Parthenophil and Parthenophe.  
Sonnettes, Madrigals, Elegies and Odes.  
To the right noble and virtuous gentleman, M. William Percy Esquire, his dearest friend.   

To the Learned Gentlemen Readers 
 The Printer.  
GEntlemen these labours following, being come of late into my hands barely, without title or subscription, partly moved by certain of my dear friends, but especially, by the worth & excellency of the work, I thought it well deserving my labour to participate them to your judicial views: where for both varieties of conceits, and sweet Poesy, you shall doubtless find, that which shall be most commendable, and worth your reading, the Author though at the first unknown, yet enforced to accord to certain of his friends importunacy herein, to publish them by their means, and for their sakes: unwilling (as it seemeth) to acknowledge them, for their levity, till he have redeemed them with some more excellent work hereafter, till when he requesteth your favourable, and indifferent censures, of these his over youthful Poems, submitting them to your friendly patronages. Farewell this of May 1593.   


GO barstard Orphan pack thee hence,  
And seek some stranger for defence:  
Now gins thy baseness to be known,  
Nor dare I take thee for mine own:  
Thy levity shall be descried.  
But if that any have espied,  
And question with thee of thy Sire,  
Or Mistress of his vain desire,  
Or ask the place from whence thou came,  
Deny thy Sire, Love, Place, and Name:  
And if I chance unwares to meet thee,  
Neither acknowledge me, nor greet me,  
Admit I blush, perchance I shall,  
Pass by, regard me not at all,  
Be secret, wise, and circumspect,  
And modesty sometimes affect:  
Some goodman that shall think thee witty,  
Will be thy patron, and take pity:  
And when some men shall call thee base,  
He for thy sake, shall him disgrace:  
Then with his countenance backed, thou shalt  
Excuse the nature of thy fault:  
Then if some lads, when they go by,  
thou bastard call, give them thely,  
So get thee packing and take heed,  
And though thou go in beggar's weed,  
Hereafter when I better may,  
I'll send relief some other day.    

SONNETS  

SONNET I  

Mistress behold in this true-speaking Glass.  
Thy beauty's Graces of all women rarest,  
Where thou mayst find how largely they surpass  
And stain in glorious loveliness the fairest.   

But read (sweet Mistress) and behold it nearer  
Pondering my sorrows outrage with some pity,  
Then shalt thou find no worldly creature dearer,  
Than thou to me, thyself, in each Love ditty.   

But in this mirror equally compare,  
Thy matchless beauty, with mine endless grief:  
There like thyself, none can be found so fair.   

Of chiefest pains, there are my pains the chief,  
Betwixt these both, this one doubt thou shalt find,  
Whether are here, extremest in their kind.    

SONNET II.  

Whiles with strong chains, of hardy-tempered steel,  
I bond my thoughts, still gadding fast and faster:  
When they through time, the diffrences did feel,  
Betwixt a mistress service and a master.  
Keeping in bondage jealously enthralled,  
In prisons of neglect, his nature's mildness.  
Him I with solitary studies walled,  
By thraldom choking his out-rageous wildness.  
On whom, my careful thoughts I set to watch,  
Guarding him closely, lest he should out-issue:  
To seek thee (Laya) who still wrought to catch,  
And train my tender boy, that could not misseyou:  
So you bewitched him once, when he did kisse-you:  
That by such sleights, as never were found out  
To serve your turn he daily went about.    

SONNET III.  

He when continual vigil moved my watch,  
Somedeal by chance, with careful guard to slumber:  
The prisons keys, from them did slowly snatch,  
Which of the five, were only three by number:  
The first was Sight, by which he searched the wards,  
The next was Hearing, quickly to perceive:  
Lest that the watchmen heard, which were his guards:  
Third, Touch, which Vulcan's cunning could deceive.  
These though the Springs, Wards, Bolts, or Gimbols were  
The Miracles of Vulcan's forgery:  
laid open all for his escape: now there,  
The watchmen grinned for his impiety,  
What crosses bred this contrariety:  
That by these keys, my thoughts in chains be left,  
And by these keys, I of mine heart bereft.    

SONNET FOUR  

Laya soon sounding out his nature thoroughly,  
Found that he was, a Lovely Virgin Boy:  
Causeless why did thou then, deal with him roughly,  
Nor yet content with him, sometime to toy.  
But jealous kept, lest he should run from thee,  
Whom if thou kindly meant to Love, 'twas needless:  
Doubting lest that he should run back to me,  
If of him any deal, thou didst stand heedless.   

Thou coop'st him in thy Closets secret Corners,  
And then thy hearts dear playfellow didst make him,  
Whom thou in person guardedst least suborners  
Should work his freelidge, or in secret take him,  
And to this instant, never would forsake him:  
Since for soft service, slavish bonds be change,  
Why didst thou from, thy jealous master range?    

SONNET V.  

It chanced after, that an youthful squire,  
Such as in courting, could the crafty guise,  
Beheld light Laya, she with fresh desire,  
Hoping th' achievement of some richer prize:  
Drew to the Courtier, who with tender kiss,  
(As are their guileful fashions which dissemble.)  
First him saluted, then with forged bliss  
Of doubtless hope, sweet words by pause did tremble.  
So whiles she slightly gloased, with her new prey,  
Mine hearts eye tending his false mistress train:  
unyoked himself, & closely 'scaped away,  
And to Parthenophe did post amain  
For liberal pardon, which she did obtain:  
And judge (Parthenophe) for thou canst tell,  
That his escape from Laya, pleased me well.    

SONNET VI.  

Him when I caught, what chains had I provided,  
What fetters had I framed, what locks of reason:  
What keys of continence, had I devised,  
Impatient of the breach, 'gainst any treason.  
But fair Parthenophe, did urge me still,  
To liberal pardon, for his former fault:  
Which out alas, prevailed with my will,  
Yet moved I bonds, lest he should make default:  
Which willingly she seemed to undertake,  
And said, as I am virgin, I will be  
His bale, for this offence, & if he make  
An other such vagare, take of me  
A pawn, for more assurance unto thee.  
Your Love to me quoth I, your pawn shall make,  
So that for his default, I forfeit take.    

SONNET VII.  

Her Love to me she forthwith did impawn,  
And was content to set at liberty:  
My trembling heart, which strait began to fawn,  
Upon his mistress kindly courtesy.  
Not many days were passed, when like a wanton,  
He secretly did practise to departed,  
And to Parthenophe did send a Canton  
Where, with sighs accents, he did loves impart:  
And for because she deigned him that great sign,  
Of gentle favours, in his kind release:  
He did conclude all duty to resign,  
To fair Parthenophe which doth increase  
These woes, nor shall my restless muses cease:  
For by her of mine heart am I deprived,  
And by her, my first sorrows heat revived.    

SONNET VIII.  

Then to Parthenophe (with all post hast)  
As full assured of the pawn fore pledged  
I made, and with these words disordered placed,  
Smooth, though with furies sharp outrages edged:  
Quoth I (fair mistress) did I set mine heart  
At liberty, and for that made him free,  
That you should arm him for another start,  
Whose certain bale you promised to be?  
Tush (quoth Parthenophe) before he go  
I'll be his bale at last, and doubt it not.  
Why then (said I) that mortgage must I shoe  
Of your true-love which at your hands I got?  
Ay me, she was, and is his bale I wots,  
But, when the mortgage should have cured the soar:  
She passed it of, by deed of gift before.    

SONNET IX.  

So did Parthenophe release mine heart,  
So did she rob me of mine hearts rich treasure,  
Thus shall she be his bale before they part,  
Thus in her love she made me such hard measure  
Ay me nor hope of mutual love by leisure,  
Nor any type of my poor heart's release  
Remains to me, how shall I take the ceasure  
Of her loves forfeiture, which took such peace  
Combined with a former love, then cease  
To vex with sorrows, and thy griefs increase.  
'tis for Parthenophe thou sufferest smart.  
Wyl'de natures wound not curable with art  
Then cease, with choking sighs and hart-swolln throbs.  
To draw thy breath, broke of with sorrows sobs.    

SONNET X.  

Yet give me leave (since all my joys be perished)  
Heartless to moan, for my poor heart's departire.  
Nor should I mourn for him if he were cherished,  
Ah no! she keeps him like a slavish martyr:  
Ah me! since merciless she made that chartyre,  
Sealed with wax of steadfast continence,  
Signed with those hands which never can unwrite it,  
Writ with that pen, which by pre-eminence  
To sure confirms whatsever was inditit:  
What skills to wear thy girdle or thy gartyre,  
When other arms shall thy small waist embrace?  
How great a waist, of mind and body's weal  
Now meltes my soul! I to thine eyes appeal,  
If they thy tyrant champions own me grace.    

SONNET XI.  

Why didst thou then in such disfigured guise  
Figure the portrait of mine overthrow?  
Why manlike didst thou mean to tyrannize,  
No man but woman would have sinned so:   

Why then in humane and my secret foe  
Didst thou betray me, yet would be a woman?  
From my chief wealth out weaving me this woe,  
Leaving thy love in pawn till time did come on   

When that thy trustless bonds were to be tried,  
And when (through thy default) I thee did summon  
Into the court of steadfast love, than cried   

As it was promised, here stands his heart's bale:  
And if in bonds to thee my love be tied:  
Then by those bonds, take forfeit of the sale.    

MADRIGAL 1.  

Oh powers celestial, with what sophistry  
took she delight, to blank my heart by sorrow,  
And in such Riddles act my tragedy,  
Making this day for him, for me to morrow.  
Where shall I Sonnets borrow  
Where shall I find breasts, sides, and tongue,  
Which my great wrongs might to the world dispense?  
Where my defence?  
My Physic where? for how can I live long  
That have foregone mine heart? I'll steal from hence,  
From restless souls mine Hymns, from seas my tears,  
From winds my sighs from concave rocks and steel  
My sides and voices Echo: reeds which feel  
Calm blasts still-moving, which the shepherd bears  
For waylefull plaints, my tongue shall be:  
The land unknown to rest and comfort me.    

MADRIGAL 2.  

Might not this be for man's more certainty  
By nature's laws enactit  
That those which do true meaning falsify  
Making such bargains as were precontractit  
Should forfeit freelidge of loves ●…enancie  
Tot'h plaintiff grieved if he exact it  
Think on my love, thy faith: yet hast thou cracked it  
Nor nature reason love nor faith can wake thee  
To pity me my prisoned heart to pity  
Sighs no fit incense nor my plaints can make thee  
Thy nose from savour and thine ears from sound  
Stopt'e and obturate, nought could shake thee  
Think on when thou such pleasure found  
To read my lines and reading term them witty  
Whiles lines for love and brains for beauty witless  
I for thee feuer-schored, yet thou still fitlesse.    

SONNET XII.  

Vexed with th'assaults of thy conceived beauty  
I restless on thy favours meditate:  
And tho despair full love (sometime) my suit tie  
Unto these faggots figures of my state,   

Which bound with endless line by leisure wait  
That happy moment of your hearts reply.  
Yet by those lines I hope to find the gate,  
Which through loves labyrinth shall guide me right.   

Whiles unacquainted exercise I try  
Sweet solitude I shun my life's chief light  
And all because I would forget thee quite.  
And (working that) me think it's such a sin  
(As I take pen and paper for to write)  
Thee to forget: that leaving I begin.    

SONNET XIII.  

When none of these my sorrows would allege,  
I sought to find the means, how I might hate thee.  
Then hateful curiousness I did in wedge  
Within my thoughts, which ever did await thee.   

I framed mine eyes for an unjust controlment,  
And mine unbridled thoughts (because I dare not  
Seek to compel) did pray them take enroulment  
Of nature's faults in her, and equal spare not.   

They searched and found her eyes were sharp, and fiery:  
A mole upon her forehead, coloured pale.  
Her hair disordered, brown and crisped wyerye.  
Her cheeks thin speckled with a summers male.  
This told, men weened it was a pleasing tale.   

Her to disgrace, and make my follies fade  
And please it did, but her more gracious made.    

MADRIGAL 3.  

Once in an arbour was my mistress sleeping  
With rose and woodbine woven  
Whose person thousand graces had in keeping  
Where for mine heart her hearts hard flint was cloven  
To keep him safe: behind stood pertly peeping  
Poor Cupid softly creeping  
And drove small birds out of the myrtle bushes  
Scared with his arrows who sat cheeping  
On every sprig whom Cupid calls and hushes  
Fron branch to branch whiles I poor soul sat weeping  
To see her breath not knowing  
Incense into the clouds and bless with breath  
The winds and air whiles Cupid underneath  
With birds with songs nor any posies throwing  
Can her awake  
Each noise sweet lullaby was for her sake.    

MADRIGAL 4.  

There had my Zeuxes places and time to draw  
My mistress portrait, which on platane table  
With nature matching colours as he saw  
Her leaning on her elbow, though not able  
He 'gan with vermil, gold, white, and sable  
To shadow forth: and with a skilful knuckle  
Lively set out my fortune's fable,  
On lips a rose, on hand an honeysuckle.  
For nature framed that arbour in such orders  
That roses did with woodbynes buckle,  
Whose shadow trembling on her lovely face  
He left unshadowed, there art lost his grace  
And that white lily leaf with fringed borders  
Of Angel's gold veiled the skies  
Of mine heavens hierarchy which closed her eyes.    

SONNET XIIII.  

Then him controlling, that he left undone  
Her eyes bright circle thus did answer make,  
Rests missed with silver cloud had closed her Sun,  
Nor could he draw them till she wear awake   

Why then quoth I were not these leaves dark shade  
Upon her cheeks depainted, as you see them:  
Shape of a shadow can not well be made  
Was answered, for shades shadows none can eye them.   

〈◊〉 ●…on, proves 〈◊〉 argument for me,  
That my griefs image I can not set out:  
Which might with lively colours blazed be.  
Wherefore since nought, can bring the means about   

That thou my sorrows cause should view throughout,  
Thou wilt not pity me: but this was it.  
Zeuxes had neither skill, nor colours fit.    

SONNET XV.  

Where or to whom then shall I make complaint,  
By guileful wiles, of mine hearts guide deprived?  
With rights injustice, and unkind constraint  
Barred from her loves which my deserts achieved.   

This though thou sought to choke far more revived  
Within mine heartless breast, left almost fenceless,  
Oh make exchange, surrender thine for mine,  
Lest that my body void of guide be fenceless,   

So shalt thou pawn to me sign for a sign  
Of thy sweet conscience, when I shall resign  
Thy loves large Charter, and thy bonds again.  
Oh but I fear mine hopes be void, or mencelesse,   

No course is left, which might thy loves attain:  
Whether with sighs I sew, or tears complain.    

SONNET XVI.  

Yea that accursed deed before ensealed,  
Is argument of thy first constancy:  
Which if thou hadst to me before revealed  
I had not pleaded in such fervency,   

Yet this delights, and makes me triumph much  
That mine heart in her body lies imprisoned:  
For ('mongst all bay-crowned conquerors no such  
Can make the slavish captive boast him conquered)   

Except Parthenophe, whose fiery gleams  
(Like Ioues swift lightning rageth, which rocks pierceth)  
Heating them inly with his soddeyne beams  
And secret golden mines with melting sear●…eth,   

eftsoones with cannon, his dread rage rehearseth  
Yet nought seems scorched, in apparent sight:  
So first she secret burnt, then did affright.    

SONNET XVII.  

How then succeed (that amid this woe)  
Where reasons sense doth from my soul denied:  
By these vain lines my fits be specified  
Which from their endless Ocean daily flow   

Where was it borne whence did this humour grow?  
Which long obscured with melancholies mist  
Inspires my giddy brains unpurified  
So lively, with sound reasons to persist   

In framing tuneful Elegies, and Hymns  
For her whose name my Sonnets note so ●…rimmes,  
That nought but her chaste name so could assist:   

And my muse in first tricking out her limbs,  
Found in her lifeless shadow such delight:  
That yet she shadows her, when as I writ.    

SONNET XVIII.  

Writ write, help help, sweet muse and never cease  
In endless labours pens and papers tire  
Until I purchase my long-wished desire:   

Brains with my reason never rest in peace,  
Wast breathless words, and breathfull sighs increase,  
Till of my woes remorseful you espy her,   

Till she with me, be burnt in equal fire.  
I never will from labour wits release  
My senses never shall in quiet rest  
Till thou be pitiful, and love alike:   

And if thou never pity my distresses  
Thy cruelty with endless force shall strike  
Upon my wits, to ceaseless writs addressed;  
My cares (in hope of some revenge) this loesses.    

SONNET XIX.  

Imperious jove with sweet lipped Mercury  
Learned Minerva, Phoebus' god of light  
Vain-swelling Bacchus, Venus' queen of beauty  
With light foot Phoebe lamp of silent night:   

These have (with diverse deities beside)  
Borrowed the shapes of many a mortal creature,  
But (fair Parthenophe) graced with the pride  
Of each of these, sweet Queen of lovely feature.   

As though she were, with pearl of all their skill  
By heavens chief nature garnished she knits  
In wrath Ioues forehead, with sweet noting quill  
She matcheth Mercury, Minerva's wits,   

In goldie-lockes bright Titan, Bacchus sits  
In her hauds conduct pipes, sweet Venus' face,  
Diana's leg the tyrian buskines grace.    

SONNET XX.  

These eyes thy beauties tenants, pay due tears  
For ocupation of mine heart thy free hold:  
In tenor of loves service (if thou behold)  
With what exaction it is held through fears,   

And yet thy rents extorted, daily bears,  
Thou would not thus consume my quiets gold.  
And yet thr covetous thou be, to make  
Thy beauty rich, with renting me so roughly   

And at such sums, thou never thought dost take,  
But still consumes me, than thou dost misguide all:  
Spending in sport for which I wrought so toughly.   

When I had felt all torture and had tried all,  
And spent my stock through streane of thine extortion  
Of that I had but good hopes for my portion.    

SONNET XXI.  

Yea but uncertain hopes, are anchors feeble  
When such faint-hearted pilates guide my ships,  
Of all my fortune's balist with hard pebble  
Whose doubtful viadge proves not worth two chips   

If when but one dark cloud shall dim the sky  
The cables of hopes happiness be cut,  
When bark with thoughts drowned mariners shall lie  
priest for the whirl pool of griefs endless glut.   

If well thou mean (Parthenophe) then ravish  
Mine heart with doubtless hope of mutual love,  
If otherwise, then, let thy tongue run lavish:  
For this, or that, am I resoulued to prove,   

And both, or either ecstasy, shall move  
Me ravished, end with surfeit of relief:  
Or senseless daunted die, with soddeine grief.    

SONNET XXII.  

From thine hearts ever burning vestal fire,  
The torchlight of two suns is nourished still.  
Which in mild compass still surmowting higher  
There orbs with circled harmony fulfil.   

Whose rolling wheels run on Meridian line,  
And turning, the turn back the misty night,  
Report of which clear wonder did incline  
Mine eyes to gaze upon that uncouth light,   

On it till I was sunburnt did I gaze,  
Which with a fervent agony possessed me.  
Then did I sweat, and swelled, mine eyes daze  
Till that a burniug fever had oppressed me:   

Which made me faint, no Physic hath repressed me.  
For I try all, yet for to make me sound  
Ay me! no grass, nor Physic may be found.    

SONNET XXIII.  

When with the dawning of my first delight  
The day light of loves delycasie moved me  
Then from my heavens disdainful starry light  
The moonlight of her chastity reproved me   

Her foreheads threatfull clouds from hope removed me  
Till midnight reared on the mid-noctiall line  
Her heart whiles pities sleight had undershoved me  
Then did I force her downward to decline   

Till dawning day light cheerfully did shine  
And by such happy revolution drew  
Her morning's blush to joyful smiles incline   

And now Meridian heat dries up my dew  
There rest fair Planets stay bright orbs of heaven  
Still smiling at my dial past eleven.    

SONNET XXIIII.  

These mine hart-eating eyes do never gaze  
Upon thy sons harmonious marble wheels  
But from these eyes through force of thy suns blaze  
Rain tears continual, whiles my faiths true steels   

Tempered on anueile of thine hearts could flint  
Strikes marrow-melting fire into mine eyes:  
The tinder whence my passions do not stint  
As matches to those sparkles which arise.   

Which when the taper of mine heart is lighted  
Like Salamander's nourish in the flame  
〈◊〉 the loves with my new torch delighted  
A w●…e like knattes did flourish in the same   

But burned their wings, nor anyway could frame  
To fly from thence, since Ioues proud bird that bears  
His thunder veued my sun but shed down tears.    

SONNET XXV.  

Then count it not disgrace if any view me  
Sometime to shower down rivers of salt tears  
From tempest of my sighs dispayre-full fears:   

Then scorn me not alas sweet friends but rue me:  
Ah pity pity me for if you knew me,  
How with her looks mine heart amends and wears,   

Now calm now rageous as my passion bears  
You would lament with me, and she which slew me.  
She (which Ay me) she which did deadly wound me  
And with her beauties balm though dead keeps lively   

My lifeless body, and by charms hath bound me  
For thankless meed to serve her if she vively  
Can see my sorrows maze which none can tread  
She would be soft, and light, though flint and lead.    

SONNET XXVI.  

When lovely wrath my mistress heart assaileth,  
loves golden darts take ame from her bright eyes:  
And Psyche Venus rosy couch empayleth  
Placed in her cheeks, with lilies where she lies:   

And when she smiles from her sweet looks and cheerful  
Like Phoebus when through soddein clouds he starteth,  
After stern tempests, showers, and thunder fearful,  
So she my worlds delight with her smiles harteth.   

Aurora yellow looks when my love blushes,  
Wearing her hears bright colour in her face,  
And from loves ruby portal lovely rushes  
For every word she speaks an Angel's grace:   

If she be silent every man in place  
With silence wonders her, and if she sleep,  
Air doth with her breaths murmur music keep.    

SONNET XXVII.  

Why do I draw this cool relieving air  
And breath it out in scalding sighs as fast?  
Since all my hopes die buried in despair  
In which hard soil mine endless knots be cast:   

Where when I come to walk be sundry mazes  
With beauties skilful finger lined out,  
And knots whose borders set with double dazes,  
Doubles my dazed muse with endless doubt   

How to find easy passage through the time  
With which my mazes are so long beset,  
That I can never pass but fall and climb  
According to my passions which forget   

The place where they with loves guide should have met:  
But when faint-wearied all me thinks is passed  
The maze returning makes me turn as fast.    

SONNET XXVIII.  

So be my labours endless in their turns  
Turn turn Parthenophe turn and relent,  
Hard is thine heart and never will repent,  
See how this heart within my body burns:   

Thou sees it not atnd therefore thou reiournes  
My pleasures, ill my days been over spent:  
When I beg grace, thou mine entreaty spurns:  
Mine heart with hope upheld, with fear returns   

Betwixt these passions endless is my fit  
Then if thou be but humane grant some pity  
Or if a saint sweet mercies are there meanwhiles   

Fair lovely chaste sweet-spoken learned witty  
These make thee saintlike and these saints befit  
But thine hard heart makes all these grace's weeds.    

SONNET XXIX.  

Bless still the myrr-tree Venus for thy meed  
For to the weeping myrrh, my tears be dew:  
Contentious winds which did from Titan breed  
The shaking Aspen tree belongs to you   

To ' th' Aspen I bequeath my ceaseless tongue:  
And Phoebus let thy laurels ever flourish  
To still green laurel my loves do belong:  
Let mighty jove his oaks large branches nourish   

For to strong oak mine heart is consecrate  
Let dreadful Pluto bless black Ebony tree  
To ' th' Ebony my despair is dedicate:   

And naiads let your willows loved be  
To them my fortunes still removed be:  
So shall my tears, tongue, passions never cease  
Nor heart decay nor my despair decrease.    

SONNET XXX.  

So this continual fountain of my tears  
From that hard rock of her sweet beauty trickling,  
So shall my tongue on her loves music tickling,  
So shall my passions fed with hopes and fears,   

So shall mine heart which wearing never wears,  
But soft is hardened with her beauties prickling  
On which despair my vulture seized stands pickling  
Yet never thence his maw full-gorged bears.   

Right so, my tears, tongue, passions, heart, despair  
With floods, complaints, sighs, throbs, and endless sorrow,  
In seas, in volumes, winds, earthquakes, and hell,   

Shall float chaunte, breath, break, and dark mansion borrow.  
And in them I be blessed for my fair:  
That in these torments for her sake I dwell.    

SONNET XXXI.  

I burn yet am I cold, I am a could yet burn  
In pleasing discontent, in discontentment pleased  
Diseased I am in health, and healthful am diseased  
In turning back proceed, proceeding I return   

In mourning I rejoice, and in rejoicing murne  
In pressing I step back, in stepping back I pressed  
In gaining still I lose, and in my losses gain  
Grounded I waver still, and wavering still am grounded:   

Unwounded yet not sound, and being sound am wounded:  
Slain yet am I a live, and yet alive am slain:  
Hounded mine hart rests still, still resting is it hounded:   

In pain I feel no grief, yet void of grief in pain  
Unmoved I vex myself, unvexed yet am I moved  
Beloved she loves me not, yet is she my beloved.    

♈ SONNET XXXII.  

Scarce twice seven times had Phoebus' wagon wheel  
Obliquely wandered through the Zodiacs line,  
Since nature first to Ops did me resign,  
When in mine youthful vain I well could feel   

A lustful rage, which reasons chains of steel  
With headstrong force of lust did still untwine,  
To wanton fancies I did then incline:  
Whilst mine unbridled Phaeton did reel   

With heedless rage, till that his chariot camme  
To take in fold his resting with the Ram  
But bootless all: for such was his unrest   

That in no limits he could be contained.  
To lawless sports and pleasures ever priest  
And his swift wheels, with their sweet oil distained.    

♉ SONNET XXXIII.  

Next when the boundless fury of my sun  
Began in higher Climates to take fire,  
And with it somewhat kindled my desire,  
Then lest I should have wholly been undone   

(For now mine age had thrice seven winters run)  
With studies, and with labours did I tire  
Mine itching fancies, which did still aspire:  
Then from those objects (which their force begun   

Through wandering fury to possess mine heart)  
Mine eyes there vain seducers I did fix  
On Pallas, and on Mars, home, and in field,   

And armed strongly lest my better part  
To milder objects should itself immixe,  
I vowed I never would to beauty yield.    

♊ SONNET XXXIIII.  

But when in May my worlds bright fiery sun  
Had passed in Zodiac with his golden team  
To place his beams which in the twins begun,  
The blazing twin stars of my worlds bright beam   

My mistress eyes, mine heavens bright sun, and moon,  
The stars by which poor shepherd I am warned  
To pin in late, and put my flocks out soon,  
My flocks of fancies as the signs me learned:   

Then did my loves first spring begin to sprout,  
So long as my suns heat in those signs rained.  
But wandering all the Zodiac throughout  
From her may's twins, my sun such heat constrained,   

That where at first I little had complained,  
From sign to sign, in such course he now posteth  
Which daily me, with hatt●… flaming softeth.    

♋ SONNET XXXV.  

Next when my sun by progress took his hold  
In Cancer of my mistress crafty mind,  
How retrograde seemed she, when as I told  
That in his claws such torches I did find,   

Which if she did not to my tears lay plain  
That they might quenched be from their outrage,  
My lones hot june should be consumed in pain  
Unless her pity make my grief assuage.   

Oh how she frowns, and like the Crab back turns  
When I request her put her beams apart:  
Yet with her beams my soul's delight she burns:  
She pities not to think upon my smart   

Nor from her Cancers claws can I departed,  
For there the torch of my red-hot desire  
Grieves, and relieves me, with continual fire.    

♌ SONNET XXXVI.  

And thus continuing with outrageous fire,  
My sun proceeding forward to my sorrow  
took up his court, but willing to retire  
Within the lions den his rage did borrow:   

But whiles within that mansion he remained,  
How cruel was Parthenophe to me,  
And when of my great sorrows I complained,  
She Lion-like wished the might tenfold be:   

Then did I rage and in vukindly passions  
I rend mine hear, and razed my tender skin,  
And raving in such frantic fashions,  
That with such cruelty she did begin   

To feed the fire which I was burned in.  
Can women brook to deal so sore with men?  
She mannes woe learned it in the lions den.    

♍ SONNET XXXVII.  

But pity which sometimes doth Lions move,  
Removed my sun from moody Lions cave,  
And into Virgoes bower did next remove  
His fiery wheels, but then she answer gave   

That she was all vowed to virginity,  
Yet said 'bove all men she would most affect me:  
Fie Delian goddess in thy company  
She learned with honest colour to neglect me,   

And underneath chaste veils of single life  
She shrouds her crafty claws, and lions heart,  
Which with my senses now do mingle strife  
Twixt loves, and virtues, which provoke my smart:   

Yet from these passions can I never part,  
But still I make my suits importunate  
To thee, which makes my case infortunate.    

♎ SONNET XXXVIII.  

When thine hart-pearcing answers could not hinder  
Mine hearts hot hammer on thy steel to batter,  
Nor could excuses could quench out that cinder  
Which in me kindled was, she weighed the matter,   

And turning my suns chariot him did place  
In Libras equal mansion, taking pause,  
And casting with deep judgement to disgrace  
My love, with dealing cruel in the cause:   

She busily with earnest care devised,  
How she might make her beauty tyrannous,  
And I for ever to her yoke surprised:  
The means found out with cunning perilous:   

She turned the wheels with force impetuous,  
And armed with womanlike contagion,  
My sun she lodged in the Scorpion,    

♏ SONNET XXXIX.  

Then from her Venus, and bright Mercury  
Mine heavens clear Planets, did she shoot such blazes  
As did infuse with heats extremity  
Mine heart, which on despairs bare pasture grazes:   

Then like the Scorpion did she deadly sting me,  
And with a pleasing poison pierced me,  
Which to these utmost sobs of death did bring me,  
And through my soul's saint sinews seared me:   

Yet might she cure me with the Scorpion's oil  
If that she were so kind, as beautiful,  
But in my bale she joys to see me boil,  
though be my passions dear, and dewtyfull,   

Yet she remorseless, and unmerciful:  
But when my thought of her, is such a thing  
To strike me dead, judge if herself can sting.    

♐ SONNET XL.  

But ah my plague through times outrage increased,  
For when my sun his task had finished  
Within the Scorpion's mansion, he not ceased  
Nor yet his heats extremes diminished,   

Till that dead aiming Archer dressed his quiver,  
In which he closely couched at the last,  
That Archer which doth pierce both heart, and liver  
With hot gold-pointed shafts, which rankle fast:   

That proud commanding, and swift-shooting Archer,  
Far 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which doth 〈◊〉,  
And more than Phoebus, is an inward parcher,  
Thou with thy notes harmonious, and songs soot   

Allured my sun, to fire mine hearts soft root:  
And with thine ever wounding golden Arrow  
First pricked my soul, then pierced my body's marrow.    

♑ SONNET XLI.  

When my sun Cupid took his next abiding  
'mongst craggy rocks and mountains with the goat,  
Ah then on beauty did my senses dote,  
Then had each fair regard my fancies guiding,   

Then more than blessed was I if one tiding  
Offaemal favour set mine heart a float:  
Then to mine eyes each maid was made a moat.  
My sickle thoughts with diverse fancies sliding   

With wanton rage of lust so me did tickle:  
Mine heart each beauties captivated vassal  
Nor vanquished then, as now, but with loves prickle   

Not deeply moved, till loves beams did discover  
That lovely Nymph Parthenophe, no lover,  
Stop there for fear, loves privilege doth pass all.    

♒ SONNET XLII.  

Pass all, ah no! no jot will be omitted  
Now though my sun within the water rest  
Yet doth his scalding fury still infest:  
Into this sign whiles that my Phoebus flitted   

Thou moved these streams, whose courses thou committed  
To me thy waterman bound and addressed  
To power out endless drops upon that soil  
Which withers most when it is watered best:   

Cease floods, and to your channels make recoil,  
Strange floods which on my fire burn like oil:  
Thus whiles mine endless furies higher ran,   

Thou thou (Parthenophe my rage begun,  
Sending thy beams to heat my fiery sun:  
Thus am I waterman, and fier-man.    

♓ SONNET XLIII.  

Now in my Zodiacs last extremest sign,  
My luckless sun his hapless mansion made,  
And in the water willing more to wade  
To Pisces did his chariot wheels incline:   

For me poor fish he with his golden line  
Baited with beauties, all the river lad  
(For who of such sweet baits would stand afraid)  
There nibbling for such food as made me pine,   

loves golden hook on me took soddeine hold  
And I down swallowed, that empoysened gold  
Since then, devise what any wisher can   

Of fiercest torments, since all joys devise,  
Worse griefs, more joys did my true heart comprise,  
Such were loves baits, my crafty fisher man.    

MADRIGAL 5.  

Such strange effects wrought by thought wounding Cupid  
In changing me to fish, his bats to swallow  
With poison choking me, unless that you bid  
Him to my stomach give some Antidote:  
Fly little god with wings of swallow,  
Or if thy feathers fast float,  
That Antidote from mine heart's empress bring,  
My feeble senses to revive:  
Lest, if thou wave it with an eagle's wing  
To late thou come, and find me not alive.    

MADRIGAL 6.  

Oh why loved I? for love to purchase hatred,  
Or wherefore hates she? but that I should love her,  
Why were these cheeks with tears bewatred?  
Because my tears might quench those sparks,  
Which with heats pity move her:  
Her cloudy frown with mist her beauty darks,  
To make it seem obscured at my smiles,  
In dark true Diamonds will shine.  
Her hate my love, her heat my tears beguyles:  
Fear makes her doubtful, yet her heart is mine.    

MADRIGAL 7.  

Youths wanton spring, when in the raging Bull  
My sun was lodged, gave store of flowers:  
With leaves of pleasure, stalks of hours  
Which soon shaked of the leaves, when they were full  
Of pleasure's beauty dewed, with April showers:  
My summer love, whose buds were beautiful,  
Youthful desires with heats unmerciful  
Parched, whose seeds when harvest time was come  
Wear ears against my suits obturate,  
With sheaves of scorn bound up, which did bènumme  
Mine heat with grief, yet made her heart indurate:  
Oh chaste desires which held her heart immurate  
In wall's of Adamant unfoyled!  
My winter spent in showers of sorrows tears  
hailstones of hatred, frosts of fears,  
My branches bar'de of pleasure, and despoiled.    

MADRIGAL 8.  

Why am I thus in mind, and body wounded?  
Oh mind, and body mortal, and divine!  
On what sure rock is your fort grounded?  
On death? Ah no for at it you repine:  
Nay both entombed in her beauties shrine  
Will live (though shadowlike) that men astounded  
At their Anatomies, when they shall view it,  
May pitiful rue it,  
Yea but her murdering beauty doth so shine,  
Oh yet much merciless!  
That heart desires to live with her which slew it,  
And though she still rest pitylesse:  
Yet at her beauty will I wonder,  
Though sweet graces past repeat,  
Never appear (but when the threat)  
Firing my secret heart, with dar●…e and thunder.    

SONNET XLIIII.  

Oh dart and thunder whose fierce violence  
Surmounting Rhetorickes dart and thunder bolts  
Can never be se●… out in eloquence,  
Whose might all mettles mass a sunder moultes:   

Where be they famous Prophets of old Greece?  
Those anchiant Roman poets of account,  
Musaeus which went for the Golden Fleece  
With jason, and did Heroes loves recount   

And thou sweet Naso with thy golden verse  
Whose lovely spirit ravished Caesar's daughter,  
And that sweet Tuskane Petrarke which did pierce  
His Laura with love Sonnets when he sought her:   

Where be these all? that all these might haven taught her  
That saints divine are known saints by their mercy,  
And sainctlike beauty should not rage's with pierce eye.    

SONNET XLV.  

Sweet beauties rose in whose fair purple leaves  
loves Queen in richest ornament doth lie,  
Whose graces were they not too sweet and high  
Might here be seen, but since their sight bereaves   

All senses, he that endless bottom weaves  
Which did Penelope, who that shall try  
Then wonder and in admiration die  
At nature-passing natures holy frame:   

Her beauty thee revives, thy muse upheaves  
To draw celestial spirit from the skies  
To praise the work and worker whence it came:   

This spirit drawn from heaven of thy fair eyes  
Whose guilded cognissance left in mine heart,  
Shows me thy faithful servant to my smart.    

SONNET XLVI.  

Ah pearse-eye piercing eye, and blazing light  
Of thunder thunderblazes burning up!  
Oh sun sunne-melting, blind, and dazing sight!  
Ah heart down driving heart, and turning up!   

Oh matchless beauty beauties beauty staining!  
Sweet damask rose bud Venus rose of roases!  
Ah front Imperious duties duty gaining!  
Yet threatfull clouds did still incloase and closes!   

Oh lily leaves when juno lilies leaves  
In wondering at her colours grain distained!  
Voice, which rocks voice and mountains cleaves  
In sunder at my loves with pain complained!   

Eye, lihtning Sun, heart beauties bane unfeigned!  
Oh damask rose! proud forehead! lily! voice!  
Ah partial fortune! sore chance! fillye choice.    

SONNET XLVII.  

Give me mine heart for no man liveth heartless,  
And now deprived of heart I am but dead:  
And since thou hast it in his tables read,  
Whether he rest at ease in joys and smartlesse,   

Whether beholding him thine eyes were dartlesse,  
Or to what bondage his inthralment leads.  
Return dear heart and me to mine restore,  
Ah let me thee possess, return to me:   

I find no means devoid of skill and artless  
Thither return where thou triumphed before  
Let me of him but repossessor be   

And when thou gives to me mine heart again  
Thyself thou dost bestow, for thou art she  
Whom I call heart, and of whom I complain.    

SONNET XLVIII.  

I wish no rich refined Arabian gold  
Nor Orient Indian pearl rare nature's wonder,  
No Diamonds th' Egyptian surges under,  
No Rubies of America dear sold,   

Nor sapphires which rich Afrique sands ensold  
Treasures far distant, from this Isle a sender,  
Barbarian juories in contempt I hold:  
But only this, this only Venus grant   

That I my sweet Pathenophe may get:  
Her heirs no grace of golden wires want  
Pure pearls with perfect Rubines are in set,   

True Diamonds in eyes, sapphires in veins,  
Nor can I that soft ivory skin forget:  
England in one small subject such contains.    

SONNET XLIX.  

Cool cool in waves, thy beams intolerable  
O sun, no son but most unkind stepfather,  
By law nor nature sire but rebel rather,  
Fool fool these labours are inextricable,   

A burden whose weight is importable,  
A Siren which within thy breast doth bathe her  
A fiend which doth in graces garments grath her,  
A fortress whose force is impregnable:   

From my loves limbeck still stilled tears, oh tears!  
Quench quench mine heat, or with your sovereignty  
Like Niobe convert mine heart to marble:   

Or with fast-flowing pine my body dry  
And rid me from despairs chylled fears, oh fears!  
Which on mine heben haps heart strings do warble.    

SONNET L.  

So warble out your tragic notes of sorrow  
Black harp of liver-pyning melancholy  
Black humour patron of my fancy's folly,  
Mere follies which from fancy's fire borrow,   

Hot fire which burns day, night, midnight, and morrow,  
Long morning which prolongs my sorrows solely  
And ever overules my passions wholly:  
So that my fortune where it first made sorrow   

Shall there remain, and ever shall it plough  
The bowels of mine heart, mine hearts hot bowels:  
And in their furrows sow the seeds of love,   

Which thou didst sow, and newly spring up now  
And make me write vain words, no words but vowels,  
For nought to me good consonant would prove.    

SONNET LI.  

Lame consonants of member-vowells rob  
What perfect-sounding words can you compose  
Wherein you might my sorrows flame disclose?  
Can you frame maimed words as you had throbbed?   

Can you with sighs make signs of passions sobbed?  
Or can your characters make sorrows shows?  
Can liquids make them? I with tears make those,  
But for my tears with taunts and frumps am b●…bbed.   

Can mutes procure good words mute would I be,  
But than who should my sorrows image paint?  
No consonants or mutes or liquids will   

Set out my sorrows, though with grief I faint:  
If with no letter but one vowel should be,  
An A. with H. my Sonnet would fulfil.    

SONNET LII.  

Me thought Calliope did from heaven discend●…  
To sing, fair mistress thy sweet beauties 〈◊〉,  
Thy sweet enchanting voice did Orpheus r●…e,  
Who with his harp which down the gods did send   

Celestial coneorde to the voice did lend,  
His music all wild beasts so did amaze  
That they submissive▪ thy looks did bend:  
Hills, trees, towns, bridges, from their places wend   

hoping, and dancing, all they winds be still  
And listen, whiles the Nightingales fulfil  
With Larks and Thrushes all defects of pleasure:   

Springs sang thy praises in a murmur shill,  
Whiles I enraged with music, out of trance  
Like Bacchus' priest, did in thy presence dance.    

MADRIGAL 9  

For glory pleasure and fair flourishing,  
Sweet singing, courtly dancing, curious love  
A rich remembrance virtuous nurrishing,  
For sacred care of heavenly things  
For voices sweetness musics notes above  
When she divinely speaks or sings  
Cleio dismount, Euterpe silent be,  
Thalia for thy purple put on sackcloth,  
Sing hoarse Melpomene with Ioues Harpies three,  
Terpsichore break of thy galliard dances,  
Leave Erato thy dalliance, court in black-cloath,  
Thy praises Polymneia she enhances,  
For heavenly zeal Urania she outreacheth,  
Plead not Calliope sing not to thy Lute,  
jove and Mnemosine both be mute  
Whilst my Parthenophe your daughters teacheth.    

MADRIGAL 10.  

Thou scaled my fort blind Captain of conceit,  
But you sweet mistress entered at the breach:  
There you made havoc of my heart,  
There you to triumph did my tyrant teach,  
Beware he knows to win you by deceit,  
Those ivory walls cannot endure his dart,  
That turret framed with heavens rare art  
Immured with whitest porphyre, and inset  
With roses cheeking nature's pride of Ruby:  
Those two true Diamonds which their windows fret,  
Arched with pure gold yet mourn in sable shade,  
Warn not these that in danger you be?  
Vanquish her little tyrant I will true be,  
And though she will not yield to me  
Yet none could thrall my heart but she.    

MADRIGAL 11.  

Thine eyes mine heaven which harbour lovely rest,  
And with their beams all creatures cheer  
Stoule from mine eyes there clear,  
And made mine eyes dim myrrouldes of unrest.  
And from her lily forehead smooth, and plain,  
My front his withered sorrows took,  
And through her grace, his grace forsook:  
From soft cheeks rosy red,  
My cheeks their leanness, and this pallid stain.  
The golden pen of nature's book  
(For her tongue that task undertook)  
Which to the grace's secretary led,  
And sweetest muses with sweet music fed,  
enforced my muse in tragic tunes to sing:  
But from her hearts hard frozen string,  
Mine heart his tenderness, and hear possessed.    

MADRIGAL 12.  

Like to the mountains are mine high desires,  
Level to thy loves highest point;  
Grounded on faith which thy sweet grace requires,  
For springs, tears rise in endless source:  
For summers flowers, loves fancies I appoint.  
They trees with storms tossed out of course  
Figure my thoughts still blasted with despair:  
Thunder, lightning, and hail,  
Make his trees mourn, thy frowns make me bewail,  
This only difference here fire there snows are.    

SONNET LIII.  

Why do I draw my breath vain sighs to feed  
Since all my sighs be breathed out in vain?  
Why be these eyes the condnictes whence proceed  
These ceaseless tears, which for your sake do rain?   

Why do I write my woes, and writing grieve  
To think upon them, and their sweet contriver,  
Begging some comfort which mighe me relieve,  
When the remembrance is my cares reviver?   

Why do I sew to kiss, and kiss to love,  
And love to be tormented, not beloved?  
Can neither sighs, nor tears my sorrows move,   

By lines, or words, nor will they be removed?  
Then tire not tyrant, but on mine heart tire,  
That unconsumed I burn in my desire.    

SONNET liv.  

When I was young indewded with nature's graces  
I stoule blind loves strong bow and golden arrows,  
To shoot at redbrestes, goldfinches, and sparrows:  
At shrewd girls, and at boys in other places   

I shot when I was vexed with disgraces:  
I pierced no skin, but melted up their marrows,  
How many boys and girls, wished mine embraces?  
How many prayzed my favour, 'bove all faces?   

But once (Parthenophe) by thy sweet side sitting  
Love had espied me in a place most fitting  
Betrayed by thine eyes beams, which makes blind see:   

He shot at me, and said for thine eyes light,  
This daring boy that durst usurp my right,  
Take him a wounded slave, to love, and thee.    

SONNET LV.  

Nymphs which in beauty mortal creatures stain,  
And satires which none but fair Nymphs behold,  
They to the Nymphs, and Nymphs to them complain,  
And each in spite, my mistress beauty told:   

Till soundly sleeping in a myrtle grove,  
A want on Satire had espied her there,  
Who deeming she was dead, in all haste strove  
To fetch the Nymphs which in the forests were:   

They flocking fast, in triumph of her death  
Lightly beheld, and (deeming she was dead)  
Nymphs sang, and satires danced out of breath,   

Whilst satires with the Nymphs la voultaes lead  
My mistress did awake, than they which came  
To scorn her beauty, ran away for shame,    

SONNET LVI.  

The dial love which shows how my days spend,  
The leaden plummets sliding to the ground,  
My thoughts which to dark melancholy bend,  
The rolling wheels, which turn swift hours round   

Thine eyes (Parthenophe) my fancies guide:  
The watch continually which keeps his stroke,  
By whose oft turning every hour doth slide  
Figure the sighs which from my liver smoke,   

Whose oft invasions finish my lives date:  
The watchman which each quarter strikes the bell,  
Thy love which doth each part exanimate,   

And in each quarter strikes his forces fell:  
That hammer, and great bell which ends each hour,  
Death my life's victor, sent by thy loves power.    

SONNET LVII.  

Thy beauty is the sun which guides my day,  
And with his beams to my worlds life gives light,  
With whose sweet favour all my fancies play,  
And as birds singing still enchant my sight   

But when I seek to get my loves chief pleasure,  
Her frowns are like the night led by the lamp  
Of Phoebe's chaste desires, whilst without leisure  
Graces like stars through all her face encamp:   

Then all my fancies birds lie wished for fear,  
Soon as her frowns procure there shady sorrow  
Saving mine heart, which secret shot doth bear   

And nature from the Nighting all doth borrow:  
Which from laments, because he will not rest  
Hath loves thorn prickle pointed at his breast.    

SONNET LVIII.  

Fair Clytie doth flourish with the spring  
And eft 'zounds withered like thy golden hear,  
And Io's violets grow flourishing,  
But soon defaced which thine eyes semblance bear:   

Anemone, with hyacinth springs pride,  
Like to thy beauty lose their lovely gloss,  
So will thy cheeks with graces beautified  
Return to wrinkles, and to nature's dross:   

Roses (as from thy lips) sweet odours send,  
Which herbs in them whilst juice, and virtues rest,  
From some diseases rigour, life defend:  
These (as thyself) once withered, men detest:   

Then love betimes, these withered flowers of yore  
Revive: thy beauty lost returns no more.    

SONNET LIX.  

Ah me sweet beauty lost returns no more,  
And how I fear thine heart fraught with disdain,  
Despair of her disdain casts doubt before.  
And makes me thus of mine hearts hope complain,   

Ah me nor mine heart's hope, nor help: despair  
Avoid my fancy, fancies utter bain  
My woes chief worker, cause of all my cayer  
Avoid my thoughts that hope may me restor●…   

To mine hearts heaven, and happiness again:  
Ah wilt thou not but still depress my thought?  
Ah (mistress) if thy beauty this hath wrought,   

That proud disdainfulness shall in the rain,  
Yet think when in thy for head wrinkles be,  
Men will disdain thee then, as thou dost me.    

SONNET LX.  

Whilst some the Trojan wars in verse recount,  
And all the Grecian Conquerors in fight,  
Some valiant Roman wars 'bove stars do mount,  
With all their warlike leaders, men of might:  
Whilst some of British Arthur's valour sing,  
And register the praise of Charlemagne:  
And some of doughty Godfrey tidings bring,  
And some the German broils, and wars of Spain:  
In none of those, myself I wounded find  
Neither with horseman, nor with man on foot:  
But from a clear bright eye, one captain blind  
(Whose pu●…sance to resist did nothing boot)  
With men in golden arms, and darts of gold,  
Wounded my heart, and all which did behold.    

SONNET LXI.  

To none but to Prometheus me compayer,  
From sacred heaven he stoule that holy fire:  
I from thine eyes stoule fire, my judgements are  
For to be bound with chains of strong desire   

To that hard rock of thy thrice cruel heart:  
The ceaseless waves, which on the rocks do dash  
Yet never pierce, but forced backward start  
Those be these endless tears, my cheeks which wash:   

The vulture which is by my goddess doom  
Assigned to feed upon mine endless liver,  
Despair by the procured, which leaves no room   

For joculus to jest with Cupid's quiver:  
This swallows worlds of livers, spending few,  
But not content: O god shall this be true?    

SONNET LXII.  

Fie, fie, fierce tyrant, quench this furious rage,  
O quench this rageous fury, little god!  
Nay mighty god, my fury's heat assuage,  
Nor are thine little darts, nor brittle rod,   

Ah that you hadst a sweet recurring dart,  
Or such a rod as into health might whipp●… me:  
With this to level at my troubled heart,  
To warn with scourge that no bright eye might trip me▪   

Vain words which vanish with the clouds why speak I?  
And bootebesse options builded with void air?  
How oft enraged in hopeless passions break I,   

How oft in false vain hope, and black despair?  
How oft left lifeless at thy cloudy frown?  
How oft in passion, mounted, and plucked down?    

MADRIGAL 13.  

Soft lovely Roselike lips, conjoined with mine,  
Breathing out precious incense such,  
Such as at Paphos' smoke to Venus' shrine,  
Making my lips immortal with their touch:  
My cheeks with tuch of thy soft cheeks divine,  
Thy soft warm cheeks, which Venus favour much:  
Those arms, such arms which me embrac'de,  
Me with immortal cincture guirding round  
Of everlasting bliss, then bound  
With her enfolded thighs in mine entangled,  
And both in one self soul placed,  
Made an Hermaphrodite, with pleasures ravished:  
There heat for heats, soul for souls empire wrangled,  
Why died not I with love so largely lavished?  
For wake (not finding truth of dreams before)  
It secret vexeth, ten-times more.    

MADRIGAL 14.  

Ah ten-times worse tormented then before,  
ten-times more pity shouldst thou take of me,  
I have endured, then sweet restore  
That pleasure, which procured this pain:  
Thou scornest my lines, a saint which make of thee,  
Where true desires of thine hard heart complain:  
There thou 'bove stella placed,  
'Bove laura with ten thousand more installed,  
And now proud thinks me graced,  
That am to thee (though merciless) inthrall'de.    

SONNET LXIII.  

jove for Europa's love took shape of Bull,  
And for Calisto played Diana's part  
And in a golden shower, he filled full  
The lap of Danae with celestial art,   

Would I were changed but to my mistress gloves,  
That those white lovely fingers I might hide,  
That I might kiss those hands, which mine heart loves  
Or else that chain of pearl, her necks vain pride,   

Made proud with her necks veins, that I might fold  
About that lovely neck, and her paps tickle,  
Or her to compass like a belt of gold,   

Or that sweet wine, which down her throat doth trickle,  
To kiss her lips, and lie next at her heart,  
Run through her veins, and pass by pleasures part.    

SONNET LXIIII  

If all the loves were lost, and should be found,  
And all the grace's glories were decayed,  
In thee the grace's ornaments abound,  
In me the loves by thy sweet graces laid.   

And if the muses had their voice foregone,  
And Venus husbands forge had lost his fire,  
The muse's voice, should by thy voice be known,  
And vulcan's heat, be found in my desire.   

I will accuse thee to the gods of theft,  
For Pallas eye, and Venus rosy cheek,  
And Phoebe's forehead, which thou hast bereft,   

Complain of me to Cupid, let him seek  
In vain for me each where, and in all parts,  
For 'gainst my will, I stoule one of his darts.    

SONNET LXV.  

Oh that I had no heart, as I have none,  
(For thou mine hearts full spirit hast possessed)  
Then should mine argument be not of moan,  
Then under loves yoke should should I not be pressed:   

Oh that without mine eyes I had been borne,  
Then had I not my mistress beauty viewed,  
Then had I never been so far forlorn,  
Then had I never wept, than never rued:   

Oh that I never had been borne at all,  
Or being, had been borne of shepherds brood,  
Then should I not in such mischances fall,   

Quiet my water and content my food:  
But now disquieted, and still tormented,  
With a duerse fate, perforce must rest contented.    

SONNET LXVI.  

Ah sweet content, where is ●…hy mild abode?  
Is it with shepherds and light-harted swains?  
Which sing upon the downs and pipe abroad  
Tending their flocks and cattle on the plains?   

Ah sweet content, where dost thou safely rest?  
In heaven, with Angels which the praises sing  
Of him that made and rules at his behest  
The minds, and hearts of every living thing?   

Ah sweet content, where doth thine harbour hold,  
Is it in Churches, with Religious men,  
Which please the gods with prayers manifold,  
And in their studies meditate it then.   

Whether thou dost in heaven, or earth appear,  
Be where thou wilt, thou will not harbour here.    

SONNET LXVII.  

If Cupid keep his quiver in thine eye,  
And shoot at overdaring, gazer's hearts,  
Alas why be not men afraid, and fllye  
As from Medusa's, doubting after smarts?   

Ah when he draws his string, none sees his bow,  
Nor hears his golden feathered arrows sing,  
Ay me till it be shot no man doth know,  
Until his heart be pricked with the sting,   

Like semblance bears the musket in the field,  
It hits, and kills unseen, till unawares  
To death wounded man his body yield,   

And thus a peasant, Caesar's glory dares:  
This difference left, twixt Mars his field, and loves,  
That Cupid's soldier shot, more torture proves.    

SONNET LXVIII.  

Would God (when I beheld thy beauteous face,  
And golden tresses, rich with pearl, and stone)  
Medusa's visage had appeared in place,  
With snaky locks, looking on me alone:   

Then had her dreadful charming looks me changed  
Into a senseless stone, oh were I senseless!  
Then rage through rash regard had never ranged,  
Whereas to love I stood disarmed and fenceless:   

Yea but that diverse object of thy face,  
In me contrarious operations wrought,  
A moving spirit, pricked with beauties grace,   

No pities grace in thee, which I have sought  
Which makes me deem, thou didst Medusa see,  
And should thyself, a moving marble be.    

SONNET LXIX.  

The leavelesse branches of the lifeless bows  
Carve winter's outrage in their withered barks:  
The withered wrinkles, in my careful brows  
Figure from whence, they drew those crooked marks:   

Down from the Thracean mountains, oaks of might,  
And lofty firs into the valley fall,  
Sure sign where Boreas hath vsurp'te his right,  
And that long there, no Syluanes dally shall:   

Fields with prodigious inundatious drowned,  
For Neptune's rage, with Amphitrite weep:  
My looks, and passions, likewise show my wound,   

And how some fair regard did strike it deep.  
These branches, blasted trees, and fields so watered,  
For wrinkles, sighs, and tears, foreshow thine hatred.    

SONNET LXX.  

What can these wrinkles, and vain tears portend  
But thine hard favour, and indurate heart?  
What show these sighs, which from my soul I send  
But endless smoke, razed from a fiery smart?   

Canst thou not pity my deep wounded breast?  
Canst thou not frame those eyes to cast a smile?  
Wilt thou with no sweet sentence make me blest?  
To make amends wilt thou not sport a while?   

Shall we not once with our opposed eyen  
In inter change, send, golden darts rebated?  
With short reflection twixt thy brows and mine   

Whilst love with thee, of my griefs hath debated?  
Those eyes of love, were made for love to see,  
And cast reguardes on others, not on me.    

SONNET LXXI.  

Those hairs of Angel's gold, thy nature's treasure  
(For thou by nature Angelic art framed)  
Those lovely brows, broad bridges of sweet pleasure,  
Arch two clear springs of graces gracious named,  
There graces infinite do bathe, and sport:  
Under on both sides, those two precious hills  
Where Phoeb'e, and Venus have a several fort:  
Her couch with snowy lilies Phoebe fills,  
But Venus with red Roses her's adorneth,  
There they with silent tokens do dispute:  
Whilst Phoebe Venus, Venus Phoebe scorneth,  
And all the grace's judgers there sit mute  
To give their verdict, till great jove said this,  
Diana's arrows wound not like thy kiss.    

SONNET LXXII.  

My mistress beauty matched with the graces  
Twixed Phoeb', and juno should be judged there,  
Where she with mask had, veiled the lovely places,  
And graces in like sort I masked were:   

But when their lovely beauties were disclosed  
This Nymph (quoth juno) all the graces passeth,  
For beauteous favours in her face disposed,  
loves goddess, in loves graces she surpasseth:   

She doth not pass the graces Phoebe fade  
(Though in her cheeks the graces richly sit)  
For they be subjects to her beauty made,   

The glory for this fair Nymph is most fit:  
There in her cheeks the graces blush for shame,  
That in her cheeks to strive, the subjects came.    

SONNET LXXIII.  

Why did rich nature graces gr●…nt to thee,  
Since thou art such a niggar●… of thy grace?  
Or how can graces in thy body be  
Where neither they, nor pity find a place?   

Ah they been handmaids to thy beauties fury,  
Making thy face to tyrannize on men.  
Condemned before thy beauty by loves jury,  
And by thy frowns adjudged to sorrows den   

Grant me some grace, for thou with grace art wealthy  
And kindly mayst afford some gracious thing,  
Mine hopes all as my mind weak and unhealthy,   

All her looks gracious, yet no grace do bring  
To me poor wretch, yea be the graces there:  
But I the furies in my breast do bear.    

SONNET LXXIIII.  

Cease overtyred muses to complain,  
In vain thou pours out words, in vain thy tears,  
In vain thou writes thy verses, all in vain:  
For to the rocks and wall which never hears   

Thou speaks, and sends complaints which find no grace:  
But why compare I thee to rocks, and walls:  
Yes thou descends from stones and rocks by race ',  
But rocks will answer to the latter calls,   

Yea rocks will speak each sentences last word,  
And in each syllable of that word agree,  
But thou nor last nor first wilt me afford:   

Hath pride or nature bred this fault in thee,  
Nature, and pride have wrought in thee these evils,  
For women are by nature proud as devils.    

SONNET LXXV.  

Love is a name too lovely for the god,  
He naked goes, red coloured in his skin.  
And bare (all as a boy) fit for a rod:  
Hence into Africa, there seek out thy kin,   

Amongst the Moors, and swarthy men of Ind,  
Me thou of joys, and sweet content hast hindered:  
Hast thou consumed me, and art of my kind?  
Hast thou in●…ag'd me, yet art of my kindred?   

Nay Ismarus, or Rhodope thy father,  
Or craggy Caucasus thy crabbed sire,  
Veswius else, or was it Aetna rather?   

For thou how many dost consume with fire?  
Fierce Tigers, Wolves, and Panthers gave the suck  
For lou●…ly Venus had not such ●…uill luck.    

SONNET LXXVI.  

Be blind mine eyes, which saw that stormy frown:  
Whither long-watring lips, which may not kiss:  
Pine arms, which wished ' for sweet embraces missed  
And upright parts of pleasure, fall you down:   

Waste wanton tender thighs consume for this,  
To her thighs elms, that you were not made wines:  
And my long pleasure in her body grafted,  
But at my pleasure her sweet thoughts repines.   

Mine heart with her fair colours should be wafted  
Throughout this ocean of my deep despair:  
Why do I longer live, but me prepaier   

My life together with my joys to finish?  
And (long ear this) had I died with my care  
But hope of joys to come, did all dim●…ish.    

SONNET LXXVII.  

How can I live in minds or body's health  
When all four elements my griefs conspire?  
Of all heart's joys depriving me be stealth,  
All yielding poisons to my long desire,   

The fire with heats extremes mine heart enraging,  
Water in tears, from despairs fountain flowing,  
My soul in sighs, air to loves soul engaging,  
My fancies coals, earths melancholy blowing.   

Thus these (by nature) made for my relief,  
Through that bold charge, of thine Imperious eye  
Turn all their graces into bitter grief,   

And I were dead should any of them die:  
And they my body's substance all be sick,  
It follows then, I cannot long be quick.    

SONNET LXXVIII.  

The proudest Planet in his highest Sphere,  
Saturn inthronist in thy frowning brows:  
Next aufull jove thy majesty doth bear:  
And unto dreadful Mars, thy courage bows,   

Drawn from thy noble grandfathers of might:  
Amongst the laurel crowned poets sweet,  
And sweet Musicians take the place by right:  
For Phoebus with thy graces thought it meet:   

Venus doth sit upon thy lips, and chin:  
And Hermes hath enriched thy wits divine:  
Phoebe with chaste desires thine heart did win:   

The planets thus to thee their powers resign.  
Whom Planets honour thus is any such?  
My muse then can not honour her too much.    

SONNET LXXIX.  

Covetous eyes, what did you late behold?  
My rival graced with a sunne-bright smile,  
Where he with secret signs, was sweetly told  
Her thoughts with winks, which all men might beguile   

Audacious did I see him kiss that hand,  
Which holds the reanes of mine unbridled heart,  
And softly wring it did closely stand  
Courting with love terms, and in lovers art:   

Next (with his fingers kissed) he touched her middle,  
Then saucic (with presumption uncontrolld)  
To hers from his eyes sent regards hy riddle.   

At length, he kissed her cheek: ah me! so bold  
To bandy with bel-gardes in interchange?  
Blind mine eyes (envy) that the may not range.    

SONNET LXXX.  

Long wished for death, sent by my mistress doom  
Hold take thy prisoner full resolved to die,  
But first as chief, and in the highest room  
My soul to heaven I do bequeath on high,   

Now ready to be severed from thy love:  
My sighs to air, to Crystal springs my tears,  
My sad complaints (which thee could never move)  
To mountains desolate, and deaf, my fears   

●…o Lambs beset with Lions, my despair  
To night, and irksome dungeons full of dread:  
Then shalt thou find (when I am passed this care)   

My torments which thy cruelties have bred  
In heavens, clouds, springs hard mountains, lambs, & night.  
Here once united, then dissevered quite.    

SONNET LXXXI.  

O kingly jealousy which canst admit  
No thought of compeers in thine high desire!  
loves bastard daughter for true-loves unfit  
Scalding men's hearts, with force of secret fire:   

Thou poisoned cancour of much-bewteous love,  
Fostered of envies paps with wrathful rage,  
Thou which dost still thine own destruction move  
With eagle's eyes, which secret watch doth wage:   

With peacocks feet, to steal in unawares:  
With progne's wings to false suspect which flies  
Which virtues hold in durance rashly dares,   

Provoker, and maintainer of vain lies,  
Who (with rich virtues, and fair love possessed)  
Causeless hast all to thine heart's hell addressed.    

SONNET LXXXII.  

The chariot with the steed is drawn along,  
Ships winged with winds, swift hover on the waves:  
The stubborn ploughs are hailed with Oxenstrong,  
Hard Adamant the strongest iron craves:   

But I am with thy beauty strongly forced,  
Which (full of courage) draws me like the steed:  
Those winds thy spirit, whence cannot be divorced,  
Mine heart the ship, from danger never freed:   

That strong conceit on thy sweet beauty lad,  
The strong necked Ox, which draws my fancy's plough:  
Thine heart that Adamant, whose force hath made   

My strong desires, stand subject unto you.  
Would I were horse, ox, Adamant, or wind:  
Than had I never cared, for womankind.    

SONNET LXXXIII.  

Dark night black image of my foul despair,  
With grievous fancies cease to vex my soul,  
With pain, sore smart, hot fires, cold fears, long care:  
Too much (alas) this ceaseless stone to roll.   

My days be spent in penning thy sweet praises,  
In pleading to thy beauty never matched,  
In looking on thy face, whose sight amazes  
My sense, and thus my long days be dispatched.   

But night fourth from the misty region rising  
Fancies with fear, and saddispayer doth send,  
Mine heart with horror, and vain thoughts agrizing:   

And thus the fearful tedious nights I spend:  
Wishing the noon to me were silent night,  
And shades nocturnal, turned to daylight.    

SONNET LXXXIIII.  

My sweet Parthenophe, within thy face  
My passions Calendar may plain be red:  
The golden number told upon thine head,  
The sun days (which in card I holy place   

And which divinely bless me with their grace)  
Thy cheerful smiles which can recall the dead:   

My working days, thy frowns from favours fled,  
Which set a work the furies in my breast   

These days are six to one more than the rest:  
My leap year is (oh when is that leap year)  
When all my cares I overleape, and feast   

With her fruition whom I hold most dear.  
And if some Calendars the truth tell me,  
Once in few years, that happy leap shall be.    

SONNET LXXXV.  

From Eastes bed roasie, whence Aurora riseth  
Be thy cheeks figured, which their beams display  
In smiles: whose sight mine heart with joy surpriseth,  
And which my fancies flowers do fair array,   

Cheered with the gracious dews of her regard:  
The West, whence evening comes, her frowning brow,  
Where discontentment ploughs his furroes hard,   

(There doth she bury her affections now)  
The North whence storms, with mists and frosts proceed,  
My black despair, long sorrows, and cold fear:   

The South whence showers, in great abundance breed,  
And where hot sun doth to Meridian rear,  
Mine eyes whose objects nought but tears require,  
And my soft heart consumed with rage of fire.    

SONNET LXXXVI.  

Oh fiery rage, when wilt thou be consumed,  
Thou that hast me consumed in such sort,  
As never was poor wretch (which so presumed)  
But for surveying of that beauteous sort?   

Kept in continual durance, & enchained  
With hot desires, which have my body pined:  
My mind from pleasures, and content restrained,  
My thoughts to care, and sorrows ward assigned:   

There, with continual melancholy placed  
In dismal horror, and continual fear  
I pass these irksome hours, scorned and disgraced   

Of her, whose cruelty no breast can bear canbeare,  
No thought endure, no torture can outmatch:  
Then burn on rage of fire, but me dispatch.    

SONNET LXXXVII.  

Burn on sweet fire, for I live by that fuel  
Whose smoke is as an incense to my soul:  
Each sigh prolongs my smart, befierce and cruel  
(My fair Parthenophe) frown, and control,  
Vex, torture, scaulde, disgrace me, do thy will,  
Stop up thine ears, with flint immure thine heart,  
And kill me with thy looks, if they would kill:  
Thine eyes, those crystal phialls, which impars  
The perfect balm, to my dead-wounded breast,  
Thine eyes the quivers, whence those dar●…es were drawn  
Which me to thy loves bondage have addressed:  
Thy smile, and frown, night star, and daylightes dawn.  
Burn on, frown on, vex, stop thine ears, torment me,  
More for thy beauty borne, would not repent me.    

SONNET LXXXVIII.  

Within thine eyes mine heart takes all his rest,  
In which still sleeping all my sense is drowned:  
The dreams (with which my senses are oppressed)  
Be thousand lovely fancies, turning round   

The restless wheel of my much busy brain:  
The morning, which from resting doth awake me,  
Thy beauty, banished from my sight again,  
When I to long melancholy betake me:   

Then full of errors all my dreams I find,  
And in their kinds contrarious, till the day  
(Which is her beauty) set on work my mind,   

Which never will cease labour, never stay:  
And thus my pleasures are but dreams with me,  
Whilst mine hot fevers pains quotidian be.    

SONNET LXXXIX.  

What be those hears died like the marigold?  
Echo, gold  
What is that brow whose frowns make any moan?  
Echo, anymone  
What were her eyes when the great Lords controllde?  
Echo, rolled  
What be they when from them be loves thrown?  
Echo, loves throne  
What were her cheeks (when blushes raze) like?  
Echo, roselike  
What are those lips which 'bove pearls rue be?  
Echo, rewbee  
Her ivory shoulders what be those like?  
Echo, those like  
What saints are like her speak if you be?  
Echo, few be  
Thou dwellest in rocks heart like somewhat then?  
Echo, what then?  
Androckes dwell in her heart, is 'tis true?  
Echo, 'tis true  
Whom she loves best, know this cannot men?  
Echo, not men  
Pass him she loathes, than I dismiss you?  
Echo, misseyou  
What sex to whom men sew so vain much?  
Echo, vain much  
Furies there fires, and I complain such?  
Echo, plain such.    

SONNET XC.  

My mistress arms are these, fair, clear, and bright:  
Argent in midst where is an ogresse set  
Within an azuer ann'let, placed right:  
The crest two golden bows, almost near met   

(And by this crest her power abroad is known)  
These arms, she beareth in the field of love,  
By bloody colours where loves wrath is shown.  
But in kind passion, milder than the dove   

Her goodly silver ensign she displays  
Semi de roses, at whose lovely sight  
All lovers are subdued, and vanquished praise  
Those glorious colours under which they fight:   

I by these arms, her captive thrall was made:  
And to those colours in that field betrayed.    

SONNET XCI.  

These bitter gusts which vex my troubled seas,  
And move with force, my sorrows floods to flow:  
My fancy's ship tossed here, and there by these  
Still floats in danger, ranging too and fro:   

How fears my thoughts swift pinnace thine hard rock,  
Thine hearts hard rock, lest thou mine heart (his pilate  
Together with himself) shouldrashely knock,  
And being quite dead-stricken, then should cry late,   

Ah me! to late to thy remorseless self,  
Now when thy mercies all been banished  
And blown upon thine hard rocks ruthless shelf,  
My soul in sighs is spent and vanished,   

Be pitiful alas, and take remorse,  
Thy beauty too much practiseth his force.    

SONNET XCII.  

Will't thou know wonders by thy beauty wrought?  
Behold (not seen) an endless burning fire  
Offancies fuel, kindled with a thought,  
Without a flame, yet still inflamed higher:   

Noflames appearance, yet continual smoke  
Drawn cool to kindle, breathed out hot again:  
Two dy'mondes, which this secret fire proucke,  
Making two crystals with their heat to rain:   

A skin, where beauteous grace's rest at ease:  
Atongue, whose sweetness mazes all the muses:  
And yet, an heart of marble matched with these   

A tongue (besides) which sweet replies refuses.  
These wonders by thy beauty wrought alone,  
Through thy proud eye, which made thine heart astone.    

SONNET XCIII.  

Begs love which whilom was a deity?  
I list no such proud beggars at my gate:  
For alms he 'mongst cold Arctique folk doth wait,  
And sunne-burnt Moors in contrariety,   

Yet sweats, nor freezes more: then is it piety  
To be remorseful at his bare estate,  
His reach he racketh at an higher rate,  
He joins with proudest in society:   

His eyes are blind (forsooth) and men must pity  
A naked poor boy which doth no man harm,  
He is not blind, such beggar boys be witty   

For he marks, hittes, and wounds hearts with his arm,  
Nor coldest North can stop his naked race,  
For (where he comes) he warmeth every place.    

SONNET XCIIII.  

Forth from mine eyes, with full-tide flows a river,  
And in thine eyes, two sparkling chrisolytes:  
Mine eyes still covet to behold those lights,  
Thine eye still filled with arrows, is loves quiver:   

Through mine eye, thine eyes fire inflames my liver,  
Mine eyes in heart, thine eyes clear fancies write:  
Thus is thine eye to me my fancy's giver,  
Which from thine eyes, to mine eyes take their flight,   

Then pierce the secret centre of my heart,  
And feed my fancies with inflamed fuel,  
This only grieves, mine eyes had not that art,   

Thine to transpierce, thy nature was so cruel.  
But eyes, and fancies, in this triumph make  
That they were blind and raging for her sake.    

SONNET XCV.  

Thou bright beame-spreading loves thrice happy star,  
Th'arcadian shepherd Astrophill's clear guide:  
Thou that on swift winged Pegasus dost ride,  
Aurora's harbinger, surpassing far   

Aurora carried in her rosy car:  
Bright Planet, teller of clear evening-tide,  
Star of all stars, fair favoured nights cheese pride,  
Which day from night, and night from day dost bar:  
Thou that hast worlds of hearts with thine eyes glance   

To thy loves pleasing bondage taken thrall,  
Behold, where graces in loves circles dance,  
Of two clear stars, out-sparkling planets all:   

For stars, her beauties arrow bearers be,  
Then be the subjects, and superior she.    

SONNET XCVI.  

The sun in Pisces, Venus did intend  
To see sick Flora, whose soil (since by kind  
Titan to th' Antipod's his beams resign'de)  
No pleasant flowers to welcome her did send,   

To whom for need, Parthenophe did lend  
(At nature's suit) rich Helioch rise, which shyn'de  
In her fair hear, white lilies which combyn'de  
Which her high-smoothed brows, which bend, love bend:   

violets from eyes, sweet blushing eglantine  
From her clear checks, and from her lips sweet roases:  
Thus Venus' paradise, was made divine   

Which such as nature in my Lady closes.  
Then since with her loves Queen was glorified,  
Why was not my sweet Lady diefied?    

SONNET XCVII.  

Oh why should envy with sweet love consort  
But that, with loves excess seven sins unite:  
Pride: that in high respect of my delight  
I scorn all others. Lust: that with disport   

In thought of her, I sometimes take comfort.  
Wrath, that with those in secret heart I fight  
Which smile on her. and envy: that I spite  
Such meats, and wines as to her lips resort   

And touch that tongue, which I can never kiss.  
Sloth: that secure in too much love I sleep  
And nuzzled so, am to be free'de remiss.  
And covetous I never mean can keep   

In craving, wishing, and in working this  
Though still I kiss and touch, still touch and kiss.    

SONNET XCVIII.  

The sun my Lady's beauty representes,  
Whose fierie-pointed beams each creature heats  
Such force her grace on whom it counterbeates  
Doth practise, which the patiented still torments:   

And to her virtues the bright moon assents,  
With whose pure chastity my love she threats:  
Whose thought itself in her cool circle seats,  
And as the moon her bright habiliments   

Of her bright brother Phoebus borroweth,  
So from her beauty doth her chaste desire  
His brightness draw, for which none aspire,   

To tempt so rare a beauty, yet forgive:  
He that for thy sake so long sorroweth,  
Can not but longer love, if longer live.    

SONNET XCIX.  

This careful head (with diverse thoughts distressed)  
My fancies chronicleire, my sorrows nurse:  
These watchful eyes (whose heedless am I curse)  
loves centernelles, and fountains of unrest:   

This tongue still-trembling, harrold fit addressed  
To my loves grief, than any torment worse:  
This heart true fortress, of my spottelesse love,  
And rageous furnace of my long desire:  
Of these by nature am I not possessed   

(Though nature there first means in me did move)  
But thou (dear sweet) with thy loves holy fire  
Mine head griefs anueyle made with cares oppressed,   

Mine eyes a spring, my tongue a leafe-winde shaken,  
Mine heart a wasteful wilderness forsaken.    

SONNET C.  

Pleading for pity to my mistress eyes,  
Urging on duty favours as deserts,  
Complaining mine hid flames, and secret smarts,  
She with disdainful grace, in jest replies.   

Her eyes were never made man's enemies:  
Then me with me conceit she over thwarts,  
Urging my fancy, which vain thoughts 〈◊〉  
To be the causer of mine injuries,   

Saying I am not vexed as I complained,  
How melancholy bred this light 〈◊〉  
Hard-hearted mistress, canst thou think I feigned?   

That I with fancies vain vain woes repeat?  
Ah no! for though thine eyes none else offend,  
Yet by thine eyes, and no's, my woes want end.    

SONNET CI.  

Had I been banished from the native soil,  
Where with my life I first received light:  
For my first cradles had my tom●…e been dight:  
Or changed my pleasure for a ceaseless toil:   

Had I for nurse, been left to lions spoil:  
Had I for freedom, dwelled in shady nigh●…  
Couped up in loathsome dungeo●…s from men's sight.  
Those first desires which in my breast did boil,   

From which thy loves (unkind) thou banished  
Had not been such an exile to my bliss.  
If life (with my loves infancy) were vanished,   

It had not been so sore a death as this:  
If Lionesses were in steed of nurses,  
Or night for day, thine hate deserves more curses.    

SONNET CII.  

Vain gallants, whose much longing spirits tickle,  
Whose brains swell with abundance of much wit,  
And would be touched fain with an amorous fit,  
O lend your eyes, and bend your fancies fickle,   

You, whom affections dart did never prickle,  
You which hold lovers fools, and argue it:  
Gaze on my sun, and if tears do not trickle  
From your much maisterd eyes where fancies sit,   

Then, eagles will I term you for your eyes,  
But Bears, or Tigers for your salvage hearts:  
But if it chance such fountains should arise,   

And you made like partakers of my smarts,  
Her for her piercing eyes, an eagle name:  
But for her heart, a Tiger never tame.    

MADRIGAL 15.  

Nature's pride, loves pearl, virtues perfection,  
In sweetness, beauty, grace,  
Of body, face, affection,  
Hath glory, brightness, place,  
In rosy cheeks, clear eyes, and heavenly mind:  
All which, with wonder, honour, praise take race  
To charm, to shine, to fly, with fame's protection:  
Mine heart the first, mine eyes next, third my thought,  
Did wound, did blind, did bind,  
Which grieved, obscured, and wrought,  
heart, eyes, and sen●…s with such imperfection,  
That in their former comfort, sight, and kind,  
The moved, gazed, and sought,  
Yet found not, in what order, sort, and case,  
Of tears, plaints, sighs, with seas, with murmur, wind,  
To find, to get, t'embrace,  
Nature's pride, loves pearl, virtues perfection.    

MADRIGAL 16.  

Sleep Phoebus still in glaucie Thetis lap,  
Ioues eagles piercing eyes be blind:  
Soft things whose touch, is tickle to the mind  
Give no like tuch, all joys in one to wrap.  
All instruments, all birds, and voices  
Make no such heavenly music in their kind:  
No fruits have such sweet sap,  
No root such ioyces,  
No balm so much rejoices:  
O breath, exceeding every rich perfume!  
For love all pleasures in a kiss did lap.  
Her eyes did give bright glances,  
Sight is no sight, all light with that consume:  
She tuched my cheek, at which tuch mine heart dances,  
Mine eyes, in privy combat did praesume  
Charging mine hands to charge her middle,  
Whilst they threw wounding darts, & healing lances:  
She kissed and spoke at once a riddle:  
But such sweet meaning in dark sense  
As show'd the drift of her deare-sweet pretence,  
More pleasing, than the cord of Harp, or Lute.  
On heavenly cherries than I feed,  
Whose sap deliciouser than Angels food,  
Whose breath more sweet, than gum, be●…e, flower, or bood,  
O kiss which did all sense exceed!  
No man can speak those joys, then muse be mute:  
But say, for sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch,  
In any one thing, was there ever such?    

MADRIGAL 17.  

Envious air, all nature's public nurse  
Lend to my life no spirit:  
Not that I prosper worse  
Than erst of yoare, for I the state inherit  
Which gods in Paradise, 'bove man's demerit,  
But for I highly scorn,  
Thy common unpour should  
With her sweet breath immixe, I cannot bear it:  
Cold airs infusion cannot be forborn,  
O kiss, o soul, which could  
All way linges have outworn!  
Angel of bliss, which cheers me night, and morn,  
Sweet cloud, which now with my soul dost enfold,  
Salve to my soul once sick.  
Let men in Ind I'borne,  
Cease boasting of rich drugs, and sweet perfume,  
Egyptian gums, and odours Arabic  
I loath, and wood dear sold  
From Myrrh, and Cypress torn:  
Tarry sweet kiss, do not in clouds consume,  
Yet can I feel thy spirit moving quick,  
O why should air praesume,  
To be her spirits rival!  
What do I speak? nor am I lunatic:  
I can not live, else would I not assume  
Cold air, to contrive all  
My sorrows with immixion,  
Then die whilst this sweet spirit the doth prick,  
Whilst thy sweet comforts kisses are alyveall,  
And loves sweet jurisdiction  
Will make the die possessed  
Of all heavens joys, which for most comfort striveall:  
Lest death to pleasure should give interdiction  
Ah let my lips be pressed,  
And with continual kisses  
power everlasting spirit to my life,  
So shall I all ways live, so still be blessed.  
Kiss still, and make no misses,  
Double, redouble kisses,  
Murmur affections, war in pleasing strife:  
Press lips, lips rest oppressed,  
This passion is no fiction.    

MADRIGAL 18.  

After Aurora's blush the sun arose,  
And spread his beams:  
With whose clear gleams  
My pricklesse rose-bud veiled his purple leaves,  
In whose sweet folds, morning did pearls enclose,  
Where sun his beams in Orblike circle weaves,  
And them t'enrich stole those,  
Nature's beauty, Phoebus' virtue, loves incense:  
Whose favour, sap, and savour my sense reaves.  
My muse hath these for themes,  
They to my muse, my muse to them defence,  
Phoebus (sometimes) loves oracles sends thence.  
Thus by my sun a rose,  
(Though a sweet rose pricklesse)  
Pricklesse arose, dear prickle!  
Which me diseaseth much, though I be sickless,  
Nought me of joy bereaves,  
Save favour, sap, and savour all be fickle.  
Blush not for shame, that thy sun spreads his beams  
My soul in sunder cleaves:  
After Aurora's blush, the sun arose.    

MADRIGAL 19  

Thy loves conceits are wound about mine heart,  
Thy love itself within mine heart a wound:  
Thy torches all a-row stick,  
Which thy sweet grace about mine heart hath bound:  
There gleaming arrows stick in every part,  
Which unto my marrow prick.  
Thy beauties fancy, to mine heart is thrall,  
Mine heart, thy beauty's thrall is found:  
And thou mine heart a bulwarcke art,  
Conquered with beauty, battered to the ground.  
And yet though conquered will not yield at all,  
For in that conflict though I fall,  
Yet I myself a conqueror repute:  
In fight continual, like victorious mart,  
Yet ever yield, as ever overthrown.  
To be still prisoner is my suit,  
I will be still thy captive known:  
Such pleasing servitude,  
Victorious conquest is, and fortitude.    

MADRIGAL 20.  

My love alas is sick, fie envious sickness!  
That at her breast where rest all joys, and ease,  
Thou shouldst take such despite, her to displease,  
In whom, all virtues health hath quickness:  
Thou durst not come in living likeness,  
For hadst thou come, thou couldst not her disease,  
Her beauty would not let the press.  
Sweet graces (which continually attend her)  
At her short breath, breath short, and sigh so deep,  
Which sicknesses sharp furies might appease:  
Both loves, and graces strive to mend her.  
Oh never let me rest, but sigh, and weep:  
Never but weep, and sigh, sick is my love,  
And I lovesick, yet Physic may befriend her,  
But what shall my disease remove?    

SONNET CIII.  

I slept, when (underneath a laurel shade,  
My face upreared aloft unto the heaven)  
Me thought I heard this spoken in a sueaven,  
Nature on earth loves miracle hath made:   

With this, me thought upon a bank was lad  
An earthly body, which was framed in heaven,  
To whom such graces, by the graces given  
Sweet music in their several organs play'de:   

In chief the silent music of her eye,  
Softly recorded with heavens harmony,  
Drew down Urania from Celestial sphere:   

Who mazed, at mazy turning of her eyen  
(To make divine perfection) glazed there  
Those eyes with clearest substance crystalline    

MADRIGAL 21.  

When this celestial goddess had indew'de  
Her eyes with Sphoericke revolution,  
Vesta with her next gift ensew'de,  
And lent to nature that thrise-sacred fire,  
To which once japhets' offspring did aspire:  
Which made a dissolution  
Of a strange ore, engendered by the sun  
In grace, and worth more pure than gold:  
Which ('gainst the Cyprian triumphs should be done)  
Guilded those wheels, which Cupid's ' chariot rowl'de.    

MADRIGAL 22.  

In centre of these stars of love,  
('Bove all conceits in man's capacity)  
An Orientiet which did not move,  
To Cupid's chariot wheel made for the naffe,  
Was fixed, which could with mild rapacity  
Of lighter lovers, draw the lighter chaff:  
This, shadow gives to clearer light,  
In which as in a myrroulde there was framed,  
(For those which loves conditions treat upon)  
A glass, which should give semblance right  
Of all their Physiognomies impassionate.  
Those hearts (which tyrant love doth beat upon)  
May there behold, what Cupid works,  
Yielding in it, that figure fashionate  
Which in the jetty mirror lurks.    

MADRIGAL 23.  

Phoebus, rich father of eternal light,  
And in his hand a wreath of Heliochrise  
He brought, to beautify those tresses:  
Whose train, whose softness, and whose gloss more bright  
Apollo's locks did overprize:  
Thus with this garland, whiles her brows he blesses,  
The golden shadow, with his tincture  
Coloured her locks, I guilded with the cincture.    

MADRIGAL 24.  

Thus, as she was 'bove humane glory graced,  
The saint me thought departed,  
And suddenly upon her feet she started,  
juno beheld, and fain would have defaced  
That female miracle, proud nature's wonder,  
Lest jove through heavens clear windows should espy her,  
And for her beauty, juno's love neglect:  
Down she descends, and as she walked by her  
A branch of lilies juno tears in sunder.  
Then from her Sphere, did Venus down reflect,  
Lest Mars by chance her beauty should affect,  
And with a branch of Roses  
She bet upon her face, than juno closes,  
And with white lilies did her beauty chasten.  
But lovely graces in memorial,  
Let both the Rose, and lilies colours fall  
Within her cheeks, which to be foremost hasten.    

MADRIGAL 25.  

Whiles these two wrathful goddesses did rage,  
The little god of might,  
(Such as might fit seem with craynes to fight,  
Then with his bow to vanquish gods, and kings)  
In a cherrytree fate smiling;  
And lightly waving with his motley wings)  
Fair wings, in beauty boys, and girls beguiling,  
And cherry garlands with his hands compiling  
Laughing, he leapt light  
Unto the Nymph, to try which way best might  
Her cheer, and with a cherry branch her bobbed:  
But her soft lovely lips  
The cherries, of their ruddy ruby rob:  
eftsoons he to his quiver skips,  
And brings those bottles whence his mother sips  
Her nectar of delight,  
Which in her bosom claimed place by right.    

MADRIGAL 26.  

I dare not speak of that thrice holy hill,  
Which spread with silver lilies lies,  
Nor of those violets, which voy de veins fulfil,  
Nor of that maze on loves hill top,  
These secrets must not be surveyed with eyes,  
No creature may those flowers crop,  
Nor bath in that clear fountain.  
Where none but Phoebe, with chaste virgins wash,  
In bottom of that sacred mountain:  
But whether now? thy verses overlash.    

SESTINE 1.  

When I waked out of dreaming,  
Looking all about the garden,  
Sweet Parthenophe was walking:  
Oh what fortune brought her hither!  
She much fairer than that Nymph.  
Which was bet with rose and lilies.   

Her cheeks exceed the rose and lilies,  
I was fortunate in dreaming,  
Of so beautiful a Nymph:  
To this happy blessed garden  
Come you Nymphs, come fairies hither,  
Wonder natures wonder walking:   

So she seemed in her walking,  
As she would make rose, and lilies  
Ever flourish, oh but hither  
Hark (for I beheld it dreaming)  
lilies blushed within the garden,  
Stained with beauties of that Nymph.   

The Rose for anger at that Nymph  
Was pale, and (as she went on walking)  
When she gathered in the garden,  
Tears came from the rose and lilies:  
As the sighed, their breath in dreaming  
I could well perceive it hither.   

When Parthenophe came hither,  
At the presence of that Nymph,  
(That hill was heaven where I lay dreaming)  
But when I had espyeed her walking,  
And in hand her rose, and lilies  
As sacrifice given by that garden,   

(To love stood sacred that fair garden)  
I dared the Nymphs to hasten hither:  
Make homage to the rose, and lilies  
Which are sacred to my Nymph:  
Wonder when you see her walking.  
Might I see her but in dreaming,   

Even the fancy of that Nymph,  
Would make me night, and day come hither  
To sleep in this thrice happy garden.    

SONNET CIIII  

Hold (matchless mirror of all womankind)  
These pens, and Sonnettes, servants of thy praise,  
Placed in a world of graces, which amayse  
All young beholders, through desire blind:   

Thou to whom conquered Cupid hath resigned  
His bows, and darts during thy sunny days,  
Through thine eyes force enfeebled by the rays  
Which wondrers to their cost in thine eyes find.   

That there with beauties excellence unable  
To write, or bear, my pens, and books refuse,  
Thine endless graces are so amiable,   

Passing the spirit of mine humble muse,  
So that the more I writ more graces rise  
Which mine astonished muse cannot comprise.    
FINIS.   

ELEGIES  

ELEGY I  

WHy did the milk which first, Alcides nurrished  
(Engendering with Cybele) breed the lily?  
Th' Assirian hunter's blood why hath it flourished  
The rose with red? why did the Daffadillye  
Spring from Narcissus self conceited love?   

Why did great jove (for the Paeneian cow)  
devise the marble coloured violet?  
Or what for Phoebus' love, from mountains hyllye  
Did Hyacinth to rosy blushes move?  
Since my sweet mistress under Phoebe's brow,   

‛ unoes and fair Adonis' flowers hath set:  
Adown her neck Narcissus gold doth bow,  
Io's grey violets in her Crystal lights,  
Th'Oebalian boys complexion still alightes  
Upon her Hyacinthine lips like Ruby:   

And with loves purest sanguine Cupid writes  
The praise of beauty through the veins which blew be,  
Conducted through loves sluice to thy face rosy,  
Where doves, and redbrestes sit for Venus' rights:  
In sign that I to the will ever true be,   

The rose, and lilies adorn my p●…asie:  
The violets, and Hyacinthe shall knit  
With Daphadill, which shall embellish it  
Such heavenly flowers in earthly poases few be.    

ELEGY II.  

Oh that some time thou saw mine endless fits,  
When I have somewhat of thy bewtte pondered!  
Thou could not be persuaded that my wits  
Can once retire so far from sense asondred,   

Furies themselves have at my passions wondered,  
Yet thou (Parthenophe) well pleased sits  
Whilst in me so thy moistures heat hath thundered,  
And thine eyes darts at every colon hits   

My soul with double pricks which mine heart splittes.  
Whose fainting breath with sighing commaes broken  
Draws on the sentence of my death by pauses:  
Ever prolonging out mine endless clauses  
With iffs Parenthesis, yet find no token   

When with my grief, I should stand even or odd:  
My life still making preparations  
Through thy loves darts to bear the periodde,  
Yet stumbleth on Interrogations.   

These are those scholar like vexations  
Which grieve me when those studies I apply.  
I miss my lesson still, but with loves rod  
For each small accent sounded but awry  
Am I tormented, yet I can not die.    

ELEGY III.  

Sweet thraldom by loves sweet impression wrought,  
loves in that bondage ever let me live,  
For love hath brought me bondslave with a thought  
And to my thoughts love did me bondman give.   

Ah me my thoughts poor prisoner shall I rest?  
And shall my thoughts make triumph over me?  
First to fierce famished Lions stand addressed,  
Or let huge rocks, and mountains cover thee.   

Behold, one to his fancies made a pray,  
A poor Actaeon with his hounds devoured,  
An oak with his green ivy worn away,  
A. wretchconsum' with plenties great down poured:   

A garment with his moth, despoiled, and rotten:  
A thorn with his bred Caterpillar cancerd,  
A buried Caesar, with his fame forgotten,  
A friend betrayed by those on whom he ancered,   

Behold a fire consumed with his own heat,  
An iron worn away with his own rust,  
But wear mine heart of oak, this rage would eat  
Still fresh as ivy mine hard oak to dust,   

And were my pleasures durable as steel,  
Despair would force they should times canker feel.    

ELEGY FOUR  

This day sweet mistress you to me did write,  
(When for so many lines I begged reply all)  
That from all hope you would not bar me quite,  
Nor grant plain placet, nor give dead denial:   

But in my chamber-window (while I read it)  
A waspish Bee flew round about me ●…uzzing,  
With fulfilled flanks, when my times flower had fed it  
(Which there lay strewed) and in my neck with huzzing   

She fixed her sting, than did I take her out  
And in my window left her where she died:  
My neck still smarts, and swelleth round about  
By which her wraths dear ransom may be tried   

A mirror to (thou Lady) which I send  
In this small schoede, with commendations tied  
Who (though the sting and anguish stay with me)  
Yet for revenge saw his unlucky end)   

Then note th'example of this hapless Bee,  
And when to me thou dost thy sting intend.  
Fear some such punishment should chance to thee.    

ELEGY V To Parthenophil.  

Are you so waspish, that from time, to time  
You nourish bees and to so good an end,  
That having sucked your honey they must climb  
Into your bosom, to bethanke their friend:  
And for a sign, that they come to defend   

Reward you with such weapons as they have:  
Nor was it more than your deserts did crave  
Not much unlike unto the Viper's youngling,  
Who nurrished with the breeders dearest blood  
Snarls with his teeth, nor can endure the bongling   

Within the Viper's belly, but makes food  
Of her, thus nature worketh in her brood:  
So you (forsooth) nor was it much amiss,  
Feed snakes which thankfully both sting, and hiss.   

But if that any of our sex did sting you,  
Know this (moreover) though you bear the prick,  
And though their frowns to melancholy bring you  
Yet are we seldom, or else never sick:  
Nor do we die like bees, but still be quick   

And soon recovering what we lost before,  
We sting apace, yet still keep stings in store.    

ELEGY VI.  

Behold these tears my loves true tribute payment,  
These plaintiff Elegies my griefs bewrayers,  
Acoutred as is meet in mournful raiment:  
My red-swolne eyen, which were mine heart's betrayers.  
And yet my rebel eye excuse prepaires   

That he was never worker of my wayment,  
Plaining my thoughts, that my confusion they meant:  
Which thoughts with sighs (for incense) make dumb prayers,  
T'appease the furies in my martyred breast,  
Which witness my true loves, in long lament,   

And with what agonies I am possessed.  
Ah me poor man, where shall I find some rest!  
Not in thine eyes with promise fearful hope,  
Thine heart hath vowed I shall be still distressed,  
To rest within thine heart there is no scope.   

All other places, made for bodies ease  
As bed, field, forest, and a quiet chamber,  
There ever am I with sad cares oppressed,  
Each pleasant spectacle doth me displease,  
Grief, and despair so sore on me did seize   

That day with tediousness doth me molest  
And (Phoebe carried in her coach of Amber)  
Can not close up the fountains of my woe:  
Thus days from nights my charged heart doth not know,   

Nor nights from days, all hours to sorrows go:  
Then punish fancy, cause of thy disease.    

ELEGY VII.  

Youth full of error, whether dost thou hail me?  
Down to the dungeon of mine own conceit:  
Let me before take some divine receipt,  
For will I know my gaoler will not bail me:  
Then if thou favour not, all helps will fail me,   

That fearful dungeon poisoned with despair  
Affords no casement to receive sweet air,  
There ugly visions ever will apayle me  
Vain youth misguideth soon with loves deceit  
Deeming false painted looks most firmly fair.   

Now to remorseless judges must I sew  
For gracious pardon, whiles they do repeat  
Your bold presumption, threatening me with you:  
Yet am I innocent, though none bewail me.  
Ah pardon, pardon, childish youth did view   

Those two forbidden apples which they wished for,  
And children long for that with once the rue.  
Suffice he found repentance which he fished for  
With great expense of bats, and golden hooks.  
Those living apples do the suit pursue   

And are you judges, see their angry looks  
Where underneath that wrathful Canopy  
The use to open their condemning books:  
Expect now nothing but extremity,  
Since they be judges, and in their own cause.   

Their sights are fixed on nought but cruelty,  
Ruling with rigour (as they list) their laws  
Oh grant some pity, placed in pities h●…ll!  
Since our forefather for the like offence  
With us received sufficient recompense,  
For two fair apples, which procured his fall:    

ELEGY VIII.  

Cease sorrow, cease, oh cease thy rage a little,  
Ah little ease, oh grant some little ease:  
Oh fortune ever constant, never brittle!  
For as thou 'gan so dost thou still displease.   

Ah ceaseless sorrow, take some truce with me,  
Remorseless tyrants, sometime will take peace  
(Upon conditions) and I'll take of thee  
Conditions, so thou wilt thy fury cease.   

And dear conditions, for to forfeit life  
So thou wilt end thy plagues, and vex no more.  
But out alas! he will not cease his strife  
Lest he should lose his privilege before:   

For were I dead, my sorrows rule were nought,  
And whiles I live, he like a tyrant rageth:  
Ah rage fierce tyrant, for this grief is wrought  
By love thy counsel which my mind engageth.   

To thy fierce thraldom, whiles he spoils mine heart,  
So be my mind, and heart imprisoned fast  
To two fierce tyrants, which this empire part.  
Oh milder gods shall this for ever last,   

If that I have these bitter plagues deserved,  
Yet let repentance which my soul doth melt  
Obtain some favour, if you be not sueru'de  
From laws of mercy, know what plagues I felt.   

Yea but I doubt enchantment in my breast,  
For never man, so much aggrieved as I  
Can live with ceaseless sorrows weight oppressed,  
But twenty thousand times perforce should die:   

And with her eyes she did bewitch mine heart,  
Which lets it live, but feel an endless smart.    

ELEGY IX.  

With humble suit upon my bended knee,  
(Though absent far from hence not to be seen)  
Yet in thy power still present as gods be  
I speak these words, whose bleeding wounds be green,  
To thee dread Cupid, and thy mother Queen:   

If it at any time hath lawful been  
Men mortal to speak with adietie,  
Oh you great guiders of young springing age,  
Whose power immortal ever was I ween  
(As mighty as your spacious Monarchy)   

Oh spare me, spare my tedious pilgrimage!  
Take hence the least brand of your extreme fires,  
Do not 'gainst those (which yield) fierce battle wage:  
I know by this, you will allay your rage,  
That you give life unto my long desires,   

Which still persuades me, you will pity take:  
Life is far more, than my vexed soul desires:  
Oh take my life, and after death torment me,  
Then (though in absence of my chief delight)  
I shall lament alone, my soul requires,   

And longs to visit sweet Elysian fields:  
Then that I loved it never shall repent me,  
There (till those days of jubilee shall come)  
Would I walk pensive, pleased, alone and dumb:  
Grant this petition sweet loves Queen which weeldes   

The heart of forlorn lovers evermore:  
Or else Zanclaean Charibd me devour,  
And through his waters sent to Stygian power,  
Or patiented let me burn in Aetna's flame:  
Or fling myself in fury from the shore   

Into deep waves of the Lancadean god,  
Rather than bear this tumult and uproar,  
And through your means be scourged with mine own rod:  
Oh let me die, and not endure the same:  
The suit I make, is to be punished still,   

Nor would I wish not to be wretched there,  
But that I might remain in hope, and fear:  
Sweet lovely saints, let my suit like your will.    

ELEGY X.  

In quiet silence of the shady night,  
All places free from noise of men, and dogs,  
When Phoebe carried in her chariot bright  
Had cleared the misty vapours, and night fogs:  
Then (when no care the quiet shepherd clogs,   

Having his flock safe foddered in the fold)  
A lively vision to my fancy's sight  
Appeared, which me thought wake I did behold,  
A fiery boy, outmatching the moon light,  
Who softly wispering in mine ear, had told   

There thou thy fair Parthenophe may see:  
I quickly turning, in an hebene bed,  
With sable covering and black curtanes spread,  
With many little loves in black by thee,  
thou thou Parthenophe left almost dead   

(Pail cold, with fear) I did behold ay me!  
Ah me! left almost senseless in my bed:  
My groans perceived by those which near me lay,  
By them with much ado recovered:  
Which fearful vision so did me afray   

That (in a fury set beside my wit)  
Sick as before, me thought I saw thee yitt:  
Venus thy face there covered with a veil,  
Mine heart with horror chill, to think on it:  
The graces kissed thy lips and went away.   

Then I with furious raging did assail  
To kiss thee, lest thou should departed before,  
And then (in sight of those which there did stand)  
Thinking that I should never see thee more,  
Mistaking thee, I kissed a firebrand:   

Burnt with the fire (my senses which did fail  
Freshly recalled into their wits again)  
I found it was a dream, but sweet expound it,  
For that strange dream, with tears renews my pain,  
And I shall never rest, till I have found it.    

ELEGY XI.  

Was it decreed by fates too certain doom,  
That under Cancer's Tropic (where the Sun  
Still doth his race in hottest circuit run)  
My mind should dwell, and in none other room,  
Where comforts all be burnt, before the bloom?   

Was it concluded (by remorseless fate)  
That underneath Th'Erimanthian bear,  
Beneath the Lycaonian Axel-tree,  
(Where ceaseless snows and frosts extremity  
Hold jurisdiction) should remain my fear,   

Where all mine hopes be nip'te, before the bear?  
Was it thus ordered that (till my deaths date)  
When Phoebus runs on our Meridian line,  
When mists fall down beneath our Hemi-sphoere,  
And Cynthia with dark Antipod's doth shine,   

That my despair should hold his mansion there?  
Where did the fatal sisters this assign?  
Even when this judgement to them was awarded,  
The silent sentence issewed from her eyen,  
Which neither pity, nor my cares regarded.    

ELEGY XII.  

Oh never can I see that sunny light,  
That bright chntriver of my fiery rage,  
Those precious golden apples shining hright,  
But out alas, me thinks some fearful sight  
Should battle with the dear beholders wage.   

I fear such precious things should have some force  
Them to preserve, lest some beholders might  
Procure those precious apples by their slight:  
Then cruel Atlas banished from remorse  
Enters my thoughts, and how he feared away.   

The poor inhabitants which dwelled about  
(Lest some of his rich fruit should make a pray)  
Although the Orchard, circummur'de throughout  
With walls of steel was, and a vigil stout  
Of watchful Dragons guarded every where,   

Which bold attempters vexed with hot pursuit,  
So that none durst approach his fruit for fear.  
Thus (Atlas-like) thine heart hath Dragons set  
Tyrannous hatred, and a proud disdain,  
Which in that Orchard cruelly did rain,   

And with much rigour rule thy lovely eyes,  
Immured in steely walls of chaste desire,  
Which entrance to poor passengers denies,  
And deaths high danger to them that require:  
And even as Atlas (through fierce cruelty   

And breach to laws of hospitality  
When lodging to a stranger he denied)  
Was turned to a stony mountain strait,  
Which on his shoulders now support's heavens weight,  
A just revenge for cruelty and pride:   

Even so, thine heart (for inhumanity,  
And wrath to those that thine eyes apples love,  
And that it will not lodge a lovely guest)  
Is turned to rock, and doth the burden bear  
Of thousand zealous lovers dear complaints:   

Whom thou with thy fierce cruelty di●…st tear,  
An huge hard rock, which none can ever move   

And of whose fruit, no man can be possessed:  
Thy golden smiles make none attemp'ts to dear,  
But when attempted once those apples be,  
The vain attempter, after feels the smart:  
Who by thy Dragons, hatred, and disdain   

Are torn in sunder, with extremity:  
For having entered, no man can get forth  
(So those enchanting apples hinder thee)  
Of such dear prize, be things of such rare worth.  
But even as Perseus, Ioues thrice valiant son   

(Begot of Danae in a golden shower)  
Huge Atlas conquered, when he first begun:  
Then kill'●…●…he Dragons with his matchless power,  
At length the beauteous golden apples won:  
So right is he borne in a golden hour,   

(And for his fortune may from jove descend)  
Who first thine heart an Atlas hath subdueed,  
Next, hatred, and disdain brought to their end  
Fierce Dragons, which attempters all purseu'de,  
And which before, none ever have eschew'de:   

At length, who shall these golden apples gain,  
He shall alone, be Perseus for his pain.    

ELEGY XIII.  

Swift Atalanta (when she lost the prize  
By gathering golden apples in her race)  
Shows how by th'apples of thine heavenly eyes,  
(Which fortune did before my passage place  
When for mine hearts contentment I did run)   

How I was hindered, and my wager lost:  
When others did the wagers worth surprise  
I vew'de thine eyes, thus eyes vew'de to my cost,  
Nor could I them enjoy when all was done,  
But seeming (as they did) bright as the Sun,   

My course I stayed, to view their fiery grace,  
Whose sweet possession I could not comprise:  
Th' Idaean shepherd (when the strife begun  
Amongst three goddesses) as judge decreed,  
The golden apple Venus did award,   

Cause of the waist, and downfall of proud Troy:  
But when the graces had a sweet regard  
How fair Parthenophe did her exceed,  
And Venus now was from the world debarred  
One so much fairer far, as to much coy,   

Parthenophe the chose in Venus fleede,  
And since her beauty Venus did out go  
Two golden apples were to her assigned:  
Which apples all th'outrageous tumults breed  
That are heped up in my distressed mind.   

Whose figure in inflamed Troy I find,  
The chief occasion of mine endless woe.    

ELEGY XIIII.  

When I remember that accursed night,  
When my dear beauty said she must departed,  
And the next morning leave the City's sight:  
Ah then, even then black sorrow shew'de his might,  
And placed his empyer in my vanquished heart:   

Mine heart still vanquished, yet assaulted still,  
Burnt with loves outrage, from whose clear torch light  
Fierce sorrow finds, a way to spoil, and kill.  
Ah sorrow, sorrow, never satisfied!  
And if not satisfied, work on thy will:   

Oh dear departure of mine only bliss!  
When willing, from the City thou did ride,  
And I made offer (though then wounded wide)  
To go with thee, thou rashly didst refuse  
With me distressed to be accompanied:   

And binding words (imperious) didst use  
Commanding me an other way to choose.  
Ah then, even then in spirit crucified,  
Mine eyes with tears, mine heart with sighs, and throbs:  
Those almost blind, that hard swoln●… almost burst,   

My brains abjuring harbour to my muse,  
Did leave ●…hoaked almost with strait sobs,  
Ah be that hour, and day for ever cursed   

Which me of my life's liberty did rob:  
For since that time I never saw my love,  
Long can we not be severed, I will follow  
Through woods, through mountains, waves, and caves made hollow  
Oh grief, of griefs extremity the worst!   

Still will I follow, till I find thee out:  
And if my wish with travel will not prove,  
Yet shall my sorrows travel round about  
In wailful Elegies, and mournful verse  
Until they find, and thee with pity pierce:   

Mean while to see thee more standing in doubt.  
I'll sing my plainsong with the Turtle dove;  
And pricksong with the Nighting all rehearse.    

ELEGY XV.  

Oh dear remembrance of my ladies eyes  
In mind whose revolutions I revolve!  
To you mine hearts bright guid-starres, my soul cries  
Upon some happy sentence to resolve:   

A sentence either of my life, or death,  
So bale me from the dungeon of despair,  
On you I cry with interrupted breath,  
On you, and none but you to cross my care:   

My care to cross, lest I be crucified  
Above the patience of an humane soul,  
Do this, Ah this, and still be glorified:  
Do this, and let eternities enroll   

Thy fame, and name, let them enroll for ever  
In lasting records of still lasting steel:  
Do this, ah this and famous still persever,  
Which in another age thy ghost shall feel.   

Yet (howsoever thou with me shall deal)  
Thy beauty shall persever in my verse:  
And thine eyes wound, which thine heart would not heal:  
And my complaints, which could not thine heart pierce:   

And thine hard heart, thy beauties shameful stain:  
And that fowl stain, thine endless infamy:  
So (though thou still in record do remain)  
The records reckon but thine obloquy,   

When on the paper (which my passionbeares)  
Relenting readers (for my sake) shed tears.    

ELEGY XVI.  

Ah were my tears (as many writers be)  
Mere drops of ink proceeding from my pen,  
Then in these sable weeds you should not see  
Me severed from society of men:   

Ah me all colours do mine eyes displease,  
Save those two colours, of pure white, and red,  
And yet I dare not flourish it in these,  
Because I can not, for my colour's dead.   

Those colours flourish round about each where,  
But chiefly with my mistress in their kind,  
And fain I would her lovely colours wear  
So that it might be pleasing to her mind:   

But nought will please her over-cruell eye,  
But black, and pail on body, and in face:  
Then she triumphs in beauties tyranny,  
When she sees beauty, beauty can disgrace.   

When her sweet smiling eyes, dry Vest●…es throne,  
Can blubbered bleare-eyes drown in seas of tears:  
And laughs to here poor lovers how they moan,  
joys in the paper which her praises bears,   

And (for his sake that sent) that schoedule tears:  
What but pale envy doth her heart assail)  
When she would be still fair, add laugh alone,  
And (for her sake) all other's mourn, and pail.    

ELEGY XVII.  

Dear mistress than my soul to me much dearer,  
Wonder not that another writes my letter:  
For sorrow still mine heart oppresseth nearer,  
And extreme sickness doth my sinews fetter.  
Of my dear life to thy love am I debtor.   

Thine is my soul, than soul what can be merer:  
Thine my chief best, then that what can better?  
Absented far, and (that which is far worse)  
Unable either for to go, or ride,  
Here am I in perpetual bondage tied,   

Then if with salvage Sauromates, far worse:  
This air is loath some, and this air I curse,  
Because with thy sweet breath it is not blest.  
Though hot, cool waters I can not abide  
(Since the which thy clear eyes as all the rest)   

Be not (as they sometimes were) purified.  
The ground (I tread) my footing doth infest:  
Because it is not hallowed with thy feet.  
I loathe all meat, for all meat is unmeet  
Which is not eaten, where thy sweet self feedest.   

Nothing is pleasant, lovely, rich, or sweet,  
Which doth not with his grace thy beauty greet:  
Ah too dear absence which this sickness breedest,  
Of thy dear sweet, which can not be too dear.  
Yet if thou wilt vouchsafe my life to save   

Writ but one line, one line my life will cheer:  
The ransom of my life thy name will pay,  
And I be freed from my much doubtful fear.    

ELEGY XVIII.  

If neither love, nor pity can procure  
Thy ruthless heart subscribe to my content:  
But if thou vow that I shall still endure  
This doubtful fear which ever doth torment.  
If to thine eyes thine heart can lend a fire,   

Whiles could disdain upon them sets a lock:  
To bar forth pity which kind heart's desire,  
Whiles the distressed make prayers to a rock.  
If that thine eyes send out a sunny smile,  
From underneath a cloudy frown of hate:   

Plain love with counterfeasance to beguile,  
Which at thy windows for some grace awate.  
If thou thine ears can open to thy praise,  
And them with that report delighted, cherish:  
And shut them, when the passionate assays,   

To plead for pity, than about to perish.  
If thou canst cherish graces in thy cheek,  
For men to wonder at, which thee behold:  
And they find furies, when thine heart they see●…e,  
And yet prove such, as are extremely cold.   

Now as I find, no thought to man's conceit,  
Then must I swear, to womans no deceit.    

ELEGY XIX.  

Dear sorrow give me leave to breath a while,  
A little leave to take a longer breath:  
Whose easy passage still thou dost beguile  
Choked up with sighs, proclaimers of my death.  
Oh let the tears of ever-thirstie eyes.   

Return back to the channels of mine heart!  
They to my sight be vowed enemies,  
And made a traitorous league not to departed,  
Under the colour of tormenting those  
Which were first causers of mine heart's distress,   

And closely with mine heart by guile did close  
Through blinding them to make my torment less.  
Oh let those fearful thoughts which still oppress me  
Turn to the dungeon of my troubled brain!  
Despair t'accompany, which doth possess me,   

And with his venom poisoneth every vain:  
Ugly despair, who with black force assaults  
Me vanquished with conceit, and makes me dwell  
With horror, matched in melancholies vaults:  
Where I lie burning in my fancy's hell.   

Oh thou dread ruler of my sorrows rage,  
Of thee, and none but thee I beg remorse  
With thy sweet breath thou may my sighs assuage,  
And make my sorrows fountains stay their course,  
And banish black despair, then help me now:  
Or know, death can do this, as well as thou.    

ELEGY XX.  

Oh dear vexation of my troubled soul  
My life with grief when wilt thou consummate?  
The dear remembrance of my passing soul,  
Mine heart with some rests hope doth animate:  
How many have those conquering eyes subdued?   

How many vanquished captives to thine heart!  
Hard-iron hearted Captains when they vew'de  
Were drawn, till they were wounded with thy dart.  
Oh when I there heard bodies have beheld,  
Their martial stomachs, and oft wounded face:   

Which bitter tumults, and garboils foretelled,  
In which, it seemed they found no cowards place  
Than I recalled how far loves power exceeds  
Above the bloody menace of rough war:  
Where every wounded heart, close inward bleeds   

And soddeine pierced, with twinkling of a star.  
Then (when such iron hearted Captains be  
To thine heart's bulwark forced for to try  
Which way to win that fort by battery:  
And how all conquerors their conquered lie)   

Me thinks, thine heart, or else thine eyes be made  
(Because they can such iron objects force)  
Of hardest Adamant, that men (which lad  
Continual siege) be thralled without remorse:  
Thine heart of Adamant, because it takes   

The hardest hearts drawn prisoners, unto t●…e,  
Thine eye because, it wounded many makes,  
Yet no transpercing beams can pierce those eyen:  
Thine heart of Adamant, which none can wound:  
Thine eye of Adamant, unperced found.    

ELEGY XXI.  

Happy depart with speed, than me more fortunate ever  
Poor letter go thy ways, unto my sweet ladies hands:  
She shall look on thee, and then with her beautiful eyes bless:  
Smiling eyes (perhaps thee to delight with a glance)  
She shall cast on a line (if a line there pleaseth her humour)  
But if a line displease, then shall appear in a frown,  
How much she dislikes thy loves, and saucy salutings:  
O my life's sweet light, know that a frown of thine eye  
Can transpierce to my soul more swift than a Parthian arrow,  
And more deeply wound then any lance, or a spear:  
But thy sweet smiles can procure such contrary mot'ions,  
Which can alone that heal, wounded afore by thine eyes:  
Like to the lances rust which heal'de whom warlike Achilles  
(With right hand valiant) doughtilye wounded afore.  
Not unlike to the men, whose grief the Scorpion helpeth  
(Whom he before did sting) ready to die thorough pain:  
Thou that beauty procures to be thy chastity's hand maid,  
With virtues regiment glorious ordered alone:  
Thou that those smooth brows, like plates of ivory plained  
(When any look on them) canst make appear like a cloud:  
Thou that those clear eyes (whose light surpasseth a stars light,  
Canst make loves flames shoot, with cruel anger abroad:  
Thou that those fair cheeks (when a man thy beauty beholdeth)  
Deeply to wound canst make, sweetly to blush like a rose.  
Make thy brows (to delight mine heart) smooth shadow thy clear eyes:  
Whose smile is to my soul like to the sun from a cloud  
When he shines to the world in most pride after a tempest,  
And with his heat provokes all the delights of the ground.  
Grant me sweet Lady this, this grant, kind pity requesteth  
Tears and sighs make asuite, pity me, pity my suit:  
Thus to thy sweet graces will I leave my drcerye bewailings,  
And to thy gracious heart, I recomend my laments:  
Thrice blessed go thy way, to my dear go thrice speedy letter,  
And for me kiss them, since I may not kiss her hands.    

CANZON 1.  

All beauties far perfections rest in thee,  
And sweetest, grace of grace's  
Decks thy face 'bove faces:  
All virtue takes her glory from thy mind:  
The muses in thy wits have their places,  
And in thy thoughts all mercies be:  
Thine heart from all hardness free:  
An holy place in thy thoughts holiness doth find:  
In favourable speech kind:  
A sacred tongue, and eloquent:  
Action sweet, and excellent:  
Music itself in joints of her fair fingers is:  
She chauntresse of singers is:  
Her plighted faith, is firm, and permanent.  
O now, now, help, wilt thou take some compassion?  
She thinks I flatter, writing on this fashion.   

Thy beauty past, with misorder stained is.  
In thee no graces find rest:  
In thee (who sought it) saw lest.  
And all thy thoughts be vain, and vicious:  
Thy brains with heavy dullness are oppressed.  
Of thee no mercy gained is,  
Thine heart hard, and feigned is.  
Aminde profane, and of the worst suspicious:  
In speech not delicious:  
Atoung tied which cannot utter,  
Gesture lame, like words which stutter:  
Thy hands, and mind vnap'te in music to rejoice:  
For songs unfit, an hoarse voice:  
Thy faith unconstant, whatsoever thou mutter.  
Be gracious, no, she thinks my words be bitter,  
Through my misfortunes, they for myself be fit.   

O'h how long, how long shall I be distressed?  
How long in vain, shall I moan?  
How long in pain, shall I groan?  
How long shall I bathe in continual tears?  
How long shall I sit sad, and sigh alone?  
How long shall fear discomfort give?  
How long shall hopes let me live?  
How long shall I lie bound in despairs, and fears?  
With sorrow still my heart wears,  
my sundry fancies subdue me,  
Thine eyes kill me, when they view me:  
When thou speaks with my soul thy voice music maketh,  
And souls from silence waketh.  
Thy brows smiles quicken me, whose frowns slew me,  
Then fair sweet behold, see me poor wretch in torment,  
Thou perceivest well, but thine heart will not relent.   

Mine eyes and sleep, be fierce processed foes:  
Much care and tears did make it,  
Nor yet will they forsake it.  
But they will vex my brains, and troubled eyes:  
If any sorrow sleep, they will wake it.  
Still sighing mine heart overthrows,  
Yet art thou cause of these woes.  
But what anayles if I make to the deaf such horrible outcries?  
She hears not my miseries,  
O sorrow sorrow cease a while!  
Let her but look on me, and smile,  
And from me for a time thou shalt be banished,  
My comforts are vanished:  
Nor hope, nor time, my sorrows can beguile,  
Yet cease I not to cry for mercy, vexed thus:  
But thou wilt not relieve us, which perplexed us.   

Ah would thou set some limits to my woes,  
That after such a time set,  
(As penance to some crime set)  
Forbearance through sweet hope I might endure:  
But as bird (caught in the fowler's lime set)  
No means for his liberty knows,  
Me such despair overgoes,  
That I can find no comfortable hope of cure:  
Then since nothing can procure  
My sweet comfort, by thy kindness,  
Armed in peace, to bear this blindness)  
I voluntarily submit to this sorrow;  
(As erst) each even, and morrow:  
Can women's hearts harbour such unkindness?  
Oh relent, relent, and change thy behaviour:  
Fowl is the name of tyrant, sweet of saviour.   

Long to the rocks have I made my complaints,  
And to the woods desolate  
My plaints went, early, and late;  
To the forsaken mountains, and rivers:  
Yet comfortless, and still disconsolate.  
Mine heart as it was wont faints:  
Such small help, comes from such saints.  
Why should men which in such pain live, be call'de livers?  
Such arrows bear loves quivers,  
Now (since rocks, and woods will not hear,  
Nor hills, and floods my sorrows bear,  
In founding Echoes, and swift waves, the world about)  
These papers report it out,  
Whose lasting Chronicles, shall time outwear.  
Then take remorse (dear love) and to these united  
Shall be thy mercies, with matchless praise recited.   

You hapless winds, with my sighs infected,  
Whose fumes you never let rise  
To please her with sacrifice:  
But evermore engross clouds them choked,  
So that my dear, could never them comprise,  
O you (that never detected  
My plaints, but them neglected,  
Which in your murmurs brought might have her provoked,  
When them with clouds you cloaked)  
Know, that a prouder spirit flies,  
Bearing them to posterities,  
And lays them open wide, that the world may view them,  
That all which read, may rue them,  
When they shall pierce thine ears, though not thine eyes.  
Then sweet fair, pity my long service, and duty,  
Lest thine hard heart be more famous, than thy beauty.  
Then do no longer despise  
But with kind pity relent thee,  
Cease to vex, and torment me:  
If shames fear move not, which all discovers,  
Fear plague of remorseless lovers.    

THE FIRST EIDILLION of moschus describing love.  

Venus, aloud for her son 〈◊〉  
If any spy love gadding 〈◊〉  
It is my rogue, he that shall him 〈◊〉  
(For higher) of Venus shall have kisses sweet:  
But thou that brings him, shall have more beside,  
Thou shalt not only kiss, but as guest stay.  
By many marks, the boy thou ma●…●…ray,  
'mongst twenty such (beside) thou shalt perceive him  
Not of a pale complexion, but like fire,  
Quick rolling eyes, and flaming in their gyre,  
False heart, sweet words, which quickly will deceive him  
To whom he speaks, sweet speech at your desire,  
But vex him, then as any wasp he stingeth:  
Lying, and false (if you receive him)  
A crafty lad, and cruel pastimes bringeth.   

A fair curl'de head, and a right waggish face.  
His hands are small, yet he shoots far away,  
For even so far as Acheron he shooteth,  
And to th'infernal monarch, his darts stray:  
Cloathlesse he naked goes in every place,  
And yet to know his thoughts, it no man booteth,  
Swift (as a bird) he flies, and quickly footeth  
Now to these men, and women now to those,  
But yet he sits, within their very marrow,  
A little bow, and in that bow an arrow:  
A small flight-shaft, but still to heauen-wardg●…es,  
About his neck a golden dart-barrow,  
In which he placeth every bitter dart,  
Which often even at me he throws,  
All full of cruelty all full of smart.   

And yet this thing more wondrous, a small brand  
That even the very sun itself doth burn,  
If him thou take, pitiless lead him bound,  
And (if thou chance to see him weep) return:  
Then (lest he thee deceive) his tears withstand,  
And if he laugh, draw him along the ground,  
If he would kiss, refuse: his lips confound,  
For those alone be poisoned evermore:  
But if he say, take, these I give to thee,  
All those my weapons which belong to me,  
Touch them not, when he lays them thee before,  
Those gifts of his, all false and fiery be.    
FINIS.   

ODES PASTORAL.  

SESTINE 2.  

IN sweetest pride of youthful may,  
Where my poor flocks were wont to stay  
About the valleys and high hills  
Which Flora with her glory fills,  
Parthenophil the gentle swain,  
Perplexed with a pleasing pain,   

Despairing how to slake his pain,  
To woods and floods these words did say:  
Parthenophe mine hearts sovereign,  
Why dost thou my delights delay?  
And with thy cross unkindness kills,  
Mine heart bound martyr to thy wills?   

But women will have their own wills,  
Alas why then should I complain?  
Since what she list her heart fulfilles,  
I sigh, I weep, I kneel, I pray,  
When I should kiss she runs away:  
Sighs, knees, tears, prayers spent in vain.   

My verses do not please her vain.  
Mine heart wears with continual thrills,  
His Epilogue about to play,  
My sense unsound, my wits in wain,  
I still expect an happy day,  
Whilst harvest grows, my winter spill,   

Parthenophe mine harvest spill.  
She robs my storehouse of his grain:  
Alas sweet wench thy rage allay,  
Behold what fountain still distills,  
Whiles thine heats rage in me doth rain:  
Yet moisture will not his flame stay.   

Parthenophe thy fury stay,  
Take hence th' occasion of these Ills,  
Thou art the cause, but come again,  
Return, and Flora's pride distain,  
Her lilies, rose, and daffodils:  
Thy cheeks, and forehead disarray   

The rose and lilies of their grain.  
What swans can yield so many quills,  
As all glories can display.    

ODE 1.  

WHen I walk forth into the woods  
(With heavy passion to complain)  
I view the trees with blushing buds  
Ashamed, or grieved at my pain:  
There Amaranthe, with rosy stain  
(Me pitying) doth his leaves ingraine.   

When I pass pensive to the shore,  
The water birds about me fly:  
As if the mourned, when rivers roar,  
chiding thy wrathful cruelty:  
halcyon watcheth warily  
To chide thee, when thou commest-by.   

If to the City I repair,  
Mine eyes thy cruelty betray:  
And (those which view me) find my cayer:  
Swollen eyes, and sorrows it betray,  
Whose figures in my forehead are:  
These curse the cause of mine ilfare.   

When I go forth to feed my flocks,  
As I, so they hang down their head:  
If I complain to ruthless rocks  
(For that it seems hard rocks her bred)  
Rocks ruth in rivers may be red,  
Which from those rocks downe-trickled.   

When shepherd's would know how I far,  
And ask how doth Parthenophil:  
Il Echo answers in voy de air:  
And with these news each place doth fill.  
Poor herdgroomes from each cottage will  
Sing my complaints, on every hill.    

ODE 2.  

Speak Echo tell,  
With lilies, Columbines, and Roses,  
What their Parthenophe, composes? Echo, poses  
Oh sacred smell!  
For those (which in her lap she closes)  
The gods please well.   

Speak Echo tell:  
With Daffodils what doth she plette,  
Which in such order she doth set  
For love to dwell▪  
As she should Flora's Chapel let? Echo, Chaplet  
This love likes well.   

Speak Echo tell:  
Why lilies, and red Roses like her? Echo, like her.  
No pity with remorse will strike her,  
Did nature well?  
Which did from fairest graces pike her  
To be mine hell?   

Speak Echo tell:  
Why columbines she entertains?  
Because the proverb (watchet) feigns  
True loves like well?  
And do these therefore like her veins? Ecch. her veins  
There Cupid's dwell.   

Speak Echo tell:  
Wherefore her Chaplets yellow were like,  
When others here, were more her like? Echo, hearelike:  
Yet I know well,  
Her heart is Tygrelike, or Bear-like:  
To rocks it sell.    

CANZON 2.  

Sing sing (Parthenophil) sing, pipe, and play:  
This feast is kept upon this plain  
Amongst th'Arcadian shepherd's every where  
For Astrophill's birthday: sweet Astrophil.  
Arcady's honour, mighty Pan's chief pride:  
Where be the Nymphs, the Nymphs all gathered be  
To sing sweet Astrophil's sweet praise.   

Echo, record what feasts be kept to day  
Amongst th'Arcadian shepherd swain,  
What keep the whiles they do the muse's cheer? Echo, cheer  
He chear'de the muses with celestial skill,  
All shepherd's praise died with him when he died:  
He left no peer, than what deserved he  
At whose pipes sound the Lamb kin bays? Echo, bays   

The bullocks leap, the fawns dance in array:  
Kids skip, the satires friskynes fain,  
Here stands an heard of swains, fair Nymphs stand there:  
Swains dance, whiles Nymphs with flowers their baskets fill.  
What was he to those Nymphs which garlands tied? Echo, tied  
What tied him? hath he to tell there bound t'ee? Echo, bounty  
How? to report his martial days? Echo, all days.   

Thrice happy man that found this happy way  
His praise all shepherd's glory stain:  
What doth Parthenophe my purchase dear? Echo, chase de●…  
What saith she to her Parthenophil? Echo, ofill.  
shepherds I fill sweet wines repurified,  
And to his blessed soul this health heave we,  
Singing sweet O des, and round lays.   

Let every man drink round beside this bay:  
Where are the Nymphs and sayrie train?  
Stella, three garlands in her hand doth bear,  
And those for his sweet sake she proffer will  
Unto th'Elezian souls: And I have spied  
Parthenophe, with spoil returns to me  
Of three great hearts. sing virilayes.   

Those golden darts fly never void of pray  
And Stella sits (as if some chain  
Offancies bound her) by that mottley breere:  
Where with sweet Eglantine, and Daffadil  
She Clapplettes makes, with gold and scarlet died.  
Here Colin sits beneath that oaken tree  
Eliza singing in his lays.   

Blessed is Arcadia's Queen, kneel swains, and say  
That she (which here chief Nymph doth rain)  
May blessed live, to see th' extremest year.  
For sacrifice (then) Lambs and kiddlinges kill:  
And be by them Eliza glorified,  
The flower of loves, and pure virginity:  
This Delian Nymph doth amaise.   

The fairest dears which in the forests stay,  
Those hearts (which proudest heard's distain  
And range the forests as with compear)  
Submissive yield themselves, that if she will  
She them may wound, or on their swift backs ride.  
Lions, and Bears, with beauty tameth she:  
Shepherd's, for her your voices raise.   

Echo this favour if I purchase may  
Do not herdgroomes there fain? Echo, they're fain.  
What want they, speak, now they be blest, if ear. Echo, fear.  
What be the confines? rebel's they be still. Echo, they be still.  
What is she, that so many swains doth their guide? Echo, there guide  
None but herself, hath that ability  
To rule so many blessed ways:  
Her thoughts sure grounded on divinity,  
For this sweet Nymph, each shepherd prays.    

ODE 3.  

Upon an holy Saints eve  
(As I took my pilgrimadge)  
wandering through the forest wary  
(Blessed be that holy saint)  
I met the lovely Virgin mary  
And kneeled with long travel faint  
Performing my due homage,  
My tears foretold mine heart did grieve  
Yet Mary would not me relieve.   

Her I did promise every year,  
The firstling female of my flock  
That in my love she would me further:  
I cursed the days of my first love,  
My comforts spoils, my pleasures murder:  
She, she alas did me reprove,  
My suits (as to a stony rock)  
Were made, for she would not give ear.  
Ah love, dear love, love bought to dear!   

Marry, my saint chaste, and mild  
Pity, ah pity my suit;  
Thou art a virgin, pity me:  
Shine eyes, though pity wanting.  
That she by them my grief may see  
And look on mine heart panting:  
But her deaf ears, and tongue mute  
Shows her hard heart vnreconcil'de,  
Hard heart, from all remorse exiled.    

ODE 4.  

Bacchus' father of all sport,  
Worker of loves comfort:  
Venus best beloved brother  
(Like beloved is none other)  
Greater father of felicity,  
Fill full with thy divinity,  
These thirsty, and these empty veins.  
Thence fuming up into my brains  
Exceed Apollo through thy might,  
And made me by thy motion light:  
That with alacrity I may  
Write pleasing Odes, and still display  
Parthenophe, with such high praises  
Whose beauty shepherd's all amases:  
And by those means her loves obtain,  
Then having filled up every vain,  
I shall be set in perfect state  
The rights of love to celebrate  
Then each year fat from my sheepecoate  
Thy sacrifice a tidy goat:  
And Iô Euohê shall be  
Loud chanted every where to thee.    

ODE 5.  

Parthenophe see what is sent:  
By me (fair Nymph) these saints salute thee,  
Whose presents in this basket hear  
Faithful Parthenophil doth bear,  
Nor will I prove ingrate, nor mute be.  
If my power were,  
Such gifts as these  
(If they would please)  
Here willingly I would present.   

And these those presents present be:  
First juno sent to thee these lilies,  
In whose steed chaste affection moves  
Venus hath sent two Turtle doves,  
Narcissus gives the Daffodils:  
For doves true loves:  
For Daffodils  
My golden wills:  
Which countervails, what here is sent thee.   

Flora doth greet thee with sweet Roses,  
Thetis with rich pearl Oriente;  
Leucothoe with frankincense:  
For Roses, my loves chaste pretence:  
For pearls, those tears which I have spent:  
My sighs incense,  
For sweet perfume:  
Thus I presume  
Poor shepherd, to present these poasies.   

Though I be rude (as shepherds are)  
lilies I know, do stand for whiteness:  
And Daffodils thy golden hear:  
And doves thy meekness figures bear:  
Red Roses for a blushing brightness,  
Thy teeth pearls were,  
That incense shoed  
Thy breath that bloed  
A sacrifice, for which gods care.   

Blessed is that shepherd nine times nine  
Which shall in bosom these flowers keep,  
Bound in one posy whose sweet smell  
In paradise may make him dwell  
And sleep a ten-times happy sleep:  
I dare not mell,  
Else with good will  
Parthenophil  
Would to thy lips one kiss assign.    

ODE 6.  

Oh fair sweet glove  
Divine token  
Of her sweet love  
Sweetly broken:  
By words, sweet loves she durst not move,  
These gifts her love to me do prove  
Though never spoken.   

On her fair hand  
This glove once was,  
None in this land  
Did ever pass  
Her hands fair white, come loves here stand,  
Let graces (with yours) match her hand:  
hide, hide alas!   

Grace's would smile  
If you should match,  
Herr's yours beguile,  
Her's garlands catch  
From all the Nymphs, which blush the while  
To see there white outmatched a mile  
Which praise did watch.   

This glove I kiss,  
And for thy sake  
I will not miss  
But ballads make,  
And every shepherd shall know this,  
Parthenophil in such grace is  
Muse's awake:   

For I will sing  
Thy matchless praises:  
And my pipes bring  
Which floods amaises,  
Wild satires friskines shall out-fling,  
The rocks shall this days glory ring  
Whiles Nymphs bring dazes.   

Some woodbynes bear  
Some damask roses  
The muses were  
A binding poases,  
My goddess glove to herrye here,  
Great Pan, comes in with flowers sear  
And crowns composes.   

I note this day,  
Once every year  
An holiday  
For her kept dear:  
An hundredth swains on pipes shall play,  
And for the glove mask in array  
Withiolly cheer.   

A glove of gold  
I will bring in,  
For which swains bold  
Shall strife begin:  
And he (which loves can best unfold,  
And hath in songs his mind best told)  
The glove shall win.   

Nymphs shall resort,  
And they (which flowers)  
Shall deck a fort  
For paramours:  
Which for this glove shall there contend,  
Unpartial Nymphs shall judgement end:  
And in those bowers.   

Pronounce, who best  
Deserved of all:  
Then by the rest  
A coronal  
Of Roses, freshly shall be dressed:  
And he with that rich glove possessed,  
As principal.    

ODE 7.  

When I did think to write of war,  
And martial cheefden's of the field:  
Diana did enforce to yield  
My muse to praise the Western star:  
But Pallas did my purpose bar:  
My muse as too weak it to wield.   

Eliza's praises were too high,  
Divinest wits have done their best,  
And yet the most have proved least:  
Such was her sacred majesty,  
loves pride grace to virginity:  
Oh could my muse in her praise rest!   

Venus' directed me to write  
The praise of peerless beauties wonder,  
A theme more fit for voice of thunder:  
Parthenophe, from whose eyes bright,  
Ten thousand graces dar'e my might,  
And willed me five degrees writ under.   

But yet her fancy wrought so much,  
That my muse did her praise adventure,  
Wherein of yore it durst not enter:  
And now her beauty gives that touch,  
Unto my muse, in number such:  
Which makes me more, and more repent her.    

ODE 8.  

In a shady grove of myrtle,  
(Where birds musical resorted)  
With Flora's painted flowers fertile,  
Which men with sight and sent comforted,  
Whilst turtles equally disported,  
Where each Nymph loases,  
Bunches of poases,  
Which into Chapplettes sweet they sorted.   

There seated in that lovely shade,  
Which Laya beautiful there sat  
A gentle shepherd, which had made  
'Gainst evening twilight somewhat late,  
An arbour built in Sylvan state  
Where in exchange,  
Their eyes did range  
Giving each other the checkmate.   

He said sweet comfort of my life  
Come and embrace Parthenophil  
Met we sade she to fall at strife  
I will be gone I that I will  
I loved your long, why do so still  
I can not choose  
If you refuse  
But shall myself with sorrow kill.   

With that he sight and would have kissed  
And vew'de her with a fearful smile  
She turned and said your am mist  
With sighs redoubled the meanwhile  
The shepherd sat, but did compile  
Green knotted rushings,  
Then roundlayes sings:  
And pleasant doth twilight beguile.   

At length he somewhat nearer priest  
And with a glance the Nymph deceiving  
He kissed her, she said be at rest  
Willing displeased in the receiving:  
Thence from his purpose never leaving  
He priest her further,  
She would cry murder,  
But somewhat was her breath bereaving.   

At length he doth possess her whole,  
Her lips, and all he would desire:  
And would have breathed in her his sole  
(If that his sole he could enspyer)  
Eft that chanced which he did require:  
A live soul possessed  
Her matron breast,  
Then waking I found sleep a liar.    

ODE 9  

Behold (out-walking in these valleys)  
Where fair Parthenophe doth tread,  
How ioysome Flora with her dallies,  
And at her steps sweet flowers bred:  
Narcissus yellow,  
And Amaranthus everredde,  
Which all her footsteps over spread:  
With Hyacynthe that finds no fellow.   

Behold, within that shady thick  
Where my Parthenophe doth walk,  
Her beauty makes trees moving quick  
Which of her grace in murmur talk:  
The poplar trees shed tears,  
The blossomed Hauthorne white as chalk,  
And Aspen trembling on his stalk:  
The tree which sweet 〈◊〉 bears.   

The barren Hebene coalie black,  
Green ivy with his strange embraces,  
Daphne which scorns Ioues thunder-cracke,  
Sweet Cypress set in sundry places:  
And singing Atis tells  
Unto the rest my mistress graces,  
From them the wind her glory chases  
Throughout the West: where it excels.    

ODE 10.  

Why doth heaven bear a Sun  
To give the world an heat?  
Why there have stars a seat?  
On earth (when all is done)  
Parthenophes bright Sun  
Doth give a greater heat.   

And in her heaven there be  
Such fair bright blazing stars,  
Which still make open wars  
With those in heavens degree:  
These stars far brighter be  
Then brightest of heavens stars.   

Why doth earth bring forth Roses,  
Violettes, or lilies  
Or bright Daffadylies:  
In her clear cheeks she closes  
Sweet Damask Roses,  
In her neck white lilies.   

violets in her veins:  
Why do men sacrifice  
Incense to deities?  
Her breath more favour gains,  
And please the heavenly veins,  
More than rich sacrifice.    

ODE 11.  

Lovely Maya Hermes mother  
Of fair Flora much befriended  
(To whom this sweet month is commended  
This month more sweet than any other)  
By thy sweet sovereignty defended.   

Dazes, Couslippes, and Primroses  
Fragrant violets, and sweet Mynthe  
Match'te with purple Hyacynthe,  
Of these each where Nymphs make trim poses  
Praising their mother Bericynthe.   

Behold an heard of jolly swains  
Go flocking up and down the mead,  
A troop of lovely Nymphs do tread:  
And dearnely dancing on you plains  
Each doth in course her hornpipe lead.   

Before the grooms plays Peers the piper,  
The bring in Hauthorne and sweet briar,  
And damaske-roses they would bear  
(But them they leave till they be riper)  
The rest, round morisses dance there.   

With frisking gambolds, and such glee,  
Unto the lovely Nymphs they hast:  
Who there in decent order placed  
Expect who shall Queen Flora be,  
And with the may crown chiefly grac'de.   

The shepherds poopen in their pipe  
One leads his wench a country round:  
Another sits upon the ground  
And doth his beard from drivel wipe,  
Because he would be handsome found.   

To see the frisking, and scouping  
To hear the herdgroomes' wowing speeches,  
Whiles one to dance his girl beseeches,  
The lead-heeld lazy luskines louping  
Fling out in their new mottley breeches.   

This done, with jolly cheer, and game  
The bachelor swains, and young Nymphs met  
Where in an arbour they were set  
Thither (to choose a Queen) they came  
And soon concluded her fet.   

There with a garland they did crown  
Parthenophe my sweet true-love,  
Whose beauty all the Nymphs above  
Did put the lovely graces down:  
The swains with shouts rocks Echoes move.   

To see the rounds, and morisse dances,  
The leaden galliard's for her sake,  
To hear those songs the shepherds make:  
One with his hobby-horse still praunces,  
Whiles some with flowers an high way make.   

There in amantle of light green,  
Reserved by custom for that day  
Parthenophe they did array  
And did create her summers Queen,  
And ruler of their merry may.    

SESTINE 3.  

You loathed fields, and forests,  
Infected with my vain sighs:  
You stony rocks, and deaf hills:  
With my complaints to speak taught:  
You sandy shores, with my tears,  
Which learn to wash your dry face:   

Behold, and learn in my face,  
The state of blasted forests.  
If you would learn to shed tears,  
Or melt away with oft sighs,  
You shall of me be this taught:  
As I sit under these hills:   

Beating mine arms on these hills,  
Laid groveling on my lean face:  
My sheep of me to bleat taught,  
And wander through the forests.  
The soddeine winds learn my sighs,  
Aurora's flowers my tears:   

But she that should see my tears,  
Swift skuddeth by the high hills,  
And sees me spent with long sighs,  
And views my blubhered lean face,  
Yet leaves me to the forests:  
Whose solitary paths taught   

My woes, all comforts untaught.  
These sorrows. sighs, and salt tears,  
Fit solitary forests:  
These out cries, meet for deaf hills:  
These tears, best-fitting this face:  
This air, most meet for these sighs.   

Consume consume with these sighs,  
Such sorrows, the to die taught,  
Which printed are in thy face:  
Whose furroes made with much tears:  
You stony rocks, and high hills,  
You sandy shores, and forests.   

Report my seas, of salt tears:  
You whom I nothing else taught,  
But groanings tears, and sad sighs.    

ODE 12.  

One night I did attend my sheep  
(Which I with watchful ward did keep)  
For fear of wolves assaulting  
For many times the broke my sleep,  
And would into the cottage creep,  
Till I sent them out halting.   

At length me thought about midnight  
(What time clear Cynthia shined bright)  
Beneath I heard a rumbling:  
At first the noise did me affright,  
But nought appeared in my sight,  
Yet still heard somewhat tumbling.   

At length good heart I took to rise,  
And then myself crossed three times thrice,  
Hence a sharp shephook reached:  
I feared the wolf had got a prize,  
Yet how he might could not devise:  
I for his entrance sought.   

At length by moonlight could I espy  
A little boy did naked lie  
Frettished, amongst the flock:  
I him approached somewhat nigh,  
He groaned as he were like to die,  
But falsely me did mock.   

For pity he cryeed wella-day,  
God master help me (if you may)  
For I am almost starved:  
I pitied him when he did pray,  
And brought him to my couch of hay,  
But guess, as I was served.   

He bore about him a long dart,  
Well guilded with fine painter's art,  
And had a pile of steel:  
On it I looked every part,  
Said I, will this pile wound an heart:  
Touch it (quoth he) and feel.   

With that I tuched the iavelinges point,  
eftsoones it pierced to the joint,  
And rageth now so fierce:  
That all the balms which it anoint,  
Cannot prevail with it a point,  
But it mine heart will pierce.    

ODE 13.  

On the plains  
Fairy trains  
Were a treading measures:  
satires played,  
Fairies staid  
At the stops set leisures.   

Nymphs begin,  
To come in  
Quickly, thick, and three fold:  
Now the dance,  
Now the prance,  
Present there (to behold)   

On her breast  
That did best  
Aiewell rich was placed:  
Flora chose,  
Which of those  
Best the measures graced.   

When he had  
Measures lad  
Parthenophe did get it:  
Nymphs did chide  
(When they tried)  
Where the judgement set it.   

Thus the said,  
This fair maid  
(Whom you gave the jewel)  
Takes no pleafure,  
To keep measure,  
But it is too to cruel    

ODE 14.  

Hark all you lovely Nymphs forlorn,  
With Venus' chaste Diana meets,  
And one another friendly greets:  
Did you not here her wind an home?  
Then cease fair Ladies do not morn.   

Virgins (whom Venus made offend)  
Resort into the wood at even,  
And every one shall be forgiven:  
There shall all controversies end,  
Diana shall be Venus' friend.   

Hark (Nympes forlorn) what is decreed:  
Spottelesse Diana (must notfayle)  
But be addressed with Venus' veil,  
Venus must we●…e Diana's weed:  
This veil will s●…dow, when you need,   

If any think a virgin light  
Dian'e in Venus' veil excuseth,  
And her Nymph Phoebe's habit useth:  
These queinte attires befit you right,  
For each a diverse garment chooseth.    

ODE 15.  

Vulcan in Lemnos I'll,  
Did golden shafts compyle  
For Cupid's bow:  
Then Venus did with honey sweet  
(To make it please, anoint the pile:  
Cupid below  
Dipped it in gall, and made it meet  
Poor wounded creatures to beguile.   

When Mars returned from war,  
Shaking his spear a far  
Cupid beheld:  
At him in jest Mars shaked his spear,  
Which Cupid with his dart did bar  
Which millions quelled:  
Then Mars desired his dart to bear,  
But soon the weight his force did mar●….   

Then Mars subdueed, desired  
(Since he was with it tyered)  
Cupid to take it:  
Nay, you shall keep it Cupid said,  
For first to feel it you requir'de:  
Wound I will make it  
As deep as yours: you me did fear:  
And for that, you shall be fired.    

CANZON 3.  

Sweet is the golden couslippe, bright, and fair:  
ten-times more sweet, more golden, fair, and bright,  
Thy tresses (in rich tramell'de knots) resembling.  
Venus' swans back, is lovely, smooth, and white:  
More lovely, smooth, and white his feathers are,  
The silver lustre os thy brows dissembling.  
Bright are the sunbeams, on the water trembling:  
Much brighter, shining like loves holy fire  
On the well-watred diamonds of those eyes,  
Whose heats reflection loves affection tries.  
Sweet is the sensor, whose fume doth aspire  
Appeasing love, when for revenge he flies:  
More sweet the censor, like thy seemly nose,  
Whose beauty (than inventions wonder h'yer)  
Nine times nine muses never could disclose.   

Sweet eglantine, I can not but commend  
Thy modest rosy blush, pure white, and red:  
Yet I thy white, and red praise more, and more,  
In my sweet ladies cheeks since they be shed.  
When grapes to full maturity do tend,  
So round, so red, so sweet, all joy before,  
Continually I long for them therefore;  
To suck there sweet, and with my lips to touch:  
Not so much for the muse's Nectar sake,  
But that they from thy lips there purpur take.  
Sweet (pardon) though I thee compare to such.  
Proud nature, which so white loves doves did make.  
And framed their lovely heads, so white, and round:  
How white and round? it doth exceed so much,  
That nature nothing like thy chin hath found.   

Fair Pearls which garnish my sweet Lady's neck,  
Fair Orient pearls oh how much I admire you!  
Not for your Orient gloss, or virtues rareness,  
But that you tuch her neck I much desire your,  
Whose whiteness so much doth your lustre cheek  
As whitest lilies the primrose in fairness:  
A neck most gorgeous, even in nature's bareness.  
Divine rose buds, which (when spring doth surrender  
His crown to summer) he last trophy reareth,  
By which he (from all seasons) the palm beareth,  
Fair purple crisped folds sweet-dew'de, and tender,  
Whose sweetness never wears, though moisture weareth,  
Sweet ripe-redde strawberries, whose heavenly sap  
I would desire to suck: but loves engender  
A Nectar more divine, in thy sweet pap.   

Oh lovely tender paps! but who shall press them?  
Whose heavenly Nectar, and Ambroseall juice  
Proceed from Viollettes sweet, and Asier-like,  
And from the matchless purple Flower-deluce:  
Round-rising hills, white hills (sweet Venus bless them)  
Natures rich trophies, not those hills unlike  
Which that great Monarch Charles (whose power did strike  
From tharctic to th'antarctic) dignified  
With proud Plus ultra, which Cerographye  
In unknown Characters of victory  
Nature hath set: by which she signified  
Her Conquests miracle rear'de up on high.  
Soft ivory balls, with which whom she lets play  
Above all mortal men is magnified,  
And wagers 'bove all price shall bear away.   

Oh loves, soft hills how much I wonder you?  
Between whose lovely valleys, smooth, and strait  
That glassy moisture lies, that slippery dew,  
Whose courage tuch'te, could dead men animate:  
Old Nestor (if between, or under you  
He should but touch) his young years might renew,  
And with all youthful joys himself in dew.  
Oh smooth white satin, matchless, soft, and bright?  
More smooth than oil, more white then lily is,  
As hard to match as loves mounts hilly is,  
As soft as down, clear as on glass sunne-light,  
To praise your white my tongue too much silly is:  
How much at your smooth soft my sense amazed is,  
Which charms the feeling and inchauntes the sight?  
But yet her bright, smooth, white, soft skin more praised is.   

How oft have I, the silver swan commended  
For that even chess of feathers in her wing,  
So white, and in such decent order placed,  
When she the dolye Dirge of death did sing,  
With her young mournful Cygnettes train attended?  
Yet, not because the milk-white wings her graced,  
But, when I think on my sweet ladies waist,  
Whose ivory sides, a snowy shadow gives  
Of her well ordered ribs, which rise in falling,  
How oft the swan I pitied her death calling?  
With dreerie notes? not that she so short lives,  
And 'mongst the muses singes, for her installing,  
But that so clear a white should be distained  
With one, that for loves sugared torment lives.  
And makes that white a plague to lovers pained.   

Oh how oft, how oft, did I chide and curse  
The brethren winds in their power disagreeing?  
East for unwholesome vapour, South for rain,  
North for (by snows and whirlwinds) bitter being:  
I loved the West, because it was the nurse  
To Flora's gardens, and to Coeres' grain.  
Yet ten-times more these I did curse again,  
Because they were inconstant, and unstable,  
In drought, in moisture, frosty cold, and heat,  
Here with a sunny smile, their stormy threat:  
Much like my Lady's fancies variable.  
How oft with feet did I the marble beat,  
Harming my feet, yet never hurt the stone,  
Because like her it was impenetrable,  
And her hearts nature with it was all one?   

Oh that my ceaseless sighs, and tears were able  
To countercharm her heart, to stone converted?  
I might work miracles to change again  
The hard to soft, that it might rue my pain:  
But of herself she is so straightly skirted  
(Falsely reputing true loud honour stain)  
That I shall never ●…ue, and never buy,  
So many ways her ●…de I have expected:  
Yet shall I live, through virtue of her eye.    

ODE 16.  

Before bright Titan raised his team,  
Or lovely morn with rosy cheek  
With scarlet did'e the Eastern stream,  
On Phoebe's day first of the week  
Early my goddess did arise  
With breath to bless the morning air:  
Oh heavens which made divine mine eyes  
Glancing on such a Nymph so fair.  
Whose hear (downe-spredde in curled tresses)  
Phoebus his glitter and beams withstood,  
Much like him when through Cypresses  
He danceth on the silver flood:  
Or like the golden purled down  
Brooched upon the palm-flowrd willows,  
Which downward scattered from her crown  
Loosely dishevelled on loves pillows,  
Covering her swanlike back below  
Like ivory match'te with purest gold,  
Like Phoebe when on whitest snow  
Her guilded shadow taketh hold.  
Her forehead was like to the rose  
Before Adonis prick'te his feet:  
O●… like the path to heaven which goes  
Where all the lovely graces meet.  
Cupid's rich chariot stood under,  
Moist pearl about the wheels was set,  
Grey Achate spokes not much asunder:  
The axle-tree of purest i●…tt.  
Her seemly nose the rest which grac'de,  
For Cupid's trophy was vprear'de:  
Timperiall thrones where love was placed,  
When of the world he would be feared,  
Where Cupid, with sweet Venus sat:  
Her cheeks with rose, and lilies deck'te,  
Nature upon the coach did wait,  
And all in order did direct.  
Her cheeks to Damas'▪ eroses sweet  
In sent, and colour, wear so like:  
That honnie-bees in swarms would meet  
To suck, and sometimes she would strike  
With dainty plume the bees to fear,  
And being beaten they would sting:  
They found such heavenly honey there,  
Cupid (which there sat triumphing)  
When he perceived the Bee did sting her,  
Would swell for grief, and curse that be  
More than the be that stinged his finger:  
Yet still about her they would flee.  
Then love to Venus would complain  
Of nature, which his chariot dressed:  
Nature would it excuse again  
Saying she then show'd her skill best.  
When she drunk wine upon her face  
Bacchus would dance, and spring to kiss,  
And shadow with a blushing grace  
Her cheeks, where lovers build there bliss:  
Who when she drank would blush for shame,  
That wanton Bacchus she should use,  
Who Venus brother might defame  
Her, that should such acquaintance choose.  
What gloss the scarlet curtains cast  
On a bedsteede of ivory,  
Such like, but such as much surpassed  
All gloss, her cheeks did beautify.  
Her roseate lips, soft lovely swelling,  
And full of pleasure as a Cherry:  
Her breath of divine spices smelling,  
Which with tongue broken, would make many  
Th'infernal souls, and with her voice  
Set heaven wide open, hell gates shut,  
Move melancholy to rejoice,  
And thrall'de in Paradise might put.  
Her voice not humane when she speaketh,  
I think some Angel or goddess  
(Into celestial tunes which breaketh)  
Speaks like her, with such cheerfulness.  
All birds, and instruments may take  
There notes divine, and excellent,  
Melodious harmony ●…o make  
From her sweet voices lest accent.  
This we loves sanctuary call:  
Whence sacred sentences proceed  
Rolled up in sounds Angelical,  
Whose place sweet nature hath decreed  
Just under Cupids ' trophy fixed:  
Where music hath his excellence,  
And such sweets, with loves spirit mixed,  
As please far more than frankincense,  
Thence issue forth loves Oracles  
Of happiness, and luckless teen,  
So strange be loves rare miracles  
In her, as like have never been.  
Her neck that curious axe●…,  
Pure ivory like, which doth support  
The globe of my cosmography,  
Where, to my planets I resort  
To take judicial signs of skill,  
When tempests to mine heart will turn,  
When showers shall my fountains fill,  
And extreme droughtes mine heart shall burn:  
There in that globe, shall I perceive,  
When I shall find clear element,  
There, gloomy mists shall I conceive  
Which shall offend the firmament,  
On this my studies still be bend,  
Where even as rivers from the seae●…  
In branches through the land be sent,  
And into crooked sinews press  
Throughout the globe such-wise the veins  
Clear Crystalline throughout her neck,  
Like sinuous, in their crooked trains  
Wildly the swelling waves did check.  
Thence rise her humble seemcly shoulders,  
Like two smooth pullished ivory tops,  
Of loves chief frame, the chief uphoulders  
Whiter than that was of Pelops.  
Thence Cupid's five-graind-mace out brancheth,  
Which fivefold, the five senses woundeth,  
Whose sight, the mind of lookers launcheth,  
Whose force, all other force astoundeth.  
Thence to that bed, where loves proud Queen  
In silent majesty sweet sleepeth:  
Where her soft lovely pillows been,  
Where Cupid through loves conduits creepeth.  
Pillows, of Venus' turtles down  
Pillows, than Venus' turtles softer,  
Pillows, the more where love lies down,  
More covetes to lie down, and ofter:  
Pillows on which two sweet rose buds,  
Dew'de with Ambrosial nectar lie,  
Where loves milke-way, by springs, & floods  
Through violet paths, smooth slideth by.  
But now with fears, and tears proceed  
loves place of torture to deelare,  
Which such calamity doth breed  
To those, which there imprisoned are.  
Which once in chains are never free,  
Which still for want of succour pine,  
Dry sighs, salte-watrie tears which be  
For dainty cates, and pleasant wine:  
Immur'de with pure white ivory,  
Fetters of Adamant to draw  
Even steel itself (if it be nigh)  
A bondage without right, or law:  
With poor Actaeon overthrown  
But for a look: and with an eye  
(In his clear arms) loves sergeant known  
Arrestes each lover that goes by.  
This is her heart, loves prison call'de,  
Whose conquest is impregnable,  
Whence who so chance to be enthralled,  
To come forth after are unable.  
Further to pass than I have seen,  
Or more to show then may be told,  
Were too much impudence I ween:  
Here therefore take mine anchor hold,  
And with the Roman Poet deem  
Parts vnreueal'de to be most sweet:  
Which here describ'de might evil beseem,  
And for a modest muse unmeet.  
Such blessed mornings seldom be,  
Such sights, too rare when men go by:  
Would I but once, the like might see,  
That I might die, before I die.    

SESTINE 4.  

Echo, what shall I do to my Nymph, when I go to behold her? Echo, hold her.  
So dare I not, lest she should think that I make her a pray then? Echo, pray then.  
Yea, but at me she will take scorn, proceeded of honour? Echo, on her.  
Me bear will she (with her to deal so saucily) never? Echo, ever.  
Yea but I greatly fear, she will have pure thoughts to refuse such? Echo, few such.  
Then will I venture again more bold, if you warn me to do so? Echo, do so.   

I must write with tears, and sighs, before that I do so? Echo, do so.  
But what if my tears, and sighs be to weak to remove her? Echo, move her.  
So shall ye move huge Alps with tears, and sighs, if you may such. Echo, you may such.  
If any that shall affirm for a truth, I shall hold that they lie then? Echo, lie then.  
If I study to death (in ●…inde) shall I lie never? Echo, ever.  
Oh what is it to lie, is't not dishonour?  
Echo, 'tis honour.   

Then to flatter a while her, is't not dishonour?  
Echo, honour.  
Then will I wrest out sighs, and wring forth tears when I do so?  
Echo, do so.  
Lest she find my craft, with her I may toy never?  
Echo, ever.  
Then if you jest in kind with her you win her?  
Echo, you win her.  
Then (what time she laughs from her heart) shall I smile then?  
Echo, ay smile then.  
They that like my joys, is it harm if I kiss such?  
Echo, ay kiss such.   

Yea but most Ladies have disdainful minds, to refuse such?  
Echo, few such.  
In what space shall I know, whether her love resteth in honour?  
Echo, in one hour.  
Oh for such a sweet hour my life of hours will I pray then?  
Echo, ayo then!  
Then if I find as I would, more bold to urge her I may be so?  
Echo, be so.  
But if she do refuse, than woe to th' atempter?  
Echo, attempt her.  
She will proudly refuse, and speaks in jest never?  
Echo, ever.   

So though still she refuse, she speaks in jest ever?  
Echo, ever.  
Then such (as these) be the true best signs to seek out such?  
Echo, seek out such.  
Such will I seek but what shall I do when I first shall attempt her?  
Echo, tempt her.  
How shall I tempt her-eare she stand on terms of her honour?  
Echo, on her.  
Oh might I come to that! I think it is even so  
Echo, 'tis even so.  
Strongly to tempt, and move (at first) is surely the best then?  
Echo, the best then.   

What (when they do repugn, yet cry not forth) will they do then?  
Echo, do then.  
With such a blunt poem, Ladies shall I move never  
Echo, ever.  
I must wait at an inch on such Nymphs whom I regard so  
Echo, guard so.  
Those whom in heart I love, my faith doth firmly deserve such  
Echo, serve such.  
Then (to become their slaves) is no great dishonour?  
Echo, honour.  
But to the muses (first) I will recommend her  
Echo, commend her.   

They that pity lovers is't good if I praise such?  
Echo, ey praise such.  
If that I writ their praise, by my verse shall they live never?  
Echo, ever.  
If thy words be true, with thanks take adieu then  
Echo, adieu then.    

CARMEN ANACREONTIUM. ODE 17.  

Reveal) sweet muse) this secret,  
Wherein, the lively senses  
Do most triumph in glory  
Where others talk of eagles,  
Searching the Sun with quick-sighi:  
With eyes in brightness pearsaunte,  
Parthenophe, my sweet Nymph,  
With sight more quick than eagles,  
With eyes, more clear, and pearsaunte,  
And (which exceeds all eagles)  
Whose influence gives more heat,  
Then Sun in Cancer tropic:  
With proud imperious glances,  
Subduing all beholders,  
Which gaze upon their brightness,  
Shall triumph over that sense.   

Reveal (sweet muse) this secret,  
Wherein the lively senses  
Do most triumph in glory,  
Where some, of heavenly Nectar,  
The tastes chief comfort talk of,  
For pleasure, and sweet relish:  
Where some, celestial Syrroppes,  
And sweet Barbarian spices,  
For pleasantness commend most:  
Parthenophe, my sweet Nymph,  
With lips more sweet than Nectar,  
Containing much more comfort,  
Then all celestial Syrroppes,  
And which exceeds all spices,  
On which, none can take surfeit,  
Shall triumph over that sense.   

Reveal (sweet muse) this secret,  
Wherein, the lively senses  
Do most triumph in glory,  
Where some, Panchaian incense,  
And rich Arabian odours,  
And waters sweet distilled:  
Where some of herbs, and flowers,  
Of Ambergris, and sweet roots,  
For heavenly spirit praise most:  
Parthenophe, my sweet Nymph  
With breath more sweet than incense,  
Panchaian, or Arabic,  
Or any sorts of sweet things,  
And (which exceeds all odours)  
Whose spirit, is loves godhead,  
Shall triumph over that sense.   

Reveal (sweet muse) this secret,  
Wherein the lively senses,  
Do most triumph in glory:  
Where music, rests in voices,  
As Socrates supposed:  
In voice, and bodies moving,  
As though Aristoxinus:  
In mind, as Theophrastus.  
Her voice, exceeds all music,  
Her bodies comely carridge,  
Her gesture, and divine grace  
Doth ravish all be holder's:  
Her mind, it is much heavenly  
And which, exceeds all judgement.  
But such sweet looks, sweet thoughts tell,  
And makes her conquour that sense.   

Reveal (sweet muse) this secret,  
Wherein, the lively senses,  
Do most triumph in glory:  
Where some, of sacred hands talk,  
Whose blessing makes things prosper:  
Where some, of well-skill'de fingers,  
Which makes such heavenly music,  
With wood, and touch of sinews:  
Parthenophes divine hands,  
Let them, but touch my rude hands,  
Let them, but touch my pale cheeks,  
Let them, but any part tuch:  
My sorrow shall assuage soon,  
Let her, but check the lute string,  
The sound to heaven shall charm me:  
Thus she the senses conquores.    

ODE 18.  

Oh that I could make her whom I love best,  
Find in a face with misery wrinkled,  
Find in an heart, with sighs over-ill-pind,  
Her cruel hatred!   

Oh that I could make her whom I love best,  
Find by my tears, what malady vexeth,  
Find by my throbs, how forcibly loves dart  
Wounds my decayed heart!   

Oh that I could make her, whom I love best  
Tell with a sweet smile, that she respecteth  
All my lamentings, and that in her heart  
Mourn fully she rues!   

For my deserts, were worthy the favours  
Of such a fair Nymph, might she be fairer  
Oh then a firm faith, what may be richer!  
Then to my love yield.   

Then will I leave these tears to the waste rocks,  
Then will I leave these sighs to the rough winds,  
Oh that I could make her, whom I love best  
Pity my long smart!    

ODE 19  

Why should I weep in vain, poor and remediless?  
Why should I make complaint, to the deaf wilderness?  
Why should I sigh for ease, sighs they breed malady?  
Why should I groan in heart, groans they bring misery?  
Why should tears, plaints, & sighs mingled with heavy groans  
Practise their cruelty, whiles I complain to stones?  
Oh what a cruel heart, with such a tyranny  
Hardly she practiseth (in griefs extremity)  
Such to make conquered, whom she would have depressed,  
Such a man to disease, whom she would have oppressed?  
Oh but (Parthenophe) turn and be pitiful!  
Cruelty beauty stains, thou sweet art beautiful,  
If that I made offence, my love is all the fault  
Which thou can charge me with, them do not mass assault  
With fuch extremities, for my kind hearty love:  
But for loves pity sake, from me thy frowns remove.  
So shalt thou make me blest, so shall my sorrows cease,  
So shall I live at ease, so shall my joys acrease,  
So shall tears, plaints, & sighs, mingled with heavy groans  
Weary the rocks no more, nor lament to the stones.    

ODE 20. ASCLEPIAD.  

O sweet pitiless eye, beautiful, Orient!  
(Since my ●…aith is a rock, durable every where:)  
Smile, and shine with a glance, heartily me to joy,  
Beauty taketh a place, pity regards it not:  
Virtue findeth a throne, settled in every part:  
Pity found none at all, banished every where.  
Since than beauty triumphs, chastity's enemy:  
And virtue cleped is, much to be pitiful:  
And since that thy delight, is ever virtuous:  
My tears (Parthenophe) pity, be pitiful,  
So shall men the repute great, as an holy Saint:  
So shall beauty remain, mightily glorified:  
So thy fame shall abound, durably chronicled:  
Then sweet (Parthenophe) pity, be merciful.    

SONNET CV.  

Ah me how many ways have I assayed  
To win my mistress to me ceaseless suit?  
What endless means and prayers have I made  
To thy fair graces ever deaf and mute?   

At thy long absence like an errant page  
With sighs and tears long journeys did I make,  
Through paths unknown in tedious pilgrimage  
And never slept, but always did awake.   

And having found the ruthless, and unkind:  
Soft skinned, hard-hearted, sweet looks, void of pity:  
Ten thousand furies raged in my mind   

Changing the tenor of my lovely ditty:  
By whose enchanting saws, and magic spell  
Thine hard indurate heart, I must compel.    

SESTINE 5.  

Then, first with locks dishevelled, and bare,  
strait guirded, in a cheerful calmy night:  
Having a fire made of green Cypress wood,  
And with male frankincense on altar kindled  
I call on threefould Hecate with tears,  
And here (with loud voice) invocate the furies:   

For their assistance, to me with their furies:  
Whilst snowy steeds in coach bright Phoebe bare.  
Ay me Parthenophe smiles at my tears,  
I neither take my rest by day, or night:  
Her cruel loves in me such heat have kindled.  
Hence goat and bring her to me raging wood:   

Hecate tell which way she comes through the wood.  
This wine about this altar, to the furies  
I sprinkle, whiles the Cypress bows be kindled,  
This brimstone earth within her bowels bare,  
And this blue incense sacred to the night.  
This hand (perforce) from this bay this branch tears.   

So be she brought which pitied not my tears.  
And as it burneth with the Cypress wood  
So burn she with desire by day and night.  
You gods of vengeance, and avenge-full fury's  
Revenge, to whom I bend on my knees bare.  
Hence goat, and bring her with loves outrage kindled.   

Hecate make signs if she with love come kindled.  
Think on my passions Hec'ate, and my tears:  
This Rose mariene (whose branch she chiefly bare  
And loved best) I cut both bark and wood,  
Broke with this brazen Axe, and in loves furies  
I tread on it, rejoicing in this night:   

And saying, let her her feel such wounds this night.  
About this altar, and rich incense kindled  
This lace and vervain to loves bitter furies  
I bind, and s●…rewe, and with sad sighs and tears  
About I bear her Image raging wood.  
Hence goat and bring her from her bedding bare:   

Hecate reveal if she like passions bare.  
I knit tree true love knots (this is loves night)  
Of three discoloured silks, to make her wood,  
But she scorns Venus till her loves be kindled,  
And till she find the grief of sighs and tears:  
Sweet Queen of loves for mine unpitied furies,   

A like torment her with such scalding furies:  
And this turtle (when the loss she bore  
Of her dear make) in her kind did shed tears,  
And mourning did seek him all day, and night:  
Let such lament in her for me be kindled,  
And mourn she still, till she run raging wood:   

Hence goat and bring her to me raging wood.  
These letter's, and these verses to the furries  
(Which she did write) all in this flame be kindled:  
Me (with these papers) in vain hope she bore  
That she to day would turn mine hopeless night,  
These as I rend, and burn, so fury tears.   

Her hardened heart, which pitied not my tears.  
The wind shaked trees make murmur in the wood,  
The waters roar at this thrice sacred night,  
The winds come whisking still to note her furies:  
Trees, woods, and winds, a part in my plaints bare,  
And knew my woes, now joy to see her kindled:   

See whence she comes with loves enraged and kindled!  
The pitchy clouds (in drops) send down there tears,  
Owls scritche, dogs bark to see her carried bare,  
Wolves you'll, and cry: Bulls bellow through the wood,  
Ravens croape, now, now, I feel loves fiercest furies:  
See'st ●…hou that black goat, brought this silent night   

Through empty clouds byth' daughters of the night?  
See how on him she sits, with love rage kindled,  
Hither perforce brought with avenge-full furies?  
Now I wax drowsy, n●…w cease all my tears,  
Whilst I take rest and slumber near this wood:  
Ah me! Parthenophe naked and bare,   

Come blessed goat, that my sweet Lady bare:  
Where hast thou been (Parthenophe) this night?  
What could? sleep by this fire of Cypress wood  
Which I much longing for thy sake have kindled,  
Weep not, come loves and wipe away her tears:  
At length yet, wilt thou take away my furies?   

Ay me, embrace me, see those ugly furies.  
Come to my bed, lest they behold thee bare  
And bear thee hence the will not pity tears,  
And these still dwell in everlasting night:  
Ah loves, sweet love, sweet fires for us hath kindled,  
But not inflamed, with franckinsense, or wood,   

The furies, they shall hence into the wood,  
Whiles Cupid shall make calmer his hot furies,  
And stand appeased at our fier's kindled.  
join join (Parthenophe) thyself vnbare,  
None can perceive us in the silent night,  
Now will I cease from sighs, laments, and tears,   

And cease (Parthenophe) sweet cease thy tears:  
Bear golden Apples thorns in every wood,  
join heavens, for we conjoin this heavenly night:  
Let Alder trees bear Apricockes (die furies)  
And Thistles Pears, which prickles lately bare.  
Now both in one with equal flame be kindled:   

Dye magic bows, now die, which late were kindled:  
Here is mine heaven: loves drop in steed of tears.  
It joins, it joins, ah both embracing bare.  
Let Nettles bring forth Roses in each ●…oede,  
Last ever verdant woods: hence former furies:  
Oh die, live, joy: what? last continual night,   

Sleep Phoebus still with Thetis: rule still night.  
I melt in love, loves marrow-flame is kindled▪  
Here will I be consumed in loves sweet furies.  
I melt, I melt, watch Cupid my love-teares:  
If these be furies, oh let me be wood!  
If all the fiery element I bare   

'tis now acquitted: cease your former tears,  
For as she once with rage my body kindled,  
So in hers am I buried this night.    
FINIS.   

TO THE RIGHT NOBLE Lord, Henry Earl of Northumberland.  

Deign (mighty Lord) these verses to peruse  
Which my black mournful muse presenteth here,  
Blushing at her first entrance in for fear,  
Where of herself, herself she doth accuse.   

And seeking Patronage, bold means doth use  
To show that duty, which in heart I bear  
To your thrice noble house: which shall out wear  
Devouring time itself, if my poor muse   

Divine aright, whose, virtuous excellence  
She craves her ruder style to patronize.  
Vouchsafe then (noble Lord) to give defence:   

Who (when her brighter glory shall arise)  
Shall fly to fetch fame from her fort of brass,  
Which with your virtues through the world shall pass.    

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE MOST renowned and valiant, Robert Earl of Essex, and Ewe, etc.  

Vouchsafe (thrice valiant Lord) this verse to read,  
When time from cares of more import permits,  
The too dear charge of mine uncharged wits:  
And that I do my lighter muses lead   

To kiss your sacred hands, I mildly plead  
For pardon, where all gracious virtue sits.  
Since time of yoare there Lords first fruit admits  
My bashful muse (which lost her maidenhead   

In too dear travel of my restless love)  
To you my Lord her first borne babe presents,  
Unworthy such a patron for her lightness:   

Yet deign her zeal, though not the light contents,  
Till from your virtues registered above,  
To make her love more known, she borrow brightness.    

TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND Virtuous Lord, Henry Earl of Southampton.  

Receive (sweet Lord) with thy thrise-sacred hand  
Which sacre●… muses make their instrument,  
These worthless leaves, which I to thee present  
Sprung from a rude and unmanured land:   

That with your countenance grac'de, they may withstand  
Hundred eyed envies rough encounterment,  
Whose patronage can give encouragement  
To scorn back-wounding Zoilus his band.   

Vouchsafe (right virtuous Lord) with gracious eyes  
Those heavenly lamps, which give the muse's light,  
Which give, and take in course (that holy fire)   

To view my muse with your judicial sight,  
Whom when time shall have taught by flight to rise,  
Shall to thy virtues of much worth aspire.    

TO THE MOST VIRTUOUS LEARned and beautiful Lady Marry Countess of Pembroke.  

Pride of our English Ladies, never match'te,  
Great favourer of Phoebus' offspring,  
In whom even Phoebus is most flourishing,  
Muse's chief comfort, of the muses hatch'te:   

On whom Urania hath so long time watch'te,  
In fame's rich fort with crown triumphing,  
Of laurel evergreene in lusty spring,  
After thy mortal pilgrimage dispatch'te.   

Unto those planets where thou shalt have place  
With thy late sainted brother to give light:  
And with harmonious Sphoeres to turn in race.   

Vouchsafe sweet Lady with a forehead bright  
To shine on this poor muse, whose first borne fruit  
That you of right would take, she maketh suit.    

TO THE RIGHT VIRTUOUS AND most beautiful Lady the Lady Strange.  

Sweet Lady might my humble muse presume  
Thy beauties rare perfection to set out,  
(Whom she pride of our English court reputes)  
Ambitious she would assume  
To blazon, every where about  
Thy beauty, whose dumb eloquence disputes  
With fair loves Queen, and her by right confutes.  
But since there is no doubt  
But that thy beauties praise, which shall consume  
Even time itself exceedeth  
All British Ladies, deign my muse's suits  
Which unacquainted of your beauty craves  
Acquaintance, and proceedeth  
T'aproche so boldly, and behaves  
Herself so rudely, daunted at your ●…ght  
As eyes in darkness, at a sudden light.    

TO THE BEAUTIFUL LADY THE Lady Brigett Manners.  

Rose of that garland, (fairest, and sweetest  
Of all those sweet and fair flowers:  
Pride of chaste Cynthia's rich crown,)  
Receive this verse, thy matchless beauty meetest:  
Behold thy graces which thou greetest,  
And all the secret powers  
Of thine and such like beauties, here set down,  
Here shalt thou find thy frown,  
Here thy sunny smiling,  
Fame's plumes fly with thy loves which should be fleetest,  
Here my toves tempests, and showers.  
These read (sweet beauty) whom my muse shall crown,  
Who for thee such a garland is compiling  
(Of so divine sentes, and colours)  
As is immortal, time beguiling.   
Your beauties most affectionate servant. BARNABY BARNES.   

A TABLE FOR TO FIND THE SONNETTES AND MADRIGALS.  
SONNET PAGE 36 And thus continue. 23 46 Ah pearse-eye pear. 31 Mad. 18 After Aurora's. 86 59 Ah me sweet beauty. 40 Mad. 14 Ah ten times worse. 43 66 Ah sweet content. 45 105 Ah me how many. 142 29 Bless still the myrrh. 19 34 But when in may. 22 37 But pity which. 23 40 But ah my plague. 25 76 Be blind mine eyes. 50 93 Begs love which. 60 87 Burn on sweet fire. 56 49 Cool cool in waves. 32 74 Cease overtyred. 49 79 Covetous eyes what. 52 83 Dark night black. 54 Mad. 17 Envious air. 67 22 From thine hearts. 15 Mad. 9 For glory pleasure. 34 58 Fair clitie doth. 39 62 Fie fie fierce tyrant. 41 94 Forth from mine. 60 85 From Eastes bed. 55 47 Give me mine eyes. 31 3 He when continual. 2 6 Him when I caught. 4 7 Her love to me. 4 17 How then succeed. 12 77 How can I live. 51 104 Hold matchless. 75 101 Had I been banish. 64 5 It chanced after. 3 19 Imperious jove. 13 31 I burn yet am. 20 63 jove for Europa's. 4●… 67 If Cupid keep. 45 64 If all the loves were. 44 103 I slept and under. 70 Mad. 22 In centre of these. 71 Mad. 26 I dear not speak. 73 48 I wish no rich. 32 4 Laya soon sounding. 2 Mad. 12 Like to the mountal. 36 75 Love is a name. 49 80 Long wished for death. 52 Mad. 2 Might not this be. 8 52 Me though Calio. 34 72 My mistresses bew. 48 84 My sweet Parthen. 54 1 Mistress behold. 1 90 My mistress arms. 58 Mad. 20 My love alas. 69 33 Next when the. 21 35 Next when my. 22 43 Now in my Zodia. 27 53 Nymphs which in. 38 Mad. 15 Nature's pride. 65 Mad. 1 Ah powers celestial. 7 Mad. 3 Once in an arbour. 9 Mad. 6 Oh why loved I. 28 44 Oh d●…t and thunder. 29 65 Oh that I had no. 44 81 Oh kingly jealousy. 53 86 Oh fire rage. 55 97 Oh why should envy. 62 42 Pass all ah no. 26 100 Pleading for pity. 63 Mad. 23 Phoebus rich. 72 9 So did Parthenophe. 5 28 So be my labours. 18 30 So this continual. 19 32 Scarce twice seven. 20 45 Sweet beauties rose. 30 Mad. 5 Such strange. 27 Mad. 16 Sleep Phoebus still. 66 50 So warble out. 33 Mad. 13 Soft lovely roselike. 48 96 The sun in Pisces. 61 8 Then to Parthenophe. 5 Mad. 4 There had my. 10 98 The sun my. 62 14 Then him control. 10 20 These eyes thy bew. 14 24 These mine heart. 16 25 Then count it not. 17 99 This careful head. 63 39 Then from her. 25 Mad. 10 Thou scald my. 35 Mad. 11 Thine eyes mine. 36 56 The d●…all love. 38 57 Thy beauty is the. 39 61 To none but to. 41 69 The leavelesse. 46 71 Those hears of A●…g. 47 78 The proudest Plan. 51 82 The chariot with. 53 91 These bitter gusts. 59 95 Thou bright beam. 61 Mad. 24 Thus as she was. 72 Mad. 19 Thy la●…es conceits. 69 2 Whilst with strong. 1 11 Why didst thou then. 6 12 Vexed with th' assaul●…s. 8 102 Vain gallants. 64 13 When none of these. 9 15 Where or to whom. 11 18 Writ write help. 13 23 When with the dow. 15 26 When lovely wrath. 17 27 Why do I draw. 18 38 When thine heart. 24 41 When my son. 26 Mad. 8 Why am I thus. 29 53 Why do I draw. 37 54 When I was young. 37 60 Whilst some the. 40 68 Would God when. 46 70 What can these. 47 73 Why did rich. 48 89 What be those. 57 92 Will't thou know. 59 Mad. 21 When this celestial. 70 Mad. 25 Whilst these two. 73 88 Within thine eyes. 56 10 Yet give me leave. 6 16 Ye that accursed. 12 21 Ye but uncertain. 14 Mad. 7 Youths wanton. 28   

ELEGIES AND ODES.  
ELE. ODD. PAGE 5 Are you so waspish. 78 16 Ah were my tears. 90 Ode. 4 Bacchus father. 108 6 Behold these. 97 Ode. 16 Before bright Titan. 130 Ode. 9 Behold out walking. 116 8 Cease sorrow cease. 80 17 Dear mistress. 91 Sest. 4 Echo, what. 135 Ode. 14 Hark all you lovely. 124 21 Happy depart. 95 Sest. 2 In sweetest pride. 103 Ode. 8 In a shady grove. 114 10 In quiet silence. 83 18 If neither love. 92 Ode. 11 Lovely maya. 118 2 Oh that some. 176 ELE. ODD. PAGE Ode. 6 Oh fair sweet. 110 Ode. 12 One night I did. 121 Ode. 13 On the plains. 123 Ode. 20 Oh sweet pittielesse. 141 12 Oh never can I see. 85 15 Oh dear rememb. 89 20 Oh dear vexation. 94 Ode. 18 Oh that I could. 140 Ode. 5 Parthenophe see. 109 Ode. 17 Reveal sweet. 137 3 Sweet thraldom. 77 Ode. 2 Speak Echo tell. 105 Canz. 3 Sweet is the cowslip. 126 Canz. 2 Sing sing Partheno. 105 13 Swift Atalanta. 87 Sest. 5 Then first with, 143 4 This day sweet mist. 77 Ode. 15 Vulcan in Lemnos. 125 Ode. 3 Upon an holy saints. 107 〈◊〉 1 Why did the milk. 75 〈◊〉. 1 When I waked. 74 Ode. 1 When I walk. 104 Ode. 7 When I did think. 113 10 Why doth heaven. 117 Ode. 19 Why should I weep. 141 9 With humble suit. 92 14 When I remember. 88 11 Was it decreed. 84 7 Youth full of error. 80 Sest. 3 You loathed fields. 120   

Faults escaped in Printing.  
son. 1●…. for common come on. Mad. 2. for wake t●…e, make thee. Idem, for make thee wake thee Mad. 3 for chirping, cheeping. Idem, for culles, calls. Mad. 4. for places, place. Son, 15. 8. line for senseless senseless. Son. 16, for rageth, ragen. Idem, for searcheth, searseth Son. 17. for brims, trimmes. Son. 20. line 14 for of, on. Son. 23. for past eleven, next eleven Son. 24. for knattes, g●…attes. Son. 28. line. 5. for atined, and Sonnet 46. for mountains cleans, mountains hyllye cleaves. Son. 48 for Aff●…ricke, Africa. Son. 51. ●…ine. 10. for should, should. Son. 52. praze, & raze, praise raise. Mad. 9 for virtuous, virtues. Son 47 for wounded man, the wou●…ded man. Son. 73. for yea, yet. Son. 76. line. 13. for any my▪ Son. 72. for marched, matched. Son. 84. for soul, fowl. Son. 87. breast can bear, leg. semel. Son. 98. for none aspire, none dare aspire. Mad. 17. for v●…pour▪ vapour. Mad. 18. for pricklesse arose, prickles arose. Eleg. 12. lilies adorn, for lilies shall adorn Elegy. 9 Lancade an, for Leucadean. Eleg. 12 for c●…iuer, contriver. Eleg. 6. for with, which Eleg 7▪ for will, well. Idem, line 16 for with, which Canz. 1. line. 19 for thee, thee. Idem, for whatsoever, whatsoeare. Sest. 2. for all glories, all her glories. Ode. 8. for they which flowers. They with flowers. Ode. 7. for dare my might, dared my might. Ode. 8. for which lay●…, with laya. Ode. 10. for please the, pleaseth. Ode. 11. for her set, her to set. Canz. 3. for shear sweet, there sweet. Ode. 16, ●…'imperiall, for th'imperial. Idem, if it be nigh, for if it be nigh. Sest. 4. for Ayo then, Ay then. Ode. 16, for O●… like the, O●…●…ke the. Ode. 19▪ for mass assault, make assault Sest. 5. for dishevelled & hare, d●…sheueled and bare. Idem, for tree true love 〈◊〉 ●…hree true lovers Idem, line 50 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, furies. Idem, for still, shill.