A POETICAL rhapsody, Containing: diverse Sonnets, Odes, Elegies, Madrigals, Epigrams, Pastorals, Eglogues, with other poems, both in Rhyme and measured verse.  
For variety and pleasure, the like never yet published.  
The Bee and Spider by a diverse power,  
Suck honey and Poison from the self same flower.  
Newly corrected and augmented.  
LONDON, Printed by William Stansby for Roger I●…ckson dwelling in Fleetstreet near the great Conduit. 1611.   

To the most Noble, Honourable, and worthy Lord▪ William Earl of Pembroke, Lord Herbert of Cardiff, Marmion, and Saint Quintine.  

GReat Earl, whose brave Heroic mind is higher  
And nobler, than thy noble high Degree:  
Whose outwarashape, though it most lovely be  
Doth in fair Robes a fairer Soul attire:  
Who rich in fading wealth, endless Treasure  
Of Virtue, Valour, Learning, richer art,  
Whose present greatness, men esteem but part  
Of what by line of future Hope they measure.  
Thou worthy Son unto a peerless mother,  
Or Nephew to great Sidney of renown,  
Who hast deserved thy Coronet, to crown  
With Laurel crown, a crown excelling th'other  
I consecreate these Rhymes to thy great Name,  
Which if thou like, they seek no other fame.   
FRA. DAVISON.   

To the Reader.  
BEING induced by some private reasons, and by the instant entreaty of special friends, to suffer some of my worthless poems to be published, I desired to make some written by my dear friends Anonymoi, and my dearer Brother, to bear them company: Both without their consent, the latter being in the low-Country wars, and the rest utterly ignorant thereof. My friends names I concealed; mine own and my brothers, I willed the Printer to suppress, as well as I had concealed the other, which he having put in without my privity, we must now undergo a sharper censure perhaps then our nameless works should have done, and I especially. For if their Poems be liked, the praise is due to their invention: if disliked, the blame both by them, and all men, will be derived upon me, for publishing that which they meant to suppress.  
If thou think we affect fame by these kinds of writings, though I think them no disparagement even to the best judgements, yet I answer in all our behalfs, with the princely shepherd Dorus▪  Our hearts do seek another estimation. 
If thou condemn Poetry in general, and affirm that it doth intoxicate the brain, and make men utterly unfit, either for more serious studies, or for any active course of life, I only say, jubeo te stultum esse libenter. Since experience proves by examples of many, both dead and living, that divers delighted, and excelling herein, being Princes or Statesmen, have governed and counseled as wisely, being soldiers, have commanded armies as fortunately, being Lawyers, have pleaded as judicially and eloquently, being Divines, have written & taught as profoundly, and being of any other profession, have dischargèd it as sufficiently as any other men whatsoever: If liking other kinds, thou mislike the Lyrical, because the chiefest subject thereof is Love; I reply, that louc being virtuously intended, and worthily placed, is the whetstone of wit, and spur to all generous actions: and many excellent spirits with great fame of wit, and no stain of judgement, have written excellently in this kind, and specially the ever-praiseworthly Sidney: So as if thou will needs make a fault, for mine own part,  Hand timeo, ●…i iam neque●… defendere crimen Cum tanto commune viro. 
If any except against the mixing (both at the beginning & end of this book) of diverse things written by great & learned personages, with our mean and worthless scribblings, I utterly disclaim it, as being done by the Printer, either to grace the forefront with Sir Philip Sidneys, and others names, or to make the book grow to a competent volume.  
For these Poems in particular, I could allege these excuses, that those under the name of Anonymos were written (as appeareth by divers things to Sir Philip Sidney living, and of him dead) almost twenty years since, when Poetry was far from that perfection, to which it hath now attained; that my brother is by profession a Soldier, and was not 18 years old when he writ these toys: that mine own were made most of them six or seven years since, at idle times as I journeyed up and down during my travails. But to leave their works to justify themselves, or the Authors to justify their works, and to speak of mine own; thy mislikes I contemn, thy praises (which I neither deserve, nor expect) I esteem not, as hoping (God willing) ere long, to regain thy good opinion, if lost; or more deservedly to continue it, if already obtained, by some graver work. Farewell.  
FRA. DAVISON.   

An alphabetical Table, of all the Sonnets, Odes, Poems, Madrigals, Epigrams, Elegies, Pastorals, Eglogues, Dialogues, Hymns, and Epitaphs, with all other the principal matters contained in this present Volume.  

A  
A Contention betwixt a Wife, a Widow, and a Maid. 7  
A Fiction how Cupid made a Nymph wound herself. 21  
A living death, see Poem. 1  
Absence. 190. 191  
Absence and time, see Ode. 11  
Affection, see Poem. 25  
Ajax who killed himself, see inscription. 1  
Allegory of his love to a ship, see Sonnet. 3  
Allusion to Theseus' voyage against the Minotaur, see Sonnet. 4  
Anacreons Odes. 159.  
An answer to what love is. 90  
An i●…uectiue against love, see Sonnet. 5  
Anatomy of love, see Poem. 33  
Astrea's praise with silence, see Dialogue. 7   

B  
Bachelor 2  
Beauty causeth love, see Sonnet. 15  
Beggars life praised. 161  
Belides his torments. 53  
Blanks. 7.  
Bodkin. 6  
Bracelets. 6  
Break heavy heart, see Poe. 4  
Brutus his inhabiting of this I'll, see Poem. 30   

C  
Cato Utican, who slew himself, see inscription. 5●…  
Chain. 6  
Child's Epitaphs, see Epitaph. 1  
Christian Stoic, see Poem. 34  
Climenestra to Orestes, Inscription. 57  
Commendation of bea●…ie, etc. see Ode. 13  
Commendation of verses, see Sonnet. 44  
Comparison betwixt the strength of beast, see Ode. 1  
Comparison of love in Beggars and Kings. 160  
Comparison to a candle-fly, see Madrigal. 6  
Comparison with perfect love, see Poem. 23  
Complaint of love very wittily. 30 & 56  
Conceit, see Poem. 25  
Contention betwixt a Wife, a Widow and a Maid. 7  
Contention of love and reason, see Sonnet. 8  
Contrarieties of love, see Poem. 24  
corina's singing, see Poem. 26  
Counterfeit answer, see Ode. 26  
Country Gentleman. 2  
Courtier. 1  
Courtiers rule, see Epi. 1  
Courtly life dispraised, see Pastoral. 3  
Coif and Crosse-cloath. 6  
Crambo the l●…wzie shifter, see Epigram. 5  
Cuckolds Epigram, see Epigran. 3  
Cuddies Emblem. 40  
Cuddies Pastoral Eglogue, see Eglogue. 6  
Cupid's dialogue with a lover, see Dialogue. 2  
Cupid made a Nymph to wound herself, see Eglogue. 5  
Cupid's marriage with dissimulation, see Ode. 6  
Cupid proved a Fence●…, see Madrigal. 7  
Cupid shoots light, but wounds sore, see Poem. 6  
Courtesans Epigram, see Epigran 4  
Cushinet. 7  
Cynthia Queen of Fortune. 3. & 196.   

D  
Deadly sweetness, see Poem. 7  
Death in love, see Poem. 8  
Death living, see Poem. 1  
Description of love, see Sonnet. 2  
Desire. 202  
Desire and hope, see Ode. 7  
Desire hath conquered revenge, see Sonnet. 9  
Desires government, see Poem. 9  
Dialogues. 

1. Between a lover and his Lady. 23  
2. Between a lover & Cupid. 50  
3. Between a Lover, Death, and Cupid. 49  
4. Between a lovers flaming heart, and his Lady's frozen breast. 59  
5. Between the lover and his heart. 49 & 123  
6. Between the soul and the body. 188  
7. In praise of Astrea, 26    
Dido's inscription, see Inscription. 4  
Discommodities of love, see Sonnet. 20  
Disdain at variance with desire, see Ode: ●…  
Disdains Altar & Sacrifice▪ 177  
Disdainful love, see Ode. 2  
Dispraise of a courtly life, see Pastoral. 3  
Dispraise of lovers folly, 145  
Divine. 1  
Dozen of points. 5  
Dial. 7   

E  
Eglogues. 

1. Between a Shepherd and a herdman. 47  
2. Between Eubulus and Astrea. 59  
3. Between Strephon and Urarania, with her answer. 57  
4. Concerning old age. 83  
5. How Cupid made a Nymph wound herself. 24  
6. Of Cuddy. 3●…  
7. Upon the death of sir Philip Sidney. 41    
Elegies. 

1. Letters in verse. 99  
2. Of discontent. 91  
3. Of his verse. 21●…  
4. Of women's inconstancy. 203  
5. To his Lady who vowed virginity 106  
6. Why he obtains not his Lady's favour. 93    
Epigrams 

1. A rul●… for Courtiers. 66  
2. For a looking glass 5  
3. On a limping Cuccold. 67  
4. On a painted Courtesan. 66  
5. On Crambo a low●…ie shifter. 67  
6. To A. S. 46  
7. To all poor scholars. 64  
8. To his friends. 65  
9 To Sir Phi. Sidney. 162  
10. Translations 〈◊〉 of martial. 63  
11. Ad p●…ssimos Coniuges. 65  
12. In Asinium. 60  
13. In Aulam. 65  
14. In Aul●…m. 67  
15. In Quintu●…. ibid.  
19 In Saba●…. ibid.    
Epitaphs. 

1. Upon the death of a child. 96  
2. Upon the heart of King H. of France and Poland. 202    
Execration of his passed Love, see Sonnet. 10   

F  
Fabricius Curio his virtues, see Inscription. 5  
Face see Poem 11. and reporting Sonnet.  
Fair face and hard heart, see Poem▪ 11  
Falling band. 6  
Fan. ibid.  
Farewell to his unconstant Mistress, see Ode. 10  
Fiction how a Nymph was wounded by Cupid, see Egl. 5  
Fortune's wheels. 5   

G  
Garden, see Poem. 40  
Garters. 6  
Girdle. 5  
Glass. ibid.  
Gloves. ibid.  
Gift, see Poem 28   

H  
Hand, see Madrigal. 14  
Hand kerchief. 5  
Hexameters to sir P. Sid. 162  
His heart arraigned of theft and acquitted, see Poem 13  
Hopeless desire soon withers and dies, see Poem. 14  
Horace imitated. 59  
Hymns. 

1. In praise of Music 167  
2. In praise of Neptune. 183     

I  
In praise of a beggars life, see beggars life. 161  
In praise of her eyes, see Sonnet. 17  
In praise of Music. see Him. 1  
In praise of Neptune see Him. 2  
In praise of sir P. Sidney, see Epigram. 9  
In praise of the two Countesses of Cumberland and Warwick, see Sonnet. 41  
In praise of the Sun, see Poem. 15  
Inscriptions. 

1. Of Ajax who killed himself, 58  
2. Of Cato Utican who slew himself. 59  
3. Of Clytaemnestra and her Son Orestes. 57  
4. Of Dido. 97  
5. Of Fabritius Curio. 58  
6. Of ●…mulus who was nursed by a she w●…lse 58  
7. Of Thisbe. 57    
invective against his Lady, see Poem. 113  
invective against Love, see Poem. 11  
invective again women, see Poem. 16  
Inverted rhymes of love. 28  
Ixion his torments. 115   

K  
Kerchief, see Handkerchief K. H. 3. Epitaph, see Epitaph. 2  
Knives. 5   

L  
Lace 5  
Ladies eyes serve Cupid for darts and fire, see P●…. 19  
Lawyer. 1  
Lenn●…y in rhyming Phale●…taks. 128  
Looking glass. 5  
Lottery presented before the late Queen. 3  
Lots 5  
Love Eclipsed, see Son. 2  
Love enters by fame, see Son. 46  
Love is deadly sweetness, see Poem. 7  
Love like children's Physic, see Son. 7  
Love punishable with love, see Son net. 19  
Love the only price of love, see Poem. 20  
lovers complaint, see Ode. 14  
loves allegory to a ship, see Son. 54  
loves anatomy, 197  
loves contention, see Son. 8  
Laves contrarieties, see Po. 21  
loves description, see Son. 2  
loves discommodities, see Son. 20  
loves dispraise and lovers folly. see Ode. 145  
loves hyperbol●…s, see S●…. 11  
loves invective, see Sonnet and Poem. 17  
Loves natural comparisons, see Poem. 23  
loves properties, see Po. 22  
Lie wherein is glanced at some general vices in sundry states of men. 15   

M  
Madrigal. 

1. Allusion upon the confusion of ●…ahell. ●…4  
2. Answer to the question what love was. 90  
3. Cupid proved a 〈◊〉. 89  
4. For a kiss. 57  
5. For the heart's division. 111  
6. He compares hims●… to a candle fly. 89  
7. Her outward gesture deceiving his inward hope. 127  
8. Her praise is in her want. ibid.  
9 Of a Ladies dreaming that she saw her lover dead. 365  
10. Of his loves attire 21  
11. Of love 149  
12. Taken out of a Greek Epigram. 44  
13. Of Cupid. 125  
14. To her hand upon giving a Glove. ●…  
15. Verbal love. 698  
16. Upon a kiss received. 75  
19 Upon departure from his love. 85  
18. Upon her beauty and inconstancy. 92  
19 Upon her commending of his verses. 96  
20. Upon her hiding her face from him. 92  
21. Upon her long absence. 91  
22. Upon his Mistress sickness and his own death. 94  
23. Upon his timorous silence in her presence. 91  
24. Upon seeing his face in her eye. 92    
Maid. 3. & 8  
Married man. 3  
Mariner's song and speech. 4  
Mask. 5  
Meditation upon the frailty of this life, see Poem. 2  
Merchant. 2  
musics praise, see Hymn. 1   

N  
Necklace. 7  
Neptune's praise, see Hymn. 2  
Nutmeg. 7   

O  
Odes. 

1. A comparison. 157  
2. A defiance to disdainful love. 153  
3. A Dialogue between him and his heart. 103  
4. A Prosopopoeia wherein his heart speaks to his Lady's breast. 86  
5. Being in Italy desires her to write unto him. 82  
6. Cupid's marriage with dissimulation. 144  
7. Desire and hope. 126  
8. Disdain at variance with desire. 139  
9 Dispraise of love and lovers folly. 145  
10. His farewell to his unconstant Mistress. 85  
11. His Lady condemned of ignorance or cruelty. 100  
12. His restless estate. 76  
13. In commendation of her beauty. 88  
14. lovers complaint. 133  
15. Of absence and time. 205  
16. Of Cynthia. 212  
17. Petition for leave to die. 132  
18. That all creatures have abiding in heaven, hell, or in one of the four Elements, but Man in all of them. 90  
19 That only her beauty and voice please him. 71  
20. The more favour he obtains the more he desires. 121  
21. The tomb of dead desire. 154  
22. To her eyes. 138  
23. To his heart. 151  
24. To his Muse. 147  
25. Unhappy eyes. 135  
26. Upon a countersaite answer. 86  
27. Upon her absence. 130  
28. Upon protestation of kind affection. 78  
29. Upon visiting his Lady by Moonlight. 130  
30. Where his Ladie-keepes his heart. 120    
Of absence and time, see Ode. 15  
Of Cupid, see Eglogue. 5  
Of Cynthia, see Ode. 16  
Of love matters out of Anacreon: see Anacreon   

P  
Pair of Bracelets. 6  
Pair of garters. 5  
Pair of gloves. 5  
Pair of sizzers. 6  
Pair of writing tables. 6  
Paleness, see Poem. 43  
Passionate Pris. see Poem. 35  
Pastorals. 

1. Eglogue of Eubulus and Astrea. 59  
2. Gratulatory made by Sir Philip Sidney. 17  
3. In dispraise of a courtly life. 19  
4. Of Cuddy. 68    
Petition to have her leave to die, see Ode. 15  
petrarck's description of love, see Sonnet. 2  
petrarck's Sonnet, pace non trovo. etc. see Sonnet. 22  
Phaleuciacks of love. 141. & 146  
Phaleuciacks of Wisd. 173  
Physician. 2  
Picture, see Son. 25  
Plain ring. 5  
Pocks, see Poem. 46  
Poems. 

1. A living death. 170  
2. A meditation upon the frailty of this life. 187  
3. An invective against love. 156  
4. Break heavy heart. 169  
5. Care will not let him live, nor hope let him die. 163  
6. Cupid shoots light, but w●…und sore. 155  
7. Deadly sweetness. 142  
8. Death in love. 168  
9 Desire's government. 169  
10. Dispraise of love, and lovers folly. 165  
11. Fair face, & hard heart. 157  
12. Her outward gesture deceiving inward hope. 145  
13. His heart arraigned of theft, and acquitted. 140  
14. Hopeless desire soon withers and dies. 171  
15. In praise of the Sun. 166  
16. invective against his lady. 174  
17. invective against love. 169  
18. invective against women. 209  
19 Lady's eyes, wherefore they serve. 143  
20. Love the only price of love. 139  
21. loves contrarieties. 170  
22. loves properties. 170  
23. Natural comparisons with Perfect love. 191  
24. Of bearance & silence. 209  
25. Of conceit, affection and desire. 201  
26. Of corrinna's singing. 199  
27. Of his Mistress face. 198  
28. Of love gift. 213  
29. Of silence. 209  
30. Of the first inhabiting this I'll by Brute & the Troyans'. 160  
31. That he is unchangeable. 147  
32. That love is unlike in beggars and in kings. 182  
33. The Anatomy of love, per ignotum. 214.  
34. The Christian Stoic 71  
35. The effects of absence and presence. 151  
36. The passionate prisoner. 171  
37. The true love knot. 206  
38. To her eyes. 138  
39 To his eyes. 148  
40. To his Lady's Garden. 203  
41. To time. 186  
42. Upon beginning without making an end. 113  
43. Upon her absence. 150  
44. Upon her paleness. 199  
45. Upon his L●…▪ buying of Lut●… strings. 142  
46. Upon his lady's sickness of the small Pocks. 189  
47. Upon seeing his face in her eye. 92    
Posy of a Ring. 5  
Prayer Book. 6  
Praise of beggars life, see beggars life.  
Praise of her eyes, see Son. 17  
Praise of Music, see Hymn. 1  
Praise of sir Philip Sidney, see Epigram. 9  
Praise of the two Countesses of Cumberland and Warwick, see Son. 41  
Prosopop●…ia 86  
Purse. 5   

Quatraine. 94   

R  
Reporting sonnet of praise. 200  
Ring plain 5  
Rings posy. 182  
Romulus, who was nursed by a she wolf, see Inscrip. 4  
Round-lay very pretty in inverted Rhymes 28   

S  
Samuel Daniel, Prince of English Poets. 95  
Sapphicks upon the passion of Christ 166  
Scarf 6  
Sickness, see Poem 29  
Sickness and recovery, see Sonnet. 23  
Silence, see Poem▪ 29  
Sisyphus his Torment 115  
Sizzers 6  
Snufkin ibid.  
Song in praise of a beggars life. 162  
Sonnets. 

1. A Pr●…sepopoeia between him and his Lady. 86  
2. A true description of love. 197  
3. Allegory of his love to a ship. 11  
4. Allusion to Theseus bis voy●…g 10 against the Minotaur. 167  
5. An invective against love. 1●…9  
6. Comparison of his heart to a tempest-beaten sh●…. 105  
7. Compared by children's Physic. 207  
8. Contention of Love and reason. 101  
9 Desire hath conquered revenge. 128  
10. Execration of his passed love. 116  
11. He calls his senses as witnesses of her virtues. 99  
12. He demands pardon for looking, loving, & writing. 98  
13. He desires leave to write to his love. 108  
14. He paints out his torments. 115  
15. Her beauty makes him live even in despair. 104  
16. His sighs and tears are bootless. 104  
17. In praise of her eyes. 99  
18. In protestation of love. 58  
19 love punishable with love. 98  
20. loves discommodities, 115  
21. loves Hyperboles 113  
22. Of Fran. Petrarcha. 114  
23. Of her sickness and recovery. 180  
24. Of his Lady's Picture. 697  
26. Of his Ladies weeping, 102  
27. Of his own and his Mi●…es sickness. ●…79  
28. Of ●…gring love. 112  
29. Of re●…iting the heart being (by poetical fiction) once severed. 209  
30. Of the Moon. 118  
31 Of the Sun 117  
32. Of the impossibility to dissemble love. 70  
33. Of unfeigned love. 38  
34. That he cannot leave to love, though commanded. 108  
35. That love made him a Poet. ibid.  
36. That she hath greater poweroner his happiness and life, than either fortune, fate or stars. 101  
37. That time cannot end or diminish love. 112  
38. To Mistress Diana. 62  
39 To Pity. 71  
40. To prove love. 38  
41. To the two Countesses of Cumberland and Warwick. 196  
42. Upon a gold Rings poesy. 182  
43. Upon acknowledgement of desert, rejecting affection, with the Answers. 84  
44. Upon her commending his verses. 89  
45. Upon her looking out of a Window. 181  
46. Upon loves entering by fame. 190  
47. Upon loves entering by his Ears. 178  
48. Upon presenting of a new yeares-gift. 94  
49. Upon the lovers absence from his Lady. 91  
50. Upon the 7 deadly sins. 195  
51. Vherein the Lover begs but his Lady's heart. 190  
52. Why her lips yield him no 〈◊〉 of comfort. 120    
Soldier. 1  
Sphec●… of Graie●… Inn Mask presented before the Q. 71  
Stomacher. 6  
Strephon's Palinode. 27   

T  
That time cannot end or diminish love. 112  
Ten Sonnets to Philomela. 178  
The bellish torments of Tantalus Titius, Ixion, Sisyphus, and the Belides. 115  
The Lie, see Lie, 15  
The Lots, see lots. 5  
The Mask, see Mask. 71  
The mean estate is best. 20  
The tomb of dead desire see Ode. 154  
Thisbe, see inscription. 1  
Time, see Ode. 15  
To her eyes, see Poem 38  
To his eyes, see Poem. 39  
To his heart, see Ode. 23  
To his Lady's garden, see Poem. 40  
To his Muse, see Ode. 24  
Tongue, see reporting Sonnet.  
To time, see Poem. 4  
True lovers knot. 191   

V  
Verbal love,  
Urania her Answer. 〈◊〉   

W  
Widow. ●…  
Wife.  
Wisdom, see Phaleuc. 2  
Wit, see reporting Sonnet.  
Woman's weight in Latin and English. 132  
women's hearts & inconstancy, see Elegy, 4  
women's inconstancy, see Madrigal. 18  
women's Innectine, see Poem. 18  
Wonders of the world never yet descried. 1   
D. P.   

YET OTHER TWELVE WONders of the World, never before published, By JOHN DAVIS.  

I. The Courtier.  
LOng have I lived in Court, yet learned not all this while  
To sell poor suitors, smoke: nor where I hate to smile:  
Superiors to adore, inferiors to despise,  
To fly from such as fall, to follow such as rise,  
To cloak a poor desire under a rich array,  
Not to aspire by vice, though 'twere the quicker way.   

II. The Divine.  
My calling is Divine, and I from God am sent,  
I will no chop-church be, nor pay my patron rend,  
Nor yield to sacrilege, but like the kind true mother,  
Rather will lose all the child, then part it with another.  
Much wealth I will not seek, nor worldly masters serve,  
So to grow rich & fat, while my poor flock doth starve   

III. The Soldier.  
My occupation is the noble trade of Kings,  
The trial that decides the highest right of things:  
Though MARS my Master be, I do not VENUS' love,  
Nor honour BACCHUS oft, nor often swear by ●…OVE:  
Of speaking of myself, I all occasion shun,  
And rather love to do, then boast what I have done.   

FOUR The Lawyer.  
The Law my calling is, my rob, my tongue, my pen,  
Wealth and opinion gain, and make me judge of men,  
The known dishonest cause, I never did defend,  
Nor spun out suits in length, but wished and sought an end:  
Nor counsel did bewray, nor of both parties take,  
Nor ever took I see for which I never spoke.   

V. The Physician.  
I study to uphold the slippery state of man,  
Who dies, when we have done the best and all we can.  
From practice and from books I draw my learned skill,  
Not from the known receipt of Apothecary's bill.  
The earth my faults doth hide, the world my cures doth see.  
What youth and time effects, is oft ascribed to me.   

VI The Merchant.  
My trade doth every thing, to every land supply,  
Discover unknown coasts, strange Countries doth alley:  
I never did forestall, I never did engross,  
Nor custom did withdraw, though I returned with loss.  
I thrive by fair exchange, by selling and by buying,  
And not by jewish use, reprisal, fraud, or lying.   

VII. The Country-Gentleman.  
Though strange outlandish spirits praise towns, & country scorn  
The country is my home, I dwell where I was born:  
There profit and command, with pleasure I partake,  
Yet do not Hawks, and dogs, my sole companions make.  
I rule, but not oppress, end quarrels, not maintain,  
See towns, but dwell not there t'abridg my charge or train   

VIII. The Bachelor.  
How many things as yet are dear alike to me,  
The field, the horse, the dog, love arms or liberty.  
I have no wife as yet, whom I may call mine own,  
I have no children yet, that by my name are known.  
Yet if I married were, I would not wish to thrive,  
If that I could not tame the veriest shrew alive.   

IX. The married man.  
I only am the man among all married men,  
That do not wish the Priest, to be unlinkt again:  
And though my shoe did wring, I would not make my moan  
Nor think my neighbours chance more happy than mine own  
Yet court I not my wife, but yield observance due,  
Being neither fond, nor cross, nor jealous, nor untrue.   

X. The Wife.  
The first of all our Sex came from the side of man,  
I thither am returned, from whence our sex began.  
I do not visit oft, nor many, when I do:  
I tell my mind to few, and that in counsel too.  
I seem not sick in health, nor sullen but in sorrow,  
I care for somewhat else, then w●…at to wear to morrow.   

XI. The Widow.  
My husband knew, how much his death would grieve me,  
And therefore left me wealth to comfort and relieve me.  
Though I no more will have, I must not love disdain,  
PENELOPE herself did suitors entertain.  
And yet to draw on such, as are of best esteem,  
Nor younger than I am, nor richer will I seem.   

XII. The Maid.  
I marriage would forswear, but that I hear men tell,  
That she that dies a maid, must lead an Ape in hell.  
Therefore if fortune come, I will not mock and play,  
Nor drive the bargain on, till it be driven away.  
Titles and lands I like, yet rather fancy can,  
A man that wanteth gold, than gold that wants a man.    

A Lottery presented before the late Queen's Majesty at the Lord Chancellor's house. 1601.  
A Mariner with a box under his arm, containing all the se●…erall things following, supposed to come from the Carrack, came into the Presence singing this Song.  

CYNTHIA Queen of Seas and lands,  
That fortune every where commands,  
Sent forth Fortune to the Sea,  
To try her fortune every way.  
There did I fortune meet, which makes me now to sing,  
There is no fishing to the Sea, nor service to the King.  
All the Nymphs of THETIS train,  
Did CYNTHIA'S fortune entertain:  
Many a jewel, many a iem,  
Was to her fortune brought by them.   

Her fortune sped so well, as makes me now to sing,  
There is no fishing to the Sea, nor service to the King.   

Fortune that it might be seen,  
That she did serve a royal Queen,  
A frank and royal hand did bear,  
And cast her favours every where.   

Some toys fell to my share, which makes me now to sing  
There is no fishing to the Sea, nor service to the King.   
And the Song ended, he uttered this short speech.  
GOd save you fair Ladies all: and for my part, if ever I be brought to answer my sins, God forgive me my sharking, and lay usury to my charge. I am a Mariner, and am now come from the sea, where I had the fortune to light upon these few trifles. I must confess I came but lightly by them, but I no sooner had them, but I made a vow that as they came to my hands by fortune, so I would not part with them but by fortune. To that end I have ever since carried these Lots about me, that if I met with fit company I might divide my booty among them. And now (I thank my good fortune) I am lighted into the best company of the world, a company of the fairest Ladies that ever I saw. Come Ladies try your fortunes, and if any light upon an unfortunate blank, let her think that fortune doth but mock her in these trifles, and means to pleasure her in greater matters.  

THE LOTS.  

1. Fortune's wheels.  
FOrtune must now no more on triumph ride,  
The wheels are yours that did her Chariot's guide.   

2. A Purse.  
You thrive, or would, or may, your Lots a Purse,  
Fill it with gold, and you are near the worse.   

3. A Mask.  
Want you a Mask, here fortune gives you one,  
Yet nature gives the Rose, and Lily none.   

4. A Looking Glass.  
Blind fortune doth not see how fair you be,  
But gives a glass that you yourself may see.   

5. A Handkerchief.  
Whether you seem to weep, or weep indeed,  
This handkerchief will stand you well in steed.   

6. A plain Ring.  
Fortune doth send you, hap it well or ill,  
This plain gold Ring, to wed you to your will.   

7. A Ring with this Poesy, As faithful as I find.  
Your hand by Fortune on this Ring doth light,  
And yet the words do hit your humour right.   

8. A pair of Gloves.  
Fortune these gloves to you in challenge sends,  
For that you love not fools that are her friends.   

9 A dozen of Points.  
You are in every point a lover true,  
And therefore fortune gives the points to you.   

10. A Lace.  
Give her the Lace that loves to be strait laced,  
So fortunes little gift, is aptly placed.   

11. A pair of Knives.  
Fortune doth give this pair of knives to you,  
To cut the thread of love if ●… be not true.   

12. A Girdle.  
By fortune's Girdle you may happy be,  
But they that are less happy are more free.   

13. A pair of writing Tables.  
These Tables may contain your thoughts in part,  
But write not all that's written in your heart.   

14. A pair of Garters.  
Though you have fortunes Garters, you must be  
More staid and constant in steps then she.   

15. A Coif and Cross cloth.  
Frown in good earnest, or be sick in jest,  
This Coif and Crossecloth will become you best.   

16. A Scarf.  
Take you this Scarf, bind CUPID hand and foot,  
So love must ask you leave before he shoot.   

17. A falling Band.  
Fortune would have you rise, yet guides your hand,  
From others Lots to take the falling band.   

18. A Stomacher.  
This Stomacher is full of windows wrought,  
Yet none through them can see into your thought.   

19 A pair of Sizzers.  
These Sizzers do your housewifery bewray;  
You love to work, though you were borne to play.   

20. A Chain.  
Because you scorn loves Captive to remain,  
Fortune hath sworn to lead you in a Chain.   

21. A Prayer Book.  
Your fortune may prove good another day,  
Till fortune come, take you a book to pray.   

22. A Snuftkin.  
'tis Summer yet, a Snuftkin is your Lot,  
But 'twill be winter one day, doubt you not.   

23. A Fan.  
You love to see, and yet to be unseen,  
Take you this fan to be your beauty's screen.   

24. A pair of Bracelets.  
Lady your hands are fallen into a snare,  
For CUPIDS' manacles these bracelets are.   

25. A Bodkin.  
Even with this Bodkin you may live unharmed,  
Your beauty is with virtue so well armed.   

26. A Necklace.  
Fortune gives your fair neck this lace to wear,  
God grant a heavier yoke it never bear.   

27. A Cushinet.  
To her that little cares what Let she wins,  
Chance gives a little cushinet to stick pings.   

28. A Dial.  
The dyal's yours, watch time lest it be lost,  
Yet they most lose it that do watch it most.   

29. A Nutmeg with a blank parchment in it.  
This Nutmeg holds a blank, but chance doth hide i●…:  
Write your own wish, and Fortune will provide i●….   

30. Blank.  
Wot you not why fortune gives you no prize,  
Good faith she saw you not, she wants her eyes.   

30. Blank  
You are so dainty to be pleased, God wot,  
Chance knows not what to give you for a Lot.   

32. Blank.  
'tis pity such a hand should draw in vain,  
Though it gain nought, yet shall it pity gain.   

33. Blank.  
Nothing's your Lot, that's more than can be told,  
For nothing is more precious than gold.   

34. Blank.  
You fain would have, but what, you cannot tell:  
In giving nothing fortune serves you well.   
FINIS.  
I. D.    

A contention betwixt a Wife, a Widow and a Maid.  Wife. 

Widow well met, whither go you to day?  
Will you not to this solemn offering go,  
You know it is ASTREA'S holy day:  
The Saint to whom all heart's devotion owe.   Widow. 

Marry what else? I purposed so to do,  
Do you not mark how all the wives are fine,  
And how they have sent presents ready too,  
To make their offering at ASTREA'S sh●…ine?   

See then the shrine and tapers burning bright,  
Come friend and let us first ourselves advance,  
We know our place, and if we have our right,  
To all the parish we must lead the dance.   

But soft what means this bold presumptuous maid staid,  
To go before without respect of us?  
Your forwardness (proud maid) must now be  
Where learned you to neglect your betters thus?   Maid. 

Elder you are, but not my betters here,  
This place to maids a privilege must give:  
The Goddess being a maid holds maidens dear  
And grants to them her own prerogative.   

Besides, on all true virgins at their birth,  
Nature hath sent a crown of excellence,  
That all the wives and widows of the earth,  
Should give them place and do them reverence.   Wife. 

If to be borne amaid be such a grace,  
So was I borne and graced by nature to,  
But seeking more perfection to embrace  
I did become a wife as others do.   Widow. 

And if the maid and wife such honour have,  
I have been both, and hold a third degree,  
Most maids are Wards, and every wife a slave,  
I have my livery sued, and I am free.   Maid. 

That is the fault that you have maidens been,  
And were not constant to continue so:  
The fall of Angels did increase their sin,  
In that they did so pure a state forego.   

But Wife and Widow if your wits can make,  
Your state and persons of more worth than mine:  
Advantage to this place I will not take:  
I will both place and privilege resign.   Wife. 
Why marriage is an honourable state,  Widow. 
And widowhood is a reverend degree:  Maid. 

But maidenhead that will admit no mate,  
Like majesty itself must sacred be.   Wife. 
The wife is mistress of her family,  Widow. 
Much more the widow, for she rules alone:  Maid. 

But mistress of mine own desires am I,  
When you rule others wills and not you own.   Wife. 
Only the wife enjoys the virtuous pleasure,  Widow. 
The widow can abstain from pleasures known:  Maid. 

But th'uncorrupted maid preserves such measure  
As being by pleasures wooed she cares for none.   Wife. 
The wife is like a fair supported vine,  Widow. 

So was the widow, but now stands alone:  
For being grown strong, she needs not to incline   Maid. 
Maids like the earth, supported are of none.  Wife. 
The wife is as a Diamond richly set,  Maid. 
The maid unset doth yet more rich appear,  Widow. 

The widow a jewel in the Cabinet,  
Which though not worn is still esteemed as dear.   Wife. 
The wife doth love, and is beloved agai●…e,  Widow. 
The widow is awaked out of that dream,  Maid. 

The maids white mind had never such a stain,  
No passion troubles her clear virtues stream.   

Yet if I would be loved, loved would I be,  
Like her whose virtue in the bay is seen:  
Love to wife fades with satiety,  
Where love never enjoyed is ever green.   Widow. 
Then what's a virgin but a fruitless bay?  Maid. 

And what's a widow but a rose-lesse briar?  
And what are wives, butwoodbinds which decay  
The stately Oaks, by which themselves aspire?   Widow. 

And what is marriage but a tedious yoke?  
And what virginity but sweet self-love?   Wife. 

And what's a widow but an axle broke?  
Whose▪ one part failing neither part can move?   Widow. 
Wives are as birds in golden cages kept,  Wife. 
Yet in those cages cheerfully they sing:  Widow. 

widows are birds out of those cages leapt,  
Whose joyful notes makes all the forest ring.   Maid. 

But maids are birds amidst the woods secure,  
Which never hand could touch, nor net could take  
Nor whistle could deceive, nor bait allure,  
But free unto themselves do music make.   Wife. 
The wife is as the turtle with her mate,  Widow. 

The widow as the widow dove alone▪  
Whose truth shines most in her forsaken state,   Maid. 
The maid a Phoenix, and is still but one.  Wife 
The wife's a soul unto her body tied,  Widow 
The widow a soul departed into bliss:  Maid 

The maid an Angel which was stellified,  
And now 't'as fair a house descended is.   Wife 
Wives are fair houses kept and furnished well,  Widow 
Widows old castles void, but full of state:  Maid 

But maids are temples where the Gods do dwell,  
To whom alone themselves they dedicate.   

But marriage is a prison during life,  
Where one way out, but many entries be:   Wife. 

The Nun is kept in cloister, not the wife,  
Wedlock alone doth make the virgin free.   Maid 
The maid is ever fresh, like morn in May,  Wife 

The wife with all her beams is beautified,  
Like to high noon the glory of the day,   Widow 
The widow like a mild sweet eventide.  Wife 
An office well supplied is like the wife.  Widow 
The widow like a gainful office void:  Maid 

But maids are like contentment in this life,  
Which all the world have sought, but none enjoyed,   Widow 

Go wife to Dunmow, and demand your flitch.  
Go gentle maid, go lead the Apes in hell.   Wife 

Go widow make some younger brother rich,  
And then take thought and die, and all is well.   Widow 

Alas poor maid, that hast no help nor stay:  
Alas poor wife, that nothing dost possess:   Maid 

Alas poor widow, charity doth say,  
Pity the widow and the fatherless.   Widow 
But happy widows have the world at will,  Wife 
But happier wives, whose joys are ever double:  Maid 

But happiest maids whose hearts are calm & still,  
Whom fear, nor hope, nor love nor hate doth trouble.   Wife 

Every true wife hath an indented heart,  
Wherein the covenants of love are writ,  
Whereof her husband keeps the counterpart,  
And reads his comforts and his joys in it,   Widow 

But every widows heart is like a book,  
Where her joys passed imprinted do remain,  
But when her judgements eye therein doth look▪  
She doth not wish they were to come again.   Maid 

But the maids heart a fair white table is,  
Spotless and pure, where no impressions be,  
But the immortal Characters of bliss,  
Which only God doth write, and Angels see.   Wife 
But wives have children, what a joy is this?  Widow 
Widows have children too, but maids have none  Maid 

No more have Angels, yet they have more bliss,  
Then ever yet to mortal man was known.   Wife 
The wife is like a fair manured field:  Widow. 
The widow once was such, but now doth rest,  Maid 

The maid, like Paradise, undressed, untiled,  
bears crops of native virtue in her breast.   Wife 
Who would not die a wife as Lucrece died?  Widow 
Or live a Widow as Penelope?  Maid 

Or be a maid, and so be stellified,  
As all the virtues and the graces be.   Wife 

Wives are warm Climates well inhabited:  
But maids are frozen Zones where none may dwell   Maid 

But fairest people in the North are bred,  
Where Africa breeds Monsters black as hell.   Wife 
I have my husband's honour and his place,  Widow 
My husband's fortunes all survive to me.  Maid 

The moon doth borrow light, you borrow grace  
When maids by their own virtues graced be.   

White is my colour, and no hue but this  
It will receive, no tincture can it stain.   Wife 

My white hath took one colour, but it is  
An honourable purple died in grain.   Widow 

But it hath been my fortune to renew  
My colour twice from that is was before,  
But now my black will take no other hue,  
And therefore now I mean to change no more.   Wife. 
Wives are fair Apples served in golden dishes  Widow 
widows good wine, which time makes better much  Maid 

But Maids are grapes desired by many wishes,  
But that they grow so high as none can touch.   Wife. 
I have a daughter equals you my girl.  Maid 

The Daughter doth excel the mother then,  
As pearls are better than the mother of pearl,  
Maids lose their value, when they match with men.   Widow. 

The man with whom I matched, his worth was such,  
As now I scorn a maid should be my pear,   Maid. 

But I will scorn the man you praise so much,  
For maids are matchless, and no mate can bear.   

Hence is it that the virgin never loves,  
Because her like, she finds not any where:  
For likeness evermore affection moves,  
Therefore the maid hath neither love nor pear.   Wife 
Yet many virgins married wives would be,  Widow 
And many a wife, would be a widow fain.  Maid 

There is no widow but desires to see,  
If so she might, her maiden days again.   Wife 
There never was a wife that liked her lot:  Widow 
Nor widow but was clad in mourning weeds.  Maid 

Do what you will, marry, or marry not,  
Both this estate and that, repentance breeds.   Wife. 

But she that this estate and that hath seen,  
Doth find great odds between the wife and girl.   Maid 

Indeed she doth, as much as is between  
The melting hail stone, and the solid pe●…le.   Wife. 
If I were widow, my merry days were passed,  Widow 

Nay, than you first become sweet pleasures guest.  
For maiden▪ head is a continual fast,  
And marriage is a continual feast.   Maid 

Wedlock indeed hath o●…t compared been,  
To public ●…easts, were meet a public rout;  
Where they that are without would fain go in,  
And they that are within would fain go out.   

Or to the jewel which this virtue had,  
That men were mad till they might it obtain,  
But when they had it they were twice as mad,  
Till they were dispossessed of it again.   Wife 

Maids cannot judge, because they cannot tell,  
What comforts and what joys in marriage be:   Maid 

Yes, yes, though blessed Saints in heaven do dwell,  
They do the souls in Purgatory see.   Widow 

If every wife do live in Purgatory,  
Then sure it is that widows live in bliss:  
And are translated to a state of glory,  
But maids as yet have not attained to this.   Maid 

Not maids? To spotless maids this gift is given,  
To live in incorruption from their birth:  
And what is that but to inherit heaven,  
Even while they dwell upon the spotted earth?   

The perfectest of all created things;  
The purest gold that suffers no allay:  
The sweetest flower that on th'earth's bosom springs,  
The pearl unbord, whose price no price can pay.   

The Crystal glass that will no venom hold,  
The mirror wherein Angels love to look:  
DIANA'S bathing fountain, clear and cold,  
Beauty's fresh Rose, and virtues living book.   

Of love and fortune both the mistress borne,  
The sovereign spirit that will be thrall to none:  
The spotless garment that was never worn,  
The Princely Eagle that still flies alone.   

She sees the world, yet her clear thought doth take  
No such deep print as to be changed thereby,  
As when we see the burning fire doth make,  
No such impression as doth burn the eye.   Wife 

No more (sweet maid) our strife is at an end,  
Cease now: I fear we shall transformed be  
To chattering Pies▪ as they that did contend,  
To match the Muses in their harmony.   Widow 

Then let us yield the honour and the place,  
And let us both be suitors to the maid:  
That since the Goddess gives her special grace,  
By her clear hands the offering be conveyed,   Maid 

Your speech I doubt hath some displeasure moved  
Yet let me have the offering, I will see:  
I know she hath both wives and widows loved,  
Though she would neither wife nor widow be.   
JOHN DAVIS.   

THE LIE.  

Go soul the body's guest  
upon a thankless arrant,  
Fear not to touch the best  
the truth shall be thy warrant:  
Go since I needs must die,  
and give the world the lie.   

Say to the Court it glows,  
and shines like rotten wood,  
Say to the Church it shows  
what's good, and doth no good.  
If Church and Court reply,  
then give them both the lie.   

Tell Potentates they live  
acting by others action,  
Not loved unless they give,  
not strong but by affection.  
If Potentates reply,  
give Potentate; the lie.   

Tell men of high condition,  
that manage the estate,  
Their purpose is ambition,  
their practice only hate:  
And if they once reply,  
then give them all the lie.   

Tell them that brave it most,  
they beg for more by spending,  
Who in their greatest cost  
like nothing but commending.  
And if they make reply,  
then give them all the lie.   

Tell zeal it wants devotion  
tell love it is but lust,  
Tell time it meets but motion,  
tell flesh it is but dust.  
And wish them not reply  
for thou must give the lie.   

Tell age it daily wasteth,  
tell honour how it altars.  
Tell beauty how she blasteth  
tell favour how it falters  
And as they shall reply,  
give every one the lie.   

Tell wit how much it wrangles  
in tickle points of niceness,  
Tell wisdom she en tangles  
herself in over wiseness.  
And when they do reply  
strait give them both the lie.   

Tell Physic of her boldness,  
tell skill it is prevention:  
Tell charity of coldness,  
tell law it is contention,  
And as they do reply  
so give them still the lie.   

Tell fortune of her blindness,  
tell nature of decay,  
Tell friendship of unkindness,  
tell justice of delay.  
And if they will reply,  
then give them all the lie.   

Tell Arts they have no soundness,  
but vary by esteeming,  
Tell schools they want profoundness  
and stand so much on seeming.  
If Arts and schools reply,  
give arts and schools the lie.   

Tell faith it's fled the City,  
tell how the country erreth,  
Tell manhood shakes of pity,  
tell virtue least preferred.  
And if they do reply,  
spare not to give the lie.   

So when thou hast as I,  
commanded thee, done blabbing,  
Because to give the lie,  
deserves no less than stabbing,  
Stab at thee he that will,  
no stab thy soul can kill.    


Two Pastorals, made by Sir Philip Sidney. Upon his meeting with his two worthy Friends, and fellow Poets, Sir Edward Dier, and M. Fulke Grevill.  

Join mates in mirth to me,  
Grant pleasure to our meeting:  
Let Pan our good God see,  
How grateful is our greeting▪  
join hearts and hands, so let it be,  
Make but one mind in bodies three.   

Ye Hymns and singing skill  
Of God APOLLO'S giving,  
Be priest our reeds to fill,  
With sound of music living.  
join hearts and hands, etc.   

Sweet ORPHEUS Harp, whose sound  
The steadfast mountains moved,  
Let here thy skill abound,  
To join sweet friends beloved.  
join hearts and hands, etc.   

My two and I be met,  
A happy blessed Trinity,  
As three most jointly set,  
In firmest band of unity.  
join hands, etc.   

Welcome my two to me, E. D. F. G. P. S.  
The number best beloved,  
Within my heart you be  
In friendship unremoved.  
join hands, etc.   

Give leave your flocks to range,  
Let us the while be playing,  
Within the Elmy grange,  
Your flocks will not be straying.  
join hands, etc.   

cause all the mirth you can,  
Since I am now come hither,  
Who never joy but when  
I am with you together.  
join hands, etc.   

Like lovers do their love,  
So joy I, in you seeing:  
Let nothing me remove  
From always with you being.  
join hands, etc.   

And as the turtle Dove  
To mate with whom he liveth,  
Such comfort, fervent love  
Of you to my heart giveth.  
join hands, etc.   

Now joined be our hands,  
Let them be ne'er asunder,  
But linked in binding bands  
By metamorphozed wonder.  
So should our severed bodies three  
As one for ever joined be.   
Sir PH. SIDNEY.   

Dispraise of a Courtly life.  

WAlking in bright PHO●…BVS blaze,  
Where with heat oppressed I was,  
I got to a shady wood,  
Where green leaves did newly bud  
And of grass was plenty dwelling,  
Decked with pied flowers sweetly smelling.   

In this wood a man I met,  
On lamenting wholly set:  
Ruing change of wont state,  
Whence he was transformed late,  
Once to shepherds God retaining▪  
Now in servile Court remaining.   

There he wandering malcontent,  
Up and down perplexed went,  
Daring not to tell to me,  
Spoke unto a senseless tree,  
One amongst the rest electing  
These same words, or this effecting.   

My old mates I grieve to see,  
Void of me in field to be,  
Where we once our lovely sheep,  
Lovingly like friends did keep,  
Oft each others friendship proving,  
Never striving, but in loving.   

But may Love abiding be  
In poor shepherds base degree?  
It belongs to such alone  
To whom art of Love is known:  
Seely shepherds are not witting  
What in art of Love is fitting.   

Nay, what need the art to those,  
To whom we our love disclose?  
It is to be used then,  
When we do but flatter men:  
Friendship true in heart assured,  
Is by nature's gifts procured.   

Therefore shepherds wanting skill,  
Can loves duties best fulfil,  
Since they know not how to feign,  
Nor with Love to cloak Disdain:  
Like the wiser sort, whose learning  
Hides their inward will of harming.   

Well was I, while under shade  
Oaten Reeds me music made,  
Striving with my mates in Song:  
Mixing mirth our Songs among,  
Greater was the shepherds treasure,  
Then this false, fine, courtly pleasure.   

Where, how many Creatures be,  
So many puffed in mind I see,  
Like to juno's birds of pride,  
Scarce each other can abide:  
Friends like to black Swans apearing  
Sooner these than those in hearing.   

Therefore Pan, if thou mayest be  
Made to listen unto me,  
Grant I say (if silly man  
May make treaty to God Pan)  
That I, without thy denying,  
May be still to thee relying.   

Only for my two loves sake, Sir Ed. D. & M. F. G  
In whose love I pleasure take,  
Only two do me delight  
With their ever-pleasing sight,  
Of all men to thee retaining.  
Grant me with those two remaining.   

So shall I to thee always,  
With my reeds sound mighty praise,  
And first Lamb that shall befall,  
Yearly deck thine Altar shall,  
If it please thee to be reflected,  
And I from thee not rejected.   

So I left him in that place,  
Taking pity on his case,  
Learning this among the rest  
That the mean estate is best,  
Better filled with contenting  
Void of of wishing and repenting.   
Sir Ph. Sidney.    

A Fiction how Cupid made a Nymph wound herself with his Arrows.  

IT chanced of late a Shepherd's swain  
That went to seek a strayed sheep,  
Within a thicket on the plain,  
Espied a dainty Nymph asleep.   

Her golden hair o'erspread her face,  
Her careless arms abroad were cast,  
Her quiver had her pillows place,  
Her breast lay bare to every blast.   

The shepherd stood and gazed his fill,  
Nought durst he do, nought durst he say,  
When chance, or else perhaps his will,  
Did guide the God of love that way.   

The crafty boy that sees her sleep,  
Whom if she waked he durst not see,  
Behind her closely seeks to creep,  
Before her nap should ended be.   

There come, he steals her shafts away,  
And puts his own into their place,  
Ne dares he any longer stay,  
But ere she wakes, hies thence apace.   

Scarce was he gone, when she awakes,  
And spies the shepherd standing by:  
Her bended bow in hast she takes,  
And at the simple swain let fly.   

Forth flew the shaft, and pierced his heart.  
That to the ground he fell with pain:  
Yet up again forth with he start,  
And to the Nymph he ran amain.   

Amazed to see so strange a sight,  
She shot, and shot, but all in vain:  
The more his wounds, the more his ●…ght.  
Love yieldeth strength in midst of pain.   

Her angry eyes are great with tears,  
She blames her hands, she blames her skill:  
The bluntness of her shafts she fears,  
And try them on herself she will.   

Take heed sweet Nymph, trynot thy shaft,  
Each little touch will prick the heart:  
Alas, thou know'st not CUPIDS' craft,  
Revenge is joy, the end is smart.   

Yet try she will, and prick●… some bare,  
Her hands were gloved, and next to hand  
Was that fair breast, that breast so rare,  
That made the shepherd senseless stand.   

That breast she pricked, and through that breast▪  
Love finds an entry to her heart:  
At feeling of this newcome guest,  
Lord how the gentle Nymph doth start.   

She runs not now, she shoots no more,  
Away she throws both shafts and bow▪  
She seeks for that she shunned before,  
She thinks the shepherds haste too slow.   

Though mountains meet not, lovers may,  
So others do, and so do they:  
The God of Love sits on a tree,  
And laughs that pleasant sight to see.    

A Dialogue between two Shepherds, Thenot, and Piers, in praise of ASTREV.  Then. 

I Sing divine ASTREA'S praise,  
O muses help my wits to raise,  
And heave my verses higher.   Piers. 

Thou needst the truth but plainly tell,  
Which much I doubt thou canst not well,  
Thou art so oft a liar.   Then. 

If in my song no more I show,  
Then heaven and earth, and Sea do know,  
Then truly I have spoken.   Piers. 

Sufficeth not no more to name,  
But being no less, the like, the same,  
Else laws of truth be broken.   Then. 

Then say, she is so good, so fair,  
With all the earth she may compare,  
Nor Momus self denying:   Piers. 

Compare may think where likeness holds,  
Nought like to her the earth enfolds,  
I looked to find you lying.   Then. 

Astrea sees with wisdoms sight,  
Astrea works by virtues might,  
And jointly both do stay in her.   Piers. 

Nay take from them, her hand, her mind,  
The one is lame, the other blind,  
Shall still your lying stain her?   Then. 

Soon as Astrea shows her face,  
Strait every ill avoids the place,  
And every good aboundeth.   Piers. 

Nay long before her face doth show,  
The last doth come, the first doth go:  
How loud this lie resoundeth.   Then. 

Astrea is our chiefest joy,  
Our chiefest guard against annoy,  
Our chiefest wealth, our treasure.   Piers. 

Where chiefest are, there others be,  
To us none else but only she,  
When wilt thou speak in measure?   Then. 

Astrea may be justly said,  
A field in flowery Robe arrayed,  
In season freshly springing.   Piers. 

That spring endures but shortest time,  
This never leaves Astrea's clime,  
Thou liest, in stead of singing.   Then. 

As heavenly light that guides the day,  
Right so doth shine each lovely Ray,  
that from Astrea flieth.   Piers. 

Nay, darkness oft that light in clouds,  
Astrea's beams no darkness shrouds:  
How loudly Thenot lieth?   Then. 

Astrea rightly term I may,  
A manly Palm, a maiden bay,  
Her verdure never dying.   Piers. 

Palm oft is crooked, bay is low,  
She still upright, still high doth grow,  
Good Thenot leave thy lying.   Then. 

Then Piers, of friendship tell me why,  
My meaning true, my words should lie,  
And strive in vain to raise her?   Piers. 

Words from conceit do only rise  
Above conceit her honour flies:  
But silence, nought can praise her.   Marry Countess of Pembroke.  

A roundelay in inverted Rhymes, between the two friendly Rivals, Strephon and Klaius, in the presence of Urania, Mistress to them both.  Strephon. 

O Whither shall I turn me,  
From thine eyes sight,  
Whose sparkling light  
With quenchless flames present, and absent burn me?  
For I burn when as I view them,  
And I burn when I eschew them.   Klaius. 

Since I cannot eschew them,  
But that their light  
Is in my sight,  
Both when I view them not, and when I view them:  
Ere their flames will cease to burn me,  
From myself, myself must turn me.   Strephon. 

When none are present by you,  
I feel their might  
And your eyes bright  
Appear more glorious, others being nigh you.  
So alone, or else compared,  
Wretch, I am by them ensnared.   Klaius. 

Since that I am ensnared  
by your eyes bright,  
And feel their might:  
Whether alone they be, or else compared,  
Wheresoever I am nigh you,  
Love I must, if I be by you.   Strephon. 

When you look kindly on me,  
They love incite,  
And spite of spite  
I love them likewise, when you frown upon me.  
So, how ere your looks are framed,  
By your looks I am inflamed.   Klaius. 

Since that I am inflamed,  
e'en by their spite:  
And they incite  
Soul-warming flames when they are mildly framed,  
How so ere you look upon me,  
Love I must, if you look on me.   Strephon. 

O when shall I them banish,  
Since against right,  
Nor day nor night,  
Though absent from me, from me they do vanish?  
So no respite time doth grant me,  
But incessantly they haunt me.   Klaius. 

Since they (alas) do haunt me  
Both day and night,  
And wont right,  
Obtained by absence, absence doth not grant me,  
Night and day may sooner vanish,  
Then from me I can them banish.   Strephon. 

They, when the Day doth leave me,  
Lodge in my spirit:  
And of their sight,  
No sight by day discerned can bereave me.  
So, nor day ought else revealeth,  
Nor the night the same concealeth.   Klaius. 

Since day, like night concealeth  
Each other sight,  
And to my spirit  
Concealing darkness them like day revealeth.  
Time of time must quite bereave me,  
Ere your looks sweet looks, will leave.   
Walter Dauison.   

Strephon's Palinde.  
Strephon, upon some unkindness conceived, having made show to leave Urania, and make love to another Nymph, was at the next solemn assembly of shepherds, not only frowned upon by Urania, but commanded with great bitterness out of her presence: Whereupon, sorry for his offence, and desirous to regain her grace whom he never had forsaken, but in show, upon his knees he in this song humbly craves pardon: and Urania finding his true penitence, and unwilling to lose so worthy a servant, receives him again into greater grace and favour then before.  

SWeet, I do not pardon crau●…,  
Till I have,  
By desires this fault amended:  
This, I only this desire,  
That your ire  
May with penance be spended.   

Not my will but fate did fetch  
Me poor wretch,  
Into this unhappy error.  
Which to plague no Tyrant's mind  
Pain can find,  
Like my heart's self guilty terror.   

Then, O then! let that suffice  
Your dear eyes  
Need not, need not more afflict me,  
Nor your sweet tongue dipped in gall,  
Need at all  
From your presence interdict me.   

Unto him that hell sustains.  
No new pains  
Need be sought for his tormenting.  
O my pains, hell's pains surpass:  
Yet, alas!  
You are still new pains inventing.   

By my love, long, firm, and true,  
Borne to you.  
By these tears my grief expressing,  
By this Pipe which nights and days  
sounds your praise  
Pity me, my fault confessing.   

Or if I may not desire,  
That their ire  
May with penance, be suspended:  
Yet let me full pardon crave,  
When I have,  
With soon death my fault amended.    

Urania's answer in inverted Rhymes, Staff for Staff.  

SInce true penance hath suspended  
Feigned ire,  
More I'll grant than you desire.  
Faults confessed are half amended,  
And I have,  
In this half, all that I crave.   

Therefore banish now the terror,  
Which you find  
In your guiltless grieved mind.  
For though you have made an error.  
From me wretch  
First beginning it did fetch.   

Near my sight I'll interdict thee  
More at all.  
Near speak words more dipped in gall,  
Near, near will I more afflict thee  
With these Eyes,  
What is past, shall now suffice.   

Now new joys I'll be inventing,  
Which (alas)  
May thy passed Woes surpass.  
Too long thou hast felt tormenting,  
Too great pains  
So great love and faith sustains.   

Let these eyes (by thy confessing  
Worthy praise)  
Never see more nights nor days.  
Let my woes be past expressing,  
When to you  
I cease to be kind and true.   

Thus are both our states amended,  
For you have  
Fuller pardon than you crave,  
And my fear is quite suspended,  
Since mine ire  
Wrought th'effect I most desire.   
Fra. Dauison.   

I. EGLOGVE.  

A Shepherd poor, Eubulus called he was  
(Poor now alas, but erst had jolly been)  
One pleasant morn when as the Sun did pass  
The fiery horns of raging Bull between,  
His little Flock into a mead did bring,  
As soon as daylight did begin to spring.   

Fresh was the Mead, in Apri●…s livery dight,  
Decked with green Trees, bedewed with silver Brookes,  
But ah! all other was the shepherds plight,  
All other were both sheep and shepherds looks.  
For both did show by their dull heavy cheer  
They took no pleasure of the pleasant year.   

He weeping went, ay me that he should weep!  
They hung their heads, as they to weep would learn,  
His heavy heart did send forth sighing deep,  
They in their bleating voice did seem to yearn.  
He lean and pale, their fleece was rough and rend  
They pined with pain, and he with dolours spent.   

His pleasant Pipe was broke, (alas the while)  
And former merriment was banished quite.  
His shepherds Crook that him upheld erewhile,  
He erst had thrown away with great despite.  
though leaning 'gainst a shrub that him sustained,  
To th'earth, sun, birds, trees, Echo thus he plained.   

Thou all-forth-bringing earth, though winter i'll,  
With blustering winds blow off thy mantle green,  
And with his Snow and hoary frosts do spill,  
Thy Flora-pleasing flowers, and kill them clean.  
Yet when fresh Spring returns again  
To drive away the winter's pain,  
Thy Frost and Snow  
Away do go.  
Sweet Zephyres breathe cold Boreas doth displace,  
And fruitful showers  
Revive thy flowers,  
And nought but joy is seen in every place.   

But ah! how long, alas how long doth last  
My endless winter without hope of Spring?  
How have my sighs, my blustering sighs defact  
The flowers and buds which erst my earth did bring.  
Alas the tops that did aspire,  
Lie trodden now in filthy mire,  
Alas! my head  
Is all bespread  
With too untimely snow: and eke my heart  
All sense hath lost,  
Through hardened frost,  
Of cold despair, that long hath bred my smart.   

What though some rising Torrents overflow  
With nought-regarding streams thy pleasant green.  
And with their furious force do lay full low,  
Thy drowned flowers, how ever sweet they been?  
Soon fall those floods, as soon they rose,  
(For fury soon his force doth lose,  
And then full each  
Apollo's breath,  
The cold, yet drying north-wind, so doth warm,  
That by and by  
Thy meads be dry,  
And grow more fruitful by their former harm.   

O would the tears that Torrent-like do flow,  
A down my hollow cheeks with restless force,  
Would once (O that they could once) calmer grow,  
Would like to thine, once cease their ceasses course.  
Thine last not long, mine still endure:  
Thine cold, and so thy wealth procure:  
Hot mine are still,  
And so do kill  
Both flower and root, with most unkindly dew:  
What sun or wind  
Away can find,  
The root once dead, the flowers to renew?   

Thou, though the scorching heat of Summer's Sun,  
(While ill-breathed Dog the raging Lion chaseth)  
Thy peckled flowers do make of colour dun,  
And pride of all thy greeny hair defaceth:  
And in thy moisture wanting side,  
Deep wounds do make, and gashes wide:  
Yet as they wet,  
By Phoebus' heat,  
To turn to wholesome dryness is procured.  
So Phoebus' heat  
By South-windes wet  
As soon assuaged, and all thy wounds recured.   

Such heat as Phoebus hath me almost slain.  
As Phoebus' heat? ah no, far worse than his.  
It is Astrea's burning-hot disdain  
That parched hath the root of all my bliss:  
That hath (alas) my youth defaced,  
That in my face deep wounds hath placed.  
Ah that no heat  
Can dry the wet  
The flowing wet of my still weeping eyes!  
Ah that no wet  
Can quench the heat,  
The burning heat within my heart that lies!   

Thou dost, poor earth, bear many a bitter stound,  
While greedy swains forgetting former need,  
With crooked ploughs thy tender back do wound,  
With harrows biting teeth do make thee bleed,  
But earth (so may those greedy swains  
With piteous eye behold thy pain)  
O earth, tell me,  
When thou dost see,  
Thy fruitful back with golden ears beset,  
Doth not that joy  
Kill all annoy,  
And make thee all thy former wounds forget?   

And I, if once my tired heart might gain  
The harvest fair that to my faith is due:  
If once I might Astrea's grace regain:  
If once her heart would on my sorrows rue,  
Alas, I could these plaints forego,  
And quite forget my former wo.  
But (O! to speak  
My heart doth break)  
For all my service, faith, and patient mind,  
A crop of grief,  
Without relief,  
A crop of scorn, and of contempt I find.   

Soon as the shepherds Sarre abroad doth wend,  
(Night's harbinger) to shut in brightsome day:  
And gloomy night, on whom black clouds attend,  
Doth Tyrantlike through Sky usurp the sway,  
Thou art (poor earth) of sun deprived  
Whose beams to thee all joy derived.  
But when Aurore  
Doth open her door,  
Her purple door to let in Phoebus' wain,  
The night gives place  
Unto his race,  
And then with joy, thy Sun returns again.   

O would my Sun would once return again!  
Return and drive away th'infernal night,  
In which I die, since she did first refrain  
Her heavenly beams which were mine only light.  
Iu●…her alone all my light thin'd.  
And since she shined not, I am blind.  
Alas, on all,  
Her beams do fall.  
Save wretched me, whom she doth them deny.  
And blessed day  
She gives always,  
To all, but me, who still in darkness li●….   

In mournful darkness I alone do lie,  
And wish, but scarcely hope, bright day to see,  
For hoped so long, and wished so long have I,  
As hopes and wishes both abandon me.  
My night hath lasted fifteen years,  
And yet no glimpse of day appears.  
O do not let,  
Him that hath set  
His joy, his light, his life in your sweet grace,  
Be unrelieved,  
And quite deprived  
Of your dear sight, which may this night displace.   

Phoebus, although with fiery-hoofed steeds,  
Thou daily do the steepy Welkin beat,  
And from this painful task art never freed,  
But daily bound to lend the world thy heat:  
Though thou in fiery Chariot ride,  
And burning heat thereof abide,  
Yet soon as night  
Doth dim the light,  
And hale her sable Cloak through vaulted skle,  
Thy journey's ceased,  
And thou dost rest,  
In cooling waves of Thetis sovereignty.   

Thrice happy Sun whose pains are eased by night,  
O hapless I, whose woes last night and day.  
My pains by day do make me wish for night,  
My woes by night, do make me cry for day.  
By day I turmoil up and down,  
By night in Seas of tears I drown:  
O painful plight▪  
O wretched night,  
Which never finds a morn of joyful light:  
O sad decay,  
O wretched day,  
That never feels the ease of silent night▪   

The chirping birds, whose notes might joy my mind,  
(If to my mind one drop of joy could sink)  
Who erst through Winter's rage were almost pin de,  
And kept through barren frost from meat or drink,  
A blessed change ye now have seen,  
That changed hath your woeful teen,  
By day you sing,  
And make to ring  
The neighbour groves with Echo of your song:  
In silent night,  
Full closely dight,  
You sound sleep the bushes green among.   

But I, who erst (ah woeful word to say)  
Enjoyed the pleasant spring of her sweet grace,  
And then could sing and dance, and sport and play▪  
Since her fierce anger did my spring displace:  
My nightly rest have turned to detriment,  
To plaints have turned my wont merriment.  
The Songs I sing  
While day doth spring,  
Are bootless plaints till I can plain no more.  
The rest I taste,  
While night doth last:  
Is broken sighs, till they my hartmake sore.   

Thou flower of the field that erst didst fade,  
And nipped with Northern cold didst hang the head:  
And trees whose bared bows have lost their shade  
Whose wit●…ered leaves by western blasts were shed,  
Ye begin to bud and spring again,  
Winter is gone that did you strain.  
But I that late  
With upright gate  
Bore up my head, while happy favour lasted:  
Now old am grown  
Now overthrown,  
With woe, with grief, with wailing now am wasted.   

Your springing stalk with kindly juice doth sprout,  
My fainting legs do waste and fall away:  
Your stretched arms are clad with leaves about,  
My griefe-consumed arms do fast decay.  
You gi'en again your tops lift up;  
I down to earth-ward gi'en to stoop.  
Each bow and twig  
Doth wax so big,  
That scarce the rind is able it to hide:  
I do so faint,  
And pine with plaint,  
That slops and hose, and Galage wax too wide.   

Echo, how well may she that makes me moan,  
By thy example learn to ●…ue my pain?  
Thou hearst my plaints when as I wail alone,  
And wailing accents answerest again.  
When as my breast through grief I beat,  
That woeful sound thou dost repeat,  
When as I sob,  
And heartily throb,  
A doleful sobbing sound again thou sendest:  
And when I weep,  
And sigh full deep,  
A weepy, sighing Voice again thou lendest.   

But ah! how oft have my sad plaints assayed,  
To pierce her ears, deaf only unto me?  
How oft my woes in mournful ink arraide  
Have tried to make her eyes my griefs to see?  
And you my sighs and tears, how often  
Have ye sought her hard heart to soften?  
And yet her eye,  
Doth still deny,  
For all my woes one bitter tear to shed:  
And yet her heart  
Will not impart  
One hearty sigh for grief herself hath bred.   

Nor I, alas, do wish that her fair eyes,  
Her blessed-making eyes should shed a tear,  
Nor that one sigh from her dear breast should rise,  
For all the pains, the woes, the wrongs I bear.  
First let this weight oppress me still,  
Ere she, through me taste any ill.  
Ah if I might  
But gain her sight,  
And show her ere I eye, my wretched case:  
O then should I  
Contented die:  
But ah I die, and hope not so much grace.   

With that his fainting legs to shrink, begun,  
And let him sink with ghastly look to ground  
And there he lay as though his life were done,  
Till that his Dog, seeing that woeful stound  
With piteous howling, kissing and with scraping,  
Brought him again from that sweet sour escaping.   

Then 'gan this Tears so swiftly for to flow,  
As forced his eyelids for to give them way,  
Than blustering sighs too boisterously can blow,  
As his weak lips could not his fury stay,  
And inward grief withal so hugely swelled,  
As tears, sighs, grief had soon all words expelled.   

At last when floods of tears began to cease,  
And storms of weary sighs more calm to blow  
As he went on with words his grief to ease.  
And remnant of his broken plaint to show:  
He spied the sky o'erspread with nightly clouds,  
So home he went, his flock and him to shroud.   
Eubulus his Emblem. uni mihi Pergamon Restant. F. D.   

I. Eglogue entitled Cuddy.  

1  
A Little Heard-groome (for he was no bet▪)  
When course of year returned the pleasant spring,  
At break of day without-en further let●…  
Cast with himself his flock afield to bring,  
And for they had so long been penned with pain,  
At sight of Sun they seemed to live again.   

2  
Such was the flock all bend to browse and play,  
But nothing such their master was to see.  
Down hung his drooping head like rainy day,  
His cheeks with tears like springs bedewed be.  
His wringed hand such silent moan did make,  
Well may you guess he was with love y'take.   

3  
The while his flock went feeding on the green,  
And want only for joy of Summer played,  
All in despite as if he n'ould be seen  
He cast himself to ground full ill appaide.  
Should seem their pleasance made him more complain,  
For joy in sight not felt, is double pain.   

4  
Unhappy boy why liv'st thou still, quoth he,  
And hast thy deadly wound so long ago?  
What hope of after hap sustaineth thee?  
As if there might be found some ease of woe,  
Nay better die ten thousand times then live,  
Since every hour new cause of death doth give.   

5  
The joyful Sun, whom cloudy winter's spite,  
Had shut from us in watery fishes haske,  
Returns again to lend the world his light,  
And red as rose begins his yearly task.  
His fiery steeds the steepy welkin beat,  
And both the horns of climbing bull do heat.   

But ah! no Sun of grace aspires to me,  
Close hid she lies, from whom I should have light,  
The clouds of black disdain so foggy be,  
That blind I lie (poor boy) be reft of sight:  
And yet I see the Sun I seek to find,  
And yet the more I see, the more am blind.   

7  
Thrice happy ground, whom spoiled with winter's rage,  
The heat of pleasant spring renews again:  
Unhappy I, who in my spring of age,  
The frost of cold despair hath well-nigh slain.  
How shall I bide your stormy winter's smart,  
When spring itself hath frorne my bloodless heart?   

8  
I see the beauty of thy flowers renew,  
Thy mantle green with sundry colours spread,  
Thou seest in me a change of former hue,  
Paleness for white, blackness for lively red.  
What hope of harvest fruit, or Summer flowers,  
Since that my spring is drowned with tears like showers?   

9  
And last of all, but lieu'st of all to me,  
Thou leany flock, that didst of late lament,  
And witness waste for shepherds all to see,  
(Thy knees so weak, thy fleece so rough and rend)  
That thou with pain didst pine away unfed,  
All for thy master was with love misled.   

10  
Thou thou at erst forget thy former state,  
And range amid the busks thyself to feed,  
Fair fall thee little flock both rather and late,  
(Was never lovers sheep, that well did speed)  
Thou free, I bound, thou glad, I pine in pain,  
I strive to die, and thou to live full fain.   

11  
Woe worth the stunned, wherein I took delight,  
To frame the shifting of my nimble feet,  
To cheerful sound of Pipe in Moonshine night,  
Such pleasance passed at erst now makes me greet.  
I wee'nd by night have shunned the parching ray,  
But night itself was twice more hot than day.   

12  
Then first of all (and all too soon for me)  
I saw thilk Lass (nay graved her in my breast)  
Her crystal eyes more bright than Moon to see,  
Her eyes, her eyes, that have robbed me of rest:  
On them I gazed, then saw I to my cost,  
Through too much sight mine only sight is lost.   

13  
Where been the dapper ditties that I dight,  
And Roundlays, and Virelaies so soot?  
Whilom with Collins self compare I might,  
For other swain, to strive was little boot,  
Such skill I had in making all above  
But all too little skill to conquer love.   

14  
What helps it me to have my piping prai'zd  
Of all save her, whom I would only please?  
Nought care I, though my fame to sky be razed  
For pleasant song that brings my heart no ease.  
Wherefore both Pipe and song I all forswear,  
And former pleasance wilfully forbear.   

15  
With that he cast his look to Welkin high,  
And saw the doubled shadows flit away:  
And as he glanced half in despite awry,  
He spied the shepherds star shut in the day▪  
Then rose, and homeward with his flock him went,  
Whose voice did help their master's case lament.    

Cuddies Emblem. Questo per amar s'aqu●…sta.  The Christian Stoic. 

The virtuous man is free, though bound in chains,  
Though poor, content, though banished, yet no stranger,  
Though sick, in health of mind, secure in danger,  
And o'er himself, the world, and fortune reigns,  
Nor good haps, proud, nor bad, dejected make him,  
To Gods, not to man's will, he frames each action;  
He seeks no fame, but inward satisfaction,  
And firmer stands, the more bad fortunes shakes him.    

AN EGLOGVE. Made long since upon the death of Sir Philip Sidney.  Thenot. Perin. 

PERIN, arreed what new mischance betide,  
Hath reft thee of thy wont merriment?  
Fair ●…eeds thy flock this pleasant spring beside,  
Nor Love, I ween, hath made thee discontent,  
Sild age and love, do meet in one consent.   Perin. 

Ah Thenot, where the joy of heart doth fail,  
What marvel there, if mirth and music quail?  
See how the flowers of the field do spring,  
The purple Rose, the Lily white as snow,  
With smell and colour for an harvest King.  
May serve to make us young again, I trow,  
Yet all this pride is quickly laid full low.  
Soon as the root is nipped with northern cold,  
What smell, or beauty, can we then behold?   Thenot. 

As good not hear, as heard, not understand,  
My borrell brains through eld been all too dull,  
Sike mister meaning nill by me be scanned,  
All as my face, so wrinkled is my skull,  
Then say me Perin, by thy hope of Will,  
And by thine Ewes blown bags, and bagpipes sound.  
So not one Aneling●… thy flock be found.   Perin. 

Ah Thenot, by thine all-derliefest Lass,  
Or whatsoever is more dear to thee:  
No bagpipe name, let song and solace pass,  
Death hath undone my flock, my pipe and me,  
Dead is the sheep's delight, and shepherds glee,  
Broke is my pipe, and I myself forlorn  
My sheep unfed, their fleeces rend and torn.   Thenot. 

I much mus●…de such uncouth change to see,  
My flocks refused to feed, yet hale they were:  
The tender birds sat drooping on the tree,  
The careless Lambs went wandering here and there,  
Myself unknown a part of grief did bear,  
Ne wist I why yet heavy was my heart,  
Untimely death was cause of all this smart  
Up Perin, up, advance thy mournful lays,  
Sound loud thy pipe, but sound in doleful wise.   Perin. 

Who else but Thenot, can the Muses raise,  
And teach them sing and dance in mournful give  
My finger's stiff, my voice doth hoarsely rise.   Thenot. 

Ah, where is Collen, and his passing skill?  
For him it fits our sorrow to fulfil.   Perin. 

T'way sore extremes our Collen press so near,  
(Alas that such extremes should press him so)  
The want of wealth, and loss of love so dear,  
Scarce can he breathe from under heaps of woe,  
He that bears heaven, bears no such weight I trow.   Thenot. 

Hath he such skill in making all above,  
And hath no skill to get, or Wealth, or Love?   Perin. 

Praise is the greatest prize that Poet's gain,  
A simple gain that feeds them ne'er a whit.  
The wanton lass for whom he bore such pain,  
Like running water loves to change and flit.  
But if thou list to hear a sorry fit,  
Which Cuddy could in doleful verse indite,  
Blow thou thy pipe while I the same recite.   Thenot. 

Gin when thou list, all be my skill but small,  
My forward mind shall make amends for all.   Perin. 

YE Nymphs that bathe your bodies in this spring:  
Your tender bodies white as driven snow:  
Ye Virgins chaste which in this grove do sing,  
Which neither grief of Love, nor death do know:  
So may your streams run clear for aye,  
So may your trees give shade always.  
Depart a space,  
And give me place,  
To wail with grief my restless woe alone,  
For fear my cries  
Constrain your eyes  
To shed forth tears, and help lament my moan.   

And thou, my Muse, that whilom wont to ease,  
Thy Master's mind with lays of sweet delight,  
Now change those tunes, no joy my heart can please▪  
Gone is the day, come is the darksome night,  
Our Sun close hid in clouds doth lie,  
We live indeed, but living die:  
No light we see,  
Yet wander we,  
We wander far and near without a guide:  
And all astray,  
We lose our way,  
For in this world n'is such a Sun beside.   

Ye shepherds boys that lead your flocks a field  
The whilst your sheep feed safely round about,  
Break me your Pipes that pleasant sound did yield,  
Sing now no more the songs of Colin Clout.  
Lament the end ●…f all our joy,  
Lament the source of all annoy.  
Sidney is dead,  
That wont to lead  
Our flocks and us in mirth and shepherds glee:  
Well could we sing,  
Well dance, & spring,  
Of all the shepherds was none such as he,   

How often hath his skill in pleasant song,  
Drawn all the water-nimphs from out their bowers?  
How have they lain the tender grass along,  
And made him Garlands gay of smelling flowers.  
Phoebus himself that conquered Pan,  
Striving with Willy, nothing won.  
Me thinks I see  
The time when he  
Plucked from his golden locks the Laurel crown,  
And so to raise,  
Our Wilies' praise,  
Bedecked his head, and softly set him down.   

The learned Muse's flock to hear his skill,  
And quite forgot their water, wood, and mount,  
They thought his songs were done too quickly still,  
Of none but Willies Pipe they made account.  
He song, they seemed in joy to flow,  
He ceased, they seemed to weep for woe,  
The rural rout,  
All round about,  
Like Bees came swarming thick, to hear him sing.  
Ne could they think,  
On meat or drink,  
While Willies' music in their ears did ring   

But now (alas) such pleasant mirth is past,  
Apollo weeps, the Muses rend their hair.  
No joy on earth that any time can last,  
See where his breathless corpse lies on the bear.  
That self same hand that reft his life,  
Hath turned shepherds peace to strife.  
Our joy is fled  
Our life is dead,  
Our hope, our help, our glory all is gone:  
Our Poets praise  
Our happy▪ days.  
And nothing left but grief, to think thereon.   

What Thames, what Severne, or what western Seas,  
Shall give me floods of trickling tears to shed?  
What comfort can my restless grief appease,  
O that mine eyes were fountains in my head!  
Ah Collen! I lament thy case,  
For thee remains no hope of grace.  
The best relief  
Of Poet's grief:  
Is dead and wrapped full cold in filthy clay,  
And nought remains  
To ease our pains,  
But hope of death to rid us hence away.   

Phillis thine is the greatest grief, above the rest,  
Where been thy sweetest Posies featly dight,  
Thy Garlands with atrue-loves knot addressed,  
And all that erst thou Willie didst behight?  
Thy labour all is lost in vain  
The grief shall aye remain  
The Sun bright,  
That falls to night,  
To morrow from the East again shall rise,  
But we decay,  
And wast away,  
Without return, alas thy Willie dies.   

See how the drooping flocks refuse to feed,  
The rivers stream with tears above the bank:  
The trees do shed their leaves, to wail agreed,  
The beasts unfed, go mourning all in ranks,  
The Sun denies the Earth, his light,  
The spring is killed with winter's might:  
The flowers spill,  
The birds are still,  
No voice of joy is heard in any place.  
The meadows green,  
A change have seen,  
And Flora hides her pale disfigured face.   

Watch now ye shepherds boys with waking eye  
And lose your time of sleep, to learn to sing.  
Unhappy skill, what good is got thereby  
But painted praise that can no profit bring?  
If skill could move the sister's three,  
Our Willy still alive should be.  
The wolf so wood  
Amazed flood,  
At sound of Willies pipe, and left his prey:  
Both Pipe and Skill  
The sisters spill,  
So worse than any wicked Wolf are they.   

O flattering hope of mortal men's delight,  
So fair in outward show, so foul within!  
The deepest streams do flow full calm to sight,  
The ravening Wolves do ie●… in Wether's skin.  
We deemed our Willy aye should live,  
So sweet a sound his Pipe could give:  
But cruel death  
Hath stopped his breath:  
dumb lies his Pipe that wont so sweet to sound:  
Our flocks lament  
His life is spent,  
And careless wander all the woods a round.   

Come now, ye shepherds daughters, come no more  
To hear the songs that Cuddy want to sing:  
Hoarse is my Muse, my throat with crying sore,  
These woods with echo of my grief do ring.  
Your Willies life was Cuddies joy,  
Your Willies death hath killed the boy:  
Broke lies my Pipe  
Till reeds be ripe  
To make a new one, but a worse I fear:  
Save year by year,  
To wail my Dear,  
All Pipe and song jutterly forswear.   Thenot. 

A lack and welladay may shepherds cry  
Our Willy dead, our Collen killed with care:  
Who shall not loath to live▪ and long to die?  
And will not grief our little Cuddy spare,  
But must he too of sorrow have a share?  
Ay how his rueful verse hath pricked my heart!  
How feelingly hath he expressed my smart?   Perin. 

Ah Thenot hadst thou seen his sorry look,  
His wringed hands, his eyes to heaven upkest,  
His tears, that streamed like water in the brook,  
His sighs, that made his rhymes seem rudely dressed.  
But ●…ie we homeward, night approacheth near,  
And rainy clouds in southern skies appear.   
A. W.   

II. EGLOGVE.  Shepherd. herdman. 

COme gentle herdman, sit by me,  
And tune thy Pipe by mine  
here underneath this willow tree,  
To shield the hot Sunshine.  
Where I have made my Summer bower,  
For proof of Summer beams,  
And decked it up with many a flower,  
Sweet seated by the streams.  
Where gentle Daphne once a day,  
These flowery banks doth walk  
And in her bosom bears away  
The pride of many a stalk.  
But leaves the humble heart behind,  
That should her garland dight:  
And she sweet soul the more unkind,  
To set true loves so light,  
But whereas others bear the Bell,  
As in her favour blest:  
Her shepherd loveth her as well,  
As those whom she loves best.   Herdsman. 

ALas poor Pastor, I find,  
Thy love is lodged so high,  
That on thy flock thou hast no mind,  
But feedest a wanton eye.  
If dainty Daphne's looks besot  
Thy doting hearts desire,  
Be sure, that far above thy lot,  
Thy liking doth aspire.  
To love so sweet a Nymph as she,  
And look for love again:  
Is Fortune fitting high degree,  
Not for a shepherds swain.  
For she of Lordly lad's becoyd,  
And sought of great estates,  
Her favour scorns to be enjoyed  
By us poor lowly Mates.  
Wherhfore I warn thee to be wise,  
Go with me to my walk,  
Where lowly lasses be not nice,  
There like, and choose thy Make.  
Where are no pearls nor gold to view,  
No pride of silken sight,  
But petticoats of Scarlet hue,  
Which vail the skin snow-white.  
There truest Lasses been to get  
For love and little cost:  
There sweet desire is paid his det,  
And labour seldom lost.   Shepherd. 

NO herdman, no, thou ravest too loud  
Our trade so vile to hold  
My weed as great a heart doth shroud,  
As his that's clad in gold.  
And take the truth that I thee tell,  
This song fair Daphne sings  
That Cupid will be served as well,  
Of Shepherds as of Kings.  
For proof whereof, old books record,  
That Venus Queen of love,  
Would set aside her warlike Lord,  
And youthful Pastors prove.  
How Paris was as well beloved,  
A simple shepherds Boy,  
As after when that he was proved,  
King Priam's Son of Troy.  
And therefore have I better hope,  
As had those Lads of your,  
My courage takes as large a scope,  
Although their haps were more.  
And for thou shalt not deem I jest,  
And b ear a mind more base,  
No meaner hope shall haunt my breast,  
Then dearest Daphne's grace.  
My mind no other thought retains,  
Mine eye nought else a●…mires:  
My heart no other passion strain,  
Nor other hap desires.  
My muse of nothing else entreats,  
My Pipe nought else can sound,  
My veins no other fever heats,  
Such faith's in shepherds found.   Herdsman. 

AH Shepherd, than I see, with grief  
thy care is passed all cure,  
No remedy for thy relief,  
But patiently endure.  
Thy wont liberty is fled,  
Fond sancy breeds thy bane,  
Thy sense of folly brought a bed,  
Thy wit is in the wane.  
I can but sorrow for thy sake,  
Since love lulls thee asleep.  
And whist out of thy dream thou wake,  
God shield thy straying sheep.  
Thy wretched flock may rue and curse  
This proud desire of thine,  
Whose woeful state from bad to worse  
Thy careless eye will pine.  
And even as they, thyself likewise  
With them shalt wear and waste,  
To see the spring before thine eyes,  
Thou thirsty canst not taste.  
Content thee therefore with conceit,  
Where others gain the grace,  
And think thy fortune at the height,  
To see but Daphne's face.  
Although thy truth deserved well,  
Reward above the rest,  
Thy haps shall be but means to tell  
How other men are blest.  
So gentle Shepherd, farewell now,  
Be warned by my reed,  
For I see written in thy brow,  
Thy heart for love doth bleed.  
Yet longer with thee would I stay,  
If aught would do thee good,  
But nothing can the heat allay,  
Where love inflames the blood.   Shepherd. 

THen herdman, since it is my lot,  
and my good liking such,  
Strive not to break the faithful knot,  
that thinks no pain too much,  
For what contents my Daphne's best  
I never will despise:  
So she but wish my soul good rest  
when death shall close mine eyes.  
Then herdman, farewell once again,  
for now the day is fled:  
So might thy cares, poor shepherds Swain,  
fly from thy careful head.    

FOUR Eglogue. Concerning old age. The beginning and end of this Eglogue are wanting.  Perin. 

FOr when thou art not as thou want of your,  
No cause why life should please thee any more.  
Whilom I was (in course of former years,  
Ere freezing Eld had cooled my youthly rage)  
Of much worth among my shepherds Peers.  
Now for I am somedele ' ystept in age,  
For pleasance, strength, and beauty giunes assuage.  
Each little heard-groome laughs my wrinkled face,  
Each bonny lass for Cuddy shuns the place:  
For all this woe none can we justly twight,  
But hateful ●…ld, the foe to pleasant rest,  
Which like a these doth rob us of delight.   Wrenocke. 

Perin, enough few words be always best,  
Needs must be borne that cannot be redressed.  
Se fe am I as thou seest in thilk estate,  
The grief is each to bear that has a mate:  
But sicker for to speak the truth indeed,  
Thou seemest to blame that blameless seems to me,  
And hurtless Eld to s●…eb (ill mought he speed,  
That slays the dog, for wolves so wicked be)  
The faults of men thou lai'st on age I see,  
For which if Eld were in itself to blame,  
Then I and all my Pears should taste the same.   Perin. 

Wrenocke, I ween thou dotest through rusty Eld,  
And think'st with feigned words to blear mine eye,  
Thou for thy store art ever blissful held,  
Thy heaps of gold, nill let thee sorrow spy,  
Thy flocks full safe here under shade do lie,  
Thy weanlings fat, thine ewes with bladder blown:  
A iollier Shepheard have we seldom known.   Wrenock. 

For thilk my store, great Pan y'herried be:  
But if for thy, mine age with joy I bear,  
How falls it that thyself unlike to me,  
Art vexed so with grief and bootless fear?  
Thy store will let thee sleep on either ear.  
But neither want makes age to wisemen hard,  
Nor fools by wealth from grievous pains are barred   Perin. 

Seest not how free yond Lambkin skips and plays:  
And wags his tail, and butts with tender head:  
All for he feels the heat of youngthly days,  
Which secret law of kind hath inly bred?  
Thilk ewe from whom all joy with youth is fled,  
See how it hangs the head, as it would weep,  
Whilom it skipped, uneaths now may it creep.   Wrenock. 

No fellowship hath state of beasts with man,  
In them is nought but strength of limb and bone,  
Which ends with age, as it with age began.  
But man they sai'ne (as other creature none)  
Hath uncouth fire conveyed from heaven by one,  
(His name I wist) that yields him inward light,  
Sike fire as Welkin shows in winter night.   

Which neither age nor time can wear away,  
Which waxeth bet ' for use, as shepherds Crook,  
That ever shineth brighter day by day:  
Also though wrinkled seems the aged look,  
Bright shines the fire that from the Stars we took,  
And sooth to say, thilk ewe laments the pain,  
That thilk same wanton Lamb is like sustain.   Perin. 

Ah Thenot, be not all thy teeth on edge,  
To see youngths folk to sport in pastimes gay?  
To pitch the bar, to throw the weighty sledge,  
To dance with Phillis all the holiday,  
To hunt by day, the Fox, by night, the Grey?  
Sike peerless pleasures wont us for to queeme,  
Now lig we laid, as drowned in heavy dream   
Dost.   

SONNETS, ODES, ELEGIES, MADRIGALS, ANDEPIGRAMs.  By Francis Dauison And Walter Dauison Brethren. 

A compiaint, of which all the staves end with the words of the first, like a Sestine.  

1  
YE ghastly groves, that hear my woeful cries  
Whose shady leaves do shake to hear my pain,  
Thou silver stream that dost with tears lament:  
The cruel chance that doth my grief increase:  
Ye chirping birds whose cheerless notes declare  
That ye bewail the woes I feel in mind,  
Bear witness how with care I do consume,  
And hear the cause why thus I pine away.   

2  
Love is the cause that makes me pine away,  
And makes you hear the Echo of my cries  
Through griefs increase: And though the cause of pain  
Which doth enforce me still thus to lament,  
Proceed from love, and though my pain increase  
By daily cries which do that pain declare,  
And witness are of my afflicted mind,  
Yet cry I will, till crying me consume.   

3  
For as the fire the stubble doth consume,  
And as the wind doth drive the dust away,  
So pensive hearts are spent with doleful cries,  
And cares distract the mind with pinching pain.  
But all in vain I do my cares lament;  
My sorrow doth my sobs, sighs, tears, increase:  
Though sobs, sighs, tears, my torments do decl●…re,  
Sobs, sighs, nor tears, move not her flinty mind.   

4  
I am cast out of her ungrateful mind,  
And she hath sworn I shall in vain consume,  
My weary days, my life must waste away,  
Consumed with pain, and worn with restless cries.  
So Philomele too much oppressed with pain  
By his misdeed that causeth her lament,  
Doth day and night her mournful lays increase,  
And to the woods her sorrows doth declare.   

5  
Some ease it is, hid sorrows to declare,  
But too small ease to such a grieved mind,  
Which by repeating woes doth more consume,  
To end which woes I find at all no way,  
(A simple salve to cure so great a pain)  
But to death's deafened ears to bend my cries,  
Come then ye ghastly owls help me lament,  
And as my cries, so let your shrieks increase.   

6  
For as your shrieks (the tunes of death) increase  
When sun is set, and shadows do declare  
The night's approach: so I from my dark mind  
Since my bright Sun is fled, in cries consume,  
My night of woes, and though you fly away  
Soon as the days returns and cease your cries,  
Yet I by day find no release of pain,  
But day and night so foul a change lament.   

7  
But while I thus to senseless things lament  
Ruth of my case in them thereby d'encrease  
Which she feels not, with scosses she doth declare  
My pangs to him, who first her wanton mind,  
From me did win: Since when I still consume  
Like wax 'gainst fire, like snow that melts away  
Before the sun: Thus thus, with mournful cries  
I living die, and dying, live in pain.   

8  
And now adieu delight, and farewell pain  
Adieu vain hope I shall no more lament  
Her feigned faith which did my woes increase;  
And ye to whom my griefs I thus declare,  
Ye which have heard the secrets of my mind,  
And seeing then my lingering life in pain consume,  
Grove, Brook, and Birds adieu, now hence away,  
By death I will, and cease my deadly cries,   
E. D.   

Inscriptions.  

Thisbe.  
YE woeful Sires, whose causeless hate hath bred  
Grief to yourselves, death to my love and me,  
Let us not be dis-joind when we are dead,  
Though we alive conjoind could never be.  
Though cruel stars denied us two one bed.  
Yet in one tomb us two entombed see.  
Like as the dart was one and one the knife  
That did begin our love and end our life.    

Clytaemnestra to her son Orestes, coming to kill her for murdering his father AGAMEMNON.  

HOld, hold thy hand, vile son of viler mother,  
Death I deserve but O not by thy knife.  
One parent to revenge wilt thou kill the other,  
And give her death that gave thee (wretch thy life.  
Furies will plague thy murder execrable,  
Stages will play thee, and all mother's curse thee.  
To wound this womb or breast, how art thou able,  
When the one did bear thee, and the other nurse thee?   

Ajax.  
THis sword is mine, or will Laertes Son  
Win this as he Achilles armour won?  
This sword which you O Greeks oft bathed have known  
In Trojan blood, i'll now bathe in mine own.  
This fearless breast which all mine enemies fierce  
Have left unpierst, now I myself will pierce.  
So men shall say, Ajax to none did yield  
But t'Aiax self, and Ajax, Ajax killed.   

ROMULUS.  
NO common womb was fit me forth to bring,  
But a pure virgin Priest, child to a King.  
No mortal father worthy was to breed me,  
Nor human milk was fierce enough to feed me,  
Therefore the God of war by wonder bred me,  
And a she wolf by no less wonder fed me.  
In fine, the Gods because earth was too base  
T'entomb me dead, did me in heaven place.    

Fabritius Curio, who refused gold of the Samnites, and discovered to King Pyrrhus his Phis●…tion that offered to poison▪ him.  

MY famous Country values gold far less,  
Then conquest brave of such as gold possess.  
To be o'ercome with wealth I do not use,  
And to o'ercome with poison I refuse.  
No hand loves more than mine, to give to many,  
No ha●…rthates more than mine to take of any.  
With so firme●…steele virtue my mind hath armed,  
at●… ot by gold, ●…or iron it can be harmed.    

Cato Utican, who slew himself because he would not fall into Caesar's hands.  

CAESAR, thou hast o'ercome to thy great fame  
Proud Germans, valiant gaul's, and Britons rude,  
Rome's liberty (but to thine eternal shame)  
And her great Champion thou hast eke subdued.  
Yet neither shall thy triumphs with my name  
Be graced, nor sword be with my blood imbrued.  
Though all the conquered earth do now serve thee,  
Cato will die unconquered, and free.    

A Dialogue in Imitation of that between Horace an●… Lydia, beginning, Donec, gratus eram tibi, etc.  1 Lover. 

WHile thou did dost love me, and that neck of thine  
More sweet, white, soft, than roses, silver, down,  
Did wear a necklace of no arms but mine,  
jenuide not the King of Spain his crown.   2 Lady. 

While of thy heart I was sole Sovereign,  
And thou didst sing none but mellina's name▪  
Whom for brown Cole thou dost now disdain,  
Envied not the Queen of England's fame.   3 Lover. 

Though Cole be less fair, she is more kind,  
Her graceful dancing so doth please mine eye,  
And through mine ears her voice so charms my mind  
That so dear she may live, i'll willing die.   4 Lady. 

Though Crispus cannot sing my praise in verse,  
I love him so for skill in Tilting shown,  
And graceful managing of Coursiers fierce:  
That his dear life to save, i'll lose mine own.   5 Lover. 

What if I sue to thee again for grace,  
And sing my praises sweeter than before,  
If I out of my heart blot Cloes face,  
Wilt thou love me again, love him no more?   6 Lady. 

Though he be fairer than the morning star,  
Though lighter than the floating Cork thou be,  
And then the ●…rish sea more angry far,  
With thee I wish to live, and die with thee.   

Madrigal.  
Though you be not content  
That I (poor worm) should love you,  
As Cupid's power, and your sweet beauty cause me,  
Yet (dear) let pity move you  
To give me your consent.  
To love my life, as law of nature draws me,  
And i●… my life I love, then must I too  
Love your sweet self, for my life lives in you,   

Madrigal.  
Borrowed out of a Greek Epigram.  

●…ee's rich enough whose eyes behold thee,  
Who hears thee sing a Monarch is:  
A demi-god who doth thee kiss,  
And love himself whose arms enfold thee.    

Madrigal.  
Upon ●…er dreaming that she saw him dead.  

O fair, yet murdering eyes,  
Stars of my miseries,  
Who while night clouds your beams,  
How much you wish my death show in your dreams:  
Is't not enough that waking you do spill me,  
But you a sleep must kill me?  
O kill me still while you your sleep are taking,  
So you lend me kind looks while you are waking.   

The sound of thy sweet name, my dearest treasure,  
Delights me more than sight of other faces,  
A glimpse of thy sweet face breeds me more pleasure,  
Then any others kindest words and graces.   

One gracious word that from thy lips proceedeth,  
I value more than others Dove▪ like kisses:  
And thy chaste kiss in my conceit exceedeth▪  
Others embraces, and loves chiefest blisses.     

Sonnets.  

WHen traitorous Photine, Caesar did present  
With his great rivals honourable head,  
He taught his eyes a stream of tears to shed  
Hiding in his false heart his true content.   

And Hannibal when Fortunes balance light,  
Razed low▪ brought Rome and swayed proud Carthage down,  
While all but he, bewailed their yielding town  
He laughed to ease his swelling hearts despite.   

Thus cunning minds can mask with diverse art,  
Grief under feigned smiles, joy under tears  
Like Hannibal I cannot hide my fears  
Setting clear looks upon a cloudy heart.  
But let me joys enjoy, Deer you shall try,  
Caesar hid not his joys so well as I.    

Sonnet.  

While Love in you did live, I only lived in you,  
While you for me did burn, for you alone I burned,  
While you did sigh for me, for you I sight & mourned,  
Till you proved false to me, to you I was most true.   

But since Love died in you, in you I live no more,  
Your heart a Servant new, mine a new Saint enjoyeth:  
My sight offends your eyes, mine eyes your sight annoyeth  
Since you held me in scorn, by you I set no store.   

Yet if dead Love, if your late flames return,  
If you lament your change, & count me your sole treasure,  
My love more fresh shall spring, my flame more bright shall bu●…ne.  
I'll love none else but you, & love you without measure,  
If not (untrue) farewell: in sand I'll sow no grain,  
Nor plant my love but where love yields me love again.    

To Mistress Diana.  

PHoebus of all the Gods I wish to be:  
Not of the world to have the overseeing:  
For of all things in the world's circuit being  
One only thing I always wish to see.   

Not of all herbs the hidden force to know,  
For ah my wound by herbs cannot be cured:  
Not in the Sky to have a place assured,  
For my ambition lies on earth below.   

Not to be Prince of the Celestial choir,  
For I one Nymph prise more than all the Muses:  
Not with his bow to offer Love abuses  
For I loves vassal am, and dread his ire.  
But that thy light from mine, might borrowed be,  
And fair Diana might shine under me.    

Upon his departure.  

Madrigal.  
Sure (Deer) I love you not, for he that loveth,  
When he from her doth part  
That's Mistress of his heart,  
A deadly pain, a hellish torment proveth.  
But when sad Fates did sever  
Me far from seeing you I would see ever,  
I felt in my absenting  
No pain, nor no tormenting.  
For sense of pain how could he find,  
That left his heart and soul behind▪    

Epigrams translated out of martial.  
Ad Aelian. 76. l. 1. 

Si memini, fuerant tibi quatuor, Aelia, dentes,  
Expuit una duos tussis, & una duos.  
jam secura potes ●…otis tussire di●…bus,  
Nil istuc quod agat tertia tussi●… habet.   

Four teeth of late you had, both black and shaking,  
Which durst not chew your meat for fear of aching,  
But since your cough (without a Barber's aid)  
Hath blown them out, you need not be afraid.  
On either side to chew hard crusts, for sure  
Now from the Too●…h-ach you live most secure.    
In Herm. 15. l. 2. Quod nulli calicem tuum propinas human facis, Herme, non superb. 

A Monsieur Naso, Verole.  
Naso let none drink in his glass but he,  
Think you 'tis curious pride? 'tis courtesy.    
De Manuella. 51. l. 1 Os & libra tibi lingit, Manuella cat●…llus. Mon.▪ miror merdas si libet esse cani. 

I muse not that your Dog turds oft doth eat,  
To a tongue that licks your lips, a turd's sweet meat.   

De Milone.  
MILO dominon est, peregre Milone profecto,  
Arua vacant, uxor non minus inde parit.  
Cur sit ager sterilis, cur uxor lact tet, edam,  
Quo fodiatur ager non habet, uxor habet.   

MILO lives long in France, and while he's there,  
his ground bears nought, his wife doth children bear  
Why should th'one barren, th'other fertile be?  
His ground lacks ploughing up,, so doth not she.    
De Codro. Li. 15▪ 3. Plus credit nemo, quam tota Cod●…us in urbe, Cum sit tam pauper quomodo? coecus amat. 

CODRUS although but of mean estate,  
Trusts more than any Merchant in the city▪  
For being old and blind he hath of late,  
Married a wife, young, wanton, fair, and witty.    
Ad Quintum. 117. L. 5. Quae legis causa nupsit tibi Laelia, Quinte. Vxorem hanc poteris dicere legitimam. 

THy lawful wife fair Laelia needs must be,  
For she was forced by law to marry thee.   Nil mihid as viws, dicis post fata daturum, Si non es stultus, scis Maro quid cupiam. 

To A. S.  
RIch Chremes whiles he lives will nought bestow,  
On his poor Heirs, but all at his last day.  
If he be half as wise as rich I trow,  
He thinks that for his life they seldom pray.   Semper eris pauper, si pauper es, Aemiliane, Duntur opes nullis nunc nisi divitibus. 

To all poor Scholars.  
Fail ye of wealth, of wealth ye still will fail,  
None but fat sows are now greezed in the tail.    
In Cinnam. 42. L. 7. 

Primum est ut proestes, si quid te, Cinna rogabo,  
Illud deinde sequens, ut ●…ito, Cinna, neges.  
Diligo praestantem, non odi. Cinna, negantem,  
Sed tu nec praestas, nec cito, Cinna, negas.   

To his friends  
MY just demands so one grant or so one deny,  
Th'one friendship shows, and th'other courtesy:  
But who nor soon doth grant, nor soon say no,  
Doth not true friendship, and good manners know.    
In Cinnam. 107. L. 5. Esse nihil dicis, quicquid petis, improbe Cinna, Si nil Cinna petis, nil tibi Cinna negoes 

WHat soe'er you coggingly require,  
'tis nothing (Cinna) still you cry▪  
Then Cinna you have your desire,  
If you ask nought, nought I deny.    
De Philone. 48. L. 5. Nunquam se caenasse domi Philo jurat, & hoc est, Non coenat quoties nemo vocavit eum. 

PHilo swears he ne'er eats at home a nights:  
He means, he fasts when no man him invites.    
12. L 12. 

YOu promise mountains still to me,  
When over night stark drunk you be.  
But nothing you perform next day,  
Hence forth be morning drunk, I pray.    
Ad Pessimos Coniuges. 35. L. ●…. 

cum sitis similes, paresque vita:  
Vxor pessima, pessimus maritus,  
Miror non bene convenire vobis.   

WHy do your wife and you so ill agree,  
Since you in manners so well matched be?  
Thou brazen-faced, she impudently bold,  
Thou still dost brawl, she evermore doth scold▪  
Thou seldom sober art, she often drunk,  
Thou a whorehunting knave, she a known Punk.  
Both of you filch, both swear and damn, and lie,  
And both take pawns, and jewish usury.  
Not manners like make man and wife agree,  
Their manners must both like and virtuous be.     

Epigrams.  

A Rule for Courtiers.  
HE that will thrive in Court must oft become,  
Against his will, both blind and deaf and dumb.   

On a painted Courtesan.  
Whosoever saith thou sellest all, doth jest▪  
Thou buyest thy beauty that sells all the rest.   

In Aulam.  
HEr Sons rich Aula terms her Lechers all,  
Whom other Dames loves, friends, and servants call.  
And sure me thinks her wit,  
Gives them a name more fit.  
For if all mothers them their sons do call  
Whom they have only borne nine months in all,  
May she not call them sons with better reason,  
Whom she hath borne nine times as long a season?   

For a looking glass.  
IF thou be fair, thy beauties beautify,  
With virtuous deeds and manners answerable:  
If thou be foul, thy beauties want supply,  
With a fair mind and actions commendable.   

In Asinium.  
THou still wert wont in earnest or in jest,  
To praise an Ass as a most worthy best,  
Now like an Ass thyself thou still commendest.  
whatsoever thou speak'st with thine own praise thou endest  
Oh! I perceive thou praisest learnedly,  
An Ass in Thesi and Hipothesi.   

On a limping Cuckold.  
THou evermore dost ancient Poets blame,  
For feigning Venus' wife to Vulcan lame.  
I blame the stars and Hymen to that gave  
A fair strait wife to thee a foul lame knave,  
And nought doth ease my grief but only this,  
Thy Venus now hath got a Mars to kiss.   

On Crambo a lousy shifter.  
BY want of shift since louse at first are bred,  
And after by the same increased and fed▪  
Crambo I muse how you have lice so many,  
Since all men know you shift as much as any.   

In Quintum.  
QVintus is burnt, and may thereof be glad.  
For being poor he hath a good pretence,  
At every Church to crave benevolence  
For one that had by fire lost all he had.   

In Sabam.  
WHy will not Saba in a glass behold  
Her face, since she grew wrinkled, pale and old?  
Doubtless I think she doubts that ugly sight  
Like Cow-turnd IO would herself affright.   

In Aulum.  
AVlus gives nought, men say, though much he crave,  
Yet I can tell to whom the pox he gave.   
F. D.   

Sonnets, Odes, Elegies, and Madrigals.  

Sonnet. I.  
Dedication of these Rhymes, to his first love.  

IF my harsh humble style, and rhymes ill dressed,  
Arrive not to your worth and beauty glorious,  
My muse's shoulders are with weight oppressed,  
And heavenly beams are o'er my sight victorious.   

If these dim colours have your worth expressed,  
Laid by lovers hand, and not by Art laborious,  
Your Sunlike rays have my wit's harvest blessed,  
Enabling me to make your praise notorious.   

But if alas! (alas▪ the heavens defend it,)  
My lines your eyes, my love your heart displeasing,  
Breed hate in you, and kill my hope of easing:  
Say with yourself, how can the wretch amend it?  
I wondrous fair, he wondrous dearly loving,  
How can his thoughts but make his pen be moving?    

Sonnet. II.  
That he cannot hide or dissemble his affection.  

I Bend my wits, and beat my weary brain,  
To keep my inward grief, from outward show.  
Alas I cannot: now 'tis vain I know,  
To hide a fire, whose flame appeareth plain.   

I force my will, my senses I constrain,  
T'imprison in my heart my secret woe,  
But musing thoughts, deep sighs, or tears that flow,  
Discover what my heart hides, all in vain.  
Yet blame not (Deer) this undissembled passion:  
For well may love, within small limits bounded,  
Be wisely masked in a disguised fashion.  
But he, whose heart, like mine, is thoroughly wounded,  
Can never feign, no though he were assured,  
That feigning might have greater grace procured.    

Sonnet. III.  
Upon his absence from her.  

THe fairest eye, (O eyes in blackness fair)  
That ever shined, and the most heavenly face,  
The daintiest smiling, the most conquering grace,  
And sweetest breath that ere perfumed the air,  
Those cherry lips, whose kiss might well repair   

A dead man's state: that speech did displace  
All mean desires, and all affections base,  
Clogging swift hope, and winging dead despair,   

That snow-white breast, and all those faultless features  
Which made her seem a parsonage divine,  
And far excelling fairest human creatures,  
Hath absence banished from my cursed eine.  
But in my heart, as in a mirror clear,  
All these perfections to my thoughts appear.    

Sonnet. FOUR  
Upon presenting her with the speech of Grays-inn Mask, at the Court, 1594. consisting of three parts. The story of Proteus transformations, the wonders of the adamantine Rock, and a speech to her Majesty.  

WHo in these lines may better claim a part,  
That sing the praises of the maiden Queen,  
Than you fair sweet, that only sovereign been,  
Of the poor kingdom of my faithful heart?   

Or to whose view should I this speech impart,  
Where th'Adamantine rocks great power is shown:  
But to your conquering eyes, whose force once known  
Makes even iron hearts loathe thence to part?   

Or who of Proteus sundry transformations,  
May better send you the new-fained Story,  
Then I whose love unfeigned felt no mutations,  
Since to be yours I first received the glory?  
Accept then of these lines, though meanly penned,  
So fit for you to take, and me to send.    

ELEGY I.  
He renounceth his food, and former delight in Music, Poesy and painting.  

SItting at board sometimes, prepared to eat,  
If't hap my mind on these my woes to think,  
Sighs fill my mouth in stead of pleasant meat,  
And tears do moist my lips in am of drink:  
But yet, nor sighs, nor tears, that run amain,  
Can either starve my thoughts, or quench my pain▪   

Another time with careful thought, o're-tane,  
I thought these thoughts with musics might to chase:  
But as I 'gan to set my notes in frame,  
A sudden passion did my song displace.  
In stead of Rests, sighs from my heart did rise,  
In stead of Notes, deep sobs and mournful cries.   

Then, when I saw, that these my thoughts increased,  
And that my thoughts unto my woes gave fire,  
I hoped both thoughts and woes might be released,  
If to the Muses I did me retire:  
Whose sweet delights were wont to ease my woe,  
But now (alas) they could do nothing so.   

For trying oft (alas) yet still in vain,  
To make some pleasant numbers to arise,  
And beating oft my dullen weary brain,  
In hope some sweet conceit for to devise:  
Out of my mouth no words but groans would come,  
Out of my Pen no ink but tears would run.   

Of all my old delights yet one was left,  
Painting alone to ease my mind remained:  
By which, when as I looked to be bereft  
Of these heart▪ vexing woes that still me strained,  
From forth mine eyes the blood for colours came,  
And tears withal to temper so the same.   

Adieu my food that wontst my taste to please,  
Adieu my songs that bred mine ears delight,  
Adieu sweet Muse that oft my mind didst ease,  
Painting, adieu, that oft refreshed my sight,  
Since neither taste, nor ears, nor sight nor mind,  
In your delights can ought save sorrow find.    

SONNET. V.  
To pity.  

WAke Pity, wake, for thou hast slept too long,  
Within the Tygrish heart of that fierce fair,  
Who ruins most, where most she should repair,  
And where she owes most right, doth greatest wrong.   

Wake Pity, wake, O do no more prolong  
Thy needful help I but quickly hear my prayer  
Quickly (alas) for otherwise despair  
By guilty death, will end my guiltless wrong.   

Sweet Pity wake▪ and tell my cruel sweet,  
That If my death her honour might increase,  
I would lay down my life at her proud feet,  
And willing die, and dying, hold my peace.  
And only live, and living mercy cry,  
Because her glory in my death will die.    

ODE. I.  
That only her beauty and voice please him.  

1  
PAssion may my judgement blear,  
Therefore sure I will not swear,  
That others are not pleasing:  
But I speak it to my pain,  
And my life shall it maintain,  
None else yields my heart easing.   

2.  
Ladies I do think there be,  
Othersome as fair as ●…hee,  
(Though none have fairer features:  
But my turtle-like affection,  
Since of her ●… made Election,  
Scorns other fairest creatures.   

3  
Surely I will not deny,  
But some others reach as high  
With their sweet warbling voices:  
But since her notes charmed mine ear,  
Even the sweetest tunes I hear,  
To me seem rude harsh noises.    

Madrigal. I.  
To Cupid.  

Love, if a God thou art,  
Then evermore thou must,  
Be merciful and just.  
If thou be just, O wherefore doth thy Dart,  
Wound mine alone, and not my Lady's heart?   

If merciful, then why  
Am I to pain reserved,  
Who have thee truly served:  
While she that by thy power sets not a fly,  
Laughs thee to scorn, and lives at liberty?   

Then, if a God thou wilt accounted be,  
heal me like her, or else wound her like me.    

Madrigal. II.  
Upon his mistress sickness, and his own health.  

In health and ease am I,  
Yet, as I senseless were, it nought contents me.  
You sick in pain do lie,  
And (ah) your pain exceedingly torments me.  
Whereof, I can this only reason give,  
That dead unto myself, in you I live.    

Madrigal 3.  
He begs a kiss.  

SOrrow slowly killeth any,  
Sudden joy soon murders many.  
Then (sweet) if you would end me,  
'tis a fond course with lingering grief to spend me.  
For, quickly to dispatch me,  
Your only way is, in your arms to catch me,  
And give me dove-like kisses,  
For such excessive and unlookt-for blisses,  
Will so much over-ioy me,  
As they will strait destroy me,    

Madrigal 4.  
Upon a kiss received.  

SInce I your cherry lips did kiss,  
Where Nectar and Ambrosia is,  
My hungry maw no meat requires:  
My thirsty throat no drink desires.  
For by your breath which then I gained,  
Chameleon-like my life's maintained.   

O grant me then those cherries still,  
And let me feed on them my fill.  
If by a surfeit death I get,  
Upon my tomb let this be set:  
By cherries twain his life he cherished,  
By cherries twain at length he perished.    

ODE II.  
Upon her protestation of kind affection, having tried his sincere fidelity.  

I  
Lady, you are with beauties so enriched  
Of body and of mind,  
As I can hardly find,  
Which of them all hath most my heart bewitched.   

2  
Whether your skin so white, so smooth, so tender,  
Or face well formed and fair,  
Or heart-ensnaring hair,  
Or dainty hand, or leg, and foot so slender.   

3  
Or whether your sharp wit and lively spirit,  
Where Pride can find no place:  
Or your enchanting grace,  
Or speech, which doth true eloquence inherit.   

4  
Most lovely all, and each of them do move me,  
More than words can express:  
But yet I must confess,  
I love you most, because you please to love me.    

ODE II.  
His restless estate.  

Your presence breeds my anguish,  
Your absence makes me languish:  
Your sight with woe doth fill me,  
And want of your sweet sight, alas doth kill me.   

If those dear eyes that burn me,  
With mild aspect you turn me,  
For life my weak heart panteth:  
If frowningly, my spirit and life blood fainteth.   

If you speak kindly to me,  
Alas, kind words undo me▪  
Yet silence doth dislike me,  
And one unkind ill word, stark dead would strike me.   

Thus, Sun nor shade doth ease me,  
Nor speech, nor silence please me:  
Favours and frowns annoy me.  
Both want and plenty equally destroy me.    

ELEGY. II.  
Or letters in Verse.  

MY dearest sweet, if these sad lines do hap  
The raging fury of the Sea to scape,  
O be not you more cruel than the Seas,  
Let Pity now your angry mind appease.  
So that your hand may be their blessed Port,  
From whence they may unto your eyes resort,  
And at that throne pleading my wretched case,  
May move your cruel heart to yield me grace.  
So may no clouds of elder years obscure  
Your Sunlike eyes, but still as bright endure,  
As than they shone when with one piercing Ray,  
They made myself their slave, my heart they pray:  
So may no sickness nip those flowers sweet,  
Which ever flowering on your cheeks do meet:  
Nor all defacing time have power to race,  
The goodly building of that heavenly face.   

3  
Fountain of bliss, yet wellspring of my woe,  
(O would I might not justly term you so!)  
Alas, your cruel dealing, and my fate,  
Have now reduc'de me to that wretched state,  
That I know not how, I my style may frame  
To thanks, or grudging, or to praise, or blame:  
And where to write, I all my powers do bend,  
There wot I not how to begin or end.  
And now my drizzling tears trill down apace,  
As if the latter would the former chase,  
Whereof some few on my pale cheeks remain,  
Like withered flowers bedewed with drops of rain:  
The other falling in my Paper sink,  
Or dropping in my Pen increase my ink.  
Which sudden Passions cause if you would find,  
A trembling fear doth now possess my mind,  
That you will not vouchsafe these lines to read,  
Lest they some pity in your heart may breed:  
But or with angry frowns refuse to take them,  
Or taking them the fires fuel make them:  
Or with those hands (made to a milder end)  
These guiltless leaves all into pieces rend.  
O cruel Tyrant! (yet beloved still,)  
Wherein have I deserved of you so ill,  
That all my love you should with hate requite,  
And all my pains reward with such despite?  
Or if my fault be great (which I protest  
Is only love, too great to be expressed)  
What, have these lines so harmless▪ innocent,  
Deserved to feel their Master's punishment?  
These leaves are not unto my fault consenting:  
And therefore ought not to have the same tormenting.  
When you have read them, use them as you list,  
For by your sight they shall be fully blest:  
But till you read them, let the woes I have  
This harmless Paper from your fury save.   

4  
Clear up mine eyes and dry yourselves my tears,  
And thou my ●…eart banish these deadly fears:  
Persuade thyself, that though her heart disdain,  
Either to love thy love, or rue thy pain,  
Yet her fair eyes will not a look deny,  
To this sad story of thy misery.  
O than my dear, behold the Portraiture,  
Of him that doth all kind of woes endure,  
Of him whose Head is made a hive of woes,  
Whose swarming number daily greater grows:  
Of him whose senses like a Rack are bend,  
With diverse motions my poor soul to rend:  
Whose mind a mirror is, which only shows,  
The ugly image of my present woes:  
Whose memory's a poisoned knife to tear  
The ever bleeding wound my breast doth bear,  
(The ever bleeding wound not to be cured,  
But by those eyes that first the same procured.)▪  
And that poor heart, so faithful, constant, true,  
That only loves, and serves, and honours you,  
Is like a feeble Ship, which torn and rend,  
The Mast of hope being broke, and tackling spent,  
Reason the Pilot dead, the stars obscured,  
By which alone to sail it was enured,  
No Port, no Land, no Comfort once expected,  
All hope of safety utterly neglected,  
With dreadful terror tumbling up and down,  
Passions uncertain, waves with hideous sound,  
Doth daily, hourly, minutelie expect  
When either it should run, and so be wrect,  
Upon despairs sharp Rock●…, or be o'erthrown  
With storm of your disdain so fiercely blown.   

5  
But yet of all the woes that do torment me,  
Of all the torments that do daily rend me,  
there's none so great (although I am assured,  
That even the lest cannot be long endured:)  
As that so many weeks (nay months, and years)  
Nay tedious ages, (for it so appears)  
My trembling heart (besides so many anguishs,)  
betwixt hope and fear uncertain hourly languishes▪  
Whether your hands, your eyes, your heart of stone,  
Did take my lines, and read them, and bemoan  
With one kind word, one sigh, one pitying tear,  
Th'unfeigned grief which you do make me bear,  
Whether y'accepted that last Monument  
Of my dear love, the book (I mean) I sent  
To your dear self, when the respectless wind  
Bore me away, leaving my heart behind:  
And deign sometimes when you the same do view  
To think on him, who alway thinks on you.  
Or whether you (as Oh I fear you do)  
Hate both myself, and gifts, and letters too.   

6  
I must confess (unkind) when I consider,  
How ill, alas, how ill agree together  
So peerless beauty, to so fierce a mind,  
So hard an inside to so fair a rind,  
A heart so bloody to so white a breast,  
So proud disdain, with so mild looks suppressed:  
And how my dear (Oh would it had been never,  
Accursed word, nay would it might be ever:)  
How once I say, till your heart was estranged,  
(Alas how soon my day to night was changed)  
You did vouchsafe my poor eyes so much grace,  
Freely to view the riches of your face,  
And did so high exalt my lowly heart,  
To call it yours, and take it in good part.  
And (which was greatest bliss) did not disdain,  
For boundless love to yield some love again.  
When this, I say, I call unto my mind,  
And in my heart and soul no cause can find  
No fact, no word, whereby my heart doth merit,  
To love that love, which once I did inherit,  
Despair itself cannot make me despair  
But that you'll prove as kind as you are fair,  
And that my lines, and book (O would 'twere true)  
Are, though I know▪ 't not yet, received by you,  
And often have your cruelty repent.  
Whereby my guiltless heart, is thus tormented,  
And now at length in am of passed woe,  
Will pity, kindness, love and favour shoe.   

7  
But when again my cursed memory,  
To my sad thoughts confounded diversly,  
Presents the time, the teare-procuring time,  
That with●…r'd my young ●…oies before their prime:  
The time when I with tedious absence tired  
With restless love and racked desire inspired,  
Coming to find my earthly Paradise,  
To gla●…e my sight in your two heavenly eyes,  
(On which alone my earthly joys depended,  
And wanting which, my joy and life were ended)  
From your sweet rosy lips, the springs of bliss,  
To draw the Nectar of a sweetest kiss:  
My greedy ears on your sweet words to feed,  
Which candied in your sugared breath proceed,  
In daintiest accents through that coral door,  
Guarded with precious Pearl and Rubies store:  
To touch your hand so white, so moist, so soft,  
And with a ravished kiss redoubled oft,  
Revenge with kindest spite the bloody theft,  
Whereby it closely me my heart bereft:  
And of all bliss to taste the consummation,  
In your sweet graceful heavenly conversation.  
By whose sweet charms the souls do you enchant,  
Of all that do your lovely presence haunt:  
In stead of all these joys I did expect,  
Found nought but frowns, unkindness and neglect.  
Neglect, unkindness, frowns? nay plain contempt,  
And open hate, from no disdain exempt,  
No bitter words, side looks, nor aught that might  
Engrieve, increase so undeserved despite.  
When this (I say) I think, and think withal,  
How, nor those showers of tears mine eyes let fall  
Nor wind of blustering sighs with all their force,  
Could move your rocky heart once to remorse,  
Can I expect that letter should find grace,  
Or pity ever in your heart have place?  
No no, I think, and sad despair says for me,  
You hate, disdain, and utterly abhor me.   

8  
Alas my Deer, if this you do devise,  
To try the virtue of your murdering eyes,  
And in the Glass of bleeding hearts to view  
The glorious splendour of your beauties hew,  
Ah! try it on rebellious hearts and eyes  
That do withstand the power of sacred lights  
And make them feel, (if any such be found)  
How deep and eurelesle your eyes can wound:  
But spare, O spare my yielding heart, and save  
Him whose chief glory is to be your slave:  
Make me the matter of your clemency,  
And not the subject of your Tyranny.    

ODE. FOUR  
Being by his absence in Italy deprived of her looks, words, and gestures, he desireth her to write unto him.  

I  
MY only star  
Why, why are your decreeys,  
Where all my liefs' peace lies,  
With me at war?  
Why to my ruin tending,  
Do they still lighten woe,  
On him that loves you so,  
That all his thoughts in you have birth and ending.   

TWO  
Hope of my heart,  
O wherefore do the words  
Which your sweet tongue affords,  
No hope impart?  
But cruel without measure,  
To my eternal pain,  
Still thunder forth disdain,  
On him whose life depends upon your pleasure.   

III  
Sunshine of joy,  
Why do your gestures, which  
All eyes and hearts be witch,  
My bliss destroy?  
And pities sky o're-clouding  
Of hate an endless shower  
On that poor heart still power,  
Which in your bosom seeks his only shrouding?   

IIII  
Blame of my wound,  
Why are your lines, whose s●…ght  
Should cure me with delight,  
My poison found?  
Which through my veins dispersing,  
Make my poor heart and mind  
And all my senses find  
A living death in torments past rehearsing.   

V  
Alas my Fate  
Hath of your Eyes deprived me,  
Which both killed and reviv'd me,  
And sweetened hate:  
Your sweet voice, and sweet Graces,  
Which clothed in lovely weeds,  
Your cruel words and deeds  
Are intercepted by far distant places.   

VI  
But O the Anguish  
Which presence still presented,  
Absence hath not absented,  
Nor made to languish.  
No, no, t'increase my paining,  
The cause being (ah) removed,  
For which th'effect ●… loved,  
Th'effect is still in greatest force remaining.   

VII  
O cruel Tiger,  
If to your hard hearts centre,  
Tears, vows, and Prayers may enter,  
Desist your rigour:  
And let kind lines assure me  
(since to my deadly wound  
No salve else can be found)  
That you that kill me, yet at length will cure me.    

Madrigal 5.  
Allusion to the confusion of Babel.  

THe wretched life I live  
In my weak senses such confusion maketh  
That like the accursed rabble,  
That built the Tower of Babble.  
My wit mistaketh,  
And unto nothing a right name doth give.   

I term her my dear love, that deadly hates me,  
My chiefest good, her that's my chiefest evil,  
Her Saint and Goddess, who's a Witch, a Devil▪  
Her my sole hope, that with despair amates me.  
My Balm I call her, that with poison fills me,  
And her I term my life, that daily kills me.    

Sonnet VI.  
Upon her acknowledging his desert, yet rejecting his affection.  

IF love conjoined with worth and great desert,  
Merit like love in every noble mind,  
Why then do I you still so cruel find?  
To whom you do such praise of worth impart   

And if (my dear) you speak not from your heart,  
To heinous wrongs you do together bind,  
Two seek with glozing words mine eyes to blind,  
And yet with hateful deeds my love to thwart.   

To want what one deserves engrieves his pain,  
Because it takes away all self accusing:  
And under kindest words to make disdain,  
Is to a vexed soul too much abusing.  
Then if't befalse, such glozing words resraine:  
If true, O then let worth his obtain.    

Sonnet 7.  
Her answer in the same Rhymes.  

IF your fond love want worth and great desert,  
Then blame yourself that you me cruel find:  
If worth alone move every noble mind,  
Why to no worth should I my love impart?   

And if the less to grieve your wounded heart,  
I seek your dazzled eyes with words to blind,  
To just disfavour I great favour bind,  
With deeds and not with words your love to thwart▪   

the freeing of your mind from self accusing,  
By granting your deserts should ease your pain.  
And since love is your fault 'twere some abusing,  
With bitter words t'enuenome just disdain.  
Then if't be true, all glozing I refrain,  
If false, why should no worth worths due obtain?    

ODE 5.  
His farewell to his unkind and unconstant Mistris●….  

SWeet, if you like and love me still,  
And yield me love for my good will,  
And do not from your promise start,  
When your fair hand gave me your heart,  
If dear to you I be;  
As you are dear to me:  
Then yours I am, and will be ever,  
Nor time nor place my love shall sever.  
But faithful still I will persever,  
Like constant marble stone,  
Loving but you alone.  
But if you favour more than me,   

(Who love thee dear, and none but thee)  
If others do the Harvest gain,  
That's due to me for all my pain:  
If you delight to range,  
And oft to chop and change:  
Then get you some newfangled Mate,  
My doting love shall turn to Hate,  
Esteeming you (though too, too late)  
Not worth a pebble stone,  
Loving not me alone.    

ODE VI.  
A Prosopopoeia, Wherein his heart speaks to his second Lady's breast  

I Dare not in my masters bosom rest,  
That flaming Aetna would to Ashes burn me:  
Nor dare I harbour in his Mistress breast,  
The frosty Climate into ice would turn me,  
So, both from her and him I do retire me,  
Lest th'one should freeze me, and th'other fire'me.   

Winged with true love, I fly to this sweet Breast,  
Whose snow, I hope, will cool, but t'yce not turn me,  
Where fire and snow, I trust, so tempered rest,  
As gentle heat will warm, and yet not burn me.  
But (O dear Breast) from thee ●…le ne'fe retire me,  
Whether thou cool, or warm, or freeze, or fire me.    

ODE VII.  
Upon her giving him back the Paper wherein the former Song was written, as though it had been an answer thereunto  

Lady of matchless beauty;  
When into your sweet Bosom I delivered  
A paper, with wan looks, and hand that quivered  
Twixt hope, fear, love, and duty:  
Thought you it nothing else contained,  
But written words in Rhyme restrained?  
O than your thought abused was,  
My heart close wrapped therein, into your Breast infused was.   

When you that Scroll restored me,  
With grateful words, kind grace, and smiling merrily,  
My Breast did swell with joy, supposing verily,  
You, answer did afford me.  
But finding only that I writ,  
I hopped to find my heart in it:  
But you my hope abused had,  
And poison of despair instead thereof infused had.   

Why, why did you torment me,  
With giving back my humble Rhymes so hatefully?  
You should have kept both heart and paper gratefully?  
Or both you should have sent me.  
Hope you my Heart thence to remove  
By scorning me, my Lines, my Love?  
No, no; your hope abused is,  
Too deep to be removed, it in your breast infused is.   

O shall I hide or tell it:  
Dear with so spotless, zealous, firm Affection,  
I love your Beauty, Virtue, and perfection,  
As nothing can expel it.  
Scorn still my Rhymes, my Love despite,  
Pull out my Heart, yea kill me quite:  
Yet will your hate abused be,  
For in my very soul, your love and looks infused be.    

ODE 8.  
Commendation of her Beauty, Stature Behaviour and wit.  

SOme there are as Fair to see too:  
But by Art and not by Nature.  
Some as Tall and goodly be too:  
But want Beauty to their Stature.   

Some have gracious Kind behaviour,  
But are soul, or simple Creatures:  
Some have Wit, but want sweet favour,  
Or are proud of their good features.  
Only you, and you want pity  
Are most Fair, Tall, Kind, and Witty.    

MADRIGAL 6.  
To her hand, upon her giving him her glove.  

O Hand of all hands living,  
The softest, moistest, whitest:  
More skilled than Phoebu●… on a Lute in running:  
More than Minerva, with a Needle cunning:  
Then Mercury more wily,  
Instealing Hearts most slily.   

Since thou dear hand, in theft so much delightest,  
Why fallest thou now a giving?  
Ay me! thy gifts are thefts, and with strange Art,  
In giving me thy Glove, thou stealest my Hart.    

MADIGRAL 7.  
Cupid proved a Fencer.  

Ah Cupid I mistook thee,  
I for an Archer, and no Fencer took thee.  
But as a Fencer of t●…faines blows and thrusts,  
Where he intends no harm:  
Then turns his baleful Arm,  
And wounds that part which lest his foe mistrusts.  
So thou with fencing Art,  
Feigning to wound mine eyes, hast hit my heart.    

Sonnet 8.  
Upon her commending (though most undeservedly) his verses to his first love.  

PRaise you those barren Rhymes long since composed?  
Which my great Love, her greater Cruelty,  
My constant faith, her false inconstancy,  
My praises style, her o'er praised worth disclosed.   

O, if I loved a scornful Dame so dearly:  
If my wild years did yield so firm affection:  
If her Moon-beames, short of your Sun's perfection,  
Taught my hoars Muse (as you say) to sing clearly   

How much, how much should I love and adore you,  
Divinest Creature if you deigned to love me?  
What beauty, fortune, time should ever move me  
In these stayed years to like aught else before you?  
And O! how should my Muse by you inspired?  
Make heaven and earth resound your praise admired.   
My then green Heart so brightly did inflame.   

MADRIGAL 8.  
He compares himself to a Candle fly.  

LIke to the silly fly,  
To the dear light I fly  
Of your disdainful Eyes,  
But in a diverse wise  
She with the flame doth play,  
By night alone; and I both night and day.  
She to a Candle runs:  
I to a light, far brighter than the Suns.  
She near at hand is fired:  
I both near hand, and farre-away retired.  
She fond thinks▪ nor dead, nor burnt to be▪  
But I my burning and my death foresee.    

MADIGRAL IX.  
Answers to her question, what Love was  

IF I behold your Eyes,  
Love is a Paradise:  
But if I view my heart,  
'tis an infernal smart.    

ODE IX.  
That all other Creatures have their abiding in heaven, hell, earth, air, water or fire, but he in all of them.  

IN heaven the blessed▪ Angels have their being,  
In hell the Fiends appointed to damnation.  
To men and beasts Earth yields firm habitation▪  
The winged musicans in the air are fleeing.  
With fins the people gliding,  
Of Water have the enjoying.  
In Fire (all else destroying)  
The Salamander finds a strange abiding:  
But I poor wretch, since I did first aspire,  
To love your beauty, Beauties all excelling,  
Have my strange diverse dwelling,  
In heaven, hell, earth, water, air, and Fire.  
Mine Ear while you do sing, in Heaven remaineth:  
My mind in hell, through hope and fears contention.  
Earth holds my drossy wit and dull invention.  
Th▪ ill food of airy sighs my life sustaineth.  
To streams of tears still flowing,  
My weeping Eyes are turned.  
My constant heart is burned  
In quenchless fire within my bosom glowing.  
O fool, no more, no more so high aspire:  
In Heaven is no beauty more excelling,  
In hell no such pride dwelling,  
Nor heart so hard in earth, air, water, fire.    

MADIGRAL 10.  
Upon his timorous silence in her presence.  

Are Lovers full of fire?  
How comes it then my verses are so cold▪  
And how, when I am nigh her,  
And fit occasion wills me to be bold,  
The more I burn, the more I do desire,  
The less I dare require?  
Ah Love! this is thy wondrous Art,  
To freeze the tongue, and fire the heart.    

Madrigal 11.  
Upon her long absence.  

If this most wretched and infernal anguish,  
Wherein so long your absence makes me languish,  
My vital spirits spending,  
Do not work out my ending,  
Nor yet your long-expected safe returning,  
To heavenly joy my hellish torments turning,  
With joy so over▪ fill me,  
As presently it kill me:  
I will conclude, hows'ever Schools deceive a man,  
No joy, nor Sorrow, can of life bereave a man.    

Upon seeing his face in her eye.  

FAirest and kindest of all womankind:  
Since you did me the undeserved grace,  
In your fair Eye to show me my bad face,  
With loan I'll pay you in the self same kind▪  
Look in mine Eye, and I will show to you,  
The fairest face that heavens Eye doth view.   

But the small worthless Glass of my dim Eye,  
Scarce shows the Picture of your heavenly face  
Which yet each slightest turn doth straight deface.  
But could, O could you once my heart espy,  
Your form at large you there engraved should see,  
Which, nor by Time, nor Death can razed be.    

Madrigal XII.  
Upon her hiding her face from him.  

Go wailing Accents go,  
With my warm tears and scalding tears attended,  
To th'Author of my woe,  
And humbly ask her, why she is offended.  
Say Deer, why hide you so,  
From him your blessed Eyes,  
Where he beholds his earthly Paradise,  
Since he hides not from you  
To His heart, wherein loves heaven you may view?  
   

Madrigal 13.  
Upon her Beauty and Inconstancy.  

Whosoever longs to try,  
Both Love and ●…ealousie,  
My fair unconstant Lady let him see:  
And he will soon a jealous Lover be.  
Then he by proof shall know,  
As I do to my woe,  
How they make my poor heart at once to dwell,  
In fire and frost, in heaven and in hell.   

A Dialogue between a lovers flaming heart, and his Lady's frozen Breast.  Hart. 
eat not (sweet Breast) to see me all of fire.  Breast. 
Fly not (dear heart) to find me all of snow.  Hart. 
Thy snow inflames these flames of my desire.  Breast. 
And I desire, Desires sweet flames to know.  Ha. 
Thy snow n'il hurt me. Br. Nor thy fire will harm me.  Ha. 
This cold will cool me. Br. And this heat will warm me▪  Hart. 
Take this chaste fire to that pure virgin snow,  Breast. 
Being now thus warmed, I'll ne●…e seek other fire:  Hart. 
Thou giv'st more bliss than mortal hearts may know,  Breast. 
More bliss I take than Angels can desire.  Both together. 

Let one joy fill us, as one grief did harm us,  
Let one death kill us, as one love doth warm us.     

ELEGY 3.  
For what cause he obtains not his Lady favour.  

Dear, why hath my long love, and faith unfeigned,  
At your fair hands no grace at all obtained?   

ist, that my Pock-holed face doth beauty lack?  
No: Your sweet Sex, sweet beauty praiseth:  
Ours, wit and valour chiefly raiseth.   

Is't, that my musk-lesse clothes are plain and black?  
No. What wise Lady loves fine noddies,  
With poore-clad minds, and rich-clad bodies?   

Is't, that no costly gifts mine Agents are?  
No. My true Heart which I present you,  
Should more than pearl or gold content you.   

Is't, that my Verses want invention rare?  
No: I was never skilful Poet,  
I truly love, and plainly show it.   

Is't, that I vaunt, or am effeminate,  
O scornful vices! I abhor you.  
Dwell still in Court, the place fit for you.   

Is't, that you fear my love soon turns to hate?  
No: Though disdained, I can hate never,  
But loved, where once I love, love ever.   

Is't, that your favours jealous Eyes suppress?  
No: only virtue never-sleeping,  
Both your fair Minds and Bodies keeping.   

Is't, that to many more I love profess?  
Goddess, you have my heart's oblation,  
And no Saint else lips invocation.   

No, none of these: The cause I now discover:  
No woman loves a faithful worthy, Lover.   

AQuatrain.  

IF you reward my love with love again,  
My bliss, my life, my heaven I will deem you,  
But if you proudly quite it with disdain,  
My curse, my death, my hell I must esteem you.     

Sonnet 10.  
To a worthy Lord (now dead) upon presenting him for a newyears gift, with Caesar's Commentaries and Cornelius Tacitus.  

WOrthily famous Lord, whose virtues rare,  
Set in the gold of never stained Nobility,  
And noble mind shining in true humility,  
Make you admire d o●… all that virtuous are:   

If as your Sword with envy imitates  
Great Caesar's Sword in all his deeds victorious,  
So your learned Pen would strive to be glorious,  
And write your Acts performed in foreign States;   

Or if some one with the deep wit inspired,  
Of matchless Tacitus would them historify,  
Then Caesar's works so much we should not glorify,  
And Tacitus would be much less desired.  
But till yourself, or some such put them forth,  
Accept of these as Pictures of your worth,    

To SAMVEL DANIEL Prince of English Poets.  

Upon his three several sorts of Poesy.  
Lyrical, in his Sonnets.  
Tragical, in Rosamond & Cleopatra.  
Heroical, in his Civil Wars.   

OLympias matchless Son, when as he knew  
How many crowns his father's sword had gained,  
With smoking sighs, and deep-fetched sobs did rue,  
And his brave cheeks with scalding tears bedew,  
Because that Kingdoms now so few remained,  
By his victorious Arm to be obtained.   

So (Learned Daniel) when as thou didst see,  
That Spencer erst so far had spread his fame,  
That he was Monarch deemed of Poesy,  
Thou didst (I guess) even burn with jealousy,  
Lest Laurel were not left enough to frame,  
A nest sufficient for thine endless Name.   

But as that Pearl of Greece, soon after past  
In wondrous conquests his renowned sire,  
And others all, whose names by Fame are placed  
In highest seat: So hath thy Muse surpassed  
Spencer, and all that do with hot desire,  
To the Thunder-scorning Lawrel-crowne aspire.   

And as his Empires linked force was known,  
When each of those that did his Kingdom share,  
The mightiest Kings in might, did match alone▪  
So of thy skill the greatness thus is shown,  
That each of those, great Poets deemed are,  
Who may in no one kind with thee compare.   

One shared out Greece, another Asia held,  
And fertile Egypt to a third did fall,  
But only Alexander all did wield.  
So in soft pleasing Lyrics some are skilled,  
In Tragic some, some in Heroical,  
But thou alone art matchless in them all.   Non equidem invideo, miror magis.  

Three Epitaphs upon the death of a rare Child of six years old.  

1  
wit's perfection, Beauty's wonder,  
Nature's pride, the grace's treasure,  
virtues hope, his friends sole pleasure,  
This small Marble stone lies under.  
which is often moist with tears,  
For such loss, in such young years.   

2  
Lovely Boy, thou art not dead,  
But from Earth to Heaven fled,  
For base Earth was far unfit,  
For thy beauty, grace and wit.   

3  
Thou alive on earth sweet Boy,  
Hadst an Angel's wit, and face:  
And now dead, thou dost enjoy  
In high Heaven an Angel's place.    

An Inscription for the Statue of Dido.  

O most unhappy Dido,  
Unhappy Wife, and more unhappy Widow!  
Unhappy in thy Mate,  
And in thy Lover more unfortunate,  
By treason th'one was reft thee,  
By treason th'other left thee.  
That left thee means to fly with,  
This left thee means to die with.  
The former being dead,  
From Brother's sword thou fliest:  
The latter being fled,  
On lovers sword thou diest.    Piu meritare, i conseguire. 
FRANCIS DAVISON.   

MORE SONNETS, ODES, etc.  

SONNET 1.  
He demands pardon, for looking, loving, and writing.  

LEt not (sweet Saint) let not these lines offend you,  
Nor yet the Message that these lines impart:  
The Message my unfeigned Love doth send you,  
Love, which yourself hath planted in my heart.   

For being charmed by the bewitching art  
Of those inveigling graces which attend you,  
loves holy fire makes me breath out in part,  
The never-dying flames my breast doth lend you.   

Then if my Lines offend, let Love be blamed.  
And if my Love displease, accuse mine Eyes:  
If mine Eyes sin, their sins cause, only lies  
On your bright eyes, which have my heart inflamed.  
Since eyes, love, lives, err then by your direction,  
Excuse mine Eyes, my Lines, and my affection.    

Sonnet 2.  
Love in justice punishable only with like Love,  

But if my Lines may not be held excused,  
Nor yet my Love find favour in your Eyes,  
But that your Eyes as judges shall be used,  
Even of the fault which from themselves doth rise,   

Yet this my humble fuite do not despise,  
Let me be judged as I stand accused,  
If but my fault my doom do equalize,  
What ere it be, it shall not be refused.   

And since my love already is expressed,  
And that I cannot stand upon denial,  
I freely put myself upon my trial,  
Let justice judge me as I have confessed:  
For if my doom in justice scales be weighed  
With equal love, my love must be repaid.    

Sonnet III.  
He calls his ears, eyes, and heart as witnesses of her sweet voice, beauty, and inward virtuous perfections.  

Fair is thy face, and great thy wit's perfection,  
So fair alas, so hard to be expressed.  
That if my tired Pen should never rest,  
It should not blaze thy worth, but my affection   

Yet let me say, the Muses make election  
Of your pure mind, there to erect their nest,  
And that your face is such a flint-hard breast,  
By force thereof, without force feels subjection.   

Witness mine ear ravished when you it hears,  
Witness mine eyes ravished when you they see,  
Beauty and virtue, witness eyes and ears,  
In you (sweet Saint) have equal sovereignty.   

But if nor eyes, nor ears can prove it true,  
Witness my heart, there's none that equals you.  
How they make my poor heart at once to dwell.  
In fire and frost, in heaven and in hell.    

Sonnet FOUR  
Praise of her eyes, excelling all comparisons.  

I Bend my wit, but wit cannot de●…ise,  
Words fit to blaze the worth, your eyes contains,  
Whose nameless worth, their worthless name disdains,  
For they in worth exceed the name of eyes.   

Eyes they be not, but worlds in which there lies,  
More bliss than this wide world beside contains.  
Worlds they be not, but stars, whose influence reigns,  
Over my life and life's felicities.   

Stars they be not, but Suns, whose presence drives  
Darkness from night, and doth bright day impart:  
Suns they be not, which outward heat derives,  
But these do inwardly inflame my heart.  
Since then in Earth, nor Heaven, they equalled are,  
I must confess they be beyond compare,    

ODE I.  
His Lady to be condemned of ignorance or cruelty.  

As she is fair, so faithful I,  
My service she, her grace I merit,  
Her beauty doth my love inherit,  
But Grace she doth deny.  
O knows she not how much I love?  
Or doth knowledge in her move  
No small remorse?  
For the guilt thereof must lie  
Upon one of these of force,  
Her ignorance, or cruelty.   

As she is fair, so cruel she,  
I sow true love, but reap disdaining,  
Her pleasure springeth from my paining,  
Which Pities source should be.  
Too well she knows how much I love,  
Yet doth knowledge in her move,  
No small remorse.  
Then the guilt thereof must lie  
Her undeserved cruelty.   

As she is fair, so were she kind:  
Or being cruel, could I waver,  
Soon should I, either win her favour,  
Or a new Mistress f●…de.  
But neither our alas may be,  
Scorn in her, and lovein me,  
So fixed are.  
Yet in whom most blame doth lie  
judge she may, if she compare  
My love unto her cruelty.    

Sonnet V.  
Contention of Love and Reason for his heart.  

REason and love lately at strife contended,  
Whose right it was to have my mind's protection  
Reason on his side Nature's will pretended,  
loves title was my Mistress rare perfection.   

Of power to end this strife, each makes election,  
Reason's pretence discursive thoughts defended,  
But love soon brought those thoughts into subjection  
By beauty's troops which on my Saint depended,   

Yet since to rule the mind was Reason's duty  
On this condition it by love was rendered,  
That endless praise by reason should be tendered,  
As a due tribute to her conquering beauty.  
Reason was pleased withal, and to loves royalty  
He pledged my heart, as hostage for his loyalty.    

Sonnet VI.  
That she hath greater power over his happiness and life, than either Fortune, Fate, or Stars.  

LEt Fate, my Fortune, and my stars conspire,  
jointly to pour on me their worst disgrace:  
So I be gracious in your heavenly face,  
I weigh not Fates, nor Stars, nor Fortune's ire,   

'tis not the influence of heavens fire,  
Hath power to make me blessed in my race,  
Nor in my happiness hath Fortune place,  
Nor yet can Fate my poor life's date expire.   

'tis your fair eyes my Stars all bliss do give,  
'tis your disdain my Fate hath power to kill▪  
'tis you (my Fortune) make me happy live,  
Though Fortune, Fate, and Stars conspire mine ill.  
Then (blessed Saint) into your favour take me,  
Fortune, nor Fate, nor Stars can wretched make me.    

Sonnet VII.  
Of his Ladies weeping.  

WHat need I say how it doth wound my breast,  
By fate to be thus ravished from thine eyes  
Since your own tears with me do Sympathize,  
Pleading with slow departure there to rest?   

For when with floods of tears they were oppressed,  
Over those ivory banks they did not rise,  
Till others envying their felicities,  
Did press them forth, that they might there bear rest,   

Some of which tears, priest forth by violence  
Your lips with greedy kissing strait did drink:  
And other some unwilling to part thence,  
In amoured on your cheeks in them did sink.  
And some which from your face were forc, d away,  
In sign of love did on your garments stay.    

Sonnet VIII.  
He paints out his torment.  

Sweet, to my cursed life some favour show,  
Or let me not (accursed) in life remain:  
Let not my senses, sense of life retain,  
Since Sense doth only yield me sense of woe.   

For now mine eyes only your frowns do know,  
Mine ears hear nothing else but your disdain,  
My lips taste nought but tears, and smell is pain,  
Banished your lips, where Indian Odours grow.   

And my devoted heart your beauty's slave,  
Feels nought but scorn, oppressions and distress,  
Made e'en of wretchedness the wretched cave,  
Nay, too too wretched for vild wretchedness.  
For even sad sighs, as loathing there to rest,  
Struggle for passage from my grief-swollen breast.    

ODE II.  
A Dialogue between him and his heart.  

AT her fair hands, how have I grace entreated,  
With prayers oft repeated,  
Yet still my love is thwarted:  
Heart let her go, for she'll not be converted.  
Say, shall she go?  
Oh no, no, no, no, no.  
She is most fair though she be marble hearted.   

How often have mysighs declared mine anguish▪  
Wherein is daily anguish,  
Yet doth she still procure it:  
Heart let her go, for I cannot endure it.  
Say shall she go,  
Oh no, no, no, no, no.  
She gave the wound, and she alone must cure it.   

The trickling tears that down my cheeks have ●…wed,  
My life have often showed:  
Yet still unkind I prove her:  
Heart let her go, for nought I do can move her.  
Say, shall she go,  
Oh no, no, no, no, no.  
Though me she hates I cannot choose but love her.   

But shall still a true affection owe her  
Which prayers, sighs, tears do show her.  
And shall she still disdain me?  
Heart let her go, if they no grace can give me.  
Say, shall she go?  
Oh no, no, no, no, no.  
She made me hers, and hers she will retain me.   

But if the love that hath, and still doth burn me,  
No love at length return me:  
Out of my thoughts i'll set her:  
Heart let her go, oh heart, I pray thee let her:  
Say, shall she go?  
Oh! no, no, no, no, no.  
Fixed in the heart, how can the heart forget her?   

But if I weep and sigh, and often wail me,  
Till tears, sighs, prayers fail me,  
Shall yet my Love preserver?  
Heart let her go, if she will right thee never.  
Say, shall she go?  
Oh! no, no, no, no, no.  
Tears, sighs, prayers fail, but true love lasteth ever.    

Sonnet VII.  
His sighs and tears are bootless.  

I have entreated, and I have complained,  
I have dispraised, and praise I likewise gave,  
All means to win her grace I tried have,  
And still I love, and still I am disdained.   

So long I have my tongue and Pen constrained,  
To praise, dispraise, complain, and pity crave,  
That now nor tongue, nor Pen, to me her slave  
Remains, whereby her grace may be obtained.   

Yet you (my sighs) may purchase me relief,  
And ye (my tears) her rocky heart may move:  
Therefore my sighs sigh in her ear my grief,  
And in her heart my tears imprint my love.  
But cease vain sighs, cease, cease ye fruitless tears,  
Tears cannot pierce her heart, nor sighs her ears.    

Sonnet VIII.  
Her beauty makes him live even in despair.  

WOunded with grief, I weep, and sigh, and pain,  
Yet neither plaints, nor sighs, nor tears do good,  
But all in vain I strive against the flood,  
Gaining but grief for grief, and pain for pain.   

Yet though in vain my tears my cheeks distain:  
Leaving engraven sorrow where they stood  
And though my sighs consuming up my blood,  
For love deserved, reap undeserved disdain:   

And though in vain I know I beg remorse  
At your remorseless heart more hard than steel,  
Yet such (alas) such is your beauty's force,  
Charming my sense, that though this hell I feel,  
Though neither plaints, nor sighs nor tears can move you,  
Yet must I still persist ever to love you.    

Sonnet IX.  
Why her lips yield him no words of comfort.  

OFt do I plain, and she my plants doth reed,  
Which in black colours do paint forth my woe,  
So that of force she must my sorrow know:  
And know, for her disdain my heart doth bleed.  
And knowledge must of force some pity breed,  
Which makes me hope, she will some favour show  
And from her sugared lips cause comfort flow  
Into mine ears my heart with joy to feed:  
Yet though she reads, and reading knows my grief  
And knowledge moves her pity my distress,  
Yet do her lips, sweet lips yield no relief.  
Much do I muse, but find no cause in this,  
That in her lips, her heavenly lips that bliss them,  
Her words loath thence to part, stay there to kiss them.    

Sonnet X.  
Comparison of his heart to a tempest beaten Ship.  

LIke a Sea-tossed Bark with tackling spent,  
And stars obseured his watery journeys guide,  
By loud tempestuous winds and raging tide,  
From wave to wave with dreadful fury sent,   

Fares my poor heart, my heartstrings being rend,  
And quite disabled your fierce wrath to bide,  
Since your fair eyes my stars themselves do hide,  
Clouding their light in frowns and discontent:   

For from your frowns do spring my sighs and tears,  
Tears flow like seas, and sighs like winds do blow  
Whose joined rage most violently bears  
My tempest beaten heart from woe to woe.  
And if your eyes shine not that I may shu●… it,  
On rock, despair, my sighs, and tears will rue it.    

ELEGY.  
To his Lady, who had vowed virginity.  

6  
Even as my hand my Pen and Paper lays,  
My trembling hand, my Pen from Paper stays,  
Lest that thine eyes which shining made me love you,  
Should frowning on my suit bid cease to move you,  
So that I fear like one at his wit's end,  
Hoping to gain, and fearing to offend,  
What pleaseth hope, the same despair mislikes,  
What hope sets down, those lines despair out strikes.  
So that my nursing murdering Pen affords,  
A grave and cradle to my new-born words.  
But whilst like clouds tossed up and down the air,  
I racked hang betwixt hope and sad despair,  
Despair is beaten vanquished from the field,  
And unto conquering hope my heart doth yield.  
For if that Nature love to beauty offers,  
And Beauty shun the love that nature profsers:  
Then, either unjust beauty is too blame,  
With scorn to quench a lawful kindled flame,  
Or else unlawfully if love we must,  
And be unloved, than nature is unjust,  
Unjustly than nature hath hearts created,  
There to love most, where most their love is hated,  
And flattering them with a faire●… seeming ill,  
To poison them with beauty's sugared Pill.   

7  
Think you that beauties admirable worth  
Was to no end, or idle end brought forth?  
No no, from nature never deed did pass.  
But it by wisdoms hand subscribed was.  
But you in vain are fair, if fair, not viewed,  
Or being seen, men's hearts be not subdued,  
Or making each man's heart your beauty's thrall,  
You be enjoyed of no one at all.  
For as the Lion's strength to seize his prey,  
And fearful heart's lightfoot to run away,  
Are as an idle talon but abused,  
And fruitless had, if had, they be not used.  
So you in vain have beauty's bonds to show,  
By which, men's eyes engaged hearts do owe,  
If time shall cancel them before you gain  
Th'indebted tribute to your beauty's reign.   

8  
But if (these reasons being vainly spent)  
You sight it out to the last argument,  
Tell me but how one body can enclose,  
As loving friends two deadly hating foes?  
But when as contraries are mixed together,  
The colour made, doth differ much from either.  
Whilst mutually at strife they do impeach  
The gross and lustre proper unto each.  
So, where one body jointly doth invest  
An Angel's face, and cruel Tiger's breast,  
There dieth both allegiance and command,  
For selfe-devided kingdoms cannot stand.  
But as a child that knows not what is what,  
Now craveth this, and now affecteth that,  
And having weighs not that which he requires.  
But is unpleasde, even in his pleased desires.  
Chaste Beauty so, both will, and will not have  
The self-same thing it childishly doth crave:  
And wanton-like, now love, now hate affecteth.   

9  
And love or hate obtained as fast neglecteth,  
So (like the web Penelope did weave,  
Which made by day, she did at night unreave)  
Fruitless affections, endless thread is spun,  
At one self instant twisted, and undone.  
Nor yet is this chaste beauty's greatest ill,  
For where it speaketh fair, it there doth kill.  
A marble heart under an amorous look,  
Is of a flattering bait the murdering hook:  
For from a Ladies shining-frowning Eyes,  
Death's ●…able dart, and Cupid's arrow flies.   

10  
Since then, from Chastity and Beauty spring,  
Such muddy streams, where each doth reign as king:  
Let tyrant chastities usurped throne,  
Be made the seat of beauty's grace alone:  
And let your beauty be with this sufficed,  
Raze not my heart, nor to your beauty raise,  
Bloud-guilded Trophies of your beauty's praise:  
For wisest conquerors do towns desire,  
On honourable terms, and not with fire.    

Sonnet XI.  
That he cannot leave to love, though commanded.  

HOw can my love in equity be blamed,  
Still to importune though it ne'er obtain,  
Since though her face and voice will me refrain,  
Yet by her voice and face I am inflamed?   

For when (alas) her face with frowns is framed,  
To kill my love, but to revive my pain:  
And when her voice commands, but all in vain,  
That love both leave to be, and to be named:   

Her Siren voice doth such enchantment move,  
And though she frown, e'en frowns so lovely make her  
That I of force am forced still to love.  
Since that I must, and yet cannot forsake her,  
My fruitless prayers shall cease in vain to move her,  
But my devoted heart ne'er cease to love her.    

Sonnet XII.  
He desires leave to write of his love.  

MVst my devoted heart desist to love her?  
No: love I may, but I may not confess it,  
What harder thing than love▪ and yet depress it?  
Love most concealed, doth most itself discover.  
Had I no Pen to show that I approve her,  
Were I tongue-tied that I might not address it,  
In plaints and Prair's unfeigned to express it,  
Yet could I not my deep affection cover.  
Had I no Pen, my very tears would show it,  
Which write my true affection in my face.  
Were I tongue-tied, my sighs would make her know it,  
Which witness that I grieve at my disgrace.  
Since then, though silent, I my love discover,  
O let my pen have leave to say, I love her!    


Quid pluma levius? pulvis. Quid pulvere? Ventus.  
Quid vento? Mulier. Quid muliere, Nihil.   

Translated thus.  
DVst is lighter than a feather,  
And the wind more light than either:  
But a woman's sickle mind,  
More than Feather, Dust, or Wind.   
W. D.     

Sonnets, Odes, Elegies, and other Poesies.  

Ten Sonnets by T. W.  
A Dialogue between the Lover and his heart.  L. 
Speak gentle heart, where is thy dwelling place,  H. 
with her whose bi●…th the heavens themselves have blest  L. 
What dost thou there?  H. 
Sometimes ●…ehold her face, And lodge sometimes within her crystal breast.  L. 
She cold, thou hot, how can you then agree?  H 
Not nature now, but love doth govern me.  L. 
With her wilt thou remain, and let me die?  H. 
If I return, we both shall die for grief.  L. 
If still thou stay, what shall I get thereby?  H. 
I'll move her heart to purchase thy relief.  L. 
What if her heart be hard, and stop his ears?  H. 
I'll sigh aloud, and make him soft with tears.  L. 
If that prevail, wilt thou return from thence?  H. 
Not I alone, my heart shall come with me.  L. 
Then will you both live under my defence?  H. 
So long as life will let us both agree.  L. 
Why then despair, go pack thee hence away. I live in hope to have a happy day.   

A Dialogue between a Lover, Death, and love.  Lover. 
COme, gentle Death▪  D. 
Who calls▪  L. 
One that's oppressed.  D. 
What is thy will?  L. 
That thou abridge my woe, By cutting off my life.  D. 
Cease thy request, I cannot kill thee yet.  L. 
Alas why so?  D. 
Thou want'st thy heart.  L. 
who stole that same away?  D. 
Love whom thou servest, entreat him if thou may.  Lover. 
COme Cupid come.  C. 
Who calleth me so oft?  L. 
Thy vassal true whom thou shouldst know by right.  C 
What makes thy cry so faint?  L. 
My voice is soft, Quite broke and spent with crying day and night.  C. 
Why then what's thy request.  L. 
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.  D. 
Alas why so?  L. 
By promise thou art bound to end my smart.  D. 
But if thy heart return, then what's thy woe?  D. 
That brought from frost, it never will desire To rest with me that am more hot than fire.  

That time hath no power to end or diminish his love.  

TIme wasteth years, and months, and days, & hours  
Time doth consume, fame, riches, wit, and strength,  
Time kills the greenest herbs, and sweetest flowers,  
Time wears out youth, and Beauty's pride at length,  
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 that first hung full of rain.  
Time brings to nought the mightiest Princes state,  
Time brings a flood from new resolved snow,  
Time calms the Sea where tempests roared late,  
Time eats whatsoever the Moon doth see below:  
Yet shall no time upon my heart prevail,  
Nor any time shall make my love to fail.    

loves Hyperboles.  

IF Love had lost his shafts, and love down threw  
His thunder▪ bolts, or spent his forked fire,  
They only might recovered be anew  
From out my heart crosse-wounded 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 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, that hath no end of ill?    

An invective against love.  

Love is a sour delight, a sugared grief,  
A living death, an ever-dying life.  
A breath 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 that ever hits.  
Love is a blinded god, away-ward boy,  
A labyrinth of doubts, an idle lust,  
A slave of beauties will, a witless toy,  
A ravenous bird, a tyrant must unjust.  
A burning heat in frost, a flattering foe,  
A private hell, a very world of woe.   

Yet mighty Love regard not what I say,  
Who in a trance do lie, reft of my wits  
But blame the light that leads me thus astray,  
And makes my tongue thus rave by frantic fits,  
Yet hurt me not, lest I sustain the smart,  
Which am content to lodge her in my heart.    

Petrarks' Sonnet translated.  
Pace non trovo, & non ho da far guera.  

I joy not Peac●… where yet no war is found,  
I fear and hope, I burn, yet frieze withal.  
I mount to heaven, yet lie still on the ground,  
I nothing hold, yet I compass all.  
I live her bond, which neither is my foe,  
Nor friend, nor holds me fast, nor lets me go.   

Love will not that I live, nor let me die,  
Nor locks me fast, nor suffers me to scape,  
I want both eyes and tongue, yet see I cry.  
I wish for death, yet after help I gape.  
I hate myself, yet love another 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.  
betwixt death and life, small difference I make,  
All this (dear Dame) endure I for thy sake.    

He proves himself to endure the hellish torments of Tantalus, Ixion, Titius, Sisyphus and the Belides.  

IN that I thirst for such a Goddess grace,  
As wants remorse, like Tantalus I die,  
My state is equal to ●…xions case,  
Whose mangled limbs are turned continually.  
In that my rolling toils can have no end,  
Nor love, nor time, nor chance will stand my friend.   

IN that my heart consuming never dies,  
I feel with Titius an equal pain,  
Upon whose heart a vulture feeding lies.  
In that I rise through hope, and fall again,  
By fear like Sisyphus' ●… labour still  
To turn a rolling stone against a hill.   

IN that I make my vows to her alone,  
Whose tears are deaf, and will retain no sound,  
With Belides my state is all but one,  
Which fill a Tub whose bottom is not sound.  
Thus in my heart since love therein did dwell  
Are all the torments to be found of hell.    

loves discommodities.  

WHere heat of love doth once possess the heart,  
There cares oppressed the mind with wonders ill.  
Wit runs awry not fearing future smart,  
And fond desire doth overmaster Will.  
The belly neither cares for meat nor drink,  
Nor over-watched eyes desire to wink.   

Footsteps are false, and wavering too and fro:  
The pleasing flower of Beauty fades away,  
Reason retires, and pleasure brings in woe,  
And wisdom yee●…deth place to black decay.  
Counsel and fame, and friendship, are contemned,  
And bashful shame, and Gods themselves condemned.   

WAtch full suspect is linked with despair,  
Inconstant hope is often drowned in fears,  
What folly hurts, Fortune cannot repair,  
And misery doth swim in seas of tears.  
Long use of life is but a lingering foe,  
And gentle death is only end of woe.    

Allegory of his Love to a Ship,  

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 dischargded from love at last.  
whom while I served, peace, rest, and land I lost,  
With wars, with toils, with storms, worn, tired, & tossed.   

SWeet liberty now gives me leave to sing,  
What world it was, where love the rule did bear,  
How foolish Chance by lots ruled every thing,  
How Error was man▪ sail, each wave a tear.  
The master love himself, deep sighs were wind,  
Cares row'de with vows, the Ship a pensive mind.   

FAlse hope the helm, oft turned the ship about,  
And constant faith stood up for middle mast,  
Despair the Cable twisted all with doubt,  
Held gripping grief the piked Anchor fast.  
Beauty was all the rocks, but ●… at last.  
Have gained the Port, and now my love is past.    

Execre●…ition of his passed love.  

I Curse the time, where in these lips of mine,  
Did pray or praise the Dame that was unkind.  
I curse my Ink, my Paper, and each line,  
My hand hath writ in hope to please her mind.  
I curse her hollow heart, and flattering eyes,  
Whose sly deceits did cause my mourning cries.   

I Curse the sugared speech and Syrenes' song,  
Wherewith so oft she hath bewitched mine ear▪  
I Curse my foolish will that stayed so long  
And took delight to bide twixt 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  
In loving one ungrateful and unkind,  
I curse the bow and shafts that bred my pain,  
And Love I curse that Archer naked and blind.  
But on that hour that my fond love did end,  
Millions of blessings I will ever spend.   
FINIS. T. W.   

A Sonnet of the Sun: A jewel, being a Sunne-shining upon the Marigold closed in a heart of gold sent to his Mistress, named Mary.  

THe Sun doth make the Marigold to flourish,  
The suns departure makes it droop again,  
So golden Mary's sight, my joys do nourish,  
But by her absence all my joys are slain.  
The Sun, the Marigold makes live and die,  
By her the Sunshines brighter, so may I.  
Her smiles do glad the Sun, and light the air,  
Revive my heart, and clear the cloudy sky.  
Her frowns the air make dark the Sun to lower.  
The Marigold to close, my heart to die,  
By her the Sun, the flower, the air, and I,  
Shine and darken, spread, and close, live and die,  
You are the Sun, you are the golden Mary,  
Passing the Sun in brightness, gold in power:  
I am the flower whom you do make to vary.  
Flourish when you smile, droop when you do lower.  
Oh let this heart of gold, Sun, and flower,  
Still live, shine, and spring in your heart's bower.   
Cham Best.   

A Sonnet of the Moon.  

Look how the pale Queen of the silent night,  
Doth cause the Ocean to attend upon her,  
And he as long as she is in his sight,  
With his full tide is ready her to honour:  
But when the silver waggon of the Moon  
Is mounted up so high he cannot follow,  
The sea calls home his crystal waves to move,  
And with low ebb doth manifest his sorrow:  
So you that are the sovereign of my heart,  
Have all my joys attending on your will,  
My joys low ebbing when you do depart.  
When you return, their tide my heart doth fill.  
So as you come, and as you do depart  
joys ebb and flow within my tender heart.   
Cham Best.   

Three Sonnets for a poem to the Poems following.  
That love only made him a Poet, and that all sorts of verses, both in rhyme and measure, agree with his Lady.  

Sonnet 1.  

SOme men they say, are Poets borne by kind,  
And suck that Science from their mother's breast▪  
An easy art that comes with so great rest,  
And happy men to so good hap assigned.  
In some desire of praise inflames the mind,  
To climb with pain Parnassus double crest:  
Some hope of rich rewards hath so possessed.  
That gold in Castle sands, they seek to find.  
Me, neither nature hath a Poet made,  
Nor love of glory moved to learn the trade,  
Nor thirst of gold persuaded me to write:  
For Nature's graces are too fine for me,  
Praise like the Peacock prides herself to see,  
Desire of gain the basest minds delight.    

Sonnet 2.  

WHat moved me then? say Love, for thou canst tell:  
Of thee●… learned this skill, if skill I have.  
Thou knowest the Muse, whose help I always crave,  
Is none of those that on Parnassus dwell.  
My muse is such as doth them all excel,  
They all to her alone their cunning gave,  
To sing, to dance, to play, to make so brave:  
Thrice threefold graces her alone befell.  
From her do flow the streams that water me,  
Here is the praise, if I a Poet be▪  
Her only look both will and skill doth give.  
What marvel then if I those laws refuse,  
Which other Poets in their making use,  
Since by her looks I write, by which I live?    

Sonnet 3.  

THus am I free from laws that other bind,  
Who divers verse to divers matter frame,  
All kind of Styles do serve my Lady's name,  
What they in all the world, in her I find.  
The lofty verse doth show her noble mind,  
By which she quencheth loves enraged flame:  
Sweet lyrics sing her heavenly beauty's fame,  
The tender Elege speaks her pity kind,  
In mournful Tragic verse for her I die,  
In Comic she revives me with her eye,  
All serve my Goddess both for mirth and moan,  
Each look she casts doth breed both peace and strife,  
Each word she speaks doth cause both death and life,  
Out of myself I live in her alone.     

ODE.  

Where his Lady keeps his heart.  

SWeet Love, mine only treasure,  
For service long unfeigned,  
Wherein I nought have gained,  
Vouchsafe this little pleasure,  
To tell me in what part,  
My Lady keeps my heart.   

If in her hair so slender,  
Like golden nets untwined,  
Which fire and art have fined,  
Her thrall my heart I render,  
For ever to abide  
With locks so dainty tide.   

If in her eyes she bind it,  
Wherein that fire was framed,  
By which it is inflamed,  
I dare not look to find it:  
I only wish it sight,  
To see that pleasant light.   

But if her breast have dained  
With kindness to receive it,  
I am content to leave it,  
Though death thereby were gained.  
Then Lady take your own,  
That lives for you alone.    

To her eyes.  

Feign would I learn of thee thou murdering Eye,  
Whether thy glance be fire, or else a dart:  
For with thy look in flames thou mak'st the fry,  
And with the same thou strik'st me to the heart.  
Pierced with thy looks I burn in fire,  
And yet those looks I still desire.   

The Fly that buzzeth round about the flame  
Knows not (pooresoule) she gets her death thereby,  
I see my death, and seeing seek the same,  
And seeking, find, and finding, choose to die.  
That when thy looks my life have slain,  
Thy looks may give me life again.   

Turn then to me those sparkling Eyes of thine,  
And with their fiery glances pierce my heart.  
Quench not my light, lest I in darkness pine,  
Strike deep and spare not, pleasant is the smart.  
So by thy looks my life be spilled,  
Kill me as often as thou wilt.     

ODE 2.  

The more favour he obtains, the more he desires.  

AS soon may water wipe me dry,  
And fire my heat allay,  
As you with favour of your eye,  
Make hot desire decay.  
The more I have,  
The more I crave:  
The more I crave, the more desire,  
As piles of wood increase the fire,   

The senseless stone that from one high  
Descends to Earth below,  
With greater haste itself doth ply,  
The less it hath to go.  
So feels desire  
Increase of fire,  
That still with greater force doth burn,  
Till all into itself it turn.   

The greater favour you bestow,  
The sweeter my delight:  
And by delight desire doth grow,  
And growing gathers might.  
The less remains,  
The more my pains,  
To see myself so near the brink,  
And yet my fill I cannot drink.    

Love the only price of love.  

THe fairest Pearls that Northern Seas do breed,  
For precious stones from eastern coasts are sold.  
Nought yields the earth that from exchange is freed,  
Gold values all, and all things value Gold.  
Where goodness wants an equal change to make,  
There greatness serves, or number place doth take.   

No mortal thing can bear so high a price,  
But that with mortal thing it may be bought,  
The corn of Sicill buys the Western spice,  
French wine of us, of them our cloth is sought.  
No pearls, no gold, no stones, no corn no spice.  
No cloth, no wine, of love can pay the price.   

What thing is love, which nought can countervail?  
Nought save itself, e'en such a thing is love.  
All worldly wealth in worth as far doth fail,  
As lowest earth doth yield to heaven above.  
Divine is love, and scorneth worldly pelf,  
And can be bought with nothing, but with self.   

Such is the price my loving heart would pay,  
Such is the pay thy love doth claim as due.  
Thy due is love, which I (poor I) assay,  
In vain assay to quite with friendship true:  
True is my love, and true shall ever be,  
And truest love is far too base for thee.   

Love but thyself, and love thyself alone,  
For save thyself, none can thy love require:  
All mine thou hast, but all as good as none,  
My small desert must take a lower flight.  
Yet if thou wilt vouchsafe my heart such bliss,  
Accept it for thy prisoner as it is.    

His heart arraigned of theft, and acquitted.  

MY heart was found within my Lady's breast,  
Close couched for fear that no man might him see,  
On whom suspect did serve a strait arrest,  
And Felon-like he must arraigned be.  
What could he mean so closely there to stay,  
But by deceit to steal her heart away?   

The bench was set, the Prisoner forth was brought,  
My Mistress self chief judge to hear the cause:  
Th'end●…tement read, by which his blood was sought,  
That he (poor heart) by stealth had broke the laws:  
His Plea was such as each man might descry,  
For grace and truth were read in neither eye.   

Yet forced to speak, his farther Plea was this,  
That sore pursued by me that sought his blood,  
Because so oft his presence I did miss,  
Whilst as he said, he ●… w for my good▪  
He void of help to have his harms redressed,  
took sanctuary in her sacred breast.   

The gentle judge that saw his true intent,  
And that his cause did touch her honour near,  
Since he from me to her for succour went:  
That ruth might reign, where rigour did appear,  
Gave sentence thus: that if he there would bide,  
That place was made, a guiltless heart to hide.     

MADRIGAL I.  

THine eyes so bright  
Bereft my sight,  
When first I viewed thy face.  
So now my light  
Is turned to night,  
I stray from place to place.  
Then guide me of thy kindness,  
So shall I bless my blindness.   

Phaleuciak I.  

TIme nor place did I want, what held me tongtide?  
What charms, what magical abused Altars?  
Wherefore wished I so oft that hour unhappy,  
When with freedom I might recount my torments,  
And plead for remedy by true lamenting  
Dumb▪ nay dead in a trance I stood amazed,  
When those looks I beheld that late I longed for:  
No speech, no memory, no life remained,  
Now speech prat●…th apace, my grief bewraying,  
Now bootless memory my plaints remembreth,  
Now life moveth again, but all avails not.  
Speech, life and memory die altogether,  
With speech, life, memory, love only dies not.    

Deadly Sweetness.  

Sweet thoughts, the food on which I feeding starve,  
Sweet tears, the drink that more augments my thirst,  
Sweet eyes the stars by which my course doth swerver,  
Sweet hope, my death▪ which wast my life at first.  
Sweet thoughts, sweetteares, sweet hope, sweet eyes,  
How chance that death in sweetness lies?     

Madrigal II.  

Verbal love.  

IF love be made of words, as woods of trees,  
Who more beloved than I?  
If love be hot where true desire doth freeze,  
Who more than she doth fry?  
Are drones that make no honey counted Bees?  
Is running water dry?  
Is that a gainful trade that has no fees?  
He live, that dead doth lie▪  
What else but blind is he, that nothing sees,  
But deaf that hears no cry▪  
Such is her vowed love to me,  
Yet must I think it true to be.    

Lady's eyes, serve Cupid both for Darts and Fire.  

OFt have I mused the cause to find,  
Why love in Lady's eyes doth dwell:  
I thought, because himself was blind,  
He looked that they should guide him well.  
And sure his hope but seldom fails,  
For love by Lady's eyes prevails.   

But time, at last, hath taught me wit.  
Although I bought my wit full dear,  
For by her eyes my heart is hit,  
Deep is the wound, though none appear,  
Their glancing beams as darts he throws,  
And sure he hath no shafts but those.   

I mus'de to see their eyes so bright,  
And little thought they had been fire,  
I gazed upon them with delight,  
But that delight hath bred desire.  
What better place can love require,  
Than that where grow both shafts and fire?    

loves Contrarieties.  

I Smile sometimes amids my greatest grief,  
Not for delight, for that longsince is fled,  
Despair did shut the gate against relief,  
When love at first, of death the sentence read.  
But yet I smile sometimes in midst of pain,  
To think what toys do toss my troubled head  
How most I wish, that most I should refrain,  
And seeketh thing that least I long to find,  
And find the wound by which my heart is slain,  
Yet want both skill and will to ease my mind.  
Against my will I burn with free consent,  
I live in pain, and in my pain delight,  
I cry for death, yet am to live content,  
I hate the day yet never wi●…h for night,  
I frieze for cold, and yet refrain the fire:  
I long to see, and yet I shun her sight,  
I scald in Sun, and yet no shade desire,  
I live by death, and yet I wish to die,  
I feel no hurt, and yet for help inquire,  
I die by life, and yet my life defy.   Heu, cogor votinescius esse mei.   

ODE III.  
Desire and hope.  

DEsire and Hope have moved my mind,  
To seek for that I cannot find,  
Assured faith in womankind,  
And love with love rewarded:  
Self-love, all but himself disdains,  
Suspect as chiefest virtue reigns,  
Desire of change unchanged remains.  
So light is love regarded.   

True friendship is a naked name,  
That idle brains in pastime frame,  
Extremes are always worthy blame,  
Enough is common kindness.   

What floods of tears do lovers spend?  
What sighs from out their heart's ●…hey send?  
How many may, and will not mend?  
Love is a wilful blindness.  
What is the love they so desire?  
Like love for love, and equal fire:   

Good loving worms, which love require,  
And know not when they have it.  
Is love in words? fair words may fain.  
Is love in looks? sweet looks are vain.  
Both these in common kindness reign,  
Yet few or none so crave it.   

Thou wouldst be loved, and that of one,  
For vice? thou mayst seek love of none,  
For virtue? why of her alone?  
I say no more, speak you that know the truth,  
If so great love be aught but fear of youth,    

ELEGY. III.  

Her praise is in her want.  

SHe only is the pride of Nature's skill▪  
In none but her, all graces friendly meet.  
In all save her, may Cupid have his will,  
By none but her, is fancy under feet.  
Most strange of all her praise is in her want,  
Her heart that should be flesh, is Adamant.   Laudo quod lugeo.  

Her outward gesture deceiving his inward hope.  

SMooth are thy looks, so is thy deepest stream,  
Soft are thy lips, so is the swallowing sand.  
Fair is thy sight, but like unto a dream,  
Sweet is thy promise, but it will not stand.  
Smooth, soft, fair, sweet, to them that lightly touch.  
Rough, hard, foul, sour to them that take too much,   

Thy looks so smooth have drawn away my sight,  
Who would have though that hooks could so be hid?  
Thy lips so soft have fretted my delight,  
Before I once suspected what they did.  
Thy face so fair hath burnt me with desire,  
Thy words so sweet were bellows for the fire.   

And yet I love the looks that made me blind,  
And like to kiss the lips that fret my life,  
In heat of fire an ease of heat I find,  
And greatest p●…ace in midst of greatest strife.  
That if my choice were now to make again,  
I would not have this joy without this pain,    

Phaleuciacke II.  

HOw, or where have I lost myself▪ unhappy!  
Dead, nor live am I neither, and yet am both.  
Through despair am I dead, by hope revived,  
Weeping wake I the night from even to morning  
Sighing waste I the day from morn to evening.  
Tears are drink to my thirst, by tears I thirst more  
Sighs are meat that I eat, I hunger eating,  
Might I, O that I might refrain my feeding,  
Soon would ease to my heart by death be purchased.  
Life and light▪ do I lack, when I behold not  
Those bright beams of her eyes, Apollo darkening:  
Life and light do I lose when I behold them,  
All as Snow by the Sun resolved to water.  
Death and life I receive her eyes beholding,  
Death and life I refuse not in beholding,  
So that, dead or alive I may behold them.    

lenvoy in rhyming Phaleuciacks.  

Muse not, Lady, to read so strange a Meeter,  
Strange grief, strange remedy for ease requireth  
When sweet joy did abound, I writ the sweeter,  
Now that weareth away, my Muse retireth.  
In you lies it alone to cure my sadness,  
And therewith to revive my heart with gladness.     

Sonnet FOUR  

Desire hath conquered revenge.  

Wronged by desire I yielded to disdain,  
Who called revenge to work my spite thereby.  
●…ash was Revenge and swore, Desire should die,  
No price nor prayer his pardon might obtain.   

Down to my heart in rage he hastes amain.  
And stops each passage, lest Desire should fly:  
Within my ears disdainsull words did lie,  
Proud looks did keep mine eyes with scornful train   

desire that erst but flickered in my breast,  
And wanton-like now pricked, now gave me rest,  
For fear of death sunk deeper in my heart.  
There reigns he now, and there will reign alone  
Desire is jealous, and gives part to none,  
Nor he from me, nor I from him can start.    

That he is unchangeable.  

THe love of change hath changed the world throughout  
And nought is counted good, but what is strange,  
New things wax old, old new, all turn about,  
And all things change, except the love of change.  
Yet feel I not this love of change in me,  
But as I am, so will I always be.   

For who can change that likes his former choice  
Who better wish, that knows he hath the best?  
How can the heart in things unknown rejoice,  
If joy well tried can bring no certain rest?  
My choice is made, change he that list for me,  
Such as I am, so will I always be.   

Who ever changed and not confessed his want?  
And who confessed his want and not his woe▪  
Then change who list, thy woe shall not be scant  
Within thyself thou feedest thy mortal foe.  
Change calls for change, no end, no ease for thee,  
Then as I am, so will I alwaie●… be.   

Mine eyes confess they have their wished sight,  
My heart affirms it feels the love it sought.  
Mine inward thoughts are fed with true delight,  
Which full consent of constant joy hath wrought.  
And full consent desires no change to see,  
Then as I am so will I always be.   

Rest then (my heart) and keep thine old delight,  
Which like the Phoenix waxeth young each day,  
Each hour presents new pleasure to my sight,  
More cause of joy increaseth every way.  
True love with age doth daily clearer see,  
Then as I am, so will I always be.   

What gained fair Cressid by her faithless change,  
But loss of time, of beauty, health, and life?  
Mark jasons hap, that ever loved to range,  
That lost his children, and his princely wife.  
Then change farewell, thou art no mate for me,  
But as I am, so will I always be.   
jamais aultre.   

To his eyes.  

Unhappy eyes the causers of my pain,  
That to my foe betrayed my strongest hold,  
Wherein he like a tyrant now doth reign  
And boasts of winning that which treason sold.  
Too late you call for help of me in vain,  
Whom love hath bound in chains of massy gold  
The tears you shed increase my hot desire,  
As water on the Smithie kindles fire.  
The sighs that from my heart ascend,  
Like wind disperse the flame throughout my breast,  
No part is left to harbour quiet rest,  
I burn in fire and do not spend:  
Like him, whose growing maw,  
The vulture still doth gnaw.     

ODE FOUR  

Upon visiting his Lady by Moonlight.  

THe night say all, was made to rest,  
And so say I, but not for all:  
To them the darkest nights are best,  
Which give them leave asleep to fall▪  
But I that seek my rest by light  
Hate sleep, and praise the clearest night.   

Bright was the Moon, as bright as day,  
And Venus glistered in the West,  
Whose light did lead the ready way,  
That brought me to my wished rest:  
Then each of them increased their light,  
While I enjoyed her heavenly sight.   

Say, gentle Dames, what moved your mind  
To shine so bright above your wont:  
Would Phoebe fair Endymion find?  
Would Venus see Adonis hunt?  
No no, you feared by her sight,  
To lose the praise of beauty bright.   

At last, for shame you shrunk away,  
And thought to reave the world of light:  
Then shone my Dame with brighter ray,  
Then that which comes from Phoebus' sight▪  
None other light but hers I praise,  
Whose nights are clearer than the days.    

Upon her absence.  

THe summer Sun that scalds the ground with heat,  
And burns the grass, and dries the rivers source,  
With milder beams, the farthest earth doth beat,  
When through the frozen Goat he runs his course.  
The fire that burns what ever comes to hand,  
Doth hardly heat that farthest off doth stand.   

Not so, the heat that sets my heart on fire,  
By distance, slakes, and lets me cool again:  
But still, the farther off the more desire,  
The absent fire doth burn with hotter pain●…▪  
My Lady's presence burned me with desire,  
Her absence turns me into flaming fire.   

Who so hath seen the flame that burneth bright,  
By outward cold in narrow room suppressed,  
Increase in heat, and rage with greater might,  
May guess what force of fire torments my breast:  
So run the swelling streams with double force,  
Where looks or piles are set to stay their course.   

For when my heart perceived her parting near,  
By whose sweet sight he lives that else should die,  
It closed itself to keep those beams so clear,  
Which from her look had pierced it through the eye.  
The fiery beams which would break out so fain  
By seeking vent, increase my burning pain,   

But if my dear return alive and sound.  
That these mine eyes may see her beauty bright,  
My heart shall spread with joy that shall abound,  
And open wide, receiving clearer light.  
She shall recover that which I possess,  
And I thereby enjoy no whit the less.     

ODE V.  

Petition to have her leave to die.  

WHen will the fountain of my tears be dry?  
When will my sighs be spent?  
When will desire agree to let me die?  
When will my heart relent?  
It is not for my life I plead,  
Since death the way to rest doth lead,  
But stay for thy consent,  
Lest thou be discontent.   

For if myself without thy leave I kill,  
My Ghost will never rest:  
So hath it sworn to work thine only will,  
And holds that ever best.  
For since it only lives by thee,  
Good reason thou the ruler be.  
Then give me leave to die,  
And show thy power thereby.    

The Lover absence kills me, her presence cures me.  

THe frozen Snake oppressed with heaped snow  
By struggling hard gets out her tender head,  
And spies far off from where she lies below  
The winter Sun that from the North is fled.  
But all in vain she looks upon the light,  
Where heat is wanting to restore her might.   

What doth it help a wretch in prison penned,  
Long time with biting hunger overpress,  
To see without, or smell within the sent,  
Of dainty fare for others tables dressed,  
Yet Snake and pris●…ner both behold the thing,  
The which (but not with sight) might comfort bring.   

Such is my state, or worse if worse may be,  
My heart oppressed with heavy frost of care,  
Debarred of that which is most dear to me,  
Killed up with cold, and pined with evil fare,  
And yet I see the thing might yield relief,  
And yet the sight doth breed my greater grief.   

So This be saw her lover through the wall,  
And saw thereby she wanted that she saw:  
And so I see, and seeing want withal,  
And wanting so, unto my death I draw.  
And so my death were twenty times my friend,  
If with this verse my hated life might end.     

ODE VI.  

The kind lovers complaint in finding nothing but folly for his faithfulness.  

IF my decay be your increase,  
If my distress be your delight,  
If war in me procure you peace,  
If wrong to me, to you be right.  
I would decay, distress war, wrong,  
Might end the life that ends so long.   

Yet if by my decay you grow,  
When I am spent your growth is past:  
If from my grief your joy do flow,  
When my grief ends, your joy flies fast:  
Then for your sake, though to my pain,  
I strive to live, to die fullfaine.   

For if I die, my war must cease,  
Then can I suffer wrong no more:  
My war once done, farewell your peace,  
My wrong, your right doth still restore:  
Thus, for your right I suffer wrong,  
And for your peace, my war prolong.   

But since no thing can long endure,  
That sometime hath not needful rest,  
What can my life your joy assure,  
If still I wail with grief oppressed?  
The strongest stomach faints at last,  
For want of ease and due repast▪   

My restless sighs break out so fast,  
That time to breath they quite deny:  
Mine eyes so many tears have cast,  
That now the springs themselves are dry.  
Then grant some little ease from pain,  
Until the spring be full again.   

The Giant whom the Vulture gnaws,  
Until his heart be grown, hath peace:  
And Sisyphus by hellish laws,  
Whilst that the stove ●…oules down, doth cease▪  
But all in vain I strive for rest,  
Which breeds more sorrow in my breast.   

Let my decay be your increase,  
Let my distress be your delight:  
Let war in me procure your peace,  
Let wrong in me to you be right:  
That by my grief your joy may live,  
Vouchsafe some little rest to give.     

ODE VII.  

Unhappy eyes.  

CLose your lids, unhappy eyes,  
From the sight of such a change:  
Love hath learned to despise,  
Self-conceit hath made him strange:  
Inward now his sight he turneth,  
With himself in love he burneth.   

If abroad he beauty spy,  
As by chance he looks abroad,  
Or it is wrought by his eye,  
Or forced out by Painter's fraud:  
Save himself none fair, he deemeth,  
That himself too much esteemeth.   

Coy disdain hath kindness place,  
Kindness forced to hide his head:  
True desire is counted base,  
Hope with hope is hardly fed:  
Love is thought a fury needless,  
He that hath it, shall die speedless.   

Then mine eyes why gaze you so●…  
Beauty scorns the tears you shed,  
Death you seek to end my woe,  
O that you of death were sped:  
But with love hath death conspired,  
To kill none whom love hath fired.    

Cupid shoots light, but wounds sort.  

CVpid at length I spy thy crafty wile,  
Though for a time thou didst me sort beguile,  
When first thy shaft did wound my tender heart,  
It touched me light, me thought I felt some pain:  
Some little prick at first did make me smart,  
But yet that grief was quickly gone again.  
Full small account I made of such a sore,  
As now doth rankle inward more and more.   

So poison first the sinews lightly strains,  
Then strays, and after spreads through all the veins,  
No otherwise, than he, that pricked with thorn,  
Starts at the first, and feels no other grief,  
As one whose heart so little hurt did scorn,  
And deigned not to seek despised relief:  
At last, when rest doth after travel come,  
That little prick the joint with pain doth numb.   

What may I think the cause of this thy craft,  
That at the first thou stickest not deep thy shaft:  
If at the first, I had thy stroke espied,  
(Alas I thought thou wouldst not dally so)  
To keep myself always I would have tried,  
At least, I think I might have cured my woe,  
Yet, truth to say, I did suspect no less,  
And knew it too, at least, I so did guess.   

I saw, and yet would willingly be blind,  
I felt the sting, yet flatt'red still my mind,  
And now too late I know my former guilt,  
And seek in vain to heal my cureless sore.  
My life, I doubt, my health I know is spilled,  
A just reward for dallying so before:  
For I that would not when I might have ease,  
No matuell though I cannot when I please.   Clipeum post vulnera.    

A true description of love, Paraphrastically▪ translated out of Petrarch's 103 Sonnet, beginning,  

SH' Amor non è, che dunque è quel ch'io sento.  

IF love be nothing but an idle name,  
A vain devise of foolish Poet's skill:  
A feign de●…re, devoid of smoke and flame,  
Than what is that which me tormenteth still  
If such a thing as love indeed there be,  
What kind of thing, or which, or where is he?   

If it be good, how causeth it such pain,  
How doth it breed such grief within my breast?  
If nought how chance the grief that I sustain,  
Doth seem so sweet amidst my great unrest?  
For sure me thinks it is a wondrous thing,  
That so great pain should so great pleasure bring.   

If with my will amidst these flames I fry,  
Whence come these tears? how chance I thus complain?  
If force perforce I be are this misery,  
What help these tears that cannot ease my pain?  
How can this fancy bear such sway in me,  
But if myself consent, that so it be?   

And if myself consent▪ that so it be,  
Unjust I am thus to complain and cry,  
To look that other men should succour me,  
Since by my fault I feel such misery.  
Who will not help himself when well he can,  
Deserves small help of any other man.   

Thus am I tossed upon the troublous Seas,  
By sundry winds, whose blasts blow sundry ways:  
And every blast still driving where it please,  
Brings hope and fear to end my lingering days,  
The Steers man gone, sail, helm, and tackle lost,  
How can I hope to gain the wished coast?   

Wisdom and folly is the luckless fraught,  
My ship therewith ballast unequally:  
Wisdom too light, folly of too great weight,  
My bark and I, through them in jeopardy:  
Thus, in the midst of this perplexity,  
I wish for death, and yet am loath to die.    

Fair Face, and hard Heart.  

Fair is thy face, and that thou knowest too well,  
Hard is thy heart, and that thou wilt not know:  
Thou fearest and smil'st, when I thy praises tell,  
But stoppest thine ears when I my grief would show.  
Yet though in vain, needs must I speak,  
Or else my swelling heart would break.   

And when I speak, my breath doth blow the fire,  
With which my burning heart consumes away:  
I call upon thy name, and help require,  
Thy dearest name which doth me still betray:  
For grace, sweet grace thy name doth sound,  
Yet ah! in thee no grace is found.   

Alas, to what part shall I then appeal?  
Thy face so fair disdains to look on me,  
Thy tongue commands my heart his grief conceal,  
Thy nimble feet from me do always flee.  
Thine eyes cast fire to burn my heart,  
And thou rejoicest in my ●…mart.   

Then, since thou seest the life I lead in pain,  
And that for thee I suffer all this grief,  
O let my heart this small request obtain,  
That thou agree it pine without relief!  
I ask not love for my good will,  
But leave, that I may love thee still.   
Quid minus optari per mea vota potest?   

ODE VIII.  

Disdain at variance with desire.  

Disdain that so doth fill me,  
Hath surely sworn to kill me,  
And I must die,  
Desire that still doth burn me,  
To life again will turn me,  
And live must I.  
O kill me then disdain!  
That I may live again.   

Thy looks are life unto me,  
And yet those looks undo me,  
O death and life!  
Thy smile some rest doth show me,  
Thy frown with war o'erthrow me,  
O peace and strife!  
Nor life nor death is either,  
Then give me both, or neither.   

Life only cannot please me,  
Death only cannot ease me,  
Change is delight.  
I live that death may kill me,  
I die that life may fill me,  
Both day and night.  
If once despair decay,  
Desire will wear away.    

An invective against love.  

ALl is not gold that shineth bright in show,  
Not every flower so good, as fair, to sight,  
The deepest streams, above do calmest flow,  
And strongest poisons oft the taste delight,  
The pleasant bait doth hide the harmless hook,  
And false deceit can lend a friendly look.   

Love is the gold whose outward hue doth pass,  
Whose first beginnings goodly promise make,  
Of pleasures fair and fresh as summers grass,  
Which neither Sun can parch, nor wind can shake:  
But when the mould should in the fire be tried,  
The gold is gone, the dross doth still abide.   

Beauty the flower, so fresh, so fair, so gay,  
So sweet to smell, so soft to touch and taste:  
As seems it should endure, by right, for aye,  
And never be with any storm defaced,  
But when the baleful Southern wind doth blow,  
Gone is the glory which it erst did show.   

Lo●…e is the stream, whose wa●…es so calmly flow  
As might entice men's minds to wade therein:  
Love is the poison mixed with sugar so,  
As might by outward sweetness liking win,  
But as the deep o'er flowing stops thy breath,  
So poison once received brings certain death.   

Love is the bait, whose taste the fish deceives,  
And makes them swallow down the choking hook,  
Love is the face whose fairness judgement reaves,  
And makes thee trust a false and feigned look.  
But as the hook the foolish fish doth kill,  
So flattering looks, the lovers life do spill.   
Vsque adeo dulce puella malum est.   

Upon an Heroical Poem which he had begun (in Imitation of Virgil,) of the first inhabiting this famous I'll by Brute, and the Trojans.  

MY wanton Muse that whilom wont to sing,  
Fair Beauty's praise and Venus sweet delight,  
Of late had changed the tenor of her string,  
To higher tunes than serve for Cupid's fight.  
Shrill Trumpets sound, sharp swords & Lances strong,  
War, blood, and death, were matter of her song.   

The God of love by chance had heard thereof,  
That I was proved a rebel to his crown,  
Fit words for war, quoth he, with angry scoff,  
A likely man to write of Mars his frown.  
Well are they sped whose praises he shall write▪  
Whose wanton Pen can nought but love indite.   

This said, he whisked his parti coloured wings,  
And down to earth he comes more swift than thought,  
Then to my heart in angry haste he flings.  
To see what change these news of wars had wrought:  
He pries, and looks, he ransacks every vain,  
Yet finds he nought, save love and lovers pain.   

Then I that now perceived his needless fear,  
With heavy smile began to plead my cause:  
In vain (quoth I) this endless grief I bear,  
In vain I strive to keep thy grievous Laws,  
If after proof, so often trusty found,  
Unjust Suspect condemn me as unsound.   

Is this the guerdon of my faithful heart?  
Is this the hope on which my life is staid?  
Is this the ease of never-ceasing smart?  
Is this the price that for my pains is paid?  
Yet better serve fierce Mars in bloody field,  
Where death, or conquest, end or joy doth yield.   

Long have I served, what is my pay but pain?  
Oft have I sued, what gain I but delay?  
My faithful love is quited with disdain,  
My grief a game, my pen is made a play.  
Yea love that doth in other favour find,  
In me is counted madness out of kind.   

And last of all, but grievous most of all,  
Thyself, sweet love, hath killed me with suspect:  
Could love believe, that I from love would fall?  
Is war of force to make me love neglect:  
No, Cupid knows, my mind is faster set,  
Then that by war I should my love forget.   

My muse indeed to war inclines her mind.  
The famous acts of worthy Brute to write:  
To whom the Gods this islands rule assigned,  
Which long he sought by Seas through Neptune's spite,  
With such conceits my busy head doth swell.  
But in my heart nought else but love doth dwell.   

And in this war thy part is not the least,  
Here shall my muse Brutus' noble Love declare:  
Here shalt thou see thy double love increased,  
Offairest twins that ever Lady bare:  
Let Mars triumph in armour shining bright,  
His conquered arms shall be thy triumphs light.   

As he the world, so thou shalt him subdue,  
And I thy glory through the world will ring,  
So by my pains, thou wilt vouchsafe to rue,  
And kill despair. With that he whisk'this wing,  
And bade me write, and promised wished rest,  
But sore I fear false hope will be the best.    

Upon his Ladies buying strings for her Lute.  

IN happy time the wished fair is come,  
To fit my Lute with strings of every kind,  
Great pity 'tis, so sweet a Lu●…e be dumb,  
That so can please the ear, and ease the mind.  
Go take thy choice, and choose the very best,  
And use them so, that head and heart find rest.   

Rest thou in joy, and let me wail alone,  
My pleasant days have ta'en their last farewell:  
My heartstrings sorrow struck so long with moan,  
That at the last they all in pieces fell▪  
And now they lie in pieces broke so small,  
That scarce they serve to make me frets withal.   

And yet they serve and bind my heart so strait,  
That frets indeed they serve to fret it out:  
No force for that, in hope thereof I wait,  
That death may rid me both of hope and doubt.  
But death, alas, draws backward all too long,  
And I each day feel now increase of wrong.    

Care will not let him live, nor hope let him die.  

MY heavy heart with grief and hope torment,  
Beats all in vain against my weary breast,  
As if it thought with force to make a vent,  
That death might enter to procure my rest.  
But foolish heart, thy pains are lost I see,  
For death and life both fly and follow thee.   

When weight of care would press me down with pain,  
That I might sink to depth of death below,  
Hope lends me wing▪ and lifts me up again,  
To strive for life and live in greater woe.  
So fares the Boat, which winds drive to the shore,  
And tides drives backward where it was before.   

Thus neither hope will let me die with care,  
Nor Care consent that hope assure my life:  
I seek for life, death doth his stroke prepare,  
I come to death, and life renews my strife.  
All as the shadow, follows them that fly  
And flies from them that after it do high.   

What is my hope? that hope will fail at last,  
And grief get strength to work his will on me▪  
Either the Wax with which hopes wings are fast,  
By scalding sighs mine eyes shall melted see.  
Or else my tears shall wet the feathers so,  
That I shall fall and drown in waves of woe.     

ODE 9  

Cupid's Marriage with dissimulation.  

A Newfound match is made of late,  
Blind Cupid needs will change his wife:  
newfangled Love doth Psyche hate.  
With whom so long he led his life.  
Dissembling, she  
The bride must be,  
To please his wanton eye.  
Psyche laments  
That love reputes,  
His choice without cause why.   

Cithaeron sounds with music strange,  
Unknown unto the Virgins nine:  
From flat to sharp the Tune doth range,  
Too base, because it is too fine.  
See how the bride  
Puffed up with pride,  
Can mince it passing well:  
She trips on toe,  
Full fair to show,  
Within doth poison dwell.   

Now wanton Love at last is sped,  
Dissembling is his only joy,  
Bare Truth from Venus' Court is fled,  
Dissembling pleasures hides annoy.  
It were in vain  
To talk of pain,  
The wedding yet doth last,  
But pain is near,  
And will appear,  
With a dissembling cast.   

Despair and hope are joined in one,  
And pain with pleasure linked sure,  
Not one of these can come alone,  
No certain hope, no pleasure pure.  
Thus sour and sweet  
In love do meet,  
Dissembling likes it so,  
Of sweet small store,  
Of sour the more,  
Love is a pleasant woe.   
Amor & mellis & fellis.    

ODE 10.  

Dispraise of Love, and lovers follies.  

IF Love be life, I long to die,  
Live they that list for me:  
And he that gains the most thereby,  
A fool, at least shall be.  
But he that feels the sorest fits,  
Scapes with no less than loss of wit●…▪  
unhappy life they gain,  
Which love do entertain.   

In day by feigned looks they live,  
By lying dreams in night,  
Each frown a deadly wound doth give,  
Each smile a false delight.  
Ifthap their Lady pleasant seem,  
It is for others love they deem:  
If void she seem of joy,  
Disdain doth make her coy.   

Such is the peace that lovers find,  
Such is the life they lead.  
Blown here and there with every wind  
Like flowers in the mead.  
Now war, now peace, now war again,  
Desire, despair, delight, disdain,  
Though dead in midst of life,  
In peace, and yet at strife.   
In amore haec insunt mala.   

In praise of the Sun.  

THe Golden Sun that brings the day;  
And lends men light ●…o see with all,  
In vain doth cast his beams away,  
Where they are blind on whom they fall,  
There is no force in all his light,  
To give the mole a perfect sight.   

But thou my Sun more bright than he,  
That shines at noon in Summer tide.  
Hast given me light and power to see,  
With perfect skill my sight to guide.  
Till now I lived as blind as Mole,  
That hides her head in earthly hole.   

I heard the praise of beauty's grace,  
Yet deemed it nought but Poet's skill.  
I gazed on many a lovely face,  
Yet found I none to bind my will.  
Which made me think that beauty bright,  
Was nothing else but red and white.   

But now thy beams have cleared my ●…ight,  
I blush to think I was so blind.  
Thy flaming eyes afford me light,  
That beauties blaze each where I find.  
And yet these Dames that shine so bright,  
Are but the shadow of thy light.     

ODE XI.  

To his Muse.  

REst, good my Muse, and give me leave to rest,  
We strive in vain.  
Conceal thy skill within thy sacred breast,  
Though to thy pain.  
The honour great which Poets wont to have,  
With worthy deeds is buried deep in grave.  
Each man will hide his name,  
Thereby to hide his shame,  
And silence is the praise their virtues crave.   

To praise, is flattery, malice to dispraise,  
Hard is the choice,  
What cause is left for thee, my Muse, to raise  
Thy heavenly voice?  
Delight thyself on sweet Parnassus' hill,  
And for a better time reserve thy skill,  
There let thy silver sound,  
From Cyrrha wood rebound,  
And all the vale with learned Music fill.   

Then shall those fools that now prefer each rhyme,  
Before thy skill,  
With hand and foot in vain assay to climb,  
Thy sacred hill.  
There shalt thou sit and scorn them with disdain,  
To see their fruitless labour all in vain:  
But they shall fret with spite,  
To see thy glory bright,  
And know themselves thereto cannot attain.    

Death in love.  

MIne eyes have spent their tears, and now are dry,  
My weary hand will guide my Pen no more.  
My voice is hoarse, and can no longer cry,  
My head hath left no new complaints in store,  
My heart is ouerburd●…ned so with pain,  
That sense of grief doth none therein remain,   

The tears you see distilling from mine eyes,  
My gentle Muse doth shed for this my grief.  
The plaints you hear are her incessant cries,  
By which she calls in vain for some relief.  
She never parted since my grief begun,  
In her I live, she dead, my life were done.   

Then (loving Muse) depart, and let me die,  
Some braver youth will sue to thee for grace,  
That may advance thy glory to the sky,  
And make thee scorn blind Fortunes frowning face.  
My heart and head that did th●… entertain,  
Desire a●…d Fortune with despite have slain.   

My Lady dares not lodge thee in her breast,  
For fear, unwares she let in love with thee.  
For well she thinks some part in thee must rest,  
Of that which so possessed each part of me.  
Then (good my Muse) fly back to heaven again,  
And let me die, to end this endless pain.    

Break heavy heart.  

Break heavy heart, and rid me of this pain,  
This pain that still increaseth day by day:  
By day with sighs I spend myself in vain:  
In vain by night with tears I waste away,  
Away I wa●…e with tears by night in vain,  
Tears, sighs by night, by day increase this pain.   

Mine eyes no eyes, but fountains of my tears  
My tears no tears, but floods to moist my heart:  
My heart no heart, but labour of my fears,  
My fears no fears, but feelings of my smart.  
My s●…art, my fears, my heart, my tears, mine eyes  
Are blind, dried, spent, past, wasted with my cries.   

And yet mine eyes, though blind, see cause of grief,  
And yet my tears, though dried, run down amain:  
And yet my heart, though spent, attends relief.  
And yet my fears, though past, increase my pain.  
And yet I live, and living feel more smart,  
And smarting, cry in vain break, Beaui●… heart▪    

Desires government.  

WHere wit is over-ruld by will,  
And will is led by fond desire,  
There reason were as good be still,  
As speaking, kindle greater fire.  
For where desire doth bear the sway,  
The heart must rule, the head obey.   

What boots the cunning Pilots skill,  
To tell which way to shape their course▪  
When he that steers will have his will,  
And drive them where he list perforce.  
So reason shows the truth in vain,  
Where fond desire as King doth reign.    

loves properties.  

TWixt heat and cold, betwixt death and life,  
I frieze and burn, I live and die:  
Which jointly work in me such strife,  
I live in death, in cold I frie.  
Nor hot, nor cold, nor live, nor dead,  
Neither, and both, this life I lead.   

First burning heat sets all on fire,  
Whereby I seem in flames to fry:  
Then cold despair kills hot desire,  
That drenched deep, in death I lie.  
Heat drives out cold, and keeps my life  
Cold quencheth heat, no end of strife.   

The less I hope to have my will,  
The more I feel desire increase.  
And as desire increaseth still,  
Despair to quench it doth not cease.  
So live I as the Lamp whose light,  
Oft comes, oft goes, now dim, now bright.    

Living Death.  

IF means be none to end my restless care,  
Ifneeds I must o'erwhelmed with sorrow lie:  
What better way this sorrow to declare,  
Then, that I dying live, and cannot die?   

If nought but loss I reap in stead of gain,  
If lasting pain do every day increase:  
To thee (good Death) alas I must complain,  
Thou art of force to make my sorrow cease.   

If thou, because I thee refused sometime,  
Now shut thine ears, and my request deny,  
Still must I love, and wail in woeful rhyme:  
That dying still I am, and cannot die.   
Spiro non viu●….   

The passionate prisoner.  

YE walls that shut me up from sight of men,  
Enclosed wherein alive I buried lie,  
And thou sometime my bed, but now my den,  
Where smothered up, the light of Sun I fly:  
O shut yourselves, each chink and crevisse strain  
That none but you may hear me thus complain.   

My hollow cries that beat thy stony side,  
Vouchsafe to beat, b●…t beat them back again,  
That when my grief hath speech to me denied,  
Mine ears may hear the witness of my pain▪  
As for my tears, whose streams must ever last,  
My silent couch shall drink them up as fast.    

Hopeless desire soon withers and dies.  

THough naked trees seem dead to sight,  
When Winter wind doth keenly blow,  
Y●…t if the root maintain her right,  
The Spring their hidden life will show.  
But if the root be dead and dry,  
No marvel though the branches die.   

While hope did live within my breast,  
No Winter storm could kill desire,  
But now disdain hath hope oppressed,  
Dead is the root, dead is the spire.  
Hope was the root, and spire was love,  
No sap beneath, no life above.   

And as we see the rootless stock,  
Retain some sap, and spring a while  
Yet quickly prove a lifeless block,  
Because the root doth life beguile:  
So lives desire which hope hath left,  
As twilight shines when Sun is rest.     

ODE XII.  

To his heart.  

NAy, nay, thou strivest ●…n vain, my heart,  
To mend thy miss:  
Thou hast deserved to bear this smart,  
And worse than this.  
That wouldst thyself debase,  
To serve in such a place.   

Thou thoughts thyself too long at rest,  
Such was thy pride.  
Needs must thou seek another breast  
Wherein to bide.  
Say now what hast thou found?  
In fetters thou art bound.   

What hath thy faithful service won,  
But high disdain?  
Broke is thy thread thy fancy spun,  
Thy labour vain.  
Fallen art thou now with pain,  
And canst not rise again.   

And canst thou look for help of me  
In this distress▪  
I must confess I pity thee,  
And can no less.  
But bear a while thy pain,  
For fear thou fall again.   

Learn by thy hurt to shun the fire,  
Play not withal▪  
When climbing thoughts high things aspire,  
They seek their fall.  
Thou ween'st nought shone but gold,  
So wast thou blind and bold.   

Yet lie not for this disgrace,  
But mount again,  
So that thou know the wished place,  
Be worth thy pain.  
Then though thou fall and die,  
Yet never fear to fly.    

Phaleuciacks. III.  

Wisdom warns me to shun that once I sought for.  
And in time to retire my hasty footsteps.  
Wisdom sent from above, not earthly wisdom.  
Long, too long have I slept in ease uneasy,  
On false worldly relief my trust reposing:  
Health and wealth in a boat, no stern nor ank●…r.  
(Bold and blind that I was) to Sea be-taking▪  
Scarce from shore had I launched, when all about me,  
Waves like hills did rise, till help from heaven  
Brought my Ship to the Port of late repentance.   
O navis, referent in mare te novi fluctus.    

ODE XIII.  

Adefiance to disdainful love.  

NOw have I learned with much ado at last,  
By true disdain to kill desire,  
This was the mark at which I shot so fast,  
Unto this height I did aspire.  
Proud love, now do thy worst, and spare not,  
For thee and all thy shafts I care not.   

What hast thou left wherewith to move my mind?  
What life to quicken dead desire?  
I count thy words and oaths as light as wind,  
I feel no heat in all thy fire.  
Go change thy bow, and get a stronger,  
Go break thy shafts, and buy thee longer.   

In vain thou bait●…st thy hook with beauty's blaze,  
In vain thy wanton eyes allure.  
These are but toys, for them that love to gaze,  
I know what harm thy looks procure:  
Some strange conceit must be devised,  
Or thou and all thy skill despised.   
Scilicet asserui iam me, fugique catena●….   

Being s●…orned and disdained, be inveighs against his Lady.  

SInce just disdain began to rise,  
And cry revenge for spiteful wrong:  
What erst I praised, I now despise,  
And think my love was all too long.  
I tread in dirt that scornful pride,  
Which in thy looks I have descried,  
Thy beauty is a painted skin,  
For fools to see their faces in.   

Thine eyes that some as stars esteem,  
From whence themselves, they say take light,  
Like to the foolish fire I deem,  
That leads men to their death by night.  
Thy words and oaths are light as wind,  
And yet far lighter is thy mind:  
Thy friendship is a broken reed,  
That fails thy friends in greatest need.   
Vitijs patientia victa est.    

ODE 14.  

The Tomb of dead Desire.  

WHen Venus saw Desire must die,  
Whom high disdain,  
Had justly slain,  
For killing Truth with scornful eye,  
The earth she leaves and gets her to the sky:  
Her golden hair she tears  
Black weeds of woe she wears:  
For help unto her father doth she cry:  
Who bids her stay a space  
And hope for better grace.   

To save his life she hath no skill,  
Whom should she pray,  
What do, or say,  
But weep for wanting of her will?  
Mean time Desire hath ta'en his last farewell,  
And in a Meadow fair,  
To which the Nymphs repair,  
His breathless corpse is laid with worms to dwell:  
So glory doth decay  
When death takes life away.   

When morning Star had chased the night,  
The Queen of love  
Looked from above,  
To see the grave of her delight?  
And as with heedful eye she viewed the place,  
She spied a flower unknown,  
That on his grave was grown,  
Instead of learned verse his Tomb to grace.  
If you the name require,  
hearts-ease from dead desire.      

An Altar and Sacrifice to disdain, for freeing him from love.  

My Muse by thee restored to life,  
To thee Disdain, this Altar rears,  
Whereon she offers ●…uslesse strife,  
Self-spending sighs, and bootless tears.   

Long Suits in vain,  
Hate for good will:  
Still-dying pain,  
Yet living still.  
Self-loving pride,  
Looks coily strange,  
Will Reasons guide,  
Desire of change.  
And last of all,  
Blind Fancies fire,  
False Beauties thrall,  
That binds desire.   

All these I offer to Disdain,  
By whom I live from fancy free:  
With vow, that if I love again,  
My life the sacrifice shall be.   
Vicimus & domitum pedibus calcamus amorem.   

Certain Poems upon diverse Subjects by the same Author,  
Three Odes translated out of Anacreon, the Greek Lyric Poet.  

ODE I.  

OF Atreus Sons fain would I write,  
And fain of Cadmus would I sing:  
My Lute is set on loves delight,  
And only Love sounds every string.   

Of late my Lute I alt'red quite.  
Both frets and strings for tunes above,  
I sung of fierce Alcides' might,  
My Lute would sound no tune but love.  
Wherefore ye worthies all farewell,  
No tune but Love my Lute can tell.    

ODE II.  

A comparison betwixt the strength of beasts, the wisdom of Man, and the beauty of a woman's face.  

THe Bull by nature hath his horns,  
The Horse his hooves to daunt their foes,  
The lightfoot Hare the hunter scorns,  
The Lion's teeth his strength disclose.   

The Fi●…h, by swimming, escapes the we'll,  
The Bird, by flight, the fowler's net,  
With wisdom Man is armed as steel,  
Poor women none of these can get.   

What have they then? fair beauty's grace,  
A two-edged Sword, ●…a trusty shield,  
No force resists a lovely face,  
Both fire and sword to Beauty yield,     

ODE III.  

OF late, what time the Bear turned round  
At midnight in her wont way,  
And men of all sorts slept full sound,  
O'ercome with labour of the day:   

The God of love came to my door,  
And took the ring, and knocks it hard:  
Whose there, quoth I, that knocks so sore,  
You break my sleep, my dreams are marred?   

A little boy, forsooth quoth he,  
Dung-wet with rain this Moonles night,  
With that me thought it pitied me.  
I oped the door, and candle light.   

And strait a little boy I spied,  
A winged boy with shafts and bow,  
I took him to the fire side,  
And set him down to warm him so.   

His little hands in mine I strain,  
To rub and warm them therewithal:  
Out of his locks I crush the rain,  
From which the drops apace down fall.   

At last, when he was waxen warm,  
Now let me try my bow, quoth he,  
I fear my string hath caught some harm,  
And wet, will prove too slack for me.   

He said, and bend his bow, and shot,  
And wightly hit me on the heart,  
The wound was sore and raging hot,  
The heat like fury reeks my smart.   

Mine host, quoth he, my string is well,  
And laughed, so that he leapt again:  
Look to your wound for fear of swell,  
Your heart may hap to feel the pain.   

Anacreon's second Ode, otherwise.  

NAture in her work doth give,  
To each thing that by her do live,  
A proper gift where she may,  
Prevent in time her own decay.  
The Bull ahorne, the Horse a hoof,  
The lightfoot hare to run aloof:  
The lions strength, who may resist?  
The birds aloft fly where they list.  
The fish swims safe in waters deep,  
The silly worm at least can creep:  
What is to come, men can forecast,  
And learn more wit, by that is past.  
The woman's gift what might it be,  
The same for which the Ladies three,  
Pallas, juno, Venus strove,  
When each desired it to have.   
T. S.   

Anacoreons' third Ode, otherwise.  

CVpid abroad was lated in the night,  
His wings were wet with ranging in the rain,  
Harbour he sought, to me he took his flight,  
To dry his plumes, I heard the boy complain,  
I oped the door, and granted his desire,  
I rose myself, and made the wag a fire.   

Prying more narrow by the fires flame,  
I spied his Quiver hanging at his back:  
Doubting the boy might my misfortune frame,  
I would have gone for fear of further wrack.  
But what I feared, did me poor wretch betide,  
For forth he drew an Arrow from his side.   

He pierced the quick, and I began to start,  
A pleasing wound, but that it was too high,  
His shaft procured a sharp, yet sugared smart,  
Away he flew, for now his wings were dry.  
But left the Arrow sticking in my breast,  
There sore I grieve, I welcomed such a Guest.    

Natural comparisons with perfect love.  

THe lowest trees have tops, the Ant her gall,  
The fly her spleen, the little sparks their heat:  
The slender hairs cast shadows, though but small,  
And Bees have stings, although they be not great.  
Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs,  
And love is love, in Beggars, as in Kings.   

Where rivers smoothest run, deep are the fords,  
The Dial stirs, yet none perceives it move,  
The firmest faith is in the fewest words,  
The Turtles cannot sing, and yet they love.  
True hearts have eyes, and ears no tongues to speak,  
They hear, and see, and sigh, and then they break.    

An answer to the first staff, that love is unlike in Beggars and in Kings.  

COmpare the Bramble with the Cedar tree,  
The Pismires anger with the Lion's rage:  
What is the buzzing fly where Eagles be?  
A drop the spark, no Seas can Aetna suage.  
Small is the heat in beggars breasts that springs,  
But flaming fire consumes the hearts of Kings.   

Who shrouds himself where slender hairs cast shade?  
But mighty Okes may scorn the Summer Sun:  
Small cure will serve, where Bees the wound have made,  
But Dragon's poison through each part doth run.  
Light is the love that beggar's bosom stings,  
Deep is the wound that Cupid makes in Kings.   

Small channels serve, where shallow springs do slide,  
And little help will turn or stay their course▪  
The highest banks scarce hold the swelling tide,  
Which overthrows all stops with raging force:  
The base sort scarce wet them in the springs,  
Which overwhelm the heads of mighty kings.   

What though in both the heart be set of love,  
The self same ground both corn and cockle breed:  
Fast by the Briar, the Pine-tree mounts above,  
One kind of grass, the jade, and jennet feeds:  
So from the heart, by secret virtue springs,  
Unlike desire in beggars and in kings.    

A song in praise of a Beggar's life.  

BRight shines the Sun, Play beggars play.  
Here's scraps enough to serve to day.  
What noise of Viols is so sweet,  
As when our merry clappers ring,  
What mirth doth want where beggars meet,  
A beggar's life is for a king.  
Eat, drink, and play, sleep when we list,  
Go where we will, so stocks be mist.  
Bright shines, etc.   

The world is ours, and ours alone,  
For we alone have world at will,  
We purchase not, all is our own,  
Both fields and streets we beggars fill.  
Nor care to get, nor fear to keep,  
Did ever break a beggar's sleep.  
Bright shines, etc.   

A hundred head of black and white,  
Upon our gowns securely ●…eede,  
If any dare his Master bite,  
He dies therefore as sure as Creed.  
Thus beggars lord it as they please,  
And none but beggars live at ease.  
Bright shine the Sun, etc.    

Upon beginning without making an end.  

BEgin, and half is done, yet half undone remains,  
Begin that half, & all is done, & thou art eased of pains  
The second half is all again, new work must be begun  
Thus he that still begins, doth nothing but by halves,  
And things half done, as good undone, half oxen are but calves.    

An Epigram to Sir Philip Sidney in elegiacal verse, translated out of jodell, the French Poet.  

Cambridge, worthy Philip, by this verse builds thee an Altar  
'Gainst time & tempest, strong to abide for ever,  
That praise of verses no length of time can●… abolish,  
With Greece & Italy purchased endless honour.  
I then pursuing their steps like glory to purchase,  
Will make thy memory famous in after ages,  
And in these measured verses thy glory be sounded,  
So be thy holy favour, help to my holy fury.    

Hexameters, upon the never enough praised Sir Philip Sidney.  

What can I now suspect, or what can I fear any longer▪  
Oft did I fear, oft hope, whilst life in Sidney remained:  
Of nothing can I now despair, for nought can I hope for:  
This good is in misery, when great extremity grieves us,  
That neither hope of good, nor fear of worse can affright us  
And can I then complain, when no complaint can avail me?  
How can I seem to be discontent, or what can I weep for?  
He lives eternal, with endless glory bedecked:  
Yea still on earth he lives, & still shall live by the Muses.    

Another upon the same.  

What strange adventure ' what now unlooked for arriull,  
Hath drawn the Muses from sweet Boeotia mountains  
To choose our country, to seek in London abiding?  
Are fair Castalian streams dried? stands Cyrrha no longer?  
Or love the Muses, like wantoness oft to be changing?  
Scarce can I that suppose, scarce think I those to be Muses.  
No sound of melody, no voice but dreary lamenting.  
Yet well I wot too well, Muse's most dolefully weeping.  
See where Melpomene sits hid for shame in a corner  
Here ye the careful sighs, fetched from the depth of her entrails?  
There weeps Calliope, there sometimes lusty Thaleia.  
Ay me●… alas, now know I the cause, now seek I no further,  
Here lies their glory, their hope, their only rejoicing.  
Dead lies worthy Philip, the care and praise of Apollo:  
Dead lies his carcase, but fame shall live to the world's end.    

Others upon the same.  

Whom can I first accuse? whose fault account I the greatest,  
Where kept the Muses, what countries haunted Apollo?  
Where loitred bloody Mars, where lingered worthy Minerva?  
What could three sisters do more than nine in a combat?  
Was force of no force? Was fair entreaty refused?  
Where is the music, that sometimes moved Allecto?  
That gained Eurydice, that left Proserpina weeping?  
Choose whether of the two you list, your skill to be nothing:  
Or your most faithful servants unkindly rewarded.  
And thou that braggest of skilful surgery knowledge,  
That canst of Simples discern the quality secret,  
And give fit plasters for wounds that seem to be cureless,  
Whereto avails thy skill, that cannot Sidney recover.  
And couldst thou whilom prevail with destiny fatal,  
For king Admetus 'gainst course of natural order,  
And canst do nothing to save so faithful a servant.  
As for Mars well I wot, cold frost of Thracia kingdom,  
Hath killed all kindness, no ruth of him can be looked for,  
And dainty Pallas disdained forsooth to be present,  
Envy perhaps, nay grief as I guess, was cause of her absence.  
Only we poor wretches, whom Gods and Muses abandon,  
Lament thy timeless decay with sorrowful outcries.  
But yet if hap some Muse, would add new grace to my verses,  
Germany, France, Italy, Spain, Denmark, Persia, Turkey,  
India where Phoebus climbs from the sea to the Skie-ward,  
India where Phoebus declines from sky to the Sea-warned,  
Tartary, Pole, Lettow, Muscovy, Bohemia, Norway,  
All Coasts where rising or falling Phoebus appeareth,  
Should hear, and wonder to hear thy glory resounded.  
Armenian Tigers enraged for theft of a youngling,  
Princely Lions roaring, for want of prey to be starved,  
Fierce Bears, & grunting wild Boars, upon Arcady mountains,  
Should stand a stonisht, forgetting natural offspring,  
Forgetting hunger, forgetting slaughter appo●…nted,  
As when Calliopes dear son, sweet harmony singing,  
Unto the true consent of his Harp strings tuned in order,  
Drew from their places wild beasts and trees by the music.  
Swift flowing Hebrus staid all his streams in a wonder,  
As if i'll coldness frorne had them down to the bottom.  
But for I wot too well my slender skill to be nothing,  
Here will I quite forswear both Verse and Muse in an anger  
Lest hap my rudeness disgrace thy glory by praising.    

Dignum laud virum Musa vetat mori. To Time.  

Eternal Time, that wasteth without waist,  
That art, and art not, diest, and livest still:  
Most slow of all, and yet of greatest haste,  
Both ill and good, and neither good nor ill.  
How can I justly praise thee, or dispraise,  
dark are thy nights, but bright and clear thy days.   

Both free and scarce, thou giv'st and tak'st again,  
Thy womb that all doth breed, is Tomb to all:  
What so by thee hath life, by thee they fall.  
Constant, inconstant, moving, standing still,  
Was, is, shall be, do thee both breed and kill.   

I lose thee, while I seek to find thee out,  
The farther off, the more I follow thee:  
The faster hold, the greater cause of doubt,  
Was, is, I know, but shall, I cannot see.  
All things by thee are measured, thou by none:  
All are in thee, thou in thyself alone.    

A Meditation upon the frailty of this life.  

O Trifling toys that toss the brains,  
While loathe some life doth last!  
O wished wealth, O sugared joys,  
O life when death is past:  
Who loathes exchange of loss with gain?  
Yet loathe we death as hell.  
What woeful wight would wish his woe?  
Yet wish we here to dwell.  
O fancy frail that feeds on earth,  
And stays on slippery joys:  
O noble mind, O happy man,  
That can contemn such toys.   

Such toys as neither perfect are,  
And cannot long endure,  
Our greatest skill, our sweetest joy,  
Uncertain and unsure.  
For life is short and learning long,  
All pleas●…re mixed with woe.  
Sickness and sleep, steal time unseen,  
And joys do come and go.  
Thus learning is but learned by halves,  
And joy inioy'de no while,  
That serves to show thee what thou want'st,  
This helps thee▪ to beguile.   

But after death is perfect skill,  
And joy without decay,  
When sin is gone that blinds our eyes,  
And steals our joys away.  
No crowing Cock shall raise us up,  
To spend the day in vain,  
No weary labour shall us drive,  
To go to bed again.  
But for we feel not what we want,  
Nor know not what we have,  
We love to keep the body's life,  
We loathe the soul to save.    

A Dialogue between the Soul and the Body.  Soul. 

AY me poor soul, whom bound in sinful chains,  
This wretched body keeps against my will!   Body 

Ay me poor body, whom for all my pains,  
This froward soul causeless condemneth stil.   Soul 
Causeless? when as thou strivest to sin each day?  Body 
Causeless, when as I strive thee to obey.  Soul 
Thou art the means, by which I fall to sin.  Body 
Thou art the cause that setst this means a work  Soul 
No part of thee that hath not faulty been.  Body 
I show the poison that in thee doth lurk.  Soul 
I shall be pure when so I part from thee.  Body 
So were I now, but that thou stainest me.   

Saphi●…kes upon the passion of Christ.  

HAtred eternal, furious revenging,  
Merciless raging, bloody persecuting,  
Scandalous speeches, odious revilings  
Causeless abhorring:  
Impious scoffings by the very abjects,  
Dangerous threatening by the Priests anointed,  
Death full of torment in a shameful order,  
Christ did abide here.  
He that in glory was above the Angels,  
Changed his glory for an earthly Carcase,  
Yielded his glory to a sinful outcast,  
Glory refusing.  
Me that in bondage many sins retained,  
He for his goodness, for his only goodness,  
Brought from hel-torments to the joys of heaven,  
Not to be numbered.  
Dead in offences, by his aid revived,  
Quickened in spirit, by the grace he yieldeth,  
Sound then his praises, to the world's amazement  
Thankfully singing.       

DIVERS POEMS OF sundry Authors.  

A hymn in praise of Music.  

PRaise, pleasure, profit, is that threefold band,  
Which ties men's minds more fast than gordion's knot  
Each one some draws, all three none can withstand,  
Of force conjoined, Conquest is hardly got.  
Then music may of hearts a Monarch be,  
Wherein praise, pleasure, profit so agree.   

Praiseworthy Music is, for God it praiseth,  
And pleasant, for brute beasts therein delight,  
Great profit from it flows, for why it raiseth  
The mind overwhelmed with rude passions might:  
When against reason passions fond rebel,  
Music doth that confirm, and those expel.   

If Music did not merit endless praise,  
Would heavenly Spheres delight in silver round?  
If joyous pleasure were not in sweet lays,  
Would they in Court and Country so abound?  
And profitable needs we must that call,  
Which pleasure linked with praise doth bring to all.   

Heroic minds with praises most incited,  
Seek praise in Music and therein excel:  
God, man, beasts, birds, with Music are delighted,  
And pleasant 'tis which pleaseth all so well.  
No greater profit is then self content:  
And this will Music bring, and care prevent.   

When antic Poets musics praises tell,  
They say it beasts did please, and stones did move:  
To prove more dull than stones, than beasts more fell,  
Those men which pleasing Music did not love,  
They feigned, it Cities built, and states defended  
To show the profit great on it depended.   

Sweet birds (poormen's musicans) never flake  
To sing sweet musics praises day and night:  
The die Swans in Music pleasure take,  
To show that it the dying can delight:  
In sickness, health, peace, war, we do it need,  
Which proves sweet musics profit doth exceed.   

But I, by niggard praising, do dispraise  
Praiseworthy music in my worthless Rhyme:  
Ne can the pleasing profit of sweet lays,  
Any save learned Muses well define.  
Yet all by these rude lines may clearly see,  
Praise, pleasure, profit, in sweet music be.   
I. D.   

Ten Sonnets to Philomela,  

Sonnet 1.  

Upon loves entering by his ears.  

OFt did I hear, our eyes the passage were,  
By which Love entered to assail our hearts  
Therefore I guarded them, and void of fear  
Neglected the defence of other parts.  
Love knowing this, the usual way forsook:  
And seeking found a by-way by mine ear.  
At which he entering, my heart prisoner took,  
And unto thee sweet Philomela did bear.  
Yet let my heart, thy heart to pity move,  
Whose pain is great, although small fault appear  
First it lies bound in fettering chains of Love,  
Then each day it is racked with hope and fear.  
And with loves flames 'tis evermore consumed,  
Only because to love thee it presumed.     

Sonnet 2.  

OWhy did fame my heart to love betray,  
By telling my deer's virtue and perfection?  
Why did my Traitor ears to it convey,  
That Syren-song cause of my heart's infection?  
Had I been deaf, or Fame her gifts concealed,  
Then had my heart been free from hopeless Love,  
Or were my state likewise by it revealed,  
Well might it Philomela to pity move.  
Then should she know how Love doth make me languish  
Distracting me twixt hope and dreadful fear:  
Then should she know my care, my plaints and anguish,  
All which for her dear sake I meekly bear.  
Yea I could quietly Deaths pains abide,  
So that she knew that for her sake I died.    

Sonnet 3.  

Of his own, and of his Mistress sickness at one time.  

Sickness intending my love to betray,  
Before I should sighed of my dear obtain:  
Did his pale colours in my face display,  
Lest that my favour might her favour gain.  
Yet not content here with, like means it wrought,  
My Philomel's bright beauty to deface:  
And nature's glory to disgrace it sought,  
That my conceived love it might displace.  
But my firm love could this assault well bear,  
Which virtue had, not beauty for his ground:  
And yet bright beams of beauty did appear,  
Through sickness vail, which made my love abound  
If sick (thought I) her beauty so excel,  
How matchless would it be if she were well.     

Sonnet 4.  

Another of her sickness and recovery.  

PAle Death himself did love my Philomel,  
When he her virtues and rare beauty saw,  
Therefore he sickness sent: which should expel,  
His rivals life, and my dear to him draw.  
But her bright beauty dazzled so his Eyes,  
That his da●…t life did miss, though her it hit:  
Yet not there with content, new means he tries,  
To bring her unto Death, and make life flit.  
But Nature soon perceiving, that he meant  
To spoil her only Phoenix, her chief pride,  
Assembled all her force, and did prevent  
The greatest mischief that could her betide.  
So both our lives and loves Nature defended,  
For had she died, my love and life had ended.     

Sonnet 5.  

Allusion to Theseus' voyage to Crete, against th●… Minotaur.  

MY love is sailed against dislike to fight  
Which like vild monster, threatens his decay:  
The ship is hope, which by desires great might,  
Is swiftly borne towards the wished bay:  
The company which with my love doth far,  
(Though met in one) is a dissenting crew:  
They are joy, grief, and never-sleeping care,  
And doubt which near believes good news for true:  
Black fear the flag is, which my ship doth bear,  
Which (Deer) take down, if my love victor be:  
And let white comfort in his place appear.  
When love victoriously returns to me.  
Lest I from rock despair come tumbling down,  
And in a sea of tears be forc●…tto drown.     

Sonnet 6.  

Upon her looking secretly out at a window as he passed by.  

ONce did my Philomela reflect on me,  
Her Crystal pointed eyes as I passed by:  
Thinking not to be seen, yet would me see,  
But soon my hungry eyes their food did spy.   

Alas, my deer couldst thou suppose, that face  
Which needs not envy Phoebus' chiefest pride,  
Could secret be, although in secret place,  
And that transparent glass such beams could hide?   

But if I had been blind, yet loves hot flame,  
Kindled in my poor heart by thy bright eye,  
Did plainly show when it so near thee came,  
By more the usual heat then cause was nigh.  
So though thou hidden wert, my heart and eye  
Did turn to thee by mutual Sympathy.     

Sonnet 7.  

WHen time nor place would let me often view  
Natures chief Mirror, and my sole delight,  
Her lively picture in my heart I drew,  
That I might it behold both day and night,   

But she, like Philip's Son, scorning that I  
Should portraiture, which wanted Apelles Art,  
Commanded Love (who nought dare her deny)  
To burn the picture which was in my heart.   

The more Love burned the more her picture shined:  
The more it shined, the more my heart did burn:  
So what to hurt her Picture was assigned,  
To my heart's ruin and decay did turn.  
Love could not burn the Saint, it was divine,  
And therefore fired my heart, the Saints poor shrine.    

Sonnet 8.  

To the Sun of his mistress beauty eclipsed with frowns.  

WHen as the Sun eclipsed is, some say,  
It thunder, lightning, rain, and wind portendeth:  
And not unlike but such things happen may,  
Sith like effects my Su●… eclipsed sendeth   

Witness my throat made hoarse with thundering cries,  
And heart with loves hot flashing lightnings fired:  
Witness the showers which still fall from mine eyes,  
And breast with sighs like stormy winds near rived.   

O shine then once again sweet Sun on me,  
And with thy beams dissolve clouds of despair  
Whereof these raging Meteors framed be,  
In my poor heart by absence of my fair.  
So shalt thou prove thy beams thy heat, thy light,  
To match the Sun in glory, grace and might.     

Sonnet IX.  

Upon sending her a gold ring, with this Poesy, Pure and Endless.  

IF you would know the love which I you bear,  
Compare it to the Ring which your fair hand  
Shall make more precious, when you shall it wear:  
So my loves nature you shall understand.   

Is it of metal pure? so you shall prove  
My love, which ne'er disloyal thought did stain.  
Hath it no end▪ so endless is mylove,  
Unless you it destroy with your d●…sdaine.   

Doth it the purer wax the more 'tis tried?  
So doth my love: yet herein they descent,  
That whereas gold the more 'tis purified,  
By waxing less, doth show some part is spent.  
My love doth wax more pure by your more trying,  
And yet increaseth in the purifying.     

Sonnet X.  

The Heart's captivity.  

MY cruel dear having captived my heart,  
And bound it fast in chains of restless love:  
Requires it out of bondage to depart,  
Yet is she sure from her it cannot move.   

Draw back (said she) your hopeless love from me,  
Your worth requires a far more worthy place,  
Unto your suit though I cannot agree  
Full many will it lovingly embrace.   

It may be so (my dear) but as the Sun  
When it appears doth make the stars to vanish:  
So when yourself into my thoughts do run,  
All others quite out of my heart you banish.  
The beams of your perfections shine so bright,  
That straightway they▪ dispel all others light.   
I. D.    

A Himme in praise of Neptune.  

OF Neptune's Empire let us sing,  
At whose command the waves obey:  
To whom the rivers tribute pay,  
Down the high mountains sliding:  
To whom the scaly Nation veelds  
Homage for the Crystal fields  
Wherein they dwell.  
And every Sea-god pays a gem,  
Yearly out of his watery Cell,  
To deck great Neptune's Diadem:   

The Tritons dancing in a ring,  
Before his Palace gates, do make  
The water with their echoes quake,  
Like the great thunder sounding:  
The Sea-nymphs chant their accents shrill,  
And the Sirens taught to kill  
With their sweet voice:  
Make every echoing rock reply,  
Unto their gentle murmuring noise,  
The praise of Neptune's Empery,   
Th. Campion.   

This Hymn was sung by Amphitrytè, Thamesis, and other Sea-nymphs in Grates-Inne Mask at the Court. 1594.  

Of his Mistress' face.  

ANd would you see my mistress face?  
It is a flowery garden place:  
Where knots of beauty have such grace,  
That all is work, and no where space.   

It is a sweet delicious morn,  
Where day is breeding, never borne:  
It is a meadow yet unshorn,  
Which thousand flowers do adorn.   

It is the heavens bright reflex,  
Weak eyes to dazzle and to vex:  
It is th'idea of her sex,  
Envy of whom doth world perplex.   

It is a face of death that smiles,  
Pleasing, though it kill the while:  
Where death and love in pretty wiles,  
Each other mutually beguiles.   

It is fair beauty's freshest youth,  
It is a feigned elizium's truth:  
The spring that wintered hearts renu'th,  
And this is that my soul pursueth.    

Upon her Paleness.  

BLame not my cheeks, though pale with love they be,  
The kindly heat into my heart is flown:  
To cherish it that is dismayed by thee,  
Who art so cruel and unsteadfast grown.  
For Nature called for by distressed hearts,  
Neglects, and quite forsakes the outward parts.   

But they whose cheeks with careless blood are stained,  
Nurse not one spark of love within their hearts,  
And when they woe, they speak with passion feigned,  
For their fat love lies in their outward parts.  
But in their breasts where love his court should hold  
Poor Cupid sits, and blows his nails for cold.   
Tho. Campion.   

Of Corinna's singing.  

WHen to her Lute Corinna sings,  
Her voice revives the leaden strings,  
And doth in highest notes appear,  
As any challenged echo clear.  
But when she doth of mourning speak,  
e'en with her sighs the strings do break.   

And as her Lute doth live or die,  
Led by her passions, so must I:  
For when of pleasure she doth sing,  
My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring.  
But if she do of sorrow speak,  
e'en from my heart the strings do break.   
Tho. Campion    

A Dialogue betwixt the Lover and his Lady.  

LAdy, my flame still burning,  
And my consuming anguish,  
Doth grow so great, that life I feel to languish,  
Then let your heart be moved,  
To end my grief and yours, so long time proved.  
And quench the heat that my chief part so fireth,  
Yielding the fruit that faithful love requireth,   

Her answer.  

Sweet Lord, your flame still burning,  
And your consuming anguish.  
Cannot be more than mine, in which I languish,  
Nor more your heart is moved,  
To end your grief and mine, so long time proved▪  
But if I yield, and so your love decreaseth  
Then I my lover lose, and your love ceaseth,   
Ignoto.    

An Elegy of a woman's heart.  

O Faithless world, and thy most faithless part▪  
A woman's heart:  
The true Shop of variety, where sits,  
Nothing but fits,  
And fevers of desire, and pangs of love,  
Which toys remove.  
Why was she brone to please, or I to trust  
Words writ in dust?  
Suffering her eyes to govern my despair,  
My pain for air,  
And fruit of time rewarded with untruth,  
The food of youth▪  
Untrue she was, yet I believed her eyes,  
Instructed spies,  
Till I was taught, that love was but a school  
To breed a fool.  
Or sought she more than triumphs of denial,  
To see a trial,  
How far her smiles commanded my weakness?  
eelde and confess.  
Excuse not now thy folly, nor her nature:  
Blush and endure  
Aswell thy shame, as passions that were vain▪  
And think thy gain,  
To know that love, lodged in a woman's breast  
Is but a guest.   
H. W.   

A Poesy to prove affection is not love.  

COnceit begotten by the eyes,  
Is quickly borne, and quickly dies:  
For while it seeks our hearts to have,  
Mean while there reason makes his grave:  
For many things the eyes approve,  
Which yet the heart doth seldom love.   

For as the seeds in spring time sown,  
Die in the ground ere they be grown,  
Such is conceit, whose rooting fails,  
As child that in the cradle quails:  
Or else within the mother's womb,  
Hath his beginning, and his tomb.   

Affection follows Fortune's wheels:  
And soon is shaken from her heels,  
For following beauty or estate,  
Her liking still is turned to hate.  
For all affections have their change,  
And fancy only loves to range.   

Desire himself runs out of breath,  
And getting, doth but gain his death,  
Desire, nor reason hath, nor rest  
And blind doth seldom choose the best,  
Desire attained is not desire,  
But as the cinders of the fire.   

As ships in ports desired are drowned,  
As fruit once ripe, then falls to ground,  
As flies that seek for flames, are brought  
To cinders by the flames they sought:  
So fond desire when it attains,  
The life expires, the woe remains▪   

And yet some Poets feign would prove,  
Affection to be perfect love,  
And that desire is of that kind,  
No less a passion of the mind.  
As if wild beasts and men did seek,  
To like, to love, to choose alike.   
W. R.   

MADRIGAL  

In praise of two.  

FAustina hath the fairer face,  
And Phillida the better grace,  
Both have mine eye enriched.  
This sings full sweetly with her voice,  
Her fingers make as sweet a noise,  
Both have mine ear bewitched.  
Ay me! sith Fates have so provided,  
My heart (alas) must be divided.    

To his Lady's garden, being absent far from her.  

GArden more than Eden blessed,  
Art thou thus to have thy bowers,  
Freed from winter, and still dressed,  
With her faces heau'n-set flowers?   

Happy too are those thy allies,  
Where her fair feet deign to tread,  
Which departing earth's low valleys,  
Shall to the milky way be led,   

Thy trees whose arms her embraced,  
And whose fruit her lips do kiss,  
In whose virtuous mind well placed  
The rare tree of knowledge is,   

Happy are so thy birds be,  
Whom she taught to sing by art,  
Who in heavenly harmony  
With the Angels bears a part.   

Happy blest, and fortunate,  
Bowers, Allies, Trees, and Birds,  
But my most unhappy state,  
far surmounts all reach of words.    

Upon his Lady's sickness of the small Pocks.  

Cruel and unpartial sickness,  
Sword of that Arch-monarch death,  
That subdues all strength by weakness,  
Whom all kings pay tribute breath.   

Are not these thy steps I track,  
In the pure snow of her face,  
When thou didst attempt to sack  
Her lives fortress, and it race.   

Th'heavenly honey thou didst suck,  
From her Rose cheeks might suffice,  
Why then didst thou mar and pluck  
Those dear flowers of rarest price?   

Meanest thou thy Lord to present  
With those rich spoils and adorn,  
Leaving me them to lament,  
And in lnkes black tears thus mourn?   

No: I'll in my bosom wear them,  
And close lock them in my heart▪  
Thence, nor time, nor death, shall bear the,  
Till I from myself docdepart.   
Th. Spilman.    

A Sonnet in the grace of wit, of tongue, of face.  

Her face, her tongue, her wit, so fair, so sweet, so sharp,  
First bend, them drew, now hit, mine eye, mine ear, my heart:  
Mine eye, mine ear, my heart, to like, to learn, to love,  
Her face, her tongue, her wit, doth lead, doth teach, doth move  
Her face her tongue, her wit, with beams, with sound, with art  
Doth blind, doth charm, doth rule, mine eye, mine ear, my heart,   

Mine eye▪ mine ear, my heart, with life, with hope, with skill  
Her face, her tongue, her wit, doth feed, doth ●…east, doth fill.  
Oface, o tongue, o wit, with frowns, with checks, with smart  
Wring not, vex not, wound not mineey, mine ear, my heart  
This eye, this ear, this heart, shall joy, shall bind, shall sw●…are,  
Your face, your tongue, your wit, to serve, to love, to fear.    

Sonnet.  

For her heart only.  

Only (sweet Love) afford me but thy heart  
Then close thine eyes within their ivory coue●…s,  
That they to me no beam of light impart,  
Athough they shine on all thy other lovers.   

As for thy lip of ruby, cheek of rose,  
Though I have kissed them oft with sweet content,  
I am content that sweet content to lose,  
If they sweet Will will not bar me, I assent.   

Let me not touch thy hand, but through thy glove,  
Nor let it be the pledge of kindness more:  
Keep all thy beauties to thyself, sweet lnue,  
I ask not such bold favours as before.  
I beg but this, afford me but thy heart,  
For than I know thou wilt the rest impart      

ODE.  That time and absence proves▪ ●…ather helps then hurts to loves. 

Absence's, hear thou my Protestation,  
Against thy strength,  
Distance, and length:  
Do what you can for alteration.  
For hearts of truest mettle▪  
Absence doth join, and time doth settle.   

Who loves a Mistress of such quality,  
He soon hath found  
Affection ground  
Beyond time place, and all mortality  
To hearts that cannot vary,  
Absence is present, time doth tarry.   

My senses want their outward motions:  
Which now within  
Reason doth win,  
Redoubled in her secret notions:  
Like rich men that take pleasure,  
In hiding, more than handling Treasure▪   

By absence, this good means I gain,  
That I can catch her,  
Where none can watch her,  
In some close corner of my brain.  
There I embrace and kiss her,  
And so I both enjoy and miss her.   

The true loves knot.  

Love is the link, the knot, the band of unity  
And all that love, do love with their beloved to be:  
Love only did decree,  
To change his kind in me.   

For though I loved with all the powers of my mind,  
And through my restless thoughts, their rest in her did find,  
Yet are my hopes declind,  
Sith she is most unkind.   

For since her beauty's Sun my fruitless hope did breed,  
By absence from that Sun▪ I hoped to starve that weed,  
Though absence did indeed  
My hopes not starve, but feed.   

For when I shift my place, like to the strike Deer,  
I cannot shift the shaft, which in my side I bear:  
By me it resteth there  
The cause is not elsewhere.   

So hau●… I seen the sick to run and turn again,  
As if that outward change, could ease his inward pain●…  
But still alas in vain,  
The fit doth still remain.   

Yet goodness is the spring from whence this ill doth grow  
For goodness caused the love, which great respect did owe  
Respect true love did show,  
True Love thus wrought my woe.   
Ignoto.    

Sonnet.  

BEst pleased she is, when love is most expressed,  
And sometime says that love should be requited,  
Yet is she grieved my love should now be righted,  
When that my faith hath proved what I protest.   

Am I beloved whose heart is thus oppressed,  
Or dear to her, and not in her delighted?  
I live to see the Sun, yet still benighted,  
By her despair is blam'de, and hope suppressed,   

She still denies, yet still her heart consenteth:  
She grants me all, but that which I desire,  
She fuel sends, but bids me leave the fire,  
She lets me die, and yet my death lamenteth.  
O foolish love, by reason of thy blindness.  
I die for want of love, yet killed with kindness.    

Sonnet.  

WHen a weak child is sick, and out of quiet,  
And for his tenderness cannot sustain  
Physic of equal strength unto his pain,  
Physicians to the Nurse prescribe a diet.   

O I am sick, and in my sickness weak,  
And through my weakness dead, if I but take  
The pleasantest receipt, that art can make,  
Or if I hear but my Physician speak.   

But ah (fair God of Physic) it may be,  
But Physic to my Nurse would me recover,  
She whom I love with beauty nurseth me,  
But with a bitter mixture kills her lover.  
Yet I assure myself, I should not die,  
If she were purged of her cruelty.    

Sonnet.  

WEre I as base as is the lowly plain,  
And you (my love) as high as heaven above,  
Yet sho●…ld the thoughts of me your humble swain,  
Ascend t●… heaven, in honour of my love▪  
Were I as high as heaven above the plain,  
And you (my love) as humble and as low  
As are the deepest bottoms of the Main,  
Wheresoever you were, with you my love should go,  
Were you the earth (dear love) and I the skies,  
My love should shine on you like to the Sun,  
And look upon you with ten thousand eyes,  
Till heau●…n waxed blind▪ and till the world were dun.  
Where soe'er I am, below, or else above you,  
Wheresoever you are, my heart shall truly love you.   
I. S.   

Madrigal.  

MY love in her attire doth show her wit,  
It doth so well become her:  
For every season she hath dress fit:  
For Winter, Spring, and Summer,  
No beauty she doth miss,  
When all her Robes are on,  
But beauty's self ●…he is,  
When all her Robes are gone.    

A Poem.  

WHen I to you of all my woes complain,  
Which you make me endure without release,  
With scornful smiles you answer me again,  
That lovers true must bear and hold their peace.  
Dear I will bear, and hold my peace, if you  
Will hold your peace, and bear what I shall do.   
F. D.   

Sonnet.  

THe Poets fain that when the world began,  
Both sexes in one body did remain,  
Till love (offended with this double man)  
Caused Vulcan to divide him into twain.   

In this division he the heart did sever,  
But cunningly he did indent the heart,  
That if there were a reuniting ever,  
Each part might know which was his counterpart.   

See then (dear love) th'indenture of my heart,  
And read the covenants writ with holy fire,  
See (if your heart be not the counterpart,  
Of my true hearts indented chaste desire.)  
And if it be, so may it ever be,  
Two hearts in one, twixt you my love and me.   
I. S.   

An invective against women.  

ARe women fair? I wondrous fair to see too,  
Are women sweet? Yea passing sweet they be to:  
Most fair and sweet to them that inly loan them,  
Chaste and discreet to all, save those that prove them.   

Are women wise? Not wise but they be witty,  
Are women witty? Yea, the more the pity:  
They are so witty, and in wit so wily,  
That be ye ne'er so wise, they will beguile ye.   

Are women fools? Not fools, but foundlings many.  
Can women fond be faithful unto any?  
When snow-white swans do turn to colour sable,  
Then women fond will be both firm and stable.   

Are women Saints? No Saints, nor yet no devils  
Are women good? Not good, but needful evils.  
So Angellike, that devils I do not doubt them,  
So needful ills, that few can live without them.   

Are women proud? ay, passing proud, and praise them.  
Are women kind▪ I, wondrous kind and please them:  
Or so imperious, no man can endure them,  
Or so kindhearted, any may procure them.   
Ignoto.   

loves embassy in an jambicke Elegy.  

Unhappy verse! the witness of unhappy state,  
Make thyself fluttring wings of thy fast flying thought  
And fly forth unto my love, wheresoever she be.   

Whether lying restless in heavy bed, or else  
Sitting so cheerless at the cheerful board, or else  
Playing alone careless on her heaun'ly Virginals.   

If in bed, tell her that mine eyes can take no rest:  
If at board, tell her that my mouth can taste no food:  
If at her Virginals, tell her I can hear no mirth.   

Asked why say waking Love suffereth no sleep:  
Say that raging love doth appall the weak stomach:  
Say that lamenting love marre●… the Musical.   

Tell her, that her pleasures were wont to lull me a sleep  
Tell her▪ that her beauty was wont to feed mine eyes:  
Tell her, that her sweet tongue was wont to make me mirth.   

Now do I nightly waste, wanting my kindly rest:  
Now do I daily starve, wanting my lively food:  
Now do I always die, wanting my timely mirth.   

And if I waste, who will bewail my heavy chance?  
And if I starve, who will record my cursed end?  
And if I die, who will say, this was Immerito.   
Edmund Spencer.   

Sonnet.  

Loves seven deadly sins.  

MIne eye with all the deadly sins is fraught,  
1. First proud, sith it presumed to look so high:  
A watchman being made, stood gazing by,  
2. And Idle, took no heed till I was caught:  
3. And Envious bears envy, that my thought  
Should in his absence be to her so nigh:  
4. To kill my heart, mine eye let in her eye,  
And so content gave to a murder wrought:  
5. And covetous, it never would remove  
From her fair hair, gold so doth please his sight.  
6. Unchaste, a bawd between my heart and love,  
7. A glutton eye, with tears drunk every night.  
These sins procured have a Goddess ire:  
Wherefore my heart is damned in loves sweet fire.     

Sonnet.  

To two most Honourable and virtuous Ladies and Sisters, the Lady Margaret Countess of Cumberland, the Lady Anne Countess of Warwick.  

YE Sister-Muses, do not you repine,  
That I two sisters do with nine compare,  
Since each of these is far more truly rare,  
Then the whole troup of all the heau●…nly nine.   

But if ye ask me which is more divine,  
I answer, like to their twin eyes they are,  
Of which, each is more bright than brightest star.  
Yet neither doth more bright than other shine.   

Sisters of spotless fame, of whom alone  
Malicious tongues take pleasure to speak well,  
How should I you commend, sith either one  
All things in heaven and earth so far excel?  
The only praise I can you give, is this,  
That one of you, like to the other is.   
H. C.    

ODE.  

Of Cynthia:  

THe ancient readers of heavens book,  
Which with curious eye did look  
Into Nature's story,  
All things under Cynthia took  
To be transitory.   

This the learned only knew,  
But now all men find it true,  
Cynthia is descended,  
With bright beams, and heavenly hue,  
And lesser stars attended.   

Lands and Seas ●…e rules below,  
Where things change, and ebb, and flow,  
Spring, wax old, and perish:  
Only time which all doth mow,  
Her alone doth cherish.   

Time's young hours attend her still,  
And her eyes and cheeks do fill,  
With fresh youth and beauty:  
All her lovers old do grow,  
But their hearts, they do not so  
In their love and duty.     

This song was sung before her sacred Majesty at a show on horseback, wherewith the right Honourable the Earl of Cumberland presented her Highness on May day last.  

Of love gift.  

WHo gives a gift to bind a friend thereby,  
Doth set or put his gift to usury:  
And he that gives a gift that is not free,  
Give where he lift, so that he give not me.  
For bought and sold is friendship strange,  
Who lives by selling, lives by change.  
And he that loves to change his friend,  
Will turn to nothing in the end.    

The Anatomy of love.  

NOw what is love, I pray thee tell?  
It is that fountain and that well.  
Where pleasure and repentance dwell:  
It is perhaps that sounding bell,  
That tolls all in, to heaven, or hell,  
And this is Love, as I hear tell.   

Now what is love, I preth thee say?  
It is a work on holy day,  
It is December matched with May  
When lusty bloods in fresh array,  
Hear ten months after of their play:  
And this is love, as I hear say.   

Now what is love, I preth thee fain,  
It is a sunshine mixed with rain,  
It is a gentle pleasing pain,  
A flower that dies, and springs again.  
It is in faith that would full feign,  
And this is love, and not a stain.   

Yet what is love I preth thee say,  
It is a pretty shadow way,  
As well found out by night as day,  
It is a thing will soon decay:  
Then take the vantage while you may,  
And this is love as I hear say.   

Now what is love, I preth thee show,  
A thing that creeps and cannot go,  
A prize that passeth too and fro,  
A thing for one, a thing for mo●….  
And he that proves shall find it so  
And this is some sweet friend I trow.   

In vain I live, such sorrow lives in me,  
In vain lives sorrow, since by her I live:  
Life works in vain, where death will Master be,  
Death strives in vain, where life doth virtue give.  
Thus each of us would work an others woe,  
And hurts himself in vain, and helps his foe.     

A Poem.  

IF wrong by force had justice put to fligh●…,  
Yet were there hope she might return again,  
If l●…wlesse war had shut her up from sight,  
Yet lawful peace might soon restore her train.  
But now alas, what hope of hope is left,  
When wrongful death hath her of life bereft?   

The Sun that often falls, doth often rise,  
The Moon that waineth, waxeth full with light:  
But he that death in chains of darkness ties,  
Can never break the bands of lasting night.  
What then remains but tears of loss to wail,  
In which all hope of mortal help doth fail?   

Who then shall weep, nay who shall tears refrain,  
If common harms must move the minds of all?  
Too few are found that wrongful hearts restrain,  
And of too few, too many death doth call▪  
These common harms I wail among the rest,  
But private loss denies to be expressed.    

A Poem in the nature of an Epitaph of a friend.  

IF stepdame nature have been scant,  
In dealing beauties gifts to me:  
My wit shall help supply that want,  
And skill in steed of shape shall be.  
My stature I confess is small,  
And therefore nill I boast of war.   

My name shall fill the heavens and all,  
This skin shall serve to hide that scar.  
My head to bear the helm unfit,  
My hands unapt to murder men:  
But little heads oft hold much wit,  
And feeble hands can guide a Pen.    

loves contentment.  

Death is my doom, awarded by disdain,  
A lingering death that will not let me die,  
This length of life is lengthening of my pain,  
And length of pain gets strength of pain thereby:  
And strength of pain, makes pain of longer last,  
Ah who hath ●…y'de my life to pain so fast?   

And yet I seem, as if I did but feign,  
Or make my grief much greater than I need,  
When as the care to hide my burning pain,  
With secret sighs, constrains my heart to bleed.  
Yet well I wot, be killed I shall not be,  
Until by death a proof thereof you see.   

But if this lodge, the witness of my woe,  
Whose stony walls enteard my plaints contain,  
Had sense to feel, and tongue my pain to show,  
Which he enclosed, I utter all in vain,  
You soon should know that most I make my moan,  
Alone, if he that loves can be alone.   

Why should I seek to make my shame be known,  
That foolish love is causer of my pain▪  
(Forgive me love) the speech is not mine own,  
But so they speak that thee and thine disdain.  
And I myself confess my skill too small,  
To plead for love, and clear myself with all.   

What reason can my simple wit devise,  
Why bootless grief should thus my mind afflict?  
I love the thoughts, that love itself despise,  
I seek for that I never look to find.  
Oft have I heard, for which I think I die,  
Thine angry tongue all kind of love defy.   

Yet is my life upon thy promise stayed,  
By which thou hast assured me of thy love,  
And though thereby my heat be not allayed,  
No stay of flight, where gain is still above.  
Yet since thy heart can yield to love no more,  
I rest content, although I die therefore.   Quis Deus opposuit nostris sua numina votis?  

A repentant Poem.  

Though late my heart, yet turn at last,  
And shape thy course another way,  
'tis better lose thy labour past,  
Then follow on to sure decav.  
What though thou long have strayed away▪  
In hope of grace for mercy cry.   

Though weight of sin doth press thee down,  
And keep thee grovelling on the ground,  
Though black despair, with angry frown,  
Thy wit and judgement quite confound:  
Though time and wit have been misspent,  
Yet grace is left if thou repent.   

Weep then my heart, weep still and still,  
Nay melt to floods of flowing tears,  
Send out such shrieks as heaven may fill,  
And pierce thine angry judges ea●…es,  
And let thy soul that harbours sin,  
bleed streams of blood to drown it in.   

Then shall thine angry judges face,  
To cheerful looks itself apply,  
Then shall ●…hy soul be filled with grace,  
And fear of death constrained to fly.  
Even so my God, oh when? how long?  
I would, but sin is too too strong.   

I strive to rise, sin keeps me down,  
I fly from sin, sin follows me.  
My will doth reach at glories crown,  
Weak is my strength, it will not be.  
See how my fainting soul doth pant,  
O let thy strength supply my want.    

To the Epitaph upon the heart of Henry the third, late King of France and Poland: slain 1589. by a jacobine Friar. Upon the Tomb of his heart in the Church of Saint Clou, near Paris, adjoining to the house where he was slain.  

Adsta viator, & dole Regum vicem,  
Cor Regis isto conditum est sub marmore,  
Qui iura Gallis, iura Sarmatis dedit.  
Tectus Cucullo hunc sustulit Sicarius,  
Abi Viator, & dole Regum vicem.   

Th●…s Paraphastically Englished.  
WHether thy choice, or chance thee hither brings,  
Stay Passenger, and while the hap of kings.  
This little stone, a great King's heart doth hold▪  
That ru'ld the fickle French, and ●…olackes bold:  
Whom with a mighty worlike host attended  
With traitorous knife, a coused monster ended.  
So frail are even the highest earthly things.  
Go passenger, and wail the hap of Kings.   
F. D.   

Addit. per Cham Best. Arm. An Epitaph on Henry the fourth the last French King.  

THat we should more bewail the hap of kings,  
Great Henry Bo●…bons death occasion brings,  
To Henry Valois ne●…t crowned King of France,  
Next both in blood, in name, in reign, in chance.  
Perils his youth, wa●…s did his manhood spend,  
His old a●…e peace, till murder his life did end:  
His conquest's glory, his wisdom peace did wi●…,  
His faith heaven, Christ pardon for his sin.    

An Epitaph on Queen Elizabeth.  

ELiza that great maiden Queen lies here,  
Who governed England four and forty year,  
Our coins refined in Ireland tamed, Belgia protected,  
Friended France, foiled Spain, and Pope rejected:  
Princes found her powerful, the world virtuous,  
Her subjects wise and just, and God religious:  
God hath her soul, the world her admiration,  
Subjects her good deeds, Princes her imitation.    

Unions jewel.  

divers rare gems in thee O union shine:  
First seven Margarites in thy jewel stand:  
Matilda's three, three Jane's of regal line,  
Two royal Maries, two Eliza's, and  
One Isbell, Anne, Sibyl, and Margery,  
All royal gems, set princely shine in thee,   

But first in it doth Agasia shine,  
Who first with Durstus it began to make.  
Then Margaret, next of our King Edgar's line,  
Whom Malcolm King of Scots, to wife did take.  
Whose grandchild Mawde our Empress did conjoin  
Scots, Saxon, Norman blood in our King's line.   

For their child Mawde, our first Henry did marry,  
Of them Matild our said Empress did spring:  
By whose second husband our Kings did carry  
Name of great Plantagenet, than Scots King  
First Alexander did Sibilla wed,  
Who sprung from our William conquerors bed.   

The third Matild their first king David married,  
Earl Waldoffes' daughter, niece to great K▪ William:  
jane our King john's daughter thither was carried  
By their second Alexander, after came  
Their third King Alexander who did marry  
An other Margaret, daughter of our third Harry.   

From them two did another Margaret spring,  
Who by Norway's Prince a fourth Margaret had,  
Scots infant Queen whom first Edward our king▪  
To have married to his son, would have been glad.  
So Scotland's Pears would too▪ her death said nay,  
Which only this great union than did stay.   

Though that most noble and victorious king.  
This natural union could not then advance,  
Another he as great t'effect did bring  
When he his son married to the heir of France  
Isbell, by whom since all our kings have claimed  
The crown of France, which some of the have gained.   

Though this our second Edward did prevent,  
That he from Scotland did not not take his wife,  
His daughter jane performed his intent  
With second David spending there her life.  
He did the child of second Edward marry  
As third Alexander did of our third Harry.   

Without issue they died, than Margery,  
Their first King Robert's daughter Bruse by name,  
Scots Queen by birth, must needs remembered be:  
By whom Lord Stewart did increase his fame.  
From them second Robert, & james Stewart from him  
Third Robert named, whence first james did begin.   

A valiant Prince who spent his youthful prime,  
In martial deeds, with our fifth Henry in France:  
To whom our sixth king Henry in his time,  
jane our third Edward's grandchild did advance.  
In marriage, she of Henry Bewford sprung,  
Somersets Earl was virtuous, fair and young.   

Fifth Margaret Richmond's Countess forth did bring  
Our seventh Henry, who one division ended,  
With Eliza, heir of our fourth Edward king:  
From both whom great'st Margaret of all descended:  
From whom and fourth james, fifth james Scottish king,  
And from him Mary Scots last Queen did spring.   

Fourth james being dead, Margaret did Douglas marry,  
They a daughter Margaret had, Earl Lyneux wife▪  
Whose son Lord Darnley married their last Marry,  
Of whom comes Charles james finisher of strife.  
Who with Anne makes union by the childless death▪  
Of our Queen's Mary, and Elizabeth.   

The rarest pearls, and richest Margarits all,  
Which ever did in any jewel stand▪  
The rarest jewel too, and most Angelical,  
Almost made up by God and Nature's hand,  
By men to be finished to this Isle sent,  
Then to be worn for her best ornament.    

A panegyric to my sovereign Lord the King.  

GReat King, since first this I'll by Ioues own hand,  
Was set apart within great oceans arms,  
And was appointed by herself to stand,  
Fenc'●… round about with rocks from foreign harms:  
She into sundry parts hath oft been torn,  
And greatest wounds by her own blows hath borne.   

But all the fractions now which man did make,  
Since it in one whole number nature gave,  
Are added up, and brought to one great stake,  
And being all sum'de up, one total have.  
For Britain now to all the dividend,  
In one whole quotient all doth comprehend.   

For thou the Monarch of this western I'll,  
Now all her shivered parts hast brought together:  
Spreading thy Empire's wings eight hundred mile,  
In length, and four in breadth, there staying neither▪  
But ore'old oceans breast thy arm dost stretch  
Through Ireland, making it to India reach▪   

To Jude thou the tribes hast brought again,  
Which by themselves did in Samaria dwell▪  
jordane by thee whose stream did run amain,  
Is now dried up, that every tribe may well  
To other go: thou hast broke down the wall,  
Which Adrian made, and which we picticke call.   

Thou virtues orb where fame is still ascendent,  
And never can her highest auge attain,  
Conquetour of a I hearts, all flatteries transcendent,  
Who hold'st it loss to take, to give great gain.  
Of bounteous deeds the ever-running spring,  
To many wealth, to all dost gladness bring.   

The Muse's darling who with golden Pen,  
And silu'red tongue thy princely mind canst tell,  
In whom learning a Prince's richest gem,  
Both human, and divine abounding dwell.  
The great contriver of this triple I'll,  
To one imperial diadem and style.   

The royal product of the princely dove,  
Which England's Noah from pieces Ark sent forth,  
After wars deluge, who olive branch of love.  
Dost bring with thee in thy return from North:  
How joyfully did Britain reach her hand,  
To take thee int' the Ark of this her land?   

With great Eliza glory of her own,  
Wonder of future times, true Church's nurse,  
The ancient faith's reviver, on whom were shown,  
heavens blessings, all men's prayers, no man's curse.  
Fortune's favours, nature's wealth, God's high grace,  
The Muse's lodge, all virtues dwelling place.   

Our Sun did set with great Elizabeth,  
Before night thou a new daylight didst bring,  
Our summers peace did close at her cold death,  
Without wars winter thou Renewdst our spring▪  
All our lives joys with her dead seemed to be,  
Before entombed they were revived by thee.   

Centre of royal births, in whom do meet▪  
Lines drawn from all the noble conquerors blood,  
Which ever in any part with warlike feet,  
Of this great Isle's circumference have stood,  
With thy fair Queen, a sea whither do run,  
Streams of all royal blood of Christendom.   

Both royal plants whence princely branches spring,  
Whereon grow our best fruits of hope and joy  
Great offsprings both, of many a noble King▪  
An antidotesh ' against this lands annoy.  
In whose mild looks hath princely majesty,  
A marriage made with modest courtesy.   

She virtues book bound in a golden cover,  
Wherein nature hath writ with Gods own quill,  
All beauty's learning, where thou her true lover,  
Mayst read sweet lectures of delight at will.  
And on the frame of whose divinest feature,  
All graces shine that can be in a creature.   

Sprung of a double, knit to a triple King,  
Late quadruple, the holy number, Three,  
Grateful to God did seem more apt to bring,  
Peace to this land, with love and unity.  
Plant royal set by juno in this land,  
Whose ancestors by Mars here once did stand.   

Sacred beauty her makes seem angelical,  
Thee heavenly wisdom to the stars do raze,  
Minerva her, Apollo thee do call  
Their darlings, both truest themes of all praise.  
Together live and love, and long do reign,  
To our, to your, to Gods▪ joy, bli●…le, and gain.    

To my Lord the Prince.  

Darling of these, of future times the glory,  
Branch royal sprung from many a regal stem,  
On whose fair structure, written is the story  
Of nature's chiefest skill, world's choicest gem,  
Wit's richest Cabinet, virtues best array,  
Centre where lines of all hearts loves do meet▪  
Sweet ground whereon the Muse's love to play,  
Ripe in wit, though green in years, of form most sweet  
Scotland's fair fruit, England's great hope, Frances love▪  
Ireland's awe, Cambria's joy, great Britain's ●…ame,  
Abridgement of all worth, the mighty jove,  
Long lengthen your good days, and still your name,  
And when you shall have honoured long this land  
Grant you a glorious Saint in heaven to stand.    

To the excellent Lady Elizabeth her Grace.  

Fair virtues gem▪ set in most royal gold,  
The worthiest owner of the fairest mansion,  
Rich prize for which nature and fortune hold  
With Muses and graces Great contention:  
All which by agreement this partition make,  
None of themselves worthy of all discerning,  
Nature your beauty, Graces your virtues take,  
Fortune shares your honour, Muses your learning.  
Map of perfection, who deserve to be,  
And are the worthiest mark the world can yield,  
For all great Christian Princes loves, they see  
Such virtues wheat, growing in beauty's field:  
Long may you live, a holy and happy life,  
A royal maid first, than a royal wife.    

De lapsu hominis in Adam.  

PAuper amabilis & venerabilis est benedictus,  
Dives inutilis, insatiabilis, est maledictus,  
Qui ●…ona negligit, & mala diligit, intrat abyssum.  
Nulla potentia, nulla pecunia▪ liberat ipsum.  
Irremeabilis, insatiabilis, illa vorago,  
Hic ubi mergitur, horrida cernitur omnis image.  
Uir miserabilis Euaque flebilis hoc subierunt,  
Hic cruciamina, per sua crimina, cum m●…ruerunt.  
jussa Dei pia, jussa salubria si tenuissent,  
Vir neque f●…mina, nec sua semina, morte perissent,  
Sed quia spernere iussaque solvere non timuere,  
Mors gravis irrujt, hoc merito fuit, & periere.  
janua mortis passio fortis crimen corum,  
A●…tulit ●…rbi semina morbi, totque malorum.  
Illa parentes, atque sequentes culpa peremit,  
Atque piar●…m deliciarum munus ademit.  
●…lebile fatum dans cruciatum, dansque dolorem,  
Illa merenti perdere tanti regis honorem.  
Est data saevam causa per Euam perditionis,  
Dum meliorem sperat honorem voce draconis,  
Hoc male credens, nos quoque laedens crimine magn●…,  
Omnia tristi subdidit isti saecula damn●….  
Stirps miserorum plena dolorum postea crevit,  
His quoque damnis pluribus annis subdita flevit.    

De restitutione hominis per Christum.  

SEd Deus omnipotens, qui verbo cuncta creavit,  
Sic cecidisse d●…lens homines quos semper amavit,  
Ipse suum verbum transmi●…it ad in●…im a mundi,  
Exulibus miseris aperire viam redeundi.  
Filius ergo Dei descendit ab arce superna  
Nunquam discedens à maiestate paterna,  
Qui corpus sumens animatum, numine salu●…  
Processit natus sacrae de virginis alu●….  
Uerus homo, verusque Deus, pius & miserat●…r,  
Uerus salvator, nostraeque salutis amator,  
Sponte su●… mor●…ens mortem moriendo peremit  
●…t sic p●…rpetua miser●…s à morte redemit,  
Namque pia de morte resurgens, ut Leo f●…rtis,  
Restituit vitam prostrato principe mortis.    

Of the fall of man in Adam.  

THe poor man beloved, for virtue approved, right blessed is he,  
Where covetous chu●…f who never hath enough, accursed shallbe.  
Who goodness rejecteth, & evil affecteth, shall fall in the pit,  
No plenty of pence shall free him from thence, no power nor wit.  
Both unrepassable and unsatiable, that gulf will appear,  
Imbogd he shall be, where nought he shall see, but horror & fear.  
Adam unstable, and Eve variable, the very first time,  
By falling from God, deserved this rod, (O horrible crime,)  
For had they adhered to God, & him feared, by keeping his reed  
Then death had not come on, the man or the woman, or any their seed.  
But when as the man, from God's will began, basely to revolt,  
For his grievous sin, death came rushing in, and on him laid holt,  
This was the great crime, which at the first time, by craft of the devil,  
Did bring in the seed, of sickness and need, & all other evil:  
This was the sin, which first did begin, our parents to kill,  
And heavenly food, prepared for our good, did utterly spill.  
Unhappy the fate, which first such a state, such sorrow did bring,  
To him that had lost, so much to our cost, our heavenly king.  
The credulous Eve, 'twas she that did give, the cause of such evil,  
Hoping that honour, would come more upon her, deceived by the deui●…▪  
Believing of him, did make her to sin, to all our great loss,  
For mankind ere sense, received from hence, an horrible cross.  
For all the nations, through all generations, which after have been  
With grief of their heart, have tasted the smart of that primitive ●…in.    

Of the restoring of man by Christ.  

But jove omnipotent, all things by his word who created,  
Gri●…uing man to be fal●…e, whose love was in him so innated  
Sent from above his word, for man to prepare a returning  
Thence, where else had he lain, through all eternity burning▪  
So Gods only begotten son, came down to redeem us,  
Yet did he still himself, his father's glory beteeme us.  
A body formed with a soul, to his divinity taking.  
And to be borne of a virgin, his humanity making.  
Born very God, very man, he a man God, merciful, holy,  
Purchased our salvation, was our Saviour wholly.  
For by his willing death, he death's self wholly defeated,  
And so us all from eternal death, by death ●…ebegetted  
From death again rising, he death's prince mightily maimed,  
Whereby his own from death, to eternal life he regained.   
FINIS.