THE ἙΚΑΤΟΜΠΑΘΊΑ OR PASSIONATE century of Love, Divided into two parts: whereof, the first expresseth the Author's sufferance in Love: the latter, his long farewell to Love and all his tyranny.  
Composed by Thomas Watson Gentleman; and published at the request of certain Gentlemen his very friends.  
LONDON ¶ Imprinted by john Wolf for Gabriel Cawood, dwelling in Paul's Churchyard at the Sign of the Holy Ghost.   

To the Right Honourable my very good Lord Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxenford, Viscount Bulbecke, Lord of Escales, and Badlesmere, and Lord High Chamberlain of England, all happiness.  
ALexander the Great, passing on a time by the workeshop of Apelles, curiously surveyed some of his doings: whose long stay in viewing them, brought all the people into so great a good liking of the painter's workmanship, that immediately after, they bought up all his pictures, what price soever he set them at.  
And the like good hap, (Right Honourable,) befell unto me lately, concerning these my Love Passions, which then chanced to Apelles, for his Portraites. For since the world hath understood, (I know not how) that your Honour had willingly vouchsafed the acceptance of this work, and at convenient leisures favourably perused it, being as yet but in written hand, many have oftentimes and earnestly called upon me, to put it to the press, that for their money they might but see, what your Lordship with some liking had already perused. And therewithal some of them said (either to yield your Honour his due praise, for soundness of judgement; or to please me, of whom long since they had conceived well) that Alexander would like of no lines, but such as were drawn by the cunning hand, and with the curious pencil of Apelles. Which I set not down here to that end, that I would confer my Poems with Apelles Portraites, for worthiness; albeit I fitly compare your honours person with Alexander's, for excellency. But how bold soever I have been, in turning out this my petty poor flock upon the open Common of the wide world, where every man may behold their nakedness, I humbly make request, that if any storm fall unlooked for (by the fault of malicious high foreheads, or the poison of evil edged tongues) these my little ones may shroud themselves under the broad leafed Platane of your Honour's patronage. And thus at this present, I humbly take my leave; but first wishing the continual increase of your Lordship's honour, with abundance of true Friends, reconciliation of all Foes, and what good soever tendeth unto perfect happiness.  
Your Lordships humbly at command Thomas Watson.   

To the friendly Reader.  
COurteous Reader, if any thing herein either please or profit thee, afford me thy good word in recompense of my pains: if ought offend or hurt thee, I desire that thou forget the one, and forgive the other. This toy being liked, the next may prove better; being discouraged, will cut of the likeliehood of my travail to come▪ But by that means all will be well, and both parties pleased. For neither shall I repent my labour in the like, nor thou be any more troubled with my faults or follies.  
Yet for this once I hope thou wilt in respect of my travail in penning these lovepassions, or for pity of my pains in suffering them (although but supposed) so survey the faults herein escaped, as either to wink at them, as oversights of a blind Lover; or to excuse them, as idle toys proceeding from a youngling frenzy; or lastly, to defend them, by saying, it is nothing Praeter decorum for a maiemed man to halt in his pace, where his wound enforceth him, or for a Poet to falter in his Poëme, when his matter requireth it. Homer in mentioning the swiftness of the wind, maketh his verse to run in posthaste all upon Dactilus: and Virgil in expressing the striking down of an ox, letteth the end of his hexameter fall withal, Procumbit humibos.  
Therefore if I roughhewed my verse, where my sense was unsettled, whether through the nature of the passion, which I felt, or by rule of art, which I had learned, it may seem a happy fault; or if it were so framed by counsel, thou mayest think it well done; if by chance, happily.  
Yet writ I not this to excuse myself of such errors, as are escaped either by dotage, or ignorance: but those I refer to thy gentle courtesy and favourable construction, or lay many of them upon the Printers neck, whom I would blame by his own press, if he would suffer me.  
As for any Aristarchus, Momus, or Zoilus, if they pinch me more than is reasonable, thou courteous Reader, which art of a better disposition, shalt rebuke them in my behalf; saying to the first, that my birds are all of mine own hatching, and that my only overmuch hast made Sol angry in their Birthday; to the second, that although Venus be in my verse, yet her slipper is left out; to the last and worst, that I rather take upon me to write better than Chaerilus, then once suppose to imitate Homer.  
I am over long, as well for the fear I had to be bitten by such as are captious, as for the desire I have to please thee that art friendly. But since I now well remember me, that nothing is more easily let flown, nothing sooner dispersed, nothing later recalled back again, than the bitter blast of an evil spoken man, and that he, whom it shall hurt, hath no recure but by patience; I will set it behind my heel, as a hurt remediless, or else, when it comes, salve it up with patience.  
In the mean space (courteous Reader) I once again crave thy favourable judgement: and so, for brevity sake, abruptly make an end; committing the to God, and my work to thy favour.  
Thine, as thou art his, Thomas Watson.   

john Lyly to the Author his friend.  
MY good friend, I have read your new passions, and they have renewed mine old pleasures, the which brought to me no less delight, than they have done to yourself commendations. And certes had not one of mine eyes about serious affairs been watchful, both by being too too busy had been wanton: such is the nature of persuading pleasure, that it melteth the marrow before it scorch the skin, and burneth before it warmeth: Not unlike unto the oil of jet, which rotteth the bone and never rankleth the flesh, or the Scarab flies, which enter into the root and never touch the rind.  
And whereas you desire to have my opinion, you may imagine that my stomach is rather cloyed, then queasy, & therefore mine appetite of less force than mine affection, fearing rather a surfeit of sweetness, then desiring a satisfying. The repeating of Love, wrought in me a remembrance of liking, but searching the very veins of my heart, I could find nothing but a broad scar, where I left a deep wound: and lose strings, where I tied hard knots: and a table of steel, where I framed a plot of wax.  
Whereby I noted that young swans are grey, & the old white, young trees tender, & the old tough, young men amorous, & growing in years, either wiser or warier. The Coral in the water is a soft weed, on the land a hard stone: a sword frieth in the fire like a black ele, but laid in earth like white snow: the heart in love is altogether passionate, but free from desire, altogether careless.  
But it is not my intent to inveigh against love, which women account but a bare word, & that men reverence as the best God: only this I would add without offence to Gentlewomen, that were not men more superstitious in their praises, than women are constant in their passions: Love would either shortly be worn out of use, or men out of love, or women out of lightness. I can condemn none but by conjecture, nor commend any but by lying, yet suspicion is as free as thought, and as far as I see as necessary, as credulity.  
Touching your Mistress I must needs think well, seeing you have written so well, but as false glasses show the fairest faces, so fine gloss amend the baddest fancies. Apelies painted the Phoenix by hearsay not by sight, and Lysippus engraved Vulcan with a straight leg, whom nature framed with a poult foot, which proveth men to be of greater affection than judgement. But in that so aptly you have varied upon women, I will not vary from you, for confess I must, and if I should not, yet mought I be compelled, that to ●oue were the sweetest thing in the earth: If women were the faithfullest, & that women would be more constant if men were more wise. And seeing you have used me so friendly, as to make me acquainted with your passions, I will shortly make you privy to mine, which I would be loath the printer should see, for that my fancies being never so crooked he would put them in straight lines, unfit for my humor●, necessary for his art, who setteth down, blind, in as many letters as seeing.  
Farewell.   

Authoris ad Libellum suum Protrepticon.  
VAde, precor, timidus patrium mittende per orbem,  
Nec nugas jacta parue libelle tuas.  
Si quis Aristarchus mordaci laeserit ore,  
Culparum causas ingeniosus habe.  
Si rogat, undè venis, dic tu de paupere Vena,  
Non ambire tuas laurea serta comas.  
Sique rogat, verbis quis adauxit metra solutis,  
Ex amimo nomen dic cecidisse tibi.  
Forsitan intrabis nostrae sacraria Divae,  
Quam colit in medijs multa Diana rosis,  
Quae Cybele caeli nostri; quae gloria regni  
unica; quaeque sui sola Sybilla soli;  
Quae vatum lima est; quae doctis doctior ipsa;  
juno opibus, Pallas moribus, ore Venus;  
Quae superat Reges, quantum querceta myricas;  
Quam recinat Famae buccina nulla satis,  
Illa tuos sancto si spectet lumine rithmos,  
O quantum gemino Sole beatus eris?  
Tu sed stratus humi, supplex amplectere plantas,  
Cuius erit vili pondere laesamanus.  
Híc tamen, híc moneo, nésperes tanta futura;  
Attica non auris murmura vana probat.  
Hic quoque seu subeas Sydnaei, sive Dyeri  
Scrinia, quà Musis area bina patet;  
Dic te Xeniolum non divitis esse clientis,  
Confectum Dryadis arte, rudique manu;  
Et tamen exhibitum Vero, qui magna meretur  
Virtute et vera nobilitate sua.  
Indè serenato vultu te mitis uterque  
Perleget, et naevos condet uterque tuos.  
Dum ●amulus Verum comitaris in aurea tecta,  
Officij semper sit tibi cura tui.  
Tùm fortasse pijs Nymphis dabit ille legendum,  
Cùm de Cyprigeno verba iocosa serent.  
Si qua tui nimiùm Domini miseretur amantis,  
Sic crepita folijs, ut ge●●uisse putet.  
Tetrica si qua tamen blandos damnaverit ignes,  
Dic tu, mentito me tepuisse foco;  
Tumque refer talos, et fixum calce sigillum,  
Quà Venerem temnis, filiolumque suum.  
Taliter efficies, ut amet te candida turba,  
Forsan & Autoris palma futura tui.  
vive libelle, precor, Domino faelicior ipso,  
Quem sine demerito sors inopina premit:  
Denique, (si visum fuerit) dic montis in alto  
Pierij vacuum tempora dura pati.   

A Quatorzain, in the commendation of Master Thomas Watson, and of his Mistress, for whom he wrote this Book of Passionate Sonnetes.  
THe star's, which did at Petrarch's byrthday reign,  
Were fixed again at thy nativity,  
Destening thee the Thuscan's poesy,  
Who skald the skies in lofty Quatorzain,  
The Muses gave to thee thy fatal vain,  
The very same, that Petrarch had, whereby  
Madonna Laures same is grown so by,  
And that whereby his glory he did gain.  
Thou hast a Laure, whom well tho● dost commend,  
And to her praise thy passion songs do tend;  
Ye both such praise deserve, as nought can smother;  
In brief with Petrarch and his Laure in grace  
Thou and thy Dame be equal, save percase  
Thou pass the one, and ●heexcell's the other.  
G. Buck.   

To the Author.  
THy book beginning sweet and ending sour,  
Dear friend, bewrays thy false success in love,  
Where smiling first, thy Mistress falls to lower,  
When thou didst hope her courtesy to prove;  
And finding thy expected luck to fail,  
Thou false from praise, and dost begin to rail.  
To use great terms in praise of thy devise,  
I think were vain: therefore I leave them out;  
Content thee, that the Censure of the wise  
Hath put that needless question out of doubt:  
Yet how I weigh the work that thou hast wrought,  
My judgement I refer unto thy thought.  
T. Acheley.   

An Ode, written to the Muses Concerning this Author.  
YOu sacred Nymphs, Apollo's sisters fair,  
Daughters of jove, parents of rare devise,  
Why take you no delight in change of air?  
Is Helicon your only paradise?  
Hath Britan soil no hill, no heath, no well,  
No wood, no wit, wherein you list to dwell?  
Ladies vouchsafe with patience once to view  
Our lively springs, high hills, and pleasant shades,  
And as you like the seat and country's hew,  
Pitch down your tents, and use your sporting trades:  
Hard hap it is, if nothing here you find  
That you can deem delightful to your mind.  
Lo Watson priest to entertain your power  
In pleasant springs of flowing wit, and skill:  
If you esteem the pleasures of his bower,  
Let Britan bear your spring, your grove and hill,  
That it hence forth may of your favour boast,  
And him, whom first you here vouchsafe for host.  
C. Downhalus.   

Eiusdem aliud de Authore.  

GRaecia permultos peperit foecunda pottas,  
Quorum lapsa diu saecula, famamanet.  
Ausonia Argolicae tellus post aemula laudis  
Transtulit in Latios doctum Helicona sinus.  
Acceptam Latium tenuit fovitque poesin,  
Inque dies Laurus auget, Apollo, tuas.  
Gallica● Parnasio coepit ditescere lingua,  
Ronsard●●ꝓ operis Luxuriare novis.  
Sola quia interca nullum paris Anglia vatem!  
Versifices multi, nemo p●ëta tibi est.  
Scilicet ingenium maius fuit hactenùs arte:  
Forsan & hic merces defit utrique sua.  
Ingenio tandem praestans Watsonus, & art,  
Pieridas docuit verba Britanna loqui.  
Et faciles alijs aditus patefecit ad artem,  
Quam multi cupiunt fingere, nemo refert.  
Iste tuus labor est, lúcrum est Watsone, tuorum;  
Et tua ne desint praemia, Laurus erit.   

IT's seldom seen that Merit hath his due,  
Or else Dezerte to find his just desire:  
For now Reproof with his defacing crew  
Treads underfoot that rightly should aspire:  
Malde Industry discouraged hides his face,  
And shuns the light, in fear to meet Disgrace.  
Seld seen said I (yet always seen with some)  
That Merit gains good will, a golden hire,  
With whom Reproof is cast aside for scum;  
" That grows apace that virtue helps t'aspire;  
And Industry well cherished to his face  
In sunshine walks, in spite of sour Disgrace.  
This favour hath put life into the pen,  
That here presents his first fruit in this kind:  
He hopes acceptance, friendly grant it then;  
Perchance some better work doth stay behind.  
My censure is, which reading you shall see,  
A Pithy, sweet, and cunning poesy.   
M. Roydon.   

To the Author.  
IF graver heads shall count it overlight,  
To treat of Love: say thou to them: A stain  
Is incident unto the finest die.  
And yet no stain at all it is for thee,  
These lays of Love, as mirth to melancholy,  
To fellow fast thy sad Antigone,  
Which may bear out a broader work than this,  
Compiled with judgement, order, and with art.  
And shroud thee under shadow of his wings,  
Whose gentle heart, and head with learning freight  
Shall yield thee gracious favour and defence.  
G. Peele.   

A Quatorzain of the Author unto this his book of Lovepassions.  
MY little book go high thee hence away,  
Whose price (God knows) will countervail no part  
Of pains I took, to make thee what thou art:  
And yet I joy thy birth. But hence I say,  
Thy brothers are half hurt by thy delay;  
For thou thyself art like the deadly dart,  
Which bred thy birth from out my wounded heart.  
But still observe this rule where ere thou stay,  
In all thou may'st tender thy father's fame,  
" Bad is the Bird, that fileth his own nest.  
If thou be much misliked, They are to blame,  
Say thou, that deeds well done to evil wrest:  
Or else confess, A Toy to be thy name;  
" This trifling world A Toy beseemeth best.   


I  
The Author in this Passion taketh but occasion to open his estate in love; the miserable accidents whereof are sufficiently described hereafter in the copious variety of his devices: & whereas in this Sonnet he seemeth one while to despair, and yet by & by after to have some hope of good success, the contrariety ought not to offend, if the nature & true quality of a love passion be well considered. And where he mentioneth that once he scorned love, he alludeth to a piece of work, which he wrote long since, De Remedio Amoris, which he hath lately perfected, to the good liking of many that have seen and perused it, though not fully to his own fancy, which causeth him as yet to keep it back from the print.  
WEll far the life sometimes I led ere this,  
When yet no downy hear clad my face:  
my heart devoid of cares did bathe in bliss,  
my thoughts were free in every time & place:  
But now (alas) all's fowl, which then was fair.  
My wont joys are turning to despair.  
Where then I lived without control or check,  
An other now is mistress of my mind,  
Cupid hath clapped a yoke upon my neck,  
Under whose weight I hue in servile kind:  
I now cry creak, that ere I scorned love,  
Whose might is more than other Gods above.  
I have assayed by labour to eschew  
What fancy builds upon a love conceit,  
But nearthelesse my thought revives anew,  
Where in fond love is wrapped, and works deceit:  
Some comfort yet I have to live her thrall,  
In whom as yet I find no fault at all.   

TWO  
In this passion the Author describeth in how piteous a case the heart of a lover is, being (as he feigneth here) separated from his own body, & removed into a darksome and solitary wilderness of woes. The conveyance of his invention is plain & pleasant enough of itself, and therefore needeth the less annotation before it.  
MY heart is set him down twixt hope & fears  
Upon the stony bank of high desire,  
To view his own made flood of blubberig tears  
Whose waves are bitter salt, and hot as fire:  
There blows no blast of wind but ghostly groans  
Nor waves make other noise then piteous moans  
As life were spent he waiteth Charon's boat,  
And thinks he dwells on side of Stygian lake:  
But black despair some times with open throat,  
Or spiteful jealousy doth cause him quake,  
With howling shrieks on him they call and cry  
That he as yet shall neither live nor die:  
Thus void of help he sits in heavy case,  
And wanteth voice to make his just complaint.  
No flower but Hiacynth in all the place,  
No sun comes there, nor any heavenly saint,  
But only she, which in himself remains,  
And joys her ease though he abound in pains.   

III  
This passion is all framed in manner of a dialogue, wherein the Author talketh with his own heart, being now through the commandment and force of love separated from his body miraculously, and against nature, to follow his mistress, in hope, by long attendance upon her, to purchase in the end her love and favour, and by that means to make him ●elfe all one with her own heart.  
Speak gentle heart, where is thy dwelling place?  
Wt her, whose birth the heavens themselves have blest.  
What dost thou there? Sometimes behold her face,  
And lodge sometimes within her crystal breast:  
She cold, thou hot, how can you then agree?  
Not nature now, but love doth govern me.  
With her wilt thou remain, and let me die?  
If I return, we both shall die for grief:  
If still thou stay, what good shall grow thereby?  
I'll move her heart to purchase thy relief:  
What if her heart be hard, & stop his ears?  
I'll sigh aloud, & make him soft with tears:  
If that prevail, wilt thou return from thence?  
Not I alone, her heart shall come with me:  
Then will you both live under my defence?  
So long as life will let us both agree:  
Why then despair, go pack thee hence away,  
I live in hope to have a golden day.   

IIII  
The chief ground and matter of this Sonnet standeth upon the rehearsal of such things as by report of the Poets, are dedicated unto Venus, whereof the Author sometime wrote these three Latin verses. 
Mons Erycinus, Acidalins sons, alba columba,  
Hesperus, ora Pathos, Rosa, Myrtus, & insula Cyprus,  
Idaluimque nemus; Veneri haec sunt omnia sacra.  And Forcatulus the French Poet wrote upon the same particulars, but more at large, he beginneth thus, 
Est arbor Veneri Myrtus gratis●ima, flores  
Tam Rosa, quam volucres alba columba praeit.  
Igniferum coeli prae cunctis diligit astris.  
Hesperon, Idalium sapè adit una memus. etc.   
Sweet Venus if as now thou stand my friend,  
As once thou didst unto King. 
* 〈◊〉  Pria●s son,  
My joyful muse shall never make an end  
Of praising thee, and all that thou hast done:  
Nor t●o my pain shall ever cease to write  
Of aught, wherein sweet Venus takes delight.  
My temples hedged in with Myrtle bows  
Shall set aside Apollo's Laurel tree,  
As did 
* 〈…〉  Anchises son, when both his brows  
With Myrtle he beset, to honour thee:  
Then will I say, the Rose of flowers is best.  
And silver doves for birds excel the rest.  
I'll praise no star but Hesperus alone,  
Nor any hill but Erycinus meunte,  
Nor any wood but I daily alone,  
Nor any spring but Acidalian fount,  
Nor any land but only Cyprus shore,  
Nor Gods but Love, & what would Venus more?   

V  
All this Passion (two verses only excepted) is wholly translated out of Petrarch, where he writeth, 
Samor non è, che dunque è quel ch'i sento? 
Part pr●●a Sonnet 103.   
Ma s'egh è amor, per Dio che cosa, e quale?  
Se buona, ond'è l'effetto aspro e mortale?  
Seria, ond'è sidolce ogni tormento?  Herein certain contrarieties, which are incident to him that loveth extrèemelye, are lively expressed by a Metaphor. And it may be noted, that the Author in his first half verse of this translation varieth from that sense, which Chawcer useth in translating the self same: which he doth upon no other warrant then his own simple private opinion, which yet he will not greatly stand upon.  
IF't be not love I feel, what is it then?  
If love it be, what kind a thing is love?  
If good, how chance he hurts so many men?  
If bad, how happ's that none his hurts disprove?  
If willingly I burn, how chance I wail?  
If 'gainst my will, what sorrow will avail?  
O livesome death, Oswéete and pleasant ill,  
Against my mind how can thy might prevail?  
If I bend back, and but refrain my will,  
If I consent, I do not well to wail;  
And touching him, 
Add●nt●r Tuscano hij duo ve●sus.  whom will hath made a slave,  
The Proverb saith of old, Self do, self have,  
Thus being tossed with winds of sundry sort  
Through daung'rous Seas but in a slender Boat,  
With error stu●t, and driven beside the port,  
Where void of wisdoms freight it lies afloat,  
I wave in doubt what help I shall require,  
In Summer freeze, in winter burn like fire.   

VI  
This passion is a translation into latin of the self same sonnet of Petrarch which you read lastly alleged, and cometh somewhat nearer unto the Italian phrase than the English doth. The Author when he translated it, was not then minded ever to have emboldened himself so far, as to thrust in foot amongst our english Poets. But being busied in translating Petrarch his sonnets into latin new clothed this amongst many others, which one day may perchance come to light: And because it befitteth this place, he is content you survey it here as a probable sign of his daily sufferance in love:  
HOc si non sit amor, quod persentisco, quid ergo est?  
Si sit amor, tum quid sit amor qualisque rogandum:  
Si bonus est, undè effectus producit acerbos?  
Sin malus, unde eius tormentum dulce putatur?  
Sique volens uror, quae tanti causa doloris?  
Sin invitus amo, quid me lament a iwabunt?  
O laethum vivax, o delectabile damnum,  
Quî sic me superes, tibi si concedere nolim?  
●t me si patior vinci, cur lugeo victus?  
Aduersis rapior ventis, nulloque magistr●,  
Per maris effusi fluctus, in puppe caduca,  
Quae vacua ingenio, tantoque errore gravata est,  
Ipsus ut ignorem de me quid dicere possim:  
Erigeo, dum media est aestas; dum brumae, calesco.   

VII  
This pàssion of love is lively expressed by the Author, in that he lavishly praiseth the person and beautiful ornaments of his love, one after an other as they lie in order. He partly imitateth here in Aeneas Silvius, who setteth down the like in describing Lucretia the love of Euryalus; & partly he followeth Ariosto cant. 7. where he describeth Alci●a: & partly borroweth from some others where they describe the famous Helen of Greece: you may therefore, if you please aptly call this sonnet as a Scholar of good judgement hath already Christened it 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Hark you that list to hear what saint I serve:  
Her yellow locks exceed the beaten gold;  
Her sparkling eyes in heaven a place deserve;  
Her forehead high and fair of comely mould;  
Her words are music all of silver sound;  
Her wit so sharp as like can scarce be found:  
Each eybrowe hangs like Iris in the skies; 
Nasus Aquil●● ex Pe●sarum opinion maiestatem personae arguit.   
●Her eagle's nose is strait of stately frame;  
On either cheek a Rose and Lillie lies;  
Her breath is sweet perfume, or holly flame;  
Her lips more red than any Coral stone;  
Her neck more white, than aged 
* Quale 〈◊〉 rec●nit funere cumen Olo●. Strozza. & vide P●●n de cantu Ol●rino lib 〈◊〉 not hist. cap 2●.  Swans the moan;  
Her breast transparent is, like crystal rock;  
Her singers long, fit for Apollo's Lute;  
Her slipper such as 
* Vide 〈◊〉 1. Cent. 5 adag. ●4. 〈…〉 ex Philostrati ad uxorem epistola mutuatu:  Momus dare not mock;  
Her virtues all so great as make me mute:  
What other parts she hath I need not say,  
Whose face alone is cause of my decay.   

VIII  
A laeon for espying Diana as she bathed her naked, was transformed into a Hart, and soon after torn in pieces by his own hounds, as Ovid describeth at large lib. 3. Metamorph. And Silius Italicus libr. 12. de bello Punic● glanceth at it in this manner. 
Fama est, cum laceris Actaeon flebile membris  
Supplicium lueret spectatae in font Dianae,  
Attonitum novitate malae fugisse parentem  
Per fr●ta Aristaeum. etc.  The Author alluding in all this Passion unto the fault of Actaeon, and to the hurt, which he sustained, setteth down his own amorous infelicity; as Ovid did after his banishment, when in an other sense he applied this fiction unto himself, being exiled (as it should seem) for having at unawares taken Caesar in some great fault: for thus he writeth. 
Cur aliquid vidi, cur noxia lumina f●ci? etc.  
Inscius Actaeon vidit sine vest Dianam.  
Praeda fuit canibus nec minus ille suis.   
A Ctaeon lost in middle of his sport  
Both shape and life, for looking but a wry,  
Diana was afraid he would report  
What secrets he had seen in passing by:  
To tell but truth, the self same hurt have I  
By viewing her, for whom I daily die;  
I lose my wonted shape, in that my mind  
Doth suffer wrack upon the stony rock  
Of her disdain, who contrary to kind  
Doth bear a breast more hard than any stock;  
And former form of limbs is changed quite  
By cares in love, and want of due delight.  
I lose my life in that each secret thought,  
Which I conceive through wanton fond regard,  
Doth make me say, that life availeth nought  
Where service cannot have a due reward:  
I dare not name the Nymph that works my smart,  
Though love hath graven her name within my heart.   

IX  
Clytia (as Perottus witnesseth) was a glorious Nymph, and thereof had her name: for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in greek signifieth glory: and therefore she aspired to be the love of Sol himself, who praeferring Leucothoe before her, she was in short space overgonne with such extremity of care, that by compassion of the Gods she was transformed into a Marigold; which is significantly called Heliotropium, because even now after change of form she still observeth the rising and going down of her beloved the sun, as Ovid mentioneth, 
Illa suum, quamuis radice tenetur,  
Vertitur aed Solem, 
Metam. lib. 4.  mutataque servat amorem.  And by this it may easily be guessed, why in this passion the Author compareth himself with the Marigold, and his love unto the Sun.  
THe Marigold so likes the lovely Sun,  
That when he sets the other hides her face,  
And when he gins his morning course to ●unne,  
She spreads abroad, & shows her greatest grace;  
so shuts or spreuts my joy, as doth this flow're,  
when my ●heesune doth either laugh or lower.  
When she departs my sight, I die for pame,  
In closing up my heart with cloudy care;  
And yet when once I view her face again,  
I straight revive, and joy my wont fare:  
Therewith my heart oft says, when all is done,  
That heaven and earth have not a brighter sun,  
A jealous thought yet puts my mind in fear,  
Lest jove himself descending from his throne  
Should take by stealth and place her in his sphere,  
Or in some higher globe to rule alone:  
Which if he should, the heavens might boast their pray  
But I (alas) might curse the dismal day.   

X  
The Author hath made two or three other passions upon this matter that is here contained, alluding to the loss of his sight and life since the time he first beheald her face, whose love hath thus bewitched him. But here he mentioneth, the blindness of Tiresias to proceed of an other cause, than he doth in those his other Sonnettes, And herein he leaneth not to the opinion of the greater sort of Poets, but unto some few, after whom Polytian hath written also, as followeth; 
Baculum dat deinde petentem  
Tyresiaemagni, qui quondam Pallaeda nudam  
viaeit, & hoc raptam p●nsauit munere lucem.  
Suctus in offensos baculo duce tendere gressus  
Nec deest ipse sibi, quin sacro instincta furore  
Ora mo●et, tantique parat solaetiae damni.   
Mine 
* Quod natatale esse, ait Phnius lib. 11. nature. hist. c. 36.  eyes die first, which last enjoyed life,  
Not hurt by bleared eyes, but hurt with light  
Of such a blazing star as kindleth strife  
Within my breast as well by day as night:  
And yet no poisoned Cockatrice lurked there,  
Her virtuous beams dissuade such foolish fear.  
Besides, I live as yet; though blinded now  
Like him, that saw Minerva's naked side,  
And lost his sight (poor soul) not knowing how;  
Or like to him, whom evil chance betide,  
In straying far to light upon that place,  
Where midst a fount he found Diana's grace.  
But he alone, who Polyphemus hight,  
True pattern was of me and all my woe,  
Of all the rest that ever lost their sight:  
For being blind, yet love possessed him so,  
That he each how'r on every dale and hill  
S●ng songs of love to 
* Galataea was a water Nymph and daughter to old Nereus.  Galataea still.   

XI  
In this sonnet is covertly set forth, how pleasant a passion the Author one day enjoyed, when by chance he overharde his mistress, whilst she was singing privately by herself: And soon after into how sorrowful a dump, or sounden ecstasy he fell, when upon the first sight of him she abruptly finished her song and melody.  
O Golden bird and Phoenix of our age,  
whose sweet records and more than earthly voice  
By wondrous force did then my grief assuage  
When nothing else could make my heart retoyce,  
Thy teunes (no doubt) had made a later end,  
If thou hadst known how much they stood my friend.  
When silence drowned the latter warbling neat,  
A sudden grief eclypst my former joy,  
My life itself in calling Charon's boat  
Did sigh, and say, that pleasure brought annoy;  
And blamed mine ear for listening to the sound  
Of such a song, as had increased my wound.  
My heaute heart remembering what was passed  
Did sorrow more than any tongue can tell;  
As did the damned souls that stood aghast,  
when Orpheus with his wife returned from hell:  
Yet who would think, that Music which is sweet,  
In curing pains could cause delights te fleet?   

XII  
The subject of this passion is all one with that, which is next before it: but that the Author somewhat more highly here extolleth his lady's excellency, both for the singularity of her voice, & her wonderful art in use & moderation of the same. But moreover, in this sonnet, the Author relateth how after the hearing of his mistress sing, his affection towards her by that means was more vehemently kindled, than it had been at any time before.  
I Marvel I, why poets heretofore  
Extolled 
* Sic methymnaeo gavisus Ar●o●e Delphin, Martial. lib. 8.  Arion's harp, or Mercuries,  
Although the one did bring a fish to shore,  
And th'other as a 
* Consurgente sieto cedit Lyra Cyllenaea Ruff. Fest.  sign adorned the skies.  
If they with me had heard an angels voice,  
They would unsay themselves, and praise my choice.  
Not Philomela now deserves the price,  
Though sweetly she recount her cause of moan:  
Nor Phoebus' art in musical devise,  
Although his lute and voice accord in one;  
Music herself, and all the Muses nine,  
For skill or voice their titles may resign.  
O bitter sweet, or honey mixed with gall,  
My heart is hurt with overmuch delight,  
Mine ears well pleased with tunes, yet deaf with all:  
Through musics help love hath increased his might;  
I stop mine ears as wise Ulysses bad,  
But all to late, now love hath made me mad.   

XIII  
The Author descanteth on forward upon the late effect, which the song of his Mistress hath wrought in him, by augmenting the heat of his former love. And in this passion after he hath set down some miraculous good effects of Music, he falleth into question with himself, what should be the cause, why the sweet melody of his Mistress should so much hurt him, contrary to the kind and nature of musical harmony.  
ESclepiad did cure with trumpets sound  
Such men as first had lost their hearing quite:  
And many such as in their drink lay drowned  
Damon reui●'d with tunes of grave delight:  
And Theophrast when ought his mind oppressed,  
Used musics help 〈◊〉 dring himself to rest:  
With sound of harp Thales did make recure  
Of such as lay with pestilence forlorn:  
With Organ pipes Xenocrates made pure  
Their wits, whose minds long Lunacy had worn:  
How comes it then, that music in my mind  
Enforceth cause of hurt against her kind?  
For since I heard a secret heavenly song,  
Love hath so wrought by virtue of conceit,  
That I shall pine upon supposed wrong  
Unless she yield, that did me such deceit:  
O ears now deaf, O wits all drowned in cares,  
O heart surprysed with plagues at unawares.   

XIIII  
The Author still pursuing his invention upon the song of his Mistress, in the last staff of this sonnet he falleth into this fiction: that whilst he greedily laid open his ears to the hearing of his Lady's voice, as one more than half in a doubt, that Apollo himself had been at hand, Love espying a time of advantage, transformed himself into the substance of air, and so deceitfully entered into him with his own great goodwill and desire, and now by main force still holdeth his possession.  
SOme that report great Alexander's life,  
They say, that harmony so moved his mind,  
That oft he roase from meat to warlike strife  
At sound of Trump, or noise of battle kind,  
And then, that musics force of softer vain  
Caused him return from strokes to meat again.  
And as for me, I think it nothing strange,  
That music having birth from heavens above,  
By divers tunes can make the mind to change:  
For I myself in hearing my sweet Love,  
By virtue of her song both tasted grief,  
And such delight, as yielded some relief.  
When first I 'gan to give attentive ear,  
Thinking Apollo's voice did haunt the place,  
I little thought my Lady had been there:  
But whilst mine ears lay open in this case,  
Transformed to air Love entered with my will,  
And now perforce doth keep possession still.   

XV  
Still he followeth on with further devise upon the late Melody of his Mistress: & in this sonnet doth namely prefer her before Music herself, and all the three Graces; affirming, if either he, or else Apollo be ordained a judge to give sentence of their deserts on either side, that then his Lady can not fail to bear both prick and prize away.  
Now Music hide thy face or blush for shame,  
Since thou hast heard her skill & warbling voice,  
Who far before thyself deserves thy name,  
And for a Science should be had in choice:  
Or if thou still thy title wilt retame,  
Equal her song with help of all thy train.  
But as I deem, it better were to yield  
Thy place to her, to whom the price belongs,  
Then after strife to lose both fame and field.  
For though rude satires like of Marsias songs,  
And Choridon esteem his oaten quill:  
Compare them with her voice, and both are ill.  
Nay, which is more, bring forth the Graces three,  
And each of them let sing her song apart,  
And who doth best twill soon appear by me,  
When she shall make reply which rules my heart:  
Or if you needs will make Apollo judge,  
So sure I am to win I need not grudge.   

XVI  
In this passion the Author upon the late sweet song of his Mistress, maketh her his bird; & therewithal partly describeth her worthiness, & partly his own estate. The one part he showeth, by the colour of her feathers, by her stately mind, and by that sovereignty which she hath over him: the other, by description of his delight in her company, and her strangeness, & drawing back from a dew acceptance of his service.  
MY gentle bird, which sung so sweet of late,  
Is not like those, that fly about by kind,  
Her feathers are of gold, she wants a mate,  
And knowing well her worth, is proud of mind:  
And whereas s●m do keep their birds in cage,  
My bird keeps me, & rules me as her page.  
She seeds mine ear with tunes of rare delight,  
Mine eye with loving looks, my heart with joy,  
Wherhence I think my servitude but light,  
Although in deed I suffer great annoy:  
And (sure) it is but reason, I suppose,  
He feel the prick, that seeks to pluck the Rose.  
And who so mad, as would not with his will  
Leese liberty and life to hear her sing,  
Whose voice excels those harmonies that fill  
Elysian fields, where grows eternal spring?  
If mighty jove should hear what I have hard,  
She (sure) were his, and all my market marred.   

XVII  
The Author not yet having forgotten the song of his mistress, maketh her in this passion a second Phoenix, though not of Arabia, and yet no less acceptable to Apollo, then is that bird of Arabia. And the chief causes why Sol should favour her, he accounteth to be these two, her excellent beauty, and her skill in music, of which two qualities Sol is well known to be an especial chief patron, and sometimes the only author or giver of the same.  
IF Poets have done well in times long passed,  
To gloze on trifling toys of little price:  
Why should not I presume to fame as fast,  
Espying forth a ground of good devise?  
A Sacred Nymph is ground whereon i'll write,  
The fairest Nymph that ever yet saw light.  
And since her song hath filled mine ears with joy,  
Her virtues pleased my mind, her face mine eye,  
I dare affirm what some will think a toy,  
She Phoenix is, though not of Arabia;  
And yet the plumes about her neck are bright, 
Vide Plinium nature. hist. lib. 10. cap. 2.   
And Sol himself in her hath chief● delight.  
You that will know why Sol afoordes her love,  
Seek but the cause why Peakocks draw the place,  
Where juno sits; why Venus likes the Dove;  
Or why the Owl befitts Minerva's grace;  
Then if you grudge, that she to Sol belong,  
Mark but her face, and hear her skill in song.   

XVIII  
This sonnet is perfectly pathetical, and consisteth in two principal points: whereof the first containeth an accusation of Love for his hurtful effects & usual tyranny; the second part is a sudden recantation or excuse of the Author's evil words, by casting the same upon the neck of his beloved, as being the only cause of his late frenzy and blaspheamous rage so lavishly powered forth in fowl speeches.  
Love is a sour delight; a sugared grief;  
A living death; an everdying life;  
A breach of Reason's law; a secret thief;  
A sea of tears; an everlasting strife;  
A bait for fools; a scourge of noble wits;  
A Deadly wound; a shot which ever hits.  
Love is a blinded God; an angry boy;  
A Labyrinth of dowbts; an idle lust;  
A slave to Beauties will; a witless toy;  
A ravening bird; a tyrant most unjust;  
A burning heat; A cold; a flattringe foe;  
A private hell; a very world of woe.  
Yet mighty Love regard not what I say,  
Which lie in trance bearest of all my wits,  
But blame the light that leads me thus astray,  
And makes my tongue blaspheme by frantic fits:  
Yet hurt her not, lest I sustain the smart,  
which am content to lodge her in my heart.   

XIX  
The Author in this passion reproveth the usual description of love, which old poets have so long time embraced: and proveth by probabilities, that he neither is a child (as they say) nor blind, nor winged like a bird, nor armed archer like with bow & arrows, neither frantic, nor wise, nor yet unclothed, nor (to conclude) any God at all. And yet when he hath said all he can to this end, he crieth out upon the secret nature and quality of Love, as being that, whereunto he can by no means attain, although he have spent a long & tedious course of time in his service.  
IF Cupid were a child, as Poets feign,  
How comes it then that Mars doth fear his might?  
If blind; how chance so many to their pain,  
Whom he hath hit, can witness of his sight?  
If he have wings to fly where thinks him best,  
How haps he lurketh still within my breast?  
If bow and shafts should be his chiefest tools,  
Why doth he set so many hearts on fire?  
If he were mad, how could he further fools  
To whet their wits, as place and time require?  
If wise, how could so many leeze their wits,  
Or dote through love, and die in frantic sits?  
If naked still he wander too and fro,  
How doth not Sun or frost offend his skin?  
If that a God he be, how falls it so,  
That all wants end, which he doth once begin?  
O wondrous thing, that I, whom Love hath spent,  
Can scarcely know himself, or his intent.   

XX  
In this passion the Author being joyful for a kiss, which he had received of his Love, compareth the same unto that kiss, which sometime Venus bestowed upon Aesculapius, for having taken a Bramble out of her foot, which pricked her through the hidden spiteful deceit of Diana, by whom it was laid in her way, as Strozza writeth. And he enlargeth his invention upon the french proverbial speech, which importeth thus much in effect, that three things proceed from the mouth, which are to be had in high account, Breath, Speech, and Kissing; the first argueth a man's life; the second, his thought; the third and last, his love.  
IN time long passed, when in Diana's chase  
A bramble bush pricked Venus in the foot,  
Old Aesculapius helped her heavy case  
Before the hurt had taken any root:  
Wherehence although his beard were crisping hard  
She yielded him a kiss for his reward.  
My luck was like to his this other day,  
When she, whom I on earth do worship most,  
In kissing me vouchsafed thus to say,  
Take this for once, and make thereof no boast:  

* Siquiden opinati sunt aliqui, in osculo fieri animaturn combinationem.  Forthwith my heart gave sign of joy by skips,  
As though our souls had joined by joining lips.  
And since that time I thought it not amiss  
To judge which were the best of all these three;  
Her breath, her speech, or that her dainty kiss,  
And (sure) of all the kiss best liked me:  
For that was it, which did revive my heart  
Oppressed and almost dead with daily smart.   

XXI  
In the first staff of this passion the Author imitateth Petrarch, Sonetto 211. 
Chi vuol veder quantunque può Natura  
El ciel tranoi, venga à mirar costei, etc.  And the very like sense hath Seraphine in one of his Strambottis, where he beginneth thus, 
Chi vuol ●eder gran cose altiere & nuove,  
Venga a mirar costei, laquale adoro:  
Dove gratia dal ciel continuo piove. etc.   
WHo list to view dame Nature's cunning skill,  
And see what heaven hath added to the same,  
Let him prepare with me to gaze his fill  
On her apace, whose gifts exceed the trump offane:  
But let him come apace before she fly  
From hence, to fix her seat above the sky.  
But juno's gift she bears a stately grace,  
Pallas hath placed skill amdd'st her breast;  
Venus herself doth dwell within her face;  
Alas I faint to think of all the rest;  
And shall I tell wherewith I most have wars?  
with those her eyes, which are two heavenly stars  
Their beams draw forth by great attractive power  
My moistened heart, whose force is yet so small,  
That shine they bright, or list they but to lower,  
It scarcely dare behold such lights at all,  

* Vide Pli●. nat. hist. lib. 10. cap. 3. et lib 28 cap 6. qui de hacre mutuatur ex Aristotelis historia. Potró vide Seraphinum sonnet. 1. ubi de aquila suisque pullis per compatationem legantissimé canit.  But sobs, and sighs, and saith I am undone;  
No bird but Ioues can look against the sun.   

XXII  
The substance of this passion is taken out of Seraphine sonetto 127. which beginneth thus. 
Quando nascesti amor? quando la terra  
Se rinueste di verde e bel colore;  
Di che fusticreato? d'vn ardore,  
Che cio laescivo in se rinchiude e sirrah etc.  But the Author hath in this translation inverted the order of some verses of Seraphine, and added the two last of himself to make the rest to seem the more pathetical.  
WHen wert thou borne sweet Love? who was thy sire?  
When Flora first adorned Dame Tellus lap,  
Then sprung I forth from Wanton hot desire:  
Who was thy nurse to feed thee first with pap?  
Youth first with tender hand bound up my head,  
Then said, with Looks alone I should be fed;  
What maids had she attendant on her side,  
To play, to sing, to rock thee fast a sleep?  
Vain Niceness, Beauty Fair, and Pompous Pride;  
By stealth when further age on thee did creep;  
Where didst thou make thy chief abiding place?  
In Willing Hearts, which were of gentle race;  
What is't where with thou wagest wars with me?  
Fear cold as Ice, and Hope as hot as fire;  
And can not age or death make end of thee?  
No, no, my dying life still makes retire;  
Why then sweet Love take pity on my pain,  
Which often die, and oft revive again.   

XXIII  
The Author in this passion wisheth he were in like estate and condition with the Loooking Glass of his mistress; by that means the oftener to be made happy with her favourable and fair aspect. And in the last staff he alludeth somewhat to the invention of Seraphine, where he useth these words, in writing upon the Glass of his beloved. 
Che ho visto ogni qual vetro render foco  
Quando è dal Sol percosso in qualche part,  
E● Sol che in gliocchi toi dando in quel loco  
Douria per reflection tutta infiammarte etc.   
THou Glass, whetein that Sun delights to see  
Her own aspect, whose beams have dried my heart,  
Would God I might possess like state with thee,  
And joy some ease to quail my bitter smart:  
Thou gazest on her face, and she on thine;  
I see not hers, nor she will look on mine.  
Once having looked her fill, she turns thee fro,  
And leaves thee, though amazed, yet well content;  
But careless of my cares, will I or Noah,  
Still dwells within my breast with tears besprent;  
And yet my heart to her is such a thrall,  
That she dr●●'n out, my life departs withal.  
But thou deceitful Glass (I fear) with guile  
Hast wrought my woes to shield thyself from ill,  
Shot forth her beams which were in thee erewhile,  
And burned my tender breast against my will:  
For Crystal from itself reflectes the Sun,  
And fires his coat, which knows not how 'tis done.   

XXIIII  
Seraphine in his Strambotti hath many pretty inventions concerning the Looking-glass of his Mistress: wherhence many particulars of this passion are cunningly borrowed, part being out of one place, and part out of an other. And in the latter end is placed this fiction by the Author, that Cupid shooting his arrow from out the fair eyes of his Mistress, did so wound him with love and desire, that now he is past all recure by any physic, and therefore is feign to use the old verse, Hei mihi ꝙ nullis amor est medicabilis herbis.  
THou glass, wherein my Dame hath such delight,  
As when she braves, than most on thee to gaze,  
I marvel how her beams that are so bright  
Do never cause thy brittle sides to craze:  
Thou shouldst by reason mealt or easily break  
To feel such force, thy substance being weak.  
For when she first with seeming stately grace  
Bestowed on me a loving sweet regard,  
The beams, which then proceeded from her face  
Were such, as for the same I found no ward,  
But needs persorce I must become content  
To mealt in mind till all my wits were spent.  
And therewithal Cupid played his part,  
He shot a shaft throughout her crystal eyes.  
Wherewith he clest in twain my yielding heart:  
And this is cause my panting heart still cries,  
I break, I mealt, help heavens in my behove,  
No herb doth grow whose virtue cureth love.   

XXV  
It is to be considered in reading this Passion, how in some answers, the accent or pointing of the words is altered, and therewithal how the Author walking in the woods, and bewailing his inward passion of Love, is contraried by the replies of Echo: whose meaning yet is not so much to gainsay him, as to express her own miserable estate in daily consuming away for the love of her beloved Narcissus; whose unkindness Ovid describeth at large, 
Lib. 3. Metamorph.  together with the extreme love of Echo.  Author. 
IN all this world I think none loves but I  Echo. 
None loves but I  Auth. 
Thou foolish tattling guest,  
In this thou tellest a lie.  Echo. 
thou tellest a lie.  Author. 
Why? Love himself he lodgeth in my breast.  Echo. 
He lodgeth in my breast.  Auth. 
I pine for grief;  
And yet I want relief.  Echo. 
I want relief.  Author. 
No star more fair than she whom I adore.  Echo. 
Then 
* S. Liquescens immutat sensu●●.  he, whom I adore.  Auth. 
here-hence I burn  
Still more and more.  Echo. 
I burn still more and more.  Author. 
Love, let my heart return.  Echo. 
my heart, return.  Auth. 
Is then the Saint, for whom thou makest moon,  
And whom I love, but one?  Echo. 
I love but one.  Author. 
O heavens, is there in love no end of ills?  Echo. 
In love no end of ills.  Auth. 
Thou prattling voice,  
Dwellest thou in th' air, or but in hollow hills?  Echo. 
In hollow hills.  Auth. 
Cease of to vaunt thy choice.  Echo. 
Cease of to vaunt thy choice.  Auth. 
I would reply.  
But here for love I die.  Echo. 
for love I die.   

XXVI  
Here the Author as a man overtaken with some deep melancholy, compareth himself unto the Nightingale, and conferreth his unhappy estate (for that by no means his Mistress will pity him) with her nightly complaints: to whose harmony all those that give attentive ear, they conceive more delight in the musical variety of her notes, than they take just compassion upon her distressed heaviness.  
WHen may is in his prime, and youthful spring  
Doth clothe the tree with leaves, and ground with flowers,  
And time of year reviveth every thing;  
And lovely Nature smiles, and nothing lowers:  
Then Philomela most doth strain her breast  
With night-complaints, and sits in little rest.  
This Birds estate I may compare with mine,  
To whom fond love doth work such wrongs by day,  
That in the night my heart must needs repine,  
And storm with lighes to ease me as I may;  
Whilst others are becalmd, or lie them still,  
Or sail secure with tide and wind at will.  
And as all those, which hear this Bird complain,  
Conceive in all her tunes a sweet delight,  
Without remorse, or pitying her pain:  
So she, for whom I wail both day and night,  
Doth sport herself in hearing my complaint;  
A just reward for serving such a Saint.   

XXVII  
In the first six verses of this Passion, the Author hath imitated perfectly six verses in an Ode of Ronsard, which beginneth thus: 
Celui qui n'ayme est malheureux, 
Ep son 2. liute du Bocage.   
Et malheureux est l'amoureux,  
Mais la misere, & c?  And in the last staff of this Passion also he cometh very near to the sense, which Ronsard useth in an other place, where he writeth to his Mistress in this manner: 
En veus tu baiser Pluton  
La bas, 
En ses mesianges.  apres che Charon  
T'aura mice en sanacelle?   
V 
* Hii tres vers●● a Ronsardo describ●●●teor ex Anacre●● Graeco.  Nhappy is the wight, that's void of Love,  
And yet unhappy he, whom Love torments,  
But greatest grief that man is forced to prove,  
Whose haughty Love not for his love relents,  
But hoisting up her sail of proud disdain,  
For service done makes no return of gain.  
By this all you, which know my tickle state,  
May give deserved blame to whom I serve,  
And say, that Love hath misery to mate,  
Since labour breeds but loss, and lets me starve:  
For I am he which lives a lasting thrall  
To her, whose heart affords no grace at all.  
She hopes (perchance) to live and flourish still,  
Or else, when Charon's boat hath felt her pease,  
By loving looks to conquer Pluto's will;  
But all in vain: 'tis not Proserpin's ease:  
She never will permit, that any one  
Shall joy his Love, but the herself alone.   

XXVIII  
In this Passion the Author doth very busily imitate & augment a certain Ode of Ronsard, which he writeth unto his Mistress; he beginneth, as followeth, 
Plusicurs de leurs cors denués  
Se sont veuz en diverse terre  
Miraculeusement ninés, 
〈◊〉 liure des 〈◊〉 meslanges.   
L'vn en Serpent, & l'autre en Pierre,  
L'vn en Fleur, l'autre en Arbriffeau,  
L'vn en Loup & c?   
MAny have lived in countries far and nigh,  
Whose hearts by Love once quite consumed away,  
Strangely their shapes were changed by and by,  
One to a Flower, an other to a Bay,  
One to a Stream, whose course yet maketh moan,  
One to a Dove, an other to a Stone.  
But hark my Deer; if wishing could prevail,  
I would become a crystal Mirror I,  
Wherein thou mightst behold what thing I ail:  
Or else I would be changed into a Fly,  
To taste thy cup, and being daily guest  
At board and bed, to kiss thee midst thy rest;  
Or I would be Perfume for thee to burn,  
That with my loss I might but please thy sinell;  
Or be some sacred Spring, to serve thy turn,  
By bathing that, wherein my heart doth dwell;  
But woe is me, my wishing is but vain,  
Since fate bids Love to work my endless pain.   

XXIX  
The Author in this Sonnet in a large manner setteth forth the surpassing worthiness of his Lady, reporting her beauty and form to be so singular, that neither Appelles can perfectly draw her portraicte; nor Praxiteles truly frame her image and likeness in any kind of metal. And the like unableness he awardeth unto Virgil and Homer the two Paragons of poetry, if they should but once endeavour to praise her. And the like insufficiency he sayeth would be found in Tully himself, if he should endeavour to commend her. And then finally he excuseth his own bold hardiness showed in praising her, upon the forcible extremity, which he abideth in Love, and the earnest desire, which he hath to please.  
SUch is the Saint, whom I on earth adore,  
As never age shall know when this is past,  
Nor ever yet hath like been seen before:  
Apelles if he lived would stand aghast  

* Here he ●●●●deth unto the portrait of Venus which Apelles drew: as Ovid doth lib. 3. de art. aman.  Venerem Cous nunquam p●●xislet Apelles.  With colours to set down her comely face,  
Who far excels though Venus were in place.  
Praxiteles might likewise stand in doubt  
In metal to express her form aright,  
Whose praise for shape is blown the world throughout;  
Nor Virgil could so good a verse indite  
As only would suffice to tell her name;  
Nor Homer with his Muse express her fame;  
Tully, whose speech was bold in every cause,  
If he were here to praise the Saint I serve,  
The number of her gifts would make him pause,  
And fear to speak how well she doth deserve.  
Why then am I thus bold that have no skill?  
Enforced by Love I show my zealous will.   

XXX  
In the first part of this Passion the Author proveth, that he abideth more unrest and hurt for his beloved, then ever did Laeander for his Hero: of which two paramours the mutual fervency in Love is most excellently set forth by Musaeus the Greek Poet. In the second part he compareth himself with Pyramus, and Haemon king Creon's Son of Thebes, which were both so true hearted lovers, that through Love they suffered untimely death, as ovid. metam. lib. 4. writeth at large of the one, And the Greek Tragedian Sophocles in Antig. of the other. In the last, in making comparison of his pains in Love to the pains of Orpheus descending to hell for his Eurydice, he alludeth to those two verses in Strozza, 
Tartara, Cymba, Charon, Pluto, rota, Cerberus, angues.  
Cocytes, Phlegeton, Styx, laepis, urna, sitis.   
WHat though Leander swam in darksome night,  
Through troubled Heel's pont for Hero's sake;  
And lost his life by loss of Sestus light?  
The like or more myself do undertake,  
When every hour along the lingering year.  
My joy is drowned, and hope blown out with fear.  
And what though Pyram spent his vital breath  
For Thiebes sake? or Haemon choase to die  
To follow his Antigone by death?  
In harder case and worse plight am I,  
Which love as they, but live in dying still,  
And feign would die, but can not have my will.  
We read that Orpheus with his Harp of gold,  
For his Eurydice went down to hell:  
The toil is more, by that time all be told,  
Which I endure for her, whose heart is fell;  
The Stygian Cur, the Wheel, the Stone, the Fire,  
And Furies all are placed in my desire.   

XXXI  
There needeth no annotation at all before this Passion, it is of itself so plain, and easily conveyed. Yet the unlearned may have this help given them by the way to know what Galaxia is, or Pactolus, which perchance they have not read off often in our vulgar Rhymes. Galaxia (to omit both the Etymology and what the Philosophers do write thereof) is a white way or milky Circle in the heavens, 
Metamorph. lib. 1.  which Ovid mentioneth in this manner. 
Est via sublimis coelo manifesta sereno,  
Lactea nomen habet, candore not abilis ipso.  And Cicero thus in somnio Scipionis; Erat autem is splendidissimo candore inter flammas circulus elucens, quem vos (ut a Graijs accepistis) orbem lacteum nuncupatis. Pactolus is a river in Lydia, which hath golden sands under it, as Tibullus witnesseth in this verse, 
Nec me regna invant, 
Tibal. lib. ●.  nec Lydius aurifer amnis.   
WHo can recount the virtues of my dear,  
Or say how far her fame hath taken flight,  
That can not tell how many stars appear  
In part of heaven, which Galaxia height,  
Or number all the moats in Phoebus' rays,  
Or golden sands, whereon Pactolus plays?  
And yet my hurts enforce me to confess,  
In crystal breast she shrouds a bloody heart,  
Which heart in time will make her merits less,  
Unless betimes she cure my deadly smart:  
For now my life is double dying still,  
And she defam'de by sufferance of such ill;  
And till the time she helps me as she may,  
Let no man undertake to tell my toil,  
But only such, as can distinctly say,  
What Monsters Nilus breeds, or Afric soil:  
For if he do, his labour is but lost,  
Whilst I both fry and freeze twixt flame and frost.   

XXXII  
Here the Author by feigning a troublesome dream, expresseth a full Passion of love. And how soever some will construe of this kind of Invention, it is evident, that the like hath been usual amongst those that have excelled in the sweetest vain of Poetry. And (to let the rest go,) it may please him that is curious to find some precedent hereof, to visit but the works of Hercules Strozza, 
Eroticon. lib. 2.  who in his Somnium hath written so exquisitely, that the Dream will quite his trauaile● that shall peruse it with due attention.  
IN Thetis lap, while Titan took his rest,  
I slumbering lay within my restless bed,  
Till Morpheus used a falsed soary jest,  
Presenting her, by whom I still am led:  
For than I thought she came to end my woe,  
But when I waked (alas) 'twas nothing so.  
Embracing air in steed of my delight,  
I blamed Love as author of the guile,  
Who with a second sleep clozd up my sight,  
And said (me thought) that I must bide a while  
Ixion's pains, whose arms did oft embrace  
False darkened clouds, in steed of juno's grace.  
When I had lain and slumbered thus a while,  
Ruing the doleful doom that Love assigned,  
A woman Saint, which bore an Angel's face,  
●ad me awake and ease my troubled mind:  
With that I waked, forgetting what was past,  
And saw 'twas Hope, which helped thus at last.   

XXXIII  
In this Sonnet the Author is of opinion, that his Mistress (by the fatal appointment of destiny) was from the beginning reserved to live in these times, and to be the only governess & subject of his thoughts: whereas: if either she had been borne, when Paris was to give sentence upon Ida for bestowing the Golden Apple; she had (as he supposeth) been preferred before juno, Pallas and Venus, & moreover supplied that place in the love of king Priam's son, which Helen of Greece obtained: or if she had then lived when Bacchus took Ariadne to wife, she had been conveyed in her steed, unto that place in heaven, where now the Crown of Ariadne called 
* Cuius ot●u● & occasum me morat Plimus nat. hist. lib ●●. c. 28. etc. 31.  Corond Gnosia doth shine continually, being beautified with great variety of lightsome stars.  
WHen Priam's son in midst of Ida plain  
Gave one the price, and other two the foil,  
If she for whom I still abide in pain  
Had lived then within the Trojan soil,  
No doubt but hers had been the golden ball,  
Helen had scaped rape, and Iroy his fall.  
Or if my Dame had then enjoyed life  
When Bacchus sought for Ariadne's love,  
No doubt but she had only been his wife,  
And flown from hence to sit with Gods above:  
For she exceeds his choice of Create so far  
As Phoebus doth excel a twinkling star,  
But from the first all fates have thus assigned,  
That she should live in these our latter days,  
I think to bear a sway within my mind  
And feed my thoughts with friendly sweet delays;  
If so it be, 
Assai been basi● a chi Formasuona.  let me attend my chance,  
And fortune pipe when I begin to dance.   

XXXIIII  
The Author in this Sonnet very highly commendeth the most rare excellencies of his mistress, avouching her to have no equal. And he imitateth the second Sonnet, Nelle rhyme di messer Agnolo Fiorenzuola the Florentine, whose beginning is all one with that here; and this it is: 
Deh le mie bell donne et amorose,  
Ditemi il ver per vostra cortesia,  
Non è chiara troth voi la donna mia,  
Come e'l Sol chiar tratutte l'altre cose?   
YE stately Dames, whose beauties far excel,  
Of courtesy confess at my request,  
Doth not my Love amongst you bear the bell,  
As Phoebus' golden rays obscures the rest  
Of Planet Stars, and dimmeth every light  
That shines in heaven or earth by day or night?  
Take wistly heed in viewing her sweet face,  
Where nature hath expressed what cre she could  
Either for beauties blaze or comely grace:  
Since when to prise her work she broke the mould,  
So that who seeks to find her Equal out,  
Intends a thing will near be brought about.  
Therefore sweet Ladies all vouchsafe with me  
To follow her desert, and my desire,  
By praising her unto the ninth degree,  
" For honour by due right is virtues hire,  
And envies mouth must say when all is done,  
No Bird but one is sacred to the sun.   

XXXV  
In this Passion the Author, as being blinded with Love, first compareth himself with Tiresias the old Soothsayer of Thebes, whom juno deprived of sight; but love rewarded him with the spirit of prophecy. Then he alludeth unto Actaon: And lastly he showeth why he is in worse case, than those, which by viewing Medusa's head were turned into stones, losing both life and light at once; and so concludeth, that old accursed Oedipus of all other best befitteth him for a companion.  
WHen first mine eyes were blinded with Desire,  
They had new seen a Second Sun whose face  
Though clear as beaten snow, yet kindled fire  
Within my breast, and moulte my heart apace:  
Thus learned I by proof, what others writ,  
That Sun, and fire, and snow offend the sight.  
O ten times happy blinded Theban wight,  
Whose loss of sight did make him half diume,  
Where I (alas) have lost both life and light,  
Like him, whose horns did plague his heedless eyen;  
And yet was he in better case than I,  
Which neither live, nor can obtain to die.  
All Perseus foes that saw Medusa's head,  
By losing shape and sense were quit from thrall;  
But I feel pains, though blind and double dead,  
And was myself efficient cause of all:  
Wherefore, of all that ere did cease to see  

* Vide Sophocl. aut Senecam in tragedijs suis de Oedipi miserijs.  Old Oedipus were meetest mate for me.   

XXXVI  
Here the Author misliketh of his wearisome estate in love, for that he neither obtaineth any favour at the hands of his Mistress for his good thought or speech, nor by his loving looks, or presents, nor by his humility in writing, or long sufferance in servitude. And here-hence he blameth her overhardnes of heart, and the froward constellation of his own nativity: and therewithal abandoning all further desire of life, hath in request untimely death, as the only end of his infelicity.  
EAch thought I think is friend to her I Love;  
I still in speech use course of gentle works;  
My loving looks are such as ought to move;  
My gifts as great as mine estate affords;  
My letters tell in what a case I stand,  
Though full of blots through fault of trembling hand;  
I duly dance attendance as I may,  
With hope to please, and fear to make offence;  
All sou'ramdie to her I grant for aye;  
And where she hurts yet make I no defence;  
Sobs are the song, wherein I take delight;  
And shew'rs of tears do daily dim my sight.  
And yet all this doth make but small avail,  
Her heart is hard, and never will relent,  
No time, no place, no prayer can prevail,  
The heavens themselves disfavour mine intent:  
Why should I then desire a longer life,  
To weave therein a web of endless strife?   

XXXVII  
The Author in this passion doth by manner of secret comparison prefer his beloved before all other women whatsoever: and persuadeth upon the examples of all sorts of Gods (whom love hath overtaken at one time or other) that the worthiness of his Mistress being well considered, his own fondness in love must of force be in itself excusable.  
IF love himself be subject unto Love  
And cange the woods to find a mortal pray:  
If Neptune from the seas himself remove,  
And seek on sands with earthly wights to play:  
Then may I love my peerless choice by right,  
Who far excels each other mortal wight.  
If Pluto could by love be drawn from hell,  
To yield himself a silly Virgin's thrall:  
If Phoebus could vouchsafe on earth to dwell,  
To win a rustic maid unto his call:  
Then, how much more should I adore the sight  
Of her, in whom the heavens themselves delight?  
If country Pan might follow Nymphe's in chase,  
And yet through love remain devoid of blame:  
If Satyrs were excused for seeking grace  
To joy the fruits of any mortal Dame:  
Then, why should I once doubt to love her still,  
On whom ne Goods nor men can gaze their fill?   

XXXVIII  
In the first staff of this Passion the Author expresseth how fond his friends over trouble him, by questioning with him touching his love, or accidents thereof. In the two last verses of the second staff he imitateth those verses of Sophocles: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  which may be thus Englished, 
In Trachinijs.  
That man, which champion like will strive with Love  
And combat hand to hand, hath little wit:  
For as he list he rules the Gods above.  And in the last, he setteth down his mind fully bend to persist constantly in the love & service of his Lady: like to that, which Stephanus Forcatulus (an excellent Civilian, and one of the best poets of France for these many years) wrote unto his beloved Clytia: 
Quin noctu pluuiu●● citiùs mirabimur arcum,  
Solque domo Hesperidum mane propinquus erit,  
Quàm capia● lepide me foeda obliui● nymphae, & c?   
SOme ask me, when, and how my love begun;  
Some, where it lies, and what effects it hath;  
Some, who she is, by whom I am undone;  
Some, what I mean to tread so lewd a path;  
I answer all alike, by answering nought,  
But, blessed is he, whom Cupid never caught▪  
And yet I could, if sorrow would permit,  
Tell when and how I fixed my fancy first,  
And for whose sake I lost both will and wit,  
And choase the path, wherein I live accursed:  
But such like deeds would breed a double fear,  
" For love gainsaid grows madder than before.  
But note herewith, that so my thoughts are bound  
To her in whom my liberty lies thrall,  
That if she would veutchsafe to salve my wound,  
Yet force of this my love should never fall,  
Till Phoebus' use to rise from out the West,  
And towards night seek lodging in the East.   

XXXIX  
The second part of this Passion is borrowed from out the fift Sonnet in Petrarch part. 1. whose words are those, 
Piu volte gia per dir le labbra apersi:  
Poirimase la voce in mez z'lpetto:  
Ma qual suon poria mai salir tant'alto?  
Piu volte incominciai di scriver versi.  
Ma la penna, e la mano, e lo'ntelletto  
Rimaser vinto nel premier assalto.   
WHen first these eyes behold with great delight  
The Phoenix of this world, or second Sun,  
Her beams or plumes bewitched all my sight,  
And love increased the hurt that was begun:  
Since when my grief is grow'ne so much the more,  
Because I find no way to cure the soar.  
I have attempted oft to make complaint,  
And with some doleful words to tell my grief,  
But through my fearful heart my voice doth faint,  
And makes me mute where I should crave relief:  
An other while I think to write my pain,  
But straight my hand lays down the pen again,  
Sometimes my mind with heaps of doubtful cares  
Conjoined with fawning hoapes is sore oppressed,  
And sometime sudden joy at unawares  
Doth move to much, and so doth hurt my breast;  
What man doth live in more extréemes then these,  
Where death doth seem a life, and pains do please?   

XL  
The sense contained in this Sonnet will seem strange to such as never have acquainted themselves with Love and his Laws, because of the contrarieties mentioned therein. But to such, as Love at any time hath had under his banner, all and every part of it will appear to be a familiar truth. It is almost word for word taken out of Petrarch, (where he beginneth, 
part prima Sonnet. 105.  
Pace non truovo, e non ho da far guerra;  
E temo, e spero & c?)  All, except three verses, which this Author hath necessarily added, for perfecting the number, which he hath determined to use in every one of these his Passions.  
I joy net peace, where yet no war is found;  
I fear, and hope; I burn, yet frieze withal;  
I mount to heaven, yet lie but on the ground;  
I compass nought, and yet I compass all;  
I live her bond, which neither is my so,  
Nor friend; nor holds me fast, nor lets me go;  
Love will not that I live, nor lets me die;  
Nor locks me fast, nor suffers me to scape;  
I want both eyes and tongue, yet see and cry;  
I wish for death, yet after help I gape;  
I hate myself, but love an other wight;  
And feed on grief, in am of sweet delight;  
At self same time I both lament and joy;  
I still am pleased, and yet displeased still;  
Love sometimes seems a God, sometimes a Boy;  
Sometimes I sink, sometimes I swim at will;  
Twixt death and life, small difference I make;  
All this dear Dame befalls me for thy sake.   

XLI  
This Passion is framed upon a somewhat tedious or too much affected continuation of that figure in Rhetoric, which of the Greeks is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, of the Latins Reduplicatio: whereof Susenbrotus (if I well remember me) allegeth this example out of Virgil, 
Sequitur pulcherrimus Austur, 
AEncid. 10.   
Austur equo fidens.   
O Happy men that find no lack in Love;  
I Love, and lack what most I do desire;  
My deep desire no reason can remove;  
All reason shuns my breast, that's set one fire;  
And so the fire maintains both force and flame,  
That force availeth not against the same;  
One only help, can slake this burning heat,  
Which burning heat proceedeth from her face,  
Whose face by looks bewitched my conceit,  
Through which conceit I live in woeful case;  
O woeful case, which hath no end of woe,  
Till woes have end by favour of my foe;  
And yet my foe maintetaineth such a War,  
As all her War is nothing else but Peace;  
But such a Peace, as breedeth secret jar,  
Which jar no wit, no force, no time can cease;  
Yet cease despair: for time by wit, or force,  
May force my friendly foe to take remorse.   

XLII  
In this Passion the Author under colour of telling his dream doth very cunningly and lively praise his Mistress, so far forth, as not only to prefer her before Helen of Greece for excellency of beauty, but also before how many soever are now living in this our age. The dream of itself is so plainly & effectually set down (albeit in few words) that it need no further annotation to explain it.  
THis latter night amidst my troubled rest  
A Dismal Dream my fearful heart paid,  
Whereof the some was this: Love made a Feast,  
To which all Neighbour, Saints and Gods were called:  
The cheer was more than mortal men can think,  
And mirth grew on, by taking in their drink.  
Then jove amidst his cups for service done  
Can thus to jest with Gaymede his boy;  
I fame would find for thee my preaty Son  
A fairer Wife, than Paris brought to Troy:  
Why, sir, quoth he, if Phoebus stand my friend,  
Who knows the world, this gear will soon have end,  
Then jove replied that Phoebus should not choose  
But do his best to find the fairest face;  
And she once found should neither will nor choose  
But yield herself, and change her dwelling place;  
Alas, how much was then my heart affright,  
Which bade me wake and watch my fair delight?   

XLIII  
The sense or matter of this Passion is taken out of Seraphine in his Strambottis, who writeth thus, 
See Salamandra in fiamma vive, e in fuoco,  
Non me stupisce quel che fà natura,  
Macostei che è di giaccio, & io di fuoco,  
E in mezo del mio cuor vive sicura;  
Chi la defend in cosi ardente fuoco,  
Che dovendo sguagliar aiventa dura?  
Solo Amor di Natura aspro adversario,  
Che à suo dispetto unisce ogni contrario.   
THe Salamander lives in fire and flame,  
And yet but wonder small in Nature's work:  
By stranger force love wins away her fame,  
As causing cold in midst of heat to lurk.  
Who list of these my pains to take the view,  
Will soon confess that what I say, is true.  
For one as cold as hardest frozen ice,  
Is fixed fast, and lodgeth in my breast;  
Whom reason can remove by no devise,  
Nor any force can cause to let me rest:  
And yet I still so swim in hot desire,  
That more I burn then either flame or fire.  
How strange is this? can contraries so 'gree,  
That I'll in flame will neither waste nor melt,  
But still increase, and harder grow to be,  
Then erst before? all this myself have felt.  
For Love Dame Nature's foe, without remorse,  
Thus coopleth contraries in me by force.   

XLIIII  
In this Passion the Author misliketh one while his estate, & by and by after liketh of the same again, upon hope and likelihood of amendment, & throughout the whole Sonnet he feigneth his Mistress to be a Second Sun: and by expressing his private infelicity, in either always melting away with Love, or growing stiff through Death approaching near him by reason of daily cares; he maketh allusion unto the diverse effects of the Sun, which maketh the clay much harder, and the wax softer, than it was before.  
THat Second Sun, whose beams have dund my sight,  
So scorched hath my heart and senses all,  
That cloggd with cares, and void of all delight,  
I only seek, and sue to be her thrall;  
Yet so this heat increaseth day by day,  
That more and more it hasteneth my decay.  
Sometimes I melt, as if my limbs were wax.  
Sometimes grow stiff, as if they were of clay;  
Thrice happy he whom Love doth never vex,  
Nor any Second Sun doth mealt away:  
Nay cursed I blaspheme the fairest Light  
That ever yet was seen by day or night.  
Perchance her parching heats will once repair  
My heart again, and make me all anew:  
The Phoenix so revives amids the air  
By virtue of that Sun which all men view:  
The virtue of my Sun exceeds the sky,  
By her I shall revive, though first I die.   

XLV  
The Author useth in this Passion the like sense to that which he had in the last before it, calling his Mistress a Second Sun upon earth, wherewith Heaven itself is become in Love: But when he compiled this Sonnet, he thought not to have placed it amongst these his English toys.  
FOelices alij iwenes, quos blandula Cypris  
Aptos fecit amoribus,  
Exoptare solent tenebrosa crepuscula noctis,  
Aurorae maledicere:  
At multo est mihi chara magis pulcherrima coniux  
Tythoni gelidi senis,  
Dum venit in prima surgentis part diei,  
Et Soles geminos mihi  
Apperit, & moesto foelices reddit ocellos,  
Quòd Soles videam duos,  
Qui simili forma, simili sic luce coruscant,  
Et mittunt radios pares,  
Vt Polus ipse novo Terrae laqueatus amore  
F●● nmis invideat meis,  
Solis & ignoto se torreat igne secundi,  
Oblitus decoris sui,  
Haud secus atque olim, Cum veris prima venustas  
Multo flore superbijt,  
Et nitidos primùm strophijs ornâre capillos  
Pulchri Naïadum chori.   

XLVI  
Here the Author bewaileth the extremity of his estate growing daily to be more troublesome than before, and all through the hard heart of his beloved: whom he therefore aptly compareth unto a stony rock, which nothing can move or waste away but long continuance of time. And hereupon, after having long strived with himself and his passions, he is quietly resolved to have patience, & so long to persever in the still hoping mind of a true lover, till by long continuance of time Love be induced to stand his friend.  
ALl ye that love compare your pains with mine,  
Which void of hope continue still her thrall,  
Whose heart is hard, and never will assign  
A ransom day, nor once will bowat all,  
Much like the stony rock, whose hardened side  
Will scarcely wear with course of time or tide.  
And yet, since time can wear each thing away,  
I will enforce myself to live content,  
Till so my thoughts have fed upon delay,  
That Reason rule the roast and love relent;  
O vain attempt in striving with Despair,  
I build nought else but castles in the air.  
For why: the Qunne may sooner shine by night,  
And twinkling stars give glimsinge sparks by day:  
Then I can earn to serve my Sweet delight,  
Whom neither force nor time can drive away:  
Therefore in hope that love will stand my friend  
I thus conclude, Each thing but love hath end.   

XLVII  
This Passion containeth a relation through out from line to line; as, from every line of the first staff as it standeth in order, unto every line of the second staff: and from the second staff unto the third. The oftener it is read of him that is no great clerk, the more pleasure he shall have in it. And this posy a scholar set down over this Sonnet, when he had well considered of it: Tam casu, quàm arte & industria. The two first lines are an imitation of Seraphine, Sonnetto 103. 
Col tempo el Villanello all giogo mena  
El T or si fiero, e si crudo animale,  
Col tempo el Falcon s'vsa à menar l'ale  
Eritornare à te chiamando à pena.   
IN time the Bull is brought to wear the yoke;  
In time all haggred Hawks will stoop the Lures;  
In time small wedge will cleave the sturdiest Oak;  
In time the Marble wears with weakest shewres:  
More fierce is my sweet love, more hard withal,  
Then Beast, or Bird, than Tree, or Stony wall.  
No yoke prevails, she will not yield to might;  
No Lure will cause her stoop, she bears full gorge;  
No wedge of woes make print, she reaks no right;  
No shower of tears can move, she thinks I forge:  
Help therefore Heavenly Boy, come pierce her breast  
With that same shaft, which rabbes me of my rest.  
So let her feel thy force, that the relent;  
So keep her low, that she vouchsafe a prey;  
So frame her will to right, that pride be spent;  
So forge, that I may speed without delay;  
Which if thou do, I'll swear, and sing with joy,  
That Love no longer is a blinded Boy.   

XLVIII  
This Passion containeth two principal points. In the first are placed two similitudes; in both which the Author expresseth his own wilfulness in love. In the second, he compareth the beautiful eyes of his Mistress unto the eyes of the Basilique, which killeth a man with his only sight being a far of: whereof Lucan lib. 9 saith thus, 
Sibilaque effundens cunctas terrentia pests,  
Ante venena nocens, latè sibi submovet omne  
Vulgus, & in vacua regnat Basiliscus arena.  And Mantuan in like manner, 
Natus in ardenti Libyae Basiliscus arena,  
Vulnerat aspectu, luminibusque necat.   
LIke as the silly Bird amids the night,  
When Birders beat the bush, and shake his nest,  
He fluttring forth straight flies unto the light,  
As if it were the day new sprung from East,  
Where so his wilful wings consume away,  
That needs he must become the Birders pray:  
Or, as the Fly, when candles are alight  
Still plays about the flame until he burn:  
Even so my heart hath seen a heavenly sight,  
Wherehence again it hardly can return:  
The beams thereof couteine such wondrous flame,  
That jove himself would burn to see the same.  
I mean a Virgin's face, whose beauty rare,  
Much like the Basilique in Lybia soil,  
With only sight is cause of all my care,  
And loads my yielding heart with endless toil;  
Yet needs I must confess she hath more grace,  
Then all the Nymphs that haunt Diana's chase.   

XLIX  
The Author in this Song bewrayeth his daily Passions in love to be so troublesome, that to avoid the flames thereof, he gladly & feign would yield himself to die, were it not that he feareth a further inconvenience would then arise. For he doubteth least those flames, wherein his soul continually burneth, shall make Charon afraid to grant him passage over the Lake of Styx, by reason, his old withered boat is apt to take fire.  
SO great a Light hath set my mind on fire,  
That flesh and bone consume with secreat-flame,  
Each vain dries up, wit yéeldes to deep desire:  
I scarce (alas) dare say, for very shame,  
How fame my soul an interchaunge would make  
Twixt this her present State and Limbo lake;  
And yet she dread's, lest when she paites from hence,  
Her Heats be such, that Charon will retire,  
And let her pass for prayer, nor for 
* Naulum intelligit, de quo Juvenal: Miserian est post omnia perdere naulum.  pence,  
For fear his withered boat be set on fire;  
So daung'rous are the flames of Mighty Love  
In Styx itself, in earth, or heaven above.  
Wherefore dear Dame vouchsafe to rue my case,  
And salve the soar which thou thyself hast made:  
My Heats first grew by gazing on thy face,  
Whose lights were such, that I could find no shade:  
And thou my weary Soul bend all thy force,  
By Plaints and Tears to move her to remorse.   

L  
In this Passion is effectually set down, in how strange a case he liveth that is in love, and in how contrary an estate to all other men, which are at defiance with the like folly. And this the Author expresseth here in his own person: therewithal calling upon Love, to stand his friend; or, if he fail, upon death, to cut of his wearisome life.  
WHile others feed, my fancy makes me fast;  
While others live secure, I fear mischance;  
I dread no force, where other stand aghast;  
I follow suit where Fortune leads the Dance,  
Who like a mumming mate so throws the Dice,  
That Reason loosing all, Love wins the price;  
Which Love by force so warketh in my breast,  
That needs perforce I must incline my will  
To die in dreams, whiles others live in rest,  
And live in woes while others feel none ill.  
O gentle Death let here my days have end,  
Or mighty Love, so use me as thy friend.  
Mine eyes are worn with tears, my wits with woe,  
My colour dried with cares, my heart with pains,  
My will bewitched, my limbs consumed so,  
That scarcely blood, or vital breath remains:  
While others joy, or sleep, I wail and wake:  
All this (Dear Dame,) I suffer for thy sake.   

LI  
Tityus was the son of jupiter, and for attempting to dishonest Latona, was slain by Apollo. Since which time the poets feign that for punishment he lieth in hell, miserably tormented with a ravening Vulture, which feedeth upon his bowels continually: and they as they are consumed, still miraculously grow up again, to breed his endless misery, as the Poet witnesseth, 
Claud. in Gigantomachia.  
Quid dieam Tityum, cuius sub vulnere saevo  
Viscera nascuntur gravibus certanitia poenis?  The Author compareth his passions with the pains of this Tityus, and imitateth Seneca writing to the like effect, 
Vultur relicto transuolet Tityo ferus,  
Meumque poenae semper accrescat iccur.   
IF Tityus wretched wight beheld my pains,  
He would confess his wounds to be but small,  
A Vulture worse than his tears all my veins,  
Yet never lets me die, nor live at all:  
Would Gods a while I might possess his place,  
To judge of both, which were in better case.  
The Hell is dark, wherein he suffereth smart,  
And wants not some Compartners of his grief:  
I live in Light, and see what hurts my heart,  
But want some mourning mates for my relief;  
His Pain is just reward, his crimes were such:  
My greatest fault is this, I love too much.  
Why then, since too much love can breed offence,  
Thou daung'rous Bird, the root of my desire,  
Go perch elsewhere, remove thyself from hence;  
I frieze like I'll, and burn like flaming fire:  
Yet stay good Bird: for if thou scare away,  
Twixt Frost and Flame my days will soon decay.   

LII  
Here the Author after some dolorous discourse of his unhappiness, and rehearsal of some particular hurts which he sustaineth in the pursuit of his love: first questioneth with his Lady of his desert; and then, as having made a sufficient proof of his innocency, persuadeth her to pity him, whom she herself hath hurt. Moreover it is to be noted, that the first letters of all the verses in this Passion being joined together as they stand, do contain this posy agreeable to his meaning, Amor me pungit & urit.  
A AW●●ld of woes doth reign within my breast,  
m My pensive thoughts are covered all with care,  
o Of all that sing the Swan doth please me best,  
r Restraint of joys exiles my wonted fare,  
M Mad mooded Love usurping Reasons place  
e Extremity doth over rule the case.  
P Paine drieth up my veins and vital blood,  
u Unless the Saint I serve give help in time:  
n None else, but she alone, can do me good.  
g Grant than ye Gods, that first she may not climb  
i Immortal heavens, to live with Saints above,  
t Then she vouchsafe to yield me love for love,  
E Examine well the time of my distress  
t Thou dainty Dame, for whom I pine away,  
V Unguyltie though, as needs thou ●nust confess,  
r Remembering but the cause of my decay:  
i In viewing thy sweet face arose my grief,  
t. Therefore in time vouchsafe me some relief.   

LIII  
The two first parts of this Sonnet, are an imitation of certain Greek verses of Theocritus; which verses as they are translated by many good Poets of later days, so most aptly and plainly by C. Vrcinus Velius in his Epigrams; he beginneth thus, 
Nuper apis furem pupugit violenter Amorem  
Ipsum ex alueolis clam mella favosque legentem,  
Cui summos manuum digitos confixit, at ille  
Indoluit, laesae tumuerunt vulnere palmae:  
Flanxit humum, & saltu trepidans pulsavit, & ipsi  
Ostendens Veneri, casum narravit acerbum, etc.   
WHere tender Love had laid han down to sleep,  
A little Bee so stung his finger's end,  
That burning ache enforced him to weep  
And call for 
* AEsculapius.  Phoebus' Son to stand his friend,  
To whom he cried, I muse so small a thing  
Can prick thus deep with such a little Sting.  
Why so, sweet Boy, quoth Venus sitting by?  
Thyself is young, thy arrows are but small  
And yet thy shot makes hardest hearts to cry:  
To Phoebus' Sun she turned there withal,  
And prayed him show his skill to cure the sore,  
Whose like her Boy had never felt before.  
Then he with Herbs recured soon the wound,  
Which being done, he threw the Herbs away,  
Whose force, through touching Love, in self same ground,  
By hapless hap did breed my hearts decay:  
For there they fell, where long my heart had li'ne  
To wait for Love, and what he should assign.   

liv  
In this Passion the Author boasteth, how sound a pleasure he lately enjoyed in the company of his Beloved, by pleasing effectually all his five senses exterior, and that through the only benefit of her friendly presence, and extraordinary favour towards him. And in many choice particulars of this Sonnet, he imitateth here and there a verse of Ronsardes, in a certain Elegy to janet peintre du Roy: which beginneth thus, 
Pein moi, janet, pain moiie te supply  
Dans ce tableau les beautés de m'amie  
De la façon, etc.   
WHat happy hour was that I lately passed  
With her, in whom I fed my senses all?  
With one sure sealed kiss I pleased my taste;  
Mine ears with words, which seemed Musical;  
My smelling with her breath, like Civet sweet;  
My touch in place where modesty thought meet.  
But shall I say, what objects held mine eye?  
Her curled Locks of Gold, like Tagus' sands;  
Her Forehead smooth and white as ivory,  
Where Glory, State, and Bashfulness held hands;  
Her Eyes, one making Peace, the other Wars;  
By Venus one, the other ruled by Mars;  
Her eagles Nose; her Scarlate Cheeks half white;  
Her Teeth of Orient Pearl; her gracious smile;  
Her dimpled Chin; her Breast as clear as light;  
Her Hand like hers, 
* 〈◊〉.  who Tithon did beguile.  
For worldly joys who might compare with me,  
While thus I fed each sense in his degree?   

LV  
The whole invention of all this Passion is deducted out of Seraphine, Sonnet 63. whose verses if you read, you will judge this Author's imitation the more praise worthy; these they are 
Come alma assai bramosa & poco accorta  
Che may visto havea amor se non depinto,  
Disposi un di cercar suo Laberinto,  
Vedere él monstro, & tanta gente morta,  
Ma quel fill dèragion che chi per scorta  
Del qual fu tutto el ceco loco cinto  
Subito, ahime, fu da lui rotto & vinto,  
Talche may piu trovar seppis la porta.   
MY heedless heart which Love yet never knew,  
But as he was described with Painter's hand,  
One day amongst the rest would needs go view  
The Labyrinth of Love, with all his hand,  
To see the Minotaur his ugly face,  
And such as there lay slain within the place.  
But soon my guiding third by Reason spun,  
Wherewith I passed a long his darksome cave,  
Was broke (alas) by him, and overrun,  
And I perforce became his captive slave:  
Since when as yet I never found the way  
To leave that maze, wherein so many stray.  
Yet thou on whom, mine eyes have gazed so long  
mayst, if thou wilt, play Ariadne's part,  
And by a second third revenge the wrong,  
Which through deceit hath hurt my guiltless heart;  
Vouchsafe in time to save and set me free,  
Which seek and serve none other Saint but thee.   

LVI  
The first Staff of this Passion is much like unto that invention of Seraphu●e in his Strambottis, where he saith, 
Morte! che vuoi? te bramo: Eccomi appresso;  
Prendemi: a che? che manchi el mio dolore;  
Non posso: ohime, non puoi? non per adesso;  
Perche? pero che in te non regnail core. etc.  The second Staff somewhat imitateth an other of his Strambottis in the same leaf; it beginneth thus, 
Amor, amor: chi è quel che chiama tanto?  
un tuo servo fidel; non ti conosco; etc.  The Author in the last Staff, returneth to entreat Death a new, to end his days, as being half persuaded that Love would restore unto him his heart again.  
COme gentle Death; who calls? one that's oppressed:  
What is thy will? that thou abridge my woe,  
By cutting of my life; cease thy request,  
I cannot kill thee yet: alas, why so?  
Thou want'st thy Hart. Who stole the same away?  
Love, whom thou servest, entreat him if thou may.  
Come, come, come Love: who calleth me so oft?  
Thy Uassall true, whom thou shouldst know by right.  
What makes thy cry so faint? my voice is soft,  
And almost spent by wailing day and night.  
Why then, what's thy request? that thou restore  
To me my heart, and steal the same no more.  
And thou, O Death, when I possess my heart,  
Dispatch me then at once: why so?  
By promise thou art bound to end my smart.  
Why, if thy heart return, then what's thy woe?  
That brought from cold, It never will desire  
To rest with me, which any more hot than fire.   

LVII  
Here the Author cheerfully comforting himself, rebuketh all those his friends, or others whatsoever, which pity his estate in Love: and groundeth his invention, for the most part, upon the old Latin Proverb, Consuetudo est altera natura. Which Proverb he confirmeth by two examples; the one, of him, that being borne far North seldom ketcheth cold; the other of the Negro, which being borne under a hot climate, is never smothered with overmuch heat.  
ALl ye, that grieve to think my death so near,  
Take pity on yourselves, whose thought is blind;  
Can there be Day, unless some Light appear?  
Can fire be cold, which yieldeth heat by kind?  
If Love were passed, my life would soon decay,  
Love bids me hope, and hope is all my stay.  
And you, that see in what estate I stand,  
Now hot, now cold, and yet am living still,  
Persuade yourselves, Love hath a mighty hand,  
And custom frames, what pleaseth best her will  
A lingering use of Love hath taught my breast  
To harbour strife, and yet to live in rest.  
The man that dwells far North, hath seldom harm  
With blast of winter's wind or nipping frost:  
The Negro seldom feels himself too warm  

* For both experience teacheth & Philosophical reason approveth, that an Ethyopian may easily in Spain be 〈◊〉 thered with the heat of the country through Spain be more temperate than Ethyopia is.  If he abide within his nature coast;  
So, Love in me a Second Nature is,  
And custom makes me think my Woes are Bliss.   

LVIII  
Aetna, called in times past Inesia, as Volaterranus witnesseth, is a hollow hill in Sicilia, whose top burneth continually, the fire being maintained with a vain of brimstone, and other such like Minerals, which are within the said Mountain. Which notwithstanding, the bottom of the hill is very pleasant, as well for the abundance of sweet fruits and flowers, as for the number of fresh springs and fountains. The poets feign, that when jupiter had with his thunderbolts beaten down the Giants of the earth, which rebelled against heaven, he did forthwith cover and oppress them all with the weight of this hill Aetna. These things being well considered, together with the verse of Horace; 
(Deus immortalis haberi 
Dearte Pocuc●.   
Dum cupit Empedocles, ardeutem frigidus Aetnam Insiluit)  It may easily appear, why the Author in this passion compareth his heart unto the hill.  
THere is a monstrous hill in Sicill soil,  
Where works that limping God, which Vulcan hight,  
And rebel Giants lurk, whom jove did foil,  
When 'gainst the heavens they durst presume to fight;  
The top thereof breathes cut a burning flame,  
And Flora sits at bottom of the same,  
My swelling heart is such an other hill,  
Wherein a blinded God bears all the sway.  
And rebel thoughts resisting reasons skill  
Are bound by will from starting thence away;  
The top thereof doth smoke with scalding smart,  
And seldom joys obtain the lowest part.  
Yet learn herewith the difference of the twain:  
Empedocles consumed with Aetna's fire  
When godhead there he sought, but all in vain:  
But this my heart, all flauming with desire,  
Embraceth in itself an Angel's face,  
Which beareth rule as Goddess of the place.   

LIX  
The Author in this passion accuseth his own eyes, as the principal or only cause of his amorous infelicity: wl er in his heart is so oppressed continually with evils, which are contrary in themselves, that reason can bear no sway in the cause. Therefore in the end, he instantly entreatet● his Lady of her speedy favour and goodwill, alleging what hurt may grow through her longer delay.  
THat thing, wherein mine eyes have most delight,  
Is greatest cause my heart doth suffer pain:  
Such is the hurt that comes by wanton sight;  
Which reason strives to vanquish all in vain;  
This only sense, more quick than all the rest,  
Hath kindled holy fire within my breast.  
And so my mourning heart is parching dry  
With sending sighs abroad, and keeping care,  
That needs it must consume if long if lie  
In place, where such a flame doth make repair:  
This flame is Love, whom none may well entreat,  
But only she, for wheme I suffer heat.  
Then peerless Dame, the ground of all my grief,  
Uoull●fe to cure the cause of my complaint:  
No favour else but thine can yield relief.  
But help in time, be over I further faint,  
" For Danger grows by lingering till the last,  
" And physic hath no help, when life is past.   

LX  
The Author groundeth this Passion upon three points. In the first, he showeth how he witting and wilfully followeth his own hurt, with such like words as Medea sometime used, 

* ovid. Metam lib. 7.  Video meliora, proboque,  
Deteriora sequor, etc.  In the second, he excuseth his fault upon the main force and tyranny of Love, being the only governor of his wil And lastly, he humbly entreateth his Lady for the restitution of his wont liberty: desiring her not to exact more of him, than his ability of body or mind can well sustain, according to the old verse, 
Pelle magis rabida nihil est de Vulpe pettendum.   
WAs ever man, whose Love was like to mine?  
I follow still the cause of my distress,  
My heart foreseeing hurt, doth yet incline  
To seek the same, and thinks the harm the less.  
In doing thus, you ask me what I ail:  
Against main force what reason can prevail?  
Love is the Lord and Signior of my will,  
How shall I then dispose of any deed?  
By forced Bond, he holds my freedom still,  
He dulls each sense, and makes my heart to bleed.  
Thou Sacred Nymph, whose virtue wanteth stain,  
Agree with Love, and set me free again.  
Of this my weary Life no day shall fall,  
Wherein my pen shall once thy praise forget:  
No Night with sleep shall close mine eyes at all,  
Before I make recount of such a debt;  
Then force me not to more than well I may,  
Besides his Skin, the For hath nought to pay.   

LXI  
The invention of this Passion is borrowed, for the most part from Seraphine Son. 125. Which beginneth, 
Selgran tormento i fire fulmini accesi  
Perduti havessi, e li suoi strali Amore,  
I n'ho tanti traffitti in meggio el core,  
Che sol da me li potriano esser resi;  
Ease de gli ampli mari in terra stesis  
Fusse privo Neptuno, io spando fore  
Lagryme tante, che con piùliquore  
Potrebbe nuovi mari haver ripresi; etc.   
IF Love had lost his shafts, and jove down threw  
His thundering bolts, and spent his forked fire,  
They only might recovered be anew  
From out my heart crosswounded with desire;  
Or if Debate by Mars were lost a space,  
It might be found within the self same place;  
If Neptune's waves were all dried up and gone,  
My weeping eyes so many tears distill,  
That greater Seas might grow by them alone;  
Or if no flame were yet remaining still  
In Vulcan's forge, he might from out my breast  
Make choice of such as should befit him best,  
If Aeole were deprived of all his charge,  
Yet soon could I restore his winds again,  
By sobbing sighs, which forth I blow at large,  
To move her mind that pleasures in my pain;  
What man, but I, could thus incline his will  
To live in Love, which hath no end of ill?   

LXII  
That the vulgar sort may the better understand this Passion, I will briefly touch those, whom the Author nameth herein, being all camned souls (as the Poets feign) & destinate unto sundry punishments. Tantalus having his lips still at the brink of the river Eridanus, yet dieth for thirst. Ixion is tied unto a wheel; which turneth incessantly. A vulture fee●eth upon the bowels of Tityus, which grow up again ever as they are devoured. Sisyphus rolleth a great round stone up a steep hill, which being once at the top presently falleth down amain. Belides are fifty sisters, whose continual task is, to fill a bottomless tub full of water, by lading in their pitchers full at once.  
IN that I thirst for such a Goddess grace  
As wants remorse, like Tantalus I die;  
My state is equal to Ixion's case,  
Whose rented limbs are turned eternally,  
In that my tossing toils can have no end,  
Nor time, nor place, nor chance will stand my friend.  
In that my heart consuming never dies,  
I feel with Tityus an equal pain,  
On whom an ever feeding Uultur lies;  
In that I rise through hope, and fall again  
By fear, like Sisyphus I labour still  
To turle a rolling stone against the hill;  
In that I make my vows to her alone,  
Whose ears are deaf, and will retain no sound,  
With Belides my state is all but one,  
Which fill a tub, whose bottom is not sound.  
A wondrous thing, that Love should make the wound,  
Wherein a second Hell may thus be found.   

LXIII  
Love hath two arrows, as Conradus Celtis witnesseth in these two verses: 
Per matris astrum, & per fera spicula,  
Quae bina fert saeuus Cupido, etc. 
Odarum. lib. 1.   The one is made of lead, the other of gold, and either of them different in quality from the other. The Author therefore feigneth in this Passion, that when Cupid had strooken him with that of lead, soon after pitying his painful estate, he thought good to strike his beloved with the other. But her breast was so hard, that the shaft rebounding back again, wounded Lone himself at unawares. Wherehence fell out these three inconveniences; first, that Love himself became her thrall, whom he should have conquered; then, that she became proud, where she should have been friendly. and lastly, that the Author by this means despaireth to have any recure of his unquiet life, & therefore desireth a spee die death, as alluding to those sententious verses of Sophocles 
* Electra. , 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  which may be thus Englished paraphrastically. 
What can it him avail to live a while,  
Whom, of all others, evils are betide?   
Love hath two shafts, the one of beaten gold,  
By stroke whereof a sweet effect is wrought:  
The other is of lumpish leaden mould,  
And worketh none effect, but what is nought;  
Within my breast the latter of the twain  
Breades fear, fear thought, and thought a lasting pain,  
One day amongst the rest sweet Love began  
To pity mine estate, and thought it best  
To pierce my dear with gold, that she might scan  
My case aright, and turn my toils to rest:  
But from her breast more hard than hardest flint  
His shaft flew back, and in himself made print.  
And this is cause that Love doth stoop her lure,  
Whose heart he thought to conquer for my sake;  
That she is proud; and I without recure:  
Which triple hurt doth cause my hope to quake:  
hope lost breeds grief, grief pain, and pain disease,  
Disease brings death, which death will only please.   

LXIIII  
This Passion is of like frame and fashion with that, which was before under the number of XLI. whetherto I refer the Reader. But touching the sense or substance of this Passion, it is evident, that herein the Author, by laying open the long continued grievesomnes of his misery in Love, seeketh to move his Mistress to some compassion.  
MY humble suit hath set my mind on pride,  
Which pride is cause thou hast me in disdain,  
By which disdain my wounds are made so wide,  
That wideness of my wounds augmentes my pain,  
Which Pain is cause, by force of secret jars,  
That I sustain a brunt of private Wars.  
But cease dear Dame to kindle further strife,  
Let Strifes have end, and Peace enjoy their place;  
If Peace take place, Pity may save my life,  
For Pity should be show'ne to such as trace  
Most daung'rous ways, and tread their stepp's awry,  
Or live in woes: and such a one am I.  
Therefore My Dear Delight regard my Love,  
Whom Love doth force to follow Fond Desire,  
Which Fond Desire no counsel can remove;  
For what can counsel do, to quench the fire  
That fires my heart through fancies wanton will?  
" Fancy by kind with Reason striveth still.   

LXV  
In the first and second part of this passion, the Author proveth by examples, or rather by manner of argument, A maiori ad minus, that he may with good reason yield himself to the empery of Love, whom the gods themselves obey; as jupiter in heaven, Neptune in the seas, and Pluto in hell. In the last staff he imitateth certain Italian verses of M.  
Girolamo Parabosco; which are, as followeth.  
Occhi tuoi, anzi stelle alme, & fatali,  
O●e ha prescritto il ciel mio mal, mio bene:  
my lagrime, e sospir, mio riso, e canto; 
Selua Seconda.   
Mia spene, mio timor; mio foco & giaccio;  
Mia noia, mio piacer; mia vita & morte.  
WHo knoweth not, how often Venus son  
Hath forced jupiter to leave his seat?  
Or else, how often Neptune he hath won  
From seas to sands, to play some wanton feat?  
Or, how he hath constrained the Lord of Styx  
To come on earth, to practise loving tricks?  
If heaven, if seas, if hell must needs obey,  
And all therein be subject unto Love;  
What shall it then avail, if I gainsay,  
And to my double hurt his power do prove?  
No, no, I yield myself, as is but meet:  
For hitherto with sour he yéeldes me sweet.  
From out my Mistress eyes, two lightsome stars,  
He destinates estate of double kind,  
My tears, my smile cheer; my peace, my wars;  
My sighs, my songs; my fear, my hoping mind;  
My fire, my frost; my joy, my sorrows gall;  
My curse, my praise; my death, but life with all.   

LXVI  
This Latin passion is borrowed from Petrarch Sonett● 133. which beginneth.  
Hor, ch'l ciel, e la terra e'l vento tace,  
E le fere, e gli augelli il sonno affrena,  
Notte'l carro stellato in giro mena,  
E nel suo letto il mar senz' onda giace; etc.  
Wherein he imitated Virgil, speaking of Dido, thus.  
Nox erat, et tacitum carpebant fessa soporem  
Corpora etc.  
And this Author presumeth, upon the pains he hath taken, in faithfully translating it, to place it amongst these his own passions, for a sign of his great sufferance in love.  
DVm coelum, dum terra tacet, ventusque silescit,  
Dumque feras, volucresque quies complectitur alta,  
Noxque agit in gyrum stellantes sydere currus,  
Inque suo lecto recubat sine flumine Pontus,  
Multa ego contemplor; studeo; conflagro; gemisco  
Et, mea quae dulcis paena est, mihi semper oberr●●▪  
In me bella gero plenusque doloris & irae,  
Paxque mihi modica est Laurae solius in umbra,  
Oritur ex uno claro mihi font & acerbum,  
Et quod dulce sapit; quorum depascor utrque  
unica meque manus ladit, laesoque medetur,  
Martyriumque meum nullo quia limit clausum est,  
mill neces pacior, vitas totidemque resumo  
Quoque die; superestque mihi spes nulla salutis.   

LXVII  
A man singular for his learning, and magistrate of no small account, upon slight survey of this book of passions, either for the liking he had to the Author, or for his own private pleasure, or for some good he conceived of the work, vouchsafed with his own hand to set down certain posies concerning the same: Amongst which, this was one, Love hath no leaden heels. Whereat the Author glanceth throughout all this Sonnet; which he purposely compiled at the press, in remembrance of his worshipful friend, and in honour of his golden posy.  
WHen Cupid is content to keep the skies,  
He never takes delight in standing still,  
But too and fro, and every where he flies,  
And every God subdueth at his will,  
As if his boaw were like to Fortune's wheel,  
Himself like her, having no leaden heel.  
When other whiles he passeth Lemnos I'll,  
Unhappy boy he gybes the 
Volcan●.  Clubfoote Smith,  
Who threatens him, and bids him stay a while,  
But laughing out he leaves him he forthwith,  
And makes himself companion with the Wind●  
To show, his heels are of no leaden kind.  
But in myself I have too true a proof:  
For when he first espied my ranging Heart,  
He Falcon like came sousing from aloof.  
His swiftly falling stroke increased my smart:  
As yet my Heart the violence it feels,  
Which makes me say, Love hath no leaden heels.   

LXVIII  
The Author hath wrought this passion out of certain verses of Stephanus Forcatulus, which are these,  
Cor mihi punxit amor, sed punxit praepete telo;  
figitur hoc tum plus, cum magis exeutio. etc.  
Carpere dictamum Cretoea nil iwet Ida,  
quo vellunt cerui spicula fixa leaves,  
Telephus haec eadem fatalia vulnera sensit,  
sanare ut tantum, quifacit illa, queat.  
And whereas the Author in the end of this passion, alludeth to the wounds of Telephus, he is to be understood of that Telephus, the Son of Hercules, of whose wound, being made and healed by Achilles only, Ovid writeth thus.  
Vulnus Achillaeo quod quondam fecerat hosti, 
De remed. lib. 1   
Vulneris auxilium Pelias hasta tulit  
And propertius in like manner lib. 2.  
Mysus et Haemonia juvenis qui cuspide vulnus  
Senserat, hac ipsa cuspide sensit opem.  
Suidas mentioneth an other Telephus, an excellent Grammarian of Pergamus.  
IN secret seat and centre of my heart,  
Unwares to me, not once suspecting ill,  
Blind Cupides-hand hath fixed a deadly dart,  
Whereat how ere I pluck, it sticketh still,  
And works effect like those of Arab soil,  
Whose heads are dipped in poison steed of oil.  
If't were like those, wherewith in Ida plain  
The Craetan hunter wounds the chased dear,  
I could with Dictame draw it out again,  
And cure me so, that scar should scarce appear:  

* He alludeth to the wound of P●●locte●es.  Or if Alcides' shaft did make me bleed,  
Machaon's art would stand me in some steed.  
But being, as it is, I must compare  
With fatal wounds of Telephus alone,  
And say, that he, whose hand hath wrought my care,  
Must either cure my fatal wound, or none:  
Help therefore gentle Love to ease my heart,  
Whose pains increase, till thou withdraw thy dart.   

LXIX  
In the first staff of this Passion, The Author as one more than half drooping with despair, sorrowfully recounteth some particular causes of his unhappiness in love. In the residue, he entreateth a better aspect of the Planets, to the end, that either his life may be inclined to a more happy course, or his death be hastened, to end all his misery at once.  
MY joys are done, my comfort quite dismayed,  
My weary wits bewitched with wanton will,  
My will by Fancies headeles fault betrayed,  
Whose eyes on Beauty's face are fixed still,  
And whose conceit Folly hath clouded so,  
That Love concludes, my heart must live in woe.  
But change aspect ye angry stars above,  
And powers divine restore my liberty,  
Or grant that soon I may enjoy my Love,  
Before my life incur more misery:  
For now so hot is each assault I feel  
As would dissolve a heart more hard than steel.  
Or if you needs must work my deadly smart,  
Perform your charge by hasting on my death  
In sight of her, whose eyes enthrall my heart:  
Both life and death to her I do bequeath,  
In hope at last, she will vouchsafe to say,  
I rue his death, whose life I made away,   

LXX  
In this passion the Author some what a far off imitateth an Ode in Gervasius Sepinus written to Cupid, where he beginneth thus:  
Quid tenelle puer, Pharetra ubinam est?  
Vbi arcus referens acuta Lunae 
Erotopaegnicon. lib. 1.   
Bina cornua? ubi flagrans Amoris  
fax? ubi igneus ille arcus, in quo  
De ipsis Coelicolis, virisque victis  
Vinctisque ante jugum aureus triumphas?  
Haud possent tua summa numina unam,  
unam vincere Virginem tenellam?  
Qui fortes animos pudicae Elisae  
Fortioribus irrigans venenis  
Vicisti: etc.  
CVpid, where is thy golden quiver now?  
Where is thy sturdy Bow? and where the fire,  
Which made ere this the Gods themselves to bow?  
Shall she alone, which forceth my Desire,  
Report or think thy Godhead is so small,  
That she through pride can scape from being thrall?  
Whilom thou ouercam'st the stately mind  
Of chaste Elisa queen of Carthage land,  
And didst constrain Pasiphae 'gainst her kind,  
And broughtest Europa fair to Creta sand,  
Quite through the swelling Seas, to pleasure jove,  
Whose heavenly heart was touched with mortal love.  
Thus wert thou wont to show thy force and slight,  
By conquering those that were of highest race,  
Where now it seems thou changest thy delight,  
Permitting still, to thy no small disgrace,  
A virgin to despise thyself, and me,  
Whose heart is hers, where ere my body be.   

LXXI  
The Author writeth this Sonnet unto his very friend, in excuse of his late change of study, manners, and delights, all happening through the default of love. And here by examples he proveth unto him, (calling him by the name of Titus, as if himself were Gysippus) that Love not only worketh alteration in the minds of men, but also in the very Gods themselves; and that so far forth, as first to draw them from their Celestial seats and functions, and then to ensnare them with the unseemly desire of mortal creatures, a Passion ill befitting the majesty of their Godheads.  
ALas dear Titus mine, my ancient friend,  
What makes thee muse at this my present plight,  
To see my wonted joys enjoy their end  
And how my Muse hath lost her old delight?  
" This is the least effect of Cupid's dart,  
" To change the mind by wounding of the heart.  
Alcides' fell in love as I have done,  
And laid aside both club and Lion's skin:  
Achilles too when he fair Bryses won,  
To fall from wars to wooing did begin.  
Nay, if thou list, survey the heavens above,  
And see how Gods themselves are changed by Love▪  
jove steals from skies to lie by Leda's side;  
Arcas descends for fair Aglaurus' sake,  
And Sol, so soon as Daphne is espied,  
To follow her his Chariot doth forsake:  
No marvel then although I change my mind,  
Which am in love with one of heavenly kind.   

LXXII  
In this Sonnet The Author seemeth to specify, that his Beloved maketh her abode in this our beautiful and fair City of London, situate upon the side of the Themse, called in latin Thamesis. And therefore, whilst he feigneth, that Thamesis is honourably to be conveyed hence by all the Gods, towards the Palace of old Nereus, he seemeth to grow into some jealousy of his mistress, whose beauty if it were as well known to them, as it is to him, it would (as he saith) both deserve more to be honoured by them, and please Tryton much better, than Thamesis, although she be the fairest daughter of old Oceanus.  
Oceanus' not long ago decreed  
To wed his dearest daughter Thamesis  
To Tryton Neptune's son, and that with speed:  
When Neptune saw the match was not amiss,  
He prayed the Gods from highest to the least,  
With him to celebrate the Nuptial feast.  
jove did descend with all his heavenly train,  
And came for Thamesis to London side,  
In whose conduct each one employed his pain  
To reverence the state of such a Bride:  
But whilst I saw her led to Nereus' Hall,  
My jealous heart began to throb withal.  
I doubted I, lest any of that crew,  
In fetching Thamesis, should see my Love,  
Whose tising face is of more lively hew,  
Then any Saints in earth, or heaven above:  
Besides, I feared, that Tryton would desire  
My Love, and let his Thamesis retire.   

LXXIII  
Here the Author, by feigning a quarrel betwixt Love and his Heart, under a shadow expresseth the tyranny of the one, & the misery of the other: to stir up a just hatred of the ones injustice, and cause due compassion of the others unhappiness. But as he accuseth Love for his readiness to hurt, where he may; so he not excuseth his Heart, for desiring a fair imprisonment, when he needed not: thereby specifying in Love a wilful malice, in his Heart a heedless folly.  
I Rue to think upon the dismal day  
When Cupid first proclaimed open war  
Against my Heart; which fled without delay,  
But when he thought from Love to be most far,  
The winged boy prevented him by flight,  
And led him captivelyke from all delight.  
The time of triumph being overpast,  
He scarcely knew where to bestow the spoil,  
Till through my heedless Hearts desire, at last,  
He locked him up in Tower of endless toil,  
Within her breast, whose hardened will doth vex  
Her silly guest softer than liquid wax.  
This prison at the first did please him well,  
And seemed to be some earthly Paradise,  
Where now (alas) Experience doth tell,  
That Beauties bats can make the simple wise,  
And bids him blame the bird, that willingly  
Cheaseth a golden cage for liberty.   

LXXIIII  
The Author in this passion, upon a reason secret unto himself, extolleth his Mistress under the name of a Spring. First he preferreth the same before the sacred fount of Diana, which (as Ovid witnesseth 3. Metam:) was in the valley Gargaphy, adjoining to Thebes: then, before Tagus the famous river in Spain, whose sands are intermixed with store of gold, as may be gathered by those two verses in martial lib. 8.  
Non illi satis est turbato sordidus auro  
Hermus, & Hesperio qui sonat orb Tagus.  
And lastly, before Hippocrene, a fountain of Boeotia, now called the well of the Muses, & feigned by the Poets, to have had his source or beginning from the heel of Pegasus the winged horse.  
ALthough the drops, which changed Actaeon's shape,  
Were half divine, and from a sacred fount;  
Though after Tagus' sands the world do gape;  
And Hippocrene stand in high account:  
Yet there's a Spring, whose virtue doth excel  
Diana's fount, Tagus, and Pegase well.  
That happy how'r, wherein I found it furst,  
And sat me down adjoining to the brink,  
My sow itself, supprised with unknown thirst,  
Did wish it lawful were thereof to drink;  
But all in vain: for Love did will me stay  
And wait a while in hope of such a prey.  
This is that Spring quoth he, where Nectar flows,  
Wh●se liquor is of price in heavens above;  
This is the Spring, wherein sweet Venus shows,  
By secret bait how Beauty forceth love.  
Why then, quoth I, dear Love how shall I mend,  
Or quench my thirst, unless thou stand my friend?   

LXXV  
In this passion the Author borroweth from certain Latin verses of his own, made long ago upon the love abuses of jupiter in a certain piece of work written in the commendation of women kind; which he hath not yet wholly perfected to the print. Some of the verses may be thus cited to the explaining of this passion, although but lamelie.  
Accipe ut ignaram candentis imagine Tauri  
Luserit Europam ficta etc.  
Quà● nimio Semelen fuerit complexus amore. etc.  
Quali● & Asterien aequilinis presserit alis:  
Quoque dolo laedam ficto sub olore fefellit.  
Add quòd Antiopam Satyri sub imagine etc.  
Et fuit Amphytrio, cum te T●rynthia etc.  
Aegmaeque duos ignis sub imagine natos etc.  
Parrhasiam fictae pharetra Vultuque Dianae,  
Mnemosynen pastor; serpens Deoïda lusit. etc.  
Ovid writeth somewhat in like manner Metam. lib. 6.  
NOt she, whom jove transported into Crete;  
Nor Semele, to whom he vowed in haste;  
Nor she, whose flanks he filled with feigned heat;  
Nor whom with eagles wings he oft embraced;  
Nor Danaë, beguiled by golden rape;  
Nor she, for whom he took Diana's shape;  
Nor fai e Antiopa, whose fruitful love  
He gained satire like; nor she, whose Son  
To wanton Hebe was conjoined above;  
Nor sweet Mnemosyne, whose love he won  
In shepherds weed; no such are like the Saint,  
whose eyes enforce my feeble heart to faint.  
And jove himself may storm, if so he please,  
To hear me thus compare my Love with his:  
No forked fire, nor thunder can disease  
This heart of mine, where stronger torment is:  
But O how this surpasseth all the rest,  
That she, which hurts me most, I love her best.   

LXXVI  
In this Sonnet the Author being, as it were, in half a madding mood, falleth at variance with Love himself, & blasphemeth his godhead, as one that can make a greater wound, than afterwards he himself can recure. And the chief cause that he setteth down, why he is no longer to hope for help at loves hand, is this, because he himself could not remedy the hurt which he sustained by the love of fair Psyche's. 
* Vide Apul.   
THou foolish God the Author of my grief,  
If Psyche's beams could set thy heart on fire,  
How can I hope, of thee to have relief,  
Whose mind with mine doth suffer like desire?  
Henceforth my heart shall sacrifice elsewhere  
To such a Saint as higher port doth bear.  
And such a Saint is she, whom I adore,  
As foils thy force, and makes thee stand aloof;  
None else, but she, can salve my festered soar;  
And she alone will serve in my behoof:  
Then blinded boy, go pack thee hence away,  
And thou Sweet Soul, give ear to what I say.  
And yet what shall I say? strange is my case,  
In midst of frost to burn, and freze in flame:  
Would Gods I never had beheld thy face,  
Or else, that once I might possess the same:  
Or else that chance would make me free again,  
Whose hand helped Love to bring me to this pain.   

LXXVII  
The chief contents of this Passion are taken out of Seraphine Sonnet, 132.  
Col tempo passa gli anni, imesi, e l' hore,  
Col tempo le richeze, imperio, e regno,  
Col tempo fama, honour, fortezza, e ingegno,  
Col tem ogioventu con belta more etc.,  
But this Author inverteth the order, which Seraphine useth, some times for his rhymes sake, but for the most part, up on some other more allowable consideration.  
TIme wasteth years, and month's, and howrs:  
Time doth consume fame, honour, wit, and strength:  
Time kills the greenest Herbs and sweetest flowers:  
Time wears out youth and beauties looks at length:  
Time doth convey to ground both foe and friend,  
And each thing else but Love, which hath no end.  
Time maketh every tree to die and rot:  
Time turneth oft our pleasures into pain:  
Time causeth wars and wrongs to be forgot:  
Time clears the sky, which first hung full of rain:  
Time makes an end of all human desire,  
But only this, which sets my heart on fire.  
Time turneth into nought each Princely state:  
Time brings a fludd from new resolved snow:  
Time calms the Sea where tempest was of late:  
Time eats what ere the Moon can see below:  
And yet no time prevails in my behove,  
Nor any time can make me cease to love.   

LXXVIII  
This Passion concerneth the lowering of his Mistress and herein for the most part the Author imitateth Agnola firenzuola; who upon the like subject, writeth as followeth,  
O bell donne, prendam pietade  
Dimepur hor' in talpa trasformato  
D'huom, che pur dianza ardiva mirar fis●  
Come Aquila il sol chiar in paradiso.  
Cosi va'l mondo, e cosi spesso accade  
A chisi fida in amoroso stato, etc.  
WHat scowling clouds have overcast the sky,  
That these mine eyes can not, as wont they were,  
Behold their second Sun intentively?  
Some strange Eclipse is happened as I fear,  
Whereby my Sun is either baid of light,  
Or I myself have lost my seeing quite.  
Most likely so since Love himself is blind.  
And Venus too (perhaps) will have it so,  
That Lovers wanting sight shall follow kind.  
O then fair Danies bewail my present woe,  
Which thus am made a mole, and blindfold run  
Where Eagle like I late beheld the Sun.  
But out alas, such guerdon is assigned  
To all that love and follow Cupid's car:  
He tires their limines and doth bewitch their mind,  
And makes within themselves a lasting war.  
Reason with much ado doth teach me this,  
Though yet I cannot mend what is a miss.   

LXXIX  
The Auhour in this Passion seemeth upon mislike of his wearisome estate in love to enter into a deep discourse with himself touching the particular miseries which befall him that loveth. And for his sense in this place, he is very like unto himself, where in a Theme diducted out of the bowels of Antigone in Sophocles (which he lately translated into Latin, and published in print) he writeth in very like manner as followeth.  
Mali quando Cupidimis  
Venas aestus edax occupat intimas,  
Artes ingenium labitur in malas;  
jactatur variè, nec Cereris subit  
Nec Bacchi studium; pervigiles trahit  
Noctes; eura animum sollicita atterit, etc.  
And it may appear by the tenor of this Passion that the Author prepareth himself to fall from Love and all his laws as will well appear by the sequel of his other Passions that follow, which are all made upon this Posy, My Love is past.  
" WHere heat of love doth once possess the heart,  
" There cares oppress the mind with wondrous ill,  
" Wit runs awry not fearing future smart,  
" And fond desire doth evermaster will:  
" The belly neither cares for meat nor drink,  
" Nor over watched eyes desire to wink:  
" Footsteps are false, and waur'ing too and fro;  
" The brightsome flower of beauty fades away:  
" Reason retires, and pleasure brings in woe:  
" And wisdom yieldeth place to black decay:  
" Counsel, and fame, and friendship are contemned:  
" And bashful shame, and Gods themselves condem'nd.  
" Watchful suspect is linked with despair:  
" Inconstant hope is often drowned in fears:  
" What folly hurts not fortune can repair;  
" And misery doth swim in Seas of tears:  
" Long use of life is but a lingering ioe,  
" And gentle death is only end of woe.    

LXXX MY LOVE IS PAST.  
ALL such as are but of indifferent capacity, and have some skill in Arithmetic, by viewing this Sonnet following compiled by rule and number, into the form of a pillar, may soon judge, how much art & study the Author hath bestowed in the same. Where in as there are placed many preaty observations, so these which I will set down, may be marked for the principal, if any man have such idle leisure to look it over, as the Author had, when he framed it. First therefore it is to be noted, that the whole pillar (except the basis or foot thereof) is by relation of either half to the other Antitheticall or antisyllabical. Secondly, how this posy (Amare est insanire) runneth twice through out the Column, if ye gather but the first letter of every whole verse orderly (excepting the two last) and then in like manner take but the last letter of every one of the said verses, as they stand. Thirdly is to be observed, that every verse, but the two last, doth end with the same letter it beginneth, and yet through out the whole a true rhyme is perfectly observed, although not after our accustomed manner. Fourthly, that the foot of the pillar is orchematical, the is to say, founded by transilition or over skipping of number by rule and order, as from 1 to 3, 5, 7, & 9: the secret virtue whereof may be learned in 
* Polygrap●●ae ●uae lib. 5.  T●ithemius, as namely by tables of transilition to decipher any thing that is written by secret transposition of letters, be it never so cunningly conveyed. And lastly, this observation is not to be neglected, that when all the foresaid particulars are performed, the whole pillar is but just 18. verses, as will appear in the page following it, Per modum expansionis.  

LXXXI A Pasquine Pillar erected in the despite of love.  
A 1 At  
2 last, though  
3 late, farewell  
4 old well a da: A  
m 5 Mirth or mischance strike  
a 6 up a new alarM, And m  
7 Cypria la nemica  
r 8 miA Retire to Cyprus I'll, a  
e 9 & cease thy war, Else must thou prove how r  
E 10 Reason can by charm Enforce to flight thy e  
s 11 blindsolde bratte & thee. So frames it with me now, E  
t 12 that I confesS, The life I led in Love devoid ●  
I 12 of resT, It was a Hell, where none felt more than I, ●●●  
n 11 Nor any with like miseries forlorN. Since n  
s 10 therefore now my woes are waxed lesS, And s  
a 9 Reason bids me leave old welladay, a  
n 8 No longer shall the world laugh me  
i 7 to scorN; I'll choose a path that n  
r 6 shall not lead awry. Rest i  
5 then with me from your  
4 blind Cupid's carR r  
e. 3 Each one of  
2 you, that  
1 serve,  
3 and would be  
5 srcE. he's double thrall e. 
Huius Col●● nae Basis pre●sillab●●●● mero & li●● rum propo● one est Or●● matica.   
7 that liu's as Love thinks best, whose  
9 hand still Tyrant like to hurt is pressed.   

LXXXII Expansio Columnae praecedentis.  
A At last, though late, farewell old welladay; A  
m Mirth for mischance strike up a new alarm; m  
a And Ciprya la nemica mia a  
r Retire to Cyprus isle and cease thy war, r  
e Else must thou prove how Reason can by charm e  
E Enforce to flight thy blyndfold bratte and thee. E  
s So frames it with me now, that I confess s  
t The life I led in Love devoid of ●est t  
I It was a Hell, where none felt more than I, I  
n Nor any with like miseries forlorn. n  
s Since therefore now my worse are waxed less, s  
a And Reason bids me leave old welladay, a  
n No longer shall the world laugh me to scorn: n  
i I'll choose a path that shall not lead awri. i  
r Rest then with me from your blind Cupid's carr r  
e. Each one of you, that serve and would be free. ●  
" ●H'is double thrall that liu's as Love thinks best  
" Whose hand still Tyrant like to hurt is priest. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Sophoc. in Aia. flagell.    

LXXXIII  
In this Sonnet the Author hath imittaed one of Rionsardes' 
〈…〉  Odes; which beginneth thus.  
Les Muses lierent un iour  
De chaisnes de roses Amour,  
Et pour le garder, le donnerent  
Aus Graces & à la Beautè:  
Qui voyans sa desloyautè,  
Sus Parnas●l ' emprisonnerent. etc.  
THe Muses not long since entrapping Love  
In chairs of roases linked all array,  
Gave Beawrie charge to watch in there behove  
With Graces three, lest he should wend away:  
Who fearing yet he would escape at last,  
On high Parnaslus top they clapped him fast.  
When Venus understood her Son was thrall,  
She made post haste to have God Vulcan's aid, 
ut Marti● revocetur a 〈…〉 Tonantes; A te lu●o petty C●sto● et ipsa Venus. Mut●ai●s.   
Sold him her Gems, and Ceston therewithal,  
To ransom home her Son that was betrayed;  
But all in ●ame. the Muses made no store  
Of gold, but bound him faster than before.  
Therefore all you, whom Love did ere abuse,  
Come clap your hands with me, to see him thrall,  
Whose former deeds no reason can ercuse,  
For killing those which hurt him not at all:  
Myself by him was lately led awry,  
Though now at last I force my love to die.   

LXXXIIII  
The Author in this Sonnet expresseth his malice towards Venus and her Son Cupid, by currying favour with Diana, and by suing to have the self same office in her walks and forest, which sometimes her chaste and best beloved Hippokins enjoyed. Which Hippolytus (as Servius witnesseth) died by the false deceit of his Stepmother Phaedra, for not yielding over himself unto her incestuous love: whereupon Sen●ca writeth thus, 
Iwenisque castus crimine incestae jacet,  
Pudicus, insons.   
DIana, since Hippolytus is dead,  
Let me enjoy thy favour, and his place:  
My might through will shall stand thee in some stead,  
To drive blind Love and Venus from thy chase:  
For where they lately wrought me miekle woe,  
I vow me now to be their mortal foe.  
And do thou not mistrust my chastity,  
When I shall range amidst thy virgin train:  
My reins are chastened so through misery,  
That Love with me can near prevail again:  
" The child, whose finger once hath felt the fire,  
" To play therewith will have but sinale desire.  
Besides, I vow to hear a watchful eye,  
Discou'ring such, as pass along thy grove;  
If jupiter himself come loitering by,  
I'll call thy crew, and bid them fly from jove;  
For if they stay, he will obtain at last,  
What now I loath, because my love is past.   

LXXXV  
The chiefest substance of this Sonnet is borrowed out of certain Latin verses of Strozza a noble man of Italy, and one of the best Poets in all his age: who in describing Metaphorically to his friend Antonius the true form of his amorous estate, writeth thus: 
unda hic sunt Lachrima, Venti suspiria, Remi  
Vota, Error velum, Mens malesana Ratis;  
Spes Temo, Curae Comites, Constantia Amoris  
Est malus, Dolour est Anchora, Navita Amor, etc.   
THe soldier worn with wars, delights in peace;  
The pilgrim in his ease, when toils are past;  
The ship to gain the port, when storms do cease;  
And I rejoice, from Love discharged at last;  
Whom while I served, peace, rest, and land I lost,  
With grieusome wars, with toils, with storm's betossed.  
Sweet liberty now gives me leave to sing,  
What world it was, where Love the rule did bear;  
How ●oolish Chance by lots ruled every thing;  
" How Error was main sail; each wave a Tear;  
" The master, Love himself; deep sighs were wind;  
" Cares rowed with vows the ship vumery mind.  
" False hope as helm oft turned the boat about;  
" Inconstant faith stood up for middle m●aste  
" Despair the cable twisted all with Doubt  
" Held Griping Grief the piked Anchor fast;  
" Beauty was all the rocks. But I at last,  
" Am now twice free, and all my love is past.   

LXXXVI  
The sense of this Sonnet is for the most part taken out of a letter, which Aeneas Silvius wrote unto his friend, to persuade him, that albeit he lately had published the wanton love of Lucretia and Euryalus, yet he liked nothing less than such fond Love; and that he now repented him of his own labour over idly bestowed in describing the same.  
Sweet liberty restores my wonted joy,  
And bids me tell, how painters set to view  
The form of Love They paint him but a Boy,  
As working most in minds of youthful crew:  
They set him naked all, as wanting shame  
To keep his secret parts or t' hide the same.  
They paint him blind in that he cannot spy  
What difference is twixt virtue and default  
With Boe in hand, as one that doth defy,  
And cumber heedless hearts with fierce assault:  
His other hand both hold a brand of fire,  
In sign of heat he makes through hot desire.  
They give him wings to fly from place to place,  
To note that all are wavering like the wind,  
Whose liberty fond Love doth ounce deface.  
This form to Love old painters have assigned:  
Whose fond effects if any list to prove,  
Where I make end, let them begin to love.   

LXXXVII  
The Author in the first staff of this Sonnet, expresseth how Love first went beyond him, by persuading him that all was gold which glistered. In the second, he telleth, how time brought him to truth, and Truth to Reason: by whose good counsel he found the way from worse to better, & did overgo the malice of blind Fortune. In the third staff, he craveth pardon at every man for the offences of his youth; and to Love, the only cause of his long error, he giveth his ultimum ●ale.  
YOuth made a fault through lightness of Belief,  
Which fond Belief Love placed in my breast:  
But now I find, that Reason givest 〈◊〉;  
And time shows Truth, and Wit, that's bought, it best;  
Muse not therefore although I change my vain,  
He runs too far which never turns again.  
Henceforth my mind shall have a watchful eye,  
I'll scorn Fond Love, and practise or the same:  
The wisdom of my heart shall soon descry  
Each thing that's good, from what deserveth blame:  
My song shallbe; Fortune hath sp●tte her spite,  
And Love can hurt no more withal his might.  
Therefore all you, to whom my cour●e is known,  
Think better comes, and pardon what is past:  
I find that all my wildest Oats are sown,  
And joy to see, what now I see at last;  
And since that Love was cause I trod a wry,  
I here take off his Bells, and let him fly.   

LXXXVIII  
This whole Sonnet is nothing else but a brief and pithy moral, and made after the self same vain with that, which is last before it. The two first staffs, (excepting only the two first verses of all) express the Authors alteration of mind & life, and his change from his late vain estate and follies in love, by a metaphor of the shipman, which by shipwrakes' chance is happily restored on a sudden unto that land, which he a long time had most wished for.  
I Long maintained war 'gainst Reason's rule,  
I wandered pilgrim like in Errors maze,  
I sat in Folly's ship, and played the fool,  
Till on Repentance rock her sides did craze:  
Herewith I learn by hurts already past,  
" That each extreme will change itself at last.  
This shipwreck chance hath set me on a shelf,  
Where neither Love can hurt me any more,  
Nor Fortune's hand, though she enforce herself;  
Discretion grants to set me safe on shore,  
Where guile is fettered fast and wisdom rules,  
To punish heedless hearts and wilful fools.  
And since the heavens have better lot assigned,  
I fear to burn, as having felt the fire;  
And proof of harms so changed hath my mind,  
That wit and will to Reason do retire:  
Not Venus now, nor Love with all his snares  
Can draw my wits to woes at unawares.   

LXXXIX  
The two first staffs of this Sonnet are altogether sentential, and every one verse of them is ground upon a diverse reason and authority from the rest. I have thought good for brevity sake, only to set down here the authorities, with figures, whereby to apply every one of them to his due line in order as they stand. 1. Hieronimus: In delicijs difficile est servare castitatem. 2 Ausonius: dispulit inconsultus amor etc. 3. Seneca: Amor est ociosae causa sollicitudinis. 4. Propertius: Errat, qui finem vesani quaerit amoris. 5. Horatius: Semper ardentes acuens sagittas. 6. Xenophon scribit amorem esse igne, & flamma flagrantiorem, quòd ignis urat tangentes, et proxima tantum cremet, amor ex longinquo spectant torreat. 7. Calenti: Plurima Zelotipo sunt in amore mala. 8. ovidius: Inferet arma tibi saeva rebellis amor. 9 Pontanus: Si vacuum sineret perfidiosus amor. 10. Marullus: Quid tantum lachrimis meis proterue Insultas puer? 11. Tibullus: At lasciuus amor rixae mala verba ministrat. 12. Virgilius: Bellum saepe petit ferus exitiale Cupido.  
" Love hath delight in sweet delicious fare; 
1. Hierom. 2. Ausou. 3. Seneca. 4. Proper 5. Horat. 6. Xenoph. 7. Calent. 8. ovid. 9 Pont. 10. Marull. 11. Tibull. 12 Virgil. do Vino et Venere.   
" Love never takes good Counsel for his friend;  
" Love author is, and cause of idle care;  
" Love is distraught of wit, and hath no end;  
" Love shooteth shafts of burning hot desire;  
" Love burneth more than either flame or fire;  
" Love doth much harm through jealousies assault;  
" Love once embraced will hardly part again;  
" Love thinks in breach of faith there is no fault;  
" Love makes a sport of others deadly pain;  
" Love is a wanton Child, and loves to brawl;  
" Love with his war brings many souls to thrall.  
These are the smallest faults that lurk in Love,  
These are the hurts which I have cause to curse to curse,  
These are those truths which no man can disprove,  
These are such harms as none can suffer worse.  
All this I write, that others may beware,  
Though now myself twice free from all such care.   

XC  
In this Latin passion, the Author translateth, as it were, paraphrastically the Sonnet of Petrarch, which beginneth thus.  
Tennemi Amor anni vent' uno ardendo, 
Sonnet. 313.   
Lieto nel foco, e●nel duol pien dispeme. etc.  
But to make it serve his own turn, he varieth from Petrarches words, where he declareth, how many years he lived in love, as well before, as since the death of his beloved Lawra. Under which name also the Author, in this Sonnet, specifieth her, whom he lately loved.  
ME sibi ter binos annos unum▪ subegit  
divus Amor; latusque fui, licet ignibus arsi;  
Spemque habui certam, curis licèt ictus acerbis.  
jamque duos alios exutus amore perêgi,  
Ac si sydereos mea Laura volârit in orbs,  
Duxerit et secum veteris penetralia cordis.  
Pertaesum tandem vitae me panitet actae,  
Et pudet erroris pe●è absumpsisse sub umbra  
Semina virtutum. Sed qua pars ultima restat,  
Supplice mente tibi tandem, Deus alte, repono,  
Et malè transactae deploro temporae vitae,  
Cuius agendus erat meliori tramite cursus,  
Litis in arcendae studijs, et pace colenda.  
Ergò sum Deus, per quem sum clausus in isto  
Carcere, ab aeterno saluum fac esse periclo.   

XCI  
In the latter part of this Sonnet the Author imitateth those verses of Horace. Me tabula saeer  
Votiva paries indicat vuida  
Suspendisse potenti  
Vestimenta maris Deo. 
Ad Py●●ham ode. 5.   
Whom also that renowned Florentine M. Agnolo Firenz●ola did imitate long ago, both in like manner and matter, as followeth.  
O miseri coloro,  
Che non provar di donna fede may:  
Il pericol, ch'io corsi  
Nel tempestoso mar, nella procella  
Del lor cradle Amore,  
Mostrar lo può lataevoletta posta,  
E●le vesti ancor molli  
Sospeses all tempio del horrendo Dio  
Di questo mar crudele.  
YE captive souls of blindefold Cyprians boat,  
Mark with advise in what estate ye stand,  
Your boatman never whistles mearie note,  
And Folly keeping stern, still puts from land,  
And makes a sport to toss you to and fro  
Twixt sighing winds, and surging waves of woe.  
On Beauties rock she runs you at her will,  
And holds you in suspense twixt hope and fear,  
Where dying oft, yet are you living still,  
But such a life, as death much better were;  
Be therefore circumspect, and follow me,  
When Chance, or change of manners sets you free.  
Beware how you return to seas again:  
Hang up your votive tables in the choir  
Of Cupid's Church, in witness of the pain  
You suffer now by forced fond desire:  
Thou, hang your through wet garments on the wall,  
And sing with me, That Love is mixed with gall.   

XCII  
Here the Author by comparing the tyrannous delights and deeds of blind Cupid with the honest delights & deeds or other his fellow Goddestes and Gods, doth blesle the time and hour that ever he forsook to follow him; whom he confesseth to have been great & forcible in his doings, though but little of stature, and in appearance weakelie. Of all the names here mentioned, Hebe is seldomest red, wherefore know they which know it not already, that Hebe (as Servius writeth) is juno's daughter, having no father, & now wife to Hercules, and Goddess of youth, and youthlie sporting: and was cupbearer to jove, till she fell in the presence of all the Gods, so unhappily, that they saw her privities, whereupon jove being angry, substituted  into her office and place.  
Phebus' delights to view his Laurel Tree;  
The Popplar pleaseth Hercules alone;  
Melisla mother is, and fautrix to the Bee;  
Pallas will wear the Olive branch or none;  
Of shepherds and their flock Pales is Queen;  
And Cores ripes the corn, was lately green;  
To Chloris every flower belongs of right;  
The Dryad Nymphs of woods make chief account;  
Oreades in hills have their delight;  
Diana doth protect each bubbling Fount;  
To Hebe lovely kissing is asign'd;  
To Zephir every gentle breathing wind.  
But what is loves delight? to hurt each where:  
He cares not whom, with daites of deep desire,  
With watchful jealousy, with hope, with fear,  
With nipping cold, and secret flames of fire.  
O happy hour wherein I did forego  
This little God, so great a cause of woe.   

XCIII  
In the first and sixth line of this Passion the Author alludeth to two sententious verses in Sophocles; whereof the first is,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
O fool, in evils fretting nought avails. 
In Oedipo Colonaeo.   
The second, 
In Trachinii●.   
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
For who can make undone what once is done?  
In the other two staffs following, the Author pursueth on his matter, beginning and ending every line with the self same syllable he used in the first: wherein he imitateth some Italian Poets, who more to try their wits, hen for any other conceit, have written after the like manner.  
MY love is past, woe worth the day and how'r  
When to such folly first I did incline,  
Whereof the very thought is bitter sour,  
And still would hurt, were not my soul divine,  
Or did not Reason teach, that care is vain  
For ill once passed, which cannot turn again.  
My Love is past, blessed the day and how'r.  
When from so fond estate I did decline,  
Wherein was little sweet with much sour.  
And loss of mind, whose substance is divine,  
Or at the jest, expense of time in vain,  
For which expense no Love returneth gain.  
My Love is past, wherein was no good how'r:  
When others joyed, to cares I did incline,  
Whereon I fed, although the taste were sour,  
And still believed Love was some power divine,  
Or some instinct, which could not work in vain,  
Forgetting, Time well spent was double gain.   

XCIIII  
In this Passion though Author hath but augmented the invention of Seraphine, where he writeth in this manner.  
Biastemo quando may le labbra apersi  
Per dare nome à costei, che acciò me induce.  
Biastemo il tempo, & quanti giorni hò persi  
A seguitar si tenebrosa luce:  
Biastemo charta, inchiostro, e versi,  
Et quanto Amor per me fama gliaduce;  
Biastemo quando may la vidi anchora,  
El mese, l'anno, & giorno▪ el punto, & ●hora.  
I Curse the time, wherein these lips of mine  
Did pray or praise the Danie that was unkind:  
I curse both leaf, and y●ke, and every line  
My hand hath writ, in hope to move her mind:  
I curse her hollow heart and slattring eyes,  
Whose sly deceit did cause my mourning cries:  
I curse the sugared speech end Siren's song,  
Wherewith so oft she hath bewitched mine ear:  
I curse my foolish will, that stayed so long,  
And took delight to bide betwixt hope and fear:  
I curse the hour, wherein I first began  
By loving looks to prove a witless man:  
I curse those days which I have spent in vain,  
By serving such an one as reaches no right:  
I curse each cause of all my secret pain,  
Though Love to hear the same have small delight:  
And since the heavens my freedom now restore,  
Hence forth I'll live at ease, and love no more.   

XCV  
A Labyrinth is a place made full of turnings & creeks, wherehence, he that is once gotten in, can hardly get out again. Of this sort 
* Lib 36. ca 13  Pliny mentioneth four in the world, which were most noble. One in Crete made by Daedalus, at the commandment of king Minos, to shut up the Minotaur in: to which monster the athenians by league were bound, every year to send seven of their children, to be devoured; which was performed, till at the last, by the help of Ariadne, Theseus slew the monster. An other he mentioneth to have been in Egypt, which also Pomponius Mela describeth in his first book. The third in Lemnos, wherein were erected a hundredth & fifty pillars of singular workmanship. The fourth in Italy, builded by Porsenna king of He●ruria, to serve for his sepulchre. But in this Passion the Author alludeth unto that of Crete only.  
THough somewhat late, at last I found the way  
To leave the doubtful Labyrinth of Love,  
Wherein (alas) each minute seemed a day:  
Himself was Minotaur; whose force to prove  
I was enforced, till Reason taught my mind  
To slay the beast, and leave him there behind.  
But being scaped thus from out his maze,  
And past the dangerous Den so full of doubt,  
False Theseus like, my credit shall I craze,  
Forsaking her, whose hand did help me out?  
With Ariadne Reason shall not say,  
I saved his life, and yet he runs away.  
No, no, before I leave the golden rule,  
Or laws of her, that stood so much my friend,  
Or once again will play the loving fool,  
The sky shall fall, and all shall have an end:  
I wish as much to you that lovers be,  
Whose pains will pass, if you beware by me.   

XCVI  
In this Passion, the Author in skoffing bitterly at Venus, and her son Cupid, alludeth unto certain verses in Ovid, but inverteth them to an other sense, than Ovid used, who wrote them upon the death of Tibullus. These are the verses, which he imitateth,  
Ecce puer Veneris fert eversamque phraretram,  
Et fractos arcus, & sine luce facem.  
Aspice demissis ut eat miserabilis alis,  
Pectoraque infesta tondat aperta manu. etc.  
Net minus est confusa Venus. etc., 
Elegiar. lib. 8   
Quàm juvenis rupit cum ferus inguen aper,  
WHat ails poor Venus now to sit alone  
In funeral attire, her wonted hue  
Nuite changed, her smile to tears, her mirth to mean:  
As though Adonis' wounds now bled anew,  
Or she wish young julus late returned  
From seeing her Aeneas carcase burned.  
Alack for woe, what ails her little Boy,  
To have his tender cheeks besprent with tears,  
And sit and sigh, where he was wont to toy?  
How haps, no longer he his quiver wears,  
But breaks his Boe, throwing the shivers by,  
And plucks his wings, and lets his firebrand die?  
No, Dame and Darling too, ye come to late,  
To win me now, as you have done tofore;  
I live secure, and quiet in estate,  
Fully resolved from loving any more:  
Go pack for shame from hence to Cyprus I'll,  
And there go play your pranks an other while.   

XCVII  
The Author in this passion alludeth to the fable of Phineus, which is set down at large in the Argonauticks of Apollonius, and Valerius Flaccus. He compareth himself unto Phineus; his Mistress unto the Harpies; and his thoughts unto Zethes, and his desires unto Calais, the two twins of Boreas; and the voice of Ne plus ultra spoken from Heaven to Calais and Zethes, unto the Divine grace, which willed him to follow no further the miseries of a lovers estate, but to profess unfeignedly, that his Love is past. And, last of all, the Author concludeth against the sour sauce of Love with the French proverb: Pour un plaisir mill douleurs.  
THe Harpy birds, that did in such despite  
grieve and annoyed old Phinëus so sore,  
Were chased away by Calais in fight  
And by his brother Zeth for evermore;  
Who followed them, until they hard on high  
A voice, that said, Ye Twins No further fly.  
Phineus I am, that so tormented was;  
My Laura here I may an Harpy name;  
My thoughts and lusts be Sons to Borëas,  
Which never ceased in following my Dame,  
Till heavenly Grace said unto me at last,  
Leave fond Delights, and say thy love is past.  
My love is past I say, and sing full glad;  
My time, alas, misspent in Love I rue,  
Wherein few joys, or none at all I had,  
But store of woes: I found the prover be true,  
For every pleasure that in Love is found,  
A thousand woes and more therein abound.   

XCVIII  
The Author is this passion, telling what Love is, easeth his heart, as it were, by railing out right, where he can work no other manner of revenge. The invention hereof, for the most part of the particulars contained, is taken out of certain Latin verses, which this Author composed upon Quid Amor. Which because they may well import a passion on of the writer, and aptly befitte the present title of his overpassed Love, he setteth them down in this next page following, but not as accountable for one of the hundredth passions of this book.  

Hark wanton youths, whom Beauty maketh blind,  
And learn of me, what kind a thing is Love;  
Love is a brainsick Boy, and fierce by kind;  
A Wilful Thought, which Reason can not move;  
A Flattering Sycophant; a Murdering Thief;  
A Poisoned choking Bait; a 'Ticing Grief;  
A Tyrant in his Laws; in speech untrue;  
A Blindfold Guide; a Feather in the wind;  
A right 
* Vide Plin. natura Hist. lib. 28. cap. 8.  Chameleon for change of hew;  
A Lamelimme Lust; a Tempest of the mind;  
A Breach of Chastity; all virtues Foe;  
A Private war; a Toilsome web of woe;  
A Fearful jealousy; a Vain Desire;  
A Labyrinth; a Pleasing Misery;  
A Shipwreck of man's life; a Smoaklesse fire;  
A Sea of tears; a lasting Lunacy;  
A Heavy servitude; a Dropsy thirst;  
A Hellish gail, whose captives are accursed.   

Quid Amor?  
QVid sitamor, qualisque, cupis me scire magistro?  
Est Venens proles; caelo metuendus, et Orco;  
Et levior ventis; et fulminis ocyor alis;  
Peruigil excubitor; fallax comes; invidus hospes;  
Armatus puer; insanus juvenis; novitatis  
Quesitor; belli fautor; virtuti inimicus;  
Splendidus ore; nocens promisso; lege tyrannus;  
Dux caecus; gurges viciorum; noctis alumnus;  
Fur clandestinus; mors vivida; mortua vita;  
Dulcis inexpertis; expertis durus▪ Eremus  
Stultitiae; ●acula ignescens; vesana libido;  
Zelotypum frigus; mala mens; corrupta voluntas;  
Pluma levis; morbus iecoris; dementia prudens;  
Infamis leno; Bacchi, Cererisque minister;  
Prodiga liber●as animae; pruritus inanis;  
Pravorum c●rcer; corrupti sanguinis ardor;  
Irrationalis motus; sycophanta bilinguis;  
Struma pudicitiae; fumi expets flamma; patronus  
Periurae linguae; prostrato saeuus; amicus  
Immeritis; ani●● tempestas; luxuriosus  
Praeceptor; sine sine malum; sine pace duellum;  
Naufragium humanae vitae; laethale venenum;  
Flebile cordollum; grave calcar; acuta sagitta;  
Sontica pernicies, nodosae causa podâgrae,  
Natus ad insidias vulpes; pontus lachrymarum;  
Virgineae Zonae ruptura; dolosa voluptas;  
Multicolor serpens; urens affectus; inermis  
Bellator; senijque caput, seniumque iwentae?  
Ante diem funus; portantis vipera; maestus  
Pollinctor; siren fallax; mors praevia morti;  
Infector nemorum; erroris Labyrinthus; amara  
Dulcedo; inventor falsi; via perditionis;  
Formarum egregius spectator; paena perennis;  
Suspirans ventus; singultu plena querela;  
Triste magisterium; multae iactura diei;  
Martyrium innocui; temerarius advena; pondus  
Sisyphium; radix curarum; desidis esca;  
Febris anbela; sitis morosa; bidropicus ardor;  
Vis uno dicam verbo? incarnata Gehenna est.    

XCIX  
This passion is an imitation of the first Sonnet in Seraphine, & ground upon that which Aristotle writeth 
* Lib. 9 Hist. animal.  of the Eagle, for the proof she maketh of her birds, by setting them to behold the Son. After whom Pliny hath written, as followeth:  
Aquila implumes etiamnum pullos suos percutiens, Subinde cogit adversos intueri Solis radios: et si conniventem humectantemque animaduertit, 
Nat Hist lib. to cap. 1.  praecipitat e nido, velut adul●erinum atque degenerem: illum, cuiu● acies firma contra steterit, e●ucat.  
THe haughty Eagle Bird, of Birds the best,  
Before the ●eathers, of her younglings grow,  
She lifts them one by one from out their nest,  
To view the Sun, thereby her own to know;  
Those that behold it not with open eye,  
She lets them fall, not able yet to fly.  
Such was my case, when Love possessed my mind;  
Each thought of mine, which could not bide the light  
Of her my Sun, whose beams had made me blind,  
I made my Will suppress it with Despite:  
But such a thought, as could abide her best,  
I harboured still within my careful breast.  
But those fond days are past, and half forgot;  
I practise now the quite clean contrary:  
What thoughts can like of her, I like them not,  
But choke them straight, for fear of jeopardy;  
For though that Love to some do seem a Toy,  
I know by proof, that Love is long annoy.   

C  
The Author feigneth here, that Love, essaying with his brand, to fire the heart of some such Lady, on whom it would not work, immediately, to try whether the old virtue of it were extinguished or no, applied it unto his own breast, and thereby foolishly consumed himself. His invention hath some relation unto the Epitaph of Love, written by M. Girolimo Parabosco;  
In cenere giace qui sepolto Amore,  
Colpa di quella, che morir mi face, etc.  
Resolved to dust entombed here lieth Love,  
Through fault of her, who here herself should lie;  
He struck her inrest, but all in vain did prove  
To fire the ice: and doubting by and by  
His brand 〈◊〉 lost his force, he 'gan to try  
Upon himself; which trial made him die.  
In sooth no force; let those lament that lust,  
I'll sing a carroll song for obsequy;  
For, towards me his dealings were unjust,  
And cause of all my passed misery:  
The Fates, I think, seeing what I had passed,  
In my beha●● wrought this revenge at last.  
But somewhat more to pacify my mind,  
By illing him, through whom I lived a slave,  
I'll cast his ashes to the open wind,  
Or write this Epitaph upon his grave;  
Here lieth Love, of Mars the bastard Son,  
Whose foolish fault to death himself hath done.    

This is an Epilogue to the whole work, and more like a prayer than a Passion: and is faithfully translated out of Petrarch, Sonnet. 314. 2. part, where he beginneth,  
I uò piangendo i miei passati tempi,  
I quai posi in amar cosa mortale,  
Senza levarmi à volo, havenà ' io l'ale,  
Per dare force d●me non bassi essempi. etc.  
LVgeo iam querulus vitae tot lustra peracta,  
Quae malè consumpsi, mortalia vana secutus,  
Cùm tamen alatus potui volitasse per altum,  
Exemplarque fuisse alijs, nec inutile forsan.  
T●● mea qui peccata vides, culpasque nefandas,  
Coeli sum parens, magnum, & venerabile numen,  
Collapsae succurre anima; mentisque caduca  
Candida defectum tua gratia suppleat omnem.  
Vt, qui sustinui bellum, durasque procellas,  
In pace, & portu moriar; minimeque probanda  
Si mea vita fuit, tamen ut claudatur honestè.  
Tautello vitae spacio, quod fortè supersit,  
Funeribusque meis praesentem porrige dextram;  
Ipse vides, inte quàm spes mea tota reposta est.  
FINIS.  The Labour is light, where Love is the Paiemistres.