Syr P.S. His Astrophel and Stella Wherein the excellence of sweete poesie is concluded. To the end of which are added, sundry other rare sonnets of diuers noble men and gentlemen.
Sidney, Philip, Sir, 1554-1586., Newman, Thomas, fl. 1587-1598. aut, Nash, Thomas, 1567-1601. aut, Daniel, Samuel, 1562-1619. aut
Page 51
The fifth Sonnet.
WHile fauour fed my hope, delight with hope was brought,
Thought waited on delight, & speach did folow thought,
Then drew my tongue and pen records vnto thy glorie;
I thought all words were lost that were not spent of thee,
I thought each place was darke but where thy lights would be,
And all eares worse than deaffe, that hard not out thy storie.
2
I said thou wert most faire, and so indeed thou art;
I said thou wert most sweete, sweete poyson to my hart;
I said my soule was thine, ô would I then had lied;
I said thy eyes were starres, thy breasts the milken way,
Thy fingers Cupids shafts, thy voyce the Angels lay:
And all is said so well, that no man it denied.
3
But now that hope is lost, vnkindnes kils delight,
Yet thought and speach do liue, thought metamorphisde quite,
For rage now rules the reynes, which guided were by pleasure,
I thinke now of thy faults, who late wrote of thy praise,
That speech falls now to blame which did thy honour raise:
The same key open can, which can locke vp a treasure.
4
Then thou whom partiall heauens conspir'd in one to frame
The proofe of beauties worke, the inheritance of fame,
The mansion state of blisse, and iust excuse of louers:
See now those feathers pluckt wherewith thou flewst most hie,
See what cloudes of reproach shall darke thy honours skie;
Whome fault once casteth downe, hardly high state recouers.
5
And ô my Muse, though oft you luld her in your lap,
And then a heauenly Childe gaue her Ambrosian pap,
And to that braine of hers your highest gifts infused;
Since she disdaining me, doth you in me disdaine,
Page 52Suffer not her to laugh, and both we suffer paine:
Princes in subiects wrongs must deeme themselues abused.
6
Your client poore, my selfe, shall Stella handle so,
Reuenge, reuenge, my Muse desiance trumpet blowe,
Threate, threat, what may be done; yet do no more but threaten:
Ah, my sute granted is, I feele my breast doth swell;
Now Childe, a lesson new you shall begin to spell,
Sweet babes must babies haue, but shrewd girles must be beaten.
7
Thinke now no more to heare of warme fine shining snow,
Nor blushing Lillyes, nor pearles Rubie hidden row,
Nor of that golden sea, whose waues in curles are broken:
But of thy soule fraught with such vngratefulnesse,
As where thou soone mightst help, most there thou dost oppresse
Vngrateful who is cald, the worst of ills is spoken.
8
Yet worse than worse, I say thou art a Thiefe. A thiefe?
Now God forbid: a thiefe, and of worst thieues a thiefe;
Thieues steale for need, & steale for goods, which pain recouers
But thou, rich in all ioyes, dost rob my goods from mee,
Which cannot be restorde by time nor industrie:
Of foes the spoyle is euill, farre more of constant louers.
9
Yet gentle English thieues doo rob, and will not slay;
Thou English murdring thiefe, wilt haue hearts for thy pray.
The name of murdrer now on thy faire forhead sitteth,
And euen while I do speake my death wounds bleeding bee,
Which I protest proceed from onely cruell thee,
Who may and wil not saue, murther in trueth committeth.
10
But murthers priuate fault seemes but a toy to thee.
I lay then to thy charge vniustice Tirannie,
If rule by force without all claime, a Tyrant sheweth;
For thou art my hearts Lord, who am not borne thy slaue,
And which is worse makes me most guiltles torments haue,
Page 53A rightfull Prince by vnrightfull deeds a Tyrant groweth.
11
Loe you grow proud with this, for Tyrants makes folk bow:
Of foule rebellion then I do appeach thee now,
Rebels by Natures lawes rebel by way of reason;
Thou sweetest subiect wert borne in the Realme of Loue,
And yet against thy Prince, thy force dost daily proue,
No vertue merits praise, once toucht with blot of Treason.
12
But valiant Rebels oft in fooles mouths purchase fame,
I now then staine thy white with blackest blot of shame,
Both Rebel to the Sonne, and vagrant from the Mother;
For wearing Venus badge, in euery part of thee,
Vnto Dianaes traine thou runnaway didst flie:
Who faileth one is false, though trustie to another.
13
VVhat is not this enough, nay farre worse commeth here:
A Witch I say thou art, though thou so faire appeare.
For I protest, mine eyes neuer thy sight enioyeth,
But Im mee am chang'd, I am aliue and dead.
My feete are turn'd to rootes, my heart becommeth lead,
No witchcraft is so ill, as which mans minde destroyeth,
14
Yet Witches may repent, thou art farre worse than they:
Alas, that I am forst such euill of thee to say:
I say thou art a Diuel though cloathd in Angels shining:
For thy face tempts my soule to leaue the heauens for thee,
And thy words of refuse doo powre euen hell on mee:
Who tempts, and tempted plagues are Diuels in true desining.
15
You then vngrateful theefe, you murthering Tyrant you,
You Rebel runnaway to Lord and Lady vntrue,
You witch, you Diuel (alas) you still of me beloued,
You see what I can say; mend yet your froward minde,
And such skill in my Muse you reconcil'd shall finde,
That by these cruell words your praises shalbe proued.
