The arbor of amorous deuises VVherin, young gentlemen may reade many plesant fancies, and fine deuises: and thereon, meditate diuers sweete conceites, to court the loue of faire ladies and gentlewomen by N.B. Gent.

About this Item

Title
The arbor of amorous deuises VVherin, young gentlemen may reade many plesant fancies, and fine deuises: and thereon, meditate diuers sweete conceites, to court the loue of faire ladies and gentlewomen by N.B. Gent.
Publication
Imprinted at London :: By Richard Iohnes, dwelling at the signe of the Rose and Crowne, neere Saint Andrewes Church in Holborne,
1597.
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Subject terms
English poetry -- Early modern, 1500-1700.
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A16729.0001.001
Cite this Item
"The arbor of amorous deuises VVherin, young gentlemen may reade many plesant fancies, and fine deuises: and thereon, meditate diuers sweete conceites, to court the loue of faire ladies and gentlewomen by N.B. Gent." In the digital collection Early English Books Online Collections. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A16729.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 7, 2024.

Pages

A Ladies complaint for the losse of her Loue.

COme follow me you Nymphes, Whose eyes are neuer drie, Augment your wayling number nowe With me poore Emlie.
Giue place ye to my plaintes, Whose ioyes a•••• pincht with paine▪ M loue, alas through foule mishp, Most cruell death hah slaine,

Page [unnumbered]

What wight can wel, alas, my sorrowes no indite? I waile & want my new desire I lack my new delite,
Gush out my trickling teares, Like mighty floods of raine, My Knight las, through foule mishap Most cruell death hath laine▪
Oh hap alas most hard, Oh death why didst thou so? Wy could not I embrace my ioy, for me that bid uch woe?
False Fortunu out, alas, Woe worth thy subtill trine, Wereby my loue through foule mishap, Most cruell death hath slaine.
Rock me a sleepe in woe, You wofull Sisters three, Oh cut you off my fatall threed, Dispatch poore Emelie.
Why should I liue, alas, And linger thus in paine? Farewell my life, sith that my loue Most cruell death hath slaine.
Finis.
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