LICIA, or POEMS OF LOVE, IN HOnour of the admirable and singular virtues of his Lady, to the imitation of the best Latin Poets, and others. Whereunto is added the Rising to the Crown of RICHARD the third. Auxit musarum numerum Sappho addit a musis. Faelix si saevus, sic voluisset Amor. Ad Amorem. SI Coelum patria est puer beatum, Si verò peperit Venus benigna, Si Nectar tibi Massicum ministrat, Si Sancta Ambrosia est Cibus petitus, Quid noctes habitas, diesque mecum? Quid Victum face supplicemque aduris? Quid longam lachrimis sitim repellis? Quid nostrae dape pasceris medullae? Overè rabidum genus faerarum: Odomo stige patriaque dign: jam levis sumus umbra, quid lacessis? Ad Lectorem. NON Convitia, nec latrationes, Nec Ronchos timeo, Calumniasuè, Nec ullos obelos severiores. Non quodjudicio meo Poëta Sim tantus, nihil ut queat reprehendi: Sed quodjudicio meo Poëta Sim tam rediculus, parùmque doctus, Vt nullum fore judicem eruditum, Meos carpere qui velit labores: Nam quis Aethiopem velit lavare? To the reader. COurteous Reader) for my own fault I refer thee to my Preface; but for the Printers, I crave pardon. The excuse is just, if thou knew the cause. I desire thee therefore to correct the greater, thus; the less, of thyself; and to pardon all. Thue, to the Read. pag. 3. lin. 20: Thus. Graceless, pag. 1. lin. 3. Graceful. You, pag. 3. lin. 6. Such. O. pag. 8. lin. 14. Son. Hands, pag. 4. lin. 7. 0. My, pag. 17. line 12. Thy. Make, pag. 36. lin. 12. 0. Singers, pag. 58. lin. 20. fingers. Fciend, pag. 69. lin. 19 friend. TO THE Worthy, Kind, Wise, and Virtuous Lady, the Lady Mollineux, wife to the Right Worshipful Sir Richard Mollineux Knight. HOwsoever in the settled opinions of some wise heads this trifling labour may easily incur the suspicion of two evils, either to be of an idle subject, and so frivolous: or vainly handled, and so odious. Yet my resolute purpose was to proceed so far, as the indifferent Reader might think this small pains to be rather an effect then a cause of idleness; and howsoever Love in this age hath behaved himself in that lose manner, as it is counted a disgrace to give him but a kind look; yet I take the passion in itself to be of that honour and credit, as it is the perfect resemblance of the greatest happiness, and rightly valued at his just price, (in a mind that is sincerely & truly amorous) an affection of greatest virtue, and able of himself to aeternize the meanest vassal. Concerning the handling of it, (especially in this age) men may wonder, if a Scholar, how I come by so much leisure: if otherwise, why a writer. Indeed to say truth, though I can not justly challenge the first name, yet I wish none to be writers, save only such as know learning. And whereas my thoughts and some reasons drew me rather to have dealt in causes of greater weight, yet the present jar of this disagreeing age drive me into a fit so melancholy, as I only had leisure to grow passionate. And I see not why upon our dissensions. I may not sit down idle, forsake my study, and go sing of love, as well as our Brownistes forsake the Church, and write of malice. And that this is a matter not so unfit for a man, either that respecteth himself, or is a scholar. Peruse but the writings of former times, and you shall see not only others in other countries, as Italy, and France, men of learning and great parts to have written Poems and Sonnets of Love, but even amongst us, men of best nobility, and chiefest families, to be the greatest Scholars and most renowned in this kind. But two reasons hath made it a thing foolishly odious in this age: the one, that so many base companions are the greatest writers: the other, that our English Genevian purity hath quite debarred us of honest recreation▪ and yet the great pillar (as they make him of that cause) hath showed us as much wit and learning in this kind, as any other before or since. Furthermore for all students I will say thus much, that the base conceit, which men generally have of their wants, is such, as I scarce term him a scholar, that hath not all the accomplyments of a Gentleman, nor sufficiently wise that will not take opportunity in some sort to show it. For I can say thus much, that the University wherein I lived, (and so I think the other) hath so many wise, excellent, sufficient men, as setting their learning aside, wherein they are most excellent, yet in all habiliments of a Gentleman they are equal to any beside. This would that worthy Sidney oft confess, and harington's Ariosto (which Madam was respected so much by you) showeth that his abode was in kings College. Yet now it is grown to this pass, that learning is lightly respected, upon a persuasion, that it is to be found every where a thing untrue and impossible. Now in that I have written Love sonnets, if any man measure my affection by my style, let him say, I am in Love; no great matter, for if our purest divines have not been so, why are so many married? I mislike not that, nor I would not have them mislike this. For a man may be in love and not marry, and yet wise; but he he cannot marry, and not be in love, but be a mere fool. Now, for the manner; we will dispute that in some other place; yet take this by the way, though I am so liberal to grant thus much, a man may write of love, and not be in love, as well as of husbandry, and not go to plough: or of witches and be none: or of holiness and be flat profane. But (wise and kind Lady) not to trouble your ears with this idle discourse let this suffice I fond favours undeserved in such manner as my rude ability wautes means to make recompense, and therefore in the mean time I request you to accept this: If I had not so wondered at your admirable and rare virtues; that my heart was surcharged with the exceeding measure of your worthiness, I had not written: you are happy every way, and so reputed: live so, and I wish so you may live long: excuse me, favour me, and if I live, for I am loath to admire without thankfulness, ere long it shall be known what favours I received from wise Sir Richard, to whom in all kind affects I rest bound. For the Reader, if he look for my letters to crave his favour, he is far deceived: for if he mislike any thing, I am sorry he took the pains to read, but if he do, let him dispraise, I much care not: for praise is not but as men please: and it is no chief felicity, for I have heard some men and of late for Sermons at Paul's cross and for other pains so commended by all (excepting some few Cynics, that commend none that do well) that you would have thought England would have striven for their speedy preferment, but like a wonder it lasted but nine days, and all is quiet and forgotten: the best is they are young men and may live to be preferred at another time: so what am I worse if men mislike and use terms? I can say as much by them. For our great men I am sure, they want leisure to read, and if they had, yet for the most part, the worst speak worst. Well, let the Printer look he grow not a beggar by such bargains, the Reader that he lose not his labour, and for mine that is past, and who so wisely after an afternoons sleep gapes, and saith, Oh how young men spend their time idly: first, let him spend his time better than to sleep: Seeondlie, he knows not my age: I feared a hot ague, and with Tasso I was content to let my wit blood. But leaving these to their dogged humour, and wishing your Ladyship all happiness, I humbly take my leave. From my chamber. Sept. 4. 1593. To the Reader. I Had thought (courteous and gentle Reader) not to have troubled thy patience with these lines; but that in the neglect thereof I should either scorn thee as careless of thine opinion (a thing savouring of a proud humour) or despair to obtain thy favour, which I am loath to conceive of thy good nature. If I were known I would entreat in the best manner, and speak for him, whom thou knewest: but being not known, thou speakest not against me, and therefore I much care not; for this kind of poetry wherein I written, I did it only to try my humour: and for the matter of love, it may be I am so devoted to some one, into whose hands these may light by chance, that she may say, which thou now sayest (that surely he is in love) which if she do, then have I the full recompense of my labour, and the Poems have dealt sufficiently, for the discharge of their own duty. This age is learnedly wise, and faultless in this kind of making their wits known: thinking so basely of our bare English (wherein thousands have traveilled with such ill luck) that they deem themselves barbarous, and the Island barren unless they have borrowed from Italy, Spain, and France their best and choicest conceits; for my own part, I am of this mind that our nation is so exqaisite (neither would I overweininglie seem to flatter our homespun stuff, or diminish the credit of our brave traveilers) that neither Italy, Spain, nor France can go beiondus for exact invention, for if anything be odious amongst us, it is the exile of our old manners: and some base-born phrases stuffed up with such new terms as a man may sooner feel us to slatter by our incrouching eloquence than suspect it from the ear. And for the matter of love, where every man takes upon him to court exactly, I could justly grace (if it be a grace to be excellent in that kind) the Inns of Court, and some Gentlemen like students in both Universities, whose learning and bringing up together, with their fine natures makes so sweet a harmony, as without partiality, the most injurious will prefer them before all others: and therefore they only are fittest to write of Love. For others for the most part, are men of mean reach, whose embased minds pray upon every bad dish: men unfit to know what love means; deluded fondly with their own conceit, misdeeming so divine a fancy, taking it to be the contentment of themselves, the shame of others: the wrong of virtue: and the refiner of the tongue, boasting of some few favours. These and such like errors (errors hateful to an upright mind) commonly by learnlesse heads are reputed for love's kingdom. But vain men naturally led, deluded themselves, deceive others. For Love is a Goddess (pardon me though I speak like a Poet) not respecting the contentment of him that loves but the virtues of the beloved, satisfied with wondering, fed with admiration: respecting nothing but his Lady's worthiness: made as happy by love as by all favours chaste by honour, far from violence: respecting but one, and that one in such kindness, honesty, truth, constancy, and honoar, as were all the world offered to make a change, yet the boot were too small, and therefore bootless. This is love, and far more than this, which I know a vulgar head, a base mind, an ordinary conceit, a common person will not, nor cannot have: thus doc I commend that love wherewith in these poems I have honoured the voorthie LICIA: But the love where with Venus' son hath injuriously made spoil of thousands, is a cruel tyrant: occasion of sighs: oracle of lies: enemy of pity: way of error▪ shape of inconstancy: temple of treason: faith without assurance: monarch of tears: murderer of ease: prison of hearts: monster of nature: poisoned honey: impndant courtesan: furious bastard: and in one word, not Love. Thue (Reader) take heed thou err not, aesteeme Love as thou ought. If thou muse what my LICIA is, take her to be some Diana, at the least chaste, or some Minerva, no Venus, fairer far; it may be she is Learning's image, or some heavenly wonder, which the precisest may not mislike: perhaps under that name I have shadowed Discipline. It may be, I mean that kind courtesy which I found at the Patroness of these Poems; it may be some College; it may be my conceit, and portend nothing: what soever it be, if thou like it, take it, and thank the worthy Lady MOLLINEUX, for whose sake thou hast it; worthy indeed, and so not only reputed by me in private affection of thankfulness, but so equally to be esteemed by all that know her: For if I had not received of her and good Sir RICHARD, of kind and wise M. LEE, of courteous M. HOUGHTON, all matchless, matched in one kindred, those unrequitable favours, I had not thus idly toyed. If thou mislike it, yet she or they, or both, or divine LICIA shall patronize it, or if none, I will and can do it myself: yet I wish thy favour: do but say thou art content, and I rest thine: if not farewell till we both meet. Septemb. 8. 1593. TO LICIA THE WISE, KIND, Virtuous, and fair. Bright matchless star, the honour of the sky, From whose clear shine, heaven's vault hath all his light, I send these Poems to your graceless eye: Do you but take them, and they have their right. I build beside a Temple to your name, Wherein my thoughts shall daily sing your praise: And will erect an altar for the same, Which shall your virtues, and your honour raise. But heaven the Temple of your honour is, Whose brazen tops your worthy self made proud: The ground an altar, base for such a bliss With pity torn, because I sighed so loud. And since my skill no worship can impart, Make you an incense of my loving heart. Sonnet. I. sad all alone, not long I musing sat, But that my thoughts compelled me to aspire, A Laurel garland in my hand I got: So the Muses I approached the nigher. My suit was this, a Poet to become, To drink with them, and from the heavens be fed: Phoebus denied, and swore there was no room, Such to be Poets as fond fancy led: With that I mourned; and sat me down to weep, Venus she smiled, and smile to me said, Come drink with me, and sit thee still and sleep: This voice I heard: and Venus I obeyed. That poison (sweet), hath done me all this wrong, For now of love, must needs be all my song. Sonnet. II. Weary was love, and sought to take his rest, He made his choice, upon a virgin's lap: And slily crept, from thence unto her breast, Where still he meant, to sport him in his hap, The virgin frowned, like Phoebus in a cloud, Go pack sir boy, here is no room for y●●▪ My breast no wanton foolish boys must shroud; This said, my Love did give the wag a tuch, Then as the foot, that treads the stinging snake, Hastes to be gone, for fear what may ensue, So love, my love, was forced for to forsake, And for more speed, without his arrows flew. Pardon (he said) for why you seemed to me, My mother Venus, in her pride to be. Sonnet. III. The heavens beheld the beauty of my Queen. And all amazed, to wonder thus began: Why dotes not jove, as erst we all have seen, And shapes himself like to a seemly man? Mean are the matches, which he sought before, Like bloomelesse buds, too base to make compate, And she alone hath treasured beauty's store: In whom all gifts and princely graces are. Cupid reylyed: I posted with the Sun, To view the maids that lived in those days, And none there was, that might not well be won: But she, most hard, most cold, made of delays. Heavens were deceived, and wrong they do esteem, She hath no heat, although she living seem. Sonnet. FOUR Love, and my love, did range the forest wild, Mounted alike, upon swift coursers both: Love her encountered, though he was a child, Let's strive (saith he) whereat my love was wrath, And scorned the boy, and checked him with a smile, I mounted am, and armed with my spear, Thou art too weak, thyself do not beguile, I could thee conquer, if I naked were: With this love wept, and then my love replied: Kiss me (sweet boy) so: weep (my boy) no more: Thus did my love, and thus her force she tried, Love was made ye, that fire was before. A kiss of hers, as I poor soul do prove, Can make the hottest freeze, and coldest love. Sonnet. V Love with her hair, my love by force hath tied, To serve her lips, her eyes, her voice, her hand, I smiled for joy, when I the boy espied, To lie enchained, and live at her command. She if she look, or kiss, or sing, or smile, Cupid withal, doth smile, doth sing, doth kiss, Lips, hands, voice, eyes, all hearts that may beguile, Because she scorns, all hearts but only this: Venus for this in pride began to frown: That Cupid borne a god, enthralled should be: She in disdain, her pretty son threw down, And in his place, with love she chained me. So now (sweet love) though I myself be thrall, Not her a goddess, but thyself I call. Sonnet. VI My love amazed did blush herself to see, Pictured by art, all naked as she was: How could the Painter, know so much by me, Or Art effect, what he hath brought to pass? It is not like, he naked me hath seen, Or stood so nigh, for to observe so much, No, sweet, his eyes so near have never been, Nor could his hands, by art 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 wear, And show't to all, unless you have more care: Then take my heart, and place it with your own, So shall you naked never more be known. Sonnet. VII. Death in a rage, assaulted once my heart, With love of her, my love that doth deny. I scorned his force, and wished him to departed, I heartless was, and therefore could not die: I live in her, in her I placed my life, She guides my soul, and her I honour must, Nor is this life, but yet a living strife, A thing unmeet, and yet a thing most just: Cupid enraged, did fly to make me love, My heart lay guarded with those burning eyes, The sparks whereof denied him to remove: So conquered now, he like a captive lies, Thus two at once by love were both undone: My heart not loved, and armlesse Venus' Sonnet. VIII. Hard are the rocks, the marble, and the steel, The ancient oak, with wind, and weather tossed, But you my love, far harder do I feel, Then flint, or these, or is the winter's frost. My tears too weak, your heart they can not move, My sighs, that rock, like wind it cannot rend, Too Tyger-like you swear, you cannot love: But tears, and sighs, you fruitless back have sent. The frost too hard, not melted with my flame, I Cinders am, and yet you feel no heat: Surpass not these (sweet love) for very shame, But let my tears, my vows, my sighs, entreat, Then shall I say, as I by trial find: These all are hard, but you (my love) are kind. Sonnet. IX. Love was laid down, all weary fast asleep, Whereas my love his armour took away, The boy awaked, and strait began to weep, But stood amazed, and knew not what to say: Weep not, my boy, said Venus to her son, Thy weapons, none can wield, but thou alone, Lycia the fair, this harm to thee hath done, I saw her here, and presently 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, hands, with beauty, and with eyes, No, Venus no: she scorns them (credit me) But robbed thy son, that none might care for thee. Sonnet. X. A painter drew, the image of the boy, Swift love, with wings all naked, and yet blind: With bow and arrows, bend for to destroy, I blamed his skill, and fault I thus did find: A needless task, I see thy cunning take, Misled by love, thy fancy thee betrayed, Love is no boy, nor blind, as men him make, Nor weapons wears, whereof to be afraid: But if thou love, wilt paint with greatest skill, A Love, a maid, a goddess, and a Queen: Wonder, and view at Lycias picture still, For other love, the world hath never seen, For she alone, all hope, all comfort gives: men's hearts, souls all, led by her favour lives. Sonnet. XI. In Ida vale three Queens the shepherd saw, Queens of esteem, divine, they were all three: A sight of worth, but I a wonder shaw, There virtues all in one alone to be. Lycia the fair, surpassing Venus' pride, (The matchless Queen commander of the gods, When drawn with doves, she in her pomp doth ride) Hath far more beauty, and more grace by odds. juno joves wife, unmeet to make compare, I grant a goddess, but not half so mild: Minerva wife, a virtue, but not rare. Yet these are mean, if that my love but smyl'de. She them surpasseth, when their prides are full: As far as they surpass the meanest trull. Sonnet. XIII. I wish sometimes, although a wortlesse thing, Spurred by ambition, glad for to aspire, Myself a Monarch, or some mighty King: And then my thoughts do wish for to be higher. But when I view what winds the Cedars toss, What storms men seel that covet for renown, I blame myself that I have wished my loss, And scorn a kindgome, though it give a crown. A'Licia thou, the wonder of my thought, My hearts content, procurer of my bliss, For whom a crown, I do esteem as nought, And Asia's wealth, too mean to buy a kiss, Kiss me sweet love, this favour do for me: Then Crowns and Kingdoms shall I scrone for thee. Sonnet. XIII. Enamoured jove, commanding did entreat, Cupid to wound my love which he denied, And swore he could not, for she wanted heat. And would not love, as he full oft had tried. jove in a rage, impatient this to hear, Replied with threats: I'll make you to obey: Whereat the boy did fly away for fear. To Lycias eyes, where safe entrenched, he lay: Then jove, he scorned, and dared him to his face, For now more safe than in the heavens he dwelled, Nor could joves wrath, do wrong to such a place Where grace and honour, have their kingdom held. Thus in the pride, and beauty of her eyes: The seely boy, the greatest god defies, Sonnet. XIIII. My love lay sleeping, where birds music made, Shutting her eyes, disdainful of the light, The heat was great, but greater was the shade: Which her defended from his burning sight: This Cupid saw, and came a kiss to take: Sucking sweet Nectar from her sugared breath: She felt the touch, and blushed, and did awake, Seeing 'twas love. which she did think was death: She cut his wings, and caused him to stay, Making a vow, he should not thence departed, Unless to her, the wanton boy could pay, The truest, kindest and most loving heart: His feathers still, she used for a fan: Till by exchange, my heart his feathers wan. Sonnet. XV. I stood amazed, and saw my Licia shine, Fairer than Phoebus, in his brightest pride, Set forth in colours, by a hand divine, Where nought was wanting, but a soul to guide. It was a picture, that I could descry: Yet made with art, so as it seemed to live, Surpassing fair, and yet it had no eye: Whereof my senses, could no reason give. With that the Painter bid me not to muse, Her eyes are shut, but I deserve no blame. For if she saw, in faith, it could not choose: But that the work, had wholly been a flame. Then burn me (sweet) with brightness of your eyes, That Phoenix like, from thence I may arise. Sonnet. XVI. Grant fairest kind, a kiss unto thy friend, A blush replied, and yet a kiss I had: It is not heaven, that can such nectar send, Whereat my senses, all amazed, were glad. This done, she fled, as one that was afraid, And I desired to kiss, by kissing more, My love she frowned, and I my kissing stayed, Yet wished to kiss her, as I did before: Then as the vine, the propping elm doth clasp, Loath to departed, till both together die: So fold me (sweet) until my latest gasp, That in my arms, to death, I kissed, may lie. Thus whilst I live, for kisses I must call, Still kiss me, (sweet) or kiss me not at all. Sonnet. XVII. As are the sands (fair Licia) on the shore, Or coloured flowers, garlands of the spring, Or as the frosts not seen, nor felt before, Or as the fruits that Autumn forth doth bring, As twinkling stars, the tinsel of the night, Or as the fish that gallop in the seas, As airs each part that still escapes our sight: So are my sighs, controllers of my ease. Yet these are such, as needs must have an end, For things finite, none else hath nature done: Only the sighs, which from my heart I send, Will never cease, but where they first begun. Accept them (sweet) as incense due to thee: For you immottall made them so to be. Sonnet. XVIII I swear (fair Licia) still for to be thine, By heart, by eyes, by what I held most dear, Thou checked mine oath, and said: these were not mine, And that I had no right by them to swear. Then by my sighs, my passions, and my tears, My vows, my prayers, my sorrow, and my love, My gtiefe, my joy, my hope, and hopeless fears My heart is thine, and never shall remove. These are not thine, though sent unto thy view, All else I grant, by right they are thine own, Let these suffice, that what I swear is true, And more than this, if that it could be known. So shall all these, though troubles ease my grief: If that they serve, to work in thee belief, Sonnet. XIX. That time (fair Licia) when I stole a kiss, From of those lips, where Cupid lovely laid, I quaked for cold, and found the cause was this, My life which loved, for love behind me stayed: I sent my heart, my life for to recall: But that was held, not able to return, And both detained as captives were in thrall, And judged by her, that both by sighs should burn: (Fair) burn them both, for that they were so bold, But let the altar be within thy heart: And I shall live, because my life you hold, You that give life, to every living part, A flame I took, when as I stole the kiss: Take you my life, yet can I live with this. Sonnet. XX. First did I fear, when first my love began, Possessed in fits, by watchful jealousy, I sought to keep, what I by favour wan, And brooked no partner in my love to be. But Tyrant sickness, fed upon my love, And spread his ensigns, died with colour white, Then was suspicion, glad for to remove: And loving much did fear to lose her quite. Erect (fair sweet) the colours thou didst wear, Dislodge thy griefs, the shortners of content: For now of life, not love, is all my fear, Lest life, and love be both together spent. Live but (fair love) and banish thy disease: And love (kind heart) both when, and whom thou please. Sonnet. XXI. Lycia my love was sitting in a grove, Tuning her smiles unto the chirping songs, But strait she spied, where two together strove, Each one complaining of the others wrongs. Cupid did cry, lamenting of the harm: joves messenger, thou wrong'st me too too far: Use thou thy rod, rely upon thy charm: Think not by speech, my force thou canst debatre. A rod (syrb●y) were fit for a child, My weapons oft, and tongue, and mind you took? And in my wrong at my distress thou smil'de, And scorned to grace me with a loving look. Speak you (sweet love) for you did all the wrong, That broke his arrows, and did bind his tongue. Sonnet. XXII I might have died, before my life begun, When as my father for his country's good, The Persians favour and the Sophy won: But yet with danger, of his dearest blood. Thy father (sweet) whom danger did beset, Escaped all, and for no other end: But only this, that you he might beget: Whom heavens decreed, into the world to send. Then father, thank thy daughter for thy lufe, And Neptune praise, that yielded so to thee, To calm the tempest, when the stonnes were rife, And that thy daughter should a Venus be. I call thee Ve●●e (sweet) but be not wroth, Thou art more chaste, yet seas did favour both. Sonnet. XXIII. My love was masked, and armed with a fan, To see the Sun so careless of his light, Which stood and gazed, and gazing, waxed wan, To see a star, himself that was more bright. Some did surmise, she hid her from the sun: Of whom, in pride, she scorned for to be kissed: Or feared the harm, by him to others done, But these the reason of this wonder missed, Nor durst the Sun, if that her face were bare, In greatest pride, presume to take a kiss: But she more kind, did show she had more care, Then with her eyes, eclipse him of his bliss, Unmask you (sweet) and spare not, dim the sun: Your light's enough, although that his were done. Sonnet. XXIIII. When as my love, lay sickly in her bed, Pale death did post, in hope to have a pray, But she so spotless made him, that he fled, Unmeet to die (he cried) and could not stay. Back he retired, and thus the heavens he told, All things that are, are subject unto me, Both towns, and men, and what the world doth hold, But let fair Licia still immortal be. The heavens did grant: a goddess she was made, Immortal, fair, unfit to suffer change, So now she lives, and never more shall fade, In earth a goddess, what can be more strange? Then will I hope, a goddess and so near, She cannot choose my sighs, and prayers but hear. Sonnet. XXV. Seven are the lights, that wander in the skies, And at these seven, I wonder in my love, To see the, Moon, how pale she doth arise, Standing amazed, as though she durst not move: So is my sweet, much paler than the snow, Constant her looks, those looks that cannot change, Mercury the next, a god sweet tongued we know, But her sweet voice, doth wonders speak more strange: The rising Sun doth boast him of his pride, And yet my love is far more fair than he. The warlike Mars, can weildles weapons guide, But yet that god, is far more weak than she, The lovely Venus, seemeth to be fair, But at her best, my love is far more bright▪ Saturn for age, with groans doth dim the air; Whereas my love, with smiles doth give it light. Gaze at her brows, where heaven engrafted is: Then sigh, and swear, there is no heaven but this. Sonnet. XXVI. I live (sweet love) whereas the gentle wind, Murmurs with sport, in midst of thickest bows, Where loving Wood-bine, doth the Harbour bind, And chirping birds do echo forth my vows: Where strongest elm, can scarce support the vine, And sweetest flowers enameled have the ground, Where Muses dwell, and yet hereat repine: That on the earth so rare a place was found. But winds delight, I wish to be content: I praise the Wood-bine, but I take no joy: I moan the birds, that music thus have spent: As for the rest, they breed but mine annoy. Live thou (fair Licia) in this place alone: Then shall I joy, though all of these were gone. Sonnet. XXVII. The Crystal streams, wherein my love did swim, Melted in tears, as partners of my woe, Her shine was such, as did the fountain dim; The pearl-like fountain, whiter than the snow, Then like perfume, resolved with a heat, The fountain smoked, as if it thought to burn: A wonder strange, to see the cold so great, And yet the fountain, into smoke to turn. I searched the cause, and found it to be this, She touched the water, and it burnt with love, Now by her means, it purchased hath that bliss, Which all diseases, quickly can remove. Then if by you, these streams thus blessed be: (Sweet) grant me love, and be not worse to me. Sonnet. XXVIII. In time the strong and stately torrets fall, In time the Rose, and silver Lilies die, In time the Monarch's captives are and thrall, In time the sea, and rivers are made dry: The hardest flint, in time doth melt asunder, Still living fame, in time doth fade away, The mountains proud, we see in time come under, And earth for age, we see in time decay: The sun in time, forgets for to retire, From out the east, where he was wont to rise, The basest thoughts, we see in time aspire, And greedy minds, in time do wealth despise, Thus all (sweet fair) in time must have an end: Except thy beauty, virtues, and thy friend. Sonnet. XXIX. Why died I not when as I last did sleep? (O sleep too short that shadowed forth my dear) Heavens hear my prayers, nor thus me waking keep: For this were heaven, if thus I sleeping wear. For in that dark there shone a Princely light: Two milk-white hills, both full of Nectar sweet: Her Ebon thighs, the wonder of my sight, Where all my senses with their objectes meet: I pass those sports, in secret that are best, Wherein my thoughts did seem alive to be; We both did strive, and weary both did rest: I kissed her still, and still she kissed me. Heavens let me sleep, and shows my senses feed: Or let me wake, and happy be indeed. Sonnet. XXI. When as my Lycia sailed in the seas, Viewing with pride, god Neptune's stately crown, A calm she made, and brought the merchant ease, The strome she stayed, and checked him with a frown. Love at the stern, sat smiling, and did sing: To see how seas, had learned for to obey: And balls of fire, into the waves did fling. And still the boy, full wanton thus did say: Both poles we burned, whereon the world doth turn, The round of heaven, from earth unto the skies: And now the seas we both intent to burn: I with my bow, and Licia with her eyes. Then since thy force, heavens, earth, nor seas can move, I conquered, yield; and do confess I love. Sonnet. XXXI. When as her lute is tuned to her voice, The air grows proud, for honour of that sound: And rocks do leap, to show how they rejoice, That in the earth, such Music should be found. When as her hair, more worth, more pale, than gold, Like silver thread, lies waffting in the air: Diana like she looks, but yet more bold: Cruel in chase, more chaste, and yet more fair. When as she smiles, the clouds for envy breaks, She jove in pride encounters with a check: The Sun doth shine for joy when as she speaks: Thus heaven, and earth do homage at her beck. Yet all these grace's blots, not graces are: If you my love, of love do do take no care. Sonnet XXXII. Years, months, days, hours, in sighs I sadly spend, I black the night, wherein I sleepless toss: I love my griefs, yet wish them at an end, Thus times expense, increaseth but my loss. I musing stand, and wonder at my love: That in so fair, should be a heart of steel: And then I think, my fancy to remove: But then more painful, I my passions feel. Thus must I love (sweet fair) until I die, And your unkindness, doth my love increase; I conquered am, I can it not deny: My lice must end, yet shall my love not cease. Then heavens, make Licia fair, most kind to me: Or with my life, my love may finished be. Sonnet. XXXV. When as I wish, fair Licia for a kiss: From those sweet lips, where Rose and Lilies strive, Strait do mine eyes, repine at such a bliss, And seek my lips, thereof for to deprive, When as I seek, to glut mine eyes, by sight: My lips repine and call mine eyes away: Thus both contend, to have each others right: And both conspire, to work my full decay. O force admyted, of beauty in her pride: In whose each part, such strange effects there be, That all my forces, in themselves divide: And make my senses, plainly disagree. If all were mine, this envy would be gone: Then grant me all (fair sweet) or grant me none. Sonnet. XXXVI. Hear how my sighs, are echoed of the wind, See how my tears, are pitied by the rain: Feel what a flame, possessed hath my mind, Taste but the grief, which I possess in vain. Then if my sighs, the blustering winds surpass: And watery tears, the drops of rain exceed, And if no flame, like mine, nor is, nor was: Nor grief like that, whereon my soul doth feed: Relent (fair Licia) when my sighs do blow, Yield at my tears, that flint-like, drops consume: Accept the flame, that doth my incense show, Allow the grief, that is my hearts perfume. Thus sighs, and tears, flame, grief, shall plead for me, So shall I pray, and you a goddess be. Sonnet. XXXVIII. I speak (fair Licia) what my torments be: But then my speech, too partial do I find: For hardly words, can with those thoughts agree: Those thoughts that swarm, in such a troubled mind. Then do I vow, my tongue shall never speak: Nor tell my grief, that in my heart doth lie: But cannon-like, I than surchardged, do break, And so my silence, worse than speech I try. Thus speech, or none, they both do breed my care. I live dismayed, and kill my heart with grief: In all respects, my case alike doth far: To him that wants, and dare not ask relief. Then you (fair Licia) sovereign of my heart: Read to yourself, my anguish, and my ●●art. Sonnet. XXXVIII. Sweet, I protest, and seal it with an oath: I never saw, that so my thoughts did please: And yet content displeased I see them wroth: To love so much, and cannot have their case. I told my thoughts, my sovereign made a pause, Disposed to grant, but willing to delay: They than repined, for that they knew no cause, And swore they wished, she flatly would say nay. Thus hath my love, my thoughts with treason filled: And 'gainst my sovereign, taught them to repine: So thus my treason, all my thoughts hath killed, And made fair Licia, say she is not mine. But thoughts too rash, my heart doth now repent: And as you please, they swear, they are content. Sonnet. XXXIX Fair matchless Nymph, respect but what I crave, My thoughts are true, and honour is my love: I fainting die, whom yet a smile might save: You gave the wound, and can the hurt remove. Those eyes, like stars, that twinkle in the night, And cheeks like rubies pale, in lilies died, Those Ebon hands hands, that darting have such might, That in my soul, my love and live divide. Accept the passions, of a man possessed: Let Love be loved, and grant me leave to live: Disperse those clouds, that darkened have my rest: And let your heaven, a sunlike smile but give. Then shall I praise, that heaven for such a sun, That saved my life, when as my grief begun. Sonnet. XL. My grief begun (fair Saint) when first I saw, Love in those eyes, sit ruling, with disdain: Whose sweet commands, did keep a world in awe: And caused them serve, your favour to obtain. I stood as one enchanted with a frown, Yet smiled to see, all creatures serve those eyes: Where each with sighs, paid tribute to that crown: And thought them graced, by your dumb replies. But I, ambitious, could not be content: Till that my service, more than sighs made known: And for that end, my heart to you I sent: To say, and swear, that (fair) it is your own. Then greater graces (Licia) do impart: Not dumb replies, unto a speaking heart. A SONNET MADE UPON THE TWO Twins, daughters of the Lady Mollineux, both passing like, and exceeding fair. Poets did feign, that heavens a Venus had: Matchless herself, and Cupid was her son, Men sewed to these, and of their smiles were glad, By whom so many famous were undone. Now Cupid mourns, that he hath lost his might: And that these two, so comely are to see: And Venus frowns, because they have her right. Yet both so like, that both shall blameless be. With heavens two twins, for godhead these may strive And rule a world, with least part of a frown: Fairer than these, two twins are not alive: Both conquering Queens, & both deserve a crown. My thoughts presage, which time to come shall try: That thousands conquered, for their love shall die. Sonnet. XLI. If (aged Charon), when my life shall end, I pass thy ferry, and my waftage pay, Thy oars shall fail thy boat, and mast shall rend, And through the deep, shall be a dry foote-way. For why my heart with sighs doth breathe such flame, That air and water both incensed be. The boundless Ocean from whose mouth they came, For from my hear not heaven itself is free. Then since to me thy loss can be no gain: Avoid thy harm and fly what I foretell. Make thou my love with me for to be slain, That I with her, and both with thee may dwell. Thy fact thus (Charon) both of us shall bless Thou save thy boat, and I my love possess. Sonnet. XLII. For if alone thou think to waft my love, Her cold is such as can the sea command. And frolen Ice shall let thy boat to move, Nor can thy forces row it from the land. But if thou friendly both at once shalt take, Thyself mayst rest for why my sighs will blow. Our cold and heat so sweet a thaw shall make, As that thy boat without thy help shall row. Then will I sit and glut me on those eyes, Where with my life, my eyes could never fill. Thus from thy boat, that comfort shall arise, The want whereof my life and hope did kill. Together placed so thou her scorn shalt cross, Where if we part, thy boat must suffer loss. Sonnet. XLIII. Are those two stars, her eyes, my life's light gone? By which my soul was freed from all dark. And am I left distressed, to live alone? Where none my tears and mournful tale shall mark. Ah Sun, why shine thy looks, thy looks like gold. When horseman brave thou risest in the East. Ah Cynthia pale, to whom my griefs I told, Why do you both rejoice both man and beast? And I alone, alone that dark possess By Licias absence brighter than the Sun, Whose smile light did ease my sad distress And broke the clouds when tears like rain begun. Heavens grant that light and so me waking keep: Or shut my eyes, and rock me fast asleep. Sonnet. XLIIII. Cruel fair Love, I justly do complain, Of too much rigour, and thy heart unkind. That for mine eyes, thou hast my body stain, And would not grant, that I should favour find. I looked (fair Love) and you my love looked fair, I sighed for love, and you for sport did smile. Your smiles were such as did perfume the air, And this perfumed did my heart beguile, Thus I confess, the fault was in mine eyes, Begun with sighs, and ended with a flame: I for your love, did all the world despise, And in these poems, honoured have your name. Then let your love so with my fault dispense, That all my parts feel not mine eyes offence. Sonnet. XLV. There shone a Comet, and it was full west. my thoughts presaged, what it did portend: I found it threatened, to my heart unrest, And might in time, my joys and comfort end. I further sought, and found it was a Sun: Which day, nor night, did never use to set: It constant stood, when heavens did restless run, And did their virtues, and their forces let. The world did muse, and wonder what it meant, A Sun to shine, and in the west to rise: To search the truth, I strength and spirits spent, At length I found, it was my Licias eyes: Now never after, soul shall live in dark, That hath the hap, this western Sun to mark. Sonnet. XLVI. If he be dead, in whom no heart remains, Or livelesse be, in whom no lice is found: If he do pine that never comfort gains, And be distressed, that hath his deadly wound. Then must I die whose heart else where is clad, And livelesse pass the greedy worms to feed: Then must I pine, that never comfort had, And be distressed, whose wound with tears doth bleed, Which if I do, why do I not wax cold? Why rest I not like one that wants a heart? Why move I still, like him that life doth hold? And sense enjoy both of my joy and sinart. Like Niobe Queen, which made a stone, did weep, Licia, my heart dead and alive doth keep. Sonnet. XLVII. Like Memnon's rock touched, with the rising Sun, Which yields a sound, and echoes forth a voice: But when its ' drowned, in western seas is done, And drowsy like, leaves off to make a noise. So I (my love) enlightened with your shine, A Poet's skill within my soul I shrowded, Not rude like that, which finer wits decline, But such as Muses to the best allowed. But when your figure, and your shape is gone, I speechless am, like as I was before: Or if I writ, my verse is filled with moan, and blurred with tears, by falling in such store. Then muse not (Licia) if my Muse be slack, For when I wrote, I did thy beauty lack. Sonnet. XLVIII. I saw (sweet Licia) when the spydar ran, Within your house, to wove a worthless web: You present were, and feared her with your fan, So that amazed, speedily she fled. She in your house such sweet perfumes did smell, And heard the Muses, with their notes refined: Thus filled with envy, could no longer dwell, But strait returned, and at your house repined, Then tell me (spidar) why of late I saw Thee lose thy poison, and thy bowels gone, Did these enchant, and keep thy limbs in awe, And made thy forces, to be small or none? No. no, thou didst by chance my Licia fee, Who for her look, Minerva seemed to thee. Sonnet. XLIX. If that I die (fair Lycia) with disdain, Or heartless live, surprised with thy wrong, Then heavens and earth shall accent both my pain, And curse the time so cruel, and so long. If you be kind (my Queen) as you are fair, And aid my thoughts, that still for conquest strive. Then will I sing, and never more despair, And praise your kindness, whilst I am alive. Till than I pay the tribute of my tears, To move thy mercy and thy constant truth. Respect (fair love) how these with sorrow wears The truest heart: unless it find some ruth. Then grace me (sweet) and with thy favour raise me, So shall I live, and all the world shall praise thee. Sonnet. L. A Licia sigh, and say thou art my own, Nay be my own, as you full oft have said. So shall your truth unto the world be known, And I resolved, where now I am afraid. And if my tongue aeternize can your praise, Or silly speech increase your worthy fame. If aught I can, to heaven your worth can raise, The age to come, shall wonder at the same. In this respect, your love (sweet love) I told, My faith and truth I vowed 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 frown, I wish that none believe me, For slain with sighs, I'll die, before I grieve thee. Sonnet. LI. When first the Sun, whom all my senses serve, Began to shine upon this earthly round, The heavens for her, all graces did reserve, That Pandor-like, with all she might abound. Apollo placed his brightness in her eyes, His skill presaging, and his music sweet. Mars gave his force, all force she now defies. Venus' her smiles, where with she Mars did meet. Python a voice, Dyana made her chaste, Ceres gave plenty: Cupid lent his bow: Thetis his feet: there Pallas wisdom placed. With these she Queenlike kept a world in awe. Yet all these honours deemed are but pelf. For she is much more worthy of herself. Sonnet. LII. O sugared talk, where with my thoughts do live: O brows loves Trophy, and my senses shine: O charming smiles, that death or life can give: O heavenly kisses from a mouth divine: O wreaths too strong, and trammels made of hair: O pearls enclosed in an Ebon pale, O Rose and lilies in a field most fair, Where modest white, doth make the red seem pale. O voice whose accents live within my heart, O heavenly hand that more than Atlas holds, O sighs perfumed, that can release my smart. O happy they, whom in her arms she folds. Now if you ask where dwelleth all this bliss, Seek out my love, and she will show you this. AN ODE. LOVE I repent me that I thought, My sighs, and languish, dearly bought. For sighs and languish both did prove, That he that languished, sight for love. Cruel rigour foe to state, Looks disdainful, fraught with hate. I did blame, but had no cause, (Love hath eyes, but hath no laws) She was sad, and could not choose, To see me sigh, and sit, and muse. We both did love, and both did doubt, Lest any should our love find out. Our hearts did speak by signs most hidden. This means was left, all else forbidden. I did frown, her love to try, She did sigh, and strait did cry. Both of us did signs believe, Yet either grieved friend to grieve. I did look, and then did smile, She left sighing all that while. Both were glad to see that change; Things in love that are not strange. Suspicion foolish foe to reason, Caused me seek, to find some treason. I did court another Dame, (False in love it is a shame) She was sorry this to view, Thinking faith was proved untrewe. Then she swore, she would not love, One whom false, she once did prove: I did vow I never meant, From promise matle, for to relent. The more I said, the worse she thought, My oaths and vows were deemed as nought, (False) (she said) how can it be, To court another, yet love me. Crowns and Love no partners brook, If she be liked, I am forsook. Farewell false, and love her still, Your chance was good, but mine was ill. No harm to you, but this I crave, That your new love, may you desave. And jest with you, as you have done, For light's the love, that's quickly won. Kind, and fayre-sweete, once believe me, jest I did, but not to grieve thee. Court I did, but did not love, All my speech was you to prove. Words and sighs, and what I spent, (In show to her) to you were meant, Fond I was your love to cross, (jesting love oft brings this loss.) Forget this fault, and love your friend, Which vows his truth unto the end, Content (she said) if this you keep, Thus both did kiss, and both did weep. For women, long they can not chide, As I by proof in this have tried. A dialogue betwixt two Sea-nymphs, DORIS and GALATEA, concerning 〈◊〉 briefly translated out of Lucian. THE Sea Nymphs late did play them on the shore, And smiled to see such sport was new begun: A strife in love, the like not heard before, Two Nymphs contend, which had the conquest won. Doris the fair, with Galate did chid. She liked her choice, and to her taunts replied. Doris. Thy love (fair Nymph) that courts thee on this plain, As shepherds say, and all the world can tell. Is that foul rude Sicilian Cyclop-swayne, A shame (sweet Nymph) that he with thee should mell. Galatea. Smile not (fair Doris) though he foul do seem, Let pass thy words that savour of disgrace, He's worth my love and so I him esteem. Renowned by birth and common of Neptune's race. Neptune that doth the glassy Ocean tame, Neptune, by birth from mighty jove which came. Doris. I grauntan honour to be Neptune's child, A grace to be so near with jove allied. But yet (sweet Nymph) with this be not beguiled, Where natures graces are by looks descried. So foul, so rough, so ugglye like a Clown, And worse than this, a Monster with one eye. Fowl is not graced, though it wear a Crown. But fair is Beauty, none can that deny. Galatea. Nor is he foul, or shapeless as you say, Or worse, for that he clownish seems to be, Rough, Satyr-like, the better he will play, And manly looks the fit are for me. His frowning smiles are graced by his beard, His eye-light sun-like, shrouded is in one. This me contents, and others makes afeard, He sees enough, and therefore wanteth none. With 〈◊〉 eye. Doris. Nay then I see (sweet Nymph) thou art in love, And loving, dotes; and doting, dost commend. Fowl to be fair, this oft do lovers prove, I wish him fairer, or thy love an end. Galatea. Doris, I love not, yet I hardly bear, Disgraceful terms, which you have spoke in scorn. You are not loved: and that's the cause I fear: For why, my love, of jove himself was borne. Feeding his sheep of late, amidst this plain, When as we Nymphs did sport us on this shore, He scorned you all, my love for to obtain. That grieved your hearts: I knew as much before. Nay smile not Nymphs, the truth I only tell, 〈…〉, that others should excel. Doris. Should I envy that blind did you that spite? Or that your shape doth pleease so foul a groom? The shepherd thought of milk, you looked so white, The down did err, and foolish was his doom, Your look was pale, and so his stomach fed, But far from fair, where white doth want his red. Galatea. Though pale my look, yet he my love did crave, And lovely you, unlyked, unloved I view: It's better far one base, than none to have, Your fair is foul, to whom there's none will sew: My love doth tune his love unto his harp, His shape is rude, but yet his wit is sharp. Doris. Leave off (sweet Nymph) to grace a worthless clown. He itched with love, and then did sing or say, The noise was such, as all the Nymphs did frown, And well suspected, that some Ass did bray. The woods did chide, to hear this ugly sound, The prating Echo scorned for to repeat, This grisly voice did fear the hollow ground, Whilst artless fingers did his harpstrings beat. Two Bear-whelps in his arms this monster bore, With these new puppies did this wanton play, Their skins was rough, but yet your loves was more: He fouler was and far more fierce than they, I cannot choose (〈…〉 Galatia Scorn not my jove it can be known, That you have one that's better of your own. Doris I have no love 〈◊〉 if I had 〈…〉 Yet 〈◊〉 have 〈◊〉, by 〈◊〉 as well might speed▪ But him to love, the shame of all the coast, So ugly foul, as yet, I have no need. Now thus we learn what 〈◊〉 love can do, To think him 〈◊〉, that's and 〈◊〉 to. To hear this talk I sat 〈◊〉 an oak, And marked their words to penned them as they spoke. AD LECTOREM DISTICHON cujusdam de Amore. Lasci viquaeres fuerit cur carminis autor: Carmine laselvus, mente pudicus erat. A LOVER'S MAZE. TReweare my thoughts, my thoughts that are untrue, Blind are my eyes, my eyes that are not blind▪ New is my love, my love that is not now, Kind is that fair, that fair that is not kind, Thus eyes, and thoughts, that fairest fair, my love, Blind, and untrue, unkind, unconstant prove. True are my thoughts: because they never flit. Untrue my thoughts: because they me betrayed. Blind are my eyes: because in clouds I sit, Not blind my eyes: because I looks obeyed. Thus eyes, and thoughts, my dearest fair may view: In sight, in love, nor blind, nor yet untrew. New is my love: because it never dies, Old is my love: because it ever lives. Kind is that fair: because it hate denies, Unkind that fair: because no hope it gives. Thus new my love, and still that fair unkind: Renews my love, and I no favour find. Sweet are my dreams, my dreams that are not sweet, Long are the nights, the nights that are not long: Meet are the pangs, these pangs that are unmeet: Wronged is my heart, my heart that hath no wrong: Thus dreams, and night my heart, my pangs, and all, In taste, in length, conspire to work my fall. Sweet are my dreams: because my love they show. Vnsweet my dreams: because but dreams they are. Long are the nights: because no help I know, Short are the nights because the end my care, Thus dreams, and nights, wherein my love takes spor▪ Are sweet, unsweet, are long, and yet too short. Meet are my pangs: because I was too bold. Unmeet my pangs; because I loved so well. Wronged was my heart: because my grief it told: Not wronged: for why? my grief it could not tell. Thus you my love, unkindly cause this smart. That will not love, to ease my pangs and heart. Proud is her look: her look that is not proud, Done are my days, my days that are not done, Loud are my sighs, my sighs that are not loud, Begun my death, my death not yet begun. Thus looks, and days, and sighs, and death might move: So kind, so fair, to give consent to love. Proud is her look: because she scorns to see. Not proud her look: for none dare say so much. Done are my days: because they hapless be. Not done my days: because I wish them such. Thus looks, and days, increase this loving strife, Not proud, nor done, nor dead, nor giving life. Loud are my sighs: because they pierce the sky. Not loud my sighs: because they are not heard. My death begun: because I heartless cry. But not begun: because I am debarred. Thus sighs, and death, my heart no comfort give: Both life deny, and both do make me live. Bold are her smiles, her smiles that are not bold Wise are her words, those words that are not wise, Cold are her lips, those lips that are not cold, IIse are those hands, those hands that are not ise. Thus smiles, and words, her lips, her hands, and she, Bold wise, cold ise, loves cruel torments be. Bold are her smiles: because they anger slay. Not bold her smiles: because they blush so oft. Wise are her words; because they wonders say. Not wise her words: because they are not soft. Thus smiles, and words, so cruel and so bold: So blushing wise, my thoughts in prison hold. Cold are her lips, because they breathe no heat. Not cold her lips: because my heart they burn. IIse are her hands: because the snow's so great. Not Ice her hands, that all to ashes turn. Thus lips and hands, cold Ice my sorrow bred, Hands warme-white-snow, and lips, cold cherry red. Small was her waist, the waist that was not small: Gold was her hair, the hair that was not gold, Tall was her shape, the shape that was not tall▪ Folding the arms, the arms that did not fold: Thus hair, and shape, those folding arms and waist: Did make me love, and loving made me waste. Small was her waist, because I could it span, Not small her waist: because she wasted all. Gold was her hair: because a crown it wan, Not gold her hair: because it was more pale. Thus smallest waste, the greatest waist doth make: And finest hair, most fast a lover take. Tall was her shape: because she touched the sky, Not tall her shape: because she comely was, Folding her arms: because she hearts could tie. Not folded arms: because all bands they pass. Thus shape, and arms, with love my heart did ply, That hers I am, and must be till I die. Sad was her joy, her joy that was not sad, Short was her stay, her stay that was not short: Glad was her speech, her speech that was not glad: Sporting those toys, those toys that were not sport: Thus was my heart, with joy, speech, toys, and stay, Possessed with love, and so stolen quite away. sad was her joy: because she did suspect. Not sad her joy: because her joy she had. Short was her stay: because to small effect. Long was her stay: because I was so sad. Thus joy, and stay, both crossed a lover's sport, The one was sad, the other too too short. Glad was her speech: because she spoke her mind. Not glad her speech: because afraid to speak. Sporting her toys: because my love was kind. Not toys in sport: because my heart they break. Thus speech, and toys, my love began in jest: (Sweet) yield to love, and make thy servant blest. Tread you the Maze (sweet love) that I have run: Mark but the steps, which I imprinted have: End but your love, whereas my thoughts begun, So shall I joy, and you a servant have. If not (sweet love) than this my suit deny: So shall you live, and so your servant die. AN ELEGY. Down in a bed, and on a bed of down, Love, she, and I to sleep together lay: She like a wanton kissed me with a frown, Sleep, sleep, she said, but meant to steal away: I could not choose, but kiss, but wake but smile. To see how she, thought us two, to beguile. She feigned a sleep, I waked her with a kiss: A kiss to me she gave, to make me sleep: If I did wrong (sweet love) my fault was this, In that I did not you, thus waking keep, Then kiss me (sweet) that so I sleep may take, Or let me kiss, to keep you still awake. The night drew on, and needs she must be gone: She waked love, and bid him learn to wait: She sighed, she said, to leave me there alone, And bid love stay, but practise no deceit. Love wept for grief, and sighing made great moan. And could not sleep, nor stay, if she were gone. Then stay (sweet love) a kiss with that I gave, She could not stay: but gave my kiss again: A kiss was all that I could get or crave, And with a kiss, she bond me to remain. A Licia still, I in my dreams did cry, Come (Licia) come, or else my heart will die. ELEGY. II. 1 Distance of place, my love and me did part: Yet both did swear, we never would remove; In sign thereof, I bid her take my heart: Which did, and doth, and can not choose but love. Thus did we part, in hope to meet again: Where both did vow, most constant to remain. 2 A She there was that past betwixt us both, By whom each knew how others cause did far. For men to trust, men in their love are loath: Thus had we both of love, a lover's care. " Haply he seeks his sorrows to renew, " That for his love doth make another sue. 3 By her a kiss, a kiss to me she sent, A kiss for price more worth than purest gold. She gave it her, to me the kiss was meant, A she to kiss, what harm if she were bold? Happy those lips, that had so sweet a kiss; For heaven itself scarce yields so sweet a bliss. 4 This modest she, blushing for shame of this, Or loath to part from that she liked so well, Did play false play, and gave me not the kiss; Yet my love's kindness could not choose to tell. Then blame me not, that kissing sighed, and swore, I kissed but her, whom you had kissed before. 5 Sweet, love me more, and blame me not (sweet love) I kissed those lips, yet harmlesle I do vow, Scarce would my lips, from off those lips remove, For still me thought (sweet fair) I kissed you. And thus kind love, the sum of all my bliss, Was both begun, and ended in a kiss. 6 Then send me more, but send them by your friend, Kiss none but her, nor her, nor none at all. Beware by whom such treasures you do send, I must them lose, except I for them call. Yet love me (dear) and still still kissing be, Both like and love, but none (sweet love) but me. ELEGY. III. 1 If sad complaint would show a lover's pain, Or tears express the torments of my heart, If melting sighs would ruth and pity gain, Or true Laments but case a lover's smart, 2 Then should my plaints the thunder's noise surmount, And tears like seas should flow from out my eyes, Then sighs like air should far exceed all count, And true laments with sorrow dim the skies. 3 But plaints, and tears, laments, and sighs I spend. Yet greater torments do my heart destroy, I could all these from out my heart still send, If after these I might my love enjoy. 4 But heavens conspire, and heavens I must obey, That seeking love I still must want my ease. " For greatest joys are tempered with delay, " Things soon obtained do least of all us please. 5 My thoughts repine, and think the time too long, My love impatient, wisheth to obtain, I blame the heavens, that do me all this wrong, To make me loved, and will not ease my pain. 6 No pain like this, to love and not enjoy, No grief like this, to mourn, and not be heard. No time so long, as that which breeds annoy, No hell like this, to love and be deferred. 7 But heaven shall stand, and earth inconstant fly, The Sun shall freeze, and Ice inconstant burn, The mountains flow, and all the earth be dry, Ear time shall force my loving thoughts to turn. 8 Do you resolve (sweet love) to do the same, Say that you do, and seal it with a kiss. Then shall our truths the heavens unkindness blame, That can not hurt, yet shows their spite in this. 9 The silly apprentice bound for many years, Doth hope that time his service will release. The town besieged that lives in midst of fears, Doth hope in time the cruel wars will cease. 10 The toiling ploughman sings in hope to reap The tossed bark expecteth for a shore; The boy at school to be at play doth leap, And strait forgets the fear he had before. 11 If these by hope do joy in their distress, And constant are, in hope to conquer tyme. Then let not hope in us (sweet friend) be less, And cause our love to whither in the Prime. Let us conspire, and time will have an end, So both of us in time shall have a friend. FINIS. THE RISING TO THE CROWN of RICHARD the third. Written by himself. THE RISING TO the Crown of RICHARD the third. Written by himself. THE Stage is set, for Stately matter fit, Three parts are past, which Princelike acted were, To play the fourth, requires a Kingly wit, Else shall my muse, their muses not come near. Sorrow sit down, and help my muse to sing, For weep he may not, that was cal'da King. Shore's wife, a subject, though a Princess mate, Had little cause her fortune to lament. Her birth was mean, and yet she lived with State, The King was dead before her honour went. Shore's wife might fall, and none can justly wonder, To see her fall, that useth to lie under. Rosamond was fair, and far more fair than she, Her fall was great, and but a woman's fall. Trifles are these, compare them but with me, My fortunes far, were higher than they all. I left this land, possessed with Civil strife, And lost a Crown, mine honour, and my life. Elstred I pity, for she was a Queen, But for myself, to sigh I sorrow want, Her fall was great, but greater falls have been, " Some falls they have, that use the Court to haunt. A toy did happen, and this Queen dismayed, But yet I see not why she was afraid. Fortune and I, (for so the match began) Two games we played at tennyse for a Crown. I played right well, and so the first I won: She scorned the loss, whereat she strait did frown. We played again, and then I caught my fall, England the Court, and Richard was the ball. Nor weep I now, as children that have lost, But smile to see the Poets of this age: Like silly boats in shallow rivers tossed, Losing their pains, and lacking still their wage. To write of women, and of women's falls, Who are too light, for to be fortunes balls. A King I was, and Richard was my name, Borne to a Crown, when first my life began. My thoughts ambitious, ventured for the same, And from my nephews I the kingdom won, Nor do I think that this my honour stained, A Crown I sought, and I a kingdom gained. Tyme-tyrant fate did fit me for a Crown, My father's fall did teach me to aspire: He meant by force his brother to put down, That so himself might hap to rise the higher. And what he lost by fortune, I have won, A Duke the father, yet a king the son. My father Richard, duke of York was called, Three sons he had, all matchless at that time, I Richard youngest to them both was thralled, Yet two of us unto the crown did climb. Edward and I this realm as kings did hold, But George of Clarence, could not, though he would. Sad Muse set down in terms not heard before. My sable fortune, and my mournful tale: Say what thou canst, and wish thou could say more, My bliss was great, but greater was my bale. I rose with speed, and so did fall as fast, Great was my glory, but it would not last, My brother George did plot for to be king, Sparks of ambition did possess us all: His thoughts were wise, but did no profit bring, I feared his rising, and did make him fall. My reaching brain, did doubt what might ensue, I scorned his life, and so he found it true. My brother George, men say, was slain by me, A brother's part, to give his brother wine, And for a crown I would his butcher be, (For crowns with blood the brighter they will shine)] To gain a kingdom still it me behooved: That all my lets full soundly were removed. Henry the sixth deprived of his crown, Fame doth report I put him to the death, Thus fottune smiled, though after she did frown, A daggers stab men say, did stop his breath. I careless was both how, and who were slain, So that thereby a kingdom I could gain. Clusters of grapes full ripened with the heat, Nor smaller timber builded up on height, Fall not so fast as persons that are great: Losing their honours, bruised with their weight. But fewer means, the faster I did rise, And to be king, I fortune did despise. My thoughts ambitious spread, began to fly, And I a Crown did follow with full wing, My hope was small, but yet I meant to try, I had no right, yet longed to be a king. Fear or suspect amazed me not at all, If I were crossed, the worst was but to fall. The Lion fierce despoiled of his pray, Runs not with speed so fast as did my thought: My doubtful mind, forbade me long to stay: For why a kingdom was the thing I sought. Now was the time when this was to be done, Or blame my thoughts, because they it begun. My brother died, and left two Sons behind, Both under age, unfit to guide the land, This right fell out according to my mind. For now these two were ruled with my hand. England's great Lord the subjects did me call. And I was made protector over all. But as the Wolf defends the harmless sheep, Whose bloody mouth can hardly be content, Until he spoil what he was set to keep, And silly beast be all to pieces rend. So still a crown did hammer in my head, Full of mistrust, till both these two were dead. The elder son with speed to London came, And walls forsook where he had lived before: London the place of greatest strength and fame, The I lands treasure and the English store. For him Lord Rivers was appointed guide, The Kings own uncle by the mother's fide. Rivers was wise, but him I could not brook, I well foresaw what harm there might ensue: This to prevent with speed I counsel took, And as I thought, so did I find it true. For if that Rivers should obtain his mind, my hearts desire, than hardly could I find. Rivers and Grace of treason I accused, And told the Prince, what both they did intend: My tale was false, and I the king abused: Thus both their lives unjustly did I end. The King was young, the greater was their grief, And needs my words, did urge him to belief. Not long this past, but hasting to the Queen, A post wast sent to show what did befall; And who the actors of this fact had been: That Lord protector was the cause of all. The Queen amazed, did wonder at this news, And scarce did think it, yet she could not choose. Possessed with fear, four daughters and her son, She thence conveyed into a sacred place: Supposing ' true, the harm but now begun, And that I thought to murder all her race. She Yorks Archbishop did entreat for aid, Who in the Abbay not far distant laid. The Bishop came, and mourning found the Queen, Who did lament the fortune of her son: The realms distress, the like before not seen. Her own misfortune, and the state undone. Thus sighed the Queen, and wished her state were less, And prayed that heavens would give the king success. My Lord (she said) my thoughts presage some ill, And mournful sorrow seizeth on my heart: This sudden news with grief my soul doth fill, And I for fear do quake in every part. In this distress we cannot hope to live, Except this sacred place some safety give. He then replied: dread Sovereign, do not faint, A causeless fear in wisdom do withstand: Yield not to soon, with grief to make complaint, When no such cause approaching is at hand. " For feeble minds through weakness coin new fears, " When stronger hearts true grief more wisely bears. And if they crown, some other, not your son, A thing unlike (yet fear what may befall) Then shall the same, unto this child be done, Whom brothers right by dew a king shall call: But tyrant's force, will hardly be so bold: During the time, the other is in hold. Then more advised, he told her what he thought, She and her son some causes had to fear, And England's seal he therefore with him brought, Which by his place he customed was to bear. Thus he resolved to leave the Seal behind, Till wiser thoughts strait altered had his mind. The Bishop home returned in all haste, And sadly sat, suspecting what might fall. But then my coming made them all aghast, And for the Bishop I did straightway call. I knew his deed, and blamed him to his face, And for the Seal, another had his place. Thus tyrant hate possessed me for a Crown, My mind the Anvil of a thousand harms. I raised my friends, my foes I cast them down. This made the subjects flock to me in swarms. My will was strong, I made it for a Law, " For basest minds are ruled best by awe. I called the Counsel, and did strait persuade, From mother's side to fetch the other Son. My drift was further than they well could wade, I gave them reasons why it must be done. The King a play-mate wanted for his years, And could not well be fitted with his Peers. The Cardinal went on message to the Queen, And used persuasions for her other child, He plainly said, her fear had causeless been, Nor need she doubt by me to be beguiled, I was Protector chosen by consent, With counsel grave all treason to prevent. And I protest (quoth Cardinal) on my life, (For so indeed the Cardinal did suppose,) Your Son with safety shall cut off this strife, And you, nor place, nor land, nor Son shall lose. Dread sovereign grant, and let your Son be free. If he have harm, than set the fault on me. The Queen was moved, and quaking did reply, A mother's love doth breed a mother's fear, And loath I am those mischiefs for to try, With doubtful hazard of a thing so dear. I doubt (my Lord) the nearest of his blood, In true intent scarce wisheth any good. The laws do make my Son his mother's ward, Religion bids I should not slack my care, And nature binds mine own for to regard, These and his health (my Lord) good reasons are, To make my fear, no smaller than it is, Whilst fear persuades what harm may come of this. Yet take my son, and with my son take all▪ Come kiss me (son) thy mother's last farewell; Thy years (sweet boy) suspect not what may fall, Nor can my tongue for tears thy fortune tell. But hardly crowns their kindred will discern, As you (sweet child) I fear yer long shall learn. God bless thee (son) and I my son thee bless, Thy mother's comfort, and thy brother's life. Nay weep not (son) God send thee good success, And safe defend thee from that tyrant's knife. (Cardnal) farewell, be careful of my son, For once I vowed, this never to have done. I and the counsel in star-chamber wear, To whom the Cardinal did in haste resort; Who brought the child, which ended all my fear, The mother's care he briefly did report. I kissed the child, and took it in my arm, Thus none did think I meant it any harm. Then as the Wolf half famished for his prey, Or hungry Lion that a lamb hath got; My thirsty mind, I meant his blood should stay, And yet the wisest not perceive my plot. To'th Tower in haste I sent him to his brother, And there with speed, I both at once did smother. Now two there was, but living in my way, Buckingham and Hastings both to cross my mind, The one was headed strait without delay, The other, favours did unto me bind. To match our children, I did him persuade, And Earl of Herford he himself be made. Now as the Sea before a storm doth swell, Or sums arise before we see the flame: So whispering Brute began my drifts to tell, And all Imparted unto babbling fame. I deemed it danger, speech for to despice, For after this I knew a storm would rise. London's Lord Major, I used for my turn, And caused him speak what treason had been done, I by these means the people's hearts did turn, And made them eye me as the rising Sun. Thus whilst I meant the Island to bring under, The people's heads on news I set to wonder. Then at the cross I caused a Doctor preach, To tell the subjects what I wished them know; The man was cunning, and had skill to teach, Out of my brain I made his Sermon flow. Thus every where I did such notice give, As all did cry, Heavens let King Richard live. So did I live, and called was a king, Friends swarmed as fast, as Bees unto the hive, " Thus basest means the highest fortunes bring The crown obtained, did cause my thoughts revive. I scorned my friends, and those did most despise. That were the means, by which I did arise. Blood and revenge did hammer in my head, Unquiet thoughts did gallop in my brain: I had no rest till all my friends were dead, Whose help I used the kingdom to obtain. My dearest friend, I thought not safe to trust, Nor scarce myself, but that perforce I must. Nor speak I now, as if I did repent, Unless for this a crown I bought so cheap. For meaner things men wits and lives have spent, Which blood have sown, and crowns could never reap Live Richard long, the honour of thy name, And scorn all such, as do thy fortune blame. Thus have I told, how I a crown did win, Which now torments me, that I cannot sleep Where I do end, my sorrow did begin, Because I got which long I could not keep. My verse is harsh, yet (reader) do not frown, I wore no garland but a golden Crown. FINIS.