THE TEARS OF LOVE: OR, CUPIDS' Progress. TOGETHER WITH the complaint of the sorrowful Shepherdess; Fair (but unfortunate) CANDIDA, deploring the death of her Dear-Loved CORAVIN, A LATE LIVING (AND AN ever to be lamented) Shepherd. In a (passionate) pastoral Elegy.  
COMPOSED By THOMAS COLLINS.  
Quot campo flores, tot sunt in amore dolores.  
LONDON, Printed by George Purslowe for Henry Bell, and are to be sold at his shop without Bishopsgate. 1615.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE: AND rare accomplished Lady, the Lady ELIZABETH, Vicountesse Hadington, wife to the Right Honourable and renowned, JOHN Lord RAMSEY; Viscount Hadington.  
T. C. wisheth health, and happiness with the increase of much honour.  
Right Honourable:  
IT hath been both an old and an usual custom amongst those that have climbed Parnassus' Mount, and had community with the Muses, to dedicate their endeavours to some Honourable and Art-affecting personages. Whose example I thought it fit to follow in this my plaine-suted Pastorals dedication, which presumption I (hope) will be held pardonable: By reason that every Penman of the Muses, desires to have a worthy Maecenas, and never more need then now, in this our Art-contemning age, wherein Poesy is unrespected, and almost despised: because (by some such paltering Poets as Cherillus was)   

To those Readers that can and will conceive Reason.  
MY Muse (of late) divinely did indite,  
But (Poetlike) I now a Pastoral write:  
I am a Libertine, and love to range:  
His Music dulls, whose tunes do never change.  
Should I be tied to one vain, Momus would  
Say, that I'd change my method, if I could:  
Wherefore to shun his scandalous report,  
I task my Muse in a fantastic sort;  
And when I grow dull in divine conceit,  
(To please myself with) I turn Poet strait.  
And may this change of tunes, your ears content,  
I'll think my studies, and my time well spent.  
If not, (henceforth) e'er I'll offend your ear,  
What I shall write, I will conceal, or tear.  
Yours (as you affect him,) T. C.   

To my most esteemed friend Master THOMAS COLLINS.  
FRom Newports bloody battle (sung by thee)  
With Yaxley's death (the flower of Chivalry)  
And from thy well-penned Publican, to be  
Transported thus to fields of Arcady,  
Shows that thy Muse is apt for all assays,  
And thou a man that meriteth renown.  
Divine, Poetical, and pastoral Lays,  
Do all concur, thy Brows with Bays to crown.  
Collins, live ever, in thy lines live ever,  
Live ever honoured by the Trump of Fame:  
And let all those that in these Arts endeavour,  
In their praiseworthy works, still praise thy name:  
Who (in all Subjects) dost so sweetly sing,  
Envy herself to touch thee hath no sting.  
Io. B.   

To his affected friend Master THOMAS COLLINS.  

THy well writ Poem, Sweet composed lines,  
Delightful subject, and right modest pen,  
With just applause, even desertful shines  
In clear-eyed censure of best judging men,  
Like to thy shepherds flocks, as white as clean,  
Partaking nothing, sordid or obscene.   

Thy Lovers-teares, show Lovers doleful fashion,  
(As sable habit suits a mournful heart,)  
A sprightly live hath power to move compassion,  
And such a limmer to the life thou art,  
Let Momus breath, vanish like pipe of smoke,  
All wisemen know, Detractions credit broke.   
Samuel rowland's.   

THE TEARS OF LOVE: OR, CUPIDS' Progress.  
WHen bright faced Phoebus was in Cancers line,  
And from his highest house did most hotly shine:  
When Lucifer rose soon in the morn,  
And fair Aurora early'st did adorn  
Th'azured sky with purple-coloured blushes;  
And (sore abashed) from Tythonis rushes,  
Leaving his old, and all-abhorred bed,  
To meet her younger Lover hastened:  
Then rose I early (as sometimes I use)  
To recreate my melancholy muse:  
And forth I went, (not caring much which way,)  
Towards the fields, where frolic Shepherds lay:  
And as I walked over those fertile plains,  
(Which then were scorched) I saw a sort of swains,  
Each with his bag, his bottle and his hook,  
Sat on a bankside near a Crystal brook,  
Viewing the skaly fish skud in the deep;  
The whilst their yaping dogs did tend their sheep,  
Some Garlands made, and cast into the stream;  
Others did angle for Roach, Dace and bream;  
Some Sonnets made, and to their Garlands tied,  
Then prayed to Nayis for to let them slide,  
With swift-sure pace upon the silent River,  
Where their true loves sat, and them there deliver.  
A pretty space (with much content) I stood,  
To view these pastimes and the pleasant flood▪  
At length I left them, and walked longest the bank  
(O'er many a winding and short-turning crank)  
Close by the river as the Garlands swam,  
'Cause I would see what should of them become.  
But lo, the Sun (which then grew somewhat high)  
Began to burn and parch exceedingly,  
So that a while I was constrained to stay  
Under a broad Beech spreading o'er my way,  
Where Zephyrus, with many a gentle blast,  
Cooled my hot face (with sweat and dust o'ercast.)  
Then up I rose (though loath I was to go  
From that sweet seat where I was shaded so:)  
And on I went still by the rivers side,  
Almost an hour, ere I the Garlands spied:  
For Nayis (Lady of that lovely Lake)  
Did so much pity on the Shepherds take,  
That she compelled the silent sliding waves,  
(Whose goodly path the glittering pebbles paves)  
To glide apace, and not make any stays,  
'Cause (she knows) Lovers cannot brook delays.  
I sighed and grieved, to think I had forsook them:  
But (going fast) at length I overtook them;  
And then I vowed, I would not lose their sight,  
Until I see into whose hands they light.  
Each step I took, I cast mine eyes upon them,  
Being much delighted with the flowers were on them;  
And viewing them, the more that I did view them,  
The more mine eyes were eager to pursue them:  
For therein were a sort of pretty flowers:  
Sure they that made them, sought all Flora's bowers.  
Roses there were of the most rarest kind,  
Red, white and Damas●● (to delight the mind)  
Lilies and Daffodils stood on the top,  
And Honny-dew upon the rest did drop.  
Next stood Rosemary mixed with gilded Bays,  
Carnations, Pinks, and Lavenders sweet sprays,  
Then Gilly-flowres (free from defective spots)  
And Margerum, full fraught with True-love knots.  
Next Time and Mary-golds together stood,  
Then Bachelors buttons (which maids hold so good)  
Pancyes, and double Pagles, Sops in wine,  
Sweet Honny-suckles, and blue Collembine;  
And twenty more, whose names I cannot tell,  
And yet (me thought) they pleased me wondrous well.  
Thus whilst I gazed on these Garlands gay,  
I saw how prettily the stream did play,  
With th'Osier twigs that grew upon the banks,  
Acting a sort of sundry wanton pranks.  
Sometimes they'd stoop, and slily steal a kiss;  
Sometimes skip up, as if they scorned that bliss;  
Sometimes again (the fit being come upon them)  
They'd jump into the stream, let her run on them:  
Who (like most women having men in thrall,)  
Insulted o'er them, and grew proud withal.  
And when she'd made them slaves unto her will,  
she'd wend away, and let them weep their fill.  
Lo here (thought I) these silly twigs may teach me,  
To shun loves snares, lest women's wiles o'erreach me:  
For by these twigs I see (oh flinty hard!)  
A doting Lover they do least regard:  
When flattering wooers with fair speaking speed,  
Whilst theyare rejected that love dear indeed.  
Narcissus-like, the poor twigs sought to kiss:  
But their own shadows yet were drenched for this.  
So he that seeks his goddess to embrace,  
May have (like Ixion) but a Cloud in Chase:  
And when he thinks fast in his arms to fold her,  
Find her so eyrie, that he cannot hold her.  
And yet this lighter than a Shuttlecock,  
Her dearest Lovers will delude and mock:  
And (Cyren-like) though she doth them enchant,  
What most they seek, they most of all shall want:  
For some there are allure men to desire,  
Then laugh to see them frying in loves fire,  
(Like foolish flies in Candle flames that play.  
Till they be scorched, and scarce can creep away)  
But still the Garlands swam, and on went I,  
Till in the river (lo) I did espy  
(Hard by a Groves side, which I then drew near)  
A sort of goodly water-Nymphes appear,  
Naked as the Graces upon Ida were,  
Having no cou●ing but their comely hair,  
Which dangled down their dainty bodies so,  
That nought was seen that was not fit to show.  
Nayis herself was foremost of this Crew,  
On whom the rest did give attendance due;  
Bathing she sat (like Diana) in the brook,  
Whilst I, (as Actaeon) upon her did look.  
Soon was I spied, yet did she bathe her still:  
For oh (she knew) I did intend no ill:  
And therefore no exceptions took at me,  
Nor grudged that I, her and her Nymphs did see.  
But now the river (which of late was proud)  
Drawing near to her (me thought) lowly bowed,  
And having done all reverence it could do her,  
Humbly presented all the Garlands to her:  
Which Nayis taking, to each Nymph gave one,  
And charged them instantly to get them gone,  
Alongst the stream, till they got past the Grove,  
Where they should see each of these shepherd's love,  
And of these Garlands, there delivery make,  
And see that each one did her True-love's take,  
And then return, and tell how they accepted  
These friendly favours, and whose was neglected.  
Forthwith they went to do as she commands,  
Holding the Garlands in their ivory hands;  
Whose shadows (through the splendour of the sun)  
Did both on banks, and in the bottom run.  
Whereat the fish (amazed) skud thence for fear:  
But when they saw there were no mortals there,  
They did retire, and seem for to adore them;  
Then skud behind, then skip again before them.  
Even as the Dolphins on the sea do dance  
Before a storm: so did these fishes prance,  
As thinking these were some celestial powers,  
That could produce some soone-ensuing showers:  
And therefore played thus prettily to sport them,  
And all the way presumed to consort them.  
But now being come unto their journeys end,  
These lovely Nymphs their looks to shore did bend  
And there espied a sort of most sweet creatures,  
That passed comparison for comely features:  
One was a combing of her golden hair,  
Another dressed (yet did not seem so fair,  
Though fair she was) sat singing of a ditty,  
Which others praised, and said 'twas very pretty.  
Some with silk Ribbons did knit true-love knots,  
Others sat making posies and fine spots  
In handkerchiefs, some working flowers in gloves,  
And all for favours for to send their Loves.  
One was commending of a comely swain,  
Which she loved well, (& would be loved of fain)  
hight Pamelus, of person exquisite,  
Fair, affable, and of an excellent wit:  
Him she extolled unto the Heavens above,  
And held him worthy of a Prince's love.  
Another (sitting by) said, Corauin  
Surpassed him, and all that ere hath been.  
Paris (quoth she) though he was Priam's son,  
And first fair Oenone, than Queen Helen won,  
With comely Corauin might not compare,  
For beauty, wit, and parsonage most rare.  
But all this while, his dear love Candida,  
(Fairer than Egypt's Queen Cleopatra)  
Nor smiled, nor frowned, nor would she utter aught  
Of her affections (whatsoe'er she thought)  
That she did love him, she'd have none to know;  
Yet was she pleased to hear him praised so.  
But now they spied the Nymphs upon the river,  
Holding the Garlands ready to deliver,  
Up now they start, and (as o're-ioyd thereat)  
They laid their works by, and left off their chat,  
And towards the Nymphs did speedily repair.  
Hard 'twas for me to judge which was most fair,  
Of them, or these; the Nymphs or mortal Creatures.  
Both were so excellent for their outward features:  
Each beheld other with a blushing face.  
" Blushing doth aye give beauty better grace.  
Rare 'twas to see how their sweet cheeks were died.  
But now being come unto the rivers side,  
One foremost stepped a foot into the flood.  
(So fond she was) she cared not where she stood  
For to receive a favour from her Lover,  
Who (like a flatterer) did but faintly hover:  
Yet would he send her tokens now and then.  
" Such sly dissembling 's in a sort of men.  
" Till they (like jason and false Demophon)  
" Have got their wills: and then farewell, theyare gone.  
She took the Garlands one by one, and read  
To whom each was to be delivered.  
One was directed unto fair-faced Phillis,  
Another was to lovely Amarillis;  
One to young Mopsa, mistress of his heart,  
Whose looks (he said) did Poetry impart,  
And Numbers true taught Dorus to rehearse,  
Who till he knew her, scarce did know a verse.  
One was to Celestina fair and bright:  
And one to her that Galatea hight:  
And now to fairest Candida came one,  
Who stood aloof, as if he looked for none.  
Then came another, and another to her;  
For almost every worthy Swain did woe her:  
She had more Garlands, then half they had, sent her,  
And Sonnets too: but that did not content her:  
For she unwilling was for to receive them,  
Nor did she care neglectfully to leave them,  
Because she knew her Corauin ne'er used  
To send her aught that should be thus perus'de.  
But lo, the Nymphs were loath she should forsake them;  
And all the rest entreated her to take them,  
Affirming that by reading o'er the lines,  
She might (perchance) be pleased with some designs.  
So them she took with seeming-gratefull heart.  
The rest (rejoicing) do with her depart.  
Back went the Nymphs, (as ea'rst they had in charge)  
For to relate each circumstance at large,  
To lou'ly Nayis, who thought long to hear,  
After what sort these things accepted were.  
But still stayed I, as one vnsatisfi'de  
Of the Events, that after might betide:  
And glad I was to feign occasion too,  
As thousands more (besides myself) would do,  
Only to see those goodly Girls again,  
In whom such rare perfections remain:  
But most of all, her that is beauty's Queen;  
And o! (me thinks) can ne'er enough be seen,  
Fair Candida, the glory of them all,  
Worthier than Venus of the golden ball,  
Which fell from Heaven: for (oh!) she doth excel  
All those three fair ones betwixt whom it fell.  
Perseus' brave purchase, fair Andromeda,  
Was never comparable to Candida;  
Nor is there any like her can be named:  
For she's the fairest that ere nature framed:  
Her hair is like unto fine threads of gold,  
Her eyes like sparkling Diamonds to behold,  
Her forehead high, her veins (like sapphires) blue,  
Her blush unborrowed, all her beauty true,  
Her cheeks like Roses, which by Lilies lie,  
Her lips like Rubies, teeth like ivory,  
Her nose is comely, and her neck is white,  
Her chin is dimpled, (and that breeds delight)  
Her breasts (like Snowy mounts) are fair & soft;  
The Sun to touch them hath descended oft:  
Her hands are little, and her fingers long,  
Her middle slender, (I the rest much wrong)  
Her leg is pretty, and her foot is small;  
And by these few parts you may guess at all.  
She wore a Chaplet of fine flowers and Roses.  
(Beauty to beauty still her best discloses.)  
O'er nature's ornament, her golden hair,  
Which (as 'twas tressed) seemed exceeding fair.  
About her neck (whiter than Snow or milk)  
She worè a scarf of Seagreen coloured silk;  
Her gown was pure wool, yet but plain (God wot)  
Of purple colour, and her Petticoat  
Of watchet Kersie, and her Kirtle was  
Of grass-green Chamblet, without guard or lace:  
Her Iu'ry arms were clothed (with Lawn) so thin,  
That through her sleeves a man might see her skin;  
No amber bracelets on her wrists she wore,  
Yet upon one wrist what she prized more,  
Which was a silk point Corauin gave to her,  
When as the kind Swain courteously did woe her.  
Upon her legs she silke-soft buskins wore,  
(Of Murry colour) which she set by store,  
And on her feet she did fine Sandals wear,  
Made of a pure Felt, or a Minivere.  
Thus was she decked; and well it did become her,  
To be attired thus in the time of Summer:  
For in a manner thus fair Daphne went,  
And with like habit Diana was content.  
But now b'ing come unto their former places,  
These dainty damsels with delicious graces,  
Each of them put her newcome Garland on,  
Save Candida, who would be crowned with none.  
And by th'others being demanded why  
She would wear none? She made this wise reply,  
Say that I would (quoth she) wear one of these,  
The sender, I (but not myself) should please:  
For none of them that sent these Garlands to me  
Until this instant, e'er did seem to woe me:  
And therefore, how is't possible to know,  
Whether they love me, or but make a show  
Of love to me, to see if I will take  
That, which (perchance) the worst of you'll forsake?  
But put the case (as who can rightly tell?)  
Each of these Swains did love me wondrous well:  
How should I know which of them merits best,  
To be beloved above all the rest?  
Then being ignorant in each degree,  
For to wear any, were a fault in me.  
Then to herself she muttered secretly  
(True Love is always full of jealousy:)  
Since no one more than other merits Grace,  
I should but wrong one that is not in place:  
Then said (to please you since I must displease)  
Upon my head I will put none of these.  
Which words of hers made all the rest to muse,  
That one so fair, such favours should refuse,  
Sent her by chiefest of th'Arcadian Swains;  
And she (unkind) to quite them with disdains.  
" But still the fair (oh that it were not so)  
" Respect their own wills, not another's woe,  
" And when theyare offered well, cannot perceive,  
" But take the worst (oft) and the better leave.  
Ah Love, thou strangely dost affected stand,  
And (like a God) wilt stoop to no command,  
Nay prayers and tears can hardly penetrate  
The hearts of some, they are so obdurate.  
For as love's powerful, so 'tis pitiless,  
Afflicting many, but doth few redress.  
Why should the strong unto the weak be subject,  
Or mighty'r ones be to the meaner abject?  
" But Love and Fortune are agreed with Fate,  
" To wrack men's weal, and them excruciate;  
" For, he that hopes by either of the two  
" T' atttaine to happiness, may unhappily do.  
But now these fair ones (for their more content)  
Began to read the Sonnets that were sent:  
Phillis first show'd what her Amintas wrote,  
Who long had loved, but little reaped (God wot)  
He pleads his love▪ long service and true faith,  
proffering them all and all that else he hath  
To lovely Phillis, whom he much commends,  
And (so in passion) the poor Shepherd ends.  
Then Amarillis show'd Alexis lines,  
Who pleads for pity, and tells how he pines.  
Then Mopsa showed what her Dorus writ,  
Who (like some Cockneyes) hath more wealth than wit:  
He brags that he sent farfetched strains unto her,  
And (except he) no Swain could quaintly woe her;  
And that his lines (though all not worth a fly)  
Were th'only Quintessence of Poetry.  
Then Celestina she began to show,  
What Melebeus would on her bestow;  
A thousand Lambkins snow-white, fat and fine,  
I'll give thee (quoth he) so thou wilt be mine:  
And more than that, I will maintain thee so,  
As not a Shepherdess shall like thee go:  
Then Galatea show'd old Thirsis Sonnet,  
Which made them all laugh that did look upon it:  
For he did term her whiter than the jet,  
And held her more worth than Agenor's Neat.  
Then Candida did will them look upon  
A Sonnet, sent her by old Coridon,  
Who praised her eyes to be of Coral hue,  
Her lips like Crystal: but it was not true,  
Love had so blinded him he could not see.  
Which were like Coral, which like Crystal be.  
Then show'd sh'another that Dametas sent;  
Which they no sooner read, but strait she rend.  
And then another of young Thenots sending:  
This but not he (quoth some) is worth commending.  
Yet surely this is not of his inditing:  
For he's a wildbrain, hath no skill in writing.  
Some witty Swain, (t'express his love) hath wrote it,  
And now this madcap (by ill hap) hath got it.  
Then threw she forth some three or four more:  
For (as I erst said) she had sent her store,  
Which being read, bid whose would entertain them:  
For she protested, that she did disdain them.  
Now whilst they thus sat trifling time away,  
loves blind god, Cupid, got abroad to play,  
With's bow and arrows from his mother's sight,  
And to th'Earth flew for his own delight,  
Where (unawares) he met his mortal foe,  
" (Minds set on mirth, are oft encountered so.)  
Envious death: to whom loves god said thus,  
'Tis strange in one place to see both of us:  
But since I have met thee (my old enemy)  
Setting aside all former enmity,  
Let's make a truce, and for this night agree  
To lodge together, and bedfellows be.  
Meager-faced Death soon condescended to it,  
And was as willing as loves god to do it:  
Then did they both vow, that no mortal Wight  
Should feel of loves force, or of Deaths that night:  
But as themselves disposed were to rest,  
So they'd do nothing others to molest.  
Thus (like two travelers that walk together)  
They took their Inn (Inns scarce well used by either:  
" For lust (in loves shape) oft to Inns doth come,  
" And death (untimely) there destroyeth some:  
" But Loves too blame to be a Bawd to lust,  
" And death's a Villain to betray men's trust)  
And there they two were jovial awhile,  
Love upon death, and death on Love did smile:  
And first the one, than did the other boast  
Their mighty Conquests made in every coast,  
And laughed outright in their relating how,  
Both rich and poor must at their pleasures bow:  
For from the King that sits upon the Throne,  
Unto the meanest and most wretched one,  
Love made his brags none (past their Infancy)  
The power of his Godhead could deny:  
For with his arrows he had wounded all,  
Made strong ones stoop, and stoutest minds most thrall;  
Nor wise, nor foolish, Nobly borne nor base,  
But first or last, Love hath had all in chase,  
And made them all for to confess, that he  
Had as great power as in a God could be.  
Then Death began: (qd. he) Love brags too much  
Before stern Death, whose strength and power is such,  
That all the earth doth tremble at my name:  
For young and old, the lusty and the lame,  
All stoop to death, who is impartial  
And pitiless, not caring who doth fall,  
Nor how, nor when, nor in what sort I take them;  
If once I strike, I ever conquered make them.  
Whom Love doth hit, in passions long may languish,  
But whom I strike, I do set free from anguish.  
Loves but a child, and wanton tricks doth use:  
But Death is dauntless, and doth none excuse.  
Folly blinds Love, so that he cannot see,  
But shoots at random, and lets some go free;  
When some with often wound are perplexed.  
Whilst they laugh at them for whom they are vexed.  
Oh partial Love, unjust and cruel too,  
Thou dost more harm, than ever Death did do!  
Thou mak'st men love those that do not affect them  
And seek and sue to those that do reject them  
Thou mak'st the strong to stoop unto the weak;  
The weak insult, and seek their hearts to break;  
Thou dost besot the wise with women's looks,  
And workest their bane with beauties baiting hooks;  
Thou dost the fool with wits conceit inspire,  
And (Phaeton-like) thou setst the world on fire.  
Thou dost deprive men of their sweetest sleep;  
Thou murthrest mirth, and mak'st the masker weep;  
Into fools Paradise, thou bringst wretched ones:  
Then sittest and smil'st, to hear their sighs and groans:  
And when they pule, ay me, what shall I do?  
Cupid's glad of it: so's proud Venus too:  
Then unto me the weake-made woodcocks cry,  
And say (sweet Death) come end my misery.  
Death never doth thus indirectly deal,  
Nor through the eye into the heart doth steal.  
But like a Giant (though I seem not so)  
I defy all, and do no favour show.  
The young, as well as old, my name do fear;  
Kings quake & tremble, when of me they hear;  
I rid the world of those thou mak'st despair;  
I kill the rich▪ and I destroy the fair;  
Beauty and gold (which all the world affects)  
Death doth disdain, and both as dung rejects,  
And ever did so from the first beginning  
Of my own birth, which was at Adam's sinning.  
Adam was first: and I the last shall be.  
All were his offspring; all shall end in me.  
But I (quoth Cupid) can do more than thou;  
My Bow doth make the very Gods to bow:  
I made Alcides leave his lions skin,  
And (to gain I-o'ls love) to sit and spin.  
I made Apollo wear a shepherds weed,  
To court fair Daphne (yet he could not speed.)  
I made the God of war forsake the field,  
And (as my vassal) to my mother yield:  
Yea I made jove to lay aside his shape,  
And (amongst mortals) commit many a escape.  
Is Love a child then, all-abhorred Death,  
That canst do nothing but stop mortals breath?  
In this (wild) world Death only doth remain:  
But Love in heaven lives where the gods do reign.  
Then can thy power be compared to mine,  
When thine is hellbred, and mine most divine?  
But whilst they two contended in this wise,  
Death's sister, sleep, ceased on their sightless eyes:  
And lo, by this, fair Venus missed her Son,  
And to inquire him out to Vulcan run,  
Who (with his Cyclops) was at work so hard,  
That he nor Love, nor loves god did regard:  
And therefore told her, if she meant to find him,  
She might go look him; for he did not mind him.  
Then unto Mars the fair Queen made repair,  
And asked him for her young son and heir:  
Who by his godhead and his sword did swear,  
He neither saw him, nor of him did hear:  
But for thy sake (quoth he) I'll take some pains  
To seek him out, and see where he remains.  
Indeed I will: I will indeed (my joy)  
I'll do my best to help thee to thy boy,  
Thy pretty little wag, thy curld-pate boy,  
That fills the world with weal or with annoy:  
I would be loath my Love should lose her child:  
For he's her best boy (though the wag be wild.)  
This said, he coled, and clipped, and kissed her too,  
And made an offer th'other thing to do:  
(For Mars with Venus seldom times did meet;  
But he did dally with his dainty sweet,  
Which made the limping god to chase and fret,  
And seek to entrap them in an Iron net.)  
But Venus (now) said, that should not be done  
By Mars, nor any, till she found her son,  
Nor would she smile, nor let him kiss her more,  
But flung away, and would to jove (she swore.)  
" Mars sighed at this: (but vainly sighs are spent,  
" When as a woman to her will is bend.)  
Then mounts his chariot, and away goes he,  
To search abroad where her young son should be.  
His whirling wheels do rattle in the streets,  
And breed amazement amongst all he meets:  
To field he gets, and there commands his drum  
Should strike t'inquire where Cupid was become.  
Whilst Venus past heavens-christall-pointed gates,  
And to great jove her grievous loss relates,  
Who was exceeding wroth thereat, and swore  
By Styx and Phlegeton and many more;  
That heaven, and earth, and hell and all should rue  
The loss of loves Queen (if this tale were true)  
Vowing to search their Centres every one:  
And therewith (starting from his stately throne)  
He called for Aeolus, and bid him send  
Stiffe-blowing Boreas to the wide world's end,  
Charging him throw down Castles, Courts and towers,  
And search for Cupid in their secret bowers:  
But if he could not find him quickly out,  
Himself would throw his Thunderbolts about.  
Away goes Aeolus and out Boreas flies,  
But finds not Cupid, nor learns where he lies:  
Then back returns (with grief and shame) to jove,  
And tells how much, he (to no purpose) strove.  
The god (being angry) sets the Crystal sky  
Upon a burning fire instantly:  
Whose lightning strangely terrified the Earth,  
And (on a sudden) marred all mortals mirth;  
Then took he Thunderbolts, and them he hurled  
Into each corner of this cankered world,  
Which struck astonishment in all creatures ears.  
(Who doth not tremble that Ioues Thunder hears?)  
It made Rome's Emperor hide his haughty head,  
(Great Heliogabalus) underneath his bed.  
It struck a King (that did it counterfeit)  
Into a Salmon fish (all bloody yet)  
It cleaveth Clouds, rents Rocks and Trees asunder.  
" Nothing's more dreadful than all dreaded Thunder.  
This wakened Cupid (that with death did lie)  
Who else (perhaps) had slept eternally.  
" (For if the God● should Love from Heaven exile,  
" 'Twould sleep on earth, or die in little while.)  
Up did he start, and trust his trinkets on,  
And in great haste did hurry to be gone:  
But being blind (as oh, would Love were not)  
Deaths quiver up in stead of's own he got,  
And thence be trudges, leaving Death behind,  
Who (when he rose) did Cupid's quiver find,  
Yet marked it not, but girts it on, and goes  
Abroad the world, to fill the world with woes.  
" For death on Earth (like Cesar in a field)  
" Foes to their Foe, perforce doth force to yield,  
" And where he cometh, tears they need not borrow:  
" For he comes sild, but where he breedeth sorrow.  
Now Cupid (seeking how himself t'excuse)  
Doth bend his bow, and Death's black Engines use,  
Determining great store with Love to wound:  
But whom he hitteth, straightways dead are found.  
Lo, thus the blind boy (when he thought no ill)  
(For want of eyes) did many a mortal kill:  
And thus (ah thus) he murdered Corauin,  
(The sweetest Swain that ever yet hath been.)  
And thus fair Phillis he did make away  
(Whom young Amintas mourned for many a day▪  
And after tears and groans, and grievous cries,  
Expressed his sorrows in sad elegies.)  
And thus Laceno and a number more,  
Love killed outright: ('tis shame he should do so)  
Then up to Heaven the wanton wag did fly,  
And told his mother (oh egregious lie!)  
That he had wounded such and such with Love;  
Which (to his foul shame) otherwise did prove.  
Glad was fair Venus she had got her Son,  
And much more glad to hear what he had done:  
Yet notwithstanding she began to chide  
For his departure; and would fain have cried:  
But he so prettily did wantonize,  
She could not weep, though tears stood in her eyes:  
Which wiping thence, she smiled to see him play.  
" Love oft makes Sunshine in a show'rie day,  
" And when unkindness doth the heart annoy,  
" Love doth expel it, and proclaimeth joy.  
But now (awhile) let's speak again of death.  
Who seeks abroad to suffocate men's breath:  
To Court, and city, and t'each country town,  
He (like a Tiger) travels up and down,  
And here and there throws forth a thrilling dart,  
Intending's own, but acting Cupid's part:  
Yet lo, he keeps one custom he did use,  
All suppliants prayers proudly to refuse:  
For those that were oppressed with misery,  
Th'envious slave (though cried to) would pass by▪  
At length (remembering he did nought last night)  
Strikes rich and poor, and doth respect no wight:  
But (oh) in stead of his own Ebon darts,  
He with loves arrows wounds their wretched hearts,  
And makes some love that weary are of life,  
(Their woes and troubles are so wondrous rife)  
Who feeling loves force grievously complain,  
And to the powers divine do cry amain,  
Ye gods (quoth they) must we with love be wounded,  
Whose joints are numbed, & joys (long since) confounded:  
Hear us, oh heavens, and be propitious,  
And oh ye gods, be you auspicious:  
For death and fortune both injurious be,  
And our woes will not, or else cannot see:  
And therefore (oh) do you vouchsafe to hear us,  
And let fell death no longer time forbear us:  
For we are wronged, oppressed & pinched with grief,  
And (but in you) have hope of no relief.  
jove hearing this, doth strait commiserate  
These wretched worldlings miserable state,  
And by his messenger, swift Mercury,  
Summons a Parliament of the Deity,  
(With expedition) in the high house of heaven,  
And also chargeth warning should be given,  
That all their plaints, that erst were mentioned,  
Should at that Session be exhibited.  
Away went Mercury, and performed his charge.  
The gods appeared, men's griefs were heard at large;  
And by the inferences of their bills,  
(With the scarlet evidence of Cupid's ills)  
It did appear how idle Love had been,  
T'associate Death, and kill sweet Corauin;  
Who was a Swain of all so dearly loved,  
That for his death the gods were highly moved,  
And sent for Cupid from his mother's side,  
And him (in th'open Court) did rate and chide.  
Thou blind-eyd and besotting boy (quoth jove.)  
Mak'st thou no difference 'twixt Death and Love?  
Art thou a god, and wilt from heaven descend,  
And on the earth consort a hellish Fiend,  
And put his black darts and thy Bow together,  
Then (like a vagrant) range, thou know'st notwhither?  
And when thou hast done a deal of villainy,  
(T'excuse thy folly) tellest us many a lie.  
Thinkst thou, the gods (by thee) will be deluded?  
No: it were better thou wert heaven excluded;  
For with thy deeds thou daily dost offend us.  
But wherein is it, that thou canst befriend us,  
Unless it be in acting idle things,  
Such as vain pleasure, but no profit brings?  
And yet dar'st thou (fond fool) audaciously  
Displease this Synod of the Deity?  
Love, I am vexed at this vild deed of thine.  
" (All murder's hateful in our heavenly eyen.)  
For Antidotes dost thou rank poison give.  
Daring to kill whom we desire should live?  
But (since thou hast offended in this sort)  
we'll clip thy wings (boy) and we'll keep thee short:  
The son of Venus (though his mother love him)  
Shall well perceive, jove fears not to reprove him:  
For why should men their sad oppressions paint,  
And find no remedy where they make complaint?  
" Are we not gods? (and gods should justice do)  
" One fault unpunished soon produceth two.  
Then let us now (great gods) make a decree▪  
How Cupid's fault may fitly'st punished be.  
There stayed his speech: whilst Cupid (standing by)  
To's accusation was bid make reply,  
Who (childishly) his progress did recite,  
And how he lay with ugly Death one night:  
But for the rest he vowed it was unknown,  
Whether he used Death's engines or his own▪  
At this lame Vulcan laughed in his sleeve,  
" (Some ne'er laugh heartily, but when others grieve.)  
To whom Apollo (with great wisdom) said,  
Deride him not, nor do you him upbraid:  
he's your wives Son, and she will fit you for't,  
If you abuse him here in any sort:  
And for mine own part, be you sure (quoth he)  
In blind boy's matters I'll no meddler be.  
Saturn sat by, but (like a sullen god)  
Spoke ne'er a word, yet now and then did nod  
At th'others speech: especially when they  
Rebuked Love, or did against Death inveigh.  
Then Mars stood up (b'ing friend to Cupid's mother)  
And thus (with reverence) spoke before the other:  
Ye mighty gods, this fact of his (we see)  
Most heinous is: yet take thus much from me,  
Since done on earth, and 'tis unfit Death should  
Enter heaven gates our glory to behold,  
It fittest is that Cupid should descend,  
Where shame (for's guilt) upon him may attend,  
And there endure the clamour and the cry  
Of the murther'ds friends and those in misery:  
And (as he's author of their endless woe,)  
Sat, and condole them whom he injured so.  
Which being done, let him go seek out Death,  
And (changings quiver) bid him stop the breath  
Of those weak wights, whom he with Love did wound,  
Or else (untimely) time shall him confound.  
This Death may do: but those whom Love hath slain  
With Death's dart, cannot be reviv'd again:  
For Love (in this) without commission went:  
But whom death slays, 'tis with the fate's consent.  
Death hath authority for to destroy:  
But Love should not kill, but procure men's joy;  
And therefore Love was too too blame in this,  
To use Death's engines, and give bale for bliss.  
" (Great faults deserve no favourable meed,)  
Yet b'ing thus checked and punished for the deed,  
Since (though a god) he's but a child (good sooth)  
And (being blind) he sees not what he doth;  
At his return let our displeasures end:  
For I'm persuaded heel no more offend.  
To this, great jove, and all the gods agreed,  
And (being confirmed) adiornd the court with speed.  
Cupid departed, and to earth he goes,  
To sit and hear the sorrows, sighs and woes  
Of the sad Swains, for those whom he had slain;  
But most for Corauin they did complain:  
And every one of them exclaimed on Death,  
Not thinking Cupid had reft him of breath,  
Until the time that he was clad in clay,  
Which (woe is me) was on Saint Peter's day;  
A day of dread. Oh had it never been,  
T'intombe in clay the comely Corauin,  
The comely Corauin (the more grief's mine.)  
In th'earth (that day) the shepherds did enshrine,  
Enshrine (ay me!) they did, and I must say,  
When I name that, I name a weeping day,  
A weeping day. Yea, so it was indeed:  
For then heaven wept, and th'hearts of men did bleed,  
Did bleed, 'tis true: their hearts did bleed, and they  
Did nought but weep upon that woeful day,  
That woeful day, the clouds of heaven distilled  
A world of water, wherewith they were filled,  
Were filled, yea filled, and so let fall away,  
As if they'd meant t'have drowned the earth that day.  
That day the Sun a sable weed did wear,  
And with a black hood hid his golden hair;  
That day the sky put on a mourning cloak,  
And show'd no vapours, but what seemed like smoke.  
That day the earth was all as black as jet,  
Only with tears (wherewith 'twas over-wet.)  
That day a sort of most sweet silver bells  
Did nothing sound, but sad-tuned doleful knells.  
That day there was a world of weeping eyes.  
" Sorrow's no niggard of sighs, tears, and cries.  
That day each Shepherd wore a Cypress wreath  
Upon his head, and all black Say beneath.  
That day was Coravins sad funeral,  
Which still 's lamented, and for ever shall.  
A goodly troup did on his hearse attend,  
And more had done, if they his death had kend:  
For Candida ne'er knew that he was dead,  
Until she heard that he was buried:  
And then (too soon) 'twas known, and she did go,  
Whilst Cupid was there, that did breed her woe.  
Lo, now my Muse is come to nought but mourning:  
Her joys are past, and hopeless of returning.  
Oh you that ever felt the force of Love,  
Or know what powerful pass'ons it doth move;  
You that have wept, and sighed, and grieved and groaned,  
When (but yourselves) none knew for what you moaned:  
You, you (oh, you) you that know love indeed,  
You whose souls melt, whose very hearts do bleed,  
At the remembrance of the sweet sweet name  
Of sacred Love (the sovereign King of flame)  
'Tis you I call to, you that I implore;  
If yet you have or sighs or tears in store,  
Oh lend me them, or some of them at least.  
" Much he hath need of makes a liberal feast.  
One Muse (unless inspired from above)  
Can ne'er express the passions of true love.  
One man's too weak in judgement and in wit,  
T'explane the force and the effects of it.  
Oh help me then, help both my Muse and me,  
That (by your aid) it may described be.  
The little streams of water (small brooks give her)  
Do quickly make a full-veined flowing River.  
So every accent, every sigh or tear,  
That you lend me, my work will help't uprear.  
" Hard is the heart that will no help extend;  
" Especially (for loves sake) to a friend.  
Come then and aid me, and (in hope you will)  
In loves deep passion now I'll dip my quill.  
Candida hearing of these heavy news,  
Doth sigh, sob, sound, and all sad actions use.  
Oh heavens (quoth she) why do I live thus long,  
Or why hath Death and Time done me this wrong▪  
Why have they got my Corauin away?  
Why have they lapped his comely corpse in clay?  
Why hath heaven let that fowl Fiend Death have power,  
To crop the blossom of that scarse-bloomed flower?  
Why have the Fates so fair a Shepherd slain?  
Why have they robbed me of so rare a Swain?  
Why have they stolen the lustre of my life?  
Why got a hoped-for husband from his wife?  
Why dimmed the Sun that shined upon me here,  
And left me neither Love, nor friend, nor fere?  
Why (unsuspected) hath time him betrayed?  
Why made m'a widow, whilst I am a Maid?  
Why hath he reft me of all joys in one?  
And why left me to wail, now he is gone?  
Oh what did move the gods to be so cruel,  
As to deprive me of my dearest jewel?  
As to deprive me of my dearest jewel,  
And leave me like a fire without fuel?  
Fire without fuel (soon) will fade and die:  
And without Corauin even so must I:  
Even so must I. Yea, (and great reason too)  
For want of his life doth my life undo.  
What else had I wherein I took delight?  
What joy had I, but only in his sight?  
What comfort had I, but in Corauin?  
What hearts content, but whereas he hath been?  
What pleasure to me did this world extend?  
What other solace, but that one sweet friend?  
What did I love, or what did I hold dear,  
But only him, my Love, my life, my fere?  
And is he gone? is he untimely slain  
By Love? or Death? or by my own disdain?  
Oh, which of us three hath the Murderer been?  
Which of us was it that killed Corauin?  
Love, was it thou? oh (if thou didst it) speak:  
For if Love killed him, grief my heart will break:  
'Twill wound my soul even to the very death,  
If Love hath reft my dear-beloved of breath.  
I know he loved me, and that wondrous well:  
And I loved him more dear than tongue can tell.  
But (oh) 'twas long before that I could do it,  
And much ado he had to bring me to it:  
He sued, he served, and often sought unto me,  
By prayers, plaints, tears, and all that else might woe me:  
But I relentless was, and slinty hard,  
And his great griefs but little did regard.  
I was too young to feel the force of Love:  
Tears, plaints, nor prayers could me to pity move,  
Then would he write, and as he wrote, he'd weep;  
Blood was his ink which he in tears would steep:  
The pen show'd pure love, and the paper zeal,  
Wherewith the poor Swain did his plaints reveal:  
Pity he pleaded for with's soul and heart,  
And (with much weeping) prayed me ease his smart:  
(For by the paper I might easily see,  
That he did weep much, when he wrote to me.)  
Love, thou art powerful, I confess it now,  
Though of thy laws I did not late allow:  
But if thy might to murder did extend,  
Thou hast wronged him, and also me his friend:  
For I must think, if he by love was slain,  
Though thy hand did it, 'twas through my disdain.  
Disdain (said I?) yea, yea, I did disdain him,  
Else I had pitied, when he first did plain him:  
And therefore, Love, I must hold thee excused;  
For Love not me, but I have Love abused.  
Then let me never think, that Love did ill him,  
But rather yield, that my disdain did kill him.  
'Twas so indeed: in very deed 'twas so,  
'Twas my own self, that wrought myself this woe:  
For had I been kind (as I might have been)  
Still had I kept my comely Corauin:  
Still had I kept my comely Corauin,  
Had I been kind (as oh, would I had been)  
But (wretched) I would not be won to't then.  
Ah (foolish Females) why should we wrong men?  
Why should a self-willed woman work his death,  
That loves her dearer than his dear life's breath?  
Why should we prise Virginity so high,  
That e'er we'll lose it, let our Lovers die?  
When th'one 's an Idol that 's but good in name,  
And nothing else (how ere we prise the same)  
Th'other is the rarest frame on earth,  
From whose fair being first ourselves took birth:  
But I'm unwise (as women aye have been)  
And have both wronged myself and Corauin,  
Not only in this, but many other things,  
Which now much sorrow by remembrance brings:  
For had he sometimes proffered me a kiss,  
(Why should a true friend such a favour miss?)  
I'd frown, and say he was too peremptory.  
Then he (poor soul) would straightway say I'm sorry:  
If I offend you, I'll no more assay.  
Yet (as one injured) I would fling away,  
And scarce come near him of a good while after,  
To make him grieve, whilst I grew fat with laughter:  
But weighing (at length) how heinously he took  
My sharp rebuke, I with a smiling look  
Would comfort him, and say, Come, Corauin,  
Too much unkindness for one kiss hath been;  
To make amends with, take thee two or three;  
Though I seemed coy, I'll not be so to thee:  
And therefore come (sweetheart) and take enough.  
" Maids (though theyare squeamish) loved as well as you.  
" What's hardly gotten, men most highly deem:  
" But what's soon purchased, slightly they esteem.  
Then blame me not, although I seemed coy.  
" Lovers (like babes) must beg for every toy,  
And in th'obtaining think theyare happy too,  
By getting that which others cannot do.  
But whither am I carried with this vein  
Of my conceited (counterfeit) disdain;  
Since to be coy, and something seeming nice,  
Is not disdain? disdain 's as cold as Ice.  
But my affection (like to coals of fire  
In ashes wrapped up, lest they should aspire)  
Was inly hot with fervency of zeal,  
Though to myself I did the same conceal.  
" Fire hid in ashes, hardly is contained,  
" But love enveloped, more hard restrained.  
Then since I inwardly did hold him dear,  
" And inward passions penetrate most near,  
I must needs think my sorrow-tyred tongue  
Hath been o'er apt to do my own self wrong,  
In saying, my disdain should work his woe,  
Who was not loathed, but beloved so,  
That I esteemed him dearer than my life,  
And only hoped to have been his wife:  
And well I might; for he deserved no less,  
But to enjoy the bravest Shepherdess:  
For oh, he had such worthy qualities,  
And was so fair, well-favoured, and so wise,  
That every Shepherdess did like and love him,  
Although their beauties had no power to move him▪  
Only myself sweet Corauin affected;  
The rest he loved not, nor their loves respected.  
I know he loved me; and for ever will  
Resolve myself, that he doth love me still,  
loves me in death as dearly as in's life.  
And oh, (me thinks) I hear him call me wife.  
Wife was his word: Wife would he ever call me.  
Oh, that no other title had befall me:  
For then, ah then, (I need not tell ye how)  
I'd been as happy, as i'm hapless now:  
For now I'm neither Widow, Maid, nor Wife;  
And yet all three: and so I'll end my life.  
I'll end my life: oh, that it now were ended:  
For then by Death I should be much befriended,  
And with my Corauin should quickly be,  
Whose hou'ring ghost now seems t'appear to me,  
And looks as grimly as if some were here,  
That were the means to make away my Dear:  
Or that his passage Charon hath denied  
To th' Eliz'an fields (for Lovers purified)  
Until the world takes notice of his wrongs  
By my complaint, (to whom it most belongs.)  
If it be so, (sweet Corauin) be sure,  
Thou shalt not long thy wandering course endure.  
I'll do thee all the right that I can do:  
Which being done, I will come to thee too:  
But yet (ah wretched and unhappy I)  
Though die I would (as yet) I cannot die.  
Those that would live, Death quickly takes away:  
But those that would die, them he doth delay.  
Injurious Fates, why should your Factor Death  
So forward be, to suffocate the breath  
Of jocund Shepherds, and of Iou'all spirits,  
And fly from them that wretchedness inherits?  
But (oh) I now perceive wherefore he flies me,  
And why (although entreated) he denies me  
To end my days. Oh, 'tis because that he  
murmured my Corauin for loving me.  
For if nor Love, nor my disdain did slay him,  
Surely 'twas Death that did from hence convey him.  
Death, yea 'twas Death, and none but Death did do it.  
(Yet gods, nor men, ne'er gave consent unto it)  
Meager faced monster, most envious slave,  
With Nature's best gift why didst fill a grave?  
Thou unseen shadow, ghastly and most grim,  
Why hast thou filled a vasty vault with him,  
With him that was Earth's all-admired Creature,  
And did surpass all Shepherds for sweet feature?  
With him that graced th' Arcadian Plains,  
And was the glory of their goodly Swains:  
With him that was the Mirror of all men  
That e'er was seen, or e'er shall be again:  
With him that was endued from above,  
With all the gifts that gods and men do love:  
With him whose youth was virtuously inclined,  
And (as the Sun doth lights) all Swains outshined  
With him that was beloved of all (save thee)  
And therefore slain t'extract these tears from me.  
Accursed Death, most cruel and unkind,  
Having slain him, why leav'st thou me behind?  
Why may not I (that am his only Wife)  
Associate him as well in death as life?  
Why should I live, and draw a loathed breath,  
When my dear Love lies in the laws of Death?  
We read of Women throw themselves in fire,  
When as their loving husbands lives expire.  
Portia took burning Coals and swallowed,  
Hating to live, her husband being dead.  
Cleopatra (for Love of Anthony)  
With sting of Aspics did most stoutly die.  
And shall not I (although a Shepherdess)  
Resolve like them, since in the like distress?  
Shall I be timorous (and not imitate  
The worthy'st women for a worthy mate?)  
No: I'll not be divorced from my Dear:  
Since he is gone, I'll not sit grieving here.  
Sweet Corauin, I'll come to thee 'ere night,  
And give my life, to gain my lovers sight.  
But then (ah then) who shall thy death deplore?  
These my laments do make thy loss seem more:  
Therefore I'll live, and let the world to ken,  
How much I prized thee more than other men,  
Who although dead to others, yet (in me)  
Thou shalt live still, and still my True-love be:  
For so thou art (in deed, loh so thou art)  
Thou only hold'st possession of my heart,  
Possession of my heart thou hold'st in deed,  
And shalt for ever (none shall thee succeed.)  
Then why should I imagine thou art slain?  
And why inveigh against Love and Death (in vain?)  
Come, Candida, 'tis folly thus to do:  
Thou injur'st them both, and thine own self too.  
They did not kill sweet Corauin. Ah, no.  
Some uncouth accident hath bred this woe:  
Some qualm o're's heart, or else some ecstasy,  
Bred by conceit (begot by jealousy)  
Of grief, might kill him, seeing many seek me,  
Lest some of them (as well as he) might leek me.  
Yea sure 'twas so, so did he die (no doubt)  
" No death's untimely, but time brings it out:  
" Heaven will not have a murder to be hid,  
" But first or last bewrays the homicide.  
But if grief killed him, 'tis in vain to weep:  
" For 'twill kill all that do't long company keep.  
Then Candida (awhile) lay tears aside,  
And tell what love-tricks did in's life betide:  
Tell how he'd sit, and pipe so prettily,  
That all Swains joyed to hear his harmony:  
Each Nymph and Shepherdess, that now remains  
In any of these neighbouring Groves or Plains,  
From Fountains and from fields would flock with speed,  
To hear him play upon his Oeten Reed:  
And as they daily used for to do,  
So would the Satyrs and the Dreiads too.  
How oft have I my milk-white flock forsook,  
And slily stolen down to a silent brook,  
My Coravins sweet Songs and Oads to hear,  
When he (poor soul) thought little I was there?  
Amongst the Reeds (oh wherefore did he hide him?)  
At unawares I oftentimes have spied him:  
There would he sit, and sometimes sing and play,  
And sometimes weep, and many woes bewray:  
Sometimes his music did delight mine ear;  
Sometimes I'd sigh his sad complaints to hear,  
And to myself say (Lo) I can relieve him:  
But I'll not do't, 'cause purposely I'll grieve him.  
Tut, let him languish, pule, and pine awhile.  
" Who sighs for love, makes his beloved smile:  
For as the Adamant doth Diamonds draw,  
Or little jet extracts the longest straw:  
Even so my beauty binds him to obey,  
To seek to sue, and serve me every way.  
" Fair women (always) specially the witty,  
" Love to be loved, but love not to show pity,  
Though fair-faced foolish ones that do not know,  
How to esteem the beauties that they owe,  
May (like a Puppy that is played withal)  
As oft as touched, be apt to take a fall▪  
But we that know what power our beauties have  
Can at out Altars make them creep and crave,  
And think theyare happy too, and if they may  
But get a kiss, for courting us all day:  
For we do use to try, before we trust:  
How should we else distinguish Love from lust?  
" Men are deceitful, and will swear they love us,  
" (Calling to record gods, and heaven above us)  
" When they intent no love at all unto us,  
" But only lust (wherewith they lay t'undo us)  
" Seeking to undermine by subtle Arts,  
" The weak made fortress of our feeble hearts▪  
" For what is't, wit, or Art, or gold can do,  
" But they will use (if not abuse them too?)  
" Only to gain their wicked wills of us,  
" Whom they'll soon cast off, if they conquer thus.  
" Ah beauty, borne to multitudes of troubles,  
" How many ways thy misery redoubles!  
" Subject thou art unto suspicion still,  
" And art condemned, though thou committest no ill:  
" Fear and foul jealousy thy attendants be,  
" Sickness and age do each hour threaten thee.  
" Besides all this, men (both with gold and wit)  
" Seek beauty's ruin, and lay siege to it.  
" Nay more than thus, it doth itself betray,  
" And to our foes our weakness doth bewray.  
" No marvel then though fair ones feel much woe,  
" When all these enemies assail them so.  
But in this case I wrong my Corauin,  
Who guiltless was of such gregious sin:  
For why, his love was most immaculate,  
As free from folly, as 'twas far from hate:  
For when upon his pipe he did sit playing,  
Or his sad passions seriously bewraying,  
He did desire his Candida might hear,  
Both what his pastimes and his plain were:  
His heart and tongue concurring both in one,  
Made him wish audience, when he was alone:  
" For Lovers that do no dissembling use,  
" Can make no faults, but what Love may excuse.  
But flattering fellows that come cogging to us,  
" (Surely they loves not, that with slights do woe us)  
" Their praise and proffers are like lime-twigs laid,  
" Wherewith t'ensnare an unsuspecting maid.  
But Corauin did love unfeignedly;  
Free were his thoughts from fraud and flattery:  
For (with his tongue) his heart did speak to me,  
" (Happy were maids might all so wooed be.)  
Nothing but pure thoughts which proceeded still  
From true affection and entire good will,  
Which made me love him, and oft times go look,  
" (Love teacheth Lovers to search every nook)  
Whether he were in flowery field, or Grove,  
Or to some fountain had his fair flock drove;  
Where, if I found him, (as perhaps I did)  
" (For Love may lie close, but not long be hid)  
Like pretty Lambs we'd sport and play together.  
" Wooers are wags, or wantoness, choose you whether.  
Then though my Dear (to my great grief) be dead,  
Yet let our meetings be remembered:  
Much good pastime had we two alone,  
And (oh) most pleasing, 'cause 'twas seen to none.  
" Love takes no liking where strange eyes may see't:  
" But where most secret, there 'tis still most sweet.  
Oh, how the kisses and the kind embraces,  
Which passed betwixt us twain in private places,  
Now (being remembered) ravisheth my sense,  
And with my sorrows seemeth to dispense!  
Bidding me leave my sad Laments awhile,  
And with (then) amorous talk this time beguile▪  
Which (for my loves sake) I am loath to do.  
" But weak our sex, and wandring-minded too.  
" We (like the Moon) our minds must often change▪  
" All women used, and therefore 'tis not strange.  
Then if one passion can expel another,  
Love (for a while) Deaths sad designments smother,  
Whilst I relate (in this lamenting time)  
Our pretty pastimes in Love pleasant prime,  
This is my lip (kind) Corauin would say,  
When on my soft lip his sweet finger lay.  
This is not Thenots, nor doth Thirsis owe it:  
But 'tis my lip; Love did on me bestow it.  
Then would he kiss it, and (in kissing) cry▪  
here's Heaven on earth, and th'only joy that I  
Desire to have: for with a touch of this,  
Me thinks, I feel a taste of all true bliss.  
Then would he kiss, and kiss it o'er again.  
(" Such sweets as those ne'er satiateth men.)  
And then (in passion) feeling what he spoke,  
From his sweet tongue these sugared speeches broke:  
If ever Balsamum did cure a wound,  
If ever comforts did man's cares confound,  
If ever excellence did breath on earth;  
Here (I protest) it first of all took birth:  
For here I find the Fountain of delight,  
By day to comfort, and content by night.  
Here find I Nectar and Ambrosia too,  
For which the gods strive (as we mortals do)  
here's Hibla's honey, and Himettus' dew,  
Desired by all, but (ah) enjoyed by few:  
Here is the sum of all my souls desire;  
Here springs the fuel that inflames loves fire;  
Here sweet aromatics and odours flow,  
Rarer than ever did in Egypt grow;  
Here is the place surpasseth Helicon,  
(Which all the Muse's sport and play upon;)  
here sits the Graces on this (sacred) lip;  
here dance the Fairies, here they finely trip;  
The Shag-hayred satires, and the Dreiads all,  
here (only) keep their solemn Festival;  
here is the Latmus Phebe light upon,  
To kiss her dear-loved young Endymion;  
here is the Crimson-coloured Coral door,  
Wherewith Love locks up his delicious store;  
here are enclosed portculisses of Pearl,  
(Given by the gods t'adorn my dainty Girl)  
Whiter then Ivory, and of far more worth,  
Then all the pearls that Taprobane brings forth;  
here lies (entrenched) the organ of her heart,  
Which never moves, but music doth impart,  
Sweeter than that which god Apollo played,  
When he to win fair Daphne's love assayed.  
Oh, how my soul is ravished, when I hear  
That most mellifluous tongue sound in mine ear!  
For then (me thinks) some sacred Angel sings,  
Whose voice my senses in a slumber brings,  
And all my cares and corrosives expels,  
By hearing her, whose harmony excels:  
For Candida can tune her sweet tongue so,  
That when she speaks, her words extirps my woe.  
And here (ah here) besides what is recited,  
Is one thing more wherewith I am delighted,  
And that's her dulcet and delicious breath,  
Able to sweeten the sour face of Death,  
And purify the most infectious air:  
What it perfumes, no poison can impair.  
Odours and Incense (offered to the gods)  
Are not so sweet, as her sweet breath (by odds:)  
For when she speaks, the Sun seems to exhale,  
And draw that vapour from this earthly vale,  
Up to the clouds, which (sweetened there withal)  
Shall henceforth none but honey drops let fall:  
Which drops distilling from fair heaven to earth▪  
Shall give her glory that first gave them birth.  
Thus would my dear-loved lou'ly Corauin  
Sir and discourse, when we alone have been.  
Then would he clasp me in his comely arms,  
Whose pleasant touches were as powerful charms,  
To bind me with, more fast and firmer too▪  
Than chains of Ir'n or Adamant can do:  
And b'ing impris'nd in that Ivory gale,  
(From whence sweet kisses only were my bail)  
he'd set him down upon the green-leaved grass,  
And (having me in's arms) would say, Sweet lass,  
here we may sport us on these pleasant banks,  
And use a thousand pretty wanton pranks;  
here we may sit, and clip, and college, and kiss,  
Dally, do what we will, taste all loves bliss:  
For here's no envious Ill-suspecting eye  
near to this place: we here in covert lie:  
Time proffers here from foul reproach to free us:  
For why, here's none (save heavenly power's) can see us.  
" Lo, thus the place with th'opportunity  
" Moves many a chaste mind to immodesty,  
And brought my Corauin (there furtherance having)  
For what's unfitting thus to fall a craving.  
Sweet Candida (quoth he) thou knowst I love thee,  
And for loves first fruits now I mean to move thee:  
Thou see'st the all-discrying light of day  
Is almost fled, and vanished away,  
And sable coloured night (which all things covers)  
Spreads her black Curtain to befriend kind Lovers.  
Lo, all is whist, our flocks are close in fold;  
And we alone: why should we not be bold?  
It were a shame that I so long should woe thee,  
And never offer loves delights unto thee.  
Then blame me not, though now I move that suit.  
" (Maid's should be marred, if men were ever mute.)  
It is our part to make the proffer still:  
But's your acceptance makes it good or ill.  
Then be propitious (like the time and place)  
" theyare happy lovers have kind loves in chase.  
Come, Candida, thou knowst what I desire.  
" No Sea's more boundless than loves burning fire.  
Dear Sweet, delay not; but let me possess  
That which I seek: thou shalt have ne'er the less.  
Then yield to me without resisting long.  
" 'tis vain for weak ones to contend with strong.  
With that I sighed, and wept, and struggled too,  
And thus cried out, (oh God,) what shall I do?  
Shall I be injured by my only friend,  
And will he rob me, that should me defend?  
what faith's in men, when friends do traitors prove  
And let their lusts gain sovereignty o'er Love?  
This said (quoth he) Why weep'st and wayl'st thou thus,  
Since time and place seek both to pleasure us?  
My Faith and Troth (thou knowst) are plight to thee,  
That true and constant I will ever be.  
What though we are not (as I wish we were)  
Married together? let that be no bar:  
For in the heavens, He that doth sit most high,  
Knows all our vow's, and knows I do not lie.  
We two are linked (though not with Hymen's band)  
With heart in heart, and also hand in hand;  
And whilst in me remains a spark of life,  
I will account sweet Candida my wife;  
And at the instant I resign my breath,  
I'll call thee so, and seal it with my death.  
For thouart my wife, and there lives none but thee,  
That any right or interest hath in me.  
(Sweet Candida) then why shouldst thou resist me?  
And having thus spoke twenty times he kissed me:  
" For kissing's oil, which (cast upon loves fire)  
" Doth aggravate and make it more aspire.  
But words, vows, kisses (though too strong all three)  
All wanted power to prevail with me:  
For though these agents did all plead delight,  
Yet still I dreaded, lest some danger might  
Ensue thereof; besides the hideous shame  
That might detect me, whereso're I came.  
And therefore thus replied (Sweet Corauin)  
Oh do not 'tice me for to taste that sin,  
That odious sin, which (with my soul) I do  
Hate, even as hell, and all hell's torments too:  
I yet am clear, my flesh is free from taint  
Of filthy lust; then seek not thou to stain't,  
But rather lend me thy keene-edged knife,  
Wherewith to end this my unhappy life:  
For I protest, ten thousand deaths I'll die,  
ere lose mine honour, shipwreck chasttiy.  
He hearing me thus resolutely bend,  
First fetched a sigh, than prayed me be content▪  
And to appease my anger, fell to kissing▪  
" (loves chiefest delight, when th'other thing is missing.)  
But whilst he kissed, I strived and struggled so,  
We both grew breathless, than he let me go.  
Yet oft we met there: But my Corauin  
ne'er (after that) enticed me unto sin,  
Nor any kindness would presume to crave,  
More than myself thought good to let him have:  
For since he held a glance to be a grace,  
And kissing, favour in the highest place.  
" Whereby we see, lewd suits must be controlled,  
" Or th'hand of lust will soon make loves heart cold.  
" maids must not let men have their minds of them,  
" Chastity's precious like a Diadem,  
" And hardly kept (as Crowns are kept by Kings.)  
" So many seek for to subvert such things:  
But leaving that, which (oh too well) is known.  
" (For few there are that can defend their own)  
Let me cease talking of it, and return  
To where I left my dear deer's loss to mourn:  
For ill it fits me, whom sad woe hath ceased,  
To speak of aught wherewith I ear'st was pleased.  
" joys are no joys that do in sorrow end.  
" Misery (most commonly) doth come unkend:  
" And when we think, we are in safest estate,  
" Mischief stands nearest the main to ruinate:  
For lo, when I beheld those happy days,  
Which e'rst I spoke of, and I once might praise,  
I little feared that (which now I find,  
To quench my hopes in this unhappy kind.)  
Grief (the only issue of unhappy creatures,  
The bane of beauty, and best-formed features)  
Should have brought me into th'estate I'm now,  
For to sit thus, and sigh and grieve with you,  
For loss of Corauin, whom you loved dearly:  
Yet only me his death concerns most nearly:  
For he was mine, my best and chiefest part,  
The only joy and comfort of my heart:  
And therefore I have the most cause to mourn,  
(Though your loves will not let me weep alone)  
Yea it is I, and none but only I,  
That for his death have cause to sit and cry,  
To cry, complain, to sorrow, sigh, and moan,  
Till like to woeful Niobe (now a stone)  
I be transformed; from the form I bear,  
And have no sense t'afford or feel a tear:  
For Corauin, when he resigned his breath,  
Gave me this gift, his death should be my death,  
My death indeed: for (oh) why should I live,  
To whom my Love this Legacy did give?  
Why should I live, and sit lamenting here  
Upon the earth, when heaven doth hold my Dear?  
It is unfit (since we two were as one)  
That I should live, now my dear Love is gone.  
Ah time, why art thou now so slowly paced,  
That wontest to flit more swift then th'heart' that's chased?  
Why in my sorrows dost thou seem to leave me,  
That of all joys so lately didst bereave me?  
For having done the worst that thou couldst do,  
In killing him, why dost not kill me too?  
Why bring'st not Death (urged by this occasion)  
On my lives kingdom to make stern invasion?  
Hast thou took all from me that thou couldst take,  
Saving myself (that now is sorrows make?)  
And leav'st thou me distressed (as in scorn)  
To be times abject, that did time adorn?  
For I was held the only Paragon  
That e'er th' Arcadian Shepherds looked upon.  
Made they not Odes and Sonnets every day,  
Which to the world my beauty did bewray?  
Who was't could pipe, and did not sound my praise,  
(Whose name adorned all their Roundelays.)  
Was I not th'only object of their eyes,  
At whom they would (as at the Suns arise  
The savage people do) stand in a maze,  
Worshipping that whereon their eyes did gaze?  
What argument did any of them hold  
So confident, (it could not be controlled)  
As of my beauty, person, and rare wit,  
Which oft made multitudes to muse at it?  
Each Shepherdess envied my excellent parts,  
As th'only Adamant to attract men's hearts,  
And said, that I was honoured of each Swain,  
As Cynthia is of all her starry train.  
This time I had, and thus I was reputed.  
But what I was, is now (by woe) confuted,  
And with my woe, the wretchedness of time  
upbraideth me, as guilty of a crime,  
For letting slip occasions that were offered.  
And losing time, when love (in time) was proffered,  
Telling me now (ah that no time could tell me)  
What I forsook, and what hath since befell me,  
Saying I had (oh that I had so still)  
A time, wherein I might have wrought my will.  
I had a time wherein I lived content,  
I had a time of sport and merriment,  
I had a time, wherein I took delight,  
I had a time, when time was worth the sight,  
I had a time, wherein I might have been  
More kinder than I was to Corauin,  
I had a time (ere time took him from me)  
Which joyed my heart that happy time to see.  
But now (ah now) that time's untimely past,  
And where weal was, there wretchedness is placed.  
Ay me, most miserable of all maids alive!  
More tyranny no Tyrant can contrive,  
Then time hath show'd to take all did content me,  
And now to mock, and with much grief torment me.  
" But still it falls out (oh disastrous Fate!)  
" That the most fair are most unfortunate:  
" For as weare blest with beauty from above,  
" So weare accursed by being crossed in Love;  
" Which makes the meanest, and most black of all,  
" Despite our fairness, and desire our fall,  
" Glorying to see the ruin of our state:  
" For whom men love most, them most woman hate.  
" It grieves our Sex to see a supreme fair,  
" To live unblemished, breathing in the air,  
" And e'er they shall unscandalized live,  
" (Most shameless) they will them shames liu'ry give.  
But why against this huge-made monster, many,  
Do I inveigh, that ne'er was wronged by any?  
ne'er wronged by any? yes, yes, and envied,  
If not (by some) too palpably belied.  
But ah, I reck not what reports they make.  
I'll suffer all for my sweet lovers sake:  
For if in Coravins behalf they speak,  
They shall do well their wraths on me to wreak.  
Too much blame cannot upon me be laid:  
For I deserve the worst that can be said.  
Just are the heavens in punishing me thus,  
And yet I'm wronged. (Oh, who can right discuss?)  
None but the gods my injuries do know:  
Each mortal's ignorant how my griefs do grow.  
Would I had ne'er lived to have felt loves force,  
Envious Death than had not made divorce  
So (unexpectedly) twixt him and me.  
Thus to provoke my sorrows (as you see.)  
Ay me, it is for Corauin that I  
Now sigh, and grieve, and weep thus woefully.  
Dead is my Dear. (Oh would he were not so)  
joy, heaven, thou hast him (he did thither go)  
On earth he could not, no, he could not stay.  
Heaven got him hence (like Ganymede) away.  
None but my dearest dear-loved Corauin,  
Corauin (only) could Ioues favour win.  
Up to the heavens the gods have got my Love:  
Royally robed, he there attends on jove.  
Would I were with him, and coequally  
In heaven established in eternity.  
No doubt I shall: but (ah) I cannot yet.  
" Angels seats are most difficult to get.  
Retire then, thoughts: for (till my death's day) I  
Cannot attain to immortality:  
And die I would not, till the world doth know,  
" (No flatterers tongue can true affection show)  
Directly how my Corauin was lost.  
Injurious Fates, how are we wretches crossed!  
Death doth deprive us of our Dearest friends;  
And yet conceals the causes of their ends.  
Are we so much despised of heavenly Powers,  
Not what they gave us, we may keep as ours?  
Did heaven not (once) give Corauin to me?  
Can they revoke it, I not injured be?  
Oh no, no, no, (I know) they cannot do it?  
" Rob'ry's unjust whosoever adds aid unto it.  
And therefore heavens (I say) and gods are cruel,  
Unjustly to deprive me of my jewel.  
If I do wrong you, (heavens and gods) I pray,  
Now, now, (oh now) oh take me now away,  
Take me away; yea, yea, so let it be.  
And (whosoever killed him) lay the guilt on me:  
Say, my unkindness killed the flower of Swains,  
(The comely'st Shepherd that e'er kept these Plains)  
Yet 'twas not I, my coyness, nor unkindness;  
But 'twas this Boy-god, Love (misled my blindness▪)  
For (on my soul) I ne'er intended aught,  
That wronged my Dear, in word, or deed, or thought.  
But, Love, 'twas thou, 'twas thou, and none but thou.  
That murther'dst him, and mak'st me mourn here now:  
'Twas thou that didst bereave me of my joy,  
And now dost drench me in this dire annoy:  
'Twas thou that didst my youths fair hopes delude,  
And all my comforts cruelly exclude,  
'Twas thou that didst destroy my Dearest friend,  
With whom my love, and dearest delight did end:  
'Twas thy hand gave my heart this cause of woe.  
And made these eyes (like raging streams) overflow:  
'Twas thou that mad'st these Shepherds fall a weeping,  
And leave their fair flocks (careless) without keeping▪  
'Twas thou didst all whereof I do complain:  
Thy cursed Bow my best-beloved hath slain,  
And in that act thou hast performed all ill,  
" (For who can do a worse deed, then kill?)  
Ah, Cupid, Cupid, thou hast stained thy name:  
Both heaven, and earth, are full of thy defame,  
And more shall be: there stayed, and sighed, and groaned.  
(Such woeful wights are worthy to be moaned.)  
Then turned herself, and wistly looked about,  
Till she spied me (that still paints passions out,)  
Whom she desired, as e'er I loved a Woman,  
(Which powerful speech can be withstood by no man)  
That I would write her wrongs, and woes at large.  
At whose request I undertook this charge;  
And thus replied: Thou subject of my verse,  
If (silly) I, thy sorrows must rehearse,  
Deign (thou Divinest of creatures) to infuse  
A fluent spirit into my feeble muse,  
That unborn Issues (in my work) may see,  
What thy perfections could perform by me.  
Thou art my Subject, and my Sweet Muse too,  
From whom flows all, of all I wish to do.  
Three days and nights I have already spent,  
Of thy sad sorrows, for to see th'event.  
And ten times three more (willingly) I'll spend,  
To make thy woes unto the wide-world kend.  
Thanks she returned me, and requital vowed.  
" True beauty (like true virtue) is not proud:  
But him that merits, still it will affect,  
Though witless Dowdies do all worth neglect.  
Then unto Cupid turned her speech again.  
" (Women are more impatient than men)  
'Tis thou (quoth she) that makest me forlorn;  
'Tis thou that mak'st me hold my life in scorn;  
'Tis thou that hast of all contentment reft me,  
And nought but woe and wretchedness now left me▪  
Ah woe is me, that ever I knew Love,  
Since thereby I thus miserable prove:  
Since thereby I thus miserable prove,  
Woe to the time that ever I knew love.  
Was it for this Dame Nature did her best,  
To frame my face more fairer than the rest?  
Was it for this I did reject so many,  
And (but that one) could love or like of any?  
Was it for this, that I would go so trim,  
To gain his love, then be beguiled of him?  
Was it for this, that I did trick my hair,  
And sought all means to make me supreme fair?  
Was it for this, that I so carelessly  
Forsook my flocks, to keep him company?  
Was it for this, that I took no delight  
In any thing, but only in his sight?  
Was it for this, nor wealth, nor wit could win  
My flint-hard heart to let love lodge therein,  
(Though many a sweet and worthy Swain did woe me)  
Till he did come, whose death doth quite undo me?  
Ah Love (blind Love) how blindly dost thou lead us,  
And (like a false friend) badly dost bestead us?  
Is this the guerdon thou didst promise me,  
To pay with death my loves long-looked for fee?  
Is this the comfort I did hope to have,  
For Bride-grom's bed? my Bridegroom in his grave?  
Oh eyes (henceforth) be you no longer eyes:  
But (having seen these sad calamities)  
Turn into rivulets of running tears,  
And as small drops of rain the Marble wears:  
So dig you channels, and indent deep creeks  
In my (now) cloudy and discoloured cheeks,  
And let your lights (which e'rst did shine as clear,  
As heavens bright lamps) no more to men appear:  
But be you dim, nay, dark and shaded ever:  
Keep your close Cells, and be disclosed never.  
And thou my face, fair beauties late-loued field,  
(Such as Arcadian Swains have seen but siled)  
Never seem amiable in man's eye:  
But let thy Roses and thy Lilies die.  
And now let wrinkles (mixed with morphew) grow,  
Where their acquaint colours made a curious show.  
And you, my lips, (much praised by many a man)  
Be (as you are now) ever pale and wan,  
Rivell, chick, pill; and let my sighs consume ye:  
As odorous breath wont (balme-like) to perfume ye.  
And thou, my skin, (the lovely lawny veil)  
That keep'st my corpse within an ivory gale,  
Turn to a yellowish or Tawny hue,  
And be unpleasing to all people's view.  
And likewise you, my Saphire-colourd veins,  
In whom my lives (yet purple) blood remains,  
Whither, dry, cling together, and (henceforth)  
Stop my blood's course, till it turn nothing worth.  
And you my breasts (two Snowy appenynes)  
More prized by many, than th'Indian mines,  
With all the rest of my admired parts,  
(Wherewith I conquered a world of hearts)  
Waste and consume, fade, and fall quite away:  
For life I loathe, and now for death I stay:  
For life I loathe, and now for death I stay.  
And (for my Loves-sake) now wish life decay.  
Which said, the poor wretch (with much woe confounded)  
Gave a great sigh; and having sighed, she swooned.  
Whereat the Shepherds (which did weep before)  
Now wrung their hands, and wailed, and wept much more,  
And stood awhile amazed at this chance.  
Then wrought they means to wake her from her trance:  
One rubs her temples, and another, he  
Doth clap her cheeks, till crimson red they be:  
Another wrings her Nose, until the blood  
(Enraged) starts out, to see if he were wood:  
One wrenched her pretty fingers in his hand:  
Another whooping in her ear, doth stand.  
Thus as they grieved, to see what did befall her:  
So each of them endeavoured to recall her,  
And did at length: but faint she was, and weak,  
And still she sighed (as sighs her heart should break)  
Anon said thus, (but more she could not say)  
Cupid killed Corauin: woe's me for aye!  
Cupid killed Corauin: woe's me for aye!  
For loss of him, thus makes my life decay;  
And so sunk down unto the earth again.  
The whilst the Shepherds did on Love complain  
And cursed his Bow, his arrows, and his quiver,  
And him the Wag, that was their woes contriver.  
Cupid at this, put finger in the eye,  
And (whilst they chid him) wept most childishly;  
Then babe-like said: (for Babes can do no other:)  
How you have used me, I will tell my mother.  
By this, fair Candida (whom all thought dead,  
Till the kind Swains did elevate her head)  
Began to stir, and roll her radiant eyes.  
(Beauty dwells there even when the body dies.)  
And when she'd sucked breath from the solid air,  
Away from thence the Shepherds did convey her.  
With whom I'll leave her, till she do recover,  
And learn to leave lamenting for her Lover.  
Lo now, young Cupid, seeing all were gone,  
(With many tears) her woeful state did moon,  
And to himself (the silly god) did say,  
Kind Coraum I cruelly did slay,  
And was the Author of her woes, and cries  
Not willingly, but through my want of eyes:  
Yea, it was I, and none but only I,  
That was the cause of her calamity:  
And now it grieves me, (when it is too late,)  
Love should (so lucklesly) gain lovers hate,  
And with his folly make the gods offended,  
And mortals mourn thus: but the Scene b'ing ended,  
In which my fact was punished with defame,  
(To the impeachment of my honoured name,)  
I'll get me gone from th' Arcadian Plains,  
And come no more amongst these mourning Swains,  
Till Candida her Corauin forget,  
And love another whom she knows not yet:  
Which to effect, I'll leave expostulating,  
And now go seek where Death's negotiating,  
To do the wretched and weak worldlings wrong,  
With the golden arrows that to Love belong;  
Which I'll take from him, (as I'm charged to do;)  
And give him's own, with all that longs thereto.  
Therewith departs. But (oh) not far goes he,  
" (A foes found sooner, than a friend can be.)  
ere he met Death, who (like an envious slave)  
Exclaimed on Love, and him ill speeches gave,  
Saying, he was a cozening cheating mate,  
" (Oh cruel Death, thouart full of cankered hate)  
To take his Ebon Darts, and stead thereof,  
Leave him loves squilkers; whereat old folks scoff  
The young make songs on, and the wise reject:  
For (but with foundlings) Loves in no respect:  
And therefore (quoth he) I (in scorn) deliver  
Thy babble Arrows, and thy boyish Quiver:  
here take them (Infant) and give me mine own,  
Wherewith to heaven thou (like a fool) hast flown,  
And there hast done my engines so much grace,  
As make show of them in that sacred place;  
Whilst I have borne thine all about the world,  
And at the bosoms of the basest hurled,  
By which (of Death) this slight thy shafts have got;  
They'll kill sometimes, though they by Love be shot,  
Then shall I laugh at Lady Venus' child,  
To think how Death the Boy-god hath beguiled,  
Making him help me fill vast Graves and Tombs,  
That should make fertile barren women's wombs.  
This said, changed Quivers, and away went he,  
Leaving young Cupid to complain to me,  
Of's punishment for his rash oversight,  
To steal from heaven, and stay on earth one night:  
From whence the death of Corauin did spring,  
Which all this woe unto the world did bring,  
And shame to him; on whom fell Death did rail;  
And Shepherds likewise (though it nought avail)  
With bitter execrations did reject,  
As if his godhead were of no respect;  
And thus he said: I do perceive (quoth he)  
Thou must the Penman of my Progress be:  
Fair Candida hath chose thee, and desired,  
Not as a mercenary (basely hired)  
But as a true friend, that compassionates  
All Loyal lovers lamentable states;  
That thou wouldst in some sad-tunde Elegy,  
Tell how her Dear-loved Corauin did die  
By my o'resight, or rather want of sight:  
(For Love would not kill Lovers, though he might)  
How she laments, and how the Shepherds weep,  
And what a sorrowing for one Swain they keep:  
How gods (enraged) have punished my offence,  
And mortals here (with too much insolence)  
Exclaimed on me, and cursed me to my face.  
(Why should a god endure so much disgrace?)  
How Death abused me, yet (all this while) I  
Did nought but weep, and durst not make reply;  
Because the gods thought fit I should be shent,  
And (for m'offence) ordained this punishment.  
But as th'would'st have my mother be thy friend,  
So let this Story sparingly be penned.  
Condemn not Love much (cause thou see'st he's blind)  
As e'er th'would'st favour of a female find:  
But write of him as th'would'st have him to be  
(In Venus' Court) a friend, or foe to thee.  
With that the Boy betook him to his wings,  
(Love when he list, can soar 'bove earthly things)  
And up to heaven did make his towering flight.  
I than returned these accidents to write;  
Which (as you see) I have expressed here,  
Though other Pastorals it comes not near.  
Yet let the world vouchsafe me this report,  
My will is good, although my wit comes short.  
Sidney and Spencer, be you aye renowned:  
No time hath power your Pastorals to confound.  
Drayton, and all the rest that wrote of yore,  
Adorning time with your delicious store,  
Be ever honoured, and (till th'end of times)  
On Fame's pert tongue be praised for your Rhymes.  
You worthy ones, oh, do not you disdain  
My mournful Muse, that in this humble vain  
Dares for to sing, considering these are days,  
In which some Critics will the best dispraise:  
But pardon me, should all be silent; then  
Who should praise Virtue, or check Vice in men?  
I know, fair Candida's complaint affords  
Matter enough, had I but proper words,  
T'express her griefs, whose woes, sighs, tears, & wrongs,  
Might task all pens, and almost tyre all tongues.  
But I (alone) do of her sorrows sing,  
Till better wits thereof be warbling:  
For (su●e) the work deserves a worthy wit,  
Though I (the weakest) do first emblazon it.  
Amintas likewise told a sad-tuned Tale,  
For loss of's Phillis, (long since set to sale)  
And for Laceno, and for all the rest,  
Much sorrow by the Shepherds was expressed:  
But I ore'slip it all, for her sweet sake,  
For whom too much pains I can never take.  
And now I will conclude her mournful song,  
To whom, I'll sing a sweeter note e'er long:  
For whilst I live, I will tune all my Lays,  
To comfort Candida, and in her praise.  
FINIS.