eternall be And liue by vertue of his inke For by his verses he doth giue To short liude beautie aye to liue Aboue all others this is hee Which erst approoued in his song That loue and honor might agree And that pure loue will doe no wrong Sweete saints it is no sinne nor blame To loue a man of vertuous name Did neuer loue so sweetly breath In any mortall brest before Did neuer muse inspire beneath A Poets braine with finer store He wrote of loue with high conceit And beautie reard aboue hir height Then Pallas afterward attyrde Our Astrophill with hir deuice Whom in his armor heauen admyrde As of the nation of the skies He sparkled in his armes afarrs As he were dight with fierie starrs The blaze whereof when Mars beheld An enuious eie doth see afar Such maiestie quoth he is seeld Such maiestie my mart may mar Perhaps this may a suter be To set Mars by his deitie In this surmize he made with speede An iron cane wherein he put The thunder that in cloudes do breede The flame and bolt togither shut With priuie force burst out againe And so our Astrophill was slaine This word was slaine straightway did moue And natures inward life strings twitch The skie immediately aboue Was dimd with hideous clouds of pitch The wrastling winds from out the ground Fild all the aire with ratling sound The bending trees exprest a grone And sigh'd the sorow of his fall The forrest beasts made ruthfull mone The birds did tune their mourning call And Philomell for Astrophill Vnto hir notes annext a phill The turtle doue with tunes of ruthe Shewd feeling passion of his death Me thought she said I tell thee truthe Was neuer he that drew in breath Vnto his loue more trustie found Than he for whom our griefs abound The swan that was in presence heere Began his funerall dirge to sing Good things quoth he may scarce appeere But passe away with speedie wing This mortall life as death is tride And death giues life and so he di'de The generall sorrow that was made Among the creatures of kinde Fired the Phoenix where she laide Hir ashes flying with the winde So as I might with reason see That such a Phoenix nere should bee Haply the cinders driuen about May breede an ofspring neere that kinde But hardly a peere to that I doubt It cannot sinke into my minde That vnder branches ere can bee Of worth and value as the tree The Egle markt with pearcing sight The mournfull habite of the place And parted thence with mounting flight To signifie to Ioue the case What sorow nature doth sustaine For Astrophill by enuie slaine And while I followed with mine eie The flight the Egle vpward tooke All things did vanish by and by And disappeered from my looke The trees beasts birds and groue was gone So was the friend that made this mone This spectacle had firmely wrought A deepe compassion in my spright My molting hart issude me thought In streames foorth at mine eies aright And heere my pen is forst to shrinke My teares discollors so mine inke An Epitaph vpon the right Honorable sir Philip Sidney knight Lord gouernor of Flushing TO praise thy life or waile thy woorthie death And want thy wit thy wit high pure diuine Is far beyond the powre of mortall line Nor any one hath worth that draweth breath Yet rich in zeale though poore in learnings lore And friendly care obscurde in secret brest And loue that enuie in thy life supprest Thy deere life done and death hath doubled more And I that in thy time and liuing state Did onely praise thy vertues in my thought As one that seeld the rising sunne hath sought With words and teares now waile thy timelesse fate Drawne was thy race aright from princely line Nor lesse than such by gifts that nature gaue The common mother that all creatures haue Doth vertue shew and princely linage shine A king gaue thee thy name a kingly minde That God thee gaue who found it now too deere For this base world and hath resumde it neere To sit in skies and sort with powres diuine Kent thy birth daies and Oxford held thy youth The heauens made haste staide nor yeeres nor time The fruits of age grew ripe in thy first prime Thy will thy words thy words the seales of truth Great gifts and wisedome rare imploide thee thence To treat from kings with those more great than kings Such hope men had to lay the highest things On thy wise youth to be transported hence Whence to sharpe wars sweete honor did thee call Thy countries loue religion and thy friends Of woorthy men the marks the liues and ends And her defence for whom we labor all There didst thou vanquish shame and tedious age Griefe sorow sicknes and base fortunes might Thy rising day saw neuer wofull night But past with praise from of this worldly stage Backe to the campe by thee that day was brought First thine owne death and after thy long fame Teares to the soldiers the proud Castilians shame Vertue exprest and honor truly taught What hath he lost that such great grace hath woon Yoong yeeres for endles yeeres and hope vnsure Of fortunes gifts for wealth that still shall dure Oh happie race with so great praises run England doth hold thy lims that bred the same Flaunders thy valure where it last was tried The Campe thy sorow where thy bodie died Thy friends thy want the world thy vertues fame Nations thy wit our mindes lay vp thy loue Letters thy learning thy losse yeeres long to come In worthy harts sorow hath made thy tombe Thy soule and spright enrich the heauens aboue Thy liberall hart imbalmd in gratefull teares Yoong sighes sweete sighes sage sighes bewaile thy fall Enuie hir sting and spite hath left hir gall Malice hir selfe a mourning garment weares That day their Haniball died our Scipio fell Scipio Cicero and Petrarch of our time Whose vertues wounded by my woorthles rime Let Angels speake and heauens thy praises tell Another of the same Excellently written by a most woorthy Gentleman SIlence augmenteth griefe writing encreaseth rage Stald are my thoughts which lou'd lost the wonder of our age Yet quickned now with fire though dead with frost ere now Enrag'de I write I know not what dead quick I know not how Hard harted mindes relent and rigors teares abound And enuie strangely rues his end in whom no fault she found Knowledge hir light hath lost valor hath slaine hir knight Sidney is dead dead is my friend dead is the worlds delight Place pensiue wailes his fall whose presence was hir pride Time crieth out my ebbe is come his life was my spring tide Fame mournes in that she lost the ground of hir reports Ech liuing wight laments his lacke and all in sundry sorts He was wo worth that word to ech well thinking minde A spotlesse friend a matchles man whose vertue euer shinde Declaring in his
inward minde your outward faire admires My hope lies prostrate at your pities feete My hart lookes soule sence minde and hope desires Beleefe and fauour in your louely sight Els all will cease to liue and pen to write T. L. Gent. FVll fraught with vnrecomptles sweete Of your faire face that stole mine eie No gladsome day my lookes did greete Wherein I wisht not willingly Mine eies were shut I might not see A Ladie of lesse maiestie What most I like I neuer minde And so on you haue fixt my thoughts That others sights doe make me blinde And what I see but you is noughts By vse and custome thus you see Another nature liues in mee The more I looke the more I loue The more I thinke the more I thriue No obiect can my looke remoue No thought can better thoughts reuiue For what I see or thinke I finde Exceedeth sight or thought of minde Since then your lookes haue stolne mine eies And eies content to nourish loue And loue doth make my thoughts arise And thoughts are firme and will not moue Vouchsafe to knit by powre vnknowne Our eies our loues our thoughts in one T. L. Gent. LIke desart woods with darksome shades obscured Where dredful beasts wher hateful horror raigneth Such is my wounded hart whom sorrow paineth The trees are fatall shafts to death inured That cruell Loue within my breast maintaineth To whet my griefe when as my sorrow waineth The gastly beasts my thoughts in cares assured Which wage me warre whilst hart no succor gaineth With false suspect and feare that still remaineth The horrors burning sighes by cares procured Which forth I send whilst weeping eie complaineth To coole the heate the helples hart containeth But shafts but cares sighes horrors vnrecured Were nought esteemde if for these paines awarded My faithfull Loue by you might be rewarded T. L. Gent. FOr pittie pretie eies surcease To giue me warre and graunt me peace Triumphant eies why beare you Armes Against a hart that thinks no harmes A hart alreadie quite appalde A hart that yeelds and is enthrald Kill Rebels prowdly that resist Not those that in true faith persist And conquered serue your Deitie Will you alas commaund me die Then die I yours and death my crosse But vnto you pertains the losse T. L. Gent. MY bonie Lasse thine eie So slie Hath made me sorrowe so Thy Crimsen cheekes my deere So cleere Haue so much wrought my woe Thy pleasing smiles and grace Thy face Haue rauisht so my sprights That life is growne to nought Through thought Of Loue which me affrights For fancies flames of fire Aspire Vnto such furious powre As but the teares I shead Make dead The brands would me deuoure I should consume to nought Through thought Of thy faire shining eie Thy cheekes thy pleasing smiles The wiles That forst my hart to die Thy grace thy face the part Where art Stands gazing still to see The wondrous gifts and powre Each howre That hath bewitched me T. L. Gent. ALas my hart mine eie hath wronged thee Presumptious eie to gaze on Phillis face Whose heauenly eie no mortall man my see But he must die or purchase Phillis grace Poore Coridon the Nimph whose eie doth moue thee Doth loue to draw but is not drawne to loue thee Hir beautie Natures pride and Shepherds praise Hir eie the heauenly Planet of my life Hir matchles wit and grace hir fame displaies As if that Ioue had made hir for his wife Onely hir eies shoote firie darts to kill Yet is hir hart as cold as Caucase hill My wings too weake to flie against the Sunne Mine eies vnable to sustaine hir light My hart doth yeeld that I am quite vndoon Thus hath faire Phillis slaine me with hir sight My bud is blasted withered is my leafe And all my corne is rotted in the sheafe Phillis the golden fetter of my minde My fancies Idoll and my vitall powre Goddesse of Nimphes and honor of thy kinde This Ages Phenix Beauties brauest bowre Poore Coridon for loue of thee must die Thy Beauties thrall and conquest of thine eie Leaue Coridon to plough the barren feeld Thy buds of hope are blasted with disgrace For Phillis lookes no hartie loue doe yeeld Nor can she loue for all hir louely face Die Coridon the spoyle of Phillis eie She can not loue and therefore thou must die VVHat cunnnig can expresse The fauor of hir face To whom in this distresse I doe appeale for grace A thousand Cupids flie About hir gentle eie From whence each throwes a dart That kindleth soft sweete fier Within my sighing hart Possessed by desier No sweeter life I trie Than in hir loue to die The Lillie in the fielde That glories in his white For purenes now must yeelde And render vp his right Heau'n pictur'de in hir face Doth promise ioy and grace Faire Cinthias siluer light That beates on running streames Compares not with hir white Whose haires are all sunbeames Hir vertues so doe shine As daie vnto mine eine With this there is a Red Exceeds the Damaske Rose Which in hir cheekes is spred Whence euery fauor groes In skie there is no starre That she surmounts not farre When Phoebus from the bed Of Thetis doth arise The morning blushing red In faire carnation wise He shewes it in hir face As Queene of euery grace This pleasant Lillie white This taint of roseat red This Cinthias siluer light This sweete faire Dea spread These sunbeames in mine eie These beauties make me die E. O. A most excellent passion set downe by N. B. Gent. COm yonglings com that seem to make such mone About a thing of nothing God he knowes With sighes and sobs and many a greeuous grone And trickling teares that secret sorow showes Leaue leaue to faine and here behold indeed The onely man may make your harts to bleed Whose state to tell no neuer toong can tell Whose woes are such oh no there are none such Whose hap so hard nay rather halfe a hell Whose griefe so much yea God he knowes too much Whose wofull state and greeuous hap alas The world may see is such as neuer was Good nature weepes to see hir selfe abused Ill fortune shewes hir furie in hir face Poore reason pines to see hir selfe refused And dutie dies to see his sore disgrace Hope hangs the head to see dispaire so neere And what but death can end this heauie cheere Oh cursed cares that neuer can be knowne Dole worse than death when neuer tong can tell it The hurt is hid although the sorow showne Such is my paine no pleasure can expell it In summe I see I am ordained I To liue in dole and so in sorow die Behold each teare no token of a toy But torments such as teare my hart asunder Each sobbing sigh a signe of such annoy That how I liue beleeue me 'tis a wonder Each grone a gripe that makes me gaspe for breath And euerie straine a bitter pang of
lies against him in alehouses faires markets and such assemblies At whose returne when his dealings were truely discussed and truth ouercame their slanders this was the refuge of their whispering malice His greatnesse and smooth toong saie they beares it awaie as if Honor once lost in act could be hidden by greatnes or recouered by grace and eloquence of speech Both which taken away by his happie death and our vnhappie losse he is sithence more cleared than before Maruell not then at their enuie sith Virtutis comes inuidia but detest the enuious that thus blaspheme vertues whom for mine owne part as I see measure their rage so will I iudge of their affection to the state for vndoubtedly none but the discontented with the time or such as he hath iustlie punished for their lewdnesse will thus calumniouslie interpret his proceedings If I meant to write a discourse of this Earles life or an Apologie in his defence I would proceede more orderly in repetition of his vertues and more effectually in answere of their poisoned Libels But as mine intent at first was onelie to admonish loose toongs such as mine eares haue glowed to heare of and forewarne the ouer credulous that are easily abused hauing finished my purpose if it effects amendment I shall be glad if not their shames be on their owne heads Beseeching God this Realme feele not the want of him alreadie dead and greater iudgements insue for our vnthankfulnesse LEICESTER he liu'd of all the world admir'd Not as a man though he in shape exceld But as a God whose heauenlie wit inspir'd Wrought hie effects yet vertues courses held His wisdome honored his Countries name His valure was the vangard of the same An Elegie or friends passion for his Astrophill Written vpon the death of the right Honorable sir Philip Sidney knight Lord gouernor of Flushing AS then no winde at all there blew No swelling cloude accloid the aire The skie like glasse of watchet hew Reflected Phoebus golden haire The garnisht tree no pendant stird No voice was heard of any bird There might you see the burly Beare The Lion king the Elephant The maiden Vnicorne was there So was Acteons horned plant And what of wilde or tame are found Were coucht in order on the ground Alcides speckled poplar tree The palme that Monarchs doe obtaine With Loue iuice staind the mulberie The fruit that dewes the Poets braine And Phillis philbert there away Comparde with mirtle and the bay The tree that coffins doth adorne With stately height threatning the skie And for the bed of Loue forlorne The blacke and dolefull Ebonie All in a circle compast were Like to an Amphitheater Vpon the branches of those trees The airie winged people sat Distinguished in od degrees One sort in this another that Here Philomell that knowes full well What force and wit in loue doth dwell The skie bred Egle roiall bird Percht there vpon an oke aboue The Turtle by him neuer stird Example of immortall loue The swan that sings about to dy Leauing Meander stood thereby And that which was of woonder most The Phoenix left sweete Arabie And on a Caedar in this coast Built vp hir tombe of spicerie As I coniecture by the same Preparde to take hir dying flame In midst and center of this plot I saw one groueling on the grasse A man or stone I knew not that No stone of man the figure was And yet I could not count him one More than the image made of stone At length I might perceiue him reare His bodie on his elbow end Earthly and pale with gastly cheare Vpon his knees he vpward tend Seeming like one in vncouth stound To be ascending out the ground A greeuous sigh foorthwith he throwes As might haue torne the vitall strings Then downe his cheekes the teares so flowes As doth the streame of many springs So thunder rends the cloud in twaine And makes a passage for the raine Incontinent with trembling sound He wofully gan to complaine Such were the accents as might wound And teare a diamond rocke in twaine After his throbs did somwhat stay Thus heauily he gan to say O sunne said he seeing the sunne On wretched me why dost thou shine My star is falne my comfort done Out is the apple of my eine Shine vpon those possesse delight And let me liue in endlesse night O griefe that liest vpon my soule As heauie as a mount of lead The remnant of my life controll Consort me quickly with the dead Halfe of this hart this sprite and will Di'de in the brest of Astrophill And you compassionate of my wo Gentle birds beasts and shadie trees I am assurde ye long to kno What be the sorrowes me agreeu's Listen ye then to that insu'th And heare a tale of teares and ruthe You knew who knew not Astrophill That I should liue to say I knew And haue not in possession still Things knowne permit me to renew Of him you know his merit such I cannot say you heare too much Within these woods of Arcadie He cheefe delight and pleasure tooke And on the mountaine Parthenie Vpon the chrystall liquid brooke The Muses met him eu'ry day That taught him sing to write and say When he descended downe the mount His personage seemed most diuine A thousand graces one might count Vpon his louely cheerefull eine To heare him speake and sweetely smile You were in Paradise the while A sweete attractiue kinde of grace A full assurance giuen by lookes Continuall comfort in a face The lineaments of Gospell books I trowe that countenance cannot lie Whose thoughts are legible in the eie Was neuer eie did see that face Was neuer eare did heare that tong Was neuer minde did minde his grace That euer thought the trauell long But eies and eares and eu'ry thought Were with his sweete perfections caught O God that such a woorthy man In whom so rare desarts did raigne Desired thus must leaue vs than And we to wish for him in vaine O could the stars that bred that wit In force no longer fixed sit Then being fild with learned dew The Muses willed him to loue That instrument can aptly shew How finely our conceits will moue As Bacchus opes dissembled harts So loue sets out our better parts Stella a Nymph within this wood Most rare and rich of heauenly blis The highest in his fancie stood And she could well demerite this Tis likely they acquainted soone He was a Sun and she a Moone Our Astrophill did Stella loue O Stella vaunt of Astrophill Albeit thy graces gods may moue Where wilt thou finde an Astrophill The rose and lillie haue their prime And so hath beautie but a time Although thy beautie doe exceede In common sight of eu'ry eie Yet in his Poesies when we reede It is apparant more thereby He that hath loue and iudgement too Sees more than any other doe Then Astrophill hath honord thee For when thy bodie is extinct Thy graces shall
I liue thus will I passe my Loue Repulse contempt can neuer alter kinde Loues triumph doth consist in constant minde With constant minde the poore remainder gift That Loue amongst his many spoyles hath left me Is that which to the heauens my face shall lift Though other hope by fortune be bereft me And if I die this praise shall me await My Loue was endlesse voide of all deceit FINIS MVses helpe me sorrow swarmeth Eies are fraught with seas of languish Haples hope my solace harmeth Mindes repast is bitter anguish Eie of daie regarded neuer Certaine trust in world vntrustie Flattring hope beguileth euer Wearie olde and wanton lustie Dawne of day beholdes inthroned Fortunes darling proud and dreadles Darksome night doth heare him moned Who before was rich and needles Rob the spheare of lines vnited Make a sudden voide in nature Force the day to be benighted Reaue the cause of time and creature Ere the world will cease to varie This I weepe for this I sorrow Muses if you please to tarie Further helpe I meane to borrow Courted once by fortunes fauor Compast now with enuies curses All my thoughts of sorrowes sauor Hopes run fleeting like the Sourses Ay me wanton scorne hath maimed All the ioies my hart enioied Thoughts their thinking haue disclaimed Hate my hopes haue quite annoied Scant regard my weale hath scanted Looking coie hath forst my lowring Nothing likte where nothing wanted Weds mine eies to ceasles showring Former Loue was once admired Present fauor is estranged Loath'd the pleasure long desired Thus both men and thoughts are changed Louely Swaine with luckie speeding Once but now no more so frended Thou my flocks hast had in feeding From the morne till day was ended Drinke and fodder foode and folding Had my lambes and ewes togeather I with them was still beholding Both in warmth and winter weather Now they languish since refused Ewes and lambes are paind with pining I with ewes and lambes confused All vnto our deathes declining Silence leaue thy caue obscured Daine a dolefull Swaine to tender Though disdaines I haue endured Yet I am no deepe offender Philips sonne can with his finger Hide his scar it is so little Little sinne a day to linger Wise men wander in a tittle Trifles yet my Swaine haue turned Tho my sonne he neuer showeth Tho I weepe I am not mourned Tho I want no pitie groweth Yet for pitie loue my muses Gentle silence be their couer They must leaue their wonted vses Since I leaue to be a Louer They shall liue with thee inclosed I will loath my pen and paper Art shall neuer be supposed Sloth shall quench the watching taper Kisse them silence kisse them kindely Tho I leaue them yet I loue them Tho my wit haue led them blindely Yet my Swaine did once approue them I will trauell soiles remoued Night and morning neuer merie Thou shalt harbor that I loued I will loue that makes me wearie If perchaunce the Shepherd straieth In thy walks and shades vnhaunted Tell the Teene my hart betraieth How neglect my ioyes haue daunted T. L. Gent. STriue no more Forspoken ioyes to spring Since care hath clipt thy wing But stoope those lampes before That nurst thee vp at first with friendly smiles And now through scornes thy trust beguiles Pine away That pining you may please For death betides you ease Oh sweete and kinde decay To pine and die whilst Loue giues looking on And pines to see your pining mone Dying ioyes Your shrine is constant hart That glories in his smart Your Tropheis are annoyes And on your tombe by Loue these lines are plaste Loe heere they lie whom scorne defaste T. L. Gent. OF ceasles thoughts my mind hath fram'd his wings Wherewith he soares and climes aboue conceit And midst his flight for endles ioy he sings To spie those double lampes whose sweete receit Must be the heauen where as my soule shall rest Though by their shine my bodie be deprest Hir eies shrowd pitie pietie and pure Hir face shields Roses Lillies and delight Hir hand hath powre to conquere and allure Hir hart holds honor loue remorce and right Hir minde is fraught with wisdome faith and loue All what is hirs is borrowed from aboue Then mount my minde and feare no future fall Exceed conceit for she exceeds conceit Burne louely lamps to whom my lookes are thrall My soule shall glorie in so sweete receit Tho in your flames my corse to cinders wend Yet am I proud to gaine a Phoenix end T. L. Gent. WHen Pirrha made hir miracle of stones The baser sort of flintie molde she fram'd Whose course compact concealed all at once All what in nature could imperfect be So but imperfect perfect was the shape And minde euen with the mettall did agree The finer formes of Diamonds she made A peereles substance matchles for the molde Whence grew such shapes that heauen his pure forsook To frame a minde agreeing to the forme This by my proofe I finde for certaine true For why my mistres matchles in hir shape For bodie farre exceeds my base report For minde no minde can craue more rare supplies And last I spie the Saphirs in hir eies T. L. Gent. ALl day I weepe my wearie woes Then when that night approcheth neere And euery one his eies doth close And passed paines no more appeere I change my cheere And in the weepings of mine eie Loue bathes his wings and from my hart Drawes fire his furie to supplie And on my bones doth whet his dart Oh bitter smart My sighes within their clouds obscure Would blinde mine eies they might not see Those cruell pleasant lamps that lure My reason faine would set me free Which may not be The dried strawe will take the fire The trained brache will follow game The idle thought doth still desire Fond will is hardly brought in frame The more my blame Thus see I how the stormes doe growe And yet the paine I still approoue I leaue my weale I follow woe I see the rocke yet nill remooue Oh flie me Loue Then midst the stormes I shall preuent And by foresight my troubles cease And by my reason shun repent Thus shall I ioye if Loue decrease And liue in peace T. L. Gent. MY fraile and earthly barke by reasons guide Which holds the helme whilst will doth yeld the saile By my desires the windes of bad betide Hath saild these worldly seas with small auaile Vaine obiects serue for dreadfull rocks to quaile My brittle boate from hauen of life that flies To haunt the Sea of Mundane miseries My soule that drawes impressions from aboue And viewes my course and sees the windes aspire Bids reason watch to scape the shoales of Loue But lawles will enflamde with endles ire Doth steere in poope whilst reason doth retire The storms increase my barke loues billowes fill Thus are they wrackt that guide their course by will T. L. Gent. MIdst lasting griefes to haue but short
death Loe thus I liue but looking still to die And still I looke but still I see in vaine And still in vaine alas I lie and crie And still I crie but haue no ease of paine So still in paine I liue looke lie and crie When hope would helpe or death would let me die Sometime I sleepe a slumber not a sleepe And then I dreame God knowes of no delight But of such woes as makes me lie and weepe Vntill I wake in such a pitious plight As who beheld me sleeping or awaking Would say my hart were in a heauie taking Looke as the dew doth lie vpon the ground So sits the sweate of sorow on my face Oh deadly dart that strooke so deepe a wound Oh hatefull hap to hit in such a place The hart is hurt and bleedes the bodie ouer Yet cannot die nor euer health recouer Then he or she that hath a happie hand To helpe a hart that hath no hope to liue Come come with speede and do not staying stand But if no one can any comfort giue Run to the Church and bid the Sexton toule A solemne knell yet for a filie soule Harke how it sounds that sorrow lasteth long Long long long long long long and longer yet Oh cruell death thou doost me double wrong To let me lie so long in such a fit Yet when I die write neighbors where I lie Long was I dead ere death would let me die THese lines I send by waues of woe And bale becomes my boate Which sighes of sorowes still shall keepe On floods of feare afloate My sighes shall serue me still for winde My lading is my smart And true report my pilot is My hauen is thy hart My keele is fram'd of crabbed care My ribs are all of ruthe My planks are nothing else but plants With treenailes ioinde with truthe My maine mast made of nought but mone My tackling trickling teares And Topyard like a troubled minde A flagge of follie beares My Cable is a constant hart My Anckor luckles Loue Which Reasons Capstones from the ground Of griefe can not remoue My Decks are all of deepe disgrace My Compas discontent And perill is my Northern Pole And death my Orient My Saylers are my sorowing thoughts The Boateswane bitter sence The Master miserie his mate Is dolefull diligence Sir W. H. FEede still thy selfe thou fondling with beliefe Go hunt thy hope that neuer tooke effect Accuse the wrongs that oft hath wrought thy griefe And reckon sure where reason would suspect Dwell in the dreames of wish and vaine desire Pursue the faith that flies and seekes to new Run after hopes that mocke thee with retire And looke for loue where liking neuer grew Deuise conceits to ease thy carefull hart Trust vpon times and daies of grace behinde Presume the rights of promise and desart And measure loue by thy beleeuing minde Force thy affects that spite doth daily chace Winke at the wrongs with wilfull ouersight See not the soyle and staine of thy disgrace Nor recke disdaine to doate on thy delite And when thou seest the end of thy reward And these effects ensue of thine assault When rashnes rues that reason should regard Yet still accuse thy fortune for the fault And crie O Loue O death O vaine desire When thou complainst the heate feeds the fire MY first borne loue vnhappily conceiued Brought foorth in paine christened with a curse Die in your Infancie of life bereaued By your cruell nurse Restlesse desire from my Loue that proceeded Leaue to be and seeke your heauen by dieng Since you O you your owne hope haue exceeded By too hie flieng And you my words my harts faithfull expounders No more offer your Iewell vnesteemed Since those eies my Loues life and liues confounders Your woorth misdeemed Loue leaue to desire words leaue it to vtter Swell on my thoughts till you breake that contains you My complaints in those deafe eares no more mutter That so disdaines you And you careles of me that without feeling With drie eies behold my Tragedie smiling Decke your proude triumphes with your poore slaues yeelding To his owne spoyling But if that wrong or holy truth dispised To iust reuenge the heauens euer moued So let hir loue and so be still denied Who she so loued THe brainsicke race that wanton youth ensues Without regard to grounded wisdomes lore As often as I thinke thereon renues The fresh remembrance of an ancient sore Reuoking to my pensiue thoughts at last The worlds of wickednes that I haue past And though experience bids me bite on bit And champe the bridle of a better smacke Yet costly is the price of after wit Which brings so cold repentance at hir backe And skill that's with so many losses bought Men say is little better worth than nought And yet this fruit I must confesse doth growe Of follies scourge that though I now complaine Of error past yet henceforth I may knowe To shun the whip that threats the like againe For wise men though they smart a while had leuer To learne experience at the last than neuer THose eies which set my fancie on a fire Those crisped haires which hold my hart in chains Those daintie hands which conquer'd my desire That wit which of my thoughts doth hold the rains Those eies for cleernes doe the starrs surpas Those haires obscure the brightnes of the Sunne Those hands more white than euer Iuorie was That wit euen to the skies hath glorie woon O eies that pearce our harts without remorse O haires of right that weares a roiall crowne O hands that conquer more than Caesars force O wit that turns huge kingdoms vpside downe Then Loue be Iudge what hart may thee withstand Such eies such haire such wit and such a hand PRaisd be Dianas faire and harmles light Praisd be the dewes wherwith she moists the ground Praisd be hir beames the glorie of the night Praisd be hir powre by which all powres abound Praisd be hir Nimphs with whom she decks the woods Praisd be hir knights in whom true honor liues Praisd be that force by which she moues the floods Let that Diana shine which all these giues In heauen Queene she is among the spheares In ay she Mistres like makes all things pure Eternitie in hir oft chaunge she beares She beautie is by hir the faire endure Time weares hir not she doth his chariot guide Mortalitie belowe hir orbe is plaste By hir the vertue of the starrs downe slide In hir is vertues perfect image cast A knowledge pure it is hir worth to kno With Circes let them dwell that thinke not so LIke to a Hermite poore in place obscure I meane to spend my daies of endles doubt To waile such woes as time cannot recure Where none but Loue shall euer finde me out My foode shall be of care and sorow made My drink nought else but teares falne from mine eies And for my light in such obscured shade The flames
of Iealousie A Seeing friend yet enimie to rest A wrangling passion yet a gladsom thought A bad companion yet a welcom guest A knowledge wisht yet found too soone vnsought From heauen supposde yet sure condemn'd to hell Is Iealousie and there forlorne doth dwell And thence doth send fond feare and false suspect To haunt our thoughts bewitched with mistrust Which breedes in vs the issue and effect Both of conceits and actions far vniust The griefe the shame the smart wherof doth proue That Iealousie's both death and hell to Loue. For what but hell moues in the iealous hart Where restles feare works out all wanton ioyes Which doth both quench and kill the louing part And cloies the minde with worse than knowne annoyes Whose pressure far exceeds hells deepe extreemes Such life leads Loue entangled with misdeemes AH poore Conceit delite is dead Thy pleasant daies are doon The shadie dales must be his walke That cannot see the sunne The world I now to witnes call The heauens my records be If euer I were false to Loue Or Loue were true to me I knowe it now I knew it not But all too late I rew it I rew not that I knew it not But that I euer knew it My care is not a fond conceit That breedes a fained smart My griefes doe gripe me at the gall And gnaw me at the hart My teares are not those fained drops That fall from fancies eies But bitter streams of strange distresse Wherein discomfort lies My sighes are not those heauie sighes That showes a sickly breath My passions are the perfect signes And very paines of death In sum to make a dolefull end To see my death so nie That sorow bids me sing my last And so my senses die SHort is my rest whose toile is ouerlong My ioyes are darke but cleere I see my voe My safetie small great wracks I bide by wrong Whose time is swift and yet my hap but sloe Each griefe and wound in my poore hart appeeres That laugheth howres and weepeth many yeeres Deedes of the day are fables for the night Sighes of desire are smoakes of thoughtfull teares My steps are false although my paths be right Disgrace is bolde and fauor full of feares Disquiet sleepe keepes audit of my life Where rare content doth make displeasure rife The dolefull bell that is the voice of time Cals on my end before my haps be seene Thus fals my hopes whose harmes haue power to clime Not come to haue that long in wish hath beene I seeke your loue and feare not others hate Be you with me and I haue Caesars state The praise of Virginitie VIrginitie resembleth right the Rose That gallantly within the garden growes Whilst in the mothers bodie it doth stand Of nibling sheep vntoucht or shepherds hand The aire thereon and ruddie morne doth smile The earth and waters fauours it that while Braue lustie youth and the inamord Dame Euen so doth age and temples craue the same But when from naturall stalke it is remou'd And place where it so highly was belou'd The grace that earth and heauen thereon did cast With beautie fauor loue and all is past Euen so the Maid when once hir flowre is lost More deere than eie or life or what is most The loue and liking which she had before Forgoeth quite and she esteem'd no more Ladies Lenuoy to you that haue this prize I reed ye hold your wone if yiou be wise ONight O ielious night repugnant to my pleasures O night so long desir'd yet crosse to my content Ther's none but onely thou that can performe my pleasures Yet none but onely thou that hindereth my intent Thy beams thy spiteful beams thy lamps that burn to brightly Discouer all my traines and naked lay my drifts That night by night I hope yet faile my purpose nightly Thy enuious glaring gleame defeateth so my shifts Sweet night withhold thy beams withhold them til to morow Whose ioyes in lack so long a hell of torments breedes Sweete night sweete gentle night doe not prolong my sorow Desire is guide to me and Loue no Loadstar needes Let Sailers gaze on stars and Moone so freshly shining Let them that misse the way be guided by the light I knowe my Ladies bowre there needes no more diuining Affection sees in darke and Loue hath eies by night Dame Cinthia couch awhile holde in thy hornes for shining And glad not lowring night with thy too glorious raies But be she dim and darke tempestuous and repining That in hir spite my sport may worke thy endles praise And when my will is wrought then Cinthia shine good Ladie All other nights and daies in honour of that night That happie heauenly night that night so darke and shadie Wherein my Loue had eies that lighted my delight SWeete Violets Loues paradice that spred Your gracious odours which you couched beare Within your palie faces Vpon the gentle wing of some calme breathing winde That plaies amidst the plaine If by the fauour of propicious stars you gaine Such grace as in my Ladies bosome place to finde Be prowd to touch those places And whē hir warmth your moisture forth doth wear Whereby hir daintie parts are sweetly fed Your honors of the flowrie meads I pray You pretie daughters of the earth and Sun With milde and seemly breathing straight display My bitter sighes that haue my hart vndoon Vermilion Roses that with new daies rise Display your Crimsen folds fresh looking faire Whose radiant bright disgraces The rich adorned raies of Roseat rising morne Ah if hir virgins hand Doe pluck your pure ere Phoebus view the land And vaile your gracious pomp in louely natures scorne If chaunce my Mistres traces Fast by your flowres to take the Sommers aire Then wofull blushing tempt hir glorious eies To spread their teares Adonis death reporting And tell Loues torments sorowing for hir frend Whose drops of blood within your leaus cōsorting Report faire Venus mones withouten end Then may remorse in pitying of my smart Drie vp my teares and dwell within hir hart A Vrora now began to rise againe From watrie couch and from old Tithons side In hope to kisse vpon Acteian plaine Yong Cephalus and through the golden glide On Easterne coast she cast so great a light That Phoebus thought it time to make retire From Thetis Bowre wherein he spent the night To light the world againe with heauenly fire Nor sooner gan his winged steedes to chase The Stigian night mantled with duskie vale But poore Amyntas hasteth him apace In desarts thus to weepe a wofull tale Now silent shades and all that dwell therein As Birds or Beasts or Wormes that creepe on grounde Dispose your selues to teares while I begin To rew the griefe of mine eternall wounde And dolefull ghosts whose nature flies the light Come seate your selues with me on eu'ry side And whilst I die for want of my delight Lament the woes that Fancie me betide Phillis is dead the marke
of my desire My cause of loue and shipwracke of my ioyes Phillis is gone that set my hart on fire That clad my thoughts with ruinous annoyes Phillis is fled and bides I wot not where Phillis alas the praise of woman kinde Phillis the Sun of this our hemisphere Whose beames made me and many others blinde But blinded me poore man aboue the rest That like olde Oedipus I liue in thrall Still feele the worst and neuer hope the best My mirth in mone my honie drownd in gall Hir faire but cruell eies bewitcht my sight Hir sweete but fading speech enthrald my thought And in hir deeds I reaped such delight As brought both will and libertie to nought Therefore all hope of happines adue Adue desire the source of all my care Dispaire me tels my weale will nere renue Till this my soule doth passe in Charons Crare Meane time my minde must suffer Fortunes skorne My thoughts stil wound like wounds that stil are green My weakned lyms be laide on beds of thorne My life decaies although my death foreseene Mine eies now eies no more but seas of teares Weepe on your fill to coole my burning brest Where Loue did place desire twixt hope and feares I saie desire the author of vnrest And would to gods Phillis where ere thou be Thy soule did see the sowre of mine estate My ioyes eclipst for onely want of thee My being with my selfe at foule debate My humble vowes my sufferance of woe My sobs and sighes my euerwatching eies My plaintife teares my wandring to and froe My will to die my neuer ceasing cries No doubt but then thy sorrows would perswade The doome of death to cut my vitall twist That I with thee amidst th'infernall shade And thou with me might sport vs as we list O if thou waite on faire Proserpines traine And hearest Orpheus neere th'Elisian springs Entreat thy Queene to free thee thence againe And let the Thracian guide thee with his strings T. W. Gent. AWay dispaire the death of hopeles harts For hope and truth assure me long agoe That pleasure is the end of lingring smarts When time with iust content rewardeth woe Sweete vertues throne is built in labours towre Where Lawrell wreath's are twist for them alone Whose gals are burst with often taste of sowre Whose blis from bale is sprong whose mirth frō mone I therefore striue by toyles to raise my name And Iason like to gaine a golden fleece The end of eu'ry worke doth crowne the same As witnes well the happie harmes of Greece For if the Greekes had soone got Pryams seat The glory of their paines had not been great T. W. Gent. I Hope and feare that for my weale or woe That heau'nly lampe which yeelds both heat light To make a throne for gods on earth belowe Is cut in twaine and fixt in my delight Which two faire hemyspheres through light heat Planting desire driue reason from hir seate No no my too forgetfull toong blaspheames I should haue saide that where these hemispheres In harts through eies fixe hot and lightsome beames There reason works desire and hopes breed feares O onely obiect for an Eagles eie Whose light and heate make men to liue and die Twixt these a daintie paradise doth lie As sweete as in the Sunne the Phenix Bowre As white as snowe as smooth as Iuorie As faire as Psyches bosome in that howre When she disclosde the boxe of Beauties Queene All this and more is in Sibilla seene T. W. Gent. SIr painter are thy colours redie set My Mistresse can not be with thee to day Shee's gone into the field to gather May The timely Prymrose and the Violet Yet that thou maist not disapointed bee Come draw hir picture by my fantasee And well for thee to paint hir by thine eare For should thine eie vnto that office serue Thine Eie and Hand thy Art Hart would swerue Such maiestie hir countenance doth beare And where thou wert Apelles thought before For failing so thou shouldst be praisd no more Drawe first hir Front a perfect Iuorie white Hie spatious round and smooth on either side Hir temples brancht with vains blew opening wide As in the Map Danubius runs in sight Colour hir semicircled browes with iet The throne where Loue triumphantly doth set Regard hir Eie hir eie a woondrous part It woundeth deepe and cureth by and by It driues away and draweth curteously It breeds and calmes the tempest of the hart And what to lightning Ioue belongeth too The same hir lookes with more effect can doe Hir Cheeke resembleth euerie kinde of way The Lillie stainde with sweete Adonis blood As wounded he strai'd vp and downe the wood For whome faire Venus languisht many a day Or plainly more to answere your demaune Hir cheekes are Roses ouercast with lawne Hir louely Lip doth others all excell On whom it please ay me a kisse bestoe He neuer tasteth afterward of woe Such speciall vertue in the toutch doth dwell The colour tempred of the morning red Where with Aurora doth adorne hir head Hir ample Chest an heauenly plot of ground The space betweene a Paradise at least Parnassus like hir twifolde mounting breast Hir heauenly graces heapingly abound Loue spreads his conquering colours in this feeld Whereto the race of Gods and men doe yeeld The other parts which custom doth conceale Within a sarcenet vaile thou must conuay So due proportion well discerne I may What though the garment doe not all reueale The shadow of a naked thigh may fraight His head brim full hath any fine conceit Before hir Feete vpon a Marble stone Inflamed with the Sunbeames of hir eie Depaint my hart that burneth passionately And if thy pensill can set downe such mone Thy picture selfe will teeling semblance make Of ruthe and pitie for my torments sake How now Apelles are thy senses tane Hast drawne a picture or drawne out thy hart Wilt thou be held a Master of thine art And temper colours tending to thy bane Happie my hart that in hir Sunshine fries Aboue thy hap that in hir shadow dies I Pray thee Loue say whither is this posting Since with thy deitie first I was acquainted I neuer saw thee thus distracted coasting With countenance tainted Thy conquering arrowes broken in thy quiuer Thy brands that woont the inward marrow sunder Fireles and forceles all a peeces shiuer With mickle wonder That maketh next my staylesse thoughts to houer I cannot sound this vncouth cause of beeing The vaile is torne that did thy visage couer And thou art seeing A stranger one quoth Loue of good demerit Did sute and seruice to his Soueraine proffer In any case she would not seeme to heare it But scornd the offer And very now vpon this Maying morrow By breake of day he found me at my harbour I went with him to vnderstand his sorrow Vnto hir Arbour Where he Loue torments dolefully vnfolded With words that might a Tigers hart haue charmed His sighes and teares the mountaine yee had moulted And she not warmed Hir great disdaine against hir Louer proued Kindled my brand that to hir brest I seated The flame betweene hir paps them often moued Nor burnt nor heated My arrowes keene I afterward assaied Which from hir brest without effect rebounded And as a ball on Marble floore the plaied With force confounded The brand that burnt old Pryams Towne to asshes Now first his operation wants it than The darts that Emerald skies in peeces dasshes Skornd by a woman Thus while I saide she toward me arriued And with a tutch of triumph neuer doubted To teare the vaile that vse of sight bereaued So Loue was louted The vaile of erroe from mine eies bereaued I sawe heauens hope and earth hir treasurie Well maist thou erre said I I am deceiued Bent to pleasure thee Cease haples man my succors to importune Shee onely shee my stratagemes repelleth Vainly endeour I to tempt hir Fortune That so excelleth Content thee man that thou didst see and suffer And be content to suffer see and die And die content bicause thou once didst mooue hir She displeasd thereby And herewithall I left the man a dyeng For by his passions I perceiu'd none other I hie me thus asham'd with speedie flyeng To tell my Mother FINIS Care Care Care Care Care Care Care Care Care Care Care Care Mixtures Coulors Mettals Elements Cōplexiōs Chaos