Diella, Certain Sonnets, adjoined to the amorous Poem of Dom Diego and Gineura. (⸪) By R. L. Gentleman. Ben balla, á chi fortuna suona. AT LONDON, Printed for Henry Olney, and are to be sold at his shop in Fleetstreet, near the Middle-temple gate. 1596. TO THE MOST worthily honoured, and virtuous beautified Lady, the Lady Anne Glemnham, wife to the most noble, magnanimous, and worthy Knight, Sir Henry Glemnham. etc. MAdam, your many honourable virtues, having tied me to your eternal service, to show some part of my duty, I present your Ladyship with a few passionate Sonnets, intermingled with the loves of Dom Diego and Gineura. Deign (gentle Lady) to accept them, and therein show the greatness of your benignity, in receiving courteously a gift of so small worth, which though it cannot any ways equal either the number of your virtues, or the greatness of that noble house, whence your Ladyship is descended, impute it not (Madam) to my defect of judgement, but of Fortune, for were I furnished with the greatest riches that blind Goddess could bestow on a man of my state, both they, and I would fall prostrate at your feet, and ever rest at your ladyships devotion: yet Madam as it is, it is a child of the Muses, & therefore worthy to be cherrished, conceived in the brain of a gallant Gentleman, & therefore to be favoured: sent into the world by me, who have ever honoured your ladyship, and therefore crave of your Ladyship to be protected, to whom I ever wish long life, lengthened with all honourable happiness. Your Ladyships in all duty, Henry Olney. Sonnet. I. WHen first the feathered God did strike my heart, with fatal and ymedicable wound, Leaving behind the head of his fell dart, my bloodless body fell unto the ground; And, when with shame I reinforced my might, boldly to gaze on her so heavenly face, Huge flames of fire she darted from her light, which since have scorched me in most piteous case, To quench which heat, an Ocean of tears have gushed out from forth my red-swolne eyes, But deep-fetched sighs this raging flame upreares, and blows the sparks up to the purple skies. Whereat, the Gods afraid that heaven should burn, Entreated Love that I for e'er might mourn. Sonnet II. Soon as the Azur-colored Gates of th'East, were set wide open by the watchful Morn, I walked abroad, (as having took no rest) (for nights are tedious to a man forlorn,) And viewing well each pearle-bedewed flower, than waxing dry by splendour of the sun, All scarled-hewed I saw him gin to lower, and blush, as though some heinous act were done. At this amazed, I hide me home amain, thinking that I his anger caused had; And at his set, abroad I walked again, when (lo) the Moon looked wondrous pale and sad. Anger the one, and envy moved the other, To see my love more fair than loves fair mother. Sonnet III. SWift-footed Time, look back & here mark well those rare-shapt parts my pen shall now declare My mistress snowwhite skin doth much excel the pure-soft will Arcadyan sheep do bear; Her hair exceeds gold forced in smallest wire, in smaller threads than those Arachne spun; Her eyes are crystal fountains, yet dart fire, more glorious to behold then Midday sun; Her ivory front, (though soft as purest silk) looks like the table of Olympic jove, Her cheeks are like ripe cherries laid in milk, her Alabaster neck the throne of Love; Her other parts so far excel the rest, That wanting words, they cannot be expressed. Sonnet FOUR WHat sugared terms, what all-perswading art, what sweet mellifluous words, what wounding looks Love used for his admittance to my heart? such eloquence was never read in books; He promised pleasure, rest, and endless joy, fruition of the fairest she alive, His pleasure pain, rest trouble, joy annoy, have I since found, which me of bliss deprive; The Trojan horse thus have I now let in, wherein enclosed these armed men were placed, Bright eyes, fair cheeks, sweet lips, & milk-white skin these foes my life have overthrown & razed. Fair outward shows, prove inwardly the worst, Love looketh fair, but Lovers are accursed. Sonnet V. THE little Archer viewing well my love, stone-still amazed, admired such a sight, And swore he knew none such to dwell above, though many fair, none so conspicuous bright: With that enraged, (flamigerous as he is) he now 'gan loath his Psyche's lovely face, And swore great other to rob me of my bliss, saying that earth for her was too too base; But Cytherea checked her lordly son, commanding him to bring no giglot thither, Fearing indeed, her amorous sports were done with hotespur Mars, if he should once but see her. If then her beauty move the Gods above, Let all men judge if I have cause to love. Sonnet VI. MIrror of beauty, Nature's fairest child, Empress of love, my hearts high-prized jewel, Learn of the Dove, to love and to be mild, be not to him that honours thee so cruel, But as the Asp, deaf, angry, nothing meek, thou wilt not listen to my doleful plaint, Nor once wilt look on my discoloured cheek, which wanting blood, causeth me oft to faint; Then silent will I be, if that will please thee, yet so, as in my stead, each Plain, each Hill, Shall echo forth my grief, and thereby case me, for I myself of speaking have my fill; If Plains, and Hills, be silent in my pain, My death shall speak, and tell what I sustain. Sonnet VII. When Love had first besieged my hearts strong wall, rampaird and countermured with chastity, And had with Ordnance made his tops to fall, stooping their glory to his surquedry, I called a parley, and withal did crave some composition, or some friendly peace; To this request, he his consent soon gave, as seeming glad such cruel wars should cease, I, (nought mistrusting) opened all the gates, yea, lodged him in the Palace of my heart, When (lo) in dead of night he seeks his mates, and shows each Traitor how to play his part; With that they fired my heart, and thence 'gan fly, Their names, Sweet smiles, Fair face, & piercing Eye Sonnet VIII. LIke to a Falcon watching for a flight, duly attending his desired game, Have I oft watched and marked to have a sight, of thy fair face exceeding niggard Fame, Thine eyes (those seminaries of my grief) have been more gladsome to my tired sprite, Then naked savages receive relief, by comfort-bringing warmth of Phoebus' light; But when each part so glorious I had seen, I trembled more than Autumns parched leaves, Mine eyes were greedy whirlpools sucking in that heavenly fair which me of rest bereaves; Then as thy beauty thus hath conquered me, (Fair) let relenting pity conquer thee. Sonnet IX. BLot not thy beauty (fairest) yet unkind, with cruel usage of a yielding heart, The stoutest Captain scorns such bloody mind, then mingle mercy where thou causedst smart; Let him not die in his May-springing days, that living vows to honour thee for ever, Shine forth some pity from thy sunlike rays, that hard freeze hate may so dissolve and sever; Oh, were thou not much harder than a flint, thou hadst ere this been melted into love, In firmest stone small rain doth make a print, but seas of tears cannot thy hardness move. Then wretched I must die before my time, Blasted & spoiled in my budding prime. Sonnet X. WHen Flora vaunts her in her proud array, clothing fair Tellus in a spangled gown, When Boreas' fury is exiled away, and all the Welkin cleared from cloudy frown, At that same time all Nature's children joy, trees leaves, flowers bud, plants spring, & beasts increase, Only my soul, surcharged with deep annoy, cannot rejoice, nor sighs nor tears can cease: Only the grafts of sorrow seem to grow, set in my heart, no other spring I find, Delights and pleasures are o'er grown with woe, laments and sobs possess my weeping mind; The frost of grief so nips Delight at root, No sun but she can do it any boot. Sonnet XI. WHat she can be so cruel as my Love, or bear a heart so pitiless as she? Whom love, looks, words, tears, prayers do not move, nor sighs, nor vows prevail to pity me. She calls my love a Sinon to her heart, my looks (she saith) are like the Crocadyles, My words the Sirens sing with guileful art, tears, Circe's floods, sighs, vows, deceitful guiles, But my poor heart hath no interpreter, but love, looks, words, tears, prayers, sighs or vows, Then must it die, sith she my Comforter, what ere I do, nor liketh, nor allows. With Titius, thus the vulture Sorrow eats me, With steele-twiged rods thus tyrant Cupid beats me. Sonnet XII. THou, (like the fair-faced gold-encoverd book, whose lines are stuffed with damned heresies) Dost in thy face bear a celestial look, when in thy heart live hellborn cruelties. With poisonous Toads the clearest spring's infected and purest Lawns nought worth if full of stains, So is fair beauty when true love's rejected; when coal-black hate within the heart remains, Then love, (my dear) let that be Methrydate to overcome the venom of disdain; Be pitiful, tread down this kill hate, convert to sugared pleasure, gall-full pain. O, sith Disdain is foe unto thy Fair, Exile him thence, there let him not repair. Sonnet XIII. I Know, within my mouth for bashful fear, and dread of your disdain, my words will die; I know, I shall be stricken dumb (my dear) with doubt of your unpittifull reply; I know, when as I shall before you lie prostrate and humble, craving help of you, Misty aspects will cloud your sunbright eye, & scornful looks oreshade your beauty's hew, I know, when I shall plead my love so true, so stainelesse, constant, loyal, and upright, My truthfull plead will not cause you rue the ne're-heard state of my distressed plight. I know, when I shall come with face bedight with streaming tears, fallen from my fountain eyes, Sonnet XIII. Breathing forth sighs of most hart-breaking might, my tears, my sighs, and me, you will despise, I know, when with the power that in me lies, and all the prayers and vows that women move, I shall in humblest mercy-moving wise entreat, beseech, desire, and beg your love, I know, (sweet maiden) all will not remove flynt-harted rigour from your rocky breast, But all my means, my suit, and what I prove, proves bad, and I must live in all unrest. Dying in life, and living still in death, And yet nor die, nor draw a life-like breath. Sonnet XIIII. When broad-faced rivers turn unto their fountains and hungry Wolves devoured are by Sheep, When Marine Dolphins play on snow-tipt Mountains & foule-formed Bears do in the Ocean keep, Then shall I leave to love, and cease to burn in these hot flames wherein I now delight, But this I know, the Rivers ne'er return, nor silly Sheep with ravening Wolves dare fight, Nor Dolphins leave the Seas, nor Bears the woods, for Nature bids them all to keep their kind, Then eyes, rain forth your over-swelled floods, till drowned in such Seas may make you blind: Then (hearts delight) sith I must love thee ever, Love me again, and let thy love persever. Sonnet XV. NO sooner leaves Hyperion Thetis bed, and mounts his coach to post from thence away, Richly adorning fair Lencotheas' head, giving to mountains tincture from his ray: But strait I rise, where I could find no rest, where visions and fantasies appear, And when with small ado my body's dressed; abroad I walk to think upon my dear; Where under umbrage of some aged Tree, with Lute in hand I sit and (sighing) say, Sweet Groves tell forth with Echo what you see: good Trees bear witness who is my decay, And thou my soul, speak, speak, what rest I have, When each our joys despair doth make me rave. Sonnet XVI. But thou my dear sweet-sounding Lute be still, repose thy troubled strings upon this moss, Thou hast full often eased me 'gainst my will, lie down in peace, thy spoil were my great loss, I'll speak enough of her (too cruel) heart, enough to move the stony Rocks to ruth, And cause these trees weep tears to hear my smart though (cruel she) will not once way my truth, Her face is of the purest white and red, her eyes are crystal, and her hair is gold, The world for shape with garlands crown her head, And yet a Tigress heart dwells in this mould: But I must love her (Tigress) too too much, Forced must I love, because I find none such. Sonnet XVII. THE sun-scorcht Seaman when he sees the Seas all in a fury hoist him to the sky, And throw him down again (as waves do please) (so chased clouds from Eol's mastiffs fly) In such distress provideth with great speed all means to save him from the tempests rage, He shows his wit in such like time of need, the big-swollen billows fury to assuage; But foolish I, although I see my death, and feel her proud disdain too feelingly, Which me of all felicity bereaveth, yet seek no means t'escape this misery: So am I charmed with hart-inchaunting beauty, That still to wail I think it is my duty. Sonnet XVIII. CVpid had done some heinous act or other, that caused Idalea whip him very sore; The stubborn Boy away runs from his Mother, protesting stoutly to return no more; By chance I met him, who desired relief, and craved that I some lodging would him give, Pitying his looks which seemed drowned in grief, I took him home there thinking he should live, But see the Boy; envying at my life, which never sorrow, never love had tasted, He raised within my heart such uncouth strife, that with the same my body now is wasted: By thankless Love, thus vilely am I used, By using kindness, I am thus abused. Sonnet XIX. WHen night returns back to his ugly mansion, & cleer-faced morning makes her bright uprise, In sorrows depth, I murmur out his caution, (salt tears distilling from my dewy eyes) O thou deceitful Somnus God of Dreams, cease to afflict my over-pained sprite With vain illusions, and idle Themes, thy spells are false, thou canst not charm aright, For when in bed I think t'embrace my love, (enchanted by thy magic so to think) Vain are my thoughts, 'tis empty air I prove, that still I wail, till watching make me wink: And when I wink I wish I near might wake, But sleeping carried to the Stygian Lake. Sonnet XX. THE strongest Pine that Queen Feronia hath, growing within her woody Empery, Is soon thrown down by Boreas windy wrath, if one root only his supporter be, The tallest Ship that cuts the angry Wave, and ploughs the Seas of Saturn's second sun; If but one Anchor for a journey have, when that is lost 'gainst every Rock doth run; I am that Pine (fair love) that Ship am I, and thou that Anchor art and root to me, If then thou fail, (oh fail not) I must die, and pine away in endless misery: But words prevail not, nor can sighs devise, To move thy heart, if bent to tyrannize. Sonnet XXI. AS winter's rage young plants unkindly spilleth, as hail green Corn, and lightning flowers perish, So man's decay, is love, whose heart it killeth, if in his soul be carefully it cherish; O how alluringly he offers grace,, and breathes new hope of life into our thought, With cheerful, pleasant, (yet deceitful) face he creeps, & fawns, till in his net weare caught, Then, when he sees us Captives by him led, and sees us prostrate humbly craving help, So fierce a Lion Lybia never bred, nor Adder's sting, nor any Tigress whelp: Oh blessed be they that never felt his force, Love hath nor pity, mercy, nor remorse. Sonnet XXII. Look as a Bird, through sweetness of the call doth clean forget the fowler's guileful trap; Or one that gazing on the stars doth fall in some deep pit bewailing his mishap; So wretched I, whilst with Lynceus eyes, I greedily beheld her Angel's face, Was strait entangled with such subtleties, as ever since I live in woeful case; Her cheeks were Roses, laid in crystal glass, her breasts two apples of Hesperides, Her voice more sweet than famous Thamiras, reviving death with dorique mellodies: I hearkening so to this attractive call, Was caught, and ever since have lived in thrall. Sonnet XXIII. MY lives preserver, hope of my heart's bliss, when shall I know the doom of life or death▪ Hells fearful torments easier are then this soul's agony, wherein I now do breath, If thou wouldst look, this my teare-stayned face, dreary, and wan, far differing from it was, Would well reveal my most tormentful case and show thy fair, my grief as in a glass: Look as a Dear late wounded very sore, among the Herd full heavily doth feed, So do I live: expecting evermore, when as my wounded heart should cease to bleed: How patiented then would I endure the smart, Of pitchy-countnanced Death's dead-doing dart. Sonnet XXIIII. WHen leaden-harted sleep had shut mine eyes, and close o'redrawn their windolets of light, Whose watrynes the fire of grief so dries, that weep they could no longer, sleep they might, Me thought, I sunk down to a pool of grief, and then (me thought) such sinking much did please me But when I down was plunged past all relief, with flood-filled mouth I called that some would ease men Whereat (me thought) I saw my dearest love, (fearing my drowning) reach her hand to mine, Who pulled so hard to get me up above, that with the pull sleep did forsake mine eyen: But when awaked I saw 'twas but a dream, I wished t'had slept and perished in that stream, Sonnet XXV. ROugh storms have calms, lopped boughs do grow again, the naked winter is reclothed by spring, No year so dry, but there doth fall some rain, Nature is kind (save me) to every thing, Only my griefs do never end nor cease, no ebb doth follow my still-flowing tears, My sighs, are storms which never can appease their furious blasts procured by endless cares, Then sighs and sobs, tell Tantalus he's blest, go fly to Titius tell him he hath pleasure, So tell Ixion though his wheel ne'er rest, their pains are sports imposed with some measure Bid them be patiented, bid them look on me, And they shall see the Map of misery. Sonnet XXVI. THE love-hurt heart which Tyrant Cupid wounds, proudly insulting o'er his conquered prey, Doth bleed a fresh where pleasure most abounds, for mirth and mourning always make a fray. Look as a Bird sore bruised with a blow, (lately dividing notes most sweetly singing) To hear her fellows how in tunes they flow, doth droop & pine, as though her knel were ringing, The heavie-thoughted Prys'ner full of doubt, dolefully sitting in a close-bared cage, Is half contented, till he looketh out, he sees each free, than storms he in a rage; The sight of pleasure trebleth every pain, As small Brooks swell and are enraged with rain. Sonnet XXVII. THE heavens Herald may not make compare of working words which so abound in thee, Thy hony-dewed tongue exceeds his far, in sweet discourse, and tuneful melody, Th'amber-coloured tress which Berenice for her true-loving Ptholomeus vowed, Within Idaleas sacred Aphrodice, is worthless with thy locks to be allowed, To thee my thoughts are consecrate (dear love) my words & phrases bound to please thine ears, My looks are such as any heart could move, I still solicit thee with sighs and tears: O let not hate eclipse thy beauties shine, Then none would deem thee earthly, but divine. Sonnet XXVIII Weary with serving where I nought could get, I thought to cross great Neptune's greatest Seas, To live in exile; but my drift was let, by cruel Fortune spiteful of such ease, The Ship I had to pass in, was my mind, greedy desire was topsail of the same, My tears were surges, sighs did serve for wind, of all my Ship despair, was chiefest frame, Sorrow was Master, care the cable rope, grief was the main Mast, Love the Captain of it, He that did rule the helm, was foolish hope, but beauty was the Rock that my ship split: Which since hath made such shipwreck of my joy, That still I swim in th'Ocean of annoy. Sonnet. XXIX. CEase eyes to cherish with stil-flowing tears the almost withered roots of dying grief, Dry up your running Brooks, & damn your meres, and let my body die for moist relief, But death is deaf, for well he knows my pain, my slakelesse pain hell's horror doth exceed, There is no hell so black as her disdain whence cares, sighs, sorrows, and all griefs do breed, In steed of sleep, (when day incloistred is in dusty prison of infernal Night) With broad-wakt eyes I wail my miseries, and if I wink, I fear some ugly sight; Such fearful dreams do haunt my troubled mind, My love's the cause, cause she is so unkind. Sonnet XXX. He that can count the candles of the sky, reckon the Sands whereon Pactolus flows, Or number nomberlesse small Attomie, what strange, & hideous monsters Nilus shows, What misshaped Beasts vast Africa doth yield, what rare-formed fishes live in th' Ocean, What coloured flowers do grow in Tempe's field, how many hours are since the world began, Let him, none else, give judgement of my grief, let him declare the beauties of my Love, And he will say my pains pass all relief, and he will judge her for a Saint above; But as those things there's no man can unfold, So, nor her fair, nor my grief may be told. Sonnet XXXIII. THinking to close my over-watched eyes, and stop the sluice of their uncessant flowing, I laid me down when each one 'gan to rise, (new-risen Sol his flame like countenance showing) But grief, though drowsy ever, yet never sleeps, but still admits fresh intercourse of thought, Duly the passage of each hour he keeps, nor would he suffer me with sleep be caught, Some broken slumbers Morpheus had lent, who greatly pitied my want of rest, Whereat my heart a thousand thanks him sent, and vowed to serve him he was ready priest; Let restless nights, days, hours, do their spite, I'll love her still, and love for me shall fight. Sonnet XXXIIII. WHY should a maidens heart be of that proof, as to resist the sharpe-pointed dart of love? My Mistress eye kills strongest man aloof, me thinks he's weak that cannot quail a Dove. A lovely Dove, so fair and so divine, able to make what Cynic so e'er liveth, Upon his knees to beg of her bright eyen one smiling look, which life from death reviveth. The frozen heart of cold Zenocrates, had been dissolved into hot desire, Had Phryne cast such sunbeams from her eyes, (such eyes are cause that my heart flames in fire.) And yet with patience I must take my woe, In that my dearest love will have it so. Sonnet XXXV. ENd this enchantment (Love) of my desires, let me no longer languish for thy love, joy not to see me thus consume in fires, but let my cruel pains thy hard heart move, And now at last, with pitiful regard, eye me thy Lover, lost for lack of thee, Which dying, lives in hope of sweet reward, which hate hath hitherto withheld from me, Constant have I been, still in fancy fast, ordained by heavens to dote upon thy fair, Nor will I e'er, so long as life shall last, say any's fairer, breathing vital air; But when the Ocean sands shall lie unwet, Then shall my soul to love thee (Deer) forget. Sonnet XXXVI. LOng did I wish before I could attain the looked for sight I so desired to see, Too soon at last I saw what bred my bane, and ever since hath sore tormented me; I saw herself, whom had I never seen, my wealth of bliss had not been turned to bail, Greedy regard of her, my hearts sole Queen, hath changed my summers sun, to winter's hail. How oft have I, since that first fatal hour, beheld her all-faire shape with begging eye, Till she (unkind) hath killed me with a lower, and bad my humble-suing looks, look by. O pity me (fair Love) and highest fame Shall blazed be in honour of thy name. Sonnet XXXVII. DID I not love her as a Lover ought, with purest zeal, and faithfulness of heart, Then she had cause to set my love at nought, and I had well deserved to feel this smart, But holding her so dearly as I do, as a rare jewel of most high esteem, She most unkindly wounds and kills me, so my nere-stained troth most causeless to misdeem, Never did one account of woman more, than I of her, nor ever woman yet, Respected less, or held in lesser store her lovers vows, than she by mine doth set. What resteth then, but I despair and die, That so my death may glut her ruthless eye. Sonnet XXXVIII. hearken awhile (Diella) to a story, that tells of beauty, love, and great disdain, The last, caused by suspect; but she was sorry that took that cause, true love so much to pain, For when she knew his faith to be unfeigned, spotless, sincere, most true, and pure unto her, She joyed as if a kingdom she had gained, and loved him now as when he first did woe her. I near incurred suspicion of my truth, (fairest Diella) why wilt thou be cruel? Impose some end to undeserved ruth, and learn by others how to quench hates fuel. Read all, my Deer, but chief mark the end, And be to me, as she to him, a friend. THE LOVE OF DOM Diego and Gyneura. IN Catheloygne, o'repeerd by Pyren Mountains, (a Province seated in the East of Spain, Famous for hunting sports & clearest fountains) a young heroyck gallant did remain; He, signor Dom Diego had to name, Who for his constant faith had got such fame. Nature had tried her deepest skill on him, (for so the heaven-borne powers had her desired) With such perfection framed she each limb, that at her own work she herself admired, Majestic jove gave him a Princely grace, Apollo wit, and Venus gave his face. This love-some youth, kind Nature's fairest child, what for his beauteous love-alluring face, And for he was so gracious and so mild, was deemed of all to be of heavenly race; Men honoured him, and Maidens gave him love, To make him famous Men and Maidens strove. Hunting he loved, nor did he scorn to love, (a truer-loving heart was never known) Which well his Mistress cruelly did prove, whose causeless rigour Fame abroad hath blown. But now let's tell, how he on hunting went, And in what sports such pleasant time he spent. Soon as the sun had left his watery bed, (blushing for shame that he so long had slept) reviving those which dusky Night made dead, when for his welcome Lambs on mountains leapt. Up starts Diego, and with shrill-voyced horn, Tells hounds & huntsmen of a cleere-faced morn. Clothed all in green, (Sylvanus livery) he wore a low-crowned hat of finest silk, Whose brim turned up, was fastened with a Ruby, and underneath, a Pearl as white as milk, A sleeveles coat of Damask, richly laced With Indian pearl, as thick as could be placed. A glistering Cutlax pendent by his side, (he much esteemed the beast-dismembring blade) And halfe-leged Buskins curiously ytide with loops of burnished gold full finely made, Thus goes Diego, chiefest of his name, With siluer-headed spear to find some game. Long while it was ere any sport began, at last a Hart his big-growne horns did show, Which (winding strait the huntsmen) 'gan to run as fast as arrow from a Parthian bow: In whose purfute (by will of powerful Fates) Diego lost himself, and all his mates. Left thus alone in midst of unknown place, he invocates the favourable aid Of Ariadne, who with smallest lace, freed Monster-killing Theseus, so dismayed, In worse Labyrinth did he now remain, For none save trees or beasts, could hear him plain. In these Meanders, straggling here and there, goes fair Diego, listening to each sound, Musing twixt purple hope, and palish fear, he thought to rest him (wearied) on the ground, But see, he hears a far some forced noise, A horn, a hound, or else some human voice. With that, Desire, which scorns least tedious let, directed him unto that very place, Where lo to hunt the timorous Hare, were met as Knights, so Ladies, fittest for that chase: 'mongst which, there came a Grace of heavenvly fair, Her name Gyneura, with the golden hair. Her hair of such corruscant glitterous shine, as are the smallest streams of hottest sun, Like stars in frosty night, so look her eyen, within whose Arches Crystal springs do run, Her cheeks fair show of purest Porphyry, Full curiously were tipped with roscall die. Her lips like ripened Cherries seemed to be, from out whose concave Coral— seeming Fount, Came sweeter breath than musk of Araby, whose teeth the white of blanched pearl surmount Her neck the Lilies of Lyguria Did much exceed; Thus looked fair Gyneura. These Dryads Diego then bespoke, with sugared terms of mildest courtesy, And craved to know which way he best might take with shortest cut, to such a Signiory, Whereat he named himself; when presently The Ladies knew him (as a Neighbour by.) Gyneuras' Mother (chief of all the rest) (for that she knew his birth and his descent) Desired him home, he grants her such request, and thanks the Fates that him such hap had lent, For still on fair Gyneura were his eyes, And she reciprocally on his replies. These dumb Ambassadors, loves chief combatants tell (softly whispering in each others heart) Her of humble service; him of acceptance; his craved love, hers wished they near might part, Much talk they had with tongues, more with their eyes, But (oh) most with their hearts, where true love lies. Now were they come whereas the good old Lady might boldly welcome her invited guest, Where after little talk, (Hunters are hungry) they all sat down unto a soone-made feast, The Lovers fed on glances of their eyes, 'tis heavenly food when both do sympathize. At last, the Lady of the house espied the intercourse of those bright Messengers, Who inwardly rejoicing, as fast plied hers on her daughter, fittest Harbingers, To bid her keep the fairest and the best Place in her heart, to entertain this guest. Word back again was sent by her fair light, how that was done already; and replied, The Landlord o'er his Tenant hath such might, that he to enter in is near denied. I, in a little corner of my heart Do live, (quoth she) he hath the greatest part. Diego wished this supper near would end, (and yet he longed to be in private place, To ruminate upon his fairest friend, and to recount the beauties of her face) So wished Gyneura, were never such two, That loved so dearly as these Lovers do. The gloomy Curtains of the tongueless night, were drawn so close as day could not be seen, Now leaden-thoughted Morpheus dyms each sight, now, murder, rapes, and robberies begin: Nature craved rest, but restless Love would none, Diego, loves young apprentice, thus 'gan moan. Oh heavens, what newsounde griefs possess my mind, what rare impassionated fits be these? Cold-burning Fevers in my heart I find, whose opposite effects work me no ease, Then love assails the heart with hottest fight, When beauty makes her conqust at first sight. I little dreamt of this strange event, (this harts-inthraller, mindes-disturbing Love, When with my Huntsmen to the woods I went, Oh near till now did I his greatness prove, Whose first impression in the lovers heart, Till then near tainted, bringeth deepest smart. Thus lay Diego tossing in his bed, bound to the will of all commanding beauty, Whom angry Cupid now in triumph led, expecting from his slave all servile duty, He might have freed his prisoner so dismayed, For sighs and groans had double ransom paid. In like extremes, (Love loves extremity) did fair Gyneura pass the long-thought night, She railed against fell Cupid's cruelty, that so would tyrannize o'er a maidens sprite. There needs no blows, quoth she, when foes do yield, Oh cease, take thou the honour of the field. The valiant Greeks' (fair Ilyons fatal Foes) their tedious ten years siege for Sparta's Queen Near thought so long; (yet long, it was) as those love-scorcht enamoured (so restless) now ween This night to be; A night if spent in care, Seems longer than a thousand pleasant are. Thus lay they sleepless, thoughtful, ever thinking on sluggish humour of expected Morn, They thought that lovers eyes were never winking nor sleep they e'er in whom loves newly borne. He vowed, when day was come, to woe his dear, She swore such wooing she would gladly hear. At last, the guider of the fiery Coach, drying his locks wet in Eurotus flood, 'Gan resaluce the world with bright approach, angry he seemed, for all his face was blood: Aurorites haste had made him look so red, For loath he was to leave fair Thetis bed. Scarce were his horses put in readiness, and he himself full mounted on his seat, When Dom Diego full of heaviness, abroad did walk, his night talk to repeat: Some two hours spent, he in again retires, And sees his Mistress, whom he now admires. Whereat inflamed, (love brooks no base delay, whose fruit is danger, whose reward is pain) With fine-filed terms he gives her the good day, and blushing, she returns it him again. Endimeons' blush her beauty did eclipse, His caused by Cynthia's, hers Adonis lips. Boldly encouraged by her mild aspect, he told her that which Lovers use to tell, How he did live by her fair eyes reflect, and how his heart in midst of hers did dwell: Much eloquence he used, 'twas needle's done, To win that heart which was already won. ne'er did the dungeon thief condemned to die with greater pleasure hear his pardon read, Then did Gyneura hear his Oratory, (of force sufficient to revive the dead) She needs must yield; for sure he had the Art, With amorous heat to fix Diana's heart. These Lovers (thus in this both-pleasing parley) were interrupted by geneura's Mother Who newly up, (age seldom riseth early) 'gan strait salute her guest, so did he her, Some terms of kindness mutually passed, She friendly leads him in, to break his fast. Which done, (as all good manners did require) he thanked his Hostis for her courtesy, And now at length went home for to retire, where he was looked for so earnestly, The Lady craved if ere he came that way, To see her house, and there to make some stay. Then heavily, and with a dying eye, (joyless) he takes his leave of his fair Love, Who for to favour him, full graciously, with loving countenance gave to him her Glove. Keep this (quoth she) till better fortune fall, My Glove, my Love, my hand, my heart, and all. At this large offer, bashful modesty, with pure Vermilion stained her all fair face, So looked Calystome at her great belly, when chaste Ilythia spied her in such case; Let Lovers judge how grievous us to part, From two, twixt whom, there liveth but one heart. Now is he gone, who after little travel attained his house (not pleasing thought desired) At whose late absence each one much did marvel, but (come) at his sad looks they more admired, Great Cupid's power, such sadness in him bred, Who (erst) all loving hearts in triumph led. One month (consumed in pensiveness) expired; to recreate and revive his tired sprite, He now on hunting goes, which he desired, not for the (once wellpleasing) sport's delight; But for he might some fit occasion find, To see his Love, on whom was all his mind. Where being come (suppose his sports proved bad) Gyneura gave him welcome from her heart, The Sea-tossed Lord of Ithica ne'er had, after his twenty years turmoil and smart, More joyful welcome by his constant wife Then had Diego from his love, his life. Two days he stayed, whence he would ne'er departed but custom wiled that he should now return, Yet though he went he left with her his heart, which for their parting heavily 'gan mourn, But far worse news had it poor heart to grieve, In that Gyneura would so soon believe. For sooner was he not departed thence but strait there comes a Rival of his Love, Who under true fidellities pretence wrought wondrous hard Diego to remove, Nor could at first his oaths or vows prevail, To make gyneura's love one whit to fail. For yet they lived fast bound in Fancies chains, striving to pass each other in pure love, But (as there's nothing that for aye remains without some change.) so do these Lovers prove, That hottest love hath soonest the coldest disdain, And greatest pleasures, have their greatest pain. For now no longer could she so persever, she turns to deadly hate her former kindness, Which still had lasted; but that Nature ever strikes into women's eyes such dim-sight blindness, And such obdurate hardness in their hearts, They see, nor know, not truest loves deserts. Gyneura this confirms against her Lover, whom now (all guiltless) she condemns to die, That in his deed or thought did near offend her, unless by loving her so wondrous dearly: Such Love, such hate, such liking, such disdain, Was never known in one heart to remain. Thus 'twas; Diego had an enemy, (immortal virtue ever linked is, With that pale lean-faced meager-hewed envy) who secretly (so falsely) tells his Mis. How she was mocked; Diego loved another, And stormed & raged what madness so should move her To dote on him that else where sets his Love, he makes you think (quoth he) what ere he list, That this is true, you easily may prove for still he wears her favour on his fist, A Hawk it is; which she (so stands the Mart) Gives him, he you fair words, but her his heart. With this incensed, (that sex will soon believe) soon when envies brood to them display it, Is't true (quoth she) for true love doth he give, such smooth-faced flattery, doth he thus repay it? She never scanned, the truth of this her grief, Love in such cases, is of quick belief, Her love to him was never half so great, (though once she loved him) as is now her hate, This Momus breath (like bellows) to her heat, did kindle fiery coals of hot debate. He plies her; and exasperates his spite, And swears, and vows, he tells her but the right. She (like a frantic Froe of Thessaly madded with Bacchus brayne-distempring liquor) Runs here, and there, exclaiming furiously with hideous, uncouth mind-affrighting terror. Swearing revenge on false Diego's head, Whose lying looks in her such madness bred. Wherewith she invocates great Nemesis, and begs the power of her deity, She tells her case, to justice-doing Themis, and shows how she is wronged mightily. She leaves no power unsought for, or unpraide, That use to help distressed with their aid. Wronged Diego (little this suspecting) now thought it time to see his dearest fair, And (other matters of import neglecting, he presently to her makes his repair. Where being come, such welcome he did find, As at the first did much disturb his mind. For fair Gyneura would not now be seen, she sent him word she scorned his fawning flattery, And much did grieve, that she so fond had been, to yield her heart to such deceitful battery: Bid him (quoth she) go flatter where he list, I like not I, that favour on his fist. Such hap it was, Diego then had brought his Hawk; (the author of this fell debate) Which well confirmed her ever doubtful thought, that now she was resolved on deadly hate, Bid him (quoth she) depart hence from my sight, His loath-some presence brings me irksome spite. 'twas hard; that he whose love was never tainted whose sincere faith was kept inviolate, Nay, in whose face all truest love was painted, should for his spotless truth be paid with hate, He stone-astonied, like a Dear at gaze, Admired these speeches in a wondrous maze. At last he craved this favour be might have, that she herself would hear what he could say, So Neptune's Town (quoth she) such license gave to smooth-faced Sinon (Ilion's last decay) So Sirens sing until they have their will, Some poor mistrustless Passenger to kill. She would not hear him speak (oh cruel she) that causeless this would kill him with disdain, He swears he's guiltless, vows innocency, & in such vows, tears down his cheeks did rain, Those cheeks which stain the blushing of the morn Gyneura now most hatefully doth scorn. 'tis strange that Maids should ere be so abused, to credit each malicious-tongued slave, And to condemn a man (if once accused) before or proof, or trial, he may have. Too many such there be; woe' me therefore, Such light credulity, I must deplore. When sighs, salt tears, & vows could do no good, nor sighs, nor tears, nor vows could pierce her heart, In which, disdain triumphant victor stood holding in either hand a sable dart, Wherewith he strikes true love, & stainless truth, Condemning them unto eternal ruth. Home goes Diego, with a cheerless face, whose steps were led by leaden-footed grief, Who never goes but with a dead-slowe pace, until he find some ease, or some relief; 'twould melt a marble heart to see that man, (Erst, fresh as a new-blowne Rose) so ashy wan. Where being come, he strait for four days space, locks him in his chamber, and there did pour Huge showers of crystal rain adown his face, (for sure he loved her dearly at this hour) All overwhelmed in waves of sea-salt tears, Some fatal shipwreck of his life he fears. Wherewith he calls for paper, pen, and yuck, and for his Hawk, which presently he killed, Die thou (quoth he) so shall my love near think, that for thy sake to any else I yield. And plucking of her head, strait way he writes, Who (sending it as token) thus indites. Lo here (thou cruel fair) that gracious favour, the Ensign (as thou sayst) of my untruth, Behold in what high-prized esteem I have her that gave me it, the cause of all my ruth: Look as this Hawk, fair Love, so is my heart, Mangled and torn, cause thou so cruel art. I swear to thee by all the rites of love, by heavens fair head, by earth, & black-faced hell, I near meant other love but thine to prove, nor in my heart that any else should dwell; Let this suffice, my joy, my dear, my chief, My griefs are too too long, though letter brief. 'twas time to end, for floods gushed out amain, out came the springtide of his brinish tears, Which whatsoe'er he writ blot out again all blubbered so to send it scarce he dares: And yet he did; go thou (quoth he) unto her, And for thy master, treat, solicit, woe her. And pray thee (if thy Fortune be so good as to be viewed by sunshine of her eyes) Bid her take heed in spilling guiltless blood, tell her there's danger in such cruelties: With this, he gave it to the messenger, Who (making speed) in short time brought it her. She, when she heard from whom the Letter came, returns it back again, and strait replied, My friend (quoth she) hadst thou not told his name perhaps thy Letter, had not been denied: Whereat she paused; but yet i'll see (quoth she) With what persuading terms, he flatters me. 'twas quickly read; (God knows it was but short) grief would not let the writer tedious be, Nor would it suffer him fit words to sort, but pens it (chaos-like) confusedly. Yet had it passion to have turned hard stones To liquid moisture, if they heard his moans. But cruel she, more hard than any flint, worse than a Tigress of Hyrcania, Would not be moved, nor could his lines take print in her hard hurt, so cruel was Gyneura. She which once loved him dearly, (too too well) Now hates him more than any tongue can tell. Oh Nature, chiefest Mother of us all, why did you give such apt-beleeving hearts To womenkind, that thus poor men enthrall, and will not duly way true loves deserts? O had their hearts been like unto their face, They sure had been of some celestial race. She pitiless, sends back to Dom Diego, and says, his words cannot enchant her heart, Vlisses-like, she will not hear Calypso, nor lend her ears to such enticing art. Bid him (quoth she) from henceforth cease to write, Tell him his Letters aggravate my spite. Full heavy news it was to stainelesse love, to him that had enshrined her in his thought, And in his heart had honoured her above the world; to whom all else save her seemed nought. Nay, unto him, whose person, wit, and fair, Might surely with the best make just compare. But (blinded as she was) she steams him not, hate and disdain do never brook respect, She did not know that beauty's foulest blot consisted in true-loving h●rts neglect. No, she (more stubborn than the north-east wind) Would not admit such knowledge in her mind. Let those who guiltlesslie have felt disdain, whose faithful love hath been repaid with hate, Give rightful judgement of Diego's pain who bought his favours at the highest rate. This news such pleasure in his soul had bred, As hath the thief that hearts his judgement read. After some time, he writes again unto her, he could not think she would persever so, But when he saw her answer like the other he then surceased to send her any more. But did resolve to seek some uncouth place, Where he might (unfound out) bewail his case. Thinking indeed; she by his absence might at length intenerate her flintfull heart, And metamorphize her conceived spite into true love regardaunt of his smart; He seeks all means (poor Lover) how to gain His rigorous Lady from such fell disdain. At last, he calls to mind the Pyren Mountains, those far-famed, woody hills of wealthy Spain, Which for wild Beasts, & silver visaged Fountains, hath got the praise of all that there remain: Hither posts Dom Diego fraught with grief, Hoping those woods would yield him some relief. Where, being come, all Pilgrimlike attired, he pries about to see if he could find, Some houselike Cave, for rest he much desired, his body now was weary, as his mind. O Gods (quoth he) if youth find such distress, What hope have I, of future happiness. With that he sees a Rock made like a Cabin all tapistred with Nature's mossy green, Wrought in a frizzled guise, as it had been made for Napaea, mountains chiefest Queen, At mouth of which grew Cedars, Pines, & Firs, And at the top grew Maple, Yough, and Poplars. So, here (quoth he) i'll rest my wearied body in thee (delightful place of Nature's building) Will I erect a griefe-framed Monastery, where night & day my prayers i'll ne'er cease yielding, To thee my decree; (no other Saint I have) Oh lend thine ears, to him that his heart gave. Two days were spent in this so pleasant seat, (this stone-built Palace of the King content) Before Diego tasted any meat, or once did drink, more than his eyes had lent. O irresisted force of purest Love, Whom pains, thirst, hunger, can no whit remove. Sometimes, when as he scans her cruelty, & feels his pains (like Hydreas' head) increasing, He wished the Scythian anthropophagy did haunt these woods that live by man's flesh eating; Or else the Thracian Bessi, so renowned, For cruel murdering, whom in woods they found. That so the Gordyon knot of his pain indissoluble whiles he did live, Might be untied when as his heart were slain, when he (o restful time) should cease to grieve; But yet the Sisters kept his vital breath, They would not let him die so base a death. Some other times when as he ways her beauty, her Venus-stayning face so wondrous fair, He than doth think to wail 'tis but his duty sith caused by her that is without compare, And in this mood unto high jove he prays, And praying so, he thus unto him says. Great Governor of (wheele-resembling) Heaven, command thy under Princes to maintain, Those heavenvly parts which to my love 'ave given, o let her ne'er feel death, or deaths fell pain. And first upon thy Sister lay thy mace, Bid her maintain my loves majestic grace. Enjoin the strange-borne motherless Mynerua, and her to whom the foamy Sea was Mother, Still to uphold their gifts in my Gyneura: let wit and beauty live united with her; With sweet mouthed Pytho I may not suspense, Great Goddess, still increase her eloquence. Thou musical Apollo gav'st her hand, and thou her feet (great Sun-Gods dearest love) To such your rare-knowne gifts all gracious stand; and now at last this do I crave great jove, That when they die (perhaps they die above) Thou wilt bequeath these gifts unto my love. On every neighbour Tree, on every stone (he durst not far range from his secure Cave) Would he cut out the cause of all his moan, and curiously with greatest skill engrave: There needed no Leontius, his Art, Grief carveth deepest, if it come from th'heart'. When some stone would not impression take he strait compares it to his Mistress heart, But stay, (quoth he) my working tears shall make thee penetrable with the least-skiled art. Oh had my tears such force to pierce her mind, These sorrows I should lose, and new joys find. Thou ever-memorable stone (quoth he) tell those whom fate or fortune here shall lead, How dearly I have loved the cruel'st she that ever Nature or the world hath bred. Tell them her hate, and her disdain was causeless. Oh, leave not out to tell how I was guiltless. Whereat, the very stone would seem to weep, whose wrinkled face would be besmeared with tears O man what ere thou be, thy sorrows keep unto thyself, quoth he; i'll hear no cares. Tell them that care not, tell Gyneura of thee, We stones are ruthful, & thy plaints have pierced me. With this, he seeks a russet-coated Tree, & strait disclothes him of his long-worne weed And whilst he thus disrobes him busily, he felt his half-dead heart a fresh to bleed. Grieving that he should use such cruelty, To turn him naked to his foe, winds fury. But now uncased, he 'gins to carve his cares, his passions, his constant-lyving Love, When (lo) there gushes out clear sap like tears which to get forth from prison mainly strove, Since pity dwells (quoth he) in trees and stone, Them will I love; Gyneura, thou hast none. Yet needs I must confess thou once didst love me, thy love was hotter than Nimphaeum hill, But now when time affords me, means to prove thee, thy love then Caucase is more cold and i'll, And in thy cold, like Aethiopyan hue, Thou art not to be changed from false to true. O look (fair Love) as in the springing Plant one branch entwines and grows within another, So grow my griefs; which makes my heart to pant when thicke-fetcht sighs my vital breath doth smother, I spoiled my cruelty am adjudged to death, Thus all alone to yield my living breath. Thou hast the fairest face that e'er was seen, but in thy breast (that Alabaster Rock) Thou hast a fouler heart; disdain hath been accounted blacker than the chimneys stock. O purify thy soul my dearest Love, Dislodge thy hate, and thy disdain remove, But all in vain I speak unto the wind, than should they carry these my plaints unto her, Me thinks thou still shouldst bear a gentle mind, (dear loving Zephir) pray, entreat, & woe her; Tell her 'ttwere pity I should die alone, Here in these woods where none can hear me moan. But 'tis no matter, she is pittylesse like the Sicilian stone that more 'tis beat Doth wax the harder; stones are not so ruthless, which smallest drops do pierce though near so great; If Seas of tears would wear into her heart, I had ere this been eased of my smart. Thus in these speeches would Diego sit bathing his silver cheeks with trickling tears, Which (often running down) at last found fit channels to send them to their standing meres, Who at his feet (before his feet there stood A pool of tears) received the smaller flood. ne'er had the world a truer loving heart, Abydos cease to speak of constant love, Por sure (thou Sygnior Dom Diego) art the only man that e'er hates force did prove; Thy changeless love hath close enrolled thy name, In steel-leaved book of ever-lyving fame. That wide-mouthed time with swallows good deserts shall shut his jaws, & ne'er devour thy name, Thou shalt be crowned with bays by loving hearts, and dwell in Temple of eternal Fame; There, is a sacred place reserved for thee, There, thou shalt live with perpetuity. So long lived poor Diego in this case that at the length he waxed somewhat bold, To search the woods where he might safely chase, (necessity, thy force cannot be told) The fearful Hare, the coney, and the Kid, Time made him know the places where they bid. This young-yeared Hermit, one day 'mong the rest as he was busily providing meat, Which was with Nature's cunning almost dressed, dried with the Sun new ready to be eat, Enraged upon a sudden throws away His hard-got food; and thus began to say. O cruel stars, stepmothers of my good, & you, you ruthless Fates what mean you thus, So greedily to thirst for my heart's blood, why joy you so in ununiting us? Great powers infuse some pity in her heart That thus hath causeless caused in me this smart. I ne'er was wont to use such Cookery, to drudge & toil when peasants take their pleasure, My noble birth scorns base-born slavery, this easeless life hath neither end nor measure; Thou great Sosipolis look upon my state, Be of these nere-hard griefs compassionate. I feel my long-thought life begin to melt as doth the snow 'gainst midday heat of Sun, (Fair love) thy rigour I have too much felt, oh, at the last with cruelty have done, If tears thy stony heart could mollify, My brinish springs should flow eternally. Sweet love, behold those pale cheeks washed in woe that so my tears may as a mirror be, Thine own fair shadow lively for to shoe, and portrait forth thy Angel-hued beauty. Narcissus-lyke then shouldst thou my face kiss, More honey sweet, than Venus gave Adonis. Fear not Gyneura, fair Narcissus hap; thy neck, thy breast, thy hand is Lily-white, They all are Lilies ta'en from Flora's lap; ne'er be thou changed unless to love from spite. Oh that thou were't but then transformed so, My summers bliss, would change my winter's woe. If thou didst know in what a loathsome place, I spend my days sad and disconsolate, What foggy Stygian mists hang o'er my face, thou wouldst exile this thy conceived hate; This Hemisphere is dark, for Sol him shrouds, My sighs do so conglomerate the clouds. I told thee, I, (thou cruel too severe) when hate first 'gan to rise how I was guiltless, Thine ears were deaf, that wouldst not hearken ere thee, thy heart was hardened, rocky, pitiless. Oh had mine eyes been blind when first they viewed Would God I had been tongueless when I sewed thee. But thou wast then as ready to receive as I to crave; o great inconstancy, O 'twas that fatal hour did so bereave my blissful soul of all tranquillity: Thou than didst burn in love, now freeze in hate, Yet pity me, sweet mercy ne'er comes late. Look as the crazen tops of armless Trees or latest downfall of some aged building, Do tell thee of the north-winds boisterous furies, and how that Aeolus lately hath been stirring; So in my thin cheeked face thou well mayst see, The furious storm of thy black cruelty. But thou inexorable art, ne'er to be won, though Lions, Bears, & Tigers have been tamed, Thy wood-borne rigour never will be done, which thinks for this thou ever shalt be famed; True, so thou shalt, but famed in infamy, Is worse than living in obscurity. If thou didst know how grievous 'tis to me to live in this unhabited abode, Where none (but sorrow) keeps me company, I know thou wouldst thy hearts hate then unload, Oh, I did ne'er deserve this misery, For to deny the truth were heresy. I tell thee (Love) when secret-tongued night puts on her misty sable-coloured veil, My wrangling woes, within themselves do fight, they murder hope, which makes their Captain wail, And wailing so, can never take his rest, That keeps such unruled Soldiers in his breast. So when the clear nights-faults-disclosing day peeps forth her purple head, from out the East, These woes (my Soldiers) cry out for their pay, (and if denied) they stab me, with unrest; My tears are pay, but all my teats are dried Therefore I must their fatal blows abide. In these laments did Dom Diego live long time; till at the last by pourefull fate, A wandering Huntsman ignorance did drive unto the place whence he returned but late; Who viewing well the print of humane steps Directly followed them, and for joy leaps. At last he came unto Diego's Cave in which he saw a savage man (he thought) Who much did look like the Danubyan slave, such deep-worn furrows in his face were wrought, Diego much abashed at this sight Came running forth, him in his arms to plight. For glad he was (God knows) to see a man, who (wretch) in two years space did ne'er see any Such gladness, joy, such mirth, such triumph can not be set down, suppose them to be many. But see, long had they not conferred together, When (happy time) each one did know the other. With that Diego shows him all his love, his penance, her first love, & now her hate, But he requested him hence to remove, and at his house the rest he should dilate, Which he denied, only he now doth write By this his friend, unto his heart's delight. Dear Love (quoth he) when shall I home return, when will the coals of hate be quenched with love, Which now in raging flames my heart do burn, oh, when wilt thou this thy disdain remove; Ask of this bearer, be inquisitive, And he will tell thee in what case I live. Inquire of her, whose Hawk hath caused this woe, if for that favour ever I did love her, And she will curse me that did use her so, and she will tell thee how I loved another; 'twas thee Gyveura, 'twas thy fairest self, I held thee as a Pearl, her drossy pelf. Then, when thou hast found out the naked truth, think of thy Diego, and his hard hap, Let it procure in thee some moving ruth, that thus hast causeless cast him from thy lap: Farewell my dear, I hope this shall suffice, To add a period to thy cruelties. The Messenger to spur forth her desires, and hasten her unto his well-loued friend, Tells her, how he lies languishing in fires of burning griefs, which never will have end: Bids her to fly to him with wings of zeal, And thus Diego's pains he doth reveal. Oh Adamantick-minded Maid (quoth he) why linger you in this ambiguous thought, Open thine eyes, no longer blinded be, those wounding looks, thy Lover, dear hath bought. Unbolt thy hearts strong gate of hardest steel, O let him now the warmth of pity feel. Oh let him now the warmth of pity feel, that long hath knocked cold-staruen at thy door; Wanting loves food he here & there doth reel like to a storme-tost Ship that's far from shore. Feed him with love that long hath fed on cares, Be Anchor to his soul that swims in tears. Gyneura, let him harbour in thy heart rig and amend his trouble-beaten face, O calm thy hate, whose winds have raised his smart see him not perish in this woeful case. And for in Sea-salt tears he long hath lived, Let him by thy fresh water be relieved. Oh, shall I tell thee how I found him there, his house wherein he lived (if live he did, Or rather spend his time in dying fear) was built within the ground, all darksome hid, From Phoebus' light, so ugly, hell-lyke Cave, In all the world again you cannot have. All made of ruged hard-favoured stones, whose churlish looks afford the eye no pleasure, In whose concavity winds breathed horse groans, to which sad music Sorrow danced a measure. O'regrowne it was with mighty shadeful Trees, Where poor Diego Sun nor Moon near sees. To this black place repaired every morn, The fair Oreades pitty-moned girls, Bringing the poor Diego so forlorn, Moss to dry up his tears, those liquid pearls: Full loath they were to lose such crystal springs, Therefore this Spunge-like Moss each of them brings. Here dry (say they) thou love-forsaken man, those glassy Conduits, which do never cease On this soft-feeling weed; and if you can, we all entreat, your griefs you would appease, Else wilt thou make us pine in grief-full woe, That near knew care, or love, or friend, or foe. Strait (like a shooting Comet in the air) away departed these sorrow-peirced maids, Leaving Diego in a deep despair, who now, his fortune, now his fate upbraids. O heavens (quoth he) how happy are these trees, That know not love, nor feel his miseries. Melts not thy heart (Gyneura) at his cares? are not thy bright transparent eyes yet blind With monstrous deluge of overflowing tears? remains there yet disdains within thy mind? Disgorge thy hate, O hate him not that loves thee, Maids are more mild than men, yet pity moves me. Break, break in pieces that delicious chest, whiter than snow on Hyperboreall hill, Chase out disdain, deprive him of his rest, murder and mangle him that rules thy will. Be it near said that fair gyneura's beauty, Was over-poised by causeless cruelty. Cruel to him that merits courtesy, loathed of thee that doth deserve all love, Basely rejected, scorned most churlishly, that honours thee above the Saints above. True love is priceless, rare, and therefore dear, We feast not royal Kings with homely cheer. Too long it were to tell thee all his merits, for in delay consists his long-looked death, post-haste of thine must now revive his spirits, or shortly he will gasp his latest breath; Speak fair Gyneura, speak as I desire, Or let thy vaine-breathed speeches back retire. Look, as a man late taken from a trance, stands gazing here and there in senseless wise, Not able of himself his head t'advance, but standeth like a stone in deathlike guise, So looked Gyneura, hanging down her head, Shaming that folly her so much had led. Repentant sorrow would not let her speak, the burning flames of grief did dry her tears, Yet at the last, words out of prison break, that longed to utter her hearts inward cares: And stealingly there glides with heavy pace A Rivulet of Pearl along her face. O cease (quoth she) to wound me any more, with oft repeating of my cruelties, Thou of thy tears (kind man) hast shed great store, when I (unkinder maid) scarce wet mine eyes. O let me now bewail him once for all, 'twas none but I that caused his causeless thrall. Eternal jove, rain showers of vengeance on me, plague me for this black deed of wrongful hate, Be blind mine eyes, they shall not look upon thee Diego, till thou be compassionate: And when thou dost forgive what I have done, Then shall they shine like shortest-shaded sun. O slack thy swift-paced gallop winged Time, turn back, and register this my disdain; Bid Poets sing my hate in ruthful rhyme, and pen sad Iliads of Diego's pain: Let them be writ in plain-seene lines of glass, To show how loving he, I, cruel was. Hereat she pausd, tell me sweet sir quoth she, how I might see my deere-embosomed friend, That now (if what is past may pardoned be) unto his griefs I may impose an end; Wherewith they both agreed, that the next day. They would eniourney them without more stay. Long were they not, Desire still goes on Ice, and near can stay tell that he hath his wish, men's willing minds each thing doth soon entice, to hast to the which they would feign accomplish. But that they came (as having a good guide) Unto the place where they Diego spied. Sacred Pymplaides on dip my quill within the holy waters of your spring, Infuse into my brain some of your skill, that joyfully of these I now may sing: Those Lovers now twixt whom late dwelled annoy, swimming in seas of over-whelming joy. But, pardon me you Dames of Helicon, for thus invoking your divinest aid, Which was by me (unworthy) called upon, at your rare knowledge I am much dismayed; My barren-witted brains are all too base, To be your sacred learning's resting place. Thus, of themselves, in pleasure's ecstasy, these Lovers now embrace them in their arms, Speechless they are, eye countersixt on eye, like two that are conjured by magic charms, So close their arms were twined, so near they came As if both man and woman were one frame. In th'end, (as doth a Current lately stayed, rush mainly forth his long-imprisoned flood) So broke out words; and thus Dyego said, what my Gyneura? O my heart's chief good, be't possible that thou thyself shouldst deign In seeing me to take so wondrous pain. Oh, speak not of my pain (my dearest love) all pain is pleasure that I take for thee, Thou that so loyal and so true dost prove, might scorn me now, so credulous to be: Then sweet Diego, let us now return, And banish all things that might make us mourn. 'tTwere infinite to tell of their great gladness, their amorous greetings, & their soul's delight, Diego now had exiled grief and sadness, ravished with joy whilst he enjoy her sight. Let it suffice, they homeward now retire, Which sudden chance both men & maids admire. Gyneura now delights but in his presence, she cannot once endure him from her sight, His love-ful face is now her souls sole essence, and on his face she dotes both day and night. She near did once disdain him half so much, As now she honours him, loves force is such. Diego now wrapped in a world of pleasure, imparadized in having his desire, Floating in Seas of joy above all measure, sought means to mitigate loves burning fire, Who walking with his love alone one day, Discharged his mind, and thus began to say. O fair Gyneura, how long wilt be ere safron-robed Hymen do unite us? My soul doth long that happy hour to see. O let the angry Fates no longer spite us, Lingering delays will tear my grieved heart, Let me no longer feel so painful smart. Gyneura, which desired it as her life, tells him that pain shall shortly have a cure, Shortly quoth she, I'll be thy married wife, tied in those chains which ever will endure, Be patiented then, and thou shalt plainly see, In working it, how forward I will be. And so she was; no time did she misspend, wherein she gets not things in readiness, That might to Hymen's rites full fitly tend, or once conduce to such their happiness, All things prepared, these Lovers now are chained In marriage bands, in which they long remained. These, whilst they lived, did live in all content, contending who should love each other most, To with pure love, proud Fame her ears down lent, and through the world, of it doth highly boast. O happy he to whom love comes at last, That will restore what hate before did waste. Then (dearest love) GyneuryZe at the last, And I shall soon forget what ere is past. AND now farewell, when I shall far but ill, flourish & joy, when I shall droop and languish, All plenteous good await upon thy will, when extreme want shall bring my soul death's anguish. Forced by thee (thou mercy-wanting maid) must I abandon this my native soil, Hoping my sorrows heat will be allayed by absence, time, necessity or toil. So, now adieu; the winds call my depart. Thy beauty's excellence, my rudest quill Shall never-more unto the world impart, so that it know thy hate, I have my will; And when thou hearest that I for thee shall perish, Be sorrowful. And henceforth true love cherish. FINIS. Poco senno basta a chi Fortuna suona.