LAURA. The Toys of a traveler. OR The Feast of Fancy. Divided into three Parts. By R. T. Gentleman.  Poca favilla gran fiamma seconda. 
LONDON, Printed by Valentine Sims. 1597.   

❧ To the no less virtuous, than fair, the honourable Lady Lucy, sister to the thrice renowned and noble Lord, Henry Earl of Northumberland, etc.  
GOod Madam, I make bold to present unto you a few Toys of mine own travel, most part conceived in Italy, and some of them brought forth in England: by which my imperfections you may see (as in a lively Mirror) your own perfections; and by the follies of my reckless youth, behold plainly the virtues of your flowering age, hoping your Ladyship will keep them as privately, as I send them unto you most willingly; neither doubt I at all, but that your excellent spirit will judge graciously of this my bare, yet bounden Conceit, and to accept the same (as a mean at idle times) to drive away that self-pleasing, yet ill-easing humour of never glad melancholy: which spiteful Fortune (seeking, though in vain, most injuriously to insult over you) laboureth by all means possible to inflict upon you, the virtuous behaviour of yourself being such, as even in the midst of all your crosses, you cross her designs with an invincible heart, and with your honourable carriage carry her with all her devices as a slave to follow you, in all your generous and thrice noble actions, mangres the intricate Labyrinth of so many and infinite troubles allotted (most unworthily) unto you, by the inerrevocable doom of your too partial and flinty Destiny. All which notwithstanding, you bear and o'erbear with a most resolute staidness▪ & a resolved courage of a right PERCY, and of a mind A per se. But additions breed suspicions, and fair words (for the most part) are counted the blazons of flattery; wherefore I will leave to the temperate judgement of the wise, and to the uncorrupt censure of the worthier sort, your heroical & undaunted mind, and the integrity and never stained proceed of your spotless self. Only this with submission will I say, that if the richness of the ground is known 〈◊〉 the Corn, the daintiness of the Water by the sweetness of the fish, and the goodness of the tree by the rareness of the fruit; then may every man give a guess of the internal habit & excellent qualities of your inward mind, by the outward behaviour and apparent semblance of your exceeding chaste and more than admirable demeanour in every respect. And thus, hoping your Honour will as debonairly accept of these trifles, as I dutifully bequeath them unto you, and with the Sunshining favour of your gracious aspect deign to read these few lines: craving both privilege and pardon for all such faults and defects as shall happen to be discovered in the same; I humbly devote myself unto your Ladyships thrice virtuous and immaculate disposition and command whatsoever. Who am  
Bound as a vassal to do homage unto the same for ever. R. T.   

To the gentle, and Gentlemen Readers whatsoever.  
GEntlemen; as the Fencer first maketh a flourish with his weapon, before he cometh to strokes, in playing his prize: So I thought good (pro forma only) to use these few lines unto you before you come to the pith of the matter. What the Gentleman was that wrote these Verses, I know not; and what she is for whom they are devised, I cannot guess: but thus much I can say, that as they came into the hands of a friend of mine by mere fortune; so happened I upon them by as great a chance. Only in this I must confess we are both too blame, that whereas he having promised to keep private the original, and I the copy, secret: we both have consented to send it abroad, as common: presuming chief upon your accustomed courtesies; assuring ourselves if we may have your protections, we shall think ourselves as safe as Ulysses did, when he was shadowed under the shield of Pallas against furious Ajax; so we by your countenances, shall be sufficiently furnished to encounter against any foul-mouthed jacks whatsoever. To censure of this work, is for better wits than mine own; and it is for Poets, not for Printers, to give judgement of this matter: yet if I may be bold to report what I have heard other Gentlemen affirm; many have written worse, some better, few so well: the work being so full of choice & change, as it is thought it will rather delight every way, than dislike any way. Thus courteous Gentlemen, building upon my wonted foundation of your friendly acceptance, I rest your debtors, and will study in what I can daily to make you amends.  
Yours always.   

Alla bellissima sua Signora. E. C.  
THrough thee (not of thee) Lady fair I writ,  
Through power of Beauty, not of Virtues thine:  
With zealous will, though slender be my might,  
I weakling seek, an eagle's nest to climb.  
Then guide my feet, and if to slip I chance,  
Uphold me by the favour of thy glance.  
Accept in gree these Verses rudely penned,  
(A sign of duty, which to thee I own)  
And deign with sweet regard them to defend,  
Which as condemned else are like to go.  
In thee it rests the stamp on them to set,  
If currant, Pass: suppressed, if Counterfeit.  
And though the note (thy praises only fit)  
Of sweetest Bird, the dulcet Nightingale:  
Disdain not little Roben Red-bres T yet,  
What he doth want in learning or in skill,  
He doth supply with zeal of his goodwill.  
For only Thee they were devised alone,  
And unto Thee they dedicated are.  
Who knows? Perhaps this kindness by thee shown,  
Shall make this glimpse shine like a glistering star:  
Such is thy virtue in the World his sight,  
Thy Crow though black, may go for Swan most white.  
Then doubt me not, though parted we remain,  
In England thou, and I in Italy:  
As I did part I will return again,  
Loyal to thee, or else with shame I'll die.  
True Lovers when they travail Countries strange,  
The air, and not their constant minds do change,  Coelum, non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt 
Affettionatissimo served. della divina Bellezza sua. R. T.   

LAURA.  

The first Part.  

I.  
FOrtune (cross friend to ever-conquring Love)  
Our bodies (Lady) hath divided far,  
But yet our constant minds she cannot move,  
Which over strong for her devices are:  
Woe's me, in England thou dost bide, & I  
(Scarce shadow of myself) in Italy.  
But let her do her worst, and what is frail  
And mortal seek to separate and undo,  
Yet what immortal is, she never shall:  
A string too high for her to reach unto.  
In spite of envious seeds (by Malice sown)  
My heart shall ay be thine, and mine thine own.  
Padua.   

II.  
Though I do part, my heart yet doth not part;  
My poor afflicted body parts in twain,  
And doth in pieces two divide my heart:  
One piece my fainting spirit doth sustain,  
The other part I leave with thee behind,  
(The better part, and of my heart most dear)  
Then to that part so parted, be thou kind,  
And to the same impart thy loving cheer:  
That I (returning) may again unite  
This parted heart, and find for grief, delight.  
London.   

III.  
Like to the blacksome night I may compare  
My Mistress gown, when darkness plays his prize:  
But her sweet face, like to the Sun most fair,  
When he in glory ginneth to arise.  
Yet this no whit the other doth disgrace,  
But rather dubleth Beauty in the place.  
Contraries like to these set opposite,  
So dainty and so pleasing in their show  
To lookers on, do breed no small delight,  
And pleasure great thereby to them doth grow.  
Oh wonder strange, oh solace sweet to see,  
In one self subject Night and Day to be.   

FOUR  
In the AEgean dangerous sea of Love,  
In midst of faithless waves and wicked wind,  
Where (to my cost) most bitter brunts I prove,  
A new Arion (there) myself I find.  
And though (as he) I play on Harp, and sing,  
Yet cannot cunning mine so high aspire,  
As for to make the skipping fish me bring  
Unto that wished shore I so desire:  
Only my Laura (peerless for to see)  
May in this troubled flood my Dolphin be.   

V  
Great was the strife between the Sun on 〈◊〉  
And my fair Sun, when first she 'gan to peer,  
Who should exceed in brightest Majesty,  
And show in fight of spacious world most clear:  
The Sun did shine, but she did lighten bright,  
And so his burning beams extinguished quite.  
Nay more, my Sun on sudden to the Sun  
Lent light, and yet no light at all did want:  
Where else the other had been quite undone  
For lack of brightness, which with him was scant:  
The beauty than the Sun doth use to show  
My Sun doth give, and from her it doth grow.   

VI  
Turned to a stone was he that did bewray  
(Unwitting) to the crafty I heife himself  
The theft; not thinking he had stolen the prey,  
In hope to gain a little paltry pelf:  
So I, who unawares to cruel Thee  
(The robber of my heart) confessed the theft,  
A senseless Stone like Battus am to see:  
Only in this, unlike that shape bearest:  
That where to worthless Stone he turned was,  
I for a Touchstone true of Love do pass,   

VII.  
Down from the neck unto that dainty Breast,  
(Which Nature made a mirror of delight)  
And where a world of beauties sweet do rest,  
Doth hang a costly Chain of Pearl most bright;  
And of proportion are so just and round,  
That such in India rich cannot be found.  
Besides, their orient brightness is alike;  
So that mine eyes are dazzled with the same,  
And not much used to see so fair a sight,  
(A sight which doth the Sun in glory stain)  
Can well discern though them they both do see,  
If Breast be Pearl, or Pearl in Bosom be.   

VIII.  
To give that life which had not breath before,  
Prometheus (from above) stole heavenly fire;  
For which his boldness he was plagued sore,  
A just reward for such an high aspire.  
So whilst I steal from thee (my Heaven above)  
The heat which doth revive my dying spirit:  
For rashness mine eternal grief I prove.  
Yet though our fault's all one, the plague's not like:  
He feels of Vulture one (alone) the smart;  
But I have thousands which still gnaw my heart.   

IX.  
Love (being blind) hath wrought me damage sore,  
Thou (blind in this my loving) evil waist,  
Nor would I see the snare (being blind far more)  
Wherein myself I did entangle fast:  
Yet hath this blindness harm done unto none,  
But unto Beauty's Buzzard, me alone.  
When blinded Boy did catch my harmless heart,  
Thou didst not see the net so intricate  
Which bond me (being blind, blind as thou art)  
To be a thrall, in this most wretched state:  
So that (alone to work my misery)  
Love blind is, blind wert Thou, and blinder I.   

X.  
If (Laura) thou dost burn 'gainst me in hate,  
Then me such busses sweet why dost thou give?  
Why checkst thou not the Cheeks which give the mate,  
(The vital cause whereby I breath and live)?  
Perhaps it is, because through too much joy  
(As in sweet swoon) I might away departed:  
If so thou do, and think me so to noy;  
Kiss hardly, and with kissing breed my smart.  
Content am I to lose this life of mine,  
Whilst I do kiss that lovely lip of thine.   

XI.  
Upon triumphant Chariot, passing rare,  
In which my Sun doth sit like Majesty,  
And makes the day show unto us more fair,  
Whose cheerfulness delights each mortal eye●  
I rash, like to another Phaeton,  
With harebrain hast too hasty leapt thereon.  
But for my boldness dearly did I pay,  
And had like plague (as he) for being ore-brave.  
Yet though in equal fortune both did stay,  
(For life he lost, and death she to me gave)  
The punisher of both was not the same:  
For he by I●●●, and I by Love was slain.   

XII.  
The Beauty that in Paradise doth grow,  
Lively appears in my sweet Goddess face,  
From whence (as from a crystal River) flow  
Favour divine, and comeliness of grace.  
But in her dainty (yet too cruel) Breast  
More cruelty and hardness doth abound,  
Than doth in painful Purgatory rest:  
So that (at once) she's fair and cruel found,  
When in her face and breast, (ah grief to tell)  
Bright Heaven she shows, and crafty ●ides dark hell.   

XIII.  
Whilst angry juno from the scowling Skies  
Thick swinging showers did downward send amain,  
My Lady mounting up in stately wise,  
From heaven more fast did fiery lightning rain:  
So that the people (passing) had less harm  
By water●wet, than by the fire ore-warme.  
The water onely●wet their outward skin,  
A matter small, in which was danger none;  
But this her fire did burn their hearts within,  
And forced them as they went to sigh and groan:  
So that thei● grief was greater (sans all doubt)  
To have within fire, than water without.   

XIIII.  
The swift Menander turning, winds so fast,  
And with his stream in circle wise so ●uns;  
That wantonlike (from whence he springs) at last  
Back to his fountain head again he comes.  
In me a river huge of tears from heart  
To watery eyes ascend, from whence they flow,  
And running down do from mine eyes depart,  
Descending to my heart again below:  
So that through virtue of most mighty Love,  
In heart a new Menander I do prove.   

XV.  
Thou stranger who with wandering steps dost wend,  
Thy gazing eyes turn quickly unto me:  
And to my speech with listening ear attend,  
In whom four Elements united be.  
Mark well, and as a wonder tell the same  
Of Cupid's force, poor Louer● I●mburlane.  
First this my body's earth, and earth most cold▪  
The fire within my heart in covert lies,  
The air's my sighs, mine eyes do waters hold:  
Thus for my Saint be doth me marteri●e.  
Earth is my body, strange seems not this same▪  
The air my sighs, eyes water, heart the flame.   

XVI.  
If lovely Lass for Fairing thine of me▪  
Gold in this Fair thou meanest for to have:  
Then give me of thy Hairs which golden Bee,  
Give unto me, since thou of me dost crave.  
Nor by this bargain shalt thou loss sustain,  
Or ought hereby shalt hindered be (sweet Wench)  
Since I (to courteous thee) do give again:  
(As thankful) gold, for gold in recompense.  
Thy treasure, so shall mine be, mine as thine,  
Nor shall th'exchange be worse than gold most fine.   

XVII.  
Rocked in a cradle (like as Infants be)  
When I was young, a little wanton child,  
Two dainty dugs did nourish life in me,  
Whilst oft on them with teat in mouth I smiled:  
Ah happy I, thrice happy might I say,  
Whilst in that harmless state I then did stay.  
But now that I am come to man's estate,  
Such dugs as nursed me in delight and joy  
Do seek my death, by poisonous sugared ba●,  
Whose sight without possession breeds me noy.  
So what in childhood caused me to live,  
Now in my youth doth death unto me give.   

XVIII.  
If Sea no other thing doth show to be  
Than most unstable waters moving oft,  
With pardon (Lady) you this seem to me.  
So most unstable is your changing thought  
I likewise hold a river that o'erwhelms  
With watery salt within these eyes of mine:  
Then let us make a mixture 'mongst ourselves  
Of this unsteadfastness and watery brine.  
Let's fashion both of us a novel Sea,  
So heaven the haven, and love the bay shallbe.   

XIX.  
Lady, the Sun was in Aquarius▪  
When thou wer● borne, which is the reason why  
The water of my plains delight thee thur,  
Without once viewing me with piteous eye:  
But when as I was borne, the Sign I guess  
In Cancer was, a show of my distress.  
This is the cause within my boiling breast  
Doth burn a hot and unextinguishe fire:  
But contrary these Signs in us do rest,  
Nor do they well accord to my desire;  
far better had it been, Aquarius Sign  
Had happed to me, and Cancer had been thine.   

XX.  
What time with brow the Loveliest give to scowl,  
Showing disdain and fury in her face;  
Me thinks I see the clouds were dark and fowl,  
And gloomy night gins to run his race.  
But then again, when she to show gins  
Her smiling cheer adorned with 〈◊〉 rare,  
Strait ways the Sun in charies bright forth springs,  
Clere are the skies, the gladsome day most fair:  
Thus in one face I see against my will,  
The rising of the Sun and falling still.   

XXI.  
Rankle the wound did in my head apace  
When fairest She to play the 〈◊〉 came,  
And whilst her snow white hand did me the grace  
To lay the plaster 〈◊〉 which healed the same:  
A wonder strange, no sooner did she touch  
The hurt, but it appeared to be 〈◊〉 such▪  
Yet woe is me, no sooner by their hand  
Was healed in head my outward fevering wound,  
But that in stead of that as 〈…〉,  
One mortal sear at inward heart I found.  
Thus (Love) thou seest is changed my estate,  
She checks with death, that ●ore gave life for mate.  
Venice.   

XXII.  
If in the midst of kindled burning fire  
That worthy Roman burned his valiant hand,  
I like an other Mutius in desire,  
Have scorched my fi●t likewise through Loves, command  
In freshest moisture, where my Lady sweet  
Her lily hands for coolness dived oft.  
But though desire between us was alike,  
Yet was the matter divers which we sought.  
He chose to burn his hand with courage bold  
In flaming fire, and I in water cold.   

XXIII.  
The Gentiles 〈◊〉 (in sign of sacrifice)  
The blood of men to offer, to appease  
The warlike Goddess wrath in humble wise,  
And through the same her angry mind did please:  
But thou (more wicked Warrior far than she)  
In reason mayst more cruel termed be.  
On Beauty's altar (to thee dedicate)  
Thousands of Lovers (mustering on a row)  
Offer their blood and hearts: yet mitigate  
Thy hardened mind cannot, which flint doth show.  
Then is she cruel less than thou art now,  
Since blood her pleased, and thee hearts cannot bow.   

XXIIII.  
For to behold, my Sun, I from the Sun  
Did seek my face to shadow with my hand,  
To shield me from the heat that 'gan to come  
In place, where gazing on her I did stand:  
But I no sooner from that Sun was free,  
But that in that self instant and that time,  
I of mine own Sun found myself to be  
Burnt with the heat (a most unlucky sign).  
So, whilst a shade from sun did me defend,  
A Sun more hot did hurt me in the end.   

XXV.  
White was the orient pearl, which on a day  
That hand me gave, which scorns the proud compare  
Of purest white, and bears the palm away,  
As of all pearly fairs the orientst fair:  
And whilst she offered unto me the same,  
I knew not which the pearl was of the twain.  
So white the hand was of my peerless Pearl,  
As it did dazzle with delight mine eyes,  
And pearl seemed to me, giving me the pearl:  
Which made me sighing say (in whispering wise)  
Ah why once may I not so happy be  
This Pearl to have, which th' other gives to me?   

XXVI.  
When you appear, appears the break of day,  
And shows to be most fair, and passing bright:  
But if you keep yourself unseen away,  
The day shows not, but keepeth out of sight.  
Then if again you gi'en yourself to show,  
Behold the Day to show itself afresh  
With sky most clear: so both of you do grow  
In beauty like, in heat nor are you less.  
Thus if your beams you open, or hidden been,  
The break of day appears, else near is seen.   

XXVII.  
justly of thee (Love partial) I complain,  
That at one instant, and with one self stroke,  
Thou darted haste into my heart with pain  
Cold chilly frost, and fiery flaming smoke,  
Ay me, within me (both) I secret hold,  
And whilst th' one bornes me, th' other makes me cold.  
Then Cruel, since thou wilt two contraries  
(Against my soul) within my heart shall rest,  
Ah yet make peace twixt them in loving wise,  
Or else (sweet Love) do promise this at least;  
Flame to my frost and water to my fire,  
Life to my heart, to comfort my desire.   

XXVIII.  
Diana shineth in the heavens clear,  
Because from purest Sun she takes her light,  
And Fair, she shows that of Diana here  
On earth, doth borrow beauty passing bright.  
The virtue then that is infused in her,  
She from Diana hath, or else from none;  
For other thews do all in her 〈◊〉,  
And unto her beholding are alone:  
Oh wonder strange of Nature to reveal,  
She Diana gives, yet doth from Diana steal.  
Sienna.   

XXIX.  
As burnished gold, such are my Sovereigns hears;  
A brace of starts divine, her blackish eyes,  
Like to the fairest black the Raven bears,  
Or fairer, if you fairer can devil:  
So likewise fair's the beauty of her breasts,  
Where pleasure lurks, where joy still dallying rests.  
This Venus bower, you rightly may compare  
To whitest snow that ere from heaven fell,  
Or to the mines of alabaster fair:  
(Woe's me, 'tis sweet to sleep in Cupid's cell)  
Whilst he the heart makes surfeit with delight  
Through golden hair, black eyes, & breast most white.   

XXX.  
Unto thy favour (which when Nature formed,  
She went beyond herself with cunning hand)  
I may compare what is in world adorned  
With beauty most, and with most grace doth stand:  
But every mortal whiteness near so white,  
The ivory white of thy white hand exceeds.  
So that my Soul (which doth fair whiteness like)  
Rests on fair whiteness, and on whiteness feeds:  
For this is thought and hoped of from thee,  
White as thy hands, so white thy faith shallbe.   

XXXI.  
Lady, thou seemest Fortune unto me  
When I most wistly mark, how thou dost go  
With golden tresses loose, (a joy to see)  
Which gentle wind about thy ears doth ble●:  
And as thou her resemblest in this sort,  
So dost thou in attire and all thy port.  
Only thou wantest for thy swift right hand  
The rolling wheel, and shadowing vail to hide  
Those eyes, which like controllers do command:  
But if thou longest of these to be supplied,  
Take me (thy prisoner) for to play this part,  
For my Desire's the wheel, the Vailes my heart.   

XXXII.  
Thou, merry laughst, and pleasantly dost smile,  
I woeful weep, and (mestfull) sorrow still,  
Left this thy mirth increasing, me beguile,  
And weave a web for me of greater ill:  
Too well perceive I, this thy deep disdain,  
By this thy feigned looks, and cloaked glee,  
Thou of disaster mine art glad and feign,  
And feign my death as Basilisk wouldst see,  
Since that of war and bate this laughter is,  
And not of gentle peace or calmy bliss.   

XXXIII.  
Since thou hast changed thy gown and thine attire,  
Ah change thy thoughts, not always cruel be:  
And with new clothes, put on a new Desire,  
That new in every point I may thee see.  
And if thou heretofore unkind hast been,  
Be courteous now, and gentle be thou seen.  
Thy glory great, thy praise more shalt thou find,  
If, of unconstant, constant thou become,  
And of a foe, a faithful friend and kind,  
Then change henceforth thy thoughts, else I undone:  
Give me that colour which so likes mine eine,  
If death, then black, if life, than Carnatine.   

XXXIIII.  
changed is my nature in me, where before  
I like was to a chilly freezing ice:  
I now a flame am, burning inward sore,  
And such a flame that burneth in such wise,  
That if Love and my Mistress take no care  
For this my hurt, my soul must quickly die,  
Yet one doth see (for both not blinded are)  
The fire so hot doth burn wherein I fry,  
That fierce Perillus boiling Bull of brass  
May unto this for icy substance pass.   

XXXV.  
far be●et had it been I had been dead,  
And laid full low in latest home, (my grave)  
Than with that drink myself for to have fed  
Which Laura mine in Crystal glass 〈◊〉 gave:  
The liquor pleased me I must needs confess,  
Yet to my heart 'twas poison ne'ertheless.  
So that I had contrary quiet effect  
To my desire, which I so much did wish  
Love was in fault, who Reason doth reject:  
And see my cruel luck, what happed in this;  
The wine was sweet, yet did his nature turn,  
It cooled my mouth, but heart within did burn.   

XXXVI.  
Sweet sung thy Bird in Ebon cage shut fast,  
And did delight thy dainty ears so much,  
As thou vouchsafdst to give him meat at last,  
And gently didst his feathers stroke and touch.  
So Lady, I likewise in th' Ebony  
Of thy bright eyes am prisoner, and do sing  
Thy Beauty's praise; and yet not fed am I  
By thee, yet live through thee: a wondrous thing.  
Love to my heart thy Beauty doth supply  
For food, which else (through famine starved) would die.   

XXXVII.  
If white's the Moon, thou Laura seemest as white,  
And white's the gown which you on body wear;  
And if her whitely horns in calmy night  
She smoothly gliding shows to us most clear:  
You in the day time more and brighter far,  
Your Beauty show like bright 〈◊〉 star.  
Like brightness both of you abroad do east,  
Though not effect alike par 〈◊〉;  
You shine, she shines, your powers eternal last:  
But yet between you is great difference,  
Her brightness freezeth, causing deadly cold,  
Yours doth inflame, and lively fire doth hold.   

XXXVIII.  
Even as the lamp goeth out that oil doth 〈◊〉,  
Or as the Sun doth fall in th' occident,  
So did my heart within me gin to pant,  
My vital spirnes away by little went:  
When (taking on me pity) graciously  
My Mistress hem of garment trailing down  
Touched me, and me revived suddenly:  
Then if such virtue be within her gown,  
Imagine what doth stay her corpse within,  
Which who seethe, through sweetness needs must 〈◊〉.   

XXXIX.  
Seated on marble was my Lady blithe,  
Holding in hand a crystal looking Glass,  
Marking of Lovers thousands (who alive  
Thanks only to her Beauty 〈◊〉 did pass).  
To pry in glass likes her: but afterward  
She takes the 〈◊〉 of the stone must hard,  
For whilst she 〈◊〉 doth fix her eyes  
Gazing upon the 〈◊〉 of the 〈◊〉,  
Her heart by th'other made (instrangle)  
Hard as a rock, and senseless as a stone:  
So that if Love this breaketh not in 〈◊〉,  
It will a flint become, to others pain.   

XL.  
No more a man (as once I was) am I  
Since this new Circe's (moo●'d by fierce disdain)  
Hath changed me to a fountain never dry  
Wherein myself with bitter tears I 〈◊〉.  
Then am I one, who always eyes do bear,  
And breast of water flowing only full:  
Take heed you Lovers all of her, and fear  
The sugared baits of this deceitful 〈…〉.  
Lest by this Circe new you be deceived  
As I have been, and be of shape bereaved.   

The Conclusion of the first Part.  
THe Macedonian Monarch once did deign  
(In cheerful sort, in kind and loving wise)  
To feast in Village with a homely Swain,  
Who entertained him (as is country guise)  
With curds and cream, and such like knacks he had:  
Whereof the courteous Prince accepted glad.  
So Lady, boldly I presumed have  
To invite you to a sorry Banquet base:  
Nor to disdain the same of you I crave,  
Though eats too course for you, too poor the place.  
I cannot (as I would) give curds and cream,  
But milk and whey, my fortune is so mean.  
Yet if you shall accept it graciously,  
And with your Favour sweet this Bonrd adorn,  
The virtue which is in you, presently  
The whey to curds, and milk to cream shall turn:  
But if your look you angry turn away,  
The milk shall still be milk, the whey still whey.  
Then as the Sun in glorious wise doth shine  
As well on valley low as mountain high,  
Vouchsafe one cheerful glimpse of favour thine  
On pover me, from out that heavenly eye:  
Unworthy I such grace (I do confess)  
Yet worthy thou to do so, ●erthelesse.   
R. T.   

The scond part  

I.  
IF I somewhile look up into the skies,  
I see (fair Lady) that same cheerful light  
Which like to you doth shine, in glorious wise:  
And if on th'earth I chance to cast my sight,  
The moovelesse Centre firm to me doth show,  
The hardness which within your heart doth grow.  
If seas I view the flowing waves most plain  
Your fickle faith do represent to me:  
So as I still behold you to my pain,  
Whenas the skies, or th'earth, or seas I see:  
For in your seemly self doth plain appear.  
Like faith like hardness, and like brightness clear.   

II.  
Marvel I do not, though thou dost not see  
My griefs, and martyrs, which I still sustain,  
For thou the Mole of love dost seem to me;  
But if a Mole, thou'rt only to my pain.  
How comes it then that seeing thou art blind,  
Thou me consumst, as if thou hadst thy sight?  
Why, as thy nature by instinct doth bind  
Stayest not below? pack hence, and leave this light,  
Either those eyes still shut, not me to grieve.  
Or under ground, in darkness always live.   

III.  
If whilom (in times past) that Spartan Lass  
(The Flower of Greece, Dan Paris costly joy)  
Through her fair feature the only causer was,  
So many Knights were slain at Siege of Troy:  
Thou Laura art unlike unto her far,  
In this our Age a much more blessed Star.  
For she brought wars, strife, death, and cruelty;  
Where thou (alone) bringst peace and pleasure still.  
Ah happy thrice that liggs in love with thee:  
And if by chance (unwares) thou sometime kill,  
Thou (with thy smile) the wound canst heal again,  
And give him life, whom thou before hadst slain.  
Pisae.   

FOUR  
Shoot forth no more those darts from lightning eyes,  
(Unkind) why seek'st to stop my fainting breath?  
Go, and invent some new kind exercise,  
Play the right Tyrant, choices use in death:  
New weapons seek wherewith me to offend;  
Whereby I dying, content may rest thy will.  
But tell me? wouldst so feign my life should end?  
And know'st not, sweet extremes do sudden kill?  
Cruel, kiss me but once, and thou shalt see  
Ended my life with that same Kiss to be.   

V  
If what is heavy craves the Centre base,  
(The earth below) as nature wills the same,  
Heavy the woeful griefs are in this case,  
Which inward in my heart I do sustain.  
And if what's light, by kind aloft doth mount,  
Then light's my Love with thee, of light account.  
So that in doubtful dangerous extreme,  
Wretch that I am, myself am sore afraid  
And doubt of thee, so far from golden mean,  
Nor know I well out of this depth to wade.  
Lest that my life be shortened, or I die,  
Whether it heavy, falls; or light, ascends on high.   

VI  
Lady what time I seek in mournful note  
To show mine agonies and bloody moan.  
My voice doth fail, and hoarse and harsh my throat,  
And this doth come through you, through you alone.  
For whilst I think by means of you in song  
To mitigate some part of this my smart,  
Instead thereof you do me double wrong,  
And with a glance you take away my heart:  
So that I find great hurt by this your theft,  
Since where before but voice, now heart's bereft.   

VII.  
As rocks become exposed 'gainst waves and wind  
More hard; such is thy nature (stubborn Dame)  
Opposed 'gainst waters of my plaints most kind,  
And winds of mine hot sighs which inward flame;  
That hardness such to increase 'bout heart is found,  
As 〈◊〉, soft might seem the Diamond.  
Hence forward then let no man think to move  
By weeping or lamenting, to his will  
This self willed saint, which too too well I prove,  
A senseless stone to be unto ●e still:  
Since to my grief, from all good luck debarred  
With plaints, and sighs, she doth become more hard.   

VIII.  
Hark lovers, hark, a strangie miracle,  
Of one deprived of heart, yet death doth scape  
Mine ● a flower gave me, which sweet did smell▪  
And for the same away my life did take:  
So that I only breath through sent of flower,  
And without heart, not without life I live,  
Then is not this of mighty Love his power  
A wonder strange, which he for sport doth give?  
When that a flower sustaineth me alone  
With life, who in my body heart have none.   

IX.  
When I did part from thee the other night,  
Me thought a soul black Dog with ugly shape  
Did follow me, and did me sore affright,  
And all the way did greedy on me gape:  
Nor I this cur how he at me did howl  
Can well as yet forget, with chaps most fowl.  
Then thinking of his colour hateful black,  
Me thought some ill, my Thought did fear to come,  
And said within me, turn again, turn back,  
If forward thou dost go, thou art undone.  
Then pardon Lady, if I back again  
Am come this night with you for to remain.   

X.  
My mourning mistress garments black doth bear,  
And I in black like her attired am:  
Yet divers is the cause why black we wear,  
She for another's death doth show the same:  
I for another reason bear this su●e,  
Only to show by this my outward weed  
Mine inward grief, although my tongue be mute,  
Of tender heart which deadly sighs doth bleed.  
Thri●e happy I, if (as in habit we  
Are both in one) our minds both one might be.   

XI.  
If April fresh, doth kindly give us flowers,  
September yields with more increase the fruit:  
(Sweetest) you have in bosom (Beauties Bowers)  
Both these sweet tides, whence forth they always shoot  
Both flower and fruit alonely you alone  
Can give me when you please, or else can none.  
Oh dainty bosom, bosom rich in prize,  
Surmounting mountains huge of beaten gold▪  
Whose whiteness braves the whitest snow that lies  
On highest hills, whose height none can behold:  
In you my soul doth hope without annoy,  
Both spring and harvest, one day to enjoy.  
Roma.   

XII.  
Drawn (cunning Painter) hast thou with great 〈◊〉,  
The shadow of my lovely Laura fair;  
Which object sweet not smally joys my heart,  
But little didst thou think, nor wait thou ware,  
That where thou thoughtst my fancy for to please,  
Effect contrary sorts to my Desire,  
So that it breeds in body ●●ine, unease  
And (senseless) burns my heart with feeling fire:  
Oh strange success, what made was for Content,  
Doth most displease, and (lifeless) doth ●orment.   

XIII.  
When first the cruel Fair deigned graciously  
To look on me with kind and courteous view,  
And cast on me a lovely glancing eye,  
She knew not that I was her servant true:  
But she no sooner ware was of the same,  
But that she turned her back with great disdain.  
So as the wound I (then) close bare in breast,  
I (now) through grief, show outward in my face:  
But if that she by whom I wounded rest,  
lives in compassion cold toward me sanz grace:  
Hard hearted is she, cruel was she to her friend,  
And wicked shallbe world withouten end.   

XIIII.  
When first the Sun did shine upon her eyes,  
Who fairest 'mongst her beauteous Sex doth show,  
The Heavens her dainty corpse (in courteous wise)  
Covered with chilly cold, and whitest snow.  
She (through the nature of that Humour cold)  
Both coldest Ice (at once) and purest White  
Draws to herself: then none for strange should hold  
Though to me fair and cruel is her sight,  
Since that the Heavens (for favours) did impart  
A snowwhite corpse to her, and frozen heart.   

XV.  
The dusky cloud in sky (with shadow dark)  
Doth cover oft the suns most clearest light,  
So as his beams we cannot see nor mark,  
And he himself doth play at least in fight:  
Ah were I such a cloud on earth to cover  
My sweetest Sun, as doth that cloud the other.  
But if that cloud do vanish soon away,  
And doth as momentary pass and vade;  
Eternal would I be, to hide her ay,  
And of a harder mixture would be made.  
Oh happy I, oh fortunate Eclipse,  
With kissing so to darken those fair lips.   

XVI.  
From milk of juno (as the Poets feign)  
The Lily had his whiteness passing white,  
And from Adonis' blood (that lovely Swain)  
The Rose his colourred, which doth delight.  
Thou (pretty Soul) hast both the colours rare  
Of these sweet flowers, which others all exceed;  
Thy breast's a bed of beauteous Lilies fair,  
Thy dainty cheeks pure damask Roses breed.  
O fruitful Garden flowering, where appear  
The Rose and Lily, at all times of year.   

XVII.  
Of constant Love I am the wasted fire,  
The furious wind's my Lady's angry eye,  
Who whilst she kindles both through wrathfullire,  
The flame increaseth, mounting to the sky.  
In midst is Love, half dead of greedous pain,  
And (doubtful) winds about like sparkling flame.  
He fears the heat, and trembles, being turned  
Unto this blast, which still more sharp doth rise;  
Nor is his fear in vain, when so he is burnt:  
For one of these must hap in sudden wise,  
Either the fire must spoil him as his prey,  
Or whirling wind else blow him quite away.   

XVIII.  
My Laura wonders that in visage pale  
I bear of death itself the lively show,  
But if she muse at this, her musing's stolen,  
For this sad colour had I long ago.  
The fire (close burning in my veins) doth make  
That outward ashes in my face you view:  
But if that she would on me pime take  
Who is the cause of this my palish ●iew,  
This kindled heat shall die, which now doth burn,  
And my first colour shall again return.   

XIX.  
Whilst foaming Steed I spur unto the quick,  
To make him gallop to my Love amain,  
Love doth my thoughts (through fancy) forward prick,  
The end of wished journey mine to gain:  
But light's his hurt, 'tis but a little smart;  
Where mine is mortal, sounding to the heart.  
Run then (my Gelding swift) like Pegasus,  
Fly hence with wings, for wings hath my desire;  
Both of us (forced amain) are forward thus,  
And kindled in us is a burning fire:  
Thou through two spurs in flank provoked art sore,  
But thousands inwardly my heart do gore,   

XX.  
Rich is the Diamond, a gem of prize,  
Yet such the nature strange is of the same,  
That who the powder thereof drinks, strait dies▪  
And as (if poison 'twere) doth take his ba●e:  
So thou another precious jewel art,  
In name and nature not unmuch alike,  
Since death thou giv'st unto the loving heart;  
If but a kiss one sucks from thee most sweet,  
Whilst he doth swallow down 〈◊〉 is sugared bait,  
The joy's so great, it kills him through conceit.   

XXI.  
The Grecla●● used to offer up their 〈◊〉  
Unto their Rivers, whom they did esteem  
As mighty Gods, and them great honour 〈◊〉,  
As if no virtue small in them had been:  
Do thou the like (sweet Laura) unto me,  
Who for my love deserve a greater fee.  
Thy golden tresses on me do bestow,  
Who hold whole Rivers flowing in mine eyes:  
Yet would not I thou off shouldst cut them tho.  
Dost muse, and ask how this thou mayst devise?  
I'll tell thee: Give thyself to me for mine,  
So shalt thou give uncut thy tresses 〈◊〉.   

XXII.  
One lovely glance which from the eyes did pass  
Of Lady mine, hath changed my gentle heart  
From hardest Diamond to brittle glass:  
And now again (unto my bitter smart  
Through dreadful frown) she turns it suddenly  
As 'twas before, from glass to Diamond.  
So if she will she may, (and presently  
As likes her) change me, who to her a●● bound:  
If cruel she, my heart is hard to breaks  
If pirtifull, 'tis gentle, brittle, weak.   

XXIII.  
Two winds, one 〈◊〉, another fierce to see,  
Th'one of the Spring, of Winter th' other right  
I plainly (Lay) do● discern in thee:  
The first (which makes me joy) breathes from thy sight  
Such 〈◊〉 flowers in divers coloured show,  
As makes to blush Dame Iris rainy Bow.  
The second (which makes me to pine away)  
Blows from thine inward breast a deadly blast,  
Where doth eternal hardness always stay,  
Which 〈…〉 eternal ay to last:  
So as 〈…〉 in face thou art,  
But rough as 〈…〉 in thine heart.   

XXIIII.  
No sooner do I earnest fix mine eyes  
On my fair Sun, but that I her perceive  
To vanish like a cloud in darkest wise,  
As if (eclypst) her light it did bereave:  
I know not if she's troubled thus, because  
She doth disdain I should behold her so;  
Or if for fear this shadow to her draws,  
Lest me 〈…〉 should hurt, which glistering snow.  
Say then sweet Love (for thou know'st best) if still  
I shall behold her, or no more, 〈…〉   

XXV.  
Oh that I were fly Proteus, for to take  
On me that form, which most I like or wish;  
Then would I change myself into the shape  
Of that thy little whelp, thy joy and bliss,  
Into that little worm thou ●o dost like,  
And dallying playst with him both day and night.  
Those savoury smacks, those busses, sweet which be,  
Which thou to him dost give, should all be mine;  
And I would make my heart to leap for glee,  
Whilst I did lick that bosom fair of thine:  
But since I 〈◊〉 despair of this am brought,  
My w●●h shall 〈◊〉 be, thy D●g my thought.   

XXVI.  
Say (gentle friend) tell me in courtesy  
Before what was I? and what am I now?  
A senseless shadow? or a body, I?  
Neither of both: mark, and I'll tell thee how.  
No body now, for that by proud disdain  
Of scornful She, dislived was: shadow none,  
For that did underground go with the same,  
Unwilling it should wander all alone.  
What am I the●▪ Even one that ●oth not know  
What now he is, or what he was can show.   

XXVII.  
The blazing Star foretells the hapless fall  
And sudden death of others, soon to come:  
To me a Face (brighter than Comets all)  
Doth with her looks my fortune hard foretu●●e:  
And with her shooting darts from glancing eye,  
Presageth that ere long I needs must die.  
The blazing Star death only prophecies,  
This doth foreshow to me a harder fate,  
And dares me to mine end in warlike wise,  
Not how this Challenge know I to escape.  
Ah cruel Star, of death not only sign,  
But murderer thou'rt of this poor life of 〈◊〉.   

XXVIII.  
The Crow makes war with the Chameleon,  
And being hurt to th'laurel strait doth 〈◊〉,  
And through the fruit he findeth thereupon  
Is healed of hurt, finds food, and lives thereby.  
Love the Chameleon is, the Crow am I,  
And battle wage with him unto the death▪  
He wounds me deadly, whereupon high  
To thee (my Laurall) to restore my breath.  
Thou me revivest, such virtue's in thee rise,  
As thou at once dost give me food and life.   

XXIX.  
Amongst the Parthians is a kind of ground  
Of nature such, as though it far doth stand  
From fire, yet fire to take it strait is found,  
And flying thethe●, burns it out of hand:  
This pray so sure of Love, am I fair Dame,  
And you to me (which burneth me) the flame.  
So that if I to you far off do show,  
You kindle strait in me a quenchless fire:  
And yet although within it burn me so,  
Sweet is the heat whose fuel is Desire:  
For rather I in fire near you would be,  
Than freed from flame you farther off to see.   

XXX.  
Love, open my heart, hot fire thou forth shalt take:  
Open my Lauras, in it thou shalt find  
Cold frost: then of these two contraries make  
But one, and that same one frame thou more kind.  
Of both our hearts, make but one loving heart,  
And give it unto which thou please of twain:  
Give it to her, to her do it impart,  
Or unto me: it skills not much the same.  
I'll doubt no more, when but one heart we have  
Between us both: for this is all I crave.   

XXXI.  
Unto an Image may I right compare  
My Mistress, since so cruel she's to me;  
Which standeth for a sign or shadow fair,  
To which the simple ignorant bow with knee:  
And though with eyes, mouth, ears, and feet it show,  
Yet doth it neither set, talk, hear or go.  
So plays my Choice, when I appear in sight,  
Nor see, nor speak, nor hear, nor stay she will,  
So as an Idol she resembleth right,  
Blind, mu●●, deaf, movelesse, senseless standing still:  
Then am not I worse than a lifeless Block,  
To worship such a painted coloured Stock.  
Fiorenza.   

XXXII.  
Both gems and pearl their proper value have,  
But yet unlike, for nor alike's their prize;  
Some sought for are, and each one doth them crave,  
Others (more base) do pass in worthless wise.  
A jewel rich and princelike gem is she  
Whom I esteem, and such account of make,  
Yet in herself no price hath for to see,  
For it is holden at so high a rate:  
As all the gold nor silver which doth ly  
In th'earth or sea, the same (at worth) can by.   

XXXIII.  
If love (wherein I burn) were but a fire,  
I quenched it had with water of my tears;  
If water, these my plaints, I this Desire  
Had dried through inward heat, my heart that taints:  
But Love that in my griefs doth take delight,  
Both fire and water turns to work me spite.  
Fly then this Love, since such is his great power,  
As waves to fire, and fire to waves he turns,  
And with an absent Beauty every hour,  
My fainting heart with Fancies fuel burns,  
And 'gainst all sense makes me of C A Re and I ●,  
More than of good and ComfoRT to have will.   

XXXIIII.  
Rivers unto the Sea do tribute pay:  
A most unconstant moving Sea art thou,  
And I within mine eyes (bedewed ay)  
A River hold of bitter tears as now.  
Receive then from these moistened cheeks of mine  
Into thy lap the water I forth power,  
Of duty mine and of thy Debt a sign,  
And mixed together with my sweet thy sour:  
So shall the water to the water be  
More precious, and the Sea more rich to th'Sea.   

XXXV.  
Such is the virtue of the Sunny heat,  
As seizing on the cockle shell, which lies  
On seaish shore, whereon his beams do beat  
It makes it brightly shine, in orient wise:  
So that through secret power of radiant Sun,  
Of worthless shell, a Pearl it doth become.  
So Lady, you through force of Beauty's power,  
If you shall deign to glance on me your eye,  
And rain with grace on me a smiling shower,  
A jewel rich you make me by and by:  
And if no Pearl, at least a precious Stone;  
This (only) can you do, or else can none.   

XXXVI.  
The blood of fair Adonis, Venus changed  
Into a Flower; who, whilst he did pursue  
(In Forest thick, whereas he hunting ranged)  
The savage Boar to kill, the Bone him slew:  
Do thou the like, sweet Love do thou the same,  
Whilst now my life doth languish through thy power,  
And whilst my wound makes me for to remain  
Withouten blood, transform to a flower:  
That where I living cannot, dead I may  
A loved Flower in Lauras bosom stay.   

XXXVII.  
An Ocean sea of water calm am I,  
Wherein kind Love the form of fish doth take,  
Leaping alongst the shore most wanton:  
Then Lady, of a Fisher don the shape;  
Ah, what sweet fishing shall you have to like,  
If Love you chance to catch, while he doth bite?  
Come then, and naked into this water high,  
He cannot scape, but (here) perforce must bide,  
(Less to my heart to save himself he fly)  
Then quickly strip thyself, lay fear aside:  
For of this dainty prey, which thou shalt take,  
Both Sea, Fish, and thyself, thou glad shalt make.   

XXXVIII.  
Rich Damask Roses in fair cheeks do bide  
Of my sweet Girl, like April in his prime:  
But her hard heart cold chilly snow doth hide,  
Of bitter Ia●●●er the perfect sign.  
Her Hair of gold, shows yellow like the Corn  
In july, when the Sun doth scorch the ground;  
And her fair Breast ripe fruit, which doth adorn  
September rich: so as in her is found  
Both Harvest, Summer, Winter, Spring to be;  
Which you in Breast, Hair, heart, and Face may see.   

XXXIX.  
Th'immortal Pa●●● (fatal Sisters three)  
Of mortal men do sing the shunlesse fate,  
What once was, what is now, and what shallbe,  
Their life, their death, their fortune, and their state▪  
Our Song let be like theirs, Three they were;  
And so our number is, Three are we here.  
Sing Laura then, sing Love, and sing will I  
Of dreary fortune mine, sing let us all,  
Let's sing in doleful tune most mournfully,  
How 'tis, how 'twas, and hapless still shall fall,  
The Present, Pas●ed, and (which none can mend)  
What shallbe world to come withouten end.   

XL.  
The Heavens their restless Sphere do always move,  
In thee doth move the faith which thou didst plight:  
And I I●●● like still in my love,  
Do roll, and yet I roll my wheel aright▪  
So that twixt us continual motions wend.  
But which is worse (unconstant Wench) I see  
The Heavens will have their motions without end,  
Which (never ceasing) roll continually:  
And thou like them to roll dost mean thy fill,  
And since 'tis so, I'll roll too, 'gainst my will.   

The Conclusion of the second Part.  
THus is the second Course now served in,  
A Course too course for such a dainty Dame;  
Yet (Lady) though the cheer be bad and thin,  
Because it comes of Zeal, accept the same:  
And though not worthy of your grace it be,  
Yet make it gracious through your courtesy.  
Great sumptuous Feasts the stomach doth dislike,  
Which oft in body dangerous surfeits breed:  
Where dishes few revive our sense and sprite,  
And Nature's pleased on little for to feed.  
This as a sauce (your appetite to move)  
Accept, where meat's the HaRT, where Cook is Love,  
Nor think the worse, though I have spun a thread  
So fine (I mean your praise) I cannot mend,  
Since 'tis a work to ground the wisest He●,  
And mar I should this loom, the Cloth not mend▪  
So Venus matchless shape Apelles drew,  
But how to finish it he never knew.  
far more's my mind, than is my feeble might,  
My pencil for thy picture is too weak:  
The Sun is only for the eagle's sight,  
My strength's too small, this hardened ye to break.  
Not painted scarce I thee have shadowed here:  
This taske's for such as have in skill no peer.   
R. T.   

The third Part.  

I.  
WHo joys in Love? the heart alone, to see.  
Who languisheth in Love? the heart alone.  
Then is't a thing impossible for me  
To joy or languish, since I heart have none.  
Withouten heart? then tell me, what am I?  
Even bones and flesh united cunningly.  
The Soul, where is't? Love that hathtane away,  
My Body only resteth in his place.  
Deprived of Soul and heart, how live? I say,  
I live (maintained by Love) in this strange case.  
O wonder strange, the Body live to see,  
The heart and Soul in other place to be.  
Napoli.   

II.  
That Crimson Gown (with drops of blood ywrought)  
Which Laura wears, a token is most true;  
How that of blood desirous is her Thought,  
And that 'tis so, I best can tell to you.  
My wronged heart too well doth find the same,  
Who thousand times, not once hath wronged been  
By her; and now, to aggravate my pain,  
(More cruel in desire for to be seen  
By outward habit) covets she to show,  
What (inward) in her mind she hides below.   

III.  
The flaming Torch (a shadow of the light)  
Put out by hasty hand, doth colour change,  
And black becomes, which seemed before most bright:  
Nor so to show is any marvel strange:  
So was I long a lively fire of love,  
The heat whereof my Body oft did prove,  
But I, at last (by one who moand my woe)  
Extinguished was, by Pitiful Disdain:  
Then if my colour black in face do show,  
You need not much to wonder 〈◊〉 the same,  
Since 'tis a Sign (by part to know the whole)  
That Love made me a Fire, Disdain a Cole.   

FOUR  
Pardoned of every wicked fact was he  
To Hebe's Temple that with prayers came,  
And of such grace (in sign) his Bonds (as free)  
He left hung up on high within the same.  
I (Lady) erred have, and humbly come  
To thee, who art the Temple fair of love,  
Offering to thee my prayers all and some,  
To free me from my faults thy heart let move:  
In token of which Gift, with thee I'll leave  
My jealous thoughts, wherewith I did thee grieve.   

V  
If thou art cold as is the winter's snow,  
I as the Summer hot am, most extreme:  
Then let's unite thy heart which cold is so  
To mine so warm, and make of both a Mean:  
So th'one a help to th'other still shall be:  
And linked in Concord, as two Doves shall 'gree.  
To form this Frame, Love shall the workman play,  
Then lets with july january mix  
Let's make between us an eternal May,  
An everlasting truce us twain betwixt:  
Thy Winter with my Summer let us join:  
My fire so warm, with frost so cold of thine.   

VI  
The cruel New used on golden hook  
The harmless fish to catch with sugared bait:  
So, courteous Love, fishing me quickly took,  
Whilst he with dainty pray for me did wait:  
Yet far more fortunate am I in this,  
For whereas Nero's hooks most sharp did kill,  
The other hooks revive the taken fish,  
Whilst they do hold him gently by the gillss.  
But hooks they are none, for hooks they are too fair,  
Two golden tresses be they of fine hair.   

VII.  
When She was borne, she came with smiling eye  
Laughing into the world, a sign of glee;  
When I was borne (to her quite contrary)  
Wailing I came into the world to see.  
Then mark this wonder strange: what Nature gave  
From first to th'last this fashion kept we have.  
She in my sad laments doth take great joy,  
I through her laughing die, and languish must,  
Unless that Love (to save me from this noy)  
Do unto me (unworthy) show so just  
As for to change her laughter into pain,  
And my complaints into her joy again.   

VIII.  
In Love his Kingdom great, two Fools there be▪  
My lady's one, myself the other am:  
The fond behaviour of both which to see,  
Who so but nicely marks, will say the same:  
Foolish our thoughts are, foolish our desire,  
Foolish our hearts in Fancies flame to fry,  
Foolish to burn in loves hot scorching fire.  
But what? Fools are we none, my tongue doth lie:  
For who most foolish is and fond in love,  
More wiser far than others, oft doth prove.   

IX.  
No sooner Laura mine appears to me,  
But that a dainty Dye, a blushing Red,  
In both our faces showeth for to be:  
But who (alas) doth mine so overspread?  
Ore-feruent love doth draw this shadow pure,  
Like cunningest Painter long for to endure.  
Who painteth hers? Disdain with pencil hard,  
Which turneth all my sweetness into sower:  
So that all my designs are quickly marred,  
Except Love bind love (by his awful power)  
In Faith's firm bands: too hie th'exchange will grow,  
When love for hate, and not for like shall go.   

X.  
Phoebus' had once a Bird, (his chief delight)  
Which (only cause he had an evil tongue)  
He made him black, who was before most white:  
So if all those who lovers true have stung  
With spiteful speech, and have their loves betrayed,  
Or to their ladies false be and untrue,  
(Setting at nought the promise they have made)  
Love would but change into this coal-black hieu:  
Thousands abroad like seacoal Crows should show,  
Who (now unknown) for snowy Swans do go.   

XI.  
In silver stream, on shallow fountains shelf,  
The lively image saw he in the same,  
Who was in love with shadow of himself,  
Through pride, forgetful how his likeness came:  
Such one myself (by chance) I see to be,  
When as in River I myself did see.  
Yet I, myself instead of loving hate,  
And such strange hatred is this, and so strong,  
That while he (loving) died by justest ●ate  
Himself by seeing, (whilst he himself did wrong):  
I die will unto him contrary clean,  
cause I (hating myself) myself to much have seen.   

XII.  
joy of my soul, my blindfold eyes clear light,  
Cordial of heart right Mithridate of love,  
Fai●e orient Pearl, bright shining Margarite,  
Pure Quintessence of heavens delight above,  
When shall I taste what favour grants me tuch,  
And ease the rage of nune so sharp desire?  
When shall I free enjoy what ● so much  
Do cover, (but I doubt in vain) to aspire?  
Ah do not still my Soul thus Tantalise,  
But once (through grace) the same imparadise.   

XIII.  
Painter, in lively colours draw Disdain.  
Dost ask how that may rightly shadowed be?  
I'll tell thee, if thou (fine) wilt do the same  
My Lady paint, and thou Disdain shalt see.  
Fond man, dost not believe? or thinkest I jest?  
If doubtful thou remain, then hear the rest.  
Mark her but well, and thou shalt in her face  
See right Disdain, which coming from her eyes,  
Makes her to look with most disdainful grace:  
Then if thou seest it in so plain a guise,  
Strait shadow her: for this one Counterfeit  
Of her and of Disdain shall show the shape.   

XIIII.  
With gold and rubies glistereth her small hand:  
But if you match them with her lips or hair,  
They seem withouten brightness to stand,  
The other have such lively colours fair.  
O worthy Beauty, peerless A PER SE,  
To whom all other Beauties are most vile▪  
O fairness such, as fairer none can be,  
Thou Grace itself of graciousness dost spoil.  
With Rubies, thou right Rubies dost disgrace,  
With Gold bright Gold thou stainest in his place.   

XV.  
A gentle tame Deer am I, called a HART,  
The cruel Huntress fierce my Mistress is:  
With crossbow bent she comes to me in Park,  
Paled in with pleasant thoughts of wanton wish:  
She shoots and hits me, takes me for her pray;  
And having shot, hit, taken, flies her way.  
Back she retires from me with pleasant smile,  
Vnloosing me, and heals my wound and pain;  
When as afresh incensed (alack the while)  
'Gainst me, desirous me to plague again:  
She turns towards me, o'ertakes me, strikes me sore;  
And binding up my wounds, makes deadly more.   

XVI.  
The golden tresses of a lady fair  
At first beginning were of this my love:  
But now at last unto my double care,  
To be the end of my sad life I prove.  
Then did my doubtful spirit live in hope,  
But now he fears, despairing as it were,  
Because he doth perceive in sudden broke  
His hope, which dying heart did help and bear:  
Since that the Hair, that Alpha me did bind  
In love, of life Omega I do find.   

XVII.  
Sweet Laura, in the water look no more,  
To see if feature thine be fair or no:  
Look in mine eyes, which tears rain streamings so●e  
Of bitter plaints, whose water clear doth show,  
As in a looking Glass most bright to thee,  
Those favours which in that sweet visage be.  
So said I to her, when she answered believe:  
And thou my love, say, dost thou likewise wish  
To see thyself in one that is alive?  
Then in this Breast, look where thine Image is:  
Love shall alike in both our body's rest,  
Bear thou me in thine eyes, I'll thee in breast.   

XVIII.  
If (Cruel) thou desirous art of blood,  
Behold how I do bleed in streaming wise:  
Glut then thyself therewith if thou think good,  
And do content with blood thy bloody eyes.  
From breast it comes, where fainting heart doth lie,  
And (for a gift) I it present to thee,  
Although I know (through this) I soon shall die:  
(And yet to die it little grieveth me)  
Since 'tis my wish, my blood with soul as one  
May rest, and that's with thee, or else with none.   

XIX.  
That ivory hand a Fan most white doth hold,  
And to the milky Breast blows wind apace:  
(And yet is full of chilly ye most cold)  
Disgrace to others, to herself a grace.  
But I who wistly mark these whiteness three,  
Vouchsafe (sweet love) this boon to grant to me.  
Distill within the rolling of mine eyes  
(By virtue of thy power) such hidden flame●  
And let it tempered be in such strange wise,  
That as I cast my look upon the same,  
It quite may take away her cruelty,  
Melt strait the Ice, and Fan burn suddenly.   

XX.  
The Snakes (amongst themselves) so carefully  
Love one another, (wonder for to see)  
As if th'one want, the other strait doth die:  
Lady, unto these Snakes unlike we be.  
For if I die, thou diest not for my death,  
But through my pain revivest: such is thy spite,  
And pleasure tak'st to see me void of breath.  
Ah, yet in love lets unto them be like.  
Thou Cupid work, that I (poor Snake in love)  
This ●dainfull Snake for to be kind may move.   

XXI.  
Laura is fair and cruel both in one,  
And borne was of a dainty Diamond:  
Then is it marvel neither wonder none,  
Although her heart as hard as stone be found.  
Nature that hardness (as a Keeper) gave  
To her, her Beauty thereby so to save.  
But fond is he, and simple in conceit,  
That thinks Love will not one day burst the same:  
Then quickly (mighty Lord) quickly this break,  
Break thou this stony heart so hard in twain,  
Unto thy power let Natures force still yield,  
And be thou Conqueror 'gainst her in field.   

XXII.  
The snowwhite Swan betokens brightsome Day,  
The coal-black Crow of darkie Night is sign,  
Thou Day or Night bring unto me still may  
With those bright lamps, those glistering stars of thine.  
But (cruel thou) thy heart is bend so hard,  
As I that Sun can never see with eyes  
(That wished for Sun, from these my lights debarred,  
Nor ought discern, but mists in foggy wise.  
Then since I live in woe (and blind) nought see,  
A Crow not Swan thou still shalt be to me.   

XXIII.  
Say Cupid, since thou wings so swift dost bear,  
Within my heart (alone) why dost thou lie?  
Why dost not seek to lodge some other where,  
And to some other place why dost not high?  
Go unto her who hath the Lily breast,  
Who though she hates me, yet I love her best.  
If her to entertain thee thou shalt find,  
It is a sign she hateth me no more▪  
Strait then return again, and show her mind  
To my Desire, who for this news longs sore.  
Then pray thee go, no longer lingering stay,  
Lest when thou wouldst thou canst not go thy way..   

XXIIII.  
On Quicksedge wrought with lovely Eglantine  
My Laura laid her handkerchief to dry,  
(Which had before snow white ywashed been)  
But after, when she called to memory,  
That long 'twold be before, and very late  
Ere Sun could do, as would her glistering eyes:  
She cast from them such sparkling glances strait,  
And with such force, in such a strangie guise;  
As suddenly, and in one self same time,  
She dried her cloth, but burned this heart of mine.   

XXV.  
Gold upon gold mine only joy did plate,  
Whilst she did dress her head by crystal Glass:  
But whilst she looked on it, it sudden brake;  
So (as amazed thereat) much grieved she was.  
To whom I said; To grieve thus 'tis in vain,  
Since what is broke, whole cannot be again.  
Look steadfastly with both thine eyes on me,  
Who have my heart (through Love) a glass new made:  
She on my face looked, and herself did see:  
Wherewith (contented thoroughly) thus she said,  
Most happy I, since for to dress my head,  
For broken glass, of whole one I am sped.   

XXVI.  
The Heavens begin with thunder for to break  
The troubled Air, and to the coloured Fields  
The Lightning for to spoil their pride doth threat,  
Each thing unto the furious Tempest yields.  
And yet me thinks within me I do hear  
A gentle voice hard at my heart to say,  
Fear nothing thou, but be of merry cheer,  
Thou only safe fore others all shalt stay:  
To save thee from all hurt, thy Shield shall be,  
The shadow of the conquering Laurall Tree.  
Fano.   

XXVII.  
Love this fair Lass (said Love) once unto me,  
I loved her; love her now (saith he) no more,  
When thousand darts within my breast there be,  
And if I love her, he me threateneth sore:  
He saith himself is fallen in love with her,  
And that himself ●ore others he'll prefer.  
His sense is this, He in her beauteous eyes,  
Hath found such Amours as near like were seen:  
But thinks he this shall serve, in cunning wise  
To make me leave, he cozening me so clean?  
In spite of him I'll love, sith heart doth 'gree  
With Love in love, as Rival for to be.   

XXVIII.  
My Mistress (writing) as her hand did shake  
The Pen did dash, which on her gown did spurt:  
One drop more higher than the rest did take,  
And to presume to touch her Breast it durst.  
Upon her dainty bosom it did light,  
Wherewith she blushed, in show like damask Rose:  
Presumptuous Black, how dar'dst thou touch that White▪  
Wherein a world of gladsome pleasure grows?  
Yet (spite of envy) happed it for the best,  
To the white more grace, more beauty 'twas to th'breast   

XXIX.  
None dares now look more on my Lauras face,  
So dangerous is her beauty to behold:  
For he no sooner gives to her the gaze,  
But strait his heart she takes from him so bold:  
Such virtue's locked within those ebbon Eyes,  
Where (dallying with Delight) Dan Cupid lies.  
So sweetly rouleth she that radiant Sphere,  
As she (from whom she lists) robs suddenly:  
So as to look on her each one doth fear,  
And yet to look on her spare will not I:  
For though I lose my heart, and him disease,  
I like shall my Desire, and her I'll please.   

XXX.  
Vnbare that ivory hand, hide it no more,  
For though it death brings to my tender heart,  
To see it naked, where is beauty's store,  
And where moist Pearl with Azure doth impart:  
Yet fear I not to die in this sweet wise,  
My fancy so to see't, is set on fire:  
Then leave that Glove, most hateful to mine eyes,  
And let me surfeit with this kind Desire;  
So that my looks may have of them their fill,  
Though heart decay, I'll take it for none ill.  
Mantoa.   

XXXI.  
My Mistress seems but brown (say you) to me.  
'tis very true, and I confess the same:  
Yet love I her, although that brown she be,  
Because to please me she is glad and feign.  
I loved one most Beautiful before,  
Whom now (as Death) I deadly do abhor.  
Because to scorn my service her I found,  
I gave her over, and chose to me this same:  
Nor to be faithful (think I) I am bound  
To one in whom no kindness doth remain:  
This is the cause, for Browne and Pitiful,  
I left a fair, but yet a faithless Trull.   

XXXII.  
White art thou like the mountain snow to see,  
I black like to the burned coal do show:  
Then give some of thy purest white to me,  
And I'll some of my Black on thee bestow.  
So will we these two Contraries unite  
Together, which so joined will show more fair:  
Let's both then make this change for our delight,  
Unless to kill me thou do little care.  
But why of white or black talk I to thee?  
My blood not black 'tis, which thou feign wouldst see.   

XXXIII.  
As Sacrifice unto a Goddess bright  
My heart I offered with Devotion great,  
Thinking that She loves Temple had been right.  
But what unwares I spied not then in heat,  
I (wary) now discern her for to be  
Of Hell below the rightest cruelty.  
I was deceived, I do confess: That smile,  
That wanton smile that bred in me delight,  
Hid in those lips so fair did me beguile:  
O Beauty false, O cruelty most right.  
Flee flee (my heart) flee then if thou be wise,  
Thy hurt, my burning heat, her treacheries.   

XXXIIII.  
Strange is this thing, my Horse I cannot make  
With spur, with speech, nor yet with rod in hand  
Force him to go, although great pains I take,  
Do what I can, he still as tired doth stand:  
No doubt he feels an heavy weight of me,  
Which is the cause he standeth still as stone:  
Nor is he ware that now he carrieth three,  
He thinks (poor lade) I am on's back alone:  
But three we are with mine own self I prove,  
Laura is in my heart, in Soul is love.  
Pesaro.   

XXXV.  
When I of my sweet Laura leave did take,  
Fair Fanos' City for a while to leave:  
She gave to me (to wear it for her sake)  
Of gold and pearl a dainty woven Wreath.  
Dear was the gift, because for love it came;  
But dearer more, cause She gave me the same.  
I look on't still, and kiss it as my joy;  
Kissing and bussing it, with it I play:  
Which at one instant brings me mirth and noy.  
And sighing oft, thus to myself I say;  
White pearls are these, yet hath her mouth more fair;  
Fine gold is this, yet finer is her hair.  
Fano.   

XXXVI.  
With thousand bands of furious inward heat  
Love binds my Soul, and burns my gentle heart:  
And two ways Laura death to me doth threat,  
With colour fresh, and wanton eye like dart▪  
This for reward for all my love I gain,  
For my good will two Enemies I have,  
Laura and Love: four plagues conspire my pain,  
Because I like, and what's but just do crave;  
Fire, Roseal colour, Eyes, and crull Band:  
These at the gaze of Beauty make me stand.   

XXXVII.  
If scalding sighs my faith may testify,  
And brinish tears of Love may warrant be:  
Both th'one and th'other thou hast seen with eye!  
Then what wouldst have (hard Hearted) mo●e of me?  
But thou (perhaps) though much I have endured;  
Wouldst yet be better of my saith assured.  
Then with thine eyes into my breast do peer,  
(Which for the nonce I leave to open sight)  
And that which now thou doubtst, see shalt thou clear  
Ah, mark it then; and view what shows so bright.  
But too too cruel art thou and precise,  
That wilt not crdite give to thine own eyes.   

XXXVIII.  
The hapless Argus (happy in this same)  
The glory of the suns surpassing light,  
The brightness of the Stars (the fire which stain)  
With hundred eyes behold them always might.  
But I (alas) who have but only twain,  
Cannot behold the Beauty of my Sun:  
For which I live as blind in endless pain,  
And count myself for want thereof undone.  
I can but wish that I an Argus were,  
With hundred eyes to view her every where.   

XXXIX.  
In vasty Sea, feign would my slender Muse  
Wade in thy praise, to praise thy beauty right:  
But (Lady) I for pardon crave excuse,  
To break such waves too brittle is her might:  
Mean time with lowly Verse, in humble show,  
A long the shallow shore I'll wading go.  
The time may come (perhaps) ere it be long,  
That this my quill more bold may write thy praise,  
And venture for to sail in th'Ocean strong,  
Though now on gravelled shore it fearful stays.  
And where as now to dip his foot he fears,  
He then shall dive himself o'er head and ears.  
Fano.   

XL.  
When I did part, my Soul did part from me,  
And took his farewell of thy beauteous Eyes:  
But now that I (returned) do thee see,  
He is returned, and lives through kindness thine,  
And of thee looketh for a welcome home.  
I than not any more to sorrow need,  
Now I am come: and if before alone  
On shadow then, on substance now I feed.  
So, if my parting bitter was and sad,  
Sweete's my return to thee, and passing glad.   

The Conclusion of the last Part.  
TImantes when he saw he could not paint  
With lively colours (to his lasting fame)  
Such works he took in hand, and found too faint  
His c●●ning, seeking for to hide the same,  
He over them a subtle shadow drew:  
So that his faults, or none or few could view.  
So Lady, I finding my wit too weak,  
With currant terms your beauty forth to blaze,  
And that to arrive too blunt is my conceit  
Unto the height of your surmounting praise:  
With silence forced am (against my will)  
To shadow my defect, (the want of skill).  
Yet do I hope, the shadow you'll not scorn,  
Since Princes in their stately Arbours green  
Account of shade, as trees which fruit adorn,  
Because from heat they welcome shelters been.  
The Shadow shields 'gainst Sun your beauty fair,  
Which else his scorching heat would much impair,  
Then though a Shadow without fruit I be,  
And scarce yield leaves to cover this my bark:  
Accept these leaves thy Beauty's Shade of me,  
Where wealth doth ebb, good will doth flow from heart:  
Deign me for all my love but Shadow thine,  
Thy Substance's too too high for Fortune m●ne.   
R. T.    

A Friends just excuse about the Book and Author, in his absence.  
WIthout the Author's knowledge, as is before said by the Printer, this Poem is made thus publicly known: which (with my best endeavour) the Gentleman himself (suspecting what is now proved too true) at my coming up, earnestly entreated me to prevent. But I came at the last sheets printing, and find more than thirty Sonnets not his, intermixed with his: helped it cannot be but by the well judging Reader, who will with less pain distinguish between them, than I on this sudden possibly can. To him than I refer that labour, and for the Printers faults passed in some of the Books, I have gathered them in the next page. With the Author bear I pray ye whom I must entreat to bear with me.  
R. B.