SONNETS TO THE FAIREST CELIA.  
Parue, nec invideo, sine me liber ibis ad illam,  
Hei mihi quòd domino non licèt ire tuo.  Trist. 1.  stylized fleur-de-lis 
LONDON, Printed by Adam Islip, for W. P. 1594.   

TO THE READER.  
COurteous Reader, whereas I was fully determined to have concealed my Sonnets, as things privy to myself, yet of courtesy having lent them to some, they were secretly committed to the Press, and almost finished, before it came to my knowledge. Wherefore making, as they say, Virtue of necessity, I did deem it most convenient to praepose mine Epistle, only to beseech you to account of them as of toys and amorous devices, and ere long, I will impart unto the world another Poem which shall be both more fruitful and ponderous. In the mean while I commit these as a pledge unto your indifferent censures. London, 1594.  
W. Percy.   

CELIA.  

Sonnet I.  
Ivdged by my goddess doom to endless pain,  
Lo here I open my sorrows passion,  
That every silly eye may view most plain,  
A sentence given on no occasion.  
If that by chance they fall most fortunate,  
Within those cruel hands that did enact it,  
Say but, alas he was too passionate,  
My doom is past, nor can be now unactit.  
So mayst thou see I was a spotless lover,  
And grieve withal that ere thou dealt so sore.  
Unto remorse who goes about to move her,  
Pursues the winged winds, and tills the shore.  
Lovely is her semblance, hard is her heart,  
Wavering is her mind, sure is her dart.   

Sonnet II.  
Oh happy hour, and yet unhappy hour,  
When first by chance I had my goddess viewed,  
Then first I tasted of the sweetest sour,  
Wherewith the cup of Cypria is imbrued.  
For gazing farm without suspicion,  
Love cooped behind the chariot of her eye,  
justly to school my bold presumption,  
Against my heart did let an arrow fly:  
Fair sir, quoth he, to practise have you nought  
But to be gazing on divinity?  
Before you part, your lere you shall be taught,  
With that at once he made his arrows high:  
Imperious God, I did it not to love her,  
Ah, stay thy hand, I did it but to prove her.   

Sonnet III.  
Prove her? Ah no, I did it but to love her:  
Then shoot amain, dread liege, I stand unarmed,  
Although no hope that any thing may move her,  
Some ease it is to be by beauty charmed.  
Then quick, my liege, them quick, & end thy game,  
That all the world may see how thou hast plagued us,  
Then cruel she shall view unto her blame,  
That all men be not fickle as they've termed us:  
May be, my words may win contrition;  
If not my words, my sobs; if not my sobs,  
My tears may move her to compassion;  
If tears do fail, my tears, my words, my throbs,  
Ay me, Ah no, tears, words, throbs all in vain,  
She scorns my dole, and smileth at my pain.   

Sonnet FOUR  
Oh heavenly Celia, as fair as virtuous,  
The only mirror of true chastity,  
Have I been 'gainst thy godhead impious,  
That thus am guerdoned for my fealty?  
Have I not shed upon thine yu'rie shrine,  
Huge drops of tears with large eruptions?  
Have I not offered evening and at prime  
My sighs, my Psalms of invocations?  
What be men's sighs, but calls of guilefulness?  
They show, dear love, true proofs of fermitie▪  
What be your tears, but mere ungraciousness?  
Tears only plead for our simplicity:  
When all strike mute, she says it is my duty,  
And claims as much as to her deity.   

Sonnet V.  
Fair Queen of Gnidos come adorn my forehead,  
And crown me with the laurel emperor,  
I'ó thrice sing I'ó about thy Poet,  
Lo on my goddess I am conqueror.  
For once by chance, not sure, or wittingly,  
Upon my foot, her tender foot alighted,  
With that she plucked it off full wimbely,  
As though the very touch had her affrighted:  
Dear mistress, will you deal so cruelly,  
To prive me of so small a benefit?  
What? do you iert it off so nimbely,  
As though in very sooth a snake had bit it?  
Yea bit perhaps indeed: Ho, Muses blab you?  
Not a word Pieannets, or I will gag you.   

Sonnet VI.  
Good God how senseless be we paramours,  
So proudly on a nothing for to vaunt it?  
We cannot reap the meanest of all favours,  
But by and by we think our suit is grauntit.  
Had ye observed two planets which then mounted,  
Two certain signs of indignation,  
Ye would have deemed rather both consented,  
To turn all hopes to desperation.  
Then can you waver so inconstantly,  
To show first love, and then disdainfulness?  
First for to bring a dram of courtesy,  
Then mix it with an ounce of scornfulness?  
No, no, the doubt is answered, certainly  
She trod by chance, she trod not wittingly.   

Sonnet VII.  
If it be sin so dearly for to love thee,  
Come bind my hands, I am thy prisoner,  
Yet if a spark of pity may but move thee,  
First sit upon the cause commissioner.  
The same well heard may wrist incontinent  
Two floods from forth those rocks of adamant  
Which streaming down with force impatient,  
May melt the breast of my fierce Rhadamant.  
Dearest cruel the cause I see dislikes thee,  
On us thy brows thou bends so direfully;  
Enjoin me penance whatsoever likes thee,  
What e'er it be I'll take it thankfully.  
Yet since for love it is I am thy bondman,  
Good Celia use me like a Gentleman.   

Sonnet VIII.  
Strike up, my Lute, and ease my heavy cares,  
The only solace to my passions,  
Impart unto the airs thy pleasing airs,  
More sweet than heavenly consolations.  
Rehearse the songs of forlorn amot'us  
Driv'ne to despair by dames tyrannical,  
Of Alpheus' loss, of woes of Troilus,  
Of Roland's rage, of Jphis funeral.  
Aim, what warbles yields mine instrument?  
The bases skrieke, as though they were amiss,  
The Means, no means, too sad the merriment,  
No, no, the music good, but thus it is,  
I loathe both Means, merriment, Diapasons,  
So she and I may be but unisons.   

Sonnet IX.  
Whilst others ween sole hopes to be a sawe,  
Sole hopes I find to be my corrosives:  
Whilst others found in hopes an harbour have,  
From hopes I feel a sea of sorrows rise:  
For when mild hopes should ease my raging fires,  
They fester more, in that they are but hopes:  
Then whilst I touch the port of my desires,  
A storm of hate doth burst mine anchor ropes.  
Were I but once resolved certainly,  
Soon should I know which point my helm to steer,  
But she denies my suit most womanly,  
As hidden documents for us to hear.  
Lo this the cause my hell forsakes me never.  
Tell me, (dear sweet) thus shall I live for ever?   

Sonnet X.  
¶ A MYSTERY.  
To win the Fort how oft have I assayed,  
Wherein the heart of my fair mistress lies?  
What Rams, what mines, what plots have I not laid?  
Yet still am frighted from mine enterprise.  
First from the leads of that proud citadel,  
Do foulder forth two fiery culverins,  
Under two red coats keep the Alarm bell,  
For fear of close or open venturing.  
Before the gates Scorn, Fear, and Modesty,  
Do toss amain their pikes, but 'bove them all  
Pudic'itie wields her staff most manfully,  
Guarded with blocks that keep me from the brickwall,  
Yet if this staff will ford me clear the way,  
In spite of all I'll bear my Dame away.   

Sonnet XI.  
¶ TO POLYXENA.  
Of all the women which of yore have been,  
Alcestis for virtue may be glorified,  
For courage Teuce ', for features Sparta's queen,  
For all in one Polyxens ' deified.  
If true it be by old Philosophy,  
These souls to have since destin entered,  
To other bodies of like sympathy,  
Thou art the last of these Metemps'chosed.  
Thy courage wondrous, thy virtues peerless,  
Thy features have the fairest Ladies blamed,  
Then if thou scornest not such a Monarchesse,  
Henceforth by reason good, thou shalt be named,  
Not Teuce ', nor Alcestis, nor fair Helena,  
Thou shalt be named my dear Polyxena.   

Sonnet XII.  
Celia, of all sweet courtesies resolve me,  
For wished grace, how must I now be doing,  
Since Ops the complet'st frame which did absolve thee,  
Hath made each parcel to my sole undoing?  
Those wires which should thy corpse to mine unite,  
Be rays to daze us from so near approach,  
Thine eyen which should my nighted sailors light,  
Be shot to keep them off with foul reproach.  
Those ruddy plums embrevved with heavenly foods,  
When I would suck them turn to driest coral,  
And when I couch between her lily buds,  
They surge like frothy water mounts above all:  
Surely they were all made unto good uses,  
But she them all untowardly abuses.   

Sonnet XIII.  
With grievous thoughts & weighty cares oppressed,  
One day I went to Venus' Fanacle,  
Of Cyprian dreams which did me sore molest,  
To be resolved by certain oracle.  
No sooner was I passed the temples gate,  
But from the shrine where Venus want to stand,  
I saw a Lady fair and delicate,  
Did beckon to me with her yu'rie hand.  
Weening she was the goddess of the Fane,  
With cheerful looks I towards bend my pace,  
Soon when I came, I found unto my bane,  
A Gorgon shadovved under Venus' face,  
Whereat affright, when back I would be gone,  
I stood transformed to a speechless stone.   

Sonnet XIIII.  
When once I saw that no entreats would move her,  
All means I sought to be delivered,  
Against white Cupid and his golden mother,  
In high contempt base words I uttered;  
When both from clouds of her bright firmament,  
With heavy griefs and strong disdain surmounted,  
Upon my thoughts and me did shoot reueng'ment,  
Whilst in our highest prides we were amounted.  
Nor be they pleased to give us all these wounds,  
To make me languish as a dying liver,  
But from her orbs they fling their fiarbronds,  
Thereby to quite consume both heart and liver:  
Pardon, dread pow'rs, pardon my rash offence,  
By heavens bright vail, t'was 'gainst my conscience.   

Sonnet XV.  
ECHO.  
What is the fair to whom so long I plead? Led,  
What is her face so Angel like? Angelic.  
Then unto saints in mind she's not unlike. Unlike,  
What may be hoped of one so evil nat'red? Hatred.  
O than my woes how shall I open best? Hope-best  
Then she is flexible. She is flexible.  
Fie no, it is impossible. Possible.  
About her strait then only our best. You're best.  
How must I first her loves to me approve? Prove.  
How if she say I may not kiss her? Kiss her.  
For all her bobs I must then bear, or miss her? Yes sir,  
Then will she yield at length to Love? To love.  
Even so? Even so. By Narcisse is it true? True.  
Of thine honesty? J. Adieu. Adieu.   

Sonnet XVI.  
What may be thought of thine untowardness,  
That moovest still at every motion?  
What may be hoped of so strange uncouthness,  
That scorns all vows, scorns all devotion?  
If I but sue, thou wouldst relieve mine anguish,  
Two threatening arcks thou bendest rig'rously;  
Then if I swear thy love doth make me languish,  
Thou turn'st away, and smilest scornfully;  
Then if I wish thou wouldst not tyrannize,  
Of Tyranny thou makest but a mockery,  
And if I weep, my tears thou dost despise,  
And if I stir, thou threatenst battery:  
Froune on, smile on, mock me, despise me, threat me,  
All shall not make me leave for to entreat thee.   

Sonnet XVII.  
Relent my dear, yet unkind Celia,  
At length relent, and give my sorrows end,  
So shall I keep my long wished holy day,  
And set a trophy on a froward friend,  
Nor tributes, nor imposts, nor other duties,  
Demand I will as lawful conqueror;  
Duties, tributes, imposts unto thy beauties,  
Myself will pay, as yielded servitor.  
Then quick relent, thyself surrender us:  
Brave sit and why, quoth she, must I relent?  
Relent, cried I, thyself doth conquer us,  
When eftsoons with my proper instrument,  
She cut me off, ay me, and answered,  
You cannot conquer and be conquered.   

Sonnet XVIII.  
I cannot conquer and be conquered:  
Then whole myself I yield unto thy favour,  
Behold my thoughts float in an ocean battered,  
To be cast off, or wafted to thine harbour:  
If of the same thou wilt then take acceptance,  
Stretch out thy fairest hand as flag of peace,  
If not, no longer keep us in attendance,  
But all at once thy fiery shafts release.  
If thus I die, an honest cause of love,  
Will of my fates the rigour mitigate,  
Those gracious eyen which will a Tartarus move,  
Will prove my case the less unfortunate,  
Although my friends may rue my chance for ay,  
It will be said, he died for Celia.   

Sonnet XIX.  
It shall be said I died for Celia;  
Then quick thou grisly man of Erebus,  
Transport me hence unto Proserpina,  
To be adjudged as wilful amot'us:  
To be hung up within the liquid air,  
For all the sighs which I in vain have wasted,  
To be through Lethe's waters cleansed fair,  
For those dark clouds which have my looks or'ecasted,  
To be condemned to everlasting fire,  
Because at Cupid's fire I wilful brent me,  
And to be clad for deadly dumps in mire:  
Among so many plagues which shall torment me,  
One solace I shall find when I am over,  
It will be known I died a constant lover.   

Sonnet XX.  
Receive these writs, my sweet and dearest friend,  
The lively patterns of my lifeless body,  
Where thou shalt find in Hebon pictures penned,  
How I was meek, but thou extremely bloody.  
I'll walk forlorn along the willow shades,  
Alone complaining of a ruthless dame;  
Where are I pass, the rocks, the hills, the glades,  
In piteous yells shall sound her cruel name.  
There I will wail the lot which fortune sent me,  
And make my moans unto the savage ears,  
The remnant of the days which nature lent me,  
I'll spend them all, concealed, in ceaseless tears.  
Since unkind fates permit me not t'enjoy her,  
No more, burst eyes, I mean for to annoy her.  
FINIS.    

To Parthenophil upon his Laya and Parthenophe.  
MADRIGAL.  
When first I heard thy loves to Laya,  
I wished the gods to turn it to good hap,  
Yet since I hear thy blessed flight away,  
I joy thy chance for fear of afterclap.  
Vnwily man, why couldst not keep thee there,  
But must with Parthenoph ' thee'gaine entrap?  
I little rue thy well deserved tears,  
The beast once 'scaped will ever shun the trap.  
What tell'st thou me by spells thoust won thy dear?  
Believe her, friend, no more than Laya passed,  
Charmed love endures but whilst the charm doth last.