Torquato Tassos Aminta Englisht To this is added Ariadne's complaint in imitation of Anguillara; written by the translater of Tasso's Aminta.

Actus Primus.

Scen: Prima.

Daphne. Siluia.

I'st possible (Siluia) thou canst resolue To spend the faire houres of thy flowring youth With such contempt of Venus, and her Sonne; And hast no more desire to be a mother, And leaue a part of thee (when thou art dead) Liuing behinde thee? Change (young fondling) change Thy minde; and do not leade a life so strange.

Sil.

Daphne, let others pleasure take in loue, (If in such thraledome any pleasure bee;) The life I leade contents me well enough; To chase the flying Deere ouer the lawne With Hounde, or well-aym'de Flight, and while I finde ••hafts in my quiuer, and beasts for my pray, Ile want no sport to passe the time away.

Da:

Fine sports no doubt, and sure a goodly life For silly mindes that neuer tasted other, And for that cause alone it pleases thee: ••o duller ages heretofore could thinke ••cornes and water the best meate and drinke, ••efore the vse of corne and wine was founde, ••ut now th'are onely eate and drunke by beastes:

And hadst thou but once proou'd the thousand part Of the deare joyes those happy louers feele, That truely loue, and are belou'd againe, Thou wouldst with sighes repent thy time mispent, And onely call a louers life Content. And say, O my past springtyde, how in vaine Spent I thy widowy nights? how many dayes In fruitlesse lonenesse, which I now be waile? Why knew I not loues sweetes haue this condition To bring new ioyes with eu'ry repetition? Change, change thy minde (young silly one) and knowe Too late repentance is a double woe.

Sil.

When I repent the thoughts I carry now, Or say such words as these thou fayning framest To sport thy selfe withall; the Floulds shall runne Backe to their Springs, the Wolfe shall fearing flye The silly Lambe, and the young Leurett shall Pursue the speedy Grayhound ore the playne, The Beare shall in the toyling Ocean breede, And finny Dolphine on the mountaines feede.

Da:

I so, iust such another peeuish thing Like thee was I, when I was of thy yeares; So look'd, so pac'de, so goulden trest', so ruddy My tysing lipp, so in my rising cheeke The damaske rose was blowne; and I remember Iust such as thine is now, my minde was then, And eu'ne such silly pastimes as thine be

I likewise vsd'e; as with lim'd twiggs to catch Vnwares the fethred singers in the wood, Track the Deeres footing, till I had intrapt them And such like; when a gentle louer woode me, With such a peeuish grace hang downe the head And blush for scorne I would, as oft thou doe'st; And that vnseemely forme me thought became mee, Nay eu'ne dislik'd what others lik'de in me, So much I counted it a fault, and shame To be desir'de or lou'de of any one; But what cannot time bring to passe? and what Cannot a true and faithfull louer do With importunity, desert and loue? And I confesse plainely the troth to thee So was I vanquisht; nor with other armes Then humble suff'rance, sighes, and pitty crauing: But then I soone found in one short nights shade, What the broade light of many hundred dayes Could neuer teach me; then I could recall My selfe, shake off my blinde simplicitie, And sighing say, here Cinthia take thy bowe, Quiuer, and horne, for I renounce thy life. And I hope yet to see another day Thy wilde thoughts bridled too, and thy hard brest Yeeld, and growe softer at Aminta's plaints. Is he not young and fresh, and louely too? Does he not loue thee dearely', and thee alone?

For though belou'de of many Nymphes, he neuer For others loue, or thy hate, leaues to loue thee. Nor canst thou thinke him to meane borne for thee; For (be thou daughter of Cidippe faire, Whose sire was god of this our noble floud) Yet is Aminta ould Siluanus heire, Of the high seed of Pan the Shepherds god. The sleeke-browd' Amarillis (if ere yet In any fountaines glasse thou saw'st thy selfe) Is not a whit lesse louely then thou art; Yet all her sweet alurements he reiects, And madly dotes on thy dispightfull loathings. Well, but suppose now, (and the heau'ns forbid It come to more then supposition) That he falling from thee, his minde remooue, And cleaue to her, that so deserues his loue; What will become of thee then? with what eye Wilt thou behould him in an others armes Happily twyn'de, and thy selfe laught to scorne?

Sil:

Be it to' Aminta and his loues, as best Shall like himselfe; I'me at a point for one; And so he be not mine, be' he whose he list. But mine he cannot be against my will, Nor yet though he were mine, would I be his.

Da:

Fye, whence grows this thy hate?

Sil:

Why from his loue.

Da:

Too soft a syre to breed so rough a Sonne; But who ere sawe Tygars of milde Lambes bred,

Or the blacke Rau'ne hatcht of a siluer Doue? Thou dost but mocke me Siluia, dost thou not?

Sil:

I hate his loue, that doth my honour hate; And lou'de him, whilst he sought what I could graunt.

Da:

Tis thou offend'st thy selfe; he doth but crane The same for thee, that he desires to haue.

Sil:

I pre'thee Daphne either speake no more, Or somwhat else that I may answer to.

Da:

See fondling see How ill this peeuishnesse of youth becomes thee; Tell me but this yet, if some other lou'de thee, Is this the welcome thou wouldst giue his loue?

Sil:

Such and worse welcome they deserue, that ar These theenes of silly maydes virginities, Whice you call louers, and I enimies.

Da:

Is the ramme then to th'ewe an enimy, The bull to th' bayfer, is the turtle too, An enemy to' his mate that loues him so? And is the Spring the season of debate, That (sweetly smiling) leades to coupling bands The beast, the fish, the fowle, women and men? And see'st thou not that e'ury thing that is, Breathes now a soueraign ayre of loue, and sweetnesse, Pleasure, and health? behold that Turtle there With what a wooing murmur he sighes loue To his belou'de; harke of yon Nitingall That hops from bough to bough,

Singing I loue I loue; nay more then these, The speckled Serpent layes his venim by, And greedy runnes to' imbrace his loued one; The Tygar loues, and the proud Lion too; Thou onely sauadge more then sauadge beasts Barr'st against loue thy more-then-yron brest. But what speake I of Lions, Tygars, Snakes, That sensible ar? why all these trees doe loue; See with what amorous and redoubled twinings The louing Vine her husband faire intangles; The Beech tree loues the Beech, the Pine the Pine, The Elme the Elme loues, and the Willows too A mutuall languish for each other feele. That Oake that seemes so rough and so impenitrable, Doth no lesse feele the force of amorous flame; And hadst thou but the spirit and sence of loue, His hidden language thou wouldst vnderstand. Wilt thou be lesse and worse then trees and plants, In being thus an enimy to Loue? Fye silli'one fie; these idle thoughts remooue.

Sil:

When I heare trees sighe (as belike they do) I'le be content to bee a louer too.

Da:

Well, mock my words, laugh my aduice to scorne, (Deaffe to Loues sound, and simple as thou art) But goe thy wayes; be sure the time will come When thou shalt flye from the now-loued fount Where thou behold'st and so admyr'st thy selfe;

Fearing to view thy selfe so wrinkled fowle ••s age will make thee; but I note not this ••o thee aboue the rest, for though age be ••uill, 'tis so to all as well as thee. Heard'st thou what Elpine spake this other day, The reu'rend Elpine to the faire Licoris, Licoris whose eyes wrought vpon him that Which his songs should haue wrought vpon her heart, ••f Loue could learne but to giue each his due) He tould it (Batto' and Thirsis being by, ••hose two learn'd louers) in Auroras denne, ••••er whose doore is writt—hence yee prophane, ••ye yee farre hence, which words he writt (sayd he) ••hat in that high pitch sang of loues and armes, ••nd when he dyed bequeath'd his pipe to him; ••here was (he said) lowe in th'infernall lake A dungeon darke, aye fill'd with noysom fumes ••reath'd from the furnaces of Acaron, ••nd there all cruell and ingratefull women ••••ue in eternall horror, and ar fedd With onely their owne bootelesse plaints and cryes. ••ooke to't betimes, or I am sore afraide ••here must a roome be taken vp for you, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 quite this cruelty to others vsd'e. ••nd 'twere but iustice, that those fumes should drawe •• sea of sorrow from those eyes of thine, ••hat pitty could ne're make to shed a teare:

Well, runne on thine owne course, and marke the ende.

Sil:

But what did then Licoris (pre'thee tell me) What reply did shee make to Elpine's words?

Da:

How curious th' art in other folkes affaires, And carelesse quite in what concernes thy selfe? Why, with her eyes Licoris answer'd him.

Sil:

How could shee answer only with her eyes?

Da:

Yes; her faire eyes wrapt in a sunny smile, Tould Elpine this; Her heart and we are thine; More cannot she giue, nor must thou desire. This were alone enough to satis sie And serue for full reward to a chast louer, That held her eyes as true as they were faire, And put entire and harty trust in them.

Sil:

But wherfore does not he then trust her eyes?

Da:

I'le tell thee; know'st thou not what Thirsis wri•• When hurryed so with loue, and loues disdaine He wont to wander all about the woods, In such a sort, as pitty moou'de, and langhter Mong'st the young Swaines and Nymphes that gaz'de o•• him? Yet writ he nought that laughter did deserue, Though many things he did, deseru'd no lesse. He writ it on the barkes of sundry trees, And as the trees, so grew his verse. 'Twas this— Deluding eyes, false mirhors of the heart, Full well I finde how well yee can deceiue: But what auailes, if loue inforce my will

To'imbrace your harmes, and dote vpon you still?

Sil:

Well thus we wast the time in ydle chatt, And I had halfe forgot, that 'tis to day We did appoint to meet in th'Oaken groue, To hunt an houre; I pre'thee if thou wilt, Stay for me till I haue in yon fresh fount ••ayd off the sweat and dust that yesterday ••soyld me with, in chase of a swift Doe, That at the length I ouertooke, and kill'de.

Da:

I'le stay for thee, and perhaps wash me too, But first I'le home a while, and come againe, ••or the daye's younger then it seemes to be. Goe then, and stay there for me till I come; ••nd in the meane time, thinke on my aduice, ••hat more imports thee, then the chase, or fount; ••nd if thou dost not thinke so, thou must know Thou little know'st; and ought'st thy iudgement bowe To their direction that know more then thou.

Actus Primus. Scen: Secunda.

Aminta. Thirsis.

AT my laments I'ue heard the rocks, the waters For pitty answer; and at my complaint ••he leau'de boughes murmur, as they grieu'd for me; ••••t neuer saw, nor euer hope to see

Pitty in the faire and cruell (shall I say Woman or) tygar? for a woman shee Denyes to be, in thus denying me The pitty this my miserable state Drawes from things sencelesse, and inanimate.

Thir:

Lambes on the grasse, the Wolfe feedes on th•• Lambe•• Loue (cruellest of things) with teares is fedd. And though he euer feedes, is neuer full.

Am:

Alas alas, loue hath bin with my teares Long since full fedd, and now thirsts onely for My bloud; and long it shall not be, ere he And the faire Cruell drinke it with their eyes.

Thi:

Ay me, what sayst thou' Aminta? Fye no more Of this strange dotage; be of comfort man And seeke some other; others thou mayest finde As true, as this is cruell, and vnkinde.

Am:

Alas how weary'a worke were it for me Other to seeke, that cannot finde my selfe; And hauing lost my selfe, what can I gaine With busie'st search that shall requite the paine?

Thi:

Dispaire not yet, vnhappy though thou bee, Shee may in time relent, and pitty thee: Time makes the Tygar and the Lion tame.

Am:

O but so long to hope and be delaid, Is worse then death to one in miserie.

Thi:

Perhaps thy suffrance shall not long endure; For mayds so' inconstant ar of disposition,

That as th'ar soone at odds, th'ar as soone wonne; Vncertaine as the leafe Howne with each winde, And flexible as is the bladed grasse. But gentle Shepherd, let me craue to know More throughly thy loues hard condition; For though I'ue often heard thee say thou lou'st, Thou neuer tould'st me yet, who 'twas thou lou'st; And well it fitts the nearenesse of our liues, And frendship, that such counsayls should be none Betweene vs two, but free to both, as one.

Am:

Thirsis, I am content to ope to thee What the woods, hills, and flouds ar priuy to, But no man knowes: so neere alas I finde Th'approaching period of this loathed breath, That reason 'tis I leaue some one behinde, That may relate th'occasion of my death, And leaue it written on some Beech-tree barke, Neere where my bloudlesse carkasse shall be lay'd; That as the cruell Faire shall passe along, She may at pleasure spurne with her proud foote The vnhappy bones, And smiling say; loe here, loe where he lyes; The triumph and the trophey of mine eyes; And (to encrease her fame,) reioyce to see In my sad ende her beauties victory Knowne to the Nimphes, and Shepherds farr and neere, Whom the report may thither guide: perhaps (Ab hopes too high) shee may bestow a sigh,

And though too late, with some compassion rue The losse of him dead, whom shee liuing slue, And wish he liu'd againe. But I digresse.

Thi:

On with thy story, for I long to heare't; Perhaps to better ende then thou supposest.

Am:

Being but a Lad, so young as yet scarse able To reach the fruit from the low-hanging boughes Of new growne trees; Inward I grew to bee With a young mayde, fullest of loue and sweetnesse, That ere display'd pure gold tresse to the winde; Thou know'st her mother hight Cidippe; no? Montano the rich Goteheard is her father: Siluia, faire Siluia 'tis I meane, the glory Of all these woods, and flame of euery heart; 'Tis shee, 'tis she I speake of; long alas Liu'd I soneare her, and then lou'de of her, As like two turtles each in other joy'de; Neere our abodes, and neerer were our bearts; Well did our yeares agree, better our thoughts; Together woue we netts t'intrapp the fish In flouds and sedgy fleetes; together sett Pitfalls for birds; together the pye'd Buck And flying Doe ouer the plaines we chac'de; And in the quarry', as in the pleasure shar'de: But as I made the beasts my pray, I found My heart was lost, and made a pray to other. By little' and little in my breast beganne To spring, I know not from what hidden roote

(Like th'her be that of it selfe is seene to growe) A strange desire, and loue still to be neere And hourely drinke from the faire Siluias eyes A sweetnesse past all thought, but it had still (Me thought) a bitter farewell; oft I sigh'd, Yet knew no cause I had to sigh; and so Became betimes a louer, ere I knewe What loue meant; but alas I knewe too soone; And in what sort, marke, and I'le tell thee

Thir:

Onn.

Am:

All in the shade of a broad Beech-tree sitting, Siluia, Phillis, and my selfe together; A Bee, that all about the flowry mede Had hunny gathred; flow to Phillis cheeke; The rosie cheeke mistaking for a rose, And there (belike) his little needle left: Phillis cryes out, impatient of the paine Of her sharp sting; but th' euerlouely Siluia Bad her be patient; Phillis (said shee) peace, And with a word or two I'le heale thy hurt, And take the sting, and soone the griefe away; This secret erst the graue Aretia taught mee, And her I gaue (in recompence) the horne Of Yuory tipt with gould I wont to were; This said, the libs of her faire sweetest mouth Vpon th' offended cheeke shee laid; and straite, (O strange effect) whether with the sound it were Of her soft murmur'd verse of Magick powre, Or rather (as I rather doe beleeue)

The vertue of her mouth, That what it toucheth, cures, Phillis was cur'de; And with the paine soone was the swelling gone. I, that till then ne're dream't of more delight, Then on the shine of her bright eyes to gaze, And ioy to heare her speake, (musique more sweete, Then makes the murmur of a slow pac'de brooke, When tis with thousand little pebbles crost; Or the winde pratling' mongst the wanton leaues) Gan then, eu'n then to feele a new desire Possesse me, of touching those deare lips with mine; And growne more suttle then I was before, (So loue perhaps th'imagination whets,) I found this new deceipt, whereby to 'aspire With greater ease to th'end of my desire; I faynde my selfe stung on the nether lip, In like sort with a Bee as Phillis was; And in such manner gan to moane myselfe, As th'helpe my tongue crau'd not, my lookes implored; The harmlesse Siluia, pittying stratt my case, Offred her ready cure to my fayn'd hurt; But th' vnfayn'd wound I bleede of, deeper made, And farre more deadly, when those corall twinnes On mine shee layd. Nor do the giddy Bees Gather from any flowre honey so sweete, As I did from those freshest roses gather; Though bashfull shame, and feare had taught to barre, Hot kisses from desire to presse too farre,

T'imbathe themselues; and did their heate withholde And kill, or made them slower and lesse bolde. But while downe to my beart that sweetnesse glided, Mixt with a secret poyson, such delight I inly felt, that faigning still the griefe Of the sting had not left me yet; so dealt, That shee the charme repeated sundry times: Since when till now, still more and more I finde, For all her charme, she'has left the sting behinde. Whose paine ere since hath so increas'd vpon me, As my loue-labouring breast could hold no longer, But that vpon a time, when diuers Nymphes And Shepherds of vs in a ring were sitting, Whilst the play was, each one should softly whisper Some word in th'eare of her that next him sat; Siluia (quoth I soft in her eare) for thee I pine, and dye, vnlesse thou pitty mee. No sooner heard she this, but downe she hangs The faire looke, whence I might perceiue to breake A suddaine and vnwonted ruddinesse, That seem'd to breat he forth anger mixt with shame; Nor would shee' in other language answer mee, Then such a troubled silence, as appear'd Threatning and deadly; nor since then would euer Willingly see, or heare me: Thrise the Sunne His yearly course hath runne, thrise the greene fields Hath the nak'd Sythman barb'd; and three times hath The Winter rob'd the trees of their greene lockes;

That I haue tryde all meanes I could, t'appease her, And nought remaines, but that I dye to please her; And gladly would I dye, were I but sure 'Twould either please, or but drawe pitty from her; Each were a blessing to mee, though no doubt Her pitty were of both the greater meede, And worthyer recompense for all my loue, And for my death; yet I were loth to wish Ought, that too rudely might those eyes molest, Or do the least offence to that deare brest.

Thi:

Did she but heare thus much from thee, beleeu'st thou It would not make her loue, or pitty thee?

Am:

I neither knowe, nor can I hope so much: Shee flyes my speech, as th' Adder doth the charme,

Thi:

Well be of comfort; my minde giues mee yet, Wee'll finde a meane that she shall heare thee speak

Am:

'Twill come to nought; to begg such grace were vaine, For mee to speake, where speech no grace will gaine.

Thi:

For shame dispaire not thus.

Ami:

Alas iust cause Bids mee dispaire; my cruell destinie Was read by the graue Mopso long agon, Mopso that knowes the hid language of birds, And vnderstands the force of herbes and founts.

Thi:

What Mopo's this thou speak'st on? is't not he That carryes honey in his supple tongue, And friendly smiles for all he lookes vpon, But in his heart deceipt, and hidden beares Vnder his coate a rasor? shame befall him;

The vilde vnlucky doomes he lewdly sells To silly fooles with that graue looke, and grace, Ar farr from trueth; take't of my word, and triall. I'le rather hope (and sure my hope will thriue) That from this fellowes ydle auguryes Much happyer fate will to thy loue arise.

Am:

If ought by proofe thou know'st of him, good swayne Hyde it not from me?

Thir:

Ile tell thee willingly. When first my hap led mee to know these woods, I knew this fellow, and esteemed him As thou do'st: So it fortun'd once, I had Desire and bus'nesse to go see that great Wonder of Citties, at whose ancient feete The broad-fam'd riuer runnes; and him I made Acquainted with my purpose: he replyes, And thus began to preach; My sonne beware Now thou art going to that seate of fame, Where those deceiptfull crafty Cittizens, And euill minded Courtiers liue, and wont To scoffe at vs, and hould in such a scorne Our plaine distrnstlesse homely carriage; Be well aduiz'd (my sonne) and presse not there Where the fresh colour'd robes with gould ar wrought, Gay plumes, and dayly-varied dressings shine; But aboue all, beware accursed Fate, Or thy youths iollity conduct thee not Vnto that magazine of restlesse chatt, But flye that cursed and inchaunted place.

What place is that (quoth I?) 'tis there (said he) Where dwell th'inchantresses that haue the powre And arte to make men, and their minds transparent; And what so Diamonds seeme, and finest gold, But glasse and copper ar; those siluer chestes That seeme full of rich treasor, ar no more Then kennells full of filth, and cozen men; The walles ar built too with that wondrous arte, That they will speake, and answer them that speake; Nor in halfe words, and such imperfect sounds, As wont the Eccos that heere haunt our grounds, But eu'ry word whole, and entyre repeating: Nay more then this, the tables, chaires, and stooles, Hangings, and all that to each roome belongs, Haue toung and voice, and neuer silent ar; False lyes there, formde into the shape of babes, Ar hopping all about; and be he dumbe That enters there, findes straite a tongue to prate And lye with; but there is yet worse then this, May happen thee; thou mayst perhaps be turn'd Into a beast, a tree, a floud, a flame, Into a floud of teares, a fire of sighes. All this he tould mee; and I forward went To see the Cittie with this false beliefe; And (as good happ would haue it,) chaunc'd to passe Along the place where stands that blessed dwelling, Whence I might heare breath out such melody, By Swans, and Nimphes, and heau'nly Syrens made,

With voyce so shrill, so sweet and full of pleasure, That all amaz'd, I stay'd to gaze, and listen: Before the doore there stood (mee seem'd) as guard Of the faire showes within, a man in showe And of proportion stout, and knightly hue; Such as (for what he seem'd me) made me doubt Whether for Armes he were, or counsaile fitter: With a benigne, and milde, though graue aspect, He highly-faire bespake, and led me in; He great in place, mee poore and homely man: But then, what did I see? what did I heare? Celestiall goddesses, and louely Nimphes, New lights, new Orpheusses; and others too Vnuayl'd vnclouded, as the virgin-morne, When siluer dewes her golden rayes adorne. There Phaebus shone, inlightning all about, With all his sister Muses; among whom Satt Elpine; at which sight, all in a trice I felt my selfe growe greater then my selfe, Full of new powre, full of new diety? And sang of warres, and Knightly deedes in Armes, Scorning the rurall Songs I wont to make; And though I after did (for others pleasure) Turne to these woods againe, yet I retaynde Part of that Spirit; nor yet sounds my pipe So lowly as before, but shriller farr. And through the woods rings with a trumpets voyce.

Afterward Mopso heard me'; and with so vilde, And sowre a count'nance greeted mee, that I Became straite hoarce, and was a long time mute; When all the Shepherds said, sure I had bin Scar'd with the Wolfe; but Mopso was the Wolfe. This I haue tould thee, that thou mayst beleeue How little this mans words deserue beliefe; And out of doubt, th'hast the more cause to hope, For that this fellow bids thee not to hope.

Am:

I'me glad to heare this troth of him; but now I leaue my life, and my liues care to you.

Thi:

Feare not 'tis all my care to cure thy paine: Within this boure see thou be here againe.

Chorus.

O Happy Age of Gould; happy' houres; Not for with milke the riuers ranne, And hunny dropt from eu'ry tree; Nor that the Earth bore fruits, and flowres, Without the toyle or care of Man, And Serpents were from poyson free; Nor for th' Ayre (euer calme to see) Had quite exil'de the lowring Night; Whilst clad in an eternall Spring (Now fiery hott, or else freezing) The cheekes of heau'n smil'de with cleare light; Nor that the wandring Pine of yore Brought neither warres, nor wares from forraine shore;

But therefore only happy Dayes, Because that vaine and ydle name, That couz'ning I doll of vnrest, (Whom the madd vulgar first did raize, And call'd it Honour, whence it came To tyrannize or'e eu'ry brest,) Was then suffred to molest Poore louers hearts with new debate; More happy they, by these his hard And cruell lawes, were not debar'd Their innate freedome; happy state; The goulden lawes of Nature, they Found in their brests; and then they did obey. Amidd the siluer streames and floures, The winged Genii then would daunce, Without their bowe, without their brande; The Nymphes sate by their Paramours, Whispring loue-sports, and dalliance, And ioyning lips, and hand to hand; The fairest Virgin in the land. Nor scorn'de, nor glor'yed to displaye Her cheekes fresh roses to the eye, Or ope her faire brests to the day, (Which now adayes so vailed lye,) But men and maydens spent free houres In running Riuers, Lakes, or shady Bowres. Thou Honour, thou didst first deuize To maske the face of Pleasure thus;

Barr water to the thirst of Loue, And lewdly didst instruct faire eyes They should be nyce, and scrupulous, And from the gazing world remooue Their beauties; thy hands new netts woue T'intrap the wilde curles, faire dispred To th'open ayre; thou mad'st the sweet Delights of Loue seeme thus vnmeete; And (teaching how to looke, speake, tread,) By thy ill lawes this ill hast left, That what was first Loues gift, is now our theft. Nor ought thy mighty working brings, But more annoyes, and woe to vs; But thou (of Nature and of Loue The Lord, and scourge of mighty Kings,) Why do'st thou shrowde thy greatnesse thus In our poore cells? hence, and remooue Thy powre; and it display aboue. Disturbing great ones in their sleepe; And let vs meaner men alone T'inioye againe, (when thou art gone) And lawes of our Forefathers keepe. Liue we in loue, for our liues houres Hast on to death, that all at length deuoures. Liue we while we may; the wayne Of Heau'n can set, and rise againe; But we (when once we looze this light) Must yeeld vs to a neuer ending Night.