Selected quad for the lemma: love_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A16759
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Melancholike humours, in verses of diuerse natures, set downe by Nich: Breton, Gent
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Breton, Nicholas, 1545?-1626?
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1600
(1600)
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STC 3666; ESTC S104806
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14,741
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46
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heauenly comforts neuer will decay We must not thinke in this ill age to thriue VVhere faith and loue are scarcely found aliue Wee must not build our houses on the sands Where euery flood will wash them quite away Nor set our seales vnto those wicked bands Where damned soules their debts in hel must pay Our states must stand vpon a better stay Vpon the rock we must our houses builde That wil our frames from winde water shield Goe bid the world with all his trash farewell And tell the earth it shall be all but dust These wicked wares that worldlings buy and sell The Moath will eate or else the canker ruft All flesh is grasse and to the graue it must This sinke of sinne is but the way to hell Leaue it I say and bid the world farewell Account of pompe but as a shadowed power And thinke of friends but as the sommer flies Esteeme of beauty as a fading flower And louers fancies but as fabled lies Knowe that on earth there is no Paradise VVho sees not heauen is surely spirit-blinde And like a body that doth lacke a minde Then let vs lie as dead till there wee liue Where only loue doth liue for euer blest And only loue the onely life doth giue That bringes the soule vnto eternall rest Let vs this wicked wretched world detest Where gracelesse hearts in hellish sins perseuer And fly to heauen to liue in grace for euer ¶ A solemne conceipt 1 DOTH loue liue in beauties eyes Why then are they so vnlouing Patience in her passion prouing There his sorrowe chiefely lies 2 Liues beliefe in louers hearts Why then are they vnbelieuing Hourely so the spirit grieuing With a thousand iealous smarts 3 Is there pleasure in loues passion Why then is it so vnpleasing Heart and spirit both diseasing Where the wits are out of fashion 1 No loue sees in beauties eyes He hath only lost his seeing Where in sorrowes only being All his comfort wholly dies 2 Faith within the heart of loue Fearefull of the thing it hath Treading of a trembling path Doth but iealousie approue 3 In loues passion then what pleasure Which is but a lunacy Where griefe feare and iealousie Plague the senses out of measure Farewell then vnkindly fancy In thy courses all too cruell Woe the price of such a iewell As turnes reason to a franzy ¶ A straunge A B C. TO learne the babies A B C Is fit for children not for mee I knowe the letters all so well I neede not learne the way to spell And for the crosse before the rowe I learn'd it all too long agoe Then let them goe to schoole that list To hang the lippe at Had I wist I neuer lou'd a booke of horne Nor leaues that haue their letters worne Nor with a fescue to direct mee Where euery puny shall correct mee I will the treuant play a while And with mine eare mine eye beguile And only heare what other see What mocketh them as well as mee And laugh at him that goes to schoole To learne with mee to play the foole But soft a while I haue mistooke This is but some imagin'd booke That wilfull hearts in wantons eyes Doe onely by conceits deuise Where spell and put together proue The reading of the rules of loue But if it be so let it be It shall no lesson be for mee Let them goe spell that can not reede And know the crosse vnto their speede VVhile I am taught but to discerne How to forget the thing I learne ¶ Fie on pride THE hidden pride that lurkes in beauties eyes And ouerlookes the humble hearts of loue Doth nothing else but vaine effectes deuise That may discretion from the minde remoue Oh how it workes in wit for idle wordes To buy repentance but with labour lost While sorrowes fortune nothing else affordes But showres of raine vpon a bitter frost A wicked shadowe that deceiues the sight And breedes an itch that ouerrunnes the hart Which leauing reason in a pitious plight Consumes the spirit with a curelesse smart While wounded patience in her passion cries Fie vpon pride that lurkes in beauties eyes ¶ A farewell to loue FAREVVELL loue and louing folly All thy thoughts are too vnholly Beauty strikes thee full of blindenesse And then kils thee with vnkindnesse Farewell wit and witty reason All betrai'd by fancies treason Loue hath of all ioy bereft thee And to sorrow only left thee Farewell will and wilfull fancy All in daunger of a franzy Loue to beauties bowe hath wonne thee And togither all vndone thee Farewell beauty sorrowes Agent Farewell sorrow patience pagent Farewell patience passions stayer Farewell passion loues betrayer Sorrowes agent patience pagent Passions stayer loues betrayer Beauty sorrow patience passion Farewell life of such a fashion Fashion so good fashions spilling Passion so with passions killing Patience so with sorrow wounding Farewell beauty loues confounding ¶ A ieasting curse FIE vpon that too much beauty That so blindeth reasons seeing As in swearing all loues duety Giues him no where else a beeing Cursed be thou all in kindnesse That with beauty loue hast wounded Blessing loue yet in such blindenesse As in beautie is confounded Euer maist thou liue tormented With the faith of loue vnfained Till thy heart may be contented To relieue whom thou hast pained Thus in wroth of so well pleased As concealeth ioyes confessing Till my paine be wholly eased Cursed be thou all in blessing So farewell and fairely note it He who as his soule doth hate thee From his very heart hath wrote it Neuer euill thought come at thee ¶ A solemne toie IF that loue had beene a king He would haue commanded beauty But hee is a silly thing That hath sworne to doe her duety If that loue had beene a God He had then bene full of grace But how grace and loue are odde T is too plaine a pitious case No loue is an idle ieast That hath only made a woord Like vnto a Cuckoes neast That hath neuer hatcht a bird Then from nothing to conceiue That may any substance bee Yet so many doth deceiue Lord of heauen deliuer mee A displeasure against loue LOVE is witty but not wise When he stares on beauties eyes Finding wonders in conceit That doe fall out but deceit Wit is stable but not staied When his senses are betraied Where too late sorrow doth proue Beauty makes a foole of loue Youth is forward but too fond When he falles in Cupids bond Where repentance lets him see Fancy fast is neuer free Age is cunning but vnkinde When he once growes Cupid-blinde For when beauty is vntoward Age can neuer be but froward So that I doe finde in briefe In the grounds of natures griefe Age and youth and wit doe proue Beauty makes a foole of loue ¶ A farewell to conceipt FAREVVELL conceit Cōceit no more wel fare Hope feeds the heart with humours to no end Fortune is false in dealing of her share
the fearelesse thoughts of feares To giue to life to let me die My care I doe bequeath to death To cut the threades that thoughts do spinne And at my latest gaspe of breath To heauen my soule to hell my sinne ¶ A fantasticke solemne humour SOVND good reason sound my sorrowes Equall them with any liuing Finde the worst of all her giuing When she most her mischiefe borrowes Leaue not patience all perplexed Where no passions are appeased But her torments neuer eased Keepe her spirit too much vexed Tell oh tell the truest story That hath long time bene described Whereto iustly is ascribed Sorrowes pride and death his glory Loue bred in discretions blindnesse Shadowes for the sunne affecting Nothing but nothing effecting Shewes the crosse of Natures kindnesse Wit bewitcht with wanton beauty Lost the raines of reasons bridle And in folly all too idle Brake the bands of reasons duty Time misspent in follies trifles With repentance sorrow feeding In the rules of reasons reeding Findes them nothing else but nifles Care yet seeking to recouer Indiscretions heauie losses Found in casting vp my crosses Sorrow only left the louer ¶ A briefe of sorrowe MVSE of sadnesse neere deaths fashion Too neere madnesse write my passion Paines possesse mee sorrowes spill mee Cares distresse mee all would kill mee Hopes haue faild mee Fortune foild mee Feares haue quaild me all haue spoild mee Woes haue worne mee sighes haue soakt mee Thoughts haue torne mee all haue broke mee Beauty strooke me loue hath catcht mee Death hath tooke mee all dispatcht mee ¶ A solemne saâ—cy SORROVV in my heart breedeth A Cocatrices neast Where euery young bird feedeth Vpon my hearts vnrest Where euery pecke they giue mee VVhich euery houre they doe Vnto such paine they driue mee I knowe not what to doe Oh broode vnhapp'ly hatched Of such a cursed kinde Where death and sorrowe matched Liue but to kill the minde Wordes torments are but trifles That but conceits confounde And Natures griefes but nifles Vnto the spirits wounde They are but cares good morrowes That passions can declare While my hearts inward sorrowes Are all without compare Fortune she seekes to sweare mee To all may discontent me Yet sayes she doth forbeare mee She doth no more torment mee Beauty she doth retaine mee In scarce a fauours tittle And though she doe disdeigne mee She thinkes my griefe too little Loue falles into a laughing At reasons little good While sorrow with her quaffing Is drunke with my heart blood But let her drinke and spare not Vntill my heart be dry And let loue laugh I care not My hope is I shall dy And death shall only tell My froward fortunes fashion That nearest vnto hell Was found the louers passion ¶ A solemne sonnet FORTVNE hath writ characters on my heart As full of crosses as the skinne can holde Which tell of torments tearing euery part While death and sorrowe doe my fate vnfolde Patience sits leaning like a pining soule That had no heart to thinke of hopes reliefe VVhile fruitlesse cares discomfort doe enroule Within the ground of neuer ending griefe Thoughts flie about as all in feare confounded Reason growne mad with too much mal content Loue passion-rent to see his patience wounded VVith dreadfull terrors of despaires intent While care concludes in comforts ouerthrowne WheÌ„ death can speak my passioÌ„s shal be showne ¶ An extreame Passion OVT of the depth of deadly griefe tormenting day and night A wounded heart and wretched soule depriu'd of all delight Where neuer thought of comfort came that passioÌ„ might appease Or by the smallest sparke of hope might giue the smallest ease Let me intreat that solemne Muse that serues but sorrowes turne In ceasselesse sighes and endlesse sobs to helpe my soule to mourne But oh what thought beyoÌ„d al thought hath thought to think vpon Where patience findes her greatest power in passions ouergon That neere the doore of natures death in dolefull notes doth dwell In horrors fits that will describe my too much figur'd hell What want what wrong what care what crosse may crucifie a hart But day and howre I doe endure in all and euery part Want to sustaine the bodies neede wrong to distract the minde Where want makes wit and reason both to goe against their kinde Care to deuise for comforts helpe but so by fortune crost As kils the heart to cast the eye on nought but labour lost Desire to liue in spite of death yet still in liuing dying And so a greater death then death by want of dying trying Oh hell of hels if euer earth such horror can afford Where such a world of helpelesse cares doe lay the heart aboord ' No day no night no thought no dreame but of that doleful nature That may amaze or sore affright a most afflicted creature Friends turnd to foes foes vse their force and fortune in her pride Shaks hands with fate to make my soule the weight of sorrow bide Care brings in sicknes sicknes pain paine with patience passion With biting in most bitter griefes brings feature out of fashion Where brawn falne cheeks heart scalding sighs dimmed eyes with teares Doe shewe in lifes Anatomy what burthen sorrowe beares Where all day long in helplesse cares all hopelesse of reliefe I wish for night I might not see the obiectes of my griefe And when night comes woes keep my wits in such a waking vaine That I could wish though to my griefe that it were day againe Thus daies are nights which nights are daies which daies are like those nights That to my passioÌ„s seÌ„se preseÌ„t but only sorrows sights Which to the eye but of the minde of misery appeare To fill the heart of forlorne hope too full of heauie cheare Oh hart how canst thou hold so long and art not broke ere this When all thy strings are but the straines that coÌ„fort strikes amisse Yet must thou make thy musicke still but of that mournfull straine Where sorrowe in the sound of death doth shew her sweetest vain Or where her Muses all consent in their consort to trie Their sweetest musicke in desire to die and can not die The Pellican that kils her selfe her young ones for to feede Is pleas'd to dy that they may liue that suck when she doth bleede But while I in those cares consume that would my spirit kill Nought liues by me when I must die to feede but sorrowes will The Hart that 's huÌ„ted all day long hath sport yet with the houÌ„ds And happly beats off many a dogge before his deadly wounds But my poore heart is hunted still with such a cruell cry As in their dogged humours liue while I alone must die The Swan that sings before her death doth shew that she is pleas'd To knowe that death will not be long in helping the diseas'd But my poore Swanlike soule alas hath no such power to sing Because she knowes not when my death will make my care a king What shall I say