WEare happie I as others are Then might I liue as others doe But fortune giues a sundrie share And more to one then others too The mind doth yet content it selfe What euer fortune doe befall And makes no count of cankred pelfe Nor cares for any care at all For health it is the gift of God And giue him thankts and so haue done And want of wealth a heauenly rod To punish natures eldest sonne Is freinds doe frowne then farewel they This worldlie loue wil neuer last And if it be a rainie day The sunne wil shine when storme is past If troubles come a thwart thy minde Why t is a rule there is no rest And he that seekes and cannot finde Must take a little for a feast If Ladies loue then laugh for ioy And if they doe not farewell loue If thou be lost t is but a toy And if it hold it will not mooue Faire bâ—aâ—tie soone will fade a way And riches qâ—icklie fall to rust Thy youthfull yeares will soone decay And age will soone giue ouer lust The greatest horse is but a beast The highest Hâ—wk is but a bird The sweetest bâ—nquet but a feast The brauest man is but his word To promise much doth please thâ— eare Bâ—t to performe contents the heart And where performance commeth there A vowed loue can neuer parte But they that haue the world at will And shrinketh at a shower of raine May hâ—p to wish and want there will Vnles their hands haue greater gaine But hap what will my heart is sette I am resolu'd of this conceit If by desert I cannot get I loath to liue vpon deceit For stayed minde is of that state As euerie fortune cannot finde For hope nor feare nor loue nor hate Can euer change an honest minde â—ut either die in secrete griefe Wheâ—e care shall euer be conceald Then send abroad to seeke reliefe And haue a hurt vnkindely heald And onely trust in God on high For in the world there is no friend And loath to liue and long to die And know the world shâ—ll haue an end But if I die and you doe mis The sweet conâ—ention might command Then thinke but what a death it is To want dâ—sert without demand And thinke vpon tâ—â— nights and dayes When beatâ—n braines and broken heart Did râ—adie serue at al assayes For to discharge an honest part And if that you doe hap to neede As other men doe now and than Thinke wâ—en that vertue stood in steede I. R. was a right honest man The time draweth on I heare the bell That calleth for death my dearest friend But liue or die I wish you well Though your vnkindnes were my end Finis A Poeme vpon this word trueth IN trueth is trust distrust not then my trueth Let vertue liue I aske no greater loue Of such regard repentance not ensueth And hope of heauen doth highest power prooue In trueth somtime it was a sweete conceit To see how loue and life did dwell together But now in trueth there is so much deceit That trueth in deede is gone I know not whither Yer liueth trueth and hath her secret loue And loue in trueth deserues to be regarded And loues regard in reason doth appeare Approued trueth can neuet be discharged Then try me first and if that true you proue me In trueth you wrong me if you doe not loue me Finis A Poeme vpon the word sweet SWeet is the life that is the sweet of loue â—weet is the loue that is the sweet of life Sower the conceit that doth vnkindenes mooue But kinde the sweete that endeth such a strife Then for the sweet of sweetest louers vaine Sweet if thou louest me sweetlie come againe Oh sweet and sweet where nothing is but sweet Sweet be thy motions and sweeter be thy minde Which shewâ—◠〈◊〉 sweet where sweet affections meet In sweet content that cannot prooue vnkinde Then sweetest hart that to this humor moouest me Sweete come againe that I may see thou louest me Sweet I began and so with sweet I end There is no sweet vnto the sweet of loue Nor loue so sweet as in so sweet a friend Which shewes the sweet no sowernesse can remooue Let thaâ— sweet thought vnto this sweetnesse mooue thee Sweet come againe for by my sweet I loue thee Finis A Louer finding â—is loue vnconstant maketh his lact farewell NO faith on earth sweet fancie then aduâ— No fancie firme why then there is no friend No friend but fained what vice will then ensue Since trust doth prooue bâ—t treason in the end Farewell false loue thy tryall is not iust No faith on earth there is no friend to trust Fancie farewell which I haue loued so And farewell loue that makes me loath my life And life adue which bred me all my woe And farewel woe the forger of all strife And spite adue which breedeth all contempt Contempt adue whose mischiefe I repent And thus I end repenting still my life Crauing for death to make a speedie end To rid me soone from all this cursed strife And ease my heart which sorrow still doth rend With some contempt to shoulder off my paine Whose faith still stands in spite of all disdaine Finis A Poeme LOue makes me loath my life Yet doe I liue by loue This life brings death and death brings life Both these and that I prooue I sigh and sing for ioy I laugh in paine to lie Thus moane workes mirth and mirth weaues woe Twixt both I liue and die My colour shewes my care My care doth worke my paine My paine my griefe my griefe my death My death mine endles gaine In vaine is beauties blaze If beautie want her meede The blossome fruit the fruit his flower The flower wil haue his seed My youth doth shew my yeares My yeares should shew my ioy I haste to wed I haue no will I stoope yet am I coy Though outward face doth shew Mine inward heart not payn'd Yet doth mine inward hart well know Mine outward face is fayn'd I fast I pray I play What diet can I prooue But ah I see the ripest wittes Are soonest thrall to loue Sith so it is I sigh And to my selfe I sing Heygho my hart heigho alas Loue is a cruell thing Finis The moane of a Louer in despaire GOe paper all be blurd be blurd with bootles teares in vaine Goe tell goe tell the heauie newes Of my consuming paine Goe tell goe tell vnto my friends But if they aâ—ke thee why Let this suffice it is enough I am reâ—olâ—â—d to die My head can take â—o qâ—iet rest Mine eyes receiâ—e no sigâ—ht My mouth no taste my nose no sâ—ell Mine eares heare no delight My silly panting heart doth faynt but if they aske thee why Let tâ—is suffice it is enough I am resolu'd to die My feeble hanâ—s with-hold their helpe mâ— feete doe let me fall My tâ—â—gue caâ— harbor no delight to comfort me at all My wit and sences
in despaire What folly â—ond doth breed me my vnrest Will spitfull loue increase continuall care To worke her wrath on me aboue the rest And will she still increase my sorrowing sighes With pinching paine of heart with torments torne Are these rewards or are they Cupids slights To kill the heart which is with sorrowes worne Then witnes beare you woods and wasts about You craggie rockes with hilles and valleyes low Recording birds you beasts both strong and stout You fishes deafe you waues that ebbe and flow Heere haue in minde that loue hath slaine a hart As true as trueth vnto her froward friend Whose dying death shal shew her faithfull parte What so my deare hath alwayes of me deemd The red brest then did seeme to be the Clarke And shrowded her vnder the mosse so greene He calles the birds each one to sing a parte A â—ight full stâ—ange and woâ—thy to be seene The Larke the Thrush and Nightingale The Linnets sweete and eke the Turtles true The chattering Pie the lay and eke the Quaile The Thrustle-Cock that was so blacke of hewe All these did sing the prayse of her true heart And mournd her death with dolefull musick sound Each one digged earth and plyed so their part Till that she was close closed vnder ground Finis The counsell of a friend to one in loue CLime not too high for feare thou catch a fall Seeke not to build thy nest within the Sunne Refrraine the thing which bringeth thee to thrall Least when too late thou findste thy selâ—e vndone Cause thy desires to rest and sleepe a space And let thy fancie take her restiâ—g place The Tiger fâ—erce cannot by â—orce be tamed The Eagle wilde wil not be brought to fist Nor womens mindes at any time be framed To doe ought more then what their fancies liâ—t Then cease thy pride and let thy plumes downe fall Least soaring still thou purchasts endles thrall Finis A Ladies complaint for the losse of her Loue. COme follow me you Nymphes Whose eyes are neuer drie Augment your wayling number nowe With me poore Emâ—lie Giue place ye to my plaintes Whose ioyes aâ—â— pincht with paine Mâ— loue alas through foule mishâ—p Most cruell death haâ—h slaine What wight can wel alas my sorrowes noâ— indite I waile want my new desire I lack my new delite Gush out my trickling teares Like mighty floods of raine My Knight â—las through foule mishap Most cruell death hath â—laine Oh hap alas most hard Oh death why didst thou so Wâ—y could not I embrace my ioy for me that bid â—uch woe False Fortunu out alas Woe worth thy subtill trâ—ine Wâ—ereby my loue through foule mishap Most cruell death hath slaine Rock me a sleepe in woe You wofull Sisters three Oh cut you off my fatall threed Dispatch poore Emelie Why should I liue alas And linger thus in paine Farewell my life sith that my loue Most cruell death hath slaine Finis The lamentable complaint of a Louer ACcord your notes vnto my wofull songs You chirping birds which hant the cloudy skie Cease off your flight and come to heare my wrongs Compeld by loue mixed with crueâ—â—â—â— Leaue off I say and help me to lament My wofull dayes vntill my time be spent With sorrow great I passe a way the time The which too long I feele vnto my paine Too childish is this fond conceit of mine That voyde of hope doth helpelesse still remaine Yet wil I rest til time doth fuâ—ther serue That Aâ—ropos doth me of life bereaue But fie fond foole I complaine of disease And faultlesse Fortune I begin to blame Venus her selfe doth seeke me â—or to please In causing me to loue so rare a dame But if â—aire Nimph I might enioy thy sight Thy fauour faâ—re would force in me delight But I am bannisht from thy comely hew Oh thy sweet loue but yet I wil remaine For euer thine as perfect louer true Without all guile although thou me disdaine And thâ—s I end although not rest content Vntil such time wy wretched dayes are spent Finis A Poeme boâ—h pithie and pleasant IF right were rackt and ouer-runne And power take parte wiâ—h open wrong If force by feare doe yeeld too soone The lack is like to last too long If God â—ot goods shal be vnplacâ—d If right for riches leaues his shape If world for wisdome be imbrac'd The guesse is great much hurâ— may hap Among good thinges I prooue and find The quiet life doth most abound And sure to the contented miâ—d There is no tiches may be found Riches doth hate to be content Rule is enmie to quiet ease Power for the most part is vnpacient And seldome likes to llue in peace I heard a Shepheard once compare Tâ—at qâ—iet nigâ—â—s he had mâ—re sleepe And haâ— more mâ—rrie dayes to spare Then he which ought his Flock of sheepe I would not haue it thought heereby The Dolphin swim I meane to teach Nâ— yet to learne the Faulcon flie I roue not â—o farre past my reach But as my part aboue the rest Is wel to wish and good to will So till the breath doth fayle my bsest I shal not stay to wish you still A Poeme THe time was once that I haue liâ—ed free And wandred heere and where me liketh best But in my wandring I did chance to see A Damsel faire which causd in me small rest For at her sight mine heâ—rt was wounded sore That liued free and voyd of loue before Which when I felt I got me to my bed Thinking to rest my heauie heart but then There came strange thoughts inâ—o my troubled hed Which made me thinke vpon my thoughts a gen And thus in thinking on my thoughts did sleep And dreamed that another diâ— her keepe With this same dreame I sudainly awoke Aâ—d orderly did marke it euery poynt And with the same so great a griefe I tooke That as one scard I quaked euery ioynt Yet at the last supposd it but a dreame My troubled spirits did reuiue againe Finis Fantasma IN fortune as I lay my fortune was to finde Such fancies as my carefull thought had brought into my minde And when each one was gone to rest full soft in bed to lie I would haue slept but then the watch did follow still mine eye And sodainly I saw a sea of sorrowes prest Whose wicked waues of sharpe repulse brought me vnquieâ— rest I saw this world and how it went each state in his degree And that from wealth graunted is both life and liberâ—ie I saw how Enuie it did raigne and bare the greatest price Yet greater poyson is not found within the Cockatrice I also saw how that disdaine ofâ— times to forge my woe Gaue me the cup of bitâ—er sweete to pledge my mortall foe I also saw hoâ— that deceit to rest no place could finde But stiâ—l constraind an endles paine to follow natures kinde I also saw most strange how Nature did forsake the blood that in her womb was
all do faile but if they aske thee why Let this suffice it is enough I am resolu'd to die I haue bespoke the Clarck in haste to toll my passing knill I haue in order as I ought my selfe set downe my will I cannot long time heere remaine but if they aske thee why Let this suffice it is enough I am reâ—olu'd to die I haue prepar'd my shrowding sheet my graue I haue begun I haue almost perform'd the race my wearie corps must runne I tarrie but a little while but if they aske thee why Let this suffice it is enough I am resolu'd to die Finis A Poeme A Liuelie face and piercing beautâ—y bright Aath linckt in loue my sâ—â—e sences all A comely port a goodlie shâ—ped wight Hath made me slide that neuer thought to falâ— Her eyes her grace her deedes and manners mild So straines my heart that loue hath me beguil'd But not one dart of Cupid did me wound A hundred shafts light all on me at once As though dame kinde a new deuise had sound To teare my flesh and crash a two my bones And yet I feele such ioyes in these my woes That as I die my spirite to pleasure goes These my fond fits such change in me doth breede I haâ—e the day and driue to darknes loe Yet by the lampe of beautie I doe feede In dimmest dayes and darkest nights also Thus altring state and changing diet still I feele and know the force of Venus will The best I finde is that I doe tonfesse I loue a dame whose beautie doth excell But yet a toy doth breede me my distresse For that I dread she will not loue me well Thus all my sweet still turne to bitter bale Ready to kill me ere I end my tale Oh Goddesse mine yet heare the voyce of ruth And pittie him that heart presents to thee And if thou wilt but witnes for my trueth Let sighs and grones my iudge and record bee Vnto â—he end a day may come in haste To make me thinke I spend no time in waste For naught preuailes in loue to serue and â—ue If full effect ioyne not with words at neede What is desire or any fancies now More then that which is spread abroad indeed My words and deedes 〈…〉 in one agree To pleasure her whose sirâ—â—aâ—e would I bee Finis Of his Mistresse loue TTo trie whose art and sttength did most excell My Mistresse Lâ—ue and faire Diana met The Ladier three foorthwith to shooting fell And for the prize the richest Iewel set Sweet Loue did both her bowe and arrowes gage Diana did her beautie rare lay downe My Mistresse pawnde her crueltie and rage And she that wanne had all for her renowne It fell out thus when as the match was done My Mistresse gat the beautie and the bowe And streight to trie the weapons she had wonne Vpon me heart she did a shaft bestow By beautie bound by Loue and Vigor slaine The losse is mine where hers was all the gaine Of a discontented minde POets come all and teach one take a penne Let all the heads that euer did indite Let Sorrow rise out of her darkest denne And helpe an heart an heauie tale to write And if all these or any one can touch The smallest part of my tormenting paine Then will I thinke my griefe is not so much But that in time it may be healde againe But if no one come neere the thought Of that I â—eele and no man els can finde Then let him say that deare his cunning bought There is no death to discontented minde Of his Mistresse Beautie WHat ailes mine eies or are my wits distaught Doe I not see or know not what I see No marueil though to see that wonder wrought Thaâ— on the earth another cannot bee What ment the Gods when first they did creat you To make a face to mocke all other features Angels in heauen will surelie deadlie hate you To leaue the world so full offoolish creatures Cheâ—kes that enchaine the highest hearts in thrall Is it set downe such faire shall neuer fade you Hands that the hearts of highest thoughts appall Was not Minerua made when she had made you Faire looke on you and farewell beauties grace Wise why your wits the wisest doth abash Sweet where is sweet but in your sweetest face Rich to your will all treasure is but trash Oh how these hands are catching at those eyes To feed this heart that onely liues vpon them Ah of these hands what humors doe arise To blind these eyes that liue by looking on them But heart must faint thâ—t must be going from you And eyes must weepe that in you loose their seeing Heauens be your place where Angels better know you And earth is too base for such a Goddesse beeing Yet where you come aâ—ong those highest powers Craue pardon then for all these great offences That when you dwelt among these hearts of ours Your onelie eyes did blind our wits and sences Now if you sâ—e my will aboâ—e my wit Thinke of the good that all your graces yeeld you A mazed Muse must haue a madding fiâ— Who is but mad that euer hath beheld you A Sonnet THose eyes that hold the hand of euerie heart That hand that hoâ—ds the heart of euerie eye That wit that goes beyond all Natures art The sence too deepe for wisdome to discrie That eye that hand that wit that heauenlie sence Doth shew my onely Mistresse excellence Oh eyes that pearce into the purest heart Oh hands that hold the highest thoughts in thrall Oh wit that weyes the depth of all desarâ— Oh sence that shewe the secret sweet of all The heauen of heauens with heauenlie power preserue thee Loue but thy selfe and giue me leaue to serue thee To serue to liue to looke vpon those eyes To looke to liue to kisse that heauenly hand To sound that vvit that doth amaze the minde To knovv that sence no sence can vnderstand To vnderstand that all the vvorld may knovv Such vvit such sence eyes hands there are no moe A Pastorell of Phillis and Coridon ON a hill there grovves a flovver Faire befall the daintie â—vveet By that flovver there is a bovver Where the heauenly Muses meete In that bovver there is a Chaire Fringed all about vvith golde Where doth sit the fairest faire That did euer eye beholde It is Phillis faire and bright She that is the shepheatds ioy She that venus did dispight And did blind her little boy This is she the wise the rich And the world desires to see This is Ipsa quae the which There is none but onely shee Who would not this face admire Who would not this Saint adore Who would not this sight desire Though he thought to see no more Oh faire eyes yet let me see One good looke and I am gone Looke on me for I am hee Thy poore sillie Corridon Thou that art the shepheards Queene Looke vpon thy silly swaine By thy comfort haue
beene seene Dead men brought to life againe The complaint of a â—orsaken Louer Let me goe seeke some solitarie place In craggie rocks where comfort is vnknowne Where I may sit and waile my heauie case And make the heauens acquainted with my mone Where onelie Eccho with her hallow voyce May â—ound the sorrow of my hidden sence And cruel chance the crosse of sweetest choyse Doth breed the paine of this experience In mourning thoughts let me my minde attire And clad my care in weedes ofdeadlie woe And make disgrace the graue of my desire Which tooke his death wh ereby his life did growe And ere I die engraue vpon my tombe Take heede of Loue for this is Loâ—ers doome A pretie fancie WHo takes a friend and trusts him not Who hopes of good and hath it not Who hath a Item and keepes it not Who keepes a Ioy and loues it not The first wants wit the second will Carelesse the third the fourth doth ill An Epitaph on the death of a noble Gentleman SOrrow come siâ— thee downe and sigh and sob thy fill And let these bleeding bitter teareâ— be witnesse of thine ill See see how Vertue siâ—s what passions she doth prooue To thinke vpon the losse oâ— him that was her dearest loue Come Pallâ—â— carefull Qâ—eene let all thy Muses waite About the graue where buried is the grace of your conceit Poets lay downe your pennes or if you needs will write Confesse the onely day of loue hath lost her dawning light And you that know the Court ank what beseemes the place With griefe engraue vpoÌ„ his tombe he gaue al Courts a grace And you that keepe the fields and know what valure is Say all too soone was seene in this vntimelie death of his Oh that he liu'd in earth that could but halfe conceiue The honour that his rarest heart was worthie â—o receiue Whose wisdome farre aboue the rule of Natures teach Whose workes are extant to the world that al the world may teach Whose wit the wonder-stone that did true wisdome tuch And such a sounder of conceipt as few or neuer such Whose vertue did exceed in Natures highest vaine Whose life a â—anthorne of the loue that surelie liues againe Whose friendship faith so fast as nothing could remooue him Whose honourable curtesie made all the world to loue him What Language but he spake what rule but he had read What thought so high what sence so deep but he had in his head A Phoenix of rhe world whom fame doth thus commend Vertue is life Valâ—r his loue and Honour was his end Vpon whose toâ—be be writ that may with teares be red Heere lies the flower of chiualrie that euer England bred Oh heauens vpon the earth was neuer such a day That all conceiâ—s of all contents should al consume away Me thinkes I see a Queene come couered with a vaile The Court al stricken in a dumpe the Ladies weepe waile The Knights in careful sighes bewaile their secret losse And he that best coÌ„ceales his griefe bewraies he hath a crosse Come Scholers bring your bookes let reason haue his right Doe reuerence vnto the câ—rse in hâ—nour of the Knight Come souldiâ—rs see the Knight that leâ—t his life so nâ—ere ye Giue him a volley oâ— your harts that al the 〈◊〉 mâ—y â—â—are ye And ye that liue at â—ome and passe your time in pâ—â—câ— To helpe ye sing his â—oleâ—ull dirge let sorrow neuer câ—ase Oh could I mourne enough that aâ—l the world may see The griefe of loue for such a lâ—sse as greater câ—nnot bee Our Court hath lost a fâ—â—end ouâ— Countrie such a Knight As with the toâ—mâ—â—t oâ— the thought hath turned day to night A man so rare a man did neuer England breed â—o excellent in euerie thing that all men did exceed So full of all effects that wit and sence may sâ—an As in his heart did want no part to make a perfect man Perfection farre aboue the rule of humâ—ine sence Whose heart was onely set on heauen and had his honor thence Whose maâ—ke of hiest aime was honor of the minde Who both â—t once did worldlie â—ame and heauenlie fauour find Whom vertue so did loue and learning so adore As commendations of a man was neuer man had more Whom wise men did admire whom good men did affect Whom honest men did loue and serue and all men did reâ—pect VVhose care his Countriâ—s loue whose loue his Countries care Whose careful loue considered wel his Countrie could not spare Oh Christ what ruthâ—ull cries about the world doe ring And to behold the heaâ—ie sighs it is a hellish thing The campe the dolefull campe comes home with all a Mort To see the Captaine of thâ—ir â—are come home in such a sort The Court the solemnâ— Câ—uâ—t is in a sudden trance And what is â—e but is amazde to heare of this mischance Tâ—e Cittie shakâ—s 〈◊〉 head as it had lost a piller And kind affect is in such care a little more would kill her 〈◊〉 Oxford sits and weâ—pes and Cambridge cries outright To loose the honour oâ— their loue and loue of their delight The Cleargie singing Psalmes with teares beblot â—heir booke And all the schollers follow on with sad and heauie lookes The Muses and the Nimphes attired all in blacke With teaâ—ing â—eares wringing hands as if their hearts would cracke The father wife and friends and seruants in degrees 〈◊〉 blubbred eyes bewaile the life that faithfull loue did leese My selfe that lou'd him more then he that knew him much VVil leaue the honour ofhis worth for better wits to tutch And said but what I thiâ—ke and that a number know He was a Phoenix of a man I feare there are no moe To set him downe in praise with men of passed fame Let this suffice who more deseru'd I neuer read his name For this he was in right in briefe to shew his praise For Vertue Learning Valor VVit the honour of our dayes And so with honor ende let all the world goe seeke So young a man so rare a man the world hath not the like VVhose onelie corps consumes whose Vertue neuer dies VVhose sweetest soule enioyes the sweet ofhighest Paradice The sum of the former in foure lines GRace Vertue Valor VVit Experience Learning Loue Art Reason Time Conceite Deuise Discretion Trueth All these in one and but one onely prooue Sorrow in age to see the end of youth In the praise of his Mistresse POets lay downe your pennes let fancie leaue to faine Bid al the Muses goe to bed or get a better vaine There musicks are to base to sound that sweet consaite That on the wonder of the world with wonder may awaite But if as yet vâ—knowne there be some daintie Muse That can doe more then al the rest and will her cunning vse Let her come whet her wits to see what she can doe To that the best that euer wrote came neuer neere vntoo For Venus vvas a toy and onely feigned fable And Cresed but a Chawcers â—east and Helen but a bable My tale shal be of trueth that neuer treason taught My Mistresse is the onelie svveet that euer Nature vvrought Whose eyes are like those starres that keepe the highest skies Whose beautie like the burning Sunne that blinds the clearest eies Whose haires are like those beames that hang about the Sunne When in the morning forth he steps before his course be runne And let me touch those lips by loue by leaue or lucke When sweet affect by sweet aspect may yet some fauour sucke They are those little foldes of Natures finest wit That she sat smoothing while she wrought wil be smacking yet And for that purest red with that most perfect white That makes those cheeks the sweetest chains of louers high delite What may be sayd but this Behold the onely feature That al the world that sees the face may woÌ„der at the creature I wil not stand to muse as many writers doe â—o seeke our Natures finest stuffe to like her lims vntoo Foe if thou wert on earth that could in part compare With euerie part of euerie part wherin her praises are Either for Natures gifts or Vertues sweetest grace I would confesse a blinded heart were in vnhappie case But what doth Nature Sence and Reason doth approue She is the onely saint on earth whom God and man doth louâ— Let this in summe suffice for my poore Muse and mee She is the Goddesse of the earth and there is none but shee FINIS