Scillaes metamorphosis: enterlaced with the vnfortunate loue of Glaucus VVhereunto is annexed the delectable discourse of the discontented satyre: with sundrie other most absolute poems and sonnets. Contayning the detestable tyrannie of disdaine, and comicall triumph of constancie: verie fit for young courtiers to peruse, and coy dames to remember. By Thomas Lodge of Lincolnes Inne, Gentleman.

Glaucus complaint written by the said Gent.

THe Billowes that by windes assisting breath Dooth beate vpon the rocks at last doo peirce them: Ah then (thou gentle ofspring of my death) Why faile my plaints when penciue I rehearse them To wound thine eares? when as my words excéed them, And that my sighes in steade of windes doo leade them. Along the floods I wander all forlorne, Nor may the Sea-nimphes smiles enforce me play: But if I think, I think vpon thy scorne, And if I wish, I wish my dismall day, Oh fruites of loue, oh powrefull course of paine▪ That one should like the thing that hath him slaine. Looke in my mothers Christall face, faire maide, There read the storie of my bitter state; My teares her siluer floatings haue alaid, Her troubled lookes foreshowe my wretched fate: If not for me, yet mourne her bitter wéeping, And pittie him whose heart is in thy kéeping. Take pittie Scilla, pittie thou thy louer; For thou art faire, and beautie should haue pittie, Ahlas she flies, perswasions cannot moue her, She is too wanton, or too foolish wittie: Along the floates the scalie troopes encrease, Yet nill she loue to maintaine natures peace. Oh stepdame Nature hast thou shut these faires Within the rampeir of so déepe disdaine, To kill a God with sorrowes and dispaires: Would God thy powre (to lessen all my paine) Were dead in her; or fancies quenchles fire Might from my brest with ceaseles course retire.

But all in vaine (so vaine is loues pursute) Trie I her eares, and tempt her hardned heart: Cease wretched tongue, twere better still be mute, Than tell a tale of griefe and endles smart To her that grounds her glories on disdaine, And takes a pride to viewe my bitter paine. (Fond that I am) all these are faint supposes: Imperious Loue (to shewe his endles power) My tender and immortall heart encloses Within the center of her louely lowre: That all may sée, Loues prison is her eie, And Gods must stoope vnto his deitie. Yet (Loue) allot prescriptions vnto woe; Els will the sowre excéed the swéete by farre: Or leuell pittie from thy lawles bowe, That sorrowe in excesse, may cause a warre That may consume, if not confound my life; And I may séeme to die amidst the strife. The deafe nill heare: both she and Loue together Haue made a match to aggreuate my griefe: I sée my hell, there rests no hope in either: From proud contempt there springeth no reliefe, What rests there then but since I may not gaine her, In piteous tearmes and teares for to complaine her.

FINIS.