my love that doeth denie I scorn'd his force and wisht him to depart I heartlesse was and therefore could not die I live in her in her I plac'd my life She guydes my soule and her I honour must Nor is this life but yet a living strife A thing unmeet and yet a thing most just Cupid inrag'd did flie to make me love My heart lay garded with those burning eies The sparkes whereof denyed him to remoove So conquerd now he like a captive lies Thus two at once by love were both undone My heart not lov'd and armlesse Venus Sonet VIII Harde are the rockes the marble and the steele The auncient oake with wind and weather tost But you my love farre harder doe I feele Then flinte or these or is the winters frost My teares too weake your heart they can not moove My sighes that rocke like wind it cannot rent Too Tyger-like you sweare you cannot love But teares and sighes you fruitlesse backe have sent The frost too hard not melted with my flame I Cynders am and yet you feele no heate Surpasse not these sweet love for verie shame But let my teares my vowes my sighes entreat Then shall I say as I by triall finde These all are hard but you my love are kind Sonnet IX Love was layd downe all wearie fast asleepe Whereas my love his armour tooke away The boye awak'd and straight began to weepe But stood amaz'd and knew not what to say Weepe not my boy said Venus to her sonne Thy weapons non can weild but thou alone Lycia the faire this harme to thee hath done I sawe her here and presentlie was gone She will restore them for she hath no need To take thy weapons where thy valour lies For men to wound the Fates have her decreed With favour handes with beautie and with eies No Venus no she scornes them credite me But robb'd thy sonne that none might care for thee Sonnet X. A paynter drew the image of the boye Swift love with winges all naked and yet blind With bowe and arrowes bent for to destroye I blam'd his skill and fault I thus did fynde A needlesse taske I see thy cunning take Misled by love thy fancie thee betrayde Love is no boye nor blinde as men him make Nor weapons weares whereof to be affrayde But if thou love wilt paint with greatest skill A Love a mayde a goddesse and a Queene Woonder and viewe at Lycias picture still For other love the world hath never seene For she alone all hope all comfort gives Mens hearts soules all led by her favour lives Sonnet XI In Ida vale three Queenes the shepheard sawe Queenes of esteeme divine they were all three A sight of worth but I a wonder shawe There vertues all in one alone to be Lycia the fayre surpassing Venus pride The matchlesse Queene commaunder of the goddes When drawen with doves she in
we part thy boate must suffer losse Sonnet XLIII Are those two starres her eyes my lifes light gone By which my soule was freed from all darke And am I left distres'd to live alone Where none my teares and mournefull tale shall marke Ah Sunne why shine thy lookes thy lookes like gold When horseman brave thou risest in the East Ah Cynthia pale to whome my griefes I told Why doe you both rejoyce both man and beast And I alone alone that darke possesse By Licias absence brighter then the Sunne Whose smyling light did ease my sadde distresse And broke the clowdes when teares like rayne begun Heavens graunt that light and so me waking keepe Or shut my eyes and rocke me fast a-sleepe Sonnet XLIIII Cruell fayre Love I justly do complaine Of too much rigour and thy heart unkind That for mine eyes thou hast my bodie staine And would not graunt that I should favour find I look'd fayre Love and you my love lookt fayre I sigh'd for love and you for sport did smyle Your smyles were such as did perfume the ayre And this perfumed did my heart beguyle Thus I confesse the fault was in mine eyes Begun with sighes and ended with a flame I for your love did all the world despise And in these poems honour'd have your name Then let your love so with my fault dispense That all my parts feele not mine eyes offense Sonnet XLV There shone a Comet and it was full west my thoughts presaged what it did portend I found it threatned to my heart unrest And might in tyme my joyes and comfort end I further sought and found it was a Sunne Which day nor night did never use to set It constant stood when heavens did restlesse run And did their vertues and their forces let The world did muse and wonder what it meant A Sunne to shine and in the west to rise To search the trueth I strength and spirits spent At length I found it was my Licias eyes Now never after soule shall live in darke That hath the hap this westerne Sunne to marke Sonnet XLVI If he be dead in whome no hart remaines Or livelesse be in whome no lyse is found If he doe pyne that never comfort gaines And be distrest that hath his deadlie wound Then must I dye whose heart els where is clad And livelesse passe the greedie wormes to feed Then must I pine that never comfort had And be distrest whose wound with teares doth bleed Which if I doe why doe I not waxe cold Why rest I not lyke one that wants a hart Why moove I still lyke him that lyfe doth hold And sense enjoy both of my joy and sinart Lyke Nyobe Queene which made a stone did weepe Licia my heart dead and alive doth keepe Sonnet XLVII Lyke Memnons rocke toucht with the rising Sunne Which yeelds a sownd and ecchoes foorth a voice But when its ' drownde in westerne seas is dunne And drousie lyke leaves off to make a noice So I my love inlightned with your shyne A Poets skill within my soule I shroud Not rude lyke that which finer wittes declyne But such as Muses to the best allowde But when your figure and your shape is gone I speechlesse am lyke as I was before Or if I write my verse is fill'd with moane and blurd with teares by falling in such store Then muse not Licia if my Muse be slacke For when I wrote I did thy beautie lacke Sonnet XLVIII I saw sweet Licia when the spydar ranne Within your house to weave a woorthlesse web You present were and feard her with your fanne So that amazed speedilie she fled She in your house such sweete perfumes did smell And heard the Muses with their notes refin'd Thus fill'd with envie could no longer dwell But straight return'd and at your house repin'd Then tell me spidar why of late I sawe Thee loose thy poison and thy bowels gone Did these enchaunt and keepe thy limmes in awe And made thy forces to be small or none No. no thou didst by chaunce my Licia fee Who for her looke Minerva seem'd to thee Sonnet XLIX If that I dye fayre Lycia with disdaine Or hartlesse live surprised with thy wrong Then heavens and earth shall accent both my paine And curse the time so cruell and so long If you be kinde my Queene as you are fayre And ayde my thoughtes that still for conquest strive Then will I sing and never more dispayre And praise your kindnesse whylst I am alive Till then I pay the tribute of my teares To moove thy mercie and thy constant trueth Respect fayre love howe these with sorrowe weares The truest heart unlesse it finde some ruthe Then grace me sweet and with thy favour rayse me So shall I live and all the world shall praise thee Sonnet L. A Licia sigh and say thou art my owne Nay be my owne as you full oft have sayd So shall your trueth unto the world be knowne And I resolv'd where now I am afrayd And if my tongue aeternize can your prayse Or silly speech increase your worthy fame If ought I can to heaven your worth can rayse The age to come shall wonder at the same In this respect your love sweete love I told My faith and trueth I vow'd should be for ever You were the cause if that I was too bold Then pardon this my fault or love me never But if you frowne I wish that none beleeve me For slayne with sighes I le dye before I greeve thee Sonnet LI. When first the Sunne whome all my senses serve Began to shine upon this earthly round The heav'ns for her all graces did reserve That Pandor-like with all she might abound Apollo plac'd his brightnesse in her eyes His skill presaging and his musicke sweete Mars gave his force all force she now defyes Venus her smyles where with she Mars did meete Python a voyce Dyana made her chaste Ceres gave plentie Cupid lent his bowe Thetis his feete there Pallas wisdome plac't With these she Queene-like kept a world in awe Yet all these honours deemed are but pelfe For she is much more worthie of her selfe Sonnet LII O sugred talke where with my thoughtes doe live O browes loves Trophee and my senses shine O charming smyles that death or life can give O heavenly kisses from a mouth devine O wreaths too strong and tramels made of hayre O pearles inclosed in an Ebon pale O Rose and Lillyes in a field most fayre Where modest whyte doth make the red seeme pale O voyce whose accents live within my heart O heavenly hand that more then Atlas holds O sighes perfum'd that can release my smart O happy they whome in her armes she folds Nowe if you aske where dwelleth all this blisse Seeke out my love and she will shew you this AN ODE LOVE I repent me that I thought My sighes and languish dearely bought For sighes and languish both did prove That he that languisht sight for love