Fidessa, more chaste then kinde. By B. Griffin, gent Griffin, B., gent. 1596 Approx. 53 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 35 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A02230 STC 12367 ESTC S104847 99840578 99840578 5096

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A02230) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 5096) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 344:24) Fidessa, more chaste then kinde. By B. Griffin, gent Griffin, B., gent. Griffin, Bartholomew, d. 1602, attributed author. [72] p. Printed by the widdow Orwin, for Matthew Lownes, At London : 1596. Sonnets. Signatures: A⁴ B-E. The first leaf is blank except for signature-mark "A.j." between rows of type ornaments; the last leaf is blank. Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.

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 eng Sonnets, English. 2007-11 Assigned for keying and markup 2008-01 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-02 Sampled and proofread 2008-02 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

Fideſſa, more chaste then kinde.

By B. Griffin, gent.

AT LONDON Printed by the Widdow Orwin, for Matthew Lownes. 1596.

TO THE MOST KINDE AND VERTVous gentleman, M. VVilliam Eſſex of Lamebourne, in the Countie of Barke Eſquire.

SIr, it may ſeeme ſtrange that I ſhould be thus far bold to make choyce of your ſelfe, a patron of ſo ſlender a work, (eſpecially being ſo little knowne vnto you as I am:) but howſoeuer, I proteſt what is done, proceedeth from the vnfained loue I beare vnto you, your owne demerit, your friendes hope, & the good reporte of all men. All which, are liuely-witneſſes of your loue to the Muſes, your grace with fortune, & your fame with the worlde, quickened in your birth, increaſed in your trauailes, and liuing after death. Daigne (ſweete ſir) to pardon the matter, iudge fauorably of the manner, and accept both: ſo ſhall I euer reſt yours in all dewtifull affection.

Yours euer, B. Griffin.
TO THE GENTLEMEN OF THE INNES OF COVRT.

CVrteous Gentlemen, it may pleaſe you intertaine with patience this poore pamphlet, vnworthy I confeſse ſo worthy patronage, if I preſume, I craue pardon: if offend, it is the firſt fruite of any my writings: if diſlike, I can be but ſory. Sweete Gentlemen, cenſure mildlie, as protectors of a poore ſtranger, iudge the beſt, as incouragers of a young beginner: So ſhall I make true report of your vndeſerued fauours, and you ſhall be your ſelues euer curteous. In this hope (if promiſe may goe for currant) I willingly make the ſame vnto you of a Pastorall yet vnfiniſhed, that my purpoſe was to haue added (for varietie ſake) to this little volume of Sonnets: the next tearme you may expect it. In the meane time I wholy relye on your gentle acceptance.

Yours euer, B. Griffin.
Faultes eſcaped, amend thus.

Sonnet 36. line 6. dele Be. Sonnet 50 l. 6. for Delighteth nothing, reade Delight the nothing.
TO FIDESSA.
SONNET .I. Fertur fortunam fortuna fauêere ferenti. FIdeſſa faire, long liue a happie maiden, Bleſt from thy cradle by a worthie mother: High-thoughted (like to her) with bountie laden, Like pleaſing grace affoording one and other. Sweet modell of thy ſame renowned Sire, Hold backe while thy euer-giuing hand: And though theſe fine pend lines do nought require, For that they scorne at baſe Reward to ſtand: Yet craue they moſt, for that they begge the leaſt, Dumbe is the meſſage of my hidden griefe, And ſtore of ſpeech by ſilence is increaſt, Oh let me die or purchaſe ſome reliefe. Bounteous Fideſſa cannot be ſo cruell, As for to make my heart her fancies fuell.
SONNET .II. HOw can that piercing chriſtall-painted eye, That gaue the onſet to my high-aſpiring, Yeelding each looke of mine a ſweet replve, Adding new courage to my hearts deſiring? How can it ſhut it ſelfe within her Arke, And keepe her ſelfe and me both from the light: Making vs walke in al-miſguiding darke, Aye to remaine in confines of the night? How is it that ſo little roome containes it, (That guides the Orient, as the world the Sunne?) Which once obſcur'd, moſt bitterly complaines it, Becauſe it knowes and rules what ere is done. The reaſon is, that they may dread her ſight, Who doth both giue and take away their light.
SONNET .III. VEnus, and yong Adonis ſitting by her, Vnder a Myrtle ſhade began to woe him: She told the yong-ling how god Mars did trie her, And as he fell to her, ſo fell ſhe to him. Euen thus (quoth ſhe) the wanton god embrac'd me, (And then ſhe claſp'd Adonis in her armes) Euen thus (quoth ſhe) the warlike god vnlac'd me, As if the boy ſhould vſe like louing charmes. But he a wayward boy refuſde her offer, And ran away, the beautious Queene neglecting: Shewing both folly to abuſe her proffer, And all his ſex of cowardiſe detecting. Oh that I had my miſtris at that bay, To kiſſe and clippe me till I ranne away!
SONNET .IIII. DId you ſometimes three German brethren ſoe Rancor twixt two of them ſo raging rife, That th'one could ſtick the other with his knife? Now if the third aſſaulted chance to bee By a fourth ſtrange, him ſet on the three: Them two twixt whom afore was deadly ſtrife, Made one to robbe the ſtranger of his life. Then doe you know our ſtate aſwell as we, Beautie and Chaſtitie with her were borne Both at one birth, and vp with her did grow: Beautie ſtill foe to Chaſtitie was ſworne, And Chaſtitie ſworne to be Beauties foe: And yet when I lay ſiege vnto her heart, Beautie and Chaſtitie both take her part.
SONNET .V. ARraign'd poore captiue at the barre I ſtand, The barre of Beautie, barre to all my ioyes, And vp I hold my euer-trembling hand▪ Wiſhing or life or death to end annoyes. And when the Iudge doth queſtion of the guilt, And bids me ſpeake, then ſorrow ſhuts vp words: Yea though he ſay, ſpeake boldly what thou wilt, Yet my confuſde affects no ſpeech affoords. For why (alas) my paſsions haue no bound, For feare of death that penetrates ſo neere: And ſtill one griefe another doth confound, Yet doth at length a way to ſpeech appeere: Then (for I ſpeake too late) the Iudge doth giue His ſentence that in priſon I ſhall liue.
SONNET .VI. VNhappie ſentence, worſt of worſt of paines, To lie in darkſome ſilence out of ken: Baniſht from all that bliſſe the world containes, And thruſt from out the companies of men. Vnhappie ſentence, worſe then worſt of deaths, Neuer to ſee Fideſſaes louely face: Oh better were I looſe ten thouſand breaths, Then euer liue in ſuch vnſeene diſgrace. Vnhappie ſentence, worſe then paines of hell, To liue in ſelf-tormenting griefes alone: Hauing my heart my priſon and my cell, And there conſum'd, without reliefe to mone. If that the ſentence ſo vnhappie be, Then what am I that gaue the ſame to me?
SONNET .VII. OFt haue mine eyes the Agents of mine heart, (Falſe traytor eyes conſpiring my decay) Pleaded for grace with dumbe and ſilent art, Streaming foorth teares my ſorrowes to allay. Moning the wrong they doe vnto their Lord, Forcing the cruell faire by meanes to yeeld: Making her (gainſt her will) ſome grace t'affoord, And ſtriuing ſore at length to winne the field. Thus worke they meanes to feed my fainting hope, And ſtrēgthened hope ads matter to each thought: Yet when they all come to their end and ſcope, They doe but whollie bring poore me to nought. She'l neuer yeeld, although they euer crye, And therefore we muſt altogether dye.
SONNET .VIII. GRiefe vrging gueſt, great cauſe haue I to plaine me, Yet hope perſwading hope expecteth grace: And ſaith none but my ſelfe ſhall euer paine me, But griefe my hopes exceedeth in this cace. For ſtill my fortune euer more doth croſſe me, By worſe euents then euer I expected, And here and there ten thouſand waies doth toſſe me With ſad remembrance of my time neglected. Theſe breeds ſuch thoughts as ſet my heart on fire, And like fell hounds purſue me to the death, Traytors vnto their Soueraigne Lord and Sire, Vnkind exacters of their father breath, Whom in their rage they ſhall no ſooner kill, Then they themſelues themſelues vniuſtly ſpill.
SONNET .IX. MY ſpotles loue that neuer yet was tainted, My loyall heart that neuer can be moued: My growing hope that neuer yet hath fainted, My conſtancie that you full well haue proued. All theſe conſented haue to pleade for grace, Theſe all lye crying at the doore of Beautie: This wailes, this ſends out teares, this cryes apace: All doe reward expect of faith and dutie. Now either thou muſt proue th' vnkindeſt one, And as thou faireſt art, muſt cruelſt be: Or els with pitie yeeld vnto their mone, Their mone that euer will importune thee. Ah thou muſt be vnkind and giue deniall, And I poore I muſt ſtand vnto my triall.
SONNET .X. CLip not ſweet loue the wings of my deſire, Although it ſoare aloft and mount too hie: But rather beare with me though I aſpire: For I haue wings to beare me to the skie. What though I mount, there is no Sunne but thee? And ſith no other Sunne, why ſhould I feare? Thou wilt not burne me though thou terrifie: And though thy brightnes doe ſo great appeare, Deere, I ſeeke not to batter downe thy glorie, Nor doe I enuie that thy hope increaſeth: Oh neuer thinke thy fame doth make me ſorrie, For thou muſt liue by fame when beautie ceaſeth. Beſides, ſince from one roote we both did ſpring, Why ſhould not I thy fame and beautie ſing?
SONNET .XI. WIng'd with ſad woes, why doth faire Zephire blow Vpon my face, (the map of diſcontent) Is it to haue the weedes of ſorrow grow So long and thicke, that they will nere bee ſpent? No fondling, no, it is to coole the fire, Which hot deſire within thy breaſt hath made: Check him but once, and he will ſoone retire: Oh but he ſorrowes brought, which cannot fade. The ſorrowes that he brought he tooke from thee, Which faire Fideſſa ſpun, and thou muſt weare: Yet hath ſhe nothing done of crueltie, But (for her ſake) to trie what thou wilt beare. Come ſorrowes come, you are to me aſsignde, Ile beare you all: it is Fideſſaes minde.
SONNET .XII. OH if my heauenly ſighes muſt proue annoy, Which are the ſweeteſt muſicke to my heart: Let it ſuffice I count them as my ioy, Swwet bitter ioy, and pleaſant painfull ſmart. For when my breaſt is clogg'd with thouſand cares, That my poore loaded heart is like to breake: Then euery ſigh doth queſtion how it fares, Seeming to adde their ſtrength: which makes me weake. Yet (for they friendly are) I entertaine them, And they too well are pleaſed with their boaſt: But I (had not Fideſſa been) ere now, had ſlaine them, It's for her cauſe they liue, in her they boaſt. They promiſe helpe, but when they ſee her face, They fainting yeeld, and dare not ſue for grace.
SONNET .XIII. COmpare me to the child that plaies with fire, Or to the flye that dyeth in the flame: Or to the fooliſh boy that did aſpire, To touch the glorie of high heauens frame. Compare me to Leander ſtruggling in the waues, Not able to attaine his ſafeties ſhore: Or to the ſicke that doe expect their graues, Or to the captiue crying euer more: Compare me to the weeping wounded Hart, Moning with teares the period of his life: Or to the Bore that will not feele his ſmart, When he is ſtriken with the butchers knife. No man to theſe can fitly me compare; Theſe liue to dye: I dye to liue in care.
SONNET .XIIII. WHen ſilent ſleepe had cloſed vp mine eyes, My watchfull minde did then begin to muſe: A thouſand pleaſing thoughts did then ariſe, That ſought by ſleights their maſter to abuſe. I ſaw (oh heauenly ſight) Fideſſaes face, (And faire dame Nature bluſhing to behold it) Now did ſhe laugh, now winke, now ſmile apace, She tooke me by the hand, and faſt did hold it. Sweetly her ſweet bodie did ſhe lay downe by me, Alas poore wretch (quoth ſhe) great is thy ſorrow: But thou ſhalt comfort find if thou wilt trie me, I hope (ſir boy) youle tell me newes to morrow. With that away ſhe went, and I did wake withall, When (ah) my hony thoughts were turn'd to gall.
SONNET .XV. CAre-charmer ſleepe, ſweet eaſe in reſtles miſerie, The captiues libertie, and his freedomes ſong: Balme of the bruſed heart, mans chiefe felicitie, Brother of quiet death, when life is too too long. A Comedie it is, and now an Hiſtorie, What is not ſleepe vnto the feeble minde? It eaſeth him that toyles, and him that's ſorrie: It makes the deaffe to heare, to ſee the blinde. Vngentle ſleepe, thou helpeſt all but me, For when I ſleepe my ſoule is vexed moſt: It is Fideſſa that doth maſter thee, If ſhe approach (alas) thy power is loſt. But here ſhe is: ſee how he runnes amaine, I feare at night he will not come againe.
SONNET .XVI. FOr I haue loued long, I craue rewarde, Rewarde me not vnkindlie: thinke on kindnes; Kindnes becommeth thoſe of high regarde: Regard with clemencie a poore mans blindnes, Blindnes prouokes to pittie when it crieth, It crieth (giue) deere Lady ſhew ſome pittie; Pittie, or let him die that day lie dieth: Dieth he not oft, who often ſings this dittie? This dittie pleaſeth me although it choke me, Me thinkes dame Eccho weepeth at my moning, Moning the woes, that to complaine prouoke me. Prouoke me now no more, but heare my groning; Groning both night and day doth teare my hart, My hart doth know the cauſe, & triumphs in his ſmart.
SONNET .XVII. SWeet ſtroke (ſo might I thriue) as I muſt praiſe, But ſweeter hand that giues ſo ſweet a ſtroke: The Lute it ſelfe is ſweeteſt, when ſhe plaies, But what heare I? a ſtring through feare is broke. The Lute doth ſhake, as if it were afraide, Oh ſure ſome Goddeſſe holds it in her hand! A heauenly power that oft hath me diſmaide, Yet ſuch a power as doth in beautie ſtand. Ceaſe Lute, my ceaſeles ſuite will nere be heard: (Ah too hard-hearted ſhe that will not heare it) If I but thinke on ioy, my ioy is mard, My griefe is great, yet euer muſt I beare it. But loue twixt vs will proue a faithfull page, And ſhe will loue my ſorrowes to aſſwage.
SONNET .XXVIII. OH ſhe muſt loue my ſorrowes to aſſwage, Oh God what ioy felt I when ſhe did ſmile? Whom killing griefe before did cauſe to rage, (Beautie is able ſorrow to beguile.) Out traytor abſence, thou doeſt hinder me, And mak'ſt my Miſtris often to forget; Cauſing me raile vpon her crueltie, Whil'ſt thou my ſuite iniuriouſly doeſt let. Againe, her preſence doth aſtoniſh me, And ſtrikes me dumbe, as if my ſenſe were gone: Oh is not this a ſtrange perplexitie? In preſence, dombe: ſhe heares not abſent mone. Thus abſent preſence, preſent abſence maketh, That (hearing my poore ſuite) ſhe it miſtaketh.
SONNET .XIX. MY paine paints out my loue in dolefull verſe, The liuely glaſſe wherein ſhe may behold it) My verſe her wrong to me doth ſtill rehearſe: But ſo, as it lamenteth to vnfold it. My ſelfe with ceaſeles teares my harmes bewaile, And her obdurate heart not to be moued: Though long continued woes my ſenſes faile, And curſe the day, the houre when firſt I loued. She takes the glaſſe, wherein her ſelfe ſhe ſees In bloudie colours cruelly depainted: And her poore priſoner humbly on his knees, Pleading for grace with heart that neuer fainted. She breakes the glaſſe, (alas I cannot chooſe) But grieue that I ſhould ſo my labour looſe.
SONNET .XX. GReat is the ioy that no tongue can expreſſe, Faire babe (new borne) how much doeſt thou delight me? But what is mine ſo great? yea no whit leſſe So great, that of all woes it doth acquite me. It's faire Fideſſa that this comfort bringeth, Who ſorrie for the wrongs by her procured, Delightfull tunes of loue of true loue ſingeth, Wherewith her too-chaſt thoughts were nere inured. She loues (ſhe ſaith) but with a loue not blind, Her loue is counſaile that I ſhould not loue, But vpon vertues fixe a ſtaied mind: But what? this new coynd loue, loue doth reproue. If this be loue of which you make ſuch ſtore, Sweet, loue me leſſe, that you may loue me more.
SONNET .XXI. HE that will Caeſar be, or els not be, (Who can aſpire to Caeſars bleeding fame?) Muſt be of high reſolue: but what is he That thinkes to gaine a ſecond Caeſars name. Who ere he be that climes aboue his ſtrength, And climeth high, the greater is his fall: For though he ſit a while, we ſee at length His ſlipperie place no firmnes hath at all. Great is his bruſe that falleth from on high, This warneth me that I ſhould not aſpire: Examples ſhould preuaile: I care not I, I periſh muſt, or haue what I deſire. This humour doth with mine full well agree, I muſt Fideſſaes be, or els not be.
SONNET .XXII. IT was of loue vngentle gentle boy, That thou didſt come and harbour in my breſt: Not of intent my body to deſtroy, And haue my ſoule with reſtles cares oppreſt. But ſith thy loue doth turne vnto my paine, Returne to Greece (ſweete lad) where thou waſt borne: Leaue me alone my griefes to entertaine, If thou forſake mee, I am leſſe forlorne. Although alone, yet ſhall I finde more eaſe: Then ſee thou hie thee hence, or I will chaſe thee: Men highly wronged care not to diſpleaſe: My fortune hangs on thee, thou doeſt diſgrace me. Yet at thy farewell play a friendly part, To make amends, flye to Fideſſaes hart.
SONNET .XXIII. FLye to her heart, houer about her heart, With daintie kiſſes mollifie her heart: Pierce with thy arrowes her obdurate heart, With ſweet allurements euer moue her heart. At midday and at midnight touch her heart, Be lurking cloſely, neſtle about her heart: With power, (thou art a god) command her heart, Kindle thy coales of loue about her heart, Yea euen into thy ſelfe transforme her heart. And ſhe muſt loue, be ſure thou haue her heart, And I muſt dye, if thou haue not her heart. Thy bed (if thou reſt well) muſt be her heart: He hath the beſt part ſure that hath the heart: What haue I not if I haue but her heart?
SONNET .XXIIII. STriuing is paſt, ah I muſt ſinke and drowne, And that in ſight of long deſcried ſhore: I cannot ſend for ayd vnto the towne, All helpe is vaine, and I muſt dye therefore. Then poore diſtreſſed caytiue, be reſolued To leaue this earthly dwelling fraught with care: Ceaſe will thy woes, thy corps in earth inuolued, Thou dyeſt for her that will no helpe prepare. Oh ſee: my caſe her ſelfe doth now behold, The caſement open is, ſhe ſeemes to ſpeake: But ſhe is gone: oh then I dare be bold, And needs muſt ſay, ſhe cauſde my heart to breake. I dye before I drowne, oh heauie caſe, It was becauſe I ſaw my miſtris face.
SONNET .XXV. COmpare me to Pygmalion with his image ſotted, For (as was he) euen ſo am I deceiued: The ſhadow only is to me alotted, The ſubſtance hath of ſubſtance me bereued. Then poore and helples muſt I wander ſtill, In deepe laments to paſſe ſucceeding daies: Weltring in woes that poore and mightie kill, Oh who is mightie that ſo ſoone decaies! The dread almightie hath appoynted ſo, The finall period of all worldly things: That as in time they come, ſo muſt they goe, (Death common is to beggers and to kings) But whither doe I runne beſide my text? I runne to death, for death muſt be the next.
SONNET .XXVI. THe ſillie bird that haſts vnto the net, And flutters to and fro till ſhe be taken, Doth looke ſome foode or ſuccour there to get, But looſeth life, ſo much is ſhe miſtaken. The fooliſh flie that flieth to the flame, With ceaſeles houering, and with reſtles flight, Is burned ſtraight to aſhes in the ſame, And findes her death, where was her moſt delight. The proude aſpiring boye that needes would prie Into the ſecrets of the higheſt ſeate, Had ſome conceite to gaine content thereby, Or elſe his follie ſure was wondrous great. Theſe did through follie periſh all and die, And (though I know it) euen ſo doe I.
SONNET .XXVII. POore worme, poore ſilly worme, (alas poore beaſt) Feare makes thee hide thy head within the groūd, Becauſe of creeping things thou art the leaſt, Yet euery foote giues thee thy mortall wound. But I thy fellow worme am in worſe ſtate, For thou thy Sunne enioyeſt, but I want mine: I liue in irkſome night: oh cruell fate! My Sunne will neuer riſe, nor euer ſhine. Thus blind of light, mine eyes miſguide my feete, And balefull darknes makes me ſtill afraide: Men mocke me when I ſtumble in the ſtreete, And wonder how my yong ſight ſo decaide. Yet doe I ioy in this (euen when I fall) That I ſhall ſee againe, and then ſee all.
SONNET .XXVIII. WEll may my ſoule immortall and diuine, That is impriſon'd in a lump of clay, Breath out laments, vntill this bodie pine: That from her takes her pleaſures all away. Pine then thou lothed priſon of my life; Vntoward ſubiect of the leaſt aggrieuance, Oh let me dye: mortalitie is rife, Death comes by wounds, by ſicknes, care, & chance Oh earth, the time will come when i'le reſume thee, And in my boſome make thy reſting place: Then doe not vnto hardeſt ſentence doome me, Yeeld, yeeld betimes, I muſt and will haue grace. Richly ſhalt thou be intomb'd, ſince for thy graue, Fideſſa, faire Fideſſa thou ſhalt haue.
SONNET .XXIX. EArth, take this earth wherin my ſpirits lāguiſh, Spirits, leaue this earth that doth in griefs retaine you: Griefs, chaſe this earth, that it may fade with anguiſh, Spirits, auoide theſe furies which doe paine you; Oh leaue your lothſome priſon, freedome gaine you, Your eſſence is diuine, great is your power: And yet you mone your wrongs & ſore cōplaine you, Hoping for ioye which fadeth euery howre. Oh Spirits your priſon loath, & freedome gaine you! The deſtinies in deepe laments haue ſhut you Of mortall hate, becauſe they doe diſdaine you, And yet of ioy that they in priſon put you. Earth, take this earth with thee to be incloſed: Life is to me, and I to it oppoſed.
SONNET .XXX. WEepe now no more mine eyes, but be you drowned In your own teares, ſo many yeares diſtilled: And let her know that at them long hath frowned, That you can weepe no more, although ſhe willed. This hap her crueltie hath her alotten, Who whilom was commaundres of each part: That now her proper griefes muſt be forgotten, By thoſe true outward ſignes of inward ſmart. For how cā he that hath not one teare left him, Streame out thoſe floodes that's due vnto her moning? When both of eyes and teares ſhe hath bereft him: Oh vet i'le ſignifie my griefe with groning! True ſighes, true grones ſhall eccho in the ayre, And ſay Fideſſa (though moſt cruell) is moſt fayre.
SONNET .XXXI. TOngue neuer ceaſe to ſing Fideſſaes praiſe, Heart (how euer ſhe deſerue) conceaue the beſt: Eyes ſtand amaz'd to ſee her beauties raies, Lippes ſteale one kiſſe and be for euer bleſt. Hands touch that hand wherein your life is cloſed, Breſt locke vp faſt in thee thy liues ſole treaſure, Armes ſtill imbrace and neuer be diſcloſed, Feete runne to her without or pace or meaſure, Tongue, hart, eyes, lipps, hands, breſt, armes, feete, Conſent to doe true homage to your Queene: Louelie, faire, gentle, wiſe, vertuous, ſober, ſweete, Whoſe like ſhall neuer be; hath neuer beene, Oh that I were all tongue her praiſe to ſhow: Then ſurelie my poore hart were freed from woe.
SONNET .XXXII. SOre ſicke of late, Nature her due would haue, Great was my paine where ſtill my mind did reſt: No hope but heauen, no comfort but my graue, Which is of comforts both the laſt and leaſt. But on a ſudden th' almightie ſent Sweet eaſe to the diſtreſſe and comfortleſſe, And gaue me longer time for to repent, With health and ſtrength the foes of feeblenes. Yet I my health no ſooner gan recouer, But my old thoughts (thoughful of cares) retained, Made me (as erſt) become a wretched louer Of her, that loue and louers aye diſdained. Then was my paine with eaſe of paine increaſed, And I nere ſicke vntill my ſicknes ceaſed.
SONNET .XXXIII. HE that would faine Fideſſaes image ſee, My face of force muſt be his looking glaſſe: There is ſhe portraide and her crueltie, Which as a wonder through the world muſt paſſe. But were I dead, ſhe would not be betraide: It's I that gainſt my will ſhall make it knowne, Her crueltie by me muſt be bewraide, Or I muſt hide my head, and liue alone. Ile plucke my ſiluer haires from out my head, And waſh away the wrinkles of my face: Cloſely immur'd I'le liue as I were dead, Before ſhe ſuffer but the leaſt diſgrace. How can I hide that is alreadie knowne? I haue been ſeene, and haue no face but one.
SONNET .XXXIIII. FIe pleaſure fie, thou cloy'ſt me with delight! (Sweet thoughts you kill me if you lower ſtray) Oh many be the ioyes of one ſhort night! Tuſh fancies neuer can deſire allay. Happie vnhappie thoughts: I thinke and haue not Pleaſure: oh pleaſing paine! Shewes nought auaile me. Mine own cōceit doth glad me, more I craue not: Yet wanting ſubſtance, woe doth ſtill aſſaile me. "Babies doe children pleaſe, and ſhadowes fooles: "Shewes haue deceiu'd the wiſeſt many a time: "Euer to want our wiſh our courage cooles: "The ladder broken, t'is in vaine to clime. But I muſt wiſh, and craue, and ſeeke, and clime, It's hard if I obtaine not grace in time.
SONNET .XXXV I Haue not ſpent the Aprill of my time, The ſweet of youth in plotting in the aire: But doe at firſt aduenture ſeeke to clime, Whil'ſt flowers of blooming yeares are greene and faire. I am no leauing of al-withering age, I haue not ſuffred many winter lowres: I feele no ſtorme, vnleſſe my Loue doe rage, And then in griefe I ſpend both daies and houres. This yet doth comfort that my flower laſted, Vntill it did approach my Sunne too neere: And then (alas) vntimely was it blaſted, So ſoone as once thy beautie did appeare. But after all, my comfort reſts in this, That for thy ſake my youth decaied is.
SONNET .XXXVI. OH let my heart, my bodie and my tongue, Bleed forth the liuely ſtreames of faith vnfained: Worſhip my ſaint the Gods and Saints among, Praiſe and extoll her faire that me hath pained. Oh let the ſmoake of my ſuppreſt deſire Be rak'd vp in aſhes of my burning breſt, Breake out at length, and to the clowdes aſpire, Vrging the heauens t'affoord me reſt. But let my bodie naturally deſcend Into the bowels of our common mother, And to the very Center let it wend: When it no lower can, her griefes to ſmother. And yet when I ſo low doe buried lie, Then ſhall my loue aſcend vnto the skie.
SONNET .XXXVII. FAire is my loue that feedes among the Lillies, The Lillies growing in that pleaſant garden, Where Cupids mount that welbeloued hill is, And where that little god himſelfe is warden. See where my Loue ſits in the beds of ſpices, Beſet all round with Camphere, Myrrhe and Roſes, And interlac'd with curious deuices, Which her from all the world apart incloſes. There doth ſhe tune her Lute for her delight, And with ſweet muſick makes the ground to moue, Whil'ſt I (poore I) doe ſit in heauie plight, Wayling alone my vnreſpected loue, Not daring ruſh into ſo rare a place, That giues to her and ſhe to it a grace.
SONNET .XXXVIII. WAs neuer eye did ſee my Miſtris face, Was neuer care did heare Fideſſaes tongue, Was neuer mind that once did mind her grace, That euer thought the trauaile to be long. When her I ſee, no creature I behold, So plainly ſay theſe aduocates of loue, That now doe feare, and now to ſpeake are bold, Trembling apace, when they reſolue to proue. Theſe ſtrange effects doe ſhew a hidden power, (A maieſtie all baſe attempts reprouing) That glads or daunts as ſhe doth laugh or lower, Surely ſome goddeſſe harbours in their mouing: Who thus my muſe from baſe attempts hath raiſed, Whom thus my muſe beyond compare hath praiſed.
SONNET .XXXXIX. MY Ladies haire is threeds of beaten gold, Her front the pureſt Chriſtall eye hath ſeene: Her eyes the brighteſt ſtarres the heauens hold, Her cheekes red Roſes, ſuch as ſeld haue been: Her pretie lips of red vermilion dye, Her hand of yuorie the pureſt white: Her bluſh Aurora, or the morning skye, Her breaſt diſplaies two ſiluer fountaines bright, The Spheares her voyce, her grace the Graces three, Her bodie is the Saint that I adore, Her ſmiles and fauours ſweet as honey bee, Her feete faire Thetis praiſeth euermore. But ah the worſt and laſt is yet behind, For of a Gryphon ſhe doth beare the mind.
SONNET .XL. INiurious fates to robbe me of my bliſſe, And diſpoſſeſſe my heart of all his hope: You ought with iuſt reuenge to puniſh miſſe, For vnto you the hearts of men are ope. Iniuriou • fates that hardned haue her hart, Yet make her face to ſend out pleaſing ſmiles: And both are done but to increaſe my ſmart, And intertaine my loue with falſed wiles. Yet, being (when ſhe ſmiles) ſurpriſde with ioy, I faine would languiſh in ſo ſweet a paine: Beſeeching death my bodie to deſtroy, leſt on the ſudden ſhe ſhould frowne againe. When men doe wiſh for death, fates haue no force, But they (when men would liue) haue no remorce.
SONNET .XLI. THe priſon I am in is thy faire face, Wherein my libertie inchained lyes: My thoughts the bolts that hold me in the place, My foode the pleaſing lookes of thy faire eyes. Deepe is the priſon where I lye incloſed, Strong are the bolts that in this cell containes me: Sharpe is the foode neceſſitie impoſed, When hunger makes me feed on that which paines me. Yet doe I loue, imbrace, and follow faſt, That holds, that keepes, that diſcontents me moſt: And liſt not breake, vnlock, or ſeeke to waſte The place, the bolts, the foode (though I be loſt.) Better in priſon euer to remaine, Then being out to ſuffer greater paine.
SONNET .XLII. WHen neuer ſpeaking ſilence proues a wonder, When euer-flying fame at home remaineth, When all-concealing night keepes darknes vnder, When Men deuouring wrong, true glorie gaineth: When Soule-tormenting griefe agrees with ioy, When Lucifer forerunnes the balefull night, When Venus doth forſake her little boye, When her vntoward boye obtaineth ſight, When Syſiphus doth ceaſe to roule his ſtone, When Othes ſhaketh off his heauie chaines: When Beautie Queene of pleaſure is alone, When Loue and Vertue quiet peace diſdaines. When theſe ſhall be and I not be, Then will Fideſſa pittie me.
SONNET .XLIII. TEll me of loue ſweete Loue who is thy fire, Of if thou mortall or immortall be: Some ſay thou art begotten by Deſire, Nouriſht with hope, and fed with fantaſie: Ingendred by a heauenly goddeſſe eye, Lurking moſt ſweetely in an Angels face: Others, that beautie thee doth deifie, Oh Soueraigne beautie full of power and grace! But I muſt be abſurd all this denying, Becauſe the fayreſt faire aliue nere knew thee: Now Cupid comes thy godhead to the trying, T'was ſhe alone (ſuch is her power) that ſlew me. She ſhall be Loue, and thou a fooliſh boye, Whoſe vertue proues thy power but a toye.
SONNET .XLIIII. NO choice of change can euer change my minde, Choiceles my choice the choiceſt choice aliue: Wonder of women, were ſhe not vnkinde, The pitiles of pitie to depriue. Yet ſhe, the kindeſt creature of her kinde, Accuſeth me of ſelfe ingratitude: And well ſhe may, ſith by good proofe I finde My ſelfe had dide, had ſhe not helpfull ſtoode. For when my ſicknes had the vpper hand, And death began to ſhew his awfull face; She tooke great paines my paines for to withſtand, And eaſde my heart that was in heauie cace. But cruell now ſhe skorneth what it craueth: Vnkind in kindnes, murdering while ſhe ſaueth.
SONNET .XLV. MIne eye bewrayes the ſecrets of my hart, My heart vnfolds his griefe before her face: Her face bewitching pleaſure of my ſmart, Daignes not one looke of mercie and of grace. My guiltie eye of murder and of treaſon (Friendly conſpirator of my decay, Dumbe eloquence the louers ſtrongeſt reaſon) Doth weepe it ſelfe for anger quite away, And chooſeth rather not to be, then bee Diſloyall, by too-well diſcharging dutie: And being out, ioyes it no more can ſee The ſugred charmes of all deceiuing beautie. But (for the other greedily doth eye it) I pray you tell me what doe I get by it?
SONNET .XLVIII. MVrder, oh murder! I can crie no longer, Murder, oh murder! is there none to ayde me? Life feeble is in force, death is much ſtronger: Then let me dye that ſhame may not vpbrayd me. Nothing is left me now but ſhame or death: I feare ſhe feareth not foule murthers guilt, Nor doe I feare to looſe a ſeruile breath, I know my bloud was giuen to be ſpilt. What is this life but maze of counties ſtrayes, The enemie of true felicitie: Fitly compar'd to dreames, to flowers, to playes? Oh life, no life to me but miſerie! Of ſhame or death if thou muſt one, Make choice of death and both are gone.
SONNET .XLIX. MY cruell fortunes clowded with a frowne, Lurke in the boſome of eternall night: My climing thoughts are baſely haled downe, My beſt deuices proue but after-ſight. Poore outcaſt of the worlds exiled roome, I liue in wildernes of deepe lament: No hope reſeru'd me but a hopeles tombe, When fruitles life, and fruitfull woes are ſpent. Shall Phoebus hinder little ſtarres to ſhine, Or loftie Cedar Muſhrome leaue to growe▪ Sure mightie men at little ones repine, The rich is to the poore a common foe. Fideſſa ſeeing how the world doth goe, Ioyneth with fortune in my ouerthrow.
SONNET .L. WHen I the hookes of pleaſure firſt deuowred, Which vndigeſted, threaten now to choke me, Fortune on me her golden graces ſhewred, Oh then delight did to delight prouoke me. Delight, falſe inſtrument of my decay, Delighteth nothing that doth all things moue, Made me firſt wander from the perfect way, And faſt intangled me in the ſnares of loue. Then my vnhappie happines (at firſt) began, Happie, in that I lou'd the fayreſt faire: Vnhappily deſpiſde, a haples man Thus ioy did triumph, triumph did deſpaire. My conqueſt is which ſhall the conqueſt gaine: Fideſſa author both of ioy and paine.
SONNET .LI. WOrke worke apace you bleſſed Siſters three, In reſtles twining of my fatall threed: Oh let your nimble hands at once agree, To weaue it out, and cut it off with ſpeed. Then ſhall my vexed and tormented ghoſt Haue quiet paſſage to the Eliſian reſt: And ſweetly ouer death and fortune boaſt, In euerlaſting triumphs with the bleſt. But ah (too well I know) you haue conſpired A lingring death for him that lotheth life: As if with woes he neuer could be tyred: For this you hide your all-diuiding knife. One comfort yet the heauens haue aſsign'd me, That I muſt dye and leaue my griefes behind me.
SONNET .LII. IT is ſome comfort to the wronged man, The wronger of iniuſtice to vpbraide: Iuſtly my ſelfe herein I comfort can, And iuſtly call her an vngratefull maide. Thus am I pleaſde to rid my ſelfe of crime, And ſtop the mouth of all-reporting fame: Counting my greateſt croſſe the loſſe of time, And all my priuat griefe her publique ſhame. Ah (but to ſpeake a trueth) hence are my cares, And in this comfort all diſcomfort reſteth: My harmes I cauſe (her ſcandale) vnawares, Thus loue procures the thing that loue deteſteth. For he that viewes the glaſſes of my ſmart, Muſt needs report ſhe hath a flintie hart.
SONNET .LIII. I Was a king of ſweet content at leaſt, But now from out my kingdome baniſhed: I was chiefe gueſt at faire Dame pleaſures feaſt, But now I am for want of ſuccour famiſhed. I was a Saint and heauen was my reſt, But now caſt downe into the loweſt hell: Vile caytifes may not liue amongſt the bleſt, Nor bleſſed men mongſt curſed caytifes dwell. Thus am I made an exile of a king, Thus choice of meates to want of food is changed: Thus heauens loſſe doth helliſh torments bring: Selfe croſſes make me from my ſelfe eſtranged. Yet am I ſtill the ſame: but made another, Then not the ſame: alas I am no other.
SONNET .LIIII. IF great Apollo offered as a dower His burning throne to Beauties excellence: If Ioue himſelfe came in a golden ſhower Downe to the earth to fetch faire Io thence: If Venus in the curled locks were tied Of proud Adonis not of gentle kind: If Tellus for a ſhepheards fauour died, (The fauour cruell loue to her aſsign'd) If heauens winged Herrald Hermes had His heart inchanted with a countrie maide: If poore Pygmalion were for beautie mad. If gods and men haue all for beautie ſtraide, I am not then aſham'd to be included Mongſt thoſe that loue and be with loue deluded.
SONNET .LV. OH no I dare not, oh I may not ſpeake! Yes, yes, I dare, I can, I muſt, I will: Then heart powre forth thy plaints & do not breake, Let neuer fancie manly courage kill. Intreate her mildly, words haue pleaſing charmes, Of force to moue the moſt obdurate heart To take relenting pitie of my harmes, And with vnfained teares to waile my ſmart. Is ſhe a ſtocke, a blocke, a ſtone, a flint? Hath ſhe nor eares to heare, nor eyes to ſee? If ſo, my cries, my prayers, my teares ſhall ſtint. Lord how can louers ſo bewitched bee! I tooke her to be beauties Queene alone, But now I ſee ſhe is a ſenceles ſtone.
SONNET .LVI. IS truſt betraide, doth kindnes grow vnkind? Can beautie (both at once) giue life and kill? Shall fortune alter the moſt conſtant mind? Will reaſon yeeld vnto rebelling will? Doth fancie purchaſe praiſe, and vertue ſhame? May ſhew of goodnes lurke in treacherie? Hath trueth vnto her ſelfe procured blame? Muſt ſacred Muſes ſuffer miſerie? Are women woe to men, traps for their falles? Differ their words, their deedes, their lookes, their liues? Haue louers euer been their tennis-balles? Be husbands fearefull of the chaſteſt wiues? All men doe theſe affirme, and ſo muſt I: Vnleſſe Fideſsa giue to me the lye.
SONNET .LVII. THree play-fellowes (ſuch three were neuer ſeene In Venus court) vpon a ſummers day, Met altogether on a pleaſant greene, Intending at ſome pretie game to play. They Dian, Cupid, and Fideſſa were: Their wager, beautie, bow, and crueltie: The conquereſſe the ſtakes away did beare, Whoſe fortune then it was to winne all three. Fideſſa, which doth theſe as weapons vſe, To make the greateſt heart her will obay: And yet the moſt obedient to refuſe, As hauing power poore louers to betray. With theſe ſhe wounds, ſhe heales, giues life & death: More power hath none that liues by mortall breath.
SONNET .LVIII. OH beautie Syren, kept with Cyrces rod: The faireſt good in ſeeme, but fowleſt ill: The ſweeteſt plague ordain'd for man by God, The pleaſing ſubiect of preſumptuous will: Th' alluring obiect of vnſtaied eyes, Friended of all, but vnto all a foe: The deareſt thing that any creature buyes, And vaineſt too: (it ſerues but for a ſhoe.) In ſeeme a heauen, and yet from bliſſe exiling, Paying for trueſt ſeruice, nought but paine: Yong mens vndoing: yong and old beguiling, Mans greateſt loſſe, though thought his greateſt gaine. True, that all this with paine enough I proue: And yet moſt true, I will Fideſsa loue.
SONNET .LIX. DOe I vnto a cruell Tyger pray, That praies on me as wolfe vpon the Lambes? (Who feare the danger both of night and day, And runne for ſuccour to their tender dammes) Yet will I pray (though ſhe be euer cruell) On bended knee, and with ſubmiſsiue hart: She is the fire, and I muſt be the fuell, She muſt inflict, and I indure the ſmart. She muſt, ſhe ſhall, be miſtris of her will, And I (poore I) obedient to the ſame: As fit to ſuffer death, as ſhe to kill, As readie to be blam'd, as ſhe to blame. And for I am the ſubiect of her ire, All men ſhall know thereby my loue intire.
SONNET .LX. OH let me ſigh, weepe, waile, and crie no more, Or let me ſigh, weepe, waile, crie more and more: Yea let me ſigh, weepe, waile, crie euer-more: For ſhe doth pitie my complaints no more, Then cruell Pagan, or the ſauadge Moore: But ſtill doth adde vnto my torments more, Which grieuous are to me by ſo much more, As ſhe inflicts them, and doth wiſh them more. Oh let thy mercie (merciles) be neuer more! So ſhall ſweet death to me be welcome more, Then is to hungrie beaſts the graſsie moore: Ah ſhe that to affliction ads yet more, Becomes more cruell, by ſtill adding more! Wearie am I to ſpeake of this word (more) Yet neuer wearie ſhe to plague me more.
SONNET .LXI. FIdeſſaes worth in time begetteth praiſe, Time praiſe, praiſe, fame, fame wonderment, Wonder, fame, praiſe, time, her worth doe raiſe To hieſt pitch of dread aſtoniſhment. Yet time in time her hardned heart bewraieth, And praiſe it ſelfe her crueltie diſpraiſeth: So that through praiſe (alas) her praiſe decaieth, And that (which makes it fall) her honor raiſeth. Moſt ſtrange: yet true, ſo wonder wonder ſtill, And follow faſt the wonder of theſe daies: For well I know (all wonder to fulfill) Her will at length vnto my will obaies. Meane time let others praiſe her conſtancie, And me attend vpon her clemencie.
SONNET .LXII. MOſt true that I muſt faire Fideſſa loue, Moſt true that faire Fideſſa cannot loue. Moſt true that I doe feele the paines of loue, Moſt true that I am captiue vnto loue. Moſt true that I deluded am with loue, Moſt true that I doe find the ſleights of loue. Moſt true that nothing can procure her loue, Moſt true that I muſt periſh in my loue. Moſt true that ſhe contemnes the god of loue, Moſt true that he is ſnared with her loue. Moſt true that ſhe would haue me ceaſe to loue, Moſt true that ſhe her ſelfe alone is Loue. Moſt true that though ſhe hated I would loue, Moſt true that deareſt life ſhall end with loue.
FINIS. B. Griffin. Talis apud tales, talis ſub tempore tali: Subque meo tals iudice, talis ero.