The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania. Written by the right honorable the Lady Mary Wroath. Daughter to the right noble Robert Earle of Leicester. And neece to the ever famous, and renowned Sr. Phillips Sidney knight. And to ye most exele[n]t Lady Mary Countesse of Pembroke late deceased

PAMPHILIA, TO AMPHILANTHVS.

1

WHen night's blacke Mantle could most darknesse proue, And sleepe (deaths Image) did my senses hyre, From Knowledge of my selfe, then thoughts did moue Swifter then those, most switnesse neede require••

In sleepe, a Chariot drawne by wing'd Desire, I saw; where sate bright Venus Queene of Loue, And at her feete her Sonne, still adding Fire To burning hearts, which she did hold aboue,

But one heart flaming more then all the rest, The Goddesse held, and put it to my breast, Deare Sonne now shut, said she, thus must we winne;

He her obeyd, and martyr'd my poore heart. I waking hop'd as dreames it would depart, Yet since, O me, a Louer I haue beene.

2

DEare eyes how well indeed, you doe adorne That blessed Sphere, which gazing soules hold deare? The loued place of sought for triumphs, neere The Court of Glory, where Loues force was borne.

How may they terme you Aprills sweetest morne? When pleasing lookes, from those bright lights appeare A Sunne-shine day, from clowdes, and mists still cleare: Kinde nursing fires for wishes yet vnborne.

Two Starres of Heauen sent downe to grace the Earth, Plac'd in that Throne which giues all ioyes their birth, Shining, and burning; pleasing yet their Charmes:

Which wounding euen in hurts are deem'd delights; So pleasant is their force, so great their mights, As happy they can tryumph in their harmes.

3

YEt is there hope, then Loue but play thy part, Remember well thy selfe, and thinke on me; Shine in those eyes which conquer'd haue my heart, And see if mine, be slacke to answer thee.

Lodge in that breast, and pitty moouing see, For flames which in mine burne in truest smart, Exciling thoughts, that touch Inconstancy, Or those which waste not in the constant Art.

Watch but my sleepe, if I take any rest, For thought of you, my spirit so distrest, As pale and famish'd, I for mercy cry.

Will you your seruant leaue? thinke but on this, Who weares Loue's Crowne, must not doe so amisse But seeke their good, who on thy force doe lye.

4

FOrbeare darke night, my ioyes now budd againe, Lately growne dead, while cold aspects, did chill The roote at heart, and my chiefe hope quite kill, And thunders strooke me in my pleasures waine.

Then I alas with bitter sobs, and paine, Priuately groan'd, my Fortunes present ill; All light of comfort dimb'd, woes in prides fill, With strange encrease of griefe, I grieu'd in vaine.

And most, when as a memory to good Molested me, which still as witnes stood, Of thos•• best dayes, in former time I knew:

Late gone as wonders past, like the great Sow, Melted and wasted, with what, change must know: Now backe the life comes where as once it grew.

5

CAn pleasing sight misfortune euer bring? Can firme desire a painefull torment trye? Can winning eyes proue to the heart a sting? Or can sweet lips in Treason hidden lye?

The Sunne most pleasing, blindes the strongest eye, If two much look'd on, breaking the sights string; Desires still crost must vnto mischiefe hie, And as Despaire, a lucklesse chance may fling.

Eyes hauing none, reiecting prooues a sting, Killing the budd before the tree doth spring; Sweet lipps, not louing, do as poyson proue:

Desire, sight, eyes, lipps; seeke, see, proue, aud finde, You loue may winn, but curses, if vnkinde, Then shew you harmes dislike, and ioy in loue.

6

O Striue not still to heape disdaine on me, Nor pleasure take, your cruelty to show On haplesse me, on whom all sorrowes flow, And byding make, as giuen, and lost by thee.

Alas, euen griefe is growne to pitty me, Scorne cryes out 'gainst it selfe such ill to show, And would giue place for ioyes delights to flow; Yet wretched I, all torture beare from thee.

Long haue I suffer'd, and esteem'd it deare, S••nce such thy will, yet grew my paine more neere: Wish you may ende, say so, you shall it haue;

For all the deapth of my heart-held despaire, Is that for you, I feele not Death for care, But now Ile seeke it, since you will not saue.

Song. I. (Book 1)

THe Spring now come at last To Trees, Fields, to Flowres, And Meadowes makes to taste His pride, while sad showres Which from mine eyes doe flow Makes knowne with cruell paines, Cold Winter yet remaines, No signe of Spring wee knowe.

The Sunne which to the Earth Giues heate, light, and pleasure, Ioyes in Spring hateth Dearth, Plenty makes his Treasure. His heate to me is colde, His light all darknesse is, Since I am barr••d of blisse, I heate, nor light behold

A Shepherdesse thus said, Who was with griefe opprest, For truest Loue betrayd, Barrd her from quiet rest: And weeping thus, said shee, My e••d approacheth neere, Now Willow must I weare•• My Fortune so will bee.

With Branches of this tree Ile dresse my hapless•• head, Which shall my witnesse bee, M•• hopes in Loue are dead: My cloathes imbroder'd all, Shall be with Garlands round, Some scatter'd, others bound; Some tyde, some like to fall.

The Barke my Booke shall bee, Where dayly I will write, This tale of haples mee, True slaue to Fortunes spite. The roote shall be my bedd, Where nightly I will lye Wailing in constancy, Since all true loue is dead.

And these Lines I will leaue, If some such Louer come, Who may them right conceiue, and place them on my Tombe: She who•• still constant lou'd Now dead with cruell care, Kill'd with vnkind Dispaire, And change, her end heere prou'd.

7

LOue leaue to vrge, thou knowest thou hast the hand 'Tis Cowardize to striue where none resist, Pray thee leaue off, I yeeld vnto thy band, Doe not thus still in thine owne power pe••sist.

Behold, I yeeld; let forces be dismist, I am thy Subiect conquer'd bound to stand Neuer thy foe, but did thy claime assist, Seeking thy due of those who did withstand.

But now it seemes thou would'st I should thee loue, I doe confesse, 'twas thy will made mee choose, And thy faire shewes made me a Louer proue, When I my freedome did for paine refuse.

Yet this, Sir god, your Boy-ship I despise, Your charmes I obey, but loue not want of eyes.

8.

LEdd by the power of griefe to wailings brought, By false conceit of change fallen on my part; I seeke for some small ease by lines which bought, Increas•• the paine; griefe is not cur'd by Art.

Ah! how vnkindnesse moues within the heart, Which still is true and free from changing thought: What vnknowne woe it breeds, what endlesse smart, With ceaslesse teares which causelesly are wrought.

It makes me now to shun all shining light, And seeke for blackest clouds me light to giue: Which to all others onely darknesse driue; They on me shine, for Sunne disdaines my sight.

Yet though I darke doe liue, I triumph may, Vnkindnes, nor this wrong shall loue allay.

9.

BEe you all pleas'd, your pleasures grieue nor me; Doe you delight? I enuy not your ioy: Haue you content? contentment with you be; Hope you for blisse? hope still, and still enioy.

Let sad misfortune, haplesse me destroy, Leaue crosses to rule me, and still rule free: While all delights their contraries imploy, To keepe good backe, and I but torments see.

Ioyes are ber••au'd me, harmes doe only tarry, Despaire takes place, disdaine hath got the hand: Yet firme loue holds my senses in such band, As (since despised) I with sorrow marry.

Then if with griefe I now must coupled bee, Sorrow Ile wed; Despaire thus gouernes mee.

10.

THe weary Traueller, who tyred, sought In places distant farre, yet found no end Of paine or labour, nor his state to mend: At last with ioy is to his home backe brought.

Findes not more ease though he with ioy be fraught, When past his feare content like soules ascend: Then I, on whom new pleasures doe descend, Which now as high as first-borne blisse is wrought.

He tyred with his paines, I with my minde; He all content receiues by ease of lymbs: I, greatest happinesse that I doe finde, Beliefe for faith, while hope in pleasure swimmes.

Truth saith 'twas wrong conceit bred my despight, Which once acknowledg'd, brings my hearts delight.

11.

YOu endlesse torments that my rest oppresse, How long will you delight in my sad paine? Will neuer Loue your fauour more expresse? Shall I still liue, and euer feele disdaine?

Alasse now stay, and let my griefe optaine Some end; feede not my heart with sharpe distresse: Let me once see my cruell fortunes gaine, At least release, and long-felt woes redresse.

Let not the blame of cruelty disgrace The honour'd title of your god-head Loue; Giue not iust cause for me so say, a place Is found for rage alone on me to moue.

O quickly end, and doe not long debate My needfull ayd, lest helpe doe come too late.

12.

CLoy'd with the torments of a tedious night, I wish for day; which come, I hope for ioy: When crosse I finde, new tortures to destroy, My woe-kild heart, first hurt by mischiefes might.

Then crye for night, and once more day takes flight. And brightnesse gone, what rest should heere inioy Vsurped is: Hate will her force imploy; Night cannot Griefe intombe though blacke as spite.

My thoughts are sad, her face as sad doth seeme; My paines are long, her howers tedious are; My griefe is great, and endlesse is my care; Her face, her force, and all of woes esteeme. Then welcome Night, and farewell flattering day, Which all hopes breed, and yet our ioyes delay.

Song. 2. (Book 2)

ALl Night I weepe, all Day I cry, Ay me, I still doe wish, though yet deny, ay me: I sigh, I mourne, I say that still, I only am the store for ill, ay me.

In coldest hopes I freez••, yet burne, ay me, From flames I striue to flye, yet turne, ay me: From griefe I hast, but sorrowes hye, And on my heart all woes doe lye, ay me.

From contraries I seeke to run, ay me, But contraries I cannot shun, ay me: For they delight their force to trye, And to Despaire my thoughts doe tye, ay me.

Whither alasse then shall I goe, ay me, When as Despaire all hopes outgoe, ay me: If to the Forrest Cupid hies, And my poore soule to his law tyes, ay me.

To the Court: O no, he cryes fye, ay me, There no true loue you shall espye, ay me: Leaue that place to falsest Louers, Your true loue all truth discouers, ay me,

Then quiet rest, and no more proue, ay me, All places are alike to Loue, ay me: And constant be in this begun, Yet say, till Life with Loue be done, Ay me.

13.

DEare famish nor what you your selfe gaue foode, Destroy not what your glory is to saue: Kill not that soule to which you spirit gaue, In pitty, not disdaine, your triumph stood.

An easie thing it is to shed the bloud Of one who at your will yeelds to the graue: But more you may true worth by mercy craue, When you preserue, not spoyle, but nourish good.

Your sight is all the food I doe desire, Then sacrifice me not in hidden fire, Or stop the breath which did your praises moue.

Thinke but how easie 'tis a sight to giue, Nay, euen desert, since by it I doe liue, I but Camelion-like, would liue, and loue.

14.

Am I thus conquer'd? haue I lost the powers, That to withstand which ioyes to ruine me? Must I bee still, while it my strength deuoures, And captiue leads me prisoner bound, vnfree?

Loue first shall leane mens fant'sies to them free, Desire shall quench loues flames, Spring, hate sweet showres; Loue shall loose all his Darts, haue sight, and see His shame and wishings, hinder happy houres.

Why should we not Loues purblinde charmes resist? Must we be seruile, doing what he list? No, seeke some host to harbour thee: I flye

Thy Babish tricks, and freedome doe professe; But O, my hurt makes my lost heart confesse: I loue, and must; so farewell liberty.

15.

TRuely (poore night) thou welcome art to me, I loue thee better in this sad attire Then that which rayseth some mens fant'sies higher, Like painted outsides, which foule inward be.

I loue thy graue and saddest lookes to see, Which seemes my soule and dying heart entire, Like to the ashes of some happy fire, That flam'd in ioy, but quench'd in misery.

I loue thy count'nance, and thy sober pace, Which euenly goes, and as of louing grace To vs, and mee, among the rest opprest,

Giues quiet peace to my poore selfe alone, And freely grants day leaue; when thou art gone, To giue cleare light, to see all ill redrest.

16.

SLeepe fye possesse me not, nor doe not fright me with thy heauy, and thy deathlike might: For counterfetting's vilder then death's sight; And such deluding more my thoughts doe spight.

Thou suffer'st falsest shapes my soule t'affright, Sometimes in likenesse of of a hopefull spright; And oft times like my Loue, as in despight; Ioying, thou canst with malice kill delight.

When I (a poore foole made by thee) thinke ioy Doth flow, when thy fond shadowes doe destroy My that while sencelesse selfe, left free to thee.

But now doe well, let me for euer sleepe, And so for euer that deere Image keepe Or still wake that my senses may be free.

17.

SWeet shades, why doe you seeke to giue delight To me, who deeme delight in this vilde place: But torment, sorrow, and mine owne disgrace, To taste of ioy, or your vaine pleasing sight?

Shew them your pleasures who saw neuer night Of griefe, where ioyings fawning smiling face Appeares as day, where griefe found neuer space: Yet for a sigh, a groane, or enuies spite.

But O: on me a world of woes doe lye, Or els on me all harmes striue to relye, And to attend like seruants bound to me.

Heate in desire, while frosts of care I proue, Wanting my loue, yet surfet doe with loue, Burne and yet freeze, better in Hell to be.

18.

WHich should I better like of, day or night? Since all the day, I liue in bitter woe: Inioying light more cleere my wrongs to know, and yet most sad, feeling in it all spite.

In night when darknesse doth forbid all light; Yet see I griefe apparant to the show, Follow'd by iealousie, whose fond tricks flow, And on vnconstant waues of doubt alight.

I can behold rage cowardly to feede Vpon foule error, which these humors breede, Shame doubt and feare, yet boldly will thinke ill.

All those in both I feele, then which is best Darke to ioy by day, light in night opprest? Leaue both and end, these but each other spill.

Song. 3. (Book 3)

STay my thoughts doe not aspire, To vaine hopes of high desire; See you not all meanes bereft, To inioy no ioy is left, Yet still me thinkes my thoughts doe say, Some hopes doe liue amid dismay.

Hope then once more, Hope for ioy, Bury feare which ioyes destroy, Thought hath yet some comfort giuen, Which despaire hath from vs driuen: Therefore deerely my thoughts cherish, Neuer let such thinking perish.

'Tis an idle thing to plaine, Odder farre to dye for paine; Thinke and see how thoughts doe rise, Winning where there no hope lies; Which alone is louers treasure, For by thoughts we loue doe measure.

Then kinde thought my fant'sie guide, Let me neuer haplesse slide; Still maintaine thy force in me, Let me thinking still be free; Nor leaue thy might vntill my death, But let me thinking yeeld vp breath.

19.

COme darkest Night, becomming sorrow best, Light leaue thy light, fit for a lightsome soule: Darknesse doth truely sute with me opprest, Whom absence power doth from mirth controule.

The very trees with hanging heads condole Sweet Summers parting, and of leaues distrest, In dying colours make a grief-full role; So much (alas) to sorrow are they prest.

Thus of dead leaues, her farewell carpets made, Their fall, their branches, all their mournings proue, With leauelesse naked bodies, whose hues vade From hopefull greene to wither in their loue.

If trees, and leaues for absence mourners be, No maruell that I grieue, who like want see.

20.

THe Sunne which glads the earth at his bright sight, When in the morne he showes his golden face, And takes the place from tedious drowsie Night. Making the world still happy in his grace.

Shewes happinesse remaines not in one place, Nor may the Heauens alone to vs giue light, But hide that cheerefull face, though no long space, Yet long enough for tryall of their might.

But neuer Sun-set could be so obscure, No Desart euer had a shade so sad: Nor could black darknesse euer proue so bad, As paines which absence makes me now indure.

The missing of the Sunne a while makes Night, But absence of my ioy sees neuer light.

21.

WHen last I saw thee, I did not thee see, It was thine Image which in my thoughts lay So liuely figur'd, as no times delay Could suffer me in heart to parted be.

And sleepe so fauourable is to me, As not to let thy lou'd remembrance stray: Lest that I waking might haue cause to say, There was one mnute found to forget thee.

Then, since my faith is such, so kinde my sleepe, That gladly thee presents into my thought, And still true Louer-like thy face doth keepe, So as some pleasure shadow-like is wrought.

Pitty my louing, nay of conscience giue Reward to me in whom thy selfe doth liue.

22.

LIke to the Indians scorched with the Sunne, The Sunne which they doe as their God adore: So am I vs'd by Loue, for euermore I worship him, lesse fauours haue I wonne.

Better are they who thus to blacknesse run, And so can onely whitenesse want deplore: Theu I who pale and white am with griefes store, Nor can haue hope, but to see hopes vndone.

Besides their sacrifice receiu'd in sight, Of their chose Saint, mine hid as worthlesse rite, Grant me to see where I my offerings giue.

Then let me weare the marke of Cupids might, In heart, as they in skin of Phoebus light, Not ceasing offerings to Loue while I liue.

23.

WHen euery one to pleasing pastime hies, Some hunt, fome hauke, some play while some delight In sweet discourse, and musicke shewes ioyes might: Yet I my thoughts doe farre aboue these prize.

The ioy which I take is, that free from eyes I sit and wonder at this day-like night, So to dispose themselues as void of right, And leaue true pleasure for poore vanities.

When others hunt, my thoughts I haue in chase; If hauke, my minde at wished end doth flye: Discourse, I with my spirit talke and cry; While others musicke choose as greatest grace.

O God say I, can these fond pleasures moue, Or musicke bee but in sweet thoughts of Loue?

24.

ONce did I heare an aged father say Vnto his sonne, who with attention heares What Age and wise experience euer cleares From doubts of feare, or reason to betray.

My sonne (said hee) behold thy father gray, I once had as thou hast, fresh tender yeares, And like thee sported destitute of feares; But my young faults made me too soone decay.

Loue once I did, and like thee, fear'd my Loue, Led by the hatefull threed of Iealousie, Striuing to keepe, I lost my liberty, And gain'd my griefe, which still my sorrowes moue.

In time shun this, to loue is no offence, But doubt in Youth, in Age, breeds penitence.

Song. 4. (Book 4)

SWeetest Loue returne againe, Make not too long stay; Killing mirth and forcing paine; Sorrow leading way: Let vs not thus parted be, Loue, and absence nere agree.

But since you must needs depart, And me haplesse leaue; In your iourney take my heart, Which will not deceiue: Yours it is, to you it flies, Ioying in those loued eyes.

So in part we shall not part, Though we absent be, Tyme, nor place, nor greatest smart, Shall my bands make free: Tyed I am, yet thinke it gaine, In such knots I feele no paine.

But can I liue, hauing lost Chiefest part of me? Heart is fled, and sight is crost, These my fortunes be: Yet deare heart goe, soone returne, As good there as heere to burne.

25.

POore eyes bee blinde, the light behold no more, Since that is gone which is your deare delight: Rauish'd from you by greater power and might, Making your losse a gaine to others store.

Oreflow and drowne, till sight to you restore That blessed Starre, and as in hatefull spight, Send forth your teares in flouds to kill all sight, And lookes, that lost wherein you ioy'd before.

Bury th••se beames which in some kindled fires, And conquer'd haue their loue-burnt hearts desires, Losing, and yet no gaine by you esteem'd;

Till that bright Starre doe once againe appeare, Brighter then Mars when hee doth shine most cleare; See not then by his might be you redeem'd.

26.

DEare cherish this, and with it my soules will, Nor for it ran away doe it abuse: Alas it left (poore me) your brest to choose, As the best shrine, where it would harbour still.

Then fauour shew, and not vnkindly kill The heart which fled to you, but doe excuse That which for better did the worse refuse; And pleas'd Ile be, though heartlesse my life spill.

But if you will bee kinde and iust indeed, Send me your heart, which in mine's place shall feede On faithfull loue to your deuotion bound,

There shall it see the sacrifices made Of pure and spotlesse Loue, which shall not vade, While soule and body are together found.

27.

FIe tedious Hope, why doe you still rebell? Is it not yet enough you flatter'd me, But cunningly you seeke to vse a Spell How to betray; must these your Trophees bee?

I look'd from you farre sweeter fruite to see, But blasted were your blossomes when they fell: And those delights expected from han••s free, Wither'd and dead, and what seemd blisse proues hell.

No Towne was won by a more plotted slight, Then I by you, who may my fortune write, In embers of that fire which ruin'd me:

Thus Hope your falshood calls you to be tryde, You'r loth, I see, the tryall to abide; Proue true at last, and gaine your liberty.

28.

GRiefe, killing griefe, haue not my torments beene Already great and strong enough? but still Thou dost increase, nay glory in mine il, And woes new past, a fresh new woes begin?

Am I the onely purchase thou canst win? Was I ordain'd to giue despaire her fill, Or fittest I should mount misfortunes hill, Who in the plaine of ioy cannot liue in?

If it be so, Griefe come as welcome guest, Since I must suffer for anothers rest; Yet this (good Griefe) let me intreat of thee,

Vse still thy force, but not from those I loue Let me all paines and lasting torments proue; So I misse these, lay all thy waights on me.

29.

FLye hence, O Ioy, no longer heere abide, Too great thy pleasures are for my despaire To looke on, losses now must proue my fare; Who not long since on better foode relide.

But foole, how oft had I Heau'ns changing spi'de Before of mine owne fate I could haue care: Yet now past time I can too late beware, When nothings left but sorrowes faster ty'de.

While I enioyd that Sunne, whose sight did lend Me ioy, I thought that day could haue no end: But soone a night came cloath'd in absence darke;

Absence more sad, more bitter then is gall, Or death, when on true Louers it doth fall; Whose fires of loue, disdaine reasts poorer sparke.

30.

YOu blessed shades, which giue me silent rest, Witnes but this when death hath clos'd mine eyes, And separated me from earthly tyes; Being from hence to higher place adrest.

How oft in you I haue laine heere opprest? And haue my miseries in wofull cryes Deliuer'd forth, mounting vp to the Skyes? Yet helplesse, backe return'd to wound my brest.

Which wounds did but striue how to breed more harm To me, who can be cur'd by no one charme But that of Loue, which yet may me releeue;

If not, let Death my former paines redeeme, My trusty friends, my faith vntouch'd, esteeme, And witnes••e I could loue, who so could grieue.

Song. 5. (Book 5)

TIme onely cause of my vnrest, By whom I hop'd once to be blest, How cruell art thou turn'd? That first ga••'st life vnto my loue, And still a pleasure not to moue, Or change, though euer burn'd.

Haue I thee slack'd, or left vndone One louing rite, and so haue wonne, Thy rage, or bitter changing? That now no minutes I shall see, Wherein I may least happy be, Thy fauours so estranging.

Blame thy selfe and not my folly, Time gaue time but to be holy, True Loue such ends best loueth: Vnworthy Loue doth seeke for ends, A worthy Loue, but worth pretends; Nor other thoughts it proueth.

Then stay thy swiftnes cruell Time, And let me once more blessed clime to ioy, that I may praise thee: Let me pleasure sweetly tasting, Ioy in Loue, and faith not wasting, and on Fames wings Ile raise thee.

Neuer shall thy glory dying, Bee vntill thine owne v••tying, that Tyme no longer liueth, 'Tis a gaine such time to lend, Since so thy fame shall neuer end, But ioy for what she giueth.

31.

AFter long trouble in a tedious way, Of Loues vnrest, laid downe to ease my paine,

Hoping for rest, new torments I did gaine Possessing me, as if I ought t'obey.

When Fortune came, though blinded, yet did stay, And in her blessed armes did me inchaine: I, cold with griefe, thought no warmth to obtaine, Or to dissolue that yce of ioyes decay.

Till rise (said she) Reward to thee doth send By me the seruant of true Louers ioy: Bannish all clouds of doubt, all feares destroy; And now on Fortune, and on Loue depend.

I her obey'd, and rising felt that Loue Indeed was best, when I did least it moue.

32.

HOw fast thou fliest, O Time, on Loues swift wings, To hopes of ioy, that flatters our desire: Which to a Louer still contentment brings; Yet when we should inioy, thou dost retire.

Thou stay'st thy pace (false Time) from our desire When to our ill thou hast'st with Eagles wings: Slow only to make vs see thy retire Was for Despaire, and harme, which sorrow brings.

O slake thy pace, and milder passe to Loue, Be like the Bee, whose wings she doth but vse To bring home profit; masters good to proue, Laden, and weary, yet againe pursues.

So lade thy selfe with hony of sweet ioy, And do not me (the Hiue of Loue) destroy.

33.

HOw many eyes (poore Loue) hast thou to guard Thee from thy most desired wish, and end? Is it because some say th'art blinde, that barr'd From sight, thou should'st no happines••e attend?

Who blame thee so, small Iustice can pretend, Since 'twixt thee and the Sunne no question hard Can be; his sight but outward, thou can'st bend The heart, and guide it freely thus vnbar'd.

Art thou, while we both blinde and bold, oft dare Accuse thee of the harmes our selu••s should finde:

Who led with folly, and by rashnesse blinde Thy sacred power doe with a child's compare.

Y••t Loue, this boldnesse pardon; for admire Thee sure we must, or be borne without fire.

34.

TAke heed mine eyes, how you your looks doe cast, Lest they betray my hearts most secret thought: Be true vnto your selues; for nothing's bought More deare then Doubt, which brings a Louers fast.

Catch you alwatching eyes ere they be past, Or take yours fix't, where your best Loue hath sought The pride of your desires; let them be taught Their faults for shame they could no truer last.

Then looke, and looke with ioy, for conquest won, Of those that search'd your hurt in double kinde: So you kept safe, let them themselues looke blinde, Watch, gaze, and marke till they to madnesse run.

While you mine eyes enioy full sight of Loue, Contented that such happinesses moue.

35.

FAlse Hope which feeds but to destroy and spill What it first breeds, vnnaturall to the blrth Of thine owne wombe, conceiuing but to kill And plenty giues to make the greater dearth.

So Tyrants doe, who falsly ruling Earth, Outwardly grace them, and with profits fill, Aduance those who appointed are to death; To make their greater fall to please their will.

Thus shadow they their wicked vile intent, Colouring euill with a show of good: While in faire showes their malice so is spent; Hope kill's the heart, and Tyrants shed the blood.

For Hode deluding brings vs to the pride Of our desires the farther downe to slide.

36.

HOw well (poore heart) thou witnesse canst, I loue, How oft my grief hath made thee shed forth teares,

Drops of thy dearest blood; and how oft feares Borne testimony of the paines I proue?

What torments hast thou suffer'd, while aboue Ioy thou tort••r'd wert with racks, which longing bears: Pinch'd with desires, which yet but wishing reares Firme in my faith, in constancie, to moue.

Yet is it said, that sure loue cannot be, Where so small shew of passion is descri'd•• When thy chiefe paine is, that I must it hide From all, saue one••y one, who should it see.

For know, more passion in my heart doth moue, Then in a million that make shew of loue.

Song. 6. (Book 6)

YOu happy blessed eyes, Which in that ruling place, Haue force both to delight, and to disgrace; Whose light allures and tyes All hearts to your command: O looke on me who doe at mercy stand.

'Tis you that rule my life, 'Tis you my comforts giue, Then let not scorne to me my ending driue: Nor let the frownes of strife Haue might to hurt those lights; Which while they shine they are true loues delights.

See but when Night appeares And Sunne hath lost his force, How his losse doth all ioy from vs diuorce: And when he shines, and cleares The Heauens from clowdes of Night, How happy then is made our gazing sight?

But more then Sun's faire light Your beames doe seeme to me, Whose sweetest lookes doe tye, and yet make free: Why should you then so spight Poore me? as to destroy The only pleasure that I taste of ioy.

Shine then, O dearest lights With fauour and with loue And let no cause, your cause of frownings moue:

But as the soules delights, So blesse my then blest eyes, Which vnto you their true affection tyes.

Then shall the Sunne giue place, As to your greater might, Yeelding that you doe show more perfect light. ••••en but grant this grace, Vnto your Loue-tide slaue, To shine on me, who to you all faith gaue.

And when you please to frowne, Vse your most killing eyes On them, who in vntruth and falshood lies, But (Deare) on me cast downe Sweet lookes, for true desire; That banish doe all thoughts of faigned fire.

37.

NIght, welcome art thou to my minde distrest, Darke, heauy, sad, yet not more sad then I: Neuer could'st thou finde fitter company For thine owne humour, then I thus opprest.

If thou beest darke, my wrongs still vnredrest Saw neuer light, nor smallest blisse can spye: If heauy ioy from mee to fast doth hie, And care out-goes my hope of quiet rest.

Then now in friendship ioyne with haplesse me, Who am as sad and darke as thou canst be, Hating all pleasure or delight of life, Silence and griefe, with thee I best doe loue.

And from you three I know I cannot moue, Then let vs liue companions without strife.

38.

WHat pleasure can a banish'd creature haue In all the pastimes that inuented are By wit or learning? Absence making warre Against all peace that may a biding craue.

Can wee delight but in a welcome graue, Where we may bury paines? and so be farre From loathed company, who alwaies iarre Vpon the string of mirth that pastime gaue.

The knowing part of ioy is deem'd the heart, If that be gone what ioy can ioy impart When senslesse is the feeler of our mirth?

No, I am banish'd and no good shall finde, But all my fortunes must with mischiefe binde; Who but for misery did gaine a birth.

39.

IF I were giuen to mirth, ,twould be more crosse, Thus to be robbed of my chiefest ioy: But silently I beare my greatest losse; Who's vs'd to sorrow, griefe will not destroy.

Nor can I as those pleasant wits inioy My owne ••ram'd wordes which I account the drosse Of purer thoughts, or reckon them as mosse; While they (wit-sick) themselues to breath imploy.

Alas, thinke I, your plenty shewes your want; For where most feeling is wordes are more scant; Yet pardon me, liue and your pleasure take.

Grudge not if I (neglected) enuy show, 'Tis not to you that I dislike doe owe; But (crost my selfe) wish some like me to make.

40.

IT is not Loue which you poore fooles doe deeme, That doth appeare by fond and outward showes Of kissing, toying, or by swearings gloze: O no, these are farre off from loues esteeme.

Alas, they are not such that can redeeme Loue lost, or winning keepe those chosen blowes: Though oft with face and lookes loue ouerthrowes; Yet so slight conquest doth not him beseeme.

'Tis not a shew of sighes or teares can proue Who loues indeed, which blasts of faigned loue, Increase or dye, as fauours from them slide.

But in the soule true loue in safety lies Guarded by faith, which to desert still hies: And yet kinde lookes do many blessings hide.

41.

YOu blessed Starres, which doe Heauen's glory show, And at your brightnesse make our eyes admire: Yet enuy not, though I on earth below, Inioy a sight which moues in me more fire.

I doe confesse such beauty breeds desire You shine, and clearest light on vs bestow: Yet doth a sight on Earth more warmth inspire Into my louing soule his grace to know.

Cleare, bright, and shining, as you are, is this Light of my ioy: fix't stedfast, nor will moue His light from me, nor I change from his loue; But still increase as th'earth of all my blisse.

His sight giue life vnto my loue-rould eye, My loue content, because in his loue lies.

42.

IF euer loue had force in humane brest, If euer he could moue in pensiue heart: Or if that he such powre could but impart To breed those flames, whose heat brings ioyes vnrest.

Then looke on me; I am to these adrest, I am the soule that feeles the greatest smart: I am that heartlesse Trunck of hearts depart; And I that One, by loue, and griefe opprest.

None euer felt the truth of loues great misse Of eyes till I depriued was of blisse; For had he seene, he must haue pitty show'd.

I should not haue beene made this Stage of woe, Where sad Disasters haue their open show: O no, more pitty he had sure bestow'd.

Song. 7. (Book 7)

SOrrow, I yeeld, and grieue that I did misse; Will not thy rage be satisfied with this? As sad a Diuell as thee, Made me vnhappy be: Wilt thou not yet consent to leaue, but still Striue how to show thy cursed diuelish skill?

I mourne, and dying am, what would you more? My soule attends, to leaue this cursed shoare Where harmes doe onely flow, Which teach me but to know The saddest houres of my lifes vnrest, And tyred minutes with griefes hand opprest.

Yet all this will not pacifie thy spight, No, nothing can bring ease but my last night, Then quickely let it be, While I vnhappy see That time so sparing, to grant Louers blisse, Will see for time lost, there shall no griefe misse.

Nor let me euer cease from lasting griefe, But endlesse let it be without reliefe; To winn againe of Loue, The sauour I did proone, And with my end please him, since dying, I Haue him offended, yet vnwillingly.

43.

O Dearest eyes, the lights, and guides of Loue, The ioyes of Cupid, who himselfe borne blinde, To your bright shining, doth his tryumphs binde; For, in your seeing doth his glory moue.

How happy are those places where you prooue Your heauenly beames, which makes the Sun to find Enuy and grudging, he so long hath shin'd For your cleare lights, to match his beames aboue.

But now alas, your sight is heere forbid, And darkenes must these poore lost roo••es possesse, So be all blessed lights from hen••••••orth hid, That this blacke deede of darkenesse haue excesse.

For why should Heauen affoord least light to those, Who for my misery such darkenesse chose.

44.

HOw fast thou hast st O Spring with sweetest speed) To catch thy water which before are runne, And of the greater Riuers welcome woone, Ere these thy new-borne streames these places feede.

Yet you doe well, lest staying here might breede Dangerous flouds, your sweetest bankes t'orerun••, And yet much better my distresse to shunn, Which maks my tears your swiftest course succeed.

But best you doe when with so hasty flight You fly my ills, which now my selfe outgoe, Whose broken heart can testifie such woe, That so orecharg'd, my life-bloud, wasteth quite.

Sweet Spring then keepe your way be neuer spent, And my ill dayes, or griefes, assunder rent.

45.

GOod now be still, and doe not me torment, With multitude of questions, be at rest, And onely let me quarrell with my breast, Which stil lets in new stormes my soule to rent.

Fye, will you still my mischiefes more augment? You say, I answere crosse, I that confest Long since, yet must I euer be opprest, With your tongue torture which wil ne're be spent?

Well then I see no way but this will fright, That Deuill speech; alas, I am poss••st, And madd folkes senseles are of wisdomes right,

The hellish spirit, Absence, doth arrest. All my poore senses to his cruell might, Spare me then till I am my selfe, and blest

46.

LOue thou hast all, for now thou hast me made So thine, as if for thee I were ordain'd, Then take thy conquest, nor let me be pain'd More in thy Sunne, when I doe seeke thy shade.

No place for helpe haue I left to inuade, That shew'd a face where least ease might be gain'd; Yet found I paine increase, and but obtain'd, That this no way was to haue loue allay'd

When hott, and thirsty, to a Well I came, Trusting by that to quench part of my paine, But there I was by Loue afresh imbrac'd

Drinke I could not, but in it I did see My selfe a liuing glasse as well as shee; For loue to see himselfe in, truely plac'd.

47.

O Stay mine eyes, shed not these fruitlesse teares, Since hope is past to win you back againe, That treasure which being lost breeds all your paine; Cease from this poore betraying of your feares.

Thinke this too childish is, for where griefe reares So high a powre for such a wretched gaine: Sighes nor laments should thus be spent in vaine; True sorrow neuer outward wailing beares.

Be rul'd by me, keepe all the rest in store, Till no roome is that may containe one more; Then in that Sea of teares drowne haplesse me,

And Ile prouide such store of sighes, as part Shall be enough to breake the strongest heart: This done, we shall from torments freed be.

48.

HOw like a fire doth Loue increase in me? The longer that it lasts the stronger still; The greater, purer, brighter; and doth fill No eye with wonder more then hopes still bee.

Bred in my breast, when fires of Loue are free To vse that part to their best pleasing will, And now vnpossible it is to kill The heate so great where Loue his strength doth see.

Mine eyes can scarce sustaine the flames, my heart Doth trust in them my passions to impart, And languishingly striue to shew my loue.

My breath not able is to breath least part Of that increasing fuell of my smart; Yet loue I will, till I but ashes proue.

Sonnet.

LEt griefe as farre be from your dearest breast As I doe wish, or in my hands to ease; Then should it banish'd be, and sweetest rest Be plac'd to giue content by Loue to please.

Let those disdaines which on your heart doe ceaze, Doubly returne to bring her soules vnrest: Since true loue will not that belou'd displease; Or let least smart to their minds be addrest.

But oftentimes mistakings be in loue. Be they as farre from false accusing right, And still truth gouerne with a constant might So shall you only wished pleasures proue.

And as for me, she that shewes you least scorne, With all despite and hate, be her heart torne.

Song.

O Me, the time is come to part, And with it my life-killing smart: Fond Hope leaue me, my deare must goe, To meete more ioy, and I more woe.

Where still of mirth inioy thy fill, One is enough to suffer ill: My heart so well to sorrow vs'd, can better be by new griefes bruis'd.

Thou whom the Heauens themselues like made, should neuer sit in mourning shade: No, I alone must mourne and end, Who haue a life in griefe to spend.

My swiftest pace to wailings bent, Shewes ioy had but a short time lent, To bide in me where woes must dwell, And charme me with their cruell spell.

And yet when they their witchcrafts trye, They only make me wish to dye: But ere my faith in loue they change, In horrid darknesse will I range.

Song.

SAy Venus how long haue I lou'd, and seru'd you heere? Yet all my passions scorn'd or doubted, although cleere; Alas thinke loue deserueth loue, and you haue lou'd, Looke on my paines and see if you the like haue prou'd: Remember then you are the Goddesse of Desire, and that your sacred powre hath touch'd and felt this fire.

Perswade these flames in me to cease, or them redresse in me (poore me) who stormes of loue haue in excesse, My restlesse nights may show for me, how much I lo••e, My sighes vnfaignd, can witnes what my heart doth proue: My saddest lookes doe show the griefe my soule indures, Yet all these torments from your hands no helpe procures.

Command that wayward Childe your Son to grant your right, and that his Bow and shafts he ••eeld to your faire sight, To you who haue the eyes of ioy, the heart of loue, And then new hopes may spring, that I may pitty moue: Let him not triumph that he can both hurt and saue, And more, bragge that to your selfe a wound he gaue.

Rule him, or what shall I expect of good to see? Since he that hurt you, he (alas) may murther mee.

Song.

I That am of all most crost, Hauing, and that had haue lost, May with reason thus complaine, Since loue breeds loue, and Loues paine.

That which I did most desire, To allay my louing fire, I may haue, yet now must misse, Since another Ruler is.

Would that I no Ruler had, Or the seruice not so bad, Then might I with blisse enioy That which now my hopes destroy.

And that wicked pleasure got, Brings with it the sweetest lot: I that must not taste the best, Fed, must starue, and restlesse rest.

Song.

LOue as well can make abiding In a faithfull Shepheards brest As in Princes: whose thoughts sliding Like swift Riuers neuer rest.

Change to their minds is best feeding, To a Shepheard all his care, Who when his Loue is exceeding, Thinks his faith his richest fare.

Beauty but a slight inuiting, Cannot stirre his heart to change; Constancye his chiefe delighting, Striues to flee from fant'sies strange,

Fairnesse to him is no pleasure, If in other then his loue; Nor can es••eeme that a treasure, Which in her smiles doth not moue.

This a Shepheard once confessed, Who lou'd well, but was not lou'd: Though with scorne & griefe oppressed could not yet to change be mou'd.

But himselfe he thus contented, While in loue he was accur••t: This hard hap he not repented, Since best Louers speed the worst.

Song.

DEarest if I by my deseruing, May maintaine in your thoughts my loue, Let me it still enioy; Nor faith destroy: But pitty Loue where it doth moue.

Let no other new Loue inuite you, To leaue me who so long haue serud: Nor let your power decline But purely shine On me, who haue all truth preseru'd.

Or had you once found my heart straying, Then would not I accuse your change, But being constant still It needs must kill One, whose soule knowes not how to range.

Yet may you Loues sweet smiles recouer, Since all loue is not yet quite lost, But tempt not Loue too long Lest so great wrong Make him thinke he is too much crost.

Song.

FAirest and still truest eyes, Can you the lights be, and the spies Of my desires? Can you shine cleare for Loues delight, And yet the breeders be of spight, And Iealous fires?

Marke what lookes doe you behold, Such as by Iealonsie are told They want your Loue. See how they sparckle in distrust, Which by a heate of thoughts vniust In them doe mooue.

Learne to guide your course by Art, Change your eyes into your heart, And patient be: Till fruitlesse Ielousie giue leaue, By safest absence to receiue What you would see.

Then let Loue his triumph haue, And Suspition such a graue, As not to mooue. While wished freedome brings that blisse That you enioy what all ioy is Happy to Loue.

Sonnet. I.

IN night yet may we see some kinde of light, When as the Moone doth please to shew her face, And in the Sunns roome yeelds her light, and grace, Which otherwise must suffer dullest night:

So are my fortunes barr••d from true delight, Cold, and vncertaine, like to this strange place, Decreasing, changing in an instant space, And euen at full of ioy turnd to despight.

Iustly on Fortune was bestowd the Wheele, Whose fauours fickle, and vnconstant reele, Drunke with delight of change and sudden paine;

Where pleasure hath no setled place of stay, But turning still, for our best hopes decay, And this (alas) we louers often gaine.

2.

LOue like a Iugler comes to play his prize, And all mindes draw his wonders to admire, To see how cunningly he (wanting eyes) Can yet deceiue the best sight of desire.

The wanton Childe, how he can faine his fire So prettily, as none sees his disguise, How finely doe his trickes; while we fooles hire The badge, and office of his tyrannies.

For in the ende such Iugling he doth make, As he our hearts instead of eyes doth take; For men can onely by their slights abuse••

The sight with nimble, and delightfull skill, But if he play, his gaine is our lost will, Yet Child-like we cannot his sports refuse.

3.

MOst blessed night, the happy time for Loue, The shade for Louers, and their Loues delight, The raigne of Loue for seruants free from spight, The hopefull seasons for ioyes sports to mooue.

Now hast thou made thy glory higher prooue, Then did the God, whose pleasant Reede did smite All Argus eyes into a death-like night, Till they were safe, that none could Loue reprooue.

Now thou hast cloasd those eyes from prying sight That nourish Iealousie, more then ioye•• right, While vaine Suspition fosters their mistrust,

Making sweet sleepe to master all suspect, Which els their priuate feares would not neglect, But would embrace both blinded, and vniust.

4.

CRuell Suspition, O! be now at rest, Let daily torments bring to thee some stay, Alas, make not my ill thy ease-full pray, Nor giue loose raines to Rage, when Loue's opprest.

I am by care sufficiently distrest, No Racke can stretch my heart more, nor a way Can I finde out, for least content to lay One happy foot of ioy, one step that's blest.

But to my end thou fly'st with greedy eye, Seeking to bring griefe by base Iealousie; O, in how strange a Cage am I kept in?

No little signe of fauour can I prooue, But must be way'd, and turn'd to wronging loue, And with each humour must my state begin.

5.

HOw many nights haue I with paine endurd? Which as so many Ages I esteem'd, Since my m••sfortune, yet no whit redeem'd But rather faster ty'de, to griefe assur'd.

How many houres haue my sad thoughts endur'd Of killing paines? yet is it not esteem'd By cruell Loue, who might haue these redeemd, And all these yeeres of houres to ioy assur'd.

But fond Childe, had he had a care to saue, As first to conquer, this my pleasures graue, Had not beene now to testifie my woe.

I might haue beene an Image of delight, As now a Tombe for sad misfortunes spight, Which Loue vnkindly, for reward doth show.

6.

MY paine still smother'd in my grieued brest, Seekes for some ease, yet cannot passage finde, To be dischargd of this vnwelcome guest, When most I striue, more fast his burthens binde.

Like to a Ship on Goodwins cast by winde, The more shee striue, more deepe in Sand is prest, Till she be lost: so am I in this kind Sunck, and deuour'd, and swallow'd by vnrest.

Lost, shipwrackt, spoyld, debar'd of smallest hope, Nothing of pleasure left, saue thoughts haue scope•• Which wander may; goe then my thoughts and cry:

Hope's perish'd, Loue tempest-beaten, Ioy lost, Killing Despaire hath all these blessings crost; Yet Faith still cries, Loue will not falsifie.

7.

AN end fond Ielousie, alas I know Thy hiddenest, and thy most secret Art, Thou canst no new inuention frame but part, I haue already seene, and felt with woe.

All thy dissemblings, which by faigned showe, Wonne my beliefe, while truth did rule my heart, I with glad minde embrac'd, and deemd my smart The spring of ioy, whose streames with blisse should slow.

I thought excuses had beene reasons true, And that no falshood could of thee ensue, So soone beliefe in honest mindes is wrought;

But now I finde thy flattery, and skill, Which idely made me to obserue thy will, Thus is my learning by my bondage bought.

8.

POore Loue in chaines, and fetters like a thiefe I met ledd forth, as chast Diana's gaine Vowing the vntaught Lad should no reliefe From her receiue, who gloried in fond paine.

She call'd him thiefe, with vowes he did mainetaine He neuer stole, but some sadd slight of griefe Had giuen to those who did his power disdaine, In which reuenge his honour was the chiefe.

Shee said he murther'd and therefore must dye, He that he caus'd but Loue, did harmes deny, But while she thus discoursing with him stood;

The Nymphes vnti'de him and his chaines tooke off, Thinking him safe; but he (loose) made a scoffe, Smiling and scorning them, slew to the wood.

9.

PRay doe not vse these wordes, I must be gone; Alas••e doe not foretell mine ills to come: Let not my care be to my ioyes a Tombe; But rather finde my losse with losse alone.

Cause me not thus a more distressed one, Not feeling blisse, because of this sad doome Of present crosse; for thinking will orecome And loose all pleasure, since griefe breedeth none.

Let the misfortune come at once to me, Nor suffer me with griefe to punish'd be; Let mee be ignorant of mine owne ill••

Then now with the fore-knowledge quite to lose That which with so much care and paines Loue chose For his reward, but ioy now, then mirth kill.

10.

FOlly would needs make mee a Louer be, When I did little thinke of louing thought; Or euer to be tyde, while shee told me That none can liue, but to these bands are brought.

I (ignorant) did grant, and so was bought, And sold againe to Louers slauery: The duty to that vanity once taught, Such band is, as wee will not seeke to free.

Yet when I well did vnderstand his might, How he inflam'd and forc••d one to affect: I loud and smarted, counting it delight So still to waste, which Reason did ••eiect.

When Loue came blind-fold, and did challenge me. Indeed I lou'd, but wanton Boy not hee,

Song.

THe Spring time of my first louing, Finds yet no winter of remouing; Nor frosts to make my hopes decrease: But with the Summer still increase.

The trees may teach vs Loue's remaining, Who suffer change with little paining: Though Winter make their leaues decrease, Yet with the Summer they increase.

As birds by silence shew their mourning in cold, yet sing at Springs returning: So may Loue nipt a while decrease, but as the Summer soone increase.

Those that doe loue but for a season, Doe falsifie both Loue and Reason: For Reason wills, if Loue decrease, It like the Summer should increase.

Though Loue sometimes may be mistaken, the truth yet ought not to be shaken: Or though the heate a while decrease, It with the Summer may increase.

And since the Spring time of my louing Found neuer Winter of remouing: Nor frosts to make my hopes decrease, Shall as the Summer still increase.

Song.

LOue a childe is euer crying, Please him, and he strait is flying; Giue him, he the more is crauing, Neuer satisfi'd with hauing.

His desires haue no measure, Endlesse folly is his treasure: What he promiseth, he breaketh, Trust not one word that he speaketh.

Hee vowes nothing but false matter, And to cousen you hee'l flatter: Let him gain the hand, hee'l leaue you, And still glory to deceiue you.

Hee will triumph in your wailing, And yet cause be of your failing: These his vertues are, and slighter Are his guifts; his fauours lighter.

Fathers are as firme in staying, Wolues no fiercer in their praying. As a childe then leaue him crying, Nor seeke him so giu'n to flying.

BEing past the paines of Loue, Freedome gladly seekes to moue: Sayes that Loues delights were pretty; But to dwell in them twere pitty.

And yet truly sayes, that Loue Must of force in all hearts moue: But though his delights are pretty, To dwell on them were a pitty.

Let Loue slightly passe like Loue, Neuer let it too deepe moue: For tho••gh Loues delights are pretty, To dwell in them were great pitty.

Loue no pitty hath of Loue, Rather griefes then pleasures moue: So though his delights are pretty, To dwell in them would be pitty.

Those that like the smart of Loue, In them let it freely moue: Els though his delights are pretty, Doe not dwell in them for pitty.

O Pardon Cupid, I confesse my fault, Then mercy grant me in so iust a kinde: For treason neuer lodged in my minde Against thy might, so much as in a thought.

And now my folly •• haue dearely bought, Nor could my soule least rest of quiet finde; Since Rashnes did my thoughts to Error binde, Which now thy fury, and my harme hath wrought.

I curse that thought and hand which that first fram'd, For which by thee I am most iustly blam'd: But now that hand shall guided be aright,

And giue a Crowne vnto thy••endlesse praise, Which shall thy glory and thy greatnesse raise, More then these poore things could thy honor spight.

A Crowne of Sonnets dedicated to LOVE.

IN this strange Labyrinth how shall I turne, Wayes are on all sides, while the way I misse: If to the right hand, there in loue I burne, Let mee goe forward, therein danger is.

If to the left, suspition hinders blisse; Let mee turne backe, shame cryes I ought returne: Nor faint, though crosses which my fortunes kisse, Stand still is harder, although sure to mourne.

Thus let mee take the right, or left hand way, Goe forward, or stand still, or back retire: I must these doubts indure without allay Or helpe, but trauell finde for my best hire.

Yet that which most my troubled sense doth moue, Is to leaue all and take the threed of Loue.

2.

IS to leaue all and take the threed of Loue, Which line straight leades vnto the soules content, Where choice delights with pleasures wings do moue, And idle fant'sie neuer roome had lent.

When chaste thoughts guide vs, then our minds are bent To take that good which ills from vs remoue: Light of true loue brings fruite which none repent; But constant Louers seeke and wish to proue.

Loue is the shining Starre of blessings light, The feruent fire of zeale, the root of peace, The lasting Lampe, fed with the oyle of right, Image of Faith, and wombe for ioyes increase.

Loue is true Vertue, and his ends delight, His flames are ioyes, his bands true Louers might.

3.

HIs flames are ioyes, his bandes true Louers might, No staine is there, but pure, as purest white, Where no cloud can appeare to dimme his light, Nor spot defile, but shame will soon requite.

Heere are affections tryde by Loues iust might As Gold by fire, and black discern'd by white; Error by truth, and darknes knowne by light, Where Faith is vallu'd, for Loue to requite.

Please him, and serue him, glory in his might And firme hee'le be, as Innocency white, Cleere as th'ayre, warme as Sun's beames, as day light Iust as Truth, constant as Fate, ioyd to requite.

Then Loue obey, striue to obserue his might And be in his braue Court a glorious light.

4.

ANd be in his braue Court a glorious light Shine in the eyes of Faith, and Constancy Maintaine the fires of Loue, still burning bright, Not slightly sparkling, but light flaming be.

Neuer to slake till earth no Starres can see, Till Sun, and Moon•• doe leaue to vs darke night, And second Chaos once againe doe free Vs, and the World from all diuisions spight.

Till then affections which his followers are, Gouerne our hearts, and prooue his powers gaine, To taste this pleasing sting, seeke with all care For happy smarting is it with small paine.

Such as although it pierce your tender heart, And burne, yet burning you will loue the smart.

5.

ANd burne, yet burning you will loue the smart, When you shall feele the waight of true desire, So pleasing, as you would not wish your part Of burthen should be missing from that fire.

But faithfull and vnfaigned heate aspire Which sinne abollisheth, and doth impart Salues to all feare, with vertues which inspire Soules with diuine loue; which shewes his chast Art.

And guide he is to ioyings, open eyes He hath to happinesse, and best can learne Vs, meanes how to deserue this he descries, Who blinde, yet doth our hidn'st thoughts diserne.

Thus we may gaine since liuing in blest Loue, He may our Prophet, and our Tutor prooue.

6.

HE may our Prophet, and our Tutor prooue, In whom alone we doe this power finde, To ioyne two hearts as in one frame to mooue Two bodies, but one soule to rule the minde

Eyes which must care to one deare Obiect binde, Eares to each others speach as if aboue All else, they sweete, and learned were; this kind Content of Louers witnesseth true loue.

It doth inrich the wits, and make you see That in your selfe which you knew not before, Forcesing you to admire such gifts should be Hid from your knowledge, yet in you the store.

Millions of these adorne the throane of Loue, How blest are they then, who his fauours proue?

7.

HOw bless'd be they then, who his fauors proue, A life whereof the birth is iust desire? Breeding sweete flame, which harts inuite to moue, In these lou'd eyes, which kindle Cupids fire,

And nurse his longings with his thoughts intire, Fix't on the heat of wishes form'd by Loue, Yet whereas fire destroyes, this doth aspire, Increase, and foster all delights aboue.

Loue will a Painter make you, such, as you Shall able be to draw, your onely deare, More liuely, perfect, lasting, and more true Then rarest Workeman, and to you more neere.

These be the least, then all must needs confesse, He that shuns Loue, doth loue himselfe the lesse.

8.

HE that shuns Loue, doth loue himselfe the lesse, And cursed he whose spirit, not admires The worth of Loue, where endlesse blessednes Raignes, & commands, maintain'd by heau'nly fires.

Made of Vertue, ioyn'd by Truth, blowne by Desires, Strengthned by Worth, renew'd by carefulnesse, Flaming in neuer-changing thoughts: bryers Of Iealousie shall here misse welcomnesse.

Nor coldly passe in the pursutes of Loue Like one long frozen in a Sea of yce: And yet but chastly let your passions moone, No thought from vertuous Loue your minds intice.

Neuer to other ends your Phant'sies place, But where they may returne with honor's grace.

9.

BVt where they may returne with Honor's g••ace, Where Venus follies can no harbo••r winne, But chased are, as worthlesse of the face, Or stile of Loue, who hath lasciuious beene.

Our hearts are subiect to her Sonne, where sinne Neuer did dwell, or rest one minutes space; What faults he hath in her did still beginne, And from her breast he suck'd his fleeting pace.

If Lust be counted Loue, 'tis falsely nam'd, By wickednesse, a fairer glosse to set Vpon that Vice, which else makes men asham'd, In the owne Phrase to warrant, but beget

This Childe for Loue, who ought like Monster borne, Be from the Court of Loue, and Reason torne.

10.

BEe from the Court of Loue, and reason torne, For Loue in Reason now doth put his trust, Desert and liking are together borne Children of Loue, and Reason, Parents iust.

Reason aduiser is, Loue ruler must Be of the State, which Crowne he long hath worne; Yet so, as neither will in least mistrust The gouernment where no feare is of scorn.

The reuerence both their mights thus made of one, But wantonnesse, and all those errors shun, Which wrongers be, Impostures, and alone Maintainers of all follies ill begunne.

Fruit of a sower, and vnwholesome grownd Vnprofitably pleasing, and vnsound.

11.

VNprofitably pleasing, and vnsound. When Heauen gaue liberty to fraile dull earth, To bring foorth plenty that in ills abound, Which ripest, yet doe bring a certaine dearth.

A timelesse, and vnseasonable birth, Planted in ill, in worse time springing found, Which Hemlocke like might feed a si••k••-wits mirth Where vnrul'd vapours sw••mme in endlesse round.

Then ioy we not in what we ought to shunne, Where shady pleasures shew, but true borne fires Are quite quench'd out, or by poore ashes won, Awhile to keepe those coole, and wann desires.

O no, let Loue his glory haue, and might Be giu'n to him, who triumphs in his right.

12.

BE giu'n to him, who triumphs in his right; Nor fading be, but like those blossomes faire, Which fall for good, and lose their colours bright, Yet dye not, but with fruit their losse repaire:

So may Loue make you pale with louing care, When sweet enioying shall restore that light, More cleere in beauty, then we can compare, If not to Venus in her chosen might.

And who so giue themselues in this deare kinde, These happinesses shall attend them still, To be supplide with ioyes enrich'd in minde, With treasures of content, and pleasures fill.

Thus loue to be diuine, doth here appeare, Free from all foggs, but shining faire and cleare.

13.

FRee from all foggs, but shining faire, and cleare, Wise in all good, and innocent in ill, Where holy friendship is esteemed deare, With Truth in loue, and Iustice in our Will.

In Loue these titles onely haue their fill Of happy life-maintainer, and the meere Defence of right, the punisher of skill, And fraude, from whence directions doth appeare.

To thee then, Lord commander of all hearts, Ruler of our affections, kinde, and iust, Great King of Loue, my soule from faigned smarts, Or thought of change, I offer to your trust,

This Crowne, my selfe, and all that I haue more, Except my heart, which you bestow'd before.

14.

EXcept my heart, which you bestowd before, And for a signe of Conquest gaue away As worthlesse to be kept in your choice store; Yet one more spotlesse with you doth not stay.

The tribute which my heart doth truely pay, Is faith vntouch'd, pure thoughts discharge the score Of debts for me, where Constancy beares sway, And rules as Lord, vnharmd by Enuies sore.

Yet other mischeifes faile not to attend, As enemies to you, my foes must be, Curst Iealousie doth all her forces bend To my vndoing, thus my harmes I see.

So though in Loue I feruently doe burne, In this strange Labyrinth how shall I turne?

Song. I.

SWeet, let me enioy thy sight More cleare, more bright then morning Sun, Which in Spring-time giues delight And by which Summers pride is wun. Present sight doth pleasures moue Which in sad absence we must misse: But when met againe in loue, Then twice redoubled is our blisse.

Yet this comfort absence giues, And only faithfull louing tries, That though parted, Loues force liues As iust in heart, as in our eyes:

But such comfort banish quite, Farre sweeter is it, still to finde Fauour in thy loued sight, Which present smiles with ioyes combind.

Eyes of gladnesse, lipps of Loue, And hearts from passion not to turne, But in sweet affections mooue, In flames of Faith to liue, and burne. Deare••t then, this kindnesse giue, And grant me life, which is your sight, Wherein I more blessed liue, Then graced with the Sunnes faire light.

2.

SWeet Siluia in a shady wood, With her faire Nimphs layd downe, Saw not farre off where Cupid stood, The Monarch of Loues Crowne, All naked, playing with his wings, Within a Mirtle Tree, Which sight a sudden laughter brings, His Godhead so to see.

An fondly they began to iest, With scoffing, and delight, Not knowing he did breed vnrest, And that his will's his right: When he perceiuing of their scorne, Grew in such desperate rage, Who but for honour first was borne, Could not his rage asswage.

Till shooting of his murth'ring dart, Which not long lighting was, Knowing the next way to the heart, Did through a poore Nymph passe: This shot the others made to bow, Besides all those to blame, Who scorners be, or not allow Of powerfull Cupids name.

Take heede then nor doe idly smile, Nor Loues commands despise, For soone wi•••• he your strength beguile, Although he want his eyes.

3

COme merry Spring delight vs, For Winter long did spight vs, In pleasure still perseuer, Thy beauties ending neuer: Spring, and grow Lasting so, With ioyes increasing euer.

Let cold from hence be banish'd, Till hopes from me be vauish'd, But blesse thy daynties growing In fulnesse freely flowing: Sweet Birds sing For the Spring, All mirth is now bestowing.

Philomel in this Arbour Makes now her louing Harbour, Yet of her state complaining, Her Notes in mildnesse strayning, Which though sweet, Yet doe meet. Her former luckelesse paining.

4.

LOuers learne to speake but truth, Sweare not, aud your oathes forgoe, Giue your age a constant youth, Vow no more then what you'le doe.

Thinke it sacriledge to breake What you promise, shall in loue And in teares what you doe speake Forget not, when the ends you proue.

Doe not thinke it glory is To entice, and then deceiue, Your chiefe honors lye in this, By worth what wonne is, not to leaue.

'Tis not for your fame to try, What we weake, not oft refuse, In our bounty our faults lye, When you to doe a fault will chuse.

Fye leaue this, a greater gaine, tis to keepe when you haue won, Then what purchas'd is with paine, Soone after in all scorne to shun.

For if worthlesse to be priz'd, Why at first will you it moue? And if worthy, why dispis'd? You cannot sweare, and lie, and loue.

Loue alasse you cannot like, Tis but for a fashion mou'd, None can chase, and then dislike, Vnlesse it be by fash••••d prou'd.

But your choyce is, and your loue. How most number to deceiue, As if honors claime did moue Like Popish Law, none safe to leaue.

Flye this folly, and returne Vnto truth in Loue, and try, None but Martir's happy burne, More shamefull ends they haue that lye.

1.

MY heart is lost, what can I now expect, An euening faire after a drowsie day? Alas, fond Phant'sie, this is not the way, To cure a mourning heart, or salue neglect••

They who should helpe, doe me, and helpe reiect, Embracing loose desires, and wanton play, While wanton base delights, doe beare the sway, Aud impudency raignes without respect.

O Cupid let they Mother know her shame, 'Tis time for her to leaue this youthfull flame, Which doth dishonor her, is ages blame, And takes away the greatnes of thy name.

Thou God of Loue, she only Queene of lust, Yet striues by weakning thee, to be vniust.

2.

LAte in the Forrest I did Cupid see Cold, wett, and crying, he had lost his way, And being blinde was farther like to stray; Which sight, a kind compassion bred in me.

I kindly tooke, and dry'd him, while that he, (Poore Child) complain'd, he sterued was with stay And pin'd for want of his accustom'd prey, For none in that wilde place his Host would be.

I glad was of his finding, thinking sure, This seruice should my freedome still procure, And in my armes I tooke him then vnharm'd,

Carrying him safe vnto a Myrtle bowre, But in the way he made me, feele his powre, Burning my heart, who had him kindly warm'd.

3.

IVno still iealous of her husband Ioue, Descended from aboue, on earth to try, Whether she there could find his chosen Loue, Which made him from the Heau'ns so often flye.

Close by the place where I for shade did lye, She chafing came, but when shee saw me moue, Haue you not seene this way (said she) to hye One, in whom vertue neuer grownde did proue?

Hee, in whom Loue doth breed, to stirre more hate, Courting a wanton Nimph for his delight; His name is Iupiter, my Lord, by Fate, Who for her, leaues Me, Heauen, his Throne, and light.

I saw him not (said I) although heere are Many, in whose hearts, Loue hath made like warre,

4.

WHen I beheld the Image of my deare, With greedy lookes mine eies would that way bend, Feare, and Desire, did inwardly contend; Feare to be mark'd, Desire to draw still neere.

And in my soule a Spirit would appeare, Which boldnes warranted, and did pretend To be my Genius; yet I durst not lend, My eyes in trust, where others seem'd so cleare.

Then did I search, from whence this danger rose, If such vnworthynesse in me did rest, As my staru'd eyes must not with sight be blest, When Iealousie her poyson did disclose.

Yet in my heart vnseene of Iealous eye, The truer Image shall in tryumph lye.

5.

LIke to huge Clowdes of smoake which well may hide The face of fairest day, though for a while: So wrong may shaddow me, till truth doe smile, And Iustice Sunne-like hath those vapours tyde.

O doating Time, canst thou for shame let slid, So many minutes, while ills doe beguile Thy age, and worth, and falshoods thus defile Thy auncient good, where now but crosses bide?

Looke but once vp, and leaue thy toyling pace And on my miseries thy dimme eye place, Goe not so fast, but giue my care some ende,

Turne not thy glasse (alas) vnto my ill Since thou with sand it canst not so farre fill, But to each one my sorrowes will extend.

6.

O That no day would euer more appeare, But clowdy night to gouerne this sad place, Nor light from Heauen these haples roomes to grace Since that light's shadow'd which my Loue holds deare.

Let thickest mists in enuy master here, And Sunne-borne day for malice show no face, Disdaining light, where Cupid, and the race Of Loue••s are despisd, and shame shines cleere.

Let me be darke, since barr'd of my chiefe light, And wounding Iealousie commands by might, But Stage-play-like disguised pleasures giue:

To me it seemes, as ancient fictions make The Starrs, all fashious•• and all shapes partake, While in my thoughts true forme of Loue shall liue.

7.

NO time, no roome, no thought, or writing can Giue rest, or quiet to my louing heart, Or can my m••mory, or Phant'sie scan, The measure of my still renewing smart.

Yet whould I not (deare Loue) thou should'st depart, But let my passions as they first began, Rule, wound, and please, it is thy choysest Art, To giue disquiet, which seemes ease to man.

When all alone, I thinke vpon thy paine, How thou dost trauell our best selues to gaine, Then houerly thy lessons I doe learne;

Thinke on thy glory, which shall still ascend, Vntill the world come to a finall end, And then shall we thy lasting powre dicerne.

8.

HOw Glowworme-like the Sun doth ••ow appeare, Cold beames doe from his gloriou•• face descend Which shewes his daies, and force duw to an ende, Or that to leaue taking, his time grow••s neere.

The day his face did seeme but pale, t••ough cleare, The reason is, he to the North must end His light, and warmth must to that Climat bend, Whose frozen parts could not loues ••eat hold deare

Alas, if thou bright Sunne to part fr••m hence Grieue so, what must I haplesse w•• from thence, Where thou dost goe my blessing sall attend;

Thou shalt ••nioy that sight for whic•• I dye, And in my heart thy fortuues doe nuy, Yet grieue, I'le loue thee, for thistate may 'mend.

9.

MY Muse now happy lay thy s••fe to rest, Sleepe in the quiet of a faitfull loue, Write you no more, but let the•• Phant'sies mooue Some other hearts, wake not to ew vnrest.

But if you Study be those thoughts adrest To truth, which shall eternall goodnes prooue; Enioying of true ioy the most, and best The endles gaine which neuer will remoue.

Leaue the discourse of Venus, and her sonne To young beginners, and their braines inspire With storyes of great Loue, and from that fire, Get heat to write the fortunes they haue wonne.

And thus leaue off; what's past shewes you can loue, Now let your Constancy your Honor proue.

FINIS.